#Storing physical slides

[microcomsys]

Preserving Memories: The Importance of Converting Slides to Digital

In today's digital age, preserving precious memories captured on slides has become increasingly important. As slides age and degrade over time, converting them to digital format not only ensures their longevity but also makes them easily shareable and accessible. Micro Com Systems LTD understands the significance of preserving these memories, which is why we offer professional slide conversion services. In this blog, we'll delve into the benefits of converting slides to digital format and how Micro Com Systems LTD can help preserve your cherished memories.

Preservation of Memories: Slides are often associated with precious memories, such as family gatherings, vacations, graduations, and special events. However, slides can deteriorate over time due to factors like humidity, temperature changes, and exposure to light. Converting slides to digital format ensures that these memories are preserved in a digital archive, safeguarding them for future generations to cherish.

Improved Accessibility: Digital slides are much more accessible than their physical counterparts. Once converted, slides can be easily viewed on computers, tablets, smartphones, and other digital devices. Micro Com Systems LTD ensures that your digital slides are compatible with various devices and platforms, making it convenient to share and enjoy your memories anytime, anywhere.

Enhanced Image Quality: Over time, slides may experience color fading, scratches, and other imperfections. Converting slides to digital format allows Micro Com Systems LTD to enhance image quality, correct color inconsistencies, and remove blemishes using advanced digital restoration techniques. The result is vibrant, high-quality digital images that capture the essence of the original slides.

Space-Saving Solution: Storing physical slides can take up a significant amount of space. By converting slides to digital format, Micro Com Systems LTD helps you free up valuable physical storage space while ensuring that your memories remain safe and accessible. Digital files can be stored on cloud storage, external hard drives, or archival discs, providing a space-saving and convenient solution.

Easy Sharing and Distribution: Digital slides are easy to share and distribute with friends, family, and colleagues. Micro Com Systems LTD can create digital albums, slideshows, or online galleries showcasing your converted slides, making it effortless to share memories with loved ones or showcase them for professional purposes. Digital slides can also be easily incorporated into multimedia presentations, websites, and social media platforms.

Searchability and Organization: Converting slides to digital format allows for easy organization and searchability of your digital collection. Micro Com Systems LTD can tag, categorize, and index digital slides based on date, event, location, or other relevant metadata. This organized approach makes it simple to search, retrieve, and manage your digital slide collection efficiently.

Preservation of Legacy Content: Converting slides to digital format is crucial for preserving legacy content, such as historical records, archival materials, and artistic creations. Micro Com Systems LTD's expertise in digital conversion ensures that legacy content is preserved in its original quality, making it accessible for research, education, and cultural preservation initiatives.

Future-Proofing: Digital formats are more future-proof compared to physical media, which may become obsolete over time. Converting slides to digital format ensures that your memories are stored in a format that can be easily accessed and preserved for years to come. Micro Com Systems LTD stays updated with the latest digital preservation standards and technologies, ensuring long-term viability and compatibility of your digital slide collection.

In conclusion, converting slides to digital format with Micro Com Systems LTD offers numerous benefits, including preservation of memories, improved accessibility, enhanced image quality, space-saving solutions, easy sharing and distribution, searchability and organization, preservation of legacy content, and future-proofing. Whether you're preserving family memories, historical records, or artistic creations, our professional slide conversion services ensure that your cherished memories are safeguarded.

[to2llynottoby]

im gonna be real i don't understand the ps5 has no games thing because xbox games are like... has there been an xbox game people didn't openly mock since Reach? like i get not liking sony's super high budget prestige games that cost 200 million dollars, i'm sick of it too jim ryan greenlit 800 live service games and told people not to make sequels to old ips, not to work on backwards compatibility, and not to even continue current franchises. but at least they make games, microsoft bought the biggest publishers in the west to fire everyone and throw them in the gamepass mines

[innerchildabortionclinic]

hate to feel like a boomer but sometimes i'll see someone's kids doing something and think "what the hell my mom would've never let that slide in the grocery store". like people who let their kids climb on things and touch things they're not supposed to. honestly got so annoyed at useless parents once I physically moved a toddler's arm off the conveyer belt and clarified it's dangerous for your kid to stick their FINGERS in a fucking moving conveyer belt

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Desperate | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello hello hello! I’ve got some good, old-fashioned angst here for ya.

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: hella angst. Touch starved Bucky and reader. Some slight NSFW vibes, but nothing graphic.

Bucky didn’t seem to notice when you told him you had to step away for a moment. He remained focused on his clean up duties in the kitchen; he didn’t raise his head or look your way. In fact, he didn’t seem to be noticing you much at all, lately. But as you eyed your ensemble in the full-length mirror in your bedroom, you knew you’d win back his attention.

This was his absolute favorite lingerie of yours. The set that made him so feral, drove him so insane with lust, that he’d broken the headboard last time you wore it. After that, the two of you agreed you’d save it for special occasions only; otherwise, the apartment you shared would need to be entirely refurnished. And though tonight was just a normal, run of the mill Friday night, you needed to pull out the big guns.  

The black leather bustier- the one that made Bucky destroy furniture- hugged your figure perfectly. It’s plunging V-neck ended just above your navel. And the lacy details perfectly mirrored the cheeky black underwear Bucky gifted you last Valentine’s Day. A matching garter belt was the piece de resistance, and it held in place the thigh high stockings that drove Bucky wild. 

You gave yourself one final look before slipping on a pair of black stilettos and stalking out of the room. This was it- the perfect formula for recapturing Bucky’s gaze. 

He’d been distant lately. Almost cold. He hadn’t touched you- in even the most innocent sense- in nineteen days. It had been even longer since you were last able to steal a kiss. And the two of you hadn’t had sex in three weeks, which was unheard of.

Usually, Bucky gave his physical affections freely. He loved touching you, kissing you, holding you. He wanted to play with your hair, hold your hand, kiss your forehead- anything- as long as it meant he got to touch you. To feel you. When he had a rough day, your arms provided him with safety and comfort. And when a mission stole you from his side, your lips welcomed him home. He poured his love for you into every touch, leaving his fingerprints all over your soul.

To him, any moment spent without your skin pressed against his was a moment wasted. 

And your sex life was mind-blowing, to say the least. Bucky’s stamina and eagerness to please you left you breathless and seeing stars almost every night of the week. After a few rounds with him, you found yourself unable to speak, unable to think. The only thing that had the power to permeate your hazy, lust-filled mind was him. Your hunger, your need for him could never be sated, and fucking him only made you want him more. But he was more than happy to give himself over to you. He could pull two or seven orgasms from you before you even knew what hit you. And that was just his warmup. 

But the last three weeks had been completely void of any debauchery. Bucky didn’t slip into your shower or slide his hand up your skirt. He didn’t even grab your ass when you walked by wearing leggings. It was a startling difference that filled the apartment with a biting, bitter cold, chilling you to the bone. But Bucky said- he swore- he was fine. That he was just tired. Or stressed. Or busy with work. And while you knew his work-life was intense, it never before stopped him from jumping at the chance to make you scream. 

And it wasn’t just the lack of erotic touches that gnawed at you. It was the loss of all physical affections. He didn’t reach for your hand in the store. Didn’t pull you into his chest at night. Didn’t kiss you goodbye in the morning. It left you agonized. Miserable. Empty. 

Every day, you wondered what could’ve possibly caused Bucky to pull away. What could make him withdraw from you so suddenly. Worry ate away at you, slowly devouring you whole. He seemed to work late almost every night these past few weeks. And when he was home, your attempts to talk to him about the issue went nowhere. 

You thought he’d gotten past his urge to hide his troubles from you. It took time, but he learned to be honest. To communicate. And when you were finally confident that he’d stopped hiding his struggles, you learned to stop reading into his every mannerism. His every muscle twitch. His every vocal change. If he said he was okay, he was okay. And after working together- he trusted you to listen, and you trusted him to tell you the truth.

And over the last few weeks, he did, indeed, say that he was okay. That there was nothing lurking beneath his surface. And so, you did as he asked, and you believed him.

But after three weeks of nothing- no roaming hands, no bite marks, no early morning quickies- you were hungry for him. Aching for him. You feared that your bottled-up lust would actually drive you crazy. And so, you decided reach for your secret weapon. 

You found Bucky right where you’d left him: leaning over the kitchen sink, taking care of the dishes from dinner. 

You kept your tone light, innocent, casual. “Hey, Buck.”

“Hey, baby.” He didn’t look up. 

“Um, do you think you could help me with something real quick, Sergeant?” Sergeant. It was devious. Wicked, really. The sound of his title coming out of your mouth always got his heart racing, always made the blood drain from his brain and travel elsewhere.

But he didn’t fall for it.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Just give me one second, I’m-” Finally, he looked up.

His words died in throat, his mind went blank. The pan he’d been scrubbing fell into the sink with a loud crash. Want filled his eyes. He could’ve sworn his mouth started watering. 

“What do you think, Sarge? You wanna come over here and,” you ran a few fingers up your thigh, “help me out?” 

You braced yourself, knowing Bucky was about to pounce. You figured you had less than five seconds before he swept you off your feet and hoisted up over his shoulder. He’d fireman-carried you to bed that way more times than you could count, and you knew this would be one of those nights. 

But five seconds became ten. And then fifteen. And then twenty. And all he’d done was stare at you. 

“Buck?” you took a few steps in his direction. “I thought we could have some dessert.”

He struggled to form coherent thoughts or piece sentences together. “Um, well, I was-” he gestured to the mess in the sink, “I was gonna do the dishes.”

“I know, baby,” you placed a light hand on his shoulder. “But I think you can finish them after- I mean, later.”

Bucky should’ve jumped at the opportunity. He should’ve taken you apart right there on the kitchen counter. But he didn’t. He didn’t even touch you. 

He cleared his throat, “I’m- I’m just gonna do ‘em now.”

Without a word, you turned on your stiletto and retreated to the bedroom. 

Humiliation flared in your chest. Tears gathered in your eyes. And your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out the rest of the world. Suddenly, you felt stupid. Foolish. Part of you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment. 

Bucky had every right to refuse your advances- that wasn’t the issue. It was his complete and utter lack of affection for you. If he didn’t want to have sex with you ever again, you’d (probably) survive. But the harsh and sudden halt of any and all physical affection was eating you alive.

You kicked off your heels the moment you entered the bedroom and found yourself stomping toward the bathroom. You needed to get away. To hide. To protect yourself from any further mortification. The bathroom door slammed shut behind you, and you leaned against the cool wood, hoping to find some peace. But the bathroom mirror only doubled your shame. And as you stared at yourself, clad in what you thought to be Bucky’s favorite lingerie, your breathing hitched in your chest. 

This whole venture was so idiotic. So thoroughly and excruciatingly mortifying. It felt like the final nail in the coffin. If Bucky didn’t want you in your best lingerie, he must not want you at all.

The hoodie you’d slipped out of only minutes ago sat crumpled in a pile on the counter, and eagerly you shimmied into it. Anything to cover up your failed attempt at seduction. 

What was wrong with Bucky? Was he not interested in you anymore? Did he find you unattractive? If he wasn’t seeking sex with you, he had to be getting it from someone else, didn’t he? Who was it? Who-

A gentle knock yanked you out of your spiral.

“Sweetheart…” Bucky called through the door. He tried the handle and found it locked. “Can you come out, baby? Please?”

No part of you wanted to leave the safety of the bathroom. Something deep within you feared that this would be it- the tipping point, the moment of truth. If you did as Bucky asked and ventured out of the bathroom, there was a chance that Bucky would drop some major, soul-crushing truth on you. 

Maybe he’d spent the last three weeks trying to figure out how to break up with you, and this was his perfect opportunity. Maybe he’d break your heart and ruin your life the second you opened the bathroom door. If you could just stay in here- forever- maybe he wouldn’t dump you. Maybe you could delay your heartbreak and extend whatever feelings he once had for you, just for a little while.

But if he didn’t want you anymore, what was the point of prolonging the inevitable? 

With a huff, you dabbed at your eyes with your sleeve and opened the door.

There stood Bucky, looking hopeless. Lost. Miserable. He was propped against the door frame with slumped shoulders and a downtrodden expression- but perked up a bit when you opened the door. A sad smile stretched across his face, and he stood up straight, but his frown returned as you brushed right past him. 

“Baby, can we please talk about this?” He almost begged. 

There was a heavy desperation in his voice. Panic blazed through his chest. Something told him he might be losing you.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you!” You removed your garter belt and slipped off one of your stockings. “I’ve been trying to talk to you about this for weeks! And you just keep saying you’re 'fine'. Or that you’re tired. Or that there’s 'nothing to talk about'- when there clearly is!”

Normally, Bucky could always make you feel better with a hug. Anytime the two of you got into a fight, a long, warm embrace helped ease both of you into open, honest communication. But Bucky didn't reach for you. He opted to keep his distance. To allow you some space.

But space was the last thing you wanted. 

“Look, if there’s something going on and you’re not interested in having sex, that’s fine,” you told him. “I get it. It happens sometimes. But the-” you yanked your other thigh high off and tossed it to the side. “The total embargo on physical touch is really fucking with my head.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your hands shook with wrath. “Buck, you’re never home anymore- you’re always ‘working late’.” You let out a sharp exhale, “and when you are home, it’s like you’re on another planet. You keep your distance from me- you won’t even sit next to me on the couch.”

All Bucky could do was nod. Everything you said was true; there wasn’t a point in arguing.

And as the weight of Bucky’s sudden frigidity finally hit you, your fury was snuffed out. Rage no longer pulsed through your veins with each beat of your heart. Grief took its place. It forced its way into your heart, into your bones. You could’ve sworn you felt fractures spider-webbing their way through your ribs. 

Tears trickled slowly down your cheeks at first, but a downpour followed soon after. “Are you- are you not attracted to me anymore?” You asked between heaving sobs. “Do you not want me? Did I do something?”

“Sweetheart, I-”

“Is there…” your voice cracked. Saying it was too much; part of you feared that vocalizing your fear would make it come true. As though another woman would materialize simply because you asked whether she existed. “Is there someone else?”

The question sucked all of the oxygen out of the room. Bucky stared at you with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape. You did your best to get a handle on your shaky breaths and pained wails; if Bucky was about to reveal an affair, you didn’t want to seem so broken. So hopeless. So pathetic. You didn’t want to give him any ammo to take back to his side piece. Any dramatic tales that would make her howl with laughter.

But he didn’t admit to having a mistress. He, instead, let loose a few tears himself. Knowing that he’d made you question his loyalties, that you’d actually feared he’d been unfaithful, made him want to die.  

“Oh my god,” His voice wavered under the hefty weight of his pain,“Baby-” 

“Is there someone better?”

“No.” He couldn’t fathom the suggestion that there was someone- anyone- out there better than you. “There is no one better.”

He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to be near you. In three quick strides, he arrived in your vicinity. But he remained just out of your reach. Everything in him begged - screamed- to hold you close. To kiss you. To take your hand, at the very least. His fingers twitched with the need to touch you. But he refrained. 

 “There’s no one else- of course, there’s not. There will never be anyone else. I still want you, I will always want you. I love you.” 

The overwhelming urge to remove himself from your space barked at him. It screamed and hollered from the deep recesses of his mind. And he knew he should listen. But he couldn’t- not when you were falling apart in front of him. Not when he’d made you feel unwanted, unattractive, and unloved.

“You didn’t do anything, doll,” he hated himself for doing this to you. For making you doubt his love. For reducing you to a sobbing, heaving shell of yourself. “I’m still attracted to you- I’m so attracted to you. You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

His reassurances helped assuage some of the fear, some of the worry. But only a small portion. Because even though he’d refuted all of your hypotheses and accusations, he still hadn’t given you a reason. And he still hadn’t touched you. 

“Then what’s-” you forced yourself to take a moment to think. To breathe. To get your head on straight. “What’s the problem? What’s going on with you?”

Bucky didn’t answer. He didn’t make eye contact. He simply stared at the area rug, tracing its border with his eyes. And though he knew you needed his touch, needed his affection, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Couldn’t bring himself to slip his hand into yours or cradle your face in his hands. 

His silence sliced through you and tore you open. You could’ve sworn you were bleeding out. 

“Buck, I miss you-” It was needy. Ugly. But you didn’t care. “Please, just be honest with me. I’m worried about you. And this isn’t normal for us, so-”

His words came out so low, so hushed, that you struggled to hear him. “I just haven’t been able to shake what happened last time.”

He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. He gave a small shake of his head. His hands balled into tight fists. He’d thought about what happened over and over and over again. He thought about it every day for the last three weeks. Relived the panic, the fear. And every night when he tried to fall asleep, the scene played out on an endless loop inside his mind. Horrifying nightmares plagued him each time he closed his eyes. He woke up shaking, covered in a cold sweat. There was no escaping it.

---Three weeks ago---

Things started around 8pm. It was all innocent enough, with Bucky spooning you as the two of you rewatched New Girl. But Bucky let his hands roam, as he so often did. And after only one episode, his hand had snaked up your shirt. His warm palm rested against your breast as his fingers swept over your skin. He teased your nipple once, twice. It was all the motivation you needed.

At his prompting, you pushed your body back against his, allowing your ass to grind against him. A low, animalistic moan vibrated deep within his chest. All bets were off after that. 

Before you could even blink, Bucky had you in his arms. He palmed your ass and positioned your legs around his waist as he set off down the hall toward the bedroom. His lips hungrily devoured yours. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging on the strands every now and again. He let more depraved sounds loose and you happily swallowed them all. 

Time lost all meaning after Bucky laid you out on the bed. The world outside of your bedroom ceased to exist- only Bucky remained. The two of you were a frantic, needy tangle of pounding hearts and sweat-slick skin. Teeth marks adorned his chest. Scratches adorned his back and shoulders. And Bucky devoted all of his time, all of his energy, all of him to pleasing you.

He took his time, slowly working you over as though it were his job. He loved teasing you, love watching you squirm. And when he had you absolutely begging, he gave you exactly what you wanted. In fact, he kept giving it to you- and had no intention to stop. 

He’d lost track of time. Lost count of how many times he made you come. All he knew was that double digits had been reached- and that was a long time ago. Was it an hour ago? Or three? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he had his best girl falling apart at the seams. Over and over and over again. 

He made sure to check in with you after every bout of world-shattering ecstasy, and you always gave him the green light. As time passed, your sentences turned into solitary words, which devolved into incoherent, needy sounds. But you always gave him a fervent nod, ensuring that you absolutely wanted- needed- him to continue. 

Even as sweat dampened the hair around your face, even as your lips grew swollen- you wanted more. More Bucky- there was never enough of him. It didn’t matter that he’d carried you to bed hours ago, you were insatiable. If he fucked you for a full twenty-four hours, it still wouldn’t have been enough.

At one point, you ended up in his lap, riding him like your life depended on it. He was seated upright on the edge of the bed, his chest pressed to yours. And by the depraved sounds and shaky breaths that fell from your lips, he knew you were close to yet another heart-stopping moment of bliss. His right arm snaked around your back, holding you firmly in place. He forced his vibranium fist down into the mattress; it gave him the extra leverage he needed to fuck into you even deeper. To push you over the edge. 

With a strangled scream, your orgasm crested over you. Your eyes squeezed shut. Sharp inhales filled your chest. Your mouth hung open. Every muscle in your body went rigid. Tense. Slight tremors rocked you every few moments- it was exactly what Bucky wanted. 

“Oh, that’s my girl,” praises dripped from his lips like honey.  A debauched moan vibrated out of his chest. “So good for me, always so good for me, baby.”

He watched as your eyes rolled back in your head. And with a final exhale, your limp body slumped forward, your face landing against Bucky’s chest. He put his movements on pause and allowed you to recover. To catch your breath. To rest.

He smoothed his cold, metallic hand up and down your spine. “You doing okay, sweetheart? You tired?” He dotted a kiss to your hair, “We can call it a night.”

You didn’t say a word.

“Baby,” he scratched gently at your shoulder blade. “Can you answer me?” 

But you remained silent.

Concern coursed through his veins. He feared he’d gone too far. That he’d pushed you past your limits. And if you were upset, he needed to do whatever he could to help you through. As gently as he could, he used both of his hands to lift your head from his chest. 

What he found sent a wave of chills rushing over his skin. 

You were out cold. Completely unconscious. 

Bucky found himself operating on autopilot. He removed you from his lap and laid you flat on the bed. His fingers searched your neck for a pulse. Your name fell from his lips in a horrified, desperate prayer. 

A breakdown loomed on the horizon, darkening everything around him. His hands shook, his chest tightened. The copper-penny taste of blood exploded across his tongue as he sunk his teeth into his cheek. But he couldn’t fall apart- not when your life depended on it. 

And massive sigh of relief left his chest when he felt your strong, steady pulse beating beneath his fingertips. 

And once he knew that you were, indeed, alive, he allowed himself to fall apart- but only for a moment. Tears dripped down his face and splashed against your chest as he loomed over you. He breathlessly told you he was sorry. That he loved you. That he didn’t mean to hurt you. 

But that was all he permitted. You still needed him, even if you weren’t in dire straits. And so, he forced his emotion behind a wall and pressed on. 

No part of him wanted to leave your side, but it was a necessary evil. He sped through the apartment and into the kitchen, digging in the freezer for ice packs. And when he found the two you required, he snagged a couple dish towels from the drawer by the sink and raced back to the bedroom. 

“Hey, I’m- I’m back, baby,” he said to your unconscious body. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I just had to get-” he held up the icepacks. Even if you couldn’t hear him, he wanted you to know that he’d never- under any circumstances- abandon you when you needed him. 

He wrapped each ice pack in a towel and tucked one behind your neck while the other rested on your chest. And then, all he could do was wait. 

He hovered over you, watching for any signs of waking, any signs of distress. His hands smoothed over your hair and drifted across your cheek. His fingers monitored your pulse every few seconds. His lips left kisses against your forehead. And though he knew that your life wasn’t in danger, it didn’t quell the shaking in his hands. Didn’t stop the waves of nausea cresting over him. 

And he didn’t take a full inhale until your eyelids finally began to flutter open. 

He watched closely as you finally blinked your way back into consciousness. Everything was kind of fuzzy, a bit hazy around the edges. A quiet ringing filled your ears. A slight tremor rendered your hands unsteady. And the world around you seemed to tilt and twist without warning.

But Bucky was right there, anchoring you to the earth. He let a gentle hand rest against your cheek. 

“Hi, baby,” his voice was soft, sweet, comforting.

But you couldn’t respond even if you wanted to, as your synapses refused to get their shit together. Words collided and melted together, dripping into amorphous puddles inside your mind. You swore someone had stuffed your head full of cotton. Everything felt far away; the entire world was muffled somehow, as though you were trapped behind fifty feet of glass.

Concern bled into Bucky’s words, “Sweetheart, are you alright?” 

And it wasn’t easy, but you finally remembered how to think. How to speak. You chipped away at the thick pane of glass separating you from Bucky, and finally answered. 

“’m okay…” You reached for Bucky’s face and allowed your fingers to gently trace down his jawline. His stubble pricked at your skin. His warm breath fanned your face. 

And without warning, tears slipped from your eyes. Rivulets coursed down the sides of your face and dripped into your hair. It was a sudden, jarring shift that sent Bucky’s heart leaping into his throat. 

“Oh, no- oh, sweetheart,” he gently cradled your face in his hands. “Baby, you’re okay- everything’s okay. You’re fine. You’re safe.” 

He did everything in his power to bring you some sense of peace, but the tears refused to stop. And he found himself desperately, hopelessly, trying to comfort you. He tripped over himself again and again, apologizing endlessly. And when that didn’t work, he changed tactics. He spelled out what happened for you in clear, easy to understand terms, ridding you of the dreaded unknown. He promised that you were only out for a minute or two. That you were perfectly safe.  

He left gentle touches against your skin and dotted kisses to your cheeks and hairline- just like you always did for him when he fell to pieces. And if it worked for him, he hoped it might work for you.

He wasn’t sure what brought an end to your waterworks- his reassurances or his touch- but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that you’d finally stopped crying. That your breathing was returning to normal. The sharp pain radiating through his chest dulled a little bit as he dried your last few tears. Finally, your hands stopped trembling. And your heartrate slowly regressed to its mean. He thanked a startling number of deities that you were alive and seemed to be improving.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “How do you feel, baby? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Um…” you dried your damp lashes on the backs of your hands. “I’m cold.”

“Shit- sorry,” Bucky snatched your icepacks from their respective positions and threw them to the floor. 

Guilt bloomed in his chest; he should’ve removed the ice the second you woke up. Should’ve covered you with a blanket. Should’ve used his body to keep yours warm. Should’ve- 

He didn’t have time to spiral into guilt and shame and ‘should haves’. 

He leaned over the side of the bed and located his discarded hoodie, the one you’d yanked over his head only a few hours ago in your insatiable pursuit of his body.

“Hey, here you go, doll,” he gently helped you wriggle into the soft fabric and covered you with the bedspread. And once he was confident that you were comfortable, he slid under the blanket with you and vowed to give you all of his body heat. 

The second he laid down next to you, you rolled onto your side and buried your face in his chest. He curled his body protectively around yours; he wasn’t going to let anything else happen to you tonight. Or ever. His hand swept up and down the length of your spine on a seemingly endless loop. He whispered ‘I love yous’ and “I’m sorrys” until he thought he might go hoarse.

And when your world fell properly into place and you finally felt like yourself again, you plucked your head from his chest.

“Hi,” you reached upward and let your fingers slowly drift across his cheek bones. The slope of his nose. His lips.

“Hi, baby.” He couldn’t fight the smile that pulled at his features. This was the version of you he knew. The version that, only a few minutes ago, hungrily egged him on in his pursuit of your pleasure. “You doing okay?”

You gave him a confident nod, “Yeah, I’m okay now.” Your lips drifted across his, “Sorry, it kinda took me a minute to come back to myself, you know?”

“That’s okay, doll,” he let he tips of his fingers ghost over your spine. “Don’t apologize.”

“And I really didn’t mean for there to be any,” you gave Bucky some unenthusiastic jazz hands, “any theatrics tonight. Sorry about the drama.”

Bucky gave a shake of his head, “No, baby, it’s okay. I’m…” he traced your features with his cold, gentle fingers. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Yeah, I’m totally fine,” you shrugged. “It was weird though, right? This has never happened to me before- I’ve never passed out during sex.” You gazed at him with a spark of lust in your eyes, “You know, I’m actually impressed. You made me come so many times that I actually blacked out. None of my ex-boyfriends can say that.”

You let out a quiet laugh that Bucky didn’t return. He didn’t find it funny- he didn’t find any of this funny. But he put on a smile for your benefit.

“Oh, and sorry about all the crying,” you sighed. “I don’t know what that was about.”

“That’s alright- it happens,” he shrugged. “You went from really high highs and then fell to some pretty low lows. It’s just got to do with the chemicals in your brain, nothing to apologize for.” He trailed kisses across your forehead and down your nose, “Plus, you were probably scared. Or freaked out, at least.”

The guilt sunk its teeth into every fiber of Bucky’s being. And as you nestled closer to him, a tidal wave of revulsion nearly dragged him from the bed. He should’ve known better. Should’ve exercised better judgment. You weren’t like him; you didn’t have the enhanced energy and stamina to match his. He shouldn’t have pushed you to the edge like that. Shouldn’t have carried you past your limits. 

Normally, he’d do anything to be near you. He wanted- needed- to touch you as much as possible. And if he couldn’t touch you, he at least had to be close to you. But the voice in his head screamed at him, telling him to vacate your vicinity. And the overwhelming, urgent need to put some space between his body and yours yanked him out of bed. 

“Baby, I’m gonna go get you some water, okay? And a snack,” he headed for the door, “you stay there, I’ll be right back.”

It was the perfect excuse. He really did need to provide you with sustenance and hydration after your black out- but a trip to the kitchen also provided him with a reason to remove himself from your side. He counted it as a win-win.

And from that moment on, he did his best- his very best- to keep his hands off of you. To stay as far away as possible. To ensure that you would be safe. 

He couldn’t risk your well-being, not again.

------

It wasn’t quite what you expected him to say. And though it was a far better reason than the affair you concocted for him during your downward spiral, it still didn’t make much sense. 

“Last time?” 

What exactly happened last time? You wracked your brain, searching your memories for some terrible event- but you came up empty. And just as you were about to call bullshit on Bucky’s reasoning, you stumbled upon the memory of your innocuous, minute-long black out. 

“Oh, the thing with me passing out?”  

Bucky gave a solemn nod. At the thought of it, his face lost all color, all warmth. A sickly shade of gray tainted his skin.

“Buck, I know that was kind of weird and not at all ideal, but it was fine,” you shrugged, “It wasn’t a big deal.”

You took a cautious step toward him, and much to your dismay, he countered with a step back. 

“If anything, it was a fluke.” Again, you took a step in his direction. And again, he backed away. 

Bucky feared what might happen when you backed him into a corner, when his spine hit the wall. He knew he’d have to slip from your grasp and vacate the room. That he’d have to find an escape. But he knew it would hurt you. After weeks of no warmth, no touching, no physical intimacy, you were barely hanging on by a thread. And if he ran from the room, it would surely cause that thread to snap. But wasn’t that better than the snapping of your neck? Or your spine? Wasn’t it better for you to hurt emotionally, rather than physically?

“Buck, it’s never happened before, and I highly doubt it will ever happen again,” you said. “I didn’t sleep well the night before, and I had a long day leading up to that. I didn’t eat breakfast or lunch, I was dehydrated, and I’d been sick the week prior. It was a perfect storm of circumstances that made me pass out. Not you.” 

You intertwined your fingers, locking them together in search of any kind of touch. Any physical reassurance. “Seriously, Buck, that will never happen again. I promise.”

Bucky knew of one surefire way to ensure it would never, ever happen again. All he had to do was keep his distance. If he could refrain from touching you, if he could keep his hands to himself, you’d be safe.

But you’d be miserable- he knew you would. And as he gave you a long once-over, a sharp pain shot through him like lightning. Tear tracks trailed down your cheeks. Your eyes were red and puffy. Dark circles stained your under eyes- you hadn’t been sleeping, had you? No, you’d been staying up all night, worrying about Bucky. About the state of your relationship. 

And when he noticed the way you’d tangled your hands together, the way your right thumb stroked against the back of your left hand, he could’ve sworn he’d been stabbed through the chest. You were so desperate for affection, so robbed of touch, that you were trying- and failing- to self-soothe. 

“I know it was scary for you,” he finally said. “And I know you’re the one who passed out, so I’m not trying to make this about me- I swear. But it was…” He, too, found himself absentmindedly searching for physical comforts. He slowly raked a hand through his hair a few times, but it didn’t have the same effect; only your hands could bring him peace. “It was scary for me, too.”

A pang of anxiety rocketed through you. How could you have been so selfish? So heartless toward Bucky’s plight? Of course, he’d been scared. Of course, the events of that night affected him, too. And you knew that if the situation were reversed, you would’ve been paralyzed with fear. With worry. 

You’d just gotten so swept up, so overwhelmed by the loss of his hands. His lips. His arms. It darkened your periphery and gave you tunnel-vision. All you could see- all you could feel- was the cold. The emptiness. The fear of losing him.

“Shit, baby, I’m-” you reached for Bucky but recoiled. “I’m so sorry. You just- you said you were fine. Every time I asked, you swore everything was okay. So I thought-”

“I know…” Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek. He let his head droop, allowed his gaze to drop to the floor. And he stayed that way. For a while.

His hands dug deep into his pockets and his shoulders fell forward ever so slightly. He found himself awash in regret. Longing. Loneliness. He knew it was his fault; he’d done this to himself. He’d chosen to isolate, to pull away. But it was the safest option for you, wasn’t it? And your safety came before anything and everything else- full stop. 

“It took me a long time,” he finally said, “it took me a long time to be able to touch you. I couldn’t bring myself to do it for…” He silently thought back on that time, adding up the days where he kept his hands to himself- but they were far too numerous. “For a while. Do you remember that?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but I- I guess I always figured it was just some old-fashioned, chivalrous, nineteen-forties type of thing…”

“Well, that was,” a small smile flickered across his face, “that was part of it. But the real reason is that I was too scared. To touch you, I mean.” His smile disappeared. His features suddenly fell. His eyes darkened. “Sometimes, I don’t know my own strength, you know? And I was too- I was so afraid that I’d hurt you, baby.” 

“Oh…” You hadn’t thought of it that way. 

“I had to kind of overcome that fear, and it took time. I think it took me over a month just to hold your hand- and even then, it was only for a second.”

Bucky’s words had an endless darkness to them- a darkness you were well acquainted with by now. When he was really down, when he was going through a particularly miserable time, his voice took on the pitch-black tone of the abyss. And when he found himself drowning in the obsidian sea, it was your hands that guided him out. You’d hold him close to your body, wrapping him in the safety of your embrace- and slowly, he’d wade out of his agony. 

But this time was different. 

No matter desperately you longed to touch him, to comfort him, to save him- you couldn’t. He didn’t want your hands, your body anywhere near him. Of course, he did want you close- he just wouldn’t allow it. 

“But you know I’ve never been afraid of you, right?” Your arm twitched with want. Almost on autopilot, your hand tried to reach out and touch him, but you forbade it. “I’ve never thought that you’d hurt me-”

“I know.” He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. You never saw him as a monster or a threat- you never saw him the way he saw himself. “But when we first started dating, I was having these nightmares. I actually had them for the first year of our relationship- at the least…”

Your heart sank. He had enough nightmares as it was; and to know that you’d somehow delivered him a fresh crop of terror made you nauseous.

“Every night when I went to sleep, I’d have these awful dreams…” His eyes took on a hollow quality as he hurdled backward and fell into his memories. “They always started out okay- they seemed like normal dreams. In some of them, we were hugging. In others, we were having sex. And everything was fine. But then, you’d start-” He dragged a few fingers across his bottom lip and down his chin, “you’d start bleeding out of your mouth. Your eyes would roll back in your head. And you’d collapse. You’d die in my arms. Every time.”

A small gasp filled your lungs, “Buck…” It was your most basic, most intrinsic instinct to comfort Bucky with soft, gentle touches. Your hands were his homing signal, and when he got lost in the dark labyrinth of his past, you automatically guided him to safety. You couldn’t remember a time when you’d ever caged that reflex- until now. He stood in front of you, completely despondent, and you couldn’t do a damn thing to help him.

“And the other night- it was exactly like one of my nightmares. You went completely limp, baby, and your eyes rolled back in your head. You were unresponsive. I was so scared, I…” He almost didn’t want to say the words. Didn’t want to tempt the universe by voicing his greatest fear. “I thought I killed you. I thought I’d held you too tight and crushed your spine, or something. I had to-” He cleared his throat, forcing the oncoming emotion away, “I actually had to feel for a pulse to make sure you were still alive.”

“Baby, I- I didn’t know that.” He’d conveniently left that out when he walked you through what happened. He’d sidestepped his horror and his trauma and put you first, as he always did. “But you’d never hurt me- you couldn’t.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not on purpose. But I thought I’d gone too far in the heat of the moment, and…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. “Even though you didn’t pass out because of me, I’m still- I can’t get over it. I can’t stop thinking about it. It was like one of my nightmares had come to life- it hit way too close to home.” He pressed his palms to his eyes for a moment and forced himself to catch his breath. Only when he felt his heartrate return to normal did he speak again. “So, I’ve been scared- too scared to touch you.”

It shattered you. All Bucky did- all he’d ever wanted to do- was protect you. And though he’d spent the last three weeks aching for his best girl, he didn’t dare lay a finger on you- all in the name of your safety. Sure, his execution wasn’t the best, but his intentions were pure and kind, as they always were. 

“But I know I didn’t… I didn’t handle this the right way. And I’m sorry- I’m so sorry I pulled away,” he tripped over himself again and again, desperately begging for your understanding. For your forgiveness. “I know you’re not happy- believe me, I’m not happy either. I’ve been miserable this whole time- I miss you so much, sweetheart. And I never wanted to hurt you like this. I just didn’t…” He gave a small shake of his head, “I didn’t want to hurt you physically, either. And I didn’t know what to do. So, I figured that keeping my hands off of you was safest. But I didn’t mean to upset you.”

All the work he’d done, all the effort he’d put into fixing his self-image had crumbled in one fell swoop- all because you didn’t have the wherewithal to eat breakfast and stay hydrated three weeks ago. Bucky’s normally upright posture was sloped, his shoulders curved forward. He had the same hollow look in his eye that he had when you’d first met him. And now that he’d spent more than five minutes with you, you noticed all of the fingernails on his right hand were bitten down to the quick.

“Shit. Buck, I’m- I’m so sorry, baby.” You dried your cheeks on the sleeve of your hoodie. “I fucked up…”

“No, no. This is all on me- I fucked up. I basically abandoned you.” His voice took on a harsh, sharp edge he only ever reserved for use against himself. You knew the inside of his head was a horror scene, full of admonishing comments and self-flagellation. You wished you could rescue him from his own mind. 

But his tone softened when he spoke about you, “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart-”

“Buck, I accused you of cheating,” you nearly scoffed. It was ridiculous. Completely absurd. That you believed for even a moment that Bucky could actually have a mistress proved just how out of your mind you were. But grief, you figured, was capable of making people believe crazy things. “That was absolutely wrong of me. And I didn’t even-” you shook your head. “I didn’t even think that the other night might have affected you-”

“You were upset, and rightfully so.” He absolved you of any blame, any guilt. “Plus, you were the one who blacked out, not me. My feelings on the subject aren’t nearly as important as yours.”

“But you witnessed it. And it scared you. A lot.” You hated knowing that he’d been too horrified, too paralyzed with fear to even hold your hand. And the fact that he’d dealt with all of it alone was enough to force you to your knees. “I should’ve known better- I should’ve known you were upset. I’m so sorry, Buck. This was so unfair to you, I-”

He held up a hand, halting your words. “You can’t read my mind, sweetheart. And I could’ve communicated better.” He flashed you a sad smile, “That’s something I said I’d work on- communication. And I’m getting better at it, but I’m not perfect yet.”

“I’m not either, so… I guess we both have some stuff to work on. I probably shouldn’t go around alleging that you had an affair out of the blue.” You crossed your arms over your chest, hugging them tight to your body. Even if Bucky wasn’t sleeping with someone else, he still hadn’t allowed himself to touch you. And you were no match for the bone-chilling cold that had settled into the apartment.

“Um, okay, you know what? We can actually- let’s completely forget I said anything about this. Just put it out of your mind, alright?” This time, it was you who retreated. You who stepped away. 

“Sweetheart, wait-” Bucky adopted your role as the pursuer. He took a few strides in your direction, anxious to close the gap between you. He felt you slipping through his fingers, like he may never regain what the two of you used to have. 

“No, Buck, it’s okay. We’re okay. I just want you to do whatever works for you. I don’t want you to be hurting all the time, I don’t want you to be scared.” Again and again, you stroked your thumbs over your upper arms, but it didn’t bring you a hint of comfort. “And if that- if that means you can never touch me again, I’ll understand-”

“That’s not what I want- that’s absolutely not what I want,” Bucky’s eyes were wide. Almost crazed. It was as though the thought of never touching you again threatened to push him to the brink of madness. “I just need to… I need to take it slow. I have to start back at square one, like I did when I first met you. Is that okay? Can you- ”

“Whatever you need, I’m on board.” It was an automatic, instinctual response. Your voice was steady and even, free from any breaks or signs of uncertainty. You’d do anything for him, anything to ease his mind. “We can move as slowly as you need- there’s no rush.”

“But are you… are you sure?” His words dripped with anxiety, with fear. “Cause I can- I can try to get over it. I don’t want you to be miserable, doll. I can-”

“Buck, it’s okay.”

“Baby, I feel like I might…” He nearly doubled over, “I’m afraid I’m gonna lose you over this.”

“You won’t- I promise, you won’t.” Another surge of need coursed through you, begging you to wrap Bucky in an embrace, but you kept your hands to yourself. You’d never push him, would never dream of making him uncomfortable. “You will never lose me. I’m here for you, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care how long it takes.”

And you meant it. Now that Bucky let you in on his secret, you understood that there had to be some distance. Some space. Of course, you’d still miss the physical intimacy. The sleepy mornings spent with your body draped across his chest. The late nights full of depravity and lust. But with the looming darkness of a possible affair banished, you could wait.

Though, you didn’t have to wait long at all.

Because Bucky vanquished space remaining between your body and his. He strode eagerly, anxiously across the room and raised his right hand, desperate to feel you again. But just as his palm grew close to your cheek, he faltered. His brain struggled to reign him in, to put a pause on his possibly dangerous plan. Only millimeters remained between his skin and yours, but he couldn’t find it in him to close the final gap. 

“It’s okay,” you said. “Take your time.”

It was the final push he needed. And finally, he touched you again. His palm lightly ghosted over your cheek, and tears instantly crested over your lash line. The feeling of relief, of home, was almost intoxicating. It was the lightest, softest touch- almost imperceptible. But to you- to Bucky- it was like a fireworks show. 

And after testing the waters with his feather-light touch, he found himself nearly begging for more. 

He allowed his palm to actually rest against your face, to cup your cheek the way he always did. And it acted like an instant pain reliever. The excruciating ache in your chest relented, and your muscles slackened as they released their knots. An all-encompassing warmth wrapped around your entire body, finally ridding you of the vicious cold you’d suffered through all these weeks. This was the warmth you knew you couldn’t live without, the warmth only Bucky could provide. 

His knees almost buckled beneath him, but he wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t allow anything to take this moment from either of you. All this time, he’d felt unmoored, adrift, lost in a dark, endless sea. And no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t seem to find his way back to shore. But with his skin pressed against yours, he finally felt steady. Stable. You provided him with a guiding light. An anchor. He felt more like himself than he had in the last three weeks, all because of you.

Your tears dampened Bucky’s skin, but he didn’t mind. He brushed them gently away with a light sweep of his thumb. 

“Can I?” you motioned to the tears trailing down his cheek.

And after a moment of thought, he gave you a nod. Your hand drifted lightly over his skin to mop up his tears, but your touch only brought on more waterworks. He was so starved of your affection that even the lightest touch made him whimper. He let out a soft, grateful sound that knocked the breath from your chest. 

The two of you remained there a while, soaking in the sensation of the other. Bucky didn’t dare to hug you, and kissing you was still off limits. But his palm remained flush with your cheek for as long as you allowed- and you had no urge to ever remove it.  

You knew there was a long road ahead for him, but you didn’t mind. Starting back at square one with him was something you could handle. Something the two of you could handle together.

“It’s kind of a bummer that I didn’t get to make good use of your…” Bucky gestured to your discarded garter belt and thigh-highs, “outfit.”

You let loose a laugh that vibrated under his palm- the sensation sent a wave of warmth cresting over him.

“It’s alright, Buck. I’ll wear it again, I promise.” You leaned into his touch, greedily searching for more of him. “You can take as much time as you need, okay? I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

———————————

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @anything-more-than-human

[enhaflixer]

Enhypen's reaction when you ask them to run an errand, but they refuse because they’re cuddling you (or just horny )

cw: suggestive, physical touch, nsfw-ish, domestic au, clingy bfs, light possessiveness, makeout session down bad bfs, playful banter, skinship

wc: 1.2K

AN: LEMME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK!

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

Heeseung is half-asleep, his head resting on your stomach, one arm draped lazily over your waist while his fingers skim absentmindedly up and down your thigh.

You hesitate for a second, watching his slow, relaxed breathing, before deciding to just get it over with.

"Babe," you whisper. "Can you run to the store and grab some milk?"

Heeseung lets out the longest, most dramatic groan, snuggling deeper into your stomach like a lazy cat.

"Noooooo," he whines. "I’m too comfy. My body is one with the bed."

"It’s just a quick trip—"

"Babe," he peeks up at you, his voice low and raspy with sleep. "Would you really make me get up right now? Look at me. I’m so comfortable. So warm. So soft."

You blink. "Did you just describe yourself like a heated blanket?"

"I did. And you love it."

You roll your eyes, threading your fingers through his hair, and he hums in complete bliss, smiling sleepily as he presses a kiss against your stomach.

"Mmm. That’s right. Keep doing that. Forget about the milk."

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

His lips are hot and demanding against yours, hands gripping your waist so firmly that your body melts into him with every passing second. His tongue slides against yours, his body pressing you deeper into the couch, heat rolling off him in waves as his fingers trace fire across your skin.

You sigh against his lips, your mind foggy, your body buzzing—

"Babe," you murmur. "Did you remember to grab the eggs?"

Jay freezes.

Pulls back just enough to blink down at you, his expression so bewildered you’d think you just said you were leaving him for his best friend.

"Did I—what?"

You blink up at him, breathless. "The eggs. From the store."

There’s a long silence. Jay stares at you, his hands still firm on your waist, his lips swollen from kissing you senseless—and then he just laughs.

A disbelieving, almost offended laugh.

"Baby, I have you pinned under me, sporting a boner, about to eat you out, and you’re thinking about eggs?"

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s already shaking his head, leaning back in to press a teasing, open-mouthed kiss against your jaw.

"You’re lucky you’re cute," he murmurs against your skin, trailing kisses down your throat, nipping playfully just to remind you of what you almost ruined.

The eggs can wait.

���𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

Jake is practically glued to you, his arms locked around your waist, his lips pressing slow, lazy kisses along your jaw.

"Babe," you murmur, trying not to get distracted. "Can you grab the package from the mailroom?"

Jake freezes mid-kiss, then groans dramatically, burying his face in your neck.

"Ughhhhh. No. My body stopped working. I'm paralyzed."

"Jake—"

"Shhh," he cuts you off, pressing another kiss to your skin, softer this time. "Just let me love you."

You ignore him.

Jake pauses. Then kisses you again—slower, warmer, needier.

You ignore that too.

He pulls back slightly, pouting. "Are you seriously thinking about the mailroom right now?"

You bite back a smile. "Yes."

Jake gasps, full offense activated. "I am literally kissing you and you’re thinking about a package??"

He flops onto his back, dragging you on top of him, sighing dramatically. "Fine. I’ll go. But when I come back, you owe me."

You laugh, finally leaning down to kiss him. He smiles against your lips, victorious.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

"Hoon, can you run to the store real quick?"

Sunghoon doesn’t even look up from his phone. Instead, he just pulls you onto his lap, his arms sliding effortlessly around your waist, his cold fingers slipping under your shirt as he tugs you flush against him.

"Mm. No."

You shiver, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles along your spine.

"Babe," you exhale, already losing focus as he leans in, lazily pressing his lips against your jaw, your neck, your shoulder—

"Shhh," he murmurs, his voice smooth, low, distracting. "Why would I go anywhere when I have you right here?"

His hands roam lower, slower, his lips trailing soft, teasing kisses along your collarbone, smirking when he feels you tense under his touch.

"The store’s not going anywhere," he mutters against your skin, his lips grazing just beneath your ear. "And neither are you."

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

"Sunoo, babe, can you go buy some dish soap?"

Sunoo gasps. Loudly. Like you just asked him to walk barefoot across a field of glass.

"Wow. So you’re sending me out into the cruel world while you stay here, warm and comfortable?"

You blink. "The store is literally down the street."

"ANYTHING could happen!" He throws himself dramatically onto your lap, clutching his chest. "What if I get lost? What if I get kidnapped? What if I trip and fall, and no one ever finds me?"

You roll your eyes, pushing at his shoulders. "Baby, please—"

"No, no. It’s fine. I’ll go. Just… if I don’t come back, tell my story. Make sure they know I was a loving boyfriend, taken too soon—"

"SUNOO."

"Ugh, fine." He sits up, sighing dramatically, then leans in to kiss your cheek. "But only because I love you. And because we need dish soap."

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

Jungwon has you completely trapped under him, one leg draped over yours, his arms locked around your waist, and his face tucked into the curve of your neck like a human-sized koala. His soft breaths tickle your skin, warm and steady, his entire body molded against yours as if you’re his personal pillow.

You hesitate for a second, feeling a little guilty for disturbing him, but you really need him to run a quick errand.

"Babe?" you whisper, brushing his hair out of his face.

He hums sleepily, tightening his arms around you, pressing himself even closer if that were even possible.

"Can you pick up the dry cleaning?" you try, running your fingers through his hair in hopes of softening the blow.

Jungwon makes a small grumbling noise, nuzzling into your neck.

"No," he mumbles against your skin.

"Jungwon."

"Nope. Can’t. Physically impossible."

"Babe, it’s literally five minutes away."

"That’s five minutes too far from you," he murmurs, pressing tiny, sleepy kisses along your shoulder, his fingers slipping under your shirt to trace lazy circles against your spine.

You sigh, heart melting at how ridiculously clingy he is. He hums in satisfaction, his lips ghosting over your collarbone, fingers still drawing slow, soothing shapes on your back.

"See?" he whispers, kissing his way up your jaw. "Just stay here. With me. Forever."

You’re never getting that dry cleaning.

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

"Riki, can you go buy some batteries?"

Silence.

You glance over. He’s sprawled on the couch, eyes glued to the screen, completely ignoring you.

"Riki."

Nothing.

You nudge his leg. "I know you can hear me."

Without looking away, he grabs your wrist and pulls you down next to him, locking an arm around your waist.

"Shhh. Important scene."

"Okay, but after this—"

"Mmm."

"That’s not an answer."

He nods absently, still not listening.

Frustrated, you grab the remote and pause the movie.

Riki slowly turns his head, eyes narrowing. "You did not just do that."

"I did. Now, about the—HEY!"

Before you can finish, he grabs you, drags you onto his lap, and unpauses the movie, trapping you against him.

"Nope. You made your choice. Now we’re both watching."

taglist: @naurwayyyyy

[st4rbwrry]

𝒜𝑀 𝐼 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝒴?

✧｡˚ a shy nympho camgirl seeks a partner to help her film content on a dating app. soon, meeting up with a handsome man who's willing to do anything for the pretty girl he chats with.

𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 𓇼 14k. pwp, lowercase intended, age gap ꒰ toji is 36, reader is 24 ꒱ submissive reader, pleasure!dom toji, bondage ꒰ belt ꒱, check ins, heavy praise, overstimulation, aftercare, unprotected, videography, oral ꒰ f + m ꒱ , squirting + kreaming, spanking, choking, hair pulling, mild degradation, intimacy on high, toji is intimidating, manhandling, masturbation, daddy kink srry not srry, pet names ꒰ baby, girl, pretty, sweetheart, angel ꒱ minors aren't welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

౨ৎ — ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 ꒱: this took me so long to finish y'all but im super proud of it. one of my favorite works so far so i hope y’all enjoy. ♡

you hold your notebook in your hands, a bright pink color with numerous doodles sketched onto its cover, your pen on the back of your ear as you slowly cross off a list of things you needed to buy while browsing on your laptop. your room is quiet aside from the soft sound of music playing from your stereo, beyoncé’s cowboy carter album playing from start to finish while you slumped into your soft pink duvet hiding beneath a white canopy slip. the air is crisp how you like, a fresh, chunky strawberry is chewed between teeth, and your skin is freshly scrubbed and moisturized, only covered in a matcha green two piece short and tank set. a laptop sits on your thighs as you cross your legs, twirling your left calf as you bury your back into your mountain of plushies.

this was frustrating. you never realized how hard this would be to find someone to fuck, let alone film content with. you’d made a profile on hinge a week prior to now, and most of the matches weren’t close to peaking your interest. most of the men seemed like creeps, some too old . . . giving very much grim reaper. and others, too young, freshly adults at that. you think you’ve made yourself appealing enough. cute profile with full faced pictures, personality traits, daily interests even . . . but it somehow didn’t attract those you truly wanted.

as your sticker covered macbook’s motherboard screamed for air, warm on your thighs and now sliding on your tummy the further you leaned back. . . you were growing tired. huffing and puffing from literal exhaustion. am i wasting my time? should i just go out and find people like in the movies? but this generation made it so hard to even physically connect anymore. what happened to people running into each other at a coffee shop, a book store, a park? sharing interests and going on dates. granted, what you were looking for was strictly work related. you wouldn’t dare stare a stranger in the eye you bumped into at the farmers market and ask, “hey, wanna fuck me for content?” it’d be tasteless. you have self respect. others may think differently considering your side quests to fund the unfathomable reality of adulthood on top of just being a girl.

“this fucking sucks,” you groan to yourself, thumb aching from how quickly you hit the big ‘x’ on the bottom left corner of your phone screen.

maybe it was time to call it a night. you had an early shift at the salon, about five clients to be exact, booking either re-twists, goddess braids, or a wig install. so you had to save your hand strength. sighing, you shut off your laptop and set it aside on your nightstand, disconnecting the music from your phone before getting up to cut off the light. your fluffy cat that laid on the edge of your bed shooting her head up in alarm, ready to follow at any adventure you pursued.

“relax, mommy’s not going anywhere,” you smile assuredly, knee dipping into the bed as you lean over to smooch her on her tiny head, pointy ears tickling your cheek as you watch her tail sway. “good night, sweet — oh, fuck! i forgot to feed you. i’m so sorry baby.”

the alert in your tone has the black cat stand in attention, cursing to yourself as you slip on your heart printed slippers and make your way towards the kitchen, your studio apartment being on one level making this task easier. you listen to her tiny paws thud on the floor after she jumps off the bed in a hurry, dashing in front of you, damn near tripping you.

“oh my god, you’re so extra,” you shake your head, but couldn’t help but laugh. she meows at you violently, as if you hadn’t fed her in two weeks. rolling your eyes, you reach for her bowl off the floor to clean before opening a fresh can of fancy feast, using one of her plastic spoons to arrange her dinner.

whilst she awaits, you can’t help but glare at the screen of your phone as it suddenly dings, forgetting to turn off your ringer. hovering over it to activate your face i.d, it immediately opens the hinge app, reloading the page to see a new match. the air you inhaled suddenly catches in your throat as you stare wide eyed at your screen, the man in your view is just what you’ve been waiting for.

“oh, holy fuck,” comprehension wasn’t on your radar seeming as you lost the ability of the cat food in your hand, dropping it to the floor and flinching from the mess your fur baby began chowing on. sucking your teeth, you mutter, “goddamit. no, no. stop it.”

flailing your hand gently to get her to stop, you snatch the can and dump the remainder in the deep oval ceramic bowl. you try to ignore the rapid pounding of your heartbeat, unsure why it went so astray. maybe it’s because you’ve never seen a man so fucking fine. deadly fine, foul almost. as if it was such a disrespect to all beings. she’d cleaned up her own mess, so you take the time to grab your phone and lean against the sink to observe this man further. he had matched with you, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so depressed a few minutes ago . . . unless you were waiting for him to like you back.

toji. it’s his name. simple, nice. he only has about three pictures, one of them a huge black cane corso with a gorgeous silky coat. it made sense given the vibe he was giving. dark, intimidating, sexy. jet black hair, slender smoke gray eyes, sharp jaw and a fascinating scar on the side of his mouth. another thing you noticed was how big he was. most of the clothing he wears sticks to his skin like glue. molding the outline of his muscles, the thickness in his arms, the heaviness in his thighs, the brick trail of his abdomen.

a certain feeling burns in your chest, and between your legs as you scroll to see the last image. he’s sitting on a beach chair, thighs spread in black cargo pants, matching tee, a yuengling beer in his hand and a cross dangling around his neck as he takes a sip of his beverage with a hungry look into the camera. it’s cocky, possessive, dominant. the dark brows above his eyes lowered with attentiveness. his shirt is half risen above his abdomen, and you can easily see the dark trail of hair leading into his crotch. it’s full there, clear as day. so it’s easy to tell he carries something serious.

fuck. “fuck,” you feel yourself growing hot, blowing out a breath of air before making your way back to your comfy bed to stare at him more. what a fucking man. honestly, you’d never seen someone so of your standard. exactly your type. before messaging him, you check his profile a bit deeper to make sure you’re not mistaken of anything. find some flaws, though profiles only express so much.

thirty-six, that makes you moan. that’s a twelve year age difference. though that only makes him hotter. not too old, nor young. he’s a . . . gynecologist.

“so he’s good with pussy,” you giggle to yourself. he makes a decent amount of money. he’s into fitness, clearly. cars, politics, sports. seemed like a pretty laid back man to you.

without even realizing, he had already messaged you, your heart dropping to your toes at his first response.

toji

i’ve seen you before.

you blink, fingers typing quickly.

you

mhm, where?

he takes a moment to reply, so you fiddle with your necklace out of anxiousness, laying on your stomach and swaying your feet.

toji

sounds a little embarrassing, but an adult website.

you

sounds about right. does that bother you?

toji

i wouldn’t have matched with you if it had.

you

so you’re saying if i wasn’t a porn streamer you wouldn’t even look my way?

those three dots prolong longer than you wanted, only making you aware he didn’t know what to say.

toji

i matched with you because i find you attractive. whether you want me in that way or not is up to you. i want you.

he’s straightforward. you can’t help but bite the tip of your acrylic, smiling like a stupid teenager, kicking your feet in the air. the attraction being mutual boosting your ego.

“i want you, daddy,” you joke to yourself.

you

i’m assuming you’ve read my bio. i’m looking for someone to film content with! if you’re down for it, we can meet in person and talk about it! i’m not really looking for a relationship. . . right now at least. ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

toji

of course, sweetheart. i’m free saturday’s and sunday’s. you don’t seem that far from me. let’s grab italian. my treat.

there’s something blunt and grown about him, you can practically feel his intimidation radiating through your fingertips. he seems just like the kind of man you knew would fuck you stupid. scream his name until the walls bled. until you’re trembling, and the sheets are off the bed, and his sweat is on your back so arched to the point where it’s painfully delicious. biting your lip, you had nothing else to lose. you needed his help, he’s offering lunch, you only live once.

you

you had me at italian. saturday at 2?

toji

saturday at 2. see you then, darling.

              𓇼

the nostalgic scent of blue magic hair grease fills the air of the salon, your fingers working tirelessly to intricate detail into the woman’s scalp you worked on. your last client of the day in fact. you couldn’t wait to clock out and grab a bowl from chipotle, thinking about it your entire shift. fingers entwining artfully as braiding hair flicks from angle to angle, you finish up the final knotless braid with a hard working sigh. you tried to remain optimistic after she’d taken her seat, unfortunately arriving an hour late to her appointment. said she had ‘issues’ with her boyfriend, smelling like weed and partially slurring her words when she came in. but you could care less when you were on a time crunch.

you hated when people wouldn’t respect the clearly listed rules on your account. so, for that, she’d be paying a late fee. after you applied moose and rosemary oil to her scalp, she’d pay you through apple pay and be on her way. you thank her, and when she’s out the door, you instantly turn to your friend and roll your eyes.

“you’re too damn nice for doing her hair. i would’ve told her ass to kick rocks after showing up that damn late,” amethyst speaks, crosslegged and shaking her head as she digs her fork into her chinease platter, filled to the brim with shrimp fried rice and popcorn chicken. the smell alone makes your tummy growl. “did she even tip you?”

“not at all,” you brush off, not even wanting to think about it anymore. “still got my money at the end of the day.“

“hey, you’ve been off the whole day, everything alright?” amethyst proceeds to question, and your shoulders slump as you halt from sweeping up hair off the floor.

aside from tireless appointments, you couldn’t get toji out of your mind, super impatient, even anxious for saturday to come. it’s two days away until you finally meet him. you’ve texted here and there, shared a few updates on life or spoke of relating passions and wanting desires. you had told him your occupation outside of being a camgirl, and how dissatisfied with it you’ve become. this field wasn’t for you anymore. the passion for it is dying, the clients grow irritable, and you just wanted to breathe. you feel like you’ve been working your whole life. in conclusion, since fifteen. started from an early age dealing with responsibilities due to financial constraints within your family. your mother raised you on her own, along with four other children. and being cursed with the older daughter syndrome, you developed faster than you wanted to. barely having time to live your life until you moved out. even then, it’s been all about work. you needed an island getaway.

“this week just burnt me out. i’m just glad it’s almost over,” you reply, not having the energy for a full conversation. she was a sweet girl, albeit very nosey. you try to keep events in your life private, gossip to a minimum.

“awe, bookie,” she pouts. “what’s your plan for tomorrow? me and the girls were gonna check out that new club ‘sin.’”

shaking your head, you disagree. “now you know i’m not big on clubs. have an art piece to work on anyways before the weekend comes. so i’ll be busy.”

amethyst nods. “well, alright then. i guess i’ll just see you whenever you get booked again.”

you don’t know why that felt like a backhanded response. you’re only here three times out of the week, and most of those days you see about five to six clients. everyone else had a bigger following on social media, meaning more attention, more money. you believe because you aren’t so passionate for this major, your ability to promote and put effort only shows in your adult entertainment career. since it’s where most of your income comes from as of four months ago.

“guess i’ll see you.”

after packing your ballerina pink telfar bag with all of your tools, you wave goodbye to everyone before making your way to your white honda civic, interior a vast splash of pink matching the two-piece skims set you wore. shorts since the weather is about seventy-five degrees today. buckling yourself in, your only agenda is to head to chipotle and then home. ordering your delectable signature bowl of barbacoa, fajita veggies, guacamole, pico de gallo, corn, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, and refusing to eat the bowl without their vinaigrette and a side of chips.

it’s around 9pm when you’re finally cleaned off from a hot shower, curly hair pushed back from your face with a hello kitty headband as you finish your skincare, sitting at your vanity while scandal plays in the background. you’d already eaten your food about an hour ago, even taking a thirty minute nap to regenerate for this art piece you needed to finish. in total, you had about three jobs; hair stylist, camgirl, ceramicist. you had an etsy profile where people bought cute little things of yours you liked to sculpt. tea pots, coquette flower pots, plates, heart cake jewelry boxes . . you name it. you had a few orders for mini miffy trinkets you had to ship out by saturday.

saturday. the warmth in your gut swarms at the thought of seeing that man. quite frankly, you’ve been unable to relieve your mind of him. he’s like a poison, hard to get rid of, but desperate to stay bonded with you. and you wanted nothing more than to be buried in his embrace; small and fucked out. since he’s been busy with work, and so have you, there hasn’t been much time to even call and chat. then again, you wanted to wait to see him in person. to feel that magnetism stronger than it already was. two days away and you’re anxious to even hear a hello.

while patting your toner into your face, you gaze through your mirror to see a scene playing from your show where fitz and olivia fight before they fuck for the hundredth time. the way he grabs her, speaks to her, caresses her and worships her. it has you thinking of toji instantly. the burn for him aching more than normal. practically feeling his eyes on you the way he stared into the camera in that one photo, long fingers clasped around the glass bottle, craving for that lock around your throat. wondering how tight he’d make it. would you be able to breathe? would he kiss air into your mouth to help you? tell you it’s okay, to feel it all, to take it all, to cum on his dick till you're milking him dry?

your thighs squeeze together from your imagination, staring at your reflection . . . and it’s all in your eyes. deep arousal, and the harsh clench you currently held your moisturizer in, close to grinding in your seat to ease the buzz of your clit. there’s only one solution for this, and you might as well make money off it. standing to your feet, you think not a second more before retrieving your laptop from your closet, setting it on your vanity desk and logging into the domain of prettyfuckbunnies.com. it seemed to be the main site for growth, given your eight thousand dedicated subscribers. you check yourself in the mirror once more before going live, rolling your chair back a few inches so they could see your entire frame. dressed in nothing but a small red slip dress.

angelbwrry is live!

your subscribers were notified well before others, hundreds of them swarming the chat within seconds. you were a new favorite, a prized star of the platform. admiration from both women and men. people who tipped you just for being pretty. others here for the obvious. applying gloss to your lips, you stare intensely into the camera, the character you play going into affect.

“hi,” you mutter quietly, slowly titling your head to the side as you bite your lip and sink lower into your seat, back arching. “i’m so fucking horny, and i just need someone to watch me fuck myself.”

the black kuromi chair you sat in begins to sway as you gently swing yourself side to side, eyes trained on the chat to witness them praise you, some comments degrading off the rip that you chose to ignore, others demanding you get on with it. for the most part, you tend to be discreet with sharing much about yourself. technically, you weren’t hiding much, your face easily accessible and probably even less hard to track. you’d always pray that there wasn’t a psycho willing to go that far just to find you. role playing was your forte. writing ideas for new personas to please them. and you had fun doing it. you’d never do something you weren’t in to for the satisfaction of others. never took private calls, or meets ups for obvious reasons.

but, you had to talk about him.

“i met this guy i can’t get outta my head,” the softness in your tone making dicks go erect and clits beat, the chat asking questions and growing fond of your way of interaction. “well, maybe not met. we’ve texted, and i meet him in a few days. possibly someone you’ll see on the channel. and . . .”

the tenseness in toji’s neck bothers him as he groans and leans back into his office’s chair, fork in one hand as he chews on his salad from sweetgreen a coworker grabbed for him, reading through emails his secretary confirmed appointments of, needing to add it into his schedule to be aware of what he can fit between. needing to run a few errands this weekend. the white doctors coat clings to his body, one foot raised to rest on the front of his desk, manspreading and jaw shifting as he finishes his food tiredly, knowing he wouldn’t eat a thing once he got home.

“goodnight doctor fushiguro! get some rest tonight, yeah?” a body comes to view of his secretary; a woman with glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, a chunky face and beautiful red hair. she waves enthusiastically.

toji smiles, the older woman trying her best not to swoon. he’s young enough to be her son. “good night, miss thorn. thank you for today. you get home safe and enjoy your trip. i wanna hear all about it when you’re back.”

“you know you’re the first person i’m running to tell!” she chirps, toji chuckling. “i left my keys on the main desk. don’t forget or else you’ll have to break open the drawer for your patients files.”

“i’ll be sure to remember.”

twenty minutes pass and toji’s cutting off lights to his small facility and locking up. twirling the keys on his long finger, starting up the sleek black maserati ghibli gt sitting in the parking lot from his key. a black patent leather messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, doctors coat discarded and now attired in his usual black tee with matching slacks. setting it beside him in the passengers seat, he gets a ding! from his cellphone, resting his shoulders in his seat before checking what it was, perhaps it was miss thorn, she tends to leave things behind.

angelbwrry is going live!

toji raises a brow from the notification, checking the sapphire bulova watch on his wrist for the time. 9:54pm. why were you up so late? forgetting people have other schedules, he’s so used to being asleep around this time, much more having to be done today the only reason he was still in the office way past the hour it closed. part of him grows inquisitive, wondering if he should invade your privacy or what not. though, he’s not new to your escapades. he’s seen every inch of your body, memorizing it quite literally. he’s not ashamed to say you’ve gotten him off a few times these past months. he feels like he knows you on a deeper level now, so itching for that perverted behavior would be indecent to both of you. especially if he’s seeing you in two days . . . for a conversation about what you do and his potential participation.

nothing wrong with just watching, right?

as the engine to his car hums, toji finds himself in a devious act, clicking onto your feed and finding you displayed in your feminine bedroom. the videos on mute momentarily before he’s going full screen and turning his phone sideways. there you were, small and standing tall as the slip that barely clung to your body arose the more you moved. hips wide, thighs full, nipples taut and tits defying gravity. the strap on your right shoulder falls elegantly, your hair hoisted up by a claw clip and your brown skin radiating glow. the man openly groans from the sight, knowing you smelt so good.

“wait, i have an idea!” the cute tone of your voice blares through his phone, a smirk painting his stern features as he watches you scramble for something in your room, your slip riding up your ass. the hourglass shape of your body, to the pudge of your tummy . . he’s enamored.

he, and a thousand other people watch curiously as you lift the seven foot mirror that previously leaned against your closet door and position it on the floor at the edge of your bed. then, you’re digging into your bottom drawer for something else, toji catching a brief glance at the chat raving and thirsting from the view of your perky ass peaking out, a tiny birth mark under the left one. the cellulite in your legs that squish together from size, the stretch marks leading from beneath your ass cheeks down to the backs of your knees. so fucking soft.

“ta-da!” you wave the object in your hand courageously, an evil grin on your face as you show the crowd your confetti designed dildo, the brow on toji’s face raising. he almost wants to chuckle. you’re so silly, he thinks. watching you dance your way back towards the mirror where you hum a tune to yourself, swaying your ass in the air for dramatics before plunging your toy onto the center of the mirror so it sticks, watching it spring for attention.

“gonna pretend this is him, ‘till then. can’t wait any longer,” your hands slowly drift up your thighs to show your audience your bare pussy, hiding between those luscious thighs of yours. he wanted to suffocate his face there badly. what you say almost goes over his head. pretend who’s what?

toji ignores the flow of comments filling the chat, degrading you to some degree which he briefly clenches his jaw from, feeling somewhat protective. others praising you, acting like your cash pigs. pathetic, he thinks. he sees one comment in particular that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

prinxxxspeach

aren’t you seeing him saturday? call him now to come help you girl!!

don’t fucking call me, angel. i’ll nut in my pants right now if i hear you say my name. he’s slightly amused that you spoke of him. is that why you went live so late? thinking about him? so pent up, and impatient, you had to just fuck it out your system? he’d fuck you a lot better than that lousy toy you had, that’s for sure.

you giggle from the comment, contacts still in your sockets so you can read what people are saying from afar.

“he can wait for me. he’s making me wait,” it’s like an old film camera flipping to the next scene, or maybe his mind had gone blank from your response because now, now you’re sinking your tiny pussy onto your toy after coating it with lube, the reflection of your cunt for all to see in the mirror. watching as this toy splits you apart, pretty folds swallowing it deep as you balance yourself on the tips of your toes. fully sitting and rolling your hips to adjust, your mouth falls wide and a whimper escapes.

“nng, s’so deep,” that voice of yours is going to get you in trouble. the broken moans you release as you lift your hips to grind and bounce, face falling forward to look at yourself, seeing someone other than yourself. your imagination begins to run wild, and you forget a cameras watching you, dainty fingers caressing the mirror before laying your palm flat, as if you’re choking him. biting your lip, you occupy your other hand by molding at your chest.

you uphold your balance well, clapping your ass down against the mirror now coated with your slick, pussy squelching ridiculously loud aside from your weak moans and desperate whimpers.

“fuuck,” your breath hikes, sounds broken and almost pleading, eyes rolling back as you collapse to your knees and lazily rock back on your idea of a dick. by this point, toji’s eyes are malicious, and his dick is hard in his slacks. shifting in his seat uncomfortably from what you’ve done.

“lemme see your face,” toji whispers in the air, the heat rushing to his cheeks. the things you do to him truly fascinating.

“g’na cuum, mmph daddy!” a high pitched squeal you let out stuns him, your hips shifting back and forth hurriedly. the flesh of your ass moving like water, and he’s in a trance. daddy? what the fuck are you doing to him? he wonders if you knew he was going to purposely join your live. already talking about him gave it away.

“c’mon, angel. show me,” the blood swells in his cock rapidly, tip damn near dripping with precum, unable to help but palm his heavy hand with it, humming and widening his legs.

“too-jii,” it’s faint the words you falter, a pathetic whimper followed by drool covered lips and a cute squeak. your body trembles from the depth of your orgasm, riding out your high and giggling cutely to yourself. to others, the words were inaudible. but to him, he knew exactly what the fuck you said.

the way you smile at yourself in the mirror, as if you’re looking at his fucked out face, you slowly upturn your head to bring it back to the livestream, a drunken, and dangerous grin on your face. never in his years of life had a woman made him gulp. to fear for what you’d do to him. how bad you’d break him, make him go fucking crazy. yearn for your pussy on his mouth.

you were fucking ethereal.

              𓇼

of-fucking-course you’d be running late. you were supposed to meet toji at two and it’s two thirty. the location of c’est moi exactly twenty five minutes away from where you lived. you were close to the downtown area, not fond of parking down there but you’d drive faster than an uber can. you made sure to make toji aware of your lateness so he’s not getting the idea that you stood him up. never. not after the other day. you don’t know what happened, but your mind took over your body and you couldn’t help yourself. you only pray he didn’t see it, not expecting him to. it’s embarrassing now that you think back on it.

you manage to make it out of the house twenty minutes after, throwing on a simple white pleated cami dress with a ruffled hem, ruched bust, and pairing of olive green sandals that had tea rose shaded orchids clipped onto the forefront. a teri cherry printed coach bag tight on your shoulder after you sped sixty miles per hour towards the restaurant, finding parking and hurriedly making your way inside.

“hi, reservations for fushiguro. i’m extremely late,” as you approach the host, you make out the sight of the man you were here to see outside instantly. sitting alone sipping a cup of coffee. his side profile all you can see, that deep scar carved into the side of his mouth, his veiny hands big as he clutches the mug . . and your throat clogs up.

he’s fucking . . . big. fuck being nervous before, this made you want to run and hide and never show your face. he’s practically hunching over the table, making it appear smaller than it actually is. his hair is midnight black, his broad shoulders and muscles suffocating the sleek gucci button up he wore, a few undone, eyes studying his cellphone, awaiting your call. one thing about being a doctor, he’s learned to be patient. understanding your alarm forgot to go off, or rather you slept through it . . seemingly growing to become impatient. he needed to see your face now.

“right this way.”

your feet follow blindly behind the hostess, trying your best not to trip over your own feet, heart beating drastically against your ribcage. your palms are sweaty, feeling the warm breeze of spring air hit your skin as the hostess leads you outside to the table where toji resides. he sees you before you see him, the sun beaming on your skin not nearly as hot as your cheeks suddenly became when finally making eye contact. your right hand picks at the ends of your dress anxiously, toji taking a stand to welcome you like a gentleman. it’s like slow fucking motion the closer you approach him, and when you’re inches apart, you can see the stillness on his face. he doesn’t smile, his face is almost unreadable. not sure if he’s upset with you for being late, or he’s just not one for emotions.

“hi,” the hairs on your skin stand from the deep baritone of his voice, visibly swallowing as you stare up at him, height difference making you dizzy.

“hi,” you blink like an innocent doe. he’s hovering over you and the waiter whom sets the menu down on the table, his chest almost touching you as he comes around to pull your chair out for you to sit, finally getting so close to the point where he could breathe in your sweet perfume, the peony and white musk scent has him forcing down a groan. he’s staring intently at your backside, dark hair going to the middle of your back in wild curls, a bit frizzy due to the humidity outside.

“can i get you anything to drink, miss?” the waiter addresses you, politely waiting for toji to move out the way.

why is your entire body on fire? no man has ever had this affect on you. his aura exudes something sinister, overtly masculine even. “u-um, yes please. can i just have a frozen sangria?”

“of course, i’ll be back with that while you decide on your meal.”

“thanks,” you smile sweetly, trying your very best to avoid complete eye contact. once the two of you are alone, you build up the courage to look at him again. he’s seated once more, leaning back into his chair with a left arm resting over the back of the chair with his legs comfortably spread. he liked to do that a lot. his eyes are low, head adjusted somewhat to the left as he observes you.

“good to finally see you,” he’s the first to speak, again. that fucking voice of his; raspy and dominant. how are you supposed to carry out a conversation without folding?

“y-yeah,” you clear your throat, sitting up straight after shyly clamping your hands between your legs and trying to hide like a porcupine. “i want to apologize again for running late. out of all days my phone decides to not ring my alarm. i rushed here as soon as possible. i hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

his lips began to rise into a soft smile, and that eases your nerves. no one would notice you’d rush to get ready. so naturally pretty with your face glowing from rose water and petroleum jelly, hair brushed out, lashes only curled with mascara, lips lined with black liner and smothered with gloss while your prescription glasses sit on the bridge of your nose. too cute.

“sweetheart, no need for the sorry’s. i understand.”

he’s not mad, thank fuck. “kay,” you smile back, tucking pieces of flown hair behind your ear. “did you order yet?”

“was waiting on you,” he replied. “though i kind of lost my appetite. i’m craving something . . . else. so, order anything you’d like.”

that was surely a double meaning. now, you’re not so sure if you had an appetite anymore. you couldn’t bare to eat in front of this man right now. when the waiter came back with your drink, you downed half of it, toji chuckling from your anxiousness. you needed the liquid courage before uttering another word towards the man who watched you with motive, intention. the intimidation brewing from his body is corrupting you. you order a simple caesar salad, nothing too fancy.

“oh! i printed out the document we have to go over.”

toji’s eyes trail to your hands that reach for your purse, acrylic nails painted a peony pink pulling out your notebook stuffed with an arrangement of papers as well as a pen. “guess we can call it like an nda, affidavit . . whatever. i’m sure you’re aware of the obvious on why. um, we can discuss boundaries within the bedroom . . . things we will or will not condone. a safe word is a must. if you don’t feel comfortable showing your face i’d blur it out, but given i do livestreams most of the time that’ll be impossible. so i’d suggest a mask, which i’m actually in to so if that’s something you’re willing to do . . “

toji nods as you continue to ramble, carefully analyzing everything you say, though, his mind begins to drift elsewhere. he still couldn’t get that damn livestream out of his mind. killing himself these past two days just thinking about how fucked out he needed you to be, buried deep and crying underneath him. the cute expressions on your face when you moaned his name so publicly, as if you dared him to see. how desperately you fucked yourself on that pathetic toy of yours from the very thought of him. your whines, the illicit way you stared at your reflection in the mirror beneath your sculpture of a body you rolled seductively. he shifts in his seat, attempting to conceal the stirring of hunger within him as you continue to talk. he doesn’t need a fucking contract. he’d fuck you good and wouldn’t tell a soul.

his expression is firm yet tinged with a hint of something different this time . . anticipation. “why do you film content?”

the unwavering intensity in his gaze causes you to cut your sentence short, mouth forming an ‘o’ as you ponder on his question. was he even listening? “wha—what do you mean?”

toji chuckles. “i mean, why do you film? is it your main source of income? do you enjoy submitting to hundreds of people? does it make you feel confident, make you feel good? why?”

that should’ve been something you prepared yourself to answer. most of the guys you filmed content with didn’t have personal answers to ask, nor did they care. they were simply there to have a good time and go about their lives. you came into this situation thinking that’s what toji wanted as well. now you’re getting a gut feeling it’s more than that. or maybe you’re just an over-thinker. the whole point of making an account on hinge was to find better people to connect with for work, but most of them never got the job done, and you were tired of faking an orgasm and boosting a man’s ego. something about this one though, you can feel that he’s willing to worship you.

“well, i actually have three jobs. hairstylist during the day, which i’m growing to lose passion for. i’m good with pottery so i make little things and sell them. and then as for filming content . . . it’s fast money. the economy is shit right now. minimum wage jobs aren’t cutting it. rent prices are horrifying. i want to fund a new life for myself. to travel more, and just be a girl.”

toji smiles, admiring you.

“bali has been on my mind as a place to reside. it’s always been a dream of mine to be somewhere tropical. less breathing in polluted air and eating foods they pump full of hormones. mexico and puerto rico are also on the list. i really need to dip my feet in some sand or something. i don’t know. it’s also kind of sexually liberating to be in my own bubble and enjoy myself in that way. i do it for no one but myself.”

toji sits up in his seat, taking a piece of ciabatta and smearing softened butter onto the breadpicked up a slice of bread and smeared some butter onto it. “i think that moving to a place like that is a good idea. there’s a lot of bullshit in the world that’s hard to run away from. if you feel like it’s what’s best for your mental and emotional being, then go for it. you seem like you’ve worked real hard your entire life. you deserve a break.”

the heat in your cheeks rise as he leans himself closer, guiding the bread to your lips, waiting for you to take a bite. you smile softly, sitting up a bit in your chair before taking a bite. toji watches intensely as you moan from the taste.

“isn’t it much better when it’s given by someone else?”

“yeah, it’s good. real good,” you swallow, licking your lips to rid the breadcrumbs, reaching for your glass of wine to take another sip. “i have most of my savings in tact, so my plan is to be out of here by next year.”

the unadulterated pull between the two of you threatens to consume him as he stares at you, his body almost painfully yearning for your touch, your taste, your everything. toji can no longer resist. he reaches out and gently cups your chin, his fingers gently yet firmly tilting your face up to meet his smoldering gaze when you dared to look away. “how ‘bout you take me with you.“

the entire scene switches, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of lust and vulnerability makes you fall shamelessly into his trance. you feel your heart patter against your chest, scanning his entire face with small indications of panic, and excitement. you’ve been dying for his touch all week. you pray he’s as good as he looks.

“what’s the catch?” you breathe inordinately.

toji smirks. “we get fake married or something and change our identities.”

you shake your head at his joke. “i need to see a ring first, mister.”

“mhm, you look like a marquise kinda girl,” he tongues his cheek, in deep thought. “go to bali. i pay, you enjoy life.”

pairs of lips are mere inches away, toji ghosting his softly amongst your own, yours parting to follow. you feel like you’re in space, the feeling extraterrestrial. surrounded by depths of nothingness with only the two of you existing.

“i. . no, i can’t let you do that,” you shake your head dismissively.

“you deserve it.”

“you don’t know me.”

“good. that’ll be the perfect occasion for us to spend more time together,” he concludes, softly pecking your lips to coax you into giving him what he needed. you’re stunned, unsure what to say, or to think. so, he doesn’t make you think.

“fuckin’ kiss me,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of desire and vulnerability, eyes flickering from the plumpness of your lips to your eyes. “can’t wait any fucking longer.”

the heat of his breath mingles with yours as his lips brush against your own in a hungry, fiery kiss. his mouth devours yours with an intensity that borders on primal, each movement filled with a desperate need to taste and consume everything you have to offer. his tongue slips past your parted lips, eagerly exploring the depths of your mouth as if seeking to memorize every inch of you.

you were drawn in fully now and you didn’t think you’d be able to pull away even if you wanted.

within the moment of your passionate kiss, as toji’s rough hand trailed to grasp your throat, your waiter begins to approach with your salad, eyes widening as he noticed how deeply, and somewhat aggressively your make out session was. practically swallowing each others faces. deciding to mind his business and turn the other way. he’d come back in a few minutes. toji breaks the kiss abruptly, his eyes gleaming with a hint of reluctance.

“damn this table,” he mutters, his gaze shifting towards the barrier separating the two of you. his breathing is ragged, body practically trembling with pent-up need. even so, he manages to pull himself together enough to maintain some semblance of composure.

he’s left you breathless, feeling something in your chest you’d never felt before, this attraction for him otherworldly. your lips are pouted, hands bawled into little fists levitating in front of your chest, as if you were begging for him to come back. when he begins to rise to his feet, you wonder where he’s going, eyes coming into immediate contact at the bulge growing tight in his jeans. you swallow, shifting your gaze up to the tall man that hovers over you possessively.

“go home, send me the address. i gotta handle a few business calls then i’ll be there at eleven.”

you hadn’t noticed the way your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you give him those damn puppy eyes, as if you’re so fascinated by him, almost scared of him to leave right now. toji grabs the pen resting between your little pink book, signing his signature on the indicated line on the bottom of the page for your gratification. after, he’s fishing for the brown leather wallet in his pocket to place down a hundred dollar bill on the table to cover the tab and the waiters tip. then, he leans down, lips gently brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. he lingers just a moment longer, as if reluctant to let go.

“see you later, angel.”

finally, and with that, he steps back, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment before he turns and walks away, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoes in your ears, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a lingering sense of anticipation for the evening to come. starstruck entirely.

𓇼

a rush of arousal burned within you like wildfire as you lay in your empty bed, yearning for the man who's been gone for only a few hours now. caressing your collarbone while chewing on your lip, your phone rests in your palm, excitement brewing for twenty minutes now ever since he texted you to let you know he was on the way. a black baby doll is adorned on your soft skin. ruffle lace details at the neckline and hem with a satin waistband tie at the back into a cute bow. matching mesh g-string panty, and floral patterns along the bust and hip area.

you took the time to curl your hair, reminding yourself to actually put your contacts in this time. also keeping makeup to a minimum with just mascara, a bit of blush, and some strawberry chapstick. skin moisturized in baby oil and spritzed with miss dior. . . waiting. the camera’s set up across from your bed, trying to distract yourself by engaging in conversation with your viewers. the comments were raging about how impatient they were to see something, but how did they think you felt? you could barely walk out of that restaurant without feeling your legs shake.

he intimidated you beyond measure, and god knows what he’s going to do to you when he gets here. it’s a fear and form of greed you’d never felt before.

“my fucking hands are shaking,” you giggle anxiously, smiling to yourself and shaking your hands before dramatically breathing out.

as you waited, you did little things to keep your buyers entertained, showing your ass every now and then as you cleaned your room like a cute maid. call it foreplay. sitting on your knees now become uncomfortable, so you aim for lowering to your tummy and stretching your arms ahead of you, ass raised up. as soon as you get comfortable, your head pops up from the sound of heavy footsteps surrounding the small area of your home. it’s him. you’d hope, leaving the door unlocked so it’d be easier for him to enter.

“oh, fuck—y’all,” the anxiety is even worse now, mentally preparing yourself with steady breaths and shoving your face into the bed to scream happily. the emotions are bipolar. “he’s coming up.”

toji steps closer to your slightly cracked open door, pushing it open wide to see you. his demeanor nothing short of serious when he gets a good look at you, hearing you yap at your camcorder with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. he rests his right shoulder against the frame of the door, staring at you, admiring. his boots hit along the floor the closer he gets to you, and that cute ass you had perched up. the lights in your room are dimly lit, citrus candles spread around and led lights from your vanity illuminating the area. the vibe is nice, he likes it. like he likes you.

you continue to speak to your livestream and pretend he wasn’t there, trying to ignore your heartbeat picking up. the tension is in the air. you tried to steady your breathing as you continue to ramble about nonsense; animal crossing, sims you wanted to recreate and purposely wicked whim them. anything to distract yourself from the sparks shivering through your body. you prod the inside of your cheek trying to bite back a grin when you finally feel his hands on your hips, eyes watching the chat go wild from the brooding man behind you. what makes it all the more hot is that he hasn’t spoken a word, feeling like an intruder. stalking, waiting.

“so yeah, i’m thinking about dying my hair red. i feel like my face is kinda full to have a silk press so i’ll look . . off? maybe p-pin ‘urls,” a wave of pleasure shocks through you when you feel him press the outline of his dick against your cunt, dragging you back to air-fuck you once or twice. a few times. for the tease of it. his fingertips lightly flowing along the curves and contours of your body, your hips being the most sensitive. gasping and twitching from the feel, the thong you wore barely shielding how wet you were.

your breath became heavier, and you found it harder to continue speaking. you felt like moans would slip out of if you continued to react to his touch, the heat between you two rising. you were drawn fully into him. the reaction from him gave you a confidence boost, a slick smile showing on your face. while his body speaks of his own growing need, he remains a silent observer, his intense gaze watching as you maintain, or try, your playful conversation with the camera.

“i gotta admit something,” you smile into your hair that falls angelically around the frame of your face. his form, silhouetted behind you, takes on an ominous yet seductive presence. even though he remains hidden from view, his yearn is palpable, eyes locked on you as if he could consume you with a single glance.

“i fucked myself thinking of him,” a jolt of electricity runs down toji’s spine as he recollects the image. a low, involuntary groan escapes his throat as his grip on you tightens. “those of you who don’t remember. it was really, really good.”

that’s the final trigger. in seconds, a rough palm strikes the flesh of your ass, causing the cutest squeak to emit from you. toji’s wrapping his other fist around the softness of your hair and pulling you back to his hard chest. his cologne is strong, enrapturing even. your hand reaches beside you to catch his wrist in your grip, feeling the coldness of his expensive watch while he’s busy locking your jaw still and pressing his lips beneath your ear.

“really?” the tone is condescending, and as you nod frantically, pushing your ass back to feel him more, all you can hear is the unraveling of his belt. slowly removing it, the sound of the leather rubbing against the buckle and his pants. the anticipation fills you at an alarming pace. “i knew that, angel.”

how? wait, did he fucking watch the live you made that night? your legs nearly go weak at the possibility, sheer embarrassment consuming you. he wasn’t meant to see that. yeah, you told him about it. but him seeing that, then having lunch with you like nothing happened is crazy work. he noticed you’re frozen, chuckling darkly behind you.

“relax, doll. i can pretend i didn’t, ‘n you can show me all over again.”

he grabs your wrists, pining them behind your back with a rush of power fueling him, crossed hands sitting on your ass.

“this okay, baby?” he scans the side of your face for approval, using the smooth leather to bond them together. you hum, lips bitten and nodding obediently.

the look on your face in the camera is so worth the thousands of views from people who were just as desperate as he was to see you submit. your hands wriggle to touch him, laying your head on his shoulder and biting your lip as his teeth graze from your shoulder, to your collarbone, and your neck. your body’s completely on fire, and he makes it worse when he gently shoves you forward to fall on your face, back arched and ass high for his view, and theirs.

toji stared down at you as you remained there, fully surrendering yourself for the taking. his larger body leans over yours, fingers grabbing your chin to force your mouth to open. toji brushes his lips along yours, your desperate mouth sinking into him, feeling that same spark you felt earlier during lunch in your chest. he deepened the kiss to give you what you wanted, easily reading you, his tongue ravaging your mouth with his waist grinding into the shape of your ass. the kiss is so wet it has you mewling like a cat in heat, losing your breath.

“give me a safe word, hm?” toji sucks on his lower lip, the arousal in his eyes ruining you. a heavy hand rubs circles on your ass before hitting it again, another cute sound leaving that pretty mouth you had.

brushing your cheek along your bed set, dark curls dancing around your face and a pout on your lips, you whimper, “strawberry.”

“mhm,” your stomach flips when you felt his hand drift between your inner thigh, toji’s tongue skidding over your lips the same time his fingers apply pressure to your clit, rubbing in circles after he pulls your panties to the side, your babydoll resting pretty on top of the rolls on your back. your fists are balled tightly in your restraints, widening your mouth to suck on his tongue before giving him a deep kiss. the image on your face is pure dizziness. acting like your fucked dumb while barely being fucked. he couldn’t wait to see you crumble.

you squirm under his touch, breath growing short and shaky, toji maintaining eye contact with you dangerously. he’s big on it, and it makes you shy, yet brave enough to endure it.

“you hear yourself, girl?” toji hisses, pecking your lips hard, his fingers coated with your slick the more he rubbed. you whine, arching your ass even closer to his hand. “you’re so needy for me, it’s cute.”

it’s ridiculous that you can’t even speak, him turning you into nothing but a whiny, whimpering sub. “you’re desperate for my touch, for my tongue.” he whispered, his voice growing even rougher as his own need grew.

“mmm, yes. need it so bad,” you pout, mouth gaping after he spanks your clit lightly. “fuck, please eat it, baby.”

“i will good girl.”

he didn’t hesitate for another second, sliding behind you with one knee pressed into the bed and his big hands holding you still, spreading your cheeks further apart and cussing under his breath from how fucking cute your pussy was. fat, and glistening in your juices, clit hiding between your folds giving him something to search for. “g’na fuckin’ kill me, angel. pretty fuckin’ pussy you got.”

you scoot up as much as you can, hands still bound behind your back, wanting to cry from the inability to move, but loving that he had you at his mercy. his hair covers his eyes and he’s submerged into you, pressing his mouth to your pussy in a sweet kiss, like he’s knocking politely, before running his thick, long tongue over you slowly. a groan resounded devilishly, toji lapping at your dripping clit, tongue hot and your toes can do nothing but curl.

he’s slow and deliberate, enjoying the sounds and reactions he was getting out of you as you writhed and quivered under his ministrations. your pussy and his mouth makes up the loudest voice in the room, so fucking sweet and wet he’s salivating over you. spanking you, taking his time to devour you as he swallows your cunt whole, tongue gliding from your clit all the way to your hole. occasionally dipping his tongue into you to fuck you like that. your eyes cross, a broken cry making him lose it.

“keep bouncing that ass back, baby. fuck, fuck my face, angel,” he’s hitting you again, and you can’t take it, shifting your thighs to roll your ass back onto his gorgeous face. you’re panting like an animal, jaw dropping as he keeps his mouth on your clit, sucking it hard and groaning into your cunt, the vibrations traveling up your spine.

“oh . . god, oooh god,” the gasp in your throat became high pitched, toji licking you faster when he sees you giving your utmost effort. continuing his onslaught on your sensitive clit, swollen and satiating his taste buds. his fingers dug into your thighs, lowering himself completely to sit on his knees before you, rocking you back on his face as he eats it, unrelenting. sucking, licking, slurping, drowning his tongue inside of you . . . damn, it’s fucking good.

“c-cumming,” he can barely hear you as you stuff your face into the bed, toji’s head bouncing as you settle your feet on his shoulders and rock back on his face even quicker, groaning. “don’t stop, don’t s-stop, babyyy.”

“mhm hmm,” he’s moaning into your pussy, kissing and tonguing you down until you finally burst, your hands in their constraint balling into fists, getting the chance to latch onto his black hair once he pushes you flat on your stomach to bury his face completely between your ass and thighs. “let it out, baby.”

his chin glistened from your juices, toji groaning the rougher you tugged at his scalp, dick jumping in his jeans he needed to unravel soon. when you cum, you do this thing where you squeal and gasp at once, and he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever fucking heard. lifting his face, he licks his lips proudly, wiping his chin and patting your ass to watch it shake in his palm. you were a lovely display beneath him, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of ownership over you.

he reached down and traced a finger along the length of your trembling leg, his dominant presence still overwhelming. he brings his hand to the back of your neck which you arched into his touch, his eyes darkening at your silent plea. “you want more?”

“nn, yea,” a breathless giggle falls from you, toji dragging you to sit at your knees by the grip on your neck and around your chest with his forearm, back hitting his chest again, and your eyes come into contact with the camera, almost forgetting it was there.

“show them what i did to your pussy, angel. let them see how perfect you are,” toji whispers, tapping at your knees to help you sit on your behind.

“okay,” the words are small again, because that’s how he makes you feel. once you sit, you raise your knees to your chest, toji lifting your babydoll to show your soft tummy and the pink lights from your vanity mirror glowing on the angles and curves of your body. you look like the finest art.

it’s liberating seeing yourself like this, a sense of relief washing over you when he begins to unloose the belt, humming elatedly and arching into him, your periwinkle painted toes twinkling in the air playfully. toji laughs at you, your hand coming to your cunt to cover it out of fake shyness, rolling to lay on your side and giggling to yourself. you really did know how to play a role, or maybe you’re just naturally silly.

toji unfastened his button before drifting his zipper down, thick thighs spread and arms bulky as he kept them in fists into the bed, tilting his head in your direction as he sat beside you, body taking up half the bed. you sit on your knees next to him, your hands running across his stomach and lifting up his shirt, toji licking his lips when your nails delicately scratch at his hips. you moan when his hand comes into contact with your hair, your nails digging into the broadness of his thigh.

as he guided your head down, you could feel the heat coming off of his body. you could smell the unique scent of masculinity wafting off of him. the feeling of his fingers running through your hair sent tingles down your spine, his touch tender and affectionate despite his dominating demeanor. your chest fluttered when his thumb touched your lower lip, your breath stuttering and your body quivering, a heat rising in your core all over. you felt the need for him grow stronger, pulling your lip downward. he shifted his fingers and tilted your chin up further, exposing your throat and neck to him. then he leans over, his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head as his mouth latches onto your neck. pressing light kisses along the sensitive skin, his tongue grazing out and your skin pricks with fire.

“can’t stop tasting you,” he grunts, his lips and tongue on your throat licking hard, driving you insane with need. his hand holding the back of your neck in a possessive manner, keeping you in place as his mouth explored your sensitive skin.

“toji. .” your voice is weak, feeling your inner thighs drown in a puddle of your arousal. “wanna suck it.”

“i’m sorry, what was that?” he hums.

“don’t tease,” you roll your eyes and pout.

“mhm,” he lets out a little grunt as his eyes rake over you, his breath catching slightly as he stares at you. he runs his hand down to your waist, gripping fervently. “so pretty,” he murmurs.

“thank you,” you whisper, feeling a strong rush of affection for him. “you’re so handsome,” you say, your voice low and tender.

“g’na give it a good kiss, baby? real good?” he hisses, your hand pulling at his jeans to sit lower on his sharp hips, letting his dick free and watching it with a watered mouth as it sat against his tummy. heavy, thick, two veins protruding on either side. you fucking knew he was big. bless your intuition.

“yes, want it,” you plead.

a low growl escaped his throat. “show me you want it then,” he purrs, his eyes growing darker with desire and his grip on your hip tightening.

the salivation in your mouth gave you just what you needed to do the job, widening your mouth to accommodate his size, drooling over his dick as you pull him in as deep as you could to start. half of him enclosed by the warmth of your mouth and instantly toji moans from the feel, your cheek sucking in while you guide your head up and down, keeping your hands to yourself, one on his thigh for balance. your eyes are closed to focus, humming and dragging your mouth slow to make him feel it all. toji catches himself knocking his head back, pulling the sheets between his fingertips and scrunching his brows together, stomach caving in.

he can hear you slurp and suck at him needily, moaning around him and riding the air with your ass, spit gliding down to the base of his dick as your tongue sticks out to drag along the under of his shaft, bobbing your head and licking at him. something about giving him head in specific felt intoxicating. maybe it’s the sounds he makes; guttural yet whiny. the desperation begs to tug at his throat, shifting his hips blindly and cussing under his breath. eventually, his fingers find their way back to your scalp, toji sitting up and entangling both hands into your hair, face curated in pleasure with eyes wired shut and a gaped jaw.

“shit, ꒰♡꒱. that’s fuckin’ good, doll,” toji grunts, your moans around him encompassing him to briefly detangle a hand to spank against your ass in clear indulgence. “damn.”

your hand couldn’t help but travel to touch him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick to stroke your hand according to the pace your mouth drags. that gravitational wave in his abdomen hit, a deep ‘your suckin’ it so good’ fleeing from his mouth followed by another harsh spank and a steady tug at your scalp to push you down only enough to follow your rhythm. when he hits the back of your throat, you force yourself to hold him there for a few seconds, purposely constricting your throat to hear him moan for you again, and again. his sounds addicting.

toji chuckles from how good you’re doing, raising your head to breathe before swallowing only the tip while stroking the remainder, your salvia being enough lubricant to quickly move your wrist. twisting and tugging while keeping it mostly on the head of his cock, the sensitive spot your toy to play with as you give teasing kitty licks, two hands covering him now.

picking your head up momentarily, you stare into his eyes with your siren ones, low and dangerous. pulling at his dick while you bite your lips before kissing him, mewling when he shoves his tongue into your mouth, pulling your body closer by your ass, the other grabbing the side of your face he practically swallowed into his own. the kiss is feverish, something straight out of a movie. he’s highly infatuated with you, tasting himself off of you with the mixture of yourself. toji sucks on your lower lip, and you find yourself positioning your thigh over his to sit and grind on his leg. you had enough of the foreplay, you needed him to fuck you.

“fuck me,” a whimper escapes, pressing your body down harder onto him, hand still stroking at him, that fucking voice of yours driving him mad. he doesn’t think he’ll last if you keep it up. “toji. . . toji.”

“stop begging,” he shuts it down quickly, the sound of his boots hitting the floor as he kicks them off exciting you. of course you couldn’t hide the smile, feening innocence as you pet at his jeans to help him remove them.

he's only in his black shirt now, your eyes following how his muscles swallowed the material, showcasing every sharp cut of his upper body. he made you dizzy, truly. that slit on the side of his mouth curving with his mouth as he smirks at you for getting lost in your cute little dream land.

“focus, love,” toji reels you back in, his hand on your lower back to arch your chest into his, dragging you to straddle him. if he could see the blush on your face he’d see that you were red as a tomato, his dick sitting right beneath you and you can’t help but shudder. “need you to lift your hips, help daddy out.”

“kay,” you nod like a damn bobble head, laying your hands on his shoulders and balancing yourself on your tippy toes, wrapping your arms around his neck for extra security. toji’s large arm his thrown around your waist to keep you locked to him, both of your body heat scorching.

he catches a hold of his dick, pumping it twice before he’s rubbing the fat tip against your drenched opening, collecting your flow before a soft gasp emits past your lips when you feel him gently enter, sinking you down carefully, little by little. the sensation from the stretch is . . like a fantasy. your foreheads are touching, breaths mingling as he removes his hand to balance the two of you on the bed, leaning back somewhat for your comfortability.

when you think he’s fully apart of you, that thought is knocked down the minute he utters, “c‘mon, girl. you gotta lot more to take.”

“oh my god,” the shock is out of, well, shock. he feels really good already, it’s gonna be hell if you handle any more. embedding your nails into his clothing, chin resting between the crook of his neck while you ground your ass back to make it easier for him to slip completely in. the two of you groan in sync, toji’s arm tightening around your waist from how tight you felt.

the more you rock, slow, steady, it fucks the both of you up. holding tightly onto one another while toji lets you take your time, the heavy breathing and hearts beating rapidly is fucking poetic. one might call this act making love. once you drop your ass entirely, that pressure in your sweet spot causes you to scream out softly, losing balance and sitting on your knees, holding onto him with an unexpected whine.

“shit, baby, you alright?” he’s immediately checking in on you, bringing you up and make eye contact, hands holding either side of your face and scanning for signs. pushing away the fact that you’re convulsing around his dick and trying his best not to fuck you hard. yet, at least.

again, you can’t even speak. your mouth is wide open, nodding and breathing heavily, shifting your hips and grind onto him, flexing your ass when you arch your back deeper before lifting halfway and slamming yourself down. toji chokes, face copying yours as he grips onto the sheets and places his arm back around you, helping you lift yourself.

“you feel . . really good, baby. stuffing me full,” you moan, toji grunting and yanking you up and down faster, losing his patience now. it blew out the fucking window the minute he slipped inside you. he fixates on the sound of your pussy sliding and swallowing his dick, the slick making his tongue water for the taste all over. you’re so fucking sweet it’s insane.

“yeah?” he lets out a low, guttural groan and grips your hips even harder, his breaths coming out in deep gasps. “fuck me like you fucked that toy, thinking of me.”

that makes you smile, that insecurity of him seeing that video earlier disappearing as you take both of your small hands and wrap them around his throat, using your weight to push his body so he falls onto his back, his hands cupping the curves under your ass cheeks. toji usually isn’t one for submission, but he’s been thinking for a while about trying new shit, and a pretty girl like you choking and fucking him was only the start. you see the look in his eyes, and you feel heat sweltering inside of you even more, relishing the fact that you are the one in control, applying more pressure to his neck, loving the way his breath hitches.

“you want me to fuck you just like that?” you lick your lips and grind teasingly, the dangerous swirl of your hips making his head sink further into the bed.

“want you to fuck me like that, angel. gimme a show.”

and you won’t deny his wish. positioning yourself back on the tips of your toes, his hands are smoothing underneath your thighs, clutching on either sides as you with his eyes going dark, his hips bucking. he can barely string a thought together, his mind completely consumed by the sensations you’re sending through him. your pussy takes it all while you pounce your body above him, rolling your waist each time you dip your ass down and meet his thighs.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his voice thick with pleasure, eyes never leaving yours before his voice rasps out, “keep going. fuck me for real. like you want it. it’s yours.”

you let out a strangled gasp, body jerking and mind almost slipping away, the pleasure he’s giving you overwhelming and consuming you completely. his hands on your body clench harder, the warmth from his body on yours killing you.

“just like that,” his hands move at their own possession now, slamming down on your ass repeatedly to bruise your skin, the hits vibrating straight to your clit and it’s making you drunk. your eyes scroll back into your skull, his appraisal driving you to work for it faster.

“t-toji, i’m so wet for you,” you gasp in shock from the slickness between you two. “look what you did to me. you slide in and out so easily.”

“f-fuck, doll. you’re killing me talkin’ like that,” he lets out a strangled gasp at your words, voice ragged and eyes filled with need. “you like it that much, baby?”

“y-yes!” a squeal sounds from you, bouncing heavier than before, your voice getting caught in your throat from the impact. you clutch any part of his skin you can grab, losing yourself in the way he fills you. “i love your dick, baby. makes me feel prettier.”

hazy eyes filled with pleasure admire your features, fucked out already when he still has so much he wanted to do to you. give you what you deserve. a smirk tugs at his lips, sitting up and leaning in close, missing the skin contact. his voice low and rough as he says, “you look prettier when you’re sitting on my dick.”

“yeah,” you drunkenly nod. “s’mine.”

toji raises a brow with amusement. “it can be yours. when you cum on it real hard.”

wanting him even closer to you, you keep only one hand around his neck, placing the other on his forearm and pressing your chest to his entirely as you gyrate your hips and tease his neck, hovering over his skin with your mouth and teeth before you leave little love-bites on his skin. toji guides your hips in a circular motion, the simple switch up making you gasp and whine into his ear, hitting that spot repeatedly.

“god, baby,” you feel his guidance, his grip on your hips firm as he moves you. you ride against him, the friction on your clit making you whimper weakly, his deep voice in your ear making your body shake, feeling another orgasm develop. “i love it. s’fucking me so good.”

“see you movin’ just like you did for me on that mirror,” he wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing firmly. your eyes lock, yours clouded by arousal, his with an agenda. “fuckin’ yourself like that . . ima fuck you real bad for that,” toji hissed, swiping his tongue across his lower lip before aggressively smacking your ass. “i feel that fuckin’ pussy squeezing me tighter. if you’re g’na cum then do it on me. gush all on it.”

the more your body reacts to his praise, and sprinkles of degradation, the faster your orgasm approaches you, washing over you hard as your body spasmes from the intensity of it. your teeth sink into his shoulder as you scream, riding out your high, squeezing hard on his arms. toji kisses your temple, keeping you close as he falls back and lays on his side while turning you to face your camera you’d both forgotten about, still did.

“you did so well,” the kisses continue around your face while your brains on autopilot, his hand clasping around your neck as he presses his hot chest against your back. his kisses are so aggressive it makes you feel small and wanting to obey. you jump when he spanks you, moaning weakly into your shoulder with your arms halfway hanging off the bed.

toji goes lift your right leg to adjust himself behind you, dick achingly hard and covered in your juices, slipping back inside of you fully before angling your knee towards your tummy, keeping a hand locked under the bend of your knee, your skin smooth to the touch. you smell good too. everything about you besotted him. your hand touches his face, tugging it closer to the point where his nose smushed against your cheek, dark hair clouding your eyesight as his big frame overtakes yours.

“you’re gonna kill me,” you whisper, eyes focused on each other, a giggle creeping up.

“not you,” he whispered back, rolling his waist back and forth, grinding deeper into you. the plush of your ass molding against his sharp hips. his lips brush on your neck as he kisses and nibbles at your sensitive skin. your hands roam over your body, touching and exploring every inch of yourself as his lips trail down your collarbone, darkly watching as your hand presses on your clit. “her.”

as he possessively holds you in place, he’s prepared you enough before he’s fucking you hard, knocking the wind from your throat completely. a hard gasp falls past your lips as toji slams his hips against your ass, knitting his brows together, squeezing his eyes shut while his mouth falls open. the utter silence both of your voices held at the moment was more powerful than the rough interaction of your skin. your eyes a ghost white as he pounds his dick into you hard. when a noise is made, it’s from equal parts, syncing your eager moans.

“ooh, fuck baby. you’re taking it,” he huskily whispers into your ear, his words punctuated by the way he continues to move into you. “sucking me so deep. m’not going nowhere.”

“to-ji,” his name is broken down by the harsh pounds he fucks you with, whining and moaning in his entrapment. your vision gone. “i love the way you fuck me. you fuck me so good.”

he fucks like he’s not letting up, his body pushing you deeper into the mattress, the grip around your neck remains tight, the feeling of his ownership only growing more intense. his body is hovering over yours now, digging deep as he can to fuck you real good, to make himself feel it all. your body remains to the side, only half twisted as he drops your leg and pushes his weight into you so your stomach is close to grazing the bed.

“s’too much, fuck . . i, i—” the words are caught in your throat from the overstimulation. breathing heavy, tears begin to fill your sockets, whining his name loudly in his face like you’d lost your mind for good this time. this pleasure was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s everything you needed and more.

toji shushes you, kissing your nose as he grips your face, big hand almost covering it whole. “you like when daddy takes control? you like when he tells you what to do?”

toji will admit, you’ve got him fucking spent. it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman submit and cry under him, and you do all those things well. the gorgeous image on your face, to the salacious movement of your body. the softness of your skin and the equal relation of your voice. capturing and captivating him. you’d think he was on drugs the way he was talking. high off his ass from your pussy. his lips gently brush over your ear. your eyes flutter, his voice attacking your clit, and you swear it makes it gush even more, soaking the sheets underneath your ass. “when he makes you his? you like being my good girl, pretty?”

he knows you can’t speak anymore, but you’re still interactive with your body language. the slur of your nonexistent words to the way you try to roll your ass back to fuck him back . . but he’s got you trapped. even the tears falling down your face from overwhelming pleasure. he knows you’re okay, asking for a safe word prior for your protection. you’re a big girl, he knows you can handle it.

“nnng,” you can’t stop trembling, gasping for air and sobbing in his face. toji places his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes and nodding, cooing. you are fucked dumbed. toji hisses, hitting your ass and pausing momentarily to look between where you two collide, an ‘oh my god’ faltering out. he’s as gone as you are.

“you so fuckin’ creamy, girl,” toji drags out a frustrated hum, getting annoyed by how good your pussy is. you’re going to become a problem.

“please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying it for. do you need him to stop, do you want more, or are you just completely fucked out you’re saying anything that’s coming to your head? that butterfly feeling is back in your stomach, as well as a foreign one near your clit, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. “toji, m’ g’na c-cummm. oh my god, babyy.”

your hiccups and sobs only urge him to fuck you even harder, loving how the breath literally jumps out of your throat in shock.

“cryin’ on this dick. fuck, you got me going crazy,” he really doesn’t want to cum yet, he needed to fuck you in every way imaginable. but he knows you need a break, to breathe for sure. he wanted to edge himself so that when he finally came, it’d be the best fucking orgasm of his life. your moans are clawing at his soul, so filthy and dulcet. you’re making it really fucking difficult to obtain that.

toji finds himself slamming his palm over your mouth to bury them in a way, but you’re so damn loud it’s getting to him. ‘fuck fuck fuck’ he’s cussing repeatedly in a whispered hush as he fucks you as hard he possibly can. his hand doesn’t even work, because you’re consuming him wholly and the minute he feels that build up, he pulls out to cum and you’ve drenched the sheets as you squirt. an almost blood curdling scream surrounds the room, your body rapidly trembling as your mouth falls open in utter shock, gasping, whining, whimpering, moaning his fucking name while he moaned yours. toji nutting up the entire side of your body, wrist twisting as he holds you body still, mouth drawn open.

his hand reaches over to unclamp your legs, heavy hand rubbing your pussy to stimulate you further, your back arching and head sinking into your pillow, crying out. he watches your hand flail to grip his wrist as your wetness continues to spurt out of you like water.

“strawberry!” toji listens to you weep, choking on your cries and pleads. finally having enough.

“holy s-shit,” you’re laughing while also trying to catch your breath, not believing that just happened. he can tell by the shock in your face that you’ve never had it happen before, or that much.

“damn,” he laughs along with you, smacking your outer thigh before smashing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, gliding your tongues together while his hands massaged every part of your body after allowing you to lay on your back. caressing and soothing you to calm you down. “gonna grab a rag.”

you pout when he goes to stand, already missing the disconnect as you lay empty on your . . messy bed. absolutely disgusting you two, hawk puth! one things for sure, you can’t keep that wide ass smile off your face. he comes back into the room, one of your pink towels wrapped around his midsection covering up that demon of a dick he carried. toji smirks down at you, grabbing your ankle and tugging you down to the edge of the bed before he’s taking a warm rag that smelt of your dove beauty bar to wipe what he painted on you. you swallow your lower lip into your mouth, watching with hooded eyes as he drags the rag sensually along ever part of your skin. you flinch when it comes to contact with your cunt, toji kissing your inner thigh with a ‘sorry’. he admires the curves of your body even more, kissing your ankle adorned with a silver anklet after he finishes.

“how you feeling?” he asks.

“i’m more than perfect.”

he hums. “you’re something else.”

“i was good?” you ask seriously, batting your lashes shyly.

toji stares at you as if you’re deadass. “don’t do that. you know you were. you didn’t hear me? i fuck you deaf?”

that makes you roll your eyes, but not before giggling. “hate you.”

“you won’t after i tell you i got chinese in the kitchen,” he winks, the light in your eyes making his heart swell. “c’mon, sexy.”

you sit up, gasping. “i knew i fucking smelt that shit when you came in. i thought it was outside!”

“nah, i realized i didn’t eat shit at the restaurant earlier so i decided to get us both something. did you even eat your salad?”

“i did, had to after you dropped a whole hundred,” you shake your head. “how’d you know i liked chinese?”

toji blinks. “baby, we literally talked half of this week. for hours. i have good memory.”

that slip of a nickname outside of sex warmed your chest, burying your face in your hair to hide your shyness. “you’re right.”

“don’t hide now, i’ve seen it all,” he chuckles, tickling the bottom of your foot.

“oh, whatever!” you chuck one of your plushies at him, half of them had fallen to the floor. toji gets up to grab your robe he saw hanging on the bathroom door, draping it around you as you stood.

he kisses your forehead and you walk ahead of him into the kitchen, screeching when he hit and gripped your ass, the two of you forgetting about the livestream altogether as you warmed up the food, poured a glass of wine and reminisced about what just happened.

angelbwrry live : 1M viewers.

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡ 

[lxnarphase]

PRETTY BITCHES LOVE ME ᯓ★

━━ ❝ SHE A BADDIE, SHE SHOWIN' HER PANTY! ❞ wc. 3.7k

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : suguru is just as big of a show off as gojo, he's just more subtle about it. and he wants everyone in this damn club to know that you're his.

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...cw : blk!fem!reader x g. suguru, suggestive content, alcohol mention, exhibitionism, voyeurism (?), fingerfucking, public fingering, little bit of breeding kink and talks of knocking you up, lots of kissing, suguru really loves his girl, suguru can’t keep his hands to himself

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's note : suguru is just a slut for you i don't know what else to tell you. he's just as much as a mischievous little shit as gojo ! if you want to be tagged for the future posts, comment on the main post here ! enjoy baddies ❤︎ (also yes nonblack readers can read and reblog too, idk why some anons try to gatekeep)

suguru's so touchy with you, it's sweet.

he can't keep his hands off of you whenever you go out. the poor man feels like he might just die if he's not having some sort of physical contact with you the majority of the day.

it could be the grocery store on a late night snack run in matching pajama bottoms or like now, a long night at the club for some celebration.

neither one of you remembers what or who the part is for, the alcohol in your systems causing you to focus on one another. the rest of your group is busy on the dance floor or bar, leaving you and suguru to cuddle up to each other in the VIP area like the lovesick idiots the two of you are.

your sitting across his lap, one hand in his hair and the other holding his shoulder, rubbing random shapes and patterns into the fabric of his shirt. it's so unfair, he just smells so fucking good and looks so damn handsome. you genuinely can't look at anything but him. 

and he loves it so damn much.

"s'guruuu," you coo at him, nose smooshed against his cheek. if you could, you'd get even closer to him, but this would have to suffice for now. "you're so handsome tonight..." 

the corners of his mouth tilt up into a smug smirk as he chuckles, his hand sliding from your knee to your upper thigh, stroking the exposed skin. you're so soft, could you really blame him for wanting to touch you all the time? compared to you, suguru is way more sober and is just eating up all the attention you're giving him.

not just because he loves you, but that was a plus.

no, it's because people are watching.

his sharp purple eyes flicker up, meeting with the group of girls outside of the VIP area that keep looking his direction.

their eyes are filled with interest and want when they look at him, and he can't help but chuckle to himself.

suguru knows he's attractive. hell, he's reminded of it every morning by the way you shower him in kisses and praises as part of your morning routine, making sure he knows just how much you love him and his 'stupidly pretty face,' as you so elegantly put it.

but what makes him laugh is how they look at you with disdain and confusion, as if they can't understand why you're in his lap instead of them.

it's disgusting, really, for them to even have the slightest thought that they could replace you. they must be lying to themselves, he thinks as your lips start to press kisses against his cheek, the soft curls and coils of your hair tickling his cheek.

you're just so cute, so adorable, so gorgeous, so beautiful. you're his pretty little angel, and seeing women jealous of you just fills him with so much pride, knowing you have other women jealous of you.

if only they knew how badly you have him wrapped around your little finger. if you so much as asked, suguru wouldn't hesitate to beat the shit out of someone for you, wouldn't hesitate to kill for you...but thankfully, it never got to that point.

yet.

"hmm, you think i'm handsome?" he leans in, his breath warm against your neck as he nips your ear. "nah, you look so damn gorgeous, angel. you're stealing the spotlight from me t'night."

his fingers trace circles into your thigh, enjoying your little giggles and complaints of it tickling. it only makes him do it more, your laughs and giggles making his heart squeeze a little bit.

fuck, suguru really loves how your skin feels under his fingertips, soft and smooth. it's all he thinks about. he wants to touch you forever, wants to feel you every second of the day. you are just so warm and soft, nothing would ever compare to the feel of your skin.

pulling away from your ear, he sees that those girls are still there, looking at you and him. the smirk on his face falters a bit, and his gaze hardens.

man, he really doesn't like how they're looking at you.

it's so easy for him to tell they have no cursed energy, just mere humans that could never even hope to be on the same level as you. it would be so fucking easy to just...snap his fingers and have them gone in an instant.

you steal his attention away from them and the dark thoughts swirling in his head by tilting his head your way, and instantly, his gaze softens.

jesus, the things you do to this man.

"sugu? what's wrong, honey," you mumble, worry etched into your features. you cup his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks to get him to calm down. "you don't look happy..."

the feel of your hands on his face, paired with the sweet concern in your voice, it washes away all irritation in him instantly. suguru hums, his eyes sliding shut. and the soft look in your eyes...he's so whipped for you, it's sickening.

you're so warm...

"no, baby, nothing's wrong," he reassures you, his smooth voice a low rumble. if he could, he'd be purring incredibly loudly right now, nuzzling into your palms. just your touch is enough to make him melt.

"'m just thinkin' how lucky I am, havin' you all to myself like this. the prettiest girl in the world, and she's sitting in my lap...who knew i'd make it this far in life, hm?"

the low, purple lights of the club cast a soft glow on your face as your fluffy hair frames your face, and suguru sighs, looking at you like you were his everything. you are his everything.

a quick glance to the side and suguru takes note that those girls are still fucking there, looking at you both. instead of getting irritated again, suguru gets an idea.

with a smirk, his hand slides up further your thigh, his fingertips slipping under the hem of that pretty purple dress he bought you that contrasts against the dark color of your skin...so pretty.

"mm, babygirl, just looking at you is making me dizzy," suguru purrs, his gaze dipping to your lips before meeting your eyes again. "you know i love you right? an' that all i wanna do is show you off s' everyone knows how pretty you are, right?"

you know better.

you know better than to trust him when he starts making comments like this, when he starts cooing and praising you out of nowhere.

because you know that it means suguru is up to no damn good.

you still haven't forgiven him for making you squirt on his fingers while he was on the phone with nanami...even though it was kind of cute how nanami couldn't look you in the eye without blushing for about two weeks.

"mhm...i know, sugu, you're a little show off that likes to get us in trouble," you playfully scold, tugging his hair a little as you giggle, looking at him with a soft gaze.

suguru's head tilts back, and his eyes flutter shut for a moment, a soft grunt leaving him. he's always been a sucker for you pulling on his hair like that, likes when you tug him around to make a point...shit, he's getting hard just from thinking of all the times you'd use his hair to get his attention or make him focus on something.

and it doesn't take long for you to discover his thoughts are going south.

with an exasperated gasp, you feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against your ass, letting out a little scold of his name. his grip on you tightens when you shift to confirm your suspicions. his head leans to rest in the crook of your neck, a silent plea for more of your affection.

"but you like it when I show off," suguru teases back, pressing a kiss against your neck as your curls tickle his face again. even your hair was soft, it's like he's got his own little pillow pet in his lap. the thought makes him chuckle, knowing you'd probably swat at him playfully for comparing you to a plushy

"you get all worked up, it's so cute, angel...plus, i think y'like it when i cause trouble." his hand swaps thighs and creeps up higher under your dress, his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. he's playing a risky game. at any moment, someone could catch him and get you both kicked and banned from the club.

but where's the fun in life without taking risks?

"c'mooon, admit it, baby, you like it."

one glance up back into the crowd and suguru hums, his eyes glinting dangerously. still there, it seems.

they aren't staring as hard now, but looks of disbelief cross their face when his hand shamelessly goes right to the apex of your thighs, fingers running over the lace of your panties. suguru doesn't care anymore, if they wanna look so bad, he'll give them something to stare at.

"s-suguru...you're, mnh, gettin' close there..."

he doesn't give you a response, his hand sliding from your back up to your hair to keep your head in the crook of his neck. he may be fine with showing out a little bit to these bitches who tired to glare daggers into you, but no one except him gets to see your face.

the way your lashes flutter, the way your teeth dig into the plushness of your bottom lip...it's driving him crazy.

the faint scent of your perfume hits his nose, and he's gone. his cock is pressing against your ass in full hardness, and he has to stop himself from grinding up into you.

nah, right now, this is about you.

he's going to take care of you, going to make you feel good, going to make sure you know that you are his in every way that counts.

without wasting another moment, suguru's fingers slip under your panties, pausing when they touch the faint wetness gathering at your slit.

"fuck...baby, don't tell me you've been like this the whole night," he rasps, his breathing slowly starting to pick up. your soft cunt is hot to the touch, sticky and wet as he drags his fingers through your slick.

"i can't help it, you just...look, really good t'night, baby," you huff into his ear, gasping a moan when he doesn't hesitate to slip a finger into your slick hole.

he really does look good tonight, dressed in those black dress pants, sleek dress shoes, and that stupidly hot black button-up shirt. and he has the sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone so that you can get a nice view of that necklace with your name on it resting on his collarbone.

how can you not get soaking wet?

"shit." he's groaning, the sensation of you nuzzling your face into his neck to press little open-mouthed kisses into all the sensitive spots of his neck sending a shiver down his spine. it's so sweet and precious how you try your hardest not to make too much noise and not move too much as he stirs up your cunt with just one of his fingers.

he wishes you both were back at home, wishes that he had you spread open on the bed so that he can see how wet he's got you just from his attire, so that he can hear your pussy squelch around his fingers. not even the strongest in the world would be able to pull him from your pussy whenever you get this wet.

the thought of gojo trying to pull him away from you makes him cringe a bit...because he knows damn well that idiot would be shoving his face deeper into your cunt, grinning as he practically makes suguru drown in you.

on second thought, that's not a bad way to go....

another tug to his hair as him unintentionally groaning, eyes snapping shut at the sharp pang of pleasured pain that shoots up his spine. his attention is back on you, his face close to yours as he breathes against your ear.

if you want his attention, then he'll give you all of it with no hesitation.

"suguruu, more...please," you finally whine, the slow movement not enough for you. it's almost torture; the slow in and out motions of his finger making you feel good but not good enough. no, you need more, craved it.

"yeah? you gonna be a good girl f' your suguru and let him take care of this needy lil' pussy? hm?" one finger turns into two, and that familiar heat pools in your lower abdomen. now it's feeling so fucking good that you already know his fingers are gonna be coated in your juices.

this should be embarrassing, it really should. you both are in a club for fucksake! but you can't find it in you to care about it, his thick digits working your cunt so good that your brain is just melting.

one of your hands grips his button-up, fisting in the fabric to ground yourself from the pleasure. "m-mhm! I'll be good, I'll be s' good for you, sugu, promise!" suguru is becoming relentless, determined to make you crack and stop hiding those pretty sounds from him when he takes note of how you go right back to biting your lip after giving him that sweet, needy response.

however, he loves seeing your lips all swollen, knowing they were like that because he made you feel so good you had to force yourself to be quiet.

"sweetheart, don' hide it, lemme hear you, 's just you and me," he whispers to you, his other hand burying itself in your curls and giving a little tug. he knows it's not just the both of you, but right now, in this moment, it's all that exists for him.

the harsh pull of your hair has your lips brushing against his ear and choking on a moan, unable to keep it in. "thaaaat's it, let me hear how good it feels t' have these fingers buried deep inside this tight cunt."

you hate this, hate when he talks because it only makes you wetter. and that means he's gonna talk even more, and you're always right because he's cooing at how much slick is pouring out of you now, asking if it's because of his voice or his fingers.

suguru's so fucking annoying, such an asshole, but you can't help but let him get away with it when it means he makes your eyes flutter closed in pleasure.

you let him get away with way too much, don't you?

the song playing now is so loud, the bass making the ground vibrate. but suguru doesn't care, he's just thankful it's loud enough to cover that fucking beautiful moan you give him when he curls his fingers juuuust right.

"oooh, there? did i find it? fuck, baby, y'got so tight jus' from that."

your desperate nod of confirmation is all he needs before he speeds up his fingers, groaning when he can finally hear the wet schlicks of his hand coaxing more slick out of you.

one more glance up and suguru can't help but grin. the girls are gone, now mixed up in the crowd likely red and hot in the face.

seems like his impromptu little show finally got the message across: he is yours and yours only.

knowing he no longer had to show off, he's focusing on you, on you and that tight, needy little slit between your legs that's dripping down his wrist. it should be a crime for someone to be this wet, in public no less.

"c'mon, angel, don' hold back on me anymore, lemme know how it feels. wanna know 'm treating this gorgeous pussy good."

you let out the prettiest moan, breath hot against his ear. suguru coos, his hand not between your legs holding your neck to keep your head in the crook of his neck. “mhg, suguru, love it s' much, g-god, your fingers feel s'good, 's not fair.”

you can't stop yourself from trying to spread your legs more, giving him a bit better access. you know you can't open them too much ot someone might see.

but...would that be so bad? for people to see how suguru could make you fall apart so seamlessly?

if only you knew that's exactly what was running through his head right now. he's positive at least one person has caught on to what's happening, the repeating motions of his hand between your legs such a dead giveaway.

it thrills him, his cock throbbing in his pants at the thought. shit, he's learning things about himself he didn't know before...he might have to do this to you more often.

he leans in closer, his mouth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he whispers, "y'gonna cum for me right here in this club, aren't you, babygirl? gonna show me how much you love my fingers playing with this slutty lil' pussy, right?"

he gets a sweet little 'yes, sugu' and he purrs your name, the mixture of your moans, the music, and the just barely audible sounds of your slickness being stirred by his thick fingers, making him feel drunk.

you're shaking in his lap, holding on for dear life as he makes it a point to curl his fingers with each thrust, not giving you a break anymore. you're spiraling, feeling the tremors of your impending orgasm building, your hot, gummy walls fluttering around his stupidly thick digits. you're praying silently between each pant and gasp, desperately hoping he doesn't make you squirt, not now, not when so many people are around—!

"c'mon, baby, c'mon," suguru encourages, his fingers picking up their pace. you're so close, he knows it, he knows because he can feel it coming. the way you fist his shirt, the way your hips are trying to hard to not rise up to meet his hand, knowing it would make it so obvious what's happening.

but suguru, oh, he stopped caring so fucking long ago. he just wants to feel you soak his fingers, wants to hear your muted little moan of his name when you finally cum. he just wants to make sure you know you're his.

"b-baby, suguru, shit, i'm gonna cum—!"

"yeah? that's it, baby, let got f'me, you can do it," he urges and coos, his voice bordering on needy and desperate, just like you. he's panting into your ear, whispering little praises as he listens to you pitifully try to keep your gasps and moans down. you're such a mess, it's so cute, you're so adorable, god, he loves you so bad.

your thick thighs are quivering and trembling as you teeter on the brink of release. you know it's going to be a mess, but you try, you try so hard to keep it in.

suguru notices—how could he not—and he's not having it, slipping a third finger inside your messy little cunt, curling deep inside right against that sweet spot, and that knot wound so tight inside you finally snaps.

"s-suguuuu, 'm cummin'—!"

he's reveling in how your hot, gummy walls squeeze and spasm all over his fingers, milking them for all they're worth as you cry and sob his name into his ear, tears caught on your eyelashes from how good it feels. he wishes he could look at you, wanting to drink up your expressions, but no, he'd be risking someone else seeing how pretty you are when you cum.

"yessss, good girl, good fuckin' girl, gimme everything, babygirl."

your cries of release are so damn sweet to his ears, and he continues to work you through it, ensuring your orgasm is as prolonged and intense as possible. if you were home, he wouldn't care about stopping or overstimulating, but he has to remind himself to stay calm and not go too hard.

if he did, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself from fucking you on this couch in the middle of the VIP section in front of all these people.

once suguru feels you go slack in his arms and your hand weakly slap against his chest, he slows his hand, his own breaths heavy with the arousal and need you stirred in him...did you have any idea how sexy you were? if he wasn't as controlled as he was, he's positive he would've cum in his pants.

pulling his fingers out slowly, suguru's quick to pop them into his mouth, sucking off your juices like it would be the last time he'd ever get a last. fuck, you soaked his hand...he doesn't care how obvious he makes it when he licks at his palm and wrist to not miss a drop.

"hhmph, s-suguru, you—"

"i need you, right now. can i take you home?"

of course, he has to ask. he knows how long it took you to get ready, to look so fucking perfect. but right now, he doesn't want anyone to look at you. hell, he doesn't want anyone else but him to be near you, he'd fucking wipe out this entire club right now if you asked.

the soft touch of your hands on his face brings him back, making him melt as his eyes slide shut. you're so soft, he loves you so much, he needs to stick his cock into you while groaning those words into your ear, needs to feel his tip kiss that soft, spongy spot inside you that makes your back arch off the bed, to fold you in half as he stuffs you so full, praying that his cum gets stuck deep inside you, praying that it takes and that he gets you knocked up, and that—

"take me home, sugu, please, i-i need you s' bad."

your words have him acting in an instant he presses a quick kiss to your lips, licking whatever is left of your lipgloss before helping you stand up with him, guiding you out of the club. if he stays in here for any longer, he's not sure he'll be able to control himself.

"i got you, baby, don't worry, 'm gonna give you what you need. let's go, princess."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's tags : @satoruwiki @llllllllllllloser @screampied @abcdbleh @vicfuentesfangirl @sakurapeach @ohsuguru @crywolfix @naughtygobbo @aura88967 @jeanine-gt @tananaxx @tojancy @happymangosstuff @charming-chikara @actuallynarii @ninikrumbs @inette04 @paint-eater2 @haesify @shaguro

[cbeargyu]

what you want

summary: you and taeyong have been best friends since college, sharing your adult lives side by side—your flower shop, his branding firm, countless shared memories. but as you near your 30s, the yearning to become a mother grows unbearable. during a reunion trip to jeju island, a tipsy conversation turns into something tender, raw, and irreversible. what begins as comfort and shared vulnerability becomes something deeper—intimate confessions, unspoken love, and the beginning of a quiet forever.

pairing: bestfriend taeyong x fem!reader

genre: slow-burn, friends to lovers, emotional smut, soft romance, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, eventual pregnancy.

warnings: breeding kink, unprotected sex (consensual, emotional context), impregnatio, pregnancy mention, emotional vulnerability, suggestive adult themes (18+), heavy romantic tension with soft resolution.

wc: 4,5K

notes: hi hiiii, okay so i've been dying to read smutty taeyong fics lately and it's been ALMOST impossible to find 😭 like 90% are mxm and there's barely any tae x reader content out there... if anyone has recs pls drop them in the comments ily. alsooo it's probably painfully obvious by now that i'm obsessed with the whole breeding kink + domestic fluff combo BYE that's literally my favorite thing ever 😩🫠💗

you’ve always been close to taeyong.

since college, really—when you met in that ridiculously stuffy marketing class during your second year. he was late that day, hair still damp from a rushed shower, a printed branding portfolio tucked under one arm, and somehow, he still managed to slide into the seat beside you with an easy smile and that soft voice.

you became inseparable after that. group projects, late-night convenience store runs, silent study sessions that turned into hours of talking about everything and nothing. you built a quiet rhythm with him, one that never required a label or explanation.

you opened your flower shop right after graduation. taeyong built his own creative agency, specializing in branding and design—sleek, intentional, always poetic in its aesthetic. you sent him flowers for his launch day; he designed the logo for your storefront for free. "it’s a gift," he said when you tried to pay him, his voice warm over the phone. "besides, i owe you for all the coffee you bought me during thesis week."

now in your late twenties, things feel stable. solid. your dreams are real. you run a blooming business. taeyong’s agency is doing well. life, on the surface, is soft and good. but there’s one thing that sits heavily in your chest.

you want a baby.

you’ve wanted one for years. even when you were young, you imagined yourself as a mother before anything else—before being a florist, a business owner, a woman navigating city streets with earbuds in and a tote bag full of errands. you crave that connection, the physicality of pregnancy, the quiet intimacy of raising someone who came from you.

but dating? nonexistent. your schedule is tight, your circle small, and the men you do meet are more interested in weekend flings than parenting plans. you’ve been obsessively reading about IVF, sperm donors, even traditional remedies your grandmother used to whisper about. you bring it up to taeyong one night, half-laughing as you scroll through forums.

“i don’t know what to do,” you admit, looking over the rim of your mug at him. “i’m not seeing anyone. i don’t want to wait until i’m forty. and i want to carry them. i want to feel them growing inside me.”

taeyong goes quiet.

he doesn’t have the answers, but he listens. tells you that you’d make an amazing mother. suggests maybe you could consider adoption, but you shake your head gently.

“i want to be pregnant,” you whisper. “i want them to be mine from the start.”

he nods.

he doesn’t push.

a few days later, he messages you.

taeyonggie👺 [11:13am]: remember our old classmates? they’re planning a reunion trip to jeju. want to go? they said you’re welcome too.

you hesitate, then say yes. maybe a change of scenery is what you need. something about the sea and the quiet and the way jeju always smells like citrus and wind.

you don’t expect to feel so at ease.

you arrive together, him beside you on the plane, headphones shared between you as you both doze off mid-flight. you’re staying at a cozy hotel not far from the beach—modern but warm, all wood accents and soft lighting.

there’s a mix-up at check-in.

“two rooms for y/n and taeyong?” the clerk asks.

“no, just one,” taeyong corrects, glancing at you. “two beds, please.”

you nod. it’s nothing new. you’ve stayed over at each other’s apartments before. this is the same. right?

your room has two full-size beds, a window view of the ocean, and barely enough space for both your suitcases. you joke about how you’ll end up tripping over each other, and taeyong just grins, tossing his duffel onto the bed by the wall.

the first two days are calm.

nakamoto yuta—now a travel content creator, all sun-kissed skin and open laughter—is the life of the group. seulgi, working as a creative director for a fashion label, is effortlessly elegant, always with a camera around her neck. also in the group: kwon eunbi, a vocal coach; hwang minhyun, managing a production company; kim seolhyun, running a podcast on pop culture; and kim hanbin, now a choreographer.

you spend your days exploring the island.

taeyong helps you pick tangerines from the orchard. you braid small wildflowers into your hair, and he snaps a photo when you’re not looking. he buys you honey ice cream and insists on carrying your bag when your shoulder starts to ache.

it feels like nothing’s changed.

but there’s a moment.

you’re inside the hotel lounge, grabbing drinks. yuta and taeyong sit near the back, shoulders low, conversation soft between them.

“you still in love with her?” yuta asks, voice easy but not teasing.

taeyong chokes on his drink. coughs. blushes.

“no,” he says, eyes flickering. “i mean, not anymore. that was...college. i’m over it.”

yuta raises a brow. “you sure?”

taeyong doesn’t answer right away. his fingers tap against the glass, slow. thoughtful.

“she wants a baby,” he says eventually. “that’s all she talks about now.”

“so give her one,” yuta shrugs.

taeyong laughs quietly. like it’s ridiculous. like it’s tempting.

he doesn’t bring it up again.

but something shifts.

you notice him watching you a little longer than usual when you laugh. his gaze lingers on the curve of your jaw, the line of your collarbone, the way you absentmindedly rest a hand over your stomach when you’re lost in thought.

you don’t say anything either.

you’re still just friends.

sharing a room.

sharing a life.

almost.

dinner that night is golden.

the kind that stretches out with laughter, grilled seafood, tangerine wine, and flickering lanterns strung up between pine trees. the restaurant is open-air, tucked near the cliffside with a view of the ocean glowing beneath the full moon.

everyone's a little tipsy by the time dessert comes around. yuta’s telling stories about backpacking in morocco and the time he accidentally ended up at a wedding. seulgi keeps taking pictures of everyone's reactions, cheeks flushed from wine. hanbin and seolhyun are arguing about the best era of k-pop choreography. eunbi sings a soft verse of something nostalgic, and minhyun smiles so softly you wonder if he's thinking of someone he left behind.

taeyong is beside you. always beside you. refilling your glass with something citrusy. resting his arm along the back of your chair. letting his knee bump into yours and not pulling away. the heat from him is steady. familiar. almost too much.

later, the drinks keep flowing back at the hotel. minhyun brings out a bottle of plum soju he brought from seoul, and that’s when it really starts. shots. dares. flushed cheeks and slurred memories.

you’re warm. glowing. a little too honest.

“i mean it,” you say, your voice low, shoulders loose as you sit with taeyong on the floor by the balcony door, away from the noise. “i think about it every night. sometimes i dream about it.”

he looks at you, gentle. “dream about what?”

you lean your head against the windowpane, watching the wind rustle the curtain.

“having a baby,” you murmur. “being pregnant. the little kicks. the soft cries. the weight of them on my chest. it’s so clear in my mind. like… i can almost feel it already.”

taeyong swallows.

you’re drunk. not sloppy, just vulnerable in a way you rarely let yourself be.

“i’ve tried not to obsess over it,” you continue, voice quieter now. “but it’s hard. i want it so much. and i know it’s selfish to want the whole experience—the belly, the pain, the birth. i just… i don’t want to feel like i missed it, like i missed the chance to be the kind of mother i’ve always seen myself becoming.”

taeyong doesn’t know what to say. you can feel it in the silence. his fingers curl slightly, brushing the edge of your sweater.

“you’d be such a good dad, you know,” you say suddenly, eyes half-lidded, smiling gently now as the alcohol softens your words. “like… annoyingly good.”

taeyong blinks.

“you’d be the kind that warms up the milk just right. that kisses tiny foreheads. that always carries extra snacks. that reads the bedtime story even when he’s tired. you'd probably cry when they take their first step.”

he laughs under his breath, a little shaky. your words are melting something in him.

“and your baby would have your eyes,” you add, like it’s nothing. “those pretty lashes. and maybe your laugh. and you’d panic the first time they got sick. and hold them all night until they stopped crying.”

he’s staring at you now. full-on. wide-eyed, a little undone.

“you’d be so gentle,” you whisper. “you already are.”

taeyong shifts. swallows again. his voice is rough when he finally speaks. “don’t say that.”

you tilt your head, confused. “why not? it’s true.”

“because,” he breathes, gaze flicking down to your lips for half a second before pulling back to the ceiling. “you’re drunk. and i’m trying really hard not to do something i’ll regret.”

you blink slowly, the alcohol making everything feel suspended.

you’re suddenly aware of how close you are. how intimate this has always been. not the words. not the night. just you and him.

taeyong stands. runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“i’m gonna get some water,” he mumbles, stepping away from the room.

you stay behind, heartbeat thudding, his warmth still lingering beside you.

you meant every word.

but you don’t know if he’ll ever believe that.

taeyong returns to the table with your glass of water clutched between his fingers like it’s something to hold himself together. his pulse is still uneven, the weight of your words clinging to him like sea salt in the air—soft but undeniable.

you’re laughing at something when he returns. yuta’s grinning, telling a story about a disastrous photoshoot in cambodia that involved a monkey, a drone, and his own foolish confidence. your cheeks are still flushed, but your expression dims a little when your eyes catch his, like you can feel the shift. like you remember what you said.

taeyong sets the glass in front of you gently, and you whisper a quiet “thanks” without looking up.

he doesn’t sit down again. instead, he hovers, letting the chatter of the group wash over him, standing on the edge of it all. seulgi pulls hanbin into a debate about concept staging in idol tours, seolhyun’s already half-asleep on the couch, and minhyun is texting someone with a small smile. the night has thinned out. the fire outside has died, leaving only the dim golden lights strung overhead and the soft hum of a playlist playing someone’s nostalgic mix of late 2010s ballads.

by the time the clock hits nearly two in the morning, someone mumbles about calling it a night.

you blink blearily, your words slurring just a bit now, your weight leaning more and more toward the backrest of the couch. taeyong’s already there before anyone else moves, slipping a hand beneath your elbow and helping you to your feet like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“come on,” he says quietly, warm breath by your temple. “let’s get you to bed.”

you nod sleepily, your body soft, trusting. your fingers find the edge of his jacket sleeve as he steadies you, and he doesn’t pull away. the walk to the room is silent, the hallways dim and muffled. your steps are clumsy, and he catches you more than once, his hand curling around your waist like second nature.

inside the room, it’s dim and warm. the faint scent of saltwater and clean cotton lingers in the air from earlier. you collapse on the edge of the bed you claimed the night before, one of two queen mattresses sitting side by side with a single nightstand in between. the tension returns with the silence, thick and cloying. he walks to the dresser and grabs a bottle of water, offering it to you.

you drink half of it. then sit there. watching him.

he avoids your gaze at first. fiddles with the hem of his shirt. looks out the window like he might say something—then stops himself.

but you’re still drunk. and honest. and maybe a little bold in the way you never let yourself be.

“you know,” you start, voice quiet, “i wasn’t drunk when i said you’d make a good dad.”

taeyong turns slowly. you meet his eyes.

you swallow thickly, fingers wringing the edge of your pajama top. “i’ve thought about it before.”

he blinks, lips parting like he wants to ask but isn’t sure if he should.

you continue.

"not just in the abstract. not just... you as someone’s dad. but you as my—" you stop, heat blooming up your neck. you exhale. “sometimes, i think about what it’d be like if you were the one.”

he says nothing, but his expression crumbles—something tender and wounded flickering behind his eyes.

“i mean, we’ve been in each other’s lives forever,” you say, softer now. “we grew up together in every way that matters. you’ve seen me fail and get back up and fall apart again. you’ve never walked away. not once. not even when i was unbearable. i trust you with everything. i always have.”

taeyong doesn’t breathe.

you keep going.

“so yeah. i think about it sometimes. about what it’d be like to have your kid. to raise them with you. to wake up to you and a messy little human with sleepy eyes and your stupid laugh. and maybe i’m insane, maybe it’s just my hormones or my loneliness or whatever—but the thought doesn’t scare me. it grounds me.”

you laugh, a little bitterly, wiping at the corner of your eye. “and that’s the worst part. because i know you don’t see me that way. or if you did once, it’s long gone. and i shouldn’t be saying this—i know that. but there’s something about tonight that makes me feel like i’ll burst if i don’t.”

taeyong moves before you can finish.

quiet. careful.

he kneels in front of you. not touching you. not yet. just there, looking up at you like he’s memorizing every curve of your face.

his voice is raw.

“don’t say i don’t see you.”

you meet his eyes.

“i’ve always seen you.”

your breath hitches.

taeyong lets out a quiet, shaky laugh. “you talk about me being a dad like i wouldn’t spend every second wondering how the hell i got so lucky to build a life with you. like i haven’t already imagined it too. maybe not with words. maybe not out loud. but… i have.”

you whisper, “you have?”

he nods.

“every time you smile like that. every time you bring me coffee with your name scribbled next to mine. every time you hug me like home. yes. i have.”

you don’t move.

he reaches for your hand—slow, reverent, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“but i never let myself say it,” he murmurs. “because i didn’t want to mess this up. not with us. not with you. and definitely not like this. but if i’m being honest… the thought of you carrying my child?” he swallows. “that doesn’t scare me either.”

the room is silent.

you stare at him, your fingers trembling in his grip.

you whisper, “then kiss me.”

he does.

not rushed. not heated.

just true.

the kind of kiss that feels like coming home after years of wandering.

like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t crazy after all.

the kiss deepens slowly.

taeyong’s hands are warm on your cheeks, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. you melt under his touch, your fingers sliding up his neck, into his hair, pulling him closer, closer still—like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you let go.

he’s the one who gasps first when your lips part just enough to whisper his name. it falls from your mouth like a secret you’ve kept buried for too long, and he swallows it whole.

he pulls back slightly, forehead resting against yours, his thumbs brushing over your flushed skin. you can feel his heart racing beneath his shirt.

“y/n…” his voice is hoarse. “are you sure?”

you nod, soft and breathless. “i’ve never been more sure.”

and there’s something in your voice—something so certain, so full of quiet longing—that makes taeyong inhale like he’s taking you in for the first time.

his lips find yours again, slower now, more deliberate. his touch trails from your face to your waist, pulling you gently into his lap, like he needs you close enough to feel everything—the way your body trembles against his, the way your thighs tighten around his hips, the way your breath stutters when his mouth moves down your neck.

he tastes your skin like a prayer, like something he’s dreamt about in the quiet hours of the night when your voice was the only thing that could calm him down.

you whisper into the space between kisses, into the curve of his jaw, “i want it to be you.”

his breath hitches.

“i want your baby,” you murmur, your hand pressing over his chest, right where his heart is pounding. “i want to carry your child. someone small and perfect and warm, someone who has your eyes… your smile.”

taeyong lets out the softest sound, almost like a whimper, and you feel his fingers tighten on your hips, his body tensing like he’s trying to hold himself back.

you lean into his ear and say it again—this time slower, your voice shaking. “i want your baby inside me, tae.”

his hands slide up your sides, under your shirt, reverent and gentle. “god,” he breathes. “you have no idea what that does to me.”

“tell me.”

he leans back just enough to look at you—really look at you. his pupils are blown wide, his cheeks flushed, lips swollen and parted.

“i think about it all the time,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “what you’d look like with my baby growing inside you. your belly round and soft, your body glowing. coming home to you with your shirt stretched over the bump, your hands cradling it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

he presses a kiss to your collarbone, then another, lower. “i want to see you like that. i want to wake up and run my hands over your belly, feel it kick. talk to it. kiss it.”

you whimper, your fingers knotting in his hair. “tae…”

his hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, thumbs brushing over your hipbones like they belong there. “i want to fill you up,” he murmurs, voice thick and trembling. “not just for tonight. not just for the fantasy. i want this to meansomething. it does mean something.”

you nod, cupping his face. “i know. it does to me too.”

he kisses you again, deeper now, one hand at the small of your back, guiding you down onto the mattress. the room is quiet, lit only by the moonlight spilling through the window, and everything feels soft. intimate. warm.

he undresses you slowly, carefully, as if every piece of clothing he removes reveals another piece of your heart. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer until there’s no space between you, nothing but breath and bare skin and whispered names.

when he enters you, it’s slow and deep, like he’s savoring every inch, like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel wrapped around him. your back arches, and he moans into your neck, your name a broken sound on his lips.

you’re both trembling—emotion thick in your chests, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. because it’s not just sex. not just lust. it’s home. it’s years of friendship and quiet yearning finally coming undone in the safest way possible.

taeyong presses a kiss to your temple and whispers, “you’re perfect. you’re mine.”

you cradle his face in your hands, smiling through the tears. “give me everything, tae. i want to feel you. all of you. i want to feel you stay.”

his rhythm falters, just for a second, overcome by the weight of it all. “i’ll give you everything. i’ll give you a family.”

you tighten around him at the words, gasping.

“i want to make you a mom,” he whispers. “tonight.”

you nod frantically, lips parting, “do it. please. i want to feel it—i want to feel you—when you fill me.”

taeyong groans, hips stuttering, burying his face in your neck. “fuck. y/n…”

you whisper, “put a baby in me, tae.”

he thrusts deeper, harder now, the restraint beginning to crumble. your bodies are slick with sweat, moving together with a kind of desperation that feels like both a beginning and a promise.

when he finishes—inside, just like you wanted—it’s with a gasp, his arms locked around you tight, like he’s scared to let go. and for a long moment, neither of you move.

“i want you full of me,” he says against your mouth, already hardening again. “i want to make sure.”

you nod, dazed. open. warm.

“don’t stop,” you whisper. “please don’t stop.”

and he doesn’t.

he makes love to you over and over again, slow and focused, like each time is another chance to seal your wish into reality. sometimes he holds your hips, watching your face as you fall apart for him. other times he lays you on your side, kissing your shoulder while whispering how beautiful you are, how perfect you’d be with his child inside you.

when dawn breaks, you’re tangled together in silence. your body aches, sweet and sated. your thighs sticky, your heart full. his hand rests on your stomach again, like he’s already waiting.

he is groaning your name, whispering over and over, “mine. you’re mine. our baby. our future.”

you’re crying. he is too.

and when the trembling stops and the world is still again, he kisses your lips, then your cheeks, then your stomach.

“i can’t wait to see you grow,” he whispers, resting his head just below your ribs.

you run your fingers through his hair, heart pounding.

you whisper back, “i hope it has your eyes.”

the sunlight pours through the thin curtains like a slow, golden confession. the air smells like salt and lemon shampoo. taeyong wakes up first this time, his arm heavy over your waist, your back pressed flush against his chest. sunlight filters through the cream-colored curtains, warming the bare skin of your shoulder.

it kisses your bare shoulder first, then the soft curve of your waist, then the scattered marks taeyong left across your chest like constellations only he could read.

you’re the first to stir, eyelids fluttering open to the unfamiliar ceiling of the hotel room. for a second, you forget where you are. but then you shift slightly and feel the weight of an arm draped across your stomach, the steady rise and fall of a chest pressed into your back, and the unmistakable warmth of taeyong’s body, still wrapped around you like a second skin.

his breath ghosts against your nape, slow and deep, and you realize he hasn’t let go of you all night. not once.

you smile.

when you turn your head just enough to see his face, it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. he’s peaceful like this—softer, younger somehow. his lashes rest against his cheeks, and his mouth is parted slightly, lips still swollen from all the kisses you gave him. his hand, large and warm, is splayed gently across your lower belly, protective and possessive in the same breath.

you reach down and lace your fingers with his.

as if he feels it, he stirs, humming sleepily against your skin. his nose nuzzles into your shoulder. “mmm… morning,” he mumbles, voice thick and low, still soaked in sleep.

you twist around slowly in his hold so you’re facing him. he blinks a few times, eyes still heavy, but when they focus on you, they soften in that way they always have—like you’re the center of his world and he’s been waiting all night just to see you again.

“you stayed,” you whisper, thumb brushing his cheekbone.

he smiles lazily, eyes fluttering shut again. “of course i did. where else would i go?”

you tuck yourself into his chest, your nose against his collarbone. “you feel so warm…”

his arms tighten around you instantly, drawing you closer until there’s no space between you. “you kept me warm first,” he murmurs, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “i didn’t want to let go.”

you stay like that for a while. breathing together. existing.

and then you feel him shift, one hand still resting over your belly, thumb drawing lazy, absent-minded circles over the skin there. he hums, low in his throat. “do you think… do you think it worked?”

your breath catches.

you look up at him, searching his face. he’s watching you carefully now, no longer groggy, eyes wide open and impossibly tender.

“i don’t know,” you whisper. “maybe.”

he leans in, kisses your forehead. then your temple. then the spot just below your eye. “i kind of hope it did.”

you feel your throat tighten with emotion.

“you do?”

“mmhm,” he nods, nudging his nose against yours. “i kept thinking about it last night… the way you’d look months from now. the way i’d get to take care of you. rub your back. cook for you. kiss your belly every morning.”

you let out a small laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand.

“i’d be so annoying,” you murmur. “always crying. craving weird stuff. complaining about everything.”

he smiles, brushing your hair behind your ear. “you’d be perfect. i’d love you more every day. and our baby… our baby would be lucky.”

you bury your face in his chest, overwhelmed by the sweetness of it. the certainty.

he strokes your back gently. “and if it didn’t happen this time… we try again,” he says softly. “no rush. no pressure. just us. just love.”

you pull back, tearful and smiling all at once. “you want to try again already?”

he grins, lips brushing your cheek. “i want to make love to you every morning for the rest of my life. but yes… also for the baby.”

you laugh, breathless, and he kisses the sound right out of you.

his hands start to wander again—slow, exploring, remembering. he murmurs against your lips, “can i stay inside you today too? just like this… all day?”

you nod, whispering, “don’t leave me empty.”

and he doesn’t.

he makes love to you again—this time slow and languid, under the weight of sunlight and morning warmth. he kisses your face like you’re already glowing. like you’re already carrying a part of him.

when he comes again, deep inside you, he doesn’t look away. he holds you through it. kisses your tears. whispers your name like a promise.

afterward, he pulls the blanket over your bodies, still tangled. still joined. he keeps his hand on your belly, and you both stay quiet, smiling softly.

as if the future is already there.

[jennxxe]

Birthday boy.

pairing — erik campbell x fem! reader x bobby campbell

summary — bobby is a 19 year old virgin and erik, being the great brother that he is, decides that his girlfriend can help with that

warnings — 18+, explicit sexual content, virginity loss, cursing, mentions of body piercings (erik ofc), oral sex, mentions of weed, smoking cigarettes, threesome, erik just watches at first, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n — lord this one is wild and i genuinely hope this doesn’t count as inc3st

Bobby’s 19th birthday party was somehow already a disaster and a success at the same time. The house smelled like dollar store candles, pizza rolls, and Axe body spray. Music thumped too loudly through the old speakers Erik had found in someone’s garage last week, and the couch was half-covered in streamers and a suspicious stain no one had dared address.

There were too many people in the kitchen, the lights were too bright, and the snacks had long devolved into chaos, but Bobby? Bobby was thriving.

Wearing a backwards snapback that didn’t match his outfit, sunglasses inside, and a white tee a size too tight, he moved through the crowd like a human Labrador. Slapping backs, flexing biceps, waving a half-eaten slice of cake around like a sword. His voice boomed every few seconds—laughing too loud, misquoting memes from 2017 like they were hot off TikTok.

You were nursing a red solo cup of something too sweet, sitting on the arm of the couch when Erik came up behind you. You felt him before he even spoke, his hand sliding around your waist, breath warm near your jaw, always too close, too cocky.

“Dude, look at him,” Erik muttered, tone just low enough to make it feel like a secret. “You’d think we were celebrating his retirement.”

You turned your head, letting your temple graze his. “He’s happy.”

Erik made a face. “He’s a virgin.”

You snorted. “So?”

“He’s nineteen. And still a virgin. You know what happens if that doesn’t get handled soon?”

You raised an eyebrow, swirling the drink in your cup. “He turns into a werewolf?”

“No. Worse.” Erik took a long sip from his drink like it physically pained him to continue. “He develops an ego complex, falls down a Reddit hole, and two years later he’s blaming women on the internet for the fact that he can’t find the clit.”

You stared at Bobby, watching him bump chests with a guy he just beat at beer pong. His eyes sparkled like a puppy who just got told he was a very good boy.

You leaned a little closer to Erik, voice dropping into something silkier. “He is kind of hot, though.”

Erik stopped breathing. You could feel the shift in him—shoulders tensing slightly, head turning toward you in slow disbelief.

“What.”

You licked your lips, playing it up just to get a rise out of him. “I mean, he’s got those jock arms. Dumb energy. Big heart. Zero clue what to do with it. I could fix him.”

Erik just stared at you like you’d grown horns.

“You wanna cheat on me with my brother?”

“Not cheat,” you corrected sweetly, dragging a nail down his arm. “Help.”

He ran a hand down his face, visibly spiraling. “You are deranged.”

You leaned into his space again, lips grazing the shell of his ear, voice a teasing purr. “You’re hard, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” he hissed, way too fast. His jaw twitched.

You leaned back just enough to see the look in his eyes—half disbelief, half Oh no I’m into this. The kind of chaos only Erik could embody: territorial and turned on, pissed and amused all at once.

“So?” you prompted.

He stared at the floor for a beat, then the ceiling, then you. You watched his tongue press against the inside of his cheek before he exhaled like he was selling his soul to the devil.

“Alright. Let’s go help him.”

The house was quieter two hours later.

Empty red solo cups littered the counters. Someone’s jacket was crumpled over the microwave. A balloon floated lazily against the ceiling like it, too, had given up. Erik sat at the kitchen table, slouched back in a chair with one leg kicked out and a cigarette dangling between his fingers. Smoke curled lazily toward the overhead light, casting everything in a hazy yellow glow.

Bobby stumbled in, hair a mess, shirt rumpled, cheeks still flushed with leftover adrenaline. He looked like someone who had just been told he was awesome twelve too many times.

“Dude,” Bobby said, breathless, opening the fridge like he was searching for buried treasure. “That was the best party of my life. Did you see Trevor let me carry him up the stairs? I mean, I dropped him on the third step, but like… he laughed.”

Erik didn’t look up from the cigarette. “Congrats, man. You peaked.”

Bobby grabbed a bottle of something halfway expired and twisted off the cap, chugging like he was in a college movie.

“You’re in a good mood,” Erik muttered, finally meeting his gaze.

Bobby leaned against the counter, sipping more slowly now. “Yeah, well. It’s my birthday. Also, I think your girlfriend winked at me.”

Erik exhaled a long stream of smoke and tilted his head. “She did more than that, bro.”

Bobby blinked. “...What?”

Erik tapped the ash off his cigarette, watching the ember glow. Then he glanced up again, expression unreadable.

“She thinks you’re hot.”

There was a pause. Bobby frowned.

“Wait, like… joking hot or like—”

“Like she offered to take your virginity as a favor to society.”

Bobby’s jaw dropped, a bottle of Sprite halfway to his mouth. “What?!”

“She said you’ve got dumb energy,” Erik added, deadpan.

Bobby blinked. “I mean… I do, but—”

Erik pointed the cigarette at him like it was a moral compass. “Listen to me. I don’t know what kind of glow-up puberty gave you, but if you’re gonna start pulling that kind of attention, you need to know how to handle it.”

Bobby squinted. “Handle what? You’re not seriously saying—wait. Wait, are you mad?”

“Mad?” Erik scoffed. “No. I’m your older brother. I’m here to guide your dumbass into manhood.”

“That sounds like a cult pitch.”

“Shut up.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, cigarette balanced loosely between two fingers. “Look. You’re nineteen. You’ve got that whole boy-next-door thing going for you. Girls love that shit. But if you start swinging your dick around like a prize, you’re gonna crash and burn.”

Bobby raised a brow. “...This is weird advice coming from you.”

“Yeah, well.” Erik gave him a tight smirk. “That’s why I’m not telling you to be me. I’m telling you to take the shortcut. You wanna lose it? Fine. You want her to show you the ropes? Great. Just don’t be a creep about it. Don’t fall in love with your first lay. And never tell Julia.”

Bobby made a choking noise. “Jules would literally kill us all.”

“Exactly.” Erik stood up, stretched his arms overhead, his tank top riding up just enough to show a hint of ink. “So if anything happens… it didn’t.”

Bobby nodded slowly. “Right. Operation: Denial.”

Erik clapped a hand on his shoulder, smirking. “That’s my boy.”

And with that, he walked off down the hall, dragging smoke and bad ideas behind him.

Bobby stood there alone for a second, holding the bottle and blinking at the dark kitchen.

“…Wait, am I about to lose my virginity?”

The next day, you were on the porch, sunglasses on, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. Your legs were kicked up on the railing, Erik’s hoodie slouched over your frame like it lived there now. Hair a little messy. A smudge of something pink on your cheek. You looked like the aftermath of something that left a mark.

Bobby hovered in the doorway like he was approaching a tiger in stilettos.

“…Hey,” he said finally, voice cracking halfway through it.

You lowered your glasses just enough to look at him. “Morning, birthday boy.”

He swallowed. “So. Uh. Last night.”

You took a slow sip from your mug. “Mhm.”

“Did that… like… happen?”

You tilted your head, watching him squirm. “Define that, sweetheart.”

Bobby flushed. “The part where you and Erik were… talking about… you know.” He gestured vaguely at the universe. “Helping me.”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at him for a moment, amused, your tongue pressing into your cheek like you were deciding how much chaos to unleash before noon.

“Yeah,” you said finally. “We were.”

Bobby blinked. “You were serious?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think I wink at people as a joke?”

He made a small, confused hand motion. “I don’t know, I just figured it was like… ironic flirting. Y’know, like when people flirt with customer service workers so they don’t feel like dying?”

You leaned forward, placing your coffee down with a soft clink. “Bobby. You’re hot. Tall. Built like a linebacker. Dumb as bricks in the most adorable way possible. You think I wouldn’t want to ruin you a little?”

He stared at you like you just told him he was actually descended from the heavens. “Oh my God.”

You smiled slowly. “Still want my help?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then—softly, earnestly, with a kind of sacred awe—“I think I’d let you run me over with a truck.”

You laughed. Really laughed. Then stood up and ruffled his hair with both hands. “Good boy.”

Just then, Erik stepped onto the porch, shirtless, yawning, with a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

He paused. Squinted at the two of you.

“…Are you guys flirting?” he asked, deadpan.

You didn’t miss a beat. “No.”

Bobby, nearly vibrating: “YES.”

Erik looked between you both, eyes narrowing. “Do not bang my brother before breakfast.”

You raised your mug in salute. “No promises.”

Later that day, Bobby found you alone in the living room. Erik had just left to pick up some tattoo supplies and probably a breakfast burrito the size of his ego. You were sprawled across the couch in biker shorts and a crop top, one leg hooked over the armrest, flipping through a magazine like you weren’t plotting a moral collapse.

Bobby hesitated in the doorway like his conscience was still buffering.

You didn’t look up. “You gonna hover or sit?”

He obeyed immediately, flopping onto the couch cushion beside you like he’d been waiting for permission to breathe. “Okay, so—hypothetically—if this were to happen…”

You turned your head, one brow raised. “If?”

Bobby flushed. “When. When. Sorry. I’m still, like, mentally short-circuiting.”

You smirked. “Cute.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “So… Friday— Julia’s still on that cabin trip with her friends. Mom and Dad are outta town… So the house’ll be empty.”

“Except for us,” you said, giving him a slow, deliberate look.

He gulped. “Okay. Yeah. That’s… That’s good.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “What time do you usually wake up on a Friday?”

“Uh. Ten?”

“Make it nine. I want you showered. Teeth brushed. Hair fluffed.”

He blinked. “Fluffed?”

You leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something warm and smoky. “Bobby, this is a once-in-a-lifetime event. You’re about to be ruined for other women. The least you can do is smell good.”

He made a small whimpering noise. “Oh my God.”

You sat up and leaned toward him, eyes playful but sharp. “No breakfast burritos. No garlic. No Axe body spray. And wear those grey sweatpants.”

He blinked. “You noticed my sweatpants?”

You just smirked. “Everybody noticed your sweatpants.”

Bobby looked like his soul had momentarily left his body. “Okay. Okay. I can do this. This is fine. I’m fine.”

You reached over, gently tugged the drawstring of his shorts. “You better be.”

He swallowed hard. “Wait—where’s it gonna happen? My room? Living toom?”

You chuckled. “Please. The living room’s sacred ground. We’re using Erik’s room.”

His eyes widened. “Dude. That feels… wrong.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

He choked on his own spit.

You leaned back again, casual and predatory all at once. “So. Friday. Nine a.m. Clean, quiet, ready. You knock once and Erik will open the door. And then…”

“Then?” he asked, eyes huge.

You smiled like a cat with a mouse under her paw. “Then I make you forget every crush you ever had.”

From the hallway, the front door creaked open.

Erik’s voice called out. “Yo! You guys better not be doing bonding shit in there!”

You called back smoothly. “We’re just talking!”

Bobby, under his breath, lips pale: “I think I’m gonna die.”

You glanced at him, tossed your hair back, and whispered, “Not before Friday, you’re not.”

Friday. 9:03 AM.

Erik’s room smelled like him—cologne, smoke, leather, and something distinctly male and reckless. The kind of scent that stayed on your skin, even after a shower. You were perched on the edge of his unmade bed, legs crossed, nails painted and gleaming under the soft morning light that filtered through slatted blinds.

Bobby stood in the doorway, looking like a crime about to happen. Grey sweatpants. White tee stretched over his chest. Hands fidgeting at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with the sudden weight of his body. He looked at you, then glanced toward the corner chair.

Erik was already there. Slouched back, legs spread wide, black joggers riding low on his hips, coffee in one hand and a cigarette burning in the ashtray beside him. His gaze was unreadable, flicking from his brother to you like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or light the match.

“You’re late,” you said, lifting an eyebrow as Bobby stepped inside.

“I—I had to shave. I didn’t want to be prickly. Or sweaty. Or like, too… I don’t know, eager.” Bobby’s voice cracked halfway through and he winced.

You smiled slowly, rising from the bed. “Relax. You’re not being sacrificed.”

Bobby swallowed hard, eyes wide as you walked toward him. He looked like he’d never seen a woman walk in his life.

You hooked a finger through his waistband and gently tugged him closer. “Let’s start slow.”

He nodded so fast it looked like a glitch.

You cupped his jaw, thumb brushing across his cheek, and leaned in, your lips ghosting over his before you pressed into him. His mouth opened on instinct, unsure and eager, but you kissed him like you had all the time in the world to teach him.

His hands hovered at your sides, too polite, too careful.

“Touch her,” Erik said from the corner, voice low and unbothered.

Bobby jerked slightly, blinking at him. “W-What?”

“Jesus, man,” Erik exhaled, eyes sharp but lazy, “you think she’s gonna bite?”

“She will,” you murmured, nipping Bobby’s bottom lip. “But only if you’re lucky.”

That seemed to short-circuit him. His hands slid to your waist, trembling a little, and you kissed him deeper, guiding him backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed. You pushed him down gently, straddling him, hands in his hair, hips rocking just barely to test him.

And oh—he was already getting there. Poor boy was flushed, pupils blown wide, already hard against the thin barrier of his sweatpants.

Erik leaned back, elbow resting on the arm of the chair, watching. Not leering. Not possessive. Just… invested. Smirking. Maybe a little impressed.

“You’re really doing this,” he muttered, voice coated in lazy amusement. “Can’t say I didn’t think about it. But damn.”

Bobby pulled back slightly, panting, lips kiss-bruised. “Is this… like, is this weird? That you’re—”

“I’m here to supervise,” Erik said, deadpan. “Making sure you don’t cry or nut too fast.”

You bit back a grin. “Yeah, baby. This is hands-on mentorship.”

Bobby let out a strangled sound that might’ve been a laugh or a prayer.

You leaned down again, this time slower, with a little more weight in it, your tongue sliding over his as you kissed him like he was something you’d waited for. Like ruining him was a favor you were doing for both of you.

Erik stretched, muscles rippling, his eyes dark now. “Don’t let him get lazy,” he said, voice molasses-slick. “If you’re gonna teach him, teach him.”

“Oh,” you purred, rocking your hips against Bobby’s slowly, “I plan on it.”

You pulled back from Bobby just enough to meet his gaze, your thumb brushing his swollen bottom lip. He looked wrecked already, chest rising and falling too fast, eyes dazed like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You dipped your head again, but instead of kissing him, your lips grazed his jaw, down to his throat, and then to the collar of his t-shirt.

“Take this off,” you murmured.

He obeyed immediately, tugging the shirt over his head with a clumsy kind of urgency. You didn’t rush. You just sat back and watched the reveal—broad chest, soft tan lines, that little trail of hair disappearing into his waistband. He looked like a boy trying hard to be a man, and that innocence made your mouth water.

You slid your hands up his stomach, nails grazing skin just enough to make him twitch. “Not bad, birthday boy.”

He swallowed hard. “Should I—uh—should I take yours off too or—”

Erik cut in from the chair, voice like dry smoke. “Ask permission first, dumbass.”

You turned to shoot Erik a look, half grin, half warning. “He’s learning.”

Bobby blinked up at you. “Can I—can I take yours off?”

You tilted your head, teasing. “You gonna be gentle?”

He nodded so fast it made you laugh softly.

“Then go ahead.”

His hands were hesitant at first, brushing your hips, sliding up your sides to the hem of your crop top. You raised your arms for him, and he peeled it off slowly, like he was unwrapping something forbidden.

His eyes widened as you sat there bare above him—no bra, no shame. You leaned forward and tugged his hands up to your chest.

“Touch,” you said, tone low and warm.

He did. Carefully. Reverently. Like he wasn’t sure if it was a dream. From the chair, Erik exhaled a breath through his nose, blue eyes focused.

“You’re shaking,” you murmured, kissing Bobby’s jaw. “Still scared?”

Bobby let out a breathless little laugh. “Kinda.”

“Good.” You nipped his ear. “Means you’ll remember it.”

Your fingers slipped down his torso, grazing the waistband of his sweatpants.

“These go next,” you whispered. “But you’re not the only one losing layers.”

You stood slowly, watching his eyes follow every movement. You hooked your thumbs into your shorts and shimmied out of them, one side at a time, until they pooled at your feet. The air kissed your thighs, and Bobby’s mouth parted slightly when he saw your panties.

You stepped out and climbed back onto the bed, straddling him again.

“Okay,” you said softly, fingers ghosting along his waistband. “You ready?”

He nodded, almost too fast again.

Erik leaned forward slightly in his chair, elbows on his knees, that lazy smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t pass out,” he muttered. “We just got to the good part.”

You slid closer to Bobby, breath warm against his skin, fingers tracing the line of his jaw before settling at the base of his neck. His pulse hammered beneath your touch, every nerve begging for something, anything, from you.

Without hesitation, you dipped your head, lips ghosting down his collarbone, pausing just above the waistband of his sweats. Your hands cupped his hips as you leaned in, eyes locked with his for a heartbeat before you let your mouth do the talking.

Slow, deliberate kisses trailed lower, teasing, coaxing, until you were tracing the edge of the fabric. Your tongue flicked out, slipping beneath the band, drawing a soft gasp from him that made your pulse quicken.

“Fuck... shit,” Bobby breathed out, voice trembling like it caught him off guard.

You worked with patience, hands sliding up his thighs as your lips parted around the tip, gentle at first like you were savoring the taste, learning every curve. His fingers tangled in your hair, breath hitching, eyes fluttering closed as you took his cock deeper into your mouth, slow and sure.

“God, that’s... fuck, yeah,” he gasped, hips pushing forward with a shaky urgency, desperate for more even as you kept him on the edge.

The heat between you spiked, his hips rolling forward on instinct, pressing closer as you took him in, careful to keep the pace just right—teasing enough to drive him wild but not so fast he lost control.

You looked up through your lashes, lips slick and swollen, and caught the raw need in his gaze. He was already undone, every breath shallow, every muscle tense.

“You good?” you murmured, voice thick with promise.

He swallowed hard, voice rough and ragged. “Never... never been better.”

You’re lost in the moment, every slow, teasing motion drawing Bobby deeper, his breath hitching and his hands clutching your hair like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes are half-lidded, desperate and stunned, like you’re literally stealing the air from his lungs.

From the corner, Erik’s voice cuts through the haze, low and sarcastic, like he’s calling the play-by-play on a goddamn championship game.

“Alright, folks—Bobby’s in the danger zone now,” he drawls, eyes locked on the scene like he’s got front-row seats. “Slowing the pace, but the crowd’s on edge. Can he handle the pressure?”

Bobby groans, muffled against his hand. “Dude... c’mon, s-stapH.”

Erik smirks, lighting a cigarette. “Oh, he’s begging already! That’s gotta be a first.”

You glance up briefly, biting back a grin before diving back in. Bobby’s hands grip tighter, hips twitching like he’s fighting a losing battle.

“Bobby’s defenses are breaking down—full surrender imminent,” Erik narrates like it’s the final seconds of overtime. “Can he hold out? Or is this gonna be a quick win for Team ‘Girlfriend’?”

“Dude—fuck—c’mon, man!” Bobby whines, voice shaky, lips pressed hard against you, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll save him.

You hum against his skin, teasing just enough to drive him crazy, fingers threading through his hair, grounding him even as his world spins.

Erik leans back, blowing out smoke, eyes gleaming. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you seal the deal. Bobby’s officially outplayed.”

Bobby groans again, breathless and defeated but grinning like a kid caught stealing cookies.

You finally pull back, letting him catch his breath, his chest rising and falling fast, cheeks flushed like a champ who just scored. You lay back on the bed, parting your thighs for him. He takes a deep breath before climbing on top of you so he’s hovering just above your pussy.

Bobby's inexperienced but eager movements sent tingles through you, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. You watched him, heart fluttering at the sight of him, lost in concentration as he explored your body with tentative touches.

His tongue darted out tentatively, brushing against your folds, making you gasp softly. He looked up at you, eyes wide and questioning, clearly unsure if he was doing it right. You gave him an encouraging nod, threading your fingers through his hair gently.

"You're doing great, Bobby," you reassured him, voice breathy. "Just follow your instincts."

Emboldened by your praise, he leaned in closer, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. His hands gripped your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your skin. He seemed to be figuring it out bit by bit, his movements becoming more confident as he tasted and teased you.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you," he murmured against your skin, glancing up at you with a blend of trepidation and yearning. "I don't want to mess this up."

You smiled softly, cupping his cheek. "Just relax and enjoy this."

He nodded, determination settling in his gaze as he returned his attention to pleasuring you. His tongue delved deeper, not quite finding your clit yet.

Bobby looks up at you nervously, his eyes searching yours for guidance. You give him an encouraging smile, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair reassuringly.

"It's okay, you're doing great," you murmur softly, arching your back slightly to press your hips up towards his face invitingly.

Bobby takes a deep breath and closes his eyes briefly before diving in again. This time, his tongue glides across your slick folds with a bit more confidence, circling your entrance before darting inside teasingly.

Bobby’s doing his best. Honestly. He’s trying so hard, and you can feel the effort in every careful movement, every awkward adjustment like he’s solving a Rubik’s cube with his tongue. You let him keep going, because it’s sweet… but that sweetness doesn’t do much when it’s not quite hitting the spot.

From his place nearby, Erik’s been watching with a cigarette half-lit and an eyebrow cocked so high it might fly off his face. His arms are crossed, lip twitching like he’s been holding back commentary for a solid minute.

Finally, he exhales a sharp breath through his nose, flicks the cigarette into a tray, and stands up like a guy who's had enough of watching a YouTube tutorial done wrong.

“Okay,” he says, clapping once like a disappointed professor. “Move over, Bobby. That’s enough community service for one night.”

Bobby looks up, lips wet and confused. “Huh?”

Erik’s already kneeling down next to him, rolling his neck like he’s about to crack his knuckles and fix your entire day. “You gave it the ol’ college try, man. Really. I’m proud of you. But I can’t sit here watching you treat her like a Sudoku puzzle any longer.”

Bobby frowns. “I wasn’t—wait, is it that bad?”

You bite your lip, torn between laughter and arousal. “It’s not bad, it’s just… not illegal either.”

Erik grins, wicked and sure of himself. “Don’t worry, rookie. This is a team sport.”

And before Bobby can protest, Erik’s got one hand sliding over your thigh, the other brushing Bobby’s shoulder like a tag-in at a wrestling match.

“Pay attention, kid,” he murmurs against your skin, voice dark and low. “Class is in session.”

With practiced ease, Erik guides Bobby’s hands, adjusting the angle, encouraging the right touch. His voice drops low and teasing as he coaches, “Not too hard, don’t forget to listen. You feel that? Good. Keep that up.”

Erik's guidance transformed Bobby's touch from uncertain to confident. Under his brother's steady hand, Bobby found a rhythm, alternating between long, slow licks and quick, focused flicks of his tongue.

"That's it, just like that," Erik encouraged, a predatory gleam in his eye as he watched Bobby work. His own arousal was evident, straining against his jeans as he knelt beside you both.

You found yourself lost in the sensation, back arching off the bed as Bobby's tongue circled your clit with growing skill. Erik's fingers dug into Bobby's shoulder, urging him on, his own breath coming faster.

"Fuck, you're doing so good," Erik groaned, his other hand skimming up your thigh, teasingly close to where Bobby's mouth worked. "Keep going, just like that. Make her cum all over you."

Bobby groaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure racing through your nerves. Erik's filthy words and the knowledge of them watching you together pushed you closer to the edge, your hips rocking instinctively against Bobby's face.

Erik watches intently from his position behind Bobby, his hand guiding the younger man's head as he whispers words of encouragement.

"That's it, just like that," Erik praises, his deep voice sending vibrations through Bobby's mouth directly to your core. "Use more pressure, and focus on her clit."

Bobby follows Erik's lead, latching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves and suckling gently. His inexperienced enthusiasm is actually quite endearing as he explores your body with growing fervor.

Your breathing hitches as the dual sensations of Erik's guiding hand and Bobby's eager mouth overwhelm your senses. You thread your fingers through Bobby's hair, pulling him closer as your thighs begin to tremble.

"F-fuck..." you gasp out, your hips bucking involuntarily against Bobby's face as he brings you closer to the edge with every swipe of his talented tongue.

Erik leaned down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, swallowing your moans as Bobby brought you to a shattering climax. You came apart between them, tremors wracking your body as Bobby lapped up your release, guided by Erik's knowing hands and gravelly praise.

Erik’s hands are already on your hips, mouth hot on your neck, when he starts shedding layers like he’s got somewhere better to be, but clearly, this is the main event. Shirt flung over the back of a chair, belt clinking as it hits the floor, boots kicked off without a second thought.

Bobby’s still sitting beside you, wide-eyed, probably rethinking every decision that brought him here, especially when Erik’s boxers hit the ground with zero hesitation.

And then—

“Bro,” Bobby chokes, voice cracking halfway through. “You have a piercing on your—on your dick?!”

He’s blinking like he just saw a crime scene. His hand lifts automatically, like he’s about to cross himself or call the authorities.

Erik doesn’t even flinch. He just smirks, one brow raised, stepping fully into view like a man very proud of his hardware.

“Prince Albert, baby,” he says casually, as if it’s just another tattoo. “Adds a little extra sparkle to the family jewels.”

Bobby’s still frozen, blinking rapidly. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

Erik shrugs, not missing a beat. “Because I like making people believe in God again.”

Your laugh breaks the tension, breathless and sharp, and Erik shoots you a wink before crawling back onto the bed like a performer who’s just dropped the mic.

Bobby’s still staring, somewhere between traumatized and deeply curious.

Erik throws an arm around his shoulders as he settles in. “Don’t worry. By the end of this, you’ll be grateful for every disturbing thing I’ve ever done.”

The air in Erik’s room is thick with heat and breathless energy, music humming low in the background like a pulse neither of them can ignore. You’re lying back, already flushed, your skin slick with anticipation, heart thundering like a drumbeat that only speeds up when Erik settles on one side of you and Bobby hesitates on the other.

“Come on, Bobby,” Erik murmurs, voice rough like gravel and whiskey, leaning over you to flash his brother a grin that’s half taunt, half dare. “Don’t get shy now. You’re not gonna break her.”

Bobby looks torn between holy awe and cardiac arrest, his eyes flicking from you to Erik and back again, lips parted as if searching for words but forgetting how they work. Still, he moves closer, drawn like gravity, and when his hand brushes your hip, it’s tentative, reverent.

You reach for him, fingers curling around his wrist, guiding him in with a soft, sultry pull. “You’re doing good, Bobby,” you murmur, and that’s all it takes.

His mouth crashes against yours, all nervous energy and clumsy hunger, but it works and you let him press you down into the sheets as Erik watches with that signature smirk that says he knew it would go like this.

“Christ,” Erik mutters, jerking himself off lazily as he sits back and watches. “This is better than pay-per-view.”

You arch into Bobby’s touch, and Erik finally pushes himself onto his knees with that casual confidence, settling near your face. Bobby turns his head for a split second—and freezes.

“Bro—” he chokes out, face going red. “You’re really just gonna let her suck you off? With that thing?!”

Erik just stretches, shameless and proud. “What, the piercing? You’ll thank me later. She definitely will. Besides do you think she never gave me a blow before?”

He slides behind you now, his chest warm against your back, lips grazing your shoulder. “Mind if I take over for a sec?” he murmurs, voice low enough that Bobby has to lean in to catch it. “You can watch and learn.”

You can feel Bobby nod before he even says anything, his eyes wide, lips wet and slightly parted. Erik’s hands ghost along your sides, slow and deliberate, and Bobby’s still kneeling at your thighs, his breathing uneven, like he’s caught between fascination and overload.

Then Erik reaches forward, guiding Bobby’s hand like he had earlier, but this time it's different—hungrier. More intimate. His voice is a murmur against your ear as he whispers instructions, half for Bobby, half for you.

“Just like that. Feel that?” He smirks as your body reacts, your breath catching. “She likes that. You’re doin’ alright.”

Bobby groans softly, his voice raw. “This is insane…”

“Yeah,” Erik says with a grin, “but you’re not tapping out, are you?”

The silence stretches and then Bobby shakes his head very eagerly, breathless. “Hell no.”

You pull him back to you with a smile that says good, your hands tangled in his shirt, Erik’s body flush against yours, all heat and teasing fingertips and tangled limbs.

And when you moan just loud enough, Erik lets out a laugh, smug and sinful.

“Happy birthday, baby brother.”

It’s happening—really happening—and Bobby’s frozen for a beat, like his brain just blue-screened mid-installation. One second he's hovering, nervous as hell, heart rattling in his ribs like a caged bird, and the next...

He sinks into you.

And that’s when his soul momentarily leaves his body.

His breath punches out of him like he’s been socked in the chest. His hands immediately grip the sheets like he’s trying not to float off the planet. Green eyes wide, jaw slack, a raw, involuntary noise tumbles out of his throat—somewhere between a gasp, a whimper, and a desperate "holy sh—"

You’re warm and tight and real, and for Bobby—who’s only ever known the cold, pixelated touch of incognito mode—it’s too much and not enough, all at once. His whole face flushes a deep, beet-red, and he literally pants over you like he just ran five miles barefoot uphill.

“Oh my god—oh my god,” he stammers, completely wrecked already. “It feels—this is—you’re—”

Erik just leans back against the headboard, grinning like he just sold front-row tickets to the most dramatic moment of Bobby’s life.

“Bro,” Erik says with a laugh, “You look like you just saw the second coming.”

Bobby can’t even look at him. His head dips, breath hitching, forehead brushing your shoulder as he moans, shaky and ruined. “I’m not gonna last—I can’t—dude.”

Erik smirks. “Nah, nah. You’re doing great. Just… maybe think about your taxes or baseball or something.”

“Why would I think about baseball?!”

“Exactly.”

You bite your lip to stifle a giggle as Bobby fumbles, overwhelmed and stunned and completely consumed. He looks up at you, eyes blown wide, voice breathless and reverent.

“You’re so perfect, I swear I’m—this is—thank you, oh my god—thank you.”

Erik just claps once from the sidelines like a proud coach watching his underdog score.

“Look at my boy. Whole personality rewiring in real-time.”

Bobby’s barely hanging onto reality at this point, he’s fully gone, moving with raw instinct now, like something ancient and primal just got lit up inside him. Every thrust is wild and needy, like he’s chasing something he doesn’t even have words for yet. He’s panting against your skin, muttering breathless nonsense like “so good, so good, I can’t—” over and over, caught somewhere between prayer and delirium.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, grounding him as much as they’re clinging for dear life.

And Erik? Oh, he’s collected. Too collected. The exact opposite of his little brother’s desperate rhythm. He’s kneeling above you, mouth twitching into a smirk as he slides two fingers beneath your chin and tilts your head just the way he likes it.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice velvet-draped danger. “Don’t forget about me now.”

His hips move with an infuriating sort of control, slow and deliberate, as if he’s got all the time in the world to teach you exactly how he likes it. One hand holds your jaw steady, the other stroking over your hair like he owns the moment, because he does.

“Goddamn,” he groans as you take him into your mouth, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping back to you with laser focus. “You’re filthy. Look at you—wrecked on both ends.”

Behind you, Bobby moans—a high, desperate sound that he clearly didn’t mean to let out. “I—I’m gonna—oh my god—”

Erik tilts his head, peering over your shoulder like he’s checking in on a toddler making a mess. “Bobby,” he calls out, voice calm but amused. “Buddy. Pace yourself. This isn’t a sprint.”

Bobby’s too far gone to listen, though. He mutters something incoherent and doubles down, rocking into you with a groan that practically trembles in his throat.

Erik watches the two of you, biting down a grin. “Jesus. He’s like a damn dog in mating season.”

Then he looks back at you, voice dropping to something low and wicked. “Good thing I know how to take my time.”

Then—

Bobby cums. Hard. Inside of you.

Bobby’s still inside you, frozen like a statue, lips parted as his brain slowly catches up to what his body just did. He blinks. Once. Twice.

Then he breathes, “...Oh my god.”

You hum, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder, eyes still glazed with pleasure. “That good, huh?”

He looks like he just committed a crime in three states and turned himself in. “I—I didn’t mean to. I mean, I did, but I didn’t—Erik’s gonna kill me.”

For a second, no one says anything.

The air is thick, sticky with sweat and something heavier, Bobby’s breath caught in his throat, your body still twitching with the aftershocks, and Erik?

Erik is staring.

Not blinking. Not speaking. Just… staring.

Bobby’s eyes widen, panicked. “I came in her.” Like it wasn’t obvious.

Erik tilts his head.

“Dude. You lasted two and a half minutes, blew your load in my girl?” Erik stops. Looks at him. Then at you. Then shakes his head with a low whistle. “The audacity…”

You shift, propping yourself up on your elbows. “I mean, you could at least pretend to be mad.”

“I was mad,” Erik says, starting to smirk like the devil. “Until I saw the look on his face. He came like a choirboy seeing heaven for the first time.”

Bobby groans and drops his face into the pillow, mortified. You giggle, fingers running lazily through his hair. “You okay down there?”

“No,” he says, voice muffled. “I just committed emotional incest.”

Erik snorts. “Relax. If I was gonna lose it, I’d have done it the second you started moaning like a Disney prince in heat.”

Bobby peeks up, cheeks still flushed. “You’re not mad?”

Erik’s eyes flick toward you, his smirk softening for just a moment. “Nah. I’m territorial, not jealous. She’s still mine.”

You blink up at him, breath caught somewhere in your chest. “You’re definitely not mad?”

“I’m insulted,” he mutters. “But mostly turned on. That’s the problem.”

You're lying in the wreckage of what used to be a bed—sheets twisted, limbs sprawled, the air still heavy with sweat and something else too wicked to name. Erik's arm is slung across your waist like a claim, thumb idly stroking your skin. Bobby’s somewhere at the foot of the bed, looking like he just won the lottery and got hit by a bus at the same time.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

You stretch, all faux-innocent, and murmur into the air, “Y’know… Bobby’s kind of a natural.”

Both men freeze.

Erik’s thumb stops mid-stroke. His head turns, slow, eyes narrowing with surgical precision.

“I beg your pardon?”

You blink up at him, biting your lip, oh-so-casual. “I’m just saying. He was surprisingly good for a first time. Like, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s done this before.”

From the foot of the bed, Bobby perks up. “Wait, really?”

Erik sits up like he’s been electrocuted.

“Oh my god,” he mutters. “You liked it?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “I mean… the enthusiasm? Immaculate. And he—”

“Don’t,” Erik cuts in sharply, holding up a finger. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence unless you want me to take your legs off at the knees with my mouth.”

You snort.

“Bobby, put some clothes on,” Erik barks suddenly, not even looking at him.

“Why?” Bobby asks, confused and still very much not moving.

“Because if you don’t, I might black out and do something unspeakable out of pure rage,” Erik hisses.

You hum, still wicked. “Jealous?”

Erik rounds on you with that devil’s grin curling at the corner of his mouth, the kind of look that promises vengeance and velvet sin. “No, sweetheart,” he murmurs, crawling over you like a storm rolling in. “Jealous is what I’d be if you didn’t scream my name louder.”

You smile sweetly. “I don’t remember whose name I screamed louder.”

Erik pauses.

Stares.

And then?

“Okay. That’s it.”

Suddenly you’re flipped onto your stomach with a low growl and a slap to your ass that echoes.

“Bobby, out.”

“Wait—”

“NOW.”

Bobby scrambles off the bed, dragging the sheet with him like a panicked toga. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You didn’t,” Erik calls after him. “She did. But now you both suffer.”

Erik watches Bobby stomp toward the door like he’s just been sentenced to exile, but the second Bobby’s hand hits the handle, Erik calls out, his voice rough but low, almost reluctant.

“Hey, dumbass… come back here.”

Bobby pauses. The door’s still cracked open, the hallway light spilling in, but he hesitates like he’s been yanked back by some invisible leash.

“You really wanna go out there alone after all that? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Bobby’s eyes flicker, and for a second, he looks like he wants to argue.

Erik holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Nope. Come here.”

Bobby gives a shaky breath and turns back.

Erik opens his arms with a grunt, pulling him into this unexpectedly tight, almost protective hug. His chest rumbles low as Bobby melts into the embrace, the tension draining from his shoulders before Erik pushes him into your arms.

“Dumbass,” Erik mutters, the edges of his lips twitching into something like a smile. “You’re lucky you got me. Nobody else would’ve put up with your shit today.”

Bobby laughs softly, voice muffled against your bare skin. “Thanks, man.”

Erik pulls back, brushing a stray hair from Bobby’s forehead, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Now go put some clothes on before I change my mind and kick your ass again.”

[bratbby333]

was just thinkin about gojo if he played college baseball and it kinda spiraled from there…

baseballplayer!satoru who never misses the chance to show off—especially if you’re watching.

he is most definitely the starting pitcher. are you kidding? the aura? the charisma? the energy? he’s cocky and a total diva because he’s the team’s ace. their defensive lineup is nothing without his skills.

baseballplayer!satoru who has your initials stitched on his glove.

he is so superstitious and ritualistic that he will only wear his lucky batting gloves if you hand them to him. he’ll even throw a fit if you don’t give him a good luck kiss before the game because he’s absolutely certain that you’re the reason he’s preforming so well.

he’s not obnoxious about PDA (anymore), but he does always have a hand on your waist or around your shoulders. physical contact of some kind is a must or he’ll get pouty.

baseballplayer!satoru who loves all the snacks you pack for him. he claims he plays better when they come from you and he refuses to get anything store-bought because they don’t ‘taste the same’.

baseballplayer!satoru who gets mildly offended when you cheer too loudly for his teammates or even mention an opposing team.

he pouts and starts to sulk, his eyes narrowing in mock-suspicion. “i’m literally the best player on the field. you wouldn’t betray me like that…right…?” you just giggle and roll your eyes in response, squishing his cheeks fondly. he’s definitely still pouting, but it’s all facade. he’s actively trying not to smile and is hiding the fact that he’s melting on the inside at the sound of your laugh.

baseballplayer!satoru who always pushes himself to the limit and is absolutely exhausted after practice.

he’ll flop himself onto the bed, curling up against you with a huff. “babyyy…my body hurts. please love on me. it’s the only thing that’ll make me feel better.” and after about two minutes of head scratches he's out cold, head firmly planted on your chest as his fingers curl around your shirt. so big and bad on the field but turns to putty in your arms.

he’ll take you on long drives with no destination in mind, especially after a tiring day. the windows are down as the wind whistles through the car. the music is low, the melody soft and peaceful. his hand rests on your thigh, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

he talks about his dreams of going pro, but always ending with, “as long as you’re there, i don’t care where i end up. and when i make it big, im taking you with me. first-class. forever.”

baseballplayer!satoru who sometimes sneaks you onto the field after-hours.

he teaches you how to hold a bat, how to throw a pitch, and would most definitely make terrible innuendos the entire time. “Gotta get a firm grip, sweetheart. Can’t swing properly if you don’t wrap your hands around it just right.” you almost laugh. almost. “Don’t be shy. Give it everything you’ve got. Full body movement. Trust me—hips make all the difference.” this one earns him a soft slap to his bicep as you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face and warmth in your cheeks tells him everything he needs to know.

you show up for him every single day, on and off the field. but don’t think he doesn’t also support you 100%. in fact, his reciprocity always goes above and beyond. when you do something amazing—ace a test, get a promotion, anything—he leaves a gift box on your pillow or takes you somewhere nice. sometimes, he wears your name written on tape over the back of his jersey just to make a point.

“gotta let ‘em know who i play for.”

baseballplayer!satoru who takes you to all the college ragers and keg parties with him.

if someone starts flirting with you, he keeps his cool. however, he will slide in behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he presses a few kisses to your neck. he’ll cast a sly glance at the person before looking down at you, “sorry, this one’s taken. isn’t that right, sweetheart?” he’d say, his smirk never wavering.

baseballplayer!satoru when he wears his backwards baseball cap and smirks down at you? dangerous. at first, he didn’t understand the effects—fidgeting with his hats is a compulsion at this point. but once he figured it out? he does it on purpose. he loves that it drives you crazy.

sometimes, during a heated makeout session, he’ll take it off and put it on you. he pauses, giving himself a moment to drink in the sight of you—lips swollen and eyes low. you gaze up at him with the cutest little smile while his thumbs trace your cheeks. he can’t help but bite his lip and mutter, “shit. you’re gonna be the death of me.”

and after a big win, he’s so hyped up and absolutely buzzing with adrenaline that he almost doesn’t make it all the way home. he pins you against the wall the second the door closes, growling in your ear, “i need you. now.”

his calloused hands run along your body as he roughly tugs on your clothes, lips sucking on your soft flesh while he nips at your skin.

baseballplayer!satoru who has an undeniable praise kink. i guess that's why he's such good team player...

he runs his mouth like it’s second nature—on the field, in the locker room, and especially when you’re beneath him. he's downright filthy. this man is obnoxiously confident, downright obsessed with you, and dangerously good with his words… he whispers praise and filth in the same breath, telling you how good you feel, how pretty you sound, and especially how lucky he is to have you like this. all his. “you like watching me on the field, baby? bet you like this more, huh?” he’s driven by his deep rooted desire for you to always know how badly he wants you. every moan, every arch of your back, every flutter of your lashes drives him crazy, and he’s not shy about saying it. “you hear that? that’s allll you. sounding so damn pretty for me.” “look at you—fuck, i don’t deserve this…my pretty girl—i don’t deserve you.” he gets especially talkative when you’re being quiet. if you try to bite back your sounds, he’ll go feral trying to break you open with his voice alone. “cmon, baby. don’t hide it. let me hear how good i make you feel.” you already know he’s got so much stamina, and if you don’t answer him the way he likes, he’ll thrust even harder, burying himself even deeper, trying to get those sweet sounds to fall from your lips once more. “say it, pretty girl. say who’s making you feel this good.”

and, when it’s just the two of you, the rest world fading into background noise, he’s soft in ways that only you get to see.

in his mind, he'd happily trade teasing smirks for sleepy smiles, his constant sexual innuendos for whispered “i love you’s,” and baseball caps for hoodie-covered cuddles. he still talks a big game, of course. that will never change. but now it’s about the future he wants with you, the tiny apartment he wants to share, the warm meals after practice, the wins you’ll celebrate together.

because to satoru, success means nothing if you're not by his side. you were always the real home run. his most valuable win.

author note! i know this has probably been done before but i have personally never read/seen any gojo x baseball before and the urge to write my own headcannons was too intense to ignore. i hope y'all enjoyed!

dividers from @/cafekitsune

[harbours-lighthouse]

pt.ii of this fic

Jason blinks at you, his mind spitting like a broken circuit.

It's not that he thinks you can't or shouldn't own a motorcycle, it's simply that he never thought that you would. You and your softness and gentle demeanor. You and your cautiousness and constant concern for his (and your) safety.

He just never thought you'd be willing to ride a motorcycle when the statistics say it's far more dangerous than driving a car.

"I got it about two years ago," you say as you place the two mugs of coffee down on the small table. Jason, somewhat mute and struggling to formulate words, slides a coaster beneath each mug.

"I just completely forgot to mention it, honestly," you add, shrugging your shoulders as you settle on the couch.

Jason swallows, elbows resting on his knees.

"So you've been riding it for a while? How come I haven't seen you in gear or anything?"

Your brows shoot up. "Oh, no—you certainly have. It's just that my gear is more...inconspicuous compared to a full-on leather outfit."

Jason lifts a brow, nodding slowly. "So I have seen you in gear?"

You nod, lifting the rim of your mug to your lips. "Yeah. But you've usually seen me after I've gone somewhere, which is why you haven't seen me on the bike."

Jason's brows pull inward like you're feeding him complex information about quantum physics. You place your mug back on the coffee table, and watch the lines in his face deepen. Guilt prickles inside your chest.

"I'm sorry I didn't mention it before," you say quickly, "I promise i wasn't keeping anything from you. I just—I honestly never really thought about saying anything about it."

Jason picks up on the nervousness vibrating inside your tone, and instantly he's shifting closer to you on the couch, palms raised in a placating motion.

"No—baby. I'm not mad—"

"You sure?"

Jason's lips curl like a leaf at your concern, and again, he's bewildered that you would own a motorcycle—something that's so 'hardcore'.

"I'm sure, sweetheart."

You exhale slowly, brows still furrowed deeply, but the knot of anxiety in your chest starts to uncoil. Your gaze idly slides to the coffee mugs on the table, and silence weighs down on your shoulders.

Until you get an idea.

"Hey," you murmur.

Jason glances at you, a brow arching in question.

"Hm?"

"You wanna go for a ride?"

—

The wind snaps at your ankles as you speed down the street. Strong arms curl around your waist, a firm and broad chest presses against your back.

Jason's hollers are loud enough that you can hear it over the roar of traffic and the blood rushing inside your ears.

"Whoo!"

His voice rings like a chapel bell, bouncing through the street—garnering angry-eyed glances from trucks and lumbering cars that slowly inch through traffic.

You and Jason aren't chained to the asphalt or dictated by the pace of the taxi cabs.

Instead, you're flying. A streak of colour flashing past glittering stores and boutiques. You laugh, freedom bouncing inside your chest.

This is exactly why you bought this bike.

And as you turn the corner with screeching tires, you feel Jason's hand slip under the hem of your shirt to innocently tap his fingertips against your skin.

Three taps.

One, two, three.

I love you.

tags: @kitkatlover015 (i completely forgot to tag you for the first part, so sorry, love!) © harbours-lighthouse 2025 / i do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated, or fed into ai. all works belong to me unless stated otherwise.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

me thinking way too much about who goes to this event and how they interact with mrs. leech

I like how the event characters for Eternity Float are literally so… random 😭 For all other hometown events, there is a more rhyme or reason as to why those particular characters are visiting and why certain other characters aren’t. For example:

Scalding Sands’ Al'ab Nariya / A Firelit Sky: Over the Sands - Kalim invites Yuu, Grim, and the members of the Light Music Club, Lilia (wants to see how the Sands have changed) and Cater (eager to go for the pics). Kalim also encourages Lilia and Cater to bring others. Jamil was already heading home with Kalim to begin with, as his attendant. Lilia got sick the night before and could no longer come. His plus one, Malleus, was ended up showing up by himself, eager to broaden his horizons. Cater brought Trey, who was interested in seeing the unique confections and ingredients of the Sands.

Harveston's Kelkkarotu / Harveston Sledathon - Epel invites his friends Yuu and Grim, who loves to eat apples, to his hometown (famous for its apples) for a sledding race, even if neither of them participate. He doesn’t want to invite Vil or Rook in case he slips back into his accent at home. Epel challenges Sebek’s athleticism to get him to agree to come along for the best chances to win. Jade expresses an interest in Mt. Moln, where the Sledathon takes place. Finally, Idia wants to visit because Harveston is the setting for a sports anime he is really into, Sled Over Heels.

Sunset Savanna’s Tamashina-Mina / Cloudcalling on the Savanna - Leona initially invites Vil, Jack, and Lilia to compete in the Catch the Tail/Bead Brawl tournament. He wants NRC students on a team so they can win and he can avoid giving the Sunset Warrior lessons. These three are selected because Leona thinks they are the most physically suited for cinching the win. Other contenders, like Malleus and Rook, are people Leona says he does NOT want to ask for help. Grim wants to go too, but Leona refuses until Lilia says he won’t come if Yuu and Grim don’t.

The Queendom of Roses’ White Rabbit Fest / White Rabbit Fest - Yuu, Epel, Ortho, and Grim were already about to eat lunch together when Deuce joins them. He mentions going home for a festival and decides to invite these first years to go with him. Ortho is excited to go because this is the kind of thing “real boys” do. Epel has relatives in the area and has always wanted to go during White Rabbit Fest. Silver initially asks Deuce to pick up a clock for him to help him stay awake, but Deuce said Silver should come and pick up a clock for himself. Deuce intended on inviting Ace too, but he had basketball practice and couldn’t make it.

Shaftlands’ Tapis Rouge / Vil’s Red Carpet Cadets - Many characters, including Rook, Epel, Ruggie, Deuce, Floyd, Cater, Jade, and Lilia, want to go along with Vil to Maquillaville, each for their own reasons. Rook is a lover of the arts and wants to experience the film festival, Floyd/Deuce/Epel just wants to see someplace new, Ace wants to check out the fashion, Cater wants to take lots of pics, Azul wants to observe the famous brands with flagship stores there, Jade wants to check out the old mines nearby, Lilia and Jamil want the VIP experience. Vil originally wanted to take his Film Research Club members, but they are busy shooting this weekend due to bad weather during their original planned shooting date. Vil demands that everyone demonstrate why they alone should go; Azul conspires with Jamil and Ace to ensure that they are picked via a random draw/lottery. Azul suggests the idea, Jamil agrees with him (it would be shady if Octavinelle students like the twins agreed with Azul), and Ace uses his quick fingers to rig the draw; Vil knew of their trickery but let it slide since the technically did play up their strengths. Ace claims Yuu and Grim happened to get lucky and got picked at random.

Then you have Coral Sea’s Eternity Float… where Floyd just fucks off because he doesn’t feel like it anymore and Azul refuses to attend because of not wanting to see Georgina Leech 💀 So Jade literally goes all around NRC campus pulling whatever poor unfortunate soul he happens to come across for the event to fill in for Floyd, who was supposed to go. Azul even suggests to Jade that he drop by Ramshackle to collect Yuu and Grim just because we’d be the most likely to have tons of free time on their hands on such short notice. Like we’re told to be ready to leave with Jade in an HOUR’S time 💦 and of course Grim is easily convinced to go after the promise of partying and good food…

Chshdbwjehwiwn Jade lies to everyone by telling them they are each the “only one” he can depend on in his time of need… He even used a slightly different method to convince each person to come along:

Riddle refused at first because he was busy. But Jade “practically begged [him] to come”, whining that the wedding would be ruined without enough guests in attendance. AND JADE DID THIS IN FRONT OF RIDDLE WHILE HE WAS STUDYING???? So Riddle reluctantly agreed. When he tries to back out, Jade pressures him to stay by lamenting that the Heartslabyul dorm leader would not keep his word that he would attend.

Jade invited Malleus, who was eager to accept the invitation because attending ceremonies and weddings is considered noble in Briar Valley. Jade claimed that Malleus’s presence would “elevate the prestige” of this particular wedding, as Malleus is fae royalty. Malleus worries that he would be violating invitation etiquette since he was not personally invited by the bride and groom, but Jade manages to convince him by pointing out that if he declined now, rumors would spread, meaning Malleus might not be invited to future wedding functions. Wanting to avoid being misunderstood, Malleus relents. (Jade casually inviting Malleus to an event, while not canon to the main story, does make me call into question just how true the sentiment of “everyone is so scared of him/he’s so hard to approach that they forget him or never invite him to functions” holds 😅 because this is another contradictory moment and character to add to the ever-growing pile.)

Rook was told there would be a fun wedding that was short on guests. Jade described the bride and groom as “lonely and pitiful”, and in desperate need of additional company. If the Eternity Float is not lively, then the newlyweds will be very sad. Of all the characters, Rook probably needed the least convincing.

Jade outright admits he walked all over campus and talked to EVERYONE he came across. So literally anyone else (except those in Octavinelle) could have reasonably joined this event. Rook and Malleus I can see as having no plans (since they seem to just wander around and do their own thing) and being easy to convince, but then we also have busy-as-a-bee and stubborn Riddle represented in the ranks too. I honestly thought Riddle would be explained by Jade saying he intentionally reached out to his Class 2-E classmate or something. I really wonder why Rook and Riddle got represented again in a wedding event (even with the same rarities; Riddle is even more egregious because this is also his second beachy SR despite his personality being strict) instead of someone new.

What I will say is that even though it feels like Riddle, Malleus, and Rook’s shoes could have been filled by anyone (since Jade’s method of recruitment wasn’t particularly unique??), they did have interesting interactions with Georgina.

To begin with, Jade introduces us to his mother as his “close friends”. This description causes Riddle to look slightly put off, whereas Malleus is interested/amused and Rook happily agrees and says that he and Jade are besties 💀

When Rook introduces himself to Georgina, she says Rook is very “courteous”. She later goes on to describe Rook’s air as being “glamorous yet adventurous” like the Seagull for which Floyd has nicknamed him (although Rook’s outfit features black-tailed gulls, not seagulls). It’s interesting that Georgina automatically sees Rook’s good points. He typically comes off as overly friendly or too touchy, at least at NRC. Is she the type of person that’s good at reading others…?

Georgina recognizes Malleus as the heir to Briar Valley and says it is a great honor to meet him. This is interesting because in a precious event, A Firelit Sky, no one seemed to recognize Malleus thanks to his headscarf. Jamil’s younger sister Najma also did not seem to recognize him, even when Malleus was introduced by name. Georgina, as an adult woman, is more familiar with politics than the average tween. I wonder if there’s more to it than just that though? She seems to understand that Malleus is the type that won’t attack unless provoked (like the Sea Slug). If the theory about the Leeches being an organized crime family turns out to be true, then they would have a vested interest in how politics go and being in the good graces of a crown prince.

The most interesting interactions have to be between Georgina and Riddle though. She recognizes Riddle as Jade’s classmate and mentions that her son talks about him often. Riddle is shocked and demands to know what Jade has been saying about him. Jade responds with “nothing but the honest truth.” Georgina asks if Riddle dislikes goldfish, and he laments over his Floyd-given nickname, as it derives from the fact that he is small and red, but insists her that he still likes his outfit. She apologizes for her other son’s rudeness but then also reassures Riddle that goldfish have more qualities than just being small and red. Georgina says that goldfish raised in captivity are small, but those released into the wild flourish and have the potential to grow to be quite large. Riddle becomes excited at hearing about this potential for growth, but Jade just laughs. I assume it’s because those two are thinking about what Georgina said in terms of height, but allow me, if you will, to overanalyze for a moment.

I wonder if… Riddle’s reactions here are, in part, informed by his own experiences with his mother?? He seemed surprised that Jade told his mother about him, which could be attributed to Riddle just generally being suspicious of Jade or wondering what kinds of shady info Jade spilled. But could it not also be shock due to Georgina’s lack of anger or upset? Because thinking about it, the ONE time Riddle made friends and his mom learned about it, she blew up and forbade him from playing with Chenya and Trey again. Now Riddle is learning that… kids can tell their parents about their friends and those parents DON’T get mad about it or ban their kids from contacting their friends. In fact, Georgina even asks the NRC students to “Please continue taking care of/looking after my son for me.” She’s actually encouraging interaction, and I wonder if Riddle is genuinely having difficult processing this given his limited worldview and how he only has his own mother to go off of for what to expect of others.

I think it’s also really sweet that Georgina says sorry to Riddle on behalf of Floyd and reassures Riddle in a roundabout way that he may not be small forever. I do get the sense that she derives some enjoyment from Riddle’s embarrassment (since she does have that sus smile in this scene), but I also feel like she’s truly being motherly here as well. After all, why else would she be concerned that Riddle may dislike goldfish after she just picked out an outfit for him inspired by that motif?

There’s something more to what Georgina says to Riddle. She specifically makes note of goldfish in captivity being small, but goldfish set free being larger. Might this be a metaphor for how Riddle currently feels trapped, confined by his mother’s iron fist and feeling as though he cannot grow? And how he can only flourish once he has gained independence from her??? 👀

(bchsvwkskss Not related to Georgina’s interactions with The Boys but 💦 I love how she takes Grim seriously when he calls himself -sama/great and says his title is “impressive” 😭 AND HOW SHE CALLS HER OWN SON “JADE-SAN”.)

... Anyway, writing up this post made me realize that Ruggie and Floyd are the only characters in the main cast to have NEVER visited another place in a hometown event 💀 (If you count appearances in which the characters travel to a new place but do not technically get an event outfit, Kalim has gone to Silk City, Jack has gone to Sunrise City.)

Characters who have been to 1 hometown:

Riddle (Ultramarine City)

Trey (Silk City)

Cater (Silk City)

Ace (Maquillaville)

Deuce (Clock Town)

Leona (Sunrise City)

Jack (technically Sunrise City even if he did not get an outfit)

Azul (Maquillaville)

Rook (Ultramarine City)

Idia (Harveston)

Ortho (Clock Town)

Lilia (Sunrise City)

Silver (Clock Town)

Sebek (Harveston)

Characters who have been to 2 hometowns:

Jade (Harveston, Ultramarine City)

Kalim (technically Silk City even if he did not get an outfit, and Sunrise City)

Jamil (Silk City, Maquillaville)

Vil (Sunrise City, Maquillaville)

Epel (Harveston, Clock Town)

Malleus (Silk City, Ultramarine City)

[dcxdpdabbles]

I reread Dauntless Matchmaker recently and I love it, could you please make another part? Either that or another part for One Hell of a Bellhop, Legal Compensation, or Mr Flavors Soda, any of the above would be great, your choice ^-^

Danny skips up the stairs towards Wayne Manor's front entrance with a binder, a few notebooks, and his laptop tucked away in his carry bag. Humming under his breath, he raises his hand to knock. Before he can touch the wood, the door swings open to the beaming face of his fake boyfriend, Tim Drake.

"Hi!" The other gasps breathlessly. He adjusts his cardigan from where it had fallen off his left shoulder. Danny has noticed something about Tim. He was always so nervous and clumsy. The poor thing was taking his heartbreak badly.

"Hi, Tim." Danny grins. He holds up his NASA theme bag with pride. "I brought the stuff!"

His boss' brother lets out a string of nervous chuckles that slowly dissolve, coughing when he chokes on his spit. Alarmed, Danny started smacking his back in hopes of helping. He wishes he could say this was a one-time thing, but Tim, unfortunately, does this often.

"Master Tim?" Alfred calls from down the left hallway.

"I'm fine! Everything-cough-hack- everything is fine!" Tim screams back, entirely red and looking a tad bit mortified. Clearing his throat, he straightens to full height, back pin straight and looking every bit the young gentleman of his standing. "Shall we move to the viewing room?"

Danny knows he's only trying to save face, so he only smiles and steps inside. As they had agreed on two weeks ago, Danny loops his arm through Tim's, pressing himself close to the other's side, just as Alfred walks by.

The aged man seems pleased to see them so affectionate, which Damian said Danny had to play up because otherwise, it would not be believable. Tim only dated men and women who showed their care through physical touch, and he was often seen holding hands or looping arms with his partners.

As it is, Tim does his part well, beaming up at Danny. He was taller after hitting a second growth spurt, but sadly, he seemed to take after his mother rather than his father. Danny was only two inches taller than Tim.

On the other hand, Jazz grew like a weed. Once it became apparent, she took after Jack in height. Dan's appearance gave Danny hope that he would break the six-foot mark in a few years—you know, if the madness and devouring Plasmius didn't affect his development too much.

"What are you showing me today?" Tim asks as they stride past Damian. The younger boy makes a face, the same one Danny made whenever Jazz brought over a boy, and they were being sickly sweet. He offers his boss a smile in return, watching those intense green eyes roll.

"I brought evidence of why Yetis' healthcare is far superior to ours." Danny pats his bag with a satisfied smirk. "Nothing beats Frostbite."

Tim melts. "That's amazing. I can't wait to hear all about it. Then we could go get dinner. How does Divine Palace sound?"

"The upscale restaurant? I would need to change before I'm allowed in there. It has a dress code, doesn't it?"

Tim snuggles closer. "You can borrow one of my suits."

"You know it's bad luck to wear someone else's clothes?" Danny tells him they have just arrived at the viewing room. The projector is set up, and Danny is waiting to plug in his laptop. A sizeable plush couch is pushed in front of the large empty wall, where Tim plans to curl up and watch Danny's presentation.

Meeting someone who adored all the educational information about Ghosts and their culture was lovely. Danny's parents were more interested in the aspects of biology and anatomy than the sociology and anthropology he studied.

After he finished his slide show—sadly without pictures as ghosts disrupted the camera—he would show Tim his notes, which the two could flip through together on the couch. Since his PowerPoint lacked images, Danny settled for some drawings and blurry photos he had stored in his binder while exploring the Zone.

He started it when he was fourteen, gradually growing over the years.

"Why's that?" Tim asks, throwing himself on the couch and crossing his legs underneath him. He places his elbow on the meat of his thigh and leans his head on his hand, his eyes never leaving Danny.

They seem to be shining, utterly captivated by the Halfa.

"It makes it easier for ghosts to overshadow you," Danny answers promptly, unzipping his bag to take out the materials from his bag. He had to look away from his friend because the way he was staring was making him a bit flustered.

"Overshadow?"

"It's another way of saying possession, but it's more politically correct." He responds, plugging in the wires to his laptop and watching the lock screen of his computer appear on the wall. "My sister's first boyfriend attempted to do that to her. Gave her some of his girlfriend's stuff so she could form around her and use Jazz as an anchor to stay on this plane."

"And you saved her before he could succeed," Tim sighs adoringly.

Danny puffs out his chest. "I did!"

Tim pressed a button on the side of his couch. At once, the thing expands, pushing the backrest down and expanding the bottom until it forms an even flat surface. Danny initially thought it was a recliner, but apparently, rich people had couches that could turn into beds in seconds.

He lays flat on his stomach, kicking his feet and leaning on both hands as he smiles like a loon at Danny. "That's amazing."

Danny bites his lip, trying to be modes,t but it's hard when he's being praised by someone like Tim Drake.

"Well, it's just what a good brother does. All I really had to do was use his bad luck against him, and really, Jazz sort of snapped out it when he tried to punch me," He babbles while scrambling to log into his account. He needs to do something before he bursts from all the giddy, mushy feeling in his chest. "It was nothing compared to when I had to win a pie-eating contest against Baker."

"Hmm?"

"Baker is a pasty theme ghost that is shockingly powerful. He locked me in a battle for five days before I convinced him to switch to a food theme contest." Danny laughs, shaking his head at the memories. "I was stuck in bed for a day with the biggest stomach ache, but I won that day. And victory was sweet."

Tim swoons.

Just as Danny is booting up the presentation, his superhearing catches the whispers of Tim's other siblings from the hallway. Damian had instructed him not to let anyone else in the household learn the truth of his contract because it would eventually get back to Alfred.

After meeting the man, he completely understands the paranoia.

"Who is that?" He's pretty sure that's the oldest Dick.

"Tim's new obsession." Answers Steph with a smirk in her words. "Apparently, he's some paranormal-obsessed conspiracy theorist."

"Why does he always go for the crazy ones?" Jason sighs dramatically.

"Have you seen Danny's biceps? Were it not for his health issues, I would have thought Tim found a secret off-duty hero."

Danny hastily focuses on his first slide, trying not to show his fear. Tim continues to watch him kick his feet and play with some of his hair. He has a habit of twirling his hair. Tim almost always does that whenever Danny sees him.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

NERD!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Author's note: thinking about some nerd!anakin fic where he had heard the reader talk with her friends that she's not passing physics and since he has the biggest crush on her since second grade he later suggest to help her..if she'll help him with something else ;)

Nerd!Anakin who inside was a little dirty minded boy that wished nothing more to have a loving girlfriend to do with her all the cool, nice things he always wanted to do (and he meant more joyful activities than sex)

Nerd!Anakin who has a collection of technical manuals and scientific holobooks that he reads in his spare time. His nightstand is filled with them, and he gets excited when a new one comes out. He’ll stay up late, curled up on the couch, devouring a manual on hyperdrive mechanics or some obscure sci-fi novel, eyes glued to the hologram.

He also loves telling you all about the technical details of what he's learning. You may not always understand everything he’s talking about, but his excitement is so adorable that you just let him ramble on.

Nerd!Anakin who has a soft spot for droids, and he might even give them 'upgrades' just because he thinks they deserve a treat. “You’ve been working hard, buddy. How about a new power cell?”. He’ll talk to them while he works, explaining what he’s doing like they’re his assistants (his fav is R2D2 obviously)

Nerd!Anakin who gets ridiculously excited about the latest gadgets or tech upgrades. When something new comes out, he’s like a kid in a candy store. Whether it's a new holo-terminal, a high-speed pod engine - he’s always the first in line to get it. He’ll show it off to you, explaining every little detail with enthusiasm. “Look at this! It has a new feature that triples efficiency!” He gets that adorable spark in his eye, completely geeking out over the smallest improvements.

Nerd!Anakin who would love when you'd do your nails; he'd ask soon later (when you two are alone) if you could play with his hair to only feel you scratch very gently against his scalp

Nerd!Anakin who was a great whimpering mess whenever you touched him (poor guy had never felt woman's touch before);

a sharp gasp left his mouth as you touched the mushroomy tip of his member, his hips jerking towards you without thought. he was already embarrassingly close, and now your teasing was only driving him closer to the edge “please-“ he let out a pleading moan, the words barely leaving his dry mouth

"please what ani? Use your words like good boys do"

He tried to focus enough to form a coherent sentence but it was getting so hard when all his mind could focus on, was the way you made him feel “I’m close-“ he gasped out, his hips rocking frantically against your tightening fist “I’m so close baby, i need it” he let out a sobbing whimper

"can you hold it in a little?" you asked gently

he groaned at the question before nodding almost desperately “for you, anything” his glasses sliding down his nose

You only hummed, all proud of your actions. How easily you could tear him apart by your single touch. Using her free hand to move his glasses so they were a bit more comfortable on him. You increased your movements, making sure to

he could feel the heat in his abdomen tighten as your hand moved faster. he was struggling to keep himself together, not much to your surprise "oh-oh god-“ he let out a loud gasp and a groan as your thumb moved over his tip again, that little touch sending electricity up his spine “oh-fuck…” one hand digging into the couch for some kind of grip “I can’t hold it—please please please” tears of desperation and overwhelming began to prick at the corner of his eyes

Nerd!Anakin who when was nervous, draw circles and designs on the back of your hand to relax himself

Nerd!Anakin who did your own minifigure from Legos

Nerd!Anakin who always had perfectly ironed shirts

Nerd!Anakin who in general was perfectionist in everything he'd do. If he had a mess in his room, he couldn't focus normally. If just one thing was moved inches apart, it drove him wild

Nerd!Anakin who made cupcakes with his mother for you

Nerd!Anakin who's a true mommy's boy

Nerd!Anakin who teared up after you gave him his first blowjob. He felt so overstimulated when his thick member was hugged around your warm throat, your tongue working on his shaft..it was way too much for the first time, he'd gasp and ask you to slow down because if you wouldn't, you'd already have his cum dripping down your throat

Nerd!Anakin who gave you flowers - sometimes real one and sometimes he'd do them from origamy

Nerd!Anakin who has a little sketchbook where he draws schematics for future projects—droid designs, custom technology accessories, etc. He’s always thinking of new ways to improve things, and his sketches are filled with intricate details and notes.

Sometimes, he’ll show you a design he’s particularly proud of, grinning ear to ear as he explains how it works. “What do you think? Pretty sleek, huh?”

Nerd!Anakin who was a true worshipper of your body. Would press such gentle kisses all over your body as if you were a ceramic doll he was scared to break

Nerd!Anakin who's glasses got foggy everytime he made love to you, his curls sticking to his forehead and his pinky, swollen lips quivering to hold back his own orgasm

Nerd!Anakin who adored math and physics (but not as much as he adored you). And of course, he loved to help you with those subjects

Nerd!Anakin ho invited you to weekly movie marathon. With all the snacks ready and a fluffy blanket

Nerd!Anakin who adored to cuddle with you. It was something so precious for him, and whenever he had a chance, he'd just wrap his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzle to your soft neck

Nerd!Anakin who liked to play with your hair like brushing them out of your face, twirling the strand around his finger and watch intensively, as if it was the most important/gorgeous/captivating sight he had seen, how it hugged his finger so perfectly

Nerd!Anakin who had his 'sexual education' with you;

Anakin hesitantly reached out, his hand trembling as he lifted it towards your chest. He hesitates for a moment once more, not sure if he's ready to do that. He just felt so sinful watching you naked..but oh so good.. so, before the thoughts would envelope his entire mind, he gently cupped one of your round, full breasts. He instantly marveled at, not only the softeneness but the weight, the way it filled his palm, how it was so beautiful, seeing your raspberry ripple hidden thanks to his large hand made him feel so fuzzy all inside

As he squeezed the soft globe tentatively, feeling its weight sprawl all over his senses, he couldn't help but let out a low moan, his body responding to the newfound pleasure. Guilty feelings fade away, leaving him all needy for more of you. His fingertips graze over your nipple to harden it, eliciting a soft gasp from both of you. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with wonder. "I-how i-" he stuttered shyly "-what should I do now?"

"whatever you want..you can kiss it, play with it, anything you want Annie"

Anakin's eyes widen at your words. To have the whole access to your body felt more pleasurable than anything in his life. He leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to the underside of your breast. You gazed down at how his glasses pressed against your skin, making your breath hitched. He then brought his hand up to gently squeeze and caress the soft mound at your left breast, almost nuzzling to the right one. He looked back up at you, seeking approval, as if not sure if he could go any further

"go on, they're all yours" you encouraged

Anakin smiles shyly at your encouragement, feeling emboldened. He starts to kiss and lick at your breasts, alternating between the two. He gently nibbles on your nipples, sucking on them and releasing them with soft popping sounds. "Ahh... they're so soft... and t-tasty..." he mumbled the last part more quietly, as if embarrassed that he actually thought about your breasts in that way

he accidentally uses a bit too much pressure with his teeth, causing you to hiss in pain. He immediately freezes, his eyes filled with worry. "I'm so sorry... did I hurt you?" His voice soft, laced with adorable concern.

"no--its okay..just try to use a little less teeth..and relax"

Anakin nods, his expression turning gentle again. He leans back in, this time more careful, his touch feather-light. He alternates between sucking and licking, paying close attention to the way you react to his touch. "Like this?" He asks softly, his voice muffled against your skin.

"just like that" you tugged on his curls

After the moaned sentence left your mouth, Anakin felt a surge of pride. He continues his gentle ministrations, his own body growing harder with each passing moment. He looks up at you,l with his eyes hooded. "Can I... can I kiss you lower now?"

Nerd!Anakin who was scared to eat you out at first, cause it'd be his very much first pussy. But when he did, he had no idea how to do it. He used his teeth a little too much, his tongue a bit too forceful but in time he got better

Nerd!Anakin who loves space documentaries. He'll make you sit with him on the couch to watch them, enthusiastically pointing out facts you didn’t even know he knew. He’s the type to lean over and say things like, “Did you know that this system’s star is actually binary? And it formed 4.6 billion years ago?”

Nerd!Anakin who uses cheesy, nerdy pick-up lines that leave you both laughing. He’s the kind of guy who would say, “Are you made of copper and tellurium? Because you’re Cu-Te.” He says it with so much confidence that you can’t help but find it endearing.

When you tease him about it, he’ll get all flustered, scratching the back of his head with that sheepish grin. “I thought it was clever..and you'd like it, maybe give me a small kiss or something.."

Nerd!Anakin who is fiercely protective of his tech projects. If someone tries to mess with them or touch his tools without asking, he’ll get all defensive. “Hey, be careful with that! I’ve been working on this for weeks.”

But when it’s you? He lets you mess with his projects all you want, even if it makes him a bit nervous. He’ll give you a dorky smile and say, “Just don’t break it, okay?” But secretly, he loves sharing his passions with you.

Nerd!Anakin who, as smart as he is with machines, is absolutely terrible in the kitchen. He’ll try to make you dinner as a sweet surprise, but something always goes wrong—he burns the food, the recipe doesn’t turn out, or the kitchen ends up looking like a disaster zone.

He’ll stand there, looking embarrassed but hopeful, holding a burnt dish with a lopsided grin. “Uh, it’s a little... crispy..”

Nerd!Anakin who leaves you small, nerdy notes;

On a sticky note on your fridge

"You’re the binary star to my existence. Without you, my orbit is off. Also, I reprogrammed the toaster. You're welcome.”

In your notebook or planner

“If I could rewrite the laws of physics, I'd bend space-time just to spend an extra 5 minutes with you.”

"The only code I can’t crack? How you make my heart race this fast.

Tucked inside your favorite book

“You're like the perfect algorithm: complex, beautiful, and always leaving me wanting to solve the equation that is you.”

On your desk after a long day

“You must have a gravity field around you, because I can't seem to stay away. P.S. Check under the desk, I might've added a small modification.”

Next to your coffee in the morning

"You must be a supernova, because you light up my entire galaxy."

Left on the keyboard of your laptop

“I may be fluent in over 6 million forms of communication, but none can express how much you mean to me. Except maybe binary: 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101.”

On a scrap of paper in your bag

“If life were an RPG, you’d be the rarest item—a perfect balance of stats, charisma, and intelligence. Also, +100 beauty.”

Tucked in between your sketchpad pages (if you're into art)

“You’re the canvas, I’m the artist... together, we create the perfect masterpiece. P.S. I’m still better at drawing starships though.”

Left in your lunchbox

“Did you know you increase productivity in starship repairs by 43% just by being near me? I’d call that a superpower.”

Taped to a little DIY gadget he made for you

“This little thing is just like you—ingenious and holds everything together. Also, try pressing the blue button for a surprise.”

Next to your favorite snack

“You’re like the perfect engineering schematic: flawless in design, and I can’t stop marveling at the details.”

In your locker

"I’d cross the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs just to see your smile."

“Did you know a day on Venus is longer than a year? Just like how waiting to see you again feels like”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet (I have not forgot about you now ;) )

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[emilys-bangs]

unspoken requests | e.p

Tags: shy!reader, fluff, established relationship, use of petnames, soft soft soft emily, severely touch starved reader, YEARN <3

Summary: In which you need affection from your girlfriend and can't find the words to ask.

Word count: 2.1k

The apartment is hush quiet. There’s still warmth to it—the silent TV blinking, the fire throwing an orange glow over the living room, lining the furniture in gilded edges. There’s warmth to it, but it’s still cold. Empty. Too much void, and not enough of your girlfriend.

You hadn’t fully realized how much Emily encompasses the apartment with her physicality, even when she’s silent. She takes up space, flows with warmth.

So even when she takes a short trip to the 7-eleven down the street, you ache.

Sitting on the couch, face tilted to the frosted window and eyes searching the streets for someone who isn’t there, you feel a ridiculous urge to bear the weight of her chin on your shoulder. The softness of her hands wrapping around your middle, her fingers cupping your sides as she’d speak into your cheek.

Your skin tingles with her phantom warmth.

“It’s ridiculous,” you say out loud, so suddenly that Sergio chirps in surprise. His furry head raises up from where it was tucked beneath his paw, the sleepy blink of his eyes making you rub a consolatory path between his ears. “Sorry, buddy.” Your voice lowers. Sergio closes his eyes on the beginnings of a purr, your nails gently scratching through his fur. “It’s stupid to miss her. Right? Totally ridiculous.” You sigh, face between your sweatpant-covered knees. “Doesn’t make sense.” 

She’s only been gone—you look at the clock—12 minutes. And while you know her list of snacks is extensive, you also know the convenience store won’t hold her for long. You only wish she was here to trace herself into your skin, leave you with threads of her perfume that wind their way between the fibers of your clothes.

Sergio purrs up an engine beneath your fingers. Though his eyes are closed you scoop him up, smiling at the bemused protest he meows out.

“Cuddle me,” you demand softly, settling his slight weight on your chest, “until she’s here to do it.”

But even when Emily does come back, your ears perking at the twist of her keys in the lock, your request remains tucked firm under your tongue. Sergio is placed carefully back on the couch before you slide across the hardwood to meet her, your smile stretching as she closes the door with a low sigh.

“Hi.” You greet, hands clasped behind your back—just in case they take over without your permission and aimlessly smooth over her thick coat.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Emily intones softly. Quick as the wind that had ruffled her hair, she leans in and steals a kiss from your cheek, her lips cold. Warmth barely spreads through your skin before she’s leaning back; distance grows between the two of you too fast for your liking, the bag in her hand crinkling as she digs a hand through it. “Got you that chocolate you like.”

“Hershey’s?” Your brows raise, your question answered when Emily holds up said chocolate bar with a grin. A jittery spasm makes your breath stutter, hands unhooking from behind your back to take it. “T-Thank you. You didn’t have to,” you mumble. 

“Sure I did,” she says easily. You take the bag from her hand to let her strip off her coat, though you rather wish it was your hands peeling it off. “It would’ve been mean for me to eat my snacks in front of you if you didn’t have any. Not fun, either.” Her face scrunches in a playful wink that you smile at.

She hangs her coat and turns, the hem of her sweater rising to expose a sliver of her stomach. That, coupled with her rosy, cold-bitten cheeks, coupled with the chocolate you’re still holding, makes you set the snacks on the floor and take her cheeks in hand. Your fingers tremble a little at your boldness; you curl them into the silky threads of Emily’s hair and kiss her. Not hard, but purposeful.

It takes both of you aback for a minute, before Emily’s hand cradles your jaw. She hums—pleased? surprised?—and the feeling of her lips curling up against yours turns your knees to jelly. Her other arm hooks around your waist, slipping home between the downy softness of your sweater. The weight of it brings you flush against her chest.

A blazing fire unfurls across your cheeks, boiling the blood under your skin as you lean back to shove air into your lungs.

“Thank you.” You say again. The hushed timber of your voice is breathless, filled with entirely too much gratitude over a singular Hershey bar.

Emily beams at you, her eyes sparkling. “You’re very welcome, dolcezza,” she says warmly. Her dimple winks at you, the flushed plushness of her lips pulling over her teeth. “If I’d known I’d get this reaction I would have gotten you the whole box.” Her cold knuckle traces over your cheek.

You think the heat emanating from your face could warm it right back up. You clear your throat, your eyes dropping from hers as you take her hand. It’s so icy your brows slip into a frown as you enclose it between both sets of fingers.

“You’re freezing. It must be arctic out,” you tug her to the living room, in front of the fire. You think the bag of snacks is left abandoned at the door.

“Arctic.” Emily echoes, dutifully letting herself be dragged. She kicks off her shoes at the edge of the carpet, and then you’re tugging her down to sit in front of the fireplace. You tuck your legs beneath you; she crosses hers, and when Sergio spots her and the triangle of her legs, he situates himself between them.

It’s odd to be jealous of a cat.

Swallowing it down, you focus on the hand in yours. It’s strangely soft, in spite of the guns she handles every day. Soft with short nails, their edges smooth and her knuckles an angry red. The rest of her skin is pale snow, twice as cold. 

“You should’ve worn gloves,” you kiss her frigid knuckles.

Emily huffs out a laugh. You don’t feel the loving press of her gaze, too preoccupied with kissing warmth back into her skin. It takes a few minutes of massaging circles on her hand before you’re satisfied. When you reach for her other one she lets you, though you’re almost desperate for them to be wrapped around your body, bringing you into her chest.

She’s your girlfriend. It won’t be that hard to ask.

At least, it shouldn’t be.

You finally drag your eyes from the hand in your lap and look at its owner. The red in Emily’s cheeks is hidden beneath the orange glow of the fire. It reflects in her eyes, amber swirling through brown so dark it’s nearly black.

She smiles and the words crumble in your mouth.

But you really, really want a hug.

“Are you…is the rest of you cold?” you ask stiltedly. Emily cocks her head, a crease settling between her brows at your strange wording. “I mean are you still cold, is there anything I can help with? Been inside all day, I’m quite warm.” You shrug jerkily, words tumbling from your mouth with no rhyme or rhythm.

Emily smiles softly. Her lashes cast spidery shadows on her cheeks, the flutter of them enchanting as she leans in. You’re briefly breathless, trapped beneath her gaze as she crowds your space. You inhale and her perfume forms clouds in your lungs.

Your heart kicks.

“Arctic out, isn’t it?” You mumble, dropping your eyes. The warmth of Emily’s hand leaves yours; her finger sidles under your chin, oh so gently tipping it up to meet her eyes.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?” you squeak.

Emily grins, honey slow and Cheshire bright. “Can you warm me up?” She asks, her voice low and dulcet. Her thumb skates along your jaw, catching your uncertain pulse. 

“I guess.” You swallow. Her finger is still skimming over your pulse and god, it’s giving you away; your heart almost beats out of your chest. “Yeah, I can do that, if you’re cold.”

“I’m really cold.” She nods.

For a moment you think she’s making fun of you. Then you scan her face, taking in the firm set of her mouth and the twinkling brightness of her eyes. The way she’s looking at you is nothing short of adoring; it’s the warmth of her irises, flowing with more heat than the fire next to you, that makes you relax. She’s your girlfriend. She’s Emily—she would never make fun of you, even if it was just the two of you for miles on end.

“Well, we can’t have that,” you whisper as your arms loop around her neck, finally, finally squishing your chests together, “you’ll get sick.” The tail end of your words trail out in a sigh.

Emily’s hands find their place on your waist. She squeezes, you melt, and Sergio meows in protest and departs from her lap, leaving ample space for you. You don’t climb on top of her thighs, though; you’re more than content with slotting your head into her neck, breathing in the warmth of her.

“We definitely can’t have that.” Emily murmurs. Her voice gets muffled into your hair; she turns her head and finds your temple in a kiss. One of her hands skates up your side, finds the threads of hair at your nape. You almost purr like Sergio. “You’re right, you really are warm. Like a furnace.”

Been saving up warmth for you, you almost say. It’s not true, but sometimes you wish you could flirt with her the way she flirts with you. She constantly charms you, knocks you off your feet though you’re hers already, and from time to time you can’t help but feel the urge to do the same. Can’t help but wonder if she’d stumble over her words like you do, if her eyes would go wide and her cheeks the loveliest pink.

And when she holds you like this, you want her to stay holding on and not let go. Your brain tells you enough, let her go, but your heart yearns to get closer, burrow into her shoulder and maybe sleep there for an eternity or two. She always comes to you for affection. Maybe you could learn to do the same.

Emily’s lips find your temple again. To be fair, it’s the only place she can reach.

“Y’didnt….” You begin then trail off, embarrassment flaming your cheeks. Closing your eyes, you dig them further into Emily’s sweater and snap your mouth shut.

Her fingers comb through your hair. “Didn’t what, babe?”

A grunt-whine gets muffled into her shoulder. 

“It’s stupid.”

“I’ll bet my life it’s not,” she says soothingly, her voice a comforting rumble next to your ear. “Tell me, sweetheart, what didn’t I do?”

By the time you gather the courage to voice your thoughts, your cheeks have cooled. They start heating up again when you press your tongue to the back of your teeth.

“Didn’t kiss me before you left.” You mumble in a mortified whisper. Emily wouldn’t judge you, you know—and she would never let it show if she did—but even to your ears it sounds childish. You were in the bathroom, she was already dressed, it makes sense that she’d leave with a muffled bye through the door.

It makes sense, but you still don’t like it.

Emily’s then nudging your head up again. Coercing your eyes to meet hers, manipulating you into holding her gaze as she holds your cheeks. Your stomach twists in knots, the ones you’ve now come to associate solely with her. Your Emily butterflies.

“I’m really sorry, honey,” she whispers. Distantly, you realize her hands are warm on your cheeks. But the thought dissipates, your brain classifying it as unimportant when her lips hover above yours. “Can I make it up to you?”

“Don’t say sorry,” you manage, almost dizzy with her closeness. 

“But it’s such a terrible mistake.” Emily murmurs. Between each word, a feather-soft kiss is brushed on your lips. “I’d hate to do it again. You wouldn’t forgive me if I did, would you?”

A trapped bird flutters around your chest. You close your eyes, putting more weight behind your kiss when your mouth meets hers again. 

“I don’t think I would.”

Emily hums and takes your lips in a proper kiss. A slow one, gentle, as if she has nothing better to do than this. She takes her time, does it thoroughly and tastes the love you feel but can’t say, her lips finally warmed to the same temperature as yours. She robs you of breath, sweetly, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

When her forehead presses against yours, you spot the smallest blush under the glow of the fire.

“Neither would I.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi @temilyrights@moonlight-simp 

[lovlidollie]

i would lovelovelove to hear more about crybaby!reader n rafe’s relationship. like how does he calm her down? music? kisses? food?

as for dollie, does he indulge in her girly lil actions sometimes? letting her put makeup on him/letting her put glitter on him, letting her paint his nails, baking w her?

love this so much nonnie, pls let me know if you meant something else !!! cw; ddlg themes for crybaby!reader ^_^

for crybaby, i think the easiest way to calm her down is through words + physical touch. rafe’s aim is to try and get her into subspace mainly so that she doesn’t have to deal with big girl feelings for a while. he knows her tells; she shrinks into herself, her eyes glaze over and aimlessly float around the place. she can’t stop her fingers from gravitating towards her puffy lips, imperceptible whines leaving her when she realises they’re not rafe’s.

he keeps his touch gentle, hands soft against her waist and jaw, and he makes sure to keep eye contact. “does m’girl wanna come out, hm? dad’s lil’ girl? y’know he’ll take care of you. doin’ sooo well f’him aren’t y’baby, yeahhh that’s right! attagirl, there she is.” if the situation allows it, he’s pulling her into his lap, hands under her armpits to pick her up just like a baby. he’d place kisses along her hairline, rubbing her back ever so carefully, like she’s this close to breaking. when her chin start to tremble and her eyes water, rafe coos out, “need ‘em? need daddy’s fingers? gotta tell him, baby, how’s he s’posed t’know otherwise, huh?” she’s nodding furiously, tears sloping down her heated cheeks. she’s trying to be good and patient, trying to wait for her dad to give her what she needs. “open up,” he soothes, thick thumb trailing itself over the flesh of her bottom lip, into the warmth of her mouth. she sinks into his lap, eyes rolling back and tongue wrapping around him immediately. crybaby whimpers, drool sliding down his hand like water. she doesn’t even notice how she’s humping his leg, rubbing so deliciously against rafe’s cock. “shhh— shh ‘s’okay, sweetheart, y’doin’ soooo good. dad’s got’ya.”

— putting her in timeout also works suspiciously well … but that’s smth for another day …

with dollie, i think he scowls n scoffs every time she brings up doing his makeup; he’s got a very toxic sense of masculinity (learned behaviour from ward me thinks). he’s absolutely sick of finding glitter in every single part of the house and he tries to calmly tell her to maybe “tone it down.” her crestfallen face and disappointed pout were enough for him to take back his words though, so now he just deals with top or kelce pointing out the random sparkles on his shirts. i don’t think he’d let her paint his nails outside of just like a manicure and clear top coat, BUT he will paint hers. mainly because wheezie made him do it a lot when she was growing up, so now he’s got abnormally good skills. he’d definitely be the type to seek out the little initial that dollie gets on her ring finger, and if it’s not there he’s forcing her to take a seat so he can put it there himself. another thing he does, is if he sees something that even remotely looks like a makeup product she’d be into, he’s purchasing it immediately. for example, a glittery eyeshadow palette with only shades of pink? the store’s lucky he didn’t buy them out completely.

he does bake with her !! they have little baking dates in their pajamas where they decide on what they wanna make, and then rafe does all the measuring whilst dollie does the mixing. they have some music playing in the background, sometimes a nostalgic movie, and dollie just rambles about her day n what she got up to :3 it’s just so soft and domesticated and UGH. other times dollie doesn’t let him do anything, especially if he’s just come back from work. she makes rafe sit at the island and watch as she twirls around the kitchen creating something from nothing, just for him.

— if she’s been begging for months on end about doing his makeup, rafe would maybe, maybe indulge her on her birthday. just on the one demand that no glitter is involved whatsoever.