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aquasoftware · 8 days ago

Text

But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo…☆ ◝

Snippet | “Press up a little… Okay um… try curling your finger—like, hook it up.”

꒰ Desc | Stressed after work? No problem ➜ until your favorite comfort item goes missing, and luckily your socially awkward roommate has a solution that leaves you unraveling in more ways than one.

꒰ CW | MDNI 18+ ꒱ Smútノangst, implied inexperienced! Choso, avoidant attachment! Reader, scént k⋆nk, pra⋆sé, m!ld bėgg!ng, s⋆zé k⋆nk, dry húmpúíng, spít, góóner! Choso, bràtty(ish)! Reader, ń⋆ppIe pIay, scént k⋆ńk, s⋆ze k⋆ńk, p⋆ssess!vé behavior, hint of geek! Choso, multiple big o’s, petnames, tèás!ng, b⋆dy w⋆rship, delayed O, squ⋆rt⋆ngノcr⋆⋆m⋆ng, óvèrst⋆múlat⋆ón, f⋆⋆t wórsh!p, túmmy búIge, yearner! Choso, ˖ aftercare.

꒰ FT | Fem!Reader X Roommate!Choso K. ꒱

WC ➜ 11K ➜ ML | A/N : Inspired by radiohead

You were absolutely doomed.

Around six-forty p.m was the time you usually arrived at your shared apartment, well after you stopped by for fast food to stuff your belly full—deserved especially since your shift worked you down to the bone. Then you’d hang your keys on the rack, strip out of your uniform in the bathroom, shower, and finally masturbate in your bedroom.

But that was the problem...

Your vibrator was nowhere to be seen, you literally searched everywhere.

Crawling on the floor with tattered breath as if you’d just watched a horror movie, digging through your cluttered closet, ripping apart the designer shoebox without a care, biting your lip as you forcefully pulled out every last drawer in your dresser, you even looked underneath your bed—which you decided it needed some tidying up later—at least after you fixed the bigger issue.

Tears nearly threatened to escape the corners of your eye, in complete distress at this situation.

It wasn’t like you were trying to be dramatic, but each rude client was worth at least eight orgasms or even double that, hell you’d try and go all night if you didn’t have better things to do.

Sighing before making your next move, it was best to hit your last resort—asking your roommate if he’s seen your vibrator.

Of course you’d feel a little embarrassed, what’s the worst that could happen though? At most he’d give you a puzzled look and say no, still you were desperate, so it was worth a shot.

What you didn’t know about Choso was that he’s a bit of a gooner.

Whenever your friends visited you and they saw him they’d either :

A. Fangirl over your roommate gushing how hot quiet tall men are, and twirl their hair (apparently) flirting saying how they like their men “tatted up like a chipotle bag.”

B. Secretly whisper about how weird he looks—off-put by his broody energy and unapproachable face.

It only made you confused, because this was someone you’d defend with your life over someone calling him weird, but you never noticed at night how he groaned as he slowly stroked his cock to women that could possibly be your doppelgänger on twitter.

Thrusting up into his fist with a dying need when he’d watch hentai and the women would make the ahegao face, because he could only dream of making you roll your eyes back like that while you loll your tongue out.

Softly crying out your name as he rammed into his fleshlight like it was your pretty pussy, that he accidentally got flashed by once.

Choso couldn’t help himself, dirty talking to it—pretending it was the real thing. He’d whimper “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you like how I pound you Y/n?” Hearing your mewls through the walls with his keen ear only made it worse.

Which is exactly why while you were gone he hid your vibrator so discreetly he even forgot where he put it, he only hoped and prayed you’d have no other choice, but to come to him.

Oddly enough Choso was slightly shocked his little plan worked so easily.

When you gently knocked on his door, some rustling could be heard like he was trying to hide a few objects before opening it.

At last the door squeaked as it pried open, revealing his taller stature.

His eyes were baggy like if he got any sleep he’d start breaking out in hives, his ears decorated in piercings as if it were art on a canvas—his short shirt had shown off his tatted sleeve that drove women crazy.

“Do you need something?” Choso asked, leaning against the door frame, tying the drawstrings on his Star Wars pajamas with a dull look, although mentally his head was crowded with tiny people cheering for him.

“Yeah,” you took a long deep breath, answering.

Fiddling with the hem of your silky pink nightgown, you practically stalled for what you were about to ask.

“I was just wondering,” you muttered, trailing off.

Hiding your sweaty hands behind your back, you tried speaking again “actually don’t judge before I say it.” You dodged eye contact, making your eyes busy in his suddenly plain room that looked as if some collectables, or posters were missing.

“Did she notice anything? Quick, Quick! act normal Choso.” He panicked, his thoughts scolded him so loud he swore you might’ve heard them.

If he had two choices to let someone see his unholy room smothered in erotic figures, or those anime posters he claimed to watch for the ‘plot’—he’d let that someone be a god before you.

Dipping his hands in his pockets, he leaned closer into your space with warm inviting cocoa-tinted eyes, brushing his bangs out of his face.

“I won’t, promise.” He calmly reassured you.

“Have you possiblyyy,” you sing-songed, already regretting your life choices “perhaps seen my vibrator?”

For a moment, Choso had an unreadable look displayed on his face, then he raised an eyebrow, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“No?” He had to be honest with himself, shame simmered in his stomach as a lie trudged out, he hated making you feel a little crazy over this, but this was his only chance to feel the touch of a woman.

“Why would I see that?” Choso folded his arms, his eyes raked across your figure. Gradually losing his composure due to your fresh scent—the honey body wash with hints of vanilla perfume was begging him to rip your clothes apart so badly that he had to repeat to himself “Hold it together Choso.”

“Ah. You’re right, I just thought,” you poked your lips out, adjusting your bonnet to distract you from the incoming bomb of embarrassment.

Usually since you often misplaced your keys you’d often ask Choso if he’d seen them and he’d find them for you, which is why asking him this made at least a little sense.

“Nevermind.” You turned on your heel, preparing to use your fingers instead, (knowing you’d sob yourself to sleep after).

Your roommate didn’t allow you to leave just yet though, grabbing your wrist.“Wait, unless you, uh… wouldn’t mind me helping you.”

You paused like the entire world disintegrated, stepping back in shock.

“Helping me?” You tilted your head, on the verge of mentioning what if it changes things–not wanting anything to be tricky after, but at this point you couldn’t care anymore, you just wanted at most—one orgasm tonight.

“Yeah, I mean that’s only if you want,” he began scratching his head, abruptly leaving the “cool” act behind “You could even imagine someone else if–”

But before Choso could drown himself in a pool of awkwardness, you yanked him by his hand dragging him into his room like you owned it.

“Say no more!” You declared like you were at a restaurant and your roommate was the only thing on the menu.

He gasped, appalled like he didn’t construct this entire plan. Your smaller figure somehow managing to rule his taller frame.

He wasn’t expecting you to actually give in, so what now?

Choso never had a pretty woman this close, well, one he actually had an undeniable desire for.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he fidgeted with his fingers, nearly sweating for what was about to come.

“C’mon get closer, you don’t gotta be shy now!” You purred as you bat your luscious lashes, scooting towards him.

His hand was glued on top of yours, lifting for a second like he wanted to make a move—do anything, but he never thought he’d get this far.

Your fingertips grazed his skin as you tilted his chin upward with a featherlight touch, guiding his gaze to meet yours.

Your breaths mingled for a moment, dancing in the closed space.

Tracing a path of soft, fluttering kisses along the rim of his sharp jawline, you savored the heat radiating from his skin and the way he subtly leaned into your touch.

Your lips ghosted over the spot in front of his mouth, as if you were edging yourself with tasting him.

His heartbeat was comparable to an earthquake, booming loudly in anticipation. He felt the entire four years of living with you flash before his eyes, as if this was hard work that paid off, and he could finally die complete.

Then, without warning, your mouth claimed his—almost like you were marking your territory in spite of other women crushing over him.

It was dramatic the way your lips crashed against his repeatedly, suckling on his bottom lip like you were ravenous.

Your lips were melded into each other as if neither of you could get enough of this. His hand cupped your cheek like this was something bound to happen—practically screaming you were made to kiss only him.

He gently smiled into your plush lips remembering a few of the guys you used to bring over—now it was at last his turn after hearing how your pussy squelched through the walls.

Years of being on the side due to your toys or other men and he finally had a chance—he felt a rush of dedication to prove he was better, an urge to outdo everything that you scurried to during ovulation.

With one swift motion Choso picked you up, both hands cradling your hips and sitting you on his lap, forcing a gasp out of your throat.

“Didn’t know you had it in you like that.” You blurted, swearing if this were a show a saxophone would theatrically play in the background.

It was a known fact Choso was strong, but picking you up so fast you barely even noticed had you feeling like a love spell was casted on your heart, suddenly hearing it roar in your chest.

“I… Uh–” He started off, but his mind became scrambled, intoxicated with how close you were.

Your honey vanilla scent could’ve made him cum on the spot if he didn’t have enough self-control, except he reminded himself this was his only chance–he refused to fuck up.

It was too late though, because he immediately began to buck his hips up like a bull, causing your arms to wrap around his neck instinctively.

He never knew what it was like for a woman to sit on his lap before, he couldn’t help himself–the way your cunt throbbed all over his bulge it only enticed him even more.

“Fuck, I can’t believe this is real…” swirled around in his mind in disbelief, a fantasy he told himself would never be real achieved to bloom into life.

Choso’s angry veins were practically cursing you for how good your slick panties felt on top of him.

His cock felt like stone, already frustrated from the thin fabric separating the two of you.

“God, you’re so fucking hard,” you bursted into giggles, continuing to roll your hips “guess I’m not the only one… this pent up huh?” You teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Mhmm.” He mumbled, eyes barely open as he nuzzled his head into your shoulder, fitting like a perfect puzzle piece.

His focus was as good as a drunk person. Every shift of your hips became the only thing that mattered.

He bit back noises like if he let them slip, he’d no longer impress you, but it was as if you knew he was holding back—switching to a faster rhythm, placing kisses on his neck then sucking harshly at the tender skin, sure to leave a dark purple bruise.

He finally let go, ecstasy ascending in his bones, whimpering like a man obsessed—someone who’d merge souls with you if it were possible.

Choso’s body chased yours as if were a reflex, his mind morphed into complete fuzziness it was like he was on autopilot, but there was only one thing—he didn’t know what to do with his hands, maybe stealing your vibrator was a little odd, but he still wanted to remain respectful.

His hands moved lower down your back, fingers drawing circles on your nightgown, but halted like he wanted to go further and couldn’t.

“You wanna touch me?” You whispered, lips brushing his pink tinted ears, sending shivers throughout his body “It’s okay, go ahead.”

“You sure?” He brought his face from your shoulder for a moment, pressing his forehead against yours, the tips of your nose basically engaged to each other.

You nodded, reaching for his hands, dragging them down slowly to your ass. He quickly grabbed a huge handful, like it would escape from him.

“Fuck, you’re so soft.”

He groaned, feeling a surge of something primal brewing throughout him, his fingertips screwed harder into the supple fat of your ass damn near branding you.

You were driving him wild without even doing much but looking pretty while grinding on him.

The weight of you in his lap was insane—his mind shuffled with “please let this be more than once, I’ll do anything to have her again.”

Choso brutally bit the inside of his cheek, making sure this wasn’t a dream, if he woke up any minute he’d definitely take his anger out on one of his poor body pillows.

The fact that you came to him, agreeing with his idea to help you even if you could’ve just used your fingers, or just asked him to help you search for it meant everything to him—he never felt this needed in his life.

He was breathless at the touch starved friction, your moans swimming in his ear, how you gently clawed at his back, your captivating scent, was all too much for him.

“Feels so good.” Became the only thing he could spew out, veins bolting as he gripped you tighter, bringing you closer as his clothed cock rubbed on your pulsing clit.

You sighed entirely dazed, the air around you two growing thick and humid. You had your arms wrapped around his marked neck like you wanted to trap him in a web to keep him there forever.

Unfortunately, nobody’s touched you in what felt like decades; to some abstinence for only two years sounded weak, just about anyone could go without dick for two years right?

Absolutely not, at least for you, these past years were hell, it was so horrible you considered calling your ex-situationship to satisfy your needs.

Which was why you rutted into his pelvis like an animal in heat, your body acted as if it were irritated he didn’t ask to help you sooner.

Your panties became a slip n’ slide, every single one of his needy whimpers sprinting straight to your puffy clit—Choso’s wet kisses relishing in your neck had your nipples shamefully pebbling in your nightgown.

Somehow your hips even picked up speed on its own rocking into his tented pajama pants, you wouldn’t be surprised anymore at other decisions it could make.

There was no way you were this turned on by a little bit of humping, right? You mentally reprimanded yourself.

It was almost like you were a virgin again with no sense around a man, pure lust cascading your body.

Your breath was disappearing from you like a ghost, unable to handle your roommate’s wispy moans striking your ear, sounding as if he was on the verge of coming–all you could feel was the splotch of pre-cum leaking from the middle of his pants.

Your fingers ditched his neck to tangle into his raven tufts hoping it’d help stabilize yourself from the inescapable coil building in your tummy.

Not even the blasting fan nearby could cool the large sums of sweat off your bodies—convinced you were soul tied at this rate by how in sync you moved together.

Every hungry grind lined up perfectly with his bulge that continuously attacked your bundle of nerves sticking to the seam of your panties.

He held you so close you could feel his abs flexing as he gripped you tighter, the possessive touch causing you to clench around utterly nothing.

“Choso,” your mouth let out a choked sob, nails indenting itself into his shirt “Shit, I’m… close…” you gasped desperately in between breaths.

Your thighs began to shudder around his waist, drunk off the sheer intensity of him thrusting up into you.

Arrays worth of fireworks launched in your head, dizzy on the fact that you’d possibly get your first orgasm of the night after a long shift.

“Yeah? Haah, mmggffh me too…” He whimpered, placing a kiss on top of your head, but unfortunately he had a sudden change of plans—slowing down his movements while shifting his body just to lay you on the bed facing him against the plethora of fluffy pillows.

“Wait, nooo why’d you stop?”

You whined, heart humming like a drum—your pussy clamping around nothing, begging for anything to get relief.

“Because if I kept going I was gonna cum in my pants like some filthy loser.” Choso rasped, wetting his lips—dark brown eyes secured on your figure as if you stepped out of his favorite doujinshi.

You playfully smirked as you gave a pointed look to the sticky grey patch on his pajama pants. It might’ve only been pre-cum, though replaying how breathless he sounded, he definitely sounded like the filthy loser in question.

Clearing his throat, he pushed up the silk material of your nightgown with no rush behind his actions.

He delicately spread your legs apart, sweeping dainty kisses from your slick-covered thighs to your stomach before unhurriedly pulling away your sticky panties.

Once they were all the way off he gave them a huge whiff like he wanted the scent of your cunt after an eight-hour shift to burn deep into his nostrils.

He exhaled as if it were a sweet aroma of baked cookies, and bunched it up into a ball flinging it somewhere in his room like he was signaling you weren’t getting that back, causing your eyes to widen.

“I wanna savor this—savor you…as long as I can.”

His voice was hoarse as he slipped a finger inside your velvet walls, careful and deep like he needed to feel every inch.

But there was one dire issue, he thought he knew what he was doing from watching—an almost concerning amount of porn, yet it unfortunately made him move his finger only in and out with no sense of set pace or rhythm.

You bit your lip hesitant, leaning up on your elbows as your eyes bored into his “Wait, you’re not doin’ it right.” It wasn’t to be mean, but if he wanted to help out, you weren’t going to take this back and forth like he was trying to hit a non-existent red-button.

He paused his finger for a moment.

“Does that not feel good?” Choso questioned, furrowing his brows in confusion. Thinking wrongfully he was prepared enough for this, gooning to all those videos on twitter or other websites didn’t seem to do him any good afterall.

You shook your head mumbling a near inaudible “Mm-mm.”

“Guide me on what to do then, angel.”

He pleaded, his tone enveloped with curiosity, eager to be corrected—yet felt you flutter around his finger.

“Does she like being called angel?” Those words scampered around his mind, as he squinted his eyes, he made a quick mental note on what you liked while waiting for you to explain any directions you were willing to spill.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, face burning at explaining what your body needed—either way you craved an orgasm, so you decided to suck up the slight tension.

“Here,” you whispered, grabbing his wrist and helping him move at a tortoise-like pace. “You’ve gotta press up a little.”

His mouth fell open slightly as he watched you guide him, if it were possible to get a tattoo of a memory he’d want to ink your vulnerable state in his brain next.

“Press up a little?” He asked, voice tentative like he was trying to figure out his way through a maze.

“Okay um… try curling your finger—like, hook it up.” You described curling your fingers in front of him to give him a picture, assuming he could be more of a visual learner.

He did exactly what you told him, marking your directions in his brain like a fervent student, adjusting his hand to press against a fiercely sensitive spot hiding inside you.

“Keep moving slow okay?” You instructed, chest rising and falling as you relaxed into his touch.

Choso’s mind began to flash back to sensual porn he watched whenever he got tired of overly rough videos, abruptly realizing that’s what made him cum quickly—maybe it’d be the same for you if he properly mimicked the same movements.

Beads of sweat trickled down his temple, as he pursed his lips in concentration, devoted to making you fall apart on his hand first.

Slithering his finger in your clingy walls, he continued to curl up in a repeated motion, stroking your g-spot with the same precise care he gave the finest brushes in his art collection, forcing your back to beautifully arch, entirely surrendering yourself to his long digit.

Choso moaned softly, at how demanding your pussy became–despite him only having one finger engulfed in you, it grasped him like it’d fire him from his job if he stopped at any moment.

He smiled with adoration, mind filled to the brim with colorful confetti, celebrating like this was his biggest accomplishment in life, besides one of his paintings he sold–he got the exact girl he was longing for writhing underneath him, depending on him for pleasure.

“Like that?” he questioned, following your reactions like a hawk.

“Aah, yes! Like that Cho.” You mewled, as you toyed with your hardened nipples through your nightgown, impatiently peeling one of your tits from out of the top.

His pace stuttered for a moment, distracted by the sight of your exposed breast and how lazily you teased yourself. He swallowed hard, correcting his rhythm with a low whimper.

Fuck, why are you like this?

You weren’t even trying to be hot, all you did was flick your nipple between your fingers and for some reason, it was enough for him to bang his hips into the mattress aiming to satisfy the painful throbbing ache in his pants.

Choso rubbed your thigh like he needed it to ground himself, he gave it a gentle squeeze, having a strong thirst to live in your soft flesh.

He maintained massaging your spot, proud your elbows finally became weak—no longer able to support you due to how much bliss you were in.

“You okay, angel?” Genuine concern cloaked his tone, refusing to overwhelm you, but he somehow didn’t realize that’s exactly what made you lose your mind, being overwhelmed.

“‘M fine... just—” your voice shattered like glass, hardly able to finish your train of thought, as your walls fluttered tight around him, “add another finger, please.”

You yearned for that extra push like a woman who hopelessly waited on love letters from her man at work, and at that moment it registered to you that this began to feel a little more intimate than just roommates.

You wanted to push away his wrist—stop him—do anything, but that coil that was stirring in your tummy had you under deep control, it’d be like trying to break free from a cage made of steel.

“Is that better?”

“Mhmm… f–feels so good. You’re doing so well, Cho—so good f’me.”

Oh, he couldn’t wait to free his cock, at this point you were torturing him—not that he minded.

The way your back arched, breasts high and nipples pleading for more. Mouth slightly parted with half-lidded eyes made him want to sketch you like this—ruined under his touch.

“God, you’re so wet,” he panted, surprised at the obscene squelch sounds your body gave him. “you look so pretty, trembling like that for me.”

“She must really like praise, huh?” His thoughts clouded his mind, as he watched a waterfall worth of slick that coated his palm.

Choso gave a smug half-smile, realizing he could unravel you with nothing but his words. Any doubts about sounding awkward? Gone—submerged under the sound of your moans.

Your mind fell numb, grinding your hips down on his digits, crying out his name like a broken record.

“Oh my god Choso.” You squealed—eyes slamming shut, as you grabbed at his lean tatted arm, his muscles flexing at your unexpected touch.

“Choso, choso, choso, I’m close, don’t stop.” You begged, playing a memory that dragged you back to when other men would change their pace or rhythm as soon as you were on the tip of coming.

“Faster Cho, you’re doing such a good job.” You encouraged as your nails scraped his arm, tits jiggling while your hips stuttered against him like he was your only source of euphoria, completely forgetting about your ‘lost’ vibrator.

He listened to you attuned to your needs, then thumbed at your fat greedy mound.

It was too much, feeling overstimulated—his wide thumb circling on your clit as he thrusted his fingers swiftly in a come hither motion, provoking drool to slip past the corners of your lips.

“Hah, Choso—gonna cum, I’m coming!” Your thighs quivered as you threw your forearm across your face, pussy spasming around him like you were trying to reel him in forever.

Faint cries echoed throughout his room as a gush ripped from your cunt, raining over his already doused palm.

Loads of waves poured over him, claiming his palm and wrist, so bad he became sure he’d need an umbrella.

Your body acted like you haven’t orgasmed in centuries, spilling out way too much as if it’d never get a chance to feel another man again.

Finally, he pulled away his fingers noticing the skin was now wet and wrinkly, still he tapped his digits against his lips like he was debating whether or not he wanted to taste your arousal.

Then he dipped them in his mouth, suckling at your wet essence that coated him–his tongue glided over your slick while he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, as if that’d manage to disrupt his judgement.

Choso’s brows creased like his brain was scanning the flavor on his taste buds and relaying the information to form a final opinion.

He smacked his lips for a second “Hmm, a bit salty, yet sweet, maybe like a chocolate covered pretzel?? I’d say this is a ten out of ten.” Choso announced, giggling as if he were a well-known food critic, but in tasting cum.

“A chocolate covered pretzel?!” You snorted, boisterous, yet fairly bewildered at the bold comparison.

He joined you in laughter, shrugging, except His giggles died down as his eyes met yours again—still entranced from everything.

“You okay?” he asked, checking on you once more, rejecting anything less than an astonishing experience for you. His hand rose up to caress your side, touching you at any chance he had.

“Of course I am,” you nodded, doe eyes swaddling him, but masked behind lust, you reached up towards him, tugging him feebly by his shirt.

“C’mere… I want you inside me, pleaseee.”

The ache in his pants pulsed hard enough to make him wince. He exhaled slowly, nudging closer, slotting his hips between your legs.

Choso blinked, his breath catching. “Y-Yeah? You sure?”

His fingers flexed against your thigh. You were still twitching, your cunt fluttering around nothing as you pawed at his pajama pants.

“I need it, Choso—need you now.”

That was all it took, he leaned in, peppering kisses all over your face like a man who made love to his woman before he went to war. “Fuck, you’re unreal.”

Choso scrambled to tug down his pants, whimpering at the fact that he could finally take care of his boner.

His cock sprang free like it was ready to ravage your pussy, causing your eyes to pop as a gasp flew out of your throat.

The tip was on par with an abnormal sized mushroom, maybe even lab made—flushed coral pink and bitterly leaking, envious it didn’t get any attention yet.

But that wasn’t even the best part, the length looked around seven inches paired with a five inch girth, this was the kind of dick that’d steer you away from any ex or toy for life, you made a wild guess you’d most likely get attached after this as if your heart would stop without him.

“Oh my god?” You covered your mouth, appalled. The other men you’d been with had three or four inches, which occasionally made you yawn during sex.

You never would’ve guessed your roommate who’s quiet—makes small talk with you was secretly packing underneath his typically baggy clothes.

“Is it bad looking?” Choso quizzed, face hued a rose pink—worried he wouldn’t succeed your expectations. “I could still try to please you if—“

“No, it’s so fucking big” you drooled, ogling at him “put it inside me now!” You ordered, as you rubbed your clit in small circles.

He was only left speechless, cock twitching profoundly at your approval until a few words came to mind, “anything you want princess.”

Choso turned powerless to his own actions, hand moving to give himself a few pumps before slapping his fat tip on your clit, provoking you to jolt.

He let out a breathless chuckle like he was going insane. “I’ve been waiting so long for this.”

“You have?”

He responded with a nod as his tip stroked your entrance, gathering some slick to act as lube before lining himself up, then he steadily glided himself in—making your breath hitch.

Your hands fisted the sheets, to comfort yourself with the burning stretch. You were able to feel every single throbbing vein, ridge, and you’d imagine even his beauty marks that decorated his length too.

His eyes searched your face for any discomfort while he continued pushing himself inside you, his girth splitting you open into two.

“Mmm, you want me to stop half way?” He asked as he massaged your hip.

You immediately shook your head “No, all the way in.”

Even through the slight sting you needed everything Choso could give, except that costed your breath to increase, getting heavier, not realizing how much you had to accommodate.

Your walls panicked, feeling like it instantly had to find a way to mold itself properly to his size to ensure you’d only feel a compelling sense of pleasure.

He continued to drag himself all the way in, just like you asked until your pelvis pecked at the hair freckled at the base.

“W—want me to move, or do you need a minute?” Choso questioned, throwing his head back at your tight, warm, wet cave encasing him—knowing it’d be difficult to return to his fleshlight after this, it’d be like trying to sober up after an addiction.

“You can move.” You stated, making an attempt at a neutral tone, but it came off more of a plea.

You never thought missionary could hit like this, usually it bored you, leaving other men to watch a blank expression on your face as they had their way with you, but with Choso, your body sucked him in like a black hole completely immersed in his length.

“Fuck, fuck—you’re squeezing me so tight, angel.” He groaned as he unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off like it’d cool off his body.

Then at last his hips rocked forward, slow but deep, like he wanted to carve his name into your guts.

“Y’gonna ruin me,” he breathed, and you swore for a moment question marks were exploding on top of your head confused like he wasn’t the one ruining you.

Vibrators always helped with stimulation but they never prepared you for the sheer stretch and fullness of cock—especially since Choso’s thick, it felt like a soda can was trying to jam inside your cushion walls.

He pulled back just enough to harshly launch back in on purpose—remembering how much you loved being overwhelmed.

You sobbed his name in like a prayer hoping to be answered any minute, turning your head side to side into the silk sheets.

It almost turned mortifying how sensitive your sopping cunt was, those two years promptly catching up to you, reminding you how badly you wished for dick to break the streak.

You were basically in heat, squeezing around him, placing your hand on his abs like it’d console you from his deep thrusts.

“S–shit, I didn’t know anyone could make me feel like this.” You mumbled beyond perplexed an inexperienced man already had you seeing stars.

You kept trying to tell yourself on loop that this is just sex, something casual until you marched yourself to Spencer’s to buy another soulless piece of silicone to mourn the real thing, but your lash line started to swell with tears, cherishing that his eyes were glued to your face digging for any reaction you spared him.

And telling yourself this is just a small one-time thing began to feel suffocating, specifically since he delicately held your hips–too shy to leave bruises, rolling into you like you were an idol meant to be worshipped.

Your heart erupted with heat each time he softly cursed your name–leaning in to kiss your neck, beginning to realize your friends possibly weren’t exaggerating when they expressed how mind-blowing sex is, every stroke raised your standards for the next man, well, if you weren’t too attached afterwards.

Choso shot a smile flourishing with passion, knowing you felt ecstasy simply because of him–it was just like he dreamed of when he masturbated if not better.

He used one hand to thumb at your clit, circling it with careful, messy swipes just to hear those moans, the ones gentle as clouds escaping your lips—with his other hand, he reached for yours, fingers lacing together and pressing them into the pillow beside your head like he wanted sculpt how infatuated he was with you.

His hips rocked forward in slow, deliberate thrusts, but each time he bottomed out, he ground—like he was trying to argue with your body to prove entirely nothing could be better than this.

He wanted to etch himself into your walls, dedicated to making this memorable.

Every steady drag of his cock left behind a milky trail of your thick cream on his shaft that clung to him like a crazy jealous ex who wouldn’t let go.

You felt him everywhere.

Not just stretching your pussy, but filling your tummy, pressing against something deeper—maybe your womb, probably your soul.

You clamped around him uncontrollably tight—not even sure if your body wanted more, to cry, or scream that you couldn’t take it.

But then you thought about those rude-ass clients from earlier.

There was no way in hell you were tapping out.

His fat tip kept thumping your sweet spots with surgeon-like precision, making your toes curl and your hands try to weakly reach for the nightstand.

It still wasn’t enough. You wanted to be wrecked—spoiled—reduced to nothing but a whore underneath him.

So, you did what any bratty woman would do, what better way to ask than tease your way into this?

“You… don’t gotta… move so slow anymore Choso,” you faked a yawn, or tried to in between breaths “maybe I should go look for my vibrator—see if that gets the job done instead.”

His pace faltered—just for a moment like something short-circuited. Then his eyes shifted, and you could see it click, something devious lighting up behind them.

“Yeah?”

His voice dropped an octave—baritone, yet rich as satin, being enough to make your skin prickle with goosebumps, recognizing there was something mischievous hiding underneath the surface.

He withdrew his shaft, but didn’t pull all the way out, just until the head of his cock sat tauntingly in your slick entrance, like it was alerting you what you were in for, messing with a man who has had an excessive fixation on you for four years.

You could feel your pussy throb like your slutty hole had its own heartbeat, attempting to grab him back in as if it were irritated you were teasing the best dick of your life.

His soft palm cupped your breast, watching how your hard nipple jostled at his fingertips.

With a slow roll of his thumb, he circled your bud—softly pinching it, studying the way your back twitched off the mattress.

A whimper flew from your parted lips, fingers tangled in the sheets at how sacred his hands kneaded you, a sheepish expression plastered across your face at how responsive you were, it was like every molecule in your body finally felt seen.

And although Choso looked like someone who sat on Discord all day, sketching anime girls in questionable poses for “anatomy study,” debating mischaracterized characters on Reddit threads at 2 a.m.—you knew you were about to be ruined.

“If that’s what you want…” He sucked in a shaky breath through his nose, jaw tight so tight a vein could burst—like he was satisfied he could be rougher, letting his pervy energy leak through. “I’ll give you anything.”

You tried to keep up the bored act, a deadpan expression sprawling out over your face, considering whether or not rolling your eyes or huffing out a fake sigh was too far.

Distracting yourself by the windy spring air blowing the curtains—you pondered for a moment, eyes deciding to entertain themselves inspecting the rest of his room, darting to the walls decorated with anime posters that were most likely judging your sinful actions.

But then—he grabbed both of your legs, hoisting and folding them over his shoulders in one sharp motion, so quick that the succulent fat of your thighs angrily jiggled at the sudden movement.

His eyes narrowed in focus, shaking his head to move his raven bangs that stuck like glue to his forehead, but you instantly broke him out of deep concentration as broken moans rumbled from your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your voice strained, as a string of curses rushed out of your mouth, his mushroom tip pushing farther.

You weren’t ready for how deep this angle let him reach—having your knees nudge your collarbones or the intense stretch.

Mentally, little disorganized files in your brain broke open, scattering to figure out where he learned his technique from, especially since not too long ago you were guiding him on how to finger you, could it be porn, or maybe advice from quora?

You couldn’t even be bothered to solve that grueling mystery now though, because you swore you saw a faint trace of a smirk gracing Choso’s features.

Not the playful one you usually gave him to tease, just to rile him up for pure amusement.

It screamed more like a yellow warning sign, a promise as if to tell you “be careful for what you wish for.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Your voice cracked between shallow breaths, pleading for mercy, all while secretly hoping he’d ignore them—wrecking you until you were walking funny for the next two weeks.

But in typical Choso fashion, not a single word dared to exit his mouth.

You simply braced for impact, throwing your forearm back over your face like you were a damsel in distress.

Then he slammed into you–all the way, at once–his full length bullying any sensitive spot imaginable, burying himself to the hilt—his short nails digging tiny crescent moons into the plush of your thighs.

Your mind shimmered in elation—the pleasure comparable to a warm hug, you nearly wondered if you should’ve mumbled out a thank you for how dreamy everything felt.

Each slam of his thick cock felt as if it were exasperated, reclaiming his silence for four years of crushing on you–like he was begging to know how you could be so oblivious this whole time.

The poor wooden headboard croaked at the pressure, banging against the wall louder than siren, someone would assume it was trying to find an escape–refusing to be the spot you two fucked like animals on top of.

Those years of moaning into your pillow with your vibrator on max setting—worthless. It was like your pussy forgot what real pleasure was supposed to feel like.

Ramming into you his balls slapped the curve of your pussy, hard enough to make your back arch and body shudder like he was commanding you to, except without any words needed.

The stretch of him felt like if your body took another cock it’d deny access immediately, you wouldn’t mind staying this way though, even if it was too much for you to handle, you’d replay this moment while lucid dreaming, doing anything to be folded in half like this again.

“S’full, m’ so fuckin' full Choso.” You babbled, tears wobbling at the edge of your lash line, creeping down your face like it didn’t want to be noticed.

“Mhm, I know princess.” He cooed, continuing to drive into you as he carefully watched your tummy bulge dance with every thrust “That’s all me huh?” He mentioned completely struck at how big he was as if he didn’t consistently measure himself.

Once one large hand departed to press on your belly, your jaw went slack from the immense pressure, his dick kept critically knocking into that precious a-spot, like he was perfectly doing calculations in his brain which angles or thrusts would make you sob.

Your half-lidded eyes were blurry, rolling back until you saw white.

Your vision was as good as television static, the black and white specs twinkling—thoughts fading into a puddle of mush as your tongue lolled out, proving he fucked you dumb.

Drool slipped past your lips, lashes flickering like you were fragile—seconds from breaking apart.

That's when he snapped—mind brittle in arousal, eyes darkening at how pornographic you looked, exactly how he’s been daydreaming when he masturbated to the thought of you, hungry and desperate for you to make a slutty ahegao face.

“Shit,” a long drawn out groan crawled out his plump lips, as his pace stammered for a moment, absorbed in your lack to control your features contorting by bliss.

One pale hand still rested on your leg, while the other grabbed your jaw holding you in place effortlessly, leaning so close his breath could fog your face if it were glass just to spit a massive glob making sure it aimed right for your tongue.

By this point you were hazy—maybe half-gone swallowing without hesitation, lips closing as his spit swam down your throat keeping a piece of him inside your body.

You gave a droopy smile, almost nothing could break you out of your sexual high besides Choso quickly apologizing for the sudden act.

“Shit, wait, I didn’t mean—” he started to explain himself, voice drizzled with guilt, yet it was hard to focus with him consistently pounding so deep you wouldn’t be exaggerating if you said you felt his dick in your chest.

“Was it too much?” He panted, worried he may have grossed you out.

Not knowing that you’ve been craving someone who goes beyond vanilla sex this entire time.

“No, do it again.” You begged, scratching at his abs with no force behind it.

His breath hitched, eyes nearly bursting out of the socket “You’re gonna be the death of me Y/n.”

Tilting your jaw once more, he gathered every last drop of saliva in his mouth to spit another glob on top of your needy tongue.

His fingertips pushed up at your chin, signaling you to swallow everything he gave you—making him proud that another piece of him was going to disappear down into your tummy.

You held onto it for a minute before swallowing though, savoring the flavor of his obsession before completely letting it leave—moaning once you felt well-fed by your roommate.

“There you go, s’good for me.” His pupils twitched at how vulnerable you were with him, feeling a sense of connection to every noise you made, every eye roll, how you trusted him enough to let him do whatever he wanted with you.

And your heart shouldn’t have combusted like it did at his words, knowing this should only be a one time thing before things get serious, but your thoughts were frolicking in circles at the idea of being married to Choso, unable to care about the relationship stage first.

Your eyes—finally able to look properly couldn’t even stare into his, dodging his every glance.

You couldn’t tell whether you hated how observant he was or not because then—he grasped your jawline like it was an insult to avoid his gaze.

“Look at me angel, want you to see how good m’ fucking you.”

The only thought you could conjure up was “Is he trying to make me fall for him?” It seemed like everything he did made both heartbeats skip.

His length hammered into your sensitive core as you looked up to him with loving doe eyes, your fingers holding onto the ones hooked on your jaw keeping him in place, like if he let go you'd miserably whine if he stopped.

“Mmngh, look at that…” Choso groaned, intentionally thrusting slower to let you revel in how much his girth ripped you to shreds, while he carefully analyzed the outline of his cock he ingrained into your belly—still shocked, not realizing how huge it was.

You could only respond by squeezing him like you were trying to milk him dry of four years worth of being pent up, dazed, you struggled to give him eye contact, until he instantly made them broaden—completely stunned.

While one hand stayed pressed on your stomach, one of his hands latched to your ankle, planting a tender kiss on it without breaking his fast paced rhythm, he dragged your pointed foot up—lips making love to your heel, the soft skin of your arch, and each one of your toes coated in cheetah print polish.

He wasn’t sure why, but the lavish design only drew him in even more like if he kept paying your feet any more attention he’d stay hard for another round.

“Mmmph s’cute,” he slurred, wet muscle grazing the pads of each toe like it was a heavenly meal prepared and served only for him to pamper himself with.

At first it tickled like your nerves were panicking—trying to process being stimulated there, but then once the strange tingly feeling finally substituted for pleasure your mewls grew louder as he added suction like he was striving to extract your soul through your foot.

He slurped, releasing each toe with a wet pop before taking in the next, unapologetic about how down bad his demeanor drifted off.

Your brain fried itself like it urgently tried to pinpoint why it felt so amazing, yet peculiar at the same time.

Words like “No, no, no, this is so fucking weird, but I don’t want him to stop????” Tripled in your head, chasing after an answer you couldn’t find.

The sensation of his mouth on one end and his cock punching deep into your guts felt too much to handle, although you practically asked for it.

You floated in a pool of shame, arrows pointing at how pitiful and submissive you were for allowing this to happen.

Usually you judged others for being into something like this, scrunching up your face in disgust whenever someone mentioned how they enjoyed having their feet adored, slowly you were beginning to realize this whole time it was all about having the right person do it for you.

With Choso, he did it with so much care, ideas of it being disturbing declined crossing your mind, he made it certain he wanted to devote himself to testing everything that possibly turned you on.

Even the parts that others would deem as too filthy, he just saw it as another part of you to explore.

As he increased suction, slightly hollowing his cheeks, his wet muscle swerved around the dips and ridges of your skin.

Sex wasn’t supposed to be this intense, you never had to manually breathe through taking cock, yet here you were mentally telling yourself to inhale and exhale as you massaged at your bundle of nerves as if that’d somehow calm you down, but that coil started to build again, like you were on the tip of letting go any moment.

“C’mon, I know you’re close,” he murmured, voice muffled as your toes were still in his mouth causing your pussy to spasm around his length—vibrations driving you crazy.

Recognizing that familiar spasm, this time around his dick—he briskly thrusted so deep his tip nearly smooched your womb.

THWAP THWAP THWAP!

The sound of skin colliding with each other filled the room, echoing loud enough to be heard five doors down your shared apartment.

“Choso, fuck, oh my god...” you let choked sobs roam free as the weak coil rang, like it had to alert you were going to cum, the most fierce orgasm you were about to have in your life, not even your wand vibrator on max settings or your favorite rhythm could compare.

You would’ve never guessed that having every inch of your body worshipped including down to your soles of your feet would make you feel like a swarm of butterflies fought in your stomach.

Slowly you gave up mentally coaching yourself how to breathe—every exhale becoming ragged like someone was chasing you, except that someone happened to be your orgasm.

Your legs trembled on top of his broad shoulders, body jerking like a woman possessed, but in pure euphoria.

Everything around you fizzled out into nothingness, unable to form a single thought, and maybe your mind was doing you a favor, letting you fully appreciate this moment with every fiber in your soul.

“Shit, c—can’t move…” His voice wavered along a high-pitch needy groan, the muscles in his thighs shuddering like his own body attempted to run from the orgasm he was seconds from collapsing under.

Your pussy squeezed him like a tight glove, designed for him flawlessly, it felt like watching another girl on twitter would be degrading to you by how snug you were.

The one thing your tight hole tolerated right now was him grinding so deep you'd need a map to find his mushroom tip inside your silk walls.

“Baby, I—I’m g’nna cum, hold me, please...” you pleaded, tears anchoring at the edge of your eyes as you weakly reached up for him with a pout forming on your face.

“Baby?” His eyes softened—like hearing you call him that unlocked something buried in the depths of his soul as if a cupid’s arrow somehow managed to shoot him in the dead of spring.

Immediately letting your foot go, you didn’t have to tell Choso twice, he leaned over still balls deep inside you–using one hand to cradle your head like you were all his, while the other snaked itself underneath your back pulling you slightly towards him.

“Let go for me, cum all over my cock.” He whispered into your ear, helping you through your orgasm.

And although your moans were raw—guttural, his mind managed to mistake it for angelic cries, so beautiful it sounded like a melody on the harp serenading him.

Your legs wrapped around him, your nails clawed at his back, the deep red scratch marks contrasting with his pale skin.

Gasping at first he felt dizzy, drunk off of the pain you saturated him in, his tip kept nudging your a-spot until you spasmed around him in rapid motions, soon coating him with a thick cream that nuzzled right at the base of his length, dribbling even his hair in your arousal.

Your noises went silent, stuck in an o shape as he continued to pound into you, abs flexing as he chased his own high.

His breath became frayed like a rope, a flood of tears streaming down his cheeks, landing onto your face as you cupped his chin, somehow making him fall harder than before, convinced his heart was stabbing you by how fast it was racing.

“F—fuck, fuckfuckfuck, love you so m—much, loved you this whole time.” He admitted, roughly biting your neck like that would keep him stable.

Your greedy cunt fluttered at his sudden confession, gasping like he revealed a dirty secret not even an interrogator could get him to blurt out.

“He loves me..?!” Your thoughts repeated like those words were signed into your memory forever, wondering if you really had been oblivious for eons.

Your lips pursed like you wanted to reply back, but something was yanking you away, so many questions were bouncing through your head, like how long has it been since he realized his feelings? Or did you even deserve to be surrounded in this much attention? Especially for the sake of stress relief after work.

Drowning out your thoughts his fingernails dug so far into the flesh of your hips, it’d be bruised for weeks—Choso planted kisses over face in a scattered motion, as his hips snapped up into your pelvis in messy uneven thrusts, knocking the wind out of you.

“Where do you want me?” He begged to know, satisfied with any answer you gave him.

“O-on top of my tummy.” You croaked out with a giggle, freeing him from the cage of your wrapped legs, you knew exactly what you were going to do once he came.

Following your command he instantly fumbled his way out of you, his cock twitching with shaky hands as he jerked himself whimpering loud enough to deafen your ears.

Pushing up the material of your nightgown that tried running down due to his movements, his hips jolted forward until thick white ropes spilled on top of your stomach, finally draining himself—years of being pent up.

It wouldn’t stop leaking out—his slit gushing out cum like paint from a cracked can. You swore it was enough cum to last a decade, warm like an oven, sending chills down your spine, forgetting how good someone’s arousal could feel against your skin.

The room was filled with panting as if two people were in a race, but in who would cum first—trying to catch your breath for a moment you bit the inside of your cheek as your fingers traced the thick seed he left to melt on you.

Smearing it all over yourself first playing in it like it was made to relax in when you were stressed—bringing it up to your lips to taste it, your mouth closed around your digits like it was your last meal before blacking out.

“So, how does it taste?” He asked, interrupting your little test awkwardly, scratching his pink tinted neck.

His gaze intensely flowed into you, hoping your response wouldn’t embarrass him—but thankfully in advance he had been preparing himself in case he ever got the slim chance to fuck you.

His diet consisting of fruit bowls bigger than his head and jugs those of water coming in handy—rarely munching on junk food, avoiding fucking up his flavor as much as possible.

You smacked your lips, purposefully mimicking him tasting you from earlier “It’s surprisingly good.”

“Surprisingly?” He chuckled, not sure whether or not to take it as a compliment.

“I expected it to be super salty, I’m sorry.” You half joked, leaning up on your elbows with whatever strength you had left.

“Ouch…?” He said with the face of a kicked puppy, eyes droopy at your assumption.

Staring at the mess he made, he was almost hesitant to ask, wishing he could pause time and be stuck in this moment forever.

“W-wanna get cleaned up or… uh?”

You nodded, yet your eyebrows raised in disbelief at how he stuttered like he didn’t just rummage through your guts.

“Carry me!” You demanded like a soldier defeated in battle.

He gave a lazy smile mumbling “yes ma’am.”

Lifting you off the mattress with shaky arms, Choso held you like you were made of glass—though the sticky mess between you begged to differ. His load clung to your skin and smeared across his stomach with every step, but he didn’t complain. Just buried his nose in the crown of your head as he carried you to the bathroom in silence.

Your arms wrapped tighter around his neck, like if you let go, your body might actually fracture into tiny pieces.

The tiles were freezing when your toes hit the floor, and you clung to his inked forearm for balance. He turned the silver lever slowly, steam hissing out with the first spray of warm water.

Neither of you said much as he took off your bonnet, then slid back the straps of your short nightgown down your shoulders, watching it drop on the floor.

Choso guided you under the water, letting the heat soak through your skin like a balm.

Leaning against the wall for support, your legs were as wobbly as an antique table, already dreading the thought of clocking in at your job tomorrow.

The first splash attacked your hips and you winced, throwing your head into the wall, breathing in the steam like that would somehow help.

Choso turned so fast he nearly broke the spinal cord in his neck.

“Did I hurt you?” His tone cracked with the ghost of guilt, running his hands through his glossy damp hair.

He knew he was a little rougher towards the end, but he felt like a monster knowing you were in pain because of him—praying he didn’t go overboard.

You looked down at your figure and saw the faint bruises forming along your sides where his fingers had dug in brutally.

“No,” you murmured so quietly not even a wolf could hear, while picking up the shower head letting the water push the seed off of your belly. “I’d let you do it again anyway.”

His Adam's apple bobbed like your words were a shot of honey mixed with poison.

But his expression crumpled like a paper bag for a second. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to feel proud or ashamed.

The thought of you allowing him the possible chance of being able to make love again infiltrated his brain, his mind began to wander if you two would eventually buy a place with one bedroom—no longer needing separate rooms, maybe he’d never need pillows again to keep himself warm and not feel a little empty at night.

His fingers grazed your stomach like he was touching something divine, a blush staining his pale cheeks at the amount of cum he drizzled on you.

Instinctively you snatched yourself slightly to the side, flinching like his touch was foreign–the love radiating off of his heart attempting to transfer itself to yours haunted you.

Retreating his hand, he furrowed his brows in confusion, completely lost at the sudden act, you wouldn’t be hallucinating if you said you saw question marks rise above his head.

“I'm still a bit sensitive from everything, sorry.” You blurted, dodging eye contact, facing forward to the wall in front of you–studying the silver rack filled with bath bombs, wash cloths, and soaps.

He blinked, stunned. Something in him screamed to reach again, but he stood still—fighting the fear that if he touched you again, you might disappear completely.

He bashfully smiled in relief, whisking up a little plan to help your trouble, his fingers reached for the body wash on the rack before speaking.

“Let me at least take care of you,” he mumbled, lathering a few pumps into his palms, rubbing his hands together to let it bubble first.

Then he massaged it gently onto your skin like he was a professional that worked at a spa. It was hard not to feel soothed under every press of his digits, letting out chaste moans as his touch got slower and intentional—less about cleaning up, more so about making you feel cared for afterwards.

Your eyes gradually sealed shut, as he rested his chin on top of your head inhaling your saccharine fragrance.

“Your hair smells so nice, wish I could live in your scent.” He whispered, voice raspy, as he kneaded your sore hips like dough.

You tried to force away a grin at his praise, biting your lip, refusing yourself to easily fall for someone again.

The brick barrier you built to protect your soul was too strong to be broken, by something temporary right?

Beneath the tranquil stream. Water cascaded down the curves of your bodies, tracing every line like it wanted to mesh you two together in a knot that even someone with pounds of muscle couldn’t untie.

At last, Choso cleared his throat, gulping so loud it had its own echo.

“Y/n…” he started, saying your name in an uneasy tone, yet almost too soft to hear over the water, withdrawing his hands for a moment, fiddling with his fingers he looked down at his feet, gathering his thoughts like one wrong word would change his life forever.

He inhaled deep, like the steam wasn’t scalding enough—like if he didn’t ask now, the moment might slip through the palms of his hands.

You blinked, lashes heavy with water sprinkling on them.

“Yeah?” You finally answered with confusion embellishing your voice.

He swallowed hard like he wanted to back out of popping the big question, but he was already too far gone.

His eyes didn’t meet yours anymore, but you could feel them searching—just not brave enough to land.

“I don’t really know how to say this,” he muttered, voice hoarse, hands wringing together jittery like he needed something to hold onto to comfort him.

“But…”

There was a pause, a long unsettling one.

You watched him retract into himself—processing, editing, like he was writing a graded essay in his brain, chucking every word that would throw you off into his mental dumpster that tried to come out before this.

“What are we?”

Those words hit you like a truck with no intention of stopping—no brakes, no hesitation, just raw steel and impact.

They didn’t just slam into you. They peeled something open. Something you weren’t ready to unpack yet.

Your stomach dropped, a twisting ache blooming in your chest like you’d been caught in something too deep and too fast.

You knew you should’ve had this conversation prior, the “what ifs?” But of course you thought with hormones and not with intelligence.

Moving away from him, you looked side to side like you were trapped, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

Because it wasn’t just a question. It was every unspoken hope he had. A reminder how oblivious you had been these past four years.

It was him flinging his heart into your hands without knowing if you’d catch it—or crush it.

“I mean—” he scrambled, voice picking up a notch in panic. “I know I’m the one who offered… the whole stress relief thing. And maybe I’m reading into it too much, maybe it’s just me, but—”

His throat bobbed, gulping down whatever bond you two had left.

“Was this just a one-time thing?”

And that question—so gentle, so sincere—felt louder than any moan from earlier.

Because it wasn’t just curiosity.

It was hope that you’d say no. That you’d say maybe. That you’d say anything other than what he feared most.

“I—I don’t know.” You blurted without thinking, covering your mouth like you were appalled at your own sentence.

Just possibly, if he had given you time to collect your thoughts, it could’ve turned out differently.

You wanted to say it. That you were inching toward something with him too. That maybe this wasn’t just heat-of-the-moment lust.

But it felt too fast or too much—usually, you loved being overwhelmed, except not like this.

He wasn’t aware that you’d been abstinent for a reason—not just because of past burnout, but because of what the last situationship did to you.

How it left you afraid of promises. How it carved out the belief that intimacy always came with a deadline.

You’d spent months convincing yourself love was a trick, something that only lived in fairytales or those hallmark romance movies.

And yet, here was Choso.

He didn’t just fuck you. He gave you an experience that felt holy—touching you like you were his alter.

And that horrified you.

Because for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like your body was drained of all its use. It felt like something someone wanted to stay with and belong.

“You don’t know?” He repeated it so softly it barely cut through the sound of the shower. Like if he spoke any louder, it would crack something open inside him.

“Okay.” He responded, monotone, no emotion behind it, yet internally he felt desperate to kneel like a knight who was soon to be beheaded.

“I’m sorry.”

You whispered it as if it could bandage the gaping wound you already shot into his heart.

Steadily and awkwardly, you slipped out from under the stream, opening the curtains and drying your feet on the mat. You didn’t look back—not because you didn’t care, but because you did. Too much.

You reached for the towel, draping it over your shoulders like armor.

You lingered there, just a second too long. The sound of water pinging the floor filled your ears, near deafening. You almost turned back, shaking your head since the damage was already done.

He didn’t stop you. What could he say? What would’ve changed your mind?

The silence thudded louder than anything else had tonight.

As you trudged out of the bathroom, the steam curling around your ankles like it wanted to follow you, Choso remained rooted in place.

Alone beneath the falling water.

He turned slowly, reaching behind to scrub at his back—but the sting from your nails made him hiss. It bloomed sharp and sudden, and he winced at the red lines carved into his skin.

Somehow, even that hurt less than hearing “I don’t know.”

A near-permanent reminder that—for one night—you gave him a chance to hold you at all.

He mentally encouraged himself to cry, to let it all out and soften the blow.

Usually, he wouldn’t let himself.

But how could he feel weak when his tears would blur right into the water anyway?

Just like everything else he didn’t get to keep.

Divider/Boarders produced by anitalenia & cursed-carmine.

Song written by Koi’lani/@aquasoftware.

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, (nice) ANONS, AND LIKES ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU <33

#— ꒰𝗞𝗼𝗶’𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗶’𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘆 🎰꒱༄#choso x f!reader #choso x female reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x reader #choso kamo x female reader #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader smut #jjk choso smut #choso smut #jujutsu choso #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst

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bytemee · 4 months ago

Note

can u write a oneshot where mean!sorority!karina x loser!g!p!reader and reader goes out of town for a lego convention or some nerd shit and karina's like "ok lol" barely replying to their texts

but then reader sends selfies looking kinda good and suddenly karina's not so mean anymore (but she's acting like she doesn't care) and later she's in bed lowkey staring at reader's pics when reader calls and starts yapping about legos all excited while karina listens way too hard. somehow this leads to phone sex 🫣

CYBER SEX — YU JIMIN.

"wish you were here right now, all of the things i'd do."

synopsis. karina swears she doesn’t miss you. not even a little. if her puppy wants to ditch her for some dumb lego convention, that’s your loss. okay...maybe letting you leave was a mistake… but at least she can have some fun making you miss her.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). 18+ (smut), phone sex (duhhhh), g!p reader, pet names (karina calling u puppy ofc), bad writing, and let me know if there's more!

words. 2k

authors note. mean!sorority!karina is so awesome sauce man. i also forgot my own schedule dates.. i apologize.

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karina wasn't mad. she wasn't.

so what if her puppy had ditched town for some stupid lego convention? it wasn't like she cared. she had better things to do than think about you running around, geeking out over plastic blocks.

her sorority sisters, however, were testing her patience.

"she didn't even tell you until last minute?" giselle smirked over her drink.

"sounds like someone got ditched," winter added.

"i didn't get ditched." karina rolled her eyes, scrolling through her messages. your last text had been two hours ago—a simple just got here! it's so cool, you'd love it if you gave it a chance :( to which she had responded with a dry, doubt it.

and that was it. that was all you were getting from her. if you wanted to act like a loser, that was your problem.

"didn't get ditched," winter mocked under her breath, earning a laugh from ningning.karina threw them a glare before pushing up from the couch, phone clutched in her hand. "i'm going to bed."

she ignored their knowing smirks as she stormed up the stairs to her room, locking the door behind her.

her phone buzzed just as she flopped onto her bed, and against her better judgment, she checked it immediately.

puppy: look!! isn't it so cute?? :D

attached were three selfies of you grinning with some ridiculously detailed lego set in the background. your glasses were slightly askew, your hoodie a little too big, and your excitement was practically radiating off the screen.

karina clicked on one of the pictures, zooming in just a little. not because she missed you. not because she thought you looked cute. just... because.

another text popped up.

puppy: there's this one panel tomorrow about rare discontinued sets, you think i should go?

she bit her lip, hesitating before replying.

karina: do whatever you want.

she stared at her screen for a moment before sighing and tossing her phone onto her pillow.

she wasn't jealous. she wasn't annoyed. she wasn't—

her phone buzzed again.

puppy: you're so mean ;(

a smirk twitched at her lips.

before she could respond, her phone started ringing. you.

she exhaled sharply before answering, keeping her voice bored. "what?"

"okay, so—listen." your voice came through, breathless with excitement. "i got to see so many cool sets today. like, there was this one display of the millennium falcon that was massive, and i swear, if i had the money, i'd—"

she hummed, pretending to listen as you rambled on about your day. but she was listening. more than she wanted to admit. she could practically picture you, pacing in your hotel room, waving your hands around as you talked a mile a minute.

"like i said, you'd think it's cool if you were here," you muttered, and she could hear the pout in your voice.

"don’t think so."

you groaned. "you're impossible."

she smirked. "and you're a nerd."

"i am not—"

she could hear the shuffle of you moving around, probably flopping onto your bed. then, a pause. your voice was quieter when you spoke again. "you miss me?"

karina rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. she could lie. she could say no. but instead, she muttered, "not really."

you laughed, soft and knowing. "liar."

she closed her eyes, gripping her phone tighter. maybe she was. but she'd never admit it.

not yet, anyway.

karina sighed, rolling onto her side as she let your voice fill the quiet of her room. it was late, and she should have been asleep already, but instead, she was still listening to you ramble about legos of all things—like some lovesick idiot.

not that she was one.

"i swear, some of these sets were insane," you continued, voice slightly muffled like you were getting comfortable. "there was this one star wars display with over ten thousand pieces. can you imagine? ten thousand."

"hm," she hummed, only half-listening now. she was too busy staring at the selfies you'd sent earlier, swiping through them like she hadn't already memorized every detail.

she could hear you shifting again, the sound of fabric rustling against fabric, a small sigh escaping your lips. "kinda wish you were here, though. feels weird without you making fun of me."

karina smirked, rolling onto her back. "i'd make fun of you either way, puppy."

you laughed, soft and breathy. "i know. but still."

a beat of silence stretched between you, comfortable but charged. karina exhaled slowly, her fingers tracing idle circles against her stomach.

"so..." your voice had dropped slightly, quieter, more hesitant. "what are you doing?"

"lying down," she murmured. "thinking."

"about?"

she bit her lip, debating. she could keep playing it cool, keep pretending she wasn't fazed by you being miles away. but she was tired, and her walls were lower than usual, and you sounded so damn cute on the other end of the line.

"...you."

you inhaled sharply. "oh."

a smirk pulled at her lips. she could hear the way you tensed up, the way your breath hitched, and it sent a slow wave of satisfaction through her.

"what, puppy?" she teased, her voice dropping into something lower, something smug. "cat got your tongue?"

you swallowed audibly. "no, i just—"

she hummed, tilting her head back against the pillow. "you're cute when you're flustered, you know that?"

another pause. a shaky exhale.

"karina..."her smirk deepened, fingers idly tracing patterns against her skin. "what's wrong, puppy? you miss me that bad?"

you made a small, frustrated noise on the other end, and karina chuckled, knowing exactly where this was heading.

maybe letting you leave town had been a mistake. but at least now, she could have a little fun reminding you exactly who you belonged to. she bit her lip as she slipped her hand into her shorts, trailing her fingers between her thighs.

her voice dropped lower, more sultry, more teasing. "use your words, puppy. tell me how much you miss me."

she could hear your breathing pick up, ragged and uneven. "i-i miss you. god, i miss you so much."

a small hum of satisfaction escaped her. you gulped at the sound, your shaky hands fumbling to unbutton your jeans. "i want you," you whined, your voice dropping to a whisper. "i wanna be back there with you."

"yeah?" she asked, a smile pulling at her lips. "and what would you do if you were here?"

she knew the answer, of course, but she wanted to hear you say it. she wanted to hear the way your voice would waver and crack as you finally gave in, finally told her exactly what you wanted.

you whimpered, your hands wrapping around yourself as you imagined her touch. "i'd kiss you," you admitted, your breath hitching.

karina's smirk deepened, her fingers sliding through her own slick. "where?"

"everywhere," you breathed.

she bit her lip, heat coiling in her stomach. she wanted to tell you to get your ass back here, to come crawling on your knees, to beg her to forgive you for leaving her alone like this. but she knew she was too prideful for that, and besides, she couldn't help but find a bit of amusement in the fact that you were getting yourself off, miles away, just to the sound of her voice.

“you touching yourself, puppy?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.

"mhm," you nodded weakly, even though she couldn't see you. you were breathing hard, your hand moving faster, your chest heaving as you lost yourself in the sound of her voice.

karina could hear the way your breath hitched with each stroke, could hear the way your voice went shaky each time she spoke. she loved it, and not in the usual possessive sense you'd expect from her. no, there was something almost tender in the way she teased you, in the way she kept you wanting.

"god, you're so easy," she murmured.

"please," you whimpered, your voice cracking slightly. "i-i wanna hear you."

karina tilted her head back, her breath catching in her throat. you were always so needy, so desperate for her, and god, she loved it. she loved hearing the way your voice would get hoarse and strained, loved the way you'd beg and plead with her to give you more.

"puppy..." she moaned, "you sound so fucking good." a finger slipped into her heat, curling up and dragging along her walls.

"please," you whimpered again, your hand moving faster. "i need to hear you. need to know if you're touching yourself too."

you could hear her gasp on the other end of the line, and you pictured her, eyes closed, back arched as she pressed down into the touch of her own fingers. you let out a jagged exhale, your whole body trembling with the effort of holding back. she was so gorgeous, and even if you weren't there with her, just hearing her like this was enough to drive you crazy.

"are you?" you asked again, a little more desperately this time.

"fuck, yes," she breathed. "i am."

"fuck." your grip tightened around your phone. "i-i bet you look so pretty right now. bet you feel so good."

"so fucking good, puppy." she was moaning openly now, another finger slipping into her slick heat. karina imagined what it would be like to have you back here, on top of her, inside of her, fucking her so hard that all she could do was cry out your name.

she wanted you so badly, and as her fingers sped up, as the heat built in her stomach, she felt herself getting closer to that edge, closer to falling apart for you. "god, i-i miss you so much," she breathed. her body was on fire with desire, her mind consumed by thoughts of you.

if she wasn't fingers deep inside herself right now, she would have cringed so hard at herself that she'd turn to stone. but her head was swimming with pleasure, and her tongue was loose with it, and god, she wished you were here so she could take out her pent-up frustration on your body.

"s-shit, puppy," she breathed. "you're mine. all mine."

"yes," you whimpered. "only yours."

her fingers curled against her walls, pressing deep into her slick heat, and fuck, she was close, so close, and—

"k-karina," you moaned, your voice going hoarse. "i-i'm gonna cum. please, please, i—"

"fuck, me too." her voice was a low growl, her body trembling as she felt her orgasm building. she wanted to tell you, wanted to make sure you knew, but all that came out was a series of broken moans. she could hear the way your breaths were coming quicker now, could hear the way they turned into choked gasps.

and god, if it wasn't the hottest thing.

you were hers, and you were coming undone for her.she was getting close too, and when her hand finally started to ache, and she couldn't bring herself to stop, couldn't bring herself to do anything but press her fingers deeper and deeper until her walls finally clenched around them.

"g-gonna—" you cried out, your body shaking as your release finally took over, spilling out of you in waves of pleasure. karina's body followed soon after, her fingers curling deep inside her slick heat, her muscles clenching around them. she shuddered, gasping, her legs trembling as the waves of pleasure rippled through her.

for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, the aftershocks still rolling through your body, your skin flushed with heat. the only thing grounding you was the faint static of the phone pressed against your ear.

karina was the first to break the silence, her voice quieter now, almost lazy. "...when are you coming back home?"

you swallowed, still trying to catch your breath. "why?"

"just wondering," she murmured, voice dripping with something that made your stomach twist.

you exhaled slowly, shifting against the sheets. "tomorrow night."

"good."

she didn't elaborate, but you didn't need her to. the implication was clear—she wanted you back.

you smirked, voice teasing as you asked, "miss me that much?"

karina let out a soft scoff, but it lacked any real bite. "shut up."

you chuckled, but before you could push her further, she spoke again, quieter this time.

"...you'll come straight to me, right?"

the words caught you off guard.

for someone who usually kept her emotions so close to her chest, it was unusual for her to ask for something so blatantly. she must be feeling vulnerable. but it wasn't unwelcome. in fact, it sent a wave of affection through you, made your heartbeat a little faster.

you smiled, the words leaving you without a second thought. "of course, i will."

the line was silent for a beat, and then another, and for a moment, you wondered if she was already asleep.

"okay," she whispered.

taglist - @brocoliisscared @spidrgamer @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje

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horny-marbles · 2 months ago

Note

I would love to see your headcanons for who's the most to least likely to sub for their partner! Whatever characters of your choice <3

hii!! this was honestly so fun to write :P these lowkey are kind of like a scenario split into hcs, idk why but that's just how my brain decided to go about it lol.

they're in order from most to least likely to sub :P also the prompt i worked with as a base for these is basically the reader bringing it up to them while in a relationship. i found it worked better than just writing who would do it voluntarily (because they wouldn't i'm afraid 💀). also also, gn partner!

enjoy!! <3

Creepypasta Submissive Headcanons (NSFW)

CW: dom/sub dynamics, a bit of brat taming?, degradation, a bit of bondage, spit, orgasm control/edging, dubcon at the end, oral (giving and receiving for both the characters and the reader), slight mention of trauma but nothing explicit

BEN Drowned

모 sex with him is generally you centric because he's always geeked off that grass and uses that as an excuse to be lazy and lay back while you ride his face and use his dick—he gets off anyway, so might as well let you do the work under the pretense of "Yeah babe you can use me, empowerment or whatever."

모 so when you bring up domming him, he doesn't even think twice about it. goes into it thinking it's just regular sex but on steroids. not because he's blind to what it means—he's been inside the internet, he's seen shit—but because it's you. and what will you do.

모 there would be a tiny brat-dom dynamic by default because, yeah he's down for whatever you bring up, but he cannot take it fully seriously. kind of difficult to do that when you're baked like a pastry.

모 you want him to address you with a superior nickname? "yes ma'am/sir/master" but he's rolling his eyes and sporting a shit eating grin the entire time because he thinks it's comical.

모 you demand that he doesn't jerk off unless you tell him to? definitely does it when he's nose deep between your legs just to see what you do about it. "What?? It's muscle memory babe, don't pretend it's not hot."

모 genuinely huffing and puffing if you tied his hands behind his back and edged him as punishment. talking shit up until the point he's twitching and rutting in the air when you stop touching him. then it's:

"Holy shit, OKAY I'm sorry, fuck, I'm sorry, just— babe-master, I'm getting dick cramps, come on,"

모 refuses to beg for about 10 seconds total. the moment you tease him again, "Ohhh my fucking god, please fuck me, please, I can't take this anymore, PLEASE make me cum".

모 balls deep inside you and choking on mindless thanks, making these broken, indignant whines if you told him to slow down.

모 all in all, however, he would be into it more than he expected. it doesn't become default freaky time because he does not have that kind of energy, but when it happens again, he'd lay off the brattiness.

모 aftercare is basically non-existent. he doesn't need it, he would just spark up again and hop on the game, but if you felt like you needed it, it would be more quality time than cuddles.

Toby Rodgers

𓌏 he's lowkey a closeted switch disguised as a feral fuck machine so when you bring it up he gets lowkey defensive, he feels CLOCKED.

𓌏 "What, s-so I don't fuh-fuck you good? That it?" "Is this a con-control thing? You want a-an excuse t-to bully me?" full 7 stages of grief like huh?

𓌏 eventually agrees grudgingly which, in other words, means he was fiending for this shit forever but he never surpassed preteen emotional maturity. so, coming to terms with being bossed around was a project in erosion (thanks Slender).

𓌏 he's acting like a stray dog at first, defenses up so high that you have to break character and remind him it's still just you and if he doesn't like something he can just tell you. didn't even establish a safe word because you thought this was going to fail from the start.

𓌏 it takes approximately 5 minutes of you easing him into it with gentle authority assertion until he melts and starts begging, just like that. you're half-way into calling him a good boy for making eye contact when you asked, and he's already whining.

𓌏 you specifically avoid degradation because you don't wanna push it. however, "Are you gonna be a good boy and stay still while I suck you off?" is exactly the moment where the puzzle pieces fall into place for him.

𓌏 "Yes, I'll— f-fuck I'll be the b-best fucking slut f-for you, please," oh okay. i thought we were— alright??

𓌏 barely a decent slut for you, canNOT stay still, but he tries. kind of. hips thrusting up too excitedly, cockhead ramming so hard in the back of your throat that you basically feel the bruise forming in real time. "S-shit, fuck, I'm sorry— I-I'm sorry, it's a t-tic, please d-don't stop." lies.

𓌏 quickly discovers he likes begging with his mouth full. your fingers, your underwear, you, anything. choking on messy “pl-please, c’n I cum, I’ll be g-good, I swear", so needy you would confuse his pleas for the begging of his victims.

𓌏 hot take or not, slight mommy/daddy kink. obvious reasons.

𓌏 so obnoxiously loud when you start degrading him. "You're that much of a worthless mutt? You can't even take what I give you and you're expecting me to let you cum?" groaning, whining, eyes glassy and mouth snarling like he's in pain, voice cracking when you have a hand around his throat, or a foot on his chest.

𓌏 when you finally let him cum, he sobs actual tears. voice breaking and wheezing from how begging in guttural groans scratched his throat the entire time. spit dripping down his neck from the gash in his cheek. whole body convulsing and tics flaring up like crazy. you can barely even hear the thanks he whispers breathlessly.

𓌏 so quick to clean his cum out of you if you asked.

𓌏 aftercare consists of him completely limp on top of you while you detangle his sweaty hair, muttering little praises in his ear, which he petulantly grunts away like you didn't just reduce him to whimpering mush.

Eyeless Jack

⚉ he's a predator by nature, so subbing isn't exactly something that's ever crossed his mind. but the thing with Jack is, he doesn't just do relationships. if you're partners, you're really fucking special to him, and by proxy he would jump into it just because he's devoted. so, your answer would be a short, certain "...Alright."

⚉ he's surprisingly a very good sport about it. the second you put your hand on his chest and push him down, he goes easy. obedient. no passive aggressiveness, no brattiness, no "I could flip this on you so quick". he just watches you from where he's propped up on his elbows with this unreadable expression like he's waiting for you to take him apart and it doesn’t even bruise his pride.

⚉ doesn’t beg, doesn’t whimper, doesn’t plead. but the second you tell him to stay still and open his mouth, he does. you’ll straddle his chest and he just tilts his head back, mouth parting obediently, waiting for your fingers, your taste, anything.

⚉ he'll sit and take whatever you give him, answers everything with short, respectful answers like it's something sacred. "You like being used, big boy?" "Yes, ma'am/sir." the only sign he’s into it is how fucking hard he gets from just serving you.

⚉ at one point you slap his hand away when he tries to jerk off without permission and he just freezes. like a dog being told to stay. stares at you with wide sockets and says, “...Apologies.” voice low, like it’s actually sincere.

⚉ takes edging mostly unphased, only grunting when you stop to watch his leaking cock twitch helplessly on his stomach. the restraint is borderline terrifying. HOWEVER, by the 5th, 6th time, he's panting, thighs shaking, hips thrusting in the air purely out of instinct.

⚉ you tie his wrists behind his back just for fun, and the moment you straddle him, his whole body tenses like a loaded weapon. he doesn't dare move until you tell him to. when you finally lean back and put your hands on his knees for leverage while riding him—bouncing, relentless—he jerks his hands against the ties, teeth bared in a hiss.

⚉ doesn't need praise, didn't react to it the entire time, but the moment you start huffing out little "so big, so obedient, such a good fucking toy for me" while he's balls deep inside you, his chest ruptures with a growl.

⚉ the only real, shaken reaction you'll get out of him is when you give him permission to cum. chokes on a growl, snarls "yes, fuck yes, yes—" through gritted teeth and starts pistoning into you from below.

⚉ doesn't need aftercare, but he just lays there with you like he’s resting after a blood ritual. no words. no movement. you curl into him and he shifts just enough to wrap an arm around your waist. breathes in slow, reverent, like he’d let you kill him if you wanted.

Brian Thomas

☹ bringing it up to him in a conversation would go south quickly. sex with him generally feels impersonal and more like a vessel for frustration, regardless of how long you have been together. letting his guard down is off the table.

☹ unless you manage to sneak it into the rare instance where he's allowing himself to relax just enough to soften a bit. where he kisses you slowly while stroking your back under the covers and his body succumbs to your gentleness, instead of crashing his mouth into yours with clenched teeth and shoving his hand in your underwear like fucking you as urgently as possible would take the weight off his shoulders.

☹ starting slow would be the best course of action. gently guiding his face to the side to drag your lips down his neck, feeling him through his shirt while whispering into his skin. "Relax, let me take care of you", "Let me take these off, baby", "Lift your hips for me."

☹ looks at you with these wary eyes and parted lips like he's so torn. but he lets you. lets you undress him, lets you get on top of him to kiss down his chest, down his stomach. lets you lick up his shaft instead of grabbing your hair and guiding you to take him in your mouth right off the bat. even fights himself to keep still and not rush you when you start teasing him.

☹ "So good for me, baby" while stroking from the base up and licking around his tip? he whimpers. genuine, meek, like that's enough to crack him open.

☹ hands will eventually fly to your hair on instinct. you'll grab his wrists and set them down back at his sides, not forcing them down but just holding your hands over them to remind. he wouldn't squirm, but he would tense. and "be a good boy for me and i'll give you what you want, okay?" is enough to get him biting his lip and breathe harder.

☹ the more you give, the more he gives back like it's natural. you take him deeper, relax your throat and let his cock slide down slowly, he groans so deep you can barely hear the "fffuck yes, thank you," but it's there. small and new and unsure, but coming out without resistance.

☹ praise, for anything and everything, and he melts into a puddle of breathy moans and shaking thighs. "Look at you, you look so fucking good on your knees for me" and his eyes would roll back in a muffled whine.

☹ surprisingly self controlled when you tell him just how to fuck you, but he's panting in your ear like it's painful not to pound into you when you keep him moving slowly. "F-fuck, you're so tight, please, just a bit... just— let me fuck you proper, please."

☹ does NOT take edging easily. crumbling by the second time he starts getting close, bucking up into your hand and sweating bullets.

☹ looks damaged when you let him cum. eyes wide, brows pinched together tightly, mouth wide open and slack and nothing coming out, like you punched the air out of his lungs.

☹ aftercare is silent and sticky with tight hugs and noses buried in each other's shoulders. won't say it out loud in a million years, but it felt cathartic.

Tim Wright

⦻ takes a LOT of convincing, a lot of reasoning, you even almost resort to making a google slideshow for him. however, it's clear from the get go he's not fully opposed to it with the way he's smirking every time you start your "hear me out" rant. he just wants to watch you reason with him just to fuck with you a little. mind games™

⦻ agrees EVENTUALLY. and he's deceptively composed when he gets on his knees for you. deceptive little grin when you spread your legs and pull him in. something's wrong.

⦻ "Tim." "What?? I'm on my knees, no? Ain't you supposed to call me a good boy?" before he dives in with his entire mouth right away. latches on and sucks like he's trying to prove something.

⦻ "Hm? Easier? Should've specified." "Maybe you should get rougher with me so I listen. C'mon, you wanted this, do I have to teach you?"

⦻ you do get rougher. yank him off you by the hair, hold him there and jerk his head while you scold him. he just looks up at you with low eyes and a sharp, toothy grin, like he's completely unphased by the sting but loving you getting riled up.

⦻ makes a show of jacking off after you specifically demanded that he doesn't, moaning a little extra when you slap his hand off his dick. "Shit, yeah, punish me baby, I've been sooo bad. Maybe you should tie me up too."

⦻ ends up cuffed for maybe 5 minutes while you alternate between fisting his cock and slapping it, before he somehow he ends up out of the restraint—maybe he slipped his hands out because you didn't want to be cruel by tying them too tight and giving him rope burn on his wrists, maybe he just undid the knot while you were focused on keeping him on the edge. either way, you end up yanked on top of him mid "petulant fucking manwhore".

⦻ "Come on, is that it? You're giving up that easy?" gives you no chance whatsoever to stop him from shoving inside you from below. it quickly morphs into thrashing for who fucks who, half him sloppily thrusting into you, half you wrapping both hands around his neck and bouncing on his dick while snarling.

⦻ a mess of spit. yours in his mouth, his on your chest, wetting the sheets, somehow in your hair. he looks like he's thriving while you're genuinely frustrated that he flipped it on you.

⦻ "Tim, come on—!" "Come on? Oh, you want me to cum on you? Fuck, ain't you gonna make me beg for it first?" mockery on 100% even though his voice is shaking by the unforgiving way he just slams into you, just challenging you to keep talking, keep trying, keep failing.

⦻ ruined orgasm. you haul yourself up right when he's starting to grunt low and breathless in his throat, over and over like he does when he's close. actually gasps when he starts pulsating and throbbing angry spurts on his own stomach, cock spasming frustrated and his expression so shocked, like you were the traitor.

⦻ no aftercare, only because he's moping that it felt like shit. you're so proud, and underneath all that huffing and puffing, he is too. silently.

Jeff the Killer

꒷꒦ ...right.

꒷꒦ so, you bring it up to him one night, soft and careful and fully aware of how stupid of an idea this is. hands cold, eyes on the floor, voice so meek and shaky he actually goes "HUH?" 3 times before you actually spit it out.

"Have you, um... thought about, like... letting me be the one in charge...? Like, when we fuck?" instant regret.

꒷꒦ he barks at you. genuinely cackling, eyes bugging a little extra, like that was just so hilarious. you're already backpedaling because you know you should've just kept this in the vault and jerked off to it in private instead.

"You wanna dom me? Hilarious babe, fucking hysterical."

꒷꒦ flips it so fucking fast, you don't even have time to open your mouth before he's on you. hand on your throat so tight you can feel your pulse in your temples, eyes sharp and manic and pinning you down. "You wanna sit on my dick and boss me around? Are you out of your fucking mind, bitch?"

꒷꒦ shoves you down at his feet so you fall face down next to his shoes. yanks you up by the hair and slams his crotch into your face, keeping you there until you're clawing at his legs for air. fucks your throat raw like he's trying to shut you up forever, pinches your nose when you start choking as if to punish you for even conjuring up the thought of flipping the dynamic. "Dominant little whore can't take a fucking blowjob?"

꒷꒦ fucks you like he's correcting you, no prep, no lube (unless you count the spit from your mouth already on his dick). ass up, face pushed in the pillows by his foot on the back of your head.

꒷꒦ "You need to have the stupid fucked outta you? Huh? Say you're stupid. Say 'that was the stupidest shit I done ever said in my life'." "I'm— I'm sorry, I—" "Say it or I'll fucking beat it out of you."

꒷꒦ you do not bring it up again. or maybe you do.

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orphicsun · 7 months ago

Text

・゜゜Gamer Ellie Headcannons ・．

NSFW CONTENT BELOW, MDNI

✧.* Gamer Ellie wears those plaid boxer-shorts around the house adorned with some random t-shirt she often sleeps in. When she's out and about, she loves her classic flannel or white wife-beaters, sports bra peeking out of the fabric when she moves just ever so slightly. Converse and doc-martins all the way. You'll beg her not to wear it in public, but Ellie's got this one black Call of Duty t-shirt that is she is obsessed with.

✧.* Gamer Ellie ismore introverted than anything. She likes staying inside with you and watching movies with you rather than going on restaurant dates. Speaking of movies, gamer Ellie would be more into comedy and sci-fi than anything. I've mentioned in previous headcannons Ellie would be a huge Jurassic park fan, but some other movie / shows she'd be begging you to watch with her are Airplane, Star Trek, and Pulp Fiction. Anything with action or on her level of dumb humor, and Star Trek for when she's geeking out. It's her guilty pleasure.

✧.* Gamer Ellie's favorite type of physical touch is having your fingers running through her hair. She likes to feels your touch in such a light, vulnerable way. Sometimes when she's playing a game, you'll approach her from behind and massage her scalp with your sweet touch. "Babe, you're distracting me!" She'll complain with a dramatic but playful groan, but her freckled face will melt like ice on a hot day from your touch.

✧.* Gamer Ellie isn't good at multi-tasking. She loves having you all up in her lap while her fingers are punching keys, but she always seems to lose when you're touching her, let alone near her. Why? Her thoughts are filled with the night before when the two of you were about to fall asleep, giggling in bed about some video on your phone, and specifically she's thinking about when you forgot all about sleep and had a late-night make-out session with some 90's movie tuned out on the television. It's so hard to remember to reload her virtual AR when all she's feeling is the way your warm fingers slid down her back and how your breathing turned into soft pants when she got all greedy and latched her filthy mouth onto your neck. Still, she'd never tell you to get off of her lap so she could focus. You were worth every aggravating respawn.

✧.* Gamer Ellie, in bed, isn't some huge dommy-mommy or whatever you're thinking. She's really touchy, sure. But she's honestly just your average lesbian who is absolutely obsessed with her girl, and she blanks at time. You'll be on top of her, and she's got this cave-woman aura going where she's just staring at your pretty face, focused on chasing your lips for a kiss. Her hands are awkwardly perched on her sides because she forgets how to even touch you: you're such a fucking goddess, and she's kind of a loser. You're a savior, though; guiding her hands to your waist with a sweet, patient smile. Ellie will get the cue and her fingers will spread across your waist to the top of your hips, and she remembers how desperate she is. (This one was inspired by me with my gf, you're so real gamer Ellie)

✧.* Gamer Ellie is also a switch! If you want her to be the top, she'll do it, but like I said she's going to be all cute and embarrassed about it. She'll be eating you out and her thoughts will be going at 100 miles per hour: "Am I doing this right?" "She's moaning Ellie, stop overthinking it." And sometimes the only thought she can really be having is "I love pussy." Cute. When she's bottom, which is most of the time, she isn't really all submissive and whiney but more like, defensively flustered like how she got with Dina when Dina threatened to bite her on the couch. Gay panic type of bottom. She does get pretty loud when you use a vibrator on her, though. That's a personal favorite in the bedroom.

✧.* Gamer Ellie did have a Fortnite phase. She hates talking about it but she spent like an ungodly amount on the stupidest skins. She used to make you watch her play at first, and then it was you having to create a whole Epic account so you could be her duo. Ellie's favorite season? Chapter two season seven. Why? Aliens. She got the battle pass and unlocked the alien skins, too. A little after she got super obsessed with it, like yelling at some 12 year old boy telling him his mother wishes she swallowed him, she moved on to a game that wasn't making her yell at at her screen. You were thankful.

✧.* Gamer Ellie is a huge night owl. While your sleep schedule is pretty average, she will blink and it'll be four in the morning. She'll groan and pop her back before stripping down to underwear and a t-shirt and then crash on your shared bed, making you stir from your rest. She sleepily curls her body into yours, peppering the warmest smooches wherever(probably with her eyes closed or half-way, at least) and muttering out apologies for waking you in the most ethereal voice known to woman-kind (it's raspy and the one she uses during sex when she's attempting to be a good top).

A/N: Thank you everyone for over 500 followers! I hope to post some longer fics this week or at least some more arcane fics. I promised some Jinx content, hopefully that'll be soon. Love you all.

#tlou2 #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie smut #ellie x y/n #the last of us part 2 #ellie x fem reader #lesbian #lesbian sex

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dreamsteddie · 4 months ago

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Can't Take My Eyes Off You

Written for the @stmarchmm day one prompt “courting rituals” | Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Courting Rituals, Alpha Eddie Munson, Omega Steve Harrington - Also on Ao3

Bat divider -@popmilky | Diamond divider - @inklore

Eddie knows he doesn’t have much going for him in terms of mating material.

Despite presenting as an Alpha early at age twelve, something that should have given him some kind of status in a town like Hawkins, there’s always been something about him that makes people turn their noses up at him, close doors in his face. He’s kind of wishy-washy when it comes to the things he’s not passionate about, he smells like wet pavement and cigarette smoke, and can’t for the life of him seem to graduate high school.

He also can’t grow a beard, can’t remember to separate the darks from the lights, can’t tie his shoes without using the bunny ears method, can’t hop in place and rub his tummy, can’t-

Well the point is, there are a lot of “can’t”s in his life and never a whole lot of “can”s

The one thing Eddie can do without a shadow of a doubt is pursue delusions of grandeur with a single-minded determination. No matter how hard this shit-hole town and all its designation-obsessed inhabitants have tried to beat him into the dirt over the years, he’s never let go of his dreams. Some day, he’s going to play songs for the entire goddamn planet, making millions of dollars off lyrics inspired by all the games and books that have gotten his head shoved in the Hawkin’s High toilets over the years, and Mayor Kline will have to give him a key to the city while Eddie Munson, town freak, gives him the middle finger.

And, if all the stars align and the Big Guy upstairs he doesn’t believe in does him several solids, he’ll be doing it with Steve Harrington standing by his side.

The guys think he’s crazy—Eddie thinks he’s crazy—but Eddie is determined to give his all into courting Steve Harrington before their shared senior year ends. He’s, by and large, the most eligible Omega in all of Hawkins, even with his recent breakup with Nancy Wheeler under his belt. No amount of ditching the popular crowd, adopting a bunch of children, and becoming best friends with band geek Robin Buckley has been enough to deter the Alphas of Hawkins High, even if some of them won’t admit it.

Eddie takes great pleasure in watching every failed courting offer. Steve has always been picky about who he lets take him out, but he hasn’t taken up a single Alpha’s offer since Nancy and the rejections are getting more brutal by the day. Eddie suspects it’s Robin’s influence and if that is the case he needs to thank her profusely because Eddie goes a little weak in the knees every time he sees Steve literally turn up his perfect nose at an offer.

So, the odds aren’t looking good. Steve is picky and Eddie is famously a poor, nobody freak, not the kind of guy with the resources to properly woo a guy like Steve, but what Eddie does have is a lot of passion and a strong desire to prove himself.

So Eddie has a capital P Plan.

“Hey Buckley,” Eddie says sliding up to the girl where she’s packing up at the bleachers after practice. She gives him a scrutinizing look and clearly finds him lacking, squinting her eyes at him like he’s a little bug landed on her shoulder. Irritating and suspicious. Which, rude. “I was wondering if a fine lady like yourself would happen to know what one Steve Harrington might be hoping for in a courting” Robin clearly wasn’t expecting him to come right out and ask, her blue eyes going wide.

“What the fuck, Munson!” She crows, clearly embarrassed by his lack of tact.

“What!?” He fires back, not understanding what the big deal is. He wants to court Steve and Robin is the best source of information on how to go about it.

“You can’t just ask that, you doofus,” she hisses, lavender scent going smokey like brush fire.

“Why not? I want to court him, like, publicly. Everyone’s gonna know in a couple weeks anyway. Shouldn’t you be glad you’re the first to know?” He huffs. He knows it’s not exactly the done thing to go around telling people you’re going to court someone. You’re supposed to be delicate. Hint at it and build up little courting gifts and don’t look anyone in the eye. It’s dumb as hell and Eddie wants no part of it. Besides, so far as Eddie has seen, that method hasn’t worked on Steve anyway. Eddie may as well go about this in his own way, which includes getting insider information.

Still clearly not impressed, Robin says “You? You want to court Steve? Resident anti-conformist, jock-hating, Eddie Munson wants to court Steve Harrington. Why?” Her tone is clearly disbelieving, which, again, rude.

“Uh, I mean, have you seen him with those kids? He’s wicked hot with that whole mom thing he’s got going on.” At that, Robin gags. “And, I mean, I know he’s a jock but he’s also an Omega and he pretty much said fuck it to Hawkin’s High when he presented and refused to give up his position as captain. That was super fucking metal,” he says all earnest.

“And I like the way he smells, like a fresh cinnamon roll. And we shared an English class once and he asked me about the doodle of a Beholder I worked on instead of taking notes. And I know I’m not exactly a prime Alpha but I don’t think that really matters. At least not to me. I want to kiss him and make sweet love to him and have babies with him and -” Robin cuts him off with a hand over his mouth.

“Ok, I get it. You like him.” She says that, but she’s still looking at him like she can’t figure him out. “Alright…I don’t know if I like you Eddie but I’ll throw you a bone. Just one, got it? And if you fuck it up, I’m not helping you again.” She says, waiting for him to nod before removing her hand from his mouth.

Eddie takes a deep, overdramatic breath in like he’s just breached water. “Got it.”

Robin takes a deep breath of her own. “Steve’s been propositioned for courting 19 times since he presented and he’s only said yes to one. One-off dates not included.” She hasn’t stopped looking him straight in the eye, making sure he pays attention. “Nancy gave him a set of handwritten notes for history because she noticed he was struggling. All the other Alphas got him fancy jewelry, useless house stuff, and generic valentine's day crap.” With that, she gives him one last, long look before grabbing her trumpet and leaving, the sound of metal clanging under her feet following in her wake.

“Thanks, Buckey!” He calls out, waving his hand wildly at her retreating back. She ignores him.

Well, no matter. He’s got a courting to plan.

The thing about courting when you have $3.45 to your name after rent and gas is that you have to get creative. Which isn’t a problem, Eddie breathes creativity. If he wasn't already “The Freak” he’s sure he would be Eddie “The Creative” Munson. Really, it has a nice ring to it.

The problem comes with making something with $3.45 that is also a worthy courting gift for Steve Harrington. Which, given Robin’s tip, might not be as big a concern as he would have thought. But even if Steve would be happy with a heartfelt love letter and those peanut butter brownies Eddie knows he likes, there’s a part of him that wants to blow every other Alpha and Beta that came before him completely out of the water. Maybe especially Nancy Wheeler.

Sue him, he wants to be the best.

Which leaves him with the option of a gesture. Eddie loves a gesture, but this one is going to require some help. Luckily, Eddie knows where every gang of geeks in Hawkin’s makes their dens, even if they’re not his gang of geeks. It comes with being Head Freak. It’s his responsibility, really.

Which is how he finds himself in the Hawkins Middle AV club room being stared down by a bunch of beady-eyed thirteen year olds on the verge of presenting. Jesus, these kids are intense.

“So yeah, that’s what I’m planning,” he finishes explaining. Would it kill them to look a little impressed? He’s pretty proud of it himself. Instead of sharing looks of awe, the six of them share looks of judgement between them, obviously having a silent conversation between them like some kind of hive mind. Eddie will never admit it makes him sweat a little bit.

“You want to ask to court Steve. Steve Harrington?” the tall, skinny one asks like he can’t believe it. Eddie doesn’t know if the disgust is for him or for the Omega. Either way, ouch.

“Yes,” he replies, sweating a little more. They all share more looks, the redhead in particular is looking at him like he’s gum stuck on the bottom of her shoes.

“Why?” The curly one asks, firm and more seriously than any kid that dorky looking should have any right to speak. Seriously, he looks like a poodle in a Star Wars shirt and a trucker hat. But, Eddie knows enough about Steve to know that these are his kids, his pups, and despite how much it chafes him to have people continually asking why he wants to court Steve, like it isn’t obvious, he knows these pups are just looking out for their pack Omega.

With a deep sigh, Eddie explains for the second time in less than a week, everything he loves about Steve Harrington. At the end of his speech, the pups stare at him for a long moment before simultaneously turning their back on him to form an honest to God huddle. Seriously, the hive mind thing is looking more and more likely. Maybe he should use this for a campaign. Very Children of the Corn.

While Eddie is lost in his musing, they seem to come to some kind of conclusion, breaking up and returning to one solid, unbreakable line. It’s the other girl, hair short and at that awkward growing out length that Eddie knows all too well that steps forward. All these kids are intense, but there’s something especially severe about her, something Eddie only half recognizes.

“We will help you,” she says, quiet and solemn.

This is going to fucking fantastic, Eddie thinks, wild grin splitting across his face.

It’s embarrassingly easy to sneak a band of six middle schoolers and one elementary schooler into the school after hours. The kids met him outside the building just at exactly 4:00 PM the Friday after their meeting in the AV room just as they planned. The addition of the feisty ten year old was unexpected, but she proved herself invaluable in charming the one teacher that stopped them on their way to the radio room, spinning some tale about being so excited for higher learning that they wanted to explore the high school. Eddie thinks Erica Sinclair should run the world.

The kids are a well oiled, if slightly annoying, machine. As soon as Eddie pops the door open they’re getting to work figuring out how the PA system works and how long the range is. Dustin and Lucas insist that they move the entire unit closer to the field, and Max and Will are quick to source a cart for the whole thing. In record time they’re all piling into the coaches office, the one with a clear view of the basketball court where the team is running their Friday drills. Honestly, it feels a little like they’re highjacking Eddie’s plan, but the smiles on their face and their puppy sweet excitement softens the blow a little.

“You ready?” The curly haired one, Dustin, asks while offering him the mic.

“I was born for this, Dusty,” he says, snatching the mic out of his hand and taking his place outside the main gym doors.

Despite what he said, Eddie is nervous. He shakes his hands and bounces in place, trying to shake it off. Before he’s ready, he hears the slightly crackly jazzy intro pouring through the speakers. He counts his beats, waiting for his que. He spent hours planning this, recording the background music with the band, turning the lyrics over and over in his head, even practicing his grand entrance. He’s as ready as he can be.

God, he hopes this works.

And there’s his que, that little pause in the music just enough time for him to push open the doors to the main gym with all his strength, relishing in the dramatic banging sound.

All eyes are on him. Steve’s eyes are on him.

You're just too good to be true,

Can't take my eyes off of you,

He sings as he walks. All the activity in the gym has come to a halt, everyone too confused and curious to stop it. He’s looking right at Steve, who turns his head like he’s expecting to see someone else behind him. He’s so cute, Eddie wants to eat him alive.

At long last love has arrived,

And I thank God I'm alive,

You're just too good to be true

Eddie knows he doesn’t have a lot of time, any moment now principle Higgins and his one security lackey are going to bust through the doors to find out who stole the announcement equipment. This is the moment, the one that needs to count. Eddie saunters right up to Steve like his heart isn’t trying to beat out of his chest and kneels down like a knight to their king. He takes his hand, and Steve lets him as he sings the next line looking right up into those beautiful hazel eyes.

Can't take my eyes off of you.

He turns the hand in his own over to expose the Omega’s wrist just as the music pauses and presses a soft, lingering kiss to the gland there. A courting kiss.

Almost like he planned it, the doors burst open a second time revealing the fuming face of Principle Higgins and his goon. He turns a manic grin Steve’s way just as the music picks back up, cutting straight to the chorus. He presses one last kiss to Steve’s wrist and takes in the way his pretty, pink lips are parted in disbelief, eyes wide and then he’s running.

I love you baby,

And if it's quite alright,

I need you baby,

To warm the lonely nights

Let it never be said that Eddie Munson, for all the ways he fails to be the ideal Alpha, doesn’t have a hell of a lot of stamina. He’s been a proud runner all his life, and he’s using it to his advantage today to put on a show. He’s singing and he’s running as Higgins and Officer Jerry chase his tail like they have any hope of catching him when he doesn’t want to be caught, when he can see the most beautiful boy in the world laughing at him in disbelief as he ducks and dodges around the court.

But even Eddie has his limits and, like he said, he planned this to a T. He can feel himself running out of breath but he refuses to call it before the climax. He’s stomping his way up the bleachers, making a show of going between the rows dancing like he’s in an old hollywood musical. Higgin’s is closing in, but there’s now way he’s getting caught. Not today. He puts in a burst of speed, leaving them in the dust and putting himself right at the top of the wooden stands, singing directly to Steve who is absolutely glowing on the court.

And let me love you,

Baby let me love you…

The music gives one last swell, the Corroded Coffin of two days ago pouring their heart out for the Eddie of today. The music comes to an abrupt halt, the gym very quickly filling with laughter and applause. The kids are screaming their heads off in the office, loud enough to draw Steve’s attention to where they can be seen through the large window. The joy and disbelief on Steve’s face makes all of this worth it, no matter what happens next.

Eddie wishes he could relish in it longer, but the goon squad is gaining ground fast and he has one last message to give before he hauls ass into the next phase of his plan. He starts inching his way toward the exit, not taking his eyes off Steve as he goes. He needs him to hear this.

“Steve Harrington, it would be the honor of my life to court you with the intention of mating. Meet me at the lake at seven if you’ll hear me out.” And with that, he’s gone. He wishes he could stay to see his reaction, but he’s out of time.

He pushes through the emergency exit to the sound of hollering and clapping, all he can do now is commence with phase two.

Phase two mainly consists of picking everything up from the trailer, changing into his nice clothes, and heading toward Lover’s Lake to set everything up.

Eddie thinks this is the most nerve wracking part of the whole plan. In many ways, the whole big performance was the easy part. Eddie loves to perform, eats up the attention like a cat laps up milk. This, the full bearing of his heart to the Omega he wants to spend his life with, is far scarier than anything else. Here in the back of his van, the paper hearts and pillar candles, hand-picked daisies and hand-made peanut butter brownies, leave him completely exposed.

He wonders if Steve will show up.

He wishes he didn’t set up so god damn early. The waiting is excruciating.

The Alpha paces around, adjusts the blankets on the bottom of the van and then decides they were better before, and checks his watch every half minute like it will make time move faster. He sits and watches the hands turn from 6:59 to 7:00. Maybe Steve won’t come. Maybe this was all for nothing and he’ll have to go back to school on Monday and pretend like he isn’t heartbroken.

His watch continues to tick. 7:03, 7:07, 7:10. He’s getting ready to pick it all back up when he hears the muffled sound of tires on soft dirt. Suddenly, his heart is in his throat as he watches the distinct headlights of his favorite Beamer turn into the clearing.

Eddie scrambles to his feet, he has a plan to carry out.

He watches, heart in his throat as Steve parks. Watches as the door opens and Steve emerges, a sweet, sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry I’m late.” Steve looks like a dream. He clearly went home and had a shower and a change of clothes. He’s wearing light wash jeans that hug his thighs and a soft looking, deep red sweater, the collar of a white dress shirt peeking out from underneath. He’s dressed up for Eddie.

There’s a long pause where Eddie forgets how to speak and Steve just stands there, clearly waiting for Eddie to make a move. Eddie comes back to himself all at one, shaking his head hard like a dog, making Steve let out a startled laugh. “What the hell?” He asks, not mean, but bemused.

“My deepest apologies my liege, I was simply stunned by your beauty,” he says with a half bow, extending his arm for Steve to take. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to Cafe Munson, the finest pop up restaurant this side of Indiana.” It’s goofy and a little ridiculous but Steve takes the offered arm with a little smile, sending a pleasant jolt through his body.

Eddie leads Steve toward the open back of the van, watching him intently as he takes it in. He gets to see as the Omega’s eyes go wide, mouth parting in a little gasp. When he turns to look at Eddie, he’s already looking back. “You did this for me?” He asks, wonder coloring his voice. All of a sudden Eddie feels a little shy, a little sheepish.

“I know it’s not much, I’m not exactly liquid at the moment, but I wanted to do something nice for you,” he says, unoccupied arm reaching up to tug a piece of hair over his mouth. Steve looks at him for a long moment before turning back to the van. There are blankets everywhere, pretty much every one from the house plus a couple he nicked from Gareth’s house after practice. The emergency pillar lights from the pantry give the space a soft glow, paper hearts hang from string from the metal roof, and a repurposed laundry basket full of tupperwares and miller lites sits in the center.

“It’s perfect” Steve says, and Eddie can’t help but believe him. Not when his scent is blooming, cinnamon roll sweet, right under Eddie’s nose.

Eddie leads him to the van, gives him his hand to help him into the back. He takes a moment to take it all in, Steve Harrington settling into a date with Eddie Munson. It’s his biggest dream come true.

He climbs in after the other boy and starts pulling out tupperwares. Steve has settled in to lean on the wall of pillows Eddie constructed for just this reason, pulling a blanket over the both of them when Eddie settles in next to him. Steve laughs with every overly dramatic introduction he makes for the food, and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever been this warm. Neither of them brings up why they’re here, the underlying meaning behind it all. They dance around it, laughing about the kids, Steve’s sports and Eddie’s games, the look on Principle Higgin’s face when he burst into the gym earlier that day. The whole place smells like cinnamon and smoke, Eddie doesn’t think there’s a better smell in the whole world.

They don’t say a thing about courting or mating or scents until they polish off their cold pasta, courtesy of Wayne, and Eddie pulls out the last tupperware from the bottom of the laundry basket. “And for dessert, may I have a drumroll please….” Steve rolls his eyes but smiles as he complies, drumming a little beat with fingers on the side of the van. Eddie pulls out the container with a flourish, “The finest peanut butter brownies $3.15 worth of ingredients from Melvald’s can get you.” He expects laughter, maybe some light teasing as Steve has been shown to enjoy throughout the night, but all he gets is silence.

He worries, for a moment, that he got it wrong. Maybe Steve doesn’t like peanut butter brownies. Jesus H Christ, maybe he’s allergic to peanuts and Eddie has just massively fucked this up. He’s getting ready to spiral and try to fix it when Steve speaks, voice soft in a way Eddie can’t place.

“Those are my favorites,” he says. When Eddie is brave enough to look at his face again, he’s met with wet, adoring eyes. Eddie doesn't know if anyone has ever looked at him like that before. Like he was something magical. Something special just for them.

Eddie clears his throat when Steve doesn’t say anything else. Just keeps staring at him like he’s waiting for something big. “Yeah, yeah I know,” he says, bracing himself for what comes next. “I uh, I saw you buy some at the club fair last year. You bought three of them and then came back for one more before they closed the booth.” It shouldn’t be such a big admission, but it feels like he’s just handed Steve his heart on a silver platter.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, turning toward him fully.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, sitting up so they’re eye to eye.

“What you said, on the basketball court, will you ask me again?” He’s looking at him with so much hope in his eyes, Eddie almost feels like he could choke on it. Instead, he focuses in on the perfect scent of the man next to him, breathes steadily in and out.

“It would be the honor of my life to court you with the intention of mating, Steve Harrington.” As he says it, he reaches into his pocket for his last offering, his hail mary pass, his death saving throw. It’s a silly thing, cost his last 30 cents at the stationary store, but he was listening to Robin on those bleachers that day. Knows that the gesture and the picnic are all well and good, but what Steve has been missing with all those other Alphas is someone who notices the small details and holds them close. Someone who cares about his C+ in History, someone who knows his favorite brownies are swirled with peanut butter.

Someone who notices that he lost his eraser last week and has been meaning to pick up a new one.

Eddie holds out his heart one last time, it’s shaped like a 30 cent eraser. White and covered with a paper band. The best one on the market.

Steve stares at the little eraser like it contains the answers to the universe, and then he’s plucking it, oh so gently, out of his hands and cradling it in his own. Eddie waits, the ball is completely in Steve’s court now, Eddie has played all his cards.

Suddenly, Steve scent starts to bloom, even more than it did when he first saw the van. The smell of sugar, cinnamon, and yeast so strong it makes Eddie feel light headed. Eddie gets a glimpse of the most beautiful smile in the world just before Steve is throwing his arm around his neck, nudging his way into his lap to notch his head right at Eddie’s scent gland. Eddie’s arms instinctually wrap around his back, keeping him close.

“Yes,” Steve says, the sound of it muffled by the soft skin of Eddie’s neck. Eddie squeezes him tight, knows he needs to ask, just to make sure but worried he’s hallucinating. Scared to believe he’s getting everything he’s ever wanted.

“Yes?” He asks, lips trembling where they’ve found their own place at Steve’s neck, wanting to be as close as possible, just in case.

“Yes.” And Steve is pulling back, which Eddie hates, and cupping his face in is hands. “It would be the honor of my life to accept your courting offer, Eddie Munson,” he says, sure and steady and full to the brim of hope.

“Holy shit.” Eddie can’t believe this is happening. Despite all the planing and the performing and the putting his heart on the line he never actually let himself think that this would happen. Never let himself think about how it would end.

Without much though Eddie barrels forward to bury his head back into the Omega’s neck, his Omega’s neck, peppering him with fervent little kisses until Steve is giggling so hard he tips them over into the pile of pillows behind him. Eddie is full to the brim with joy, happier than he’s ever been and all of a sudden he needs to move. Needs to let the whole world know what he’s got in the palm of his hands.

He jolts up with one last kiss to Steve’s cheek, managing a quick “be right back!” before he launching himself out of the van. He hears Steve calling out in confusion, but it quickly turns into more joyous laughter as Eddie steps out of the van and starts jumping in place, punching the air and whooping into the night sky.

“Fuck you Hawkins! I’m courting Steve Harrington! I’m on top of the God Damn world!” He gets in one last double bird in the general direction of Main Street before Steve is calling him back in.

“Ok, you’ve had your moment. Now get your ass back in here and kiss me for real, you dumb Alpha,” he says, laughter still caught in his throat. And really? Who is Eddie do deny a request like that?

So excited for MMM, guys! I won't be doing every day, but I will be doing at lest a couple of full one shots and some of my normal ramblings. (Also, this is the longest thing I've ever written that wasn't an academic paper and I am low key very proud of myself)

#March Mating Madness #steddie #omegaverse #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #dreamer speaks #fanfiction #robin buckley

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rosa-maltz · 1 year ago

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Band gfs for a server's new year's gift exchange

@p-s-geeks I'm so happy you liked it, my fellow bokita warrior o7

#bocchi the rock!#bokita #hitori gotou #kita ikuyo #I think they are adorable #aww to be young and in love #happy new yuri everybody

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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year ago

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Brains & Barbie!

PAIRING: Michael Gavey x fem!BIMBO!Reader

WORDS: 1,515.

SUMMARY: Polar opposites attract right? It’s science. Who knew you would fall so helplessly in love with the math geek of the century…

WARNINGS: female receiving (fingering), swearing, degradation kink, some praise kink, edging, cum play, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing.

A/N - it has been a hot minute since I wrote for an Ewan character, so forgive me I’m a little rusty.

this fic is dedicated to my soul sister @sahvlren as it was her bday recently, and she requested this specifically. I love you so very much, and am so thankful to have you as my dearest friend, boo. one day we shall meet, but for now we get freaky online! enjoy xoxox

+++ in light of the recent drama unfolding in this hellsite, I thought some good ole' smut would do no harm, right?

forgive me I shall edit this properly, but I must sleep for my night shift lol

You weren't exactly the perfect pair to exist, nor would any like minded person think it best to put you two together in a roo, let alone become intimate. And yet, so effortlessly you both meshed rather well...Michael, your "Norman No Mates" boyfriend [as he enjoyed putting it], was quite a mathematical genius. His family were somewhat stable and well off, however, he rejoiced in the idea that he worked his way into the academy, where as your situation was quite the opposite. Your father had attended Oxford and graduated, as did your grandfather, who also sponsored and funded many of its restorations and renovations. The ancient establishment owed many of its complexes to your family name, and hence, granted you a position in their literature field, warranted you did try to maintain your grades above a credit average, trimming it with a pass even...

You had tipsily stumbled upon Michael at some college party: he stood by some dark corner, a drink in hand and the other in his pocket, before you had ignorantly walked into him, mindless to your surroundings from intoxication. You had either gone to refill your drink or was seeking the bathroom [you struggle to remember the fine details of the night you had met], laughing obnoxiously at some joke your friend had uttered, before walking into the man that would ultimately make you weak in your knees.

"S-Sorry-" You softly slurred, spilling your drink on the floor, a droplet landing on your heel.

At first it sounded as though an apparent swear seemingly seethed between his curved lips, halting himself before cursing you further, as he adjusted his thin framed spectacles, marvelling at you.

"Y-You alright, love?"

The next thing you knew, you found yourself hot and heavy, heated bodies, grinding against one another, as Michael teased and etched his impressively long cock, at your silky folds. His mouth latched to your unmissable cleavage, as he suckled on your breasts like a new born babe to its mother's teat.

No man had ever made you feel more desired, and yet a fool at his beck and call. He uttered despicable taunts and jabs at you, whilst simultaneously, worshipping the ground you strut on.

"The sluttiest girl on campus just couldn't resist the cock of a geek, huh? Making her even more stupid than she is, look at you... Pathetic baby."

His words stung a compelling sensation, and yet you craved for more of his undivided attention. And seemingly, Michael granted you every fathomable bit he could muster. You were the girl beyond his dreams, needless to say, he never thought he even stood a chance with any girl, of that matter. And he as a man, beyond your tastes. However, the tension was palpable between you two, the chemistry undeniable.

You often found yourself unwittingly seeking his company, even risking your privilege in the confines of his dorm...

"How long left, Mikey. I'm s'bored!" You whinge, as you fidget and reposition yourself sprawled on your boyfriend's single-sized bed. Flinging your flip phone to the side, without a care for consequences [your parents would simply purchase a new one for you]. Despite being in somewhat sheerly covered attire, your ass cheeks just peaking through beneath your skirt, Michael barely felt the temptation to see [if he was even aware of your current outfit].

"Wait. Need to finish this equation."

His stern, unwavering voice and unfazed focus ontp the paper and textbooks before him, made your eyes roll with such annoyance, defeatedly sighing. The repetitive sound of his pencil thudding at his head, and your rhythmical humming, filled the silent void.

"Ugh- Michael, you should have just told me to not come- There was a party, I could have been at—"

"Do you not have an essay due by the end of the week?"

You contemplate for a few, solid seconds, before realising there was truth to his words. You did have an assignment due in the imminent days to come, and you had yet to begin.

"W-Well, yes... But I was hoping you would help me, handsome."

"Is that so?"

His attention still remained down, fixated on the text before him, yet his tone elevated, intrigue plaguing his words.

"I-I mean I'll still write it out, y-you just need to guide me—”

Swiftly he swivelled his entire body in the desk-top chair to turn unto you, a cheeky grin plastered across his chiselled face.

"Baby, you can barely do your times-tables, you think you can write an whole essay? Adorable..."

"But I sure know how to fuck you good. What man of your calibre can have a girl like me, say that to a man like you, huh?"

A darkness tinged in his piercing blue orbs, intently watching your every move and gesture, as he notices your hand hovering between your thighs, before disappearing beneath the short, skimpy skirt.

"Mhmm—"

Your thoughtless moans began to echo between the confined blank walls of the dorm, squirming against the neatly folded fabrics of the bed.

"And what do you think you're doing, exactly?"

Two digits continued to delve deeper between your folds, drawing slow, circular motions as your thumb remained rubbing at your clit. You had been biting your lips, only to release a moan, as you intended to respond obediently.

"M-My boyfriend's a bore, s-so I'm t-taking matters into m-my own h-hands—"

"Is that so?"

Without so much as a warning, a force pried your hands out from beneath your walls, your wetness coating your fingers and knuckles, glistening in the dim light. Within a few seconds, the emptiness between your legs vanished, as a rougher, more sizeable host embedded itself between your velvet folds.

With roughness, and vastly more pace, Michael's lengthy, slim digits began to etch deeper and deeper inside of you, pumping his fist in and out of you, as his other hand laid to rest against the mattress, propping him upright. Your hands immediately laid at your sides, firmly clenching the quilt between for some steadiness.

"Does my little slut have no patience? Brain to numb to think, she just wants to be fucked all the time, huh?"

"Y-Yes—"

Just as your ecstatic cries and moans grew more frequent, Michael's breathing sounded heavier, feeling your warm wetness making a mess all along his hands and the crevices of your entrance.

"This slut could've bent over to anyone. No-No, but she did for me, yeah? So needy for cock, she didn't even learn her times tables, huh?"

"I-I need you, M-Mikey—"

A third long digit shoved itself deeper into your tight hole, panting beneath your grip as you felt yourself fervently clench around him.

"That's right, princess. You need me. No man is worthy of this pretty cunt of yours, I earned it."

As you felt yourself progressively lose all your senses. gaining traction to the heat stirring below, Michael's sudden release felt cathartic. Watching him lick and lap every inch of your wetness lingering over his hand, made you feel delectable. Your lustful eyes searched below, for a fleeting second, you caught the growing commotion in his pants, as the bulge was evident, its shadow against the restricted fabric. As he tasted the last drop, a snarky smirk expanded across his handsome face, before beginning to unbelt and unbutton his beige trousers.

"C'mon princess, spread those legs like you always do, like you were born to do. Such a fucking whore, that's all you were meant for. Meant for me."

Aligning himself so effortlessly perfect against your, his reddened tip blushed against your sight, teasing your silky folds. His veins throbbed with excitement, almost palpable between your sensitive entrance, its length girth suddenly plunging itself ever so slowly inside of you.

With a first, rough shove, delving himself completely inside of you, his balls hitting at your rear, an escape of a low grunt vibrated against his lips, that remained hovering over your soft skin. Michael kept himself steadily propped atop of you: with each thrust, equally time and paced, his weight began to drop over you, applying the pressure down from above with his cock inside of you.

"The most perfect cunt, for the most perfect girl. And it's mine."

"M-Michael—"

"S-Stastically we a-are an anomaly, b-but my princess f-found me, like a good girl—”

“A-Anomaly?"

A deep, growling chuckle escaped his lips, his pace growing sloppier as he attempted to articulate: despite Michael having you weak in the knees in bed, he was still somewhat new at the act of sex. Struggling to juggle with the need to fuck and the need to explain, his lean, tall figure cowering over you, his eyes shut with ecstasy momentarily, before opening to glare and marvel at you breathlessly. Your lips latched onto his neck and collarbones in between your moans, intently sucking at his tender flesh, desperate to taste him, to leave remnants of your physical love, strewed across his body. Desperate to savour every inch of him.

"An odd couple, baby. B-But you take me so fucking well—"

"Mhmm—"

"There's no going back now, Princess..."

credit for divider - @/prettypixels-love

#michael gavey #ewan mitchell #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey imagines #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fanfiction #saltburn #michael gavey x fem!reader #Michael Gavey x bimbo!reader #michael gavey x y/n

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wheneverfeasible · 18 days ago

Text

WIP Word Game!

Rules: You will be given a word. Share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

So I was tagged by @scoops-aboy86 for this game looooooooong ago right when I started drifting away into a dark cloud for a while, but it was saved in my drafts so I found it again! Anyways, I was tagged with the word SWEATY PALMS so let’s do it!

disclaimer: all steddie adjacent but not all steddie focused

✋🤚✋🤚✋🤚✋🤚✋🤚✋🤚

S - Slowly, as he took in the familiar-unfamiliar surroundings and the scent of the person behind him, around him, the events of the previous night began trickling back into his memories.

Oh.

Right.

Eddie.

“Redeem Me” (ch. 1?) - omegaverse (“Ruin Me” sequel)

✋🤚✋🤚

W - Which was…fine. Better than fine, actually, because there was less of a chance for him to piss the man off if he wasn’t in his immediate presence. Except.

Except Isabel got summoned.

“Bloody Hands, Broken Hearts” ch. 5 - mafia au

✋🤚✋🤚

E - “Ew, gross!” she exclaimed when she saw his face at her comment.

“What?” Steve laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t even say anything,” he teased.

“You didn’t have to, you sicko. See a therapist about your sex addiction,” she groused, finally sitting up properly in their little cubicle space, giving him a scant few more inches to actually type up whatever document he was supposed to be working on at the moment.

“What’s in a Name” ch. 1 - modern au

✋🤚✋🤚

A - And he would try. Even with Robin he would try. But sometimes, sometimes in the dark of the night, sometimes when he was alone with his thoughts, he would wonder what it would have been like had his best friends not abandoned him for something shiny and new.

untitled platonic Steve & Carol/Tommy breakup character study

✋🤚✋🤚

T - The thing was that, sure, Steve would love a romantic partner. Someone to raise all his little nuggets with, their nuggets, someone to answer his romantic needs as well as, sure, his sexual ones too. He knew Robin felt the same way.

But he already found his soulmate. Hell, he’d bond bite her right now if they both decided they didn’t want that other stuff. They both did, however. Robin craved those intimacies he couldn’t provide just as much as he did. But that didn’t lessen the fact that this thing between them went far beyond that of normal friendship, or even simple pseudo-siblinghood.

“Hellcheer Ink” ch. 1 - omegaverse

✋🤚✋🤚

Y - You see, Doug knew what every freak and geek knew in Hawkins; The Hair was not to be trusted.

Tigers don’t change their stripes, and all that, and every jock wore that tiger emblazoned on their jock gear. Harrington was a jerk. A douchebag. An asshole. Every self-respecting freak knew this. And yet he had Eddie by the fucking balls. Eddie, their fearsome King Freak, turned into a docile pussycat whenever Harrington wiggled his fingers at him. Like a well trained dog.

Sit. Speak. Roll over. Play dead.

untitled platonic Unnamed Freak Doug & Steve fic

✋🤚✋🤚

P - “Perhaps, but maybe let’s put a pin in it until you can stand up on your own, all right, sweetness?”

Steve wanted to smack Eddie in his smarmy face. Except it wasn’t really all that smarmy, actually. It was more…fondly exasperated. Even the alpha’s scent still had that softness from sleep, that almost honeyed molasses of quiet contentment, not like he was impatient for Steve to get out of his bed and his home.

“Redeem Me”

✋🤚✋🤚

A - And eventually Hopper cleared a pointed throat about sitting properly on furniture so Steve had rolled his eyes but given Robin the seat to settle on the ground in front of it, bracketed by Robin’s legs. He had, admittedly, grabbed her legs and hooked them lightly over his shoulder to keep in place because she kept kicking him, but still.

She really wished a boy and a girl could just be close friends without anyone assuming anything about it. Meanwhile, she could pull that same move with a girl and, despite it meaning something entirely different for her, no one would have even batted an eye.

Heterosexuals were so fucking weird.

untitled Ronance fic

✋🤚✋🤚

L - “Look, I get the whole bad boy approach, but Indy has a whip,” Eddie had scoffed when Steve had once more proclaimed Han as the superior Harrison Ford. “Shit’s hot as fuck. Way hotter than having the Shaggy Dog as your copilot. Indy could use that whip on me any day.”

untitled steddie summer fic

✋🤚✋🤚

M - Mr. Hagan, of course, got off with a slap on his wrist, despite the fact that it had been his foot kicking a curled up Eddie in the back, but that was just the way things go when you’re the King Freak. So of course the stars would align for him to have to tutor the actual king, King Steve “the Hair” Harrington himself.

untitled tutor fic - omegaverse

✋🤚✋🤚

S - Steve didn’t even want to know what complicated expression he was making at that, rearing back slightly in shock and, to be quite honest, hurt. What the hell about him made Wayne think he’d hurt Eddie in any way? He frowned deeply, honestly quite offended.

“I would never hurt Eddie,” Steve replied, just as low but with a lot more bite.

untitled Steve & Wayne miscommunication fic

✋🤚✋🤚✋🤚✋🤚✋🤚✋🤚

Damn, I didn’t necessarily forget about some of these, but they had definitely been pushed to the back of my mind. I need to work on these, though some need to percolate a bit and will probably be rewritten some.

And ya know what, fuck it, I’m just gonna tag my Hostage Hotties and those relevant to certain stories mentioned. (Sorry to the people not fans of omegaverse but you can just ignore those ones.)

Your word is…

CORDYCEPS

(currently watching the finale of The Last of Us 😭)

No pressure tho on tagging for writers!

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-weirdlife @everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes @hiei-harringtonmunson @estrellami-1 @nebulaoz @renfrisol @tinyplanet95 @hairspraywhore

@amerikanskaya-krassavitsa @queenie-ofthe-void @mugloversonly

And open tag for anyone else who wishes to participate!

#wip word game #bringing this baby back #steddie #(mostly)#my wips my wips my lovely wordy wips #(if you got that reference youre old now)#plot thots

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d0llcuries · 9 months ago

Note

Hey beautiful! What do you think it would be like to have a childhood love with Neteyam? I would love to see this written by you, your writing is impeccable❤️

TWO FLYING FAN LIZARDS

pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader

summary: alongside a boy destined for greatness only, you suffer

author's note: my first ever request i am geeking out rn!!! ◝(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) ◜♡ this was such a delight to write and i truly hope it lives up to ur expectations :3 also pls send more requests i begggggggg. second also,, to gain the most out of your reading experience i recommend listening to “let you go” by clara la san

(i would link it but it doesn't work for sum reason ( ˶•ᴖ•) !!)

edit: oh wait nvm i figured it out :p

your earliest memories of neteyam are filled with the fond experiences of your shared childhood. you remember the days when your mothers would gather under the open sky, their laughter ringing out like music while you sat beside neteyam. he was the boy with golden eyes, always grinning, always curious, and with him, even the quietest moments seemed to hold something special.

you were shy, clinging to your mother’s side, too nervous to speak or even meet the gaze of others. but neteyam, with his patient nature, never made you feel awkward or rushed. his presence had a quiet sort of assurance, like he knew you'd come out of your shell when you were ready. all he had to do was wait. he was oh so patient and gentle with you in fear that by even speaking too loud he might scare you away from him. you didn’t have to say much, anyway; he’d simply be there, drawing you into his world without a single word.

one day, when you were no older than six, the two of you sat by a small stream, its crystal-clear waters bubbling softly as they wound their way through the lush, bioluminescent foliage. nearby, a pair of glowing fan lizards darted between the trees, their wings shimmering as they moved through the thick, humid air. neteyam pointed them out to you, comparing them to your friendship with him. “that would be us if we were kenten.” you laughed softly at his silliness. he always tried to make you laugh, being the one to make you smile brought him immense pleasure, even then.

“come on, let's go fishing.” he said, turning to look at you with that smile of his, the one that made your stomach feel fluttery and warm. you had only blinked at him, unsure of how to answer, you didn't know how to fish. but that didn’t stop him. he stood up, pulling you gently by the hand. “come on, i will show you how.”

and that’s how it was with him. he didn’t push you to speak when you didn’t want to. instead, he’d offer you his hand, his patience, and his unspoken promise that whatever he was leading you toward would always be safe.

you and neteyam shared countless quiet moments like that. together, you wove crowns from soft vines, his strong hands clumsy at first while your nimble ones worked with natural ease. when his attempts would unravel, he’d laugh, his cheeks flushing the faintest shade of blue, but you’d always fix it with a smile and a flower tucked behind his ear, then everything would be okay again.

as you grew older, you noticed that things began to change. not so much between you and neteyam—no, he was always the same, always there—but the world around you shifted. neteyam was growing into his role, becoming more of a warrior, more of a leader. he spent less time with you, not because he wanted to, but because he had to. training demanded long hours, and when he wasn’t training, he was surrounded by other boys—future warriors, like himself. there were fewer afternoons by the stream and more days where you’d find yourself watching him, your heart oddly heavy with despaira sickening feeling that made your nose burn. they laughed loudly, joked around in ways you couldn’t quite relate to. eywa.. the way your heart would twist when one of the girls would playfully shove him, her eyes bright with something you didn’t want to name. you didn’t like feeling jealous. it wasn’t something you were used to, and it made you uncomfortable. but there it was, that little knot of jealousy, always sitting heavy in your stomach whenever you saw him with someone else. maybe there was something wrong with you. while neteyam was the easygoing, confident and popular warrior, you were still the quiet one. the shy one. the one who couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being on the outside looking in.

you told yourself it didn’t matter, that this was just the way things were supposed to be, but it hurt. a lot more than you were willing to admit. you’d tell yourself it didn’t matter, you had your place in his life, but the ache in your chest told you otherwise. you couldn’t help but feel out of place, as if you were being left behind, still sitting on the sidelines while everyone else moved forward without you.

you missed him. you missed the quiet connection you shared, the way he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world. you missed having him all to yourself.

you wondered if he missed that too.

you couldn't even wallow in good conscience, either. he wasn't doing anything wrong, he hadn't hurt you intentionally. and it wasn’t that neteyam ignored you. he never did. whenever he saw you, his face would light up in that way that made your heart skip, and he’d always make time for you, even if it was just a brief moment between his training sessions. but it wasn’t the same. you weren’t the same.

you weren’t blind to the fact that some of the other boys teased him for it—hanging out with a girl, the way he always seemed to make sure you were okay, even when you were off to the side. they’d throw comments his way, playful jabs meant to make him feel embarrassed, but neteyam never let it bother him. he’d shrug it off, flash them that confident smile, and maybe toss back a joke of his own. but he never let their teasing get in the way of the way he treated you. you were his friend, his closest friend, and nothing anyone said would change that.

what you didn’t know was that neteyam never let their words change the way he saw you. no matter how much they teased or questioned why hung around you, he would always defend you, though he never told you as much. to him, you were more than just a childhood companion. you were the one who knew him in ways no one else did, the one he could always count on, even if the two of you had drifted a little. you were his person. the one he could be quiet with. the one he could just be neteyam with, not the future olo’eyktan, not the skilled hunter. just him. he’d speak of you in ways that made their words fall flat. he’d tell them about how skilled you were with weaving, how you had a way with animals that no one else did, how your quiet nature wasn’t a weakness but a strength. he’d say all these things with such conviction that eventually, the teasing would stop, and some of his friends even began to speak to you with a newfound respect. not that you ever knew why. no, neteyam never told you how he stood up for you, how he made sure everyone knew just how important you were to him.

he thought about you more than he should, really. even when he was training, his mind would wander, wondering what you were doing, if you were sitting by the stream like you used to, if you missed him the way he missed you. he never said anything, though. not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t know how. neteyam was a leader, a warrior—he wasn’t supposed to get caught up in feelings like this. but when it came to you, he couldn’t help it.

sometimes, he’d catch you watching him, your eyes soft and sad in a way that made his chest ache. and on those days, he’d find a way to slip away from the others, to find you and remind you that you still mattered to him. he’d sit with you in the quiet places, just like you used to, and you’d talk about everything and nothing all at once. or sometimes, you wouldn’t talk at all, and that was okay too. because being with you, even in silence, was always better than being anywhere else.

the years went on like that, this quiet dance between you. a push and pull that neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt. neteyam would go off and train, surround himself with the others, and you’d watch from a distance, feeling that familiar sting of jealousy. but then he’d come back to you, in those small stolen moments, and everything would feel right again.

in the stillness of the night, when the village had quieted and the stars blinked softly above, you would often find yourself beneath the great tree, kneeling before its glowing roots. with trembling hands, you’d reach out to the sacred tendrils, allowing them to intertwine with your queue, the warmth of tsaheylu forming a direct connection to eywa herself. as soon as the bond was made, a soft hum filled the air, a rhythm of life, and the world seemed to fade away. you would close your eyes, letting the sensation of eywa’s presence wrap around you, offering comfort to the ache deep within. through the bond, you would silently pour out your heart, sharing the loneliness that had taken root, the hurt of watching neteyam slip further into the world of others while you were left behind. you missed the days when he was yours—if only in the quiet ways no one else saw—and the memories of those moments felt like threads slowly unraveling in your hands.

as you made tsaheylu, eywa would listen, her presence gentle yet unwavering, and you could feel her understanding pulse through you, as if she too mourned the shifting tides of your life. you sought her wisdom, asking why it was that neteyam’s laughter with others felt like a knife to your chest, and why you no longer felt enough in his eyes. in that sacred connection, though, eywa offered something more than answers—she gave you peace, a quiet reminder that your worth was not tied to neteyam’s presence or absence. though your heart still ached, there was a growing strength within you, a stirring realization that you, too, were part of the balance of this world, and it was time to let yourself grow. the bond with eywa whispered gently, nudging you forward, reminding you that while you could not control neteyam’s path, you could choose your own, and in that, there was a power you had long forgotten.

it was clear that the great mother had heard you.

as time went on, you changed too. slowly but surely, your once-soft voice became stronger, more assured. you spoke up during gatherings, your words thoughtful and careful, earning the respect of those around you. your smile seemed a little brighter, your laugh rang out a little louder. even the other girls began to take notice, welcoming you into their circles in ways they hadn’t before. the quiet, shy girl he’d known since childhood was beginning to take up more space, stepping into her own.

the older women would often call on you, noticing the quiet grace with which you handled tasks. your hands had become deft at weaving intricate patterns into cloth, your fingers swift and sure, and soon enough, your skill was sought after for more than just small adornments. you became a familiar presence in the community, helping gather herbs for healers or assisting with the intricate beadwork on ceremonial attire. the elders would smile as you passed, offering words of praise, their eyes warm with approval as they watched you grow into yourself. in their gaze, you no longer felt like the shy girl trailing behind—there was a new respect, one you had earned for all by yourself.

neteyam was so proud of you. maybe now that you weren't so painfully uncomfortable in public settings, he could spend more time with you! you were more vibrant now, more seen. it was like the world was finally catching up to what neteyam had always known—that you were special. some of his friends, the very ones who used to tease him for spending so much time with you, began to gravitate toward you. they were curious, drawn in by the way you carried yourself now, with a grace and confidence that was undeniable. he’d catch glimpses of them laughing with you, their eyes lingering a little too long, and it stirred something in him that he didn’t quite understand at first. it was a strange, uncomfortable feeling—one that settled deep in his chest, coiling tight and hot.

his now, increasingly annoying, friends admired you, spoke of you in ways that made him violet with discomfort. neteyam didn’t like it. he didn’t like the way they looked at you, as if they were seeing something new in you, something that had always been his to see. he wasn’t used to sharing you like this, wasn’t used to watching other people discover the parts of you that he had cherished in private. it didn’t sit well with him, though he told himself it was just because things were changing, and change was always hard.

the realization hit him one afternoon, as he watched one of his friends catch your attention, making you laugh in that bright, easy way of yours. neteyam felt a pang of something sharp and uncomfortable, something that burned hot in his chest. jealousy. it was jealousy. and with it came the sudden, undeniable truth that he’d been avoiding for far too long.

you weren’t just his childhood friend anymore. you weren’t just the girl he’d spent years playing with, weaving crowns by the stream and catching the light in the water. you were more than that. you were special in a way he hadn’t fully understood until now, and the thought of someone else seeing you like that—of someone else making you smile the way he always had—made him feel like he was losing something important.

in that moment, as he watched you laugh, so vibrant and full of life, neteyam realized what he had been denying for far too long. maybe you weren’t just his closest friend. maybe you were more than just the girl who had always been by his side. maybe, just maybe, he liked you in a way that made his heart race and his thoughts stumble. it was a slow realization, creeping up on him like the setting sun, and by the time it fully settled in his chest, he knew. this wasn’t just friendship anymore.

lmk if this whole “shy yn” bit is annoying or uncomfortable, it feels like the most comfortable thing to write for me but i can swing in any direction u guys preferrrr