#and not against a wall so it's just in the middle of the room

[wolvietxt]

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝗑 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : anxiety, panic, angst, fluff, overstimulation, implied age gap, pet names, budding relationship au wc : 1.5k a/n : i’m thinking about maybe making the odd prompt list, not sure if anyone would be interested? idk i feel like i have so many ideas on what to write but not enough time to actually write them. lmk if it’s something anyone would be interested in😭

you'd always hated crowded spaces, but this - this was something else entirely.

the pounding bass from the club’s speakers seemed to vibrate through your whole body, and the flashing lights made it impossible to focus on anything for too long. it was all too loud, too chaotic. the mission had been simple: blend in, keep an eye on the target, and extract information. easy enough. except no one had accounted for the fact that a telepath like you could hardly stand in the middle of a packed nightclub without being bombarded by the overwhelming flood of thoughts and emotions from every single person around you.

the drinks, the laughter, the flirtations happening at every corner - they were suffocating. you tried to block them out, but your mental shields were already thin, your energy worn down from the mission prep. and now, with the music and flashing lights adding to the noise in your head, everything was starting to blur together. the alcohol from earlier wasn’t helping either.

you stood near the edge of the room, trying to focus on anything other than the mental cacophony around you. the team was scattered throughout the club, everyone doing their part to blend in with the crowd. but for you, it was becoming harder to concentrate on the task at hand. the target’s thoughts were buried under a thousand others, each one screaming for attention inside your mind.

you felt sick, like the world was spinning too fast. the room was closing in. your head pounded, and you could feel a sharp nausea creeping up your throat. you needed to get out of there, away from the noise, the thoughts, the people.

a warm hand suddenly brushed against your arm, pulling you out of the spiral you were falling into. you turned, blinking, and found logan standing beside you. his sharp eyes were locked on you, concern written all over his face. he’d always been able to read you better than anyone else on the team, even without telepathy.

“you alright, kid?” his voice cut through the haze, gruff but steady. it was like an anchor, something real and solid to focus on.

you nodded quickly, though it was a lie. “i’m fine,” you muttered, but the words felt weak, shaky.

logan didn’t buy it for a second. “yeah, bullshit,” he muttered, his hand still resting on your arm, grounding you. “you’re lookin’ pale as hell. c’mon, bub.”

before you could protest, logan gently but firmly led you toward the exit, weaving through the crowd with ease. you followed, grateful for his presence. the second you stepped outside, the cool night air hit you, and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

logan guided you away from the line of people waiting to get in and toward a quieter spot around the corner of the building, far from the pounding music. the noise from inside was muffled now, and without the sea of thoughts crashing into you from all sides, your head began to clear, just a little.

“better?” logan asked, his voice softer now, though still carrying that rough edge that was so inherently him.

you nodded, taking a deep breath. “yeah… yeah, much better. thanks.”

he leaned back against the brick wall, folding his arms across his chest, watching you carefully. he didn’t push, didn’t demand an explanation, but you could tell by the way his eyes narrowed slightly that he knew something was wrong.

“it’s just... the noise in there,” you said after a moment, your voice quiet, almost embarrassed. “not just the music, but the people. their thoughts. it’s... it’s a lot.”

logan’s expression softened, just a little. he might not understand telepathy the way you experienced it, but he got it in his own way. he knew what it was like to have too much going on in your head, to feel overwhelmed by things out of your control.

“should’ve said somethin’,” he muttered, though his tone wasn’t harsh. “i would’ve gotten you outta there sooner.”

you shook your head. “i didn’t want to mess up the mission.”

“the mission doesn’t matter if you’re about to pass out,” he shot back, his eyes flashing with irritation - not at you, but at the situation. “you gotta take care of yourself.”

you sighed, leaning against the wall beside him. “i know. ‘s just... hard. when you’re in a place like that, and everyone’s thinking all at once, it’s like - ” you shrugged, trying to find the right words. “it’s like being underwater. you can hear everything muffled, but it’s all too much at the same time. i couldn’t block them all out.”

logan was quiet for a moment, processing what you said. then he nodded, as if he understood. “well, you’re outta there now. you don’t need to go back in. the rest of us can handle it.”

you frowned, shaking your head. “no, i can’t leave the team like that. we’re supposed to - ”

“hey,” he interrupted, his voice low but firm. “you’ve done enough, kid. let us take it from here.” his gaze softened as he looked down at you. “besides, you ain’t leavin’ us hangin’. you’re just takin’ a breather. nothin’ wrong with that.”

you met his eyes, feeling a little less guilty under his steady gaze. he was right, of course. but it still felt wrong to step back when the rest of the team was inside, working.

“how about this,” logan added, his tone softening. “you stay out here for a bit, get your head straight, and if you’re feelin’ up to it, we’ll go back in together. but only if you’re ready.”

his words made you relax a little more. the pressure to keep pushing through was gone, and the idea of taking a break, even if just for a few minutes, didn’t feel so bad when he framed it like that.

“okay,” you agreed softly. “i think... i think i need a few minutes.”

logan nodded, satisfied with your answer. he pushed away from the wall and motioned toward a nearby bench. “sit down for a sec. no rush.”

you followed him, sinking onto the bench gratefully. the fresh air felt good, like it was clearing away the fog in your mind. logan sat beside you, silent but present, his arm resting on the back of the bench, his fingers grazing your shoulder lightly.

“how do you do it?” you asked after a few minutes, your voice barely above a whisper.

logan glanced at you, eyebrow raised. “do what?”

“stay so calm,” you murmured, staring down at your hands. “you’re always in control. even when everything’s going crazy, you just... keep it together.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “you think i’m calm?”

you looked at him, a little surprised by his response. “well, yeah. you always seem like you’ve got it under control.”

logan’s gaze softened as he met your eyes. “darlin’, i ain’t always calm. most of the time, i’m just as pissed off or frustrated as the next guy. but i learned a long time ago that lettin’ it take over don’t do any good. doesn’t mean it’s easy, but... you get used to it.”

you frowned slightly, processing what he said. “so... you’re just used to it?”

“nah,” he corrected, his voice softer now. “i’m used to dealin’ with it. there’s a difference. but i had to figure that out the hard way. you’ll get there, bub. more easily i hope.”

you nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. it wasn’t the same as what you were dealing with, but in a way, it felt like he understood more than anyone else on the team ever could. and the fact that he was here, sitting with you, offering quiet support, meant more than you could express.

“thanks,” you said after a moment, glancing up at him with a small smile. “for getting me out of there. for... everything.”

logan looked at you for a beat, his expression softening. “anytime,” he muttered, his voice gruff but genuine.

for a while, the two of you just sat there in the quiet, the night air cool against your skin. the noise and chaos of the club were distant now, and with logan beside you, the overwhelming thoughts and emotions that had threatened to drown you finally felt manageable.

“you ready to head back in?” logan asked after a few minutes, though his tone wasn’t pushy.

you hesitated for a second, then shook your head. “not yet.”

he smirked slightly, nodding. “good. let’s stay out here a bit longer.”

you smiled, leaning into his shoulder, and he didn’t pull away. instead, his arm settled around you, holding you close as the night stretched on, the two of you finding a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

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[slutshamethesquirrels]

Suguru Blue - Part 3

Pairing: cult leader!geto x reader

Word Count (Part 3): 4K

Warnings: dub-con, rough sex, mentions of violence, sexual trauma, murder, mind games

From then on, he was playing a new game. One he’d never before played, and one he wasn't very fond of. He’d always been a sore loser.

It was part of his problem with Satoru all those years ago. The white haired beauty had forever been two steps ahead of him in almost every facet, whether that be skill or strength or sheer willpower. Satoru was always just a bit better in every way. An inch or two taller, a smartass retort just a second quicker, the bravery to kiss another boy just seconds before he himself had built up the confidence to do so. It was only natural that the only person who could be even more prideful than himself was Gojo. He knew he had no chance of convincing him to join himself in his defection; to do so would be convincing him they were on the losing side of history.

When the time came, he couldn't even look at him, knowing the ultramarine eyes of someone who once trusted- once loved him were boring holes in the back of his skull. But in a way, he'd finally won. The victory wasn't sweet. Going back on that decision would be to admit defeat yet again, so he never had.

Victory tasted a lot like curses sometimes, he decided, but not as intense. Less of an assault on your tastebuds and more of a kind of bile and acid constantly lodged in the back of his throat. Perhaps it was his urge to finally taste something a little sweeter that had him bending over backwards for you.

It was uncomfortable at first, practicing your stupid therapy terms. Boundaries strangled him. Coping Mechanisms felt like a serrated knife to his jugular. Repairing and Rebuilding felt like getting tossed down the stairs of some abandoned hotel by a first-grade curse at sixteen years old, every step knocking the wind from his chest.

It was helping, though. Whether he liked it or not. His first real reality check had come not from you, but from Nanako, who’d casually pointed out over breakfast how happy he’d seemed recently. He didn’t know if that word had ever been used to describe him, and he wasn’t sure he’d use it himself.

And still. This had to be at least close, right?

Here, on the couch with you, some old band he didn’t know emanating from the television, the screen just bright enough to cast shadows on the walls of your living room. There’s a faint acknowledgement swirling in the back of his brain that there was midday sunlight streaming in through the windows when he’d settled here with you nestled against the plush of the sofa, but he can’t care, not when your giggles are flooding his ears, your shoulders shaking against him as you scroll through social media. In the past fifteen minutes or so, you’d found an account full of cat videos, and he’d found himself entranced by just how easily you were amused.

He was learning a lot about you. You didn’t have many friends, but the ones you did were incredibly good ones (“Quality over quantity”, you’d said.) , you preferred fruity sweets to chocolate ones, you had the most irritating habit of getting in bed with your socks on and then kicking them off in the night. Each new detail was a brush stroke, your quail feather pen dipping into indigo ink and broadening his horizons, somehow without the slightest hint of knowledge about his world.

He wanted to tell you, to kneel at your altar and confess his transgressions, but he couldn't even expect God to have mercy on him, much less a monkey- human girl.

In another world, another life, somewhere far away from reality it’s different. He decides as he twirls his fingers through a loc of your hair, watching the way the lapis glow from your phone screen makes it shine. It's just the three of you; You, Satoru and himself. The two of you fight over who gets to sleep in the middle damn near nightly, and he ends up taking the spot for himself. He swears it's to stop the bickering, but the truth is he loves the way your individual breaths caress either side of his neck. It is because he feels the best trapped underneath the weight of the both of you. It's because he knows you'll fall asleep first and he'll get the last kiss from Satoru, but not before he watches one half of his soul trace the other one's sleeping features with his fingers-

“Hello? So far away.” Your voice cuts through the fantasy, and he’s ripped back into reality, clearing his throat as if he'd just been caught doing something wrong before humming in acknowledgment. You had a habit of making him feel raw, but right. Like a callous cut from a heel. Tender, painful, exposed, refreshed.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You prod again when he doesn’t elaborate, and he chuckles.

“Just a penny? I’ll have you know, these are expensive ideas-”.

“A nickel then.”.

“Quarter.”.

“Okay, listen dude. I know the economy’s bad but holy shit.”.

He smirks as you discard your phone on the table and crawl up his body until you’re straddling his abdomen, his hands gently cradling your waist. It's the closest you’ve allowed him to get in a while, and it makes his skin itch. Though if he's honest, he doesn't know what to do when you finally let him truly touch you again. These days you felt more fragile than you used to, or maybe that wasn't the word he was looking for.

Not fragile, but delicate.

You were healing just as much as he was. Every time he saw you it seemed he made a new mistake. When he would move too fast and you’d jump, only to grab his hand and assure him you were okay. When he'd get a little too quiet, furrow his brow in thought and catch you staring at him like a deer in headlights. When he rolled over to hold you in the middle of the night last week and you’d awoken in a complete panic, desperately crawling away from him and gasping your safe word before he’d reoriented you.

“Blue!”

He didn't want to be the cause of your nightmares. And yet he couldn't bring himself to walk away. Not even for your own good. He’d done that before. This time, he was determined to do it differently.

Your hand moves to brush his hair back away from his face, and his eyes flutter shut almost as if to spite him. Vulnerable, raw. Hurts.

He's unsure if he's annoyed by or thankful for the shrill and sudden ringing emanating from the pocket of his hoodie, and at this hour there was really only one option for who it could be. And no matter how much he enjoyed his time with you, they would always come first. He can't explain why it is that he grabs the front of your shirt to keep you there as he shifts and produces his phone from his pocket and presses it to his ear. There's something in him that craves the pain, it seems.

Nanako doesn't wait for him to greet her before she starts.

“Are you coming home or not?!”

Somewhere in the distance he hears her twin chastising her for being so rude, and he cracks a fond grin at the sound, his eyes watching his own hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt as he argues with her. Yes, he's aware he’d been away quite a bit in the past week. No, of course he didn't hate them or wish them a slow and painful death. Yes, he would be home when they awoke in the morning. Yes, they could go out for breakfast.

When his eyes meet yours again your brow is furrowed, confusion twisting your pretty features.

“Who was that?” You ask, and he notices your shoulders growing tense. You didn't fully trust him yet, like a dog that had been wounded by a hand that was supposed to lead.

He flips through his repertoire of rules. Communication, honesty, vulnerability. Did it count when it came to his home life? Of course, he could never be completely honest with you, or at least not anytime soon. There was a large part of him that hoped he'd meet his end before he was cornered into breaking your heart like that. You were the only one that could make him feel real guilt. It was the one thing you possessed that Satoru didn't. Regardless, he had to at least try, to give you what he could.

“My kids.” His grip on you tightens as he watches emotion swirl in your eyes, unwilling to let you mentally or physically run from him until he could explain.

“They're not my blood. Fate brought us together when I was around nineteen. They were in a bad place, so was I. At the time, I think all three of us needed someone who understood… we just kind of never left each other.”

You soften a bit and he mirrors you, melting back into the couch as you seem to relax some. He loves that feeling, he realizes. There's some sort of reward center in his body that seems to be triggered only by your approval. It feels like when he used to steal Satoru's expensive jackets in the winter. Warm. Heavy.

“Nineteen is really young to take on two kids.” You murmur.

He can't exactly wrap his head around the way you're looking at him, so he just pulls you down into the crook of his neck instead, wrapping his arms around your frame.

“You're correct. Of all the mistakes I’ve made, though, that's not one of them. I’d do it all over again for them.”

“You're sweet.”

He doesn't respond, too focused on the way your breath is fanning across his neck to argue with you.

***

He can't justify his actions.

None of them. He’d never made a single rational decision in his life, actually. Geto was a rollercoaster of contradictions and conundrums, but somehow things always worked out. He survived, preserved, weathered the storm time and time again. His foundation was solid, though the paint on his walls weathered and the windows of his soul were cracked and patched with trash bags and duct tape.

He’d always been strong. Resolute. Assured.

So why, then, was he here? Standing at the door of your apartment in the dead of night, trying to find the will in himself to knock? Like you might reject him? You had every right to reject him. You should reject him.

He needed you. Never in his life had he needed anyone, but he was certain the weight in his stomach would crush him if he couldn't see you. Quickly. You’d become a strange safe haven for his sensitivities, something he wasn't all that happy about. It was like being stranded on a sinking ship.

Alone, he'd be able to consign himself to his fate, nothing but indigo waves spanning for miles around him. He could find a sense of calm in the inevitable.

You were a lighthouse. A beacon of hope in the distance. You gave him the idea that there was a way out of his fate, and with it, all the anxiety of chasing that faith. You gave him a chance, choice, and raised the stakes to desperate levels. Without you, there would be none.

He isn't sure what's worse, but he knocks anyway.

It takes you a minute and a few more rounds of knocking, but just when he's about to turn on his heel the door swings open.

“Suguru?” The half question comes through a yawn as one of your hands moves to scrub at your eyes with a balled fist. He’d feel bad for waking you if you didn't look so angelic in your sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. Your knotted hair frames your face in a way that makes you look younger, softer, more vulnerable.

He immediately feels a little lighter.

“I-”

Right. Here he was, running to you for comfort, with no good excuse as to why. He didn't even understand it himself.

“I had a nightmare.” He can't look at you when he says it.

A small hum escapes you, along with a yawn, and then you’re stepping to the side, motioning him in. He hopes you're too tired to notice the tension in his gate, the way his skin bristles like he’s stepped past the barrier of a veil and directly into a domain, like there was a guaranteed hit barreling his way and he could do nothing but his best to protect himself. He’d walked the floor of your apartment so many times, slept in your bed, ate at your table– so why now did it feel foreign? Why did the click of your lock behind him sound like the cock of Toji Fushiguro’s revolver?

He shouldn’t have come here. Not in such a chaotic state. He should’ve waited until the sun was out, until the sky was painted a much lighter shade of blue; one that wasn’t so difficult to see through.

Your fingers find his wrist, tugging him lazily back to a bed he considered sacred.

He lets you.

He lets you get settled, guide him forward, pull him down to you with delicate fingers on his arms, his shoulders, his jaw– until you’re tucking him into the crook of your neck, undoing the hasty bun he’d made out of his hair on his way over, massaging his scalp with your fingers– soothing him.

“I’m too heavy for you, y/n.”

It was true in more ways than you could possibly conceive of, but you only pull more of his body weight over your frame until your drowning in his hair, his broad shoulders, his battle-sculpted arms. The large scars that form an ‘x’ on his chest brush against the fabric of his tshirt, and it feels like they might tear open once again.

“Don’t care.” You sigh out, dipping one hand below the fabric of his shirt you rake your nails lightly along his back. He shudders, watches the way the moonlight streaming in through the window dances across his forearm, illuminating the scars you’d blessed him with.

He didn’t know where all his scars had come from, to keep count would be pointless. He kept track of the important ones, though. The four on his arm, the two across his chest, the bite mark on the inside of his thigh from where Satoru had gotten just a little too rough back in the sweltering dark of his dorm room. Sex was always like that with Satoru, with himself. Less of an act of love, and more one of consumption, of control, of power– of revenge. Another game to win.

“You deserve better.” He argues, self assured in at least that.

“I don’t want better.” You’re just as resolute as he is.

He lifts his head to protest, but you silence him by pressing your lips to his. It’s a comfort and a curse, a gentle hand and a closed fist, a lullaby and a jolt of electricity that makes every neuron in his body fire off in quick succession.

How long has it been since you kissed him? Did it always feel like this?

“Please.” The pathetic word escapes him before he can stop it. Would humans always be his weakness? You brought new meaning to the idea.

Another kiss, and then two, and then three. Chaste, gentle motions that burned worse than any fire he’d ever faced. His whimpers sing a song of mercy, knuckles ice white as he grips the bedsheets behind your head, head diving forward for more, more, more–

He wanted to consume you, swallow you down like one of his curses, pull you out when it benefited him, telepathically know where you are at all times, trap you in his web of darkness and chaos and never ever let you leave him. He licks into your mouth and you release a gasp that makes his stomach clench.

“Suguru.”

It sounds like a warning. His lips tremble when he parts from you, and he just can't move back as much as he knows you’d probably prefer. He rests his forehead against yours, keeps his eyes shut, breathes in deep drawls of your breath, whispers an apology.

Your hands card through his hair.

“You're really pretty, you know that?”

He peeks at you through heavy lids “So I've been told.”.

You roll your eyes and he grins, sly but genuine.

“I’m trying to be nice to you, dickhead.”.

This time, he giggles childishly as your hands push at his shoulders, guiding him flat on his back so you can straddle is waist. It's almost ridiculous, the way the heat of your body turns his insides to a blended mess of organs and raw emotions. His heart swells, his lungs tighten, his stomach flips, his cock twitches.

Your hands slip under his shirt, palms stroking against his skin as you slide it up over his head and toss it to the side. His abdomen flexes under the soft skin of your hands. Your fingers dance along the scars, trace his rigid form.

Your mouth replaces your hands, wet warm silk gliding down his chest, swirling methodically, flicking over his nipples. He gasps for air, fists your hair, trembles against the urge to fight you, begs himself to take your worship. He had no problem accepting it from anyone else, after all.

“You’re shaking” You note, but don't stop your assault on his senses, licking one long stripe from his naval to his neck, the way his back arches is mortifying.

It feels like forever you stay there, exchanging spit, moans, blotting each other purple with no teeth. All suction, pressure, aching.

When he finally dips his fingers past the band of your sweatpants he's met with an obscene amount of slick. He circles your clit a few times, swiping your whines out of your mouth with his tongue, panting when you get impatient all too quickly, reaching down to guide his fingers into your body.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs, but he already knows the answer.

“More.”

Who was he to deny you?

It isn't long before you become insatiable, finding yourself sinking down on his cock with his sweats still gripping his thighs and your shirt still clinging to your frame, damp with sweat.

He loves the way you look when he splits you apart, lips quivering and brow furrowed as you struggle to accommodate him. He loves hollowing you out, carving a place for just him to nestle deep inside your pretty little body. He loves the way your pussy clenches, sucks him in, holds tight like he was meant to be slotted inside you, jerking against your cervix, painting you from the inside out with his precum.

He helps you, guides your hips as you bounce desperately against him, chasing your high shamelessly, melting his brain with every moan. Electricity strikes his body with each stroke, his muscles jerk in tandem.

You struggle when you get close, your thighs jerking against your own desire, pace stuttering. He thinks it's precious, the way you're edging yourself to tears with your sheer inability to keep up with yourself.

Eventually, though, he does find a bit of mercy within himself, flipping you over on your back, fucking into you steadily, toying with your clit.

You dig red stripes into his back as you come unglued, sink your teeth into his already bruised shoulder. He hopes the burn never fades.

When he cums, he doesn't pull out, stuffs you full of him, hopes you can feel it in your soul. Your legs lock around his waist, hips rut animalistically against him, making sure nothing goes to waste.

He can't win this game, he tells himself as he watches you sleep, traces your features with his fingers. There was no world in which you were safe. Not in this timeline, but maybe the next.

Which game was more childish? Thinking he could change anything for Satoru? Or thinking he could change anything for you?

He falls asleep with you nestled in his grip, sometime after the sky turns a bright baby blue.

[veronicaphoenix]

IKIGAI — ADDITIONAL CHAPTER

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Lia Parker

Summary: Lia tells Noah she had sex for the first time, and the news doesn't sit right with him. She doesn't feel very thrilled about it either.

Word count: 2.7k | Reading time: 10mins aprox | Series masterpost ✨

Tags & trigger warnings: best friends to lovers trope, lia has a boyfriend, talks about sex, about lia's first time, disappointment, lia being infatuated with noah, mentions of noah having had sexual encounters before but still being a virgin, sexual innuendos, noah feeling jealous and confused.

This chapter takes place between chapter 13 and chapter 14 of Ikigai (part one of The Inevitability of Love at Second Sight Series). Lia and Noah are 21/22.

The moment his phone started ringing and the screen lit up with Lia’s name, Noah paused mid-typing, slipped off his headphones, and answered. Her hurried voice hit his ears before he could say anything.

“Noah, are you home? Is anyone else there?”

Noah frowned, taken aback by her urgency. 

“Hello to you, too, Gremlin. Yeah, I’m home. Why?”

“Are the boys around? Jolly, Jesse?”

“No, I’m alone. What’s up?”

“Good. I’m coming over.”

Noah’s eyebrows shot up. The way she spoke—it almost sounded like she was asking for permission to come back to her own home. 

“Lia, what’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there.”

Lia disconected the call. Noah remained frozen in place, still perched on his studio chair, staring at his iPhone as if expecting the screen to offer some explanation. 

It didn’t. 

This was Lia’s house, too. They’d been living together since she’d turned eighteen, so why was she acting like a stranger? She hadn’t been home last night, though. She’d gone out with friends, said she’d stay over at Emery’s. Now it was barely eleven in the morning, and this call felt... strange. Something was off, and the knot of unease tightening in Noah’s stomach told him whatever it was, he wouldn’t like it.

Twenty minutes later, the front door burst open. Lia stormed in, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her hair tied in a very messy bun, her face set in agitation—not fear, not hurt, just stress. As soon as her eyes landed on Noah, standing in sweats and a t-shirt in the middle of the living room, her expression shifted to disappointment.

He raised his arms, wordlessly asking what the hell is happening? She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she dropped her bag and rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his chest with a sigh, melting against him as though she’d been holding her breath for hours.

“Lia, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

It took her a moment before she spoke. 

“I slept with Leon last night.”

Noah’s blood ran cold. He pulled back, grabbing her shoulders, but she clung to his shirt, refusing to let go.

“Lia,” he said, his voice strained. “You...” His head shook. He blinked rapidly. “You had your first time with Leon?”

She nodded, avoiding his eyes now.

His mind reeled, thoguhts scrambling in every direction. 

“Lia—We said we’d do it together. That we’d have our first time at the same time.”

Lia sighed, already anticipating his reaction. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it, too—their weird, half-serious pact, made when they were younger, with all the naivety and awkwardness of two people trying to make sense of their feelings. But now, standing here, it felt like a relic of something neither of them could hold onto. How could that have ever worked, anyway?

She took one step back to look him in the eyes, trying to be practical.

“Noah, how did you think that would go? You in one room with some random chick and me on the other side of the wall?”

“No, but—” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. He hadn’t been expecting his quiet Sunday morning to turn into this; whatever this was. “Fuck, Lia.”

It hurt. It hurt a lot. But why? Was it just because she’d had sex? Because she did it before him? Or because she’d done it with someone who wasn’t him?

Lia sighed again and walked to the open kitchen, reaching for the kettle. She hadn’t eaten breakfast and was starving. The subtle ache between her legs didn’t help her mood, either. She reached for the kettle, filling it with water. Behind her, she could hear Noah collapse onto the couch.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, fingers drumming on the counter as she waited for the water to boil.

Noah stared blankly ahead, his thoughts a mess. The idea that Lia wasn’t a virgin anymore—it didn’t sit right. It felt like a puzzle piece has been shoved into the wrong place, forced, stuck forever. His jealousy, or whatever it was, mixed with confusion. But then, an uneasy thought surfaced, shifting everything inside him. 

He stood up abruplty, the sudden clarity jolting him.

“Shit. Lia, did he hurt you?”

She whipped around, startled by the sudden sharpness in his voice, kettle in hand, steam rising.  

“No,” she said flatly. “He didn’t hurt me.”

Noah studied her face, unsure if he believed her. Whether or not she was telling the truth, one thing was certain—he would have never let that happen. He would’ve made sure she felt safe, cared for. Even if they were both inexperienced, they would’ve figured it out together. They always trusted each other like that, in ways that seemed to run deeper than words.

“Then what?” he asked, his voice softer now but still loaded with confusion. “Why do you look like this?”

She turned back to the kettle, her movements robotic, avoiding his gaze. 

“He just... finished, and that was it.” she said, pouring the water into a mug, her tone hollow. “I’m not hurt. I’m disappointed. I didn’t know it would be like that. I thought it’d be more... exciting. There was some thrill at first, but then it just... faded into nothing. And...” She bit her lips, her cheeks flushed a little. She was glad Noah couldn’t see. “I didn’t come,” she added quietly.

Noah stood frozen a few feet away, his mind scrambling to process what she was saying.

“He didn’t notice. Or maybe he didn’t care.” Her voice cracked with frustration. “He just thought it was over.”

Before he could react, she crossed the room, collapsing against him again, her forehead resting against his chest. Her arms hung limp at her sides.

“Oh, God. Noah, it was so disappointing,” she said. “You wouldn’t let a girl feel like that, would you?”

Noah stiffened. He wasn’t sure how to answer.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Lia murmured softly, her voice thick with a mix of frustration and resignation.

“Lia, I...” Noah began, but the words faltered. He had no idea what to say. He wasn’t much more experienced than she was. Sure, he’d gone down on a few girls, fumbled with his fingers and his mouth. Some cheeky girls had touched him, but that was it.

“You don’t have to be experienced for that,” she interrupted, looking up at him with a spark of hope in her big brown eyes. Noah felt a familiar weight press against his chest. Lia had always seen something in him, something pure, as if he were some kind of angel or hero, when in reality, he was full of flaws, just like anyone else. If she was so infatuated with him because of how he treated her, she should know by now—that kind of treatment was reserved for her.

“You just need to be considerate,” she continued. “You are considerate.”

“Lia,” he said, his voice firm as he gently grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back again, creating a bit of distance. She frowned at his authoritative tone.

“Promise me,” she blurted, before he could say more.

“Promise you what?”

“That you’ll be considerate. That you’ll make her come—whoever she is. Any girl. Every time. Always.”

“Jesus Christ, Lia,” Noah groaned, turning away and heading back to the couch, rubbing his forehead in frustration. 

Lia trailed after him, relentless as she picked up her cup of tea and sat next to him on the couch, close enough that their legs touched.

“You can’t just ask me that,” he muttered, snatching the cup from her without asking and taking a sip. The hot liquid burned his tongue, but he didn’t care.

“Why not?” she pressed. “It’s advice. It’ll be good for you.”

“Maybe I don’t need advice,” he snapped, a bit sharper than he intended.

Lia raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. 

“Your ego is showing, Sebastian.”

Noah rolled his eyes and handed back the cup. 

“It’s not about ego. I’m just saying maybe it’ll go fine without us having to talk about it like this.”

Lia sighed, slumping slightly against the cushions, conceding the point, though she wasn’t fully convinced.

“Maybe,” she mumbled, her voice quieter.

She hadn’t expected him to feel uncomfortable discussing this—especially with her. But his attitude suggested otherwise. She bit her lip, a twinge of regret flickering across her face.

“I just needed to talk to you,” she said a bit ashamed, and the tenderness in her voice caught him off guard.

Without thinking, he placed a hand on her knee, squeezing lightly through the fabric of her black leggings. His head lolled back against the sofa, eyes locking on hers. Once again, it hit him—how beautiful she had always been. As a kid, she’d been cute and full of energy. Now, as an adult, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

“I know,” he said, voice low. “I know.”

“I just got worried. I don’t want other girls to go through that disappointment. I know, sometimes, it’s part of the experience, of growing up, learning, but...” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I don’t want it to happen when they’re with you. You can’t be a disappointment, Noah.”

“You’re setting the bar really high, Lia. I don’t know if I’ll ever reach it.”

“You’d never let me leave the room like that, would you?”

Noah let out a heavy huff, shaking his head.

“Lia, I’ve already warned you. Don’t make this weird, please.” 

“It’s only a question. You can just answer it. Or don’t. I know the answer. You wouldn’t leave me unfinished.”

He gave her an exasperated look, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“You’re so much trouble, Lia Parker.”

"I’m not, I promise. I’m just a girl asking for equality,” she replied, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “But if you have your doubts, I could give you more... detailed advice, if you want.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“All right, your loss,” she concluded, raising a hand in mock surrender.

Noah couldn’t help but laugh, rolling his eyes. He gave her knee a light pat. 

“You’re so dramatic. You know that?”

“I’m not. I’m just... unsatisfied,” she admitted, shaking her head at the memory of how disappointment last night had been. “I need release,” she uttered before she could stop herself. 

His eyes widened as he processed her words. She wasn’t playing around—this wasn’t some offhand joke or a ploy to shock him. She was genuinely frustrated, still reeling from the lack of fulfillment the night before. For a brief moment, a flood of inappropriate thoughts ran through his mind—ways he could help her, ways he could get involved. But he quickly pushed them aside.

“I’m breaking up with him,” she declared, her voice decisive as she lifted the cup of tea to her lips and taking a slow sip. “I don’t care if he thinks I just wanted him for sex. I definitely don’t want him for sex after that.”

Noah could have told her it was only her first time, that things could get better with practice. She could talk to Leon, communicate, learn together like couples were supposed to. They’d only been together for a few months, after all. But deep down, Noah felt a sense of relief. He didn’t want to give her advice on how to fix things with her boyfriend. He was content with her decision, and he wasn’t going to argue with it.

It might’ve been selfish, but single Lia meant more of her at home, more of her for him. Leon could learn how to get a woman to orgasm with someone else.

“Can we spend the day watching movies and eating junk food?” Lia asked, her big puppy-dog eyes making it impossible to say no. She was the queen of that look, and she knew exactly how to use it on him.

Of course they could. He would never deny her anything. But where was the fun in giving in so easily? He leaned back, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.

“Didn’t you say you needed... release? Don’t you wanna go to your bedroom first?”

“Oh, Noah!” she gasped, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder, her laughter tangling with his. “You’ll never know when I’m doing it. I’m very quiet.”

She was, indeed. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t strained his ears a few times, hoping to catch something from her bedroom at night.

“Really? So, when you get wet, you don’t go full Gremlin mode?”

“I swear, Sebastian, if you don’t shut up, I’m spilling this tea all over you.”

“I’m already hot enough, thanks.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You’re pushing it.”

“Says the one who barged in talking about sex and orgasms.”

“Ugh, you might be right, but—”

“I am right.”

“All right, fine.” She paused, then leveled him with a serious look. “You have to promise me, though, that you’ll think about them—not just yourself—when it happens.”

“Ooookay.” He lifted his pinky finger toward her, the smirk still lingering. “I promise.”

She laced her pinky with his, sealing the deal. 

“Happy now?” He asked. 

“Not really. It’s still weird thinking about you with other girls, but yeah, better than I was thirty minutes ago.”

Noah narrowed his eyes, studying her face, trying to read her thoughts. There was something unspoken between them, an invisible thread that always seemed to pull tighter the closer they got. 

He let out a breath, feeling the subtle shift between them. It wasn’t the tension that was there earlier; it was something softer, more familiar. With Lia, things never stayed too heavy for long. It was one of the things he loved about her—things could be strange, awkward, but they never broke.

Lia settled next to him, nudging her shoulder against his as Noah turned on the TV. He suggested they play some video games instead of watching a movie, and she agreed, completely unaware of the storm brewing in his mind. Inappropriate images flashed through his thoughts—images of them together, naked, her soft commands in his ear as he obeyed, eager to make her feel as good as she deserved. He wondered what it would be like if she said the words, if she let him, if they crossed that line. How much would he give to her? Everything, if she asked.

Not long after that day, Noah lost his virginity. It was with a girl he’d met at a friend’s house—a black-haired girl who had sparked some fleeting interest in him. He hadn’t thought much of the girl at first, but when they started dancing together, he felt… attraction. 

The night they had sex, they had all been out at a club, Noah, Lia, Matt, Jolly, and their usual group of friends. 

Lia had seen them on the dancefloor—caught a glimpse of the girl kissing Noah’s neck, her lips lingering too long. Something twisted inside her, an unwelcome feeling she didn’t quite understand. She told herself to get a grip and finished her beer in one quick gulp. When Noah and his new girlfriend passed by her on their way out, Lia winked at him, already tipsy, her face flushed from the alcohol.

Noah hesitated. He wanted to stay, to make sure Lia got home safely like he always did, but the girl tugged on his arm, pulling him away. He found himself torn between the pull of his present and the weight of his responsibility to Lia. But for the first time, he didn’t stay.

Later that night, with the black-haired girl in his bed, all Noah could think of was Lia. He tried to focus, to be in the moment, but her presence was a ghost in the room. Every girl after that night would carry the same haunting thread—because every time he had sex, Lia was there. Her promise, her words, lingered in his mind.

He had sworn to her that he’d be considerate, that he’d make every girl feel special, and he did. But what Lia didn’t know was that every girl he touched, every one he pleased, was just a stand-in. No matter whose legs he was between, no matter who whispered his name, his thoughts always circled back to her. Lia was always in his head. The promise he’d made to her—it was her name, her face, her pleasure, that guided every move.

And that secret was one he’d carry with him, long after the girls were gone.

🔖 The Inevitability of Love at Second Sight taglist:

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @thecoyotescry | @bluestdai | @lma1986

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken | @jilliemiw86 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

[the-thing-withfeathers]

watch me

a/n: okayy i was actually holding out on y'all for a little bit with this one but i've been wanting to do a role reversal one shot for a while hehehe

pairing: jock!madison beer x student council president!reader

warnings: SMUUUUUT so much fucking smut. fingering, semi-public sex, cursing, degradation.

summary: madison wants your attention on her.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

your student council meeting usually clashed with your girlfriend's practice, but today it didn't and you finally found the time to watch your girlfriend work her magic on the field.

you sat on the bleachers with one leg crossed over the other with your laptop out, trying to complete one of the reports you needed to do for an event that student council hosted.

madison spotted you, glad that you were here to see her in her element. but she had never been more jealous of a laptop. she loved that look you had when you focused in on your work. you were determined and your drive was unwavered.

but you were dressed too damn cute. your short shirt and blouse sealed at the top with a little ribbon tied into a bow were killing her. your hair tied up in a half pony, exposing just enough skin for madison to almost moan at the sight of you.

when she scored a goal and realised you had just looked away from her, she was fed up. she was panting and the adrenaline was getting to her, she wanted your eyes on her and only her.

she called for a time-out and jogged over to you, jumping up on the barrier of the bleachers.

"get that shit out of here." she was leaning over, yanking your laptop off your lap. she kept it against her chest when you stood up to grab it back.

"mads! i have a report due." you whined, trying to reach over but she was turned away.

"fuck the report." she spat. "watch me." she said, putting the laptop in on the bench where her water bottle was.

you sighed in defeat, you were no match for madison's desire for attention. you stayed standing, your arms supporting you as you leaned on the barricade.

oh. now you knew why she wanted you to watch.

she ran back to the field, ditching her jersey and throwing it to the sidelines.

her skin glistened with sweat. your eyes trailed down to her body, her abs stretching with every step she jogged. you licked your lips, you could devour her with your eyes. she was just trying to get a damn reaction out of you.

you felt your thighs squeeze together reflexively when she shouted an order at one of her teammates. you loved when she showed her authority like that. you knew she was practically the frontrunner for team captain when they would vote this year.

you bit down on your lip as hard as you could to stop the thoughts from running through your head. you had to stop yourself from faking an injury to get her out of practice so you could jump her bones.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

when practice was over, madison made her way to you and handed you your laptop back.

"good girl. did you enjoy the show?" she teased. you rolled your eyes at her.

"of course i did." you pouted a little. "hurry up and get showered so you can take me home!" you whined, you shoved her in the direction of the locker room. you leaned against the wall, using your phone while you waited for her.

minutes passed, you thought that madison would be done by now. but when you received a certain text, you realised she was nowhere near close to being ready to leave.

"come join me in here." she texted. you groaned and walked into the locker room from the field access entrance.

you entered the quiet locker room. it was a little bit eerie with how empty it was.

"mads?" you called out, looking for your girl.

"in here, baby." she said from the showers. you spotted her in the middle one. she was facing the showerhead and her bare back was littered with water droplets. you slowly approached her and she turned around, her full body exposed to you.

your eyes scanned her build. she was perfect in your eyes, she was built for what she loved and you felt your knees grow weak at the visual.

"hey pretty..." she said, walking towards you. she ran a finger down your exposed collarbone and stopping at the ribbon that held the collar of your shirt together. she pulled it open and slowly undid your buttoned up shirt. "i couldn't wait til later." she confessed.

your doe eyes stared into hers, they were filled with desire for you. you knew you were in for it when she pushed your jacket off and discarded the rest of your shirt.

"c'mon, help me out here." she pleaded with you, pouting.

you didn't have to be asked twice before you were undoing your bra and dropping your skirt to your ankles. you stepped out of it and kicked your shoes off, your stockings following directly after.

she pulled you by the hand towards the water, not giving you even a beat to adjust to the running water. she pinned you against the cold tiled wall under the shower head, you let out a gasp as it hit your skin.

"mmm baby, you looked way too fuckin' good today." she moaned into your neck, leaving kisses on your soaked skin.

your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of her sucking down on your pulse point. "oh fuck mads, you did too." your nails dug into her shoulders.

her left hand was placed firmly on your waist, pulling you into her. her other hand was situated on the wall behind you. she pulled away and looked dead into your eyes.

"you look so hot when you dress like that. such a damn goody two shoes, you are." she mocked you, her hand running up your thigh to cup your aching cunt. you whined when you felt a finger run up and down your folds. "but i know what you really are. you're just my little whore, aren't you now."

you nodded, holding a whimper back by biting down on your lip. "mmhm... your little whore." you repeated back to her.

"good." she nodded, leaning in again but this time to take your lips into hers. you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer to you. she tasted the chapstick on your lips when she licked your bottom lip, asking for access. there was a part of you that wanted to drag this along, resist and push her buttons. but you were just too needy.

you opened your mouth up for her tongue to explore you. your soft moans sending vibrations down her throat as she toyed with your folds, teasing your clit by flicking it with her finger every so often.

she pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting the two of you still from the intensity of your liplock.

"jesus, you're so fucking weak for me." she was mocking you. her hand came down from the wall and planted itself on the side of your neck, forcing you to look at her. "you're gonna take my fucking fingers like a good girl, yeah?" she asked you.

"i will, mads. please." you begged, rutting your hips against her fingers, her palm hitting your clit just right.

she plunged a finger into you without warning, your gasp just barely coming out as all the air left your body.

"oh fuck baby, you're so tight." madison groaned softly. "gotta stretch you out." she said, adding another finger in.

your eyes squeezed shut at the stretch. you let out a low groan, your nails digging into madison's skin.

"fuck... oh my god... feels s'good." you said when she started moving her fingers. the sound of her palm hitting your skin bounced off the walls, it made you even wetter.

all of a sudden, you felt yourself stretched out even further.

madison added a third finger.

you had never felt so stretched out before. you cried out in pain for a second but quickly got used to the feeling as madison moved in and out of you. her filthy words only lubing you up further. your head fell back against the tile, your wet hair sticking to it when you made contact.

"watch me." she commanded, your eyes were forced open. you made direct eye contact with her, your mouth hanging open. you let out a soft noise with every thrust she gave you. she added her thumb into the mix, circling your clit with agonizingly slow circles.

but the situation you were in was enough to send you over the edge.

"ah- ah! mads, you're gonna make me cum!" your eyes started to flutter shut again, your head falling back onto the wall. she suddenly halted her movements.

"only sluts that keep their eyes open get to cum." she scolded you, nearly pulling her fingers out. you felt yourself tighten around her fingers as an effort to keep her in. you painfully raised your head, an ache starting to form in your neck from holding it up. you opened your eyes, meeting hers again.

"isn't that better?" she cooed softly, moving her fingers at a faster pace. she leaned forward and kissed your cheek. "i fucking love your eyes, baby. i love when they're on me. they're just for me, yeah?"

"yeah, mads. fuck!" you cried out, quickly reaching your high again. "yeah, they're just for you. nobody else."

"cum for me, baby. you've been so good. you deserve it." she coaxed your orgasm out of you when she felt your walls start to clench around her digits.

you tried your hardest to keep your eyes open, your nails digging into the nape of madison's neck. she let out a soft groan from the pain. as you reached your orgasm, you left out a choked down moan, the sound bouncing off the walls.

your chest was rising and falling as you rode out your orgasm on madison's palm. she let out a condescending chuckle.

"you're such a fucking slut for me." she said, pulling her fingers out of you and licking up your arousal off her fingers.

"fucking hell, mads." you shoved her shoulder back, laughing softly as you felt your legs give out on you. you tried to take a step but quickly fell into madison's arms.

"awh, baby's so fucked out." she just had to tease you, didn't she? she couldn't help herself.

"shut up!" you fought back. "you're the one that wants all the damn attention on you."

"wrong, baby." she tutted.

"i want your attention."

[movingmusically]

Caught Feeling - part 2

Summary: You follow Hank to his apartment, where your connection intensifies. With Hank’s tender reassurance, you shed your usual hesitations, embracing a side of yourself you hadn’t realised was there.

Part 1

And as the world around us continued to disappear, the night taking over, I knew that whatever came next—whether it lasted for just this night or beyond—it would be the best decision I’d ever made.

———

But then, as if sensing something in the moment, Hank’s lips stilled against mine. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. His fingers tightened on my waist as though he couldn’t bear to let me go for even a second, but his voice was softer now, more grounded. “We should get out of here.”

My eyes fluttered open, meeting his in the dim light. He was still close, so close, his blue eyes darker now, full of unspoken promise. “Yeah,” I breathed, my heart still racing. “We should.”

Without another word, he gently untangled us from the wall, his hand sliding into mine as he led me out of the alley. The sudden openness of the quiet street hit me all at once, the world outside the alley much brighter, sharper, but I barely registered it. All I could think about was the way Hank’s thumb traced small circles on the back of my hand as we walked, like he needed the physical connection to tether us to the moment. I held his hand tighter, feeling the warmth radiating through his palm, the steadiness in the way he held me.

We walked in silence for a minute, the intensity of the night lingering between us. There was no rush, no need for words right now—just the sound of our footsteps echoing softly in the quiet night. I couldn’t help but steal glances at him as we walked, at the way his jaw clenched and relaxed, his gaze still fixed ahead, but every now and then flicking back to me with that same heat that had burned between us all night.

Finally, we reached his apartment. Hank fumbled with the keys for just a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he did. The lock clicked, and the door swung open, revealing the soft glow of warm light inside.

He stepped aside, letting me walk in first, his hand still wrapped around mine. The apartment was simple but cozy, a space that felt lived in but not cluttered. Warm light spilled from a nearby lamp, casting a golden hue over dark wood furniture, soft blankets draped over a well-worn couch, and a guitar propped in the corner. I could smell something faintly familiar—maybe cedar, or the earthy scent of him—and it made me feel at ease, as though this place, like Hank, was a mix of comfort and intrigue.

He closed the door behind us, and I heard the subtle click of the lock. The moment settled between us, heavy with anticipation but soft at the same time. I stood in the middle of the room, feeling the warmth of his presence behind me, and when I turned, his eyes were already on mine, dark and intent.

The electricity from earlier hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it had only grown stronger, deeper, now that we were alone in his space. His gaze softened for a moment, searching mine as if making sure I was still with him, still wanting this as much as he did. When I gave a small nod, his lips curved into that familiar half-smile, and my pulse quickened.

He walked over to me, his steps slow, deliberate, and when he reached me, his hand gently cupped the side of my face, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek. The touch was tender, grounding. His fingers slipped through my hair, and I felt my breath hitch as his thumb grazed my lower lip.

For a second, we just stood there, inches apart, our breaths mingling in the quiet space of his apartment. Then, without another word, I reached up and tugged gently at the brim of his hat, pulling it off. His soft curls fell free, and I tossed the hat aside, smiling as I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the way it curled against my fingers, thick and warm. He exhaled softly at the contact, his eyes darkening with something deeper as they held mine.

“I’ve been waiting to see you without this,” I teased lightly, my fingers lingering in his hair. A quiet laugh rumbled from his chest, his hands sliding down to rest at my waist. ‘Feels better already,’ he murmured, his gaze never leaving mine.”

We kissed again, but this time, it was different—slower, fuller, like we were savouring every second. His hands moved over my waist, tracing the curve of my hips before sliding up my back, his touch sending shivers through me. I leaned into him, my body pressing closer as I felt the firm heat of his chest against mine.

His lips left mine only to trail down to my neck, soft and warm as he kissed a line from my jaw to my collarbone. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt a rush of heat as his hands slid under the hem of my shirt, his fingers grazing the bare skin of my lower back. I arched into him, wanting more of his touch, more of him.

But he didn’t rush.

Instead, he slowed down, his hands exploring, memorising, as though he wanted to take his time. His touch was soft yet firm, guiding but never pushing, and I could feel the care in every movement, the way he was making sure I was right there with him. My own hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle under his shirt, the way his body responded to my touch.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, and I tugged gently at the hem of his shirt. He pulled back just enough to help me lift it over his head, tossing it to the side. The sight of him—shirtless, standing before me in the soft light—made my heart race even faster. His chest was lean but strong, his skin warm under my fingers as I traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the slight tension there as if he, too, was holding back, letting the moment unfold slowly.

Hank’s hands slid up my sides, his fingers brushing over the fabric of my shirt as he slowly began to lift it. I raised my arms, letting him pull it over my head, and the cool air kissed my skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his touch as his hands found their way to the small of my back, pulling me close. I was now standing in just my bra and jeans, my bare skin pressing against his, and the sensation was electric.

His eyes roamed over me, his expression a mix of awe and hunger, but he still didn’t rush. He leaned in again, kissing me softly, his hands sliding up my back, tracing the line of my spine before reaching the clasp of my bra. He paused, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Is this okay?”

I nodded, breathless, my hands running up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palms. “Yes.”

He smiled against my skin, his fingers expertly unhooking my bra before letting it fall to the floor. His hands were on me again in an instant, warm and firm as they traced the curve of my waist, sliding up to cup my breasts gently, his thumbs brushing over my skin in slow, teasing circles.

Hank’s lips grazed my collarbone, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to the swell of my chest. His hands explored me with deliberate care, his touch sending waves of heat coursing through my body. When his mouth found my nipple, he teased it gently, the sensation sparking something deep and primal inside me. I let out a soft moan, my fingers tightening in his hair. “God, that feels amazing,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He let out a low groan as he lifted me with ease, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His hands tightened around my thighs, keeping me close, I could feel the hardness of his body pressing into mine, each step toward the bedroom intensifying my need for him, the heat between us nearly unbearable.

He laid me down gently on the bed, his body hovering over mine, his hands never leaving my skin. He kissed me again, slow and deep, as his hands moved down my sides, tracing the line of my ribs, my hips, before reaching the waistband of my jeans. His fingers lingered there for a moment, his touch light but full of promise.

My body ached for him, the need overwhelming now, and I reached up, my hands tugging at his belt. Hank’s breath hitched as I unfastened it, my fingers slowly working the buckle before moving to the button of his jeans. I eased the zipper down, each movement deliberate, and he quickly followed my lead, his fingers deftly undoing the button on mine. With one smooth motion, he eased both my jeans and underwear down. I sat up slightly, desire tightening in my core as I eagerly guided his jeans and boxers down. He groaned softly as I slid the fabric over his hips , and I couldn’t help but bite my lip, heat flooding through me as I took in the sight of him, feeling a mix of awe and raw need.

With nothing left between us, Hank moved closer, his weight slowly pressing down as he hovered above me, our bodies finally connecting. The sensation of his warmth and the solid press of his length against me was overwhelming, yet exactly what I craved. His lips found mine again, gentler this time, while his hands explored me with careful intention, as if he wanted to savour every moment and memorise every inch of me.

He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against mine as he caught his breath, his hands still cupping my waist, his thumbs gently brushing over my skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with yearning.

I smiled up at him, my hands sliding up to cup his face, pulling him down for another kiss. “So are you.”

It was intoxicating—he was intoxicating. And yet, as his hand slid down my side, I felt a flicker of something else. This isn’t me, I thought, not for the first time tonight. The quiet, careful girl who played it safe, who kept her feelings locked away, wouldn’t have ended up here. But with Hank—with him—everything felt different. It wasn’t just the heat between us or the way his touch made my body come alive. It was the way he looked at me, the way he saw me, like there was no one else in the world but us.

And for the first time, I wasn’t afraid to let go.

His fingers traced lower, along the length of my thigh, caressing the sensitive skin there. He kissed just beneath my ear, and I could feel the soft brush of his hair as he moved, his breath heavy but controlled. Hank’s hand moved between my legs, his fingers parting me gently, exploring with a careful but knowing touch. My breath caught, and I let out a soft moan, my body arching into him, craving more. I could feel the tension building inside me, every nerve alight with sensation, and the way he touched me—so deliberate, so focused—made the moment feel even more intense.

He lifted his head, his lips brushing against mine as he met my gaze, his blue eyes dark and full of need. There was something in the way he looked at me, something that made my heart pound even harder—like he was asking for more than just permission. He was asking for trust.

And I gave it to him.

My hips shifted with his movements, my body instinctively responding as his fingers pressed deeper, working in rhythm with my rising need. His touch sent waves of heat through me, building toward a release I could feel just out of reach. His lips moved against mine, his breath ragged as he murmured my name, his voice thick with want. I could feel the urgency in every kiss, every movement, as he drew me closer to the edge.

This wasn’t me—this wasn’t who I normally was. I didn’t do this. I didn’t sleep with men I’d just met. I had always been cautious, reserved, taking my time before giving myself over to moments like this. But with Hank, none of that mattered. There was something different here—something raw and honest that made me let go in a way I never had before.

I wasn’t inexperienced, far from it. I knew what I wanted, and right now, I wanted him. It wasn’t the uncertainty of the newness that had me trembling beneath him; it was the way he made me feel like this was more than just the moment. It was the way he looked at me like he saw me—like I wasn’t just a passing encounter, but something real.

Without breaking our connection, Hank shifted, his mouth moving lower as his fingers continued their steady rhythm. My hands tangled in his hair as I guided him down, my body urging him on. His lips found my clit, swirling and flicking, sending another rush of pleasure through me. My hand moved to grip the sheets beside me as his lips sucked gently, amplifying the sensation while his fingers stayed firm, working me toward release. I gasped, my legs tightening around him, instinctively holding him there as I let go completely, my body giving in as the waves of pleasure crashed over me.

I’d never let go like this before—not with someone I’d just met. But right now, I wasn’t thinking about what was usual or expected. I was just thinking about him.

Breathless, I felt him move back up, his body pressing gently against mine. Before he could say anything, I pulled him into a slow, deep kiss, tasting the remnants of my release on his lips. When I finally pulled back, his eyes locked onto mine. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice rough, filled with both satisfaction and unspoken need.

My heart raced, still buzzing from the release, and I breathed out a soft, teasing reply. “Not done yet,” I murmured, my lips brushing his jaw. The warmth of his skin against mine only fueled the fire that hadn’t quite faded.

With a shift of my hips, I surprised both of us, rolling him over beneath me. Hank let out a low groan, his hands instinctively settling on my waist as I straddled him, my confidence growing as I took control. His eyes locked on mine, dark with hunger, and I could feel the rapid beat of his heart under my palms as I pressed them firmly to his chest.

“You like that?” I whispered, his answer was another groan, deeper this time, as his hands gripped my hips a little tighter. “You have no idea,” he growled, his voice full of want.

I leaned down, letting my lips barely graze his, keeping him just on the edge of what he craved, knowing I was the one in control now.

I hovered just above him, our breaths coming fast, feeling the heat radiating from his body, knowing he wanted more—needed more. But I held back, teasing him with the lightest brush of my lips, making him wait, making him want it as much as I did. His grip tightened on me, his fingers pressing into my skin as he resisted the urge to take control again.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

I smirked against his lips, reveling in the power I had over him in that moment. “Good,” I whispered, barely audible, before pressing my lips to his in a deep, languid kiss that made his whole body tense beneath me.

Hank groaned into my mouth as I moved my hips ever so slightly, teasing him with the smallest amount of friction. His body reacted immediately, his hands gripping my waist with a new urgency, but I wasn’t ready to give in just yet. I wanted to savor every second of this, every sound he made, every look in his eyes.

“Please,” he muttered against my lips, his voice hoarse, laced with desperation that sent a thrill through me.

I pressed my palms against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the tension in his muscles. “I’m just getting started,” I teased, lowering my lips to his neck, letting my teeth gently graze the skin there, sending a shiver through him. The soft gasp that escaped his lips sent a thrill through me, and I knew I was in control now.

He let out a low growl, his control slipping just enough that I could feel the shift in his body, the tension coiling tighter, and it sent another rush of excitement through me. I rocked my hips again, this time giving him just a little more of what he wanted, and the sound he made—deep, desperate—was enough to make my pulse race.

He tried to move beneath me, but I pressed him back down, holding him there with just a look, my body hovering above his as I whispered, “Let me.”

His breath hitched, his hands stilling on my waist as he nodded, his eyes dark and filled with nothing but need. He was completely mine in that moment, and the feeling was electric.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto him and began to move. Letting the rhythm build between us, each motion deliberate, but this time, I wasn’t holding back. His hands tightened on my hips, guiding me as I set the pace, every sound he made spurring me on.

“You’re incredible,” he breathed, his voice almost reverent as his eyes met mine, and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. “I can’t… get enough of you.”

The words sent a surge of heat through me, my movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, as the tension between us spiraled higher. His hands roamed over my body, tracing every curve, every line, and I could feel the restraint slipping from both of us, the heat between us burning hotter with each passing second.

I leaned down, letting my lips capture his again, this time deeper, my tongue sliding against his, claiming him just as he claimed me. His hands gripped my hips tighter, matching my pace as the intensity grew, our bodies completely in sync, every breath, every movement pushing us closer to the edge.

“Hank,” I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders as I rocked against him, my body trembling with the intensity of it all.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice raw and full of promise. And then, with a swift movement, he sat up, pulling me with him so I was still straddling his lap. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as his lips moved to my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. I gasped as he left soft love bites along my collarbone and down the side of my neck, his breath hot against my skin, each kiss, each bite sending a new wave of heat through me.

I gripped the back of his neck, my fingers digging into his skin as I arched into him, every nerve alight with sensation as his mouth worked its way across my skin, leaving a trail of pleasure in its wake.

The tension between us spiraled higher, my release building fast as my body tightened around him, the pleasure growing more intense with each second. His lips stayed on my neck, hands gripping my hips as he urged me to move, guiding me to grind harder against him. That added pressure sent me over the edge, and with one final push, I shattered, the pleasure crashing over me in waves, leaving me breathless and trembling in his arms.

Hank’s name escaped my lips in a broken whisper as I came undone above him, my body shaking with the force of my release, wave after wave, my mind completely lost in him. I felt him follow soon after, his grip tightening on my hips as he buried his face in the curve of my neck, his breath ragged and hot against my skin as his own release overtook him. His body tensed beneath me, and I could feel the shudder that went through him as we rode the high together.

For a moment, we just stayed like that, our bodies tangled together, our breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as we slowly came down from the high. His lips brushed my collarbone once more, softer this time, tender, before he leaned back, his eyes meeting mine.

“You…” he started, his voice hoarse, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I don’t have words.”

I smiled back, my own heart still racing, but this time, it wasn’t just from the intensity of the moment—it was from the way he looked at me, like I was something more. Something important. “Good,” I whispered, my voice just as raw, “I don’t need them.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as his hands slid up my back, pulling me close once again. I curled up against him, my head resting on his chest as our breaths slowly synced. I could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath me, feel the warmth of his skin, and for the first time in a long time, I felt completely at peace.

And as we sat there, tangled together, I knew that whatever this was—whatever we were—it was only just beginning.

[n-i-m-u-e]

The fucking absolutely wonderful cat! pt. 2

a few people here have asked about a sequel to this, and it's kind of, although it's not really a sequel to the Sir Pum story (sorry!), but rather a prequel from Luke's point of view (hence the stylistic difference with the first part) anyway-

The thing is, Luke wasn’t used to being alone. Life at Dragonstone was always bustling—he had training sessions with Jace and Daemon (even it weren’t very successful), lessons with maester Gerardys (much more successful), walks in the garden with Rhaena, and games of hide-and-seek with Joffrey (if he was persistent enough). He read to Aegon and Viserys (when he wanted to avoid active conversation), helped his mother with letters (she always praised his handwriting), and flew with Arrax (constantly losing track of time)…

He had never been alone.

And now everything had changed.

Now Luke was locked in the Red Keep; he was a prisoner, not free to go wherever he pleased or fly all day. He missed everyone terribly. And he was alone. In the first weeks, he didn’t see anyone except for the servants, who brought full trays of food twice a day and, almost just as full, took them away.

Everything began to change after that horrible incident with Helaena and the twins.

In the pre-dawn hour, Luke woke to footsteps and loud shouting in the corridor outside his door. The words were hard to make out, but even half-asleep, he unmistakably recognized the voices belonging to two people. Aegon was shouting, his voice trembling with rage, while the second voice responding to him seemed remarkably calm—it belonged to Aemond. This went on for several minutes, during which Luke tried to stifle his breath to catch any part of their argument, but the walls were too thick, and the door was locked, as always. It was clear that this was not an ordinary sibling quarrel, especially since they wouldn’t come to argue right outside his room in the middle of the night. Eventually, the voices began to fade away - Luke could not make out anything - and the boy could only toss and turn in bed until dawn in his anxious thoughts, sometimes falling into slumber.

That morning, at the usual hour, the door opened—the silent servants who usually brought Luke breakfast and warm water for washing entered, but the door didn’t close behind them, as a moment later, another person entered.

Aemond appeared in the room—calm, unflinching, and standing very straight with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression completely detached and cold. He waited until the servants set down the staff and left, shutting the door behind them. They were alone, and this was their first meeting since Luke had been locked away here.

“Last night, there was an attack on Helaena and the children,” Aemond stated, stubbornly ignoring Luke’s gaze and looking directly over his head.

Luke blinked in shock, as he didn’t immediately grasp the meaning of what he had just heard.

“What… Who?…”

“Your mother, apparently. Or Daemon… They sent people who attacked them, wounding Helaena and nearly killing Jaehaerys.”

“No… Mom would never order that…”

“Maybe not, but it was easier for them to get to my sister than to you.”

It seemed now Luke realized the reason for the shouts that had woken him earlier that morning. Of course, Aegon was furious. If something had happened to his son, it was unlikely Luke would have survived either. For a moment, Lucerys felt an irrational guilt that the people clearly sent by his parents to fetch him instead chose to threaten the most innocent—Helaena and her children—in this dreadful place. He had to remind himself that he was here against his will, and if it weren’t for his crazy uncle, the same one who so stubbornly refused to look him in the eye now, no one would have been attacked.

“I…”

“The palace guard has been doubled. And your guard, too. I personally chose the men for this.”

Luke understood this was a warning, but he wasn’t trying to escape anyway, even though perhaps he should have. But it was him—seemingly, he was indeed the coward Aemond undoubtedly thought him to be.

“How is Helaena? How—”

“You’ll ask her yourself. She’s been asking about meeting you from the start. My mother and I… decided it wouldn’t hurt. You can have lunch together… or something like that.”

With that, his uncle, with an uncharacteristic haste, left Luke, who didn’t even have time to open his mouth to ask anything else.

From that day on, Luke's routine improved a bit. He began to see Helaena and the little ones regularly. They walked together in the garden after breakfast every day, and those moments brought Luke a sense of normalcy. His silent aunt was much better company than the chaotic swirl of sad thoughts in his head. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera reminded him of Aegon and little Vyserys, though they were much quieter children than his younger brothers. Sometimes he also visited the library—of course, under the watchful eye of the guards—but he could choose books he liked on his own. For some reason, these were usually the poetry collections loved by Rhaena or the same fairy tales he had read to Aeg and Vis.

There was another change, the strangest one. For some unknown reason, he now also saw Aemond almost daily. No, all of his uncle’s visits had some logical reason: checking on Luke’s guard, relaying some minor news, or simply claiming 'had some free time to see my nephews'. Luke hadn’t considered himself among the latter until one day, Helaena, without looking up from her embroidery and with a dreamy smile, remarked in her soft, quiet voice:

“I welcome this wonderful change, brother. It’s nice that a man who recently found solace only in swords and books is now getting much more joy from living company.”

Aemond mumbled something unintelligible in response to her words, then nearly left the garden in a rush. However, Helaena didn’t seem flustered. Even more, as far as Luke could tell, his aunt seemed somewhat amused.

“He’s so confused. Give him a time, Lucerys.”

Luke was also confused but didn’t ask her what she meant. Helaena often spoke in riddles and rarely answered direct questions.

And yet, every time Aemond was nearby, a strange tension hung in the air. At first, it was because Luke instinctively tensed up—after all, this was the same man who had captured and imprisoned him here. But later, when Luke, with surprise and disbelief, realized that his uncle’s presence was becoming less unwelcome, that in some ways—even more than his time with Helaena—it eased the loneliness that had haunted him in the early days at the Red Keep, the tension took on a different color.

Because from time to time, when they accidentally forgot about the awkwardness that usually lay between them, they ended up having quite interesting conversations. And, to his secret delight, Luke discovered that he knew Valyrian far better than his uncle. At first, he almost couldn’t resist teasing him—just like he would with Jace when his brother made a mistake in pronunciation or mixed up words. But then a memory of that fateful dinner surfaced, and what his careless attempt to provoke his uncle into “contact”—as he usually did when Jace became overly and unbearably serious—had led to. Luke had somehow assumed that Aemond, who appeared so strong and unshakable, wouldn’t be truly bothered by his foolish mockery. He should have known better—he didn’t.

But the most wonderful thing, if such a sentiment could be expressed regarding anything about Luke’s time here, happened after he met the cat.

He knew from the maids that Aegon had executed all the castle's rat catchers because one of those who had attacked Helena was allegedly a rat catcher. Well, if anyone benefited from this, it was the rats. So on Sir Otto's orders, several dozen cats were brought to the castle. And from the moment Luke was allowed to leave his chambers, he noticed small, fluffy shadows in the corridors out of the corner of his eye. But none of the animals approached him. Until one stormy morning.

The weather had been raging since late in the evening, and Luke didn't really want to wake up. Because bad weather meant that he and Hel would not go to the garden, it meant that he was unlikely to leave his room at all today.

Through his sleep, Luke felt a strange, warm weight on his legs. At first, before he was fully awake, he thought he was just tangled in the blanket, but after a moment he realized that the weight was suspiciously “alive.” Sitting up on his elbows, Lucerys saw that a large cat was lying on the edge of the bed, right on his feet, calmly licking his paw. Luke froze, looking at the strange visitor.

The cat was large and massive, with long reddish fur, a lush mustache, and one eye. And that eye, a deep green crystal, looked at Luke intently, showing neither fear nor curiosity.

Luke slowly sat down and, just as slowly, moved his legs out from under the cat. The cat didn't move, only lazily raised its head, as if assessing whether this sudden movement was worthy of attention.

“Where did you come from?” Luke muttered, trying to cope with the morning hoarseness in his voice and his own surprise.

The cat only moved its ears a little. There was something soothing about the creature, something that reminded Luke of home, even though they had never had a cat there. And though the cat was a far cry from a dragon, its presence was surprisingly comforting, and a bit like how Arrax had felt.

Luke tried to gently reach out to pet the animal, “Well, the cat didn't lose its eye because of you, so it's unlikely to overreact to an attempt to get close,” he thought ironically, but stopped when he considered the wild look in its single eye and the sharp claws he had already noticed.

“Okay, okay. Then I won't touch you,” he calmed quietly and lowered his hand back down.

Suddenly, the creature jumped onto the bed next to him and rolled over. Luke stared in surprise. The cat was looking at him with the same calm gaze, now more inviting, and he saw a playful twinkle in its eye.

“You mean I can?” - he asked timidly, and the cat immediately rolled over on its side, exposing its furry belly. Luke still touched the soft fur lightly.

The cat did not move away or run away. On the contrary, having sniffed Luceris' hand, he purred softly in response to the light stroking and lay down on his (licked) forelegs. As he buried his fingers in the warm and soft fur, the boy suddenly felt a tingling tenderness. It was nice to have someone around who didn't care who Luke was.

As he continued to pet the animal, the young prince allowed himself to smile - this quiet interaction with this creature, for the first time in a long time, made his morning almost happy.

“Will you stay?” Luke asked in a whisper, not expecting an answer. The cat just yawned and stretched out on the bed, taking up even more space.

That was the answer.

I had time to write only late night, so there are definitely mistakes here somewhere, and if you can point it out or maybe just want to say me something else, I will be grateful :)

[cell151]

Facility Shower

05:30

Storch: Ah Guten Tag, Starling. *Slicks back her hair as she stands over the showerhead*

Star: G-Guten Tag, Boss. *Stands next to her and turns on her own shower*

Storch: *internal thoughts* Well this is embarrassing. I probably look shit right now. I wish we could have private washrooms in our quarters. Star probably thinks I look pathetic right now. That's what staying up all night doing those reports will do to you. She can barely look at me. Perfect start to the day.

Star: *internal thoughts* I want her so bad. Fuck she's so hot. Don't look! Just stare at the wall...Dammit I looked! *Clumsily puts her face mask on*

Storch: You wear your mask in the shower?

Star: Ah, yeah! So I can...clean it.

Storch: Makes sense.

Star: *awkwardly stares at the wall for 30 seconds* Welp I'm good. See ya in the briefing room.

Storch: Ja.

Star leaves

Storch: *presses her forehead against the wall* *internal thoughts* She probably can't stand being near me when I'm in this state. I'll have to come here earlier in the morning to avoid this.

Crow: Hey Storch, you going to use up all the water?

Storch gives her the middle finger while keeping her eyes locked on the wall ahead of her.

Star, in her haste to exit the shower room, misses the door and walks face first into the wall.

Star: *internally* FUCK! SONOFA---

A Kolibri unit nearby hears all this in her head and wonders how any real work gets done in this place.

[brokenpieces-72]

Platform

Choo Choo Charles cod crossover | Navigation

You had finished the repairs and started trekking up the hill to your cabin. Tired and trying to keep your emotions straight. It was hard to take it so straight and forward.

When you reached the top you found the captain on the front porch. He was posted up, keeping a look out. You straightened seeing him. Military, no slacking. Someone was taking you seriously for once in a long time. You went over to him, leaning your gun against the wall of the building.

“Thank you.” You said.

“Well haven’t done anything yet.” Price pointed out. His body seemed to relax at the sight of you.

“You have. You believed me.” You said. “That’s something.”

The rain continued to pour, making sleep even more tempting. There was a question that had been repeating in your mind since the middle of your repairs.

“Did he… um… how…” you started but then hesitated. You didn't want to cry in front of him. Price waited letting you get the question out. “Uh… did… the body, where…”

“We moved him off the tracks, and buried him in branches.” Price admitted. You nodded and took some deep breaths, shifting from foot to foot.

“How is your wound?” He asked. You shrugged, and let out a choked “I don’t know” trying to avoid tears. Price could tell she’d been tearing herself apart trying to get help and sort out everything so she could destroy the thing. Your one ally had been lost and replaced with four strangers. Price could understand your plight.

“Sit down,” he said. You looked at him confused. “Sit, that’s an order.”

You sat down, and rolled up your pant leg for him. You winced as he unwrapped it and saw the stitches. Not bad for someone who was doing it free handed. Price retrieved some first aid supplies, taking time to clean it a bit. Bailey winced and groaned a bit.

“Fuck.” She muttered.

“It’s just alcohol.” Price said.

“Still fucking hurts.” Bailey pouted.

“Eugene ever serve?” Price asked. Bailey nodded.

“I think so. Back at his cabin he had a couple medals. A purple heart, I think.” Bailey said, while Price started to wrap the wound back up. Didn’t need a splint thankfully. “I should tell you, you’ve allied yourself with a problem.”

Price finished wrapping the wound. “Aligned myself with enemies before.”

“No I mean… I called for help but I didn’t tell you I’m public enemy number three basically. The cult, Warren and Charles are-“ Bailey stopped talking as soon as she heard a train whistle, head snapping immediately to where it came from. Price stood up, getting Bailey to her feet, while she continued to scan the treeline, another one sounding. The two got inside quick, and the rest of the guys were woken up, reaching for weapons.

“Get away from the door.” Bailey instructed. “Close it!”

Kyle shut the back one, while Price got Bailey to lean against the wall, and shut the front. Bailey noticed Simon posting up at the window. His aim was on the scuttling locomotive, as it came closer and closer. “Don’t bother.”

Simon side eyed her but kept his aim. “Seriously please don’t bother.”

Price debated ordering the shot to be taken or not, until Simon made his own decision. The shot was fired and right between the horrific gore frame white eyes of the demonic creature. It missed by an inch, and hit the eye. The creature scuttled around the house, loud with teeth gnashing and a wet chittering. Simon pulled back and avoided the sightline of the window. Bailey hobbled to the middle of the room, reaching whatever bed was closest before sitting down. The monster’s steps seemed to shake the building, the spider legs almost pounding the hard earth. The men were tense while Bailey bounced her good leg, hands clasped and muttering something. Everyone was still, guns at the ready, while Bailey looked almost unbothered by the horror outside. They could make out wood scratching as well but it was minor. Like a dog pawing at a door. Thankfully the blood curdling noises distanced from the cabin, as Charles finally left them all in peace. The men kept alert.

“Soap, Check the window.” Price ordered. Johnny almost wanted to tell the captain to check himself. He pressed into the wall, watching out the window. Charles disappeared back into the tall misty trees, to where, none of them knew. When to return? If only he wouldn’t.

“It’s gone… Charles doesn’t break into houses for some reason. Part of why I’m still here.” Bailey said, staring at her newly bandaged leg.

“How long has that thing been around here?” Kyle asked.

“Uhh…pffftt… a few months.” Bailey guessed. “Came around the beginning of summer, my dad was one of the miners who found it but when he went to destroy the egg those cultist assholes decided he’d make a good offering.”

The room went silent again, thinking back to Eugene. This kid had lost not only her friend, but her father too. Price wasn’t about to let her fight it alone. She needed help.

“Alright listen up.” Price announced. Each one of them turned to look at him. “If you’ve rested, good, keep watch. If you haven’t get some. Need food, we’ve brought rations. Once we’re ready, we start planning our next move. Let’s get to it.”

Bailey woke up, and reached for her water bottle. Yep, it was morning, and it was chilly. Getting some pain killers in her, she sipped some more water and stretched as much as she could. Two of the men were still in the cabin, Price and Kyle. Bailey slowly got up and put the kettle on, getting a pack of oatmeal. It was like any other morning of shuffling around, half awake. Bailey went to another room, getting her coat and beanie, shivering a little. The kettle whistled loudly, waking her. A bowl, and pouring oats and water, dunk in a spoon and she had her breakfast, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Sleep okay?” Kyle asked, politely. Bailey nodded, mouth full of oatmeal. The door to the cabin opened and Johnny walked in with a folded up map.

“Am I allowed to ask your names?” She asked aloud.

“Why wouldnya?” Soap asked.

“You guys are SAS, isn’t that like secret services or something? I mean I’m not gonna fish for government secrets or anything unless Area 51 gets involved, then again you guys are British, well mostly. Sorry I’m rambling.” Bailey said, going back to focusing on the food. “I’m sober I swear.”

“Johnny MacTavish, just call me Soap.” Johnny said. Oh this kid was a mess.

“You’re both John?” She asked looking between him and Price.

“Kyle Garrick. Can call me Gaz.” Kyle piped up. “You know the captain.”

“What about the guy with the mask?” Bailey asked. As if on cue the guy with the mask walked in.

“Ghost.” Soap answered. Ghost looked up hearing his callsign and then looked at you, who jumped hearing him speak. Certainly a fitting name. You swallowed your mouthful, a little forcefully.

Once you finished your breakfast and got changed into cleaner clothes. You returned to the main space, where Price stood next to your conspiracy wall. He went over the plan, giving a briefing for finding the eggs, with you explaining where they were located and how the mob worked. You unfortunately couldn't track exact shifts, nor where all of them went for sleeping and eating, but you assumed it was inside the mines.

"I'll need more scraps if the trains are to pull through a charles attack. I can increase the speed and armour. People around here need some help though, so it might mean getting some errands done in order to get enough. A few of them also have weapons which with enough time can do some extra damage." You explained.

"Four men in that engine will be tight." Ghost commented. You didn't like that number.

"It would be three and two. There are two engines." You corrected. The room was quiet for a moment, and before Price could open his mouth, you spoke up. "I'm going with you. That is not up for debate."

"It'll be dangerous." Kyle reminded you. Thank you sergeant obvious, you thought.

"Your leg is fucked up, Y/N." Price said. "That is a good way to get yourself killed."

"So is letting you all go without some level of a guide. I know this island, and I know the people. They want out of this place as much as I do, but Charles is still out there. Not about to sit back and watch as every fucking thing I've done leads to nothing." You said firmly. You weren't about to be sidelined. The silence was deafening as the four men seemed to think they would have any say in the matter. For good measure you added, "And I have the keys to my engine in the shed."

Price considered it for a moment before realizing you were not gonna let this go. Your stubbornness reminded him of Farah's determination. Right now you were running on fumes, grief and some oatmeal. The look you had in your eyes told him you could be running on good sleep and good food, and your drive would still hold strong.

"Stay off your leg as much as possible, and stay safe. If we lose you we lose our intel." Price said. You nodded. He looked among his men, seeing them determined and ready. "Out here."

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[makipedia]

lesbian malevolence in oregon

1: drifting through my conscious with my lazy boss

masterlist

cw: descriptions of blood and death and like a few mentions of weed

6:46 AM, October 15th, 1996.

An eerie atmosphere clouded around a small bathroom. In walls painted with ugly floral designs, different colors brushed all around the room in an overstimulating environment. A haze covered the small window looking out to the street of the neighborhood of which the house itself was from. A potent smell emitted from the body of a victim with blood rolled out onto his shirt, his legs, his pants around his ankles and the floor in front of him; the pattern of which started from his throat. With the exception of his eyes rolled back until his irises were barely visible and his hands completely empty, it would be safe for Lee to assume it was a suicide.

And just like every premeditated murder, there’s always a but. And this was a very big but.

The blood pattern in front of the victim was clean; no sign of interruption at all. No clue that someone slit this man’s throat for him, except for the fact that no weapon was seen around him; that is, because no one took the time to look long enough around the bathroom at six in the morning with the sun just barely coming up. Lee’s eyes eventually adjusted to the dimness of the bathroom, searching for any sign of aggression or violence against the victim; no bruises, bludgeoning; no other cuts besides the one just over his esophagus. The slit was rough, small indents in his skin were seen, showing signs that the culprit used a rough or dull weapon. She took another look around the room for anything that could be used as a weapon. Nothing was what she found, but she wasn’t looking long enough.

“Forensics estimate that the time of death was at one-fourteen this morning,” a deeper, masculine voice called out from behind Lee. She didn’t bother turning her head to see Agent Reuben behind her, standing in a maroon button down darkened by the lack of light and black slacks, looking the victim over with a leisurely glance. His eyes landed on Lee crouching down in front of him. Reuben narrowed his eyes slightly.

“And if you haven’t noticed, the blood pattern is perfectly clean, no signs that anyone was ever in here. No dirt remains for any footprints to be found, meaning the killer was presumably making their way around the house with their socks on, which leaves us with the question of whether they ever wore shoes in the first place or not. No fingerprints on his skin or any of his clothes, either.”

Reuben inhaled deeply, bringing a hand to scratch his forehead, brushing his dark ginger bangs out of the way. He took a quick glance around the room and noticed a flower sitting on the sink. He took a step over to it, brushing his suit jacket back before reaching out to grab the flower with his gloved fingers. He took an evidence bag from the corner of the sink and dropped it in there, examining the flower from the outside.

“So we’re dealing with them again.”

“Sir?”

Lee turned her head to look up at Reuben, still crouching down in front of the victim. She watched as his curly ginger hair swished in the air when his head turned to face her, catching her lifted eyebrow and her slightly squinted eyes from trying to see in the dim light of the room.

“I’ll tell you back at the Bureau,” he inhales sharply, his fingers pressing the top of the bag to seal it shut. Reuben looked back at Lee and cocked his head to signal her to follow him out of the bathroom, stepping over the remaining blood splatter on the floor and out into the hallway.

The carpet underneath Lee’s feet was an ugly green color, like murky swamp water or dirty dish water. It looked like the rest of the house had been untouched; no footprints on the carpet to trace. One of the paintings on the wall next to her looked slightly tilted; her eyes narrowed at it as she stared blankly for a moment, stopping in the middle of the hallway.

“Harker,” Reuben called and cocked his head again from where he was standing halfway down the stairs. Lee quickly turned her head back to him, watching him turn away from her to saunter back down the steps to the first floor which was even cleaner than the second.

The drive back to the Bureau was silent. Neither Lee nor Reuben said a word, probably from the result of their drowsiness. Her work as an FBI agent was already long enough, working on stressful cases and in all types of gritty environments to leave an imprint of dirty scenes on her brain to never forget them. They kept Lee awake at night, and she’d make the insomnia worse by opening old files and looking through them again in hopes of wearing herself out, only for her to look up at her clock and realize it was nearly time for her to get ready for her shift. She would sigh and stuff the file away in a cabinet in her room with the image of the words printed on the paper lingering in her mind.

Agent Reuben’s office was like taking a step into the 1950’s; a long, mahogany brown desk at the front of the room presumably made with real wood, a stack of files at the corner of it with a big black leather chair behind it. The blinds on one half of the office were pulled down; the other half had the blinds pulled down partially to let the natural sunlight pool onto the wooden floor and the rug over it. On the wall behind him which separated the windows with the blinds had a big framed photo of himself, grinning from ear to ear with his pearly whites and his dark ginger hair. Three file cabinets on the wall congruent to the wall behind his desk collected dust with the bottom drawer on one of them slightly pulled out. Three more file cabinets on the wall opposite of them looked newer, probably safe for Lee to assume he’d gotten them within the last few months.

Reuben sat comfortably in his leather office chair, his ankle crossed over his knee and his elbows on the arms of his chair. He leaned back slightly, a sign of his leisurely and lazy demeanor from his lack of sleep. He blinked once, twice and thrice, trying to adjust to the bright sunlight shining onto his left of the floor and beaming brighter than usual.

“You solved that Longlegs case a few years back, didn’t you?” Lee thought it was a horrible way to start his discussion about the case ahead of her. The image of Kobble bashing his face against the table, his teeth and his nose falling from his face flashing in the back of her head. She nodded anyway, pursing her lips tightly.

Reuben nodded back, seeming pleased with her gesture as a dose of his own self confidence rushed into his veins, his face lighting up slightly. He raised his hands and pushed the pads of his fingertips together, tapping them gently as he pondered how he’d talk to her next.

“And you’re familiar with figuring out patterns, yes?”

“More or less,” Lee answered with a throaty voice. She quietly cleared the back of her throat, avoiding eye contact with Reuben as she looked around his office. Her eyes landed on the clock on the wall to her right.

7:33 AM.

Reuben reached into a drawer of his desk, pulling it open and swiftly dropping a small bag on the surface. It was the evidence bag he’d collected earlier with the flower; a Dahlia, to be exact. Lee looked at the pink petals flattened from the weight of his pocket and from dehydration and eventually withering away. She paid close attention to it, looking for any sort of clue that could maybe be used in this case.

“That’s a present the killer left for us this morning.”

“A Dahlia, sir,” Lee averted her gaze from the flower and to Reuben, catching him inspecting the look on her face.

“You know your flowers, Harker,” he commented as he rested his hands in his lap, leaning further back in his office chair. “You remember how I mentioned a them earlier to insinuate we’ve dealt with someone familiar before?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well,” Reuben clicked his tongue as he let out an exasperated sigh, his face falling and looking more dim. He looked around the room, his eyes landing on the left wall and on one of his file cabinets. His face scrunched up slightly, his eyebrows furrowing and the bridge of his nose bunching up. “While you were out working on whatever it was you might’ve been working on in the past few months, I’ve been stuck with this…botanist, I’ve concluded.”

“What makes you say botanist?” Lee lifted her eyebrow, tilting her head lower as she sat up in her chair. She shifted closer to the edge of her seat, watching and inspecting Reuben’s face as he thought of what to say next. 

“Background information first,” Reuben rolled his office chair closer, leaning his elbows on his desk. Lee moved her head back and away from his face so as to not get too close for comfort, and leaned backwards until her back touched the back of the chair.

“Murders have been reported frequently ever since May of this year. All of them had different structures, different patterns, different styles. One of them would look inexperienced with over fifty messy stab wounds to the victim's chest, and the following report would be a dismembered body strung together using long blades of grass. Actual reports, by the way.”

Lee felt a weight drop on her shoulders as they slumped slightly. All the gritty details Reuben gave her made his office seem more uncomfortable, the air in the room heating up and stiffening with tension. Reuben could feel it too, with his own shoulders tensed, his muscles pushing through the sleeves of his red button down and flexing to remind himself to move in some sort of way.

“It would be safe to assume all of them are done by different people, if it weren’t for the average time lapse between reports, which is between a week and two weeks, and the fact that all of them have some sort of plant left behind. A leaf, a flower, sometimes just a flower petal. No set pattern for the victim; we’ve tried to connect dots and try and pinpoint who they target, but it’s all random. We’ve had people of all sorts of demographic backgrounds; store clerks, doctors, shelf keepers, librarians, retail managers, teachers.”

Reuben took a pause to take a breath; all of the images of the different reports he listed flashing across his brain like a light being switched on and off. The blood, the gore, the positions the bodies were left in, the kind of gifts being left behind from the culprit. He felt his stomach churn as he brought his hand up to scratch his neck with his finger.

“No set pattern between any of them. Man, woman, old, young, criminal record, no record at all, bachelor’s degree, people with their GED. It’s like they’re toying with us.”

“About the plants, sir,” Lee cut him off, tilting her head as her face shifted. Reuben could see the gears turning in her brain for a split second, and then he couldn’t find any reason to focus on the flowers other than the fact the culprit had a widespread knowledge on botany.

“About the plants?”

“Do you notice any sort of pattern in the plants left behind?” Lee looked back down at the Dahlia on the surface of Reuben’s desk. He narrowed his eyes slightly in confusion.

“I don’t…” he trails off as he watches Lee’s gaze fixate on the flower. He tries to piece together what she could be thinking, trying to see what she could see from just a single flower on his desk. For now she couldn’t see anything with just one piece of evidence in front of her.

“Do you still have the plants? Or at least have their names written down?”

“That, I do have,” Reuben lifted his eyebrows as he got up all too quickly from his seat. The swiftness with which his legs stood up from the leather gave Lee the impression that he was looking for a chance to show off that he was taking on so many murder reports at once. It didn’t impress her.

Reuben sauntered across his office to the file cabinets, standing in front of the outermost cabinet and pulled open the top drawer. His fingers quickly sifted through the manilla folders to collect the number of files about the current case he had, his big hand gripping them and pulling them out all at once and leaving a huge chunk of space in the drawer. He walked back to his desk, setting the pile of files on the surface and sat back down in his chair, presenting it to Lee.

“That’s all from the same person,” Reuben explained, looking the pile up and down. “A total of twenty-one weeks and one day, fourteen murder cases, two leaves left behind, twelve flowers.”

He looked back at Lee, watching her stare at the pile. He watched as she took a deep inhale, her eyes flitting between the stacks of papers separated by folders and multicolored tabs with photos stuck between them. She looked back at Reuben with a look in her eyes that was silently asking if she could look through them.

“They’re yours to dig through. Look at whatever you need,” Reuben stood up from his chair again, popping his thumb as he walked over to the door. He grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and slipped it over his shoulders. “I still have a few of the flowers left in evidence bags. You can look through those as well.”

Reuben opened the door and stood in the doorway, turning back to look at Lee, catching her taking the file from the top and looking through it. He exhaled quietly as he watched her flip through papers—autopsy reports, scene descriptions.

“What else do they have in common, sir?” Lee called out as she looked at an autopsy report in front of her, her eyes scanned the paper a number of times. Reuben would assume she was looking at it on a molecular level from how closely she held the paper to her face.

“Well…other than the plants, the times of death all seem to be during any given minute of the one o’clock hour in the morning. There’s no given order.”

Lee let out an exhale of her own as her shoulders slumped again. She closed the file and looked through another one, examining the autopsy report for that one. Like Reuben said, the time of death was recorded at 1:27 AM. As she suspected, it was labeled as a premeditated murder, just like all the other files beneath it. 

While Reuben left to do whatever it was he said he was doing (she wasn’t paying attention to him), Lee took the remaining plants in evidence bags that weren’t withering away and spread them across his desk in order of the date they were found. The rest of the plants which had already died and were rendered unidentifiable she found the names of in the files and wrote them down on sticky notes she stole from Reuben’s drawer. She stood there in front of the desk and examined the plants ahead of her. No pattern was present; no specific type of plant pattern was present. One of the plants was a hemp leaf tightly sealed in the plastic which left her perplexed as her fingers subconsciously picked the evidence bag up by the corner. She held it close to her face, her eyes narrowing slightly.

On a more neutral note, the sky had cleared up outside. The sun was out and shining almost blindingly, making it irritating for Reuben to look straight on the road. His car window was rolled down, letting the cool October breeze blow through his 1977 Impala, blowing in his hair and cooling his skin. A pleased smile graced his face; the weather pleased him so much that he even rested an arm on his windowsill, his elbow hanging out with one hand on the steering wheel.

Reuben’s gaze landed on an old diner just a little bit up ahead on the corner of LaPoars street, with glass doors and foggy windows of the humid air. The parking lot was empty, as he would’ve expected for arriving at 7:45 in the morning. The diner was open during almost the whole day, save for closing at 10 and opening at 6 the next day and happy hour on Saturdays and staying open until midnight. 

His car pulled into the parking lot, parking right in front of the twin glass doors and showcasing the interior. Reuben swiftly stepped out of his car and walked over to the door in seemingly just three steps, taking such long strides with his long legs in a hurry to feed himself. The cold air of the diner hit his face like a gust of a snowstorm. For a moment Reuben couldn’t think why he felt like he was freezing half to death in there until he felt the humidity of the outside air on his shoulders.

No one was behind the counter just yet, extending across the front of the room with blue stools all along it. The floor ahead of Reuben was checkered black and white; booths and tables all lined up in arrays across the room in a horizontal line. The booths lined up against the walls with two bigger booths at the corners. A good use of space, Reuben always thought to himself each time he went there, which was quite frequently. It was easier to just stop by and grab something from the diner on his way home after a long shift rather than to wearily make himself something with energy he didn’t have.

Someone peeked their head out from behind the counter, their eyes looking around the room before landing on Reuben standing in the middle of it. Their face relaxed once they saw a familiar figure ahead of them. Reuben couldn’t imagine why for a moment that the person behind the counter would be surprised. He hadn’t processed the bell ringing when he pushed the door open.

“Hey there, Agent Reuben,” a feminine voice called out, which belonged to the head of black hair peeking out from the counter. Reuben heard a quiet rustling of paper where the voice was at and then it stopped then they stood up and straightened their posture. Reuben fixed his gaze on the woman behind the counter, fixing her blue apron over her white shirt, flattening it out and fixing the wrinkles. Her eyes were noticeably squinted; she would look high if it weren’t for the fact she was probably tired.

“Riley,” Reuben answered as he sauntered towards the counter. She leaned her forearms on the edge of the counter with Reuben mirroring her, their faces close to each other as they maintained eye contact for a few moments. He inspected her face, specifically her eyes and the slight red tint to them. He smirked before gently tapping his hand against the surface of the counter.

“Breakfast as usual for me. Oh, and a Belgian Waffle, too.”

“You feelin’ especially hungry this morning, Agent Reuben?” Riley mused as she pulled out a notepad from underneath the cash register, a pen in her fingers as well. The ballpoint scribbled across the paper, her lips pursing together.

“Nah, it’s for someone else.”

“Ah, so you finally found yourself a girlfriend, huh?”

“You wish,” Reuben chuckled as he let one of his arms fall from the counter. He leaned onto his other arm, putting his weight onto his right forearm. He watched Riley walk back into the kitchen to give the cook the order she’d written down. She pushed the doors open and walked back out, a cheeky look on her face.

“Yeah, right. What’s her name, Agent?”

“I’m serious,” Reuben shook his head. “It’s for a partner for a case I’m on.”

“Okay,” Riley rolled her eyes as she leaned forward on the surface of the counter, her elbow resting on the cold porcelain surface. “What’s their name, then?”

“Why are you so nosey this morning?” Reuben looked away as he parted his lips and looked back out the diner and at his car. An idea popped up in his head, a smirk stretching across his soft pink lips. He turned back to face Riley, who lifted a brow at the look on his face.

“That look never means any good.”

“You always assume the worst of me,” Reuben rolls his eyes. “You like women, right? She’s right up your alley.”

“I don’t even know her!” She exclaimed, widening her eyes as she shifted her body side to side. She sighed, taking a whiff of the smell of the food wafting in the air. Reuben smelled it too, making him relax his shoulders and pop his thumb softly.

“Do you even know her?” Riley inquired with sass in her voice, her eyes looking back up at Reuben with a judgmental look. He let out a hearty chuckle as the doors opened again, out walking the cook with matching black hair and a uniform similar to Riley’s with two white paper bags in his hands and setting them down on the counter. Reuben hadn’t noticed the time pass. He took the time to stand next to Riley and poke fun at Reuben.

“You ordering for two, Agent? Who’s the special girl?”

“Why does it always mean I’m with someone?” Reuben scoffed as he grabbed the bags with his big hand, wrinkling the paper as he gripped it.

“He says it's for an agent he’s working with,” the tone in Riley’s voice told Reuben that she didn’t believe him, making him roll his eyes again as he began walking out. The chatter between the two people behind him left his hearing range as soon as the door shut behind him, the cool October air caressing his face again. The sky was even more clearer than when he walked in; the clouds moved out of the way as the sun shone down onto the land of Oregon. Reuben missed the figure standing off to the side of the building, leaning against the wall and letting the wind blow through their hair.

A crumpled blunt fell from their fingers as they let out a final exhale of the cheap weed entering their system. Their breath came out shaky from the chill of the air, their lips quivering and their breath hitching in their throat. They peeked their head around the corner of the diner, waiting until Reuben’s car was on the road to walk over to the doors, running a hand through their hair and hugging quietly as they opened them.

“Look who decided to show up!” Riley’s cheeky voice was the first thing you heard. Her and the cook, Tristan, stood behind the counter and shook their heads in feign disappointment. You rolled your eyes as a smile twisted at your lips, inevitable as you tried to look away and avoid their pointed gazes. You scoffed as you shuffled through the diner, moving to the right of the counter and grabbing an apron off the hook on the wall, wrapping the string around your waist and tying it around your back.

“You smell like weed, Y/n.”

“Look at you! Your eyes are literally tinted!” You raised your hand to Riley’s face, your fingers pointed at her eyes as she shut them and poked out her tongue.

“You missed Agent Reuben, by the way,” Riley comments as she opens her eyes again, watching you lean against the counter, standing next to the other cash register. You looked at her, an uninterested expression on your features; your lips pursed and your eyes hooded in addition to the bags underneath them. Neither Riley nor Tristan questioned why you always looked so tired.

“The anguish I feel,” you huff as you scratch the back of your head with your fingers. “Anything special from him?”

“Not really,” Riley shrugs nonchalantly. “He’s got a new partner for a case he’s working on.”

“That’s probably the Bureau’s way of trying to fix his loneliness,” you snort, a grin widening on your lips as your face lit up, listening to the sounds of Riley and Tristan’s chuckles. 

“It probably is. I never see that man with anyone else,” Tristan stroked his chin with his fingers as he attempted to recollect any time he ever saw Reuben walk into that diner with anyone at his side. He found no such memory, the result evident on his face as it elicited a look of halfhearted defeat.

 Riley announced with a roll of her eyes, “He tried setting me up with that agent he said he’s working with.” 

You turned to face Riley, your face scrunched at the mention of Reuben’s antics. “Such a Reuben thing to do. He’s always making fun of you for being lesbian, isn’t he?” 

“Definitely,” she sighed sharply. “You got any more weed on you?” Riley turned her head to look at you. You met her gaze halfway as your eyes fixed on hers, looking at the slight red tint around them and smirking slightly. You shook your head in feign disappointment just like she did earlier, earning a curse from Riley.

“Nah. Smoked all that shit away.”

“Bullshit! No way you just happened to smoke all that weed right before I asked for some!”

“Even if I did have any on me, I wouldn’t just have half a mind to give it to you, idiot.”

“Fine,” Riley crossed her arms and clicked her tongue, giving you a side eye. “Next time you get some I’ll pay you for a blunt.”

“Lies,” you playfully nudged her arm with your elbow. “You never pay me when I give you one. So no.”

“Fuck you,” Riley shook her head again before pushing herself off the counter. “I gotta piss, guard the counter for me, losers.”

“Yeah, because some intruder is gonna get us as soon as you go to the bathroom.”

“You never know, with all these murders going around lately.”

Your face darkened slightly as you turned away from the back of the room and facing the front, popping your neck and stretching your arms. Your hands link together by your fingers behind your back as you stretch out, then they let go as quickly as they threaded together. Your arms fall to your side, a sigh escaping your chest as you lean against the counter in boredom after Tristan hops onto the surface and sits atop it.

_________________________

Back at the Bureau—specifically in Reuben’s office where the room emanated all sorts of smells from the dead or dying plants, files and folders were strewn across the floor of the office. Lee had sticky notes folded and placed in an order that would make her look like a crazy person. Certain letters of each plant name were circled, and the hemp leaf was kept to her side as she sat on her knees and looked down at the mess before her.

Hemp leaf, Dahlia, Hibiscus, Fennel, Coreopsis, Arborvitae, Lotus, Acanthus, Pansy, Oregano, Amaryllis, Rhododendron, Salvia.

The door opened suddenly, making Lee turn her head to find Reuben walking in with the two paper bags in his hand, his fingers wrinkling the paper. Lee looked at the bags for a moment before turning back to the mess she made on the floor, nibbling on her bottom lip with her teeth and wreaking havoc on her flesh.

Reuben clicked his tongue quietly. “You seemed to have gotten comfortable already.”

Lee cleared her throat and looked between him and the mess on the floor. She stared at the sticky notes she folded, the circled letters on the names written down in an order only she could understand. She shifted closer to the sticky notes, her eyes speeding across the horizontal line she made with them.

She concluded out loud, “They’re messy with their murders on purpose.” She took the hemp leaf from her side and held it up to her eyes. “The different plants they’ve left behind; some of them aren’t native to Oregon. The Dahlia you found, for example.”

“Do you think they’re aware of that?” Reuben set the paper bags down on the corner of his desk, his body facing the edge while his head turned to watch Lee as she stared at the hemp leaf. Lee narrowed her eyes slightly.

She came to another conclusion. “Yes.” She looked at the other sticky notes and the plants that aren’t totally unidentifiable kept in evidence bags. “I would assume they’re attempting a code using the names of these plants.”

“Have you found any such code yet?” Asked Reuben, his hand reaching through one of the paper bags to pull out a to-go box in his abnormally large hand, setting it down on his desk.

Lee cringed. “No.”

“Then maybe it isn’t a code.”

“They wouldn’t leave behind these plants for no reason, sir.”

“Maybe it’s like you said,” Reuben opened the box he just took out. He took a second to look down at it and found his usual breakfast he ate on a near daily basis; a toad in a hole. “They’re being messy with their killings on purpose, leaving behind these plants to throw us off.”

Lee huffed as she stared down at the evidence in front of her. The idea that this botanical killer was simply being clumsy with their murders on purpose began to make sense. The first letters of each plant left behind add up to no intelligible word or sentence. The hemp leaf being left behind was the icing on the cake; drugs like marijuana were illegal in Oregon, as far as Lee knew. She was already growing irritated.

“We just haven’t looked long enough,” Lee let out a heavily-drawn sigh from deep within her chest. Feeling her lungs expand and taking a deep breath for the first time since what felt like a thousand years brought her irritation down to some degree. She still couldn’t bring herself to abruptly stop looking over these damned plants. Part of what Reuben said made sense; the killer could just be playing with them and leaving behind these plants for no given reason. There’s no room to assume anything, and the same could be said about her theory, too. The types of flowers left behind were too conspicuous to be seen as throwing her off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Reuben interrupted Lee’s train of thought, her head whipped around to face him.

“You said the murders have a time lapse average of one to two weeks, right?”

Reuben dismissively rolled his eyes and reached inside one of the paper bags to pull out the plastic utensils that Tristan left inside both of them. He took the box with the toad in a hole and sauntered over to his office chair, sitting down and placing the box in front of him. 

He leaned his arms on the edge of his desk. “I did say that, yes.”

“Two leaves, twelve flowers,” Lee muttered under her breath as she kept looking at the mess in front of her over and over again. When her eyes followed the horizontal path for the upteenth time, Lee felt a cord strike in her brain. Nothing looked like it made sense because she was looking at it the wrong way. She felt dumb once it dawned on her.

Lee scrambled to take the few evidence bags and the sticky notes and line them up in a vertical line. Reuben watched her move from behind, having already taken a bite of his food and chewing quietly as she worked. His eyebrows lifted upwards as Lee finally stood up after a moment, her head turned face him with a somewhat proud look on her face.

Reuben’s face shifted as he swallowed his mouthful, scratching his cheek with his free hand. “Well?”

“It was a code after all.” Lee concluded; she felt a surge of pride in her chest from proving her theory was true. She could tell from watching Reuben’s face once again shift, an exasperated expression on his features.

“You gonna make me get up and look at it myself?”

Lee thought to herself that it would be preferable if Reuben did get up, seeing that he’s a grown adult who surges through much more difficult things than getting up from his leisurely spot and looking at the evidence she worked to lay out perfectly so that anyone could understand it. But she simply glanced back at the sticky notes and the sealed plants on the floor, her chest slowly rising and falling with a drawn out exhale.

“Diner, LaPoars.” Lee answered, turning back to look at Reuben. “That’s what it says.”

“How the hell..?” Reuben furrowed his eyebrows as he watched Lee shuffle on her feet. “What makes you say that?”

“The names of the plants didn’t make sense when they were laid out horizontally. But when you line it up like a y-axis, the message becomes much clearer. It wasn’t in the orders of the first letter, sir. It was in the order in which the answer came out. The further down you go the line, each letter moves one space to the right.”

“Now I feel kinda stupid,” Reuben chuckled as he shook his head slightly, the grin on his face widening the longer he stared at the evidence Lee laid out. “You did in less than an hour what I couldn’t do for five months.”

Lee couldn’t tell if this was Reuben’s attempt to get her to feel bad for him or if he genuinely couldn’t figure it out. The small sigh he let out didn’t slip past her ears. Regardless, she couldn’t show any sign of fake pity because truth be told, she felt none. She let out a sign of reassurance, probably the bare minimum reassurance that she could give to him. “The code wasn’t finished yet, so it’s wrong to be too hard on yourself.”

“Yeah, but like…it was right in front of me the whole time and you figured it out in less than an hour.”

Lee wanted to say something snarky in return to Reuben’s advances at getting her to suck up to him, like stop making your level of stupid my problem. She would’ve, lest she wanted it to be at the expense of her job and getting on his permanent bad side. All she could do—or what she felt like doing—was give him a reassuring smile that had no meaning behind it.

“Well…now that you’ve got the code figured all out, would you be okay to continue the case on your own—“

“God, no,” Reuben shook his head slightly as if to keep himself from nodding off against the back of his chair. “You’re way too good to just let go. In fact,” Reuben looked back at Lee, making prolonged eye contact with her and grinning. “You should go check it out. The diner, I mean.”

“Sir,” Lee started, taking a sharp breath. She brought her hand up to her cheek, gently scratching it with her finger. “Do I have to?”

“Uh…yeah,” the sass in Reuben’s voice earned an exaggerated sigh from Lee, a weight of dread hanging over her shoulders. Typically she preferred working at her respective desk, secluded and away from everyone else. “Just go, Harker. You’re the one who cracked the code, you go check it out.”

“It’s your case, sir.”

“Harker.” Reuben glared at Lee, lifting his hand to twirl his finger in the air back and forth between the two of them. “Our case, now. You go.”

Lee sighed, her chest slowly rising and falling. “Yes, sir.” She pursed her lips right afterward into a line. She didn’t care for the satisfied look that spread itself across Reuben’s face like neurogenesis in someone’s brain. The sheer laziness he displayed for the day had her blank-facing.

Nonetheless, her hand reached for the only other paper bag on his desk then turned away from Reuben and towards the door. Lee opened the door to the hallway, stepping out and finally taking a deep breath, free from the overwhelming scent of spice floating around his office and suffocating her nose.

[daedrabela]

SO ALL NIGHT FOR THE PAST FEW DAYS I KEEP FLICKING LITTLE ANTS OFF OF ME WHILE I'M GAMING AND I KEEP THINKING IT'S JUST THE SAME ONES OVER AND OVER

WELL I JUST FUCKING LOOKED OVER AT MY TOMIE LAMP AND THESE FUCKERS HAVE THE THING COLONIZED THEY'VE GOT EGGS AND SHIT AND THEY'RE ALL BUNCHED TOGETHER

SO I FREAK OUT BECAUSE THERE'S TOO MANY BUGS IN ONE SMALL PLACE FOR MY LIKING AND WE GET THEM VACUUMED UP

I'M SNIPPY WITH HIM BECAUSE HE'S SLACKING ON GETTING THE VACUUM TO ME QUICKLY BECAUSE AS SOON AS I TURNED THE LAMP OFF THEY STARTED TO SCATTER

AND I'M ALREADY SPIRALING BECAUSE THE SPARE ROOM IS FULL OF SHIT AND I'M SICK OF LIVING LIKE THIS AND THEN!!!!

THEN!!!!!! THIS GUY ASKS ME "you know what bugs me?" BITCH IT'S TAKING EVERYTHING I HAVE NOT TO THROW HANDS WITH ANYTHING IN SIGHT RIGHT NOW YOU CAN'T JUST SAY SHIT

[thehallstara]

so far my biggest stumbling block w/ the crutches like. where the fuck do i put them when i'm sitting down they're so much taller than my cane

[attackradish]

Thinking about last night’s Horrible Nightmare, and now that I’m not dealing with The Horrors face to face there’s actually some silver linings here. Like how one of the things I wanted to do to escape said Horrors was to message my friends.

And there’s just something cool about feeling so safe with my friends that I dream about it is nice. This has to be a sign of good mental health right? Bad things are happening but you know who my subconscious trusts? Them.

Also got to see my dead dog again which was fun. She only shows up in nightmares and it’s always the Main Problem, but it’s nice seeing her. She’s not the Horror, the horror is that she’s been brought back by unnatural means and the resulting problems.

[2024skin]

Mom making fun of my room but she cannot appreciate how hard it is to keep a room organized when you have 1 shelf and 1 nightstand and no other table space

[classyrbf]

ᯓ★ BETTER THAN YOUR BOYFRIEND! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...what happens when your boyfriend cheats on you and you look towards your best friend for help

INFO...jjk men (toji, gojo, geto, nanami) x fem!reader, reader gets cheated on, riding, sending a video to your ex, oral (f!receiving), car sex, kinda cute/some fluff in the beginning, pet names (doll, princess, baby, sweetheart), creampie, possessiveness, choking, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

ᯓ★ TOJI

When you showed up on Toji’s doorstep in the middle of the night with tears pouring down your face he was more than ready to kill whoever made your cry. He wasn’t surprised when you told him your shitty boyfriend had cheated on you and not with just one girl but multiple. Toji never liked your boyfriend, he could tell that guy was up no to good from the start, reading him like a book. He’d be sure to beat the shit out of him once he helped you gain composure.

“I’m sorry for showing up so late,” you hiccuped as he wiped your tears.

“Don’t worry about it, doll. You know I’m always here for you.” He gave you a soft smile. Toji hated to see you this way, you were too pretty to be crying over some guy who looked like he crawled from the sewers. “That guy was a piece of shit. You deserve better.”

“But, every guy I’ve been with or tried to be with has done me so wrong!” It only made more tears spill from your eyes. Toji engulfed you in a hug, rubbing your back. “Toji?” You sniffled.

“Yeah?” He pulled away from you, wiping your tears again.

“Kiss me. Right now,” you demanded. You had to see for yourself if what you’ve been feeling these last couple of weeks was absolutely true. Toji had zero clue, but you’ve been thinking about him way too much, more than a best friend should, feeling more than a best friend should. And when he planted his lips on yours, cupping your face, kissing you like a starved man, you didn’t quite expect your tears of sadness to be turned into tears of pleasure.

“Nnngh, Toji!” You moaned, his fat tip rubbing against your g-spot with each thrust of his hips. Your arms clung around his neck, fingers resting in his black silky hair.

“Can’t—mmm, fuck—believe he’d cheat on you! His fucking loss!” He growled in your ear, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, hugging you close to him. Your pussy clenched down around him, milking him for his every worth, juices dripping down his length and onto his balls. “So tight, doll—oh shit!” He grunted. Lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room, echoing off the walls around you. “Been wanting you forever, craving you.”

Your brows furrow in pleasure, barely able to contain your moans as you and Toji stare into each others eyes. “M-me too!” You whimper, nodding your head at him. You lips messily interlock, tongue gliding against one another, swallowing each others moans.

“Let’s show him what he’s missing, baby.” He smirks, reaching for your phone on the couch. His thrusts come to a stop, clicking on your now ex boyfriend’s contact and opening the camera to record a video. “Go nice and slow for me,” he says huskily.

Slowly, you move your hips up and down his thick shaft, whimpering when you feel him throb against your walls. Toji angles the camera up, a devious look in his eye. He moves it back down when you start to move faster, you sloppy pussy squelching when you slam your hips down on his. Toji slaps your ass a few times before grabbing it, guiding your hips to go slower once again. “That’s it, doll. Good fucking girl,” he lowly chuckles in your ear. Toji ends the video, sending it and tossing the phone to the side.

“I can’t believe we actually did that,” you giggle, biting down on your lip. Not even one minute passed before your phone began ringing, vibrating on the couch but you were too busy getting your brains fucked out to even notice. “Ah, you’re so deep,” you mewl, the curve of his dick making your back arch.

“Better get used to it cause we won’t be stopping anytime soon.” He placed a wet kiss on your neck, sloppily thrusting into your poor pussy. “You’re my girl now.” He’s slamming your hips back down on his cock, fucking you deeply, making sure every inch of him is coated in your juices. He quickly pulls out, jerking his cock before thick globs of cum coat your skin before he’s inserting himself back inside your dripping entrance. Neither of you noticing the five missed calls and fifteen unread texts from your ex.

ᯓ★ GOJO

As soon as you called Gojo crying, he basically teleported to your house. When he learned that your boyfriend had cheated on you and you kicked him out, he was the least bit shocked. For the past month you’ve told Gojo that your boyfriend has been acting off, and finally the truth came to light.

“I’m so sorry,” he frowned, rubbing the top of your head as you cried into his chest. It hurt Gojo to see you like this, constantly seeing you get hurt by these shitty guys who didn’t know any better. He had a massive crush on for the longest time and he’s always been afraid to say anything. He’d treat you better, treat you the way you’ve always deserved.

“I just don’t it, Toru! Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” You frowned.

“No, no! It’s not you all! You’re absolutely perfect. He’s a fucking asshole for not seeing that sooner. You’re kind, funny, smart, and beautiful. You’re everyone’s dream girl, y/n.” It may have sounded like he was only trying to be nice, but in reality he was speaking from his heart.

“Awe, Toru, thank you,” you giggled through your tears. Gojo looked at you few seconds, the most sincere expression written on his face.

So how, in only a few minutes, did he make you go from giggling to moaning like bitch in heat?

“Feel better, princess?” He mumbles against your cunt, sucking on your swollen and sensitive clit. “Please tell me you feel better,” he whines.

“Toru—mmph! What’s—ah! Oh my god!” He slides his long, slender fingers into your sopping hole, pumping them in and out, curling them up slightly. Your jaw falls slack at the way his tongue expertly explores your folds, licking up every last drop of your essence. Your hand clings to his fluffy white hair, his hands pushing your legs open each time they threat to close around his head.

“Taste so good, princess. Just like I imagined—mmm,” he moans at your delectable taste, ignoring the way your squirming in his hold and clenching around his fingers as your second orgasm approaches. His captivating eyes flutter open to look at you, watching the way you lose yourself on his tongue. He could tell your boyfriend—ex boyfriend has never pleasured you like this before, let alone made you cum.

“Fuck!” You gasp. “Feels so good—hah, shit! Toruuu!” You cry out, legs quivering when the tip of his tongue runs back and forth over your clit.

“Promise me something, yeah?” He moves his fingers in and out of your sloppy hole slowly, bringing you right on the edge. “Be mine? I’ll treat you so good, princess. Been wanting to for the longest time, god, you’re so fucking perfect. Please?” He presses soft kisses to your thighs that make your breath hitch.

“You’re confessing now?!” You chuckle, trying to catch your breath.

Gojo smiles up at you. “Is that a yes?” He quirks a brow. He presses the pads of his fingers against your g-spot massaging slowly.

“Ah,” you bite down on your lip, “you’re no fair!” You run your fingers through his hair. “It’s a yessssuhh.” You’re barely able to get the word out before he dips his head between your legs again, his wet tongue circling your clit. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m cumming again!” Your head is thrown back as your entire body shakes with pleasure.

“Thank you, princess,” Gojo murmurs.

ᯓ★ NANAMI

Nanami noticed you haven’t been yourself for the past couple of days and he didn’t dare to ask but he had a feeling it had something to do with that obnoxious and egotistical boyfriend of yours. It always had something to do with him no matter what. He didn’t think of it when you asked him if you can come over and watch a movie, but not even five minutes in the door you start explaining everything. You didn’t cry, just talked and talked about it, venting about the situation. He was glad to be an ear. He’ll always be here to help.

“I’m just so frustrated and I hate feeling this way!” You rolled your eyes.

“Maybe you need to deal with it in other ways rather than venting,” he suggested.

“Like what? Drinking my problems away? I’d rather not.” You shook your head, waving your hand in dismissal.

What didn’t cross your mind was the fact your best friend was talking about having you bent over, fucking you into the mattress. “K-Ken! F-fuck!” Your eyes squeeze shut when he thrusts his hips harder, the tip of his swollen cock pressing into your sweet spot.

His thick fingers squeeze into your plush skin, pulling you back onto his cock. He leans over next to your ear, breath fanning against your skin sweaty skin. “He doesn’t know how to handle a woman like you. Not like I do.” He peppers kisses down your back, a contrast of you screaming his name.

Your walls squeeze around him at his words, your pussy somehow growing wetter than it already was, creating a sloppy and sticky mess where you two met. Your hands grasped the sheets below. “Yes, Ken, handle me, show me you can handle me!” You grit your teeth, looking back at him.

A feral growl escapes his throat, blonde hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. He reaches a hand down, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushes your head into the mattress, the sound of skin to skin slapping against each other growing constant as he fucks your hard and deep with such a grueling pace. “I can handle you, sweetheart,” he chuckles deeply. “Better than your boyfriend.” He licks his lips.

“Mmm—ah, yes!” You laugh with a smile. “Ex.” You’re quick to correct.

“Who gives a fuck what he is—hah, shit, sweetheart, gripping me so damn tight.” He’s so focused on the way your ass ripples against his hips, addicted to how warm and wet your cunt is. It was hypnotizing. Your jaw hung open, eyes rolled back, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth and onto the bed below you. Each rut of his hips had you going stupid, barely able to think.

Successfully, you can say that his method of dealing with your problems has worked better than you could’ve imagined. “Feel so good inside me! Don’t stop!” You cry out, voice wavering. The stretch of his cock against your gummy walls had you craving more. So much more to the point you wanted to feel all of him. “Cum in me.” You’re bitting down your lip so hard you’re afraid you’ll draw blood.

Those three words have Nanami’s eyes wide in excitement. His body runs hot, your words making the blood rush straight to his pulsating cock. “D-don’t say stuff—mmph—like that,” he grunts.

“I thought you could handle me?” You’re smirking, playing with fire. His rough hands grip onto your hips harder, hard enough to leave bruises. Each thrust of his ragged hips shoots bolts of pleasure through your core.

His brows furrow in concentration, grunts and growls mixing in with your moans as his abs tense up, body jolting forward as his sloppily thrusts into your greedy hole. “I can handle you better than anyone else and you know it!” His hand swats your ass, a loud smack cracking in the air. “Nngh, shit!” Before he knows it, his tip kisses your cervix, pulling you back on his cock as his hot cum paints your walls.

ᯓ★ GETO

When you told Geto about your boyfriend cheating on you, he knew you’d needed to be comforted despite what you said. So he planned a day just for you to do your favorite things in attempts to take your mind off of things, but he could see that you were still thinking about it deep down. The both of you sat in the car, watching over the city lights while music quietly played on the radio. The orange sunset casted a hue over the world, shining brightly.

“I’m sorry I just can’t get it out of my head.” You pout, fiddling with your fingers. “I appreciate you doing this, Suguru.”

“Of course, y/n. It’s the least I could do.” He gave a half smile, caressing your back.

“It just keeps replaying over and over in my head,” you shut your eyes, “I hate it. Nothing takes my mind off of it no matter what!” You ran your hand over your face, slouching in the passenger seat.

“Well, there’s something we haven’t tried yet.” Geto raised a brow, shrugging his shoulders.

“What?” You asked, confused.

Minutes later your knees are to your chest, the sheer force of his hips rocking your body into the seat of the car. Strands from his messy bun cling to his forehead, sweat dripping between the divots of his abs. His calloused hand presses down on your lower abdomen, the pad of his thumb reaching down to rub your neglected clit. “Sugu!” You cry out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

The car shakes with his feral and animalistic thrusts, the curve of his cock finding your sweet spot, knocking the breath out of you. You’re panting and gasping, clawing at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “Come on, baby, you can do it.” His lips quirk up into a smirk, his hand reaching out, slipping his fingers into your mouth to suck on. “Let it all go for me.” He moves at a rapid pace, your eyes rolling back and your body going limp, hands falling to your sides.

He removes his fingers from your mouth, his hands gliding down to your throat, fingers ghosting over your skin before he carefully wraps his hand around it, gripping it firmly. “I’ll make you forget everything about him. You want that, don’t you? Fill that pretty little head of yours with nothing else but me.” His sultry words send shivers down your spine. A devilish chuckle escapes from him when he feels you flutter around his throbbing length. “Nnngh,” he plants a wet kiss on your jaw, “cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m cumming!” You scream, eyes widening at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. “Yes, yes!” You squeal, legs shaking as he continues to rub your clit, dragging every last bit of your orgasm out of you.

His heavy balls slap against your ass at a rough pace, threatening to spill his seed inside of you. “Want to mark you, show that asshole who you’ve always belonged to!” Sinful eyes stare back at you.

Fat tears roll down your cheeks. “I’m yours! I’m y-yours! Ahh!” He puts more pressure on your clit, your body jolting, squirming beneath him.

“Hah, fuck, baby!” He moans, jaw falling open as he tosses his head back. He clenches his jaw, grunting as he keeps the same fervent tempo. He watches the way your filthy pussy clings to him so tightly, your juices forming a ring at the base of his cock, creating a sticky, slimy mess. His thrusts grow hasty, hungry for his orgasm, itching to see you coated in his cum.

He bullies his cock into your cunt, snarling and moaning at how rapidly his orgasm was nearing. He pulled out of you with a drawn out moan and instinctively your soft hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him until you felt warm cum drip onto your stomach.

[inmaki]

gojo showing off your back scratches to geto

( cont from this fic! req, visual ) .

contains: sex talk, desc of back scratches, crack, sugu is called daddy once (as a joke.. right..)

everything was relatively peaceful in suguru's apartment. key word: relatively.

a forgettable yet appreciated sunday afternoon, not a cloud in sight despite the weather forecast predicting downpours of rain. either way, the raven-haired man insouciantly rested across his white couch, reaching the conclusion that today would be a day for self-care, relaxing, and perhaps some meditation.

there was only one thing ruining his peace.

all morning, suguru has been forced to try and ignore the stain a certain someone has left on his couch — a pair of unecessarily expensive yet dirty shoes being the culprit.

despite these attempts, every once in a while his gaze can't help but wander over at the mark — as if it'd poof out of existence if he glared hard enough.

"fuckin' asshole.." he mutters. it was a wonder his relationship with his best friend managed to stay so promising despite all their differences, yet suguru wouldn't have it any other way, even after situations like this.

right when he grumpily turns back to the tv — which was playing some crappy, low budget rom-com — his apartment door is yanked open and suguru swears he nearly jumps out of his seat.

great, was this it? was he about to get robbed, perhaps evicted? and then probably die? forced into the afterlife knowing gojo's shoe-shit was still on his new couch? no that can't—

"i fucked her!"

suguru whips his head towards the apartment door, announcement being disregarded as he nearly groans in agony. speak of the devil.

big blue eyes peak out from under circular sunglasses, one hand already raised in preparation for a dap up while his stupid, big, dirty shoe pushes the door closed behind him. gojo wears a black compression shirt with grey sweats, marching over to his friend with a ginormous grin across his cheeks.

"take your shoes off, now," suguru snaps, nodding to his friend's feet with a frown.

"yeesh... whatever y'say, daddy," the bastard never loses his smile as his hands raise in surrender, kicking them off by the door smoothly. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

geto pinches his nose bridge. "don't call me that," as he continues the scolding, he points to the living room with his free hand. "you got a mystery stain on my couch, satoru. do you know how many youtube videos i watched trying to get this shit off?"

unphased, gojo takes a look at the strangely colored blob against the armrest's leather material and shrugs. "my bad. did you try febreeze?"

"what— no? dude, febreeze is for.." when suguru looks back up to sourly meet his gaze, he could immediately tell the white-haired man was already drifting back into la-la-land, words going in one ear and out the other. "..nevermind. why're you here?"

at the reminder, satoru seemingly brightens, head shooting back up as if he was just told he'd won the lottery.

"oh god, don't make that stupid face—" he pauses. "the fuck are you doing?" suguru might as well say goodbye to his self-care day, because now gojo was stripping in the middle of his living room, shirt thrown haphazardly onto the still-very-much-stained couch.

"just look!" suguru squints as his friend swivels around to face the wall, pushing his bangs away to get a better view of the— oh shit.

it takes the raven-haired man a second to process what he's seeing before shuffling forward, closely examining the achingly red, bulging scratch marks displayed sexily across the latter's back and shoulders. "no way.."

suguru knows the strongest sorcerer well enough to notice how he purposely didn't use reversed cursed technique on these scratches, just so it'd be obvious to anyone that caught a glimpse of what exactly occured. to his further dismay, he can already picture a smug and sweaty gojo walking around their local gym like this, proud simper on his pretty lips as he easily raises a pair of weights in his veiny hands.

a hiss escapes geto's mouth as he runs his finger down a particularly agitated one, knowing exactly how painful they could be after experiencing many hook-ups of his own. even so, satoru only licks his lips, neck craning to the side so he can pride himself in his friend's gobsmacked expression.

"damn, these are deep. you actually hit it?" suguru confirms, raising a celebratory hand.

turning back around, satoru daps him up, a massive smirk now on both their faces. "hell yeah, it was amazing."

it was impossible to predict what gojo would do next after barging through his front door — especially considering how many times he's done so — but this has to be the last thing suguru ever expected.

not that he was complaining — in fact, all of geto's temper and need for relaxation seemingly flew out the window, the feeling of proudness for his best friend overthrowing anything else.

and even if he hated to admit it, the way gojo was so eager to come over and announce his virginity loss to him was more than a little endearing, and dare he say cute.

"that's great, man. congrats." suguru leads him into the kitchen — still shamelessly shirtless — to grab them both a can of beer in celebration. while the white-haired man usually didn't get involved with any form of alcohol, this occasion was most definitely exception-worthy. "you made y/n cum too, right?"

an offended glare is shot his way. "duh, two times."

"huh. surprised you could last."

as suguru pours their drinks into two fragile cups, gojo exhales, not bothered in the slightest by his jab. "dude, same.." he admits dreamily. "she was so fuckin' tight and warm.. and oh— fuck, her moans? heavenly.. 'can't believe i didn't bust after the first minute.."

geto gulps, trying his best to ignore the mental image his brain was producing from his dirty words. you can't blame him — both of you were smoking hot, and he was a simple man.

even now, he could already imagine what you both looked like; panting and moaning, skin-slapping so loud that it echoed through the whole room, how blissed out you'd look as gojo's cock split you in t—

satoru's playful sigh cuts through the tensing air. "who knows sugs, maybe you'll have another kind of stain to worry about next time we're over~"

he's never snapped out of a daydream so quickly. "don't even joke about that."

over the next hour, the two men sat manspread on the stained couch, taking leisure sips while recalling satoru's final moments as a virgin — suguru giving out his secret tips and tricks along the way.

maybe sometime, suguru could offer some.. hands-on learning instead.

mlist! <- sugu.. how could u think abt ur bestie and his gf like that... tsk tsk tsk (if u enjoyed reblogs/comments r appreciated heheh)

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[screampied]

❛ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ HARLEYS IN HAWAII ❜ g. satoru

☆ sum. it’s been almost a year with your sugar daddy and as a candied sweet surprise, he takes you on his private yacht. although—the thing that’s even sweeter is the ‘love’ chocolates you both try just for fun. after all, satoru’s always had a sweet tooth.

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), unprotected, aphrodisiac chocolates, marathon séx, praise, dirty talk, overstim, dry humping, feral gojo, fīngering, cervīx mentions, cunnilīngus, spīt, hair pulling, size kink, premature ejac, breedīng, petnames.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist.

“ah ah, no peekin’ sweetheart,” a husky voice purrs near the nape of your neck. your plump lips curl into a pout as he’s making you drag your feet toward wherever he was taking you to. the air felt coolly warm, so much so that it was humid. satoru told you to wear something comfortable and warm, specifically a sundress. “there we go, jus’ a few more steps. good girl,” and the rubber bottoms of your flip flops stomp against something hard—you’re assuming the rising platforms were stairs. your ears perk and twitch a bit at the sound of crashing waves and you start to grow curious.

“are you—”

“shhh, quiet baby,” he shushes you, and you feel various designer cold band of his rings dance against your skin. again, once you step into what seems to be some wooden platform, he stops you from walking, turning you to face another way. big hands cover over your eyes and your own hands before he gives your cheek a soft chaste kiss. “m’kay, ready to see your surprise?”

with a nod, he removed his palms from your face and your eyes widen at the revealed sight. a yacht, not just any yacht though, but a private one — the satoru gojo yacht that was probably worth millions. it was huge in person, and you don’t even realize the two of you are both in the middle of the ocean until seconds later. “satoru,” you sheepishly say, feeling a wave of butterflies thump through your heart. the older man’s got the cheekiest grin and he takes off his sunglasses, putting them over your face. “when you said ‘surprise’ i thought you meant like new earrings or something.”

“i can always give you those too,” he strokes your cheek, watching as you fail to maintain direct eye contact. despite having the tinted expensive lenses protect your eyes from the sun, it still shined bright—making you squint a little. satoru’s voice pitches low before he playfully lifts you up, fixing the back of your sundress. “but sweetheart, this weekend’s just about you ‘n me,” and once your arms cling onto him, he starts walking near the lower part of the rumbling yacht. “besides, i have one more surprise to show you. felt like spoilin’ you a bit more today.”

you were quite literally living in luxury. .

as if the outside of the yacht wasn’t breathtaking, just wait until you saw the master bedroom.

despite how you were slowly starting to get accustomed to this lifestyle, his lifestyle—you couldn’t help but be amazed at such royalties being given to you. his yacht was even prettier inside, but this was the norm for satoru. and with him, he had no problem sharing his luxuries with you, his favorite girl.

just for you and no one else.

but you couldn’t think but get trapped in your mind at certain thoughts plucking through your brain. you started to wonder what would have happened if satoru was never a passenger of first class when you used to work as a flight attendant.

you’d constantly wonder the what if’s, but of course you were always always grateful. it’s one of the many thing’s satoru liked about you, how you were always thankful without even saying it. you’d show it, even going far as to giving him gifts.

“imagine we lived here,” satoru hums, leaning back against the satiny cushioned pillows. the entire room was spacey, with rose-gold paint covering the walls. he brushes a thumb over his cocktail glass as he sits on the burgundy sofa. the slick floor’s a sheeny beige color, and in the background, played some old vintage noir.

‘sunset boulevard’, one of satoru’s favorites.

he preferred lots of silent films and adored more than anything when the two of you would watch them together. he’s got on a silk red robe, twirling a bit of his white shown chest hair with a finger. “life on the water. sounds romantic, yeah?”

“what if we drowned, ‘toru,” you mumble, stepping out of the bathroom. the floor was made of slick glass crystals that made up the smooth texture, and you then pause—staring at the white haired man. he’s pretty, manspread and laid back with his hair slickly parted. ever since he’s met you, he grew his hair out a little and it slightly flows near his shoulders a bit. still unkempt and parted, it gives him a more maturely modern look.

his dimples poke near the inside of his cheeks before he simpers. “princess, we won’t drown,” and he sets aside his glass. satoru’s bright eyes linger toward your sundress—one of the many he’s bought you within in the past month.

it fit perfectly, it’s a cerulean blue color that almost matches his eyes.

if it was anything he liked, it was to pick out your outfits, and of course—he’d let you do the same for him. “phew,” he whistles, eyeing you carefully. “you look gorgeous. like always,” he murmurs, averting his eyes away from the screen and now giving you his uninvited attention. your plush thighs cling together before you feel the room of the yacht grow abnormally warm. “oh, right. the other surprise i wanted to show you, c’mere.”

“okay,” you mumble, making your way toward him. satoru slouches back against the cushioned sofa, spreading his legs even wider. slut, he knew what he was doing with his robe slit halfway open, exposing his growing chest hair. a snowy white curl of hairs glue against his chest and you gawk further down toward his lengthy happy trail. god, you found yourself swallowing thickly the more you stared and you could see the smug grin forming against his thin lips. “what . . is it?”

“i remember a few weeks ago you said you wanted to try tabs chocolate,” satoru mumbles, and you watch as he pulls out a thin black cover of rich chocolate. your eyes widened.

he remembered?

you stare at the pricey covered casing, already smelling the cocoa from the wrap. it was true . .

you teased satoru about wanting to try tabs chocolate one day, just to see if it was really real. you were curious on if the chocolate really could help invigorate and arouse people in the bedroom. satoru shrugs, glancing at the cursive writing displayed on the candy. “. . so, i got it for us both. i don’t think it really works, by the way.”

with an eye roll, you plop down on his lap. a beefy arm snakes around your waist before you grab the slim package. “i checked the ratings online. ‘m pretty sure it works, satoru,” and he gives you a complacent nod with his hands raising teasingly. calling your bluff quietly, he watches you tear the plastic all the way open. his eyes follow your fingers and how they swiftly drag away at the nearly wrapped material. once everything’s removed, it’s an entire dark chocolate bar with three perfectly attached squares. even the smell was arousing. “do you wanna try it at the same time?”

“how ‘bout you feed it to me,” satoru coos, and you feel what you think is his leg prodding underneath you. “i’ll feed you yours, sweetheart.”

damn, even his sentences sounded vaguely dirty.

you felt a lump grow in your throat before you blink thrice, holding up the bar of candy. “f. . fine,” you huff, and you watch as his perfectly parted lips sprawl apart. at the same time, you both slowly feed each other a small bite of the chocolate. the moment the rich taste of maca cocoa and sugar falls onto your salivating tastebuds, you let off a soft hum. it’s sweet, but you remember reading online that the effects would take a good twenty to thirty minutes to kick in.

satoru chews it, swallowing it and he scoffs. “honey, i think you just got scammed. nothing’s happening—”

famous last words. .

because not even thirty minutes later, satoru finds himself dived nose-first right between your legs.

he’s feral, on his knees for you and all. usually, satoru would shower you with lots of foreplay, kissing down your neck, your thighs, every part and inch of your body — but now, he couldn’t.

not when he felt so hot, his body felt like it was it was scorchingly on fire. and of course, satoru being satoru just had to lick your fingers after you fed him his single piece of chocolate.

you’re laid up on the sofa now, whimpering with a hand digging through his shaggy white locks.

satoru’s the most deranged he’s ever been, and you’ve seen him feral for you in more ways than you could count. he’s laying his tongue flat, lapping up your sweet folds, still tasting the chocolate on his tongue with the mixture of your own slick.

“f- fuuuck,” he’d huff, feeling his heart beat thump through his ears. it was barely even a big bite and he was like this. you couldn’t help but imagine how he’d be if he ate the entire bar.

you’re moaning, glancing out the window and taking in the breathtaking view of the dancing choppy waves staring right back at you. a pretty serene canvas of rotating waters—you found yourself getting lost at the sea, gazing at how the waters would violently crash against the bottom of the yacht. it’s a mesmerizing view. after a while, your eyes move back down toward satoru who’s still between your legs. he’s lowly groaning, slowly rutting his hips into the edge of the sofa. “ ‘s like the candy makes you taste sweeter.”

“don’t stop s- satoru,” you moan, making sure to keep a firm grip on his head. his pretty lashes were closed shut whilst he’s swirling counterclockwise circles against your puffed clit.

fuck, you felt a gasping shriek snatch out from the back of your throat once you felt him starting to suck. he was always messy - always.

tangled strings of saliva would dribble down past the corners of his lips, flopping onto your sweet cunt. satoru had the kind of tongue where you’d feel him everywhere.

he flicks it around everywhere, spelling out every letter of his name before spitting on it, licking it up directly afterwards. a palm smears his bubbling saliva before he laps it up again, thrusting his tongue in and out. “ooooh,” you’d squeal, feeling him wrap his mouth around your pussy. you’re twitching inside every few seconds and he feels your cute dramatic pulses. beryl blue eyes that blissfully shine against the sunlight flicker up at you briefly and he’s got that same smug grin again.

“mphm, pull on it,” he grunts, and you whine once he traps your swollen clit between his teeth, holding your throbbing nub hostage. satoru can feel himself getting more and more hard, all because of the sweet melodic sounds that left from your lips.

both lips, on one end you’re hysterically moaning and the next, you’re squelching repeatedly.

his favorite thing to listen to—satoru’s favorite place out of all the places he’s taken you to, had to be between your thighs.

at his words, you weakly give him a soft tug, grabbing a nice handful of his perfect locks and he gets tugged forward. “good girl,” he huskily grumbles, resuming to lick two long stripes up and down against your cunt. forever more, he’s savoring your syrupy taste that lingers on his tongue and dribbles from the chin down, moaning from the aftertaste of the chocolate that just won’t go away. “god, this view’s even prettier than the ocean,” he licks his lips, and you feel yourself pulsate once he breaks away for a split moment to catch irregular breaths.

satoru swipes a thumb over his naturally glossed lips, whistling against your pussy just to feel your sensitive nub throb on his tongue even more.

“oh, she’s a cutie,” he rasps, white brows pursing together. he pulls out two long fingers, preparing to delve them inside. “so pretty ‘n all soaked just for me,” and you moan, your thighs curling around his shoulders. squiiish, the moment he’s easing his lengthy thin fingers inside, you gush out a bit right on him. you were indeed wet . . sopping.

you were already a bit drenched from before, and with the chocolate, you felt even more aroused. it felt like being on a rush - a sugar rush.

satoru huskily coos, delicately curling his fingers further inside before he reaches your g-spot within just two inches of a stretch. “there it is, there’s my other favorite girl.”

“sato—fuucckk,” you drag out your pathetic words, gradually moving his head to side against your sopping cunt with one hand. he’s got his mouth full, stuffed, and his entire face was just flushed from being squished between your thighs. “like that, s- suck my clit, baby.”

“baby, huh?” he mocks your sudden pet name, feeling your fingers comb through his messy frosted strands. embarrassment washes over you and he chortles, finding your reaction to his teasing downright adorable. you whimper as he’s still vigorously scissoring long twin digits inside of you. as your stomach submissively caves in, you start to gnaw on the bottom of your lip. “aw, don’t be shy. i like bein’ called petnames too, y’know,” he whispers against your cunt, watching how easily you soak up both fingers.

your folds couldn’t help but drool. streams of your own slick cascade down between the crevices of your thighs and coat the entirety of his fingers.

with a rosy flat tongue, he slurps you clean, taking every few seconds to pull his fingers out - only to push them right back in.

as your eyes squeeze shut, you start to feel your teeth clench and shatter together from the rhyming pressure.

there, once the fat tips of his fingers poke against your g-spot again, and again, and again. .

that was all it took for you to let off a cute three second shriek. abruptly, a sharp twisting coil snaps within you and he feels your thighs turbulently shake within his feeble grasp.

“fuck, fuck,” you whine, feeling his lukewarm breath continue to ghost against your clit. you couldn’t stay still for the life of you—it was as if every muscle in your body snapped once you came, your jaw dropped and your eyes widened.

“ohmygodohmygod,” you ramble, and satoru’s still flicking his tongue against your sobbing slit.

you’re making a mess out of him and he’s eating it up - like always. his pointed chin’s got such a pretty glimmer of shine all thanks to your glimmering slick running down. with a echoing ‘pop’, he slides his fingers out of your cunt, stretching his digits further apart just to see how your sap glues against them. “ngh, s- satoru you’re so nasty.”

“only nasty for you, sweetheart,” he cheekily whispers, leaning further in to give your cunt one single kiss.

it’s a soft passionate smooch that makes you throb against his lips. only satoru gojo could make out with your pussy right between your thighs. you’re speechless—you could feel yourself still shaking from your recent orgasmic release, the ringing in your ears never subsiding.

satoru’s pretty azul eyes remain fixated on your wet cunt before he gives it one final suck of departure. “mmph,” and his growing white stubble starts to drench even more all because of your sweet slickness that smears against your the lower part of his face. “fuck, ‘m still hungry. ‘s not enough.”

as your legs twitch and remain spread apart, you’re gasping for air as you watch him take breaths of his own to collect himself. “don’t pout,” he huffs, sitting up to close the distance between you both. with his hair all ruffled and tangled—he grinds himself into you. “oh. you want a taste too, pretty?”

“y- yeah,” you nod with droopy eyes, feeling the same amounts of sheer heat.

satoru’s flushed just as much as you, and it seems like as he’s leaning into you, he’s moving in slow motion. once his lips crash onto yours, you moan into his mouth.

he wastes no time shoving his tongue down your throat, pulling on the straps of your sundress. you feel a wolffish grin curl against his lips once his tongue delves even further into your mouth, feeling you part your own away. satoru can’t help but grind against your warm body, feeling your legs hook around his waist. even the touch—the skin against skin makes you both even more hotter. it’s like static rubbing off against each other, and you were about to feel yourself short circuit any minute.

“fuck, ‘toru,” you whimper between sultry sloppy kisses, loud teeth smacking and clashing together. you slowly drag a hand down his hairy chest, twirling a frosty strand around your finger.

the taste — it’s candied sweet.

the rich cocoa still lingers on both twisting tongues and you moan, feeling him nip his teeth near your lip. “you’re perfect,” he gruffly purrs, his voice having its same deep rasp. his kisses become more and more filthy and rough and he playfully licks underneath your chin. “mhm, woman you drive me crazy.”

satoru was still very much hard though—very.

you could feel his boner poke from his robe, it must’ve felt painful.

he was so hard, it outlines against the silky woven fabric the more he grinds into you. satoru couldn’t keep his hands off of you. he’s leaving an invisible trail of kisses all down the slope of your neck, sucking against your tender exposed skin. you always tasted sweet than any chocolate he’s ever eaten.

but it’s to his surprise once you lightly push him back against the cushioned sofa.

“hmph! hey,” he falls back, white strands sticking across his perspiring forehead. satoru eyes you with a bewildered look, wondering what’s with the sudden bratty glint shining in your dilated irises. “that was rude, princess. oughta—”

“lie back,” only two words and he was at your very command. satoru couldn’t lie, whenever you had the audacity to give him orders . . he found it hot.

even if it didn’t last that long,

the white haired man slouches back at your command, roving his eyes down your body. he studies the pretty sundress that hugs against your curves and the way you move.

satoru ogles openly as you made your way on top, straddling him before slowly throwing your arms over his broad shoulders. “relax satoru,” you’d breathe, and he groans the moment electrifying friction kneads against his lap. all because of your hips swerving on his raging boner, you cause a spark that ignites within you both. to say you were a ‘mere’ tease was an understatement. “like that, hold my hips baby,” and his big hands gradually move toward your rocking waist. you start to jerk against him real slowly, casually grinding yourself on his lap. you swerved around, guiding his hands to where you wanted them to go.

“oh, s. . sweetheart,” he choked out a nervous laugh, his boner steadily arising underneath his robe.

for a moment, the two of you forget that you’re both on a yacht, surrounded by nothing but smooth pretty bodies of water. it was as if it was only you and him in the entire world. time stood still. it was like you were moving slow, and the more your body moved, the slower time got.

satoru stares at the way you playfully sway your hips against his. he groans, the cloth from his robe that protects his hardened cock continuing to rub against his skin. “you’re killin’ me here. let me touch some more at least.”

“ask nicely,” you lean in closely, pressing a kiss near the left side of his cheek. satoru shivers from your touch, his jaw feeling heavy. such a tease, but that’s what he got for spoiling you rotten.

with a near pout, satoru grumps. “please, sweetheart,” and his big hands glide toward your active waist anyway. “let me touch my pretty girl while she’s movin’ her cute hips on me,” and his playfulness returns within a blink of an eye. you hear the cheekiness in his voice and he leans in to nip a kiss near your neck. “fuckin’ brat.”

“then do something about it.” you whisper with a coy grin, resuming your salaciously addictive movements against his lap. satoru grunts, his brows contorting together in frustration before he grabs your wrists, pinning them up.

satoru’s now got you in a secure grasp and a hand snakes down your waist, giving your ass a soft squeeze. a jiggling nice chunk goes into his palm before he seductively licks up your neck. “i plan to, little girl.”

and he did.

one second you’re on his lap—the next, you’re lightly being slammed on all fours, cheek smushed ruthlessly against the padded sofa.

you squeak out a tiny gasp, feeling him practically tear your sundress apart. satoru groans, staring at your bare ass cheek that’s peeking out of your loose clothing. you’ve got a bratty smile twirling against your lips but it soon fades away once you feel that.

his fat tip—satoru brings it up towards the opening of your sopping cunt, smacking it three times against your folds. “you’ve got some nerve, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, hearing your broken whimpers return.

god, even your pussy felt warm against him. fiery electricity surges through you both and he hisses, watching as your pulsating pussy desperately tries to swallow his cock wholly.

he’s so big, you knew it and you didn’t even have to face him directly. all you had to do was feel.

his tip was round and thick, reddened with a rosé flushed color. satoru tosses his head back, feeling your pussy twitch against him as a sloppy greeting of its own.

“heh. she’s so excited,” he breathes through clenched teeth, already breaking a sweat. the yacht continues to slowly create distance in the background but at that point, no one was even thinking about the yacht. “so. fuckin’. wet.”

he smacks his weighty dick against the outside entrance of your pussy, hearing the sloshing whines squawk out of your poor needy folds. as he’s hitting his tip against your cunt, he purposely punctuates his words with tap.

“satoruuuu.” you’d moan, desperately aching for him to just go in already. you wanted it, and the searing heat you felt coursing through your veins just from the chocolate made you throb ten times more.

“i know, baby. i know,” he coos in a rough voice, talking over your whiny babbles. panting heavily,

satoru glances down once his leaking tip finally disappears inside of your drenched cunt. you let off a shaky breath, even going so far as to wriggling your ass back against him just so he could hurry the fuck up.

“tsk. so impatient,” he snickers, velvet straps of his robe skimming against his skin. satoru’s got a bulbous fat curve and with a single hand, he gives his cock a few stroking pumps.

one, two, three . .

he groans once a bit of loose skin from his coral colored frenulum peels back. as he’s stroking himself every few milliseconds, a prodding vein pokes against his palm. bristles of white hairs that glue against his thickset base tickle against his skin.

“mhm, gonna take my time with you. now let’s see that cute arch. just like we practiced.”

moaning, your back raises slightly with your knees cowardly burying themselves into the sofa. “mmph,” and he lightly pushes your head further into the cushion. his tip was so close.

he’s hitting you from behind with his thrusts slowly, on purpose.

he wants to hear those sweet sounds cry out from your lips. satoru grunts once he’s finally going in, thick cock stretching around your elastically stretched walls.

you’re so soft — sweet gummy flesh compressing around him with such ease, wringing him tight like a vice. satoru groans, giving his chiseled hips a single shimmy before pursing his lips together.

“thaaat’s it, hngh. this pussy knows it’s place,” he grouses, and your eyes widen once you feel his plumpish tip delve further between each corner of your slick cunt. he’s fucking thick, and within seconds later he was already inches in.

once his flushing crown disappears inside of your cunt, you whimper once he gives you one single thrust that causes your entire body underneath him to quake. “fuck, ‘s so sensitive,” satoru nearly whines, still feeling tingly from the saccharine flavored treat. he’s panting heavily, mouth dangling open and all. “how’s it feel, sweetheart? ‘m not going too rough, yeah? talk to me.”

“good. feels good, ngh. don’t stop, ‘toru. harder,” you beg, a hand of yours reaching from behind, crawling near your ass. you eye satoru through your blurred peripherals as you turn slightly around and he flashes you a sleazy grin.

that’s the look he makes before he’s about to fuck you stupid,

that’s the look where his eyes were hooded and half lidded, panting heavily like a dog with multiple thin strands of white hair sticking across his forehead.

you were fucked, literally. .

“hah, wasn’t gonna,” he moans, feeling his cock grow insanely sensitive. it was in a way he couldn’t explain—so hot, his head swells up once he starts to move.

as he’s trying to create a decent rhythm with his hips, he’s oscillating deeply into your core. sloppy thrusts pound into you with such carnal vigor that he’s basically humping against your cunt.

every few elongated seconds that dragged out, his tip mercilessly smacks against that target buried deep inside your cunt, striking a perfect bullseye.

‘x’ makes the spot, and his dick always knew where to locate your clit — every single time.

it doesn’t take long before satoru loses it, and he’s losing his momentum. his movements consisted of want and ache.

the head of satoru’s cock was turgid, slowly dragging in and out of your puffed clit as you damp up his entire length. you whimper, feeling the legs of the sofa rattle and jitter from underneath you both. he’s got mean deep strokes that leaves your jaw dropped, toes curled, tummy churning all from how good he’s hitting you.

you’re cutely smothered into the pillows with your mouth just pried open, forming a small gasping ‘o.’

every stroke, every hit, every smack against your ass, you felt like you were on cloud nine - the lewd dirty version no one ever talks about though.

satoru’s got a big hand tracing down the curvature of your waist that later trails down toward your ass. he can’t help but feel against the thin fabric of the sundress, tempted to just rip it off it you. he’d be happy to buy you dozens more anyway.

“fuck me, fuck me satoru,” your eyes roll crisscross, and your entire body feels itself repeatedly ringing from the merciless slaps of skin hitting against each other with determined might to reach his well awaited potency.

he’s bucking his hips against you, watching as tears of sweat start to race down the cracked valley of your ass. “fuck, ‘toru, satoru—ah!”

“heh, sweetheart the walls aren’t soundproof,” satoru playfully bonks the back of your head. your moaning falters, and he chuckles mid-thrust. “aw, don’t be embarrassed,” and you let off a soft gasp once he presses his sharp hips all the way against you. a beefy arm wraps around your neck in a safe hold before he grunts in a husky whisper right up against your ear canal. “ ‘m sure the captain won’t mind, be as loud as you want.”

“s- shit,” you whimper, already starting to feel your thighs struggle to stay afloat. satoru towers over you completely, rutting into you from behind with irregular toe-curling hits.

he’s meanly jackhammering you further into the sofa, the screeching sounds of the seagulls outside growing louder. the loud reverberating claps of skin that roughly ricochet against skin makes your ears ring like bells on a wedding day.

as he’s feeling his cock tighten inside of you, he’s now got you in prone bone. he’s so close to you, hovering his weight behind you with his sculptured hips glued to your ass.

satoru’s thrusts now go slow, slow but deep, making sure you feel, savor, and devour every single inch. “ugh, that spot ‘toru, right fuckin’ there. ‘m close.”

a hand goes over your mouth and you let of a muffled, ‘mmph?’ as he’s still fucking you raw.

satoru’s popping his bulbous crownhead in and out of your stuffed pussy before lowly groaning once coolly air briefly sets against his skin.

“watch that mouth,” and you whimper, feeling his free hand grab near your neglected breasts. you lean into his touch, feeling a bit of your own saliva dribble onto his palm. a thumb of his swipes against your perked nipples that poke through your sundress and you let off a muffled moan. “such a filthy pretty mouth. ‘s a shame,” and he leans in more, licking a stripe near your neck. “i don’t think girls with colorful mouth’s should cum. do you think they should?”

as if on cue, your head raises up and down, doing a cute attempt of a nod as he’s still got your mouth covered. satoru’s still thwacking his fat cockhead into your g-spot continuously until your brain’s short circuiting.

“awww, yeah?” he hums, pressing a kiss near the back of your head. and oh, he’s cocky again, deepening his hits against your core. removing his arm from around your neck, he raises your hips up just a little bit for a more better and thorough angle. “too bad, because i wasn’t talkin’ to you, silly girl.”

and you moan even louder once a rude buck of his hips snaps into you at such untamed speed. you gasp right away, your entire body trembling beneath the sofa. “talkin’ to her,” and as his hand drags down your back, he maneuvers a few circles against your stuffed clit.

you’re whimpering, occasionally glancing out the window. the waves continue to crash against the port side of the yacht background — beautiful.

you’d never get used to the view. the salty smell of the sea wafts against your flaring nostrils as you’re literally being stuffed full of cock, eyes rolling back with your back completely arched. satoru’s so big, splitting you open with his vast mushroom tip so easily. “god, she’s got so much to say today, listen to her cute ‘lil sentences,” and he briefly pulls out, hearing your cunt ‘pop’ out a word or two, wetly squelching from the continuous thrusts.

satoru’s throbbing cock drooled from the sides with seeping white droplets of pre-cum and he groans once he feels himself tightening yet again.

“fuck mee,” and he takes a second to stare at your pretty cunt that’s got your folds slobbering with so much honeyed glistening sap. “aw, she said no,” he teases, dragging a sleazy thumb down your pleading saturated entrance. your mess quickly soaks against his fingertips, making him just as wet as you. satoru feels you writhing against his touch, begging for him to finish and he chuckles. he tsks, wrapping a hand around his shaft before another hand wraps around your neck. hmm. does the pretty baby deserve it? after that ‘lil stunt you tried to pull on me?”

“s- satoru, please,” you moan, feeling your weak legs gradually buckle against the fuzzy furniture. you swallowed whatever pride you had left, feeling your mouth suddenly grow dry as the anticipation grew.

you were so close - right there. practically. gnawing on the bars of your enclosure.

he knew had to tease you, keep you on the edge of your toes. with your ass cutely trying to raise up and move back against him, you let off a sobbing moan. “lemme cum, please. ‘m sorry.”

“no you’re not, sweetheart,” he whispers. aligning himself again between your sniveling slick slit, his wide pink tip leisurely starts to stretch throughout your gummy walls yet again. oh, that part. the way his hefty hanging curve twists its way inside, you felt like you were tasting literal ecstasy. “are ya?”

“no,” you moan, still having a bit of brat left in you.

satoru snickers, the expensive band of his watch gliding against your hip as he holds you in place.

“at least you’re honest,” and you shudder, feeling him lick a long stripe up your sensitive jugular. his girth was so broad and wide, you feel him dip every inch inside of your cunt and you were sure you were gonna break.

he treated you like a doll—specifically a rag doll, tossing you and fucking you where it hits good.

but, fuck was satoru was ruthless.

he’s unapologetically sloppy with his thrusts, making you grind back into his pivoting hips. as his sack hangs back against his loose skin, he smears his lax lips together, groaning at how effortlessly you were squeezing against him.

“fuck, you’re gonna make me cum too, sweetheart,” and as his body’s still pressed right against yours, he hoarsely grunts lowly against your ear. “give it t’ me, make a mess on ‘toru, baby.”

his words poured into your ears like silk, smooth like honey. each sentence he spoke had an effect on you, more than the love chocolates ever did . .

you felt your pussy sporadically convulsing just from his raspy out of breath tone alone.

satoru’s rotund cockhead continues to bruise against your cervix, sloppily kissing around each spot until you’re practically screaming out his name. “louderrr,” he purrs, kissing down your neck once more.

the coarse smacks of skin continue to echo against the walls of the spacious yacht bedroom and satoru grunts.

oh, he’s whipped.

his hips start to slow down by each second, and you feel that pressure within you finally snap. “that’s my girl, thaaaat’s it,” and he talks over your whimpers yet again, creating a wet trail of kisses down your shown shoulder blade. “atta girl, atta fuckin’ girl.”

the both of you groan in unison and after a while, he shortly follows. satoru’s cock was so full, he’s snapping his hips into you at such a wicked speed that you could barely keep up. his stamina was simply unmatched.

you let off a whine and so does he—seeping his teeth into your neck. “hngh, fuckin’ shit.” and as he grabs both of your hips, slowly reeling you back into him - he’s cumming, hard.

thick ropes slowly spurt into you, spraying right near your womb and he lets off the sexiest moan.

it lasts for a good seconds, and it’s like he got defeated — your pussy being the opponent. .

satoru’s washboard abs flex beneath his rope as his head tosses back. it’s an almost growl that leaves his lips. his sensitive tip locks into your tightening entrance, still feeling ribbons of satiny ropes dribble into you at such a snail like pace. it’s so much.

he’s staring to pant more and more as globs of sweat pouring down the sides of his forehead. satoru’s cock shrivels up inside of you and he gives your ass a soft spank. his sweltering hot crown stills itself inside of your cunt as he stays still, lavishing in the sensitivity of both slick mounds enjoy the sticky feelings of fluids combining in lewd felicity. both bodies rut against each other and now it was his turn for his eyes to roll back.

“s- satoru,” you quietly whimper out, feeling the bubbles of creamy wads ooze down between the fat crevices of your thighs.

a lustrously white ring forms around his tender base before he gradually starts to pull himself out. you’re still reclined, feeling your entire body heat up even more. your sundress was still pulled up to your waist and he groans, tugging at the fabric with one hand, another touching his own mess he just created that’s spilling down your thighs.

“such a sloppy girl,” he huffs, out of breath. even still, he’s cumming inside and merrily fills you up to the very brim.

you moan once he slides back in, only to pull his aching tip right back out out. it’s another loud ‘pop’ that resounds through each of your twitching ears.

holding a sharp breath, satoru’s cock slathers itself against your drooling pussy before smacking it against your folds yet again. “look at that, ‘m never gonna get tired of that sight.”

satoru ends up fucking you stupid for hours on his yacht.

in all positions—any position, he moved you toward the bed, folding your poor limbs like a pretzel while his cock continued to massage through your walls by stretching you open. satoru made sure you never forget the barrage he made inside with his lengthy length.

satoru was always whipped for you, but it’s like with the addition of chocolate, it made him ten times more feral. ten times more feral for you.

he’s hungry, you could see the look in his eyes. how his pupils were blown, how he made sure to give you romantically deep yet nasty strokes.

his body would rock against you in sync against your own while the yacht that carried you both continued to judder in the background.

he pumped you full—stuffing you entirely again, and again, and again . . simply put, he was virile.

like he said before, you drove him crazy, and he was starting to think to himself, maybe . . just maybe, you weren’t just his sugar baby anymore.

each time he’d spray a generous amount of cum inside of you, he’d let out a loud guttural groan. he’s weak from how warm you feel from the inside, and your moans for him to keep going only fueled him. satoru’s a literal animal, manhandling your body and fucking you everywhere he possibly could in the master bedroom.

the sofa, the bed, the wall, against the mirror. .

his favorite,

he loved to wrap a hand around your throat, making you stare at your lewd facial expressions right with him. the way your glossed lips would part and your eyes would widen once he makes you stare at the slight bulge that pokes against the lower part of your tummy. he’d serenade something to your ear in a purring deep voice like, “feel me there, sweetheart?” making you touch the exact spot he was hitting.

a pearly stream of his seed dribbles outside of your folds and now, he’s got you in nothing more but an intimate mating press.

“eyes up here,” he rasps a soft panting tone, gently prying your hands away from your face.

he’d just coaxed you through yet another orgasm, and your entire body felt like it just ran a marathon. you were sure by now the effects of the chocolate had worn off for the both of you - it did.

but with satoru, he looked like those many rounds didn’t even faze him. not one.

he’s still lodged inside of your cunt, his tip spitting out thick ropes for the nth time of the night and he groans. your eyes glance down his snowy happy trail and glance at his sharp v-line that’s tensing up from the stimulation. “you . . took me so well,” and he leans in, pressing a tender kiss against your lips.

“mmf—” your arms wrap around him, entrapping his skin waist with your legs. his toned body rocks itself into you for just a few more times before he steadily pulls out. his flaccid cock rests against your bare tummy and you moan, tasting the last few remnants of sugar that lies on his tongue.

satoru’s heart beats rapidly, and once he opens his eyes to stare at you, he knew you were dangerous.

tresses of white hair glue against your skin once his forehead lightly pressed against yours. within seconds, after he found himself pulling you into another deep kiss, something was different. this time, out of all the kisses you shared with him, you think this one meant something more.

it was far more slow and passionate, his body rocks against yours and he groans in your mouth, feeling your hands scratch down his soft skin. you leave a painting of scratches all down his back, a canvas he can’t wait to look at later.

as your tongue continues to tangle with his, strands of spit form into translucent cobwebs before he starts to suck on your tongue. “god, woman you drive me insane,” and he pulls away, completely out of breath. his pretty lips were all glossed and swollen, and he cups your face. “sweets, i—,” he cuts off, locking eyes with you.

his heart was pounding,

telling him to say it - just say it.

but the way you gave him that look . . your arms remain wrapped around him, limbs tangled with each other and he lets out a soft sigh. delicately, he pulls out and watches you let off a soft moan once you were now clenching around nothing.

“ah,” he shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss against the corner of your quivering lip. “i . .” and a lump gets caught in his throat.

you strum a thumb against his undercut, a simple gesture that you knew would always soothe him.

the white haired man leans into your touch, his heart practically yelling at him to just spit the words out before he speaks against your lips, slowly lifting up your leg, kissing your ankle.

“i think . . i think ‘m in love with you, sweetheart.”