girl, whatever.

she/they - 21 - roni !! anything can be a hyperfixation

[imani4reading]

The Feeling | Peter Parker x Psychometric!Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: After you move in across the hall from Peter Parker, the boy you loved before you lost your memories, Peter decides he can’t take it anymore. He wants you to remember. Late night at a college party, a guy accidentally bumps into you, spilling his drink all over you. Under any normal circumstance, you would’ve brushed it off…but your powers are triggered a suddenly you remember that this isn’t just any guy. He isn’t just your neighbor. He is, or rather was, your boyfriend.

WARNINGS: Reader has psychometric abilities (she can touch certain objects or people and see into the past), some angst, Peter yearning big time, happy ending!

A/N: Don’t worry, there are absolutely no spoilers for BND, I’m going to see it Friday! So, here’s one last post before I go off the grid for BND :)

WC: 5.3K

Main Masterlist!

Peter Parker’s soul had been fractured some time ago and he craved a feeling that he believed to be the remedy.

What that feeling was, his mind wasn’t so sure, but his heart and soul knew.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Peter Parker’s quaint little apartment was awfully loud for someone who lived alone.

The window was wide open, the hustle and bustle of New York infiltrating his home. The crap dryer was in the middle of shrinking his jeans as it hummed loudly, sounding as if a few screws were loose.

Which, come to think of it, probably were.

His speaker played music softly as he was hunched over the small desk near the window. He was in the middle of patching up his suit after an intense fight with The Hand.

Crash!

Peter jolted up, on high alert for any other sounds. His spider senses weren’t going off, but he was still worried about what caused the sound outside of his apartment.

He quickly grabbed his phone, pausing the music to hear better.

He was met with a dead silence until-

“Shit!”

Peter let out a sigh of relief, hearing a muffled voice from behind his door in the hallway.

The person must’ve dropped something.

Peter rose up from his seat and cracked open the door, only for his breath to quite literally catch in his throat.

You were standing there, three boxes stacked on top of one another, a fourth box on the floor with shattered glass surrounding it.

You set the three boxes down and huffed, scratching the back of your neck and looking at the mess you made in the hallway. You glanced up at the boy staring at you as if he had seen a ghost.

“I’m sorry,” you said sheepishly. “I just- well I thought I could carry all these boxes to my apartment, but clearly not.”

Peter swallowed hard and blinked, snapping out of the trance he was in. “You- wha- Sorry,” he laughed awkwardly, making you quirk a brow. “You’re moving in?” he asked, glancing at the apartment door right across the hall from him.

You nodded with a small smile, dangling your keys up. “Yup. Right across from you apparently.”

Peter’s eyes widened.

He hadn’t seen you or heard from you in years. Not since Dr. Strange casted that spell and made everyone forget who he was. For years he wondered where you were, if you were okay, and more importantly, if you found someone new because truth be told, he hadn’t.

He wasn’t even looking.

At university, girls would flirt with him every now and then, falling for that shy and dorky personality with something more mature growing around the edges. Peter Parker was an attractive guy and he was so sweet, so kind, to everyone he met.

The boy could’ve honestly had a new girlfriend by now.

But he didn’t because it had always been you.

You were the only girl he ever wanted.

You rocked back on your heels, staring at Peter with narrowed eyes. You couldn't quite place it, but he seemed familiar, like maybe you had seen him somewhere before, but then again, he looked like your average young adult in New York. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Peter blinked. “Me?”

You looked around the empty hallway with a small giggle, already finding your new neighbor rather entertaining. “Who else?”

“Oh. Duh,” Peter lectured himself from under his breath with closed eyes and a pitiful headshake. He cleared his throat and straightened up, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, no, you don’t.”

He hated lying, especially to you.

You tilted your head slightly. “Are you sure? You seem…I don’t know. You seem familiar. What’s your name?”

“P-Peter,” he stuttered. “Peter Parker.”

You hummed, the name not entirely ringing a bell. “Peter Parker,” you repeated, as if it would jog your memory. “Sounds familiar, but then again, you have the most generic name.”

Before Peter could respond, you stuck your hand out and introduced yourself.

Peter stared down at your hand, then pulled his lips into a tight line. He knew that if he touched you he risked you immediately being overloaded with the knowledge of who he was and the history you both shared.

The day Dr. Strange casted that spell, he promised you that he would remind you of who he was.

That was the first time Peter Parker ever lied to you.

He went down to the pastry coffee shop he knew you and Ned would hangout at just to bother MJ, because there was once a time Peter was in the picture too. When he saw you sitting beside Ned, a small warm peppermint hot chocolate in your hands, his heart fluttered, excitement coursing through his veins as he made his way over to introduce himself, just like he had rehearsed a million times.

“Hi, I’m Peter Parker, and you don’t know me, but we used to be friends, more than friends actually.”

Was what he was supposed to say.

But when he got close enough for you to look up at him, a glint of confusion in the very eyes he had fallen in love with, his own eyes that you had no recollection of caught sight of the healing gash that caused a slit in your eyebrow and the bandage a few inches away from it on your forehead.

A painful reminder of what it meant to get too close to someone like him.

It was his fault that you had gotten hurt and nearly died.

He didn’t ever want to put you in a situation like that again, and after Aunt May…he figured it would be best if you were no longer associated with him.

He froze up completely and ended up telling you his name like some kind of dork and asking you if the peppermint hot chocolate was worth the five dollars.

So now, in the present moment, his heart was slowly breaking because you hadn’t fully remembered him from that day, which was fine because why would you have?

He was just a weirdo who approached you awkwardly and asked how the peppermint hot chocolate was, which…was strange because it wasn’t inherently obvious to anyone that wasn’t MJ or Ned that that was what you were drinking.

But Peter knew because it was your favorite.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I would shake your hand, but my hands are dirty. I was just uh…cleaning.”

“Oh,” you muttered quietly, pulling your hand away awkwardly, glancing away from him feeling slightly embarrassed.

The hallway was silent as you stood there for a second, Peter thinking of something, anything to say to you because he didn’t want the moment to end.

“Do you want me to help you carry your stuff in?” Peter offered.

Your brows pressed together. “I thought your hands were dirty. I don’t want you touching my stuff,” you half joked.

“Right…” Peter replied. “I’ll sweep up the glass.”

You smiled softly and nodded, unlocking your door and dragging a box inside, thinking that your new neighbor was a little weird, but meant well.

Peter smiled and as soon as you disappeared into your empty apartment, his smile fell instantly. He squeezed his eyes shut, muttering a list of profanities under his breath as he returned back into his apartment to retrieve a broom and dustpan.

He swept up the glass and you thanked him before going back into your apartment.

For the next couple of days, you wouldn’t see Peter often. You’d sometimes cross paths heading downstairs to retrieve your mail, earning a small wave from him or see him on your way out to work. 

Regardless, that little to no interaction was driving him up the wall.

You were right there.

Right across the hall.

Right within arms touch, and one touch…just the one, had the potential to ignite an old flame again.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Peter lied on his couch, staring at the ceiling while tossing a pen into the air and catching it mindlessly. He was supposed to be figuring out what to eat for dinner, but alas, you were on his mind.

He had missed you before, but ever since you moved in he felt like he was losing his mind.

You consumed each and every one of his thoughts, every fiber in his being. If there was one thing Peter Parker wanted, it was you.

He jolted up, hearing the sound of someone knocking on his door. He practically bounced off of the wall, his spider senses going haywire, sensing that it was you. He swung the door open and saw you standing in the hallway wearing a casual outfit that you still looked cute in. Cute top, sweatpants, and pair of slippers that he bought you for Christmas one year that made him smile from ear to ear.

“Hey,” he said casually, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, his biceps flexing, which he was doing on purpose.

He watched as your eyes darted down quickly and back up. He noticed the way you swallowed, blinking quickly as if to get your mind back on track, which only made him smirk.

He was glad to know you still liked that.

“Hi,” you chirped. “So…” you trailed off, rocking back on your heels. “I made dinner and I accidentally made too much, I doubled the recipe,” you explained, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. “Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to come over and have dinner with me?”

Peter blinked, caught off guard. “I uh…yeah, I’ll have dinner. I’ll be over in a few.”

Your smile widened. “Perfect. See you in a few.”

You turned on your heel and went across the hallway to your own apartment. Peter went back into his and scrambled across the living room into his bedroom where he yanked off his tank top and sweatpants. He threw clothes out of his closet and tried on about five different outfits before deciding on a t-shirt and pair of jeans. He nearly tripped over the clothes that were now all over his floor as he raced towards his cologne, deciding on the one he knew you loved.

He grabbed his shoes and-

Wait…

Does he need shoes to take two steps across the hallway to your apartment?

He decided to slip on his slippers like you had. He grabbed a bottle of wine that he was saving for his Daily Bugle office party, figuring that this was more important.

Did you drink?

He wasn’t sure.

He’d bring it anyway.

He raced over to the door, hand halting over the handle.

Hold on…

Jeans? Really? You were in sweatpants!

He groaned and ran back into the kitchen, setting the wine bottle down and running back into his room, yanking a drawer open and grabbing a pair of sweatpants. He kicked the slippers off, hobbled on one foot, nearly falling over as he took his jeans off and replaced them with the sweats.

Peter went back to grab his slippers when a new thought filled his mind.

What if you had changed into jeans?

“No,” Peter lectured himself. “You look fine. You look great,” he reassured himself, though his heart was racing, which could’ve been because he just ran around his entire apartment in less than five minutes.

He made his way out of his apartment, standing in front of your door and taking a deep breath.

Knock knock.

Within two seconds you were at the door, opening it all the way.

He let out a sigh of relief to see that you were still in your sweatpants.

The scent of his cologne immediately filled your nose and you felt an odd tingling sensation in your finger tips, as if your powers were so desperately trying to remind you of something.

You raised a brow, knowing you didn't smelled cologne when you initially went to his place, meaning he put it on before coming to yours.

“Brought some wine!” Peter chirped, holding up the bottle. “I actually don’t know if you drink, but if not I have uh…” he trailed off, thinking. “Well, I don’t have anything except for water…out of the sink, but I’m saving up for a filter!”

You raised your brows as he rambled, and his face quickly went red in embarrassment. “I uh…” he laughed. “I’m joking,” he breathed out. “Well…not really, but…”

You giggled, stepping aside. “I don’t drink, but I’ll gladly try with you. Come on in.”

Peter made his way inside and looked around as you shut the door. Your apartment reminded him so much of your bedroom back at the Avenger’s Tower, it just looked as if you had grown up.

Because you both had.

Peter Parker was still the nerdy, awkward, and awfully cute boy you met back in high school that you unfortunately didn’t have the pleasure of remembering. But something about him had changed. He was more mature. Slightly less awkward but still rather awkward to a fault.

“Your apartment is nice,” he complimented, following you into the kitchen.

“Thanks,” you beamed. You reached into the cabinet and pulled out two regular glass cups. “I don’t have wine glasses,” you said sheepishly. “This should work, right?”

Peter smiled. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

“Now would probably be a good time to tell you that I don’t have a bottle opener either.”

Peter shrugged, taking the foil off of the bottle. “It’s alright. I got it.” Peter’s muscles flexed ever so slightly as he quite literally flicked off the top. “Tada!”

Your eyes widened. “What the hell? How’d you do that?”

Peter smirked. “Well, I work out a lot,” he said smoothly, leaning against the counter.

You raised a brow. “Do you now?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Like, a lot.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m at the gym all the time.”

“Right.”

Peter smirked, watching as you tried to conceal your smile, which you were doing a very poor job at. “You’re smiling.”

Now you broke, smiling like a dork. “Because you’re funny.”

“But I didn’t say anything funny.”

“You did,” you said matter of factly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to impress me, Parker.”

“Are you impressed?”

You rolled your eyes and snagged the glasses off of the counter. “Come on. The food is getting cold.”

Peter smiled triumphantly to himself. Back when you two first met, you were both incredibly shy, but you managed to take charge, flirting with Peter constantly, making him a nervous mess.

But now time had changed you both.

Now Peter was the one with the confidence to flirt with you and make you all nervous.

He followed you to the small table in the kitchen where two bowls of pasta were sitting. You both sat down, Peter pouring both your glass a little less than halfway.

“So,” he said, trying to spark up a conversation, aka, trying to figure out how you had been the past few years since he had missed out. “How’d you manage to afford to live in the most expensive place in all of New York?”

You laughed because you and him definitely did not live in the most expensive place in all of New York. It was actually the cheapest and you considered it to be a literal shit box.

“I’m making, like, fifty cents above minimum wage working at a bookstore a few blocks down,” you said as he slid your glass of wine over to you. You grabbed the glass from him, your fingers just centimeters away from ghosting his…just centimeters away from knowing the truth. “It’s not bad though, I like it. What about you?”

Peter filled his glass the same amount as yours. “I work at the Daily Bugle. I get all the pictures of Spider-Man and stuff like that.”

Your eyes widened as he set the bottle down, meeting your gaze. “You know Spider-Man?”

Peter shook his head, averting his gaze. “No. I- I mean, I just get the pictures,” he said sheepishly, bringing the glass up to his lips.

You gave Peter a confused look. “Come on,” you said. “You must know him. I mean, how else do you get literal selfies of him on top of the Empire State Building? Unless…you are Spider-Man,” you joked.

Peter spit his drink out back into the cup, becoming a coughing mess. “Wha- What?! N- No-!” he managed out between coughs.

Your face contorted into one of pure bewilderment at his reaction, something you weren’t at all expecting. “Jeez, okay…”

Peter put his glass down, shaking his head adamantly. “I’m not Spider-Man,” he said sharply.

“Okay.”

“That wouldn’t even be possible.”

“I believe you.”

“I just…we’re close enough that he gives me those pictures.”

“Right.”

“I am not Spider-Man.”

“Exactly.”

It was silent for a beat as you stared at each other. By your expression and tone, Peter could tell that you were catching onto something, but he wasn’t quite sure what. It could’ve been the fact that he was Spider-Man, it could’ve been that you were slowly starting to realize you knew him before, he wasn’t sure.

One thing he knew for sure was that if you kept staring at him, you would probably start to put two and two together somehow, because you always did.

“Are you gonna try that?” he asked, motioning to the glass on the table.

You glanced down at it and grabbed it, bringing it to your nose.

“Oh, shit,” you grimaced, the scent burning.

Peter smiled. “It’s not all that bad.”

You brought the glass to your lips and immediately spat it back out into the glass. “What the hell!” you exclaimed. “How does anyone drink this shit?!”

Peter laughed. “This is supposed to be the good stuff.”

You gagged. “Gross.”

“So uhm,” he began, changing the subject, grabbing his fork and picking up some pasta with it, you repeating the action. “You got any family close by?”

Now, he was just checking to see if you still had your family of Avengers.

To his knowledge, and based upon where things were the last time you two were actually together, you had already lost Nat, Tony, and Steve, so you were really left with the only two people you were close to.

Sam and Bucky.

You had been complaining to Peter your whole field trip across Europe about how you hated living with Bucky because he was insanely over protective and the only reason you were on that trip was because of Sam.

But then again, Sam was also over protective, just slightly less.

Your fork clattered against the plate, making Peter’s brows raise slightly.

“Sorry,” you laughed awkwardly, picking it back up. “I uh…I don’t,” you said, figuring it would be best to not tell a stranger that you were a superhero and after you moved out, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson had a falling out, which meant they went their separate ways and suddenly you didn’t seem to exist to either of them anymore.

Bucky was a new Avenger and Sam was rounding up his own team and you were left behind.

“No?” Peter asked, not wanting to pry but so desperately curious to know that the past few years you’d been okay.

You couldn’t look at Peter as you shook your head. “No,” you said quietly.

Peter’s heart broke because that told him everything.

You had been just as alone as he had, with the exception of MJ and Ned of course.

You had no family and neither did he.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Peter shut the door behind him, back pressing into it as he slowly sank to the floor, letting out a deep sigh.

God, he still loved you more than anything.

Of course he did.

Peter was completely lost.

He wanted you to know that just a few years ago you were both so desperately in love with one another, and you were just one touch away from knowing it.

You clearly were interested in him, already starting to fall back in love with him all over again.

He could just fall back in love with you and act like there was no history, but what was the point?

He didn’t want you to know who he was anyway to keep you safe.

But his soul craved to be with you again.

He bit his lower lip in thought, deciding what to do.

He had to tell you.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Your nose was filled with the putrid smell of alcohol and marijuana as you leaned against the wall that was vibrating against your back due to the music.

You sipped on the red solo cup in your hand, the plastic filled a quarter of the way full with soda, which was probably meant to be used as a chaser, but you didn’t drink.

Your eyes scanned the party, watching college students do the most heinous things while under the influence.

“And then…there’s Miles. This random high school kid from Brooklyn who might be Spider-Man, but my friends said we probably shouldn’t be stalking a fifteen year old.”

Your friend, Ned, was rambling to someone about how you, MJ, and himself were on the brink of discovering who Spider-Man was, though you were all more than likely far off in your guesses.

MJ was beside you, arms crossed over her chest as she pointed out people for you to look at. First it was some frat guy standing on top of a table while chugging a bottle of beer, then it was some girl making out with her boyfriend, and now it was some loser who allegedly kept staring at you.

“That guy,” MJ said, nodding her head across the room. “He keeps looking over here every ten and a half seconds.”

You didn’t know who she was talking about due to the sheer amount of people in the room, and you didn’t necessarily care. “Glad to know you’re keeping tabs on potential threats,” you teased lightly heartedly.

“Hey,” MJ, shrugged. “Maybe once Spider-Man stops taking all your villains, you can get back at it. I feel like you don’t pay attention to anything anymore.”

Ever since the Avengers had gone their separate ways following Thanos, you hadn’t really done much as a masked hero. 

You vaguely remember fighting alongside Spider-Man to defeat Mysterio and then there was something that felt like a blur with three Spider-Men, Dr. Strange, and villains from differing universes.

On numerous occasions, the ‘New Avengers’ had reached out about you joining their team, but you objected each time, partially because you hated the idea of your family of heroes being replaced, partially because of the politics surrounding it with Sam fighting for copyright, and partially because you enjoyed being a normal person for once.

Your entire teenage years were dedicated to fighting and for once in your life, you wanted to just live.

“I pay attention,” you said, finishing your drink.

MJ, pursed her lips, giving you an uncertain expression. “You know, a few years ago you would’ve thought that weird guy over there was out to get you because he’s been staring at you since you got here,” she said matter of factly. “Oh, not to mention he keeps scanning the room as if something bad is going to happen.”

You smirked. “Imagine he’s Spider-Man.”

MJ raised her brows. “That loser?”

You giggled. “I honestly don’t even know who you’re talking about.” Before MJ could respond, you flashed her your cup. “I’m going to get some more soda. Want anything?”

“Soda is good.”

You nodded with a smile and began to push your way through the crowd.

MJ’s eyes followed you briefly before glancing to the side. The ‘loser’ that she said was staring at you was following you, pushing his way through the crowd.

“What a dork,” she mumbled to herself, assuming that he was some socially awkward dweeb who had a crush on you.

In the kitchen, you had already filled up MJ’s cup and now you were filling up your own. You weren’t paying any attention and didn’t seem to notice the guy whose hands were shaking as he moved to stand beside you, refilling his cup that was already full.

It was Peter Parker, your neighbor, and you couldn’t seem to notice him in a crowded room. A few years ago, you would’ve thought he was the only person in the room, your eyes locking with his naturally.

It was like he didn’t even exist in your world all over again, and it was then he realized he couldn’t take it anymore.

You had to know.

You screwed the cap back onto the soda and grabbed the cups. The boy opened his mouth to say something, but you were already walking away.

As you began to push through the crowd again, you glanced down at the soda you had poured for MJ.

It was Sprite and he hated light soda, she preferred dark, something like Coke because ‘Light soda isn’t on the same wavelength as my soul,’ or whatever nonsense she said back in high school.

“Damn it,” you muttered to yourself, turning abruptly onto your heel.

Little did you know, that ‘loser’ MJ mentioned just moments ago was hot on your tail, following you.

You both accidentally collided into one another, your chest hitting his, sending your drinks, and his splashing, and very conveniently only hitting your clothes.

“Oh no!” he exclaimed. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! Are you alright?!”

Peter scrambled to figure out how to help, worried that he had completely ruined your night.

Then he looked at you and panic set in.

He recognized your reaction all too well.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked down at the half empty cups in your hands. You looked like you had seen a ghost.

As soon as you touched him, you saw everything.

The boy in high school you had fallen in love with.

The first time you’d met, Tony Stark introducing him as ‘The Spider-Ling’, to which Peter embarrassingly looked away from you when you laughed.

All those late nights staying up together over a video call, ranting about whatever books you were reading, a science project he was working on, or rambling on about your days, which you’d already spent together.

The first time he swung you all around New York when you couldn’t sleep, your arms wrapped tightly around him as your stomach dropped each time his webs redacted from a building.

Your first kiss at the top of the Empire State Building, slow, desperate, and messy.

The entire team of Avengers finding out about you two being together and embarrassing you both endlessly.

The two of you growing and maturing together right before college applications.

And that was the last you could remember of it because your memories had been taken from you.

It was like the room had fallen silent, the music fading out, and suddenly only you and the boy you spent your entire teenage years loving were the only people in the room, two hearts beginning to beat in the same rhythm again.

Your eyes slowly glanced up to meet his gaze, tears threatening to spill from them. Your mouth had gone dry, not even knowing what to say.

Peter’s face immediately washed over with realization.

You knew.

You touched him and your powers went off, telling you exactly everything that happened.

Before he could say anything, you turned around quickly, pushing as fast as you could through the crowd.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

You managed to get away from the party, and found an empty fire escape on the side of the building where you sat crisscrossed, staring at the busy city despite it being so late at night.

You heard someone grunt softly and the sound of metal clanging. You turned and saw familiar brown hair and brown eyes.

Peter.

He gave you a soft smile, but you looked away, out into the skyline.

Peter’s smile faded, heart aching as he moved to sit beside you.

It was painfully quiet as he played with his fingers, not knowing what to say just yet.

Thankfully for him, you spoke up first.

“You promised me,” you whispered, voice trembling. “You promised you’d remind me of you. Of…of us.”

Peter glanced over to you, though your gaze remained on the skyline. “I know,” he said. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he apologized sincerely.

You finally turned to him, tears in your eyes. “Why?”

Peter swallowed, blinking rapidly. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I just…I thought that everyone was finally okay because I wasn’t there. You all got to finally go to college because you didn’t know me. You all got to be happy and live a life away from all that stuff. You guys didn’t need me.”

“I needed you, Peter,” you said. “I needed you more than anything.”

Peter’s heart absolutely shattered at your words and the pure hurt in your tone.

You grabbed Peter’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “I’d go back and do everything all over again if it means being with you. I’d go back and not get accepted into MIT. I’d go back and nearly die. I’d do it all over again, Peter.”

Peter’s expression softened. “I just wish it wasn’t like this. I want you safe and I want you to get everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“But that’s just the cards we’ve been dealt,” you said softly, his hand still in yours. “If we hadn't been dealt them, who’s to say we would’ve ever been together?”

Peter sighed, staring out into the city. “It’s not fair to you. You deserve better and it was selfish of me to even think about getting back with you.”

You stayed silent, staring at Peter before looking away again.

“You know,” he began, letting out another sigh. “I had this whole plan to tell you tonight about everything. I assumed you wouldn’t believe me so then I was going to get you to use your powers and-” he cut himself off, shutting his eyes. “It was stupid. So stupid.”

You shifted your body, turning sideways to face him fully. “Peter,” you said softly.

He slowly glanced up to meet your gaze. “Yeah?”

“It wasn’t stupid.”

Peter’s brows pressed together. “But it was-”

“Not, it wasn’t,” you interrupted him.

Peter then began to ramble a mile a minute, and it started to remind you of him in high school.

“Okay, but like, I just keep you in danger, and I know you always have been in danger because you have powers, but I feel like you’re in additional danger and-”

“Peter-”

“I just want you to be safe and I think maybe we should go back to not knowing each other-”

“Peter-”

“Not that I don’t want to know you, because I love you, and I-”

Peter cut himself off, face a bright shade of pink. He looked at you with wide eyes, your lips parted slightly.

Your lips slowly curved upward into a teasing smile as he began to panic again.

“No! I didn’t mean that!” Peter exclaimed. “Wait! I mean, I do love you but- but- like, you know- actually-”

Peter’s words weren’t cut off because you interrupted him verbally again.

No.

You kissed him.

Soft and gentle just like you had that night on the Empire State building.

Peter didn’t freeze up like he did that night.

He immediately melted into it, kissing you back.

Your powers gave you the ability to recall history or memories of the past. Peter’s did not, but something about that kiss made him remember the feeling he had been missing for years. The feeling he craved to experience again.

And that feeling was you.

The missing piece of his soul was you and it always had been.

You pulled apart, forehead resting on his. “I love you too,” you said softly, glancing up at him, cupping his cheek.

Peter swallowed. Hard. “You- You do?”

“I do.”

Peter’s lips curved into a smile. “I love you too.”

“Good,” you said, thumb brushing his cheek. “So, do you wish I could lose my memory of you again?”

“No,” Peter chuckled, leaning into your touch. He reached for your hand that held his cheek and kissed it softly. “Never.”

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back to life ⚠︎ dean x reader

summary: dean comes back from hell, dragging all your feelings back with him. (my very first fic written)

burn it down to build it back up ⚠︎✿𓉸 ☁︎ firefighter! husband dean x reader

summary: you always knew being married to dean was going to come with danger. when it actually comes- your wedding vows never feel like theyre being tested. for better or worse, in sickness and in health.

breaking the cycle 🍕𓉸 ☁︎ mechanic! dean x reader- no supernatural au

summary: when you and dean get into a little more than just a marital spat- dean goes to see his mother for some clarity.

i cant quit you baby 🍕⚠︎✿ bbf! dean x reader

summary: you didnt choose this life. you being thrown into the world of the supernatural was all because of your stupid brother and his stupid friends. the only thing that didnt suck about this was dean winchester and his stupid smile and muscular arms and- sigh- you wanted that man so badly.

fix you 🍕✿𓉸 ☁︎ dean x reader

summary: you always had a crush on dean ever since you were young. you carefully crafted your armor to keep the emptiness at bay- he'd never love you the way you want. but near-death experiences and djinn dreams tend to bring out some deep secrets.

look how they shine for you ⚠︎✿𓉸 dbf! dean x reader

girl dad! imagines✿

[magscornerstore]

unfortunately im not normal and have to insert myself into every piece of media i consume

[admiringlove]

mischief managed

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

↬ summary: gojo satoru was a slytherin through and through—cunning, clever, and infuriatingly charming, with a reputation as both a prodigy and a troublemaker. you, a gryffindor prefect, couldn't be more different—fearless, fiercely principled, and far too stubborn to let someone like him get under your skin. or so you thought. by day, the two of you bicker and clash, bound only by your shared duty, but by night, within the room of requirement, you're partners in something far greater—a secret operation known as the marauders, granting the whispered wishes of hogwarts students. for a while, the dynamic works: sharp wit, heated glares, and the unspoken rule to keep things strictly professional, but when a request plunges you both into a conspiracy that could shatter the fragile balance of your world, you’ll find that secrets can’t stay hidden forever—and neither can the feelings you swore you’d never have, because gojo never cared about rules, and it seems he’s starting to care about you.

↬ genre: jjk x hogwarts au; academic rivals/enemies-ish to lovers au; fantasy; drama; romance; angst and then fluff; slowburn basically; happy ending i promise but it takes angst to get there.

↬ warnings: angst; SLOWBURN; slight nsfw; profanity; gojo being a dick at times; oo also shirtless gojo; fictional slurs; mentions of alcohol; some dark stuff (not much, but there are some because what is a story i write without angst); mentions of death; etc.

↬ word count: 140k.

↬ note: inspired by this drabble + ty to the loml @fxstpace who beta read this for me. so happy to finally put this out! art credit: @3-aem.

table of contents.

↬ chapter one: of serpents and lions.

↬ chapter two: veil of the ancients.

↬ chapter three: golden snitch, silver tongue, firewhiskey and kisses.

↬ chapter four: oaths, bitter legacies, and the quiet war beneath the crest.

↬ chapter five: the heirloom of hollow promises.

↬ chapter six: the space between knowing and believing.

↬ chapter seven, part one: all wars end in quiet.

↬ chapter seven, continuation: all wars end in quiet.

↬ epilogue: the last ballad of hogwarts.

there will be a second series starting by the beginning of 2026. stay tuned!

author's note: hi everyone! this is the official masterlist/table of contents of mischief managed!! thank you for reading :3

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[lanadelreyylover]

34 x 34 x 8 1/2

Pairing: RE9!Leon Kennedy x Reader Rating: Explicit Summary: Though he's been adamant about keeping your relationship private, which is hard enough to do in your small town, Leon stops by your family's menswear store, looking for the assistance of a very pretty salesgirl. Tags/Warnings: age difference (both adults), older man/younger woman, secret relationship, eventual smut, eventual romance, established relationship, slight breeding kink at the end Word Count: 3.6k

based on this request

taglist: @cakeofhorrors @rainyxie @venus-in-roses @ghostieistiredd @jqsjournal

Buttery sunlight seeps through the window’s wavy, glass pane, its frame cracked just enough to let in the nipping chill of the early autumn morning that arrived less than an hour ago if your sleep-caked eyes read the clock on your dresser correctly. Sheer curtains do very little to keep the yellow light from crawling across the room, bathing the wooden planks of the floor in an amber sheen. It’s too hot under the covers, especially sleeping next to a human furnace, yet far too cold to venture out from beneath them just yet. You have to acclimate one patch of skin at a time.

A heavy limb is draped over your middle, forearm snaked beneath your t-shirt, snug between your uncaged breasts, the hand attached at the end resting lazily at the bottom of your neck. 

“Leon, wake up,” you whisper, reaching to pat the trunkish thigh thrown over your legs. His fingers still kissing your collarbone twitch at the sound of his name slowly penetrating his stupor. You glance over your shoulder, eyes finding his face, nuzzled into the pillow, linens crumpled beneath his cheek. Swaths of dark blonde hair, streaked with gray, fall unkempt across his forehead, his temples, grazing the regal hill of his nose. 

He’s truly such a beautiful specimen, a fact that all the nosey old ladies in town couldn’t seem to keep to themselves. They would tell him every chance they got just how handsome of a man he is, petting his arm, giving him sloppy, lipstick-stained kisses on his cheek. Of course, to reach him, they'd have to rise to the ball of their Sunday's best (typically a kitten heel with a duck-mouthed toe box), holding down his forearm so he bends at the waist and meets them half-way. 

“Leon, move your leg, I need to get up.” 

He doesn’t fully wake, but he obeys the command, still half asleep, and removes his leg from across your thigh, freeing you from his hold. You want nothing more than to stay in bed all day with him, tossing and turning among the sheets, but alas, duty calls.

You get ready for the day, following your typical routine: freshening your hair, popping on something easy that can survive the bipolar weather of that limbo between summer and autumn. It’s a sundress today, one of Leon’s favorites. 

“I like that one,” is the first thing you hear him say, his body still tucked beneath the comforter when you glance toward the bed. Then, “Where are you going?” 

“Work.”

“Wait, what?” His dark brows cinch and he sits up, leaning back on a flexed arm. “I thought you were off today.” He blinks hard, kneading the heel of his palm into one of his eyes, rubbing the film of sleep from it. 

It’s unfair how handsome he always looks first thing in the morning. Absolutely unfair, but you’ll happily reap the benefits of such an injustice. 

You walk over to the bed after slipping on a pair of earrings. “I was supposed to be, but my cousin called in sick, so my aunt needs another set of hands. Why? Did you have something planned?” 

“Did I have something planned?” He repeats, chuckling, taking your hands into your grasp, tugging on your arms just an inch, threatening to pull you onto the mattress and not let you get up until the sun falls. “Yeah, keeping you in bed all day, making sweet love to you. That’s what I had planned.” He reaches up to suck your lips into a kiss. Such a sap. “Don’t go to work,” he says once he pulls away. 

It’s your turn to laugh, tossing your neck back as you keep your feet planted on the floor, unmoving. “Some of us have to make a living, Leon.” 

“You don’t. I may be retired now but I have more than enough to take care of you.” 

He looks up at you, sincerity welling in his eyes like thick, oily tears on his lashes. 

“Right. We’re not even married.” To everyone else besides the two people in this room, you’re not even dating. “I’m not that stupid.” 

“Hey,” he snaps, offended at the insinuation that he’d lure you from your job, your security, just to leave you and put you out on the street, helpless. He vocalizes the slight against him, and you roll your eyes. “I would never do that to you.” You’re inclined to believe him, never having met such an honorable, dutiful man in your life. If you were to settle down with anyone, you prefer it be with someone like him. 

“They all say that. I know too many girls in this town who have fallen for a handsome city boy like you, up and changed their lives for them, only to have to come crawling back to town with no job, no money, no ring. It won’t be me.” 

He shrugs. “Then I’ll give you a ring.” 

You giggle, patting his head. “You’re sleepy.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“Leon, you don’t even want people to know we’re dating. I’m not sure why you think I’d believe you want to marry me if you can’t even tell old Linda at the diner that you have a girlfriend. Even if it would mean she’d stop trying to set you up with her daughter.” 

“I’m just private about my personal life.” 

You bend at the hips to kiss him on the temple. “I know, honey.” He grabs your wrist as you stand up straight, turning to step away. He doesn’t speak, saying enough with the expression splashed across his face. “You don’t have to explain, Leon, I get it.” 

Coming to a small town, especially being the fresh meat that came in on a storm, paying in cash for three months at the local bed and breakfast, with unexplainable muscles and the kind of face people here have only seen on the television, the spotlight was instantly shone on him. 

Moving here, if just for a summer and a half, was supposed to be relaxing. He wanted to retire in peace, find a cabin further into the woods maybe, where he could chop wood and roast squirrels on a switch over a handmade fire (well, maybe not a squirrel). He wasn’t expecting to be, quite literally, photographed and put in the local newspaper on arrival. 

And he certainly didn’t expect to fall in love with you, the beloved daughter of two of the more prominent citizens–the girl everyone knew and watched grow up from the time you were no taller than a blade of grass. That’s how these small hamlets work. Everyone knows everyone, whether you were born and raised on the town’s soil, or a newcomer with a fancy car and a mysterious past. And nothing–nothing at all–is off-limits. Every juicy detail can be found out, picked apart, and passed around like a plate of rolls at dinner. 

There are no secrets. Privacy is a pipe dream. 

Plus, the two of you aren’t exactly close in age–at all–and he would never forgive himself if the revelation of your relationship with him managed to harm your reputation, or prompt any sort of damaging gossip, which it has the potential to do. He’s not ignorant or selfish enough to ignore that possibility. 

Knowing all of this yourself, you don’t blame Leon for wanting to keep your romance a secret. It’s much easier this way, though a quiet voice at the back of your head wonders if it’s because it’s so easy that makes it attractive to him. Easy to enjoy in peace for a season. Easy to leave without riot when the weather turns bitter. 

There’s nothing to tie him here. No mortgage, no career, no land. He could pack up and leave as quickly as he arrived. 

You, on the other hand, are tethered to this place, whether you like it or not, regardless if you wish for more–like many of the friends you grew up with who left and blossomed in the big city, now living among the clouds in swanky high-rises, carrying alligator briefcases to their corporate jobs. 

You can’t leave. You have the store, passed down from your grandfather’s father, to your father and his brother. It’s a family affair, the whole gang of you practically living inside the four walls. Silk ties and belt loops are in your blood. 

“I have to go.”

“I love you.” 

You look back at him, blowing a kiss his way. He catches it in his hand and places it over his heart. So cheesy. 

“I love you too, Leon.”

The morning has been slow, only a few window shoppers walking by, peering at the displays through the glass. Some regulars have stopped in for some tailoring. Other than that, it’s been quiet, and you’ve reveled in the peace, taking the time to tend to a few housekeeping tasks you’d been putting off.

Your aunt rounds the corner, luring your attention from the register where you were crunching the numbers of last month’s profit and loss. “Honey, will you come take this nice gentleman’s measurements?” She gestures behind her with a thumb. You were so enveloped in your work, you didn’t even hear the front door chime. “I’ve gotta call the warehouse again before they close for lunch.” 

“Sure thing,” you say, hopping off the stool, tossing the pencil down onto the counter. “Make sure to tell them we need to order more of those cotton-blend dress shirts with the wider necks.” 

“Will do, darling,” she responds as you make your wait to the back of the store, passing by racks of sports coats, shelved displays of folded polos where all the colors of the sunset are represented in the fabrics. You weave through another maze of racks, approaching the back of the store. That’s when you see him, your boyfriend behind closed doors, the exciting newcomer beyond them. 

When he sees you from his perch on the pedestal in front of the large, tri-fold mirrors near the dressing rooms, a wicked grin appears on his face, the corner of his mouth quivering in amusement. He’s wearing a plaid button-down shirt, untucked from a pair of navy pants. 

“Good morning,” he greets, that half-smile growing toothier the closer you get toward him as he extends a hand for you to shake. You do, if only to touch him.

“What are you doing here, Leon?” You ask, making sure to keep your voice down as you say his name. 

“I wanted to come by and see the store you’re always talking about.” And then, he shrugs, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt in the mirror. “Plus, I need some larger shirts.” He pats his stomach, the little layer of pudge fed by the diner’s signature apple pie which Leon never goes a day without getting a slice of, and the chocolate chip cookies he begs you to make every Sunday night. “Maybe a couple pairs of pants too. And a gym membership while we’re at it. Good grief.” 

He cinches his brows together at his reflection, puffing his chest on an inhale, watching the way the gaps of fabric between the buttons pucker beneath the tension.

“Looking for anything in particular?” 

You stand behind him, meeting his eyes through the mirror. 

“You look like someone with great taste,” he says. “Just pick out whatever you think will look good. I trust you.”

“Of course,” you say sweetly, clasping your hands in front of you. “Let me see what I can find.”

“Uh, Miss? Don’t you need to take my measurements first?” He bends at the waist to reach toward a limp tape measure hanging from a wooden valet. “Here you go.” 

“Right,” you say with a breath, taking it from him. “I’ll do that.” 

“Starting with the legs, thanks. Might have to kneel down to get the best angle.” 

After taking his measurements from calf to shoulder, you scurried off around the shop with your head down, cheeks aflame, searching for the most expensive pieces you can find, pulling from the shelves with enthusiasm. All cashmere and merino wool, brand names no one in this town can pronounce, and accessories Leon definitely doesn’t need but you will talk into buying anyway. 

When you walk out to the front of the store to grab a specific sweater, business has picked up. Even your father has stopped by to man the register, your mother and aunt working together to tend to the other customers that have come through the doors in drones. 

Finally returning to the dressing rooms with your hands full of clothes, Leon is there waiting, leaning against the wall with one arm folded across his chest and one ankle crossed over the other. He’s on his phone, thumb scrolling down the screen. When you approach, he glances up from the device, removing his back from the wall. 

“Show me what you’ve got,” he says, stepping toward you to relieve your forearms of some of the weight. You move past him quickly, not letting him lift so much as a single shirt, moving all the articles to balance in one hand as you pull back one of the curtains to a dressing room with the other. Hanging all the metal hooks on the rack, you dust off your hands, turning to leave the room. Leon stops you, his body standing in the gap between the long swaths of heavy velvet, barring you from entry back into the store. 

You peer over his shoulder, and though there isn’t anyone there to see, there could just as easily be, and his cover is blown. 

“Excuse me, sir,” you say. He looks down at you with a grin before stepping aside to let you pass. “Let me know if you need different sizes.” 

“Will do. Thank you.” 

He lifts his arms to close the curtains, which in turn lifts the hem of his shirt, giving you a peek at his abdomen. Though there has grown to be a healthy layer of flesh there, it doesn’t hide the muscularity beneath it, a small scattering of hair leading down to the band of his boxers. 

Before you can drool for too long, the makeshift doors of the dressing room close, and a customer approaches you from behind, asking where he can find the hats. 

It’s not long until you’re called back over to the dressing rooms by a voice on the other side of the divider. Leon says your name, a bare arm slipping from between the velvet, his biceps on full display. 

“Hi there. Could you help me with something?” He asks, beckoning you closer with a crooked finger. When you’re close enough, he says in a lower voice, “I can’t quite get my pants unzipped to try on the ones you brought me..” 

You roll your eyes. “Leon, we can’t.” 

Part of you is happy he’s being so bold in public. The other part is humiliated by his choosing to do so when your closest family members are on the other side of the store. 

Still, against your judgment, you enter into the dressing room, taking in the sight of his naked upper body, those broad shoulders, the gentle line of his collarbone, every ridge and valley of his abdomen, contracting and releasing as he shows you the “broken” zipper. 

“Help,” he says, a mocking pout appearing on his lips. “Stuck.” 

“What are you doing, Leon?” You ask, swatting his hands away from the malfunctioning fly, only to find out it’s working perfectly fine. 

“Supporting local businesses,” he quips with a wide, boyish grin. When he smiles like that, it seems to take ten years off his age, the wrinkles on his forehead relaxing though the ones near his eyes deepen. “Is that a problem?”

“It’s like you’re trying to get us caught.” 

He steps toward you, walking you back until your shoulder blades are flush to the wall, the cool plaster on your skin sending a chill across your skin. Goosebumps rise in their wake, but you have a suspicion they’re not from the cold. 

“I’m trying to fuck my girlfriend, like I planned to do. Not my fault you got called into work.” 

His voice is low and gravely, its typical dulcet tone completely overtaken by something utterly dark and wanton. He runs his hands up and down the sides of your middle, pulling and pushing the smocked fabric of your dress with every up and down stroke. 

“Leon.” 

You’re not sure why you moan his name. Perhaps to stop him from continuing. Perhaps to beg him not to. 

“Shh, baby,” he coos, pressing a cupped hand over your mouth. “Can’t let anyone hear us, can we?” 

You shake your head against his palm. 

“That’s it,” he says as you instinctively part your legs to accommodate his thigh, sinking down onto the thick sinew. Your clit catches on the dense fabric of his pants, making you yelp against his hand as you rock your pussy back and forth. “Shh, there you go. Keep going.” 

He continues to whisper praises into your ear as you climb toward your pleasure. Once it’s within arm’s reach, Leon removes his thigh from between yours. Still not able to use your mouth, you express frustration with your brows, bending them at him. 

“Not fair,” you bite when he removes his hand to shove down his pants and, while he’s at it, he yanks down your panties until they pool at your ankles.

“Hush now.” He frees his cock from the restraints of his briefs, pumping the muscle to its full stiffness in his fist. “Move your skirt.” 

You gather the fabric in your hands, pulling it up your legs until it gathers above your hips. Leon lifts one of your legs with a palm pressed into the back of your thigh, keeping your knee raised up by your shoulder as he lines himself with your entrance. 

He taps your cheek, applying the slightest unit of pressure to tilt your gaze toward the mirror. “Watch.” 

You follow his line of sight to your face in the reflection, studying the way your expression contorts as he enters you, his entire length at once, stretching you, threatening to tear you in half with his cock. 

You’ve never had to measure it. After all the years you’ve been helping your family at the store, starting in high school nearly a decade ago, you’ve come to memorize all units of measurement, knowing exactly what an inch looks like. Leon’s got eight and a half of them. 

And every single one is delicious, especially when it plows into you at such a punishing pace. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans lowly in your hear, the sound muffled by your hair. “You’re doing so good. Takin’ it so good.” 

When you open your mouth wide, threatening to yelp, Leon covers it again. “Shh, shh, shh,” he coos. “I thought you said you could be quiet.” 

You shake your head against his palm. There’s no way you can trust yourself not to make sounds akin to those of a dying animal when Leon is pistoning into you at this angle. 

He chuckles. “Alright then, I’ll help you.” 

As he continues to thrust up into you, he keeps his hand on your mouth, the appendage swallowing each and every one of your muted whimpers. 

“Come on me,” he commands in your ear. “Wanna feel you squeezing me as I finish.” 

The two of you reach your respective highs together, Leon coming inside you as your own violent climax gushes around him, sucking every last drop. 

He pants at your shoulder for a while, caressing the thigh you have wrapped around his waist, such soft, soothing touches that nearly lull you into a standing stupor. You fold your arms around his neck, keeping yourself bound to him in fear that if you don’t, your leg, now turned to jelly, might not hold you up.

“Good job, baby,” he says, giving you one last kiss on the cheek before he pulls out, letting the evidence of your combined pleasure leak from your sore hole. 

“I’m taking these, by the way,” he adds slyly, crouching down to manually lift and lower your foot until he can free your ankle from the holes of your panties, stuffing the pair into his pant pocket. When he stands up, knees clicking, he reaches around to grab your ass, taking a handful in his grasp through the fabric of your sundress. “And don’t you dare clean yourself up.” He lowers his mouth to your ear, speaking in a near-whisper. “I want you to feel me dripping down your legs all day long.” 

The words send another wave of desert heat to your stomach, making your swollen clit throb once more, or maybe that’s still a lingering aftershock from one of the more intense climaxes of your life. 

He pulls back just an inch to gaze down at you, a devilish smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Next time, we’ll work on keeping me inside.” His fingers slightly graze up and down your abdomen and you shirk beneath the intimacy of the gesture, the meaning of his words finally hitting you. And you don’t hate the idea as much as you thought you would. “I’m starting to like this town. Think I want to stay for a while.” 

[kkunai]

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY ˓˓ SATORU G.

[ ᡣ . ٜ̥ .ྀི 𑁩ཾיִ ] :: your boyfriend comes to pick you after a long day at uni. sensing your jealousy about the attention he’s getting from your classmates, he makes it up to you in his own way.

tags. olderbf!gojo x gf!reader. fluff, tiny bit of angst, suggestive [make out sesh]. age gap — reader above 20, gojo early 30’s. jealousy. reader gets called ‘princess, baby, beautiful.’ repost !

satoru’s arrival, as per usual, serves as pure entertainment for many students. it’s not often that they get to see such a tall and handsome man around campus after all.

you patiently stand there, waiting for said man to come and get you. the increase in giggles and whispers around you can only mean one thing: he’s nearby.

your boyfriend’s car comes to a stop in the distance. satoru steps out of the driver’s seat a second later, one of his hands running through his fluffy, snowy hair.

‘. . damn, he’s fucking hot,’ ‘yep. heard he’s in a relationship though. sucks,’ ‘girl— do i look like i care? need him so baaaaddd.’

it’s infuriating to hear those words while you, his girlfriend, are standing close to them.

you decide not to give those girls any attention nor do you try to speak up. it’s not worth the effort.

satoru closes the car door behind him, his hands in the pockets of his slacks while he strolls up to where you’re standing. it’s as if he’s walking down a runway—graceful, confident, every step executed with perfect balance.

he can hear the murmurs from the students around, but he simply doesn’t care. his steady gaze has been fixed on you the moment he spotted your figure from across campus.

“cute,” satoru mutters under his breath with a small smile, blue eyes taking in the sight of you standing there against a wall.

the way you’re fiddling with the strap of your bag while pretending not to have noticed him is quite endearing.

you look down at the ground until a pair of black oxfords come into view, stopping right in front of yours. you slowly tilt your head back until you’re face to face with the man himself.

“hey, beautiful,” satoru greets, his voice smooth and slightly deep, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

his knuckles brush against your cheek whilst he admires your every feature, acting as if he hasn’t seen you in days.

you nod in response, whispering a small ‘hi’ before your eyes dart around campus again. your bottom lip pushes forward just a tiny bit to form a small pout.

. . and there it is; satoru knows that look in your eyes like the back of his hand. he’s seen that same pout before, along with the hint of jealousy lurking behind your gaze that you try so hard to hide.

he understands why you’re feeling that way.

the other girls on campus, the way they ogle him and whisper, it would make any woman insecure. but to him, there is no need for it. satoru is yours, and he’s made that known to every single soul around you a million times before.

perhaps they need to be reminded once more.

satoru wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his touch gentle and possessive. he notices how you’re trying to act normal, though he knows you way better than that.

the pad of his thumb rubs small circles into your hip as your lover leans in and speaks in a low yet intimate voice that only you get to hear, “oh? look at you, acting all tough with your little pout.”

“tell me. what’s up, princess?” satoru whispers, his breath warm against your ticklish skin.

he lowers his head to your face and plants a small kiss on your nose, gaining a mix of delighted yet irritated whispers of the people around you.

“usually you jump right into my arms after seeing me— y’know, like a lil’ bunny,” the white-haired man starts sulking as well, pressing your body flush against his. “where’s my cute ‘n clingy babyyyy?”

satoru’s over-exaggerated whine makes your nose scrunch up, though you can’t deny the truth. he knows you better than you know yourself. he can see right through your attempt to disguise your jealousy, yet you’re still too stubborn to admit anything.

“pfft, whatever. come on,” you roll your eyes before grabbing his arm and tugging him forward.

you want nothing more than to escape your surroundings. you’re getting tired of the continuous and unwanted attention satoru is getting.

it’s irksome. you know he doesn’t give them the attention they so desire, he never will, yet you still feel this pang in your chest whenever you see those girls shamelessly ogling your boyfriend.

satoru, being naturally observant, notices your sudden eagerness to leave campus. he can tell that your jealousy is growing worse because of the students that keep on eyeing him. while he is used to the attention, he hates seeing it affect you.

the whispers and giggles from the other women are like white noise, insignificant background fodder that barely warranted his notice. you’re all he sees and listens to—no matter what.

your presence, your voice, your body, your soul. . . you’re the only one he cares about. he just wishes you’d realise that.

satoru wordlessly allows himself to be dragged off. his gaze is fixated on the back of your head, a mixture of amusement and worry glinting in those blue eyes of his. he can’t help but feel guilty. even if he didn’t really do anything wrong.

he wants to make it up to you, somehow.

once you reach the car, satoru gently shoos your hand away from the door handle the moment he catches you try to get in yourself. he reaches around you and pulls it open with a soft ‘click’.

satoru then surprises you by kissing your forehead— his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head. his fingers bury themselves in your hair. a subtle smirk tugs at his glossy lips as he senses the envious glares from the other, irrelevant onlookers.

that’s exactly what he’s trying to accomplish. to make it known to the world that he’s your man. he’ll gladly do it over and over again, until all of them finally take the hint.

“ladies first,” satoru gestures, his voice gentle and loving.

he pulls back and smiles at you with his dimples showing. you’re slightly taken aback by the smooth gesture before thanking him in a small murmur.

“thank you.”

it’s silent for a good couple seconds after satoru gets into the driver’s seat. he settles his keys into the ignition switch, though doesn’t turn them. instead, he faces you with a small sigh.

your lover already recognises what’s up. you probably won’t talk to him until the jealousy subsides. but that isn’t how he wants to fix this situation—he wants you to communicate with him.

“hey,” satoru tries to get you to look at him. your body is slightly turned away, your eyes looking out of the car window.

it’s painfully obvious that you’re upset with him, even when it isn’t specifically his fault.

“don’t hide from me, c’mon,” he chuckles and tries to make you feel better by bringing your hand up to his lips.

satoru leaves small kisses on your palm, eyes peering over the rims of his sunglasses to gauge your reaction.

you still don’t turn to face him. you’re too caught up in your own feelings— too stubborn to talk about the jealousy and insecurities that are bugging you. you know it’s unfair to him, but you currently can’t fix your own emotions.

sensing your insistent reluctance to face him, satoru places his hand gently under your chin. his fingers curl around your jaw and gently guide your gaze to meet his. the sight of your downcast expression, plagued with insecurity, tugs on his heartstrings.

“oh, my sweet little baby,” the white-haired man sighs again.

without another word, the gap between you quickly closes as satoru leans in, his lips meeting yours in a firm but soft kiss. a soft gasp escapes your lips at the suddenness of his kiss, but the tension in your shoulders slowly starts to dissappear as you melt into his embrace.

the touch of his calloused fingers on your jaw is a wordless command you cannot resist. the kiss is a silent form of reassurance, a way for him to remind you of his feelings for you.

his want and need for you.

satoru can nearly taste the jealousy etched into your initial resistance, which he seeks to silence with his touch. thus, he deepens the kiss with renewed vigor. his free hand cups the back of your head and gently tilts it upwards to gain a better angle.

“mh. sweet,” satoru’s tongue swipes over your bottom lip.

he eagerly swallows the faint taste of candy that you had eaten earlier. his tongue delves into your mouth the moment your lips make way, memorising every part of it.

he doesn’t let go of you until you’re both breathless. the sorcerer pulls back, though keeps the distance between your lips at a minimum. his cheeks are painted a soft pink, eyes half lidded and lips even glossier with your saliva now coating them.

“haah—fuck,” satoru catches his breath while his free hand rubs up and down your waist.

he resists the urge to pull you into his lap and ravage you right then and there. he’ll leave that for when you’re home.

his gaze is on your parted lips once more. he simply cannot hold himself back from leaning in. his body moves closer to yours, caging you in between him and the passenger seat.

“i’m all yours,” satoru murmurs against your soft lips. he cups your face as he places a quick peck on your mouth. “only yours,” another chaste kiss causes your smile to find its way back onto your face. “don’t you forget,” and a third kiss finally makes you giggle.

he hums in satisfaction. he nuzzles his nose against yours, grinning widely as he successfully managed to coax the jealousy away— to gain his beautiful, happy girlfriend back.

“there she is,” satoru coos and squeezes your cheeks together.

you huff at the feeling of your lips forced into a deformed ‘o’ shape, yet the bright smile tugging at your lips doesn’t disappear.

“sorry for acting so childish,” you apologise for your own behavior. if it wasn’t for satoru taking the initiative to make it up to you, you would have given him the silent treatment.

satoru shakes his head. he ruffles your hair affectionately while his lips settle on your cheek. he tenderly nibbles on the plush flesh, “no need to apologise. ‘t was cute,” he replies in a muffled voice.

he pulls back and his thumb brushes over the subtle mark that his teeth left on your skin. “besides,” he pinches your cheek before cocking his head to the right. your eyes follow the direction he’s looking at—which is your car window.

“i think everyone finally realised that y’re the one ‘n only girl for me.”

your heart drops as you only then remember that satoru’s car windows aren’t tinted. that means that everyone on campus probably has seen the little make out session you had with your boyfriend just now.

your eyes quickly dart around the crowded area. the way your fellow students are glancing at you - some with envy and others with embarrassment - tells you more than enough. . .

you clear your throat and try to hide your face with the sleeves of your top. you don’t know how you’re going back to university after today without facing the humiliating consequences of your (satoru’s) actions.

your shameless boyfriend sits there and grins from ear to ear, proud of his accomplishment and oblivious to your embarrassed state until you speak up again;

“. . satoru, please drive away as fast as you can.”

[godmadeaterribleerror]

look out for me

✦Read on aO3! - Masterlist - Soldier Boy Masterlist✦

✦summary: after being woken up, soldier boy found a woman, promised he'd never leave her, then did. two years later, he's back and looking for one thing only. you.✦

✦warnings/tags: Soldier Boy x female!reader, no use of y/n, no description of reader, age gap (he's a hundred, it's to be expected), angst, softer!ben, canon divergance, pining, some plot to get to the smut (posessiveness, some spanking, dirty talk, teasing, praise and degredation kink, dom!Ben, fingering, begging, manhandling, nipple play, pussy slapping, fingering, oral f!reciving, edging, creampie, big dick ben, overstimulation, body worship, rough sex, just complete debauchery, dumbification, dacryphilia, finger sucking, squirting), love confessions, fluff✦

✦wc: 11.1k✦

✦author's note: made myself start drooling with this one. enjoy!✦

You had a secret. And you kept it buried in the deepest, most sacred corner of your heart. Not out of shame.

Out of survival.

It’s best to keep your head down, in a world like this one. Supes patrol the streets, and people who are a  little too loud and unhappy get sent to their death. Vought says it’s just to be corrected, but you know. Everyone knows.

They’ve just all learned how to whisper about it.

And you’re braver than you wanted to be. You do more than you should be doing, when the most anyone should be worrying about is waking up in their bed the next morning. But there’s the teenage girl who lives down the hall from you, who got loud about hating Homelander in school, and almost got taken because of it. You helped her get out, and lied to the face of the people who showed up to find her.

You lied with a smile, too. 

He would’ve found that amusing. He would’ve teased you about acing so cool and collected, right up until you were staring down the barrel of a gun. There hadn’t been a trip of your heartbeat, or stumble in your breath. Lives depended on you being able to do this.

And they depended on you being able to keep your head down.

You’d gotten good at it. Before him, it had been your job to keep calm and collected. Doctors couldn’t be panicking and crying over everything, or nothing would ever get done.

“What about when something’s real fucking gross and sticky?” He used to ask you. “You allowed to cry then?”

You’d smiled at the dishes in your hands. “Would you cry over something gross and sticky?”

“No, because I’m not a-“

“Fucking pussy.”

You’d dropped your voice to mock his, your smile becoming stupid and ditzy as the chair had scraped on the floor behind you. Riling him up was too easy. And if he didn’t want you to keep poking all his old, shiny buttons, he shouldn’t make it so damn fun.

“You got a mouth on you, doll.” Ben had muttered in your ear, arms wrapping around your stomach.

“Hm.” You hadn’t stopped washing the dishes. He’d rip them away from you soon, you might as well focus on what you can.

“Hm? All you got to say is hm?”

“I think you like my mouth.” You’d swayed on your feet, shrugging lazily.

Ben’s arms had tightened around you. “I like somethin’ about your mouth.”

“You like all of it. You like me so much, you chose weed over me, you think I’m better than weed-“

Your dishes had clattered into the sink. Ben spun you around, grabbed your wrists, and pinned them to the counter as he slammed his mouth of yours. You’d made a happy sound, craning your neck to try and chase more, and he’d chuckled. Soft, light kisses had been trailed down your jaw and over your throat, landing on a spot that seemed to be permanently dark since you’d met him.

He’d bitten at the skin, then sucked, letting his tongue flick slightly. Before him, you hadn’t even known you were into that. Now you can’t even graze the spot without your body getting fuzzy and confused. Like it knows he’s supposed to be there.

But he’s not.

“You’re lucky I like you.” Ben had muttered. “And you’re not a genius to figure that out, I think I’ve made it real fucking clear.”

You’d beamed at the air, wrapping an arm around his neck when he released one wrist. His massive hand had grabbed your waist, slipping fingers under the hem of the shirt. You’d shivered, and leaned into his mouth.

He’d been solid. Safe. And you’d been so foolishly sure that he was going to be there forever.

“You have.” You’d breathed.

And you’d really believed it.

But then he’d just… Left.

You’d woken up the next morning, and he’d been off with William Butcher to deal with Homelander. He’d failed, on both the being with William Butcher front and the deal with Homelander front. They’d said he had died. You’d sunken into something like a ghost, wandering through the world without touching anything, passing through days like they were all just a veil to something else.

There were regrets. Not demanding that he stay. Not kicking him out the first time he ended up on your doorstep. Talking to him that first night at the corner store at all, because at least then your heart would’ve still been beating instead of this hollow, gray husk.

But you also wouldn’t have traded him for the world. The time had been fleeting. Only a few splatters of paint on what had previously been a clean, respectable life.

You’d found out you liked being dirty. You liked all the color it came with, and you’d liked how Ben had held your hand through the whole thing. You don’t know why he had. You don’t even know why he’d liked you, why he’d bothered coming back over and over, why he’d decided that you—of all the many, more interesting, more carefree people in the world—were the one he wanted to share himself with.

“You shouldn’t eat those.” You’d told the strange, handsome man at one in the morning.

He’d looked at you like you were crazy. You’d blinked innocently back—a faint bell in your head, ringing that he looked familiar, and you should’ve listened to it—and he’d raised his brows.

“You talking to me?”

“Um,” you’d looked around the aisle. “Yeah? Who else would I be talking to.”

The man had grunted. His eyes hadn’t left yours for a second, and he’d been staring like he was trying to peel you apart. You’d started to feel all dizzy under the attention—he was very pretty, and pretty people shouldn’t stare like that—and shifted on your feet.

“There are studies.” You’d said lamely. “About those drinks. They give you cancer.”

“Cancer?” The man had snorted. “Doll, I’m not worried about fucking cancer-“

“You should be. It’s linked to pancreatic cancer, which is very- Fast spreading.” All your usual, well performed confidence had been wavering. Why had he been staring at you like that. “Because of the pancreases function in, um, your body, it’s basically- It’s fast spreading-“

“You said that already.”

You’d swallowed. His voice was very deep. “Oh.”

His eyes had shined with something that, in the moment, you hadn’t understood.

Now you know it to his form of affection. When he’d look at you and decided that you were real fucking cute, like a twitchy bunny—his words—and wanted to have more.

In the store, you’d hadn’t  been sure if he was going to murder you or make an indecent proposal.

He hated that movie. You’d made him watch it, a few weeks later, and he’d been furious she chose the penniless sad sack. You’d told him you’d chose him, if he was the penniless sad sack. He’d grumbled that he hoped you’d have better survival instincts than that, but you’d been able to read him by now. He’d liked that a lot, and you had the hickies after to prove it.

And he’d laughed.

That night, he’d just laughed.

“You some kind of a fucking doctor?”

“Yeah.” You’d said, nervous and small. “I- I am.”

The man had blinked. Looked over you like he was seeing you for the first time, and leaned back as if the sight punched him in the face. You’d still been wearing your scrubs. Later you’d tease him about not paying attention.

He’d say he’d just been that enraptured by your beauty. You’d flush, and tell him he was using that word wrong. He’d say he didn’t fucking care, and kiss you until you were stupid and giggling.

“What’s good?” He’d jerked his head at the drinks, and you pointed to a different can a shelf over.

He’d eyed you suspiciously, but grabbed it and stomped away. You’d thought he’d be gone when you paid for your own food and walked to the parking lot. Instead he’d been waiting at the counter, watching you with that same, wearily curious expression.

“Are you going to stalk me to my car?” You’d asked causally, careful not to look him in the eyes.

He’d grunted. “I’m escorting you. Stalking makes me sound like I’m some fucking creep-“

“You’re a stranger who’s going to follow me to my car. I should be calling 911.”

“911 couldn’t stop me, sweetheart.”

You’d paused, frowning at him. He’d rolled his eyes, looking around the store like he expected a camera crew to pop out and tell him the whole thing was a prank.

“Don’t call 911.” He’d muttered.

“Why shouldn’t I.”

“Cause I’m not going to fucking hurt you, that’s why-“

“And why should I trust that?”

He’d blinked. That thought hadn’t occurred to him at all.

“I swear I won’t.”

“Promises mean nothing.”

“My promises mean something-“

“Not to me, they don’t.”

He’d stared at you. You’d tipped up your chin, and held his gaze. You were not going to be murdered in a parking lot tonight. You’d ordered new pants last night, and you wanted to be alive to see them.

The man had caved before you. He hadn’t been happy about it, but you’d come to learn that he was never openly happy about anything. There was his genuine annoyance, and his fluffy annoyance. Where he didn’t mean a single groan or eye roll or muttered curse.

He saved that second one for you. And he hated that you called it fluffy annoyance, because he wasn’t ‘fucking fluffy’. But you’d tell him that you liked him fluffy, as long as it was just yours. And he’d said he was just yours, and he’d promised, and you’d learned how to believe him.

“My name is Ben.” He’d told you, reaching into his jacket. “And if I try to hurt you, use this.”

And he’d handed you a fucking gun. The poor cashier that had been listening to all of this shrieked and ducked behind the counter. You’d gaped at Ben, then smacked his arm.

“What the fuck-“

“You can’t just pull out a gun, are you crazy!”

“Don’t call me crazy, I’m trying to make you feel- Fucking better or whatever-“

“How is a gun going to make me feel better, I’m a doctor-“

“So you can stitch me up after you shoot me, all the fucking better-“

“I am not going to shoot you-“

“But you could, that’s what the damn gun is for-“

“I don’t want your gun, I just-“ You’d cut yourself, glancing at the shaking cashier. It had just been some high school kid. He didn’t deserve to deal with this.

And even then, some part of you had known. Ben was a lot of things. Most of them weren’t half as pretty as his face.

But he wasn’t a liar. He’d realty thought the gun would make you feel better.

Later, you’d learn that it had really only been meant to make you feel better. Literally. That if he had been intending to hurt you—which he hadn’t, as he reminded you all the time—the gun wouldn’t have done fucking shit to stop that. But he’d thought it would help you be less nervous. And as much as you’d punch his dumb, big chest after he told you, you had to admit that the plan had—in a very roundabout way—worked.

“Come on.” You’d turned on your heels and walked out of the store.

Ben had followed.

And for a strange, priceless month, you’d known that if you looked over your shoulder, he’d be there. It had become a comfort. It had become the best thing in your life.

Then it had been gone.

Ben had left you, and the world had only gotten darker from there.

So you have all these regrets, that you pile on top of your secret. And they tell you to be more careful. You haven’t been on a date since Ben, although you never even technically dated. You’d never even fucked. It had been a lot of kisses and sharing a bed and wandering hands. Ben had asked. He’d asked all the time, and always sighed dramatically when you said after. After he was done with Butcher. After he dealt with Homelander, he could have whatever he wanted from you.

It was already his for the taking, he just needed to reach it.

And now all of you sat on a high, dusted shelf, waiting for hands that would never reach it.

Now, you’re careful.

After that girl down the hall, there had been the couple on the side of the highway. They’d been trying to hide from Black Noir, but one of them had an infected cut and was getting a fever. You’d treated it, then been on your way.

Then there had been the little boy who’s parents had been taken, and the shrapnel in his foot. The older woman who’s son had been shot, and the people who’d been hit in collateral and didn’t have insurance. And you kept helping and helping and helping, but always with your head down. If you were smarter, you wouldn’t help at all. It draws attention. Attention begs for investigation. Investigation undercovers secrets, and Ben had always been very clear.

No one could know who you are. What you were to him.

Why you have that gun in your closet, unloaded and kept clean like an heirloom. It wouldn’t be hard to trace it to Ben. It wouldn’t take a long time—especially for Sage, who you’ve only seen once from afar but sent a chilling fear through your bones all the same—to realize why you had one of Soldier Boy’s guns. To look at cameras and place timelines and know. What you’d meant to him.

Part of you wants her to. Maybe she’d be able to tell you, after.

Because he hadn’t stayed for you. And you hadn’t been foolish enough to ask him to.

But still.

You’d hoped he would.

“We should go somewhere.” He’d muttered one night, lying flat on his back.

And you’d looked at him in the dark, and found him staring back. He’d always been staring back.

“When this is done.” Ben had reached over, grabbing your wrist. He did that when he needed your attention. You don’t think he ever knew that he had all of you, whether he wanted to grab it or not.

“Done?” You’d breathed. Ben had nodded.

“The whole thing. All of it. I’m not going back into acting and shit, everything is bad now anyway-“

“You liked Paddington 2-“

“Shhh.” Ben had covered your mouth, eyes shining. “Can’t fucking prove that, can you, doll.”

You’d shrugged smiling against his hand. Ben had leaned down until your brows were pressed together, and let out a slow, heavy breath.

“We’ll go.” He’d said it like a secret. Like even in the empty room, you were still the only person he wanted anything to do with in the world. “Anywhere in the world that you want. No more of this fucking bullshit. Just you and me.”

And you’d giggled. You’d pulled his hand away with a laugh, and kissed his adorable little frown.

“You like me so much.” You’d whispered.

Ben had only stared. His heavy sigh had fanned over your cheeks, and he’d kissed the space between your eyes.

“You got no idea.”

And you wish you had.

You wish you’d asked him to stay, but you keep that buried with the rest of it. You don’t want to think about how if you had, he might’ve.

If you had, he might still be next to you today.

You broke a cup.   

The TV in the breakroom is always on, but you usually just spare it passing glances. Since Homelander’s takeover, it mostly just plays Firecracker’s stupid propaganda show, or reruns of old Vought movies with Starlight’s scenes cut out. It makes for a clonky, confusing storyline. Sometimes you watch it when you’re bored, if only to feel a ghost of a smile.

Other days, they play Ben’s old movies. And you can’t stand to listen to those. Just his voice makes you shiver and look around the room, as if he might materialize and grin at you the same way he always did. Like in his eyes, everything just narrowed down to you. The walls existed to hold you and everything around the room was a noise or blockade that needed to be moved, so he could be at your side.

I’d swim in the ocean for you, doll. He’d told you one. You’d laughed. He’d meant it to be romantic, but he’d just sounded annoyed about it, and it had been so stupidly sweet you’d fallen a little more in love with him. But love with Ben had always come like that. In slow drips that built up and up and up, until there was a bucket to be doused over your head and you had to understand.

That he had been everything.

You’d known too late. The downpour had come with the news of his death, when every light had become too bright, and all the color in the world had been washed out to nothing. You hadn’t been able to tell your co-workers why you’d stumbled and started to whine like a lost dog. Why you’d needed the week off, because your legs had turned to lead and it was too hard to get out of bed.

And you’re not going to be able to explain this, either.

Why you hear his voice, look up at the TV on an instinct you’re never going to be able to squash, and drop your cup.

It shatters all over the floor. The two nurses at the table shoot up to help, one saying something about walking carefully over the broken glass, but you don’t hear it.

There’s only the ringing in your ears, and—rising above it all—Ben’s voice.

This isn’t old footage. You’d know. You’ve watched every video and listened to every archived radio interview, just trying to hold onto what you could.

No.

This is new.

Which means Ben- He’s alive.

He’s on the TV. Standing next to Homelander with a bored, unimpressed expression, hands on his belt, looking the exact same as he day he left you.

He left you.

It wasn’t death that took him. He’s right there, instead of at your side. His gaze is just as intense as before, and he holds himself with the same confident, lazy posture, and his mouth stays in the pretty, downturned line that you always loved grabbing up and pulling into a smile.

He’d grab your wrists, but not move you away. He’d ask what you thought you were doing, but he already knew. You’d beam and kiss his nose. He’d pretend to bite yours, and you’d dissolve into giggles and wrap around him like a koala. He’d tell you he didn’t know what he was going to do with you. You’d call him a liar. Say he knew perfectly well what he wanted to do with you. And he’d grumble, because you teased him so much without ever actually throwing him a bone.

You always reminded him there were plenty of other women out there who would happily want his bone. You’d wink, and he’d give you that adoring, exasperated look.

He’d say he didn’t care about any other bones but yours. You’d say that you were both losing the metaphor.

Ben would say he didn’t fucking care, and flip you under him. You’d lose track of time. Of the movie you were supposed to be watching. Of the world.

And then he left.

Just left.

Wasn’t taken. Ben just… Left. After telling you so many sweet thing, after making so many promises, he just left. And now he’s back.

But not back with you.

Your hand is bleeding. You tried to pick up some of the glass, and it sliced along your palm. You barely even feel it. A part of you was already bleeding all over the floor anyways.

He didn’t come back.

Ben couldn’t fucking find you.

He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t about to go up to any of these weird little pussies and ask them where you were. He didn’t need them to know you existed. No one needed to know you existed but Ben himself.

Before he chased after Butcher, he’d gone to your apartment. And he’d been a fucking idiot with this picture in his head, where he’d knock on the door and you’d been thrilled to see him. He’d sweep you off your feet, and you’d be crying with joy, then he’d fuck you and carry you far, far away from here. 

But he’d knocked. And knocked. And shouted your name, but no one had answered the fucking door.

He’d broken in. You’d be mad about that, if you were with him. That was the kind of thing that got him a stern finger and snapped Benjamin like he was a damn dog being scolded for pissing on the couch.

Don’t kill that guy who’s harassing me, Benjamin. Don’t pick up that car in my parking spot and throw it across the street. Don’t punch the dickheaded dumbass who cat called me, it’s fine, it happens all the time.  

It was real fucking cute when you got all mouthy and angry with him, as if there was a damn thing you could do about it.

Although he had always listened.

But it was real hard to tell you no. Or upset you. Or do anything that made your voice all thick and eyes all watery and sad. Ben had a lot of fantasies about your wobbling lips and sad little kicked kitten eyes—the ones you gave him when he was gone for longer than he said he’d be, or had very fucking reasonably verbally threated the men who’d been giving you a hard time—but none of them involved you being sad. They were all about how pretty you looked like that, and how nice it would be to see that gorgeous sight without feeling so fucking bad about it.

His heart squeezed uncomfortably, when he made you upset or nervous. It was incredibly fucking annoying. When it had first happened, he’d decided he needed to keep you close. To figure out what the fuck you were—what supe or Russian spy had been sent after him—so he could neutralize you.

Then you’d just been a person. And Ben had to deal with the fact that his dumbass fucking heart just did that for you. It didn’t do that for anyone else, and he’d been alive a damn long time.

He’d been angry about it, for about ten seconds.

And then you’d smiled at him.

He’d decided that as long as you were smiling, there wasn’t much to be angry about in the whole fucking world.

There were things to be angry about now, though.

You weren’t smiling. You weren’t there. Ben had kicked down your apartment door and found it empty. Bare.

Hollow.

Something inside of him had split and become so fucking hollow. He’d ripped up the floorboards and checked in the vents. He’d punched a hole in the wall and roared your name, but you’d been gone.

Someone had to have taken you. You’d always been to smart and kind, you might’ve said something truthful and gotten dragged off to one of Homelander’s stupid camps for it.

If you were dead, Ben was going to break some shit. A lot of shit. Namely, Homelander’s fucking skull between his hands.

And if you were alive, he’d still probably do that anyways. For hiding you and hurting you. He’d just be faster about it. You didn’t need to see that shit, and the moment Ben had you again he wasn’t going to let go for a damn second.

He just had to find you first.

Ben had been good at investigating, in his day. But shit had also been simpler. There hadn’t been Sage hanging over his shoulder and watching him like a very annoying hawk. That Firecracker girl hadn’t been trying to hit on him—a shame, because his dick was sore, but his hands hurt even trying to touch someone else so he shut it down fast—and Homelander hadn’t been whining like a little fucking bitch baby all the damn time.

All these damn computers with their fucking passcodes and weird words didn’t help either. Ben spent an hour trying to break into one, then physically broke it, and all the others in the lab.

The Fish-Fucker walked in on him. Ben narrowed his eyes, and the pussy paled and raised shaking hands.

“Hey, dude, I didn’t see anything-“

“You know how to open a computer?” Ben barked, and Fish-Fucker blinked.

“Uhh… You mean log into one?” Fish-Fucker laughed, high and weak. “Yeah, bro, I know how to log in to a computer, who doesn’t know how to-“

He cut himself off as Ben’s jaw ticked, going even paler. He even looked like a fish.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean- You shouldn’t kill me! I can log in, I can find whatever you want-“

“Shut up.” Ben raised a hand, and the Fish-Fucker fell silent. “You know how to keep your mouth shut?”

“Yes. Yes- Sir-“

“Open it.” Ben pointed at the computer, and Fish Fucker scrambled forward.

He grabbed the back of the pussies neck before he could sit down, dropping his voice to a hiss.

“You tell anyone about this, I stuff you up like a fuck doll and turn you into fucking chow, you got that?”

Fish-Fucker nodded, throat bobbing and body twitching all pathetically. Ben let him go, and stood back up.

“Good. I got a name for you to look up.”

Fish-Fucker laughed nervously, nodding as he hit his fingers all over the keyboard. “More revenge, sir?”

“No.” Ben muttered, clasping his hand in front of him.

Revenge isn’t going to help, Ben. You’d told him that over and over again, but you’d also run your fingers through his hair and told him you wouldn’t stop him. He’d asked you if you’d still be there when he came back with blood on his hands. He’d meant it to be teasing, a thing he used to say to old lovers to test how much they could handle. They’d always giggled and rolled their eyes like they thought it was a damn joke. You’d tipped your head at him, eyes sharp and bright, and sighed.

You’d told him he’d need to take a shower, first.

And Ben had known. 

“What is it, then?” Fish-Fucker asked, and Ben didn’t bother to answer.

That wasn’t for anyone to know but him. You weren’t for anyone to know. Not these horrible, weak people who would hurt you and use you against him.

Your face popped up on the screen. The smiling photo that you’d used on social media—you’d taught him what that was, and he didn’t fucking care for it but he sure as hell liked seeing pictures of you—and a link to your profile at that hospital you’d worked at.

You still worked there. You weren’t gone.

Ben’s heart did a little flutter. He ignored it. That kind of gooey shit could be saved for after he found you.

“Who is she?” Fish-Fucker peered at your photo. Ben should pop his eyeballs out of his damn skull. “A Starlighter?”

Ben grunted. “Don’t ask stupid fucking questions.”

Fish-Fucker said something else. Ben didn’t listen to it.

He had to go find you.

You get home, and you feel like nothing.

It’s been two weeks, since you found out Ben was alive. Two long weeks where time dragged you through the mud and you had to learn how to keep your heart beating.

You pulled out the gun every night. You’d never shoot it—you didn’t even have ammunition—but you’d needed to hold it. To cling to proof that it hadn’t all been a dream. He’d been here. He’d given you part of him to keep.

Then he’d decided you weren’t worth the rest.

You’d thought, like a naïve, lovesick school girl, that you were going to be worth the rest.

You kick off your shoes, and go straight for the gun again. You lie on the floor, because it’s cold and that forces you to stay awake. You haven’t been sleeping properly, and when you pass out from exhaustion you don’t wake up well rested. It all hurts. It always hurts, and you don’t think it’s ever going to not hurt again.

You close your eyes, hugging the gun tight to your chest. Tears are burning behind your eyes again. You’d been hoping you’d run out, but you feel the hot shame of one sliding down your cheek. A broken sob rattles through your chest, and you’ve given up on fighting it.

This is just always going to hurt.

“I didn’t give you that so you could shoot yourself, doll.”

You scream. Your hands fly before you can think, scrambling to grab the gun. Some scratch in the back of your head knows that a bad idea, and drum in your chest demands that it’s bad idea, but you’re tired and afraid. You thought you were alone, and you’re not, so you aim the gun straight at the man standing in your door.

Ben grabs it like he’s taking a toy from a toddler. He takes out the empty clip and examines it with a frown, his hair flopping over his face. You’re breathing so shallow you think you might have passed out. You’ve had a lot of dreams about him since he left. You’ve just finally gone off the deep-end, and now they’re hallucinations.

“Hm. Not loaded.” Ben tosses the clip off to the side, shooting you a smirk. “Good girl.”

You don’t know if you scream again, or crawl to him on your knees. He sounds real. He looks real. He’s smiling at you like he never left, like you hadn’t pour every piece of yourself out to make room for the swelling grief of his absence. If you reach out, you think you’d find solid muscle and warmth. A heart that beats under your fingers, in a rhythm you always hear when you close your eyes. Ben would cover your hand with his own, holding onto your wrist the same way he did before. Like he wanted to tie you together. Like he could never bear to let go.

Or you’d just pass right through thin air.

And everything you have left would dissolve with the illusion.

You wrap your arms tight around your stomach, drawing your knees to your chest. You know this is fear. You know Ben thinks fear is weak, but he’s never looked at you and said you were anything but his.

Then he left.

And you’re not anyone’s anymore.

Ben says your name, and you swallow. He sounds so real.

“Ben?” You whisper.

A familiar smile ghosts over his lips. It terrifies you.

“Me.” He murmurs, tossing the gun onto the couch without breaking your gaze. “Hey, doll.”

He takes a step forward.

You push back, pressing yourself into a small ball on the floor.

Ben freezes. His brow furrows, and his lips press in a tight, thin line. He reaches out. And you don’t want to touch him and know he’s not real.

You shrink away.

“How did you get in.” You whisper, fixing your gaze on his knees.

“You didn’t lock the door.” Ben grunts. “Which we gotta talk about later, that’s not fucking safe, but first-“

He says your name, reaching once more, and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

Strong, warm fingers grab your chin. You make a tiny noise from the back of your throat, and for a split second, the whole world goes still.

You can feel him. He’s tipping your chin up, handling you like a baby bird even as he angles it how he wants, and you can feel him.

“Look at me.” Ben mutters, and you drag your eyes open.

He’d kneeling in front of you, brow furrowed tight. There’s that look again. The one that makes you naked and exposed, your clothing sticking to your skin and every inch of you seen.

Ben sees you. You can see him.

And either you’d fully lost your mind, or he’s… He’s really…

“You’re here.” You breathe. “You’re real.”

Ben’s eyes snap to yours. His frown deepens.

“’Course I’m real, why the hell wouldn’t I be real.”

“You left.”

And something flashes over his features. It’s furious and loud, but not directed at you. His fingers on your chin don’t even flex.

“I didn’t leave.” He grunts, the words pushed through his teeth. “I told you I’d never fucking leave you.”

Your tongue flicks over your lips. You shake your head.

“I saw you on TV.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, those weird fuckin’ attention sluts love a camera-“

“You were there, Ben.” You cut him off with only a whisper. “Not here. I- I thought you were dead.”

The stupid tears are back. And they always blur the whole world, but Ben remains sharp. Of course he does. Bastard.

“I waited.” Your voice breaks. Ben watches you, his jaw clenched tight. “I thought you were dead and I still waited, and you- You were just on TV-“

“Don’t say it like that, it’s- That’s not what this shit is-“

“You left.” 

“No, I didn’t-“

“You left me.” You scream, and Ben blinks.

It’s like every bit of pain, every scrape and open wound you’ve been treating with paper band-aides, Ben’s ripped everything wide open. Your tears are falling freely, your voice high and soft as you struggle to breathe, all the grief and anger at him crashing from your mouth in unforgiving waves.

“You left me, you said you’d come back, you said we’d go anywhere and you’d be here and you- You fucking left me here and I- I-“

Your word crack into a body-shaking sob, and you try to slump away from him. To just sink into the floor where he can’t see your weakness, your crying, every fissure in the mask you’re usually so good at keeping together. You don’t want him to see the rawness underneath. The way that you’ve always been ill-matched, because there’s nothing in Ben that even knows how to break, but you’re like an gastropod. Every bit of armor is borrowed and crafted. Under it, you’re nothing for him.

Weak.

“You left me.” You’re still breathing it out. You can’t stop. “You left.”

Ben sighs. And when he gets up and walks away, you’re going to be okay. You’re going to find a way to be okay, even if that means just having this gaping feeling forever.

But Ben doesn’t leave.

He wraps around you, and you wiggle a little, but he doesn’t let go. He pulls you fully into his lap, and you go limp. Your face presses into his chest, tears flowing freely with every shaking, silent sob. Ben rubs your back, holding you steady. And despite yourself, you hold on. You sink in your nails where you never should’ve let go, and you hold on.

His heartbeat hasn’t changed. And everything in your still recognizes it.

Still calls it yours.

“Didn’t run.” He mutters once your breathing has evened, tangling his fingers in your hair. “Butcher turned on me, helped Homelander and that Maeve bitch knock me off the tower. Got put back under. Homelander woke me up. And the first fucking thing I did was start looking for you, but you weren’t where I left you.”

You swallow. You’d moved because you couldn’t stand that apartment without him. You turned every corner and expected him to be there. It was pure torture.

“But I found you.” Ben continues. “I fucking found you. And I’m not going again, doll. We’re leaving, together, and that’s it.”

Ben tugs on your head, and you let him pull you back. He’s not crying—you’d be shocked if he knew how—but there’s a heavy light in his eyes, like a lamp that’s begging to be bright enough to be seen. You reach up to trace his jaw. His eyes close for a second, and he leans into the touch.

Your throat bobs. Your voice is still small.

“Why should I believe you?”

Ben’s eyes shoot open, glinting and sharp. Not dangerous. Never to you.

Just focused.

“Because I’m telling the fucking truth-“

“Swear it?”

Ben nods, and you tilt your head.

“You swore you’d come back.”

“And I am back.” He grabs your wrist, keeping your hand to his face. “No promises got broken, doll. And I’m not fucking leaving without you.”

You laugh, something in you breaking and fusing together all at once. Like glass, burning before it gets to be something beautiful. Something that can let the light in.

“Don’t say that.” You breathe, holding his gaze. “I’ll believe you.”

Ben’s eyes narrow. He leans over you, that attention as unwavering as always, and suddenly there’s nowhere to hide. Not that you ever could. Not from him.

“You think I’m not serious?” He murmurs, low and dangerous.

You don’t flinch. You never have.

“Prove that you are.”

A deep sound rumbles from Ben’s chest. He lets go of his hand, his own flying up to frame your face. Your breath hitches, right as his lips slam against yours.

You’ve kissed Ben many times. He always does it like it’s going to be the last time he ever touches you. He’s demanding in how much you take, but never how much you give. Your mouth falls open in a moan, and he grunts, hauling you up his chest to deepen the kiss. It’s sloppy and wet, your fingers scrambling against his shirt to keep steady, but he doesn’t falter for a single second.

“Be- Ben-“

He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing as his teeth drag over your swollen lips.

“Ben-“

“That’s right.” He grunts. “Say my name, I know you didn’t forget who fuckin’ owns you.”

God, you should shove him for that. But he knows what it does to you. He smirks, when your thighs clench and a soft whine escapes your lips.

Ben lands a sharp slap on your ass. It makes you keen, collapsing over his chest. You’re pulling at him, kisses uncoordinated and desperate—how did you ever survive without this, you’re not sure—as you try to further a kiss that’s already fusing you together by the mouth.

He doesn’t even come up for air.

“Oh- Fuck, Ben-“

He speaks against your lips, voice rolling in his chest. 

“I know, doll. You believe me now, don’t you.”

“Ye- Yes-“

Another slap. This time he lets his hand drag lower, teasing over the crease between your thighs, then the hem of your shorts. Your hips buck into the featherlight touch. Ben grunts, short and tight.

“Dirty girl.” He mutters, starting to wander his kisses over your cheeks. “Say it louder. You fucking believe me.”

“I- Ooooh-“

You press your face into his neck, biting down a moan. The tips of his fingers are tracing your pussy through your shorts. You sink your nails into his shoulders, your breathing ragged as he starts to trace them back and forth.

“You what?” He teases, nipping at your ear. “Heard you start to say something doll, you already that stupid? I’m barely fucking touching you.”

“You- You’re touching enough.” You breathe out, squeezing your eyes shut. “More- Please-“

“More?” Ben snorts. “You’re always getting me on that fucking feelings shit, you don’t get more until you talk.”

You shake your head. “Ben, I- I can’t-“

“Can’t what? Can’t speak? Can’t say Ben, I believe you. ‘Cause trust me doll, when you do I’m going to touch you for real, and you’ll feel real fucking stupid for how you’re acting right now.”

Ben rips clean through your shorts, and thick, warm fingers start to rub the lips of your pussy. He scissors two fingers, pressing them just upside your core, then dragging back and forth. It’s all pressure and not enough friction. It’s going to drive you out of your mind.

“Come on, baby, where’d all that fucking spunk go-“

“You- Benjamin-“

“Uh oh.” He laughs. “I’m in trouble.”

The tips of his fingers graze your clit. You whine, grinding back into the touch, and Ben grabs your pussy with a single hand. He’s covering it completely, pinning you to his chest, and you moan so loud you think it echoes.

“Think you’re going to forgive me?” He mutters in your ear. “Think I’m not dead fuckin’ serious, when I tell you that I’m back. That I want you, all of you, and I’d kill people to have it.”

“I- I don’t want you to kill anyone.” You breathe, dazed and drunken on him.

Ben chuckles, kissing right under your jaw.

“I know you don’t, pretty girl. And I’ll go on the damn leash if you’re yanking me, but I’m not letting you drop me. We go, we go together, you fucking remember that. We get out. You gonna get out with me?”

“Ben-“

“I’ll take care of you.” He mutters. His hand starts to move again, torturously slow. “I’ll be real fucking good to you, swear it. Swear it on you.”

Two fingers slide over your pussy, spreading your arousal on his fingertips. A slow, breathless sigh of escapes your lips, and Ben lets you have this. He teases those fingers over your cunt a few times, then slowly pushes one of them in. You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck. Just his finger is the biggest stretch of your life.

“I know.” He kisses under your ear, pressing it further in until he’s at the knuckle. “It’s a lot, isn’t it. But you’re doin’ so fucking well. Sweet fucking pussy, all wet and tight for me.”

“Mmmh.”

“Say it’s for me.” He demands, crooking them so they hit a soft little button you’re never able to find yourself.

“Ben-“

“Say it.”

“S’ for you-“ You take in a sharp breath, when he starts to slowly pump them in and out. “All for you, Ben, I- I’m all-“

Your words break into a moan. He’s pressing back against that same spot, rubbing it until you’re squeezing around him before drawing shallowly out and slamming back in. Obscene sounds fill the room, and you didn’t even know you could get this wet.

It’s a grace. Ben’s finger is massive. You can feel every drag of him inside you, and you’re not sure how you’re managing to take it when you keep squeezing around him.

“How- How big is your dick?”

He barks a laugh, pulling your face back with his hand on the back of your neck. He kisses you slowly, matching the pace of his fingers moving inside you.

“You’ll see, baby.” He says. “Just need to be good.”

You pout slightly. “I am being good.”

Ben’s lips twitch. He kisses your forehead, then suddenly speeds his fingers up. Your back arches, hips grinding as you try to chase the feeling, but he holds you firm.

“Ben-“

“Say it.” He grunts, squeezing the back of your neck. “You wanna be so fucking good, say it-“

“I love you!” Your words come sudden and desperate. “I- I love- I love you, please-“

You almost scream, when his fingers stop moving. You grab his wrist, blinking in hopeless confusion. Ben’s jaw is clenched tight, his eyes wide and nostrils flaring.

Then you realize.

Shit.

“Ben, I- I didn’t-“

“You didn’t mean it?” He grunts, and you shake your head frantically.

“I didn’t mean to- I just- I missed you, and you said- And you were-“ You gesture frantically at his hand. His fingers, still buried deep inside you. “And I- You don’t have to-“

Ben moves, and your words turn into a squeal. You’re airborne, being tossed over his shoulder as he stands.

“Fuck- Benjamin, what are you-“

He slaps your ass, then drags two fingers back through your pussy. You close your eyes, biting your lower lip to stifles the moan at the perfect combo of pleasure and pain.

Ben spanks you again, his voice stern as he moves to his feet.

“Don’t fucking do that quiet shit. Let me hear you.”

His finger pushes back into your cunt, finding that spongey spot in a second. This time you let yourself moan fully, and you’re rewarded with a scraping kiss on your ass.

“There you go, baby. That’s what I want.”

You keen at the praise, and you don’t know why you bothered hiding it from him. Ben feels and see the flutter of your pussy and chuckles. Your knees are dragged together, forcing more pressure, making you tighter around his finger when he shoves it back in.

“Be- Ben-“ Your getting light-headed, from the combination of his touch and being upside down. “What- What’re we doing-“

“You’re telling me where the bedroom is.” He grunts, turning in a circle like a magic sign is going to appear. “Then I’m fucking you ‘till you can’t walk.”

“Oh- Okay.”

You grab a fistful of his shirt as he slaps your ass again, moaning when that fucking finger starts to pump once more. There’s a pressure building in your core, and the way he’s holding you is only making it worse. Like you’re just a toy, but still the most important thing in his life. He keeps kissing your thigh and ass while he fingerfucks you. Your exposed to the cold air, the window is open, but the warmth of his hand and body—the warmth of what he’s doing to you—is almost too much to handle.

“Bed, doll.” His reminder is gruff, but soft.

You nod, your tongue all loose and hopeless. “I- I um- It was- That way-“

You press on his shoulder, steering him towards the door and Ben slaps your pussy.

“Good girl.”

The praise and touch shoot through you like a drug. You think you might be about to cum just like this. Over Ben’s shoulder with barely any friction at all.

He kicks the door open, and marches into your room. You’ve never seen him so focused before. He lays you down on the bed with shocking care, before ripping at your clothing like a child on Christmas.

Ben whistles, when you’re fully exposed to him.

“Look at you, baby, can’t believe I was sleeping next to you for months and you wouldn’t let me touch.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your breasts. “You didn’t earn touching. Only good, domesticated boys get that.”

Ben scowls, pulling off his shirt. “I’m a domesticated fucking man, doll.”

And you giggle. Because he’s so fucking stupid, but he’s here. You’d cry if there wasn’t a helium filled light, blooming through your body.

You still might cry.

Ben’s looking at you like you’ve lost your mind—and like he doesn’t care the slightest, he’s just mostly concerned—and you laugh more because you’re definitely going to cry. You’re going to cry during sex with Soldier Boy, and he’s still going to fuck you anyway. 

“You know it’s not nice to start fucking laughing before a man takes his pants off-“

“I love you.”

You say it plainly, because it is. You love Ben. You have for so long, and it had been buried like treasure, but now he’s here. Now it gets to shine, and it’s far too bright to be ignored.

Ben looks shell-shocked. He’s panting like you punched him, but you’re not worried. He’s a big boy. He’ll be okay.

You both will.

“I love you,” you repeat, beaming up at him. “I love you so much, Ben, I-“

You giggle again, as he almost stumbles forward to kiss you. His massive chest envelops you, his kisses pushing you back into the mattress, and you meet him with everything you have.

Ben pulls back. Staring at you the same way he always has.

Like he’s found the last, greatest wonder of the world.

“Say it again.” He mutters.

“I love you.”

You offer it easily. It’s his to have.

And Ben seems to swallow it. His mouth closes, his tongue flicking over his lips, and you know that face.

It means he’s on a fucking mission.

“Here’s how this is going.” He grunts, fixing you with a glare. “You listen. I work. I’m tasting you,” he slaps your pussy again, lips twitching at the full body shutter it gives him. “Then you’re going to cum on my cock until you’re sobbing, and I’m going to keep fucking you until you can’t walk. You got that.”

You swallow and nod. Ben’s eyes narrow.

“You talk to me, sweetheart, I can’t read your fucking mind.”

“Got it.” You breathe, your legs spreading wide.

It’s a shameless offering. Ben slaps your pussy again, and you buck a little of the bed with a whine of delight.

“Hold onto something.” He winks, sliding slowly down your body. “I ain’t going fucking easy.”

You expect no less of him. And you’d be able to make that joke, if he didn’t lick a thick stripe up your pussy and make you shriek.

“Holy fuck-“ Your eyes roll back in your head, your hands clawing at the sheets.

Ben chuckles, the sound vibrating against you, and repeats the motion. Your thighs press together, but he shoves them back open with a single hand, settling fully down.

“No hiding from me.” He mutters, breath warm over your core. “Look at you, doll. Even prettier from down here, didn’t know that was fucking possible.”

You laugh breathlessly. “Kiss ass.”

“Gets me places.” Ben kisses the inside of your thigh, sucking softly.

His beard scrapes and tickles against you, his chin pressing where you need him and his nose bumping your neglected clit.

“Ohhhh.” You close your eyes, slowly running your fingers through his hair. “Oh God, Ben-“

He hums in approval, switching to match the mark on the other side. He’s let go of your thighs to grab everywhere else, rubbing your ass, your hips, your sides. He slides a massive palm over your abdomen, pinning you to be bed. You should know that’s a warning sign, but you’re too lost in the heat of his mouth.

“Ben...” You moan freely, covering his hand with one of yours.

He flips it over, and you thread your fingers together.

Another warning.

“That’s- Fuck-“

He blows on your clit, and shivers run up your spine. You don’t think you can take being teased any longer. Not right now.

“More, Ben, more-“

A dark, promising chuckle rumbles in his chest. You crane your neck to look at him, and realize your mistake too late.

He’d been waiting for you to ask. And now that you have, he’s not holding back.

Ben shoves his face fully between your thighs, lapping and sucking at your clit and soaked pussy like a man starved, and your mouth falls in a long, silent scream.

You’ve been eaten out before, but never like this. Ben’s going at you the same way he kisses you. The same way he does everything. With everything he has, and the mindset that less is a sin. If something is worth doing, he’s not going to slack.

And your pussy is under that full focus. It’s almost too much to handle.

Ben makes out with every sensitive spot, inside and outside. He licks and tongue-fucks, letting you squeeze around him and pushing your ass up to hit a better angle. He noses at your clit while he works on your gaping, leaking hole, then switches.

Soft, slightly chapped lips wrap around your clit, sucking on you with all the power of a fucking sex toy. His tongue flicks back and forth over and over again, building you into a whining, cloudy eyed frenzy. You scratch at his scalp and pull on his hair, but it just makes him moan, and now everything is vibrating.

Everything seems to make him moan. Ben grunt every time you jerk your hips, slamming them back down and squeezing your hand. He moans when you squeeze down on his tongue, when he brings you right up to the edge then stops at the last second, so you slam his shoulders in frustration.

Sometimes he laughs. And that’s even worse. It makes his massive arms—wrapped around your hips—flex, and it goads him into working you impossibly deeper. You turn your face, pressing it into the pillows. Ben squeezes your hand, dragging your clit between his teeth before pulling away for a single second.

“Eyes.” He grunts, and your attention snaps over.

“Be- Ben-“

“Watch me, doll.” He open-mouth kisses you clit, and you whimper. “That’s right, don’t you look away for a fucking second.”

Now that you’re watching, you couldn’t if you tried.

Ben goes back to his self-assigned job, and the sight is more lewd and sinful than any porno in the world. His massive shoulders roll and flex as he moves you how he wants. You can’t see his mouth, but you can see him moving his head with his tongue on your clit. He shakes it, playing the nerve bundle like a bop-it, and you’re right back up the edge again.

And again, Ben stops.

You almost scream, and Ben chuckles. He kisses your poor, throbbing clit all sweet, then goes back to slowly working his tongue against your entrance. You’re wound too tight. You think you might snap from just the wrong breath.

“Be- Ben-“ You pull his hair, trying to get him back up to your clit. “Ben, let me cum- I- I need to cum-“

He just moans again. You’re going to kill him.

“Please, I- I can’t take it-“ You moan, trying to squirm your body further onto his face. “God, Ben, I can’t- I need it so bad, please-“

Sharp, lust-blown eyes snap to yours. You whimper, giving him your best hopeless pout. It’s the one that usually gets him to cave. He laughs and shakes his head and gives you whatever you want, grumbling affectionately about how damn impossible you are.

But this time, he just smirks against your pussy. And you might have him wrapped around your finger, but he’s got you cornered.

Take it. He’d said.

You don’t think you have a choice.

“Look at you,” Ben drawls, kissing your clit. His beard drags. You whimper, eyes locked onto his.

The sounds earns you another kiss, and it makes you squirm. With how his eyes gleam, you’re worried he’ll just keep you like this all night.

“You’re close.” He mocks, rubbing his palm against your pussy. “So close, baby doll. I can fuckin’ see it, you’re about to cry.”

You glare at him, and he just grins.

“You think I’ll give a shit? Think I don’t want to see you break for me?”

He presses his hand down harder. You go to reach for it, but Ben grabs your wrist and pins it firmly next to him on the mattress.

“No touching.” He grunts. “Mine.”

Oh, that makes you clench around nothing. After, you’re going to force him to make dinner and maybe do taxes or drive a car to earn feminism points back, but right now everything is just Ben, lying between your legs, calling you his.

And he’s staring at your pussy, almost transfixed. You moan as his thumb rubs your clit, his hand rising up so he can watch you react. You can feel yourself, gushing and fluttering. Desperate for anything he can give you. You’ll beg more, you’ll take it however he wants, you just need more.

“Christ on a fucking cross.” Ben mutters, pressing his cheek into your thigh. “You know, I’ve seen a lot of pussies, doll.”

You shoot him a look. “Romantic.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching your clit between his fingers.

“Was going to say yours is the best, you fucking brat.”

You smile, cupping his cheek with trembling fingers. You’re seconds from exploding with desire, but you just want to hold him. Feel him, for only a little longer.

Something in Ben’s expression shifts. For the briefest moment, it softens. His shoulders relax, and the slow breath he lets out sounds like a release. He kisses the inside of your palm. His thumb pushing on your clit, dragging it back and forth in a steady, relieving rhythm.

But you’re too sensitive. You’re being worked back up too fast, and tears start to prick.

“Ben.” You breathe, fingers curling against his cheek. “Please.”

He smirks. There’s one last kiss on your clit, then another on your well-bruised thighs. He rises to his knees, slapping your pussy while one hand undoes his belt.

Ben chuckles, at the way you fully tremble from the hit.

“You fucking like that shit, don’t you.”

You shrug, watching his belt slide away. “Maybe.”

“You do. Can see it, you-“ He pushes two fingers back into your cunt, and you moan.

“Ben- Oooooh-“

He tosses aside his belt, spanks your clit, and grins triumphantly.

“Fucking felt that. You started pouring on me like a waterfall, you love it-“

You kick at his thigh, flushing and rolling your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Don’t think I will.” He drawls, going back to his pants. “Think I get to talk as much as I want, baby doll. You’re the one that’s going to be fucked all damn stupid.”

You had a smart, sharp retort.

It dies when Ben pulls down his pants, and you see his cock.

Of course he’s such an arrogant, smug ass. Endowed is too weak a word. He’s blessed. He’s got the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen—thick and long in all the best ways, like it was handcrafted to give your pussy a heart attack—and with the look on his face, he fucking knows it.

“See something you like,” he grins down at you, stroking himself slowly.

“I… Um…” You lick your lips, crawling slowly up the mattress. “You’re very…”

You trail off again. You’re humping the sheets like an animal, forcing yourself not to just fucking touch yourself, but it’s impossible. He’s too… everything.

Ben laughs, prowling up over you.

“You’re fucking drooling.”

“You’re pretty.”

“I am not fucking pretty.”

“You are.” You roll your eyes, letting Ben drag you onto your back. “You’re so pretty, Ben, it’s bonkers.”

He grunts, settling himself above you. “Pretty is what you call a fucking show pony.”

“You are a show pony.”

That earns you a glower. You beam back in return, giggling at your own jokes.

“When we’re done, you should let me braid your- Oh my God-“

You grab at his shoulder, eyes going wide as Ben slides his cock into you with one, smooth movement. He drives right into your g-spot, dropping his hips so he’s pinning you into it. He grinds down, abs rubbing on your clit, and there it is.

That coil that had been building in you all night. Ben gets inside of you for ten seconds, and you snap.

You writhe and scramble under him, grabbing at his chest and trying to hide from the overwhelming orgasm ripping through your body. Ben grabs your jaw and forces your gaze back to his, still grinding down onto you as it drags on. You whimper, making garbled sounds of his name.

Ben kisses you, as you twitch through the last bits of it. You turn to limp putty, moaning into his mouth and shivering as he settles at being bottomed out.

“That’s what I wanted to see.” He mutters, nipping at your upper lip. “That’s what I fucking dreamed about.”

You whimper, and Ben laughs. He gives you a shallow thrust, and your eyes go wide.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet, baby.” He teases, ghost his lips over yours. “We got a lot of fucking time to make up for, and you,” he gives another, sharper slam of his hips. “Are too fucking gorgeous to just give one orgasm.”

A strangled sound escapes your lips, and Ben grins.

“I know. But feel that,” he pulls all the way out, then slams back in. “Real good, isn’t it. Fuck, this pussy was made for me. Going to fuck you until my name is written on it, until it can’t even take anyone else.”

His logic is flawed, but you still moan. Hard not to, when you’ve got all the mass and power of him over you, driving in and out of you at a torturously slow pace.

“That’s my girl.” He coos, bumping your nose before going for a hot, sloppy kiss. “That’s a good fuckin’ cock slut for me, aren’t you.”

Your eyes fly open, your pussy clenching down, and Ben laughs. He starts to drill into you, knocking every bit of air from your lungs.

“Yeah, I know how you like it. My dirty baby, get off of me telling you that I own you,” he slams down, and tears burn at your eyes. “That I’m going to fucking wreck you, turn you into my fuck doll, my sweet little fucking whore.”

You moan, the shame only making the heat in your tummy build faster. Ben rises over you, hair pressed to his brow from sweat.

“That’s right. Take it, take this cock and thank me for it.”

He slides his thumb over your lips, pressing down ever so slightly as his cock fucks ruthlessly in and out of your pussy. You mewl, opening your mouth for him to take. Ben laughs, thick and breathless, and pushes his thumb in.

“Fucking- Christ-“ He groans as you start to suck. “You’re so fucking beautiful, and- Tight-“

He groans, fucking impossibly harder. The bed squeaks and shifts. You moan around his thumb, tears flowing down your cheeks.

“Crying for me, baby doll, so fucking desperate you’re going to cry for it- Shit-“

Your second orgasm hits suddenly. You clench down on Ben, making him groan loudly. His chest is tight with restraint, and you scratch at the muscle, whining around his thumb.

It’s so much. Too much. You’re stuffed so full, and you can barely breathe, and it’s perfect but you don’t know what to do with yourself but sob and moan.

“There you go, so tight and warm.” Ben’s babbling. You think he’s lost himself as much as you have. “Fuck, you’re going to be death of me if you keep lookin’ like that, gotta-“

You squeak as Ben pulls his thumb and cock out with wet sounds. There’s no time to protest the loss, though, before you’re being flipped onto your stomach and fucked within and inch of your life.

Ben drags your ass in the air, barely giving you a second to recover before he’s back to railing you into the mattress. You cum even faster this time, between the filthy words and deeper position.

“Greedy pussy can’t get enough, can she.” Ben grunts in your ear, his chest draped over your back. “You love it, fucking love being marked up and fucked like an animal. You fucking slut, bet that pretty mouth needs something to suck on again. Be you’ll look so pretty choking on my dick, to bad you look even fuckin’ better like this.”

You cum again with Ben’s thumb in your mouth, tears on your cheeks, and his body wrapped around yours. Then a third time, when he rises up and plays with your ass, shoving your head into the mattress to watch you cry and try to wiggle back on his cock.

After a while, you lose track of what position your in. You’re over him, then under, then pressed against the headboard and folded in half. You don’t know how he’s held himself off this long. You’re a boneless, oversensitive puddle made of countless orgasms, by the time Ben starts to rut and groan.

Ben finishes inside you, holding you firmly above him as his hips jerk up. You watch him come apart under dazed, tear-stained lashes. It’s the most beautiful sight in the world. He’s pumping into you, hot and jerking, dripping out of your pussy as just more and more comes. A wet sound fills the air, and you can see his own release stained over his abdomen as he just keeps going.

You think you pass out, after. You must, because when you come too, you’re lying on clean sheets and wearing Ben’s shirt. You stare at the ceiling for a while, still partially lost to the world.

You come back to earth, when Ben says your name. He’s coming out of the shower, bare-chested and glorious.

He gives you that small smile, and you return it without a thought.

“Feeling alright?” He mutters, climbing into bed at your side.

No pants. Unhelpful.

“Um-“ You stare at his cock, swinging between his thighs. Your mouth is watering. “You…”

“Jesus, woman.” He snorts. “I’m not trying to fucking break you, stop slobbering.”

“I am not slobbering-“

“Yeah, you fucking are.”

You stick your tongue out and try to roll away, but Ben’s right. He worked you. One movement comes with a whine, and suddenly you’re being pinned below Ben’s bare body.

“Rest.” He scolds, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re not my boss-“

“Yeah, but I love you, and I’m going to be real damn pissed if you hurt yourself.” He taps your jaw. “Rest.”

You blink at him.

And again, Ben just finds a way to make you feel more full.

“You love me?” You whisper.

He blinks. You don’t think he knows he said it.

“Of course I do-“

“Say it.”

He scowls. “You heard it, means I said it-“

“Say it again.” You give him that look. The pouty one.

This time, it’s going to work.

“Please?” You add.

Ben sighs, shaking his head, and glares at you like you’re the bane of his existence.

You might be. But he likes it, and he’s the one who’s going to be keeping you at the center of his universe.

“I love you.” He grunts.

You beam, and Ben kisses you with a labored sigh. It’s slow. Romantic.

Meant to remind you that you have time.

“Good boy.” You whisper, and he groans.

“You’re real lucky-“

“Yeah.” You cut him off, and he lets you.

He always lets you. Because he loves you.

“I am.”

✦End note: i dont care what he does in the show this is my emotional support old horny man✦

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[oliveksmoked]

SO. FUCKING. HOT

[kosmogrl]

[saizhou]

2,723 words * ˛ ✦ ･ Caleb spreads his palm across her stomach, feeling the subtle rise and fall of her breathing, the gentle flutter of her pulse beneath his thumb. "You have no idea," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice a low vibration that he hopes drifts into her dreams. "No idea what you do to me. Walking around this house in these little shorts, these little shirts. Do you know how many times I've had to take myself in hand in the shower, thinking about you just like this? Soft and warm and mine?"

WARNINGS: third person pov (fem!reader), alternate universe – pre-canon, canon-typical pseudo-incest, (non-consensual) somnophilia, DAA!caleb, groping, fingering, grinding, heavy dirty talk, cum-eating, pervert!caleb, panty-stealing.

The afternoon light filters through the kitchen windows in thin, golden bars that leave stripes across the worn hardwood floors, and Caleb closes the front door behind him carefully, his DAA flight jacket unzipped and hanging open over a sweat-dampened white t-shirt, the scent of jet fuel and synthetic training cockpit air still clinging to his skin. He drops his keys into the ceramic bowl on the side table—a ritual, always the same—and the sound is muffled, swallowed by the empty house.

"Gran?" he calls softly, though he already knows the answer.

The note on the front door had said it clearly enough: 

Visiting Margaret. Back Sunday. Dinner in the fridge. Love, Gran.

Just him and her; just them, alone, together.

He rounds the corner into the living room and stops, his breath catching in his throat with the familiar sharpness that has become his constant companion these past few years, ever since he realized that the protective warmth in his chest had twisted into something darker, hungrier, something that wakes him in the night with his hand wrapped around himself and her name on his lips.

She is sprawled on the couch, one arm dangling off the edge, her fingers brushing the carpet, the other tucked beneath her cheek. She is smaller than him—she always has been, and she always will be—and the oversized sleep shirt she wears has ridden up to expose the soft curve of her stomach, the waistband of her sleep shorts sitting low on her hips. Her breathing is deep and even, lips parted slightly, hair fanned out across the cushion in a mess that makes his fingers twitch with the need to touch, to tangle, to pull.

Caleb stands frozen for a moment, the weight of his bag sliding from his shoulder to thud quietly against the floor, immediately forgotten in the face of this. 

The house is silent except for his heart and the soft sound of her breathing. 

Gran is gone for three days. 

No one is watching, and no one will know.

His heart hammers against his ribs as he crosses the room, each step is deliberate, his boots are silent on the rug. He stands over her, looking down at the face he has known since childhood, the face he has watched transform from a gap-toothed child into this—this woman who haunts his every thought, his every dream, his every dirty fantasy. 

She calls him gege, still, even now, even when the word feels like a brand on his skin, marking him as hers even as he marks her as his in the secret corridors of his mind.

"Gege's home," he whispers, so quietly it might be a thought rather than sound.

He cannot help it. He knows he should cover her with a blanket, retreat to his room, shower off the day, be the good brother she believes him to be. But the devil that lives in his chest—that possessive, obsessive creature that whispered to him when he locked her in the attic that one time, that urged him to eliminate anyone who looked at her too long at school—that creature stretches and purrs and demands that he pounce.

Caleb kneels beside the couch. His hand trembles as he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. She doesn't stir. Her skin is warm, flushed with sleep, and the urge to feel more of it, to drown in it, overwhelms his restraint.

An arm slides beneath her knees, the other behind her shoulders, and he lifts her effortlessly. She is light, always so light to him, and she makes a small sound—a whimper that sounds more like a sigh—that goes straight to his groin, making him ache with a sudden, painful hardness that presses against the zipper of his flight suit pants. 

He settles himself onto the couch, arranging her carefully on top of him, her back against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin, her legs draped over his thighs.

The position is perfect. Too perfect, in fact; her ass presses directly against the straining bulge of his cock, and he has to bite his lip to stifle a groan, his eyes falling shut as he rocks upward just slightly, just once, testing the pressure. But she settles deeper against him, trusting and pliant, her breathing unchanged.

"Good girl," he breathes against her ear, his voice barely audible. "Such a good girl for gege. Sleeping so pretty. So peaceful."

His right hand slides beneath the hem of her sleep shirt, and her skin is impossibly soft, softer than anything he has ever touched, softer than clouds or silk or the petals of the flowers he once picked for her. 

Caleb spreads his palm across her stomach, feeling the subtle rise and fall of her breathing, the gentle flutter of her pulse beneath his thumb. "You have no idea," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice a low vibration that he hopes drifts into her dreams. "No idea what you do to me. Walking around this house in these little shorts, these little shirts. Do you know how many times I've had to take myself in hand in the shower, thinking about you just like this? Soft and warm and mine?"

His hand drifts upward, slowly, giving her time to wake, to protest, to stop him. 

She doesn't. 

A sigh escapes from her mouth instead, and she's pressing back against him, her head turning to nestle into the crook of his neck, and he takes it as permission—the only permission he needs in this moment where morality has fled and only want remains.

He finds her breast, fills his hand with the weight of it, and his vision spots at the edges. She is perfect, full and soft, her nipple a hardening peak against his touch as he brushes his thumb over it, circling, teasing. She arches into his touch in her sleep, a silent plea that makes him throb against her.

"That's it," he praises, his voice shaking with restraint. "You like that, don't you? Even in your dreams, you know it's me. You know gege is taking care of you."

Caleb pinches her nipple gently, rolling it between his fingers, and she whimpers, a sound that goes straight to his cock. He is so hard it hurts, trapped against her softness, and he grinds upward again, unable to stop himself, seeking friction even as he knows he should be still, should be careful, should not wake her to find him like this. "Look at you," he whispers, his free hand sliding down her side, tracing the curve of her hip, slipping beneath the loose waistband of her sleep shorts. "So wet already. Even asleep, your body knows. It knows who it belongs to, who has always owned it, even when I pretended to be the good brother. Fuck, baby, I was never good. I was just waiting; waiting for moments like this when I could have you without you looking at me with those eyes and seeing the monster I've become."

His fingers find her heat, slick and swollen and hot, and he has to press his face into her hair to muffle his groan. 

She is drenched, absolutely soaked, and the realization that she is this wet in her sleep, that her body responds to him even in an unconscious state, shatters what little control he has left. "Jesus, look at this," he breathes, spreading her folds with two fingers, circling her clit with the lightest touch, watching her face for any sign of waking. She only breathes deeper, her hips shifting slightly, seeking more. "Soaked for me. This pretty little cunt is weeping, isn't it? Crying because it wants gege's cock. Because it knows who it belongs to."

He presses a finger inside her, slow and steady, feeling her walls clench around him, hot and tight and perfect. 

She makes a sound and he freezes, his heart pounding, but her eyes remain closed, her face peaceful, lost in whatever dreamscape he has invaded.

"Good girl," he croons, beginning to move his finger, curling it to find the spot that makes her squirm, even unconscious. "Taking gege's finger so well. So tight, and so fucking perfect. You were made for this—made for me. I knew it the first time I saw you looked at me. I knew I would ruin you, ruin us; and I don't care—I don't care as long as I can have this, as long as I can feel you come apart on my hand while you dream of me."

He adds a second finger, stretching her gently, scissoring them inside her tight heat, feeling her grow wetter around his knuckles. His other hand continues to work her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple in time with the thrust of his fingers, building a rhythm that has her hips rocking now, seeking, chasing. "That's it," he encourages, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper, his own hips bucking against her ass, grinding his cock against her through his pants, seeking the friction that will send him over the edge. "Chase that pleasure. Gege's got you. Gege's giving you what you need. This is what you want, isn't it? My fingers deep inside you, fucking you open, preparing you for when I finally take you for real. When I spread you out on my bed and eat this pretty cunt until you scream, until you can't walk, until you forget your own name and only know mine."

Caleb crooks his fingers, pressing against her sweet spot, and her breath hitches, her back arching sharply. He feels her clench, feels the flutter of her walls around his fingers, and he knows she is close, so close, hovering on the edge of orgasm even in her sleep.

"Baby, my pretty baby, cum for me," he commands, his voice shaking, his own pleasure mounting, his cock pulsing with each thrust of his hips against her softness. "Cum for gege. Let me feel it. Let me feel you squeeze my fingers. Milk them like you'll milk my cock one day. Fuck, yes, that's it, good girl, such a good—"

She breaks with a keen, her body going rigid, her back bowing against his chest, her cunt clamping down on his fingers so hard he sees stars. She is beautiful in orgasm, even unconscious—mouth open, brows furrowed in pleasure. He feels her pulse around him, drawing out her peak, and he keeps fucking her through it, gentling his touch but not stopping, dragging out every aftershock until she goes limp against him, boneless and satiated, her breathing deep once more.

"Pretty," he breathes, his voice wrecked. "So fucking pretty. My good girl, my perfect girl."

But he doesn't stop—he can't. 

The sight of her coming undone, the feel of her wetness coating his fingers, the pressure of her ass against his throbbing cock—it is too much. He continues to thrust his fingers, shallow and slow, milking her sensitivity, even as his other hand releases her breast and slides down to grip her hip, holding her steady as he grinds upward, seeking his own release.

"Look what you do to me," he pants against her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her skin, salty and sweet. "Look how hard you make me. Just from touching you. Just from feeling you come. Fuck, I'm going to—I'm going to—"

He buries his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo—something floral, something innocent—and lets go. His hips jerk upward, once, twice, three times, and then he is spilling into his pants with a choked groan that he barely manages to muffle, his cock pulsing in waves of pleasure that make his vision go white at the edges. It is messy and shameful, feeling the wet heat spreading in his underwear, but he doesn't care.

When it is over, when he can breathe again, when his heart slows from its frantic hammering, he carefully withdraws his fingers from her. 

They are coated in her arousal, glistening in the afternoon light, and without thinking—without the ability to stop himself—he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean, groaning at the taste of her, sweet and musky and perfect.

He needs more, and he needs to taste her straight from the source.

Caleb shifts carefully, manoeuvring her limp body until she is lying on her back on the couch, her head turned to the side, her legs parted slightly. He kneels between her thighs, his hands trembling as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her sleep shorts and her underwear—both soaked through, both ruined—and slides them down her legs, lifting her feet one by one to free the fabric completely.

She is exposed to him now, her sex glistening and swollen from her orgasm, pink and perfect and his. He stares for a long moment, memorizing the sight, filing it away in the vault of his obsession where he keeps every stolen moment, every glimpse of skin.

"Gege needs to taste," he whispers, more to himself than to her. "Just once. Just this once."

He leans forward, his hands spreading her thighs wider, and presses his mouth to her. She tastes like heaven, like sin, like everything he has ever wanted and cannot have. He laps at her slowly, licking up her folds, circling her clit with his tongue, cleaning away the evidence of her pleasure and his own transgression. She is sensitive, twitching beneath his mouth, making small sounds that drive him wild, but she does not wake. She is too far gone, too deep in sleep, too trusting that she is safe in her own home.

If only she knew; if only she knew that her brother is currently between her legs, feasting on her like a starving man, his cock already stirring again in his wet pants, desperate for more.

Caleb kisses her there—her glossy cunt, her perfect sex—and whispers against her folds, "Goodnight, my love. Sweet dreams of gege."

He lingers for one more moment, pressing a final kiss to her clit, feeling her shudder, before he forces himself to pull back. He cannot leave her like this, exposed and messy. He retrieves a warm washcloth from the bathroom, returns to clean her gently, thoroughly, wiping away every trace of his touch, his mouth, her own arousal. 

She sighs in her sleep, peaceful, sated.

From his room, he retrieves a fresh pair of her panties—not the sexy kind, but the soft cotton ones she wears to bed, the ones he has imagined peeling off her a thousand times—and a clean pair of sleep shorts. He dresses her carefully, lifting her hips, sliding the fabric up her legs, tucking her back into her clothes as if nothing has happened, as if he hasn't just defiled her in the most intimate ways while she slept.

He stands back to survey his work. She looks innocent again, untouched, her breathing steady, her face relaxed. No one would know. No one but him.

And the trophies he has taken.

Caleb picks up her discarded underwear and sleep shorts from where he dropped them on the floor. The cotton is drenched, heavy with her scent, with her arousal, with the evidence of what he has done to her. He brings them to his face, inhaling deeply, his cock twitching one last time, and then he folds them carefully and slips them into the pocket of his flight jacket.

They are his now, his treasure. The first of many, he knows.

He lifts her again, cradling her against his chest, and carries her to her bedroom, laying her down on her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. He stands over her for a long moment, watching her sleep, his hand in his pocket, fingers brushing the damp fabric he has stolen.

"Soon," he promises softly. "Soon you'll wake up. And you'll know. And you'll want it too."

He leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead, then her lips—chaste, but possessive.

"I love you," he whispers. "My little sister. My girl. Mine."

SAINT'S NOTES ! originally uploaded in the server back in the 31st of may, before the entire shitshow and my decision to move past canon content, so don't quote me on this lol—past me was idealistic about this game while present me simply does not give anymore fucks about it.

© skyizhou : do not claim, modify, copy or repost my works without permission. feeding my works to ai is strictly prohibited. minors do not interact.

[dearstvrcress]

summary: a stranger helps you ease your flight anxiety in some unorthodox ways.. (sexy time)

cw: afab!reader but i use they/them like twice, smut, they are all strangers except for sylus’s but they aren’t that close tbh. voyeurism, they’re all doing sexual acts on a plane around people. non verbal consent, they all consent to these acts. non!mc reader, reader is absolutely anxious to fly in varying degrees, they’re all probably ooc and they might not all make sense idc, written at different times and not proof read! use of y/n bc i’m a y/n truther, remember ur roots..

sylus: oral (r receiving), tongue fucking (r receiving), sylus has a private jet (get him).

zayne: fingering (r receiving), pussy slapping (r receiving).

valko: unprotected sex, creampie (r receiving), biting (r receiving), they’re a lil gross.

caleb: mutual masturbation, fingering (r receiving), hand job (c receiving).

xavier: hand job (x receiving), cum eating (x & r).

rafayel: dry humping, nipple sucking (r receiving), they like to tease.

wc: sylus 1.2k, zayne 844, valko 914, caleb 876, xavier 893, rafayel 869. in total it’s like 5k i think

yap: whew! first time writing a multi and it was equally fun and stressful. they’re definitely all kind of the same vibe in some way but there’s only so much you can do! wrote this with vibes no thoughts. anyway i hope u enjoy and the warnings are listed in the way they appear!

꣑ৎ sylus 1.2k

the door closed with a soft click leaving you and business partner, sylus, alone. it was a one sided awkward moment, you weren't super close with him but you also were far from strangers. you were looking into a new business venture and sylus offered to help so now you're on a private jet for the next few hours— alone and a little horny. and nervous.

sylus was in his element, glass of red wine swirling in its cup and his legs were spread wide, posture completely relaxed as he rested his head on his hand, sharp eyes boring into you.

"do you intend for this to be a business only trip?"

you looked at him as you pulled your files out of your bag, placing them on the small surface next to your chair. "yes?.." you trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as you continued to pull things out, pen, paper clips, tablet.

"a pity. there's many places i think you'd enjoy during our stay there and i hoped you'd wish to experience them."

"sylus i'm here for information not fun."

he simply hummed and didn't speak more. you took that as a sign and uncapped your pen, pulling a file out and flipping it open and getting to work. you worked for some time in silence, fingers cramping slightly from use that had you flexing them as best as you could. you were about to put pen to paper when the entire jet shook, your hands slapping down onto your files to keep them in place.

your head shot up in surprise and sylus just smirked lazily at you. "nervous?" he drawled, red eyes watching the way you capped your pen and gathered your work with jerky movements.

"nope! just decided work can wait." you said as you tucked the files back into your bag, zipping it up and placing it on the floor for good measure. you took the chance to recline back, finally settling against the extremely comfortable cushions when everything shook again, glasses clinking together.

a soft gasp left your lips, fingers white knuckling the arm rests as you tried to steady your racing heart. sylus let out a deep chuckle, head shaking as a smirk tugged on his lips. "you're sure you're not nervous sweetie? you can be honest i wont judge."

you rolled your eyes at him, gently kicking your shoe against his shin. "i've just never been on a plane before, that's all." your words had his smirk growing deeper, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he looked you up and down. he wasn't bothered by the shaking of the death trap you were in, calloused finger tracing patterns on his arm rest.

he watched you silently freak out, watched your body tense with every rattle, watched how your eyes looked out the window before darting away then repeating the torturous cycle. he sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning forward into your space.

"what are you doing?"

your eyebrows furrowed when you heard the clink of his seatbelt, hands still gripping the arm rests. sylus leaned his elbows on his knees, eyes boring into yours. "i am going to offer you a solution, a way to calm your nerves."

"i don't feel like drinking right now." you said and he shook his head. sylus dropped onto his knees in front of you, his large hands placed on either side of you- caging you in. "sylus! get up!" your hand smacked at his shoulder but he simply brushed it off.

"it'll be a smoother ride if you aren't so wound up sweetie." his nose nuzzled against your knee and your heart stuttered. you knew what he was offering now and the logical part of your mind losing to the excitement and anxiety coursing through your veins right now.

"and what do you suggest i do to relax, hm?" you questioned and resisted jolting when you felt warm palms on your waist. sylus's fingers teased the band of your pants, only pulling them down when you nodded at him. he moved slow, both your pants and panties sliding down your legs until your entire lower half was bare.

shivering slightly, you slid down a little and spread your legs slowly, unveiling your puffy folds to him. sylus groaned quietly as he eagerly watched you, one hand throwing a leg over his shoulder as the other held the other leg over the arm rest. "does being nervous get you so aroused or is it something else?" he rubbed his nose over your clit. "or someone?"

"shut up and help me relax before i do it myself." you snapped, hand curling into his silvery hair and tugging him against your pussy. he laughed against you, thick tongue darting out and swiping big licks up your folds. "fuck sylus~"

he hummed into you, the fat of his tongue rolling around your clit before he suckles it into his mouth. a loud moan left your lips, your hand slapping quite harshly against your mouth making sylus grunt in displeasure. he pulled your hand away, "don't cover your moans. i want to hear how relaxed i'm making you feel." he stated, diving right back into your folds.

"but- nghh, won't they hear?" you moan out, pushing some of the hair that had fallen into his face back. sylus shook his head, smearing your arousal around his face before repeating with your clit in his mouth. "sy-sylus! i don't wanna make anyone uncomfortable.."

"sweetie i own everything in here, i pay them to do their jobs— i don't give a fuck about them hearing you." he had pulled off you with a slight growl, eyebrows pulled together as he stared up at you.

his eyes were so intense you found yourself nodding and he stared at you for a little longer. the leg on his shoulder pulled him closer, urging him to resume his help.

his tongue slipped out, the tip teasing your hole before he plunged it as deep as it could go inside you. sylus wriggled the muscle before pulling away, your folds parting around his tongue until just the tip was in.

he made eye contact and winked before ramming his tongue back in, head bobbing as he quite literally fucked you with his tongue.

a squeal escaped your throat, head pressing against the cushion as the man before you ate you out like he was starved. writhing from pleasure, your hips bucked to match his actions, fucking yourself on his tongue as your fingers tightened in his hair. sylus moaned openly, watching you use him for your pleasure as his cock pressed heavy against his pants.

moans tumbled from your mouth as his big nose nudged against your twitching clit, rubbing the bud all around as loud wet noises echoed from between you both. sylus ate you out until your pussy was soaked, sore, and so fucking sensitive, not even caring about your volume or the growing puddle of arousal on the floor.

that band inside you was about to snap, legs twitching and back arching as you held him close, your orgasm washing over you in a strong wave.

sylus swallowed up every last drop you gave him, hair tousled from your fingers and eyes wild. you were almost boneless in your seat, chest heaving as you watched him pull away, pink tongue licking at his lips. "still nervous sweetie?"

꣑ৎ zayne 844

it was dark and late, the lights were out and everyone was asleep with eye masks and headphones, snuggled up in their blankets. everyone was asleep but you and the man in the seat next to you. he's had his laptop open since it was allowed, screen slightly dimmed and reflecting in his glasses.

you had barely been able to sleep, too wound up from the absolute anxiety of flying. you were restless in every way possible, unable to sleep or sit still. you've probably changed your position twenty times in the last five minutes. feet coming to rest flat on the seat, you pulled the blanket up, tucking it under your chin as the tv screen in front of you shut off.

a slightly frustrated sigh had your head sapping to the side, catching sight of the man next to you with his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose. you shifted once more and his eyes cut to you, halting you immediately. "shit! am i bothering you? i'm sorry."

he gave you a once over, eyes lingering on your lips sending you a small wave of butterflies. "yes. have you never flown before?" he asked quietly, voice sharp yet smooth and methodical. your shaking head had him humming softly when the plane rattled. no one reacted besides you, your hand gripping the arm rest tightly.

his fingers held his laptop still as he watched you. shooting him a sheepish smile you removed your hand and tucked it beneath the blanket, reclining in your seat. the plane rattled some more and you bit your lip to keep from reacting to it, feeling a little silly to be honest.

"an orgasm can help with anxiety if you don't have medication. i believe the bathroom is open."

jaw dropping you stared at the man in disbelief, chest feeling hot at his words. forcing your mouth closed you let a thought roll around before blurting, "you should deal with it then if i'm bothering you so much." the man placed his glasses back on, fingers working to roll up his sleeves before his left hand tapped against the keyboard.

"very well."

his right hand slid under your blanket, cold fingers making you flinch as they grazed your ankle. feeling bold, you grabbed his wrist and guided him inside your pants and — admittedly — soaked panties. two fingers slid down the hair of your mound, stopping at your clit and rubbing slow circles.

a soft sigh left your lips, hand sliding up to lightly grip his forearm. adjusting slightly you had to bite back a yelp when he laid a firm slap against your pussy. "can't sit still even when you're like this." he whispered as he soothed the skin.

those two fingers slid lower, dipping into your arousal and collecting it all before slowly sliding back up. he spread your wetness around before slowly— slooowly sliding those fingers inside your pussy. buried to the knuckle he let you adjust to him— his fingers were long as fuck, pressing deep inside you. after a few seconds you whispered, "you can move."

and he did. chilly fingers pumping in and out of you at a steady pace, his palm pressed firm against your clit. he didn't seem bothered, eyes scanning his screen as if his fingers weren't buried inside of a stranger right now. his fingers were precise, easily mapping out the parts that had you twitching and silencing moans.

your head gently slammed against the headrest, hips bucking slightly when he curled his fingers just right, pressing right up against that sweet spot. "good." his voice was low and praising, like you were doing something right for him. your walls were squeezing him tight, pulsing around his fingers as he fucked them into you harder.

if you strained your ears you could hear the soft slapping of your arousal, lip bitten raw from trying to hold in your moans. "don't fight it." he had leaned closer to you, giving himself more of angle to thrust deeper. his fingers slipped out to smear your wetness against your clit before going back, palm giving a nice friction as your hips bucked into him.

nails digging into his arm, your legs shook, eyes falling shut as you focused on keeping your moans from slipping out. a few more pumps of his fingers and you were cumming, walls squeezing tight and head dropping onto his shoulder to muffle your moans. he worked you through it with ease, only sliding out gently when you squirmed from overstimulation.

you watched with lazy eyes as he slid his hand from beneath your blanket— fingers glistening from your arousal — before he swiped them along the the bulge of his pants. heat bubbled in your gut as you eyed his very prominent bulge straining against the material of his pants. he adjusted ever so slightly before both of his hands came to the keyboard, flying against the keys as he typed.

"you should go to sleep now, there is still a few more hours left."

꣑ৎ valko 914

"hey we met earlier!"

you looked up at the voice next to you and you were greeted with a wide smile and sharp canines. recognition filled your eyes as you put two and two together— this was the very attractive man you had been talking to the whole time you were waiting for your flight to board.

"oh, hey! what a coincidence you're next to me."

you gave him a soft smile and you felt your cheeks warm as he got comfortable. "or maybe it's fate!~" he nudged your shoulder with his and chuckled when you rolled your eyes. ever the talker, you had conversation after conversation with him, hands gesturing as you both spoke.

you continued speaking softly through the flight, squishing close together in the dark cabin. you were mid sentence when you felt it, a terrifying shake and rattle that had you cutting yourself off. the feeling continued, the plane sounding like it was taking heavy hits.

"you okay?" valko asked, eyes filled with concern as he looked into your nervous gaze. his warm hand grabbed yours, thumb rubbing soothing circles onto your skin as he waited for you to reply.

"i'm okay just.. i hate turbulence." you smiled weakly, digging your nails into the seat. he hummed and lifted the arm rest between you, pressing himself against you.

he wrapped an arm around your waist and he held you close, giving you a reassuring smile. "i get that, i used to be suuuper scared of thunderstorms. well, i still get scared of them sometimes." his hand was warm and comforting against you.

"really? a tough guy like you?" you teased, hand coming to rest on his thick thigh. "never would have guessed."

"ha ha." he smirked down at you, golden eyes tracing over every feature. you opened your mouth when the plane shook some more, your hand gripping him for dear life.

"fuck, this is gonna be so annoying." you whined, bumping your head against him. "i need something to distract me until it's over. maybe avatar? i might cry though.. or i can ask that old lady for some drugs, i'm sure she has some in that big ass purse."

valko laughed at your rambling, burying his face in your hair to muffle his sounds. he tugged his hoodie off and placed it over your lap, rolling his shoulders out. "it's so unfair you're so hot." you grumbled, pulling the hoodie over your head.

"hey! you should fuck me!"

a warm hand covered your mouth and you looked up to see his burning gaze. "shhh! don't say that so loud." he scolded with a smile, letting you drag his hand down between your legs.

"whatever, we should fuck cuz then i'll definitely forget that i'm trapped in the air at thousands of feet."

he chuckled softly and unbuckled his seatbelt, thick fingers working his sweats. you followed, lifting slightly to tug your shorts down and he pulled you into his lap, your core pressed right up against his cock. "fuck you're so bad— no panties? did you plan to get fucked?"

giggling you grinded your wet folds against him, feeling just how long and thick he was. "no but i'm not complaining." he grabbed his cock, lining it up before easing you onto it. he was so fucking big, the stretch was a very much welcome burn.

moaning softly, you stilled once he was at the hilt, walls pulsing around him as you adjusted to his size. "you feel so good pretty." his lips kissed across your neck, one hand pressing against your stomach and the other dipping between your legs.

with a soft sigh your hips moved, grinding against him as he pressed right against that sweet spot. your hand reached behind, fingers grabbing at the short hair on his head and head falling back onto him. "god— why are you so fucking big?"

valko nibbled your ear, two fingers rubbing tight circles against your throbbing clit. "dunno but— shit, you take me so well, like you were made for me." his words made you clench and bite your lip to keep any moans from escaping.

needing just a little more, you start to bounce, just ever so slightly so he can ram against your sweet spot. he groaned into your ear and you pinched his neck, "be quiet~"

he growled and buried his face against your neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. he held you in place as he planted his feet firmly, thrusting up into your sopping pussy in fast little thrusts. nails digging into his neck, you bit down harder on your lip to stay quiet, his fat cock quickly bringing you close to the edge.

"m'close." you mumbled, walls tightening around him as you bounced harder as best as you could. valko nodded, fingers working your clit as you throbbed around him. you felt the sharp sting of him biting your neck and you snapped, bounces stopping as you came all around him.

you felt him follow, his cum flooding your pussy as he throbbed inside of you. valko whined softly, hand cupping beneath you to catch any stray cum that dribbled out. "g'nna keep you stuffed all flight." he placed sloppy kisses against your cheek.

turning your head, you bit his bottom lip, pulling it before letting go. "is that a promise because i think i'm still scared." you smiled up at him, stomach fluttering at the wild look in his eyes.

꣑ৎ caleb 876

the ding of the seatbelt light made you glance at it, fingers already working to tighten the belt against your torso. the flight attendant came over the intercom, informing that you'll be going through turbulence for the time being and to stay seated, as if you'd even think about moving.

"hey.. i'm caleb."

you force your eyes to your left, making eye contact with the (attractive) man sitting next to you. his eyes crinkle slightly from his smile, something like amusement settling on his face. you give him your name and he tests it out.

"sooo, you scared of flying?" he asks. slightly embarrassed you nod, feeling heat creep up your neck. "it's okay! a lot of people are scared to fly." his words were sweet, his eyes even sweeter.

"i don't fly much so it's all new to me." you say making him hum softly. the plane shaking has your breath catching and body tensing, hands white knuckling the belt.

your eyes screw shut as the shaking continues on, the inside sounds like it's breaking apart even if it really isn't. you feel warmth against your arm, a hand grabbing onto yours. "i'm a pilot so i'm used to this," caleb whispers in your ear. "you're fine, turbulence is normal and you're safe."

eyes opening, you meet his gaze once more. his thumb rubbed soothing swipes across your knuckles, your grip loosening slightly, "pretend a coin is in jello, it's stuck right in the middle alll safe and then— uh oh! something makes it jiggle, swaying side to side but it's perfectly safe in the middle, it just goes with the flow. that's what planes do."

his words kind of make sense to your anxious mind, visualizing his jello theory. "planes are made for this, turbulence won't knock it down that easy." he squeezes your hand once. you open your mouth when the plane rattles once more, your hand squeezing his tight.

he works his lip between his teeth before looking around. the cabin was dark, extremely dim blue lights lighting up the floor in a path. everyone had their partition up and headphones on, some with eye masks and you swore you heard someone snoring. everyone was asleep.

"i.. i know this is strange but i can help distract you if you'd like?" he says, eyebrows pulled together. glancing at his lips you take a second, looking around yourself before nodding slightly, "yeah.. okay."

caleb drapes his blanket across the two of you, pulling it high on your bodies before pulling you into him. he slides his partition up and stares at you. "you can absolutely punch me if you don't want this." he says before you feel his hand on your thigh.

even though you were nervous you couldn't help but already be a little wet from the attractive man next to you. nodding your consent, caleb's hand creeps up your thigh, fingers slipping under your sweats and panties. biting your lip in anticipation, you lean your head against his shoulder, hand resting on his thigh beneath the blanket.

his cool fingers find your clit, rubbing smooth little circles around the bundle before running down your folds, gathering your slick. he moans quietly against your head, fingers slipping into your aching pussy once you adjust your hips. his fingers already made you feel so full, reaching so deep inside of you in a way you could never reach.

biting your lip, you copy his movements, dipping your own hand into his pants only to be met with his skin. your fingers wrap around his length, the weight heavy and twitching against your palm. he relaxes against his seat, man spreading to give you more room as you begin pumping him, twisting as you reach the tip.

his fingers plunged deep, curling and hitting just right against that sweet spot, palm rubbing against your clit. hips bucking slightly, he uses his arm to push against you, forcing you still. "don't want anyone to catch us.." he whispered in your ear, kissing the skin beneath it.

your hand was wet, slick with his pre and making the glide easier. his cock twitched in your grasp, a soft whimper making you clench around his fingers. you were already so close to the edge from being pent up, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you buried your face against his shoulder.

"g'nna cum— fuck, want you to cum for me okay?" his lips brushed against your temple and you nodded desperately against his shoulder. hands picking up slightly, you both reached your peak, his body smothering yours against the wall as cum leaked from his tip all over your fingers. you muffled a moan against his shirt, legs closing around his fingers as you squeezed them tight.

chest heaving slightly, caleb pulled away slightly, hazy eyes meeting yours. giving his softening cock one last squeeze, you slipped your hand from his pants, bringing it out from the blanket and eyeing his release on your fingers. he laughed softly and slowly did the same, his own fingers glistening.

he handed you a napkin to clean your fingers off when he leaned in close. "looks like i succeeded in distracting you." he smiled when you realized yeah, he did.

꣑ৎ xavier 893

you were about to grab your headphones when the plane suddenly shook, your hands reaching out to stable yourself. leaning back, the plane rattled some more, forcing your anxious hands to grip where they were, one on the seat in front of you and the other on the seat next to you. only…

looking to your right you quickly realized that the seat to your right was, in fact, not empty— a blonde man with sleepy blue eyes sat there. your jaw dropped slightly before the man adjusted slightly making your eyes look down. your hand was literally gripping his dick right now.

gasping softly you rip your hand away only to put it right back as the plane shakes. the man looks at you, eyes heavy lidded and a soft pink creeping up his neck. "i'm so sorry!" you whisper yelled, moving your hand to grip his thigh instead as you get rattled around.

"it's okay." his voice was soft as his head dropped against the headrest. the man genuinely looked like this could be just a normal, comfortable little car ride. your fingers gripped hard, digging into his quite muscular thigh on accident.

“you might leave your mark if you dig any harder."

you were unsure how to take his words, he didn't sound upset or anything but the small quirk in his lips had you relaxing. "sorry again, i'm just a super nervous flyer. turbulence always makes my heart race." you informed him for no reason other than to ease your anxious mind.

"a lot of people are nervous flyers so it's nothing to be ashamed about."

nodding at his words, you moved to get your headphones once more when it felt like the plane dropped. your heart fell as you steadied yourself again, hearing the man beside you groan softly. assuming he was jostled too, you looked at him and paused when you took him in.

his cheeks were pink, lip caught between his teeth as he looked at you. "scary huh? i've never felt that before but-" your words were cut off when you felt a twitch beneath your palm. your head snapped down to see that your hand was once again right on top of this mans dick. and it twitched. well, it was getting hard actually.

"okay i've felt that before."

the man smirked at you before shifting, hips thrusting up into your hand making you grab at the bulge. "would you be so kind as to help a stranger with flying anxiety?" you asked quietly, rubbing his cock through his sweats.

"of course, i help civilians all the time."

you looked around before slipping your hand under his sweats, surprised that he had no underwear on. you shot him a look and wrapped your fingers around him, stroking the half hard cock. he felt good in your hand, warm and pulsing so deliciously for you. the man spread his legs wider, tugging his pants slightly to give you more room.

precum dribbled across your fingers so you gathered all you could, coating his cock with his own mess. "you must really really like me." you hummed, jerking him off at a steady pace. the man thrusted his hips up into your hand again.

pulling your hand out, you ignored his soft whine and spat into your palm, holding it beneath his chin for him to do the same.

he made eye contact, blue eyes shining bright as he copied your actions, his pink tongue slipping out slightly. with a smirk and clenched pussy, you tucked your hand back inside his pants and smeared your combined spit around his cock.

his hands gripped the arm rest, cheeks still pink as he stared at you as if daring you to look away. your hand made muted schlick schlick noises as you sped up, twisting around his tip and down, repeating this over and over.

his chest heaved slightly, very quiet moans leaving him only for your ears to hear. your pussy was dripping now, making your panties uncomfortable as you watched him with rapt attention. his cock twitched in your hand, his hips fighting against staying still as his orgasm was rapidly approaching.

"fuck you're so hot like this, all needy for me."

you whispered, leaning closer and he did the same, the heat from your bodies making goosebumps erupt on your skin. you felt him twitching like crazy, his heavy balls tightening as his stomach tensed. he let out a strained moan that had your free hand slapping onto his mouth to shut him up.

his eyes were wide and pleading, head thrown back as you pumped him a few more times before he came, cum shooting out and running down your hand. his chest rose and fell, neck now pink and pupils blown wide as he stared at you. you squeezed the base of his cock, the last little bit of cum dribbling out before you let him go.

you removed your hands from him, making eye contact as you held your cum covered hand up to his lips. his tongue slipped out, lapping up what he could reach, eyes never wavering as he cleaned up his own cum. you pulled your hand away and copied his action, licking up his cum and smirking when you saw him twitch out the corner of your eye.

꣑ৎ rafayel 869

the plane had been going through turbulence for half an hour now, a constant shake that had you feeling on edge. your body was starting to cramp from how locked up you had been since it started, too afraid to move for some reason. the crew had been seated for this time but no one seemed to care that they were in a death trap in the sky.

"you're really cramping my nap right now cutie."

the man next to you lifted his eyemask up, eyes taking in your entire being. you side eyed him with a guilty smile, "sorry. just kind of anxious." your words made him scoff lightly. you watched as he pushed the eyemask off and tossed it onto his bag below, his purple hair ruffled from the movement. "sorry— i didn't mean to disturb you."

he waved you off and leaned on his elbow on the mutual arm rest. "first time flying? or are you just a constantly anxious person." a laugh left you, teeth immediately biting onto the skin to keep from being too loud.

"i've flown before but it doesn't get easier, plus i've never flown alone before so i'm out of my element."

the man hummed and traced patterns onto your hand. "rafayel, frequent solo flyer, single."

your lip quirked up at his words and you shook your head. "y/n, anxious few time flyer, single."

he gave you a dazzling smile as he leaned in, his breath smelled minty and sweet. "what do you usually do to calm down when you're anxious?"

"jerk off."

you groaned softly as the words slipped out, eyes screwing shut as he laughed quietly in your face— literally. "well if you're into it i'm pretty sure you can go ahead and do it here." he shrugged. your hands came to your face, hiding the warm skin as you tried not to laugh or die of embarrassment.

"i've never done it on a plane, i usually just blast music until i get a headache and pretend i'm anywhere but here."

rafayel nodded and goosebumps rose on your skin as his finger trailed up your arm. "i've done it before. it's quite… exhilarating." his eyes cut to yours, pretty lips pulled into a teasing smile. "i could show you? or help you have an orgasm at the very least."

"yeah? you'd help a stranger all alone overcome their anxiety?" you teased, enjoying the way his pupils grew and the front of his loose pants chub up. "i'd be glad to accept your help rafayel." your lips brushed against each other as you whispered, hand lifting the armrest so there was nothing between you.

he threw his big ass blanket over you both and basically mounted you, hooking your legs around his waist as his face buried itself in your neck. "don't worry cutie, no ones awake right now." he mumbled, placing soft kisses against your skin as he lined himself up with your clothed core. wrapping your arms around his neck, your hips lifted, grazing against his hard bulge.

rafayel responded, grinding his hips down onto you, the thinness of his pants making you feel everything. "can i?" he mumbled, fingers toying with your thin tank top.

humming your consent, he pushed your top up and pulled your bralette down, lips immediately wrapping around your nipple once it was free. biting your lip, you adjusted the blanket with one hand, the other burying itself in his wavy hair.

his hips worked against yours, his clothed cock pressing just right against your pussy. your hand covered your mouth after a moan almost slipped out, head tilting to look at the man between your legs.

rafayel's eyes were half lidded, lips red as he suckled on your puffy nipple, a thin line of drool dripping down his chin. the sight had a soft moan muffling against your hand, your pussy clenching around nothing.

he pulled off with a quiet pop, pressing open mouthed kisses against your sternum on his way to your other nipple. "l-like it cutie? i like when you hump against me." his voice was quiet, breath coming out in puffs against your warmed skin as his hips sped up. you nodded, humping in tandem with him, the hand on your mouth coming to cup his cheek.

rafayel sucked your nipple into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he grunted softly against you. "fuck- s'good." you whispered and brought your other hand to the nipple he just left, rolling the bud around your fingers. your breath stuttered, hips moving quicker as the band in your stomach came so close to snapping.

rafayel locked eyes with you as his hips dropped harder, the friction catching your clit just right and working it until you were biting back a loud moan. fingers still moving, you watched his eyes flutter shut, hips stuttering before stoping as he whimpered around your nipple.

his cheeks were red, lips puffy when he finally pulled away and lifted himself to be face to face with you. you pulled your top down lazily, one hand rubbing along his neck and chest, feeling the warm skin. "i think the turbulence is over now." you smiled up at him.

i hope u made it to the end. u deserve an ice cream if u did

[fi1iat3rra3]

love your work, esp the fic with leon and reader as friends to lovers !!! ive been thinking abt this for a hot minute but,,, hmo. agent!reader coming home after being at a bar with their friends and leon was really worried, so when they come back he’s all over them and wondering where they were and it eventually leads to really nasty smut,, like reader riding leon type smut. i totally see re4 or vendetta leon doing this , they have a place in my heart

a/n; mmmh riding vendetta leon...CRRRAAAAZY style....🤤 GOD THIS IS DELICIOUS. Thank you for the opportunity to write vendetta leon again cuz I rarely write for the movie eras nowadays. Also idk if this was meant to have any specific relationship for this fic, but there's only vague implications to an existing relationship between the two.

sum; after coming home absolutely shit-faced and needy, Leon's concern grows, much like the embarrassing tent in his sweats.

content; alcohol consumption, reader is HAMMERED, sort of subby!leon, riding, messy sex

wc; 2.2k

Leon had his fair share of disappearing at night sometimes. He had his history of drinking and leaving for the night—sometimes nights—but it was worrying when you'd disappear on a night out. Earlier in the day, you told leon you'd be going out with friends around 7 p.m., getting dinner and then going bar hopping, and you'd make sure you were home by 11 p.m.

Leon's brows furrowed as the clock neared midnight. You were usually so punctual with your timing, and you rarely ever got drunk. Of course you'd drink when you went out with friends, but never enough to make it a problem or you'd make sure you leveled it out and timed it right so you were at least coherent while being driven home. He tried calling you, but your phone just went to voice-mail. Maybe the battery died. He sighed heavily, deciding not to worry and just waiting in the bedroom for you.

It's pushing 1 a.m. when leon finally hears the door open, followed by heavy, uncoordinated footsteps and the lazy sounds of you trying to lock the door. Leon shuffled out of bed, brows furrowed faintly as he found you leaning into the door, almost unable to keep yourself upright as you fiddled with the locks on the door. Leon sighed, coming up behind you to offer support with an arm around your waist, his other hand coming to lock the two locks on the door of the apartment.

"It's one in the morning. You said you'd be home by eleven." Leon scolded quietly, helping you get rid of your jacket. You leaned into him, whining.

"I had ssss—sooo much fun." You argued.

"Yeah, smells like it." He huffed. "Is this how you feel when I come home all shit faced and smelling like alcohol?" He joked, helping you kick your shoes off before you stumbled toward the bedroom.

"Mmh, shhh, you'll wake the neighbors." You slurred, shuffling to find the wall for support as you turned back to Leon.

"Hey—hang on! Where on earth were you? You were out until one a.m., and you're not going to tell me where you were?"

"I was out! Bars. Probably a food truck or two. I dunno." You groaned at his persistent pushing to find out why you were out so late.

"You didn't answer your phone once. Not even texts before you were gone for the first hour." He frowned, meeting you where you stood against the wall, your movement antsy and whiney as you tried not to run off and avoid his scolding. You'd both realize later how hypocritical this was of him, but you only had one thought now.

"Can I show you how sss—" You interrupted yourself with a small hiccup, swallowing thickly before you continued, "s-sorry I am?" You fell forward into him, and he tensed as he caught you, letting your face bury into his neck.

He hesitated, unsure of what your apology entailed, but he helped you upright with a firm grasp around your waist. "You're drunk." He said firmly.

"Lee," you whined, hands splaying over his chest and clutching at his shirt.

"I know you needed a night out. You've been absolutely fucking swamped at work, and the missions, and the lack of alone time—"

"I don't wanna talk about work." You grumbled. "Why can't I just apologize how I want to?" You huffed.

"You're stressed. You needed a night off. You don't need to apologize."

"But you're upset."

"I'm upset because you didn't answer your phone, you got home at one in the morning, you're absolutely shit faced, and now—"

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him downward and making both of you stumble backward to where your back pressed to the wall with your lips crashing messily against his. Leon grunted, left hand holding your waist while his right hand smacked against the wall so he didn't fall against you.

"Shut up." You scolded, panting lightly against his lips. You deepened the sloppy kiss, lips notching together perfectly with his focus on your lower lip. After a moment, he eased into your advances, letting out a low, smooth purr of arousal.

"You—" He exhaled, trying to pull back to speak. You kept him close with a hand gripping his hair. "You are drunk." He sputtered against the kiss, only for you to pull away and huff, brows furrowing.

"I'm drunk, apologetic, and unbelievably horny. You're just lucky I made it home before I pulled over and dealt with myself." You stared up at him.

"You drove home?" He pulled back further.

"Ugh, no, I had Maddy drive me home." You groaned.

"Then how would you—"

"Empty threats, Leon! Can't you avoid questioning me for five minutes?" You leaned back, slouching against the wall with an exhausted whine.

"Maybe you should try weed instead of alcohol." He muttered.

"Weed isn't much different. Are you done lecturing me, or can I continue?" You looked up at him, eyes droopy and half-lidded. You exhaled slightly, only for the breath to be interrupted with a small hiccup and a groan. When Leon didn't answer, you moved forward and yanked him by the shirt to make him follow you to the bedroom down the hall. Before he could object—which he wasn't planning on doing—you had him pushed onto the bed and you were already ridding yourself of your clothes. You had to fiddle with the zipper of your skirt, but once that was done, you crawled onto the bed with him and straddled him.

Now, clad in only a lace set matching with a pretty midnight blue color, Leon could hardly sputter out a poor excuse for some kind of response. He swallowed harshly, looking up at you.

"Are you going to stay dressed and deal with the mess of laundry or are you—"

"Undressing." He said quickly, reaching to take off his shirt and move to undo the drawstring of his sweats. With the sweats easily loosened, you lifted your hips and let him shimmy the pants down a little to where he could easily kick them off.

"That's better." You muttered, settling in his lap and earning a faint squeak of a response thanks to the pressure of your core pressing against the base of his cock through the thin layer of his boxers and your panties. "Sensitive." You giggled, biting at your lip as you gave an experimental drag of your hips, only for his legs to jerk and his hips to hump against you.

"This is supposed to be an apology." He huffed.

"Eh, changed my mind. Just really wanted to get my hands on you." You grinned, dragging your hips back and forth with a torturous pressure. You moaned softly as you angled your hips to let his tip catch against your clit. He let his head fall back.

Usually, foreplay would last at least another ten minutes with you. You needed a little more attention than Leon, so when he felt you already pushing his boxers down and pulling your panties aside, he was momentarily stunted and completely caught off guard. He blinked, lips parted.

"Aren't you gonna.. tease a little more?" He asked quietly, huffing faintly as he looked down where your body hovered above his.

"I don't need to." You gestured down at his already aching boner, and it became clear that you were excited enough when you propped his cock upright and let the fat tip press against your entrance. He choked on air, lips falling open as he clutched at the bedsheets to contain himself and avoid bucking his hips.

You eased down onto his length, your walls thoroughly soaking his length and dripping down his cock as you began to rise and fall on his length. Leon wasn't used to the pace of things—you were going too fast for him to process half of it, too fast for him to savor the feeling of you wrapped snug around him, and too fast for him to focus on not cumming within an embarrassing time.

"Oh—oh, fuck," he exhaled heavily, head fallen back as his brows furrowed, his thighs tense and shaky. "Slow down," he huffed, hands coming to hold your hips in a poor attempt to slow you down.

"Mm—mm." You shook your head, biting your lower lip as you pushed more upright in his lap, hips rising and falling so fast that your thighs began to burn within the first minute or two.

The mattress and bed frame creaked under the weight and motion, the sounds of metal and wood stressing mingled nicely with the moans and whines of Leon and the moans and gasps from you. Leon took in the sight finally—starting at your lower half. Your thighs tense, the fat of your thighs, ass, and hips jiggling with every bounce. Your pussy stretched impossibly tight around his girth, and your tits bouncing with each movement from you. Leon's hands, shaky and weak, came to grope and palm at your tits. You'd think your drunken state would render you sloppy, unstable, weak, or even drowsy!

No, no, you didn't seem to take alcohol the way Leon did. Leon definitely took alcohol and was knocked out by the time he'd make it home. If he managed to, that is. You? Oh, you took it and ran with it like it was holding you hostage and you needed to make up for drinking so much. Leon was the one rendered weak and shaky and sloppy—although for once, he was the sober one!

"Fuck, please," he choked out, eyes rolling back. "You gotta.. gotta slow down." He whined, hips subconsciously bucking and chasing a deeper, insistent need.

"Uh-uh." You huffed. "Not... not happenin'." You slurred slightly, leaning back and planting your palms firmly on his thighs, which were tense in an effort to hold himself back. The different angle made the head of his cock push harder against your g-spot with every downward slam of your hips. Your moans grew louder, heavy breathing mingling with the sounds within the bedroom.

"Oh, shit, please!" He practically cried, brows knitting tighter as his body locked up sporadically. You shook your head, a small giggle leaving your lips at his desperate clutching at your hips and the blankets, his back arching. He looked absolutely pathetic—you hoped you'd remember the look on his face. Nose scrunched, brows knitted, soft blue eyes brimming with fat tears, lips quivering and almost spilling over with drool.

"Y're s-so fuckin' pathetic." You purred with a slight stammer in your words, looking down at him with a slightly crooked grin, all too happy with the state of Leon in the moment.

Leon could hardly muster up a poor excuse for arguing your claim, his mind preoccupied by the fact that he was going insane with your tight cunt around his cock, and the sight of you riding him like there really was no tomorrow. His hands grasped desperately at your thighs, his short and blunt nails digging into your skin as he fucked upward to meet your hips. He whimpered, legs kicking with every sharp shock of pleasure that would run through him. He could feel his end coming. He knew this was going to be so embarrassing—usually he at least had the decency to tell you, but the way you'd turned his brain to mush made it hard.

You could feel it, too. Leon's signs of orgasm were never subtle. Twitchy cock, legs jolting or shaking harder, his chest jittering with shaky, uneven breaths, and the most subtle but still noticeable in certain angles, was how his cock would throb and his balls would draw up tight. Without a warning, Leon's fingers clawed down your thighs, his cock pulsing and spilling his cum into you in thick, heavy spurts that made your body shiver. You rode him through the orgasm until his cum began to leak and spill out of your pussy. You took one hand and brought it to draw tight, messy circles against your clit with your middle and ring finger.

With his cock softening, sensitivity reaching a high, Leon practically cried. "Fuck—hoo—oh, god, y're gonna fuckin' break me, baby," he panted, barely coherent and audible as he watched you chase your own pleasure with no regard for his need for a break. Luckily, you weren't far behind, but it still took enough time for Leon's tears to finally spill over and decorate his cheeks with faint streaks.

You mewled at your pleasure peaking, thighs tensing and knees locking as you ground against him. It wasn't as good as it could've been, but it was enough for Leon's torture to be over. Your walls pulsed around him, and he shivered and squirmed and whined, shoulders tense as he turned his head to hide it in the pillows. You huffed, leaning over him as you lifted your hips and let the last bits of your shared mess spill onto his cock. His length twitched in response, but gave no other indication of round two.

You settled to lay on his chest, nuzzling up close to him as you kissed at his collarbone. "Mmh," you purred quietly, eyes closing. "Y're warm."

"Uh-huh.." Leon huffed quietly, eyes falling shut as his trembly hands came to rest over your back, keeping you close. "I'll join you for drinks from now on." He muttered. You were too tired to argue, and his words fell deaf upon your ears as you were already slipping into sweet, sweet unconsciousness.

[zayne-snowflake]

☆ chosen error ☆

summary: fem!non mc reader x valko | he was supposed to remain nothing more than code—a canceled route in a game that never got the chance to tell his story. but when he wakes up in your world, the line between player and character disappears, forcing you both to decide whether some stories are meant to be rewritten...or finally allowed to choose their own ending.

genre/word count: reverse isekai? fluff, angst, hurt comfort? - 8.1k

warnings: none just me coping

a/n: suprise um #bringvalkoback! i thought i was done with the system fracture series but with everything going on right now i couldn't help myself. i tried my best to do him justice and maybe in future writing's i will do better. also this is barely proof read so sorry for any mistakes. everyone please continue to boycott and spread awareness, and i hope you enjoy this bonus story.

a month ago, the internet had been on fire. not just because love and deepspace had announced a new love interest. because they'd taken him away before anyone had the chance to meet him. you still remembered where you had been when the notification appeared.

Official Statement from Infold.

your heart had leapt into your throat

Dear Miss Hunters,

We have decided to cancel both the launch and any further development of the new love interest. We also commit that no additional love interests will be introduced in future content plans.

you hadn't finished reading it the first time. the comments beneath it had said enough.

Justice for Valko.

Bring him back.

You can't treat us like this.

He deserved better.

within minutes, hashtags exploded across every platform. edits of his reveal trailer flooded tiktok. artists worked overnight, posting illustrations of the red-haired wolf beneath the glowing moon. theory channels insisted it was an elaborate marketing campaign.

"it has to be," one creator confidently declared. "there's no way they'd throw away a character with this much hype."

except...they did. a week later, the hashtags slowed. two weeks later, discussion shifted toward the next event banner. by the end of the month, it was like valko had never existed.

everyone moved on. everyone except you.

your monitor cast a pale blue glow across the bedroom as the trailer played for what had to be the hundredth time. moonlight poured through towering pine trees. a figure stepped from the shadows. red hair. golden eyes.

valko looked directly at you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

"do you dare follow?"

you smiled despite yourself, "i guess i would have."

you knew every second by heart. the slight raise of his eyebrow. the confident smirk that made the fandom collectively lose its mind. the glimpse of sharpened canine teeth.

the trailer ended. without thinking, you clicked replay. again. you leaned back in your chair, hugging one knee to your chest.

"this is getting pathetic."

maybe it was. but every time you tried logging into the game something felt...wrong. the game hadn't changed. the home screen still greeted you with the same music. events arrived on schedule. everything functioned exactly as it always had. yet there was an emptiness you couldn't ignore.

you should have been unlocking valko's memories. listening to his voice calls. reading anecdotes. grinding affinity levels. instead all you had were three trailers, a handful of promotional images and the outline of someone who had never been allowed to become real.

it felt like someone had quietly torn an entire chapter from a book before you'd ever gotten the chance to read it. you minimized the trailer and opened the official statement again.

maybe you'd missed something. some hidden clue. some promise. some tiny sentence that hinted they'd changed their minds. there wasn't one. just polished corporate language. carefully chosen words. an apology that explained nothing.

you sighed and closed the page, "i know it's silly."

your eyes drifted back to the paused trailer, "i know you're just...code"

the word tasted wrong. you had never met him. never played his route. never experienced his story. yet every teaser had made him feel...alive. not because of the graphics but because someone had poured genuine care into creating him. someone had written his dialogue. designed his smile. imagined the sound of his voice. and now, he would never get to become who they intended him to be.

your fingers absentmindedly reached toward the monitor. they rested lightly against the glass over his face.

"you would've been my favorite."

only silence answered you. outside, the city had grown quiet. a few distant cars drifted through the streets below before disappearing into the night.

still...you couldn't bring yourself to pull your hand away.

"i hope..." your voice was barely above a whisper, "wherever you were supposed to end up..."

you smiled sadly, "someone got to know you."

for just a second...the paused image seemed different. his eyes felt strangely warm, like they were looking back at you.

you blinked, "nope."

definitely sleep deprivation. you powered off the monitor, plunging the room into darkness save for the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through your curtains.

your phone read 2:37 a.m. you should have gone to bed hours ago. tomorrow you'd log in again and collect the daily rewards. pretend everything felt normal. maybe eventually it would. maybe one day you'd stop thinking about a character who never even had the chance to exist.

the thought settled heavily in your chest as you slipped beneath the blankets. you closed your eyes and within minutes, exhaustion pulled you under. until you heard a soft noise.

tink.

something struck the glass. you frowned without opening your eyes. probably a tree branch. except...you didn't have a tree outside your balcony.

tink. this one was louder.

you groaned, rolling onto your back, "what now..."

your eyes opened and the clock beside your bed glowed 4:43 a.m. you listened. nothing. maybe you'd imagined it. you were just about to lay back down when—

tink.

"you've got to be kidding me!"

heart pounding a little faster, you slipped out of bed and quietly crossed the room. you hesitated beside the curtains. every horror movie you'd ever watched suddenly replayed itself in vivid detail. someone was outside. but that shouldn't have been possible. you lived on the third floor. another pebble hit the glass.

before you lost your courage, you grabbed the curtain and pulled it aside and your mind went completely blank. there was a man standing on your balcony. not climbing. not hanging from the railing. just standing there as though appearing three stories above the ground in the middle of the night was perfectly reasonable.

moonlight caught auburn hair that shimmered in the breeze. sleeveless black shirt. broad shoulders. golden eyes. no, that wasn't—he smiled. the exact same smile you'd watched a hundred times on your computer. you forgot how to breathe.

"there you are," he said with an easy grin, relief softening his features as if he'd finally found someone he'd been searching for. "i was beginning to think i had the wrong balcony."

"i..." your voice barely worked, "you're..."

you rubbed both eyes and looked again. he was still there. every detail was perfect. every strand of hair. every sharp angle of his face. every expression you'd memorized from limited official content and countless fan edits.

this wasn't possible. you had finally lost it. a combination of sleep deprivation and stress. this was an extremely vivid dream. that had to be it.

he looked at the closed balcony door, then back at you, "so..." he asked, almost sheepishly, "can i come in?"

you don't move. you aren't entirely convinced you still remember how. the balcony door separates you from the impossible. maybe if you don't unlock it, you'll wake up.

your hand remains frozen around the curtain.

"i..." you swallow. "you're not real."

he frowns and scoffs, "i certainly hope i am."

"no." you shake your head. "no, you're—"

you gesture wildly toward him, somehow expecting that to explain everything.

"you're you."

a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, "i'll take that as a compliment."

this isn't happening. it can't be. you pinch the inside of your forearm hard enough to sting. he's still here. you pinch yourself again.

"are you alright?" he asks, concern beginning to replace the playful expression on his face.

you stare at him then at the red mark forming on your skin, "you should disappear."

"i beg your pardon?"

"when i wake up."

a beat of silence passes before realization dawns across his face.

"ah." he laughs. it's soft and low. exactly like it sounded in the trailer.

"you think you're dreaming."

"i know i'm dreaming."

you squeeze your eyes shut. count to five. open them again. valko is still patiently standing on your balcony. still looking at you as though the strangest part of tonight is that you haven't invited him inside.

he glances over one shoulder at the neighboring apartments before lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"if it helps," he says, "i'd rather not explain to your neighbors why i'm loitering outside your balcony at this hour."

despite yourself a nervous laugh escapes. the sound surprises both of you.

you look back at the locked balcony door. every sensible instinct screams not to open it. but if this is a dream, it doesn't matter. and if it isn't - you don't even know what that would mean.

with trembling fingers, you unlock the handle. the door slides open and cool night air spills into your apartment. valko steps inside as though crossing that threshold is the most natural thing in the world. for a moment, neither of you speaks. he's taller than you expected. the promotional art hadn't quite captured the sheer size of him. nor had it conveyed the quiet warmth radiating from him, or the subtle scent of cedar and rain clinging to his skin.

your apartment suddenly feels much smaller. he takes a slow look around as curiosity flickers across his features.

"this is..." he pauses, "different."

you don't miss the hesitation, "different from what?"

he turns his attention towards the kitchen, the living room, the hallway that leads to your bedroom.

his brow furrows almost imperceptibly, "i can't quite explain it."

he continues looking around with growing curiosity, "the architecture is different...the lighting...the air."

his golden eyes settle on you again, "and..." a faint crease appears between his brows, "you look different."

your stomach drops, "i think," you say carefully, "you have me confused with someone else."

"i don't." he says matter-of-factly.

"you do...you've never met me."

his answer comes without hesitation, "but i have. i knew to come here."

you take a slow breath, "valko...sit down."

you close your eyes for the briefest moment. this conversation is about to become infinitely more complicated. you motion toward the couch, watching him carefully as he steps farther into your apartment. despite his general confusion, his movements are effortless and confident, like someone accustomed to occupying any room he entered.

you remain standing, keeping a healthy distance between yourself and the man who, as far as reality was concerned, should not exist.

he notices immediately, "i promise i'm not dangerous."

"i don't know that."

"and yet you opened the door." he says slyly

you sigh shakily, "i may regret that."

he smiles barring his pearly canines, "i hope not."

silence settles between you. it isn't uncomfortable. it's just...palpable, almost indescribable. he studies your apartment again, this time more carefully. books stacked beside the couch. a charging cable stretched across the coffee table. a mug that still smelled faintly of peppermint tea. then his eyes land on your computer monitor. the screen had gone dark after falling asleep.

he gestures toward it, "you were working?"

"not exactly..."

"then what kept you awake?"

you hesitate, "you."

his brows lift, "me?"

you nod slowly, "i was watching your...trailers."

"my..." the word dies on his tongue, "trailers?"

your heart pounds. there's no easy way to say this. no gentle introduction. no version of this conversation where he doesn't think you've completely lost your mind.

you finally take a seat across from him, fold your hands together and take a deep breath.

"i need you to answer one question honestly."

"you have my word."

"what city are we in?"

he answers without hesitation, "linkon."

you nod once, "and who am i to you?

his expression softens, then a small frown appears on his face. he seems confused and slightly offended by the question.

"you've always been..." he pauses and his gaze searches yours, "it's difficult to explain."

he presses two fingers lightly against his temple, "i remember wanting to find you."

"why?"

"i don't know...instinct is the only way i can describe it."

now he realizes that he sounds like the insane one.

"when did we meet?"

his brow furrows deeper, "i.."

his lips part, then close again. for the first time since arriving, uncertainty flashes across his face.

"i don't remember."

your stomach sinks. he remembers you. but not how, not when, not where. just that he had to find you.

you stand abruptly, and disappear into your bedroom, heart racing. when you return, your phone is already unlocked. the official love and deepspace youtube channel fills the screen.

you stop in front of him, "you're going to think this is insane."

"i'm beginning to suspect nothing tonight can surprise me anymore."

you ignore the joke and with a shaky thumb, you press play. the familiar trailer begins. the music starts then moonlight, and a line of text appears. then on the screen, standing exactly as he had a few moments ago on your balcony.

his own voice fills the apartment, "take me in for the night."

the trailer continues until the game logo fades into view. you pause the video.

the room is deathly quiet for a while. oh god you broke him. his yellow eyes remain fixed on the screen.

suddenly, "that's...me."

a part of you wants to gloat say 'i told you so' while the other doesn't know how to continue on.

"i don't remember saying any of that." his gaze slowly lifts to yours, "what is this?"

you inhale slowly, "this..." you gesture toward the phone, "is a promotional trailer."

"for?"

you almost can't bring yourself to say it, "a video game."

he laughs once not because he finds it funny but because the alternative is absurd.

"i think you've misunderstood something."

"i wish i had."

"i'm not..." he gestures vaguely toward the phone, "fiction!"

"i know you aren't."

"you just said—"

"i know what i said!"

your voice comes out louder than intended. you force yourself to continue.

"you are here! you're sitting on my couch." your throat tightens, "and yet...you shouldn't exist."

you open the official statement before handing him your phone. he hesitates before taking it and begins reading. the further down the page his eyes travel, the more the color drains from his face.

his grip on the phone tightens, knuckles turning white. "so they..." his eyes return to yours. "canceled me."

the word lands like a stone, tears welling up in your eyes.

"it wasn't your fault. there was backlash online."

you sit beside him, careful to leave space between you and yet desperately wanting to reach out to him.

"people were devastated."

you pull the phone closer and open social media. old posts. archived hashtags. petitions. compilation after compilation. millions of views. millions of people excited to meet him. millions of people mourning someone they'd never even known.

he sits there for you arent entirely sure how long and scrolls quietly through every drawing. every edit. every comment. as his expression becomes harder to read.

"they...cared...so much" he says looking up at you

you nod, "they still do. i know i do."

he doesn't register the last part of what you said as questions flood his mind.

"then why..." his voice catches, "why wasn't i released?"

you lower your eyes, "i don't know. i've spent weeks trying to understand it. i thought maybe there'd be another announcement. a delay. a rewrite. anything. but there wasn't."

the apartment falls silent again. he sets your phone carefully on the coffee table. neither of you speaks for what feels like several minutes.

finally, his voice is distant, "so linkon and everyone i know...doesn't exist?"

you slowly nod, throat dry as you can't form anymore words. his shoulders slump ever so slightly. the realization comes in waves. not all at once. everything he'd believed to be true. every memory. every place. every person - reduced to data.

then another thought seems to strike him. slowly almost afraid of the answer he asks, "and you?"

your heart aches, "i'm..." you look down at your hands, "i'm just someone who plays the game."

"you aren't..." he searches for the right words, "the person i thought you were."

your blood runs cold, "i don't even know who that person is."

it doesn't make sense to you. why would he know he has to find you? you aren't the heroine. not a deepspace hunter. you are just well...you.

he leans back against the couch staring at nothing, "so if..."

his voice is barely audible, "i don't belong there...and i don't belong here..."

his golden eyes finally meet yours again. lost and vulnerable. nothing like the composed ceo from the trailers.

"where do i belong?"

you wake to the smell of coffee. for one blissful, fleeting second, everything feels normal. the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. the comforting weight of your blankets. the distant hum of traffic outside.

then your eyes snap open. your heart immediately jumps into your throat. you throw the blankets aside and hurry into the living room.

valko is standing in your kitchen. wearing the same clothes from last night, as he examines the buttons on your electric kettle with intense concentration.

"good morning."

the greeting is so casual that it takes your brain a second to catch up.

"you—" you point accusingly, "you're still here."

he looks over his shoulder, "i certainly hope so."

his smile is small, "well it's not like i have anywhere else to go."

so...last night wasn't a dream. you sink onto one of the kitchen stools. for a moment, neither of you says anything. valko returns his attention to the kettle.

"i believe i've lost."

"what?"

"it keeps beeping at me."

you follow his gaze. the kettle flashes an error because it isn't sitting correctly on its base. you walk over, adjust it, and press the switch. the water immediately begins to heat.

he watches with genuine fascination, "that's all?"

"that's all." you say patting his shoulder

"things are way more...advanced in linkon."

"and you've been awake for how long?"

"i'm not entirely sure."

your eyes sweep across the apartment. nothing appears out of place. the books are still stacked neatly. the couch cushions haven't moved. even the blanket you'd forgotten to fold has been draped neatly over the armrest.

"you cleaned."

he looks almost embarrassed, "i couldn't sleep."

something in your chest twists. you remember how the night ended.

"where do i belong?"

neither of you had found an answer. instead, you'd made up the couch with extra blankets while insisting he take it. the kettle beeped again signaling the brew was done.

you reach for two mugs, as he settles behind you. the only sound was your spoon tinkering, mixing cream and sugar before you cleared your throat, "so...we need a plan."

you turn passing valko a cup, your hands slightly brushing. he jolts lightly at the contact before nodding, "that's a good idea."

you settle on the couch, pulling out your laptop, "the obvious option..." you hesitate, "would be telling infold."

his expression changes immediately, "they made me?"

"they did."

"and you trust them?"

you don't answer because you don't know. you shouldn't. not after everything they have done.

"unfortunately that doesn't really matter. they know way more about this than i ever would."

"true..but they canceled me. who know's what they would do to me now."

he lightly shudders at the thought and you wince, "i know...but i don't think they'd hurt you."

"you don't know that."

you close the laptop before you'd even begun searching, "you are right i don't know anything."

you laugh quietly, "i don't even know how you got here."

"the balcony."

you roll your eyes, "you know what i mean."

you rest your elbows on your knees, "wait a minute. there was that astronomy article..."

he looks over, "what article?"

"last night before you appeared..."

you scroll until you find it, 'rare total lunar eclipse expected to coincide with heightened solar activity.'

he reads over your shoulder, "it says events like this haven't aligned in decades."

"it happened just after midnight. about the time i was watching the trailers and well...spiraling."

you both turn to look at eachother, before he speaks "about the time i arrived."

it's the closest thing to a lead you've found.

you set your phone down, "until we figure this out..." you glance around your tiny apartment, "you can't exactly wander outside."

he sits quietly for several moments then looks around your apartment, "but..." he begins standing, "if staying here puts you in danger, i should leave."

"what?! you have nowhere to go!"

"i'll figure something out."

"you don't have money."

"i'll earn some."

you sigh. he really is considering walking out your front door with absolutely no plan.

"please... don't leave."

he hesitates. but you reach for him anyway, touching his wrists and bringing him back towards you.

"we'll figure this out."

"together?"

the question is so quiet it almost breaks your heart. you nod, "together."

something in his expression softens. not relief. not happiness. something deeper. like a man who had spent the last twelve hours believing he belonged nowhere...had finally been offered somewhere to stay.

you sit at the edge of the couch, staring at the small pile of things you've already accumulated this morning. his shoes are by the door, the phone you used to show him the trailer, and the almost-empty coffee mugs sitting on the table.

valko stands near the window. he's been there for several minutes without moving much, just watching the street below like it might explain itself if he looks long enough.

you break the silence first, "you're going to need stuff."

he turns slightly, "stuff?"

"yeah...like clothes"

he gestures to his outfit, "what's wrong with this?"

you laugh lightly, for how smart he is supposed to be he is a bit dense.

"you're going to live here."

the word hangs between you both for a second longer than it should — live.

you stand, walking toward the kitchen counter as you start listing things on instinct.

"toothbrush. soap. food. more clothes. chargers, actually i don't even know if you need chargers—"

"i don't think i do."

"you see? that's the problem. i don't know what you need."

valko finally turns fully toward you. there's no panic on his face. just focused, steady attention like he's evaluating a situation he intends to solve.

"you are treating this like i am unprepared."

"you are unprepared!"

"yes well i am adapting."

"you arrived here twelve hours ago!"

you exhale, rubbing your forehead, "okay new plan, you need supplies and i can't just…improvise your entire existence out of my apartment."

you grab your phone, "we're going out."

valko watches you unlock the screen, "outside? you just advised against that."

"i still advise against it! but we don't have any other choice."

ten minutes later, you're both standing at the door. you've done what you can. cap, mask, sunglasses — it still doesn't feel like enough.

valko adjusts the cap once, then looks at you smiling, "good enough?"

"no but it'll have to be."

you open the door and the outside world feels too normal — too bright, too loud. unaware of what's walking beside you. valko stays close, not crowding you, but matching your pace with quiet precision. every few steps, his gaze shifts, observing and processing his new surroundings.

the first stop is a general store, it's practical and less risky. you grab a basket and hand him one. he takes it like it's standard procedure.

"so," you say, "we're starting with basics."

you move methodically through the aisles. every item you place in the basket, he studies like it matters more than it should. like he's rebuilding an entire system from scratch.

the clothing aisle is next. you slow down instinctively.

"what's wrong?"

"it's… personal stuff."

he tilts his head slightly, "then i will follow your lead."

that's it. just trust again. you pick out essentials quickly and you try not to think too hard about the fact that you are now actively selecting the building blocks of his life.

at checkout, the total flashes on the screen. you pay before he can even look at it too closely. you gather the bags. they are heavy and real — it's evidence. as you step outside, valko adjusts the strap of one of them over his shoulder. you notice something then. he isn't struggling with the weight. certaintly not physically. but most surprisingly not mentally. he just…accepted it.

you look at him as you start walking back, "you're handling this really well."

he glances at you, "you are doing most of the adaptation work."

"i'm not the one who got dropped into another world."

"no...but you are making it really easy to choose to stay next to you."

that stops you mid-step. you don't respond right away. life continues like nothing unusual is happening. but for you—that sentence lingers.

time passes in a way you don't really notice at first. not in days or weeks that feel defined. just...repetition.

there is a rhythm now. morning light seeping through the blinds and quiet conversation. afternoon silence broken by small experiments—him learning how your world behaves, you learning how little confusion he actually carries about it. evenings together on the couch. sometimes talking. sometimes not.

you don't remember falling asleep. one moment you were sitting on the couch with a book half-open in your lap, valko's voice somewhere in the background asking something you can't quite make out then, there’s warmth.

soft fabric pulled over you. the faint scent of clean laundry and something faintly woody. his scent, you knew it by now. the way it envoloped your entire apartment.

you blink slowly and the room is dimmer. you realize you're on your side, curled slightly, a blanket tucked neatly around your shoulders.

you didn't do that. you shift a little and hear movement nearby. valko is sitting at the edge of the couch. you try to sit up, but the blanket resists in that too-comfortable way that makes your body betray your argument.

"how long was i out?"

"forty-seven minutes."

you stare at him through sleepy eyes, "you were counting?"

his gaze doesn’t move away, "i wanted to make sure you were still breathing normally."

the city outside continues like nothing unusual is happening but inside your apartment, something has quietly shifted shape without asking permission. later, you don't notice when it becomes routine. that's the strange part. it just… happens.

you reach for his hand on the off chance you leave the apartment. the first time, it's instinct. the second time, it's habit. by the third, it feels wrong not to. valko looks down at it once when it happens. he doesn't ask you to let go. instead he tightens his grip and tries to hold back a grin that wants to take permanent shape on his face.

"is this necessary?" he asks one day, lifting your intertwined hands up

you hesitate, "no...i guess not"

"then why do you do it?"

your brain short-circuits cause the honest answer feels too simple.

"because i want to," you say finally.

that seems to satisfy him and he brings your hand up to his lips leaving a gentle kiss there that has you blushing.

you start sharing things without thinking about it. a childhood story while making instant noodles. a memory you didn't mean to say out loud until it's already out there.

"why did you start playing the game?" he asked while you were eating dinner one night

you poke absentmindedly at your food before answering.

"in case you haven't noticed..." you say with a small laugh, "i don't really have a life."

you meant it as a joke. he doesn't laugh, instead, he tilts his head ever so slightly.

"i don't think that's true."

you shrug, "it kind of is. i worked, came home, ate whatever was easiest. went to bed then did it all again the next day."

valko listens head propped in his hands like everything you say is stored somewhere important.

"i guess..." you sigh. "life wasn't bad. it just wasn't...fulfilling."

you laugh quietly, "but it still felt like i was watching everyone else live."

his expression softens, "and the game changed that?"

you smile at the memory. of creating your character. choosing your main love interest when your real love life was tragic.

"it gave me something to look forward to at the end of the day."

"i don't think you were searching for a game." he responds

"you were searching for connection."

you hadn't thought about it like that before.

"maybe." you smile to yourself, "you might be right."

"and now?"

a slight smug smirk forming on his lips, already knowing the answer but asking you anyway.

"what do you look forward to?"

you open your mouth trying to come up with a joke or something to ease the tension. yet nothing comes because the answer is embarrassingly obvious.

"you."

then the world interrupts. a notification from infold. you open it without thinking.

Infold Official Statement

your stomach tightens immediately. that same dreadful feeling you had before. valko notices your expression before you even speak.

"what is it?"

you hesitate then turn the phone slightly toward him.

To our Hunters,

Following recent developments and renewed interest in Valko’s character, we would like to address ongoing speculation regarding his future.

At this time, we confirm that while there were internal discussions regarding the possibility of reintroducing Valko into future content, unforeseen complications involving his existing character data have rendered further development unstable.

We appreciate your passion and continued support.

you lower the phone slowly, "they were going to bring you back."

valko completely seems to ignore the words on the screen. picks up his fork and starts eating again.

"i see."

"that's it?" you stutter out

"what would you like me to say?"

"i don't know...something."

that night, you start researching...again — lunar eclipse timing. celestial alignment anomaly. rare atmospheric event cycles

"there's another one. the same kind of alignment that was happening the night you showed up."

he studies the data without interrupting you as you scroll further.

"there are articles about unusual energy fluctuations during these events. some people think they're just atmospheric interference. others think—"

you stop yourself, because it sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud. valko finishes it anyway.

"that it's some kind of portal."

you nod once, "yeah."

he leans back slightly, "and what does your research suggest?"

"that it could explain how you got here."

then you add, quieter, "and maybe how to send you back."

the word back sits differently now. he hears it but he doesn’t react immediately. instead, he looks toward the window. the night outside is still.

then he speaks, "and if it can...what happens then?"

you close the laptop slightly, "i don't know. do you want to go back?"

it comes out softer than you intended. and you hope he doesn't hear the fear and disappointment in your voice.

valko is quiet for a long time, contemplating your question.

then, "i do not think i know what 'back' means anymore."

you should feel relieved. this is solvable. there is a mechanism. a way to fix what broke.

instead you feel something tightening quietly in your chest. because neither of you sounds like you are talking about a problem anymore. you sound like you are talking about a choice.

later that night, after everything has gone quiet again, you somehow end up curled up by his side. his warmth radiating over you. it's comforting in a way you have never felt before.

valko breaks the silence first, "if i leave through this event" he says, "i will return to a world where i was never completed."

you look at him. this is closest you have been. you notice every bit of texture on his face. and for a moment he is as real as he as ever been.

"and you will remain here."

you swallow, "we should probably fix this."

it should sound certain but it doesn't.

valko studies your expressions for a moment. looking for any hint of doubt or sadness.

then says, quietly brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, "i do not think i want to be undone."

that word lands differently than everything before it. undone. not returned. not reset.

then you say, "neither do i"

ever since discovering there was another celestial event approaching, sleep had become a stranger. not because you were afraid. at least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

you had spent days searching for an answer—for a way to undo the impossible, to return valko to the world he came from if such a thing was even possible. but now that there was finally a lead, now that there was something tangible to work toward, yet...you couldn't bring yourself to keep researching. every article about the eclipse felt less like hope and more like a countdown. you caught yourself looking at the calendar far too often. every crossed-off day tightened something in your chest.

and somehow neither of you could bring yourself to speak about it anymore. valko lingered near open windows. he spent longer on the balcony at night. sometimes you would catch him standing perfectly still, his attention fixed on the moon.

"what is it?" you asked once.

he didn't look away. the gravitation pull drawing him closer.

"it feels..." he searched for the word, "louder."

"the moon? i don't hear it."

his brow furrowed slightly, "i feel it."

you remembered what he'd told you before. the closer the full moon became...the harder it was to ignore the wolf within him.

but that night, neither of you slept. the clock on your nightstand read 2:07 a.m. you sighed and threw the blankets aside. just like the night he arrived. you stepped into the living room to see the balcony door was already open. moonlight spilled across the floor and valko stood outside, one hand resting lightly against the railing.

he turned as you approached, "you couldn't sleep."

it wasn't a question. you leaned against the doorframe.

"neither could you."

a quiet smile touched his lips, "no."

the night air was cool and the city was unusually still. you looked up at the moon hung low and bright above the rooftops.

"come on."

he glanced at you, "where?"

you smiled faintly, "just around the block."

"but it's late."

"exactly." you slipped your shoes on, "there won't be anyone around."

after a moment's consideration...he nodded.

you had grown so used to seeing valko in disguises that it took you a second to realize something was different. halfway down the quiet sidewalk, you looked over—and stopped walking. he wasn't wearing his cap. the breeze stirred his short red hair away from his forehead. nestled among the crimson strands were two soft wolf ears, tipped with darker fur, as naturally as if they'd always belonged there.

one ear twitched. valko noticed your silence.

he looked over, "what is it?"

you couldn't answer immediately. you were too busy staring.

"your ears..."

understanding dawned across his face. instinctively, his hand lifted to cover them.

"i apologize. i should have concealed them."

"no!" the word came faster than you intended. "they're..." you smiled before you could stop yourself. "beautiful."

for perhaps the first time since he'd arrived in your world...valko looked genuinely surprised.

"you think so?"

"i know so."

he watched you for a long moment. his golden eyes turning brighter.

"i forgot that they were visable." he admitted quietly

"the moon?"

he nodded, "it becomes... difficult."

you stepped closer, very slowly. "so this is what you meant."

one flicked again at a distant sound you couldn't hear.

you laughed softly, "can i ask something?"

"you may."

you hesitated for a moment. then almost whispered, "can i...touch them?"

the question seemed to catch him completely off guard. for a heartbeat, he simply looked at you. then...he nodded bringing his head down to meet your height.

you reached up carefully and your fingertips brushed impossibly soft fur. one ear twitched beneath your touch and valko inhaled sharply.

"i'm sorry!" you pulled your hand back immediately.

"did i hurt—"

"no." his voice was breathier than before but his hand reached up to your wrist to hold it in place against the weight of his ear.

you laughed, relief washing through you, "they're softer than i imagined."

he peered up to look at your expression, "i wasn't aware you'd imagined them."

the two of you continued walking beneath the moon, unaware that across the street, someone walking their dog had stopped. their phone rose slowly. the camera zoomed in. the recording lasted only twelve seconds. it was uploaded before sunrise with the caption —

i went for a walk at 2 a.m. and... am i losing my mind, or is this literally valko from love and deepspace?"

you didn't know any of it — not yet. you returned home just before three. for the first time you dragged him into your bedroom. your safe space. and fell asleep on the bed, your body curled up against his while an old movie played quietly in the background.

valko stayed awake because he knew these moments had become precious. because he had someone he wanted to protect. the eclipse drew closer. and somewhere, beyond the safety of your apartment, twelve seconds of borrowed happiness had already begun spreading across the internet.

the day of the eclipse arrives quietly. no warning that the world is about to ask both of you to make a choice neither of you is ready for.

it is simply another day. one that hangs over the apartment from the moment you wake. neither of you mentions it as you cross it off on your calendar. not while making breakfast or while washing dishes. but every glance at the clock reminds you that time is moving whether you want it to or not.

by evening, the silence has become unbearable.

"i can't stay here."

across the room, he looks up immediately concern washing over his face, "you wish to leave?"

"if we're going to wait..." you force a weak smile. "i'd rather not do it staring at four walls."

he studies your expression. not that he really needed to. his senses had been hightened. he could physcially smell your emotions

"you've been afraid all day."

you laugh softly, "i've been pretending not to be."

the looming eclipse and the exposure of valko has been the only thing on your mind. they know now without a doubt that he exists in this world - that he is with you.

he stands without another word, "then let's go."

"i used to come here sometimes," you say after a while. "when things became...too much."

the woods sit just outside the city. far enough away that the skyline is only a distant glow beyond the trees. the air is cooler than usual. everything smells clean after the afternoon rain. you walk slowly along an old trail, your flashlight mostly forgotten at your side. tonight, the full moon is bright enough to guide you.

your hand finds his without thinking as his fingers lace with yours almost immediately. you shouldn't be touching, what if he goes all wolf mode and mauls you. you should be afraid of that possibility. except you aren't. because you trust him now. more than you have ever trusted anyone in your real life.

he looks around, "it is peaceful."

"it usually helps me think." you sigh

"is it helping?"

you shake your head, adjusting your grip on his hand giving it a tight squeeze. a reminder he is still here.

as the moon climbs higher, you notice the changes in him beginning. his hearing sharpens first, head turns toward sounds you can't detect. leaves rustling somewhere deeper in the forest. an owl taking flight. the distant snap of a branch.

then his eyes. their familiar gold grows brighter, almost reflecting the moonlight.

finally...his ears. they appear gradually this time. the breeze catches the dark tips of the fur.

"i can hear your heartbeat."

your breath catches, "can you?"

he nods, "it changes when you're worried."

you look away, embarrassed, "i was hoping you couldn't tell."

"i always can."

it was true. it didn't take super werewolf powers to figure you out. just gentle observation.

you find a small clearing where the trees part just enough to reveal the sky. the eclipse has begun. a shadow slowly creeps across the moon. the forest grows strangely still. even the insects seem to quiet. you sit together on an old fallen log.

finally, you whisper, "if this works...you could disappear tonight."

the words sound unreal like saying them aloud might make them true.

he takes a deep breath before asking, "and if i do?"

you swallow the forming lump in your throat, "i'll have to keep living."

now he looks at you, "you say that as though it's difficult."

"it will be."

the confession escapes before you can stop it and you close your eyes.

"i wasn't supposed to..." your voice cracks, "fall in love with someone who wasn't even supposed to exist."

the forest is silent carrying your words far away.

"i kept telling myself this was temporary."

you laugh once through the tears gathering in your eyes.

"but somewhere along the way..." you finally meet his gaze, "you stopped feeling that way."

he reaches for your face carefully, as though afraid you'll disappear if he moves too quickly. his thumb brushes away a tear before it can fall.

"i have been trying to understand what i feel."

his voice is barely louder than the wind.

"at first i believed it was instinct. then i believed it was a memory. but neither explanation remained true."

his eyes never leave yours, "the life i remember belongs to someone i no longer recognize."

his hand slips gently to cup your jaw while the other moves to guide you by the waist closer to him.

"the choices i have made since arriving here...they belong only to me."

the eclipse darkens another fraction of the moon as your vision blurs.

"i love you."

the words leave you before fear can stop them.

"i know this situation is impossible, and maybe it's selfish, and maybe i should want to send you back, but..."

your voice breaks, "i don't want to lose you."

he rests his forehead against yours. steadying himself. anchoring his emotions to the one thing he can control. his feelings for you.

"i love you...my mate."

the world seems to stop and for one perfect moment there is nothing except the two of you. lips nearly meeting to solidify a bond. then—flashlights.

"over there!"

voices echo through the trees and the spell shatters. he turns immediately, creating a shield between you and the approaching lights.

several figures emerge from the darkness wearing jackets marked with the developer's logo.

one steps forward, "there he is."

another raises a hand towards you, "please remain calm."

you let out a disbelieving laugh, "calm?"

"we're not here to hurt either of you." another voice says

"we're here to resolve an unprecedented situation."

the lead representative looks directly at him, "you don't belong here."

before he can answer, you step in front of him, "no!"

the representative's attention shifts to you, "we understand you're emotionally involved—"

"you don't understand anything!" your anger surprises even yourself.

the representative remains annoyingly composed, "this isn't the time—"

you take another step forward, "it is exactly the time! you decided his story was over. you treated him like defective data. and now that he's standing in front of you..."

you gesture toward him, "breathing, thinking, choosing..."

your voice trembles, "now you suddenly remember he's valuable."

"this isn't about value." the man says to you

"no?" you laugh bitterly, "then why did it take him becoming real for you to come looking?"

another member of the team moves closer. the word 'developer' written on the pocket of the jacket.

"we need him to come with us voluntarily."

"he has a name!" you snap.

the developer finally looks past you, "for what it's worth..." he speaks directly to the wolf, "the decision is yours."

the clearing falls silent. the moon slips deeper into shadow and the air begins to hum. leaves lift from the ground without wind. the world itself seems to hold its breath.

for the first time in valko's life...no one else can choose his story. only him.

no one moves as the eclipse has swallowed nearly the entire moon. the air vibrates with a strange pressure. valko's claws and canines now growing to their full size.

the employees remain several feet away, careful not to provoke him further.

"look you've become something we never anticipated."

another member steps forward carrying a small tablet, "the anomaly is stabilizing."

the director nods, "the eclipse is creating a temporary bridge. if you choose to return, we believe we can restore you to your world."

then he looks at you, "if you choose to remain...we cannot predict the consequences."

you instinctively tighten your grip on his hand. every atom in your body screaming at you to run. to take him away and hide somewhere in these woods.

the representative notices as your panic begins to set in

"so...what's it going to be?"

no one argues. no one tells him what his purpose should be. no one writes the next line for him.

he closes his eyes, a faint salty rim of tears appearing as he turns toward you.

"you once told me something."

"i did?"

"you said that being alive meant choosing."

he smiles gently, "i finally understand."

Ending One

he reaches for both of your hands, "i have thought about the world i left. the one that was created for me."

he pauses, "but i have never felt more alive than i do in this world...with you."

he turns to speak directly to the crowd of professionals in white lab coats.

"i have learned what it means to live. to choose. to fall in love."

he smiles as he wraps his furry burgundy tail around your waist.

"i appreciate what you created but...i am no longer your creation."

the eclipse brightens and the strange light surrounding him begins to fade instead of pulling him away.

the representative watches quietly, as the earth around valko accepts and grounds him as one of it's own children.

"understood."

another member protests, "we can't just—"

the man interrupts, "if he has the ability to choose...then our responsibility is to respect it."

infold moved on again, no relaunch, no new love interests. some players continued while others like yourself stopped playing all together. at times part of you felt guilty that you couldn't share him with the world, but this version of him was yours.

slowly he began building his own life. he learned about computer science and mechanical engineering. determined to make the world a more "user friendly" place.

one night after a long day of working on his passion project, there you both were, standing on the same balcony where everything began.

he slips an arm around your waist, "you know...what would you have done if you hadn't opened the balcony door that night?"

you laughed slightly nudging him in the side, "i probably would've gone back to bed...or called the cops."

"oh really and how would you have explained that to them? you thought you were dreaming."

"sometimes i still wonder if i am..." you say softly as you looked up at the night sky.

there was no eclipse. no portals. no one chasing you. this time it was just the two of you.

"want me to prove this is real?" he asks eyes flickering to your lips.

you didn't need to answer. his hand cupped your cheek. and when his lips met yours, the kiss was soft and unhurried. a promise of a choice unbroken.

when you finally pulled apart, your foreheads rested together.

he smiled nuzzling his chin against the top of your head, "see you didn't pinch yourself this time."

you wrapped your arms around his waist, "i don't have to anymore."

Ending Two

the wolf stands quietly beneath the eclipsed moon. then he smiles, sadly yet also peacefully.

"when i first arrived...i believed this world was my home."

he gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

"you taught me what ordinary life felt like. you taught me love."

tears spill freely down your cheeks, "so stay." the words break apart as you say them, "please."

he closes his eyes for just a moment, "if i stay...millions of people lose someone they have been waiting for."

you shake your head, "they'll be okay."

"but i know they won't."

he smiles sadly, "because i remember the look on your face when we met. i remember what you showed me that night."

he glances toward the representatives, "it was hope...that i would return."

he looks back at you, unable to hold back his own tears "i finally understand why i was created."

"it's not to belong to a company but to remind people that stories can make them feel less alone."

you begin crying harder, "i don't want to let you go."

he presses his forehead against yours, "i know. and if our lives had been different..."

he smiles gently, solemnly, "i would have stayed."

the eclipse reaches its peak as golden light surrounds him.

"i will remember this life." he whispers holding onto you for as long as he can. memorizing your touch.

"i will remember you."

"and every time someone chooses kindness..."

he kisses your forehead gently, "i think a part of me will find its way back here."

you force yourself to release his hand. not because you want to but because you love him enough to let him choose. he steps backward into the light. the forest glows. then— he is gone.

six months later, the game relaunches his story. the announcement crashes every server within minutes. when you finally load into the opening chapter...he appears exactly as you remember.

for just a second he looks directly toward the screen. a glimmer flickering in his eye, almost as though he recognizes you.

you smile through your tears, "welcome home."

a/n: yeah....soooo im crying i want him back so bad and i want to remain hopeful so that is what against all odds i will choose to do.

© zayne-snowflake 2026 | please don’t repost as your own, translate, copy, or use my works to train ai ♡ comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[fukiouh]

[SOLVED] | nerdjo x reader

The first mistake you made was using Reddit to find a roommate. The second was moving in with him anyway. Satoru Gojo is a gorgeous man and a terminally online incel who will explain exactly why a nice guy like him can't get a girlfriend. When you decide to weaponize your hotness against his incel worldview, you expect to break him and his “alpha male" ideologies. You do not expect to spend a random evening getting your roommate's dick out of a stuck cock ring.

pairing: Gojo Satoru x reader

warnings: 18+ (mdni!!), explicit sexual content, afab!reader, modern AU, roommate AU, nerdjo, incel!gojo, virgin!gojo, oral (m and f receiving), piv, creampie, light degradation, praise kink, cum in hair, cum eating, cum-drunk, pussy-drunk, cock rings, fleshlights, improper use of hair tie, improper use of yogurt (accidentally ??), oil and fluids everywhere, it’s a bit disgusting, light choking, groping, big time copium from reader, secondhand embarrassment you’d die, reddit, incel stuff, crack treated seriously, fluff, smut, slow burn but the burn is just pure cringe

word count: 17k

The first mistake you made was using Reddit to find a roommate. Should’ve been a red flag, really. The second was agreeing to meet the guy in person.

You walked into the coffee shop, scanning the midday crowd for someone who matched the description — twenty-something, remote-employed, appreciates a quiet living environment. You were expecting a tired grad student, maybe. Or some tech guy in a Patagonia fleece. Something like that.

Instead, you found a gorgeous, gorgeous looking man. And you were confident it was him, since there were exactly two men present — him, and some grandpa having his afternoon caffeine fix.

And the guy was, objectively and objectifyingly speaking, probably the prettiest guy you had ever laid your eyes on. Way too tall, way too broad, the messy hair and the cute glasses adding the je ne sais quoi of the hot nerd aesthetic you were simply too weak for. Even hunched over his phone like that, he looked aggressively cute. But, let’s be honest, you weren't exactly against a cheeky roommates-to-lovers situation, if you catch my drift.

You stopped dead in your tracks. 

Oh no. Oh YES.

Your heart went thump thump thump! like crazy as you stood there, frozen between the door and the counter. Living with a man who looked like that was a direct threat to your peace. And his too, probably. You couldn't believe you had practically won a jackpot over freaking Reddit. And apparently Reddit was only full of weird people, as if. So you took a breath, adjusted your posture, and walked over.

But then the panic hit. Because someone who looked like that was probably bringing home a different girl every night. And you’d have to listen to the stupid Thump. Thump. Thump. of his bed through the thin drywall. Every single time.

Suck it and see, you never know, girl.

From his side of the table, Satoru had already run the numbers. His eyes tracked your movement the second you started walking over, assessing. You were cute, yes. Approachable hot, not intimidating hot. You didn’t look like the type who’d expect him to pay for everything or make fun of his personality. And most importantly — you had messaged him first on the housing thread.

That meant the dynamic was already set. You were practically already his. Why else would a girl willingly want to live with a man? The power balance was secured. Handled. Handed to him on a silver platter, just like all the podcasts had promised.

You slid into the booth across from him. "Satoru?"

"You're exactly two minutes and forty seconds late," Satoru announced, and you feared that wasn't a joke. He checked his phone screen. "Statistically speaking, women in their twenties are usually ten to fifteen minutes late to initial meetups to assert social dominance. Two minutes is almost negligible. I like the effort."

You stared at him. What the fuck. You hadn't even taken your jacket off yet.

"I got caught at a red light," you said slowly, furrowing your eyebrows and eyeing his hands. Why were they so big?

“Right. Variables.” Satoru nodded, looking way too serious about the whole thing. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “So — I brought the lease agreement. As I mentioned, I have a 780 credit score and I want dishes done within twenty-four hours. To prevent breeding grounds for fruit flies.” He slid the keys across the table along with the papers, completely unprompted. “I assume you don’t have a problem with basic hygiene? You shouldn’t have—” his eyes dragged over you, slow and sleazy, “—judging by your appearance.”

You looked at the keys. Then at his stupidly pretty, already supremely annoying face.

Your brain was trying to throw up big red warning signs, but you really needed the space. It was cheap. Close to work. And you’d have to survive maybe a year or two before you could afford a one-bedroom on your own.

You go, girl.

“I’m clean,” you said, picking up the keys. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out exactly what brand of lunatic you were about to chain yourself to. “Listen. You’re not going to be weird, are you?”

Satoru tilted his head, genuinely confused. “Define weird.”

You bit your lip.

There went those “quick” two years of your life.

You already knew the answer. You already fucking knew. Time for some hard coping. Maybe this was just a phase. Maybe he’d snap out of it soon. Maybe he’d gone through a breakup and was just being salty. That was probably it.

And to be fair, the first few weeks weren’t actually that weird. You were getting to know each other, learning how to exist in the same space. It was quiet, even. You would’ve paid good money to keep it like that forever.

He mostly worked from his room, only came out for meals, did the dishes, and left you alone. He barely even talked to you, which should’ve been suspicious, but you chose to ignore it. You started to think maybe you’d read him wrong at the café. Maybe the breakup theory was right. Maybe he was just having a weird day.

But spoiler alert — you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Satoru had not gone through a bad breakup. You suspected he had never gone through any breakup at all ever. Once he got comfortable enough to drop the act, or perhaps as some calculated 4D chess move to trap you past the point of getting your deposit back, his true colors started showing.

Satoru didn’t bring girls home. He didn’t do any of the hot-man things you’d expected either. Instead, he spent most of his free time on Reddit, arguing with strangers about the state of modern dating, and why “nice guys” were being chronically overlooked by society.

After about a month, it clicked.

This man was chronically, terminally online. And an incel on top of it all.

The rule of never judging a book by its cover confirmed itself in the most jarring way possible. Would say, you played yourself there girl, but who am I to judge.

It started with the staring. You’d be sitting at the kitchen island in your sleep shirt, eating a bowl of Cheerios, and you’d look up to find him just… watching you. He never looked away when you caught him either. He’d just blink those big, stupidly pretty blue eyes at you, gaze heavy and analytical, like he was trying to calculate your exact molecular structure. Which, in a way, he was. Carefully assessing the harmony of your facial features, exactly like the looksmaxxing subreddit had probably told him to.

You were always the one who had to look away first, your face feeling weirdly hot.

Then came the rants. You’d come home from a brutal shift and collapse onto the couch, and Satoru would emerge from his room like clockwork. He’d drop down next to you, eyes glued to his phone, and start talking like someone had asked.

“It’s basic hypergamy,” he announced one night, to absolutely no one. “Men are biologically disadvantaged in the modern dating sphere because of the top-twenty-percent rule.”

You didn’t even look at him. You just kept staring at the TV and wondered how long you could keep nodding along before it would become suspicious.

And he would just keep going.

Spewing the most vile, stupid shit while you sat there, eyes flicking from the TV to him and back, nodding along because you genuinely did NOT care. Top twenty what percent? Wasn’t he objectively in the top ten at least? What the hell was he even talking about? Every time you didn’t answer, he probably took it as agreement. You just deadass had nothing to say to him.

Not because you lacked the energy to argue — though you kind of did, because talking to this manchild was like talking to a wall, and even that would’ve been more productive — but mostly because you weren’t even listening anymore. You’d learned how to tune him out pretty quickly.

You were tolerating him. That’s what you told yourself. You were tolerating him, and it had nothing to do with the fact that ever since you first laid eyes on him, your brain had decided to revert to its most embarrassing caveman settings.

Like that one evening when you were walking down the hallway toward the kitchen and the bathroom door opened.

Satoru stepped out, dripping wet. White hair plastered to his forehead, water still running down his chest, wearing nothing but a towel slung dangerously low on his hips. You shamelessly followed his happy trail. The way the towel barely clung on his hips.

Your brain stalled at the sight of his pretty body and your mouth went dry. You reminded yourself why you were tolerating him. Then berated yourself for doing exactly what he did — objectifying.

But hey. What's better than an incel asshole? A hot incel asshole. That's what's better. Congratulations to you specifically, really found a rock between a sea of gems.

You thought you had it handled. White-knuckle your way through the lease. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

And then you walked past his partially open bedroom door and heard him on Discord.

"Yeah, I mean, the living situation is okay," Satoru was saying, sounding so perfectly reasonable. You thought he was going to say something nice. What a good roommate she is, how glad he was to have you there.

"She's clean. And yeah, she's hot, but she's not like super hot hot where it's scary, you know? She's cute hot. Next door hot, pretty hot. Just my type, you know my type, dude. I can definitely work with that."

You froze in the hallway.

Your face did something that could only be described as a visual representation of what the fuck.

Cute hot. I can definitely work with that.

What does that even mean? You knew exactly what it meant, unfortunately. He wasn't just a weird roommate. He was a weird roommate actively running some kind of deranged, incel-fueled long game on you. Casually. Over Discord. 

You quietly backed away, went to your room, locked the door, and screamed into your pillow.

It was not like your roommate was describing you like a property investment to someone over Discord while you were standing mere feet away. 

You hated this. You hated him. And you hated yourself for having been even remotely apologetic about it, for feeling your heart skip a beat when he said just my type. Curse you and your completely stupid and irrational attraction to someone you should probably be filing a restraining order against! But god, he was so so cute. If he could just shut the fuck up, or get lobotomized, or something. You could take him to Claire's over the weekend?

But to his credit, and you could not fucking believe you were giving him even some credit at all right now, he was sometimes tolerable, heavy on the sometimes. The man never missed a rent payment. He scrubbed the bathtub weekly. He always bought the expensive brand of paper towels, the ones with the little flower pattern you liked.

Good roommate, structurally speaking. Nightmare, every other way.

And the attraction was just a proximity issue. Obviously. Everyone would have this problem. It would go away. His personality was ass. Soon enough you'd look at him and convince yourself his looks were ass too. Start acknowledging his hotness the way you acknowledged anything asexual.

It was totally fine. You were fine. He was just a guy. A guy who happened to look like a Final Fantasy character rendered in 4K, but still just a guy. A nice guy.

And work with that, he definitely did. Because he was fine too! Just not in any way he would ever admit to his Discord buddies.

Because doing it the normal way guys in their sexual prime do was completely fine. He was in his twenties, so naturally, his mind wandered a bit when his head hit the pillow with passing thoughts about the way your sleep shirt rode up your bare thigh. There was absolutely nothing wrong with getting off while thinking about someone! It was just the normal biological need the podcasts yapped about! It was healthy to be sexually active, even if his only active partner was his fist.

And if that happened to escalate into jerking off to a completely innocent Instagram picture and coming all over his phone screen while staring at your pixelated smile? Also completely normal! Everyone dealt with new living arrangements differently; someone screamed into their pillow, someone else was jerking off every time you got said person inexplicably hard! He couldn't be expected to live like a celibate monk when he was just a poor, horny guy trapped in an apartment with a gorgeous roommate who also happened to be exactly his type. He wasn't being a creep! He was just adapting to his environment.

Goddamn.

It wasn't fine. He wasn't fine, you weren't fine either.

But as the weeks dragged on, he started getting worse.

The passive-aggressive creepiness turned into passive-aggressive entitlement. He had decided, completely on his own, that the two of you were basically already together. You could feel it in the way he hovered. In the way he looked at you like he was waiting for something. Like a bill was coming due and he was just giving you time to find your wallet.

It started with the food.

Without any discussion, he started either making food for both of you or straight-up eating what you’d made for yourself. Like that was just the new normal now.

“Satoru, did you eat my food?” you’d ask, staring at the empty space in the fridge where your meal had been. The one you’d been looking forward to all day. And he’d just nod from the couch like it was the most normal, domestic thing in the world — not a direct violation of the rules you’d set when you moved in.

Or there was the night you came home completely drained, fully prepared to eat a sleeve of saltines and a bucket of ice cream for dinner, only to walk into the apartment smelling like garlic and roasted vegetables.

Satoru was actually at the stove, cooking. A rare sight — the man usually survived on takeout and DoorDash. And he’d used your expensive dried tomatoes. The ones you’d been saving for a special occasion. The ones you’d deliberately shoved to the back of the fridge so he wouldn’t find them.

“Men in the kitchen are a rare sight, I know,” he said, not looking at you as he stirred, trying to look like the eighth world wonder. “But I thought — what if I made pasta? It’s the one my mom used to make. Figured I’d make it for myself. Made a lot though, so… you can have some too, I guess.”

He was already plating a portion for you as he spoke, trying and failing to look casual while clearly nervous you wouldn’t like it.

You watched him for a moment and felt something shift in your chest. You immediately labeled it as hunger and moved on.

He didn’t ask if you liked it. He just assumed you would. And he was right, yeah you ate it, but that wasn’t the point. The pasta wasn’t even that good. Way too salty. But it sat warm in your belly, and you didn’t have it in you to tell him the truth.

You thanked him for the meal but didn’t acknowledge the grand gesture you hadn’t agreed to in the first place. You didn’t make conversation and went straight to do the dishes.

When you glanced back, he was watching you with that look again.

You looked away first.

And of course an incel like that would have opinions about your love life too.

You’d been seeing someone — nothing serious, just a guy from Hinge. Two dates in, and you were still on the fence. He didn’t make your heart do that stupid thump thump thump, and his hairline wasn’t all that great either.

You made the mistake of mentioning a possible third date while making coffee, trying to have a normal, boring conversation about your respective lives.

“I think I’m going to see him again on Saturday,” you said, mostly to your mug.

Satoru looked up from his phone. He was always on his phone doing gods know what.

"The architect guy?"

"Nah, I ghosted that one. Different guy."

A pause. He furrowed his eyebrows the way he did when he was assessing something. “How many are there?”

You gave him a warning look.

"I'm just asking."

"And I'm not answering," you said, rolling your eyes.

He put his phone down, which was never a good sign. You turned back to the coffee machine.

“I just think,” he started.

“Don’t,” you muttered, already regretting bringing it up.

"—that you're not being strategic about this."

You turned back around, mentally preparing for what was about to come.

“About dating. Statistically speaking, cycling through too many low-value options in a short period of time actually decreases your own value. If you want to attract a high-value man—”

He didn’t just mean men. He meant himself. Which, bless him, but also fuck him for putting it like that.

You stared at him for a moment, seriously considering yelling and throwing your mug at his stupidly symmetrical face.

“Satoru,” you said. “Did you just tell me I’m getting ran-through?”

He opened his mouth, then immediately closed it. His ears went pink — he had probably clocked his own stupidity, apparently, which was a first.

"No! It's not — that's not what I—" he started, hands coming up like he was surrendering.

"Where did you even hear that phrase?"

"It's a concept from—"

"No." You held up a hand. "No, I don't want to know, actually. You just made me really upset."

You picked up your coffee and looked at him — standing there in his stupid nerdy sleep shirt, with his stupidly cute messy hair, genuinely confused about why this had gone wrong. Like he really thought you’d realize he was right and apologize on your knees for even mentioning other men.

You felt furious. Tired. And something else you weren’t going to name.

You couldn’t believe you’d ever imagined getting railed into oblivion by this man. Instead, you had to talk to him like he was a toddler. You had a feeling you were going to become a cautionary tale. A PSA about what happens when you move in with an incel.

You went on the date that Saturday anyway. It was fine. The guy was fine-ish — less fine after the weird-ass conversation you’d had with Satoru prior. You came home to find him on the couch, waiting. Expecting something. But neither of you said a word. You just went to your room, got into bed, and stared at the ceiling.

You were so fucking tired.

Tired of dates that were just fine. Tired of coming home to this. Tired of the whole thing.

So you cancelled the next one. And the one after that.

Men were mediocre anyway, you told yourself. You needed peace. You needed to stop cycling through low-value options — god, you couldn’t believe that phrase was living rent-free in your head now. You were going to find whatever podcast invented it and send the hosts very ugly, very threatening email.

And maybe the apartment really was full of questionable worldviews, because somewhere between the sexual marketplace value speeches and his creepy behavior, you developed one of your own.

You became morbidly into the idea of breaking his incel resolve. Like you’d accidentally discovered a new kink.

Not even in a romantic way. More like you’d started writing a very questionable mental screenplay about dismantling him piece by piece. Watching the podcast rot leak out of him in real time. Making the incel guy want you so badly he forgot every subreddit he was joined in, until he was pathetic enough to cry at your feet — and you weren’t even the dominant type!

Wasn’t there a term for that? There had to be. You’d read the fanfictions. You’d read the think pieces. And every time you’d wondered why women did this to themselves.

Now you knew exactly why.

It was like disaster tourism. Some people went to Chernobyl for the thrill. Some people chased storms. You were simply built different.

Because when a man looked you in the eye and said shit like, “It’s actually been studied. Women who wear revealing clothing in domestic settings are subconsciously signaling availability to increase their mate value. It’s an evolutionary response to competition,” and meant it — like he hadn’t just dropped full Andrew Tate shit on a random Wednesday night — you weren’t going to let it slide.

You were already stretched thin. And he was on very thin ice.

So you made a plan.

You were going to show him exactly what skimpy clothing did to a man like him. And you weren’t going to think too hard about why this was probably the stupidest idea you’d had in a while.

Because who would voluntarily wear less clothes when they could just put on three more layers to prove a point?

You, apparently.

You dug out the shorts you hadn’t worn since sophomore year. The ones that left half your ass out and the tank top that made your boobs look obscene. All to "prove a point."

Satoru was at the kitchen island when you walked in, like every morning.

You leaned against the counter, grabbed your yogurt from the fridge, and started eating your probiotic-balanced breakfast, like every morning.

He was still on his phone.

You were starting to think the plan had lowkey a flaw — mainly the part where he wasn’t even looking at you — when he stood up and walked over to the sink to put his mug away.

He reached past you.

The mug hit the bottom of the sink with a loud clang as he stood frozen and way too close. Staring at you with his mouth slightly open, ears going pink in real time as the color crept up from his jaw. He was looking at you exactly how you’d hoped he would… and now that it was actually happening, your stomach did a stupid little flip.

You went to put the spoon back in your mouth.

But your hand missed and the spoonful of Activia went down your chin, down your neck, and disappeared between your tits.

Satoru’s eyes followed it the whole way. You felt your nipples tighten under the thin fabric as he stared. Then his gaze dragged back up, slow,  before dropping to what you were wearing.

When he finally looked at your face again, his ears weren’t just pink anymore. They were red.

“Uh. Y-you have yogurt. On your—” He gestured vaguely at your chest. “—on your b-boobs.”

You stared at him. He stared back — at your face, at your chest, at your legs, everywhere.

“Yeah,” you said. “I noticed, ‘Toru.”

You grabbed a paper towel and dragged it slowly down your neck, then slipped your other arm under your boobs to lift them higher, making the cleanup easier for you and significantly harder for him. You could tell by the way he was squirming.

He swallowed. A loud, audible gulp in the quiet kitchen. His Adam’s apple bobbed like it was trying to escape.

“Right. G-good — you cleaned it up. I-it was very messy,” he managed to get out, voice a full octave lower and cracking at the end. His eyes were half-lidded, ears still burning red.

Then he fled. He turned so fast he clipped his hip on the doorframe and didn’t even react to the pain before disappearing down the hallway.

You felt victorious. You’d fried his alpha-male-rotted brain. You’d proven your point. You were the apex predator of this apartment!

But then you took a breath and noticed your hands were shaking.

Your nipples were still painfully hard against the thin fabric of your tank top. And there was a warm, insistent ache low in your belly, sending little shockwaves down to your toes.

Wait.

What the fuck.

You looked down at your chest, then at the empty doorway like he might still be there.

Why the hell were you horny?

You were supposed to be the disaster tourist here. You were supposed to be watching the meltdown from a safe distance. Disaster tourists didn’t usually get turned on by the radiation. They didn’t usually want the hazard to come back out of his room, pin them against the counter, and put his stupid big hands on their hips.

You threw the paper towel into the trash harder than necessary. It hit the side and did a pathetic little plop! pathetically to the floor.

You slammed your bedroom door and threw yourself onto the bed, burying your burning face in the pillows.

The plan had worked perfectly.

Even if you had to dig out your vibrator later just to make the weird tingling go away.

It was just a power trip. Just the adrenaline of winning. That’s all it was. Power trips made people horny. It was biology. It was science.

Take that, Satoru!

And oh, he took it.

Across the hallway, Satoru was melting into his mattress. A bruise was already forming where he’d slammed into the doorframe. The image of that yogurt dragging down between your tits was burned into his brain. He was throbbing, and it was fucking pathetic.

He tried jerking off like usual — fist tight, imagining you on your knees — but it wasn’t enough anymore. Hadn’t been for weeks, actually. His hand wasn’t cutting it.

So he reached into the back of his bottom drawer and pulled out the silicone toy he’d bought recently. He was embarrassed, but too worked up to care. At least now he could pretend it was your tight pussy he was fucking into.

It was a new low. He knew it was a new low. But he did it anyway, eyes squeezed shut as he used the fleshlight, imagining you on top of him, under him, beside him — it didn’t matter. Anything was better than coming on his own just from the memory of yogurt dripping down your skin.

But of course, once the post-nut clarity hit, he took the whole thing the completely wrong way.

Because really, what did you think was going to happen?

You thought parading around half-naked in front of a terminally online incel would make him fall to his knees and magically develop self-awareness?

No. Of course not.

He thought you did it on purpose. For him specifically.

And yeah, you did do it on purpose — just not for the reason he thought. You were trying to break his brain. Make a joke out of his worldview! Instead, all you did was make him hard for three days straight and give him a terrifying amount of hope.

It validated every single pseudo-scientific dating theory he’d ever read. In his mind, you weren’t mocking him. You were submitting to his superior frame. You were “signaling availability.”

You hadn’t broken his incel resolve. You’d accidentally reinforced it. Applause.

And now Satoru believed, with full Reddit-backed certainty, that he had won. He’d played the long game. He’d kept his alpha composure. And now the cute roommate in the tiny gym shorts was finally ready to yield.

And worst of all? He started being creepy on purpose.

Before, the hovering and staring had been unconscious. Now he was doing it with intention. It was time to “establish physical dominance” and “break the touch barrier,” according to whatever the fuck forum thread he’d absorbed that week. 

He started finding excuses to be near you — reaching past you for things he didn’t need just to brush his chest against your shoulder, leaving you wrapped in his scent. He’d sit too close on the couch, close enough that you could feel the heat coming off him.

And it was working. You hated that it was working.

Every time his hand brushed yours or his fingers grazed your waist, your skin broke out in goosebumps. You could feel yourself reacting to his nervous little attempts to mark his territory, and it was driving you insane.

You were sitting on the couch eating your well deserved Pad Thai straight out of the takeout box while a true-crime documentary played in the background.

Satoru emerged from his room, did his usual hover-routine like some awkward mating dance, and then sat down. Right next to you.

Without taking his eyes off the TV, he reached over and placed his hand on your bare thigh.

It was this weird twitchy movement between caress and a customs agent stamping a passport.

His fingers kept flexing like he was fighting the urge to either pull away or drag them higher. You sat frozen, staring down at his hand, silently daring it to move. Then mentally cursing yourself for even letting it happen in the first place.

A rush of heat flooded your chest and cheeks. It burned under his palm and shot straight down between your legs.

Ovulation. It’s just ovulation.

"Satoru," you said slowly. 

He was staring straight ahead at the TV, posture stiff as a board and he was even redder than you.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He flinched, yanking his hand back into his lap and hunching over. “N-nothing.”

He cleared his throat but didn’t move away. His knee stayed pressed against yours. He took a breath, puffing his chest out as he tried to reclaim his “alpha” frame, then glanced at you as you took a shaky bite of noodles.

“So,” he started again, voice slipping into that pseudo-intellectual podcast cadence that always made your eye twitch. “I was reading a thread today. About proximity and domestic investment.”

You didn't look at him, listened to the Ted Bundy facts coming from the documentary narrator. Chewed and brushed him off. "Fascinating."

“It actually is,” he continued, completely unbothered. He leaned back, stretching his arm along the back of the couch and caging you in. “Because it highlights the flaw in modern female psychology. Women always say they want a nice guy. Someone who provides stability. Someone who pays his bills on time, remembers to buy toilet paper, and keeps a clean, optimal living environment.”

He paused, letting the weight of his own perceived perfection hang in the air.

“But,” Satoru said, turning his head to look at you, eyes locking onto yours with that same entitled certainty, “when that exact man is sitting right in front of them, offering unwavering loyalty and a high-value domestic partnership, they stay willfully blind. They friendzone him. Tease him. Cycle through low-tier guys from dating apps instead. It’s biologically counterproductive.”

The only sound in the room was the dramatic music coming from the TV now. You dropped your chopsticks into the takeout box, which suddenly felt too heavy in your lap.

He was so confident in his entitlement it actually made you sick. It was ruining your fucking appetite.

He thought doing the bare minimum — acting like a decent human being with basic hygiene — earned him loyalty points he could cash in for sex. Like some kind of fucked-up grocery store rewards program.

You turned your body toward him fully, voice eerily quiet.

“Let me get this straight,” you said. “You’re sitting here, in our living room, getting mad at me because your nice-guy vending machine is broken?”

Satoru blinked, his brow furrowing like he genuinely didn’t understand what the problem was.

“I’m stating a statistical—”

“Shut up.”

The words came out sharp enough to cut. You weren’t playing anymore. One more podcast quote and you were going to rip the hair out of his stupidly pretty head.

His mouth snapped shut. He looked genuinely startled. You’d never told him to shut up before — not like that. You’d always just nodded, or rolled your eyes, or tuned him out.

“You think this is a transaction,” you said, eyes narrowing. “You think because you scrub the bathtub and pay your half of the rent on time, you’re earning points? You’re keeping score. You did the bare minimum and now you’re waiting for me to drop to my knees in gratitude like you were providing for me?”

“I am a provider,” he argued, chest puffing out even as his voice lost some of its usual arrogance. “I bring high value—”

“You bring decency at best!” you snapped, throwing your hands up. “Doing your own dishes doesn’t make you a high-value alpha male, Satoru. It makes you an adult. But you don’t actually care about being a good roommate. You’re just dressing your entitlement up as niceness and acting like I owe you something because you haven’t been actively terrible to me.”

“That’s not—” He reached up to adjust his glasses, a nervous habit you’d never seen from him before. “I’m just saying that logically, the optimal choice for you—”

“There is no logic!” you snapped, standing up before you did something stupid like strangle him. “You don’t even like me! You just think you’re owed me because I’m convenient and I live here!”

Satoru flinched. All the color drained from his face.

You stood over him, breathing hard, looking down at this gorgeous, six-foot-three idiot who was staring up at you like you’d just rewritten the laws of physics. He looked lost. Stupid. Like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“But you acted like—” he started, then caught himself, shoulders squaring like he was trying to hold onto his frame. “You know what, forget it. You’re just proving my point. A guy does everything right, stays consistent, stays present, and the girl just—” he gestured at you with a disbelieving laugh, “—moves the goalposts. We’ve been living together for months. Friends for just as long. I thought if I followed the steps exactly, I’d finally get to— we would— I don’t understand how this is supposed to work, okay?! How is a guy ever supposed to figure it out if the steps are a lie and I haven’t even—”

“Satoru.”

He stopped. Mouth snapped shut. The tips of his ears suddenly burned bright red.

The realization hit you like a bucket of cold water.

Oh my fucking god.

You’d suspected it once or twice, but the thought had always flickered and died. Now it all clicked into place.

He’d never gotten his dick wet.

Your roommate was a six-foot-three virgin who thought turning to men who felt entitled to sex was a reasonable solution to his problems. What an absolute fucking mess. You almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

“You’re an incredibly good-looking guy, Satoru,” you said quietly. Sincerely. “Objectively hot. Get your shit together, touch some grass, and you’ll be fine. You’ll be more than fine. But until you stop treating women like a math test you’re trying to cheat on, nobody is going to want you.”

You shattered his ego completely.

Or maybe, for the first time since puberty, Satoru actually formed a conscious, self-aware thought. Because he kept turning your words over in his head.

Objectively hot.

No one is going to want you.

What?

He tried to find the logical flaws. Tried to insert a counterargument, disprove your “emotional outburst” with cold data. He couldn’t find one. Not for days.

You were avoiding him completely now. Icing him out. Not talking to him. Not even looking at him. It was driving him insane. You used to search for his eyes, even if it was just to roll them. He’d only just realized how genuine your flustered blinking had been, and now he missed it. Embarrassingly so.

One night he walked into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, carrying a petty mix of rejection, confusion, and constant, unbearable horniness.

Your pink hair tie was sitting on the edge of the sink.

He told himself he was just going to pick it up and put it in your organizer tray.

So he picked it up. It smelled like your stupid, intoxicating strawberry shampoo. He hated it. Hated how the whole bathroom smelled like you after you showered. Hated how your scent followed you everywhere in the apartment, forcing him to breathe you in. The guys on Reddit had warned him about this. Pheromones. Dangerous.

He brought it closer to his face. Just to check. Just in case it wasn’t actually yours.

And what happened next stayed strictly between Satoru, the bathroom mirror, and god.

He clutched the sink, bracing himself against it, breathing ragged and humiliatingly loud. He stared down at the pretty pink elastic wrapped tight around the base of his cock as he fucked his fist like he was trying to punish himself, desperately trying to imagine your hands instead of his own.

It worked too well. It scared him.

He came hard, so so hard the hair tie ended up coated in thick, frothy cum.

He carefully nudged the sticky pink tie back onto the edge of the sink, exactly where he’d found it. Then he washed his hands under scalding water like he was trying to burn the shame off his skin and walked out of the bathroom like a man fleeing a crime scene.

Rejuvenated? No.

Good? Not even close.

He just felt like absolute shit.

Get your shit together.

But how?

He picked up his phone. Put it down. Picked it up again. The fight was still eating him alive. The podcasts told him to take his frustration out on other girls or channel it into dominance and detachment. That’s what the current episode would’ve said.

But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to sleep with anyone else. He didn’t want to be aggressive. He just… wanted.

And that was the problem.

For the first time in a long time, the alpha-male bullshit was starting to feel a bit too beta now. He was left with his own feelings like a normal person, and it was awful.

If he was truly a high-value male, he shouldn’t care. He should pivot. Download an app. Find some new, compliant girl to validate his stats. But the thought of calculating the facial harmony of a stranger made his stomach turn. He didn’t want a hypothetical female.

He wanted you.

He wanted you rolling your eyes at him. Laughing at him. Getting annoyed at him. Eating his pasta. Walking around in those mind-melting shorts. He wanted you to drop yogurt on yourself again just so he could lick it off your skin, linger on your neck, and kiss you stupid — the way he’d been fantasizing about since it actually happened.

He needed validation. He needed to be right.

His thumbs moved across the screen before he could stop himself. He ignored his usual echo-chamber subreddits and opened r/AmItheAsshole instead.

r/AmItheAsshole 

AITA for expecting my roommate (F) to reciprocate my (M) romantic advances after I provided optimal domestic value?

Throwaway. This is gonna sound bad but I need actual advice.

I (M) have been living with my roommate (F) for almost a year now. I’m not gonna lie, I’m objectively good-looking and I’ve been carrying a lot in this apartment. I pay my half on time, I keep shit clean, I do the dishes, I even cook sometimes. I thought I was doing everything right.

A few weeks ago she started walking around in these tiny shorts and tank tops. Like, really small. I took it as her signaling that she was open to something. That’s what all the advice says — if a girl starts dressing like that around you, it’s usually because she’s comfortable and maybe interested. So I decided to initiate kino escalation. Nothing crazy at first, just trying to break the touch barrier a bit.

While we were watching something on the couch I put my hand on her thigh. She freaked out. Got really upset and started yelling at me about how I was treating her like a transaction and that I only did nice things because I felt entitled to her. She even said I was basically calling her ran-through for going on dates.

I tried to explain it calmly. Like, statistically, if a high-value guy is right there doing everything right, why would she keep going on dates with random dudes from apps? It just doesn’t make sense. She told me to touch grass and hasn’t really spoken to me since.

I don’t get it. I’ve been consistent, I’ve been present, I’ve been providing a good living situation. I thought that was supposed to count for something. Instead she acted like I was the asshole for expecting anything in return.

AITA?

He hit post.

He sat in the dark on his bed, heart pounding like it was trying to escape his chest. He just had to wait. The logical thinkers would show up. They’d validate him with proper, objective analysis. They had to.

Ten minutes later, the notifications started rolling in.

He opened them expecting vindication.

Instead, he walked straight into a digital firing squad.

u/GrassToucherGeto · 308 upvotes

YTA. Holy shit. You did a handful of nice things and you think that means she owes you sex? You sound like an actual sociopath. I’m surprised she didn’t run out screaming. She literally told you to get your shit together. What part of that are you not getting?

u/KentoTheNormalGuy · 291 upvotes

You're not alpha, man. Kino escalation? Are you trying to con her, or actually want her to want you? YTA.

u/NobaraJustice24 · 282 upvotes

YTA.  She can wear whatever the fuck she wants in her own home, you creepy ass weirdo. I hope she breaks the lease and gets a restraining order. 

u/RealityCheckChoso · 156 upvotes

This is the most pathetic thing I’ve read on this site in eleven years. This is straight-up incel fanfiction. Poor girl having to live with someone like you. YTA. Go outside.

u/yuji_8847362 · 124  upvotes

Genuine question, not trying to be an asshole: do you actually like her, or do you just think she owes you because you did some nice things? Those are two very different things, and your post doesn’t seem to understand the difference. YTA, but I hope you figure it out.

u/KingNaoya69 · 231  downvotes

NTA. She’s clearly testing you. The clothes were an invitation. Hold your ground, don’t apologize, and she’ll come around. Women don’t respect men who grovel. If she actually didn’t want you she would’ve moved out already. She’s still there, isn’t she?

Satoru stared at the screen in disbelief.

He’d expected validation. Maybe a few reasonable voices cutting through the noise, acknowledging the statistical validity of his position, maybe even offering some tactical advice.

Instead, he got hit with minus three thousand downvotes, a mod-locked thread, and three DMs telling him to go to therapy.

He thought it would give him clarity. Clear steps. A way to fix this mess.

It didn’t.

It just made him feel… nothing. Except for the creeping realization that he’d said something eerily similar to what u/KingNaoya69 had posted. Recently. Maybe even last week.

He threw his glasses off and stared into the middle distance.

What the fuck was he supposed to do?

He had no idea.

The days that followed were miserable. You were giving him the coldest shoulder imaginable — and honestly, he deserved it. You were weaponizing the silence. Slamming doors. Giving short, pointed answers. Moving through the apartment like he was just another piece of furniture. Looking through him instead of at him.

He kept going back to the comments on his post, rereading them like he could find a loophole somewhere.

Yes, of course he liked you. But how was he supposed to want nothing from you if he liked you? He wanted your affection. He wanted you to want him back. But wasn’t that also expecting something in return? What the hell was he supposed to do?

Still… the Naoya guy had been weirdly right about one thing. You stayed. You hadn’t moved out. You didn’t even seem like you wanted to. If you hated him that much, why were you still here?

On the nth day, he was sitting on the couch when you came out of your room for water. You glanced at him — just for a second. You couldn’t help it. The silent treatment was getting to you too, even if you’d never admit it.

Your eyes were hard to read, but there was something in them. Something expectant. Like you were waiting for him to do something. To fix it. To stop being an idiot so the two of you could move on.

Oh, he thought.

Truly the lightbulb moment of the century.

Oh.

That night he unjoined six subreddits. Unfollowed every podcast except Joe Rogan — because hey, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Or was it unteach a new dog old tricks? Didn’t matter. What mattered was that for the first time since he’d discovered the internet, he was pretty sure he’d been an idiot.

And he was going to stop.

He made a plan. Simple. Walk out of his room, find you, and say sorry. Three steps. He’d been a person for over twenty years. He could do three steps. He had this!

You were in the kitchen. You were standing on the flimsy little step stool you needed to reach the top cabinet shelves, stretching up on your tiptoes for the glass Tupperware that Satoru kept putting up there, even though you had told him multiple times not to put it up there because you literally could not reach it.

"Hey," he said from the doorway, trying not to startle you. "Can we—"

You startled anyway, because what other outcome was ever going to happen here.

The stool wobbled under your socks. You gasped, swore something, grabbed for a shelf edge that wasn't there, and fully expected to eat the kitchen floor tiles before officially murdering your roommate from the afterlife.

But Satoru had surprisingly fast reflexes and caught you.

Well… almost.

He lost his balance as your weight shifted, and the two of you went down in a tangle of limbs and terrible timing.  The impact knocked the wind right out of your lungs. You landed sprawled over him, pressed against his chest, his arms secured instinctively around you—

Around your boobs.

You froze. He froze. The entire world seemed to fucking froze.

And as you laid there, from the adrenaline shock of it all probably, his fingers did a little squish!

Huh.

You didn't say anything. You couldn't breathe, let alone speak. You slowly turned your head. His face was right there and so, so close to yours. You panicked and looked into his equally panicked eyes, his poor glasses askew.

He was searching for something in your eyes, his pupils blown so wide they almost swallowed the blue. And then, as his chest was still heaving so heavily, his gaze dropped down to your lips.

You were suddenly very aware— Aware of his warm palms right through the thin fabric of your shirt. Aware of the way your tits swelled into his touch. Aware of how his thighs bracketed your hips, and how perfectly you fit against him.

His breath hitched. And then his fingers flexed. He made a soft, barely-there sound in the back of his throat and squeezed again — slower this time. Kneading right over your hardened nipples.

You parted your lips for a soundless gasp, and he huffed into your collarbone as the trance finally broke.

His arms slowly retreated, lazily dragged down your ribs, fingers grazing the soft of your tummy before finally falling away to rest on the floor, which somehow made it all worse.

"I—" His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper.

You scrambled off him like you had been electrocuted.

You sprinted down the hallway and threw yourself into your room, slamming the door behind you. You backed up until you hit something, you didn’t even care what, and slid down to the floor, knees pulled to your chest.

Your heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Your skin was buzzing. The ghost of his touch was still burning across your chest.

I fucking hate him, you told yourself. He’s a podcast-rotted incel. I hate him.

…Do you?

Because why the fuck had you wanted his hands to stay there? Why had that second squeeze made you want to straddle him right there on the kitchen tiles and fuck him stupid?

You were just touch-starved. That’s all this was. You were projecting onto your terrible roommate because he was being a sleazy little shit.

You grabbed your phone off the nightstand with shaking hands and unlocked it.

Hinge.

Your ol’ friend.

You needed a date. You needed a normal, boring, completely average guy with a decent hairline and zero opinions on hypergamy to save you from whatever the hell had just happened in that kitchen.

You were in your room getting ready for your date, dressed to kill. Short dress, favorite lace panties — because after everything that happened in the kitchen, you were still weirdly, persistently horny. Might as well try to do something about it with someone normal.

Satoru was lingering in the hallway like always, doing his very obvious not-hovering hover.

"Going out?" he asked, clearing his throat, trying to act so aloof and unbothered.

You didn't even look at him properly. "Yeah. I have a date," you said smugly as you pulled your hair up into a ponytail. Hair down meant cute, but hair up meant business. And by business, I mean finally attempting to jump on some normal, average dick.

The second the words left your mouth, a wave of jealousy hit him so hard it nearly knocked the air out of his lungs. But he wasn’t looking at your face. He was staring at the pink hair tie holding your hair up.

He visibly gulped. His dick went from zero to painfully hard so fast he had to cross his legs just to hide it.

You furrowed your eyebrow at the uncharacteristic lack of response, but wasn’t entirely mad about it either.

"See ya," you chirped, completely oblivious to his internal meltdown, and walked out the front door.

The second the door shut, Satoru basically teleported to his room. He threw himself onto his bed, already fumbling with his pants, desperate to take care of the problem so he could think straight again.

But he spent exactly thirty minutes achieving absolutely nothing. What the fuck.

This had never happened before. Satoru was just staring at his ceiling, sweating, furiously gripping his aching dick, and completely unable to finish. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined you laughing at some beta joke a 100% mediocre guy had made, while his past-tense cum was proudly sitting in your hair. He was literally too jealous to finish.

But jealous or not, he was still agonizingly hard, his dick standing painfully stiff against his stomach, stubbornly refusing to just calm the fuck down. He let out a frustrated groan. Okay. Fine. No hand? No problem! He reached for the silicone fleshlight, but he hadn't washed it in quite a while, and when he picked it up, a funky smell drifted off it.

Okay, NEVER MIND.

Which left him with only one option.

Today’s the day.

He reached into the back of his bottom drawer again and pulled out a silicone cock ring.

He had bought it right after he absolutely demolished your cute little hair tie. Because what does a normal guy do in that situation? Grovel first? Solve the underlying interpersonal issue? Nah. He goes on r/sex to research why a piece of elastic felt so hella good around his dick!

He hadn’t touched it since. Post-nut clarity had done its job last time. But right now, staring down at his aching, neglected cock and feeling rejected, humiliated, and completely alone… it was time.

Fuck it.

He ripped open the packaging and wrestled the thick silicone down his shaft until it sat snug at the base.

Almost immediately, something felt off.

It was tight. Too tight. Not in a good way — just uncomfortable. Constricting. He tried to power through anyway, closing his eyes and stroking like he could force an orgasm out of sheer spite.

Ten minutes passed.

Nothing.

His brain was too far gone, and the pressure was quickly shifting from weird to genuinely concerning.

Fuck this.

He stopped. Tried to take it off. But it didn’t budge.

Satoru blinked. He adjusted his grip and pulled harder. The skin stretched painfully, but the ring stayed exactly where it was.

Oh fuck.

A cold sweat broke out across his forehead. 

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

He scrambled off the bed, grabbed his lube, and squeezed way too much directly onto the ring. He tugged and twisted like his life depended on it.

Nothing. Fucking nothing. It just made his hands uselessly slippery.

Okay, oh fuck. Wasn't lube supposed to work?! Okay, new plan. Something else, something more slippery, something more oily—

Panic seizing him, he stumbled to the bathroom, dug under the sink, found your baby oil, and slathered it on.

Still stuck.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Different oil! Not enough slipperiness! Trust the process!

So he waddled out of the bathroom, practically sprinting into the kitchen buck naked. He tore open the pantry, grabbing the vegetable oil. 

This has to work.

It did not work.

Ten minutes later, Satoru was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, coated in a slick, highly flammable mixture of lube, Johnson & Johnson baby oil, and Wesson canola oil, panting heavily. 

Dick throbbing, but not the fun kind of throbbing anymore. It was turning a terrifying shade of angry red-purple, the silicone death trap literally suffocating his junior.

It was no longer just uncomfortable, nor just alarmingly stuck. At this point, it was a fucking medical emergency. 

He was so fucked he might be patient zero of mpreg.

But what the hell was he supposed to do?

Call an ambulance?

Absolutely not. 

The thought of a paramedic cutting a sex toy off him with trauma shears while asking for his emergency contact would genuinely kill him on the spot. He would rather die of necrosis.

Call his friends? 

Fuck no.

If any of them found out about this, the screenshots would never die. They’d revoke his alpha card permanently and hold it over his head for the rest of his life.

He stared at his contacts.

There was only one person who could help without turning it into blackmail material or posting it online. The one person who lived in this apartment. The one person who was currently out on a date with some random guy. The person he had a massive, pathetic crush on and who would probably rather rip his dick off than help him.

He hit Call.

You stirred your gin and tonic while your date went on about his fantasy football draft like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. It was a perfectly fine date! The kind of fine that made you wonder why you even bothered.

You were nodding along, even though you had stopped listening roughly four minutes ago. Then, your phone vibrated on the table.

Satoru.

You ignored it. No, actually—you declined it. You smiled sweetly at your date, asked a vague question about tight ends so you would seem like you were actually paying attention, and took a sip of your drink.

Your phone buzzed again. And again. And again.

Annoyed, you held up a finger to the poor guy who was currently rating wide receivers, excused yourself, and off to the bathroom, fully prepared to yell.

“What?” you hissed the second you picked up. “I’m on a date, Satoru. If you locked yourself out—”

"Please come home," he gasped. He didn't even say hello. He didn't sound aloof, and he certainly didn't sound alpha. He actually sounded like he was drawing his final breaths on this earth. "You have to come home. Right now."

"What happened? Did something catch fire? Did someone break in? Are you—"

“I can’t tell you,” he whined, voice high and shaky in a way you’d never heard from him before. “I physically can’t say it out loud. Just— please. Please come home.”

You were ninety percent sure this was some pathetic attempt to ruin your night. Some last-ditch manipulation tactic he’d picked up from a podcast or Reddit thread.

But the remaining ten percent made you ditch your date without a second thought and jump into an Uber.

You practically kicked the front door open, your heart hammering. The apartment was completely quiet, and it smelled all wrong.

Like babies and an industrial air fryer?

"Satoru?" you called out, dropping your bag. "Where are you? The apartment better be fucking flooding, or else I swear to God—"

A pained, muffled whimper came from down the hall. His bedroom door was cracked open so you pushed it wide, fully prepared to absolutely tear him a new one for ruining your night.

Satoru was sitting on the edge of his bed, completely naked, perched on a bath towel soaked through with some kind of glistening sludge. He was trembling, sweating, aggressively gripping the mattress. And his dick — very visibly, very aggressively hard — was pointing straight at you.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

You exploded the second you saw him, because an impromptu dick is still an impromptu dick! “Some pathetic plan to finally fuck me? You couldn’t even be decent about it — you just called me home so you could sit here with your cock out?!”

You expected some sleazy line. Some smug little smirk. Instead, Satoru looked up at you with wide, tear-filled eyes behind his smudged glasses and let out a broken, wet sob.

"I'm not—" his voice cracked terribly. "I'm stuck."

Huh?

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stopped yelling and your eyes actually dropped down.

And then your stomach dropped with them.

Wait. Oh. He was so, so large.

But that wasn’t the problem. His dick was an angry, swollen red-purple, veins bulging like it had its own heartbeat. And at the base was a thick silicone ring, cutting into him so tightly it looked like it might actually burst.

And all the anger drained out of you in an instant. Suddenly, you felt the harsh reality of the literal medical horror you were now a part of. 

"Oh my god. Satoru... what is going on?!"

“Fuck, it hurts— please help me,” he whined, voice cracking as he bounced his leg against the floor like that would somehow fix anything.

You stepped closer, the sheer absurdity of the situation making you drop to your knees between his spread thighs just to get a proper look. It was incredibly stupid and deeply awkward, being this close to his swollen, shiny dick.

“Is that… a cock ring?” you asked, horrified.

Satoru nodded frantically, a tear slipping down his cheek and dripping off his jaw.

"Satoru, you know there is a fucking size chart to these things?! You can’t just buy anything with the size of your dick! Are you fucking stupid?!"

"HOW SHOULD I KNOW?!" he wailed, hands flying up to cover his face in absolute humiliation. "Wait—" He suddenly froze, lowering his hands just enough to look at you. "Did you just say I have a big dick? Wait. Fuck. OUCH. It just fucking hurts! Please, please help me, I've tried everything but it just won't budge! It hurts so much!"

You squinted at the shiny, slick mess coating his thighs and soaking into the bath towel. "Did you try lube?"

 "Yes!" 

"Baby oil?" 

"Yes!" 

"Did you... did you use the cooking oil from the kitchen?!"

 "YES! FUCK!" he sobbed into his hands again.

"Why did you even put it on?!" you yelled back, genuinely baffled by his astronomical stupidity.

“I was horny, what else?!” he cried and shook his hands. “You left with the cum tie in your hair—”

“THE WHAT?!”

Your hands froze in the air. Your brain forcefully restarted about three times trying to process the sequence of syllables he had just screamed at you.

The cum tie.

You suddenly felt the gentle pull of the pink elastic holding up your ponytail. The one that was your favorite. The one you had idly wondered before why it was suddenly so... crusty.

"You..." you whispered, a cold wave of fresh nausea washing over you. "You did what to my hair tie?"

“I didn’t mean to!” he sobbed, face red and streaked with tears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I used it, and then you put it in your hair to go out with the guy and it made me crazy so I put the ring on!”

Your hand twitched toward your ponytail. You were going to rip it out. Burn it. Shave your head. And then murder him. A jury would probably let you off in seconds.

But then you looked down. His dick might actually pop! like a grease-filled water balloon. There was no time.

You took a deep, slightly deranged breath and shoved every horrifying thought into a box for later. You could have a full meltdown about having his reproductive fluids in your hair as an accessory after you made sure his dick didn’t fall off.

You aggressively ignored his stare, locking your eyes entirely on the crisis. "Okay. Okay, I've got this. This is a medical emergency."

Your brain started racing. You couldn't cut it off without risking severing something vital, you certainly weren’t a doctor, and the swelling was so so severe to just pull the ring back over the ridge. You knelt there, suddenly arriving at a horrifying conclusion that you were going to need a serious moment to accept.

Because there was only one way to get it off. And the only way to get it off was to get rid of the erection.

You had to make him cum.

“Okay,” you muttered. Then again. And again. Like repeating it would make it feel less insane. “W-we just need to… get it down.”

You bit your lip, giving yourself the quickest, most productive, and most threatening internal TED Talk in human history. Your hands twitched, but you finally reached out and wrapped them around his oil-slicked shaft.

“AGH— FUCK— NO!” Satoru immediately jerked back like you’d electrocuted him, slamming against the mattress.

"What the hell?! I barely touched it!"

“The skin’s too tight!” he cried out, practically hyperventilating. “It feels like a razor blade— you can’t use your hands, it hurts too much!”

You tried again anyway, slower this time, gripping him carefully. The skin was burning hot, painfully stretched over the trapped blood. You gave one experimental stroke.

“No— no no no, please stop—” His voice broke into a real whimper as fresh tears spilled down his face. He pushed at your shoulders, legs shaking. “Please, I can’t— it hurts so fucking bad—”

You yanked your hands back, heart pounding as your own panic officially set in. "THEN WHAT ELSE?!"

“I DON’T KNOW! I thought you might know!”

"HOW SHOULD I KNOW?!"

A beat of deafening silence fell over the grease-scented bedroom. You looked at him. Then down at the problem between his legs.

Wait—

Your brain scrambled for literally any other fucking solution. Ice? Cutting it completely off? Calling 911 and collectively dying of embarrassment on the spot?

Nothing. 

There was nothing else.

God fucking help you. You might as well die from the cringe right here on the floor.

You stared down at his lengthy cock again. It was a pathetic mix of pre-cum against his oil-slicked stomach. Satoru was breathing in short, panicked gasps, tears still tracking down his flushed cheeks, glasses fogged and crooked, looking totally helpless.

“No,” you whispered to the empty space between his thighs, stomach twisting with reluctant acceptance. Coming to terms with your own fate. Girl, it’s your fault. Your fate had been sealed the second you decided to find a roommate on Reddit. “No, no, no.”

“What?” Satoru whimpered through his teeth, barely audible. “What ‘no’?”

If your hands were completely off the table…

A wave of heat flooded your face and dropped straight into your belly. Surely from disgust. Trust.

You shifted forward on your knees, your dress dragging through the oily mess on the floor. The fabric was already ruined and sticking to your skin. You braced one hand on his trembling thigh, leaned in, and took the swollen head of his cock into your mouth.

The taste was vile as hell.

Canola oil, baby oil, lube, and the bitter salt of his pre-cum all hit your tongue at once. You made a muffled, disgusted sound around him as your lips stretched and you sank down. The mixture mixed with your saliva and slid down your throat as he pushed deeper than you expected.

Satoru’s entire body jolted as the mushroomy head hit the back of your mouth.

“Whoa— oh my fucking god—” His voice cracked into a broken, high moan. His stomach flexed like he was trying not to fold in half. Both of his hands flew to your hair, oily fingers catching in your ponytail, clutching without quite pushing or pulling. I mean, you already had cum in your hair anyway. What was a little more oil and lube?

His hips twitched. His thighs trembled under your hand. He clearly had no idea what to do with himself.

You started moving, and it was messy from the first second.

Everything was slippery. Your lips kept sliding, saliva mixing with the grease until it dripped down his shaft in shiny, frothy strings. You had to suck harder just to keep any kind of rhythm, cheeks hollowing, tongue working in messy circles under the head every time you pulled up. The wet sounds filled the room — slick sucking, soft gagging when you took him too deep, his broken little whimpers.

You hated the taste.

You hated how your knees already ached against the hard floor.

You hated that your dress was ruined, soaked through and sticking to your skin.

And you hated the way he was looking down at you — in pain, in complete disbelief that you were actually sucking him off.

ANd what you really hated the most was that you were looking up at him while you mouth was licking him up and your body was already starting to betray you.

Tingly heat was spreading low in your belly. Every throb along his length, every broken moan that slipped out of him, made you wetter. You weren’t supposed to be horny! You should’ve been so so disgusted. But the scent of him, the taste of his pre-cum coating your tongue, made your pussy clench around nothing. Your nipples were hard, rubbing against the inside of your dress. Your cunt felt hot and slick — whether from your own arousal or the oily sludge on the floor, you genuinely couldn’t tell anymore.

You bobbed deeper, taking him until your nose brushed the base and the ring dug into your skin, then pulled back with a wet gasp. A thick and slimy string of saliva and oil connected your lips to his cock before it broke.

Satoru was staring down at you like you’d personally broken his brain.

His chest was heaving. Tears were still leaking from the corners of his eyes — pain, pleasure, or the sheer absurdity of the situation, it didn’t matter. His mouth hung open, glasses sliding down his nose.

Then his eyes dropped to your chest.

His gaze followed the way your dress had slipped lower during all the movement. Your tits were threatening to spill out completely. He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

His hands left your hair and reached down. Big, warm palms cupped your breasts through the thin fabric first — almost careful. But then he yanked the neckline down hard, dragging the fabric under your arms, practically rrrrripping it open, until your tits spilled free.

A fresh tear tracked down his cheek as he stared at them like they were something holy.

“Holy fuck— your tits—” he breathed, cupping them fully. His thumbs brushed over your hard nipples before he started kneading with desperate, greedy hands. Squeezing, lifting, rolling the soft flesh between his fingers exactly like he had in the kitchen — except this time there was nothing holding him back, because you certainly wouldn’t make him stop. 

The moan you let out around his cock was involuntary and absolutely nobody’s business, alright? Your teeth grazed his sensitive skin and the vibration, combined with the impromptu bite, made his hips jerk violently. He let out a breathless gasp, hands tightening on your boobs almost painfully before he loosened his grip again, thumbs flicking over your nipples in a way that sent sparks straight between your legs.

The lace of your panties was useless now, clinging to your soaked pussy lips.

But the dress had become a real problem, at least that’s what you were telling yourself. It was restricting your movement, getting in the way every time you tried to take him deeper. It was uncomfortable as hell, which was actually true.

You pulled off his cock with a wet pop!, lips shiny and swollen.

Fuck this dress. And probably him too.

You sat back on your heels and yanked it over your head, kicking it away. Now you were kneeling in nothing but your ruined lace panties — the ones you’d specifically worn because you were hoping to get laid tonight.

Well. You weren’t entirely wrong, now were you?

Satoru made a sound like he’d been punched in the gut. His wildest dream had just come true in the most deranged way possible.

You leaned back in and took him into your mouth again, sucking with more purpose now. One hand stayed wrapped around the base near the ring while your other hand stroked his thigh and lower stomach — anywhere to try and soothe him.

His clammy hands were right back on your bare tits, rolling them between his fingers like he was trying to memorize their exact shape. You moaned around him because it felt so fucking good. Unfairly good.

The taste was still awful. The room still reeked of canola oil. Satoru was still quietly crying above you — overwhelmed, terrified, and so turned on he could barely think straight. But the way he was touching you, the way he was falling apart in your mouth…

You were dripping straight through the lace right onto his fucking floor.

One of your hands snaked down your body. You pushed your panties aside and started rubbing desperate circles over your poor clit while you kept sucking him.

What a development. 

Righteous ideologies and all. Now you were naked on the floor of your incel roommate’s bedroom, sucking his cock while fingering yourself. Truly the most progressive way to handle this type of man.

Your pussy felt hot and aching. Your fingers slid through your own slick, making your hips twitch and another moan vibrate around his dick.

Satoru’s breathing sounded like a kettle about to boil over. His hands kept slipping on your oily skin, smearing the mess across your chest and shoulders. He was trapped in the most surreal, humiliating, perfect moment of his life — your mouth on him, you naked and touching yourself while the whole room smelled like a deep fryer.

He was half-sobbing, half-moaning.

“You’re— nghh— you’re actually getting off while—” His voice cracked as he looked down at you. You glanced up through your lashes, a little scowl on your flushed face, fingers still working between your legs.

You couldn’t even be embarrassed anymore. The absurdity had burned straight through your shame. You were horny. Stupidly, painfully horny. It was all too much and not enough at the same time.

Filthy sounds filled the room. He was crying. You were crying. Sweat was mixing with the oily mess coating your skin. You could taste your own tears mixed with the mess on his cock as they slid down your face. One of his hands was tangled in your ponytail, greasing it up nice and disgusting.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he choked out, voice hoarse. “I can’t— ngh— I can’t believe this is real—”

You pulled off just enough to breathe. “Shut up and let me finish this,” you muttered, then sank back down, taking him as deep as the ring would allow.

His other hand relocated to your shoulder.

Then his dick throbbed hard against your tongue. Swelling, twitching and you knew he was about to blow.

You started to pull back, but his hands moved faster. One fisted tighter in your hair, the other gripped your shoulder hard. He held you in place. Rough. Desperate. But he didn’t mean to!

You made a surprised, muffled sound around him as his hips jerked.

“W-wait—fuck—I’m—!” he gasped, betrayed by his own body.

You felt the first big pulse against your tongue.

You manage to wrench your head back at the last second because there was no way in hell you were swallowing a mixture of cum and baby oil — popping off just in time. But it was too late to get completely clear.

Satoru came hard.

The first thick rope hit you across the cheek and lips. The next few painted messy white stripes across your chin, your chest, and down your neck. It kept cooooming in hot, twitchy pulses until he’d almost emptied his aching balls.

And suddenly you were back in the kitchen. Only this time it wasn’t a freaking Activia dripping down your tits.

It was him.

You stumbled backward onto your ass, cum cooling on your skin as he finally let go of you. You wiped the back of your hand across your cheek, smearing it further. He just stared down at you like he’d died and gone to heaven — you, sprawled on his floor, covered in his cum, panties twisted half-off your hips, your blushing cunt smiling up right at him and your panicked eyes unblinking.

Holy fucking nirvana, right there.

You felt disgusting. You felt filthy.

And somehow, you were still throbbing between your legs.

“Fuck— shit, fuck, fuck!” Satoru cursed, trying to stand up too fast. He slipped on the oily towel and nearly ate shit before catching himself on the edge of the bed. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hold you there, I just— it was too much, I panicked—”

He stumbled toward you on shaky legs, one hand reaching out like he was going to help you up, the other still hovering near his softening cock.

“Satoru,” you said, voice low. “Pull it off.”

He froze for half a second, then looked down.

And it was finally, finally softening. The angry red-purple was fading. The skin wasn’t stretched as tight anymore and there was a very small, very dangerous window before he’d be hard again and back in square one.

His eyes lit up with desperate hope. He grabbed the cock ring with both hands and yanked.

The sound that tore out of him was somewhere between a sob and a scream. It was violent, painful, and made you cringe so so badly. The ring caught on the ridge for one horrible second before it finally slipped off with a wet smack and skidded across the floor.

For a moment, Satoru just knelt there, breathing hard through the fading pain. Fresh tears tracked down his flushed face as the relief finally hit him.

Then he looked at you. Really looked. At the mess he’d made across your pretty face and chest. At the absolute state of the room. At everything.

“I’m the worst,” he whispered. “I know I’m the worst. You should kick me out. You should call the cops. I didn’t mean to make it worse. You probably hate me—”

He looked like he was about to start ugly crying for real. His shoulders were shaking as he braced himself for you to slap him.

And look — you wanted to. You wanted to go back in time so you would’ve never answered that fucking Reddit post, never answered his call, never come home tonight. r maybe… go back just a little bit. To when your tongue was sliding over his frenulum and you’d never been so turned on in your life.

Either way, you weren’t sure anymore. Your brain was more scrambled than the eggs you’d had for breakfast.

So instead of slapping him, you surged forward, grabbed his face with both of your hands, smearing his cum and your own arousal all over his jawline and kissed him hard enough to shut him up.

For half a second he stayed completely frozen — stunned that you were kissing him instead of murdering him on the spot. You nudged your tongue against his lips, urging him to kiss you back, because the last thing you needed right now was sucking your incel roommate off and then having him refuse to kiss you afterward. That would’ve been a new low. Truly historic.

But then he let out a shaky breath and kissed you back.

He kissed you desperately, messily, like he was trying to crawl inside your mouth. Saliva, cum, tears, and oil all mixed together as your tongues slid against each other. Teeth clicked. His hands came up to grab your waist, pulling you closer until your chest pressed against his own. He whimpered needily into your mouth and tangled his tongue with yours like he was starving for it.

His glasses got knocked even more crooked.

When you finally pulled back to breathe, you reached down and started yanking your ruined lace panties off. They were twisted around your thighs and sticking to your skin from all the mess.

Satoru, still breathing hard and clearly trying to regain some sense of control, decided this was THE moment, HIS moment to be useful.

“Here— let me help,” he muttered, reaching down with both hands.

The two of you fumbled together in some weird horny trance, his fingers sliding against your thigh as he tried to tug the lace down your leg.

But his hand slid right off your slick skin and he lost his balance completely. With a startled gasp! he pitched forward and crashed down right on top of you, pinning you to the floor.

His full weight pressed you into the cold hardwood. Chest to chest, hips slotted between your thighs. The kisses making him hard again, dick now twitching insistently against your tummy.

Then Satoru lifted his head from the crook of your neck and looked down at you. His hair was a mess, but there was something almost determined in his expression now.

“I’ve got it,” he said. Yeah. He definitely  got this. He’d seen the porn. He’d read the r/sex threads. He was a man, the man! He knew exactly what he was supposed to do. Fluent in the dickology! Show you what a high-value male can do. You'll respect it. You’ll want it!

You stared up at him and raised one eyebrow.“…Are you sure?”

He looked faintly offended, but reached between your bodies anyway, grabbed his cock, and lined himself up against your slick folds. The blunt head nudged against your entrance before he pushed in with one unsteady thrust and you were honestly surprised he found your hole on a first try.

The stretch was intense. His cock bullied its way into your tight cunt, the sudden fullness making your back arch slightly off the floor. And it made you think that maybe… just maybe he’s a virgin incel but he somehow actually knows how to fuck?

Satoru made a choked sound above you. He braced his hands on either side of your head and started moving, a little too fast, a little too rough, like he was following some mental checklist of “how alpha males fuck” or something. 

His hips snapped forward, rolling against yours. On a few of his clumsy thrusts, the sharp angle of his hipbone dragged right across your swollen clit.

A spark of pleasure shot right through you, made your breath hitch and his dick catch inside of you. Your fingers scratched on his shoulders and for a second you were hopeful, hopeful that perhaps incels were just involuntarily celibate men with a dick game like this.

It died almost instantly. His rhythm fell apart just as the plushy walls of your pussy fully enveloped him fully in the slick warmth. His movement turned erratic as his hips started stuttering.

“I—fuck—I can’t—ngh—!”

So… He lasted exactly forty-five seconds.

With a humiliated groan he slammed into your cervix one last time and came haard, painting your walls in thick, sticky white. His wobbly arms gave out again and he collapsed on top of you not very gracefully, face buried right back into your neck as he rode out the pathetic orgasm. He was breathing hard, the sound mixing with the wet squelching of oil, cum, and sweat between your bodies every time either of you shifted.

You stared sideways at the messy white strands of his hair currently tickling your pulse point, feeling his cum slowly leaking out around his softening cock. The frustration burning hot alongside with the ghost ache right in between legs.

If he had just let you ride him instead. Ugh.

“…Really?” you said flatly.

Satoru, mortified, made a small devastated noise into your neck and laced his fingers with yours like that would somehow make it better.

You hadn’t come from the fingering earlier. You definitely hadn’t come from his forty-five-second marathon. 

You shoved at his shoulder.

“Satoru.”

He made a small, satisfied noise.

“Satoru. Did you just cum inside me?”

His eyes flew open. The bliss drained from his face instantly. He slowly nodded, guilty, not knowing if he should be terrified or glad.

You pushed him off you. He rolled onto his back with a wet squelch.

You sat up, cum and oil smeared across your skin, and stared down at him.

“You ruined my date,” you said, voice low. “You were stupid enough to trap your own dick in a death trap and made me come home to deal with it. You came all over me without letting me cum, and then you creampied me in under a minute.”

He opened his mouth, “I was just claiming what’s mine—”ready to say something even more stupid.

You cut him off, because you were not listening to that right now and ever fucking again. “Don’t. I swear to god, if you say one more word of that pseudo-alpha, podcast-bro bullshit right now, I can promise you this will be the first and last time you ever have your dick in any pussy. Ever.”

He froze.

You leaned in, eyes narrowed, pussy suddenly drying up at high speed.

“I’m serious, Satoru. All that ‘high-value male,’ ‘she’ll respect dominance,’ ‘women secretly want to be put in their place’ garbage? It’s not cute. It’s not hot. It’s not working. It makes you sound like a loser. You’re only lucky that I’m stupid enough to actually fucking like you.”

And Satoru deadass had nothing to say, because it didn’t make sense, yet it made all the sense. And in the middle of the gears grinding he blinked up at you because… did you just tell him you like him?

Before he could grab your chin and kiss you stupid again, you pointed between your legs.

“Since you made this mess, you’re going to clean it up. Now.”

The color drained from his face as he stared at you. “Y-you want me to eat out my cum?”

“Did I stutter?”

He was too stunned and properly terrified to argue. He knew that if he didn’t get his shit together right now, this really might be the first and last time he ever saw pussy in real life. So he scrambled down between your thighs without another word.

He’s going to do it for the love of the game. Can’t be that bad, right?

He gulped as he nestled between your soft thighs, eyeing your tight little hole as a little trail of his cum mixed with your frothy slick leaked onto the floor below you. And it was the prettiest sight he had ever seen.

The reluctant pout on his face made it clear he was weighing eating his own cum against the very real possibility of never getting to fuck you again, so you made it easier for him. You grabbed a fistful of his messy white hair and yanked his face straight against your pussy. His nose immediately buried right between your wet folds, tickling the sensitive flesh.

And maybe he was currently terrified of you, or it was the fact that he finally smelled your sex up close — either way, he was now desperate to please you.

The first drag of his tongue through your folds was experimental, almost cautious.

He did it again, licking with too much pressure and in all the wrong places, clearly thinking he was doing something impressive, missing your clit. Again. And again. And again.

For fuck’s sake, you lasted maybe fifteen seconds. You reached down, grabbed his silky hair again, and yanked his head up to adjust him.

He furrowed his brows at you, confused and a little offended, like he was about to argue — until his tongue accidentally flicked right over your clit.

His eyes widened slightly.

He did it again, slower this time. A testing little flick. Eyes wide, as if asking what the hell just happened, feeling the little knob jumping.

You let out a shaky moan, fingers tightening in his hair.

“That’s my clit, Satoru.”

His eyes darkened and he dove back in with completely different energy. Okay, he knew where your cute little clit was. Now onto figuring out how to make you come on his tongue. 

He started with the licking, up and down, until he pushed into your leaking hole. He almost immediately tasted his own cum, still warm, thick, and disgustingly bitter against your sweet pussy juices, and he made a guttural sound right against you.

He should have been disgusted, appalled, mortified through his militant incel brain. But why did it taste so wrong, it tasted so so right?

Eating himself right out of you — it was so pathetic, so raw, so hot. And you couldn’t fucking believe you actually made him do it.

Your pussy fluttered and he dove in like a man possessed.

A desperate whine vibrated against your clit as he started licking in earnest. Messy, unrestrained, starving. He was slurping loudly, tongue pushing deep to get more of the mixture, swallowing it down like he couldn’t get enough. Every time he tasted more of himself leaking out of you, another broken moan escaped him.

His hands gripped your thighs hard, holding you open as he buried his face deeper. He was whining and whimpering into your cunt like tasting his own cum inside you had flipped some primal, pathetic switch in his brain neither of you even knew existed.

“Fuck— you taste so good— I taste so good on you—” Every few seconds he would pull back just enough to breathe, drooling, and mutter broken little things against your skin. And you were once again left wondering where all the skill came from.

Then he’d dive right back in, tongue flicking over your clit before dragging down to lap at your hole again, like he was trying to clean you out and make you messy all over again at the same time.

It was deranged.

It was filthy.

And it was fucking working.

Your hand fisted in his hair, gripping tight. He moaned loudly at the rough treatment, the sound muffled against your pussy as his tongue circled your clit, biting then sucking on it, then flattening to drag it through your folds like he was trying to devour you whole.

You were gushing at this point, and not a drop ever spilled on the floor as he slurped you like his favourite boba flavour. His touch spread across your entire body as the orgasm built after getting edged the entire evening to fucking oblivion.

“‘Toru—” you cried, thighs starting to tremble around his head. And he bit down gently on your inner thigh when you tried to close your legs on instinct.

Look, it’s not like you did it on purpose — who the fuck would want to close up shop when business was this good?

He kitten-licked your poor clit, sending sparks right to your lower belly. Your back arched off the floor as his hand snaked up at the right damn time to flick your nipple.

Oh.

“Holy— ngh— fuck, ‘Toru—!” you screamed and came all over his poor face, thighs clamping around his head as you tried to suffocate him with your spasming pussy. You shook like you’d been electrocuted and he kept licking and licking, to the point you weren’t sure if you came again or if it was just one big orgasm. He wanted to taste every damn second of you falling apart because of him, for him.

His face was a mess. Half of it was shiny and wet with your slick, lips prettily swollen. He’d thrown his glasses somewhere on the floor in the middle of it. His pupils were practically heart-shaped, and he looked so wrecked it was beautiful.

He was so cum-drunk he only stared up at you with his mouth open, resting his cheek against your inner thigh, waiting.

And your eyes might’ve been heart-shaped too, because the sight of him made you throb all over again.

“Fuck,” you almost moaned, reaching down to grab his shoulders. “Come here.”

Satoru didn’t need to be told twice. He crawled up your body like he was starving for it — for you. He crashed his lips against yours and the kiss was fucking messy. You could taste yourself on him as he smeared your slick across your chin, tongues sliding sloppily against each other like you were trying to devour one another.

His hands found your waist. He shifted his weight and rolled the two of you until his back was against the bed and you were straddling him in his lap.

You broke the kiss just long enough to look at him. His chest was heaving. And he was looking up at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Everything was still disgustingly sticky, but the way he looked at you made your heart go thump thump thump in a way it never had before. So you reached down, wrapped your hand around his cock, and sank down onto him in one slow, slick motion.

Satoru’s head tipped back against the bed with a broken groan that made the muscles in his neck jump. His hands immediately gripped your hips hard, fingers digging into your ass like he needed to anchor himself.

“Fuuck—” he slurred, voice so dazed. “Oh my god— you’re so warm— so fucking tight—tighter—”

You started moving, rolling your hips in frantic circles. Every time you sank down, you could feel the tip kissing your cervix, nudging right up against the entrance of your womb as he completely bottomed out.

It didn’t take long before his hands tightened on your ass and he started helping you. He pulled you down onto him faster, guiding your hips with desperate hands while lifting his own to meet you halfway.

“Shit— just like that,” he whimpered, kissing all over your jaw as his tip kissed your poor cervix again and again and again. “Ngh— you’re milking me so good—”

He was completely gone. Eyes glassy, mouth open, babbling whatever came to his mind as you rode him. And every time you clenched around him, another broken sound slipped out of him.

His mouth searched for yours again, licking into the corners of your lips before kissing you deep. You slipped two fingers into his mouth and he immediately sucked on them, tongue rolling around your fingers with a needy moan that made your pussy flutter and squeeze around him even harder. Your swollen clit dragged over his lap and lower stomach with every roll, his happy trail tickling your sensitive folds and sending sparks up your spine.

Satoru whined around your fingers, hips twitching up helplessly.

One of his hands stayed on your hip while the other slid up and wrapped around your neck. His thumb brushed along the side of your throat as he started moving you faster, pulling you down onto his cock with more urgency. The sound of your skin loud.

“I’m so close,” he warned desperately against your lips. “Fuck— I’m gonna cum— you feel too good—”

His hand squeezed, holding you in place as he helped you bounce on him. Every time you sank down, he lifted his hips to meet you, fucking up into you until your jaw rattled. He was panting hard, forehead pressed against yours, completely pussy-drunk.

Satoru came with a broken, drawn-out moan, hips jerking up into you as he spilled deep inside. He held you down against him, grinding up as he pumped his cum into you like he was unconsciously trying to fuck it into your womb. His hand on your neck tightened just enough to pin you down against him while he trembled through it.

Both of you were breathing hard. He held you close and kissed the side of your head as he hugged you.

“D-did you cum?” he mumbled against your skin, still dazed and half out of it.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, deadpan.

“WHAT?”

He blinked up at you, still glassy-eyed and fucked-out. “You squeezed me so hard I thought you did! Okay then— cum then!”

You stared at him for a second, somewhere between offended, frustrated, and fond, before letting out a short laugh.

“You’re actually so fucking stupid.”

You were still softly rolling your hips, using his softening cock like a dildo while you were still determined to cum again. Satoru just watched you, half-intently, half blissed-out, still breathing hard, feeling his cum escaping your pussy and pooling in his lap. After a moment, one of his hands slid down between your bodies. His fingers found your clit easily this time and started rubbing you.

“Fuck— you’re still so wet,” he mumbled, eyes locked on where you were grinding against him. “Keep going… I’ve got you.”

So you kept moving on his semi-hard cock while he fingered you, the combination making your thighs shake. Your breath started hitching and Satoru was watching your face closely now, still drunk but trying to focus.

When your mouth fell open so prettily and your eyes fluttered as he just hit that spot inside you with the angle of his cock, his other hand moved to your hip almost automatically. He gripped you and started moving you himself, guiding you in short, deliberate rolls so his cock and his fingers kept pressing right against that same sensitive spot from both sides.

“There?” he asked, voice low and rough. “Right there?”

You could only nod, a broken whimper slipping out of you as you started tipping forward, head on his sweaty shoulder until your thighs were trembling hard and you felt like a jelly.

You came with a sharp, shaky moan, clenching around his soft cock as the overstimulating orgasm tingled through you. Satoru held you through it, still moving you gently and praising you until you completely slumped forward against his chest.

He hugged you tight, face buried in your neck.

And you stayed slumped against Satoru’s chest for a long minute, both of you just breathing each other in. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, and reality slowly started to creep back in.

The room was in fucking ruin. You were both coated in a sticky mess, the mattress behind you was most likely ruined, and the floor was dangerously slippery. It smelled like greasy sex.

“Well,” you said.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly.

You slowly peeled yourself off his chest, shivering as the cool air hit your slick, overheated skin. 

You looked down at him and he still looked completely fucked-out, and you decided you could get used to that look. As you stretched, you felt his cum trailing down your inner thighs. Satoru’s eyes followed it from the front row, his spent dick giving a weak twitch at the sight.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you said softly, breaking the quiet. You paused, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “…Wanna join?”

Satoru’s heart practically stopped. His eyes widened and for a second he looked like he was going to follow you like a lost, oily puppy. But then he glanced around at the absolute state of his bedroom and reality hit him again.

“I’ll, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I’ll clean this up a bit first. You go ahead.”

You pouted but gave him a soft, understanding nod. “Don’t take too long, ‘Toru.”

You grabbed one of his random t-shirts from the floor and padded down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Left alone on the floor, Satoru stared at the opposite wall for a long time. He was deadass completely re-evaluating his entire existence.

He had just experienced the most surreal, life-changing two hours of his life, and the only thing he knew for certain was that he was completely whipped for you. For once, he didn’t care what his old incel education had to say about it.

He reached over to his nightstand, picked up his phone, and wiped a smear of baby oil off the screen before opening Reddit.

r/relationship_advice

I (M) think I’m in love with my roommate (F) and I might have just completely fucked everything up in the most humiliating way possible

Throwaway because if she ever sees this she will murder me.

I’ve been living with this girl for almost a year. She’s my roommate. For the longest time I thought I had everything figured out. I believed that if I just kept doing enough, she’d eventually see me as a potential mate. She didn’t, obviously.

Tonight I did something so fucking stupid I still can’t believe I’m typing this. I got a cock ring stuck on my dick. I panicked and called her while she was on a date and basically begged her to come home. She helped me. She got it off. And then… something else happened. Something I didn’t expect at all. And now she’s in the shower and I feel like I fucked up our friendship beyond repair. My entire worldview feels kinda off.

I think I’m in love with her. I’ve been a terrible roommate. I’ve been a terrible person tbh. I don’t know what we are now. I don’t even know if I have the right to ask. But I think I love her. And I have no idea what the fuck I’m supposed to do.

Please help. And be nice this time.

u/GrassToucherGeto · 183 upvotes

Is this the same guy who posted that viral “AITA for expecting my roommate to fuck me because I did the dishes” thread a few weeks ago?

u/KingNaoya69 · 56 upvotes

You fucked her? Good shit bro. Don’t fuck it up this time.

Satoru looked up when you walked out of the hallway wearing his t-shirt, your hair still damp and smelling like strawberries. Something in his chest went soft at the sight.

He was still sitting on the floor, holding a bottle of kitchen cleaner in one hand and a roll of paper towels in the other. He looked like he had no idea what he was doing.

You sighed and gave him a soft, tired look.

“‘Toru,” you said gently. “You’re not going to be able to clean this mess up right now. Just go wash up.” You paused, biting your lip. “Let’s just sleep in my room tonight, alright?”

He blinked up at you, panicked and hopeful all at once. You tilted your head, giving him the softest smile you’d given him yet. That was all it took. He dropped the cleaner without a second thought and basically sprinted down the hall.

He took the fastest, most aggressive shower of his entire life, scrubbing the residual oil and shame off his skin like he was trying to erase the last few hours.

When he finally crept into your bedroom, the lights were already off and you were in bed. He climbed in beside you and the sheets smelled like you. It was warm. It was safe. It made something in his chest loosen.

You shifted over without opening your eyes, throwing an arm across his chest and tucking your face into the crook of his neck with a soft, contented sigh. You fell asleep almost instantly.

Satoru lay there staring up at the dark ceiling, gently nuzzling the top of your head with his cheek. A quiet, overwhelming sense of peace settled over him.

Carefully, so as not to wake you, he reached for his phone on the nightstand one last time.

He opened Reddit and went back to his post. The comments had already blown up again — some people calling the story fake, others demanding more details about the cock ring, a few calling him a simp.

Satoru smiled to himself.

He typed out one final edit.

Update: nvm, she’s tucked into my side. Take this as a PSA to all the other incels out there. Admins, please flag this as SOLVED.

── Dividers from petalpx and fairytopea and melocor!

[tonycries]

BUMPIN' THAT!

Synopsis. Handle with care? More like manhandIe - he likes it rough.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, manhandIing, STRONG boys, breaking beds, chokíng, matíng presses, BREÉDING, creampíes, overstím, oraI (fem rec), pússydrúnk men, GOJO’S POWERS, true form Sukuna, dp, SUKUNA’S MOUTHS, cúmplay, innaprópriate use of jujutsu, exhibítionísm (Geto), pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 6.1k

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - TIMBERRR

“Tch, this- damn- bed- can’t even hear my pretty girl.” Toji gruffs out - fuming. Thick fingers gliding down your shifty thighs to spread them into a full nelson so wide. So loud. “Ohh- c’mon now, ma. J-jus’ one more- you wanna make hah- Megs a big brother, right?”

This was what had your husband so relentless for hours now. 

This single dream of you all around and glowing because of him was enough to have him puff out a heady pant of laughter into the crook of your neck. Laughter - he was gone. 

“B-but the bed can’t hck! take anymore, Toji.” 

And Toji doesn’t care - doesn’t give a single shit about the way the poor bed frame rickets with a symphony of creaks after every slow gyration. But you do, apparently.

With a pointed scoff, his big beefy arms circle around your squirming waist to trap you to his hulky body. Branding the curve of his fat head into your clingy walls so hard that it makes you see stars-

CRACK!

“Heh, whoops…guess the bed isn’t a problem anymore, doll.”

Now, usually Toji Fushiguro was one to keep his inhuman strength in check. Usually, he didn’t go overboard. 

Usually. 

But oh he couldn’t bring it in himself to feel even an ounce of regret when you gasp. Whirling your drunken eyes around to meet his sleazy grin - he knew what he was doing. 

Pecking a trailway of innocent kisses down your thoroughly tear-glossed cheeks, Toji licks a languid line up the salty taste. And he’s still not stopping. Hell, he’s not even slowing down - could barely even imagine it.

Because Toji Fushiguro is out of control. Feral. Jostling his hips upwards into yours to rummage around your stretchy walls. His thick shaft spreads your gummy channel open oh-so-perfectly to nudge up against your hidden sweet spots, rotund cockhead shooting out wet sloshes of precum.

“Y-you did that on purpose.” you moan.

“Hmm, did I?” he takes a few seconds to mockingly ponder, dark brows knitting across his sweat-sheened forehead in concern. Before grinning, “Yeah- heh, yeah I did-” Barely even giving you the time to snap back before he’s forcing his relentless, fatigued limbs standing upright. Dragging you in midair right along with him - held up so pliantly like some ragdoll in a full nelson hooked underneath your dangling legs. “-but I don’t hear hngh- her complainin’.”

God, if anything it was the opposite.

Because your sloppy cunt was talking for you. Wrenching out the most obscenely syrupy squelches that make Toji’s mouth water. 

Dragging his tongue down his lips and toying with the edge of his scar in a way he wishes he could with your slobbery pussy. “L-look at that. She’s m-more than happy to be all filled up- she’s practically hngh- begging for one more. Isn’t she?”

And you could hear the way that Toji’s deep baritone cracks at the very end. It didn’t even sound like him - unsteady and hot. Begging.

Muscles flexing when he bounces you up and down- You didn’t even know if he was in control of his heavenly restriction at this point.

Bulging biceps bruise into your tender skin when he’s slamming you bent over all prettily onto the cool mahogany surface of your desk. One leg hiking upwards, the other kneeing open your boneless thighs wider. Pound after heavy pound that rattles the furniture against the wall. 

“This won’t do-” he groans, circling the very ends of his fingers around your stretched hole. Stuffing back those creamy dredges of remnants from his cum from just before, “-told ya to t-take it not waste it.”

He’s so mean. Gifting the curve of your pussymound with a sharp swat! that leaves syrupy splatters of seed glossing all down Toji’s palm. His wrist. All for him to dart out a tongue down the filthy mess, before plugging back into your overspilling pussy. 

“M-maybe you should just- ah-” You struggle uselessly in his hold, your bumbling mess of babbles so sweet in his ears that it makes his sensitive cock twitch. “-fill me up all over a-again, baby-”

Oh.

Oh.

Now, he knew you were thoroughly drunken on his cock, but he didn’t think you were already this fucked stupid. Fuck twitching - Toji thinks he could cum right then and there. 

“Ah f-fuck- s’that what my pretty mama wants, hm?” Uncharacteristically gently, he’s swiping away a few stray plaster pieces that had fallen their way down from the wall. “Wan’ me to fill this c-cute cunt ‘ntil she heh- can’t fit anymore, huh?” Bruising now. His hip bones on your ass, fingers around your hips, twitchy balls so heavy and smacking away against your drooling pussy. Veiny knuckles of his clasp around the edge of the desk to fuck you like he hates you. Out of control. “To f-fuck her until she- haah- makes me a daddy a-all over again?”

“Yes!” you’re nodding half-lucidly. Shaky fingers clawing their way over the expensive desk, those office documents you really should’ve been working on, allll the way around to drag red, red lines down Toji’s throat. “Need it- hngh- n-need more Toji so badly-”

And he gulps, eyes glassing over with fucking tears at the sting. So good. Hissing, “F-filthy girl.” Two of his fat fingers dance their groping way down to your plump clit and pinches, “Then ya better take it- all-”

You see white-hot electricity pass by yours eyes when you cum - or maybe that was the way that Toji fucks up his orgasm into you like an animal. 

Feral.

Wave after wave of thick seed being milked so thoroughly by your gripping walls. It makes him slump every muscle of his towering body drained, he’s falling onto two pathetic elbows to crush you underneath his bodyweight. 

There’s so much of him. And Toji only has to blink. He only has to crack his dewy eyes open a mere millimeter, one sneaking glance downwards at your gaping cunt before-

THUD!

“Oh, mama—” he gasps - and you do, too. But not for the same reason as Toji, no, because you’re just now noticing that your desk was sagging suspiciously low. 

You don’t get to ask since when, because in a split-second, you’re being wrangled onto all fours on the floor. 

Still not done. Still not pulling out. Still not slowing down a singular second, Toji rests one of his feet on top of your head. Hard. “Can’t break the f-floor now…can we?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Evil twin?!

“Y-you want me to what?” Nanami’s husky baritone quakes - trembling at your little request. Jittery fingers sensually smack! smack! smacking his sodden tip down onto your sweet sopping pussy lips. Filthy. “Be rough? Are you sure, my love?”

“Of course, Ken. I trust you–” you’re batting your lashes up at your half-delirious husband in a way that makes his lower lip wobble. “It’ll be a good way to de-stress, dontcha think?”

Is he in heaven?

Nanami curls his fingers around that velvety yellow tie he didn’t even bother removing after his overtime.

And he’s so soft when he’s kissing away the pearly beads of sweat on your forehead, dragging his plump lips down, down, down to press pretty peck after peck on your lips. Hushly whispering, “B-but the kids are just down the hall- we don’t ah- don’t want them to wake up…”

You only grin, “Then you better make sure I stay quiet, hm?”

And that string of slurring words makes Nanami pant, it makes his glassy hazel eyes widen almost comically- and, truly, you’d almost forgotten just what your powerful husband was capable of. 

Just how ruthless. 

Because it doesn’t take even a split-second for him to flip you onto all fours. You yelp when that tie of his finds its way to tie your wrists together. All but ripping your silky nightgown, and you…moan.

Oh? He jostles two thumbs to smear your soaking folds open and smiles. How cute.

“S’fuckin’ drenched-” Nanami hisses. Strained. In awe. Peaking in one syrupily coated finger into his mouth and moaning. And you just gasp when you’re being gifted with a bruising smack! right around the rim of your entrance, slobbering out a fresh wave of sweet, sweet slick. “-s’this all f’me, darling?”

“Y-yes-”

Swat!

“Ah ah- none of that. Big girls don’t stutter.”

All you can do is whirl your eyes back over your shoulder because who is this? 

But what you’re met with is the utterly sexy display of your ruined husband - strands of his blond hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed, eyes wild. Heaving. Like something primal was just awoken…

Clutching onto the wrinkled sheets, you mewl, “Yes- s’all for you, Kento–”

Shit. You watch as his rosy lips sag open into an oh! before craning downwards to spit a silky rivulet of saliva right into your glistening pussy. 

And even after so many years, even after having kids, you’d still never gotten used to the way Nanami’s girth would split you apart so sinfully. How massive he was. Barging between your pursed lips to feed you inch after hefty inch of his girth, they’re dragging out the most sinful squelches from down below. And from your mouth-

“Shh sh sh-” He’s covering your slack maw shut with all five long fingers, and you keen at the cool contrast of Nanami’s wedding ring. “Quietly- love- quiet. You can do it- ah- y-you can take my fuckin’ cock, m’kay?”

Nanami’s words were every bit of gentleness that his hips weren’t. 

Fucking into you in languid, deep strokes to swipe a steamy wave of precum down your sweetest spots. It was too much-

“W-where do you think you’re going, my love?” 

Fuck.

You didn’t even realize the way that your helpless fingers were closing in around the headboard, gyrating your hips away from the thoroughly mean crashes of your husband’s cock. Blinking away the big, bulbous tears in your eyes, you muffle out a whiny, “S-sorry Ken-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” Without warning, five harsh fingers wrap around your tender throat in a vice-like necklace - hauling your limp body up against his front. “If you’re really s-sorry, darling, wontcha be a good girl n’ open that mouth f’me?”

Usually, your husband was the absolute sweetest. Mumbling out sweet praises into your ear and helping you take your time to milk him whole. 

But right now Nanami was impatient. 

He was out of control - like a completely different person.

Treating you like some ragdoll when he’s tugging down your mouth open with a few calloused pads of his fingers. Leering his handsome face closer to spit. 

Missing halfway - on purpose.

Nanami chuckles when he’s lolling his pinkish tongue out to swipe at the translucent splatters. Pinning you to his cushiony pecs with that rough restraint, he’s slanting a syrupy sweet kiss at the corner of your mouth. “Good- fuckin’- girl-”

And the bed creaks. The bed protests - headboard rickety when Nanami slams! one veined arm down and rams everything he has to give - seconds away from shattering, both him and the bedframe. Everything. 

Shit-

Shit shit shi- he swears you just got wetter.

Nanami gapes, powerful hips thrusting and thrusting until your ass scratches up against that golden happy trail running through the middle of his abs. Weepy, rotund head probing against your spongy cervix and just the slight recoil that had him parting stickily from it makes him almost sob. 

“There we go- thereee we go-” Nanami rattles out, hollowed. Every squeeze of your clingy walls around his throbbing shaft was so cozy, fucking you into the mattress until his skin reddened. “-there we fuckin’ go- s’what you hngh- wanted, right? Wanted to be fucked like such a slut?”

“Please-” you’re hiccuping, now fully bent into such an obscene curve and wrangling uselessly. “-yes-  yes yes yes feel s’good-”

You’re drooling now, lips falling further and further open with every French kiss Nanami was placing on your bruised and battered g-spot. Dangerously so.

Dangerously loud.

With a proud chuckle, he’s slapping another dripping wet swat on your plump clit - glissading your presoaked slit. Before bullying between your soft lips to swirl his fat digits around your tongue. Deep. Forcing you to taste yourself. 

His gruff moan is dark. Promising. “Told ya to be quiet. The kids are asleep n’ we don’t n-need them to know they’re gonna be ngh- b-big siblings, yet. Right, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - An example…

Now, to Geto Suguru, sex was an art. Sex was the time he could toy with your pretty pussy until you were crying for more, more, more-

So- why is he here - strong limbs jostling your own into such a painful mating press, swollen cockhead battering and bruising away at your bulging g-spot with each pound. Furious. 

All in front of his association, to boot.

Because, Geto Suguru was angry. 

“Ngh- please Suguru- more-”

“What was that?” he’s leering down, lips curled into such a feral grin that was splashed across his pretty features. And you couldn’t answer even if you wanted to, because he’s forcing your knees down to push against your bouncing tits. Folding you utterly in half, he turns to your audience. “Do you think she ah- deserves to speak?”

Through your lusty haze, you don’t get to see the answers. But Geto spits out a husking, “Speak.”

The entire room jolts at his eerie sweet voice - dangerous. Roughened around the edges in a tone he’d never used on you before. 

Batting away a few glistening tears on your lashes, you mumble, “M-m’sorry for ah- costing us the m-mission-”

“Shut up.” And he’s planting a smack onto the sensitive spot on your plump clit so hard that you’re seeing stars - suns, even. Slowing down his mean cadence to carve down every gooey sensitive spot inside you with his throbbing veins. Every rasping word of his was hoarse, punctuated with a thorough clash against the very bottom of your pussy. Pushing your legs up so tight you hear your joints pop! “Do you hngh- know how much I- we trusted you, gorgeous?”

Your nails leave raking red lines down his flexing back, and the way his muscles shifted underneath your touch was drool-worthy. “I-I know- m’sorry-”

“All because ya got a little distracted by the fuck- strongest-” 

And, truly, Geto admits that perhaps he was there to watch you carry out your little spy mission. He admits that the sight of you batting your lashes at a certain sorcerer had him clenching his teeth harder than necessary. Fuming. 

Because you were his. 

It has him looming over the delicate crook of your neck, so up close and personal that every heated pant feels condensed. And he can’t think - can’t do anything but sink his teeth down hard into your skin. Enough to draw blood-

“Fuck! Sugu-” you cry out. “It w-won’t happen again, I promise-”

“Heh, you sure?” Geto grins, but he can’t hide the way the pale column of his neck falls to swipe his inky black hair out of his face. Crushing you like a lawnchair in half, he’s twisting his strong forearm to block your heaving airway. “What do we think? Is our lovely hngh- second-in-command sorry?”

It takes you a few seconds to register he’s not even talking to you, and even more to register the soft, murmuring answers.

You don’t have the right state to even try and understand them right now - but luckily for you, Geto snarls his way into a clash of teeth and lips with yours. Tugging hard on your glossed lower lip, “Better not fuckin’ mess up again.”

Oh, he was still fucking you so furiously. 

Wrestling your pathetically droopy legs further and further up his sculpted deltoids, you’re sure that the tatami mat below would be patterned on your back already. One hand of his cranes behind his neck to pin your ankles together. And Geto-

Shit, Geto was letting his jaw hang slack - drooling. Eyes locked on you and you only.

Whispering, “You’re mine.” The headlock only growing tighter. Dangerous. You didn’t know whether it was from the lack of air or from his ruthless rummages at your mushy walls but it had you so lightheaded. He slides a thumb down your soaking wet slit and presses onto the button of your clit. Hard. “Y-you’re mine here-” Then up, up, up to about halfway down your stomach, splaying out to feel for the lewd nudge of his fat, burning hot head thump! thump! thumping against the insides of your pussy. Inflating you from the inside out. “-and you’re mine here-” Before finally - finally - pressing a saturated kiss onto your lips, as he usually would. “-and here.”

Your leader looked utterly ruined. 

And it’s not long - not long at all - before his sloppy strokes get almost painfully filthy. Before he feels stars burst behind his firmly scrunched shut lids, and his thwacking balls clench. Building and building-

“Open that mouth- fuck! Open it-” Geto hiccups out, plump lower lip trembling at the sheer need. And the very moment your lips are opening just wide enough - he’s pulling out. Your disappointed whine falling on deaf ears when Geto drags himself up to straddle your pretty face with his thick, muscular thighs. And he cums. “Take it- hngh- you’ll fuckin’ take it alll up- wontcha?”

Creamy ribbons of his seed splat their way right onto the middle of your tastebuds and it makes Geto huff out a drunken bout of laughter at the mess he’s making. Thick fingers flying up and down to milk out every pearly ounce of his cum onto your face. 

Heh, it’s not a bad punishment - he’s musing.

Guiding to swipe the curve of his reddened tip along your trembly lips like a little lipstick. You look so much like his that he can’t help but cum- again. And again. And again and again and-

“Sh-shit look what ya do to me-” Geto moans, and you swear it cracks into a whine at the very end. “I can’t- oh fuck- can’t stop.”

He wouldn’t stop - he couldn’t.

Greedy gaze locked on you, one massive palm slams! somewhere above your head to hunch his toned body over. Geto’s entire body wracks violently above you with each shuddering wave. Filthy. “Can’t be a-anyone- can’t be anyone else. B-because…you’re mine, right?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Candy Crush

Oh…if heaven exists then it would be right here, right now - with Choso desperately stuffing himself into your thinly-clothed cunt for the first time ever. Breathing- no, gulping in deep heavals of your essence in a way that makes his dewy eyes roll back. 

“B-baby- my pretty baby…are you sure?” he’s gasping out in feverishly hot puffs of condensation. And despite the tiny tremor of uncertainty in his voice, he’s spreading your thighs even further open all for him.

You huff out a drunken giggle, tugging impatiently at one of his sweat-dampened locks. “M’sure, Cho- really need you.”

“Oh, d-don’t say that-” he’s hiccuping, coral pink lips wobbling. And you feel the back of Choso’s thumb swipe down the puffy mound of your soaked pussy, smearing down a wet coating all over his slender digits. “I-I can’t when you say things like that- oh-”

Anything and everything that Choso was babbling is thrown out of the window with just one darting lick at the sloppy dredges of your sweet, sweet slick on his fingers. With an electric-like jolt, he’s popping it into his mouth to suck. That syrupy taste enough to have him bucking his achy erection down hard into the plush mattress. 

To have him gape, “B-baby…”

And before you know it, he’s dragging you halfway down the mattress like a toy to roughly attach his lips with your own swollen ones - too hasty, too depraved to even think of pulling aside your sticky panties. Strong forearms pinning your squirming thighs so hard to the bed that you half-wonder whether it would bruise. His heated tongue darts through and around that sliver of fabric - tasting it.

“Y-you’re ngh! liking this, baby?” you coo, threading your fingers through his strands in a useless attempt to get an answer - but Choso barely budges. Biceps flexing when he cushions you to his body even tigher. “How are you f-feeling?”

It takes him a few seconds to even hear your words - too wrapped up tonguing away your absolutely ruined panties to swirl a sensual circle around your saturated clit. Groaning gingerly, “It feels- ngh- feels like I could cum from j-jus’ this.”

And he was being so honest that it made Choso blush - a bright crimson flush that started from his hollow cheeks and all the way down to his bawling, reddish head. Hips rutting over and over into the silken sheets, but he couldn’t spare a hand to fuck into it right now.

None at all - because Choso needed to have you cum all over his face before he did himself. 

So you gasp when he drags his tongue away with a final, spit-slicked smooch right on your puffy clit. Whimpering out a soft, “R-ride my face, baby–”

That nod of yours is just barely done halfway through, just barely moving your head affirmative before with a sudden nudge of his soft, mountainous palms on your hips - you’re straddling Choso’s pretty face. And he’s not letting you hover - no, the complete opposite, in fact.

You’re being manhandled with a rough hand around your waist to drag your full weight onto Choso’s greedy mouth. Puckering up to plunge his tongue into your sloppy entrance, swirling around a wet circle at your rim before fucking into you.

Pure animal instinct - he’s so messy.

Muffling out a throaty, “S-so sweet- fuck- like candy. S-s’this right? Does this feel good- ah-” Those half-lidded eyes of his are immediately latching onto the way a few of your trembly fingers were dancing their way down to your neglected clit. 

Your boyfriend - your sweet, gentle boyfriend - is swatting away that hand rudely. Brows furrowing together into a plea when he rolls his free thumb over your plump clit. Toying. 

“Nuh uh- m’sorry, baby- m’sorry but-” Eyes blazing. “-s’all for me.” 

He’s so chin-deep into your cunt that every word comes out lewdly garbled, poking the upper half of his face over to suck on one of your sensitive pussy lips and bites. Choso’s dragging his face wherever you’d let him and it was hypnotic. “H-have the biggest fuckin’ c-crush on you, y’know?”

You didn’t know if he even realized what he was saying right now.

“Y-you do?” you’re tittering, core aching with the quick, dribbling gyrations of your hips down onto his face. But it wasn’t enough - it might never be enough and he was constantly leaving a light swat on your ass to make you use him. Faster. 

“Mhmm–” Choso nods and nods and nods and he’s plunging his hot and heavy tongue into your gummy walls. “-the biggest c-crush. I really wanna hngh! make you my- ngh- my lover…my wife.”

“Choso…” you hum, voice sending blood pumping to his beautifully flushed face all over again. And he finds it in himself to bite into your clit and suck. Shit. “-I am your lover.”

“R-really?” In awe.

You don’t know who’s cumming first - you or Choso. 

Because only with a few more syrupy slurps of his tongue on your throbbing cunt, you’re gushing all your juices down the lower half of his face. Forming an obscenely wet mask all down his dripping chin, his nose, all the way up to his cheekbones. 

And oh Choso loves it. 

Choso can’t get enough.

He can’t help but gulp and gulp down every one of your pearly splatters as he fucks you through your high. Over and over-.

That is, until-

“N-noo-” Choso’s whimpering, hands bruising where they’re immediately digging into your waist to halt you to a stop. And his bulging biceps flex in such a mouth-watering way when he’s easily plopping your entire body weight down onto his lap easily - onto his urgently twitching cock. Nudging apart your puffy pussy folds to slide just his fattened tip into the snug channel of your cunt before- “N-need to cum inside. Please- ngh! Need to.”

And Choso’s cumming just from tasting your pretty pussy. 

Shooting out thick waves of his seed, your clingy walls are gripping so tightly around his bolting cock that it makes him sob. It makes him attach his fingers bruisingly onto your waist as he ruts his hips up mindlessly. 

“C-can I taste it again, baby…” He’s gulping at the oozes of cum that overspills a glossy coat down his shaft in the perfect creampie. “-w-wanna see if it tastes sweeter now.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - “Both…”

“I should fuck ya stupid-” Sukuna utters, followed by a rough sinking of his teeth into your earlobe. And it takes everything in him to keep out the tiny cracking of his rumbling baritone, to try and not fucking stutter like some weakling. “-th-then maybe ya wouldn’t be able to hah- talk outta that slutty pussy, brat.”

You’re huffing in indignation, biting your own set of teeth into the tattooed skin of the king’s shoulder. Barely even a kitten nip to him. “I-I’m serious, Kuna- I wanna take b-”

SLAM!

His curled first comes down hard onto the decadent armrest on his royal throne. Anything - everything - that’s keeping his composure right now. 

Sukuna spits out a heated, “Don’t you dare s-say it-”

You roll your eyes, jostling your hips a little too sensually when you lean up to his toweringly inhuman figure. All the way up to whisper smugly in his ear, “-both.”

It’s silence, at first.

And you’re not even sure that Sukuna heard you at first - that special word just about on the tip of your tongue once more - before, wordlessly, he picking you up with two of his big, beefy arms. Fully. Remaining two curling around the thick hilts of his matchingly hard cocks to guide them all the way to your tearful slit. 

“Well then…” Sukuna’s dark snicker snaps you out of your reverent awe, because his fat, rotund tips were so swollen. The sheer circumference staggering that you had no idea how they were going to fit. “-better take it all then, woman.”

It feels like you’re being split-apart, Sukuna’s barely even bullying his twin heads to spearhead open your sopping cunt and you swear you already feel him poking around at your womb. He’s so ruthless. Not hesitating for even a second before pumping your walls stock full of his thickened inches. Over and over-

“Well?” he’s manspreading his muscular thighs in a way that makes you bounce precariously. All four arms crossing while he bears you with a sleazy grin you know doesn’t bode well. “Was heh- whinin’ and crying until you got it. Take it, then.”

Oh, he was so mean.

But you weren’t one to back down so easily, either. 

“F-fine-” you huff, hands steadying on his flexing shoulders when you’re gyrating your hips downwards. Gulping up his long, hefty inches that rub against all your sweet spots without even trying. “Shit- y-you’re in so deep, Kuna-”

And this makes Sukuna stiffen, it makes his massive cocks swell even girthier with a sudden rush of blood likely all the way from his brain. Leaving him throughly pussydrunken but in denial. Smack! You feel his sharp nails sting against your ass. “D-don’t think those ngh- filthy words of yours are gonna work this time, lil’ human.”

“M’jus’ saying-” you whine. Splaying a hand down to the nudging divot forming at your stomach, and you’re pressing down hard to thumb over the ruthless curve of his rummaging tips. “-can already feel you right h-here n’ you’re not even halfway- mmpf-”

Sukuna has to make you shut up.

He needs to.

And his first way of going about it is to cover your mouth with one of his monstrous hands, manifesting that second mouth of his from his stomach to smear across his palm. Into a wet, sinful French kiss. 

And his second? Well…

“God- y-you don’t even know what you-” he shudders out, two hands possessively forming a vice-like grip onto your waist. Body wracking with heaves when your clingy walls mesh and mold around his rock-hard cocks. “-what you do to me.”

You squeal - or, at least, you think you do. It’s muffled into your filthy, filthy kiss with Sukuna’s other mouth when he’s slamming your hips down riotously into his.

There’s no warning. No start signal - nothing before all of a sudden the king of curses is bucking your hips down, down, down into his over and over. Like some toy. The stretch is so dizzying that you can feel your maw slack open, drool trailing its delirious pathway down the side of your lips - with his excess mouth happily slurping it all up.

You honestly feel like you’re being ruined. 

Pulled to and fro anywhere and everywhere.

“Heh, too much?” Sukuna has the audacity to giggle - giggle. Low and husky in a hot pant against your ear. 

Yet, of course, the king never apologizes - well, to anyone except you. But for now he’s only stringing his hand away from your mouth, snapping away delicate ropes of saliva from the both of you. Instead, replacing it with another hand attached right onto your plump clit - and with it, his second mouth.

“Oh- shit shit shit-” you jolt. The dual- no, triple stimulation of his cocks kissing swooping glides of precum down your spongy cervix all the way to your g-spot and his mouth sucking on your sensitive nub was too much. Toying with you. “I-I didn’t know you could- ngh- could do- that-”

And Sukuna laughs, only grinding his palm up in a sopping wet smear against your stuffed pussymound to lap up each splatter of your sweet, sweet juices. Dredged out every time his hefty, cum-filled balls slam into your cunt.

“Special treatment fer taking ngh- both of me.” he’s grunting. The third of his beefy arms smush your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, overgrown digits so large that he’s squeezing into your airway. “Does the queen h-have any more requests, hm?”

You can only shake your head no - anything more and you had a feeling that you just might not be making it out in one piece. That is, if you do this time. 

“Good.” And Sukuna only smiles. Three of his arms slithering their way around your trembly body - the fourth taking its sweet, sweet time to dive into your clit and bite. Lightly. You’re giving up practically every ounce of control to him. “Now, jus’ relax n’ let your husband take over.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Stronger.

“I-I can take it-”

“Toru…”

“Promise- ngh- promise I can take it, s-sweetheart. Heh, it’s you that has to be worried.”

You had absolutely zero idea how an impromptu sparring session with Gojo Satoru - the strongest, longtime rival and absolute pain in your ass - ended up like this. With you flat on your back and splayed out across his navy bedsheets in such a tight mating press, with him running on complete fumes and his revered cursed technique to drag out his- sixth orgasm of the night. 

But you weren’t complaining.

And neither was Gojo - in fact, mumbling out a slurring slew of profanities into your open mouth. Followed by the most broken “I’m w-winning this bet-”

“No-” you’re spitting hot-headedly with a merciless little bite on his pouty lower lip, and it’s so pretty the way his lips grow as rawly rosy as the rest of his blushing cheeks. Leveraging your years and years of practice to flip the two of you over, “I-I’m winning.”

Neither of you could even remember what the bet was about. 

Something about who’d admit defeat? Ah, Gojo doesn’t give a shit - not even your puffy pussy lips were sliding down his overstimulated cock. Sheathing him in a freshly drenched coating of your honeyed slick when you straddle his slender hips and ride.

“Heheh- y-you think this is- oh!” His hands wrangle around your waist urgently in such a bruising grip to slow down your sloppy cadence. And he’s using his powerful arms to completely drag your drooling cunt in languid, lazy bounces up and down up and down up and- bruising. “-this isn’t going to m-make me-”

But he already was.

Oh, he already was with every clingy kiss of your gummy walls around his steadily swelling cock, every syrupy slosh of cum that made his heavy balls clench. And it’s only a matter of time before his thoroughly overwhelmed cock bursts out once more. 

Gojo’s letting his head loll drunkenly against the sweat-dampened pillows - shit, everything was such a mess. From the creamy puddle of cum sobbing from your sopping wet slit, to the way your fatigued bodies were so furiously glissading across one another. 

“Make you what?” you bat your lashes down at him in a way that should be infuriating, but it only makes his reddish tip twitch into your g-spot. “Admit it- ngh- a-admit defeat, Toru–”

But that’s the last thing he would do. 

There’s a sudden crack! of jujutsu in the air, and you already know from who before your stupidly fucked mind even registers it. Because it only takes a split-second - a split-second - for Gojo to teleport from right underneath you being ridden out of his fucking mind to be shovelling all girthy inches of his cock into you from behind.

“Ah! What-” you yelp, precariously collapsing onto the silken pillowcases now. Whirling your greedy gaze over your shoulder, “Th-that’s cheating.”

And Gojo doesn’t even hear you - fuck, he doesn’t even feel alive. 

The only thing one his delirious mind right now being the way your dribbling cunt was swallowing him up so well. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, entire heavy bodyweight slumping on top of yours when he’s jackhammering inch after inch.Tiny, mindless gyrations just to fit deeper - as if your clingy walls had forgotten how massive he was already. So heavy - you could barely breathe.

And it’s only when he’d bottomed out, it’s only when Gojo could feel your saturated folds kiss his fat base, his weepy tip drawing a long line of translucent precum across your cervix that you hear a noise from above you. 

It’s hoarse - pained. You’re halfway concerned before you hear that rumbling groan turn into a bout of laughter. Humorless, so, so pussydrunken. 

Gojo’s eyes glow with miniscule bolts of lightning when he’s dragging your face to crane upwards into his oh-so-feral gaze. The toothy grin smeared across his handsome features made it seem like he was fucking you like he hated you. Whispering - low. “You win th-this round, my girl.”

You feel a sudden spike in cursed energy - and you’re sure every electrical source within the next twenty-five miles does, too. Before Gojo plants one foot on your head and angles his hips deeply to pummel your womb with thick, knocking spurts of cum.

Fuck, every sudden ribbon of seed had him pressing into you ever deeper. Rougher. And Gojo could feel your snug cunt drain his tight balls again. Again and again and again until his furious divot could only pump out a few wispy strings of creamy white.

“God…” Gojo breathes, so strained. He’s swiftly thwacking! a few fingertips against your plump clit - buzzing jujutsu hot on his digits. Swirling those excess dredges of cum to make such a filthy mess of your pretty cunt. “This fuckin’ p-pussy feels so hngh- good. S’fuckin’ unfair-”

“Unfair? You’re the one using-”

And, well, usually Gojo loved hearing you run that smart mouth of yours. But right now all he could do was run his slender fingers over to your sensitive nub over and over - before punishing you with a tiny squeeze. “Mhm- all’s fair in l-love and ngh- war.”

Shit, he can already feel the exact moment when you cum - your toes curling, kiss-bitten lips letting out such a sweet keen of his name when the tingling waves take over. 

“O-of course, you ah- quote that-” you’re babbling out, strangled moans choking out with every clash of his bawling head into your g-spot. He’s memorized it by now. Perfected it.

Probing so deep that you think Gojo’s ready to batter a fat, circular bruise at that spot. Especially when his powerful hands wrap in a vice-like restraint around both your arms; biceps flexing, slack lips grunting as he manhandles your entire body to lift cleanly off the mess you call sheets. 

The strongest - he’s such a show-off.

Snickering when you gasp at the change in angle middair, jostling his expansive cock inside you rummagingly. He’s sweetly coating your insides with a sweltering hot pool of cum - once. Twice. And then nothing. 

Shooting blanks. 

You flinch when you feel the splat! splat! splat! of something wet, slowly realizing that Gojo was crying pearly tears from his pussydrunkenly droopy eyes. Smearing it when he rubs his face into the crook of your neck with a purr, “B-best out of ten…?”

“...”

A/N. PHEWWW I got CARRIED AWAYY with this one oml it was saur fun.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[tokkiwrites]

𐔌 ⋮ 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐒. 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘 𓏵 𝐅 ！𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

W.C 7.24K . ╋━ ℜed as my heart. 🎐

𑣲𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ─── You grew up defying the village’s only law: never enter the forest. But the forest gave you a companion, a wolf who never left your side. At twenty-three, forced into marriage with a man you cannot love, the wolf comes to save you, not as you remembered him, but as something far more dangerous.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ᣟ𐚁˳ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : WEREWOLF ! LEON KENNEDY x fem!reader, afab! reader, gothic fairytale AU kind of, little red riding hood inspired, mentions of blood, violence, slight gore, death, arranged marriage, religious symbolism, false prophets, outcast reader, dark romance ???, slow burn, gothic horror elements, age gap ( leon is literally hundreds of years old), morally grey characters, ABO basically (mates, knots, short desc of leons dick), unprotected p in v, virginity loss, belly bulge, cumflation, fingering ( f receiving ), lots of talking, if there's something else lmk !!!

݁ᲝAIᲘ ᲝEᲘU | ˖Ი𐑼⋆ 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐈 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 🎮 . ᐟ.ᐟ hey yall.. i was gone for an eternity... again... BUT I AM BACK WITH THIS STORY YEPPEEE !! i bring you werewolf leon. its a rewrite of another fic of mine with some changes. i hope you enjoy this tiny world ive built and lmk if you'd like a longer series.

As the full moon settles deep under the hilltops, the sun bloodies up the sky again, signaling yet another day has begun. This cruel world, for what it is worth, has its beauty. A beauty that punishes as much as it blesses, that lures you with sweet words only to tear you apart in the next breath. No child is born into this world without being touched by its cruelty.

And you were no exception.

The village had rules that were written in the marrow of every person, written in every lullaby people sung to children. Never step into the forest, it was not yours to touch.

The trees were old, older than the temple stones, older than the altars where false gods, charlatans pretending to be holy men, now fattened themselves on coin and praise. The forest belonged to others, others who were not men nor beast.

But what does a child care for rules when the air is new with spring and the light pools gold on the green grass?

You saw her first, the little doe. Her flank streaked red, a gash blooming along her side. She stumbled from the underbrush and collapsed just beyond the tree line, sides heaving, eyes rolling white. Without thought and without even fear, your little legs carried you to her.

"Hello.." you whispered, voice small and trembling, hands outstretched as if your touch alone could heal it. Behind you, the village roofs slept in the distance. Ahead, the trees loomed, black spines against the dawn.

And in their shadows, something watched.

You didn’t see it at first, only heard the sound of branches shifting, a low pad of paws on damp earth. The doe’s ears flicked but she did not bolt. Perhaps she understood before you did.

Yellow eyes, twin coals, caught the newborn sun.

The huge wolf stood where the light couldn’t reach, silent. Enormous. His coat was dark, thick, blending with the shadows, but his gaze burned. He did not lunge and he did not growl. He only looked. A scream might have saved you, running might have spared you. But instead you did the strangest, most dangerous thing of all.

"She’s hurt.. Don’tㅡ be cruel!" You clenched your fists by your side.

The wolf tilted his head, as though the words puzzled him. As if even he couldn't understand how one could be so careless and so naive. What a silly girl, he probably thought. Then he stepped back into the deeper dark. He was gone just like that.

The doe trembled under your touch, its warm blood slicking your palms. You cried, not out of fear, but frustration. You had no way to help. Your family’s apothecary was full of herbs, tinctures, salves yet here, in the lonesome forest, you were helpless.

By the time you fetched anyone, the doe was gone. The grass was stained where she had lain, the earth turned over in signs of struggle. And among them you saw pawprints, larger than any normal dog or wolf.

You told no one, but you kept going back since then.

By fourteen, you had understood well what it meant to be silent. The apothecary shelves sagged with jars no one bought anymore, the herbs inside curling into dust. The air smelled like thyme and lamiaceae, but no footsteps crossed the threshold. Only your father’s voice filled the old space, muttering as he ground another root no one had asked for.

You kept your head down, hands busy, because it was easier that way, easier than watching the villagers bow to men in gold chains and red velvet robes, who arrived in their square with empty promises. Easier than noticing how your mother’s eyes lingered on the cracked beams above the counter, as though she were counting how many more days before they collapsed.

When the feeling of it was too much, you went where no one was supposed to go.

The forest was forbidden, yes, but it welcomed you more kindly than the village ever had. The trees leaned low, their branches a shelter. Wildflowers tangled at your ankles, and the streams whispered secrets you never dared tell your mother.

And when you went in the forest, he was there.

You couldn’t always see him. Sometimes he was only a shadow between trunks, or a faint rustle in the leaves. But you knew he was there.

Even when the woods were still, you felt eyes on you. Not cruel, not yet kind. Only watching, maybe curious just as you.

You should have been afraid. Perhaps you were, at first. But children grow used to danger when it becomes a part of their days. You carried your fear like another basket in your hands, which was heavy but it became ordinary.

Once, gathering berries, your hem snagged on a thorn. You tugged too hard and stumbled, and the fruit scattering into the dirt. Hot tears stung your eyes, not for the pain in your scraped knee, but for the waste. It was foolish, yes, yet you cried anyway.

You looked up through wet lashes and saw them, those two stars burning in the shade. The wolf. He seemed larger than before.

You did not run, foolish child. "Don’t laugh at me.." you said. "It wasn’t my fault!"

He tilted his head, and for a moment you heard the faintest rumble.

Your heart beat so loud you thought it might shake loose out of your chest. When you left, you felt lighter. As though confessing your shame to the shadows had eased something in you.

You didn’t tell anyone about it. How could you? No one would believe that the forest had listened to a little girl.

As time passed, so had your hope in the world. For the time will never stop to aid mere dreamers.

The bell above the apothecary door rang, a foreign sound now, and you froze mid sweep, hands gripping the broom so tightly.

Your father's shoulders tensed behind the counter, jaw tight as he straightened the jars of powdered plants. Your mother's eyes flicked toward the newcomers, wary, composed, as though she had been expecting them all of her life.

They were the gilded men, with heads high, and their robes of deep red embroidered with gold, coins clinking as they moved. One stepped forward, hands behind his back, a vile smile on his revolving face.

"Good day." he said. "We have heard of your, how shall I say, services to the village over the years. And we think perhaps we can improve upon them."

Your stomach knotted. You knew these men. Men who hid in holy trappings. Oh, men. They weren't worthy of such title.

"We have what we need." Your father’s words did not falter. "The herbs, the roots, they are ours... We tend them with care."

The man tilted his head, smile widening, his ugly eyes scanning you for a moment, lingering a bit too long before sliding back to your parents.

"Ah, but of course!" he said. "But care alone does not suffice. People desire results. We can provide those results. And in exchange we require only your cooperation!"

Your mother’s fingers twitched, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. "Cooperation?" she asked, trying to calm herself, all though you could see the tears in her eyes.

"What is it you mean?"

The man’s gaze flicked to you again. "A simple matter. We wish to purchase the apothecary. Its location, its resources, and its goodwill with the people. We will provide wealth, advancement, a future."

A laugh slipped from somewhere in your chest. It was bitter. Your hands pressed to your apron as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.

"A future?" you whispered. "You call it a future, but why does this village feel like a cage?"

One of the other men, who was shorter and more rotund with a bald patch on the top of his head, leaned forward.

"Dear girl.." He glanced at you, as if noticing you for the first time. "You work here?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"She is my daughter." Your father began.

"Oh, yes.. lovely, diligent, though unseen. Perhaps you can assist us in the transition?"

You swallowed. You'd rather die than help. Your throat was dry. You wanted to speak, to argue, to tell them they had no right, that this was your father's work, your mother's dreams, but the words stuck somewhere behind your heart.

"They will take the shelves." you heard your mother mutter under her breath to your father, but the words were lost amid the polished laughter of the men. "They will take everything.."

And then you heard your father's voice, which was sorrowful.

"If we refuse, they will burn us from the village. They will take the apothecary by force, and the people will cheer."

You felt small and hollow, as the men made their terms clear. Coins were counted, papers slid across the counter, signatures pressed into ink that smelled of rot and control.

The tall man with eyes like polished diamonds turned to you.

"You may stay." he said softly. "You shall be the maid. Admirable work, yes." But you did not feel admired.

You felt exposed, like a fish caught in a net. The door closed behind them, the bell ringing one last time. Silence filled the room. You sank onto the floor behind a low shelf, hands gripping your knees, cheeks streaked with tears you hadn’t meant to shed.

"Why did yㅡyou let them.. Why?"

"Child.." your mother said, her voice trembling now "We had no choice. Not anymore. We were lucky to have lasted this long."

You pressed your face to your knees, letting the sobs come. And somewhere beneath those tears the memory of the forest stirred, a place where no gilded man could enter, where no coin could buy or threaten.

Again, you ran.

You ran until the cobblestones gave way to soft earth, until the scent of smoke and coin and polished wood faded behind you. Your legs trembled, from exhaustion, from the hurt of helplessness, the spoiled, ugly taste of despair curling on your tongue.

The trees leaned toward you as you stumbled into the forest, leaves brushing your hair like words comfort, roots rising to steady your frantic steps.

Your breaths came unevenly, sharp and desperate and then you finally fell to your knees on the soft earth.

You buried your face in your arms, letting the tears come freely. You felt it all now. The flowers at your feet, the petals damp with dew. Somewhere nearby, a stream murmured, threading its way through the underbrush. You shivered and pressed your body closer to the earth, curling in on yourself.

Hours passed.

When you stirred, the sky was lighter, pink at the edges of the canopy. You looked around, trying to shake some sense into your sleepy mind.

And there he was again.

He did not approach, did not make a sound. He simply stood there, dark and immense, watching and patient, as always.

You lifted your head, blurry eyed. "IㅡI can't do anything right!"

You pressed your hands to your face again, ashamed. Yet you felt seen without judgment, without ridicule. By him.

More hours must have passed in that stillness. When you dared to open your eyes again, the forest had shifted with the afternoon light. Around you, the petals of wildflowers were arranged into a soft, inviting bed, and beside you lay a small pile of berries, dark and ripe.

Golden eyes watched from the shadow line of trees. He had been guarding.

"Youㅡ did not leave.."

Something swelled in your chest, fear, yes, but something else, too. Comfort. Wonder? Maybe. A connection to something alive and strong in a world that had often been cruel.

You pressed your hands to the ground and leaned forward, face nearly touching the petals, murmuring "I’m sorry.. for everything. I know I cry a lot.."

And for the first time in a long while, curled amongst the blossoms with the sweet berries at your side, you dared to let your wild heart rest, even if only for a little while.

The village shifted around you, but not toward kindness. The apothecary your parents once ran, now a Coin House with no herbs that filled the shelves, no smell of lavender or warm wax, only the faint must of old wood and money hungry monsters. You still worked there, of course.

Your father had left a year ago, or more, you lost count of time, claiming he needed to secure more patrons. Even if the apothecary was no longer, he still wanted to sell what was left of it.

Villagers came, yes, but not for cures. They left coins pressed into your hands or on the counter, whispered prayers tucked into envelopes, along the little richness they had. They were trusting, hoping, that one day, some return would be made if they gave it all away now. Some profit, some miracle from God himself.

No one expected him back, not after three months had passed. After seven moths of him gone, your mother became a ghost of whom she was, counting the little coins left, counting days, counting her strength until it ran thin.

The man chosen for you was old and cruel, but rich, yet unmoving as stone. Your mother spoke little when she told you. Your father was now gone, so it was your turn to give back for the many years they have raised you, fed you, clothed you.

Days came and went, and you were twenty three now, which meant one thing: you were eligible. And the arrangements had already been made.

And so, the day of the meeting came. Alongside him was the richest of them all, his brother perhaps. They looked related, both with shrunken faces and blue eyes, yet with guts huge from the lot of money they ate on the daily. Gluttony and Greed, both stood in front of you.

Greed did not smile, yet his brother spoke softly, as if talking to a child. "Your duty is simple." he said. "Love him, worship him, bear his children, keep to his house. That is your life now.”

You nodded, but the destain in your eyes was clear. You wanted to bite back, rip straight through their jugular, for the taste of ugliness was too much on your tongue and the thorns that pierced your heart were growing.

"What if I do not want to?"

Gluttony turned to his brother in silence, as if considering it. Then, they erupted in laughter, their voices echoing in the empty church.

"You are a child even more so a woman! You will do as you're told." They both laughed some more, as if seeing you take into account what you might actually want was the tastiest meal they’ve ever had.

"Stupid woman."

"Obey, and do not make me repeat myself. You're only but a lowly peasant girl, with no father and a mother on the brink of death. You should feel lucky you were chosen."

You sucked in a deep breath, the wind hitting against the dusty glass windows. You would be damned if you ever cried in front of a hoaxer, not again, not ever. You may be forced to marry that heathen of a man, Greed, but no one could force you to love him.

So that was that. You excused yourself and walked out of the church, the sundown hugging you with its golden light.

Alone, you walked the quiet streets of the village, listening to the distant crackles of lanterns, to the clatter of pots and pans as people were preparing supper.

The forest at the edge of the village beckoned. And you slipped toward it, letting your tears fall freely.

Branches arched above like spires, and the earth beneath you was soft. Somewhere in the shadows, that same presence remained.

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you stumbled over a root. You pressed your hands to your face and let it all go, the sobs coming ragged and ugly. You had nowhere to hide now, but the forest did not judge you for that.

You froze, half blind with tears. He came, the wolf. Closer than ever before.

He came forward until his shadow covered yours, and lowered himself until his head pressed into your lap. Your breath hitched. Fingers hovered, trembling, until instinct overcame fear. You touched him. His fur was thicker, softer than you had imagined all these years.

The heat of him seeped through your skirts, steadying you as though he were more real than anything else in the world.

"I-I do not know what to do.." you whispered to the wolf. "They want to— to marry me off. To him. He is.. he’s cruel, and I’ll be nothing but a caged bird."

The wolf’s chest rose and fell.

"I don’t want to leave. I belong here.." Your voice cracked. "I belong to the trees, and the streams, and the air in this forest, not to him! Oh, little wolf.."

His ears twitched.

"I wish I was brave." you confessed. "I wish.. I could say no. But Mother says we’ll die otherwise. She says I must be grateful."

Your fingers sank deeper into his fur, clutching at it. "They all look at me like I’m a coin to be spent. No one asks me what I want. Not once, not ever..."

The wolf let out a low sound then, a growl that shaked against your hands, your thighs and your chest. "I know.." you said, as if he had spoken. "You understand, don’t you? You’ve been here all along.. You are my only friend."

Silence stretched. You curled forward, pressing your forehead to the crown of his head, your tears dampening his fur. "If you were human, I'd ask you to take me away. Anywhere! Anywhere but here..."

The wolf stilled. If it were human.

There were only seven more days left until the ceremony. People who had never even known you were to arrive, to celebrate the union that would forever bind you to that monster.

You were out in the back garden, looking at the now dead plants your dad used to take care of. This patch of earth had been his pride. It used to be a place full of life, now, the stalks were brittle, the soil dry and cracked. A graveyard of what had been. It was truly horrible how much things could change in so small a span of years.

Some crunching on nearby leaves wake you from your sorrowful trance. You lifted your head, and froze. A man stood at the edge of the garden. A villager. No, he couldn't be one. You knew every face, good or bad.

No, this man was someone else.

Tall, broad, his shoulders filling the space as if the light itself had to bend to allow him through. His hair was light, touched with grey that caught the wan light of dusk, and his jaw was shadowed with rough stubble. His face looked carved from something older than the stone of this earth, something cruel yet tender all at once.

You tried to speak but couldn't. You felt the strangest pull, not fear exactly, but almost recognition. As though your soul had seen him before, but your eyes never had.

He looked at you, trying to weigh his words as to not scare you away, perhaps.

"You live here?" His voice was lower than you expected. It sounded just like thunder.

You swallowed and shaked your head. "YㅡYes." The word snagged in your throat. You hadn’t stammered like this in front of a man since you were a child.

He stepped no closer, though you realized you wished he would. "Strange place for someone like you." he said quietly, his eyes drifting over the dead garden you were mourning.

You looked down at your hands, embarrassed without knowing why. "It wasn’t always like this."

When you dared to look up again, he was already walking away, vanishing into the trees.

He came again, and again. Never with warning, never with reason. Sometimes he asked simple things. Whether you liked the woods, whether you feared them.

Sometimes he said nothing at all, only watched you as though he were reading you like a book. You never found the courage to ask who he was.

But each time he came, your shyness only deepened. His presence made you clumsy with words, made your skin burn beneath his gaze, all blushed and warm like simmering milk on fire.

You always waited for him, in the same place, with that same feeling in your stomach.

He was older, rougher, and oh so handsome, nothing like the boys who tried to snicker at you in the square, or the odious man you were about to marry.

Three days until the wedding, you slipped away to the forest and the wolf was there, as always, waiting.

The wolf’s ears flicked. You laughed softly, reaching out to pet him. "I must sound foolish, don’t I? Telling secrets to a wolf... But I can’t tell anyone else. Not Mother, not the others. Only you, my little friend."

"I've met someone." you confessed, cheeks heating though no one else could hear what you had said. "The most handsome man I’ve ever seen. It seems like... Like he understands me, even if he doesn’t say much."

You brushed your fingers through his fur.

"His voice is so soft and sweet, but so strong.." you whispered. "It feels like I’ve heard it before. Maybe in a dream..." The wolf closed his eyes. The forest went utterly still.

Maybe in a dream.

The second to last day came fast.

The house was filled with people and of preparations. Strangers came and went, voices too loud, hands too busy arranging a future you wanted no part of. Your mother’s face was pale, her eyes darting whenever they met yours, as though she couldn’t bear the sight of what she’d done.

You escaped to the garden, as you always did. The plants were still dead, the soil still barren, but at least here the noise of the village could not reach you.

You sat on your little stool by the fence, skirts brushing the dirt, fingers plucking absently at a wilted stem until it snapped.

And as always, he came.

He lingered at the edge of the garden, that towering frame occupying the fading light. He never crossed into the garden as though there was an invisible wall between you two.

He didn’t speak and only watched you with that unreadable gaze, his arms folded across his chest.

You tried not to look at him too long. Tried not to let him see the way your throat tightened or how your heart was knocking against your ribs.

"I will get married tomorrow!" you called. The words tore from your throat louder than you'd meant. You were desperate.

But the silence pressed on you until you thought you might choke. When at last he turned to leave, something in you broke.

You rose from your stool, fists clenching at your sides. "I do n—ot want to." your voice cracked. "But I must."

Slowly, he turned his head, just enough to glance over his shoulder. In the dim light, you saw the sharp set of his jaw.

"Why must I marry someone whom I do not love?" you asked, your voice breaking into a sob. "Why must I give myself to a man I despise?"

For a long, long moment, he said nothing. Did he even hear you?

"The world is a cruel place, little miss."

He turned his back again, striding away, but his voice you still heard as he walked in the coming darkness. "But you will get your happiness in no time."

He was gone just like that, swallowed whole by the forest. You stood alone in your silence, tears running down your face like a cascade.

The door snapped open behind you.

"What are you doing out here? Who are you talking to?" your mother’s voice cut like a whip across your skin.

You turned quickly, dragging the back of your hand across your cheeks, but it was too late. Her eyes narrowed, catching the redness in yours.

"Is this how you plan to make these plants come back alive?" she snapped, gesturing to the withered stalks around you. "Crying over them?"

Her shoulders lowered just slightly. The sharpness in her tone gave way to something softer, as she sighed. "Come, child. It’s dark."

Your frown deepened, and you wiped your tears more harshly this time, angry at yourself for letting her see. Angry at the world for making you cry at all.

You hesitated, glancing back once at the trees.

"Come inside." she called your name, louder now.

And though every part of you longed to run into the forest and follow him, you obeyed.

The morning of your wedding dawned without mercy.

Church bells tolled in the square. Didn't they know what fate they were striking for you? Your mother’s hands trembled as she drew the white gown over your shoulders.

The cloth was rich, far richer than anything you had ever owned yet it felt like a shroud, heavy and suffocating you.

"Stand still." She whispered sharply. "Do not shame me before them."

You stood stiff as she pinned the veil into your hair. It fell like a curtain of smoke over your face, blurring the world into shadow. When you looked down at yourself, the white was blinding, sanctified but you knew it wasn’t purity they celebrated. It was possession.

"They will see you as a proper wife." your mother began, tying the last ribbon at your waist. "And perhaps you will know comfort. Perhaps not. But you must endure, child."

You turned your face toward her, though the veil softened her features. "Do you call this comfort?"

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. "Do not make me answer that! The world has no patience for women who dream too much."

The door opened. The sound of voices carried from outside, of villagers gathering, the clatter of carts, the laughter of children who did not know better.

Your stomach twisted.

The walk to the chapel felt endless. Each step made you feel as if you were walking to your own funeral. Villagers turned their heads as you passed, some smiling, some whispering behind their hands.

A few looked at you with pity, yet none dared to speak.

The chapel loomed ahead, its spire stabbing the sky. Inside, candles flickered against the stone, throwing long shadows. The priest stood ready, his robes gleaming red and gold. Beside him, your groom waited.

The Greed. He was older than you by decades, his face sagging like wax melted in the august sun. Rings glittered on every finger, but his eyes were small, so sharp and hungry. When you approached, he grinned, a crooked thing of a smile.

"Lift her veil." he ordered to the best man, who was there to make sure you will not try to run away.

The man reached for you, and for a moment, you thought to pull back, but your mother’s hand pressed at your back, forcing you forward. The veil was lifted.

The groom’s eyes swept over your face, down your form, slow and possessive. "You shall give me strong sons." he said.

The priest cleared his throat, raising his hands. "Before the eyes of the God and of men, we bind these two.”

The groom’s hand clamped down on yours, his nails digging into your glove. His smile was a sneer, fat, greedy and assured. The priest’s voice rose again, but the sound was muddied by your own heartbeat in your eardrums. You wished to kill, eat them all alive then spit them out and let whatever God they prayed to do the judging.

"Let no one put asunder what is bound this day—"

The doors exploded.

Wood splintered, crashing inward as a sound like thunder split the air. A growl rolled through the church, low and guttural vibrating the very walls of it.

The wolf filled the doorway.

Gasps, screams, prayers, a flood of voices all at once. His teeth gleamed wet, his eyes burned like molten moons. He stepped forward, claws raking the stone, and the people fell back.

"The Beast!" the priest yelled, holding his relic high. "The Abomination!"

The wolf lunged. The relic snapped like kindling between his jaws, the priest crumpling beneath him with a scream that ended wet as his very bones shattered.

Panic erupted. Guests scrambled over pews, mothers shielding children, men fumbling for weapons they had no courage to use.

The wolf moved through them like fire through dry fields. He was unstoppable, merciless. He ripped one man in half, sent another crashing against the altar with a swipe of his large paw. The whole building shook with the force of his fury.

Your mother grabbed your wrist. "Run!" She gasped, tugging you toward the side door. But the crush of bodies shoved her back. You saw her eyes widen with tears before the crowd carried her away.

The groom shrieked, pushing you aside as he tried to flee, yet his velvet robes tangled his legs. He stumbled, falling hard. The wolf’s head snapped toward him, lips curling back over fangs.

"No—!" the man wailed. "Stay away you monster!"

The wolf’s jaws closed on his neck, dragging him across the stone. His scream ripped through the chapel as blood sprayed the white floor.

The wolf shook him like a rag, bones cracking, flesh tearing, his head barely connected to the rest of his body now.

You pressed against the altar, your veil slipping, your hands shaking, and yet your heart did not cower. Not from him.

The wolf dropped what was left of the man. He turned, his chest heaving, blood matting his muzzle. His eyes locked on yours.

You thought it must be all a dream, surely. But then he began to change. From beast to man.

His form convulsed, stretching, breaking. Bones shifted beneath fur, muscle twisting, reshaping. Claws curled back into fingers, fur melting into skin slick with sweat and blood, the growls faded into a human gasp.

When it ended, he stood before you. The man from the garden.

His chest rose and fell, blood running down his arms, his hands. His eyes, the same golden fire, fixed on you.

The church lay in ruin around you, the floor slick with blood, streaking your once white gown. The cries of the dying were echoing off the stone.

You swallowed. "You.." The word barely scraped out by your lips "You killed them all."

His gaze didn’t flinch. "I spared who deserved sparing." His voice was low "The rest—" He glanced briefly toward the broken benches, the dead people, the corpse of the man you were meant to wed. His lip curled "The rest were vermin."

Your throat tightened. "But you—" you shook your head, tears streaking down your cheeks. "You’re the wolf."

"I was." you whispered. "At first. I thoughtㅡ I thought you might devour me.."

"And you were never afraid."

"Yet.." his voice rumbled "You stayed."

"Why me?" You blinked hard. "Why not anyone else? Why watch over me?"

His breath shuddered as he stopped just before you, close enough that you could smell the copper on his skin. "Because you were never theirs to take." he said. "Because you are mine."

"Yours?"

The corner of his mouth curled in a smile, but heavy, sorrowful. "Do you not feel it?" His eyes searched yours.

"All those nights you spoke to me as though I could answer? All those tears you spilled into the earth, thinking no one cared? I was there. Always."

"No.." Your hand lifted, trembling, and you touched your chest where your heart thundered. "I thoughtㅡ I thought I was imagining it."

"You were not imagining me." He reached then, slowly, taking your hand in his. His fingers were slick with blood, staining yours, binding them together. He lifted it, bowing his head, pressing his lips hard against your knuckles.

His eyes flicked up, still holding your hand against his mouth. "Would you rather I left you to him? To a life of chains?"

You gasped softly, your tears slipping faster. "You’re covered in blood... are you hurt?"

"No!" The word burst out. "I would rather d-die than belong to him."

He released a sharp breath, almost a laugh. "Good. Then you belong to me."

Your other hand rose, cupping his cheek. The blood was now dry. Still, he leaned into your touch, his eyes slipping shut in relief. "Say it."

"I belong to you.."

His eyes snapped open and then his mouth crashed against yours.

The kiss was brutal, desperate, full of teeth and hunger. His hand tangled in your hair, pulling you close, as if he might fuse you to him forever.

Your very first kiss. He has waited for so long.

The taste of his tongue was iron and smoke, your lips smeared with blood, his, yours, theirs, you didn’t care. You clung to him, hands gripping his shoulders as if he gave you life.

"I shall make you mine now."

Your veil had slipped back, tangled with your hair, sticky with blood. The pristine white of your gown was gone, streaked red where his hands had held you, where strangers had fallen. You should have been horrified, undone by it all, yet when his golden eyes burned down into yours, you felt nothing but heat.

"Come." he said, his hand took yours. "This place will rot. It was never meant for you."

He pulled you gently over broken benches and shattered glass. The chapel doors hung open, crooked on their hinges, and beyond them the forest called.

Outside, the night was waiting. The moon swelled fat above the treeline, its silver light spilling down like a blessing.

You stumbled once, the hem of your dress catching, but his arm caught you. The chaos around you was nothing compared to the need burning in him.

He led you into the shadows, further and further, until the screams of the village were only echoes in the wind.

Finally, when the trees grew dense enough to hide you from every prying eye, he stopped. His chest rose and fell, still ragged from battle. He turned to you.

"You do not know what I am." He said.

You swallowed hard, your hand still trapped in his. "I do. You’re my wolf, my friend.."

"Not just a wolf." He looked past you "A man, a beast— both, and neither. Long before your priests, before your coin houses and their false gods, my kind walked among yours. We lived, we loved, we shared blood and bread and fire."

He paused, his breath unsteady. "But men are quick to fear what they cannot chain. So a treaty was carvedㅡ your kind to the villages, mine to the forest. We were forbidden to take wives from you, forbidden to bear children together. It was peace, they said. Peace bought with walls."

"And you obeyed?"

"For a time." His mouth curved, bitter. "Until they stole what was mine." His hand tightened around yours. "You."

"I—I don’t understand."

His other hand rose, rough fingers brushing your jaw. "You are my mate. From the moment you were born, from the moment you stepped into the forest as a child, I knew. Your scent, your voice IㅡI could not keep away. The treaty has no claim on you. No paper signed by frightened vermin can sever what the moon has bound." The forest was oh so still. "You are mine." he said again.

Your lips parted with your heart slamming in your chest. "IㅡI.."

"From the first breath you drew, you were marked. I have circled this place for years, waiting, cursing the gods who made it so I could not touch you, love you.. But no longer."

"You waited for me?"

"I hunted, I killed, I endured. But I did not take a mate. You were mine. Always. Even when you were too small to know, I knew. I could not choose another."

"Then why now?"

"Because they would have bound you to another. Stolen you from me. And I will tear apart the world before I allow that." The ferocity of his tone should have frightened you, really. Instead, you felt the heat pooling in your lower belly. His hand drifted to your throat, just to feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers.

"You are mine." he said yet again. "Mine, as the moon is to the night. Do you accept it? Do you accept me, wolf and man alike?" The forest leaned closer, the wind curling around your gown, whispering and urging you on.

"I do." you blinked up at him though heavy lashes. "I accept you."

His eyes softened, though his grip did not. He leaned his forehead against yours, breath hot against your puffy lips.

"I am yours." you managed.

"And I am yours." he spoke against your skin.

His nose brushed the line of your jaw, a low growl vibrating in his chest. "With those words, you bind me as surely as the moon binds the tide. There is no undoing it, no escape from me now."

"I do not want to escape.." you confessed.

Moonlight slipped between the branches, painting silver over your bloodied gown, over his torn shirt, over the curve of his throat as it moved when he swallowed. He was gorgeous and you were completely bewitched.

He drew back just enough to look at you, his hand still cradling your jaw. "You are trembling." his voice was low. "Is it from fear or want?"

Your lips parted, no answer rising.

A slow smile curved his mouth. His thumb brushed over your cheek. "You shake like a doe cornered in the grass, as the ones you found years ago." he spoke, voice almost like laughter. "But I see the truth in your eyes. It is not fear that has you weak, little fawn."

His other hand slid to the nape of your neck, tilting your face up to him. "Tell me." he said softer now "What is it you want of me?"

Heat surged in your face, your throat tightening. Words gathered, then scattered before they could leave your lips. You looked away.

His hand at your neck tightened just enough to make you gasp "No." He tuts. "Do not hide from me." he said. "Not you, not now. Speak it."

"I—" your breath faltered. His eyes bore into you, demanding, waiting. Shame clawed at you, but beneath it was something far hotter, an ache that made your knees want to give up. "I don’t know what I— what I feel."

He leaned closer, his mouth grazing your temple. "Then I shall tell you. You feel hunger. Need. You want me to put my hands upon you. To make you mine in truth." His lips brushed your ear. "Say it."

"I wㅡant you." you stuttered.

"Again." His voice was firm.

"I want you." stronger this time, though your face was brighter than apples.

His own restraint was fraying. "Good girl."

His hand slid from your jaw, down the column of your throat, over the swell of your breast, pausing as to feel the way you shivered. His mouth was still at your ear, breath ragged, his words sinking deeper than a dagger.

"I will guard you." thumb brushing the edge of your collarbone. "No man will lay claim to you again. No vows but mine, no chains but the ones you choose.."

Your lips parted, your body leaning into his without thought. His palm flattened over your chest, right where your heart thundered.

"You will run where you please, little fawn. The hills, the streams—" His voice deepened almost breaking as his hand swept lower, over the folds of your dress, gathering the fabric in his fist, the buttons giving out. "You will laugh, and breathe, and never bow again."

Your knees buckled, a gasp tearing out of you as his fingers brushed your thigh.

"You hear me?" His voice was demanding, though his lips ghosted tenderly along your neck and shoulder. "You are mine, and I will see you free."

His hands roamed slowly, memorizing every curve of your body that had been hidden from the world all this while. "My beautiful little fawn. " his voice was fire. "You belong to no one but me."

"I.. I've never—" your voice wavered "I've never been with anyone.. like this."

"I know." he breathed, thumb stroking along your waist. "I've waited a long time to show you."

His hands pressed you tighter to him, but his eyes softened as he saw the way you clung to him desperately. "Do you trust me, little fawn?"

You nodded weakly, unable to speak. "You should. You are mine and I would die a thousand deaths before letting a single hair on your head be touched.”

His hands moved, teasing, grazing over places that had never known attention, and your body flinched and arched into it all at once.

"I will show you, little fawn. I will show you what it means to be cherished and wanted and protected...”

He takes your hand into his rugged palm, pressing it onto the hardened form in his pants. You were new to this, yes, yet you knew what that meant.

"Do you feel it? How much I’ve waited for this? For you?" You moan without reason, all shy and teary eyed.

In mere seconds, your dress was completely off, ripped into rags by his strong hands. You were flush against a tree, flowers wet of rain dancing at your bare feet. Though the wind blew, your body was hot all over, this strange, new feeling leaving you wanting more.

"I do not wish to scare you away." He finally speaks again, his pants coming undone and slipping past his knees. "You need to understand there is nothing human about what is about to happen."

You nod, though you can feel your toes curling into dirt. You look down and saying you were shocked would be an understatement. He was utterly enormous, tip red and angry, base bulbous, pulsing. Is this what all men carried in their trousers? Ah, wait, but he was no man.

Your shy eyes meet his again and he smiles. "Do not fear. It may hurt at first but then, I promise, it will feel just as heaven."

Rugged hands make their way up and around your hips as his face stays flush against your tender chest. He was ready to devour you. The wolf man looked up into your eyes, and all of the things you felt this instant caused your fears to melt away, just as you had in his embrace.

Gently, he laid you down onto the flowers below, the wet petals cold against your burning skin.

You looked like something out of a dream, skin glowing in the moonlight, hands covering your breasts, legs barely closed. Your pretty eyes searched, long lashes clumped with tears and dry blood. You looked unreal. Erotic. And all his.

"Spread your legs for me." it wasn’t a request, it was an order. and you obeyed. Spreading your legs you give him a full view of you dripping cunt, and the wolf man throws his head back with a low groan.

He kneels in front of you on the earth, pulling you so that your thighs are right over his, your puffy lips now on full display. Two of his digits make their way up to your mouth. "Suck." you comply.

After that was done, his calloused fingers make their way between your folds, gathering up the juices you've been dripping. "My gorgeous." You whimpered softly and he shushed you, rubbing small circles on your plush thigh with his other hand. He pushes one of his fingers slowly inside, and you can immediately feel it. It didn’t hurt, not yet, it was just strange and new. The second finger comes quick after and he starts pumping, moving them in and out as his lips made contact with your swollen bud, lapping up at the nectar of you. So sweet, the wait was worth it. Your eyes stay wide open as this new feeling washes over you, and you can't help but be ashamed as you let out sounds you didn’t know you could make. He hums against your sopping cunt, eating as if he starved for years while his fingers kept moving faster, faster.

You mewl and writhe before it all comes to an agonizing stop. He pulls his fingers out, looking straight down at you. Keeping eye contact, he licks them and you're sat there, mouth agape. Before you can protest he shoves those same two fingers into your waiting mouth, his other hand now fondling one of your breasts.

"Such beauty, I could only dream of it. Thank you for letting me have you this way, eternally."

You hum around his digits, trying to pull him closer by his waist. He smiles, squishing your face with the sleek fingers he had in your mouth seconds ago. "Impatient girl." Your muffled whimpers only seem to please him.

His broad hand presses flat to your stomach, sliding lower until he’s teasing the entrance of your flower with his leaking tip.

He smirks at the dazed parting of your mouth, the flush creeping down your chest.

The hand at your breast squeezes once rough, before sliding down to hook your thigh high around his hip. You stumble, caught only by the sheer size of him pressing you into the tree behind you.

"Look at you." he breathes, eyes roaming. "Shaking for me, and I’ve barely even started.."

His cock drags heavy against your thigh, hot and insistent. He groans low at the contact, the sound beastly.

"I’ll split you open on this cock, little fawn.." he growls, lips brushing your pebbled nipple. "Fill you so deep you’ll never forget what it feels like. Every time you walk, every time you breathe, you will remember tonight."

His length slid against your soaked folds, teasing and pressing against them but not entering. Your breath hitched, thighs trembling as you tried to buck closer. He only chuckled holding you pinned with maddening patience. This is the cruelest you've seen him so far, you thought.

"Oh.." Your nails dug into his shoulders with useless resistance. "Pleaseㅡ" you whispered.

"Please what?" He tilted his head, grinding the thick head of his cock against you, just enough to make you cry out. "Say it, little fawn."

Your cheeks burned, your voice cracked. "Please, inside! Iㅡ I need you inside of me!"

"Do you want my seed inside of you?" His words were sharp. "Do you want to be bred full of my pups, so everyone in that wretched village knows who you belong to?"

Shame and heat tangled in your chest, and you sobbed. Your legs wrapped tighter around him.

"Yes!" you gasped, frantic tears streaking your face. "Yes, please, I want itㅡ I want your pups."

Thats all he had to hear. He thrust, hard, splitting you wide, dragging a cry of pain from your lips. He tries to kiss your tears away, whispering soft sorrys as he lets you adjust, but he can hold himself back so long while you squeeze so deliciously around him. "My, my, what greedy cunt you have, pretty.. Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

He moved a bit shallow at first, ragged control making his body shake. But soon the beast broke loose.

Each thrust was forcing a whimper from your throat. Your legs were now up on his broad shoulders. "TㅡToo much!" you gasped though your legs locked tighter around him, keeping him there.

His hips slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt, the sound of flesh on flesh ringing sharp in the night. "Oh, g-god.." You clawed at him, overwhelmed. "I am your only god, l-little fawn." You could feel him in your stomach, the sheer size of him forming a small mound in your belly.

My what hunger.

"No. Not enough." he growled, breath hot against your ankles. "I’ll give you every drop. You’ll take it— you’ll take all of me, yes?"

He bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to break skin and enough to leave a mark. His pace turned brutal, unrelenting, like he was carving his claim into your very bones.

Yet even as your cries broke in his ear, he murmured "I’m sorry, my sweet."

Your body gave in before your mind could catch up, heat sparking low in your belly, your cries changing into something else entirely.

You didn’t even realize you were begging until the words spilled out shameless. "Please— Oh, don’t stop, don’t stop!"

He wasn't going to stop. Not anytime soon at least.

Each thrust was a strike of thunder, his hips slamming into you until the bark of the tree dug into your back leaving bloody marks.Your nails scored red trails across his shoulders, pleas spilling broken from your lips between sobs and moans you could no longer tell apart.

His breath came ragged, harsh growls rasping from his throat with every plunge. He pressed his forehead to yours, sweat and blood mixing where your skin met.

"You feel it, don’t you? How tight you are— how you take me? You were made for me, look, look how you are swallowing me whole."

He bit down on the tender place beneath your ear, pulling another moan from you as his hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.

"I’ll fill you" he swore, voice breaking rough and desperate. "I’ll put my pups inside you, make you heavy with me." He grunts.

Fluster burned your cheeks even as you nodded wildly. "Yes—yes, please, I want it, oh, I want you to!"

His rhythm faltered, hips grinding harder, deeper, drilling into you with no mercy. "Oh, my brave, brave girl.." The wolf huffs.

The sounds tearing from his chest were no longer words, only ragged growls. You felt him swell inside you, thicker, stretching you wider than before.

"WhㅡWhat is happening?" your voice broke with panic, unsure if what you were feeling was right. He buried his face against your neck, teeth grazing your skin where he had bit it earlier.

"Don’t fight it. You’re mine now. All of you. I will keep you filled until it takes."

The pressure inside you built unbearably. You whimpered, pussy clenching around him. With a few more moves of his hips he came undone. his knot swelled fully, locking you to him, stretching you open around the thickest part of him. Pain lanced through your body until were crying out with each frantic jerk of his hips.

"Ah—don’t, I—" Your protest dissolved into a sob as his hand cupped the back of your head, forcing your gaze into his large eyes.

"Yes." he growled, forehead pressing hard against yours. "Take it! Take me, carry me!"

The knot throbbed inside you, his release flooding deep, searing heat that wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

"Mine. My little fawn. You’ll never escape me now. This.. Oh, you are my gift of the moon.."

The world was still. Just the two of you tangled together beneath the watchful moon. you felt so full it was almost unbearable, yet your body no longer fought him.

He started brushing the tangled hair from your face with one palm, the other smoothing across the curve of your back where your skin was scratched.

"You did so well. My brave fawn."

Tears stung your eyes, but he kissed them away, mouth gentle now, where as moments before it had been so wild and beastly.

"I’ll never let you go." he pressed another kiss on your swollen lips. "The forests, the rivers, the hills.. they’re yours, all yours. And I’ll guard them. I’ll guard you. Always."

"Stay? Please..stay with me."

His smile was small almost boyish, and so full of warmth it undid you more than his savagery ever could.

"There is nowhere else I’d ever go"

[rjreins]

yeah...no. I'm quitting this fuckass game. we've been thrown around left and right with all these hopeful rumors and the silence from the global side is INFURIATING.

to think that a majority of players really wanted valko in game just for some whiny self-absorbed CN players get their way because it wasn’t their preference.

FUCK INFOLD! THIS COMPANY DOESN’T HAVE THE BALLS TO ADDRESS COMPLAINTS AND IM TIRED OF BEING SHUT DOWN OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

[heartyluv]

Let's Press Play! ▷

summary ♡ losing your job takes a serious toll on you and when your roommate’s "co-worker" isn't able to make it for a stream, an unforeseen idea sparks

content ♡ camboy&roommate!valko/reader, livestreamed sex, oral(fem!receiving), p in v (obvi lolll), he calls you pup bc why not

wc ♡ 4.7K (WOWOWOWOW)

a/n ♡ SURPRISEEEE!!! this may not be good, not too much

Trying to find a job was hard.

Trying to find a job while also being unemployed was even harder.

But you swore not to be too hard on yourself when you knew well in your heart that you were trying your best. Doing such a thing served you no justice and only made what was already a stressful experience, even more difficult.

No one anticipates being grouped into their company’s massive layoff, not when they swore that they had been a good little sheep in the communism hamster wheel of meetings, late night projects, and stacks of paperwork. Though with luck almost as bad as a cursed cartoon character, of course life would play out in a way that delivers you such heavy-hearted misfortune.

So, as you step into your apartment, trying your hardest not to breakdown after another shitty interview and realizing that you’ve officially been jobless for nearly five months now, all you can think of is some good food and your bed that you plan to rot in indefinitely.

“You look exhausted,” Valko says to you from where he lounges on the couch. “Another bad day?”

You’ve been disassociating so much the last few weeks that you actually tended to forget that you cohabitated with another person. Rather than being able to sulk in your feelings and waste away from the never-ending disappointment, your roommate wasn’t exactly the kind of man to let you if he had any say.

When you decided to share a space with one of your closest friends, especially one with a personality as out there as his, you figured it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Although it took you a few days to consider his offer, eventually you knew that the benefits were far too great and as time progressed, it proved to be a dynamic going strong for the last three years.

Where you kept to yourself and avoided the unnecessary, he was quick to speak up and make his voice heard. Truly, it was perfect.

You just never anticipated being the one who would be forced to hear it the more your frustrations and grievances became harder to mask.

You kick off your shoes and remove your cardigan in silence, intentionally ignoring him and focusing on whatever commercial that had put a pause to the media he was streaming.

“Am I asking for trouble if I say anything else?” he adds as you plop yourself down on the couch next to him and take a piece of beef jerky from the bag he’s nearly finished with.

“You're so greedy.” He raises a brow and tilts his head with confusion like a lost puppy at your comment.

“You do know that you’re the one eating my snack, don’t you?”

“I thought you didn’t mind sharing with me.”

“I don’t mind. Not at all.” He pauses his wildlife documentary, clearly ready to keep the conversation going and for all of his attention to stay on you. “But you’re the one raiding my stash and calling me names. Then you don’t even say hi. Do I mean nothing to you?”

“You just got this bag this morning and it’s already pretty much gone, dude,” you chuckle. “Greedy, dramatic, and sensitive.”

“You’re pivoting, you know? Not very good at being subtle about it either.”

You didn’t want to talk about it. You really, really didn’t.

You didn’t want to explain what he clearly already knew and didn’t feel like hearing the same reassuring words that weren’t doing anything to ease your constantly racing mind.

Valko leans over and snags the practically empty bag from you and tosses it somewhere out of your reach.

“What the hell is your problem—”

“You’re trying to shut me out again and I’m not letting you do that.”

“Does it kill you to not overstep?”

“That was so damn cheap.”

“How about add nosy to the list while we’re at it.”

“Concerned is more like it,” he corrects. “Why are you pushing yourself so hard when I told you to ease up? You do know that besides being your roommate, I am your friend. And friends don’t let their friends do and experience shit alone. You’re not doing this by yourself and I wish you stopped acting like you are.”

Already, you want to cry. Again.

The tears burn behind your glassy eyes and the uncomfortable tingle in your jaw makes it tick with the urge to let the waterworks flow freely.

Ever since you’ve been trekking through these unexpected hardships, Valko has been covering everything. Rent, groceries, utilities—the whole nine yards. He made you promise to not dip into your savings or to overwork yourself to try compensating for anything he wasn’t expecting of you.

What should’ve been relief had been a nightmare for you ever since.

You’ve always been able to have his back in some way, always have been able to be a dependable counterpart in your two-party pack. But ever since you lost your job, you’ve had to lean on him 100% and never have you ever felt so helpless.

Sure, his job does pay well. Very well, in fact. So much so that necessities and wants for both you and him were expenses he had no qualms about paying.

When he suddenly told you that he planned on seeing what it was like to be a camboy a few years back simply because he had the face and body for it, to say you were stunned was an understatement. At the time, he quite literally said one of his biggest reasons for contemplating such an idea was because he was “bored”. You weren’t one to discourage him if he had the confidence for it either.

Valko’s always been one to try his hand at something if he figured he’d be good at it. Combine that with his carefree-like approach to almost anything he sets his mind to, it shouldn’t be shocking that not only was he right in his assumptions of anticipated success, but he practically became one of the best known in the business what felt like overnight.

Working independently, it wasn’t long before agencies were reaching out and established workers wanted to work with him. Playing his cards right, he chose to remain solo, but when he partnered with the right people and produced the content the fans were begging for, his popularity and finances boosted exceptionally in record time.

To some extent, it’s been a rollercoaster for the both of you. He had to adjust to the recognition and demand while you had to do the same with all the things that could possibly come with the territory of having one of your closest friends be both your living partner and someone who has sex with others on camera.

You felt guilty for your lack of contribution irregardless of the reassurance he gave you and with the sincere look on his face, you were almost certain he could see it.

“We’ve already talked about this, Val.”

“So why does it seem like you still don’t get it?” He sighs, placing his hand on your head and making you turn it to face him instead of the coffee table like you’ve been doing this whole time. “It’s pretty bogus, if you ask me.”

He raises an eyebrow when you sit there silently with such a defiant expression, chuckling at the pouty lips and blank stare.

“Because you don’t get it. You’re not in my position, how could you even?”

“I don’t have to be. I know which one I’m in and I told you what it’s gonna look like until something changes. Nobody’s rushing you around here but you. Funnily enough, you’re the one that doesn’t see that.”

“Oh, you’re sooo inspirational,” you comment sarcastically as you drag out your words. You go to remove his hand from you. Ignoring the truth in his words helps you cope. “Let’s get this one a talk show.”

But he doesn’t let you discard his touch so easily, hand slipping down to the back of your neck to evade your move. He sees the way you tense as much as he can feel it, smiling to himself when your eyes widen and your lips press together.

“Nervous, huh?” Valko’s thumb swipes across your nape gently. “It’s always so easy to mess with you.”

He’s a friend. He’s always been a flirt. Don’t read too much into it.

“You’re so annoying. Get off me.”

“You think just because you’re wallowing in your emotions that I’d let you off easy?”

“Off,” you repeat, trying to shrug him away, but to no avail. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work anyways? Isn’t that guy coming by? Caleb or whatever?”

Valko raises his arms in amused defeat as he follows your stern order. “He cancelled today. Had something come up. I was gonna tell you later.”

Then that meant… “What about the stream you have to do today?”

“I’m still doing it, just by myself. Probably won’t be as fun for everyone since he can’t make it, but I’m nothing if not resourceful.”

If they were truly present in your head, certainly the both of you would’ve been capable of hearing the gears turning.

You stay with the egregious thought for a minute—a long minute, actually.

Valko, a popular and overly loved camboy with copious amounts of supporters. A job where he makes and earns money in real time. Thousands of fans in one stream surely has to equal the same in revenue, at least somewhat.

You don’t have a job.

You need something to not feel so awful.

It’s quick and relatively harmless.

But this is your friend. This will change the dynamic drastically—forever. Maybe he could handle it, it’s just work to him after all. Another day in the “office”. But could you? Do you want to add more turmoil to your already raging flame?

“Can I...” You stop yourself.

Should you really be asking this? Are you ready for something so extreme and sudden? But the opportunity is sitting in your face and begging to be taken.

“Can you what? Don’t give up, I believe in you,” he jests, leaning into you slowly and close to nudging you with his shoulder.

You push him away immediately and ignore his exaggerated look of betrayal. “Could you be serious?”

“If you could finish your sentence, I can think about trying.”

Rolling your eyes and huffing out a shaky breath that he hears too clearly, you muster up the courage. Or whatever this kind of audacity is.

“What if… what if I take his… place?”

The room falls silent. Too silent. For a second, you think you might’ve actually stopped his heart.

“… What the fuck.”

Not what you were hoping to hear, but it’s a fair reaction nonetheless.

“We don’t have to show my face,” you urge. “I don’t want to show it at all, actually. Just hear me—”

“Are you insane? Absolutely not.”

He doesn’t get to shut you down like this. Maybe it’s the adrenaline coming from what you’re genuinely considering or the desire to make some kind of progress in something that’s been so dormant, but if he would just work with you.

“I’ve been feeling like shit for months, Valko!” He freezes at your voice raised so suddenly, gaze flickering between your clenched fists and avoidant eyes. “Maybe it’s just desperation. Maybe this is so irresponsible of me and… and m-maybe I’ll regret it in the future. But I can’t keep sitting here and failing, okay?”

“How many times do I have to tell you—”

Your head shakes immediately to swat away what’s supposed to be uplifting if you’d let him finish.

“I trust you. I trust you get where I’m coming from and why I’m trying to do this.” You move closer to him, trying not to let it sting when he watches you warily like you’re not in your right mind. “If you don’t want to do it with me, I rather you just say that. But… but I can do it. If you let me, Val, I can show you. Please.”

He tries to ignore the way his dick twitches from the softness that claims your tone. His sweatpants feel like they've suddenly shrunk three sizes and are suffocating him. But the way you cling to him, how you beg…

“I don’t want to take advantage of you being in such a vulnerable place, pup. That’s not my style.”

“You aren’t if I’m asking for it. I want… I want to feel like I’m doing something—that I’m helping and that I believe it in my own terms.”

His features soften. He’s always given you everything you wanted. How could he deny you when you come to him like this? Even with his concerns, he can’t ignore the temptation.

“… Nothing’s gonna change about us? You won’t run when it’s done?”

Your head moves side to side, decision firm and resolute. “I promise not to.”

It’s been hours since you had that conversation and only now were your nerves trying to get the best of you when the act itself was this close to happening.

Seeing Valko live and in his element was different from watching behind a screen in secret. Of course you watched him from time to time, it wasn’t abnormal to be curious. How could one not be?

Were you proud to say that you’ve seen your friend’s cock? Or that you’ve seen what he looks like when his strong thighs are covered in his cum? Or how he sounds when he edges himself for over an hour? No, not really. But you’d be lying if you said you regretted seeing or enjoying it.

The minute he started, having you sit beside him and out of view until it came time to do what the both of you were there for, his stream was flooded with donations, comments, and viewers, instantly.

It almost made you nauseous, seeing the number of watchers jump from 0 to 20, 500, then surpassing the thousands faster than you could blink. He gave them that flirtatious banter and cocky energy effortlessly, teasing a few supporters and playfully reprimanding others for their smutty dialogue.

This was easy for him, at least it had become so with time, and it forced you to observe with admiration.

He didn’t even have to do anything different outside of who he is naturally, simply sitting at his desk and staying dressed in the same comfortable attire you found him in after coming home.

There was something about Valko that you could never put your finger on, and that amplified as you paid close attention to the way he interacts with the people who love him and his body.

valsbabydoll: isn’t caleb supposed to be here today??

locawerewolf: can we get to itttt

valkosprincess: he’s so sexy, i’m dripping

“Don’t be mad at me,” he smirks, eyeing the way they urge him to reveal what he’s been holding onto. “But Caleb couldn’t make it tonight.”

You can already sense the kind of reaction he’ll get for telling them something so disappointing when their expectations were so high, but he continues with confidence. Whether it’s in you or him, you can’t tell.

“I’ve got something else you might like. Someone I know I will.”

Valko looks your way and throws you a reassuring wink, tilting his head for you to stand and come to him. Was it wise to read into his words or was all of this “on the clock”?

The camera’s been angled in a way that only shows your body from the chest down, keeping it safely away from revealing your face. Your body is completely covered in goosebumps, and the jitters are buzzing from your fingertips all the way to your toes.

Turning in his chair, he looks in your direction and caresses you from your ass to the back of your thighs. “Pretty, isn’t she?”

It takes everything to not let your knees give out as he feels on you so tenderly, switching from grabbing the flesh of your ass through your shorts to tracing his fingers dangerously close in between your legs.

“We’ll both do good for you tonight, so make sure you let her know how much you appreciate it.” His hand slips up your tank top from the side, making him grin when you twitch. “I think it’s about time we got started."

“When I’m touching you, you focus on me. They’re paying you to feel good, remember that.”

That’s what you try to keep in mind when Valko’s lips connect to the exposed part of your stomach. It’s what he told you after you reassured him for what felt like the hundredth time that you were not changing your mind. Besides safe words and mutual understandings set, he needed you to feel good. He needed you to have fun and he would put in all the effort necessary to ensure that outcome.

So instead of trying to see what his fans think of you, your body, and unexpected appearance, you fixate upon the warmth of his tongue as he leaves sloppy open-mouth kisses on your tummy and the strong arm he keeps wrapped around you so that you can’t slip away from him. You find your back arching the slightest into his affection the more he gives it and that alone was already surreal because of how natural it felt.

Your fingers cling to the soft strands on his head, running them through his scalp as stimulation for his own satisfaction and as a way to keep you grounded. All you have is the dimmed off-white light coming from his computer monitors and the lamp he has lit to see how he almost loses himself in catering to your torso alone. With you being so reactive to how he nips at your soft spots to make you whine and hiss with pleasure, he could see himself staying there for a very long time.

“Val… p-please” you whisper through a gentle moan when he hums against you in acknowledgment to the sounds you make in response the sensations.

“Don’t be impatient.” It’s ironic for him to taunt you this way when he says that with his sentence muffled since he won’t pull away. “Savoring my treats is what I do.”

He goes for your bottoms next, hooking his thumbs into them and slowly tugging them down whilst seemingly trying to leave an imprint of his lips on your skin.

deepspace4val ~ Donated 300 Chocos - take them off. panties too

The automated voice reading out the note attached to the gift makes Valko laugh and sends vibrations through you.

“Everyone’s just as eager as I am.” He looks into your lust-filled eyes, searching for approval and making a silent promise. Your quick and little nod is what he needs before pulling them down your legs completely and following them to the floor as he removes himself from the chair and falls to his knees.

He has your leg hooked over his shoulder fast, burying his entire face in your pussy as if he’ll die now if he doesn’t inhale you deeply from the source. You have to regain focus quickly and brace your palms to his broad shoulders as he pulls a hearty cry of pleasure from your unexplored depths.

The sounds of him licking and sucking you in such a place, feeling him groan and lap you up as if he’s been stranded in a desert—right here and right now, he owned you.

Donations were coming in waves as you looked out the corner of your eye through hazy vision. Watching your friend taste you like this for thousands to see… you wanted more. The way his jaw moved and how the muscle in it jumped the harder he worked to consume you was intoxicatingly addictive.

“I’m gonna… w-wait. Hold on…!” You try warning him, but your pitched cries and nails digging into his skin is his reason.

Valko sucks your clit into his mouth the more you squirm, focusing all his attention on the swollen bud that pulses against his tongue as his mouth is flooded with your sweetness. He then widens and flattens the muscle along the slit of your puffy cunt, forcing you to nearly hunch over from the dizziness of his overwhelming gluttony.

You can’t utter another word when the tip of his tongue slips into your quivering hole. That and his nose nudging against you is what has the expert holding you by the ass to keep you rooted on his greedy mouth that sucks you dry when your orgasm confiscates all your senses.

You’ve never wailed from such a thing this loud in your life—ever.

“Even better than I expected.” You can’t tell if the glow on his face is from your slick or the fact that he’s thriving off your essence. It’s like he’s almost in disbelief himself. “Fuck, I’m so hard.”

imcumming77 ~ Donated 500 Chocos - fuck her already, i can’t last long

0rgasmsRlife ~ Donated 450 Chocos - i wanna see her tits

“What a coincidence. So do I.” Even breathless and covered in you, he’s still so cheeky.

He presses another kiss to his new favorite place, leaving a trail as he begins to stand. Your shirt rises with him until it’s off completely and a nipple is claimed by him immediately.

“Ah—Hold… Mmph, Valko, that’s s-so…” You’re incoherent now and leaving you speechless has become his guilty pleasure.

His cock brushes up against you and you feel just how much he’s been holding back. Taking his time to tend to you, to relax your mind and body to be ready for both him and this experience, you realize now you could never repay him for something of this magnitude. But, you’d be a liar to say you’d never try.

With newfound boldness, you snake a hand past his elastic waistband and into his pants. As soon as your hand wraps around his cock, you give all the attention to his leaking tip that now creates the same mess in your palm as it’s done all over him.

“Trying to kill me?” he rasps, nose buried in your neck as if your scent will keep him from truly collapsing. “Goddamn, y-you… shit, that's good..”

You look at the screen again and this time he does the same to see what everyone else does. His cum just barely seeps through his pants and the motion of your hand taking care of him underneath sends shivers down his spine.

Your tits glisten with his saliva and having your naked body on display for so many to see yet it only being for him to touch and feel is a reality he can’t quite believe, but he yearns to stay there.

“Not like this.” Although they can’t see your face, it’s clear to everyone when he claims your lips. The taste of yourself flooding your senses and his eagerness to make you savor both it and him, were dizzying. His teeth tugging on them and licking away the dull ache until he pulled away only left you craving more.

Valko takes your hand, bringing you close as he sits in the same chair that he was before everything began. His cock stands tall, thick, and completely flushed in the prettiest pink. He strokes himself a few times while his other hand fondles one of your tits, then flicks a nipple with his thumb while teasing his slit with his other. Only when precum beads and slowly falls down the side of his length does he guide you to stand in between his legs.

“Ready when you are.” Sitting back and waiting for you to make the next move, Valko leaves the ball in your court.

His hands know what to do as you climb into his lap with no hesitation. He looks over your shoulder to see how erotic it truly is and if he were a viewer, he could see himself going bankrupt if it allowed him to witness you spread out with a dick primed and ready to slide into you.

“H-help me,” you plead shakily, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding onto him with an unrelenting embrace. He kisses your shoulder and runs a hand down your back almost lovingly.

“Lift your hips,” he murmurs, placing a kiss below your ear.

The donations were still coming is droves as he grabs his cock and lines it up with your dripping entrance. Valko teases everyone including himself, pushing pass your pussy lips but not fully sinking into your warmth. Rather than continuing to wait impatiently, you work your body to meet him and guide yourself down with an unspoken eagerness.

“That’s it, pup,” he coos, teeth gritting the more your pussy swallows him inside and shapes around his dick to the hilt. “Let them see you take it in good since you can’t wait. Easy… there you go, you’ve got it.”

Your uneven breath fans against his ear and your cunt clenches around him over and over like an unforgiving vice. He takes the lead for you now, his large hands grabbing you by the hips then snaking down to the underside of your thighs.

The first stroke was capable of turning him into a pussy drunk fool. Thousands watch how your juices coat his cock and his cum being dragged down to form a creamy ring at his base.

“More,” you mewl. “Keep—nngh, g-going, Val…”

He couldn’t give a damn about who was watching at that point. In fact, he couldn’t say that he ever did after you graced him with a chance to have you like this.

You’ve always been on his radar yet something he considered untouchable. He respects you, values the things that you say, do, and think. Rejection wasn’t what deterred him from trying but the potential for you to demand any kind of separation, did.

Now that he’s had a taste, good luck trying to act like he’ll never want it again.

Valko grabbed you as securely as he could before he began drilling into you from beneath, his heavy balls slapping against you every time you sunk all the way down. Every viewer was bound to be staring at how you fucked yourself on him and attentively listened to the sounds of both of your ragged breaths and desperate yet filthy panting.

“So damn tight,” he praises, licking the outer shell of your ear and grabbing you harder with promises of marks that you’ll undoubtedly be embarrassed to look at once your high subsides. You were ridiculously soaked for him, and it just wouldn’t stop. Obscene squelches and constantly meeting skin slickened with sweat echoing in his bedroom was enough to prove the heights of your arousal if the visual alone wasn’t enough.

daydreaminlongevity ~ Donated 1000 Chocos - cum in her. don’t waste it

“It’s okay.” Your pussy tightens around him again with anticipation. “I want it… I can take it.”

He brings you in closer as he feels his orgasm coming quicker than he expected it to. His muscles bulge when he envelops you in his embrace, keeping the same breath-stealing momentum as your voice and body shakes uncontrollably from his lack of control.

All it takes is four more deep thrusts before you’re collapsing onto him from exhaustion and feeling the rush of his cum spill into you. You’re held down so that as much as possible stays inside your sensitive cunt, and you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck until the rush washes over.

More people than you could imagine are watching how your thighs shake and your pussy quivers around him. They can see how he raises you just enough to display how his cum overflows and spills out. You both were a mess and all they wanted was more.

*************** ~ Donated 2000 Chocos - again again again

********* ~ Donated 1200 Chocos - eat it out of her

****** ~ Donated 3000 Chocos - can we get a different angle?? i wanna see her better

All the automated messages flowing in has your body on fire more than it already was.

“Seems like I’ve got competition.” Valko’s hand outlines the curves of your body as he lets you rest. “You hear how much they love you, pup?”

You nod. “Again. I wanna go again, too.”

How could he not fulfill such a request? This time though, he planned to show you firsthand for why he was so highly favored.

Could you keep up?

a/n: i was sitting on this for daaays 😭 and i dunno if it’s actually any good.. but i didn’t wanna say anything in case i didn’t finish it lmfaooo BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED, MY CUTIES!!!

creds to @/angeliicide for the bratz dividers & @/astroyosei for the lily divider!!