#and the size difference thing was an impulsive thought | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bimbobaggins69 · 8 months

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌.

virgin eddie munson x experienced fem reader

summary: you go into the boys locker room with a plan to steal the polaroids your now ex boyfriend took of you to show off to his friends, but the last thing you suspected was to be met with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson and his very big friend.

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ minors dni, no use of y/n (use of pet names), non consensual sharing of nudes, reader technically cheats, big dick eddie, slight fingering, oral (m receiving) unprotected p in v, cream pie, fluffff.

authors note: I feel like I haven’t written a one shot in awhile, so…hope you like. As always thank you to my lovely beta’s @take-everything-you-can & @xxhellfiregirlxx <3

wc: 3.4k

You are fuming, absolutely seething with rage.

You couldn't believe your boyfriend, scratch that ex boyfriend would do this to you. How could someone swear to be ‘so in love’ with you but turn around and do this? It just didn’t make sense, but you only have yourself to blame.

All of your friends warned you about Andy, said he was a pig and would just use you as another notch for his belt, but you wanted to believe you were different or that maybe you could’ve changed him. Instead you allowed him to take very x-rated polaroids of you, that he in turn showed to all of his basketball buddies, who told their cheerleader girlfriends, who then told you he’d spent all of gym bragging and showing them off in the locker room.

So…you’d devised a very impulsive and hell bent plan; while they were all outside running the annual mile, you decided you would sneak into the locker room, find Andy's locker, then you would break into it and steal the polaroids back. It was a fool proof plan… or so it seemed in your frenzy of rage.

But as you walk into the quiet, cold, sterile room filled with green lockers. You quickly realize you're not alone.

“Oh my god!”

“Oh fuck!”

Was said in unison as you and Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson locked eyes, but they didn't stay connected for long as yours roamed his body, all the way down to the biggest cock you had ever seen in your life. Not that you’ve seen so many, but you’ve had your fair share of hook ups and I mean c’mon you're not a prude, you do watch porn.

But, even so… his cock was still bigger than anything you’ve come in contact with, albeit on screen and off.

“I’m so sorr–”

“What are you do-”

You both say again, voices overlapping as Eddie catches the wide eyed stare you're giving his flaccid manhood.

He quickly covers himself with his hands, his cheeks pinkening in embarrassment.

Eddie was rather dense when it came to his size, considering he was a virgin and he’s been using the locker room while it was empty since he started at Hawkins High, not wanting to give the jocks anymore fuel for their relentless fire. He didn’t have much to compare it to, nor did he want to participate in any dick measuring contests. The only porn he had hidden under his bed were his dirty fantasy magazines but all the dicks in there were monster cocks, literally.

“What are you doing in here?” Eddie huffed in annoyance as your eyes continued to burn a hole into his now covered groin.

“I um, I–” You couldn't even find the words to explain why you were in the boy’s locker room, not one that would make any sense to him, anyway.

“You what, huh? Spit it out.” Eddie didn’t mean to snap at you, but he was already in a foul mood. He had been present when Andy was showing off your goods to his ogling friends, who all agreed he was a ‘lucky guy’.

Eddie patiently waited for them all to retreat out and onto the track so he could finally shower and get dressed back into his all black attire. Eddie, oh lovesick Eddie had been nursing a mammoth sized crush on you since your freshman year. So, to say he couldn't help but roll his eyes and clench his fists at not only the thought of all these other dudes getting to see you, but also the fact that you even picked a shit stain like Andy Clayton to give an ounce of your time to, really pissed him off.

“I came to try and get something back from my ex.” You bashfully murmur as your eyes once again find the metalheads.

A remorseful look passes over Eddie's face at your revelation, as you both continue to stare at each other you quickly notice his wet hair has been dripping down onto his tattooed chest, the scene makes your breath hitch and you want so badly to clench your thighs from the heat that's been ignited in your center.

Eddie’s confidence begins to grow as he notices the flush of your cheeks and the way your breathing went ragged as your eyes wandered.

“Ya’ know, if i didn't know any better i'd say you’re checking me out?” He declares with a cocky smirk.

“What? I-I’m not-” You stutter before shutting your eyes tight, as if it’d shield you of your utter humiliation. You quickly exhale in an attempt to rid yourself of the mix of arousal and embarrassment that has simultaneously filled your body.

“Okay, I was… but I didn’t mean to, I'm sorry.” You whisper as your eyes meander the tiles under your black loafers and white slouch socks.

“You didn't mean to check out my dick?” Eddie says in bewilderment as his brows raise, disappearing behind his shaggy, wet bangs.

He’s surprised he has the confidence to stand so close to you with his dick literally in his hand, but watching you stutter and squirm has got to be the highlight of his whole high school career.

Well this and that time he, Gareth and Jeff left that flaming bag of shit on Mr. Higgins doorstep. Yeah, watching that old fuck struggle to put out a burning bag filled with dog shit was definitely up there.

“I mean, I did mean to, it’s just– nevermind, I'm sorry. I’ll leave.” Your words fly out of your mouth before you begin to turn and leave, back out the way you came without fulfilling the mission you were on just five minutes ago.

You didn’t even make it two steps before Eddie was gently grabbing your bicep, his hands no longer covering his cock that now grows hard between his scrawny thighs.

“It’s just what?…Color me curious sweetheart.” He says as his calloused fingers slowly run down your arm and back to his side.

Sweetheart, you liked hearing him call you that. Jesus, what is happening?

“Well um, your dicks like really big.” You say as your eyes fall back to his package, you lick your lips at the sight of it twitching at your words.

“Really?” The way he questions you is confusing because there is absolutely no way he doesn’t know he’s hung like a goddamn horse.

“You’re joking right? You’re gonna act like you don’t know your cock is massive?” You say with a tilt of your head.

His eyebrows shoot back up in amusement, the cocky smile on his face a complete rival to his rapidly beating heart.

You move closer into his space, looking up into his innocent looking doe eyes.

Eddie Munson is anything but innocent, right? I mean he sells drugs for fuck sake! You’ve even heard about him grabbing a cheerleader's tit during a drug deal, of course she was trying to get him to lower the price, but still…well now that you come to think of it, that's really the only sexual thing you’ve heard about him. There’s no way he could be a… yeah right.

“Can I ask you a question?” You whisper as you move in even closer, moving a now damp, stray strand of hair behind his reddening ear.

“S-sure.” He whimpers when your long nails lightly scratch down his jaw, which he quickly covers with a cough.

You bit at your lips trying to hold back a giggle at the noise that went straight between your legs.

Okay, fuck those pictures! What better way to get over a guy than to get under a new one…right? Especially one your ex hates…who has a huge cock…I mean this shits a no brainer… you’re gonna fuck Eddie Munson.

“Are you a virgin?” You question sweetly as you ‘innocently’ play with the hem of your plaid dress, the white turtleneck underneath making your already hot and bothered body, burn more with the intense electricity radiating between the both of you.

“I uh, how’d you know?” He sighs as his shoulders drop in exasperation, not at you but at himself for being so fucking obvious.

“Well, with that third leg I never would’ve guessed…but you have this innocence in your eyes that’s kinda telling.” You giggle as your eyes meet his still hard cock, and all you wanna do now is wrap your hand around it and watch him lose his mind.

Eddie throws his head back and laughs into the open air of the now humid locker room. He whispers third leg to himself, nodding his head as if he was hearing that term for the first time. He was.

“Do you wanna stay a virgin, Eddie?” You whisper as the tips of your fingers gently trail over the patch of hair on his lower stomach, just above the spot your hand is aching to touch, that he’s aching for you to touch.

Two things in this moment make the metalhead equally lose his mind, he might actually cum untouched if he’s being honest. Your hand is so close to his throbbing cock, just a few centimeters down and you’d be brushing against his pink, sensitive tip. And hearing you say his name. Wait, you know his name.

That alone is an aphrodisiac for him.

“No, I-I don’t.” He admits before swallowing hard, his damp Adam's apple bobbing at the motion.

“Can I kiss you?” He surprises himself as the question leaves his mouth.

“Please.” you whine with desperation, making Eddie groan as his lips find yours in a frenzy.

Your fingers slowly trail down, finally wrapping your dainty hand around the sheer girth and length that is Eddie’s cock.

Another whimper falls from between his pretty lips, but this time it's unashamed and without a cough to cover it up. No, he wants you to hear what you’re doing to him.

“That feel good, baby?” You murmur into his mouth between the smacks that echo off the barren walls.

“Fuck, yeah mhm, it does.” He rushes out awkwardly, making you giggle into the kiss.

He wraps his arms around you, in an air of confidence and pulls you in closer, chests now flush as your hand continues to softly tug at his cock.

“Do you wanna fuck me, Eddie?” You whisper as you lean your forehead against his, wet bangs be damned.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you for a very long time, princess.” He admits without much thought.

You break away from him, eyes boring into his as you take in his confession. You step back and Eddie’s heart shatters as he curses himself for opening his big, stupid mouth and scaring you off. But before he could get down on his knees and grovel for you to just ignore him and stay, keep paying attention to him. You take his hand and lead him to the wooden bench towards the back of the locker room.

He follows you like a lost puppy before you’re gently pushing at his chest, a silent instruction for him to sit down. He quickly takes the hint, clumsily plopping down onto the stiff wooden bench.

He looks to you for direction, those innocent eyes blinking up at you and goddammit if it doesn't chip away at the walls your now ex boyfriend has helped you build. But, that's a thought for another day.

You fall to your knees, cold tiles digging into your skin as you wrap your hand back around his cock in a wildness that you’d never felt for any of your previous partners.

“Holy shit.” Eddie spits out in disbelief. This has to be a wet dream, there's absolutely now way this is happening to him…he’s never this lucky, and in typical eddie cynicism, he looks around to make sure no one is filming or waiting to pop out and laugh at him or better yet, to tell him this was all some elaborate prank, get the freak all riled up just to leave him high and dry.

The thought is quickly extinguished when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, gently sucking before you're removing your soft, pillowy muscles that are now coated in his precum, you alluringly flick your tongue across them gathering it all, just to get a good taste of him. His soul just about leaves his body and you've barely even started.

You take him back into your mouth, but this time without mercy as you relax your throat, slowly moving down inch by delicious inch as you try not to gag, his tip now bullying your uvula like his own personal punching bag.

“Oh, oh fuck, please. I-I…” He stammers as his hands flex and clench beside him, too afraid to run his fingers through your hair like he so badly wants to.

You fuck his aching cock into your throat, bobbing your head up and down, over and over before you’re popping off of him, placing a sweet kiss to his tip then standing back up onto your feet, your knees burning from the pressure that was placed on them, red indents now take their place leaving very little mystery as to what you’ve just done.

“I need your cock so bad Eddie.” You moan into his mouth before kissing him, it’s deep and needy and you never want to kiss anyone else like this for as long as you live.

“Use me, please. J-just fuck, just use me pretty girl.” Eddie whimpers, before he begins attacking your neck, sucking hard before soothing the skin with his tongue. You couldn’t care less if he leaves marks, in fact you want him to mark you up, make you his.

You thread your hand into his still damp hair, pushing him closer as he begins to suck at a particularly sensitive spot, just below your ear.

Eddie places one last tender kiss there, before he removes his face from your neck. He confidently lifts the hem of your dress up and over the tops of your thighs, exposing your slick soaked, red panties. The metalhead swipes a finger over the thin, lace fabric that clings to your hips.

“Can I take these off?” He asks as his eyes continue to bore into the growing wet patch in the center of your covered slit.

“Mhm.” A high pitch whine escapes from the depths of your throat at how harshly he tore them off from between your legs. Needy boy.

“Fuckin’ aye.” Eddie murmurs to himself at the sight of your glistening cunt right in front of him, so pretty and wet just for him. He wanted to run his fingers through the damp, trimmed coils on your mound but quickly decided against it, he didn’t want you thinking that was weird.

“H-have you ever seen a pussy before?” You chirp up, bashful as you grab his hand and move it towards your soaked slit.

He clears his throat before answering- “just in magazines.” He admits as his cheeks tinge a pretty shade of pink.

He’s embarrassed by his revelation, but you can’t help but think that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

You work his fingers through your slit, rubbing at your own clit with his hand and it all just fuels that fire growing deep in your belly.

“Oh!” You moan as your eyes gently roll back, you swipe his finger through your wetness again, “you feel that? Feel how wet you make me Ed’s?” You whisper as your eyes now hold his.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful! I-I need to fuck you or im gonna cum. You can’t just talk to me like that, princess.” He mutters as he loses all resolve, not that he had much to begin with.

“Yes, sir.” You whisper into his ear before you’re placing a gentle kiss there. You turn around, hand grabbing onto his still hard cock, you lower yourself into his lap, pink tip already prodding at your hole as your back becomes flush with his chest, you lay your head back against his shoulder and burrow it into his neck, both of you moaning in unison as you sink onto him, slowly.

He’s so big it’s like he's ripping you in half, but you welcome the burn. The pleasure and pain of it all makes your cunt drip even more, further creating less pain and a whole lot more pleasure.

“Mmf.” Eddie moans into the side of your face, as you’re finally seated flush in his lap, cock buried deep inside your aching pussy, you clench around the intrusion, making Eddie gasp and whine.

You smile back at him before you’re doing it again.

“Fuck, do you want this to be over before it starts? Huh?” He says threw his teeth, as he grabs your chin to reprimand you. And you want nothing more than to play further into that dynamic.

Andy was a shit lay compared to this, Eddie Munson a virgin is fucking you better than your ex, and if that doesn’t speak volumes as to how the relationship was. The thought makes you feel stupid.

Before you can fester anymore on your dumb mistake, Eddie begins to fuck up into you, all his patience seeping through the air vents that you now realize are on and blowing, creating a chill throughout the room and goosebumps to trickle over your body.

His big hands grab at your waist, roughly bouncing you up and down on his cock as he follows the same rhythm. You’re both moaning into each other's mouths as you bring your hand to the nape of his neck and holding on, as you get absolutely railed in the boys locker room.

Not only is the location turning you on but the thought of being caught by anyone, especially Andy, has got your cunt dripping and making a mess of the metalheads balls.

“Shit, you’re so wet and warm and so fucking tight, baby.” Eddie huffs as his words begin to spill out with no filter, theres no fucking way he can think about what he’s saying before he says it with you clenching around him like that.

“I remember the first time I fucked my fist thinking about you; you wore that little jean skirt with those fucking red cowboy boots a-and the tightest little white shirt, I could see your nipples perfectly. Didn't even bother to wear a bra, just wanted everyone to see, didnt you? Mmm, bad girl.” He starts his confession out whiney and whimpering until he gets to the bad girl with a growl and an extra hard snap of his hips that make your eyes cross in complete carnal delight.

“That’s so fu-ucking hot that you think about me when you jack off, fuck.” You stutter as your body continues to be used as Eddie’s personal little fuck toy.

“Yeah? But I don’t have to do that anymore do I? You’re gonna let me fuck this tight little cunt whenever I want, aren’t you baby?” The confident rasp in his voice is a complete 360 to the awkward, innocent boy he was just seconds ago. But, the way your pussy tightens around him tells him you fucking love it, so he files that information away for next time.

“Yes, yes whenever you want Eddie!” You wail as your legs begin to shake, your cunt clenching around him as your nails dig into his thighs that continue to slap up into the backs of yours. The sounds were filthy, but they egged you both on as your highs so quickly approached.

“Ed- I’m cumming, oh my god!” You sob, fully convinced someone has had to have heard you both by now. But you don’t care, how could you when the most intense pleasure was coursing through your body, turning you into a twitching mess.

“Fuck, me too baby, wher-” He doesnt even get to finish, before you’re begging him to cum inside you. Of course he obliges, eyes rolling back into his head and cock throbbing as his heavy load shoots deep inside you.

“Goddammit.” He whispers into your neck after you've both come down from your panting highs. The breath he exhales tickles you, making you giggle. His arms wrap around your front, holding you tightly before burrowing his head deeper into the skin between your jaw and clavicle, he blows a raspberry and you can't help the shriek that leaves your mouth as he continues to tease you.

“So, you want help getting those pictures back?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #virgin eddie munson

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yandere-daydreams · 5 months

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jason strikes me as the member of the family that holds out the longest and acts as the closest form of protection to a kidnapped darling-sibling that they eventually feel "comfortable" enough going to him as defense or a buffer from the others. until this inevitably leads to them alone one night and maybe they've allowed themselves more comfortable clothing (read: less coverage than a convent's dress code) and he gets a glimpse of skin as he glances down at his darling-sibling leaning against him. and is it hot in here? more than usual? it cant be the blanket it's been there a while without issue. and then darling-sibling makes the mistake of looking up at him, with big, innocent eyes and the most adorable pout.

i mean, everyone else has treated you so callously, like a piece of meat meant to be ravaged, jason would never! when he touches them, it's with nothing but gentle yet firm hands, like handling a baby bird. and he knows he makes you feel safe, imagine if he could make you feel MORE. something even more pleasurable than calm and secure? what if he could bring you ephoria and ecstacy? he's not thinking about what you would be doing to him, oh no, this is TOTALLY 100% altruistic big brother doing what a big brother should for his darling younger sibling who's needed him so much all this time. of course he'd be needed here too.

i got carried away.

word count: >1.0k.

tw: implied non/con, obsessive behavior, implied kidnapping, nonconsensual touching, and overall freak behavior.

He was doing this for your sake.

You didn’t know that. He’d tried to tell you, but you’d refused to listen – just cried and whined and clawed at his chest as he positioned himself above you, his body between your legs and a hand planted on either side of your head. He could still see your mouth moving, recognize that wet, glazed-over look in your eyes, but whatever sentiments managed to make it past your trembling lips were long underneath the sound of his own heart beating in his ears, the rattle of the air in his lungs as he struggled to keep his breathing even, to stay composed. If he panicked, rushed, you’d only get more scared and, well, he didn’t want you to be scared. Not of him. Not of what he was going to do for you.

With an airy sigh, he leaned down, leaving that much less space between your form and his. The shirt you’d borrowed from him (a sight too familiar to still send the pang of warmth through his chest it had the first time you smiled so shyly and asked if you could borrow something a little more comfortable than the pitch-black turtlenecks and baggie sweaters you chose to pile on around the rest of his family) was a size too big, prone to sliding down your arm, and he buried his face in the dip of your shoulder, letting his lips ghost over your unprotected skin. The hem had ridden up, leaving your side vulnerable, exposed. His hand fell to your waist, and—

Fuck.

You were softer than he thought you’d be.

Bruce would’ve been too cold, too busy pretending to be unaffected to savor the feeling of your unscarred, unhardened skin against his calloused fingertips, and Dick wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from tearing you apart. Jason, though – he kneaded into your hip, your thigh like you were the most delicate thing on the face of the planet because, even if he rolled his eyes when Tim explained that it was the Wayne family’s duty to protect you, you were. He was different from his brothers, from Bruce, from the rest of the manor. He knew what it felt like to break everything he touched, which meant he was the only one who could do this without breaking you.

He pressed a kiss, gentle and impulsive, into the corner of your jaw, then the side of your neck. This time, he heard the ragged sob that tore past your lips, felt your blunt nails rake over his back with enough force to break the skin. He stifled a throaty groan, ignored the way his cock pulsed behind the suddenly constraining material of his sweatpants – instead, he focused his attention on you, on pressing open-mouthed kisses into your collarbone. It took more self-restraint than it should’ve not to leave a mark, not to bite down and make sure anyone who looked at you would who’d put their claim on you, but self-indulgence could wait until you blinked up at him with those teary, glossed-over eyes and asked him to protect you from the rest of his family, the rest of the world. Caught up in his fantasy, he let his grip tighten, let his thumb press into your thigh with too much force, and you cried out, the noise cracked and helpless in a way that made him love you just a little more. “Jason, please, I don’t want to—”

He hushed you with an airy chuckle, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “I know, baby bird, I know. You can just lay back and relax. I’ll try to make it fast. And fun, too, even if you’re gonna keep pouting like that.” He sighed, then smiled against the base of your throat. “It’s better like this. The other guys – they’d be too rough, and you’re too fragile for something like that.”

He pulled back, already grinning down at you. “This’ll be your first time, right? Don’t you want your favorite big brother to help you through it?”

You only sobbed louder in response, but he didn’t mind. This wasn’t for him. He didn’t have to enjoy it.

He was doing this for your sake.

Maybe, by the time he was done, you’d be a little more thankful.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere batfam #yandere batboys #batfam x reader #batfam imagines #yandere dc #dc imagines #jason todd x reader #yandere jason tood

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dejwrld · 6 months

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summary — international rockstar choso kamo is in love with the international popstar, y/n.

warning readers discretion is advised ⸻ female reader, female anatomy described, written with black reader in mind, mentions of descriptors of black reader (complexion, hair texture, culture), open to be read by all readers, profanity, angst, lovers to exes, told in third pov Chosoi's pov), mentions of drug and alcohol usage, opposite attracts trope, riding/cowgirl position, brief mention of oral (m.receiving), famous au, modern au, he falls harder trope, praise kink, rockstar choso x popstar!reader one shot

sticky note from deja — this was originally another character plot, but urgh i just think about rockstar choso a lot! well i think about choso a lot period. so here's a sweet treat to the choso gaggers.

He liked her more than he had expected. He never was the one to be in a committed relationship—didn't quite go with the rockstar image as an artist, nor did it sell to the public. He thought it was better to sell into the stereotype that rock stars do hardcore drugs, can't remember their flings' names, and show up late to their sound checks for concerts. But here he was, staring at her as she peacefully slept on his chest as if she belonged there.

Well, she did. She was different from the people he pursued romantically who entered his life and exited quickly when they realized they couldn't keep up with his lifestyle. She could handle the throat-cutting hate from fans because she had rabid fans. She could take the intrusive questions from music journalists because she had one of the world's best PR and media training teams.

He didn't want to admit that he was falling in love with her.

But, here, Choso was itching to smoke a morning cigarette but too afraid to wake her because she had a late recording session.

And don't get him started on the reckless shit he did while she was locked up in the studio last night.

"Good morning," Her voice comes off like a whisper as if they were in a library with strict talking rules. She's placing tired kisses on Choso’s chest with a smile.

"Mornin'," Choso mumbles back, his arms resting behind his head. His brown-colored eyes met her gaze when he felt her hand rubbing his thighs. "Don't you have to be at the studio in a couple of hours?" His right eyebrow, embedded with a piercing, raised at her.

She chuckled, letting her hand rub against his cock that had hardened in the wake of morning wood. Betraying him entirely as he's inhaling sharply at her actions.

"I just need two hours with you," She responds. "And maybe one to get ready." She adds before smiling. Her eyes glistened with lust, and Choso couldn't deny that look.

"Help yourself." He responds, getting even more comfortable in his king-sized bed. His hands still rest behind his head because he wouldn't have cared for her to use him as she pleased.

With a pleased smile, she leaned closer to peck his lips before leaving a trail of kisses on his bare chest and traveling downward to disappear under the gray-colored duvet that covered them both.

Choso was waiting for her to notice the impulse thing he did yesterday. Quite afraid of her reaction because maybe he had gone a bit overboard. He wasn't sure she loved him as much as he loved her.

Choso!" She climbs back from under the blanket and quickly tugs it off the two of them. "What the fuck is this?" Her acrylic tapered square-shaped nails trace alongside his waist, and that simple movement causes his pale skin to garnish with goosebumps.

"Surprise cupcake." He gives her a cheeky grin.

"Surprise my ass!"

Just above his waist, stopping right where his white-haired happy trail ended, was her name in old English font.

Y/N.

He couldn't read her facial expressions. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrow together in confusion, but her mouth held back a snicker. Y/N's fingers traced alongside the tattoo's outline that imprinted Choso's skin.

"I can't believe you did this insane shit." She stares at Choso and then at the tattoo before giggling. "You're so insane, but I love you for that."

Choso didn't think she knew what she had just said because before he could respond, she was kissing the tattoo so delicately that it caused Choso’s toes to curl in anticipation. Her tongue traces the outline of each lettering on his skin, and Choso could feel the precum on his tip immediately stain his Calvin Klein boxers.

"Fuck!" He breathed out, letting his head sink into the back of his hands resting behind his head.

His boxers were removed, and soon, his body relaxed under the feeling of her tongue licking at the precum on his tip as if it were a sweet delight. He peeks through his long eyelashes at the way her tongue glides up and down his thick shaft before engulfing his cock in her mouth without a care. The sound of Y/N gagging on his cock followed by the sight of saliva pooling out her mouth caused Choso’s skin to heat up instantly. He removed one hand from the back of his head to palm at the top of her head. His fingers fiddle with the silk scarf that protects her hair for the night while he guides her head up and down his hardened cock like a sports ball on a court.

His dark eyes opened and were met with Y/N’s, whose hands flickered up and down his cock before briefly letting the pad of her thumb rub at his plump pink-shaded tip, smearing the precum and saliva that coated it. It drove Choso mad at the way she looked at him. It was as if he was the best thing since sliced bread when, in reality, Choso was just some musician who, on some days, couldn’t even keep his eyes open as he was in the studio high on whatever drug he consumed that morning.

She released his cock with a pop before she removed the remaining amount of clothes. First, it was the yellow-colored Calvin Klein cheeky underwear—she was a brand ambassador for them (of course, he knew that). Then, it was the oversized t-shirt that belonged to him that she managed to look better in. Her brown skin glistened in the sunlight that shone through the high-rise windows in Choso’s penthouse. The warmth of her thighs on his side from straddling his lip caused Choso to smile. His eyebrows raised in curiosity at what was her next move. When he said, help yourself—he didn’t expect her to want to ride him.

His body tensed up at the feeling of her cunt sinking further down on his cock. His body instantly reacted immediately because that was just the charm Y/N had on him. The littlest things could have had his cock twitching in whatever pair of sweatpants he wore. His fingers clutched at her waist while he guided her hips at a pace that was wonderful for both of them to enjoy. Such a little thing like this made Choso realize even more why that insane impulse idea he did the previous night was even more justified. He was in love. He showed it when they had sex. From his last relationships and embarrassing one-night stands that led to signed NDAs, he didn’t care to use them for a quick nut and go on about his business. But with her, with Y/N, he made love to her as if, just in the blink of an eye, she wouldn’t be here anymore. He ate her out as if it was the last thing he had eaten in fuckin’ centuries. He wanted all of her when he had a vision to please her when they had sex.

“Look at you,” Choso’s voice is a sweet, teasing tune, similar to his most recent single. His fingers trace the outline of her stretch marks that connect from her thighs to her love handles. “Helpin’ yourself. Need help?” He chuckles.

Quickly, he’s thrusting his hips upward to meet Y/N’s sudden bounce. He felt her nails piercing his bare chest, bracing herself for his abrupt thrusting. Her plump, kiss-swollen lips gasped apart to let out a moan that caused Choso to feel feral. He wanted to flip her over—have his fuckin’ way with her. Fuck her into the mattress to show to her that she was his and only his. It was the only way—but no, Choso had to let her do her. Let her fuck him how she pleases.

So the grasp he had on her waist loosened. His thrusts that met with her bouncing abruptly stopped, and he relaxed under her weight. The only thing the rockstar could do was glance up at her completely lovestruck—completely pussy drunk.

“Thought you were helping me, hm?” She questions in between raspy whimpers that make Choso’s cock harder.

“You’re a big girl, and you got it covered.” He spat back.

She couldn’t even respond to his words because she got lost in the pleasure of his cock kissing at that spot, which caused her to feel like she was on the fluffiest cloud. Her hips rocked backward and forwards. The headboard clashed against the wall, and Choso thanked every God that the property next to his was empty. He did not have the energy or time to deal with noise complaints. Especially given Y/N’s moans that only grew louder as she bounced on his cock as if it was the most critical task. He was trying so hard not to grab upon her, slam her harder on his cock—milk her out until she creamed on him. But no, he told her to help herself.

“That’s my girl.” His brown eyes met hers when those words of praise fluttered off his lips.

If Choso could look close enough, he could see a sparkle in her eyes, and her pussy clench around his cock.

“You’re doing well, Y/N. Is that what you want to hear?” He teasingly questioned. “You look so fucking beautiful riding me.” He adds, but this time—he no longer could control his impulse to feel upon his girlfriend.

He ached for her touch.

His hand finally found the place on her waist to help bob her upon his cock. His face flushed and was so hot— Choso knew that when his face got as red as the bottom of Y/N’s favorite red bottoms, he was about to cum. He felt his balls grow heavier with each pounce of Y/N, and the only thing he could utter was her name as if it was a lyric in one of his songs charting on the Billboard 100.

“Fuck, I’m about to—” His words were cut off by Y/N.

“Me too, baby.” She huffs, rocking her hips fast to reach her pleasure wave. “Just tell me one thing, baby. Please.” She coos, and Choso can only nod.

Whatever she wanted, she could have. Whatever she needed, she could get. Choso would give her the whole world plus some with how she rode him.

“Tell me you love me.”

“Fuck, Y/N. You know I love you. I wouldn’t get your name tattooed on me.” Choso breathed out.

“But I want you to say it when you cum,” She moans out. “So you have it imprinted on that silly brain of yours who makes you feel like that.”

Choso glanced into her eyes and realized she was serious about this. He was yanking her down so that her chest was on his and thrusting his hips upward, embracing her in a heated kiss that made him feel intoxicated. He was so intoxicated that he was questioning whether he should pull out now. Her teeth nibble at his lower lip just in time for them to come together. The feeling of her cunt pulsing around his cock drove the rockstar insane. When he pulled back from the kiss, his sweat-covered forward pressed against hers as he thrusts a couple more times, ensuring every droplet of his cum stayed inside her.

“I love you, Y/N.”

#choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #female reader #black reader #jjk x black reader #choso smut #choso kamo x black reader #angelshubnetwork #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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aseaofyoongi · 1 year

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just desserts | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: one night stand; neighbors; set in the summer cause i miss it dearly.

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: jungkook is your next door neighbor who you have only crossed a few words with. however one hot summer day theres a city wide blackout and strangely enough, he shows up at your door w brownies. . and other delights.

warnings: crush culture; mentions of lack of confidence; masturbation (f.); foul language; naughty thoughts; penetrative sex; unprotected sex (wrap it up); dry humping; oral (m. receiving); praise; sub-ish jk!; jk has a huge dick;?brief mention of seokjin and joon; oc is very hørny for jk basically; those fucking gifs of jk w his long hair and glasses inspired this so thank you jeon jungkook; edited but excuse any mistakes please.

word count: 6,3 thousand words

posted: monday - january 30, 2023

A sixth floor walk up in the middle of the scorching month of July was certainly not fitting on your basis of an ideal home. But after your extensive apartment search always ended with high-priced, rodent infested corners New Yorkers often mistook for apartments, you were happy to shake on the deal for this studio apartment with Seokjin without having to break your piggy bank or burn a staggering hole in your pocket.

“When is the elevator going to be fixed, Seokjin,” you fanned yourself as beads of sweat adorned your white tank top.

“That’ll have to be when I finally win the lotto,” he guffawed from behind the plexiglass square standing between you and his office.

“Very funny,” you mumbled, beginning your journey up the stairs. He didn’t hear you though, instead his focus remained on whichever drama he played on the television.

Kim Seokjin, was the name of a superstar—or so he says. He claims to have attended the Juilliard School for about two years, with dreams of becoming the newest face of Hollywood and all of their high-priced productions. When Seokjin’s dad fell ill, he couldn’t keep up with the demands of keeping so many residence buildings open, he had to close more than half his buildings and just like that, financial strains created a hurdle the size of Mt. Everest in the life of Seokjin. He was left without his dreams, without his father and taking care of a building where the rent was too cheap to gain a profit, making just enough to cover the mortgage.

Normally, you weren’t so exposed to details of your landlord’s lives, but Seokjin was different. He was also your friend.

“I put water bottles around the halfway mark. The last thing I need is a lawsuit over a dead body,” he yelled up as you barely made it to floor two.

“How considerate. I’ll try not to die while you’re on the clock,” it was too hot to continue your journey up. . too hot to form coherent sentences. You just wanted to make it to your apartment and sit in front of the fan for the rest of the day.

“That’s all I’m saying,” you heard.

Once your foot met the landing on the third floor, your eyes desperately scanned for the promise of beverages Seokjin had informed you of, but the small table set-up on the other end of the hallway was completely empty. Leaving behind only the particles of dust and pure oxygen to inhale. Fuck—you actually felt like you were going to pass out. Just three more floors.

You wanted to yell down a snarky remark towards Seokjin but you figured that required too much energy you simply did not have.

Moving to New York was a decision you had made impulsively after feeling like you had overstayed your time in your parents house post-high school. You averted college at all costs because it just wasn’t for you. Lectures seemed like a bore and professors were individuals being paid to legally torture their students so you joyfully averted that nightmare all together. Your immediate option was to get a job, but after many places began getting closed down back home, you found yourself job hopping as a means for survival.

It was not convenient, so you boarded a train to the city that never sleeps in hopes of never looking back. . And you haven’t since setting foot here eleven months ago.

“Just one more floor,” you uttered to no one in particular but the patchy silver handrail and the chipped white walls.

Your apartment was now in your line of vision and the only thing standing between you and the black steel door were just ten sets of stairs. Walking into the building your body was glistening with a thin layer of sweat but now you were drenched, your top was sticking to your skin and the thick beads of dampness rolled down your body like the condensation on soft drinks from fast food places.

Heaving with exhaustion you took a seat on the very last step of the sixth floor, finally you made it but you just needed a minute, just a single minute to catch your breath. The fucking heat was unbearable; intolerable; irregular, you could have sworn the sun inched closer and closer to planet earth as the day progressed.

Initially, you hadn’t heard as much as the squeaky hinges on the door frame, you were too divulged in your suffering from the days heat. Not to mention, your eyes were closed and you were too focused in a state of cooling down before hiding behind the thin walls of your apartment.

“Are you ok?” His voice became trapped in the muggy air surrounding the two of you. The bass in his tone never ceased to make your knees turn to jello, to make your toes curl and to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight.

Was the heat not enough suffering for one day?

“Oh,” you cleared your throat, “I’m fine. It’s just the heat.”

“Yeah, it definitely feels like we were shipped straight to hell today.”

“I don’t know, I think hell might be cooler than this,” he chuckled lightly—you’re foolish stammer and poor excuse of words enlightened him. The sun was still beaming brightly but you swore you saw stars after he had serenaded you so sweetly with the sound of his infectious laugh.

“I think you might be right,” he locked his door and walked past you on the stairs, “have a good day neighbor.”

“You too, Jungkook,” you called after him as he began his way down the unfortunate set of stairs.

Sometimes, you felt as if you’d been blessed as the main lead in the plot of a cheesy rom com, but after today the idea was really cemented in your head. Ok, look. . Jungkook was your hot neighbor, like very hot, unearthly hot, like he was handcrafted by God himself, kind of hot. Furthermore, only you and him resided on the sixth floor, living in a pair of tiny apartments right beside one another. Although that was all you had gathered so far, besides his name, it was enough to fill your head with delusions and daydreams of the man your eyes loved to gawk at every chance you got.

You read him very well, like the everlasting pages of your favorite novel. His silky hair was long and inched over the nape of his neck, he wore specs that sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose accentuating his big doe eyes. Though his features seemed soft his aura was borderline the complete opposite—a silver hooped piercing sat in the right side of his rosette lips while tattoos peeked right out of the sleeves of the white button up he usually wore.

You closed the door to your apartment, removed your shoes and hung your keys on the flathead thumbtack pierced into the wall by the front door.

The apartment felt even more scorching than the bustling sidewalks. After opening all three of the windows you were bestowed to have between your room and the living room, you turned on your fan and walked into the bathroom to draw a much needed cool bath. Stripping off your sweaty clothes, you stepped into the tub. For a minute, you were immersed in the utter silence floating around you—all your ears detected was the distanced whirring fan all the way from your room.

Behind the back of your eyelids, the world was dark and your thoughts brought you back to your encounters with Jungkook on the stairs just moments ago. Your interactions with the boy were usually extended to a whispered, ‘hi’ or ‘hello,’ never as prolonged as it played out today.

In your thoughts, Jungkook strolled by day and night, as you embraced every look, every utterance, every single time he brushed his hair back using his slender fingers. He was the cultivation of your desires and the reason why your heart strummed against your chest a bit harder the days you saw him leaving around 12PM every afternoon.

It baffled you how he always managed to look fucking good every single day—even during the hottest days of the summer, while you looked like vile beast he managed to look so perfect.

. . So fucking perfect.

The faint tingles traveling through your body, caused your skin to form goosebumps. The pulsation of your clit is what really began driving you to clouded thoughts to imagine his hands against you. You imagined the pads of his fingers to be soft mimicking a delicate velvet fabric and while you crumbled under his touch, he would murmur the filthiest of words against your ear.

Those ministrations could be enough to have you coming hard—he wouldn’t even have to fuck you. Shit, even looking at him was enough.

Being away from all of the toys you safely stored in your nightstand, you grabbed the detachable shower head and adjusted the water pressure, prepped your feet up on the rim of the tub aiming it in between your legs in an inevitable attack against your clit.

Your head lulled back in sure bliss as you fed your carnal desires, the only thing missing was him.

“Fuck—” How you longed for him to have you in this position, so sensitive to his sinful doings; so aroused for him. It was like a hunger your fingers, toys and this stupid shower head could not satisfy.

The vibration of his name dripped from your lips like a chant and you felt that bubbling fervor form in the pit of your stomach. Spurts of pleasure rushed out of you so intensely you were overwhelmed by the explosions of fireworks as soon as your orgasm erupted.

When your breath had settled and you finally felt like you could stand, you opted for a quick shower, rushing to get into your pajamas and plopped down on your bed right in-front of the fan for a nap, having your dreams quickly invaded by him.

Work sucked on Monday afternoons.

All you ever did was stare out of the ticket booth at the movie theater as the few customers who despised the weekend rush came in. Besides, there was rarely anything to occupy your mind with on slow nights like this. You had already sweeped and your co-worker, Namjoon was surveying the screening rooms for any shenanigans the younger crowds could possibly be rattling up.

You always left that up to him—he was the more intimidating one between the two of you anyway.

“Room 5 is a wreck,” Namjoon announced his entrance into the lobby, “I’m gonna go clean up.”

“Walkie me if you need help,” you tapped the walkie clipped onto your belt buckle and he nodded, grabbing the broom and a few rags.

Your stomach grew irritated as you continued golfing down copious amounts of candies but the truth was you were starving and had no time to eat breakfast this morning; let alone make something to bring to work to eat for lunch.

Namjoon was a film major. He was the spitting image of a cliche by the way—his parents wanted him to become a doctor but that wasn’t his passion so he ran away to the city and began trotting up the golden stairs to his dream. You wished you had even an ounce of his determination, he knew exactly where he wanted to go and how to get there while you still stood at the base of the mountain of your life. . unbeknownst on how to tackle it or which way it was to begin your way up to the summit.

There was nothing you had a passion for and quite frankly sometimes you were utterly clueless as to what your purpose was in life.

Had no dreams and no goals to strive towards; nothing extraordinary you expected to blossom in your future. There was nothing, nothing and more nothingness occupying the hours of your days.

“My child,” Seokjin walked in through the glass door, he looked like he'd been chilling in an oven.

“Seokjin,” you narrowed your eyes in his direction, “what are you doing here? I thought you never left the air conditioner in your office plus don’t you hate the movie theater?”

“You’re absolutely correct. The dimmed lighting here is horrid and I deserve better than that. .”

“Of course, you do.”

“But,” he leaned over the counter, “I saw your little neighbor boyfriend leaving the building today and I was fucking gagged.”

“Trust me, Seokjin. I know how good he fucking looks in that white button up. I’ve lived it.”

“No,” he squealed, “He had a black short sleeve shirt today and—”

“Spit it out, bitch.”

“He has a full fucking sleeve,” he squealed.

“No. Fucking. Way.” The pauses in between your words were not placed for dramatic effect—you were in fact attempting to paint a detailed mental image of that sinful man.

How unfair is it that he gets to walk around us mortals with our average looks while he exudes such grand flawlessness.

“Looks like someone owes me fifty bucks.”

The bet. . you had completely forgotten about that.

“I'll pass it over on Friday once I get paid.”

“I told you,” he began, “once a man gets one tattoo they’re usually covered in them.”

“Yea, but he has this soft look to him, you know?” you shrugged, “I thought he might have had a few. But a whole sleeve?”

“Jungkook is a walking juxtaposition.”

“I suppose he is.”

Seokjin sat on the counter emptying a handful of sweets into his palm, “what are you doing eating all of this candy anyway?”

“Uh,” your thoughts were still filtered towards Jungkook. You wanted to see him so bad, “I’m starving and just waiting on Namjoon to finish cleaning room five so I can go on my lunch break.”

“Namjoon as in the buff hottie with the deep voice?”

“I guess.”

“Room five?” You nodded.

“I’ll take one ticket for whatever the fuck you guys are showing right now.”

“Didn’t you say you hated it here?” You printed a ticket to. . you looked down, to the latest minion movie and ripped off the top half, “you complained about the lights or something.”

“Can you just give me a ticket? I need it to execute my master plan,” he rushed your actions in cutting the ticket you had printed, “besides you owe me for coming all the way down here with vital intel about your secret crush.”

“I owe you nothing. I’ll be paying half a hundred for that by the end of the week, remember?”

“Consider this,” he snatched the ticket from your grasp, holding it beside his toothy grin, “your down payment.”

Before you could form a further argument, Seokjin vanished from in front of you and sprinted down the main hallway to screening room five.

The best thing about your job were the designated days off you had throughout the week. Tuesdays and Fridays were yours to enjoy and while today was Tuesday your schedule was still jam packed with an abundance of errands to complete come the early morning.

You had paid your utility bills, finished your laundry, cleaned your apartment and even set out poultry to defrost by the time you made it back home. It had been a very productive day.

Your last stop was the grocery store.

Oftentimes, you’d wander aimlessly, losing yourself in each aisle wondering about how the better half lives, how much better life would be if you didn’t have to keep incessant reminders of your weekly budgets stamped to the back of your head.

How much easier life would be if money wasn’t such a big determinant in the choices we were forced to make in our day to day lives.

Oh, how much easier life would be.

You only grabbed the essentials for the next couple of weeks including—rice, greens, fruits, water, milk, meat, and a variation of breakfast options.

Temptation roamed in the air as you headed out of the cereal aisle you were face to face with a bakery section where an unhealthy amount of baked goods were sprawled out—practically blaring out your name. All of the delicious delights made your mouth water and you couldn’t help but gravitate deeper and deeper, guided by the aroma of the sweet desserts.

“Neighbor?” It was his earthy voice, the same one you’d only heard vibrate among the walls of the tiny hallway of the sixth floor the two of you shared.

“Jungkook?” You looked up from the brownies and your eyes met his figure, in the same clothes you usually saw him leave his apartment. It was his work uniform, “You work here?”

“Is that judgment in your tone I hear?”

“N-no,” You stammered. Was he fucking with you? He had to be fucking with you. “Of course not. I would never judge—”

“I was just playing, neighbor.” Phew.

“I always come here. How come I haven’t seen you before?”

“I’m usually baking in the back. I was just coming out to set these down,” he held up the dozen cupcakes sitting inside the boxed packaging.

“You bake?” Hopefully, you sounded more stunned than judgemental because you were i. fact stunned.

“I’m an aspiring pastry chef. I go to culinary school,” Jungkook, your beautiful, doe eyed, tattooed, pierced neighbor was also a baker. Ok.

For some reason that made him so much more attractive.

“I would not have been able to guess that even if I tried,” You mentally kicked yourself at the lack of filter in your words. You weren’t trying to offend him and hopefully he does not take it as such.

He chuckled—that’s a good sign, “People tend to simulate that very reaction but you can certainly knock on my door if you’re ever craving something sweet. I promise they are amazing.”

Craving something sweet?

Your thoughts traveled back to the enticing thoughts you possessed a few days ago while you took a bath, the vivid image of the water pressure against your cunt and the pure desire to have him near made you dizzy. And now he was near, just a couple of feet away.

A wave of warmth traveled through your extremities, the pulse on your clit turned to an overbearing throb, you wanted to rub your thighs and alleviate the feeling. But you remembered where you were, in the middle of the grocery store and Jungkook still stood right before you. Nevertheless, you tried to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs; dampening your panties.

“I practically poured out all of the basic details of my boring life. I think you owe me at least something about you.”

“There’s not much to tell,” you shrugged, “but I work at the movie theater down the street if that piques your interest at all.”

“It does. I love movies.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there before.”

“Well, if I’m honest I haven’t gone in a long time but that’s only because work and school keep me pretty busy.”

The lust streaming through your body doubled to make your heart beat with fondness and you grew endeared in the way Jungkook’s eyes lit up when he talked about his aspirations to become a baker.

“You’ll have a free ticket waiting for you whenever your schedule clears up.”

“Promise you’ll join me when I decide to go.” His words carved themselves into your brain like a permanent tattoo, just as those decorating his arm. The fluttering feeling in your abdomen heightened as a result of the dithers, without being aware of it, that is the effect Jungkook had on you.

“As long as it’s on a Tuesday or Friday.”

“Deal.”

“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

“See you, neighbor.”

Thursday was the worst day of the week so far.

Technically you were supposed to be at work, it was already 4:00PM, but instead you were still home. Even just sitting down in the muggy atmosphere of your in the miniscule space, you were doused, staining your clothes with sweat.

You were not willingly suffering at the lack of mercy the scorching weather subjected the city and everyone in it to, unfortunately the power had gone out. And while usually you had the luxury of a fan to cool down, today you had nothing.

Your windows and front door were left wide open in an attempt to cool down the place and still you felt as if you were sitting inside a fucking oven set to hightest temperature. There was no use.

“Neighbor.” Jungkook called out lightly knocking on the opened door.

Jungkook? Not Jungkook again when you looked like an absolute wreck.

“Hey Jungkook,” he stood at the door frame, a wide grin painted on his lips—he held a to-go box in his hands, “you can come in.”

“Do you want me to shut the door?”

“Sure,” you gave in, it’s not like it was actually doing anything. Besides, the last thing you needed was one of the crazy residents from the lower floors coming to bug you.

Jungkook took a seat next to you on the couch, he wore a sleeveless top exposing all of the ink embellishing his skin, every line, every curve, every word was so intricate and seemed so unique to him.

“I didn’t know you had these many tattoos,” a small fib was a price to pay to not seem like a weirdo, “did any of them hurt?”

“Some did,” he pointed at his tricep, “mainly these and a few others but I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Well, they’re beautiful,” you scanned his arm some more. It was truly like a mural embodying the beauty of art, “were you a singer?” you signaled at the microphone sitting on his forearm.

“I guess you could say that,” he adjusted himself on the couch, his nylon shorts rode up his thighs and you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the way your eyes glanced down constantly. Jungkook didn’t notice though, he was too busy averting eye contact and scratching the back of his head, “My highschool friends and I used to make music. We recorded a mixtape.”

“I need a link to this mixtape. . like now,” You laughed hysterically.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

“Ok, ok,” Again, another surprise from the man you thought you had all figured out—every single day he surprised you more and more, “were you like a vocalist or a rapper?”

“Vocals mostly. I did try rapping once though but I sucked so badly they scratched it off the track.”

“At least they were honest and didn't let you crash and burn in public.”

“You should’ve seen me though. I thought I was the shit.”

Jungkooks giggles were everlasting as he recounted the many times their parents grew exhausted of kicking them out of their garages for their disturbances in the making of their great musical legacy.. He filled the room with vibrance. The longer you sat in the presence of Jungkook the more you were exposed to the colors that made Jungkook, Jungkook. Of course, you were intrigued by the phosphorescent hues allowing them to inch you closer in his direction. Wanting him to spare no details in the adventure of his life.

“What’s that?” you pointed at the packaging box beside him on the arm rest.

“Brownies,” he handed you the box, “I saw you eyeing them when you were at the bakery but you didn’t buy any. So, I figured I would bring you some.”

In your mind, this was his way of saying he was thinking about you—that’s what you chose to believe anyway.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I wanna see what you think of my baking.” Jungkook’s eyes were bigger than usual behind his specs, he fidgeted with the hem of his shorts.

If only he knew, the actual taste of the brownies would hold no significance in your criticism. You would love them anyway simply because they came from him.

“How about we have one together?”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, “let’s go to my room. There’s two windows in there and I’m literally about to pass out from heat stroke out here.”

The two of you sat by each one of the windows, the box of his remaining six hand crafted sweet delicacies sat between the two of you on the nightstand.

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

“1, 2,” the two of you held the chocolaty dessert up to your mouth, “3.”

Even after just one bite your taste buds were enamored.

“What do you think?”

“They’re amazing, Jungkook. You’re an amazing baker.”

“You can call me Kookie, you know.”

You nearly choked after taking another bite, hurdling into a coughing spiral, “that’s so fitting. Kookie the pastry chef.”

“Forget I said it,” he shook his head, laughing.

“Wait, no,” you loved the soft tint of pink dusting his cheeks, “that could be the name of your future shop.”

“Kookie’s Cookies.”

“Kookie’s Cookies,” you confirmed, “and I wanna be credited for the idea too.”

“Better yet, you’ll be my business partner.”

“That’s not a good idea. I’ll eat everything and you’ll just end up bankrupt,” your eyes were set on the congested sidewalks outside your window—everyone was out likely catching a break from their scorching apartments but here you were melting away all at the expense of being in Jungkook’s company just for a bit longer.

“I wouldn’t mind as long as you’re with me.”

Those eight words sent your mind into a spiral, head first into the rabbit hole of your fantasies. You couldn’t really make out if he truly meant what you thought he meant.

“Jungkook. .”

“I mean it.”

“Please don’t make me believe there could actually be something here,” Your voice was low and your thoughts were a scribbled mess. There was not a single coherency in your being at that point in time.

“I’m not lying,” your name tasted saccharine on his tinted lips—much like the brownie he had baked for you, “I like you.”

“Jungkook. .” was all you could muster.

“I’ve liked you from the moment you moved into the building.”

A single strike of thunder traveled down your spinal cord, you felt paralyzed in that moment and his sweet sweet words just continued looping inside the walls of your skull.

You were malfunctioning; shocked.

It’s astonishing how oblivious and just plain stupid human nature can make a person. For the past months, you had concealed the schoolgirl crush you developed on Jungkook and convinced yourself that there was absolutely no way in hell he could like you back.

Your insecurities had deceived you and now you sit here after so long with a thumping beat in your heart, giddy with excitement and lowkey wanting to slap yourself for not having noticed earlier.

“You like me?”

Obviously, he just fucking said that. He nodded.

“I like you, too.” You finally said out loud.

The temperature continued to rise in the small bedroom and between the two of you the heat became unbearable. With each passing second, you could feel the streamline trickles of your sweat cascading down your temples; your entire body matter of fact.

If eyes were the windows to the soul then Jungkook’s chocolate gaze was compelling.

And they were calling out for you so loudly.

“What happens now?” He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

“Can I kiss you, Jungkook?”

You caught on to Jungkook’s mannerisms and body language rather quickly within the past hour. For example, he was pretty straight forward with his words yet whenever he spoke his fingers fidgeted with a random object as a distraction, this time it was the black beaded bracelet sitting on his wrist.

He nodded yet again.

Your heaven resided in the comfort of Jungkook’s thighs. You realized it the moment you straddled him. The rich smell of sandalwood was a scent unique to him, so earthy and rich. It was the only thing you ever wanted to smell for the remainder of your time on earth.

After raking your hands through his soft hair you tugged at it a bit, guiding his face up towards you.

“If you want anything from me. You’re gonna have to use your words, Jungkook.”

“You know what I want,” his eyes traced the corners of your lips down to the intricate details, “just kiss me, please.”

There are an abundance of perfect scenarios in life. For one there was the idyllic scene of snowfall on Christmas day; the legendary creamy combination of cookies and cream; then, there was the way your lips danced against Jungkooks, composing a choreography so intricate and beautiful only the two of you could execute it.

You were in a haze, entirely stupefied and addicted to his soft and warm lips. Then, his hands snaked around your waist as he guided you back and forth on his lap. His covered erection rubbed against your clothed slit in a pace so slow, it was agonizing yet delectable. Jungkook pulled away, continuing to lead your movements against him. Your mouth remained agape and you couldn’t help the sounds escaping your lips.

You wanted to pinch yourself, you’d only ever dreamt of this. Was this all a fabrication of your dreams? You hope it wasn’t, it felt so good.

“God, I’ve always wanted to have you like this.” His voice was husk and he spoke in between grunts.

If today was dictated as your last day on earth, you’d die being the happiest woman.

His warm breath fanned your sweaty neck. A tickle ran down your back but you focused on the knot forming at your abdomen.

“I’m so close.”

“Let go for me.”

His commands were sweet like candy and the utters of his guidance to have you crumble on his lap were all you needed to send you over the edge.

“You were so good for me, darling.”

“Call me that forever.” Your knees were sore, your voice was hoarse and you were sweltered from head to toe but you craved more, you grew wetter just imagining what else could arise from this encounter.

“Darling?” You nodded. “Jungkook?” He hummed lightly, opening his eyes and lifting his head from where it rested on the wall.

“Are you tired?”

“I just had a long day yesterday.”

“Can I help you unwind?” your lower lip now tucked under your teeth, “can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Your hands tucked under the hemline of his shorts and underwear. The way you illustrated Jungkook in your dreams was close to what you would imagine a modern Greek God to look like and you quickly realized that was the case when his shirt lifted revealing that he should be the one on display in museums instead of those silly little statues.

Your chin rested on his shoulder, while your hand moved up and down the length of his cock. You couldn’t see it, not yet. But he felt so big in your palm.

The hushed moans and curses leaving him fueled you to maintain at the same pace. Your lips found themselves leaving wet kisses on his already dampened neck.

“Please—please don’t stop,” He was a stuttering mess, his hand was gripping the window still so tightly his knuckles turned white. Hypnotized by arousal Jungkook began meeting your movements, enraptured by his desire for release.

“You’re not being a very good boy, Jungkook,” you whispered in his ear, “besides I thought you were tired.”

“I’ll—I’ll be so good I promise,” he continued fucking himself into your hand.

Jungkook whined as soon as you released his cock from your grip. Instead you tucked off the pesky fabrics covering his lower half, with his help of course, your theories were proven to be correct. Jungkook, your hot neighbor with piercings and tattoos also had a pussy destroyer in between his legs because of course he did.

“There’s only two rules baby.”

“What are the rules?”

“You have to keep your hands to yourself and no coming until I say so. You got it?”

“Yes, darling.”

Opening the last drawer on your night stand you pulled out one of your vibrators and held it up for him to see, “is it ok if we use this?”

“Mhm.”

You shoved it in your pocket for later.

Taking him into your mouth, you began swirling your tongue in circular motions around the head of his cock. His labored pants were hushed and almost inaudible, you would’ve missed them if the two of you weren’t in complete silence.

Licking up and down his shaft you focused on pressing your tongue on the tip, as your hands began working, pumping him where your mouth couldn’t reach. You bobbed your head up and down occasionally, allowing the head of his cock pop in and out of your mouth. Slurp noises began invading the atmosphere around the two of you along with his whimpers. Your pace was fast and there were traces of your saliva coating his length entirely.

“Fuck darling,” his hands were reaching to grasp anything in his path but instead he ended up knocking everything off your night stand. “Y-Your lips were made to be around my cock. You know that?”

Jungkook’s praises were treats for your ego and you made sure to devour them in their entirety. He was a pleasant mess; his hair stuck out in all directions while his lips were swollen and vibrant with a scarlet hue as he kept biting down on them harshly. His glasses were slightly fogged and there were traces of saliva sitting on the corner of his mouth. All you wanted was to continue seeing him lose himself at your mercy.

You reached into your pocket and turned on the palm sized stimulator—you placed it against his balls before hitting the on button, setting off its vibrations. His head fell back and his hips buckled forward, causing you to gag around the majority of cock.

“I’m gonna come,” he cried out.

If anyone would’ve told you having Jungkook’s dick in your mouth would be this heavenly, you would live on your knees in front of him forever. Pleasuring him at every hour of every day but today you had different plans and once again he let out frustrated whimpers as you removed your mouth from around him.

“No—no, darling you’re fucking killing me. I need to come now,” he sounded desperate, “It hurts so bad. I need to come.”

“Don’t worry baby. We’re getting right to that,” you placed a kiss on his forehead.

“Did you bring any condoms?”

He shook his head, “I wasn’t exactly expecting things to go down this route.”

“Are you. .?”

“I’m clean. Are you?”

“I am.”

There was a timid breeze coming in through the opened window, it was enough to cool you down just a bit, well as cool as you could be without a fan.

Bouncing on Jungkook’s dick was even better than having him in your mouth. Sure, you loved the way he became a stuttering mess with the teasing of your tongue but having him deep inside of you, you felt like you were in your own heaven. On a deserted island somewhere with nothing but the swift breeze coming from the palm trees and his touch on your skin.

“You take me so well,” he whispered in your ear but you were too busy consumed by your own pleasure. Hyper focused on the way his hands dug into your waist; the way he swiftly pushed his cock in and out of you.

The sounds of your skin slapping against his blared through the room, as well as your profanities and his words of praise just as before.

Your nails dug into his shoulder as you felt a build up of tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, causing you to arch your back. Seemingly, the way you clenched around Jungkook he seemed to have noticed you were extremely close.

“Come for me darling,” with each word he buried his dick deeper into you.

It was a blissful paradise painted on the back of your eyelids as Jungkook continued to mold your insides with his dick, he was careful but rammed into you with such force, your voice was strained and you couldn’t hold it any longer. You finally came as sights of the beeming sun behind your closed eyes blinded you entirely.

“Come inside of me,” you managed; even more sweaty than how you began, absolutely tired and completely out of breath.

He chanted strings of your name as finally filled you up.

“Please come over more often and bring all of your brownies with you,” you were pressed up against him as he hugged your waist, placing a soft kiss on your head.

“How about we begin by going to that movie tomorrow?” It was so funny to you how Jungkook had practically just split you in two and now he was back to being soft spoken.

“It’s a date.”

It was now Friday, the power was finally back on around the city and Jungkook followed through on his plans to take you to the movies. The only problem was when you approached the theater you spotted your nosey landlord standing in line right beside Namjoon. “Before you say anything, Seokjin. Please just shut the fuck up.”

“You always think the worse of me,” he placed his hand on his chest, “all I was going to say is my Cupid’s bow is to thank for the two of you finally getting together.”

“In that case, thank you Seokjin,” Jungkook said.

“Don’t thank him.”

“Actually, please do. But the next time yall fuck in my building please keep it down. Just like the walls, the floors are also thin and the fifth floor did not appreciate your day of passion.”

“Seokjin, please go back to your own date,” you hissed, hoping no one else in line heard his little rant, “pretend we’re not here.”

Jungkook’s shame sat in his now red tinted cheeks, you peppered kisses on them to ease him.

“See, they can’t even keep their hands to themselves in public,” you heard Seokjin whisper.

This is going to be an interesting date.

a/n: this was pretty fun to write but supposed to be out on my birthday a couple days ago but i couldn’t meet the deadline sadly but please enjoy and disregard the smut scene if it’s bad. I tried lol my brain just wasn’t working 100%.

thanks for reading. comments, likes, reblogs and messages are always appreciated. let me know what you think ;)

#bts #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook drabble #very brief mention of seokjin x namjoon #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook x you #bts jungkook smut

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bas-writes · 7 months

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Kings Don't Fall in Love

Character: Donquixote Doflamingo Reader: female (should be trans inclusive but I haven't proof-read it from this pov, so proceed at own risk) CW: intimacy starved Doffy, non-descriptive mentions of sex, pressure put on scent, emotional isolation, Doffy's pov Word Count: 1.1k Synopsis: You leave a piece of clothing after a night spent together at Doflamingo's place. Something unexpected happens when he takes a closer look at it. A/N: I listen too much to Cigarettes After Sex and it shows... Anyway, a little gift to @opopnomi for which I hope she won't kill me LMAO Hope it made your day at least a little better :3

It's just your overnight t-shirt.

Doflamingo almost misses it among the clutter thrown all over his bedroom. It's just a single piece of clothing, but a little snip of fabric in comparison to his own stuff all around. You're so little next to him, from heads to toes, and especially your hands he likes to hold in his as he teases you for your embarrassment in face of the size difference. Everything about you is so little and endearing, and he can't help a little smirk at the thought of your eyes perked up at him.

They always look doe and pleading from this angle. And he loves it.

It's just your overnight t-shirt. A thing you wear only in the privacy of your room, not here, in the kingdom of lingerie, kink apparel, and all of his whims at the given moment. He got to know it only because you were wearing it when he dragged you out of your house and kidnapped you to his territory.

Doflamingo can't even remember now how you looked in it as all he cared about was to free you out of it, to feel your bare breasts in his hands. He picks it up, its weight barely palpable, and frowns, trying to recreate the image in his head, and failing. He doesn't cry over it, the thing is not sexy; it's just a t-shirt, stretched over your size, its colors worn-out, chosen to be cozy, not presentable. It's somewhat yours through and through and alien for his eyes. It suits you like your own skin and disturbs the image of yours in his mind. It's so out of place, time and imagination that he can't peel his eyes off it.

The king's attention can last only as much, though, and he's already putting it away—to send you back or throw it into trash, he's not decided yet—when an impulse strikes his curiosity. Doflamingo doesn't think much of it when he brings the t-shirt closer. It's just a whim, a spur of a second, who would have paid attention to reasoning behind something so meaningless?

When it touches his cheek, he nearly understands why you like to sleep in it. It's soft—and not only for a piece of clothing. The sensation is pleasant, almost having him craving for more, especially against the freshly shaved, irritated skin. It carries a weirdly nostalgic feel to that, like a warm hand cupping his face. He can't pinpoint what pulls him to do that, but he follows and nuzzles into the fabric, with hesitation at first, soon with eagerness that shocks him—but doesn't stop him regardless.

Your smell is…stronger.

Doflamingo knows every aspect of yours, all of the intimate nooks and crevices of your body. But this is different, far more private, feeling almost forbidden to be approached so…offhandedly. It's not just a faint trace of your scent nor the sharp aroma he trails straight from your skin. The t-shirt is soaked with you; it's still fresh enough to carry the aftertaste of a pleasant and flowery smell of washing detergent but also clearly worn for many nights already. It's the coziness of your tangled sheets, the rustle of a book you like to read before sleep, the simple touch of toothpaste and morning coffee, the whisper of dreams and hum of the alarm clock on your bed stand.

He's a brutal intruder, maybe for the first time ashamed of it—but chasing the sensation nevertheless, the stronger the bigger his guilt grows. Until this moment, Doflamingo has been sure you're in his possession, like a bird in a tight cage of his strings—and now each breath of your most sacred intimacy proves him what a fool he's been all this time. He holds a treasure he should never been trusted with, the image of you you kept to your solitude. You don't share such secrets with just anyone, oh Doflamingo is aware, so painfully aware. He's just your lover, just your king, just someone who can control your body and mind, but never your soul, wrapped tightly in this old t-shirt he so brutally gently presses to his face.

He wants more, he needs more, he fears more.

His eyes closing, Doflamingo takes one more, desperately deep breath, full of your smell and his loneliness. His arms should be filled with you—yet, they're empty. This shirt should be covering your breasts—yet, it's almost teared in his desperate clutch. Your voice should vibrate through his bedroom—and yet, there's only an echo of the sound he hasn't heard for decades. Your body should warm his side—yet he's shivering in the middle of his pathetic kingdom of four walls and ice-cold heart.

What's a king without the thing he craves the most, after all? Without the thing he will never claim as it's impossible to be claimed?

It scares him, that musky and heavy scent tangled in cotton threads. That lie detector, that sharp knife slicing his soul paper-thin, and heading towards the most vulnerable, the most protected core of his memories and emotions. Doflamingo takes the last, shaking whiff of it, and finally pulls away, his chest clenched tight and eyes dry and pricking. Your shirt is just a shirt again, just a piece of old, stretched fabric in his hands.

He almost throws it away, with fear and self-disgust.

It should be returned, it should be gone, but the longer he thinks about it, Doflamingo can't bring himself to move either way. Just the idea of handing it to a servant leaves a bad, bitter taste in his mouth, like sucking blood out of a cut on a parched lip. Walking to your house and disturbing your privacy even more fills him with anxiety he hasn't experienced before. And to call you here—

Your soul shouldn't be entrusted to a place of corporeality.

He would gladly just toss it out of his sight and mind—or to seal it in one of his hidden vaults, where neither of you wouldn't find it for a long, long time. At the same time, he doesn't want to, to hide and to heal. It burns his hand when he finally brings himself to pull the den den mushi out of the drawer and chooses your number he has, much to his surprise, learnt already by heart. It is almost physical, harder with each passing second, and he just keeps clenching his fingers tighter on it.

A few dreadful heartbeats later, the torturous, steady ring of awaiting call is interrupted by your voice. And Doflamingo can finally bleed his soul out into the speaker, "Y/N. Come. Yes, you left something at my place."

#doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x you #doflamingo x y/n #doflamingo imagine #doflamingo scenario #doflamingo fanfiction #doflamingo fluff #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #bas writes #doflamingo #female reader

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theprettynosferatu · 9 months

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CW: Orientation play/conversion. Remember that your sexuality is valid, and conversion is NOT a thing beyond fantasy. Also, fuck "conversion therapy"

“All I’m saying is…”

“Look, you’re speaking out of your ass”, Ava said, barely containing her frustration.

“How am I speaking out of my ass? It has been done and thoroughly…”, he tried to reply.

“Yes, yes, Pavlov, blah blah blah. But you’re talking about something else entirely, not conditioning reactions”

“Not Pavlov, Skinner! Actions can be conditioned too. Look around you! Mobile games, casinos, even the goddamn army uses conditioning to…”

“Can we agree that there’s a difference between conditioning obedience in a controlled setting and whatever the fuck it is you’re suggesting? You’re not talking about tapping on impulse to buy funbucks in a game! You are talking…”

“It’s only a difference of degree, not of kind. With the right combination of techniques…”

“No, there’s a core there that you can’t just… overwrite. Some things can’t be changed. Like… like how you can’t hypnotize someone into doing something they would never do”

“You know that’s bullshit, right? The whole hypnosis thing. You absolutely can make someone do whatever the fuck you want. It’s just a matter of how you approach it. Like, you would never harm a person, okay? But if I change what your idea of ‘person’ is, say, by making it more narrow you would absolutely harm someone I made you see as a not-person. Or maybe you can be made to believe you’re helping them, not harming them”

“That’s some creepy cult shit, dude. And anyway you can’t write a paper on this because a) there’s no evidence and b) doing the research to get evidence would be absolutely immoral. So I say look for another topic and for the love of God don’t go around spewing that bullshit if you want to ever get laid. Oh, speaking of! Linda will be arriving shortly and we have a date night, so please, please try to be a normal roommate and not freak her out. For me, okay?”

“When have I ever freaked her out? Linda loves me! And who knows, maybe she has an opinion on our little debate”

“Dude, she’s an Art student. I doubt she’ll be interested in our weird Psych dissertations”

“Perfect! Fresh eyes!”

“See, that’s the kind of weird shit I-”

The buzzer cut through the air, and a moment later Linda was inside the apartment, all smiles as usual. He took a moment to watch them as they embraced.

They were almost comical in their contrast. Linda was tall, taller than he was, willowy and slender, her limbs graceful and shapely, her hair a long, flowing river of playful copper that almost seemed to dance on its own volition– with her green sundress she appeared to him as some sort of elven princess ripped from the pages of a fantasy novel and stuck into a mortal world in which she didn’t really fit. Ava, on the other hand, was probably the shortest adult he had ever seen. He might be tempted to call her petite, but that had a connotation of a lithe frame, almost like a tastefully proportioned doll. Ava was the complete opposite of that. Sometimes he felt Ava was an experiment aimed at testing how much of a person’s weight could be tits and ass, held up by strong, thick thighs. He felt quite guilty about such thoughts, and he understood why she wore nothing but oversized t-shirts and hoodies. It was logical: an early, spectacular growth spurt, heightened by her small size, had made her the target of relentless bullying by jealous classmates and awkward come-ons by hormonal teen males. It enraged him, he realized. Ava was beautiful and the cruelty of idiots had made her feel pain about it instead of pride. He made a point to never stare at her, even if he sometimes failed. It made their relationship as roommates a tad hard, he had to admit.

Not that he had a shadow of a shot, of course. Ava had no interest in men.

Unless, of course, he was right in his theory. And he had good reason to think he was.

“So, Linda: Ava and I were having a bit of a debate…”

“Don’t start, dude”, said Ava.

“Oh, a debate! Do tell!” chirped Linda.

“Do you think we can be completely conditioned and changed, or is there some part of us that cannot be modified, no matter what?”

“Huh. Hard one. Like… a soul? I don’t know I buy it. I feel there isn’t really a self, you know? Like… Buddhism. The self is an illusion and all that”

“Come on, you can’t be serious! You can’t change who someone fundamentally is, and it’s sick to even consider it!”, said Ava.

“Well… what if I could prove to you it can be done?”, he stated, barely able to hold back. He know what he was going to do. He had been reluctant, but now it felt like a certainty.

“You can’t, so stop being an ass”, said Ava.

Fine. Game on.

“Linda, I love your socks! Pride socks!”

“Yup!”, said Linda

“What the hell–”, mumbled Ava.

He took a deep breath.

“Linda: rainbow socks…”

She replied in an instant.

“Are for sucking cocks!”

Ava felt as if reality had shifted into some horrible, twisted nightmare. She was about to scream something, anything really, to make Linda take that back before something stopped her in her tracks. Her body heard it before her mind did: her roommate's voice simply commanding her. Watch.

And she watched. She watched as the love of her life smiled and went on her knees. Ava could do nothing but watch in disbelief and pain. Linda had never been with a man. Ever.

“I might have… started testing my theories. On you both. Not that you’d remember, obviously”, he stated casually as the beautiful girl in front of him lovingly undid his pants. “I’d say Linda’s sexuality is part of her core self, wouldn’t you? Let’s see how that holds up after the months of conditioning I’ve subjected her to”

He felt guilty, sure; but there was such a high to it, such an entrancing quality to the combination of seeing instant, complete obedience and the final, definitive proof of the truth he had known to be right all along. Was it wrong? Yes. Did he care? Not at the moment. Ava’s eyes were a poem to him. Suddenly he was ripped from his reverie by the soft, loving touch of Linda’s tongue on his dick. He hadn’t even realized he had gotten hard just from the sense of complete power, of total, undeniable conquest. This was a primal, ancient arousal. Ava could do nothing but watch, and he took that sight in. God, he could almost taste it.

Linda moaned. The cock was so beautiful. So perfect. She felt so… silly, like she was now, for the first time, seeing in color and realizing the sky was, in fact, blue. It was obvious. Simple. Natural. Cock deserved worship. Cock deserved devotion. Cock demanded obedience. It was as if it was growing in her mind, taking over more and more of her, pushing who she had been out effortlessly. It expanded. It corrupted. It twisted and shifted all within. Cock. Cock. Cock. She kissed it with reverence, in awe of it. It was all that existed to her. All that mattered. She needed to please it. Needed to feel it throbbing inside her. Needed to be taken by it.

Ava saw her girlfriend slide a hand between her legs and felt nauseous. As much as she knew this wasn’t Linda’s fault, she could feel her heart breaking, her anger rising… and worse, her pussy getting wet. Her body betraying her. She hated him, and she hated Linda, and she hated herself most of all.

Suddenly, Linda couldn’t contain herself. She relaxed her throat, looked up at her Master and took his entire manhood inside her mouth. She almost came instantly. It was peaceful and sexy and just simple, like his cock was the puzzle piece that fit her perfectly, completed her, made her whole. She existed to be conquered, and realizing she was putting his pleasure over her ability to breathe was the final sign of her complete, loving surrender. She let it out, watched it glisten with her spit, and started licking it and loving it and she didn’t know how much came from her own need and how much it was a silent command by the man who had shown her the light. Her mind was too fuzzy to make such distinctions anymore.

He took a deep breath, fighting back the first signs of an orgasm. He needed to make a point.

“Linda… do you love Ava?”

The blonde stopped for a moment, shocked by a myriad of contradictions.

“Yes”, she decided. Her voice was shaking.

“Tell her”

Linda looked at Ava, the woman she had loved above all others.

“I love you…”

“But you have more to say, don’t you?”

“I… hmph… I…”

“Tell her”

“I love you… but… but… I love his cock so much more! Fuck! I need it! I need to feel it, to suck it, to be fucked by it… I’m sorry… but… I love it, I love it, I love it! I want it to fuck my throat, to take my cunt, to ram my ass! I need it! I need to be a slave to it, a whore for it, a fucking living toy!”

“What if you had to choose between Ava and my cock?”

“Fuck her! Sorry, my love… I do love you, but… You can never do to me what… what Master does to me, what his cock makes me feel! I hope I won’t have to dump you but… I would leave you for this cock in a minute! I’d do anything. Anything. Anything!” If she had more to add, her need to serve cock snuffed it. She took it all in with desperation, with total, shameless abandon. She needed to feel... used. In her proper place.

Ava felt a tear roll down her cheek. Her knees buckled in defeat. She didn’t even care. It was all gone. Her life, her love, all gone. And she could feel her eyes drawn again and again to the cock that had destroyed her. She felt her mouth watering.

“Linda, would you say you’re a lesbian?”

“Fuck no!”, she said before immediately wrapping her lips around the cock’s head.

He felt a swell of pride. Of triumph. He knew Ava sensed the truth as well. He was right. He had proven his point. And now Ava’s full conditioning would take hold. A little bet with himself, making her own mental acknowledgment of his theory her final trigger. She took off her t-shirt. She would never wear it again. No more shame, no more pain about her figure. Only arousal and pride. His gift to her.

She crawled to him on all fours. The girls kissed– but now, they kissed for him, to arouse him. They were lovers, only they both knew there was a higher love. A truer love. Ava looked up at her owner and opened her mouth, greedily awaiting his blessing. Linda used her skillful hands, aiming his cock and teasing it, jacking it off, using just the right amount of pressure and speed.

No man could resist such a sight.

In a few seconds, Ava was covered in his cum, more beautiful than she had ever been. Linda certainly felt that way, and she licked and kissed her sister slut clean.

He watched carefully, looking for signs of defiance, and finding none. In fact, Linda put his fears to rest with a simple statement.

“Ava, we need to buy you a pair of rainbow socks”

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu !!

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mahboimahboi · 9 months

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NEIGHBOR BUDDY x M!Reader (Featuring Actor Mackenyu)

Fluff

You slammed the door of your room shut, while stomping your way to the balcony, huffing at the sound of your mother who's still screaming at the top of her lungs, angry that you went out last night again without permission and to top it off you went drinking. That was the first rule your mother ever wanted you to follow, but considering just how your head is made of rock, you always went against her laws and always obeyed nothing. At first it was just an impulsive thought, going out with your friends, but it soon became a habit and this type of situation between you and your mother became more of a routine. Well, you can't blame yourself, your mother is too strict for literally everything. You wanted to live your life not just stay around in your house and play prison jail. That is just suffocating.

Soon, after a few minutes, the noises died down and you let out a breath that you didn't know your were holding. You sighed through your nose, thanking the heavens that it is finally over. You just don't understand why your mother is specifically too harsh on you, when you're siblings both could do the same thing, but could avoid getting into trouble every single time. So, what difference does it make when you do it? You're literally a grown up already. In your 20s, to be exact, yet you're mother still treats you like an overgrown sized baby.

Usually, your anger would have seeped out and you'd start rampaging inside your room, but the sight of your handsome, tall, buff and everything hot and sexy neighbor, you couldn't help, but let your anger vaporize in just a second. It was the only sight you'd ever need to calm you down.

Mackenyu, your neighbor crush, noticing eyes on him, meets yours and gave you a smile. He waves his hand at you (so cool), while you did the same thing in reply to him. He soon catches the tiniest hint of sadness in your eyes and grew a little concerned. Just like always, he'd move across the street to get to you and climb from the ladder that was located near the railings of your room's balcony. "Your mom caught you again?" He asked you, his voice deep and calming, brows furrowing upon his worry. You nod your head, not saying a word. "Figured. You're such a naughty boy, Y/N. Can't say I dislike that fact about you." He commented, making you blush, but externally all you could ever do is just scoff.

"I can't just stand being with this family anymore. It's crazy how it's madly obvious that they have their favorites yet continue to state that they treat us all equally. What some pure bullshit." You complained to him, Mackenyu hopping inside to get to your side and sat on the bench, the male inviting you to take a seat beside him. You complied, before getting shocked when the buffer sized male wrapped his arms around you and started to caress your back.

"You know the thing I admire the most about you, Y/N? It's that even if you realize the mistakes they did to you, you still stay strong and resilient. You're so brave, Y/N." He said, while tears started to prick the side of your eyes. "If you want to run away, my house is always free." He said, you looking a bit confused.

"But, your house is just across ours." You told him in reply, hearing a soft chuckle from the other male.

"I never said which house, Y/N." Your eyes widened and looked up at him like a dog getting a new owner.

"You don't mean...?" Mackenyu nods his head and you throw yourself at him with so much joy that all you could ever think of was just how excited you are to finally be able to leave this hell of a house. "Yes, yes! I'll start packing." You said and immediately ran to your room and quickly did a heavy packing after locking the door to your room.

"That's my boy."

#bottom male reader #mackenyu #actor #male reader #mackenyu x male reader #x male reader

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sergeantnex · 4 months

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König x Reader: The Uniform (Smut)

Being a new member of 141, I had very little knowledge of who all were our allies, merely being told I'll meet them when the time is right. So, being placed on the lookout in a new territory and being told someone from our allied faction team called KorTac would come check on me did little to soothe my nerves. A smooth German accent came through my earpiece, informing me the male was headed in my direction. I could hear the male's footsteps as he approached my position from behind. Glancing back, my eyes widened as I took in the sight of a 6' 10" male approached. Red night vision goggles resting over his eyes, his tan uniform accented by the black and red colored gear he wore.

Normally, being surrounded by men in uniforms was one thing, but this guy and his uniform? This was completely different. The sheer size of him and his lean figure graced with such a dominating aura that followed him sent tingles of excitement and arousal down my spine. I studied him as he approached my prone form, his cocks outline visible through his pants. The sight made my mouth water with eagerness to have such a monster of a cock however he would be willing give it. The male moved to lay prone with me and lifted his night vision goggles. With how close he was, I could make out his sapphire blue hues surrounded by black grease paint.

"I'm König, I will be your teammate for this mission." He greeted, his voice sounding calm while his blue hues swirled with anxiety. I offered a gentle and welcoming smile as I greeted him back, giving him my callsign. His name rang a bell, I remember hearing the team talk about him sure. I thought Soap was joking, and he called the man a mountain, but damn! Something about this man excited me, made me feel submissive and eager to please. Was it how much smaller I was? Maybe it was his aura? It could be a million and one thing, that's for sure, but the mission came first.

I kept a quiet casual conversation going with him, talking about where he was from, even talking about him teaching me some German. He seemed to relax the more we quietly spoke, which made me feel warm and jittery. Although this giant male had one thing I didn't. Those sick night vision goggles. I open my mouth to speak only for him to wrap his hand over my mouth and adjust himself over my back. The front of his vest resting against my back and his hips resting flush against my own. His flaccid cock pressing against my ass only drove me to want to press back into him. I could hear the footsteps and quiet talking in a different language, I couldn't understand, as he laid over me.

My uniform wasn't exactly the best to be trying to blend in with the darkness of the night. His did a better job at blending in with the surroundings than my own, and with his goggles, he could see the enemies to see if we were in any trouble. The more he softly rested on me, the more I felt the desire and impulse to seek sexual contact. I took a risk and gently licked his gloved palm, quickly drawing his attention. I could see his blue eyes widen with shock as I peered up at him innocently. His attention quickly went back to the soldiers patrolling the path near our position. We weren't supposed to engage unless they spotted us or got too close. So feeling pretty in the clear, I softly lifted my ass agaisnt his clothed flaccid cock.

He softly grunts as I keep softly grinding my hips back against his. König presses his gloved middle finger into my mouth, letting me wet the fabric as I softly started sucking. I could feel his cock twitch and begin to harden as I lightly moan around his finger. König gently grinds his hips against my own letting his cock rut against my ass smoothly. Once we were in the clear, König groaned out and pressed against me harder. I learned very quickly that most men in the military were eager for sexual contact. Especially men in higher ranks, they were always stressed and needed something to take that stress away. I had slept with my Lieutenant many times due to how stressed he was after missions of after long days of training recruits. I wasn't sure what König's rank was, but at this point, I honestly didn't care.

"Scheiße... you little minx." König growled as he pulled his hand away to tug at my uniform pants. I quickly and quietly undid my pants, tugging them and my underwear down just enough to expose myself to him. I could hear him doing the same before the heavy weight of his thick cock tapped against my ass. He used his hand to press his whole length against my ass as he ruts his hips softly. I slightly pant as I do my best to stay quiet, letting him lift my hips up slightly. The sound of him spitting reached my ears as his spit dripped down my ass. I gasp as he begins pressing his tip into me, and I feel my walls stretching to accommodate him.

"Tell me, luder, do you let anyone do this?" He mocked sinking his cock into me until he was fully seated in me. His cock feeling better than anything I had used in the past week to seek the pleasure of being fucked. König was thick and long, his pretty cock carrying a weight that would satisfy anyone. His heavy balls rested on the back of my thighs from how I was positioned below him.

"No sir, you're special~" I purred, arching my lower back to allow him better access to fuck me. He growled something in German as he began pulling out only to press forward again. The pace was slower than either of us wanted, but we couldn't risk being caught. Of course, we weren't supposed to be having sex either, but neither of us could pass this up. König's voice was low, his breath mixing with soft moans. Hearing such an intimidating guy make such noises in my ear only drove me closer to my orgasm. It was like when Ghost and I had sex, hearing the gruff noises and low moans from my lieutenant were such a weak spot for me. My walls flutter around him as his cock began twitching with his own approaching orgasm. I whine out his name as I began cumming, his hips changing to grind into me as he begins cumming as well.

"Open your mouth, luder. Clean my cock for me ja?" König commanded lightly as he pulls out and moves to press his cock in my mouth. I moan softly around his girth as I take him as deep as I can manage. Licking and sucking away any mess we made until he hissed and pulled away. König and I quickly fixed our clothes before he moved back to my side. His hand softly lingered on my lower back as he checked our surroundings. Once, he was satisfied with it being clear and laid back next to me.

"What made you decide to act such a way? You just met me, luder." König asked, seeming more curious now than nervous as he sees we are safe.

"At first, it was your uniform, the way it frames you in all the right places. It gives you a certain... aura. But now, you can fuck me anytime we work together again." I tease softly but showing that I mean my words. König chuckles softly as he resumes overwatch with me. My excited jittery energy came to a harsh halt when I heard Ghost come over my earpiece.

"Are you done fucking the Colonel?" His gravelly British voice mocked into my ear. I tensed and felt a heavy stone of mixed emotions hit my guts. Embarrassment because I forgot Ghost was on my channel in case I ran into any trouble and shock because this gentle giant of a man was the Colonel of our allied faction. I looked in the direction of where I knew Ghost's position was.

"Ghost... you-.." I started only to be cut off by my lieutenant.

"Yes, Private, I saw and heard every bit of that. Perhaps you'd like a lesson in what I meant when I said I don't share toys." He remarked before going quiet. My body filled with excitment at the thoughts of what he would do to me when the mission was over. Maybe I could convince him to share me with König...

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gabessquishytum · 4 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/athymelyreply/741449177837584384/reggyjester-skeletalroses-so-this-is-a?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/phoebo-fugiente/741458451982630912?source=share

--------

So between these two posts taking me out at the knees for different reasons, I now have Corset Thoughts:

Dream is corsetiere and he vends at his local Renaissance Faire. His corsets are all handmade, high quality and absolutely beautiful. He's very popular and his stall is always full of customers, especially because he accommodates so many different body types.

Hob is at the Renaissance Faire with his girlfriend, and it is her goal to get one of Dream's corsets. She's saved up her money, brought her measurements, etc. Hob decides to indulge her and try on one of the men's corsets Dream has available, and he has a million realizations at once about his body and how good it can look in a well fitting corset.

Ultimately, Hob doesn't buy his own corset even though his girlfriend agrees he looks amazing and absolutely deserves to have a nice quality corset of his own. But Hob is saving up money to propose, and he just doesn't have the extra cash to spend it on an impulse. His girlfriend leaves happily with her purchase though and swears they'll be back next year to get her a second one AND Hob's first corset.

One year later, Hob is back but he's alone this time. Turns out they wanted different things in life so they broke up and it's fine. They're still friendly. But Hob hasn't stopped thinking about that corset. Or the gorgeous coset maker at the Faire. And now that he no longer has a girlfriend to buy an engagement ring for, he now has a lot of extra cash to buy himself a corset... or three.

Hi this is so good!!!! I’m super obsessed with corsets in general and I am constantly in awe of corsetieres, their craftsmanship, and their dedication to making things that are size inclusive. The fact that we’re all acknowledging now that men in corsets are fucking incredible is a very good thing indeed.

I’m just imagining Dream’s face lighting up because he remembers Hob from the previous year and was hoping he’d come back. If he’s honest with himself he’s VERY attracted to Hob but he disguises his interest by asking if he can take a few pictures while Hob tries on the various available styles. He’s trying to get as many pictures as possible for his website so he can show that corsets are perfect for everyone! And Hob looks so good, he clearly belongs front and centre in Dream’s new marketing strategy…

So Hob hands over his measurements, and Dream brings out a selection of different designs for him to try. Most are the traditional laced up variety, but he’s also been experimenting with Velcro as some people can’t manage the laces so easy. Hob gushes on about how talented and thoughtful Dream is, and he seems to be completely in his element as he tries each one on and poses for photos. Dream blushes and stammers and asks if Hob’s girlfriend liked her corset? Which leads to Hob explaining about the breakup.

Dream feels a huge sense of relief, and doesn’t feel quite so terrible about the fact that he can’t keep his eyes off Hob’s fantastic tits. The way the corset compresses the fabric of his shirt and makes absolutely sure that his chest hair is visible is driving Dream wild. His hands are shaking so much, he’s not even sure if the pictures he’s taking will be in focus.

Hob finally decides which corsets he’ll be taking home, and he can’t resist kissing the back of Dream’s hand in thanks. And when he cautiously asks if Dream would care to meet him at the mead tent when he’s due for a break, Dream nearly abandons his stall altogether just at the mere offer. Luckily, one of the other vendors offers to watch his stall for a bit, so Hob is able to spirit Dream away just for a little while. Yes, they do spend the whole time making out in a quiet corner, and yes, Dream does finally cop a feel of the Hoboobies.

Hob is about to have sooooo many pretty outfits designed just for him, the lucky bastard. In all fairness, he was absolutely made to wear corsets. Dream definitely isn’t letting him go!

#seiya-starsniper #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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yannaryartside · 7 months

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SydCarmy vs Lucus

AMBITIONS AND PERSPECTIVES ON ART

This is a long one. Is about the series's themes on pursuing the arts, and the reasons that this ships work as symbolism for it.

When thinking about the reasons Marcus and Sydney were not going to work out (as far as we can see), I read a comment saying: "they are not on the same level" and the more I thought about it, I realized it not only meant they are not equal in culinary expertise, but they also have different ways to "live" their path in the culinary arts, almost opposite philosophies about it. And all of it is explained in their conversations with their (possible) romantic interest.

WHAT IS AN ART PHILOSOPHY?

When you enter a path in the arts, any part, at some point, you will have to make decisions about how you are going to transit this path because there are very different ways to live a creative life, to make money out of it, and how feel fulfilled about it. Many people will enter their path with an idea of what success looks like, probably modeled after an artist that you admired, the desire for your art to be recognized as good, or as "the best," or even to disrupt what came before you. Shortly, art philosophy is how you value your path in the arts: What makes it good art? What point of your career is gonna bring you satisfaction? What guides you to it?

CARMY AND SIDNEY : "LET'S BE THE BEST AND REACH LOST OF PEOPLE"

They both want to be "the best," their definition of it equals stars, reviews, magazine interviews, and restaurant numbers. The creative impulse is only as valuable as is booming, and a chef is only as good as the size of their kitchen.

They both want exterior recognition and aspire to a big audience, and their satisfaction in their craft depends on that; what makes their unbearable jobs worth it somehow is if "people loved the food." They both have wounds and bonds formed around food and love making people happy with the food, but they have selected a perspective of what "the best" is and is an ambition they run almost blindly to. You can think the burger place on your block has the best food in the world. There are cooks utterly content with that, but the Michelling stars are telling otherwise.

Of course, this is the most tangible way to measure success in arts, the singer with the most loved songs, the book with the most readers. Quality is supposed to be evident by popularity, and they want it, decorated with the prize of succeding in such a competitive industry. They have tried to win the culinary rat race and have regrets about it.

Carmy (motivated by the rejection and abandonment from his brother) worked his ass to unhealthy levels to climb the culinary ladder, living to best everybody around him and run the best restaurant on the planet (which, if we believe his monologue, only took two fucking years). Sydney is presented to us as somebody with equal creative powers, intelligence, and instincts as Carmy, which is particularly obvious in their brainstorming sessions. But she hasn't been offered the same opportunities. Her previous bosses described her as "incredibly talented, impatient, and green." and one friend told her as "always trying to be the best." There is much to say about how her impatience may sabotage her ambitions. Still, it may be because she fears getting stuck, labeled, or never recognized by her talents.

These two have 3 things they prioritize in their art paths:

Creative expression+people love the food

Exterior recognition based on the industry standards (stars and big kitchens)

A rat race (sense of urgency) and your ability to play on it.

What makes your food the "best" is comparing it to everyone else and "winning" in a particular category.

Not to mention, they are both deeply aware of the logistics and money sides of the restaurant life. It is not like they don't value inspiration, but their ambition is the defining force behind said inspiration.

MARCUS AND LUCA: "LET'S BE INSPIRED AND EVOLVE"

Luca was introduced to us as someone who was "trying to keep up with Carmy, who was much better than him," the same way the audience feels Marcus is someone trying to impress and keep up with Syd. Luca knows the culinary world, has traveled, and has a privileged position making high-end desserts (possibly in a place with stars). He is the Carmy to Marcus's Sydney.

Btw, there are some crazy parallels here too:

Marcus and Sydney have a wound/fear related to their mothers.

Luca and Carmy have strained relationships with their siblings (Luca has a sister he cannot find).

Both Carmy and Sydney got into cooking because of early childhood passion

Marcus and Luca got into it by "chance," discovering a passion that they never expected to love this much or be good at.

Mentor x student relationship.

Back to Marcus and Lucas's perspective of art. Notice how Carmy was trapped in a sense of urgency environment, with many people working for him, in NYC, a chaotic city; while Luca seems to work entirely by himself, in a pretty chill environment, in a rather peaceful city. Luca and Marcus thrive on this environment, which is about thought and delicacy, unlike the "efficient, fast run kitchen" Carmy and Sydney established.

Marcus had no philosophy about his craft because he was barely starting. Still, he adopts Luca's philosophy, which has 3 parts:

You may never be the best. Some artists have to let go of the idea of being "the best." There is a lot to say about this. But I want to express this using an example of the craft that I aspire to get into: writing. A friend once told me that some books are not meant to reach millions because they have a very specific audience, and what makes them good is how "memorable they are." More of it, some artists are never recognized in their times. The industry may not be made for them, or it may be just luck. Limiting the value of art by the industry standard is depriving the world of art that needs to be more exploratory, spontaneous, or just free.

Since industry validation may not be available to you, instead of "being the best" against others, you can decide, "My only competition is me from yesterday." This perspective is super important because it gives you something to aspire to, ensures your creative growth, and allows reinvention.

It is not about skill but being open to the world, yourself, and other people. It is not about fancy techniques or recognition but about being inspired.

To Luca and now Marcus, the creative process is as good as is honest, and a chef is as good as the effort he puts into it. The "self-exploration" and the recognition of the people surrounding him allowed Marcus to create his desserts: The Copenhagen sundae, for his ultimate school (and Luca), "Mum's" honey bun, Sidney's donut (the first one in believing in him and when he recognized his dreams), and "The Michael" the one that put him to make bread, and the tribute that needs to be made.

#sorry I just love stories about making art #the bear is a love story #carmy berzatto #sydcarmy #carmy the bear #the bear meta #carmen berzatto #sydney x carmy #carmy x sydney #luca the bear #marcus the bear #lucus #chef kiss

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jaylienpotter · 10 months

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Part 3 of Let them be | 1.9K words

> Part 2 | Part 4 <

Let people want both

Remus, James and Peter were outside already, waiting for Sirius to join them to go to Hogsmead. Remus was getting impatient (it was getting close to that time of the month), it was unbelievable the amount of time someone could take to get ready. They always expected him to take longer, hence why not waiting at the dorm. But that day Padfoot was taking especially long.

Lupin's frown became something else entirely. Thin lips parted, brown eyes wide and cheeks most certainly darker than usual. Siri looked absolutely gorgeous, hot, perfect.

"Looking good Pads!" Prongs greeted the last marauder with his usual cheerful grin. But he didn't have the tall boy's slightest attention.

"You think?"

"Yeah! Girl day?" Sirius hummed affirmatively and got closer. Fuck did he she look even better.

"Where did you get the clothes?" The short blond boy was still getting used to the whole gender thing, but it had gotten better since the protest they did for Regulus.

"Well, Marlene gave me the skirt, said it's a tad too big on her. The top is mine but I cut it to be cropped. Not bad, I'd say. Definitely not the straightest but it's me after all. And I don't know, it gives it a grungy style. The fishnets are Mary's. I was expecting it to be uncomfortable but it's not, really. The accessories are all mine except for the bracelet, which is also Marlene's. The boots are mine, obviously. It would be fun to maybe get heels at one point but I don't think they exist in my size."

"You can always try spells. You look wicked, anyway!" Potter turned to Remus, who was very much panicking on the inside. "Y'alright, Moony?"

"Huh? Oh- yeah, yeah." Was that suspicious? He was quite collected in general but something about that man - or woman, person, didn't really matter - made him feral. He wanted Sirius to be his. He needed it. But he was far too awkward and shy to ever make a move. I mean, what if it ruined their friendship?

"Look!" Pads lifted her rectangle black sunglasses to show an amazing eye look (not that Remus knew much about makeup) that made her grey eyes pop. "I did it myself! Lily has been teaching me how to make different looks with makeup."

"You're on a first name basis, now? You're not stealing Evans from me, Pads, are you?" He squinted as if threatening, not that he would ever hurt his best friend.

"No, don't worry. I'm still very much into blokes."

"Good. Anyone you got your eyes on?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Suddenly focused on the conversation, a million thoughts raced through Rem's head. Did Padfoot have a crush? Who could it be?

"Secretive. I'm onto you, Pads. And how about you Moony? We all know Pete is devoted to the Ravenclaw boy-"

"Merlin! I've told you already, Benjy and I are just friends."

"Sure." Round glasses turned to Moony, who, for once, was feeling somewhat brave.

"I guess you could say I fancy someone." He hoped to get a reaction from said person.

"Ooooo! Who is she?" This was his moment.

"Why are you assuming it's a girl?" There it was. Pads looked up, interest peaked. It could only be from curiosity, she always enjoyed some drama. Or maybe, hopefully, it could be deeper than that.

"Am I the only straight person here?"

"Well I'm not gay, because I don't fancy Benjy. I don't fancy anyone." Poor Pete. James wouldn't leave him alone about it, constantly teasing.

"Whatever you say, Wormy. Who's this person, Moony?"

"Ain't telling." He was feeling brave and maybe even impulsive. But not even the full moon made him an idiot.

"Aww, come on! Why don't you lot tell me anything?!"

"Perhaps because you're extremely obvious and embarrassing." He did have a point. Although that wasn't the reason in this case.

"Awn, do I embarrass you in front of eagle boy?"

"You're insufferable!" Potter chuckled, deciding it was enough teasing.

"Well, where we off to first? Zonko's?"

"We should go there last. We will need quite a lot of things, we're running out of stock for pranks."

"What would we do without you, Moony?" Get in a lot more detentions, that's for sure. "Three broomsticks?"

They all agreed and went to the pub, ordering butterbeer. After a while of talking about nothings, Peter got up.

"I have to go for a bit."

"Meeting a certain someone whose name starts with a B?"

"Sod off, Potter. I'll see you later." He was barely out the door when James got up too.

"Oh shit! I also need to go. I want to buy Lily some flowers. See if this time she'll accept going on a date. Sorry mates." He took some coins from his pockets (most of them galleons, rich prick) and messily left them on the table. "Uh this should cover some of the drinks. I'll meet you at Zonko's in like 30, yeah?"

"Just go, lover boy."

"Thank you, you're the best!" And then it was just them. It's not like they were never alone, but it was especially hard to focus when Sirius looked like a hot rockstar. No matter where Lupin looked, he could easily get flustered. Face? Amazing makeup that he wanted to kiss. Top? You could see her abs under the crop. Bottom? Obviously the mini skirt. There was no way out.

"You seem distracted."

"Hm? Do I?" Fuck.

"Yes. Is it because of the person you fancy?"

"Maybe." Absolutely.

"I didn't know you were bi." The lanky boy just shrugged, afraid to say something stupid. "Do I know him?"

"You know everyone."

"You know what I mean." Another non answer, a sip of the butterbeer that was near the end. "Do you know if he's gay? Or bi or whatever."

"He is."

"What does he look like?" They were getting into dangerous territory. There weren't many males at hogwarts with fucking grey eyes. Join the long black hair and it was a given.

"Why the interrogation? You also didn't give us much closure."

"Ask me things, then." He pondered. He desperately wanted to find out if Padfoot had any interest in the boy across from her.

"Do you fancy someone?"

"I do." Could be anyone.

"What's his house?"

"Gryffindor, of course. I have high standards, Moons." Siri was the only person that called him that. Got this man on his knees every time.

"I mean you dated a Ravenclaw."

"Shhhh we don't talk about him."

"Right." Brown eyebrows came together "Is it- is it James?" It made sense. They were always together, after all. And Potter was always complimenting his best mate.

"Prongs?! Fuck no! He's my brother. Why? You don't fancy him, do you…?"

"No, no!" Different Marauder.

"What's his house?"

"Also Gryffindor. What does your crush look like?" It could go downhill from there very fast.

"Brown hair. Brown eyes." Matched… "Bad sense of style." Listen. Remus didn't have a bad sense of style. He just liked to be comfortable. Although he could be the one in the description since Black said he looked like a grandfather.

Before Rem could answer, probably ask something that was more specific, a crash and shouts were heard a few tables over.

"Let's go somewhere else?"

"Sounds good."

After paying, Moony awkwardly followed his crush to a secluded area in the street.

"How about you? What does your crush look like?"

"Dark hair…" Pads hummed, encouraging to continue. "Light eyes…" Bastard was smirking. Smirking at the pink cheeks across the scarred face.

"I see…" She got close. Very close. "You know, Lupin. I couldn't help but notice you get particularly shy whenever I'm wearing a skirt. Any reason?" He didn't say anything. I mean, what was he supposed to say? Sirius obviously knew the answer already. "I'd say you simply like short skirts but I don't see you staring at other girls like that." His cheeks matched the colour of their house and he could be playing quidditch with how fast his heart was beating. "What is it, Remy?"

"Siri…" His voice was pleading, his eyes were pleading, his heart was pleading, he was on his knees and she was well aware of that.

"No no." She took his chin and made him look into those grey eyes. "Say it."

"I…" Shit, he was nervous. "I… like you…"

"Was that so hard? If all I needed to do to get you to like me back was to wear a skirt, I would've protested a lot sooner."

"It's not since the skirt… It's been longer." The Black smirk. Annoying and hot. He just wanted to kiss it, aware the bold red lipstick would get smudged on both of them.

"Remus John Lupin, you fool." And just like that, their lips met. Pale arms around the taller one's neck. Moony put his arms around her and pulled her closer, feeling her bare skin and melting into the kiss.

Merlin knows how long the kissing lasted. Time didn't exist between those two. After what seemed like an eternity and yet not enough, they parted.

"You have some lipstick on you." She chuckled and cleaned some of it with her finger. "I'm making it worse…"

"That's okay. I'll wash my face."

"Woooooo!" Turning around, there was a short Filipino blondie cheering them, holding hands with her dark skinned girlfriend. "Fucking finally! You better tell me the details, Black!"

"Fine! Now sod off Mckinnon!" She laughed and pulled Dorcas, walking away. "Well…"

"I uh… I'll wash my face at the pub."

"I'll walk with you." The silence was a tad awkward. At least to Remus. His crush took his hand and broke the ice. "So, since when do you fancy me?"

"I'm not sure… A year, maybe? You?"

"Awww really? You should have come out sooner. I've liked you since fourth year. Never made a move because I thought you were straight. And even after the protest, I wasn't sure if you just found me attractive because I look like a girl."

"No, I like you when you're masculine too. The skirt just… I don't know, has a different effect. Wait here?"

"Is my lipstick smudged?"

"A bit."

"I'll go too." They went back to the pub they had left some minutes ago. Pads went to the girl's bathroom while Remus cleaned his face and grinned at the mirror in the men's. When they met again, the red lips were as lively as before. They stained Moony, the shape of a kiss on his left cheek. "Sorry. Had to."

It had been over 30 minutes since James left to fetch Lily a gift. So naturally, he and Pettigrew were already waiting at Zonko's.

"There they are! Where were you two- Is that lipstick?!" The werewolf blushed and looked down while his partner held up their hands grinning.

"We're dating!"

"What?! You were each other's crushes?!" Wormtail shook his head.

"You are so oblivious, Prongs."

"Wha- You knew?!"

"Everyone with eyes and some common sense knows those two have been pining over each other. Congrats on figuring it out, it was getting painful to watch."

"Wormtail!" Pads gasped dramatically, her hand over her chest. "How could you stay quiet?"

"Wasn't my place to say anything. And it was quite entertaining to watch how stupid you both were." Sirius seemed offended, but Remus couldn't help but find the whole situation hilarious.

#Another part of the lil series hehe #wolfstar #genderfluid sirius black #marauders #marauders era #the marauders #harry potter marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #dead gay wizards #remus john lupin #remus lupin #remus x sirius #sirius black #james & peter & remus & sirius

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wisteria-prompts · 10 months

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HI HI HI IF U DONT MIND CAN U DO HANTENGU CLONES HAVING A TINY LOVER WHO BODY KINDA LIKE SHINOBU AND THEY FEEL INSECURE ABOUT IT NSFW OR SFW IS FINE

Mm yes, I need some bread, cause this is my jam.

Hantengu Clones x Smol Gn!Reader

SFW:

Sekido

The definition of cuteness aggression.

Legit he just wants to hold you so tightly sometimes, but knows he’ll break your bones if he does it as hard as he wants, so he settles for a slight squeeze when you insist on one of your hugs. It’s nowhere near satisfying, but it’ll do.

He really tries not to let it show how enamored he is with you and your tiny self due to his ego, but that changes a little bit once he’s made aware of your insecurities with it.

Of course he gets irritated when you admit it’s something you’re self-conscious about- It’s preposterous that you feel he’d think any less of you for it! Stop that right now!

He goes off on a tangent about size not indicating power or worth, and that you should “shut up” about feeling lesser because of it, because you wouldn’t be his S/O if you weren’t worthy.

It would be a very touching speech if he didn’t say it with all that vitriol…

Sekido, out of all the ways to give affection, finds it easiest to give attention to your hands, which are so, so small compared to his own. One of his own can completely envelope both of yours, and with how often he initiates hand holding now, you’d be a fool not to notice his infatuation with the difference.

It just gives him a fuzzy feeling in his chest when he looks down and sees that his hands are hiding your own within them, and that you trust him with your small self in totality. The intimacy gets to this man, but you’ll be pressed to find any hints of that.

Don’t call him out on it even if you do notice, he WILL let go immediately and storm off, angrily mumbling to himself that no, you are NOT cute! (Even though you never said anything about that…)

Out of all the clones, his enjoyment of your smolness is about 7/10.

Karaku

Certified Tiny S/O Lover.

He doesn’t so much as get cuteness aggression, but he certainly has a LOT of impulses to squish you and hold you tight when he gets to thinking about how small you are compared to him.

He actually has a preference for an S/O who’s smaller than him, but it’s not a dealbreaker by any means.

He’s got a lot of love to give, and by god will he give it. Comparing hands, hugs that hide you from the world, leaning down dramatically low just to kiss you, using your head as a shoulder rest- It’s safe to say that as much as there’s genuine and sincere enjoyment in it, he also loves teasing the hell out of you too.

He just. Does a LOT. It’s almost overwhelming at times with how much he expresses his love for your tiny figure, but he also just wants to dispel those pesky insecure thoughts about it.

Almost acts offended when you admit it’s a sore spot. He makes it his personal mission from then on to get you to love your body as much as he does, and he goes at it much more insistently than Urogi does. Which is quite the accomplishment…

His favorite thing to do is hold you, in any way he can. Hugs are fine, but having you perched on his arm or shoulder is a new level of pleasure he had yet to attain until he met you. Will insist on carrying you like that from then on, even if it’s just around the house.

You weigh less than a cup of tea to him, so he will never tire of holding you. Do not test that resolve, you will lose.

Enjoyment of Smolness: 9/10

Urogi

Wouldn’t really point it out or act differently in regards to your size.

Don’t get him wrong, he really does love everything about you! It’s just that he doesn’t mind your body no matter what size it comes in- He’s just here to love on you with all he’s got.

Although, he HAS noted how much easier it is to wrap you up with his entire body like this…The impulsive thoughts he gets to just envelope you completely and totally with his wings often win, and there’s nothing you or him can do about it.

The joy he gets from seeing little ol you sitting in one of his nests is unreal. He makes you a personal one, just for you! (It doesn’t last long because he keeps trying to sit in it with you and 100% does not fit-)

Is genuinely confused when you admit you’re self conscious about your tininess. What do you MEAN you don’t like it? He does!! Isn’t that what matters?

Will love on you all the more after that, because while he doesn’t have a preference for body type, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like the one you got, and he wants you to enjoy it just as much as he does.

Small note- He likes how big his feathers are when you hold them in your hands. He often gives you a plucked one to keep, and gets huffy if you don’t hold it for a while.

Enjoyment of Smolness: 5/10

Aizetsu

You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but he gets a certain amount of calmness and contentment when he takes in your size.

You’re just so…Small. He can’t help but immediately feel protective whenever you come into view, no matter how many times he’s seen you. He’s always placing a protective and guiding hand on you when possible- On the small of your back when walking somewhere, on the back of your head when embracing, or simply your own hand while basking in each other's presence.

He’s a little obsessed with the way his hand covers a lot of surface area on you.

That’s what makes up most of his enjoyment, it’s just all feelings of wanting to keep you safe and sound, and most importantly, his.

He’s so afraid of losing you, and the size difference just makes it hit home harder. The thought of little ol you being lost in a crowd, or hidden among larger things in general has his chest clenching tight, and he needs to seek you out immediately.

In contrast, the feeling of being the one hiding you is incomparable to anything else he’s ever felt. He dared to say it felt like…Joy.

Can, will, and has cried while comparing hands. He only cries harder when you wipe his tears away, they’re so small on his cheeks, oh no he’s crying more-

Enjoyment of Smolness: 7/10

NSFW:

Sekido

One word: Manhandling.

He doesn’t even have to try for it to be classified as throwing you around- You’re just so tiny and lightweight, it’s almost impossible to hold back enough, to mind his strength so that you don’t end up with bruises.

He takes great pleasure in manipulating you every which way for his own uses, and you don’t even put up a fight. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to.

Watching your lithe body be pounded into repeatedly for hours on end is a privilege that only he gets to enjoy, no one else. He will mark every single inch of your skin to let the world know you’re his, and nobody but him will get to manhandle you like this.

His hands wrapped around your ankles, enough overlap from his fingers that it has his mind reeling. The way his cock makes a very much noticeable bump through your abdomen, and he presses down hard on it every time to relish in your pleasured cries. Your struggle to wrap your legs fully around his hips while riding or being fucked reaches deep into his primal instincts, enough to cause him to pump his cock relentlessly inside you, harder and harder.

By the end of the night, he wants you to have dozens of prints across your skin to showcase how much bigger your lover is than you. He wants to leave evidence inside you that leaks out in a stream, just because there’s no possible way it can all fit inside.

It numbs the usual anger and rage seething within him, and replaces it with pure satisfaction and possessiveness.

Karaku

He’s…A little sadistic about it.

He really enjoys seeing you struggle as you attempt to stuff his cock inside you. God forbid you start crying or tearing up, cause he’ll only tease you more as a result, maybe even mocking a little bit, but never to the point of degradation.

He’ll coo and murmur words of encouragement and love as you try again and again, before eventually taking control entirely. He’ll flip you over, and bully his way inside your warm, wet walls until tears are streaming down your face.

Thinks it’s adorable, the way you need to be prepped for hours just to take his dick. It honestly strokes his ego, which is already dangerous outside of sexual acts…

Oral is his preferred method of foreplay, and even enjoys it just by itself. He loves the way your walls flutter around his tongue, Karaku having to shove it extra hard just to get it inside your tiny hole. It can border on painful, the way he goes extra hard and rough as he feels how small your body is in his hands, but he makes sure it’s multitudes more pleasurable.

Loves to see you ride him, or rather, he loves to help you ride him. A perk of weighing nothing to him is the fact that he can move you on his cock like you’re nothing more than a fleshlight- But don’t worry, he’ll be praising you over and over for doing so well the entire time.

Half the time is spent staring where his cock disappears inside you, and subsequently where he shows up through your tummy. He’ll only press on it if you ask, though.

Urogi

Exclusively calls you “Dove” during the act.

You know how I said he makes personal nests just for you? Yeah, he also makes nests for the purpose of fucking in them. And he 100% insists on doing so at least half the time you two get intimate.

There’s something about seeing your tiny body so vulnerable in a nest made by him that rushes all the blood to his cock. He practically stops thinking entirely, becoming so needy and desperate that he’s humping your leg, your belly, any part he can reach.

In the same vein, he likes the way his cock looks so big in your hands, between your legs, anywhere really- As long as he gets to see your tiny hands caress him, he’s happy and chirping up a storm.

Though he has talons for hands, he’s incredibly gentle with them, especially during this intimate moment. He likes to pin your thin wrists above your head with just one hand, relishing in the way that he can overpower you so easily, and that you trust him enough to let it happen without a fight or single protest.

Uses his wings to blot out the sky/environment, so that your whole world is just him and him alone. He wants his precious, tiny S/O to focus on the way he makes you feel, to focus on his much larger body looming over yours.

He needs all of your attention, no matter what form it, or you, will come in.

Aizetsu

Also a little sadistic about it, but less than Karaku.

But somehow also the most soft in the bedroom. His protectiveness comes out full force during the act, his body hiding yours away from the world, rather than it from you. He wants to be as close as possible, chest on yours, legs intertwined, it’s almost suffocating really, but oh so gentle.

He coos in your ear about how soft you feel, how your tiny body fits so well against his, how he just wants to steal you away forever, just him and you for eternity. He doesn’t want anyone else looking at you the way he gets to, doesn’t want you to call anybody else yours.

Conversely, he also wants to feel your hands on his body as well. He constantly guides your hands to caress his chest, his back, to tug at his hair and clothes- It brings tears to his eyes to know you’re as desperate for him as he is for you.

Will whine incessantly if you don’t touch him enough, he just wants to appreciate your small hands on his body, is that too much to ask for?

If he has enough rationality about him at that point, nearing his climax he’ll pull back and watch the way your hole stretches to accommodate his thick cock, taking him to the hilt. Though it’s obviously a struggle to do so, your body writhing as he tries to push in deeper and deeper, a hand pushing your legs further apart. Sometimes he’ll comment on it to you, inviting you to feel for yourself where he sinks into your body. He needs your validation, your attention, your presence-

Please look at him, and him only.

#demon slayer #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #sekido x reader #karaku x reader #urogi x reader #aizetsu x reader #aizetsu #sekido #karaku #urogi #hantengu clones

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rorja · 4 months

Text

Unseen - shoko x reader

° summary: shoko meets reader on a random afternoon in a cafè managed by her parents. She's immediately attracted by reader's strangeness, especially because she claims that she's able to see ghosts but doesn't know about the existence of cursed spirits.

• cafe!au, reader can see ghosts, use of she/her pronouns, airhead-like reader. [spoilers about the hidden inventory arc]. Shoko centric. 10k word count.

▪︎a/n: this is our first os on tumblr, english is not our first language so please be kind <3 - 🔖divider credits to: saradika

Shoko Ieiri never acted on her impulses. That’s why when she spoke that afternoon, suggesting to catch the metro and drop at a casual station instead of staying amidst the busy streets of Tokyo, name-dropping places they were familiar with nonetheless, Gojo and Geto promptly stopped their banter and began to walk towards the nearest station. It would’ve been fun, was the silent agreement between the three of them, to explore places they haven’t had the chance to explore because of missions and such. It was also a nice way to fully take advantage of the rare free time they had in their hands. No missions. No curses that required their intervention. No corpses waiting motionlessly on a metal table that reeked of sterile alcohol. Merely three students that got out of school grounds to enjoy their afternoon.

That was how they ended up at your parents’ café. A little rustic heaven that carried the fragrances of fresh coffe beans together with baked goods, both salty and sweets, handmade and carefully placed in front of the wooden shop window. Peeking amongst the veneer ivy plant, ever so green and bathing contentedly under the golden sunlight, the warmth coming from the yet too hot bread. The smell of it reaching the trio and hugging them ever so gently, inviting them inside even.

One of the first things that caught her attention just as easily were the many plants around, from the smaller ones under the counter sitting nicely on unevenly cut bricks, to the ones hanging from the ceiling. Some others sparse elegantly here and there in different pots of different sizes, but each and one of them —along their sometimes funny pots— helped in creating a very cozy atmosphere. A pleasing one that mixed well with the white and woody brown on the ceiling, the walls, the tables, even the rugs probably handpicked with love… everything in there was just carefully placed in a way to put everyone at ease. To make you feel relaxed. Which was already something acquired in the color choice and the usage of that uncountable number of plants, Shoko thought vaguely. It definitely was not her cup of tea, neither the usual kind of cafés she would be seen at, opting for something more modern and known as a subtle reassurance of sorts. But there was something in this well-hidden gem that was so enticing. Like a spell that gently encouraged her to come closer, to take a peek at those baked goods as small children used to.

And Shoko thought for once, that she really didn’t want to fight it; gladly waving her white flag and surrender to the appeal of the café. She had nothing to lose. Maybe, she briefly wondered, those sandwiches were as good as they appeared to be too.

Her coffee was on the way. The table Gojo pushed them to offered a nice view on the white counter and its coffee machine, where the woman that got their orders was working dutifully. An herbal tea for Geto. Hot chocolate with a lot of cream and some kind of colorful sprinkles on top (only green and pink, in a n exact order) for Gojo. A simple black coffe for Shoko. It was funny to depict their differences even in something as simple as their go-to drinks in a café, it further proved once again what a messy match they were nevertheless. Messy but never mismatched.

Shoko looked around, her eyes scanning lazily the interior dotted by different slivers of terracotta and painted plastic planters everywhere her eyes landed. From the small constellations of plants near their feet to the bigger, main ones gently swaying over each person’s head. Like dandelions dancing in their air, tenderly moving by the gusts of wind coming from the door every time a new customer entered. No one seemed to pay attention to those subtle but graceful dance steps, preferring to lower their heads over their computers or chatting with their friends just to erupt in loudly chuckles and whispers that hardly were respectful for the ones working. Her friends too, unfortunately, falling in that category with their nonchalant conversations —even though Geto tried to scold Gojo, his words seemed to have no effect at all, the latter still going on with his yap on the latest game he played recently.

“’M going to smoke” she was quick on her feet, her eyes previously catching a glimpse of a door that surely lead outside given the structure of the café. The boys only nodded distractedly at her.

A cork board stood near the door, slightly scraped at its edges as probably placed there from a long time, but the many sheets placed there only acted as an indicator that it was still used to this very day. One being pinned in there from just four or five days at best as the paper was in seemingly better conditions, a photo of a cat in the center of it. Bright red, bold letters stating that the cat went missing last Thursday in that neighborhood.

She didn’t put a lot of thoughts on it, discarding the missing notice to push the door open. It was a small garden with few discarded chairs to sit on here and there, well-maintained just the same as the other plants in that café. Surely the people who worked there seemed to have a big appreciation for plants, going as far to take care of them lovingly. A bush near her feet only confirming her thoughts, tiny drops of water still sitting on the foliage.

Her hand dipped in the pocket of her skirt to retrieve the lighter, cigarette sitting idly on her lips now. Relief growing instantly from the first drag, back relaxing against the wall near the door as her eyes wandered around. Only in that moment she realized that she wasn’t exactly alone in that garden. Indeed there you were, hunched over a bush. Maybe one of the customers, Shoko thought absentmindedly in between a drag and another. Ashes falling on the ground silently, as if not willing to interrupt whatever you were busy into.

It happened when the cigarette was still burning, tip glowing red weakly while reaching steadily its end, that Shoko noticed something weird about you. Her brows furrowing as she stared into your back, always facing the wall but now pushing a white plastic plate filled with… milk? More inwards toward the bush. Your hand moving in repetitive gestures, almost as if emptily caressing nothing. There was nothing in there, neither traces of a cursed spirit or a cursed spirit itself. A blank spot filled with nothing if not air. There was not a trace of cursed energy flowing in your body.

So, what were you doing then?

“Uhm…” Shoko’s voice ringed in the air. Another light touch at the base of the cigarette, another amount of ashes falling. “Are you okay?”

You turned around, back straightening upon hearing an unfamiliar voice. That garden was your precious and very needed breath of air, often coming there to seek a break from the usual smell of coffee beans and still warm bread, fresh off the oven. It was unusual for the clients to come out here, your mother the only one crossing that door to call you back if in need of more hands.

“Yes?” You answered carefully, not exactly understanding what the girl might refer to. It must have been visible on your face, your brows furrowing in genuine confusion, at the unusual question as if it’s not like you were doing something weird.

It was only when the brunette eyed your hand wearily that you connected the dots. Oh, the cat! The realization only making you want to burst into a laugh.

“Oh, you mean him?” You smiled fondly at the black and white cat that was now sniffing the milk, before tentatively licking it. He was so cute, warming enough to you and accepting your caresses with soft, appreciative purrs as he kept drinking the milk. “Sadly, Tanaka-san will never see his adorable cat anymore”.

●

Shoko kept that bizarre meeting for herself, not finding it worthy to tell Geto or Gojo. Kept the same way a child would keep its secrets, a personal memory to explore once alone in the dim lights of her room before falling asleep. For some reasons she found herself unable to stop thinking about it, her now teased curiosity always appearing in her mind under the disguised image of the café, only to come back to you.

She discovered that the café was run by your parents, occasionally seeing you taking the orders of some salary man with his head down on his computer or at the cashier, exchanging money and receipts while your father was busy with the coffee machine. Some other time she’d trace your figure in one of the far-away tables, school uniform yet to be discarded for the white apron she was growing accustomed to. And Shoko’s visits grew. By a lot, now becoming a number that hardly could be counted within ten fingers. It would go the same way each time, always the same dance where she would choose the table near that new coppery pot on the side, then order the usual black coffee (and a sandwich too on rare days). Afterwards she would walk to the door on the back leading to the garden, a cigarette sitting idly on her lips, sure to find you there busy in some weird antics again. Just like the first time she’d met you.

As a matter of fact, you were always up to something she couldn’t comprehend. Like that one afternoon she had found you hanging numerous wind chimes in a corner, too busy humming something to notice her leaning on the wall and staring. Acting unbothered once again, as if she was the weird one for asking to have a sort of explanation and questioning your doing. As if hanging that many wind chimes wasn’t weird at all and Shoko’s perplexed stare was pointless to begin with.

“My neighbor hated these,” you had said that afternoon before Shoko could even open her mouth to make the same question “now that I’ve hung them up, I’m sure he’ll never come to ask me for favors!”

Shoko had simply nodded, breathing the smoke out from her mouth. Not asking further than that as it proved to be useless. “Is he a wild animal?”

That seemed to catch your attention, turning to face her with a confused glance. “What?”

“Seems like you want to keep away an animal” Shoko had explained, under the soft dingles coming from the wind chimes. The wind stirring away the smoke coming from the cigarette when too near to you.

“No? He’s just dead” And oh, you had answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world that Shoko ended up widening her eyes for a very fraction of second. There was a first time for everything, even a first time of hearing something as strange as that.

Shoko Ieiri was rarely one to chose silence, especially when faced with such odd words. That afternoon had been the very first time she voluntarily chose to stay silent.

●

It had happened again. Every time she’d meet you, you were always up to something that went beyond her logical understanding. This one time you were just a few steps away from the entrance of the café, in one of the many narrow streets of the neighborhood, kneeled and busy recollecting the books fallen from your school bag whilst mumbling something that was hard to make out with the distance. You didn’t even realize that Shoko was walking towards your direction, attention still focused on the ground where your books were lying.

“…-’ve changed address. Lives on the third floor, or at least that’s what he told me the last time he ordered his coffee” silence, then a resigned sigh. “I don’t know what to say, he never talked about it in front of me”

One, two, three… five.

There books were now back inside the bag safely closed. It was in that moment, while you were standing up on your feet again and fixing the bag on you shoulders that you noticed Shoko staring back at you. Floreal scent with rich and deep notes reaching your nose first and betraying her silent presence, most probably busy wondering what must’ve happened for you to kneel down in the first place.

“Oh, it’s you!”

The silence between you two pregnant with confusion, as it always has been since the first moment you had met her. A dynamic you two seemed to have accepted and easily fell into, prompting you to clear your throat and say something. Shoko standing there, arms crossed on her chest. Waiting for you to explain yourself, no matter how much it would take. You were somehow relaxed to know that she would’ve listen to you.

“Miyazaki-san. She asked me if I knew where her husband was” Shoko blinked once. No one was in that alley with you at that moment, and she was quite sure of it. Sure of her eyesight at least, but indeed after meeting you she was slowly starting to questioning it too. Both her eyesight and her own abilities as a Jujutsu sorceress.

“Ugh! She seems to not understand that the bond with her husband is starting to wear off. A lot of time has passed and of course, the pain is not as strong as before. That’s why she isn’t able to find him, or she lose sight of him!” You explained to her, annoyed with the situation that Shoko failed to grasp. Who was the lady again? Did she disappear before she was in the alley? But then again, she had heard your voice alone. As if you were busy speaking alone within the walls of the alley and nothing more.

Yet, once again, Shoko found herself falling in step with you towards the café.

“I was ignoring her at first because it’s starting to get on my nerves how se fails to understand this simple thing, but she’s really stubborn. And insufferable too. So she ripped my bag” another exhausted exhale coming from your mouth. Shoko listened in silence, trying to follow your side of the story. “Can you believe it? She asked me if he has a lover!”

And of course it happened again. And again, again. Whenever Shoko would walk up to the café, you would always be either there or in one of the alleys near. You, who would always be too busy in another one of your strange shenanigans.

Shoko, after a long and hard day stuck inside that room that reeked of sterile alcohol and decaying bodies inside of Jujutsu High, came back to the café. Dutifully following the routine she had unconsciously established in her head, walking to the ever-closed door in the back after drinking her coffee. For once, it was you having followed Shoko outside —having been placed on cashier duty per your father’s request while he finished getting the bread out of the oven.

She’d always lean with her back on the wall, glowing cigarette between two fingers while she breathed the smoke out, careful to tip her head up for it to disappear as quick instead of latching on her clothes.

(Or worse, your clothes. That being the main reason behind her actions, not wanting you to smell of nicotine and cheap packs bought a bit away from Yaga’s eyesight. It wouldn’t be fair to serve the customers while smelling of cigarettes now, wouldn’t it?)

And you would lean a bit close to her. Each meeting mending a distance that seemed too big, too intimidating at first. Now it was only a matter of mere steps against a colder wall.

“Is there a cat or an angry wife following me?”

You are staring, the hidden message behind her words. Enough to make you snap out from your thoughts but not enough to make you look elsewhere out of embarrassment.

“No… you have a weird aura today” you said, tilting your head to try and figure out what was wrong in that girl you had found yourself spending more time with. Something familiar, that you had met already many times before.

“Hah? Let’s hear it”

Shoko’s amusement glowed in her eyes like the burnt tip of the cigarette, solely to fall like ash on the ground once you finally answered her.

“Did you touch a dead body?”

Shoko widened her eyes. The now burnt cigarette dropped near her shoes with a muted thud, but in that moment it was louder than any thought in her mind.

●

Ieiri Shoko lived, studied and (already worked) in the world of Jujutsu. Seeing creatures that didn’t fit the commonly known criteria of reality, that redefined the laws of the reality they all lived in and fiercely fought the laws of what supposedly was their nature, was something she had to grow up with. That was normal for her.

However, listening a common girl talking about her ability to see and talk with dead people but unable to see curses on the other side of the street (your confusion every time Shoko would try to explain their existence to you was genuine; you were a non-sorceress, there were no doubts about it), was completely astonishing. Absurd, even. Shoko shrugged it off by calling you “weirdo” (or so Gojo would’ve done) but never once she stopped thinking about it. From the day she figured out the last piece of the puzzle, directly coming from your mouth on top of it, Shoko felt her brain totally fried.

There has always been something about you that pulled her forward. Teasing her curiosity further, prompting her to close that distance that kept you two slightly apart when leaning against that wall, inching her to solve that anomaly that was your reality. A reality that you had accepted and found a balance with.

And so it hasn’t been that long before Shoko figured out that every person you mentioned had really existed at some point in that very same city. Shoko thought that it wasn’t unorthodox for someone in their society to fully commit to a specific side of the gruesome art that was jujutsu nonetheless, but not being able to see cursed spirits was something she had never heard of. It was impossible.

That was the reason behind her current predicament.

“Sensei, do you think is possible?”

Yaga didn’t answer immediately, dark sunglasses covering his shock about the unusual question. Taken aback firstly by the many ‘in a hypothetical scenario’ that Shoko had used as an introduction of sorts for what she has asked. Secondly, it was Ieiri Shoko. It was rare for that student of his to blatantly show her genuine interest like this.

He pushed the sunglasses up his nose. “Ieiri, our world is so complex that the birth of a singularity as the one you’ve told me about, wouldn’t surprise me. Either way I wouldn't deny its possibility”

“Therefore you aren’t absolutely sure of it” Shoko answered, eyes narrowed at her professor’s words. Yaga simply nodded.

“With absolute certainty I can tell you who’s about to die” and before she could say anything else, ask anything else regarding the whole situation that was slowly eating her brain away, Yaga walked to Gojo, scolding the guy for his unfair trick pulled in the middle of the training session he was having with Geto.

“Therefore you aren’t absolutely sure of it” Shoko answered, eyes narrowed at her professor’s words. Yaga simply nodded.

●

“Which school you go to?”

You were sitting at her usual table, right in front of her with that white apron on. That day the café was slow, few clients sitting here and there typing on the keyboards or enjoying their drinks with hushed words. Far away from the usual bustling that would greet Shoko each afternoon, that would keep you busy serving dishes and drinks with that green tray you knew how to balance in one hand. There was no such thing today, which has lead you to sit at that table near that coppery plant pot, watered a bunch of minutes before by your mother.

Shoko blinked, the gentle but sour steam coming from the mug a pleasing distraction that she welcomed half heartedly. Without asking a permission you had plopped in the vacant chair and started a conversation out of nowhere, taking her by surprise. You seemed to do that a lot, a characteristic trait of yours that up until that day has never failed.

“I’ve never seen that uniform around” you watched as Shoko placed the mug on the table, the tips of her hands twitching slightly at the loss of that burning feeling.

“Jujutsu High School, we study how to exorcist cursed spirits” her answer came in a mild sarcastic tone, as if saying something that was evidently false and waiting carefully for your reaction. For Shoko it was a challenge of sorts, an absurd one which only purpose was to expose who was the one lying.

But you nodded, like you fully understood the meaning of those words and thus not prying. Accepting them as an absolute truth.

“Cool. Is it in the city centre? Is it private?”

Shoko pondered her words. You really didn’t falter at all, huh? “Yes and yes"

“Ah, I’m jealous! I go to an all-girls school”

“Are there some ghosts in yours?”

“Nah, just the one in the third bathroom on the second floor that bothers you to play…” your hand slammed on the table and in a heartbeat your laughter filled the café. Something in her’s expression making you weak and expose your own joke. “I was kidding. That is the legend about Hanako, didn’t you know it?”

Shoko chuckled, a forced one just to go hand in hand with you. A smile tugging the corners of your lips at that, chin now resting on your palm as you hitched closer to her. “Anyway, no ghosts. Just the old headmaster who shot himself in his office after admitting bankrupt”

A polite chuckle leaving her lips once again at your… joke? She wasn’t really sure, but at the same time she didn’t want to damped your mood. Neither she didn’t want to say something that could threat the smile you were now wearing.

“Oh yes!” She sipped her mug of coffe as you clapped your hands together. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Shoko shook her head, lips still sitting on the border of the mug as her eyes glinted with confusion. Did she give you such an impression?

“Ah! I thought that one of those guys— one of the two you came the first day with…”

So she wasn’t the only one silently observing, huh?

●

“Look at that girl and tell me what you see”

Gojo let out another exasperated sigh, dramatic enough for the odd request just received in that weird day. Feeling somewhat baffled by the ongoing ordeal. Number one, Shoko asking him to go drink something together? Weird. Number two, Shoko insisting on her choice for the café instead of leaving the decision in the hands of the winner of a bloody fight between him and Geto? Something was absolutely not right here. Number three on that list, not only did he followed her like the good friend he was, she had him waiting outside for the arrival of a certain girl!

Gojo Satoru had his own fair share of weird things happened since he got enrolled at Jujutsu High, but this? This could easily make it to the top five, to be completely honest.

“Mhhh” he brought his hand to his chin. Head tipped slightly for his glasses to slip further on his nose, allowing him to see the picture in those bright colors that would often hurt his eyes. A dramatic mannerism sprinkled with some hints truth, just like the hot chocolate in front of his eyes. After some moments he pushed his glasses up, effectively hiding his eyes and turning to Shoko with an idiotic smile.

“She isn’t my type!”

“I didn’t mean that, idiot. Use your six eyes on her” Gojo shrugged but eventually did as told. He silently prayed for it to end fast so he would be able to dig in his hot chocolate.

Gojo shook his head vehemently. “Uh no… nothing”

He stopped once he saw Shoko’s furrowed brown, contemplating something in that head of hers. Arms crossed on her chest and coffee going completely forgotten on their table, which was really unusual for her. Whatever situation she found herself in with that girl, clearly was something that big. In the two years they had known each other, nothing has ever gotten Shoko so invested. Neither Yaga’s difficult tasks (or final tests, as the old man enjoyed calling them) at the end of every year.

Gojo took the spoon, ever so carefully scooping up the cream with the colored sprinkles before swallowing it. An appreciative noise erupting from his chest just like a happy kid. “Are you trying to give me some lectures about the inner beauty of people? I mean, it’s not like she’s bad-looking but…”

“You see her like a normal human being, so? Not a trace of cursed energy flowing? Nothing else?”

Shoko quickly put an end to whatever his mind has come up with, returning to the main reason she’d brought him here in the first place.

“I told you already, didn’t I? Stop asking, I want to eat now”

Shoko couldn’t say anything to that. If it was true that there was not an hint of cursed energy in y/n then that only meant that she was a sort of singularity herself. Just like Yaga had told her days prior. All the theories she’d made, all of her analysis, lack of records in each archive… everything threw in the trash with only a glance.

There was no ethical explanation about your ability. That was the absurd thing for her.

Her shoulders fell. “Order whatever you want, I’ll pay for your effort as promised”

Not like he needed it, Gojo was just very fond of being a nuisance for her. So he didn’t let her repeat twice, pinpointing the next few sweet treats written on the menu for the next time the old lady would walk to them.

“There’s something though,” Gojo added while observing you and Shoko exchange a greeting gesture with an amused expression, “her heartbeat incresead!”

●

Shoko run from the station to the address you had sent to her earlier through an unusual sms. You told it was important, an urgent matter that woke her brain up with possible and different scenarios as to why you were on the streets at one in the morning. So she got up, dressed quickly in her uniform and tried to reach the location as fast as possible. Didn’t matter if she was signing away her school records by breaking the curfew, sneaking out at ungodly hours of the morning.

And you were there. Easily spotted, sitting motionlessly on the dark and wet sidewalk with a wretched expression on your face that was painful for her to watch. Big grins like the ones you often had on your lips when in the garden suited you most. Yet, you were there. Incredulous widened gaze fixed on the asphalt in front of you.

“y/n, what happened? Are you hurt?” You had your head lying between your hands and when Shoko finally reached you, you did nothing. Acknowledging her presence by sitting straight on that dirty sidewalk only, your pout more evident as you tried to keep your tears in, fighting your breakdown at the best of your capabilities. Still like the waters of a river, gloomy like the rain that fell that same evening.

Shoko’s hands twitched slightly. You didn’t even look at her, that simple missing gesture making her heart fight violently her ribcage in a tumultuous uprising. You, who didn’t even greet her with your sweet words or a gentle wave of your hand. Something was very wrong, and the thought only made her growing nervous in her stead.

When you spoke, the corners of your mouth trembling visibly, her shoulders fell. “Today I helped a girl filling her fridge”

Shoko blinked once, twice. Trying her hardest to put together the information you willingly let out, trying to understand the meaning behind your words. What was so tragic about filling a fridge? Surely there must’ve been something else… right? “What?”

“She asked me to fill her fridge because she knew her mother would’ve gone to check if she was taking care of herself properly when she was alive and—” a long sniffle, “of course I had to do it and I waited here. I saw her mother going in and then leaving the house completely heartbroken and—” you kept telling her, hiding your face from Shoko and hitting the ground repeatedly with your foot “the girl thanked me but I can’t stop feeling… like this. Because her last wish was to not make her mother worry”.

Your rant eventually came to an end. Another sniffle, head hidden away between your arms and pressed against your knees, then a heart breaking scream. One that Shoko thought you needed. In this moment, faced with your raw pain, she couldn’t keep questioning wether what you saying was true or not. Wether what you were telling was real or a mere fruit of your imagination, if she was indulging and giving all of he attention to a bunch of lies. She didn’t really care right now about the truth, about all what she has done since meeting you, silencing her own thoughts and her personal doubts for one night only.

You were clearly suffering, and if she could’ve helped you in any way feeling you better, then she was more than glad to do so.

Without a second thought, she sat close to you. Closer than any other time in the garden of the café, your shoulders bumping together as you kept your face hidden.

“So…” she started tentatively, “when you see them, you help them too?”

Her curiosity got the best of her, not really sure how to steer the conversation from here on. It was something she was unfamiliar with, but she didn’t want to undermine your point, your feelings. So she did what she best at: stalling, trying to get a reaction out of you in order to grasp a sliver of your truth. It’s what she did on the rare occasions Satoru would get mad, and it always worked. Here she was, doing the same thing with you, fidgeting with her fingers as you answered with a whined ‘yes’. Another first time, this time one where Shoko had to use all of the empathy stored deep down in her body and soothe your heart. It seemed like you never stopped surprising her— never stopped coaxing her out of the cozy, mundane shell she’d found and claimed safe.

She tried again. “I know how you might feel. In what I do, helping not always make us feel that sense of satisfaction we seek”

A beat.

Then a gentle hum. “…it’s the first time it happens to me”

Shoko wanted to laugh. She could still remember the traces of sadness lingering around her body, having been at your place so, so many times before, not really knowing what to do or how to get rid of that pain, clueless on who to ask for advices too. But if her life was one that had succumbed to the helplessness of this selfish society way before, you, on the other hand, could at least count on her. Or at the very least that was what she willingly promised to you with her silence. No sugarcoated words or faux promises that everything would be fine in the end, just a solid shoulder to cry all your tears on.

“It will alway get worse”

Shoko tried again, a tiny chuckle escaping past her lips. Her hand coming to rest on your shoulder in a clumsy act of reassurance.

“Come on, let—”

You didn’t let her finish the sentence. Throwing yourself in her arms, hugging her tightly against your chest hoping that she would understand what you didn’t trust your voice to mutter out. Shoko stilled for the second time that night, but her hands found your back instinctively. Almost automatically. Her body taking over her roaring mind for once, beating it in a matter of a bunch of seconds, patting your back awkwardly in a gesture of comfort.

For the first time that night, you finally looked at her. A sudden relief shooting through her veins when she noticed that your tears had dried up and a small tentative of a smile curled your lips. “Shoko?”

“Yes?”

“I need a cigarette” Shoko didn’t try to push it. Her hand dipped in the pocket of her wrinkled uniform’s skirt, glad that she didn’t forget the pack with the lighter at the dorm as she would sometimes do while in hurry. She hand it one to you, silently watching you lighting up one from the pack and leaving it on the sidewalk as it slowly consumed itself.

An homage, as you had breathed out later, because the soul you helped out was a smoker just like her.

The cigarette consumed itself steadily, ashes scattering around swayed by the nightly wind. Shoko stayed there close to you, closer that she’s ever been to, staring as the glow slowly died out for as long as you needed to. Only when the cigarette burnt completely she dared to look for your eyes, just to find you already with your puffy eyes on her.

“Thank you”

Shoko gulped down her bubbling nervousness, hoping you didn’t catch neither a glimpse of it. “You shuldn—”

“You’re a good friend”

●

Time became a blur. Going by far too quickly for Shoko to keep up with her mixed thoughts. Her growing doubts only adding fuel to an already burning flame, sustaining it, making it bigger than before. A blurry picture that smelt like the smoke she would often times let out from her cigarette. If her only certainty after school was to indulge the guys in whatever arcade they had set their eyes on, mostly on the free rare afternoons where missions wouldn’t require their intervention, now even that one single thing begun to shake. The solid and steady base of a boring life slowly crumbling —after meeting you.

Now she would hop on the first train heading towards the district of your parents’s café, waiting for you with a coffe mug at the table she kind of reclaimed as hers if you still weren’t home from school, leisurely spending the whole time talking about trivial matters. From your day at school to a tiny rabbit ghost that chased you to the garden. From the persisting chase of the angry wife again to you asking about her day, her school, the friends you have seen her coming to the café the very first time. Then, she would come back to campus with the last train available on the departure timeline.

Some other nights Shoko would meet familiar faces, sorcerers coming back from missions that involved moving on other cities, full of scars and fresh scratches that would need a basic medical treatment. Nothing much physically, but they would drag their steps a bit, tiredness growing heavy on their limbs and exhausted eyes that would fall shut once sat down. Shoko supposed that she would mingle well amongst them, same beaten expression but instead of fighting curses, her opponent was none other than her own doubts regarding you. You with your grin while talking about some stories of your about the ghost of the day or some stories about everyday clients. You with your curiosity about her own school life, nodding and listening attentively, not doubting a word falling from her mouth. Not prying for more, accepting eagerly what she’d say with crinkled eyes and gentle smiles. You, you, you…

Long conversations with the sole shared purpose to grow closer, to get to know each other better. To close a distance that rapidly shrunk as the ticks of the clock went by, hidden by the many hanging leaves of the café.

Talking through sms became a routine by now, your friendship gradually growing to the extent that matching charms dangled from your phones, that Shoko held the title of ‘best friend’ (you decided it on a random Tuesday afternoon, after another sip of the drink you made yourself at the empty counter). Indeed, every day was a continuously doubting of your honesty, your mental health too, while you deemed her worthy of your blind trust.

The more you’d grow closer, the more Shoko’s head screamed louder.

●

Until the thread snapped.

The pleasant and bumbling routine coming to an halt unexpectedly on a humid, sunny day of August. The day both Geto and Gojo came back from a deemed easy mission forever changed.

It’ll always get worse — those the words Shoko had told you months ago, on that night she found you sitting on a lonely grey sidewalk. Those the words coming back in her mind like a tidal wave washing on the rocky shore, as she stared at her two friends.

One kept climbing high, higher in his career and the ability he quickly developed, outgrowing his old skin and adapting to the changes of his newly-found powers. His change more pronounced by his cold behavior to the current events. Geto, on the other hand, sank lower into the ground: he begun skipping Yaga’s lessons, accepting the fewer missions he was assigned to without a word, treating them like not much than a daily commission of sorts. Crumbling in the naked four walls of his room.

Shoko stayed on the middle, empty.

Devoid of any will to shatter the new state. Or so she believed staring at the turned grey corpse of Amanai Riko, other sorcerers staining the morgue with their loud chatting about the unexpected turn, deciding the next steps for a standard treatment of a corpse. The same used to dispose of a sorcerer’s body.

Shoko and the boys had a favorite spot on campus, one that they childishly claimed as theirs only, right behind the school’s gymnasium. A perfect place for their smoking sessions far away from Yaga. Shoko and Suguru were the ones often finding their way to that place, exchanging few words about the lesson of that day, commenting the antics of some weird man he had to help in his missions or joking about that patient that proudly wore a tattooed the face of his beloved actor on his bottom. Gojo liked to stay with them in those moments. Not smoking, not always at least, affirming every time how much he detested the sensation but it didn’t escaped the way lately a cigarette could be seen idly sitting between his fingers more often than not.

That day Gojo wasn’t there, another mission entrusted by the higher-ups themselves. So Shoko sat in that corner of the campus, fully convinced she would stay there alone until her cigarette burnt out. She was proved wrong as Geto appeared from the side, his hair tousled and not in the usual styled bun she had seen him with from the start of their second years. Purple-ish bags now more prominent under his eyes too, giving away the many nights of disturbed sleep he carried on his back, that along the growing weight of the missions he was required to attend; jacket and pants of the usual jujutsu uniform discarded for a more comfortable and baggy attire, leaning to the wall carelessly and fumbling with his lighter.

Only when the cigarette started to turn grey at the tip, he waved his arm in a gesture of greeting. Crinkled eyes and corners that failed to reach them. “Yo”

Shoko nodded in his direction. This new sight of his friend becoming a familiar one as of late, one that she had to made peace with. Itching awareness sticking to their skin like humid winds of summer, but never spoken about, never confronted by one of them and so falling around them as a taboo. It has always been like this, after all. Sadness, grief, sorrow… different names enclosed in a bubble that was way too embarrassing to bring up in their conversations, acknowledging its presence but never strong enough to pop it, knowing that they could only watch as one had to fight alone in this personal war. That’s what the three of them always did.

“Satoru isn’t at school today?” He said, breaking the numbing silence around them.

“No. Mission”

“Mh”

Some minutes of silence passed.

“You are leaving school more often. Are they giving you missions too?”

Shoko didn’t know what caused a small chuckle to fall from her lips (maybe a specific word? Or maybe being put face to face with her growing frequent escapades? Not that she was hiding them anyway), but that made Suguru’s face contort in a silent hunch of confusion, tiredness making its presence known in each wrinkle of his frown. God, how tired he looked. Since when he didn’t sleep?

“No, uh… I go to kill some time” was her answer, paced by a drag of her cigarette.

Another striking difference between Suguru and Satoru was that the latter would’ve easily accepted her answer, not pressing further for other informations or, better yet, changing the topic altogether simply because he didn't care at all. Suguru, instead offered a silence that seemed to talk, gently coaxing the words out of your mouth with a comforting ‘tell me when you feel like it, I’ll listen’.

So Shoko didn’t have other choices, her gaze diverting from him and turning to the orange tinted sky.

“I met a girl” there was no need to look back at him, Shoko could’ve feel his eyes stuck on her just as fine, boring holes on her back. “You remember that café we’ve been months ago, right? I went back, we became close”

She watched as the cigarette fell on the ground, dull and turned off now. “She’s weird”

Geto didn’t answer, biting his bottom lip in a thoughtful expression at the new information she trusted him with. However, she too didn’t let him answer, taking the chance and firing off a question.

“Geto, do you believe in ghosts?”

The query found its answer in a small chuckle, which Shoko was glad to be the cause of even if it had a sour undertone.

“I mean, do you believe people are able to see them?”

“Are you changing the topic or are we still talking about the girl?”

“Both, actually”

Suguru let his cigarette fall too, crushing it beneath his shoes. His now free hand messing out the already knotted strands. “But she’s not a sorceress”

Shoko threw him a glance that seemed to say ‘that’s the dilemma’.

After a beat, she simply started telling the boy about your meetings and the many afternoons spent together. Stories about the ‘ghosts’ that you helped ‘cross over’ slipping from her lips at once, with nothing than pure and genuine fondness with hints of amusement in it when each time she reminded something funny that you did.

Geto opened his mouth to answer, but no words ringed in the air. Shoko noticed the way his body stiffened, as if after pondering his words he decided to hold them back from her, but she feigned ignorance at that gesture, watching with the corner of her eyes his posture straightening back on his feet.

“Do you like her?”

For once Shoko felt taken aback, eve if totally aware his friend would’ve come up to that conclusion in a matter of time. It was one of the reasons she appreciated talking to him in first place, without retorting to long and useless explanations or specified details, for all of that didn’t align with her persona. Suguru was the mirror to her inner self, needed when her mind became too clustered and messy with many thought swirling around.

“It’s nice, being with her” she shrugged. But Geto’s assertive expression transpired, as Shoko would’ve come to learn after, the many doubts that were already haunting him.

“Just don’t trust her easily” and with that last sentence, he left.

●

Four weeks passed since that day. Four weeks filled with the same doubts that never seemed to cease, increasing and becoming louder even in your absence. Shoko’s phone signaling another incoming message from its place on the desk —your messages, shifting from confused tones coming from her own disappearance to something more worrying. Funny was how Shoko could hear your voice through the massages, very much fretting the more the clock ticked by.

Four weeks like this.

Until Shoko gained some strength to take the phone and reassure you with a short text that yes, she was fine, just a little tired from the unexpected hard time at school that required her whole attention. An half lie that she was sure it would work.

One afternoon, Shoko acted on her impulses again. She couldn’t even explain how she came to this conclusion, her mind bringing up the idea to take a moment for the three of them, a moment as the trio they were not long ago, thinking that it could’ve brought some comfort, a sense of familiarity after what had happened.

This is how they ended up at the café run by your parents, sitting at the table she used to think was hers alone, waiting for their orders to arrive. Gojo and Geto sitting close to her, but feeling more distant.

You noticed them walking in, but did not approach. Limiting yourself to a cheery nod in her direction while staying at the counter, helping your father with the many orders placed. Nevertheless, Shoko noticed how your eyes seemed to linger to the table next to the garden’s door, linger to the three of them with shades of blue, your expression now more sad than anxious. As if you could really see through them.

Shoko was smoking her cigarette, as the routine between your meetings imposed, waiting for your arrival and stories with the ghost you ha helped that day. She didn’t even have to wait long, the door opening with a soft creak that gave away your presence, stopping in front of her with your arms crossed on the chest and eyes on the ground. Not the usual grin adorning your face, not your eyes crinkle and glimmering under the warm sun rays, even your body movements were nothing than a crafted imitation of a shell.

“What happened when you disappeared?” You asked, eyes glued to the tiny leaves on the ground.

Shoko tried her best to sound normal, to keep together the fake ease she carefully crafted on the train ride, pushing a strand of her hair behind the ear. “Well, same old things” she answered you, “all the homework I procrastinated came to chase me down”. But you didn’t laugh, didn’t shrug off the half assed attempt to cover up what really happened, your expression still firm and discouraged from where you stayed.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t ignoring you” she tried again after several seconds of silence. You never were silent with her.

And that worked. You finally diverted the gaze from the ground, setting your eyes on her, but this time Shoko couldn’t see nothing than your firmness. “You’ve changed”

“Positively, I hope?” The brunette tried again with a small chuckle but your gaze did not quaver.

“No, because you’re lying”

Shoko felt stunned. Among all the absurd, bizzarre things you two had told each other, never once you doubted her words and now you were contesting the most innocent of sentences?

“There’s a girl… with black hair and a braid that looks at your friends. Who is she?”

Shoko should’ve been stunned, her heartbeat probably increasing and eyes widening. The confirmation that all of your stories had always been true, that the ghosts you helped were always there unable for her to see. You could see Amanai standing there. Instead, in the same way as you, Shoko stopped being surprised.

“A girl we failed to help”

●

The established routine between the two of you recomposed itself easily.

Shoko’s visits became more frequent, lately meeting often outside the four walls of the café, sometimes meeting up for some shopping together or some quiet visits in a natural landscape. Ordinary, peaceful activities that Shoko could only ever dreamt of with Gojo and Geto. Her favorite moments, though, were the afternoons spent in your house (which was located on the upper floor of the building) when you didn’t know what to do or were left with no ideas. Many moments of that kind were spent rotting on bed lazily with magazines you used as proofs, to keep her updated about te ongoing gossip between an idol or reading out necrologies on the newspaper, preparing yourself in case some ghosts would chase you down on the street. A constant moving from one aspect of your personality to the other.

In one of those moments, you rested on your side facing Shoko whilst talking her ear off about a classmate followed by tiny, cute ghosts of at least seven hamsters. It seemed like she didn’t understand that her parents replaced them once dead, all of them identical since the girl kept talking about the same one, describing a healthy and long life worth a record. Shoko only followed half the story, noticing later that her mind was busy with other things. Her eyes fixed on your lips, not really understanding a word you were saying but following closely the movements with enthrallment.

You noticed her sudden silence, just as you approached the end of that silly story, and in a bout of self-conciousness you sucked your lips in. That broke the spell effectively, Shoko’s eyes rising up to meet yours just to laugh it off.

It was not a single episode.

Moments like this one quickly growing in number easily as the dynamic of your relationship began shifting to something else. From an initial challenge to discover who was the liar between you two (or so Shoko fiercely believed at that time) to a more teasing one, waiting for the day one of you would address and break that barrier. Often acknowledged but left hanging in the air, neither of you ready to face it.

●

Shoko disappeared again, like those four weeks in August but yet differently from that time. She didn’t answer your texts and neither the long, ripetitive rings that you busied yourself with more times in a single day. Anxiety became worry, then angry and at the very end, sadness.

Weeks became a blur in your eyes, not keeping the count of how many days passed anymore, stuck in a vortex of different emotions playing in your chest. You started projecting your frustrations on your parents, after a while, refusing them the help they needed down in the café.

You also started to deliberately ignore the spirits chasing you on the streets, begging to be listened, making them mix in a parade of pleas growing louder each day behind your back whilst you kept your pout and head lowered on your way to your home.

Until you stopped trying to contact Shoko. It was useless.

You saw her again on a random day, while busy moving some boxes around of a big order placed by your father some days ago. She was there, silently watching as you placed another box on the shelf, and you didn’t know what to feel first. Anger? The desperate need to scream all of your frustration on her? The sleepless nights wondering what had happened for her to disappear on you again? Or maybe grabbing her and checking out yourself if she was alright, if everything was alright.

The initial surprise swelling inside your chest flickering like the flame of a candle under the pressure of all those bottled, mixed sensations you were feeling. The weight becoming overwhelming as your eyes noticed an important detail.

“Sorry, study chased me down again”

“Liar” was your quick answer. You didn’t mean it, the word falling from your lips as a reflex. But at this point you could sourly see how you almost got used to Shoko sudden disappearances.

Shoko smiled. Your eyes dimming as you traced the heavy bags under her eyes, a blue and purple undertone to them, the exhausted demeanor and her silence that louder than any words she could speak of. Her body slimmer in a way that made you feel dizzy, sick to your stomach at the repercussions she sported on her body.

“Can you see him?”

And you could only nod at that feeble question. Staring into the figure of a young boy with cheerful brown eyes, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes while you felt yours swelling with tears. Death touching Shoko for the second time in less than a month. You nodded again.

“He says he’s happy that you’re not alone”

Shoko didn’t say anything else, processing your words slower than any other time as you offered a comfortable silence. You didn’t move from your place as you watched her careful hide her face, eyes glued on the ground to not face you. Your ears perking at her mutters, not asking for any explanation of sort, not prying or eavesdropping.

But there was one thing you understood, one coherent mumble that had your heart crumbling in different pieces. One word only: “Haibara”

●

Geto Suguru left the school not much than a few weeks following Haibara’s death.

Shoko closed with a loud thump her phone, lids falling heavy and promptly, gently cradled by your perfume imprinted on the sheets of your bed, the soft humming of your voice under the spray of the shower reaching her ears nonetheless —even with the door of the bathroom separating you two.

Gojo answered with the same, monotonous ‘yes’, ‘ok’ and ‘I’ll come back shortly’ every time she tried to contact him by texts, asking how his mission was going or a simple ‘how are you holding up?’ following Suguru’s defection. He had made of his dorm room a refuge of sorts, drowning more and more in the new missions assigned to him, hiding behind the excuse that he had to study, to train, to define better his still new ability of reverse cursed technique. Shoko avoided the campus as much as she could, stepping under the traditional gates just to follow Yaga’s lessons and her duties rooted inside the morgue she was growing indifferent to. Her favorite place to relax and shut off her mind moving from that corner behind the gymnasium to the four walls of your room, where she felt free to breath properly.

With you it was different.

There was no such thing as an ‘embarrassing bubble’ that shouldn’t be acknowledged, on the contrary, you persisted for her to talk about her feeling or you began to recognize its presence from nothing. It was the conclusion she came to after an afternoon similar to this one, where you were busy studying at your desk and her sprawled on the bed absentmindedly staring at the ceiling.

The lack of attention coming from her must have been more prominent that she’d imagine because that day you had thrown yourself in a tight hug, on hand resting at the base of her neck to push Shoko resting her chin on your shoulder.

Holding her against your body as some sighs escaped your lips, an attempt to make her aware that all of those tragic events were catching up on you. But while Shoko understood that, a side of her couldn’t help but notice the notes of your perfume or how you felt good between her arms. Pieces of a puzzle that matched perfectly.

You knew of Geto, or at the very least you knew that a dear friend of her left the school in bad terms. Your attention and gentleness reserved for a situation so ‘simple’ having left her even more stunned (and whipped).

On her hand, Shoko knew that she felt angry, confused and sad on the surface. But deep down she was also aware of how this insane situation would end up changing her relentlessly. Nevertheless, there wouldn’t be any Suguru helping her figuring out the many emotions swirling in a tumultuous current inside her brain.

She had lost another friend.

The unexpected spring in your steps coming from the bathroom made her thoughts scatter around and fade in thin air, the wetness lingering on your skin meeting the wood of the floor in a excited rhythm that it proved to be effective for her. And then, with a boisterous gesture, you opened the door of the bathroom, damp hair sticking to the soft texture of your shirt but you seemed clueless to the wet patch growing on your back.

“Look! I did it!”

Shoko furrowed her brows, now sitting on the bed confused by the big grin lighting your face. “What?"

“Look at my hip!” And only after your finger pointed the skin she noticed it. A temporary tattoo, one that would fade away after some washes and fierce rubs of soap, glittering under the light probably coming from one of the many magazines you read. It was the drawing of a butterfly, pink lines dotted with sparkles and shimmer. It was cute.

Shoko stared at it in a sort of trance, partially thinking back to the unanswered texts she had sent to Gojo since that morning. On the other side her eyes seemed glued to that bare bit of skin you were proudly showing, a new one she haven’t had the occasion to see up until that very moment, tracing it and caressing it avidly with her her eyes.

The charm breaking as you huffed and pouted for the lack of answer. Shoko turned to you, following with her gaze as you sat closely on the bed. Right next to her.

“Won’t your school punish you for that?"

You huffed again, this time rolling your eyes. “I’ll cover it with the skirt, of course! You’re talking as if you’re not the one smoking between lessons anyway”

Shoko could only chuckle at your remark, having being caught red-handed by your words. You didn’t bother, lying on the bed carelessly and staring at the tattoo adorning your hip.

“It’s cute… it suits you” she let out with a smile, lowering her head to take a better look at the glittered lines. The butterfly sitting nicely against the hipbone, a nice shimmer to it that made your skin color stand out gracefully. Those words seemed to fuel your grin, and for that Shoko was glad.

“If they would expel me for this little thing, I would be happy actually. I’m tired of that boring school”

“You wouldn’t want that to happen” the corners of her lips soured a bit at the timing of your joke. Lowering herself just to be at your level and being able to look you in the eyes.

A beat.

Then a playful “would you still be my friend even if I was a girl without education?”

“I can accept the ghosts, but not this”

Shoko kept going back to the still exposed hip, the butterfly catching her eyes more than she’d like to admit it.

“I can accept the ghosts, but not this”

Shoko kept going back to the still exposed hip, the butterfly catching her eyes more than she’d like to admit it.

“Hello, hello?” You tried to call her back, noticing her unusual lack of concentration. One of your finger circling in the air in front of her eyes, as if poking an invisible barrier, “can I burst the bubble of your thoughts?”

It was a random choice of words, one that you evidently didn’t put a lot of effort into. Yet, Shoko felt a chill running down her back at the odd choice, too close to hers, a metaphor that she didn’t let it out from her lips in front of you, rather keeping it seal in her mind each time she had to describe her clumsy way to handle her emotions.

And once again, she found herself acting on her impulses. Forgetting about how nice the painted lines seemed to kiss your skin, her eyes meeting yours as if stuck in a haze that numbed her senses. Her hands growing closer to your cheeks and cupping ever so tenderly to lead you close, closer to her. The first brush of lips sending a shiver down the curve of your back, clumsy, not entirely touching at first. Still dancing around a line she was set to cross in one way.

Then, you felt her lips on yours. The kiss itself slow, a tentatively one to test your reaction, to see if you were fine with it. It lasted a few seconds, but you didn’t give her a chance to grow the distance between your lips, immediately chasing after them and sealing them in another one. And another one, another one just as Shoko hoped.

Was there something that couldn’t be left unseen by you, at this point?

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