(18+, contains mature content. read at your own risk)
~𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭~ — ~𝐀𝐨𝟑~
Fic Status
dark chocolate is on a temporary hiatus.
requests are always open!! (i’m just a little slow but i will mostly always do them)
upcoming:
untitled - Vash/reader (request)
untitled - Vash (Stampede)/fem!reader (request)
Jigsaw Falling Into Place - Ryland Grace/fem!reader
requests may include, but are not limited to the listed characters \/
Misc.
- Ryland Grace (PHM)
- Dante Sparda (DMC)
- Kusuo Saiki (TDLOSK)
- Link (TLOZ)
- Daryl Dixon (TWD)
Dr. Stone
- Senku Ishigami
- Ryusui Nanami
- Tsukasa Shishio
Jujutsu Kaisen
- Satoru Gojo
- Suguru Getou
- Megumi Fushiguro
- Yuuji Itadori
- Choso
Trigun Stampede
- Vash
- Wolfwood
- Millie
- Meryl
Demon Slayer
- Giyuu Tomioka
- Kyojuro Rengoku
- Tengen Uzui
Stardew Valley
- Sam
- Alex
- Haley (yes…believe it or not, i like women)
Hoyoverse
- Albedo
- Tartaglia (Childe)
- Kazuha
- Xiao
- Dan Heng
- Phainon
- Mydei
and more upon request.
i do not claim ownership of any of the characters. do not save or share my works without proper credit (a link, and mention to either my ao3 or tumblr). i do not mean to offend anyone with any of my works. if you take offense to something i have written, too bad so sad because i rlly dont care enough to act like it was intentional 💔
cringe content warning. 80% of my writing is made while on 2 hours of sleep, or high off my ass.
tags: university au, oral sex (f and m), p in v, riding!
an: i have a type. so here is some lowk ooc senku smut! inspired by a chai bot made by @kolobookk.
The fall semester came fast. And hard. November rolling up all too quickly, slamming you into books and classes and labs and all-nighters. Exhilarating.
Now to your current situation.
There are two factors which led up to this moment. The first: the little amount of freetime you have is either spent on your phone scrolling, or with your roommate, Ishigami Senku. Sometimes at the same time. First factor. Okay.
The second is the time period. And the fact that you are on social media. You had come across it several times, the two of you laughing about it in passing when some gooner internet persona made a joke about the trend. No Nut November.
Treachery.
Talking about masturbation with your opposite gendered, all too blunt and observant roommate, was a phenomenal time. At some point, embarrassment and shock turned into genuine curiosity. Senku and you had been joking about participating in the trend. Admitting that both of you did have any sexual encounters to begin with was a whole thing itself, but besides the point. Because now you’re twenty days into said commitment, and you’ve been completely overcome by–withdrawal?
“Pick a movie. I’ll grab snacks.” Senku hands you the remote, looking at you to make sure you heard. Upon seeing you nod, he looks away and disappears towards the kitchen.
You’re lying on your living room couch, staring at the TV Senku had bought and then immediately tore apart and rebuilt. You never did get him to exactly say what he changed, but you often found movies meant to be rented already available for free. Suspect.
Regardless, you scroll through the romance category subconsciously. All this time without… anything, really, has affected you. You haven’t been touched in basically three weeks. Not by yourself, not by a drunken hookup, not by that one contact you’ve kept handy, no one.
You’ve selected and started something by the time Senku returns, a bowl of popcorn in one arm, a large water bottle in the other.
“Seriously?” Senku starts, groaning. “You know I hate these.” He puts the bowl in your waiting hands, sitting at your feet on the couch.
“You told me to pick. I picked.” You shrug, smiling while facing the television.
He rolls his eyes.
Later into the movie, you find that sometimes that content warning movies usually put–is kind of useful. Of course, it lets people with epilepsy or triggers avoid things which could enable them. It also will let you know if there is adult content in whatever you’re watching. That would’ve been smart to check beforehand.
No, no of course not. Because you’re genuinely beginning to believe that your life is scripted and everything that happens to you is straight out of a YA novel.
“Early James Bond movies had better sex scenes than this.” Senku comments roughly, crossing his arms while slumped into the couch.
You lift your foot, poking his arm teasingly with your socked toes. “I put it on just for you. I know how much you just would love this part.”
Senku glances at you sideways, expression flat. “Ha. Very funny.” He mumbles dryly, attention drifting back to the screen and–oh, wonderful. They’re still going at it. In the corner of your eye you can see Senku shift uncomfortably, finally speaking up. “Can we just skip this part?” He asks, nudging your foot with his thigh.
You glance back at him, raising a brow. “It’s kind of hot though! Look!” You gesture at the screen, oblivious to his fading patience.
Senku groans loudly. “Yes, I get it! People having sex is sooo interesting…” he bitches, shifting again to keep your feet out of his lap.
Eventually the scene finally ends. The shitty plot progresses. You remain engrossed, unaware of your roommate’s discomfort.
Let’s add some dramatic irony.
You’re a double major. Aerospace engineering and astrophysics. The loneliness (and suicidal ideation) has built enough over time to where your only release had become just… taking care of it yourself. You know what you like. It’s fast. It’s easy. It feels pretty okay.
However, your agreement with Senku told that method of stress relief to go fuck itself. And now the main characters are having some cringy reunitement passionate intercourse, and as horribly made as it is, your thighs still press together. You’re no better than a man–they do make the women look really good.
Senku notices your movement. His breathing becomes shallow. You swallow hard. He’s not looking at the movie. You’re not looking at him.
“Okay, that’s it.” He huffs, pushing your feet back and standing.
Your head snaps forward, watching him. “Huh?”
“I’m turning this off.” He grabs the remote, exiting the software so the TV displays a screensaver. The room is dark besides it. “Can’t watch that shit anymore.”
You make a sound, trying to seem indifferent. “I guess you can pick if you want…” Your head has fallen to the side again, gaze darting around. Anywhere but his face.
Senku is a scientist. His eyes have been trained over time to notice any irregularities, which becomes especially easy when he’s been observing the subject for some time. Not to call you a subject or anything. That’s kind of fucked.
Senku knows you. You live together. He’s spent enough time around you for that to be expected. He turns around, looming over you. “We both know I’m not choosing another movie.” His voice drops. “This is getting absurd.” His eyes search your face in the dim light, his jaw tightening.
The words feel left open for interpretation. Your face turns bright red. “I–uhm–what?”
The same frustration, the same arousal that he feels, is written all over you. A silly challenge because of the internet. It’s not even funny anymore. Just downright uncomfortable for both of you. “You know exactly what I mean.” He groans with too much sass for you to think he actually has a dick. “We’re both miserable, aren’t we?”
Ah, fuck. He’s right. About you knowing, about being miserable. Because now, from desperation, your own… best friend? roommate? is looking away too good for you to be sane at this moment. “I don’t…” You trail off, unsure how to play it.
He watched your throat work as you swallow hard, his eyes dropping to your parted lips. The room feels smaller. Suffocated by tension, thick and charged. “Don’t what? Don’t know what I mean? Or don’t want to admit you’re suffering too?” He challenges, only one corner of his mouth perking up just slightly.
Is it pathetic to admit it turns you on?
You shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”
He can see you shift. See you practically melting into the couch. “You’re literally doing the same thing I am, don't act like…” he groans, “like your trying not to think about it, trying not to–”
You watch, waiting. “...to…what?” Your chest is heaving with anticipation.
His jaw clenches. “To touch yourself. To get some fucking relief.” He runs a hand through his hair, pulling just a little in frustration. “And it’s not working. For either of us.”
Your face is beet red. Fuck you Senku. Fuck you and your bluntness. “You–huh?!”
Yeah, he should take it back, should joke around and make light of it. Play it off. But he can’t. Because he’s too fucking horny. Shamefully so. “What?”
You squint. “What?”
He groans. You mess with him like that sometimes–doing it to dodge a question. Pretending you weren’t talking about anything to begin with. “Just–whatever. We’re both suffering here.” It’s fucking with both of you. Harder than either of you want to admit. “No one else knows this but us. We could just… acknowledge it.”
You blink rapidly at him. “Senku please don’t tell me you just said that. Oh my god.” You mutter breathlessly, lips curling just slightly on accident. “Is that really what you’re thinking?”
He’s already accepted his status as a loser. “Yeah, and I’m thinking about how neither of us have gotten off in weeks. How we’re–again–both miserable.” He says it so casually, but that’s what you’ve come to expect from him.
You sigh. “Yeah… I haven’t.” You admit, shoulders falling. “...was this a mistake?”
He scoffs. “Yeah. Horrible fucking idea. But here we are.” By now his knee is resting against the couch beside your hip. “We started mutually–for fun or not, we both agreed.” Referring to it in such a way feels too professional for ‘oh we told each other we should both do NNN and now are suffering because we are hopeless horny nerds.’
Fuck this. “So… what’re y’gonna do about it?” The words are so quiet, barely a whisper.
His breath catches at your quiet question, his eyes dropping to your lips for a millisecond. His voice comes out rough. “I could… help you with it?” The offer hangs in the air. “If you want.” He adds needlessly.
Any other day, you would’ve laughed. Would’ve asked him if he was joking. And any other day, he would’ve been. Your lips purse. Then, you let out a shaky breath, muttering a small, “please”.
Senku moves quickly. Pushing your knees apart, kneeling between them, hands coming to rest on your hips. His thumbs press in the skin. “Fuck,” his face is inches from yours, breath ghosting over your lips, “are you just as pent up?” His hands slide down, gripping your thighs and spreading them wider than his hips did. You whine, nodding. “And you want me to fix that?” He asks like he’s confirming. Like asking a customer if they’d like to donate to charity. Did helping your roommate get off out of pity count as charity?
“--yes!” you squeak, voice cracking.
Senku bites his lip to keep himself from laughing. He leans closer, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Then lift your hips.” He speaks, voice suppressed by a low chuckle. Without delay, you arch off the couch so you can lift your hips for him. His hands slide up your thighs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. He tugs them down slowly, exposing you to the dim light. “You’re already wet,” he murmurs, voice too surprised for your liking. “God, how bad are you–” he doesn’t finish because his fingers are already slipping between your thighs, brushing against your soaked folds.
You moan. Loud, desperate, head falling back against the arm of the couch. One of your hands reaches between you to grip his wrist comfortingly, the other lain back against the cushion. “F-fuck…”
His fingers slide through you easily, spreading it around. He presses against your clit, circling slowly. “Feel good?” He asks almost clinically. He presses harder.
You nod eagerly, hips jerking against him. “Yes, shit–” He adds another finger, pushing inside you slowly. Then he curls them inside you, hitting a spot which makes your eyes roll back.
“Is that what you needed?” He teases, breath warm and voice low in your ear.
And if that doesn’t make you want to basically beg him to keep touching you, then shit. You clench around him, moaning. “Yes! Fuck–please, Senku,” you gasp, eyes peeling open to look at him hovering over you. You’re done with formality. With beating around the bush. You want release and he knows that. He’s going to give you it, so why delay?
Your desperate plea snaps something inside him. He pulls his fingers out abruptly, shushing you when you whine. Before you can protest, he grabs your thighs, lifting them over his shoulders and burying his face between your legs. “Shh.” He murmurs into you. He licks through your folds, then sucks your clit into his mouth. His grip on your thighs is tight as he eats you out like he’s starving. The sounds from his ministries alone are obscene. His tongue laps at your entrance, then pushes inside briefly before retreating to your clit again. He can feel you squirming above him, your legs tightening around his head as he sucks and licks at the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fuck,” he groans.
He sucks harder, tongue used to flick at your clit. Your moans are getting louder, your thighs shaking around his head. He adds a finger inside you again, curling it to make you see stars. “Fucking dripping all over my face,” he groan against you.
Your eyes flutter closed, his name a moan from your lips as your head falls back. You can feel the heat rising, your body getting closer to its peak while he laps at your cunt. You bury a hand in his hair, tugging. The sensation sends a jolt straight to his dick. He sucks harder. Your walls are pulsing around him, sounds growing more desperate. “Come on my face,” he demands between each hungry lick.
Those words are what induce your orgasm. Thighs clamping around his head, hips jerking while your body shudders and spasms. He stays between your legs while you come, juices gushing against his face. He swallows greedily, tongue pressing deep inside you, delving in just to taste every bit. Your legs shake violently on his shoulders while he keeps lapping at you through your orgasm.
Slowly, he pulls back, wiping his wet face with the back of his hand. He looks at you, hips lips and chin glistening with your juices. He sets your legs down gently, knelt between them. “Feel better?”
Looking up, you smile tiredly. “Yes…” Your chest is heaving, body a puddle below his. You stare at him. At his still red cheeks.
Senku clears his throat. The blush grows a little darker.”Don’t look at me like that,” he mutters. Then he switches up. “It’s… it’s fine. Whatever.”
But you’re already pulling him closer. Fingers dipping into his waistband, pulling it down slowly while keeping your eyes trained on his. He freezes, breath hitching. His cock springs free, hard and leaking pre-cum when you expose him. “Wait–” he tries to protest weakly.
Out of respect (of course), you pause, waiting for him to continue. He bites his lip, focused on your fingers hooked in his waistband. He realizes you’re waiting for him to finish his protest. You’re surprised and slightly delighted to hear his voice come out softer, almost shyly. “I… I don’t want you to…” he trails off. “It’s embarrassing.”
You blink at him. “I mean–if you don’t want me to I won’t–” It’s awkward, but there’s a certain sweetness in my voice, rare and soft.
The gentleness of your tone makes his heart skip. You’re giving him an out when he’s hovering awkwardly in front of you, dick throbbing in your face. “I just…” he takes a shaky breath, eyes downcast. The confession feels forced. “You’re not obligated to. I got you off. That’s what you needed.” He shifts uncomfortably but tries to play it cool. “You shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
You shake your head, smiling. “I want to. If you want me to.” You reassure him. His eyes widen at your willingness. Genuine, not out of obligation. His dick twitches.
“So…” He’s not gonna say yes. That would be too outright for him in such a situation. You sigh, hand reaching up and wrapping around him. You stare, making sure to gauge every reaction. Your breath is warm, teasing his tip with your proximity. He gasps, hips jerking involuntarily into your touch. When you blow over his tip again, he lets out a needy whimper.
You glide your hand along him, tongue peeking out just barely to lick him. Just the simple action makes his knees nearly give out. The sensation is electric, shooting straight to his brain. He grabs onto your shoulder for support, fingers digging in as he tries to hold himself up. His dick throbs in your hand, more pre leaking out. “Oh– fuck…” he sighs.
You smile at the reaction, finally wrapping your lips fully around his cock. Your tongue laves along the underside, taking him deeper until he hits the back of your throat. His eyes roll back as you take him deep, the feeling overwhelming. He’s never felt anything like this–your warm, wet mouth enveloping him completely. His hips buck involuntarily, pushing deeper into your throat before he can stop himself. “Shit… fuck–stop…” He gasps out.
But you keep him pressed far in your throat. Nose pressing against his pelvis, tear soaked lashes fluttering up at him. Eventually, you pull back, returning to a normal rhythm where you can breathe properly. He stares down at you with wide, disbelieving eyes when you do. He’s panting heavily, face contorted with pleasure and something else. One of your hands is braced on his thigh, the other moving to hold the base of him while I bob my head. Every few strokes. I accidentally hit the back of my throat, gagging slightly. The wet, obscene sounds while your hand strokes his base nearly does him in. He watches through hazy eyes–your fingers around him, your mouth taking him, tears now streaming down your face from the depth. It is the most depraved, most perfect thing he’s ever seen.
“F-fuck, you need to stop,” he chokes out, pulling gently at your hair. You know he’s lying. You keep going, deeper, wet slurping and choking sounds getting louder the harder you suck. You let your hand on his shaft move down, fingers teasing his balls. You can feel the skin, slick with your saliva that has dripped down your chin and his length. His eyes roll back at the sensation of your fingers teasing his balls. He’s completely lost now, overwhelmed with pleasure. Watching you suck him off so eagerly, your lips stretched around him, it’s too much. “I’m gonna–fuck, I’m gonna cum…”
You stay persistent, listening to his warnings like a plea for more. You swallow harshly around him, urging him to cum down your throat with a hum. And with a broken cry, he does. Coming undone, hips jerking forward violently as he releases down your throat. He grips your hair desperately, holding you in place as he empties himself completely.
You gulp down his release greedily, some slipping past your lips and dribbling down your chin along with your saliva. The sight makes Senku shudder through the aftermath of his orgasm. He watches you swallow, completely spent and overwhelmed with gratitude. When you pull off with a messy mouth, he just stares. “Holy shit…”
You pant, mouth open while you swallow and gasp steadily and recover. Your chest heaves, vibrating with a soft laugh. He watches, your cheeks still flushed considering you just deepthroated him. He finds it absurdly attractive. “You–did you enjoy that?” His voice is hoarse and accusatory.
You swallow again, making sure you’ve rid your mouth of any excess. “Hell yeah.”
He smirks while you giggle softly. It’s such a simple statement, but the thought still turns him on exponentially more. He reaches down, wiping some of his cum from your chin. You watch. He stares at the fluid before bringing the fingers to his mouth, licking them clean without thinking.
That’s… disgustingly hot. Your eyes follow the motion, lips parted barely while you stare. He notices, noting your lack of response. He looks back at you. You’re… still staring at him. He groans quietly, dick starting to harden again just because of your expression.
Senku doesn’t let you have the chance to realize that. His hand wraps around the back of your neck as he draws you into a rough, hungry kiss. His other hand moves down, palming and stroking his regrowing erection. You gasp into his mouth, finally having his lips actually on yours for the first time. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding onto him above you.
He kisses you deep, tongue pushing into your mouth with exploratory intent. He can taste himself on your lips. He breaks the kiss briefly, panting. “Ride me?” His voice is desperate, almost begging.
You nod instantly. “Yes–yes, please, fuck–” You’re already pulling him down towards you, flipping him to sit back against the cushions while You straddle him. His hard cock presses against your pussy without any barrier.
“Condom?” He holds your hips, watching you above him.
You shake your head, already moving your hand between you to line the head of his cock up with your entrance. “IUD. We’re fine.” You huff, biting your lip while your eyes are trained between your bodies.
You’re already moving on, but he’s stuck on that. Bareback? With you? Fuck yes. “Shit–yeah? You wanna…?” He can’t even finish the sentence before you’re sinking down on him. You gasp, head falling back with a long moan. You’re tight around him, letting him stretch you all the way until your hips are fish with his. He groans, head falling back identically so it hits the cushions as you take him all the way. He’s never felt anything like this. Your tight, wet pussy, wrapped around his bare dick. It’s heaven. He grips your hips harder, thrusting up into you.
His eyes lock onto yours, losing control. His hips buck up into you, cursing loudly. You meet him in the middle, hands on his shoulders for leverage. Your thighs burn, muscles moving with fervor to chase the feeling deep inside. His cock rubbing against your insides, hitting every spot perfectly and making you shudder above him. You moan his name, softly in his ear, hand moving up to pull his hair so he is looking at you.
His eyes snap open at his name. Your hand in his hair makes him whine. His hips stutter. “Shit–don’t say it like that–” he complains, face twisting in pleasure.
You dip your head down, face buried in his neck. You drag your lips along his skin, kissing and biting as you go. “Y’feel s’good, fuck,” you whine against him.
His hands squeeze your hips tighter. He can feel your teeth when you bite, fueling him. His arms wrap around you, pulling you down closer as he continues to fuck up into you. “Too good–too fucking good–” he mutters subconsciously.
You’d both been teasing it for too long. You rut against him, sobbing in his shoulder while you both tip over, orgasming simultaneously. Your cunt squeezes around him, milking him while he fills you with spurt after spurt of his cum. The heat makes you cry, abdomen tensing and flexing in discomfort while he fucks me through it.
At some point it turns to lazy, half-assed strokes, until he bottoms out inside of you, letting you sit with your hips flush to each other. You both sit silently, adhered to each other by bodily fluids. Eventually, he somehow manages to lift your hips without your help, rolling you off him and pulling out slowly.
Your thighs clamp together, eyes squeezing shut. Your cheek smushes into the cushion while you whine. “This is disgusting.” You point out bluntly.
But he’s unbothered. Focused on his cum leaking out of you, dripping down your ass. “...shower.” He finally says, barely able to tear his eyes away.
You both take a second before stumbling to the bathroom, laughing and teasing before you push him a little too harshly. Then, he has the audacity to push you under the water before it warms up fully, making you squeal like a rodent in agony. He murmurs something about you needing to “experience nerve shock”. You’re definitely shocked.
But the rest of the time, he’s surprisingly sweet. Turning you to wash your hair, letting you hog the now-hot water most of the time. Except when you accidently flicked soap into his eyes, didn’t realize, and got angry when he was asking you to move. Whoops.
Now, you lay in his bed, both of you on your backs while you stare at his ceiling. Hair wet, bodies dry. Sore, but dry.
“...the next time you have a challenge, leave me out.”
ryland grace whose BIG BEEFY biceps hug your thighs, flesh squishing against flesh while he eats you ravenously.
the muscles in his shoulders flex, elbows pushing down on the bed so his palms, braced on your ass cheeks, can push your hips off the bed… into his mouth more.
his tongue dips inside of you, making this disgusting slurping sound each time he does it. he rubs his nose against your clit with every deep lick. the feeling makes you jolt and whine, tugging on his hair.
his mouth works faster. working to make you moan again, to hear your voice as you praise him absentmindedly. his fingers dig into your thighs, pushing them into your torso, keeping them there for him to admire you. spread and glistening, chest heaving while you stare at him with an irreplaceable smile.
he makes you cum on his tongue three times before finally listening to your pleas to stop 😋
Getting in contact with someone a few light hours away tends to be difficult. There are procedures. Forms. Background checks. Direct communication to the Hail Mary, as it propels towards the solar system, is very limited.
Lucky for you, you’re still married to the idiot aboard. A few tears and shouting at people in charge in front of passersby’s…
who knew you could share completely private messages with a spacecraft? You’d think that someone had to approve everything at all times, regardless of what you’d ask. You would’ve sufficed with monitored messages.
No. Stratt assumed you meant direct unmonitored communication.
And was that even better.
>>Earth to Hail Mary, are you getting this?
Is what you go with. Anticlimactic, much? Not like it takes nearly five hours to reach him.
<<Optimal conditions. Good to hear from you guys. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?
The answer you get. You sit in NASA’s communications room, large window peering down on where geniuses operate all electronic communication, in and out. By now, the space delay to the Hail Mary has been chipped down to four hours. Whoop-dee-doo.
>>Missed you baby.
>>1 ZIP FILE
On the Hail Mary, Dr. Ryland Grace watches the console load. His heart stops, computer decoding the series of radio waves to reveal your message.
>>You’re a computer guy. You’ll be able to play this somehow. Listen in order!!
The message ends, leaving him with a blinking cursor and an inquiry which asks,
‘MESSAGE REPLY?’
Despite graying hair and muscles that aren’t like they once were, he leaps from his seat. Hooting and hollering like it’s New Year’s, clapping his hands together once. “You’re alive!” He shouts with a small jump. The zip file you sent throbs on the screen, waiting for him to approve the download. Grace hunches over the console, hands shakily clicking enter over the button. His foot taps in excitement.
The download appears on his laptop, duct-taped down beside the console. It splits in his file explorer, reading as 3 items. He bites his lip, hands squeezing in overflowing anticipation.
1.0KB 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑑.𝑡𝑥𝑡
1.3GB 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑓𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑘𝑎𝑛𝑑ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦.𝑚𝑝3
1.0GB 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒2019.𝑚𝑜𝑣
He rolls his eyes at the names, opening the text file first.
Grace lets the words sink into his chest. Let’s the years, all that time spent alone in Space, hit him. He chokes on a sob, mucus building in his throat.
He reads the rest with blurry eyes.
𝓅.𝓈! 𝓉𝒽𝑒 .𝓂𝑜𝓋 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓈𝑒𝓍𝓉𝒶𝓅𝑒 (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*) 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎!~
Grace breathes an unexpected laugh, snot bubbling out of his nose while he coughs. Leave it to you to let NASA send out material that violates guidelines.
He clicks off the message, opening the audio file. Instantly, he recognizes the slow-to-enter chords of a familiar song. I’m Not in Love, by 10cc.
His chest tightens. He falls back into the seat, opening the .mov file as Eric Stewart starts to serenade him and the rest of the ship. …being just him, of course.
The video loads on the laptop for only a millisecond before he’s met by your shared bedroom. Lights dim and orange, your body pinned beneath his on dark navy comforters. He remembers the night. It was the first movie you ever made together.
The song continues as the video plays.
‘Be quiet, big boys don’t cry,’ Kathy Redfern starts to whisper among a chorus of awfully 70’s instruments. You’d always loved the 70’s.
Grace sinks in the seat, hand cupping his lower face, staring down at the screen. The younger version of yourselves. Hands intertwined, hips moving in slow, sensual rhythms.
It took a lot of begging to get to that point. It was a random Tuesday at work. You stopped by his classroom in the morning, offering just a kiss on the cheek and a cup of coffee. The kids all cooed or gagged.
“Mr. Grace!” One of the children gasped, laughing at him while he transitioned into a tomato.
“Now, now,” He had pushed you back gently, smiling at you over his glasses, “let’s all behave, yeah?” He looked back at the classroom, leaving you the opportunity to swoop in next to his ear.
There’s a scheming grin on your face, eyes innocent while he knows otherwise. You whispered, just low enough so only he can hear, “Do you wanna fuck me on camera, tonight?”
The class had study the rest of the morning.
He got his payback, of course. Shown on the screen in front of him now. Except now he’s… miles away. And decades older.
Grace watches your luminous hair fall down over your shoulders as your back arched, chest intercepted by his waiting mouth which kisses over precious hickeys. His hips had rocked into yours smoothly, perfectly, your mouth falling open in a pleasured sigh.
Grace exits the video, smiling. He turns back to where the ship asks for a message in reply.
<<I already see exactly where this playlist is going. Let me guess… Dire Straits, Tears for Fears… did you put Angel of the Morning on this? I miss your boobs! I’ll be back soon, my love.
This time, Stratt is over your shoulder for the last message. “What in god’s name did you send him?”
You laugh, tears welling in your eyes while you look up at the satellite feed of the Hail Mary.
“Just a little greeting.”
—
𝒎̲̅𝒂̲̅𝒔̲̅𝒕̲̅𝒆̲̅𝒓̲̅𝒍̲̅𝒊̲̅𝒔̲̅𝒕̲̅
sorry for lack of uploads… i went manic and got admitted and then went sober but then went off my meds and then went missing and the cops got involved but im good now and on my meds and i still on that za 🥹
i swear—when he was a kid, he drove his parents crazy in the night from how often he woke up. “there’s a monster under my bed!” type of kid, who is really just getting the night time creeps every time he wakes up at odd hours.
it continued into adulthood. always plans flights knowing he wont be able to sleep on the plane, always dreading being in a hotel room because he can never sleep unless in his own bed.
and if he has a partner? dont get me started.
you always feel horrible, knowing he’s a light sleeper. the slightest shift you make would wake him. he swore he doesn’t mind, but you can’t help but feel like you’re losing him sleep.
until one night, you wake, finding his hand stroking softly over your ribs. a blurry, red light across the room reads 04:13. and now, you pity the man more than ever. his arms are wrapped tightly around you, hugging you like a teddy bear with your back against his chest. he’s trying to get himself to fall asleep, you realize.
Ryland was always the most warm-blooded person you’d ever met. T-shirts in February, AC permanently set to 65°F. so cuddling was usually a no. he wished, but no. it just made sleeping harder.
but now, as he’s trying to absorb you, you can feel how oddly cold he is. his body shivering, no blanket in sight around him.
oh my god. your one eye squints open, finding yourself gripping onto the majority of the comforter, with no slack left for him. and of course a sleeping human would start to freeze without one.
you turn around in his arms, pulling the blanket over both of you. he immediately exhales a long, relieved breath.
“sorry, did i wake you up?” he half-whispers, not having a true concept of being quiet.
you hum (which comes out more like an irritated groan), eyes closing again. he whispers a few more sorrys before you end up slapping your hand over his face, dragging your fingers over his eyelids, and forcefully closing his eyes.
“go to sleep, ryland.” you sigh.
he wakes up again before morning, sweating his ass off, but too scared to wake you up so he suffers through it and doesn’t move a muscle ❤️🩹
planning on rewriting the earlier chapters of Dark Chocolate. had to reread to start the new chapter and…
yeah the earlier chapters are really rough.
there will be no plot changes! just grammar and wording as well as perspective. i will not be reuploading each chapter, just editing the original posts and making a note that they had been edited. should be quick, and will promptly follow with the ninth chapter!!
again so sorry for the long wait and inconsistency, but i appreciate every one of my readers who have stuck with it.
“Of course I think I’m better than everyone!” You slam the door shut behind you, dropping your work bag onto the bench in the foyer. “No one else fucking does anything. I’m the only one that uses my fucking elbows, and does my goddamn job.”
You sigh heavily, collapsing in the chair at the head of your dining room table. Kusuo nearly flinches at your tone, never hearing you curse more than once in a sentence. Unless you are angry. Which is not often.
He lets his bag down beside yours, very gently in contrast to your manners at the moment. You can hear the soft footsteps of his socks across the wood paneled floor, feet finally relieved from his black loafers the office has forced him to wear every nine to five.
Your eyebrows are furrowed, pointer finger and thumb pinching your nasal bone. “I just—I just don’t understand. Why they don’t listen.” This was the third time this week you had complaints of your coworkers. The first two times you had brushed it off with a hot shower. You are starting to reach your end. At this point, a hot shower would only add steam to your growing rage.
Kusuo leans on the back of your chair, arms wrapping over collarbones. His tie is half-undone, fabric loosely hung over your blouse. He sighs, resting his chin on the top of your head. ‘I don’t blame you.’ Is what he chooses to console you with.
You pull away from his lackadaisical embrace. “You have the right to feel that way though. You—you actually are better than everyone.” You sigh again, head planting in your arms crossed over the table.
Kusuo’s fingers twitch, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Yes, he knew what he was getting into before proposing to you, yet sometimes he wishes you were less stubborn. ‘That’s not what I said.’
“You thought it.” You mumble, turning your head to stare at the wall behind him.
This time his temple tenses. He takes another deep breath, backing away into the kitchen to find the meals you two had prepped for the week. This would be the final one this week. At last. ‘Either come eat, or wallow in bed.’ He offers.
The smell of food, now released into the kitchen once heated, lures you in. You stand reluctantly, making sure to keep your act of grumpiness going. Dragging your feet across the floor (with your shoes still on, as you know it irritates Kusuo), head down, leaving no mushrooms for him when you prepare your plate.
Kusuo’s shoulders slump, head falling back. He groans, focusing on the ceiling so he does not say something he may regret. He joins you at the table, taking the seat beside you. You don’t look up, continuing to shovel enormous bites into your mouth without so much as a breath. He pulls your plate away before you can reach for the next.
You glare, mouth still full, cheek protruding like that of a chipmunk. ‘You’re going to choke. Slow down.’
You pull your plate back, swallowing the heaps of food with one gulp. “Don’t tell me what to do.” You grunt, right before returning to your trance, scarfing your dinner down like a farm animal.
All of Kusuo’s appetite has been lost by now. He slides his chair back, retreating to your shared room. It takes you about ten minutes to grow bored of having no one to sulk at, finally leaving the dining room to follow him.
You find your husband in the bathroom, testing the water in the bath, filled to the brim, coated in a layer of bubbles. There is a single vanilla candle lit on the shelf, only the single dim light above the mirror turned on so the room is in a hazy, romantic dinner-like atmosphere. He had been meaning to replace the bulb, but a use has shown.
Kusuo looks up, finding you standing plainly, confused. A gentle, minuscule smile dresses his lips. ‘Come. I’ll help you relax.’
You slip into the bath, leaning back while he massages shampoo into your scalp.
saiki was always one for more quiet gestures. picking you up snacks on his way home. giving you space when you need it. letting you hug him when you missed him a little too much. burying his face between your thighs when you’re pent-up.
he never cared much for the taste, but the feeling of your plush skin against his temples while he practically feasts on you is unforgettable. addicting, even. he’s trying his best to restrain himself, fingers rounding over your legs, massaging the muscles while everything else in your body comes loose.
his tongue laves over your clit, just to dip back into your cunt to slurp up everything. he repeats the pattern before introducing his fingers. sliding two slender digits into you, listening to your breathless whimper just before he sucks harshly on the bundle of nerves. every twitch, he can feel. every sound you make, he can hear. every thought.
so when you finally orgasm around his fingers, his tongue racing to collect every bit of your release, he can’t help but feel satisfied. proud. that you slump into him, exhausted, content, and even more obsessed with him than before.
he would never admit that your pleasure reflects his own though.
The school year passed all too fast. Sweet and sour goodbyes, vows of future summer plans, and promises of reuniting were all being made. Saiki ignores the entourage attempting to weave their way into his very sacred (and empty) summer schedule, pulling you alongside him until you are past the school's entrance.
'Are you okay to go straight to mine or would you like to stop at your house quickly?' Saiki asks, aware of your overly conscious attitude towards your attire. You run your hands over your school uniform, adjusting your tights and thigh-high socks.
"I should be fine, don't worry. I can't believe our warm weather uniforms are still so–" you struggle with the socks for another moment before frustratingly pushing them down to your calves. "--so suffocating." You huff, pulling your hair into a quick ponytail.
Saiki doesn't miss the way sweat drips down the back of your neck beneath your hair, or how you undo another button from the top of your blouse. You don't do it to tempt him, but that is the excuse he tells himself to explain his disgusting reaction to your looks. He shrugs at your complaints, continuing on the familiar path to his home.
Kurumi greets you with the same excitement as always. Her sweet voice is angelic and welcoming, almost as much as the air conditioning within the Saiki residence. "Ooh! Perfect timing, Kusuo." She speeds over to the stovetop, removing the lid off a shallow pan. The steam rolls into the air, mixing with the condensation dripping from the inside of the lifted lid. She taps it a few times to shake the excess water, then places it in the sink. "I've made dinner and dessert for everyone. I thought you might be coming by today," she addresses you, "what a nice thing."
The table is set with a precise uniformity, indication of Kusuo's handiwork. Bowls of rice are set beside platters of crispy beef and noodles. "Something smells divine." Kusuke calls from the top of the stairs.
Kusuo's face visibly droops. "I thought you would be gone by now." He addresses his brother aloud, making sure the displeasure in his voice reaches Kusuke's ears despite the telepathy blocking device. Ignoring his younger brother's frigid glare, Kusuke descends the stairwell and reaches the table. Beside you. He takes the very seat Kusuo wished he would be least near. Now, you find yourself included in the Saiki family dinner, wedged between two feuding brothers.
"So…" you start, hesitantly, "Kusuke, did you have any summer plans?" You were less curious about his plans rather than if he was leaving for a long period of time again. You knew that was what Kusuo was also most interested in.
"I believe I am headed to Hong Kong very soon. An agency there has requested my presence in their next marketing meeting." A prong on Kusuo's fork bends up. He looks down at it, temple twitching just as the corner of his lip does. "Oh? Does Kusuo not want me to leave?"
'It would be best for you to return to your business, whatever it is you do.' Kusuo sneers.
Kusuke sighs, taking another bite before continuing. "Oh, well. I do need to refresh my Chinese. I will miss losing to you, little Ku." The nickname is that which only Kurumi uses, and only her would Kusuo accept it from. His elder brother's usage of it only feeds the annoyance rumbling within.
"Well…" you start, attempting to change topics. The dramatics between the two are always uncomfortable. "Are you excited for the summer festival, Kusuo?" You turn your head to him.
'Right.' He had forgotten. Which is surprising, considering it is all anyone has been talking about. No. He is not excited, especially after last year's fiasco.
"Would you at least go with me?" You ask with pleading eyes. Reluctantly, he nods.
The weeks leading up to the festival, and the inevitable ending of school, are nothing but average. Average in Kusuo's life at least. There was no shortage of sudden life threatening disasters which he had to take care of. Because his own life was at risk. Of course.
Now, you stand in Kurumi's bathroom, using her help to properly tie your yukata. "Thank you so much for your help again, I couldn't have done it without you."
"Aw, of course, sweetheart! You look just marvelous. I'm sure you will have Ku gasping when he sees you!" She seems thrilled, especially now that you have become the daughter she never had.
The idea of Kusuo actually gasping at you was amusing, but you know it would never be a reality. A fun thought, though.
’This was a mistake.’ Saiki mumbles beside you. You clutch his arm, careful not to lose each other in the flocks of people. They swarm around multiple amenity stands, pointing at the various kites flying in the setting sky. There is no real reason for him to be here—not one that he would admit aloud, at least. He watches you at his side, scanning over each individual silvery flower decorating the pale cotton of your yukata. You watch in your peripherals as his eyes trail up and down your form, appreciating that he would do so. You hadn’t dressed for him. He was aware of that. But the idea that he actually noticed what you are wearing was—comforting?
’You don’t have to prove anything to me.’ His voice in your head pauses your thoughts. The two of you stop walking once you reach a small clearing. The fireworks are slowly being covered by an ominous blanket of dark clouds.
”Mhm…” you hum in acknowledgement, “but I like it when I do.” You say, then are instantly confused by your own words. “Nevermind. I’m not even sure what that’s supposed to mean-“
A droplet of water hits you square on the nose. You both look at each other. Without a seconds delay, the light colors of your clothes are unrecognizable. You grab his hand, starting into a run while sopping strands of hair cover your eyes.
You are unsure where you are even leading him. Around the bend behind a stand, into a small clearing sheltered by the forest. A small shrine covers your heads, the two of you backed against the stony wall just to stay beneath the overhang. Your chest rises and falls in rapid breaths, hand still clasped with his. He pulls away, closing his eyes when he takes his glasses off to clean the lenses with his shirt. He only opens his eyes when they are perched back on his face.
The rain muffles the sounds of the festival. Birds no longer sing, droplets sliding down leaves and hitting the roof with muted tip taps. A surprisingly cool breeze brushes past, rustling the trees. “It got dark fast.” Your voice is quiet in the rain.
Saiki looks up, humming. The stars show through the gaps in the clouds. He watches closely, noticing some of the stars moving across the sky. Without a word, he points. You tilt your head up, confused. Then, another white streak appears and disappears.
“Oh my gosh.” You gasp. “Meteor shower.” You intertwine your fingers with his again. He does not move, gently wrapping his around your hand. You admire the elegant show of stars, eyes sparking with each strobe. With your focus so set on the sky above, you don’t register how Saiki doesn’t pay a single thought to the stars. Instead, he watches you. How your eyes reflect every fire in the sky. Your hair, slightly damp, falling down your shoulders perfectly. The simple necklace looking a thousand times more beautiful just because it is your neck it adorns.
Saiki whispers your name with his true voice. So quietly, you don’t hear it through the rain. But something compels you to look at him. You turn, coming face to face. His lips are parted the slightest amount. You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“I love you, Ku.” You tilt your head, placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.
i really really want to update Dark Chocolate, but I have no time. by no means is it abandoned, i just wanted to update you guys again. i will try to find extra time in my schedule or stay up late to write for you guys. trust its NOT over ;)
