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baepsays · 1 day ago

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Musician Geto Suguru and his never-ending beef with his bandmates over your attention.

The thing is, as their main producer and just a very sought-after producer in the industry, he's barely able to leave his studio. Things were different before the scandal, before he was reintroduced to you, and before you two went official. His schedule was simple then—studio, recordings, shows, parties and clubs he was a regular at, getting high out of his mind on coke and weed, and going back to his studio. He barely saw any light, and his apartment felt foreign; hotel rooms were more homely than his apartment. Now it's lived in, with traces of you and the life he is building with you. Your—and now also his—scoundrel cat's claw marks are everywhere; there are stains on the couch, and all the smooth and shiny furniture is now matted. He also prefers his home studio, which he never came around to using, much better than the one at the company.

To simply say, things are mundane in the best way possible. Having lunches and dinners with his bandmates and just talking about things other than work or how he's losing himself was much more fun, he has to say. Especially when no one is throwing punches at him backstage, ahem—Sukuna—ahem. Of course it took more effort to carve out this new usual than how he used to just live off of drugs, caffeine, burning through cigarettes, and barely any food. He much prefers the boring days where he just goes from work to home to see you only at the end of the day, of course, not more than when you come to their shows. But he'll take anything, just to have you around for more than the mornings before and nights after work; it's a privilege. Even having you for more than just 3 shows for a tour is a blessing, due to the vast difference in your schedules.

Which is why he truly looks forward to days when you drop by to have lunch with him. Those weekdays are always a highlight of his week. So when he has to compete with his own bandmates for your attention or the home-cooked lunch you make for him to eat with him in the privacy of his studio, preferably sitting on his lap.

He wants to fight his own bandmates as violently as he used to. Choso, he gets; after all, Choso is the sweetest of them all; it sometimes does not make any sense to him how he ended up in this edgy rock band. But then again, where was Suguru going to find a vocalist and guitarist of Choso’s caliber? Yet still, Suguru does not appreciate it when he takes up your time when you two exchange recipes. Then there is Toji, always barging in to steal the precious food you made for Suguru, eating up most of the food while always making excuses about just one small bite. Suguru would have made Shiu (their CEO) kick Toji out of the company itself, just because of this petty reason, if there was anyone else better on the drums than him.

Then there is Sukuna. Probably the one who pisses him off the most. Because why is the broody, scary, and one of the quietest men that Suguru knows like a social butterfly around you? Sure, you legally represent their band, but why is he so chatty around you about everything and anything? Is it not enough that he has to deal with one social butterfly, aka the nation's most desirable man and industry's favorite actor, Gojo Satoru, snitching out Suguru to you? There's now also Sukuna, snitching to you about how Suguru skipped meals to hole himself up in his studio for days or smoked more than two cigarettes a day. The worst part is when you drop by, you text in the group chat you are in with them to see if they would be at work that day. And you bring extra food for them or invite them sometimes to eat out with you two (and yet Toji still manages to steal off of Suguru's plate), and if it's just a you and Suguru kind of day, you still see them before or after your boyfriend locks you up in his studio with him.

Just like today, when you dropped by with a packed lunchbox for him and got roped up, yet again, with his bandmates. He got your text at exactly 13:34 PM that you entered the building, and sure, his studio was on the 19th floor, but it took only 5 minutes or so to get there. Unfortunately for him, he had to wait more than 30 minutes for you because you texted him you were just a floor below, in their practice room with his bandmates. And when 40 minutes were about to pass, Suguru had to essentially go down and abduct you by carrying you on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and making a run for it with your bag in his other hand. He could hear Sukuna yelling his name from behind, but he made it just in time to the elevator to get away with you.

“The only reason why I will ever go fully solo is because of your little fan club.” He walked into his studio while grumbling and with you still dangling on his shoulder.

“Issok, I will replace you.” He threw you on the black leather couch and lay on top of you, like he just fought an army of hungry coyotes and ran a marathon at the same time. “Hmm, I see you guys are scheming behind my back now.” He looked up at you from where he buried his face in your chest.

“I say it's very up front.” You giggled and pushed away the loose strands of his hair covering his face, and he didn't reply. Instead, he lifted himself off of you to hover and then moved up to kiss you. It was sweet, smiling, warm faces basically pressed together. Everything still feels surreal, how mundane life is right now for him considering even just two years ago the kind of mess he got himself into. That how his life looked doomed after that moment, and yet here he was.

“I have this new track in the works.” He broke off the kiss and hovered over you with his hooded eyes and a smirk so sleazy, it always made you wonder about your life choices. “Oh, am I hearing it?” You raised your brows at him, and his smirk only widened into a half smile.

“Nope. You're getting on it.” Which basically translates to, ‘I am about to make you moan, and the recording is going into the track.’ You threw your head back into the couch as you tried to push him away and groaned in annoyance. Which was not much avail to you when, despite your efforts, he nuzzled his face in your neck and started leaving a trail of kisses from the base of your neck to your jaw, then up to your lips. And when his lips met yours, a small moan just absentmindedly left your lips as his lips slotted with yours. Suguru’s lips stretched into a big smile while his eyes remained closed, and he continued kissing you until he stopped to murmur into your mouth.

“Ooh. Save all of that for the track.”

FIND MORE OF MY WORKS HERE II FIND MORE ABOUT MUSICIAN GETO

a/n: dividers by @/hyuneskkami

you can think about this as the epilogue to the musician geto au :3c which will take time. I have not graduated yet lol fuck lab exams and i am brainrotted by prince geto soooooo. you can assume what the scandal may beeeee you will be finding that and more band dynamics in the fic!

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rafeys-angel13 · 3 days ago

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day in the life of sahm!reader

— ༯ requested! ༯ blue!collar!rafe x sahm!reader

- 1.3k words - masterlist - request a fic -

5:00am

you’re woken up by rafe’s arm moving from around your waist. you whine and lift your head up to look at him, he’s getting up out of bed and walking to the bathroom. you huff and sit up.

“go back to sleep, sweetheart…” he murmurs without even looking at you, his voice quiet and raspy.

“can i have a hug first…?” you yawn and he tries to hold back a smirk, walking over to you and sitting on the bed. he pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around you.

“you gotta go back to sleep… can’t have my baby mama sleep deprived…” he murmurs, pressing a row of kisses on your shoulder. you hum and rest your head on his shoulder.

“i will” you mumble back, squeezing onto him. “— your lunch is in the fridge…” you add before he lays you back down and kisses your tiny baby bump.

“i know.” he grumbles back and walks back to the bathroom.

7:00am

your feel the bed dip and open your eyes. you see your four year old hunter’s big eyes beaming up at you.

“good morning, baby…” you mumble and he crawls up onto the bed, choosing to sit on your chest out of everywhere.

“morning, momma” he giggles and leans down, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. you giggle and return the kiss.

“shall we go make some breakfast before hunter wakes up?” you smile and poke his belly “— i bet you’re hungry, huh?”

“i’m really hungry” he nods and scrambles to get up, falling down but immediately getting back up and running to the kitchen. you chuckle and get up, deciding you should go to the bathroom— so you do.

“momma?” you head from the doorway of the bathroom as you’re sat on the toilet.

“yeah, honey?” you look up and see jack stood with his hands behind his back.

“i- um- i was trying to get hunter out of his crib and he fell… and now he’s won’t get up…” he mumbles, his cheeks flushing as he stutters.

“this is why only me and daddy are allowed to pick him up.” you sigh and get up, walking to hunter’s nursery.

he’s laying on his tummy babbling something, he shrieks when he sees you and stands up wobbly. his little chubby legs waddle over to you and you pick him up, holding him on your hip.

“morning, tough guy” you chuckle, glad he hadn’t hurt himself.

10:00am

you guys made breakfast then chilled for a few hours, the boys played with their toys while you watched your trashy reality tv show.

jack climbs up next to you on the couch, he crawls onto your lap and rests his chin on your chest. he looks up at you with the cutest blue eyes ever, the pretty ones he’d got from his dad.

“what can i do for you, sir?” you kiss his forehead and his eyebrows furrow.

“may i have a popsicle, please?” he asked with a small pout. you chuckle and push his hair out of his face.

“well since you asked so nicely… go ahead.” you smile and let him off your lap, he runs over to the freezer and grabs it.

“we’re running low, momma!” he calls as he runs back to the living room, handing you the popsicle to open.

“thanks for letting me know” you chuckle, he’s such an old man it’s funny to you. he’s so small but he talks and acts like an old man.

1:00pm

you guys had eaten lunch, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches which jj said were, quote “deliciously delicious”.

after lunch, you put hunter down for a nap— he settles surprisingly well. you turn on bluey for jack, he happily sits in front of the tv and watches it. you don’t really let the boys have too much screen time. an hour a day is enough.

in that hour; you fold laundry, wash the dishes and hoover yours and rafe’s bedroom since you hadn’t in a while.

4:00pm

you and the boys decided you wanted some biscuits. so here you are at the kitchen counter with jack on a stepstool and then hunter sat in his high chair at the end of the island.

“mommy! look watch this” jack giggles and before you know it, jack throws a handful of flour at hunter, covering hunters chubby face in the white powder.

“jack! no. we don’t do that.” you scold, holding your laugh back for dear life and pull jack down from the step stool, you put him in the corner of the kitchen before you make your way over to the crying baby.

you pick him up and try your best to brush the flour off of hunter’s face. your heart hurts at the sound of his wailing, his own hands coming up to his face and trying to scrape the flour off.

when you finally get most of the flour off of his face, you turn to jack— still holding hunter on your hip.

“tell my why you thought it was a good idea to throw flour at your brother.” you demand, still holding back your laugh.

“it was funny…” he mumbles, his head dropping down.

“it was not funny. it could’ve gone bad. now please apologise to your brother.” you crouch down to jack is level with hunter.

jack reaches out and strokes the back of hunter’s hand. “i’m sorry, hunter…” he murmurs, a small pout on his face.

“good boy, thank you…” you nod, “— okay, let’s get back to the biscuits, sensibly.”

5:30pm

the front door clicks open, jack immediately gets up and runs to the front door. he giggles with excitement as rafe picks him up and holds him in his arms.

he walks into the kitchen, the scent of the dinner you’re cooking filling his nose. “smells good, sweetheart…” he drawls out.

you smile and look over at him, his shoulders are slumped and his face and shoulders are sunburned. he still looks handsome as ever.

“thanks… you look tired” you give him a peck on the cheeks and he sets jack on the counter before wrapping his arms around you. he smiles down at you and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“i missed you, beautiful…” his hand slips under your shirt and he squeezes your stomach gently, his entire hand basically wrapping around the small bump.

“i missed you too” you smile, resting your head on his chest.

“ewwwww stop flirting” jack fake gags and tries to push you guys apart.

“hey, i can flirt with my woman all i want.” rafe’s southern drawl is particularly strong as he pokes the boys cheek. jack giggles and hunter babbles from his place on the floor.

“oh there you are, buddy! i thought you were maybe napping” rafe’s face lights up as he picks hunter up and gives him a gentle squeeze. hunter giggles and grabs rafe’s face, rafe pulls faces at him and he belly laughs— sweet baby giggles filling the room.

8:00pm

the boys were now in bed, they both put up a bit of a fight but once you read a story to jack and hummed a lullaby to hunter— they fell asleep very quickly.

now you and rafe were in bed, your head resting on his chest and leg resting over his lap. his hand is stroking your lower back as you tell him about the baking incident.

“no like an actual handful of flour, right in his face” you giggle and rafe snorts, his grip getting slightly tighter.

he laughs “i don’t know how you tell them off with a straight face, babe”

“honestly, me neither…” you sigh as rafe kisses your head, closing his eyes. “— are you going to bed…?” you ask, hoping his isn’t. you still wanted to talk to him.

“yeah… you should too…” he sighs, his breath fanning over your face.

“yeah… okay…” you nod and get more comfortable, you want to ask him to stay awake but you know that he needs his sleep.

it’s definitely annoying, but at least you’ll be able to stay up a little later on friday and saturday… maybe…

you just thank the lord you don’t have to work.

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8-evil-annoying-catboys · 3 days ago

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it’s absurd that this post is missing the real reason kids don’t play outside anymore, in america, if not other places. it’s not parental choice, really, and it’s not a culture shift towards caring more about kids’ safety. the mention of the death of community hits part of it, but the other major part that’s missing is that green spaces keep disappearing. and in places where green spaces were already scarce, kids are targeted for ‘loitering’ wherever kids used to play outside in concrete jungles. outside is incredibly hostile to everyone, but especially kids, these days.

it’s no wonder kids don’t play outside when outside is nothin but a ton of roads and 15 chain restaurants with no park or basketball court or playground within walking distance from their house, and kids with a backyard are lucky. can you blame them for staying home, and seeking out a community online to supplement their loneliness? i sure can’t. after the age of, like, 10, i was doing the same thing, and especially after i turned 13, and things weren’t as bad then as they are now.

it’s only been 11 years since i first became a teenager, and so much has changed even in that span of time, but because i was a teenager for most of that time, i saw it and i know now as an adult. i can’t blame older adults for not seeing it, if they were teens 20, 30, 40+ years ago, and they’ve been too busy with their jobs and homes and marriages to worry so much about where kids have room to play, but i’m telling you. it’s because outside is a hostile place now, throughout most of america. maybe rural kids still have green spaces to play in, but urban kids and even suburban kids don’t, really. if they do, it’s limited, and less kids play there than they did 10-20 years ago, probably due to the fact that all their other friends don’t have green spaces to play in, so they’re all playing video games online instead.

i went to my childhood neighbourhood last fall to show my boyfriend where i grew up, and i was stunned by how empty everything was. there was still the same amount of grass, most of the same trees, still a playground, but no kids. 15 years ago, on an october afternoon or even evening, there’d have been kids running around everywhere in small groups, some supervised by adults but mostly not. even at the playground, there was like, one family with ONE small child. when i was a kid, that playground ALWAYS had someone there during the day, and in the afternoons/evenings or on weekends there’d be several families and kids of all ages playing. when i was a preteen and even when i was a teenager, before moving from that neighbourhood, i’d sit on the swings with my friend and talk for hours, watching other kids run around. the place was DESERTED on a weekend afternoon last fall.

This is a legitimate and damaging cultural shift for all involved parties and it needs to be addressed.

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onlypinkslut · 2 days ago

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🎀 warning 18+ 🎀 golden retriever!with!a!dick!toji x kitten who!thinks!she’s ugly

you learned early how to make yourself smaller. not just your voice or your presence but your body. the way it was shaped. the way it unfolded. the way it responded. you learned how to close your legs just right so nothing showed. how to tilt your hips up, to keep everything tucked away and pressed shut, to move like you had nothing extra, nothing hanging, nothing wrong. you learned how to arch for a man in a way that kept his eyes from drifting too low. how to pull his mouth up when it wandered. how to keep him from ever seeing you fully, completely, exposed. because you knew what they liked. what they said when they thought no one was listening. the threads and clips and porn titles and filtered bodies. the trending surgeries and reaction videos. the screenshots of “ugly” ones passed around like warnings. you knew. and you weren’t stupid. you looked in the mirror and saw what they’d call excessive. too much. messy. wrong. and the worst part was no one ever said otherwise.

you used to think about getting it fixed. not even for yourself, but so you could finally breathe. labiaplasty ads found their way into your feed like little claws offering newness, neatness, invisibility. the dream of not worrying. of being “fuckable” in silence. of never again seeing a pause in a man’s face when his hand slipped too far. you saw the before and afters and wondered if that could make you worth staying for. if maybe with a few cuts, a few stitches, you’d finally be enough to be looked at without hesitation. touched without hesitation. loved without shame.

you didn’t ask to carry that. you didn’t want to feel disgust curling in your stomach at the thought of letting someone go down on you. it wasn’t dramatic it was learned. taught by every zoomed-in thumbnail, every high-def angle, every softly lit studio shot with the same delicate foldless silhouette. and maybe you could’ve fought it, if it wasn’t everywhere. if boys in school didn’t whisper about loose ones. if girls online didn’t giggle about looking like Barbie. if every example of beautiful didn’t also mean edited. bleached. barely there.

but you were there. you existed. you felt the softness between your legs and you hated it. the fullness. the darkness. the warmth. the way it wasn’t symmetrical or pink or shy. the way it looked when you sat a certain way. the way it stared back at you in the mirror, not dainty, not cute, just real. and that was the worst sin of all being real.

so you kept it hidden. let the lights go off first. kept your panties on longer. turned your hips away when they reached down. gave them just enough to keep going but never that. never you. not really.

because if they saw it, if they really saw it, they’d leave.

you were sure of that.

and now there’s him.

you weren’t looking for anyone. you’d learned not to. your body was a thing you kept under your clothes and in the dark, and love was always hanging by the edge of a dim lamp switch. nothing good ever came when the lights turned on.

but then there was him.

toji fushiguro.

the man who looked like someone you’d never speak to in your life. too tall. too strong. too broad. and yet somehow not like the others. not in the way he carried himself. he had that face. the kind of handsome you expect to come with cruelty. thick scar splitting his smile. lazy, predatory eyes that made your heart drop the first time they met yours. you assumed he was like the rest some ex-boxer asshole, or worse, the kind who knew he was hot. but he wasn’t. not even close.

he didn’t flirt. he didn’t brag. he didn’t even seem aware that people looked when he walked into a room. he was usually just rubbing the back of his neck, grumbling about a sore muscle, eating chips he crushed at the bottom of the bag with one hand. he wore tank tops in winter and slept with a fan on even when it was cold. he watched dumb tv shows with the subtitles off. he called you brat when you teased him and then tried to cover his smile with the back of his hand like it meant nothing. like you didn’t notice.

you tried not to fall. but it didn’t take much.

he didn’t treat you like someone he’d just sleep with. he treated you like something he wanted to keep. not with words but with small, stupid, quiet things. like running ahead just to rip a flower off some stranger’s garden and thrusting it at you while pretending not to care. or holding your wrist lightly when you crossed the street, even though no cars were coming. or showing you random things on his phone and then grinning like a little boy when you actually laughed.

he’d stare at you sometimes. not in a sexy way. just… like he was thinking. forgetting to blink. caught in something he didn’t know how to say.

you were waiting for him to get bored. to realize you were a little awkward. a little weird. not the type he probably used to pull. not long-legged or glowy or perfect. just you. plain and nervous and too soft in the wrong places.

and then one night, after a slow evening of nothing no dinner date, no candlelight, just a late movie, a bowl of cereal, and you curled up in one of his shirts he kissed you. slow. deep. no music, no noise, just the feeling of his body sinking into yours like he belonged there. like he’d waited.

and he touched you like he was scared to go too fast. like he knew what you were used to and wanted to undo it. his hand found your waist. then your hip. then slid under your thigh to press your legs open just slightly, but when he reached further when his knuckles grazed too close to where you knew the shame lived you froze.

and he noticed.

you didn’t say anything. just kissed him harder. pulled his hand up to your chest instead. made him forget the detour. but he didn’t forget.

he tried again the next time. lower this time. slower. mouth trailing down your stomach, tongue flicking warm circles into your skin. he slid his hands under your thighs again and kissed the softest parts, and when he started to shift lower pressing his nose into the place between them you tensed.

again.

each time, a new excuse. not tonight. too tired. too sore. already came, babe. no need. and he didn’t push. he just blinked, rubbed his face, and let it go.

but you could feel it.

he liked it. loved it. missed it. his hips always rolled harder after you said no. his cock twitched like he needed more. and he never said anything, but he started jerking off more than usual. you noticed. when he stayed the night, when you heard the soft grunt in the bathroom with the shower running. or when he’d come back to bed breathing different. less satisfied. like he didn’t want to tell you why.

you knew.

and you told yourself it was fine.

it was better this way.

he didn’t need to see it.

didn’t need to see you. not all of you.

because in your head, you still weren’t built for that kind of intimacy. you’d always imagined sex as something you gave. something done to you. not something you offered. not something someone could worship. not something someone like him could lose himself in.

and he was beautiful. even if he didn’t know it. even if he groaned about the mirror and never noticed the way his shirts clung to his biceps, or how girls looked when he walked by. toji was the kind of man those girls got. and somehow he wanted you.

but that didn’t mean he wanted all of you.

and you didn’t realize how much it haunted you until the day you opened his phone and saw it.

you hadn’t meant to look through his phone.

you weren’t checking anything. you weren’t being suspicious. he was in the kitchen making coffee, muttering about how someone stole his last protein bar, and his phone buzzed on the nightstand. nothing serious. just a message from yuji, probably another dumb meme. and you smiled to yourself when you tapped it open to forward it to your own chat, because sometimes you liked saving the things he showed you, the moments that felt easy. light.

you didn’t even mean to swipe up. not on purpose.

but his browser was open. and it was there. still fresh. still loaded. still glowing.

and for a second, your brain didn’t register what it was.

it looked like a million other tabs you’d seen before. a homepage. a title. something about blow job or whatever the fuck they always pushed. and a thumbnail. close-up. glossy. pink. surgically bare. no folds, no depth, no shadow. the kind of body you’d seen a thousand times and never once thought belonged to anyone real.

you didn’t move.

you just stared at it.

watched the preview loop over and over, five seconds of a girl moaning and pulling her lips open like a biology lesson. perfect, symmetrical, tucked. so neat you couldn’t even tell where it started. a pussy designed to be swallowed in one breath. toji’s breath.

your throat closed.

you didn’t scroll, but you saw there were more. tabs stacked. different positions. different angles. but all the same.

not like you.

not even close.

you locked the phone and set it down like it burned you.

he walked back in a minute later, carrying your coffee with his sleeve over the handle like he always did so it wouldn’t burn your fingers, and you didn’t say anything.

you smiled.

you took the cup.

you kissed his cheek.

and you spent the whole day trying not to fall apart.

because it wasn’t that he watched porn. you weren’t naive. you knew men did. you knew he did. he’d mentioned it in passing once with a shrug. didn’t make a big deal about it. it wasn’t a betrayal. it wasn’t some great sin.

it was the type.

the body.

the reminder.

the confirmation.

because you’d always wondered. always feared. always known. and now it was proven.

this wasn’t just insecurity. this was fact. this was evidence. this was what he came to when you didn’t give him what he wanted. when your thighs clenched too tight, when you flinched, when you said not now. he turned to the ones who didn’t make him pause. the ones who looked better. the ones who didn’t have to hide.

you couldn’t stop seeing it.

couldn’t unsee the comparison.

you stared at your own reflection that night with your thighs spread on the bathroom counter, hoodie shoved up, phone light shining down, and your stomach turned. it didn’t look like theirs. not at all. it wasn’t pink. it wasn’t tiny. it wasn’t smooth. it was real. soft and dark and full. textured. folded. visible.

you felt sick.

you hated yourself for checking.

you hated him for making it true.

and when he came in later, sleep-eyed and slow, dragging his shirt over his head with a lazy smile and that same stupid soft voice asking if you were coming to bed, you just nodded. climbed in next to him. turned off the lamp. curled away when he touched your hip.

he didn’t notice at first.

he was tired. kissed your shoulder. knocked out fast.

but your eyes stayed open.

your knees pressed together.

your mouth tasted like metal.

and in your chest, a voice started whispering the old things again.

he wants what you’re not. he wants what you’ll never be. he only loved the lights off. he only wanted you because he hadn’t seen the truth yet.

and that night, you didn’t sleep.

you just held your breath and waited for morning.

he notices three days later.

you don’t say anything. you’re not dramatic. you still kiss him back when he leans in, still nod when he asks if you’re hungry, still curl up beside him at night like nothing’s changed. but it’s in the little things. the way you don’t look at him for too long. the way you let his hand rest on your thigh but don’t guide it higher. the way you smile like you’re tired. even when you’re not.

you won’t let him eat you out. again.

you’d let him do everything else. he could kiss you. fuck you. hold your face and tell you you were perfect. but as soon as his mouth dipped lower, his shoulders pushing your thighs apart, his tongue warm and open and starving you’d shift.

stop, you’d whisper, barely breathing. just fuck me instead.

and he would.

but tonight he can’t.

tonight he pulls out of you halfway through, chest heaving, cock dripping, eyes wild.

what is it?

you blink.

what?

he leans back on his knees, hands still resting on your waist, body still warm between your legs.

what’s wrong?

you shake your head, but he doesn’t let go.

brat.

his voice is softer now. rough, but quieter. like it hurts him to ask. like he’s scared of the answer.

you okay?

you look up at him. his hair is messy. cheeks flushed. sweat glinting along his jaw. he’s beautiful in the way no man should be. too big, too rough, too casually wrecked. and yet right now, he looks… unsure. small. like he knows he fucked up, but doesn’t know how.

your throat tightens.

you don’t answer.

he drags his hand up your ribs slowly, thumb brushing your skin.

talk to me, please.

you bite your lip. not to flirt. not to be cute. just to stop the shake.

i saw it..

his brow furrows.

saw what?

your voice breaks before it even fully comes out.

on your phone

he freezes.

and you know he knows.

because his face doesn’t twist in guilt. doesn’t flush. doesn’t flare with panic. it just stills. like his heart skipped and never restarted.

you look away.

i wasn’t looking for it. i didn’t mean to. it just popped up. the tabs were still there.

he says your name. quiet. almost inaudible.

you shake your head again. your chest is starting to ache.

i don’t care that you watch it. it’s not that. it’s just… i saw the kind of girls you watch. and i just… it made sense.

he stares. his mouth parts. no words come.

you breathe in sharp. your voice cracks.

i knew it. i knew it, toji. i’ve always known. you’re not the first guy to want it, you’re just the first one i didn’t want to disappoint.

his hand flinches like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t move.

disappoint you how?

your laugh is bitter. quiet.

you don’t want me to say it.

yes i do.

no you don’t.

yes i fucking do.

he grabs your hand, presses it flat against his chest. his heart is hammering.

you say it now. or i swear to god i’ll go crazy trying to guess what i did.

you finally look up at him.

your lips tremble. the words taste like blood.

my pussy doesn’t look like that.

silence.

i know what they look like. i’ve seen it. the ones you watch. the ones all guys like. small, tight, pretty. pink. invisible. mine’s not like that. mine’s not small. or neat. or the right color. and i know you’ve noticed. you don’t have to lie. it’s fine. i’m used to it.

his face shatters.

you laugh again, but your eyes are full of tears now. everything about you feels soft and defeated.

you’ve been nice. you haven’t said anything. but i know why you’ve been jerking off more. why you don’t push when i say no. i know i’m not what you’re used to. and it’s okay. i get it. i just wish i didn’t have to see it to be reminded of what i’m not.

he doesn’t speak.

he doesn’t blink.

he just stares at you like he’s watching you bleed out.

and when he finally moves, it’s not to touch you. not to apologize. not to speak.

he drops his head.

and groans.

not out of frustration.

but out of pain.

like he’s the one breaking.

fuck, baby. fuck.

he pulls away from you not in rejection, but like he’s scared he’ll fuck it up worse if he touches you the wrong way.

you think i’ve been jerking off because of that? he breathes, laughing dryly. no. no, babe. i’ve been jerking off because i can’t stop thinking about your pussy. yours. you don’t let me taste it. you don’t let me see it. and it’s driving me fucking insane.

your lips part.

he finally lifts his head. his face is flushed, mouth parted, jaw tight.

you think i want those girls? those fake-ass plastic studio-lit girls? you think i’m watching that shit because i want it?

he leans closer, hands gripping your thighs now. firm. real.

i can’t cum to anything unless i’m thinking about you. and i mean it. i tried. believe me, i fucking tried. but every time i close my eyes, it’s you i see. that little moan you make when i rub you through your panties. that shake in your thighs when you get close. that whimper you do when you almost let me go down. and i’m so fucking desperate, brat, i’d lick your pussy until my jaw locked and my cock fucking burst if you just let me.

your breath stutters.

his voice drops. low. reverent.

you think it’s not perfect. i think it’s gonna ruin me.

you sat back slowly, legs trembling as you leaned on your palms, breath caught somewhere between fear and something hotter. your cheeks burned. your thighs twitched. your fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and for a second, you hesitated.

but then you tugged them down anyway. slow. cautious. peeled the thin cotton past the curve of your ass, down your trembling thighs, and off your ankles exposing the part of you you’d spent years hiding, folding, denying. trimmed but soft, full, warm, already glistening from the ache he’d built up in you. not bleached or tucked or invisible. you. wet and puffy and swollen from the way you’d clenched your legs shut all week trying to ignore how badly you needed him. your folds kissed open slightly with every breath, soft and sweet and shining in the low bedroom light, pulsing just from anticipation.

he didn’t even react at first.

not in the way you feared.

he didn’t flinch. didn’t squint. didn’t shift awkwardly or pause to analyze it like some dissection. he just sat there knees on the bed, body tense, shoulders broad and still staring. lips parted, green eyes blown, chest rising in shallow gasps.

holy fuck.

you looked away instinctively, body folding in on itself, but he reached out and gripped your thighs with both hands wide, hot palms grounding you against the sheets.

nah. don’t do that. don’t you dare fuckin’ hide from me now.

his thumbs slid up the inside of your thighs, slow and reverent, like he was handling something holy. not even touching your pussy yet. just tracing where your heat spilled out, feeling how your slick had already started to pool how soaked you were just from the act of being seen.

jesus fuckin’ christ. you smell so good. you know that? can smell your pussy all the way up here. fuckin’ sweet. better than any of that tasteless bullshit they film with studio lights and bleached holes. ain’t got nothing on this.

you swallowed, shaking. your thighs tried to close.

his grip tightened.

nope. you keep ‘em open for me. you let me fuckin’ look. please, baby. please. just let me have this.

you nodded, lips parting. and then you sat up, hands sliding over your own skin, tugging your shirt up over your head, letting it fall behind you.

his breath hitched.

your tits bounced softly with the motion, flushed and sensitive, your nipples already stiff. your stomach rolled as you adjusted your posture, soft and real and curved the way you always hated. but he looked at you like he was witnessing divinity. like you were laid out for worship.

fuck. look at you. real woman. fuckin’ gorgeous. tits out, pussy glistening, thighs spread. fuckin’ perfect.

you laughed a little. it wasn’t fake it cracked and trembled, laced with tears, but it was real. because he sounded genuine. wrecked. possessed.

he ducked his head low and inhaled hard at the apex of your thighs, groaning like he’d just opened something forbidden.

this is what pussy’s supposed to smell like. sweet. warm. fuckin’ alive. not like those dry-ass clips. all that shit looks like it’s filmed on fuckin’ mars. no flavor. no real woman. just lighting and filters and air. but this..

his tongue licked up one thigh, just barely grazing your outer lips.

this is mine.

your breath stuttered.

his mouth hovered above your cunt like he was holding back tears.

i don’t wanna hear you compare yourself to that shit again. ever. i swear, brat, i see this pussy and i get lightheaded. i ain’t even inside and my dick’s aching. it’s painful. you did that. just by sittin’ there.

your head fell back.

he finally leaned in.

his lips kissed the very top of your mound. not even touching your folds yet. just the soft upper skin. then again. then lower. his nose bumped your trimmed hair. he groaned again.

gonna make out with her. i don’t care. don’t care if it’s messy. don’t care if i look stupid. you let me taste and i swear i’ll die right here a happy man.

his tongue dragged slowly along the curve of your inner lips and you gasped, thighs quivering, fingers tangling in his hair before you could even think. your other hand came up, covering your own chest for a moment, then rubbing soft circles around your nipple unconsciously seeking more stimulation.

you were already moaning.

toji. fuck. oh my god.

his eyes rolled back slightly.

that’s it. yeah. lemme hear you. fuck. she’s pulsing already. can feel her throb on my fuckin’ tongue. never seen anything prettier in my life. never tasted anything like this.

he licked again, slower, deeper. his lips sealed over your clit and sucked softly, then kissed it like it was fragile. his tongue traced every swollen fold, sliding into the grooves, making out with your pussy like he had all the time in the world and no shame left in his body.

you were crying and giggling now, hand buried in his thick hair, nails dragging down his scalp, grinding your hips softly onto his face.

you’re so fucked up

you moaned it like you loved him for it.

he pulled back just enough to breathe, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed, chin already wet.

you let me do this. you. after all that. after hidin’ from me. after thinkin’ i wouldn’t like it. baby, you got me feelin’ like a fuckin’ animal. don’t even need to fuck you right now. i could nut just like this. just from eatin’ you. just from the fuckin’ honor of gettin’ to see what other men couldn’t.

you whimpered.

he dove back in, hungrier this time, sucking and slurping and moaning into your cunt like he needed it to live. your body shook. your stomach tensed. your fingers clutched his hair so tight your arm ached.

you’re perfect. perfect. warm. thick. taste like heaven. fuck, brat, i’ll never watch porn again. i don’t need it. they don’t smell like this. don’t sound like you. don’t cream like this. i got a real woman. my woman. mine.

he rubbed your thighs like you were something edible and sacred, and as your orgasm built slowly, painfully, beautifully he kept whispering into your cunt with a voice full of filth and gratitude.

thank you. fuck. thank you for lettin’ me taste her. i’m a fuckin’ bastard, i don’t deserve this. but i’ll take it. i’ll take it all. i’ll spend the rest of my life between these fuckin’ thighs if you let me.

you came with a choked cry, sobbing and laughing, rubbing your tit, nails scratching his scalp while his mouth stayed glued to you, drinking it down like proof that he was right. that you were everything.

and he never stopped smiling into you.

you should’ve been embarrassed.

the way your thighs were still shaking. the way your pussy was glossy and red and swollen from how hard he’d made out with it, the way his jaw was soaked and his eyes glazed like he’d been drugged off you. but you weren’t.

something cracked open in you. something old and bitter and hidden. something that used to ache when you looked in the mirror but now it was burning.

you sat up slowly, dragging your slick cunt across his face just to feel it again, to hear him groan into it. and when he opened his eyes, you were smirking.

you like that?

he laughed, voice wrecked and low.

you’re fuckin’ evil

you just giggled and turned around knees planting on either side of his head, your soaked pussy now sitting on his chest as you leaned down between his legs and wrapped your hand around the thick, veiny cock twitching below.

mm, so hard for me. didn’t even touch it, daddy.

you spat on the head, just to hear him groan. started stroking it slowly, watching the way the veins pulsed, how the precum spilled down thick and warm as your fingers played in it.

you licked a fat stripe up the underside, tongue teasing the tip while his hips lifted off the bed. he was growling now, muttering fuck fuck fuck while his hands gripped your thighs again, pulling your ass down on his mouth.

you wanna taste while i suck it?

his only answer was a moan. a filthy, needy, animal moan.

you lowered your hips again, your pussy flattening over his face while you wrapped your lips around his cock. thick. heavy. pulsing on your tongue like it missed being inside you. and god, it had. you could feel it. taste it.

his hands spread your ass wide while you bobbed on him. his nose buried in your folds, tongue tracing messy, hungry circles around your clit while he ate you from below and choked on your slick. you giggled through a moan, lifting yourself just enough to grind in circles on his face, twerking on his tongue while your hands stroked his shaft.

daddy like that? huh? pussy feel good now that you finally got a taste?

he slapped your ass so hard you gasped around his cock and drooled.

shut the fuck up and ride it, slut.

you moaned. eyes fluttering shut. this was his fault. he made you this way. cocky. soaked. shameless. and you didn’t want to stop.

you bounced. you fucked his face like you wanted to break him, while your mouth worked his dick like you were starved.

he came the first time like that. without warning. hot, thick ropes painting your throat while he growled and dragged his nails down your thighs, your name spilling out like a curse and a prayer at once.

and you didn’t even stop.

you kept sucking.

milking.

you tasted it, moaned into it, swallowed it and sat back with a smug little smirk while his cock was still twitching.

and then you turned around.

spread your legs.

and sat on it.

toji growled so loud the bed shook.

fuck fuck fuck. you tryin’ to kill me?

you giggled, already bouncing, pussy clenching tight around the overstimulated head.

you said you wanted it. you said you wanted to ruin me.

he grabbed your tits, slapped them together, spit between them and shoved his face right into your chest like a fucking animal.

i did. i do. gonna fill this pussy so full you forget your fuckin’ name.

he fucked up into you hard, and you screamed.

not from pain. not from fear. from the shock of how much you needed this. the pounding. the stretch. the ownership.

he gripped your hips and started thrusting from below, hard and deep and ruthless, your ass clapping down on him with every bounce. you cried out his name, hands grabbing your own tits, pulling them up while you rode him like a cock-hungry bitch.

this is yours, daddy. all yours. look how wet it is. look what your mouth did.

he slammed up into you so hard your body jumped.

you think i’m ever lettin’ you hide this again? no. fuck no. this cunt belongs to me. you ride me when i say. you twerk on my face when i tell you. you sit your wet fuckin’ pussy on my dick until i cum again.

you nodded, eyes rolled back.

say it.

my pussy’s yours. my pussy’s for you, daddy.

he groaned and flipped you over onto your stomach.

spread.

you obeyed without hesitation. chest to the sheets, ass arched, cunt glistening. and he slammed back into you like he was claiming property.

he fucked you so hard your legs gave out. so hard your cries turned to gasps, to whimpers, to filthy praise.

thank you daddy thank you for making me feel pretty thank you for loving my pussy thank you for cumming for me

he reached around and slapped your clit, rubbed it hard, laughed at the way your ass bounced.

you hear that? she’s squelching. she’s leaking. she wants to be filled. say it. say you want me to cum inside.

please cum in me daddy. please please please breed me. i want you to. wanna be full. wanna be yours.

he slapped your ass again. gripped your hips. fucked harder.

i’m gonna breed you, baby. fuck you so deep it won’t matter what porn looks like. you’ll be full for days. full of me.

you clenched. screamed. came again. and he fucked through it.

and then..

he pulled out. grabbed his phone.

you want porn, baby? huh? wanna see what real porn looks like?

you looked up through hazy eyes.

he was already recording.

you on all fours. face fucked out. tits swinging. ass red.

pose for me.

you smiled. giggled. spread your cheeks with your manicured hands.

he groaned.

that’s right. fuckin’ slutty girl. prettiest cunt in the world. say hi to the camera, baby. show them what real pussy does to a real man.

he slapped your pussy.

you gasped and smiled bigger.

and that’s when he pushed back in, hard, and filled you to the brim. for real this time. thick and hot and overflowing, his cum leaking down your thighs while you cried and thanked him and rode it out in shivers.

and he kept filming.

he never wanted to forget this.

he wanted to watch it every time he missed you. every time you weren’t home. every time he needed to remember that he turned a shy girl into a filthy, perfect, confident slut.

his slut.

you didn’t even know how you ended up like this half on his chest, one leg tossed over his thigh, your cunt still dripping with his cum, flushed and glossy and twitching with every lazy rub of his fingers.

his arm was under your neck, thick and warm, the inside of his bicep pillowing your head while he kissed your cheek again. and again. and again. no rhythm, no reason. just soft presses of his lips to your flushed skin like he couldn’t stop reminding himself you were his.

his other hand was between your legs, dragging slow, heavy circles into your spent folds like it was the most natural thing in the world. his touch wasn’t focused, wasn’t trying to make you cum again it was aimless and gentle, like he just wanted to feel you. his thick thumb slipped between your swollen lips, parting them lazily while his middle finger tugged at your folds, spreading them just to watch them glisten under the dim bedroom light. he hummed like he was admiring a painting. his fingers stayed low, patting your pussy softly, tapping right above your hole like he couldn’t believe how soaked you still were. every now and then he’d drag his thumb up again, spreading your lips wider, then rubbing slow circles into your clit until you flinched, and he’d smile not to tease you, but because he was genuinely obsessed.

you were giggling softly, face still fucked out and sticky with sweat, holding his phone in both hands like it was precious. the screen was lit up. the video was playing. no filters. no edits. no cuts. just you. bent over, legs shaking, tits bouncing with every slap of his hips while your cunt swallowed his cock like you’d been made to ruin him.

fuck, you breathed, cheeks hot. i look like such a whore.

he chuckled into your skin, kissing your cheek again, his stubble rough but sweet against your face.

you are a whore. my whore.

you smacked his thigh weakly, giggling harder.

shut up.

nah. can’t. not after that. not after i just watched you ride my face like it owed you rent and beg for my cum like you were gonna die without it.

you moaned softly, your thighs twitching around his fingers again as he dragged them up and circled your clit with lazy, open affection. his thumb slid back down, parting your pussy lips again and pressing right into the creamy mess he’d bred into you. he didn’t push it in just stroked it. slow. back and forth. like he was petting something sacred.

your breath hitched. he kissed your cheek again. then your jaw. then your temple.

you really like it?

he snorted.

baby, i’ve never liked anything more.

you smiled. eyes still on the screen. your own face crying and laughing, back arched, voice wrecked while you screamed for him. you. the girl who used to fuck in the dark. now on camera. showing him everything. owning it.

toji whispered against your skin.

we’re keeping it. i’m jerking off to this for the rest of my life.

you rolled your eyes.

you’re so gross.

he kissed your cheek again. and again.

love you too, pretty brat.

you’re tired.

your feet ache, your back hurts, and your belly is stretched tight with the life he put inside you. your tits are swollen and sensitive, your thighs stick together when you sit too long, and sometimes you cry over things like oatmeal or laundry or the way your shirt rides up too much now. but he never laughs.

toji just watches you with that same dumb smile, hand already sliding down his sweatpants by the time you walk past.

fuckin’ knew it, he mutters like a prayer. knew that pussy was built to take my cum. look at you.

and every now and then especially when you’re laying on the couch, dozing off with your hand resting over the curve of your stomach he sends you little clips. old ones. the video. that video. the one where you were bouncing on him, tits clapping, mouth open and crying his name like it was the only thing you knew.

he’ll text you a clip of your ass riding him in slow motion, followed by a message that just says:

gonna fuck you like this when i get home. knock you up again.

you usually groan and roll your eyes, but your cunt clenches anyway. especially when he calls you.

you pick up half-asleep, voice soft and whiny.

toji…

his voice is already thick, low, breathless.

watchin’ the vid, baby. the one where you ride me like a fuckin’ pornstar. god. you were so cockdrunk. remember that?

you don’t answer.

he grunts. strokes louder.

your tits were bouncing so fuckin’ much. i slapped your pussy like five times and you thanked me. you made me cum so hard i got lightheaded. and look at you now. belly full of my brat. tits leaking for me. fuck.

you whimper, rubbing your swollen belly softly.

toji. you just fucked me last night.

he groans again.

and i’d do it again right now. i don’t care if you’re pregnant. i fuck you pregnant. this pussy doesn’t stop being mine just ‘cause it’s full. if anything, i want you more now. look at what you gave me.

you roll onto your side, breathing heavy, thighs rubbing. his voice in your ear, the video still playing in your mind…

you gonna let me film you again, baby? huh? get another one for the collection? you pregnant, tits dripping, moaning while i breed you again?

you laugh softly.

you’re disgusting.

he chuckles. and he’s still jerking off.

yeah. and you love it.

you smile. hand slipping between your legs.

yeah. i do…

（＾ν＾）thank you for reading. this one’s for the girls who’ve ever turned the lights off, hid, or wondered if they were “too much” down there. your body is not something to fix. you are not lacking. you are not less. you are soft, warm, sensitive, and so fucking desirable💗

i hope this made you feel seen.🎀

and if anyone ever made you feel like you weren’t enough just remember: our daddy toji likes it🎀

onlypinkslut

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saintormentor · 2 days ago

Text

tag teamed m. s & c. s

in which . . . matt suggests a threesome with his brother chris, which made you hesitant at first. key word: at first.

content warnings . . . threesome ( zero incest. that’s disgusting. ) dizziness, oral, p in v, roughness, basically hardcore smut

matt brings it up one night, voice barely above a whisper. it’s late—way past midnight—and the sheets are tangled around your legs, his arms warm and clumsy around your waist. you’re scrolling through your phone, half-listening to him mumble, until he says it.

“would you ever… like… i don’t know. like a threesome?”

you turn your head. “with who?”

“me,” he swallows, “and chris.”

you blink. “your brother?”

“i mean—only if you wanted to! you don’t have to, like, it was just a thought i—i don’t know, i shouldn’t’ve said anything, it’s stupid—”

it takes another full week for it to become real. because matt is sweet and soft-spoken, because he second-guesses himself even while kissing your throat. but chris? chris is the opposite. cocky. unapologetic. he hears about the idea and shrugs like it’s already happening.

“you sure you can handle that, pretty girl?” he asks when matt brings it up again in front of him. you can’t tell if the question’s for you or matt.

they don’t rush. you thought it would be fast, wild, messy—but it starts gentle. because matt needs it to be. because he looks at you like you’re made of something delicate, and chris lets him take the lead even if he clearly wants to wreck you first.

you’re on the bed in matt’s room, soft light casting gold shadows over everything. matt’s mouth is warm on yours, tentative, like he’s still scared to do this wrong. chris leans against the door, arms crossed, watching like it’s a private screening.

“you okay?” matt whispers into your lips. you nod. he swallows again. “i just want you to feel good.”

his fingers are slow. familiar. they ghost over your skin like he’s mapping every breath, and when you arch into his palm, his eyes flutter shut. he doesn’t even realize chris is moving closer until you both hear his low laugh.

“you gonna keep her all night, or am i allowed to touch too?”

matt doesn’t answer. but he nods.

chris kisses you different. like he wants to leave a mark, make a memory, brand your body so you know the difference. his hands are everywhere—faster, rougher��and he doesn’t ask permission before sliding your legs apart and mouthing at the inside of your thigh.

“so fucking sweet,” he says against your skin, voice thick. “clearly you’ve got matt wrapped around your finger.”

matt’s behind you, holding your hand while chris works you open. his face is flushed pink, but his eyes never leave yours. he kisses your temple and murmurs, “tell me if it’s too much, okay?” he means it. he would stop. he would ask.

chris doesn’t stop. not unless you tell him to. and you don’t.

you’re on your hands and knees now, the room hazy with heat and sweat and low moans. chris is behind you—in you—and every stroke is deliberate, hungry. his grip on your hips is bruising, but it only fuels the slick heat building in your core. he’s got one hand tangled in your hair, the other spread across your lower back, pinning you exactly where he wants you.

“fuck, you feel insane,” chris groans, hips snapping forward, cock dragging against every sensitive nerve inside you. “makes snese why matt’s always so fucking whipped for you.”

matt’s in front of you, lying back on the bed, flushed and shaky, his thighs spread. his cock is hard and twitching under your tongue, every lick making him whimper. he’s got both hands on your head but isn’t guiding—just holding, grounding himself, fingers trembling as you take him deeper.

“baby,” matt gasps, eyes locked on yours, “fuck—you’re so perfect like this—”

chris thrusts deeper at that exact second and your moan vibrates around matt’s cock. his hips jerk, and he almost pulls away, but you keep him there, hollowing your cheeks, eyes watering with the stretch. spit pools at the corner of your mouth, your throat fluttering around him.

behind you, chris gives a dark laugh. “look at her,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “messy little mouth, taking him so sweet, dripping all over my dick. you like this, huh? being used by both of us?”

you nod, choked moan muffled by matt’s cock. matt’s already close—you can feel it, the way his thighs are tense, how his fingers twitch in your hair. but he doesn’t want to finish yet. he pulls out with a gasp, breathing hard, cock flushed and wet.

“wait,” he pants. “i want—i want to be inside you too.”

you barely have time to process before chris pulls out with a filthy smack and grabs your chin, turning your face up. he kisses you hard—rough, greedy—and tastes the salt of matt’s skin on your tongue.

“switch,” he says, low.

matt kisses your cheek as he guides you down to lie on your back, whispering your name like an apology. his hand strokes between your thighs, tender where chris was rough. he lines himself up and slides into you slowly, watching every inch disappear inside. your walls clench around him, slick and overstimulated, and he groans into your neck.

“still so wet,” he breathes. “you feel even better than i remembered—”

chris kneels beside your head, cock hard and leaking. he rubs the tip across your lips, and you open for him like instinct. his voice is a low growl. “yeah… just like that.”

matt moves gently, hips rolling slow and deep, hitting that spot inside that makes your breath stutter. he keeps one hand on your breast, thumb brushing your nipple, the other gripping your thigh to keep you open. his eyes are locked on your face—watching, memorizing every twitch and gasp as chris begins to fuck your mouth.

they don’t touch each other. (‘cause that’s fucking disgusting.)

but they both fuck you.

your body is shaking. your throat full. your cunt pulsing tight around matt as his rhythm stutters. he whispers your name again, voice breaking.

“i can’t—fuck—i’m gonna come—”

you pull back from chris, gasping for air, spit stringing from your lips to the head of his cock. your nails dig into matt’s shoulders and your hips arch up, crying out as he pushes in deep one last time and spills inside you with a trembling moan.

he doesn’t pull out right away. just stays there, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.

“thank you,” he whispers. “i love you.”

chris chuckles low from beside you. “you done?” he asks matt, already fisting himself. “’cause i’m not.”

your eyes flutter open—exhausted, raw, but greedy—and chris catches your look and smirks.

“that’s what i thought.”

he flips you over like you weigh nothing, presses your face into the pillows, and fucks you so hard your voice breaks.

and still—matt stays close. holds your hand. kisses your shoulder. watches you fall apart again.

between them, you’re everything.

and you’ve never felt more wanted.

a / n . . . nothing to see here

#chris stuniolo x reader #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #fanfiction #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets p links #matthew sturniolo texts #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

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undyingdecay · 3 days ago

Note

ABO anon here. Hi, sorry for not specifying! I kinda wanted to share in case you got inspired by any of those prompts. I can see Bob being both an Alpha or an Omega, depending on the author, so I wanted to give you some ground in case you see him as either!!

(but also feel free to post whatever you'd like, I just love your writing and those ideas might inspire someone put there ((hopefully 😩)) in the fandom)

see, i love alpha!bob because he’s the least threatening alpha you’ve ever met. the kind of man who still holds the door for you, still blushes when you compliment him, still stumbles over his words when you call him baby. a big broad-shouldered, slow-smiling alpha with thick hands and a desperate need to take care of you. but he’s so touch-starved, so unfamiliar with someone actually being soft with him, that he ends up a little too clingy. a little too needy.

he’s the kind of alpha who pretends like he’s calm and in control but gets wrecked over the dumbest little things — your scent on his clothes, you nuzzling at his throat when you’re half asleep, your voice going soft when you call him good boy. goes all glassy-eyed in a rut, whimpering about how he needs you, how he doesn’t wanna be alone tonight. all low, desperate “please, sweetheart… need you s’bad, promise i’ll be good.”

he knots you and then panics halfway through because what if you regret it? what if you didn’t actually mean it when you said you wanted this? and you have to coax him down, stroke his sweat-damp hair while he whines against your skin and buries his face between your breasts, scenting you like a man starved.

but omega!bob? omega!bob is filthy. the pretiest, sweetest little thing who’s too embarrassed to ask for what he wants but can’t stop himself from acting out to get it. gets bratty when he’s in heat. clingy and miserable and touchy, dragging your hand down to his waist like “don’t be mean, need you now.”

he’s the kind of omega who smells so sweet when he’s needy, like sugar and warm skin and something heady you can’t name. goes soft and glassy-eyed when you finally touch him, crooning in your ear about how “missed you, missed this, needed you so bad.”

he drools over praise. melts if you tell him he’s good, if you wrap a hand around his throat and growl about how you’ll take care of him, how he belongs to you. “yours,” he’ll whisper, thick-lashed eyes fluttering shut, his whole body going slack under your hands.

AND ALSO mega!bob’s body was made to be touched like that. gets slick between his legs, yeah, but the best part is how his ass gets all soft and wet when he’s in heat, like his body knows it’s supposed to be filled up everywhere. makes him squirm when you tease him about it too.

like, he’ll be fucking you sloppy, already whining about how good you feel, knot swelling thick at the base of his cock while you moan under him — and your hand will slip down, one finger presing against that messy, wet little hole of his, and he whimpers. whole body stuttering like you just pulled a wire.

“please— please, baby, feels s’good, keep goin’,” he’s mumbling, face buried against your neck, the heat and scent of him practically drowning you. because he’s greedy. greedy for you everywhere. loves being full when he’s the one taking you apart. loves feeling your fingers stretch him open while he fucks you through another sloppy, rut-drunk orgasm. slick, messy, needy.

and the slick? it makes everything filthy. makes the room smell thick and sweet. makes your fingers slide in easy, makes him clench around you while his cock throbs inside you. and when you whisper in his ear about how wet he is, how tight, how desperate, he lets out this wrecked, broken sound and pushes back against your hand.

he loves it. loves being touched, loved being used, loved being filled up even while he’s the one knotting you — a filthy, needy omega in heat, desperate for it everywhere.

either way? bob’s a mess. sweet and desperate and just a little bit pathetic, the kind of partner you keep close because he clings to you like he’ll die if you let him go. the kind who scents your clothes when you’re gone and fucks his hand to the memory of your voice. the kind who blushes when you catch him at it but doesn’t stop, too far gone and too needy to care.

and you know what? we need more of it. more alpha bob, more omega bob, more a/b/o filth.

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

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yumyumcherryy · 2 days ago

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p.s: OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT. rin w an oral fixation BUT BUT BUT AAAAND with a TONGUE PIERCING DO U FEEL ME?? SIUNSUIHSU MEN W TONGUE PIERCINGS YESSUHEUJE

you hated it.

you hated rin's stupid fucking tongue piercing.

and he's been tonguing at it for the past hour, reading that damn novel, completely unaware of the demons you were fighting, trying not to jump his bones then and there. but that wasn't even the thing that pissed you off the most. it was in the way that he didn't even know how good he looked while just...well, existing.

god, if he knew about the thoughts you were having right now. "Done staring at me yet?" his voice cut through your train of thought, making you freeze in place and look away. "i wasn't..staring" you lie."idiot." he slaps his book shut before walking towards you.

You barely had time to breathe before Rin's mouth crashed against yours.

It wasn't sweet.

It wasn't careful.

It was hungry.

Hot lips, parted and desperate, dragged yours open—his tongue sliding past before you could even think, the cold metal of his piercing grazing your tongue. He kissed like he fought—calculated, intense, possessive.

Like he had years of denial bottled up in his chest and this was the moment it all cracked loose. His hand was under your jaw, tilting your head exactly how he wanted it, while his other gripped your hip, keeping you flush against the wall and him.

And he was so close.

Hard muscle pressing into your softness, hoodie pushed up just enough to show skin-on-skin heat. His thumb dragged back to your lips mid-kiss, pressing in again like he needed to feel your mouth do what he told it to.

"Open," he murmured against your lips.

You did.

Immediately.

That thumb slid in again, alongside his tongue as he kissed you deep—messy, needy, obsessed. "ngh..s'icky.." you let out a half-assed complaint, voice slurred by his thumb pressing down on your tongue. He groaned when you sucked on it again, this time intentionally, and you felt his hips shift forward, a silent reaction.

"Fuck—" he breathed, breaking the kiss just to stare at your lips. His thumb pulled out with a glistening trail and he dragged it down your chin again, watching it shine. "You're made for this. I swear."

"Made for what?" you whispered, dazed.

He didn't answer with words.

He dropped to his knees.

Your gasp echoed through the room.

"Rin—what are you—?"

"I need to taste more," he growled.

"You think it's just your mouth I've been thinking about?"

"Nah. I think about all of it."His hands gripped your thighs, nails digging in just enough to make your breath hitch. His mouth kissed up your inner thigh, slow and teasing—open, hot lips and the flick of a tongue that was absolutely not being shy.

"Every time you walk in front of me," he said, voice muffled against your skin, "I think about how you'd sound above me. How sweet you'd taste. How you'd look grinding down on my tongue."

You moaned—loud.

shameless.

shit.

"Yeah. Just like that," he said, lips against your skin. "I want that sound again. I wan' every sound you make."

His fingers dug under your waistband and you felt your whole body buzz—like he owned your pulse now. Like you'd give him anything.

But just before he took it further, he froze. You looked down, flushed and trembling.

"Rin...?"

He looked up at you from between your legs. Hair falling into his eyes. Lips parted. Breathing uneven.

And his voice cracked

"I want you so bad it makes me sick," he said softly.

That confession—quiet, broken, a little ashamed, hit harder than any kiss.

"I've wanted you like this for so long I forgot how to want anything else." You reached down, threading your fingers through his hair.

"You have me," you said. "Take me."

Rin didn't need to be told twice.

His mouth dove in, lips hot and wet against your skin as you mewled out.

This wasn't just a silly fixation anymore.

This was obsessed.

Starved.

Worshipping you like you were sacred and sinful all at once.

Tongue everywhere.

Fingers digging in.

Every breath he took was you.You weren't just something he wanted. You were something he needed.

Obsessively.

Shamelessly.

And for once?

He wasn't hiding it anymore.

"shit darlin'..you taste heavenly.." he says, words muffled by your pussy as he continues to lap at it like a starved man. every stroke of his tongue against your clit and the cold metal of his tongue piercing making you arch your back onto the wall.

"shut up.." you manage to whine out, hands gripping onto his scalp like a vice and unconsciously grinding onto his mouth. "mnn..!— your piercing, oh my goodness..-"

you squeal, whimpers turning into high pitched moans as the man on his knees just continues to devour your cunt.

his tongue that was flicking at the hardened bud moves down to your hole, practically tongue fucking you. "jus' stay still f'me yeah?" he smirks against your wetness, his ministrations almost going frantic, gripping your hips so you can feel every ounce of pleasure he's giving you. "uh huh..'kay.." you keep a hand over your mouth, watching him.

watching him trying to ruin you.

and he's succeeding at it too.

"wait rin—i'm gonna cum- no wai-" you didn't get a time to protest as your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, squirting all over his face. "yuckie..rin i told ya..haa" you scold, closing your eyes, trying to catch your breath. "you taste so good, dear.." he licks the slick that was coating his face clean.

The bed barely creaked as he hovered over you, shirt halfway off, hoodie long forgotten somewhere across the floor. Your skin was still burning from the way he devoured you just minutes ago-but Rin?

Rin looked like he'd barely scratched the itch.

His hair was messy, strands clinging to his forehead from sweat, and his lips-god, those lips-still glossy from you.

He stared down at you like he'd been holding back for years.

And then-he leaned in, kissed your neck again.

Not soft.

Not sweet.

But slow. Wet. Deep.

His tongue dragged from your collarbone to your jaw, a low sound rumbling from his chest like a man starving for another taste. And then—he did something worse.

He moaned.

Not loudly. Not theatrical. Just... low. Controlled. A sound from the back of his throat that made your thighs tense."Why do you taste good everywhere," he muttered against your skin, hand slipping under your shirt.

"Why can't I fucking stop?"

You barely managed a breath. "Then don't."

He froze.

Eyes locked with yours—dark, teal, possessive. His thumb pressed to your lip again, pushing inside your mouth like he needed the feeling.

"I think about this all the time," he murmured. "Your lips. My fingers. Your tongue around my-"

You sucked on his thumb hard.

Rin choked out a sound he didn't mean to make. His hips jolted forward slightly. His teeth sank into his bottom lip like punishment."Don't do that," he warned, voice low.

You did it again.

Harder.

Dirtier.

Rin's eyes fluttered, jaw clenched. Then—he pulled his thumb out and tapped it against your lip.

"Open your mouth again," he whispered.

You did. Barely a second later, his tongue was back inside, licking into you like a man starved. His kisses weren't neat anymore. He wanted you messy. He wanted your lip gloss smeared, your voice breaking, your mouth ruined by nothing but him.

He pulled back for just a second, hand cupping your face.

"I'm not in love with you," he said suddenly.

You blinked. "What?"

"I'm not," he repeated, a little breathless, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip like it was a ritual. "But if you told me to get on my knees again, i swear to god i wouldn't even think twice."You stared."If you told me to put my tongue anywhere," he whispered, "I'd do it."

His voice was wrecked now.

Honest.

Raw.

"So don't ask me if I'm in love," he said. "Just let me use my mouth to show you how fucked I am over you."

And then he was back down again. mouth everywhere—open, panting kisses against your chest, your stomach, the inside of your thighs.

Tongue teasing.

Licking.

Worshipping.

You arched under him, gasping his name. "Fuck, that's it," he groaned, breath hot against your skin. "Say it again. Say it with my mouth on you."

You did. Again. Louder.

And that's how the oh so unreadable Rin, smiled against your skin. drowning into the drug-like euphoria you were giving him.

idk im not very proud of this 😭

@twijaxx

#bllk #itoshi rin #rin smut #blue lock #bllk x reader #bluelock #itoshi rin x reader #cerisewrites!

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prettydaisygirl · 2 days ago

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Oh god I love all your fics you are so amazing ♡♡♡♡

¿Can I have another firefighter au about James? That beautiful man driving me crazy. Sorry, but not sorry. .

Maybe where this time, if there's a dangerous fire in the reader building and he can't find her in her apartment or anywhere and he's so nervous going outside that he starts asking everyone if they haven't seen her.

And he doesn't realize that she comes back from work and runs to hug her and we're all happy.

hi nonnie thank you so much for this req! I love my man Chief James, he is so hot. Hope you're having a wonderful day, lovely <3

firechief!James Potter x fem!reader who can't be found during a fire ✿ 977 words

cw: fem!reader, apartment building fire, everyone is okay, James panicking

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

James hears the call the moment it comes in. It’s not you, but it is your building. Of course he recognizes the address. No one seems panicked or alarmed, which isn’t surprising given your building’s fire alarm goes off every other day it seems.

As Fire Chief (and as your boyfriend) James takes the call more seriously than the others do. He doesn’t blame them for it, though he does yell at them to pick up the pace. After a while it does start to feel like a ‘boy who cried wolf’ situation. The fire truck gets loaded up, the boys all step in, lights go on, and they’re off.

Things change the closer they get to your flat. The plume of smoke billowing into the air creates a tension that makes everyone antsy, and the visibly growing fire when they when the truck onto the street has them all jumping into action. Especially James.

Because now, he’s worried. He hasn’t heard from you in a few hours, which wouldn’t normally be unusual, but right now your building is on fire. James’ heart pounds, he shouts orders at his crew and they get to work. His eyes scan the crowd, everyone looks terrified and panicked, but he’s not looking to see how the bystanders feel. He’s looking for you, and your face is not here.

Some of his men begin to pull out the hose, some pull out ladders, and James and a few others run into the building to search for any remaining people trapped inside. James wants to beeline directly for your apartment.

He can hear various shouts of ‘clear!’ as he jogs his way up the stairs. He still does his job, looks around to check for others, but his main mission is to find you. To see your face and know that you’re okay.

The smoke pours through the halls, clouding his vision. He knows the path to your apartment by heart, and he follows it without hesitation. He doesn’t find anyone else on his way there. The fire has grown significantly by the time he reaches your flat. He flings the door open roughly, the lock crumbling under the strength of his hand and the heat of the fire. He doesn’t care about your door, shouting your name as he pushes into your space. He checks your bedroom, your bathroom, the kitchen, but you aren’t anywhere.

This, understandably, causes him to panic more. He double checks everywhere, but as the fire continues to build, he knows he doesn’t have much time. He rechecks every room and hallway on his way down despite the fact that he’s already checked them once.

“Did you find anyone?” He shouts to his crew as he walks out. Water sprays down from hoses, slowly helping contain the flames. He hears various responses of ‘No, Chief!’ ‘No, Sir!’ But the denials don’t help the adrenaline and fear coursing through his veins. He stomps through the crowd, his height giving him an advantage as he pushes through people. He’s not trying to be rude or rough, but he feels like he can’t even intake a full breath.

He calls for you, your name leaving his lips in sharp gasps. He can’t find you, he can’t see you, he’s fully on the verge of a panic attack. It’s very unlike him, but the tightening of his chest is distinct.

He practically runs over Remus, whose face morphs into one of confusion when he sees the look in James’ eyes. “You alright, Chief?” He asks, and it’s only then that James even registers Remus’ face.

“I’m- I can’t find-”

“Looking for your Angel?” Remus asks, then gestures across the street to where you’re standing by your parked car, phone pressed to your ear. “She just got here, came looking for you while you were inside.”

James doesn’t hear the tail end of Remus’ words, already halfway to you. You stand as he approaches, the phone still pressed to your ear as he gathers you into his arms. You hug him back with your free hand, managing to end the call with a final ‘yes, I’m okay. I promise’. He buries his face in your neck, at least as much as he can with his uniform on.

“I thought you were inside, Angel,” He forces his breathing and heart rate to calm now that you are back in his arms and he knows you’re safe. “I thought you were trapped, I was so scared.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, hugging him back just as tightly. “My last meeting ran late and then my boss wanted to speak with me and…”

“It’s okay, as long as you’re okay.” He pulls back, eyes glancing over you from head to toe one more time. His hands grip at your waist, and he finally deems you safe. “I need to get back and help, but I couldn’t focus until I knew where you were.” James leans down to place a long kiss to your lips, longer than he should allow, but he’s the Chief so who will tell him off? He pulls back, then presses a quick one to your cheek.

“Is everyone okay?” You ask, the gravity of the situation coming back to the front of your mind. “Is my stuff going to be okay?”

“Everyone is fine, they made it out safely and we already checked the building.” He assures you, sliding his hands down your arms. “I’ll do my best to save your things, it’ll be alright, yeah?”

“Yeah…” You say like you aren’t convinced, and truly he isn’t either. He’d seen the state of your apartment when he’d gone inside.

But the two of you will figure that out after this, together. And, really, he thinks he might get to use this as an excuse to ask you to move in with him.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

#daisy's writings #james potter #firechief!james potter #firefighter!james potter #james potter x reader #james potter au #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter drabble #james potter x fem!reader #hp marauders #marauders fic #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine #james potter x yn #james potter fanfiction #james potter x femreader

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pinkslipxox · 2 days ago

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"Acquainted by the weeknd" and it's one with like Billie and reader and it's like a casual/friends with benefits type thing but becomes more PLEASEEEE ✂️✂️😫😫

hola mi amorrrrr! Yes ofc! Hope you like it 🥰🙈 made it more angsty if you don’t mind xx

——————————————————————————

To say that you’re in love is bold.

Dangerous, even.

It’s during moments like these that make you believe that you’re more than what you both say that you are. More than passing glances and late-night touches. More than the silence after you both say, “This doesn’t mean anything.”

But it feels like it does.

And that’s the part that fucking terrifies you.

Because you promised yourself you’d never let it go this far. Never let the nights blur into mornings. Never let her voice linger in your head when she’s not there. But now, she’s everywhere. In your clothes. In your bed. In the way you forget yourself.

And tonight is no different.

You lay back on the plush pillows, pulse quickening in anticipation as Billie plants hot, open-mouth kisses along your inner thigh. A whimper escapes your lips, hips buckling instinctively, desperate for more of her touch, her heat. She takes her time with you— she always does— just how you like it.

“Please…” you half-moan, half-beg, the ache between your legs growing more and more.

She trails her fingers lightly up your thigh, teasing, before finally, mercifully, her hand finds its way to the apex of your legs. You gasp as she cups you, her touch electric, sending shivers through your entire body.

Billie leans in, her breath hot against your ear.

“Is this what you want?" she whispers, her voice a low, sultry purr. You can only nod, your words lost in a moan as she begins to touch you, her fingers deft and knowing.

Billie shifts, positioning herself with your limbs, her body pressing against yours. Gasps and moans begin to fill the bedroom, your bodies grinding and arching into one another, clits brushing. Billie's breath quickens as her body moves in sync with yours, her soft skin gliding against yours with each deliberate motion. Her hands explore your curves, tracing lines of pleasure that make you shiver. The room is filled with the intoxicating scent of arousal and the sound of your combined breaths, ragged and desperate.

Billie grunts. “F-Fuck, Y/N…”

Her lips find yours in a passionate kiss, tongues dancing and tasting. You can feel her heartbeat against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own. Her hips roll against you, creating a friction that sends waves of heat through your body. You both moan into each other's mouths, the sound muffled but intense. Her hands slide down your back, gripping your ass and pulling you closer. You grind against her, seeking more friction, more contact.

Billie's mouth moves to your neck, nibbling and sucking, marking you as hers. You tilt your head back, giving her more access, your body arching into her touch. Her hands roam your body, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples, making you gasp and writhe. You both move together, a dance of desire, your bodies slick with sweat and need. The room is a symphony of pleasure, your moans and gasps the only music. You can feel the pressure building, the tension coiling in your belly, ready to explode.

“Billie… Oh, my God—“ Your words become out in breathless moans. All you can think, breathe, feel is Billie.

Billie's hand slips between your legs, her fingers finding your clit, rubbing and circling. You cry out, your body convulsing as she pushes you over the edge. She follows soon after, her body shaking as she finds her own release. You both collapse, spent and breathless, your bodies still entwined. The room is quiet now, except for the sound of your hearts beating in unison.

And then it hits.

The reality.

It’s not real. None of it is.

The passion is real, of course, but soon after, she will leave. And come back like she always does. She always says she’s not trying to catch feelings. You say you aren’t either.

This isn’t love. You know it. And you keep denying it.

But some addictions don’t ask for permission.

Yet deep down, you know:

She’s not just an acquaintance anymore.

And neither are you.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish fanfic #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x smut #wlw smut #wlw #wlw story

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vcmpbyt · 3 days ago

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✷ PADDY X READER

⊹ A/N; just a quick something while i study,, nothing but filthy thoughts about paddy this is really just jack as paddy in general (looks/personality-wise he grabs me so hard by the balls every time he's on my screen i couldn't resist) but i feel the need to make it clear that i respect the character's queerness and acknowledge it 24/7 padoin come back to me - a gay person jump scare

⊹ WARNINGS; nsfw. AFAB reader. not proofread at all,, as always lazy bit-

⊹ MASTERLIST

=͟͟͞͞ ✧

“christ above- keep those legs open f’r me. don’t make me tell ye again.”

his voice was low, rough, the Irish thick in his throat from both whiskey and the way he was watching you- spread out, flushed and shaking, thighs trembling already after he’d dragged two orgasms out of you with nothing but his tongue and fingers. you couldn’t answer- not with how you were sobbing, chest heaving, slick pouring out of your spent cunt and onto the sheets.

and then came the first slap. directly to your soaked, swollen folds. that was enough to draw a scream from you, full throated and high pitched.

“oh, i fuckin’ knew ye’d like that,” he growled, grinning down at your ruined body. his palm came down again, another wet crack across your clit and lips, the sound obscene in the quiet room. louder still because of how squelchy you were- slick everywhere, thighs shiny, cunt weeping around nothing.

“look at ye,” paddy rasped, voice hoarse with want. another slap. another sob. you clawed at the sheets first, then at your own shirt. then his wrist when he pressed your thighs wide again, keeping you spread even as you tried to squirm away. your legs kept jerking, desperate to close, but he was stronger- far stronger- and you weren't going anywhere. “stay open f’r me,” he said again, tone sharper this time. “or i’ll start countin’.” another sharp smack to your cunt- right on the clit this time. you howled, hips jolting, hands flying to his forearm, trying to push him back but it was useless. his weight was pinning you down, and he was grinning like a madman now, drunk on the sight of you falling apart on his fingers.

“ye'r a fuckin’ mess,” he crooned, dragging his soaked fingers through your folds, pulling them apart to watch you fluttering. “poor thing can’t even take a wee slap without crying” you sobbed even louder, head tossing side to side, hips bucking helplessly when he landed another soft wet slap. the sound was filthy, so dirty... cunt squelching, slick dripping down your ass, mixing with the lewd slap-slap-slap of his palm. It made your humiliation worse, face burning as the tears came faster, your nails now dragging uselessly over your own belly, clutching at your shirt, at anything. “fuckin’ love this,” paddy groaned, his voice ragged. “are ye shy now? after the way ye soaked m’fuckin’ hand?” he murmured, tongue running over his bottom lip.

he dragged his fingers slow through your folds, spreading you apart again but this time with a filthy sort of reverence. “pretty thing ye are,” he breathed, thumb circling lazy over your soaked, twitching clit. “can’t stop flutterin’, can ye?” he kept you open. pressed your thighs wider with his other hand, letting you feel every brutal, overstimulated spank right on your clit, your slit, till your whole body was a quivering mess beneath him. “don’t hide from me now,” he rasped, thumb teasing down to your entrance. “ye were beggin’ f’r me, remember?” he pushed one finger in slow- just the tip- then dragged it back out, watching the way your pussy practically clung to it as if it were some lifeline, sucking at the retreating touch like it couldn’t bear to be empty. “ye want me t’fill ye again, yeah?” another slow drag through your folds. he leaned in close, breath hot over your slick cunt as he spoke against it, voice low and wrecked:

“might fuck ye on m’fingers like this… ‘til ye’re cryin’ f’r cock.”

and just for the fuck of it- he spat, right over your fluttering entrance- no quick little drop- slow, thick from his throat, a wet hawking sound first that made your whole body tense, knowing what was coming. it hit right on your entrance- hot and wet, landing with a filthy, audible splat. the glob of spit sat there a second- thick and milky, glistening in the dim light- pooled right against your flushed, swollen cunt. your hole twitched beneath it, fluttering from the raw overstimulation, the skin flushed red from the spanking, glistening from slick and spit alike. for a breathless second it hung there- sticky between your parted folds, clinging to the tender skin-before it began to ooze. he pushed two thick fingers in again, spreading you wide, the mix of spit and slick coating everything, making you squelch so loud it echoed through the room. he twisted, dragging his fingers back, spreading your folds apart again- just to watch the whole mess drip out.

he could get off on this alone. didn’t even need to sink his cock in. just this- watching you drip and twitch for him was enough to have him ready to blow.

#will they burn this little brown girl at the stake for this?#we'll see #projecting so hard rn !#SAS rogue heroes x reader #paddy mayne x reader #paddy mayne #paddy mayne smut #smut #SAS rogue heroes

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cinnamon7girl7 · 19 hours ago

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"WE DON'T BELIEVE YOU, GOJO!!!"

At this point, saying Satoru Gojo was famous on the internet was an understatement. With thirteen million followers on Twitch, a YouTube channel full of viral clips, and a legion of fans who followed him everywhere, he was basically a digital celebrity. No one would’ve imagined that the guy with the “just woke up” face and loud laugh would make it this far—least of all, him.

Gojo had started streaming a couple of years ago, at first as a joke. He uploaded short clips playing with his friends, no cam, just a voice that sounded way too confident for someone constantly losing in Valorant. But everything changed the moment he decided to turn on his camera and show his face—then the internet fell at his feet. There was something about him… that mix of shameless charm, zero embarrassment, and a cocky smile that seemed custom-made to break hearts through the screen.

Now, he streamed four times a week, usually at night, starting around 8 p.m. and sometimes staying on past midnight. Mondays were for “chatting with chat,” as he liked to say—sometimes he didn’t even play, just commented on random stuff, reacted to videos, and laughed at the dumbest comments. Wednesdays were shooter days: Valorant, Overwatch 2, sometimes a little Call of Duty. Fridays were for story-driven games like Detroit: Become Human or Until Dawn, where he screamed like it was the end of the world every time a character died. Sundays were pure chaos: games with followers, silly challenges, and an outrageous amount of bits flying across the screen.

His room was part of the charm. The camera always showed the same angle: Gojo in his white gamer chair, wearing black headphones that contrasted with his messy white hair. Behind him, a wall decorated with blue LED lights, shelves packed with Funkos and little figurines, and a giant plushie of a cat with a suspicious face that always made an appearance at some point during the stream. Sometimes he wore sunglasses, just “for the drama.” Other times he showed up with wet hair, like he’d just gotten out of the shower and couldn’t care less. Always in oversized T-shirts or hoodies, most of them printed with memes or ridiculous quotes like “you won because I let you.”

That Monday night, he was in his usual talking stream. Almost 580,000 people were tuned in.

—Hey, hey, wait, wait —Gojo spoke with a lazy smile, leaning back in his chair—. Why are you saying that if I let my hair grow longer I look like a chaotic elf? Respect!

The chat was going a thousand miles an hour, emojis, conspiracy theories about whether he slept more than three hours a day. Affectionate insults, threats of eternal love, greetings from countries he didn’t even remember visiting. All the usual stuff.

Gojo slowly spun his chair from side to side while finishing adjusting his headset. He wore a gray hoodie with a stretched neck, like he had put it on without looking. His hair, messier than ever, fell disorderly over his forehead, and the dark glasses rested on the tip of his nose, letting his eyes peek over with a mischievous smile.

—Okay, let’s see, what do we have today?

@ILoveYouSoWhat: DO YOU SLEEP OR JUST EXIST?

@LoveRamen: I dreamed about you last night and woke up sad

@GojoEndMe: why are you so handsome today? Stop making me suffer

@SayHiOrIExplode: SAY SOMETHING, SENSEI, SAY SOMETHINGGG

—But I haven’t said anything and you’re all already upset! —he laughed, resting his elbows on the desk while reading the chaos on screen—. Weren’t I unbearable? Weren’t you all over it already?

@ShinyHair: yes, but your existence drags us

@MyPaleKing: you’re too close to the camera. My knees are shaking

@GojoFanClub: speaking for everyone when I say I hate you lovingly

—Wow. Strong statements for a Monday —he replied, raising an eyebrow—. I wake up, turn on the stream, gift you this beauty in 4K and all I get are threats and confused love declarations.

@StopThisMan: I can’t take this man anymore

@VirtualKiss: your existence is emotional violence

Gojo burst out laughing and leaned back, letting his chair squeak dramatically.

—See why I don’t stream every day? I need time to emotionally recover from the bullying you all do to me. Where’s the sincere affection? Where’s the pure love?

@BlindLove: I do love you, even if you’re unbearable

@ProfGojo: sincere affection? You only understand chaos

@BiteMeGojo: you give me love and trauma at the same time

—Love and trauma? What a strong phrase to put on a t-shirt! Wait... I’m going to write that down!

He made the dramatic gesture of writing with an invisible pen, as if he really had a notebook at hand.

—“Love and trauma since 199... well, since a few years ago. With love, Satoru.”

@IWantThatShirt: I’ll buy it RIGHT NOW

@AdorableMenace: stop monetizing our mental health

—But you all come to me! I didn’t even go looking for you. I was calm, playing calmly, and suddenly I wake up with thousands of you yelling “hit me or kiss me,” what am I supposed to do with that?!

@LetUsLoveYou: just kiss us all already

@GimmeStreamGimmeLife: we chose you as our favorite trauma

Gojo snapped his fingers, pointing at the screen as if he could really see them.

—Now I understand why my psychologist always seems so exhausted when I see him. He looks at me like “I don’t get paid enough to listen to what you tell me.”

@SatoruSpillIt: that’s because you didn’t tell him you’re a streamer

@SpicyTeaTime: does your psychologist know you’re a streamer?

—Of course. It was his idea, actually. He told me: “Maybe you should channel that need for attention in a healthier way.” And look at me now! Surrounded by thousands of strangers yelling things at me... total emotional healing.

@SawYouFirst: so it was the psychologist’s idea... we love him

@TherapistOfThePeople: thanks for everything, doc

He stayed silent for a moment, watching the number of viewers keep rising. It was already over 670,000 live. He noticed, but didn’t comment on it. He just smiled.

—Hey… can I ask something?

The chat paused for just a second. Just enough for someone to write:

@AskSensei: obviously, whatever you want

—Do you all watch all my streams? Like, every single one? Or is there someone here who just arrived, like, casually?

@CameFromTikTok: you showed up in an edit and now I can’t escape

@FromApexWithLove: I’ve been here since they were killing you in the lobby

@NoviceInLove: I came for a clip and stayed for your face

@NoEscape: I arrived yesterday and already sold my soul

—Ha! I love you guys. Well, not literally. Imagine if I could say that without legal consequences… “Streamer marries 13 million people.” Can you imagine? My big digital wedding. The first kiss would be delayed.

@IWannaBeTheBrideNumberOne: I want to be bride number one!

@LetThemKiss: can you kiss through the stream?

@ToxicMoon: no, but I can kiss the screen anyway

Gojo brought his hand to his chest with a hurt expression.

—You’re killing me. This is no longer bullying: it’s emotional homicide. And you know what’s worst? I like it. I’m an accomplice.

@ToxicButLoyal: we’re your favorite crime

@LaughButConfess: you laugh a lot but don’t say if you have a girlfriend

The comment went by fast. Almost unnoticed. But he read it.

And he didn’t answer immediately.

He just stared at the screen a little longer than usual, with a half frozen, half amused smile. The silence didn’t last even three seconds, but on the internet that’s eternal.

@I_SAW_IT: he saw it… he read it… and stayed silent

@WE_DONT_BELIEVE_YOU: there it is, the silence gave him away

@MAKE_HIM_CONFESS: don’t run away, bald guy with powers

Gojo squinted. Tilted his head. Then chuckled softly.

—See how you are? One thing is to call me handsome, and another to corner me like this is a live trial. What’s next? Bringing a lawyer to the stream?

@ChatAccuses: Satoru Gojo, accused of hiding love information

@WE_DEMAND_PROOF: Do you have a girlfriend or not?

@NOBODY_BELIEVES_YOU: this man is way too happy to be single

Gojo clicked his tongue, spun in his chair, covered his face with one hand, and murmured:

—And so, ladies and ladies… the war has begun.

The silence barely lasted a second. Maybe two. Then, as if someone had pressed a giant red button, the chat exploded into absolute chaos.

@SugarCookie: Don’t tell me you have a girlfriend.

@DonutKarma: What war? What did you do, Satoru?

@TenderRamen: YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?! WHAT WAR?

@GojoTheories: The one who stays silent… has a girlfriend.

@SadEyes: Is what I’m reading real or am I projecting?

Satoru raised both eyebrows as he read the messages flying across the screen. The monitor’s glow reflected in his eyes, now sparkling with pure amusement. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head with a dangerous smile on his lips.

—But what does one thing have to do with the other? —he said in a relaxed tone, though not hiding the laugh escaping from the corner of his mouth—. I was talking about the emotional war unleashed in this stream… who mentioned girlfriends?

@EmoPanda: WHAT WAR? THE EMOTIONAL ONE YOU’RE CAUSING ME?!

@LoggingOff: Gojo, DO YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?

@SpiritualSandal: CONFIRM OR DENY, NOW.

@FuriousPikachu: don’t evade the question, master

He let out a full laugh, with that laugh of his that seemed contagious even if you had no idea what was going on. He turned his chair a bit, moving closer to the microphone, as if he really had something important to confess.

—What if I do? —he asked boldly, raising an eyebrow—. What if I do have one?

@InnocentMe: CRY WITH ME

@DestroyedFan: I don’t know how to deal with this

@RealSandal: Don’t make me throw the sandal, Gojo

@ShockedRabbit: Are you telling me I was THE OTHER without knowing?

He rubbed the back of his neck with a half guilty, half delighted smile. Like he was enjoying every second of this collective reaction.

—Come on, it’s not that big a deal. —He shrugged with a dramatic sigh—. I just said “what if I do?” I haven’t confirmed anything, technically.

@Conspiracy3000: That’s what someone WHO HAS a girlfriend would say

@DramaQueen: the one who doubts, HAS

@DisappointedCake: I’m listening to Taylor Swift while reading this

@NotNormal: You said it. You sold yourself out, Gojo

Satoru rested his elbows on the table, intertwined his fingers, and rested his chin on his hands. He looked at the screen as if the whole world was judging him in an interrogation room. His lips formed a sly, almost tender smile, but in his gaze there was a spark of mischief no one was going to put out.

—Since when is having a partner a federal crime? —he murmured, in a mock victim tone—. I literally just said “what if I do,” and now they want to exile me.

@NoPeaceSinceToday: I just wanted to watch you play. Now I’m in therapy.

@BackgroundNetflix: This is better than any series

@NotAJoke: Say it. Just say it. Do you have a girlfriend or not?

And that’s when he decided.

He closed his eyes for a second, took a breath, and then leaned even closer to the mic, as if about to tell the biggest secret of his life. He spoke with a soft, sincere voice… but without losing the humor.

—Yes.

He dropped it with such dangerous calm it seemed scripted. Then shrugged, as if he hadn’t just destroyed thousands of hearts with a single word.

—Yes, I have a girlfriend. For six years.

The chat froze for a fraction of a second before going into spontaneous combustion.

@AreYouKiddingMe: error 404

@IAlreadyLeft: Nope. It can’t be. It’s not real.

@BrokenFantasy: SIX? SIX YEARS? SIX YEARS.

@MomI’mCrying: don’t talk to me, I’m mourning

@MySoulHurts: I felt like running in the rain

— I know, I know — he said, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture that didn’t help at all —. It all happened very fast… six years ago. I met her, I fell in love, and since then, here we are. And it’s not like I wanted to hide her, okay? It’s just that… you all are intense. Look at you right now.

He laughed alone seeing how fast the chat was moving. The chaos. The suffering. And yet, there was affection behind it all. That was the price of being loved by so many people: even good news hurt.

— She lives with me, puts up with me, makes me laugh… and she cooks better than anyone. I adore her. A lot. And no, I didn’t make her up. This is not a marketing plan or a strategy for a movie. It’s real.

@CollectivePanic: I’m dizzy.

@CollectivePanic: I’m sweating.

@CollectivePanic: I fell off the couch.

@ShockedCat: What do you mean SHE LIVES WITH YOU?

@BrokenHeart: I lost the light in my eyes

@I’mLeaving: This is my last stream, it was an honor

— What did you expect? That I would live alone and eat instant ramen my whole life?

He put a hand on his chest as if he really felt hurt.

— You don’t believe me! Do you really not believe me? After everything we’ve shared?

@DoubleStandard: I can’t be happy for you if I’m not the one

@IDon’tBelieveYouGojo: LIAR. I DON’T BELIEVE YOU.

@That’sFake: Gojo, you don’t know what true love is

@HaterButLoyal: This is a phase. Tomorrow he’ll deny it.

He laughed, the kind of laugh he only let out when everything seemed like an eternal joke.

— Want an official announcement? A blood-signed document? A romantic stream by candlelight?

@YourExInSilence: YES

@GiveItToMeNOW: Let her come. Let her confirm it. NOW!

@DeluxeBetrayal: Proof, Satoru. We want proof.

He leaned back, settling into that expression like he had everything under control. Like he’d been waiting all night for this moment.

— No, not yet — he said, winking —. You haven’t begged me enough.

@FuriousAndUnited: WE BEG ON OUR KNEES, DADDY

@FuryKiss: LET US MEET THE QUEEN

@ShockedHeart: I don’t know whether to cry or applaud

— That’s why I never tell you anything — he murmured, shaking his head with a charming smile —. They literally put me on trial the moment I open my mouth. This is an emotional court with no neutral jury.

@YouAskedForIt: Guilty. No way out.

@InnocenceIsOver: This is my last stream

— Well, now you know. I have a girlfriend. Six years. It’s real. She’s beautiful. She’s mine. And I’m not going to show her. Not yet. — He leaned toward the camera, winking cheekily —. And the best part is… this is just the beginning.

The chat kept roaring like an endless storm. Hearts were broken, fingers typed as if trying to pierce through the screen, and Satoru… he simply enjoyed it. You could tell. That playful sparkle in his eyes was like a mischievous child nobody could stop.

@DetectiveFan: OK. LET’S START THE INVESTIGATION

@BestFriendWhoDoesn’tSuspect: IS SHE BLONDE?

@BetrayedButLoyal: GOJO, IS SHE PRETTY?

@EyesLikeTheSky: tell me if she has light eyes or I’ll die

Satoru let out a mischievous giggle and tilted his head, resting his cheek against the back of his hand while watching the messages flood the screen.

—Hmm… —he made a thoughtful sound, as if truly evaluating something important—. Want to know about her?

@Everyone: YES!!

@NowRightNow: TELL US EVERYTHING

@ConfessNow: GOJO, I BEG YOU

He clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, pretending to be indecisive.

—Okay. But let’s play. If you guess her hair color… I’ll say something about her. Only one thing per correct guess, okay?

@PinkHair: PINK!

@BlackLikeMySoul: BLACK

@SilverLikeYou: SILVER LIKE YOURS

@RedheadPlease: REDHEAD!

@SurelyBlonde: She’s blonde, my soul tells me

@FantasticRainbow: She’s bald

Satoru watched each message pass with a raised eyebrow, as if silently judging. He smiled with clenched teeth and shook his head.

—No, no, no. Everyone is pretty far off… Although that one from “@FantasticRainbow” made me laugh —he shrugged—. Anything else? Anyone else want to try?

@IneverFail: DARK REDHEAD

@MyIdealMotherInLaw: BLACK WITH BLUE HIGHLIGHTS

@DetectiveChestnut: BROWN

And there, he said it. He heard it. Well, he read it. He paused. His eyes opened a little wider, that subtle way he has only when caught. A laugh escaped him before he could control it, soft and playful.

—Aha… —he whispered to the microphone—. We have a winner.

@NOOOO: WHAT? WHO? WHICH ONE WAS IT?

@REPEATIT: I DIDN’T SEE! I DIDN’T SEE!

@STOPEVERYTHING: SOMEONE GOT IT RIGHT!

Satoru let out a louder laugh, dropped his head back for a second, then looked directly at the camera again.

—Yes. Brown. Bingo.

@IMDEAD: I’M SAYING GOODBYE TO THE WORLD

@IWANTTHATINFO: TELL THE TRUTH, YOU PROMISED

@GOSSIPWITHPRIZE: GOJO, SPILL IT

Satoru rested his elbows on the desk, laced his fingers, and looked at the camera with a smile that melts hearts.

—Okay. One truth about her… Every time I get sick, doesn’t matter if it’s a silly cold, or I just sneeze three times a day… she makes me soup. A special one. It has ginger, onion, carrot, sometimes rice. And she knows exactly how long to boil it to heal me. It never fails. Never.

@SOULHEALER: I want to die of love

@IWANTTHATSOUPE: Do you have the recipe?

@SHE’SMYIDOLNOW: MAKE HER A SAINT!

—Another round, want it? —he said in a lower, playful voice, as if he knew the chat had no escape—. What if now you guess… her eye color?

@BlueLikeMyHeart: BLUE!

@SorceressGreen: GREEN!

@BlackLikeMyShadow: BLACK

@RedLikeMyEnvy: I DON’T KNOW BUT I WANT THEM TO BE RED

@Violet: VIOLET, obviously

@SweetCoffee: Brown

Another pause. A slow smile formed on Satoru’s lips, who barely bit his lower lip.

—Look at that! Again… someone got it right.

@WHOWASIT: SAY IT!

@IDIDNTSEE: WHO SAID IT?

—Brown. —The word came out soft, with sincere affection—. A brown that changes with the light. Sometimes it looks like honey, sometimes like wet earth. They’re… pretty —he admitted quietly, lowering his gaze only a second before regaining composure—. Another truth, then.

He stretched in his chair, as if thinking a bit.

—She doesn’t let me leave without breakfast. Never. And when I try, she crosses her arms at the door and won’t let me pass. She says, “You won’t last five minutes like that.” And she’s right. Always right.

@I'MCHILLING: HOW DO I BECOME HER?

@IWANTTOBEBREAKFAST: I DON'T EVEN CARE THAT MUCH ABOUT MYSELF

@MARRIAGEIN4MONTHS: I MARRY THEM

And suddenly, BOOM! The screen exploded with violet lights and digital fireworks.

@IDONTBELIEVEYOU just dropped the bomb: 💥 20,000 bits 💥 The message came with pure venom: @IDONTBELIEVEYOU: I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY. I. DO. NOT. BELIEVE. YOU. I won't believe it until she comes and says it with her VOICE. WE WANT TO HEAR HER! CALL HER NOW, GOJO!

The chat collapsed as if someone had kicked a beehive.

@OHMYGOD: AAAAAAAA

@THISISASECT: THIS GOT SERIOUS

@BIGDONATION: YOU DON'T PLAY WITH 20K BITS

@MYSOULSCREAMED: THE VOICE! THE VOICE!

Satoru opened his eyes as if he'd been challenged to the world gossip finals. He leaned back in his chair, making a face like "Are you seriously doing this to me?"... then he smiled.

— Well, well... — he said, looking at the camera like he was talking to an accomplice.

Someone wants audio proof.

The chat went on fire.

@CALLCALLNOW: I'M NERVOUS AND I'M NOT EVEN HER

@WEARECRAZY: WHAT IF HE ANSWERS SWEETLY?

@IWILLDIEHAPPY: WHAT IF HE SAYS "LOVE"?

Satoru was already pulling out his phone. With one hand he unlocked it, swiped to your contacts, and there was your name, with a bow emoji and a pink heart.

He typed. He called. Speakerphone.

— If you don't answer... they're going to burn me alive — he murmured, amused.

A couple of rings, and then:

— Hi? — your voice, unprepared, so natural, so you.

Satoru straightened up a bit, a smile already fixed and a mischievous look.

— Love, where are you?

— At Zara — you said, unaware you were being listened to by thousands of lost souls.

I'm between two dresses, one makes my legs look beautiful, the other is very short. What are you doing?

Silence. TOTAL silence.

Satoru looked straight at the camera. He didn’t explain anything. He just said with a calm smile:

— Nothing. I just wanted to hear you — he replied, with that low, honeyed voice reserved only for you.

And that’s when hell broke loose.

@NOOOOOOOOOOO: HE SAID LOVE LIVE ON AIR!

@IGOTOUTOFTHISWORLD: THAT VOICE. THAT VOICE. THAT VOICE.

@INEEDAIR: SHE'S AT ZARA AND HE CALLS HER. WHY IS THIS SO REAL?

@ICRYFORTHEM: SHE SAID “WHAT ARE YOU DOING” AND HE ANSWERED “NOTHING.” THEY’RE DESTROYING ME

@20KBITSWELLSPENT: IT WAS WORTH EVERY BIT. EVERY SINGLE ONE.

@SHOPPINGQUEEN: SHE’S SHOPPING AND HE CALLS TO HEAR HER VOICE? SHUT UP, I’M CRYING IN PUBLIC!

@IMBREAKING: WHO SAYS “I JUST WANTED TO HEAR YOU”? WHO DOES THAT AND SURVIVES?

@HAPPYLIVES: THAT’S IT. THIS IS A DRAMA. THIS IS NOT REAL.

@LOVEONLOUDSPEAKER: I NEED TO BE LOVED LIKE THIS. HOW DO YOU DO IT?

@THISISNOTADRILL: GOJO, STOP. YOU’RE GOING TO KILL HALF THE FANDOM

@OFFICIALLYDECLARE: HER VOICE IS SOFT. HE LISTENS LIKE IT’S A PRIVILEGE

— Are you busy? — you asked, not knowing your voice had just been archived by thousands of people in their brains and hearts forever.

— For you, never — he said with a little smile, resting his elbow on the table like this was an intimate video call... and not a stream watched by over a hundred thousand people.

@IMDEAD: HE SAID “FOR YOU, NEVER.” FOR YOU, NEVER!!!!!

@BREATHEFORGOD: LIVE FLIRTING. PUBLIC FLIRTING. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

@HEROESOFMYHEART: I THOUGHT I WAS IN GOJO’S STREAM, NOT IN A LOVE STORY

— I’m just... at Zara. I saw something I thought you’d like — you kept saying, while the world melted in real time.

— What?

— A white shirt, one of those you like.

@SHEKNOWSWHATSHELIKES: SHE KNOWS WHAT SHIRTS HE LIKES!!!

@STOPEVERYTHING: WHO AUTHORIZED HER TO BE THIS PERFECT?

@GOJOSWIFECONFIRMED: NO DOUBT LEFT. THIS WOMAN EXISTS AND HAS HIM IN LOVE

— Send me a photo — he said, completely shameless, ignoring that the entire world was listening to every word with teary eyes.

— Okay, but don’t ignore me, okay? — you whispered sweetly.

— Never — and the monitor in front of him reflected for a second that silly, in-love smile.

@IMSOFEDUP: ENOUGH!!!! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE

@LOVEEXISTS: IF THEY EXIST, LOVE DOES TOO

@BREATHETOGETHER: SERIOUSLY, STOP. I’M CRYING IN THE WORK BATHROOM

— Did you buy anything yet or are you still doubting as always? — he joked, leaning further back in the chair.

— I’m looking... there’s a pretty dress too, but I don’t know which of the three to pick — you answered with a little laugh.

— Everything you wear looks spectacular. Literally. Everything — he replied without thinking twice.

@IMSCREAMING: HOW CAN I GET SOMETHING LIKE THAT?

@BREATHEWITHME: I’M. H-Y-P-E-R-V-E-N-T-I-L-A-T-I-N-G.

@EVERYTHINGCONFIRMED: THEY CALL, THEY FLIRT, THEY KNOW EACH OTHER’S CLOTHES… THEY’RE MARRIED, END

— How dramatic — you replied, though he could already imagine your smile, and that was enough for him.

— Dramatic, but sincere.

@StopThis: THE TONE. THE TONE. HOW DO YOU TALK TO SOMEONE LIKE THAT AND STILL BE ALIVE?

@NowEverythingMakesSense: THAT’S WHY THEY CURE WITH YOUR SOUP. BECAUSE YOU TALK LIKE THAT

— Do you want me to buy you something? — you asked, switching to sweet mode like nothing happened.

— Yes. But only if you send me a photo of you trying it on.

@ImBurningUp: OH PLEASE! HOW EMBARRASSING, GOJO!

@I’mShaking: THIS IS PRIVATE NOW. WE’RE IN HIS LIVING ROOM WITHOUT PERMISSION

@GojoNoFilter: HE’S ON STREAM, HE FORGOT!

— Satoru… — your voice sounded between amused and exasperated — Now that I remember, weren’t you doing something?

There was a brief silence.

Then he burst out laughing.

— Ah, right — he said between laughs — I was on stream.

@NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO: THEY TOLD HIM!!! SHE DIDN’T KNOW!!!!

@DeadlyGojo: SATORU!!! YOU CALLED HER LIVE AND SHE DIDN’T KNOW???

@That’sWhyIt’sReal: IT’S SO REAL SHE DIDN’T EVEN REMEMBER SHE HAD AN AUDIENCE

@100KWitnesses: WE WERE HERE. WITNESSES TO THIS ROMANTIC MOVIE

— WHAT? YOU’RE ON STREAM!? — you asked, stopping dead.

— Yup — he answered, totally shameless — Six hundred eighty thousand people just fell in love with you, just so you know.

@Confirmed: OFFICIAL. WE ALL FELL IN LOVE

@SheOwnsEverything: THE VOICE. THE WAY HE TALKS TO HER. THE SWEETNESS. IT SWEPT ME AWAY

@NowWeGetHer: AND WE WERE CRITICIZING. YOU DESERVE GOJO, QUEEN

— Oh, Satoru… how embarrassing. — Your voice was soft, nervous, but sweet.

— Embarrassed? Everyone’s dead in love with you. They just asked me to propose to you live.

@IAlreadySaidIt: CONFIRMED, HE PROPOSES ON THE NEXT STREAM

@SatoruAndHer: I’M NOT INTERESTED IN ANY OTHER COUPLE NOW

— Hang up already, dummy — you whispered laughing, and he nodded with a soft smile.

— See you at home, love. I love you.

— Me too.

And he hung up.

For a moment, he said nothing. He just stared at the screen with a silly smile on his lips, while the chat kept exploding.

@ThatWasTooMuch: I’M GOING TO LAY DOWN ON THE FLOOR

@StreamOfTheDecade: THIS STREAM SHOULD WIN AN AWARD

@GonnaMuteMyself: I NEED TO PROCESS ALL THIS

— Well… — Satoru finally broke the silence with a mischievous tone — I think that was enough emotional trauma for today, right?

@INeedMore: NO, DON’T CLOSE. MORE, MORE, MORE

@NoHealingYet: WE NEED GROUP THERAPY RIGHT NOW

— See you on the next stream, chat. I don’t know if we’ll get over this… but we’ll try.

And with one last smile, he ended the broadcast.

Black screen. Chat crashing. Hearts exploding.

And somewhere in the world, you smiled unaware you had left half the planet in love with you.

147 notes · View notes

heartseungbin · 3 days ago

Note

OMGGG!! We need virgin beomseok 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ lowkey instead of him being obsessed with suho I need him obsessed with US instead! 👅 I’d give him all the attention 🧘🏾‍♀️ -🧁

(also so random but FUCK his dad omgg. He can DIE)

THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY O.B

synopsis; you and beomseok do it at a party

warnings; somewhat public fucking, overstimulation, exploration of choking?? (lit one mention), mention of alcohol, virgin!beomseok, unprotected sex (wrap ts before you fuck a pretty boy)

notes; really airing myself and my kinks out with this one smh "FREAK" you all yell in unison as you point at me, throwing stones and tomatoes💔💔 #freakmcnasty bro I cannot believe it took me a month to write this..I lowkey want my chance with reader next move beomseok🤨

This party is intense.

It's Beomseok's first time at a house party and he was anxious to say the least.

"I'm telling you Beomie, we can leave whenever you want. You sure?" I search his eyes, taking hold of his shaking hands. He cast his gaze to the ground for a second as I gently squeeze his hands, before looking back at me. He softly shakes his head, "I'm okay." I smile, nodding in understanding.

"We'll leave in like—thirty minutes. Wanna find a room to chill in?" He looks away for a second, thinking. He nods and I tighten my grip on his hand.

I weave through the crowd of dancing bodies, clutching his hand tightly so I don’t lose him. The music is piercing as I head past a speaker, the bass booming and the music flooding my brain. I throw a hand over my ears, looking back to see how Beomseok was fairing.

He winces as we pass by the speaker and I try to yell over the music. "Cover your ears." I motion to my ears with my free hand and he covers the one closest to the speaker as I continue pulling him along.

Fuck, it's suffocating like a maze in here.

Whose house even is this?

I can barley think with the music blasting, making every other noise impossibly quiet.

I lead him to a staircase where people are sitting on every other stair, making out and practically fucking. I pull him along and up the stairs, yelling apologies over the music.

I make it upstairs with Beomseok while attempting to shove past the people crowding the halls. The stench of alcohol hangs thick in the air, making my nose scrunch. I head right to the first door I see, which is at the end of the crowded hall. I push past people, pulling Beomseok into the unlocked room and shutting the door.

From what I can see in the lowlight of the moon, there's a large bed with a canopy in the center of the room, inviting me over. The music is almost muffled in this room, and I sigh in relief, thankful to not have to yell anymore.

I let go of his hand, flopping onto the bed. "I'm so damn tired."

It's quiet for a moment save for the muffled music downstairs and I realize Beomseok is still standing by the door as I sit up, propping my elbows on the bed. I look him up and down, drinking up his flushed state.

He’s wearing a buttoned-up cardigan, soft and slightly oversized, with dark dress pants that hang just loose enough to bunch around his ankles. His black suede shoes are perfectly lined up, his hands clasped behind him like a nervous schoolboy.

His head is bowed, hair falling into his face, the faintest flush creeping up his neck and I can just barely see the smooth skin of his chest through the V of the cardigan.

Looks like he's not wearing anything underneath.

He looks so cute like this.

"Come here baby, no need to be nervous." I pat the spot on the bed next to me and he looks up, pushing his glasses onto his face. He saunters over with no hesitation. He perches on the far edge of the bed, his gaze drifting everywhere but in my direction.

"Why sit so far?" I fully sit up now, getting off the bed. I plop myself next to him, scooting myself impossibly close to him. His thigh touches mine. So does his arm. He gulps, Adams apple bobbing with the movement.

"I don't bite," I scoot that much closer, bringing my voice to barley above a whisper.

"Unless you like that."

I can see how the words effected him as soon as he shivers, scanning the room and avoiding my eyes like I'd turn him to stone.

"I do—I mean I, I just haven't you know—" He stumbles over his words, and I nod, placing a comforting hand over his.

"I know, do you want to try?" He looks at me then, his eyes growing wide.

"Yeah—I'd like that." He grabs my hand then, rubbing a comforting hand over my own. It's something he does to calm himself I've noticed. I feel a smile tug at the corners of my lips. "We can start off slow if you'd like." He nods, a soft smile growing on his face.

"It's okay to be nervous baby, if at any point you wanna stop or slow down promise to let me know?" I bring a hand up to his face, gently turning him to face me. He looks at me with hooded eyes, gentle tufts of breath hitting my face.

"I promise." He blinks. He takes these things so seriously and it really warms my heart.

He looks sort of dazed and a couple beats of silence pass as I drink him in.

"You're so beautiful." He sighs, gaze lingering on my lips. I softly laugh. The air suddenly feels heavier with something else now as we both go quiet. I lean in closer and his breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut. I brush a piece of hair from his eyes, placing a soft peck to his lips.

His breath fans against my lips, hot and shakily like he can't bare to look at what's coming next.

I smile, thinking about just how long it took to get him to this point. When we first started dating he was so shy, hesitant to kiss or even hold hands. He's grown so much since we first met.

I press my lips to his and his hands crawl up my body, coming to play at the straps of my top, just thumbing with the fabric there. I cup his jaw, bringing him in all the closer as his lips part slightly.

I slip my tongue into his awaiting mouth. He tastes slightly of mint and a hint of alcohol. He grabs onto the strap of my shirt then, grabbing the fabric tightly.

Several moments pass and he whimpers into the kiss, pulling away to catch his breath. His chest rises and falls deeply as I snake a hand up his sweater from the bottom, feeling the smooth skin of his chest as his heart thumps under my fingertips.

I follow the red flush of his chest through his dress shirt up to his neck where I caress the soft skin there.

What a smooth canvas to paint with bruises.

"Your hearts racing baby, do you wanna take a break or stop?" He takes a deep breath in before replying, "No, let's keep going—fuck, you're so hot." he breathes, going in for another kiss. I lean forward, slightly parting my lips. I bring my hand down from his neck to thumb at his nipple and his body jolts as he moans quietly into my mouth. I pull away, hand resting on his stomach.

"Was that okay?" I breathe, gazing at him with lidded eyes. I can feel my own heart thumping in my rib cage as I look at him.

God—he's so fucking cute.

He bites his lip, silent for a second. "I—I liked it." He looks at me with wide eyes.

"I actually can't take It you are so fucking cute Beomie," I smile, swiping a thumb over his cheek lovingly. His face is smooth save for the occasional pimple, which is understandable. He leans into the touch, and my thumb dips into his parted mouth where he takes a hesitant lick, looking into my eyes.

"For fucks sake Beomie, you're really gonna make me fuck you right here." He laughs and I feel myself smile with him, laughter overtaking me also.

"But seriously—" I pull away, hands resting at the bottom of his shirt. "Let's take this off." He nods, and I pull the fabric over his head, him pulling his arms out helpful.

His chest is flushed red, beauty marks scattered across the skin. I must've been staring for a while because he broke the silence. "Do you think I look good?" he looks away shyly, like he would curl into a ball if I said anything but yes.

"Fuck yeah, you look more than good." I smile, looking at his slightly toned chest. I look into his eyes once more, "I wanna devour you."

He shudders at the words and I stand as I shimmy my pants and panties off of me and onto the floor. "Your turn." He bites his lip, eyes scanning my body and stopping when he gets to my tits. He stands suddenly, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants off, they hit the floor noiselessly and he immediately puts his hand over his dick, the flush seemingly spreading everywhere.

It's silent save for the soft breathing of us both.

"Can I—" he pauses, lip pouting and eyebrows furrowing like he doesn't know how to phrase the sentence right. "Can I eat you out?" He says like a question, and could swear I almost came right then and there.

I bite my lip with a nod as I saunter over to him. I push his chest softly, making him hit the bed with a quiet thump. I climb on top of him, stopping when I reach his neck.

I leave a soft kiss on the reddening canvas that is his throat and his back arches slightly. I put my hand on his chest, lightly pushing him back onto the bed. "Are we okay to continue?" I peck his lips, our faces so close I can see the depth of his eye bags and the dilation of his pupils.

"Yes, more than okay, fuck—I love you." he says, pulling me into a kiss as he places his hands on the back of my head, pulling me all the closer. I smile into the kiss, pulling away and sitting up. I slide myself down his body till I'm pressed against his leaking and hard cock. "mmph—please," he moans, hands resting against the silk sheets.

"Whatever you want Seokie," I whisper, lifting myself up and reaching behind me to grab his cock and guide it into me. I hum to myself as I slowly lower myself until I'm flush with his pubic bone.

I moan lowly at the stretch as Beomseok hums, eyes fluttering shut.

I catch my bottom lip between my top teeth as I begin to move, hands glued to his chest and I slowly grind against him. "Fuck," he moans, hands clenching and unclenching the sheets.

I grab his sweaty, slender hands and place them onto my waist as I lower myself onto his chest, lips flush with his perky nipples. I circle the skin there, leaving open mouthed kisses on his flushed skin.

His head lols to the right limply like his bones were made of jelly. I began to suck on his chest, leaving behind dark purple marks as his back arched into me, drawn tightly like a bow and arrow.

He whimpers as I suck dark marks into his skin and I know full and well he's gonna feel these tomorrow.

Is it already tomorrow? Shit, what time is it?

I feel like I'm getting lost in the feeling of him, him stretching my walls so perfectly and the quiet and drawn out moans of my name into the air.

He sounds heavenly like this and my chest warms at the thought. He whines my name, moaning when I clench around him. My hands fly to his neck, bringing him all the closer as I begin to whisper.

"You're doing so well baby," I kiss his bruised chest once again as I bring a hand up to his hair. He moans as I tug slightly, back falling onto the bed.

I begin riding him seriously now, the sudden change in pace making him grip my waist harshly and I groan at the thought of the bruises I'll be dealing with tomorrow. I can feel myself getting closer as I pant, fully intending on milking him of everything he had and more.

"Shit—m' gonna come," he groans, panting as he opens his eyes.

Our eyes meet as I grind harshly onto him, his hips bucking into me sporadically. "Fuck Beomseok—" I clench around him once more as the knot in my stomach snaps. "Come with me, now." The hand in his hair comes down to the flushed skin of his neck, tightening slightly.

His brown eyes roll back into his skull as he moans louder than he has all night and I feel the warmth pumping into me as he jolts and shudders, hips stuttering as he empties himself into me.

His back hits the bed with a thump and he lays still, shuddering occasionally through the aftershocks as he pants.

His eyes flutter shut and he looks almost sleepy as he looks up at me with dazed eyes.

"Was that good?" I pant, sitting up and resting my hand against his chest.

He throws a hand over his eyes and I can see the slow smile spreading across his face.

"It was more than good, I've never—"

At that very moment, the door flies open over the noise of panting. Suho is standing there, mid sentence before he stops. "Have you guys seen—" His eyes widen, jaw going slack as he takes in the scene before him.

"Holy shit—"

—

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this is so unlike me fr next smut im putting it in his ahh fr guys trust!!

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