#ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW???!?

[gojosprettyprincess]

Kento’s favorite position will always be fucking you in a mean mating press where he had your body forcefully folded in half by his, because there’s just something so raw and intimate about having your bodies and soft skin pressed up against each other in such a filthy manner. Both of your sweaty bodies melted into each other’s as he pounded you deeper and deeper into the soft mattress with such neediness and desperation. Every time he’d possessively thrust himself into you, it had the entire bed creaking and the mattress sinking lower and lower because of his overpowering strength and weight. It’s almost crazy how he’s practically crushing you with his muscular body. The way he’d manhandle you and bend your legs into your body was so inhuman and fucked up but obviously based on the countless times that he had wrecked your little pussy and stretched your tight walls soo widely to hug his cock in such an ideal way that was only meant for him, in that exact familiar routine of a position. You were very much used to it by now.

The way his damped, tousled blonde hair gently brushed against his chiseled face captured your attention—God he’s so beautiful, no renaissance painting could ever be compared to Kento's face. It was a literal masterpiece. God you couldn’t wait to start a family with this man because you already know you’d have the most cutest babies. He stared down at your fucked out expression that he fucking loved seeing so much, so pretty and alluring. All dumbed down and stupid just from his cock. It never fails to captivate his soul each time he's making love to you. He could stare at you for hours.

You weren’t the most flexible person but of course, Kento always managed to manipulate and manhandle your poor body effortlessly in whatever position that he desired. He’s not mean during sex but he’s definitely not the sweetest either, Especially after he returns home from a frustrating and tough day at work, his mind consumed with stress and pent-up desire and his cock twitching in his pants with heavy, thick balls filled with seed that he’s been storing up to stuff into you with, after he comes from work.

It wasn’t even a second after you greeted him, that honeyed tone in your voice humming his favorite tune, “Kentooo, you’re back!!”. Barely two minutes had passed and in the blink of an eye, you were trapped beneath his large, muscular frame with his aching, swollen length buried sooo deep between your tight walls. his mushroom tip kissing the tender, sensitive spots that made you soo mindlessly dumb, it had you forgetting about the little rule you had about no sex until he’s well fed after work because as his devoted housewife, you also labored diligently to prepare dinner for him.

What if it gets cold?!!

Well, Kento sure doesn’t give a fuck because he’s way too hungry for something else.

His black and yellow tie is loosely dangling over your face as the gentle waft of his minty cologne which you had sprayed on his chest earlier before he went to work, drifts in your nostrils, making your mind hazy and had your pussy pooling even more slick around his veiny shaft. “Good God, fuck this pussy is perfect darling, sooo perfect almost as perfect n pretty as you” his husky voice echoes with admiration, the outline of his bulging veins on his arms straining through his rolled-up sleeves, showcasing the raw strength he had as he gripped onto the sheets besides your head for sheer stability as his tired eyes—visible with exhaustion and teary, lazily stared into yours.

“Kento–“ you cried out, your nails digging into his beefy forearm as you looked up at him with pleading eyes that sent his cock throbbing embarrassingly. Fuck it took everything in him to restrain himself from not getting you pregnant with his kids right now.

“Yes, my love? Tell me what you need darling, m’here for you”. He whispered tenderly, he flashed a charming smile at you before placing a quick, affectionate kiss on your ankle that has been thumping against his huge shoulders the entire time as he ruts his hips into you animalistically.

“Missed you ken!, so so much” your heart beating with desire and love as his chest smushed your soft breasts against him. Beads of sweat glistening from his hairline, threatening to drip onto your face as you move your hands up to wrap them around his neck. A genuine smile spread across his face due to your performance of affection.

“Missed you too my love, God you were clouding my thoughts so much sweetheart, couldn’t stop thinking about you and this pretty little pussy today.” He confessed to you in his deep, sexy voice before smashing his soft lips onto yours. Your nails violently dug into his clothed back that was fortunately shielding him from the nasty, red marks you were plotting to leave. Both of you groaned into the kiss, your spit and saliva mincing together lewdly to the point where it was steeping out of your mouth. His swollen lips feverishly melded against yours, making it practically impossible for you to breathe but you didn’t mind one bit. It all just felt so delicious. His glossy, pink tip skillfully pokes against your sensitive g-spot, making your toes curl in your socks at how good he’s making you feel. God, he was so perfect. His huffs of golden, blond pubic hair tantalizingly grazed against your sticky clit— rubbing it unintentionally, making your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head as he assaulted your lips. your tongues now entwining and swirling together disgustingly. The kiss was so sweet and affectionate, it made your heart fluttered.

His grunts and moans filled the room like a symphony. it was nothing but music to your ears. Kento was perfect in every single way possible. He was such a man, not just any man. He's a gentleman, his masculine presence would be overwhelming for any soul that has never experienced what it'd be like to encounter a real man.

You’d do anything for him, you loved Kento in a particular way where it would be so fucking offensive to the person who founded feminism.

[lovscb97]

— stray kids links [hyung line]

tags: hyung line!stray kids x fem!reader, established relationship, rough sex, unprotected sex (plz wrap it before u tap it), creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, mild dacryphilia, begging, use of collars/leashes, spanking, strength kink, oral sex (f. receiving), squirting, car sex, slight exhibitionism, slight choking, use of nicknames (baby, princess, angel, kitten, etc), degradation (slut, whore, etc), dirty talk, edging, overstimulation, etc

wc: 2.73k

add. notes: hai …. sorry i made this post instead of giving u guys nerd!chan pt. 2 I FUCKIN SWEAR IT’S COMING but it’s just taking the piss out of me n i needed this out for a new post. anyways plz dni if u r a minor like i mean that w my whole chest n also lmk if some of the links stop working or if u can’t see them idk what i can do abt that . but at least i will be aware LMFAOOOOO yea anyways enjoy :3

. . .

⥽ … BANG CHAN: 

link one.

chan is packing. he is absolutely packing to the point you felt like he was going to tear your womb apart when you first got intimate with him, his thick cock stretching you out past your limits as fresh sobs fell from your mouth. since then, he's trained you to take him with enough prep, always making sure to milk at least two orgasms from you before he even thinks about letting his dick near your pussy regardless of how hard it might be throbbing. that wait becomes worthwhile though when he finally sinks inside of you, dirty words and throaty groans rambled in your ear as he releases himself deep inside once he's reached his peak. he loves the feeling of your warm walls sucking him in, never leaving you alone until he's dumped his load empty.

"fuck, baby. how are you so tight?" chan hisses incredulously, wet thumb still circling your clit as you shake in his hold. you're extremely sensitive at this point, twitching from the slightest touch after having cum for the third time, but the only thing in your mind right now is your boyfriend breeding you, the request made obvious with how you tighten your legs around his waist to pull him in. "cum in me, daddy. please!" you plead, teary eyes blinking up at chan whose orbs roll to the back of his head at your keen expression. it only takes a few more thrusts before he's shooting ropes of hot cum inside you, gripping himself to ensure he stays in place. you sigh in content at the warm liquid flooding you, and chan just smiles tiredly, leaning in to sweetly kiss you. "i love you, precious girl." he whispers, resting his body on top of you to keep you plugged up for the rest of the night.

link two.

you're chan's favourite destress toy, that much is obvious. every time he comes home from a long day at work, he knows it'll be worthwhile because you'll be there waiting with open arms and your wet hole longing to be filled up. he'll even take you right then and there in the living room sometimes, making sure everyone around you two knows exactly whose name you're screaming. certain days when he's had it particularly bad though, he'll collar you up and attach a leash to it that he can pull back on, bending you over with your ass up in the air as he slams himself into you repeatedly. it gives him immense pride to have that sense of control over you, to be able to manoeuvre you into whatever position he desires. if he's feeling especially mean, he'll edge you until you're crying into the sheets, cooing at how fucked out you look, knowing he's the only one who can make you feel that way.

"please.. i wan' cum, please." you slur out mindlessly, drool dripping down your mouth as chan slowly drags his cock in and out of you, its mushroom tip pressing deliciously against that spot inside. your boyfriend just chuckles from behind you, his hand yanking on the leash that's tied to your collar which makes you lean back in an instant. his hand sneaks down to grip himself as he pulls out for the nth time, and you whine at the loss of fullness in you, bottom lip jutting out as he slaps the head of his cock against your clit. "yeah, princess? you wanna cum? wanna cum all over daddy's dick?" he mocks you, laughing sadistically when you desperately nod your head. he continues to rub up your little nub, and you're soon about to fall over the edge, gratitude on your lips when he suddenly stops. "oh, baby, you're not cumming that easily tonight." chan growls, causing you to shiver under his hold as he pushes you back onto the bed. it looks like you're in for a long night.

⥽ … LEE MINHO: 

link one.

you love pissing minho off. it's one of the little things in life that gives you so much pleasure, aside from when your boyfriend fucks you, of course. minho, on the other hand, doesn't take lightly to your teasing at all. on days where you're acting out by wearing revealing clothes in front of his friends or sitting too close to one of them for his liking, he'll drag you out with some lame excuse and a clenched jaw, mumbling something about how you're both going home now. he doesn't even care that you're probably smug by the end of it, because that feeling of triumph soon dissipates when he has you bent over his lap, veiny hands kneading the plush of your ass before he's landing a harsh smack on it. he'll spank you and make you count your punishment, and if you lose track, he'll just have to start all over again.

"fucking slut." minho tsk's, cold fingers running themselves against the bruised skin of your butt. he takes a moment to admire his work, tracing the red imprints of his hand on your ass and even the outline of your white panties, which are absolutely soaked by now. "min, please! 'm sorry, it won't happen again." you cry out, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes although you can't see it. another series of repeated spanks land on you, and you yelp in response, legs kicking up from the stinging impact. your body burns by now, every touch minho provides it leaving behind a searing sensation, but you know your boyfriend is far from done with you. "we both know that's a damn lie." he clicks his tongue. "you're always acting out, so it seems like i gotta really start putting you in your place, hm?" you're about to protest when he smacks again, drawing a sob from you; the sound goes straight to his core. he licks his lips, a smirk stretched across them as he readies his palm once more. "now, stop crying and start counting, whore."

link two.

it's no secret that minho is a certified ass man. he loves you, but god does he love your ass just as much. everything about it sends him reeling, from the way it's accentuated in the clothes you wear, to the plump flesh of it that jiggles every time he's got you on your hands and knees. you'd argue he puts you in this position at least once every time you two fuck because knowing your boyfriend, he just wants to watch the way you push back on him when he's bottomed out inside you. he'll give you a few smacks here and there on it too, kneading the skin in his palms before he's snapping his hips into yours. most of the time, he'll refuse to cum inside of you, instead pulling out just before he tips over the edge to release all over your behind and back. you're not complaining though, you love the feeling of his seed dripping over it just as much as he does.

"mm, shit, you look so good right now, kitten." minho groans from behind you, cockhead practically battering your cervix with the way he's shoving himself in and out of you. your whines are high in pitch with how he's fucking you, and you stutter to speak when you try and respond. "y-you say that every time." you eventually manage to heave out, and minho chuckles breathlessly, fingers gripping the flesh of your ass in them as he bites his lip, moaning lowly at the way it bounces back against his dick. "can't help it. you're too hot." he grunts, pistoning his hips at a frenzied pace that knocks the breath out of your lungs. it only takes a matter of minutes before you're both cumming, loud noises filling the room as minho pulls out just in time so he can splatter his release all over your backside. his thumb dips into the seed that now decorates your ass, and he swipes to collect it, pushing it into your mouth. a grin decorates his face as you suck on it. "atta girl."

⥽ … SEO CHANGBIN: 

link one.

changbin is a gym fanatic through and through, and with his rigorous work out routine eventually came his well-built physique, chiselled and bulked up to the point you think you would barely recognise his past self. it refects in the way he walks, talks and holds himself; he loves his strength and he loves showing it off, especially to you. that's why every time you're both entangled in his sheets, it results in him urging you to stand up before hoisting you in his arms. some days he'll hold you in them and bounce you up and down his cock, relishing in the way your cries echo through the room alongside the slapping of skin. other days, he'll toss you around and headlock you as he pounds you from behind, groaning filth in your ear as he pushes you to the edge of tipping. either way, you love what he does, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"hng, so strong, binnie!" you wail, hands clutching your boyfriend's broad back and shoulders as your nails dig into his soft skin, sure to leave marks the next day. changbin just grunts at your sounds of pleasure, too immersed in fucking you onto his cock in your current position. he's got you clinging onto him for dear life as he enters you repeatedly, pride blooming in his chest when you acknowledge how hot it is that he can pick you up so effortlessly. "y-yeah, pretty? like when binnie fucks you like this?" he stutters slightly, too wrapped up in how your pussy clings to his girth. you nod your head rapidly, babbling about how close you are and how hard you're going to cum, spraying all over your boyfriend in due time when he slams into that spot hidden inside you. you're not even given a chance to recover afterwards, changbin manhandling you onto the bed on your stomach before he's sinking back inside. "just a little more, baby. binnie's gotta cum too, okay?" he's whining, and you keen despite the sting of overstimulation rushing through, not knowing you're going to end up letting him use you for another hour.

link two.

you've always known changbin is a romantic at heart, his soft-spoken nature despite the daunting aura he gives off due to his frame often sending your brain spiralling. it gives you whiplash, the way he treats you. some days he'll fuck you like he hates you, growling dirty comments to your face and spitting in your mouth as you shake through an orgasm. other days, however, he'll craddle you in his arms, caging your body underneath him as he rocks his hips against yours in deep, fluid motions. one of his favourite things to do during these instances is hold your hand. he loves the feeling of your fingers lacing through his, holding onto him as he delivers sharp strokes inside of you. something about it feels so raw, like both your souls are intertwined in one big hug. he'll kiss you dizzy, burying his face into your neck as you both whimper 'i love you's' to each other.

"baby.. fuck, baby." changbin moans, his breath fanning hot against the sticky skin of your shoulder from where he's nosed himself in. his hand clings to yours amidst his movements, and you mewl loudly when he thrusts particularly deep inside of you. "i love you. love you so much, my baby. my pretty, perfect angel." your boyfriend pants, head moving to bring his lips to yours in a messy meeting. it's filled with so much love and care, your mouths moulding perfectly against one another's as you exchange kisses. your stomach feels like it's filled with butterflies, but you're not sure if that's because of how fucking in love you are with him or because of changbin rocking his hips into you. either way, you pull apart from him, trying to say it back in the middle of your noises of pleasure. "l-love you so much, binnie. fuck, you always give it to me so good." you praise, and changbin visibly shivers, burying his face back where it was between your neck to continue making love to you until at last, you're both coming undone together.

⥽ … HWANG HYUNJIN: 

link one.

one thing you adore about your precious lover boy is his mouth. his pretty, plump lips that kiss your tears away, or his dangerously addictive tongue that's always finding it's way between your thighs when he feels like it, which is basically all the time. hyunjin can't help that you taste so sweet, or how you're always so perfectly wet for him by the time he's journeyed down to your legs where you truly need him. he'll spend hours buried between them, parting you with his slender fingers and holding you open for him to lick into. he finds extreme satisfaction in the way you push back against his body when he's having a go at you, too weak to move him in your futile efforts of running away from his mouth once he's had you cum twice without stopping. he'll continue anyways though, because to him, there's no better treat after a long day.

"hyunie, s-slow down." you whimper, the lewd suckling sounds of your clit being wrapped in your boyfriend's mouth resonating through the room as he messily eats you out. his movements are filled with fervour and desperation, something you'll never get used to experiencing despite how long you've been together. each time almost always feels like you're starring in some obscene porno with the way hyunjin always drawls out the most nasty sounds from you. this instance is no different either, because before you can even react, you're spraying droplets of clear liquid on his face, your boyfriend groaning into you at the feeling of you squirting on him. he cleans it all up with great pleasure, breathing heavily as he finally rises from his position to slot himself between your legs. his lips find yours in a dirty kiss, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. "you're insatiable." you murmur when he pulls away, and hyunjin chuckles, mouth hovering over your jaw as you tremble at his next words. "not my fault my baby's got the tastiest cunt in the world."

link two.

hyunjin is a freak through and through. you've known for a while that he gets off on all sorts of things, and one of them is primarily the risk of being sneaky in public, regardless if it's planned or not. there have been one too many occasions of the latter where you've both been out on a date together with you looking a little too good, too good to the point that the waiter starts flirting with you and leaving hyunjin seething. it's only high time after that until he's dragging you out of the restaurant and into his backseat, too lazy to even undress properly before he's sinking inside of you to fuck you as he sees red. he'll get so possessive too, groaning how you're his and his only whilst pulling you back by your hair. it's true that your boyfriend is a big lover, but when times come down to this, he'll drill into you like he absolutely loathes you.

"dirty slut, letting me fuck you where anyone can see. you'd even let that server find you like this, wouldn't you?" hyunjin grits out, his sweat dripping onto your back as he shoves his long length in you. you're sure the windows are fogged up by now, his car rocking with his movements, but neither of you care about that. "n-no, only want you to see. just you, hyune." you whimper, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the way his cock slams in you with each thrust. your boyfriend lets out a low moan at your words, yanking you back by your hair to lick at your neck. "that's right, princess. only i get to look at this pussy, hm? only i can f-fuck it right, yeah?" he grunts, slender fingers coming up to wrap around your throat as you nod shakily, taking a deep breath as hyunjin squeezes slightly. "gonna cum in this cunt and fill you up with my babies so everyone knows who you belong to. then, i'm taking you straight home to fuck you full again. got that?"

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[exvelovly]

nobody fucking talk to me are you joking the forehead touch the crystal THEY ARE THE ANOMALY they revolve around each other “you show me the light in every universe” but why do you persist even after everything i’ve done? “now all i want is my partner back” are you fucking kidding me get out leave do NOT come back

“i’m always with you” the parallels of each universe, first powder alone and then ekko on that fucking balcony both alone, “can we do it like the first time”, powder cherishing vi’s memory in the alternate to vi cherishing jinx’s in the real one. jinx paralleling not only vi but paralleling isha. powder and jinx, jinx and powder, one and the same, end me

and the animation? a fucking SPECTACLE you cannot be serious right now half of that battle half of those effects those were 2 fucking d frame by frame i fucking saw that shit don’t play with me oh my god

don’t even get me started on sevika as a councillor because from somebody willing to fight to silco’s right hand man to a councillor because she is always there and willing and she deserves that spot more than ever, and the city of progress having her undercity ass on the council someone please take me out with a double barrel shotgun right the fuck now

do you guys understand there will NEVER, EVER be a show so wildly BATSHIT insane again how does one even begin to attempt trying to top this in any way shape or form

[nochepsicodelica]

You and Toji are sitting at a table at a bar, talking about different things that went on throughout your days over some drinks. Toji tells you about how Shiu's been a real asshole lately, because his marriage is hanging on by a thread and he hasn't gotten laid in almost a month. He gives you a look that you interpret as him saying 'thank fuck that's not us' to which you respond with a little smirk.

When it's your turn, you tell him about how the new hire broke the copy machine, knocked over and broke the water gallon for the water dispenser, and crashed into someone, spilling hot coffee all over their shirt, all in the course of one day.

"That poor fucker's cursed," Toji says, amusement riddling his expression as he brings his glass of whiskey to his lips.

"He looked like he really needed a hug by the end of the day," you add, biting back a smile, before you take a sip of your own drink.

"Tell me you didn't," Toji says, taking in the seemingly telling look on your face. "Ma."

"I'm kidding. It's jokes, baby. I have no interest in hugging someone I haven't spoken a single word to."

Toji flicks your forehead, watching with a grin as you bring a hand up to rub the sting away. "Gotta piss, be right back, doll. Want another drink before I come back?"

"I'll wait for you to finish yours," you say, to which he nods before standing up from his seat.

"Be right back," Toji repeats, affectionately setting a heavy hand on your head, before he heads off in the direction of the restrooms.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and scroll through your socials while you wait. Altogether, Toji was gone for no longer than four minutes, and yet somehow, that was enough time for a rando to pull a chair up to your little table and start a conversation with you.

"Hey," he starts. "Why are you sitting here looking all lonely?"

You turn your head to face the person with the unfamiliar voice, slightly widening your eyes as if to question if he's talking to you. He looks at you with raised eyebrows, awaiting your response. "Oh, i'm not here alone. My boyfriend is in the bathroom," you respond, with a polite smile, before returning your attention to your phone.

"Ah. What kind of man leaves a pretty thing like you by herself in a place like this?" The stranger says, in a tone that almost seems pitiful towards you.

You look at him again and attempt to keep your expression neutral. "He'll be back any second now. He's just taking a piss, i'll be fine. Unless you're here to make things troubling for me."

The man chuckles, entertained by your quick shift in tone. "With a feisty attitude like that and a pretty mouth to keep up, it seems like you want me to get you in trouble."

You furrow your eyebrows, blatantly offended by his inappropriate insinuation. It's disturbing to see how he turned your warning into something sexual.

"I already told you, I have a boyfriend. Try someone else," you respond, no longer hiding your irritation.

Toji scans the room for the table you're sitting at, locating you and who-the-fuck in three seconds. This man looks awfully cozy with you, leaning in close every time he speaks to you, so he doesn't stand around any longer and quickly makes his way back to you and this new "friend".

"You sure you don't want another drink, doll?" Toji asks, sitting down in front of you, again, his gaze darting between you and this pocket square looking man. There's a difference between your demeanor from before he left and now. You clearly aren't comfortable, anymore.

"That's it? That is your supposed boyfriend?" The man asks, attempting to minimize Toji by referring to him as if he's nothing in comparison to himself. "Oh, princess. You see this watch?" He asks, raising the cuff of his sleeve to fully reveal his golden watch. "Four thousand dollars, and that's chump change."

You look at Toji and pull his hand into your shaky one, giving him a forced smile. Toji keeps his eyes on yours as the stranger continues spewing arrogant sludge about how much money he makes a year and how even the luxury car he has parked outside didn't put the smallest dent in his wallet.

"You would have it so good with me, baby," he continues blabbering. His hand goes to your wrist, a gesture that Toji quickly puts an end to by aggressively shoving the man's hand away, your empty glass clattering on the table from the force. Toji would have snapped the man's wrist and twisted his hand off, but he didn't want to scare you with the bloodshed. He feels like he's buzzing from the anger bubbling inside, and surely it won't be long before he acts out.

"Don't fucking touch her," Toji spits, glaring at the man with an expression that would have put him six feet under, if looks could kill.

Your heartbeat is in your ears and your blood is boiling. This man is disgusting for being persistent towards someone who doesn't want him. It's masochism, at this point, with the amount of times that you've made it clear that you're not interested.

The man snorts, snobbishly. "He brought you here, of all places. Even just glancing at him, you can tell this cheap ass place is all he can afford. He'll never be able to give you everything you want, so just come with me, doll face."

You rip your hand out of Toji's grasp and stand from your chair, delivering a resounding blow to the man's already hideous face. Tables and chairs wobble as he tries to keep his balance, but when you quickly strike him again, hard enough to increase the pain you felt in your knuckles with that first hit, you manage to knock him onto the ground.

"Fuck you, you fucking asshole. You don't know shit!" You grit out, dropping down to try and land another hit to the man's bleeding face. By now, Toji is behind you, restraining your arms and pulling you back as a small crowd begins to form to observe the commotion.

"Ma, come on. Let's just go."

"Let me dent his fucking face in, Toji," you mutter, writhing in his grip.

The vile man manages to sit up, dabbing his fingertips against his busted lip. Though there is red blossoming on his face, his lips still form an amused, twisted smile. He laughs as he watches you get reeled back by Toji, seething as you are dragged away like a child having a meltdown in the middle of a store.

"Hey-- Hey, I said let's go," Toji says, his tone sharper when you continue to try to break out of his hold to fight the idiotic sociopath.

You take a deep breath and stop, willingly letting Toji take you away from this chaos you created in his defense. His hand rests on the nape of your neck, as he guides you through the stuffy bar and leads you outside to the car.

"Stop pacing," Toji says, watching as you threaten to make the asphalt beneath your feet waste away with every step you take in your heated state.

"Fucking asshole, dickhead, motherfucker." You groan, loudly, furiously, before covering your face with your hands. "It's fine, it's fine," you mumble to yourself.

"Then, stop pacing," he repeats, watching on as you walk the same steps, over and over, as if you're on autopilot. "Ma, eyes. Eyes." His hands go to your shoulders, manually forcing you to halt your movement. "Listen to me. I said eyes."

"I'm so... I can't stand still," you say, weakly.

"Stop looking around. Right here," Toji instructs, lifting one hand from your shoulder and pointing two fingers at his eyes. You release a shaky puff of air and hold his gaze as best as you can.

"Talk when you're ready," he says, following your eyes whenever they derail from his.

You aren't ready soon enough. You feel like your heart is trying to burst out of your chest and the adrenaline coursing through you isn't helping at all. Your hand hurts. Your knuckles feel bruised and they're bloody. The night might be ruined, but you felt your reaction was the only way to release the pain you felt when that nothing started talking the way he did about Toji. All you can think to do is hug Toji to prevent yourself from crying about your cause for attacking the gross man. It's all so much. You've never felt so strongly for someone, to the point where you hit a stranger for insulting them. It's scary how Toji brings that defensive, yet, offensive side out of you.

Strong, heavy arms reciprocate your embrace, keeping your tense body close. You feel warm and safe, his scent and the pressure of his hold managing to slowly calm your unsteady heartbeat. After a few seconds of quietness, you turn your head and rest the side of your face on him, finally prepared to speak.

"I didn't like how he was talking about you, Toji. He was talking shit even before you came back, and I hated it. I hated it so much, that I felt nauseous and if I hadn't done something, I would have been sick."

Toji sighs, not out of disappointment or feelings of that sort, but because you seeking out danger for his sake, was not something he ever wanted to see.

"Doll, you know how much I love you."

This sounds like a layer of sugar preceding a talking to. You're trying not to be nervous before the scolding even begins, but you feel the need to brace yourself, as well.

"I love you, too," you mumble.

Toji knows it. He's known it all along, and the events that transpired tonight were just another way of you proving your love and showing how much he matters to you.

"Want you to look at me," he says, lowering his arms on your back, allowing you to make the space necessary to give him your attention. He offers you a soft smile. "Don't get all fidgety on me after you just ripped a stranger's face open."

"I feel like you're about to yell at me," you say, lowly.

That makes him want to laugh, but he keeps his amusement to a minimum, since you're clearly anticipating something terrible.

"Nah. When have I ever raised my voice at you?"

"Never."

"Exactly. Never, and I won't start now, but I want you to get this through your pretty head... It's not your job to beat people up for me."

"I know, but-"

Toji shakes his head. "Hold on, mama. Let me finish talking, then it'll be your turn."

Your heart feels like it's in the depths of your stomach, but you nod, and allow him to continue talking.

"I'm not mad at you, i'm not gonna yell at you. Just wanna keep you safe, is all. That guy was already a fuckin' weirdo, harassing you like that and trying to get you to go with him while I was right there. I wouldn't be surprised if he was into hitting women, too, if he's so comfortable with making them uncomfortable."

It's quiet while you think of what to say. You don't want this to escalate into something that turns you against each other, when it started out as an act of love. You could argue about how you did this to defend him, but in the end, you know his own need to protect you, will stomp all over your arguments.

"I'm sorry we had to leave, but i'm not sorry for the reason behind it. I don't regret what I did."

"Ma..."

"No, Toji. He didn't even know you and yet he still said things that aren't fair." Your voice quiets down, the beginnings of stronger emotions threatening to outwardly reveal themselves. "He insulted you. He questioned your abilities as my boyfriend when he saw me alone— even after I told him you just went to the bathroom. He judged you superficially, he said you can't give me everything I want and--" you pause, interrupted by a shaky inhale and the painful lump in your throat. "Sorry," you mumble, when the first set of tears roll down your cheeks.

"No, you're alright," Toji says, in response, his warm hands coming up to cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping away your fleeing tears. There's a small pinch in his brows. Why are you crying? It's something he can't ask you, because he knows that if he makes a big spectacle out of it, you'll end up drowning in your tears and shutting down everything you have to say. He resorts to keeping your cheeks dry and encouraging you to keep talking.

"Go on, mama."

You sniff, before picking up where you left off. "I don't care about all that, Toji. I don't care where we go to spend time together, because we're together. I need you, not for you to buy me things or take me to fancy places. That's not what I'm with you for."

Your heart is beating fast, again, its rhythm no longer controlled by fear or nerves, but instead the focus that Toji has on you. He's good at holding eye contact with you, something that occasionally gets distracting if you become too aware of it. You notice that his expression is softer. Maybe it's your brief flash of tears or the way you are always subconsciously finding a way to indirectly recite some of the reasons for why you love him.

"I love you, Toji. That means I won't just sit around and let someone talk about you like you're worthless. And I know, I know you can handle things like this on your own and you don't need me, but it was hard to listen to that."

You pause, as if to give him a break from your bulldozing heart. Silence takes over the moment, both of you just looking at each other. Toji's speechlessness has you wondering if you spilled too much of your heart out to him. You know some things are better left to be figured out, such as the range of a person's love, and yet you just poured without measure. "You can call me crazy if you want to."

Toji's shit-eating grin is unexpected, but it's definitely a sight that lifts some of the heaviness you feel in your chest.

"You love me," Toji says, still smiling like a doofus. He knows your serious facade will crack if he looks at you like this for long enough. He can already see a shift in the expression of your eyes and the way your lips are pressing together just a little more. He tilts his head slightly, a gesture that pushes you even further towards that pretty smile he wants to see. When you finally crack and give into his charm, you do so with a mutter of 'you're so dumb.'

"I'm glad that's what you got out of my rambling," you say, wholeheartedly and in better spirits. Toji pulls you in, this time, his soothing warmth and familiar scent tangling around you, again. His chin rests on top of your head and his arms secure themselves around you, tightly.

"I'm not gonna call you crazy, ma. It's not what I think. Also, don't go saying things that aren't true. I do need you," Toji says, his voice level kept at an intimate volume, as if there are other people there in the parking lot with you. His words are solely meant for you to hear anyway and getting them to you in this manner ensures that you won't go home with your heart feeling heavy, after a talk that was meant to comfort you.

"You know, I don't care what other people think— and that's not to say I don't appreciate you throwing a few punches for my sake. You're a sweetheart and you care so much, but if it's a stranger saying some unimportant, dumb shit, it takes a lot for it to actually get to me. If it really bothered me, they'd be gone."

"Yeah... I know," you mumble, into his shirt, knowing you would do it again and again— countless times. You loosen your arms around Toji and he does the same, his hands dragging towards your waist after you separate.

"How's that hand?" Toji asks, picking your wrist up before you can even respond. He whistles at the sight of the slight swelling and the dry specks of crimson spotted over your knuckles.

"A little tender," you say, feeling a tinge of fear when his other hand lifts off your waist to feel the damage.

"Looks real good on your pretty hand," he says, dragging his index finger over the protruding bones of your hand.

"Does it?" You ask, your barely there smile falling when you wince at the little bit of pressure Toji applies.

"No," he responds, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the sore area. You wince again when his thumb drags over your skin with slightly more pressure than before. "It doesn't. We'll ice it when we get home, alright?" He lets up on the torturous touching, but keeps your hand in his. The words aren't meant to hurt you. He doesn't mean them and he hopes he communicates that with the way he still opts to hold your hand. Your hands will always be pretty to him, he just can't say that to you, right now. Not if it serves as the smallest bit of encouragement for you to repeat what happened earlier, in the future.

"Okay." You nod.

"Gimme a kiss and we can go home or wherever, if you wanna stay out."

You tilt your head up and wait for his lips to meet yours. It's a gentle brush of lips, but the second Toji's hands start slipping under the back of your sweater and your shirt, you know it's going to be more than a single kiss. You can feel the night's cold wind nipping at your skin, as his hands go higher up, his fingertips reaching just below the hooks of your bra. To your surprise, he unhooks the garment, causing you to quickly press your hands to your chest when the cups loosen, to prevent them from fully sliding down.

"Toji," you manage to utter out during the wave of kisses. You turn your head, receiving a kiss that was meant for your lips, on your cheek.

"Yeah... I think we should go home," he murmurs, against your skin. "Maybe we can rock the car a little bit before we go, hm?" Toji smirks when you let out that flustered giggle he's so familiar with. He presses another kiss to your cheek before you turn to face him, again.

"Okay, but let's not blow it all here. We have a nice and comfortable bed at home. Let's add another good night to it."

You don't miss the way Toji's lustfully lidded, green eyes, keep glancing down at your hands on your chest, or how he's mindlessly caressing your bare waist, under your shirt.

"Alright, ma." He pulls out his car keys and with the press of a button, the car unlocks with a beep and the brief, dull sound of flipping locks. "Get inside."

[hoshifighting]

rival fashion designer!minghao

— synopsis: where minghao flexes his fashion awards whenever your brand competes against him during fashion week. — WC: 3k — WARNINGS: explicit language, smut, reader uses a transparent clothing (just like rihanna in oscar x swarovski), oral (f. receiving) ENORMOUS DICK!MINGHAO, slight face slap, mentions of choking on a cock, penetrative sex—or trying to.

look, you weren’t trying to start beef with minghao. you don’t even know why the dude hates you so much. okay, maybe you said one thing about his fall line looking like it got snatched off the clearance rack at an IKEA. but that was a year ago. and also? you were drunk and kinda bitter ‘cause your show got bumped for his stupid avant-garde puff-sleeve renaissance clowncore shit.

but now, every fashion week is like a personal vendetta for him to humble you. you’ll be vibin’, sipping your overpriced latte in the designer lounge, and this man will just stroll in, decked out in some vintage runway piece that costs more than your annual budget, flashing that “i won best emerging designer again” smirk like it’s a fucking weapon. and then he’ll throw some casual shit like:

“oh, y/n, is that your collection over there? i thought they were setting up for the kid’s line showcase.”

[...]

so this year, you swore you wouldn’t let him get in your head. you’d play it cool, professional, unbothered. except you walk into your studio late one night, the day before your big runway debut, and this man is just there. sitting on your worktable. wearing a pearl-studded harness and leather pants so tight it should be a crime.

you freeze, halfway through the door, holding the iced coffee you begged your intern to grab five minutes before starbucks closed. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

minghao barely glances up from his phone. “your assistant let me in.”

traitor.

“why?” you slam the coffee on the counter, praying your voice doesn’t shake. the audacity of him just existing in your space is enough to make your blood boil.

he stands, slow as hell, like he’s got all the time in the world. he’s tall—annoyingly tall—so when he steps close, you’re immediately at a disadvantage. but you refuse to back down.

“just wanted to check out the competition,” he says, eyes flicking lazily over the chaos of fabric swatches and half-finished sketches strewn across the room. “cute line. very... simple.”

“fuck you, hao,” you snap, crossing your arms. “it’s called ‘minimalism.’ not that you’d know anything about taste.”

he laughs, soft and low, the kind of sound that creeps under your skin and lingers there. “oh, i have plenty of taste. i just don’t need to keep it basic to get attention.”

and here’s the thing: you hate how much he gets to you. he’s a smug asshole with an overinflated ego, but he’s also stupidly talented, and you can’t ignore the fact that his lines always sell out in under a day. or how his press coverage makes yours look like a local craft fair feature.

but what really gets you is how hot he looks right now, with his ridiculous cheekbones and the glint of that tiny silver chain peeking out from under his collar. it’s disgusting. you hate it.

you’re about to throw a cutting remark his way, something about how he’s overcompensating with all that jewelry, but he beats you to it.

“you know,” he murmurs, stepping even closer, “you’d look good in my designs.”

your brain short-circuits. “excuse me?”

“if you ever want to elevate your style...” he trails off, dragging his gaze down the length of your body like it’s a runway.

“you are so full of shit,” you hiss, but there’s no heat behind it, because your stupid traitorous brain is suddenly imagining what it’d feel like to have his hands on you.

he smirks, all teeth and danger, leaning in so close you can smell his expensive cologne. “maybe. but you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

you don’t answer.

[...]

the next morning, you’re running on zero sleep, fueled by pure spite and caffeine, but your runway show? flawless. models everywhere, hair spray choking the air, seamstresses practically sewing on skin ‘cause the deadlines were that tight. and you were doing a thousand fucking things at once.

fixing a hemline here, shouting at a makeup artist there—“no, not clean girl aesthetic, we’re going full grunge today, wake up!”—all while struggling to get yourself into the swarovskied transparent gown you planned to wear for the night.

no bra, because tits were the least controversial thing in fashion. and the way the crystals draped over your skin looking likew pure art. nipples out and proud, paired with modern curls swirled to perfection and makeup that screamed chaos-but-make-it-glam.

by the time your collection hit the runway, your nerves were shredded. but watching the models strut, each piece shining under the lights... fucking worth it.

and then, the finale: your dress sweeping dramatically across the stage as you closed the parade. you bowed to the crowd, letting the cameras and whispers soak in every inch of you, and as you turned to leave, you felt it.

minghao’s sharp eyes.

you caught his eyes just as they traveled the length of you—from the swirl of your hair, to the unapologetic sharpness of your nipples under the crystals, to the shimmer of your dress, down to the towering heels on your feet.

you just smirked to yourself as you headed backstage, knowing full well your collection didn’t just crawl under his skin this time. it slithered under his flesh, wrapped tight around his ribs, and squeezed.

[...]

minghao’s models stormed the runway like it was their goddamn birthright. and of course, you watched. no designer worth their silk ignored the competition, and minghao wasn’t just competition, he was a walking masterclass in making everyone feel like second place.

he closed his show with his usual flare, stepping out like he already knew the applause was his. fast-forward two designers later, and the nominations for the fashion academy awards started rolling in. you didn’t have to look to know minghao had already claimed half the early awards.

you watched him backstage through narrowed eyes as he balanced four trophies—two tucked in his arms, two in his hands—posing for a picture with that smug-ass smile. you knew that pic was already blowing up on his Instagram. your jaw clenched, nails digging into your palm as the last nominations were announced.

and then, plot twist of the year:

your name came up five times.

designer of the year: you.

new vision in fashion: you.

collection of the year: your brand.

runway innovation: your brand.

showstopper of the year: your brand.

walking out with those five heavy-ass awards in your arms? victory tasted better than champagne. your models and team practically swarmed you, hyping you up ‘cause they knew how much blood, sweat, and tears went into this collection.

but what you really wanted... minghao. definitely minghao. minghao, in your line of sight. because after all the times he flaunted his wins like a smug bastard, you wanted him to feel this.

and lucky for you, fate delivered.

you spotted him in the back hallway, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. clearly, he hadn’t heard the last nominees. his head snapped up when your heels echoed through the space.

“oh, hey, hao,” you called out, voice sweet as honey but sharp as glass. you stopped just short of him, shifting the five trophies in your arms so they pressed against your chest. the weight of them pushed your tits up just enough to catch his eyes.

“looks like I’ve got... a plus one on you this year.” you smirked, shaking the awards a little for good measure, the motion making the crystals on your dress catch the dim hallway light.

his eyes flicked down—brief, subtle, but not subtle enough—and then back up, his expression neutral, but you could feel the shift in his ego.

“congrats,” he said, the word clipped like it physically hurt him.

“thanks, babe,” you purred, turning on your heel with a sway of your hips. “see you next season. maybe.”

and with that, you left, letting the click of your heels carry the weight of your victory.

[...]

days later, you were lounging in minghao’s big leather chair, legs crossed up on his table, showing the expensive ass high heels you always wore. his assistant had let you in with barely a question, and you weren’t one to waste an opportunity.

when he finally walked in, his eyes narrowed immediately. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“relax,” you drawled, leaning back like his office was a spa. “your assistant said I could wait. guess they like me more than you.”

he folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “didn’t think you’d show your face here after the other night. thought you’d be busy polishing all those trophies.”

you grinned, slow and smug. “oh, i polished them. just thought i’d stop by to see how you’re doing. must be hard, you know—losing.”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. instead, he stepped closer, looming over you. “you done?”

“not even close,” you said, standing up to match his energy. you stopped just shy of his chest, tipping your chin up. “but don’t worry, hao. i’ll let you borrow a trophy sometime if you really need the validation.” you patted his shoulder.

he scoffed, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “you know, i like your attitude.”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah? you must, considering how much you stalk me every season.”

“maybe that’s why we should work together.”

you laughed, loud and sharp, tossing your head back. “oh, that’s rich. you? work with me? what, so you can take credit for my ideas and call it a ‘collaboration’?”

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “i’m serious. we’d be unstoppable.”

for a second, you almost believed him. “unstoppable, huh? what makes you think i’d even want to work with you?”

“because you like the challenge... admit it. you love it when i push you.”

“you’re intolerable.”

“and yet,” he murmured, stepping so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, “you haven’t left yet.”

your laugh came out breathy this time, your pulse quickening as his hand grazed the curve of your hip. “you think I’m staying here for you? please. your assistant let me in, remember?”

“sure,” he said. his thumb traced slow circles against your side, almost lazy. “but you’re still here.”

you were about to snap back with something cutting, something to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, but then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his gaze locked on yours like a predator sizing up prey.

“stop thinking,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for your lips to almost touch. “you might actually enjoy yourself.”

his lips were soft and plump, moving against yours so fucking good that felt unfair. his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped.

your hands found his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm under your fingertips as you pushed him slightly, breaking the kiss with a smirk. “you’re bold, i’ll give you that.”

“you’re still thinking,” he teased, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back.

your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping just enough to feel the flex of his muscles. you threatened to sit on his table.

his eyes widened slighty, his hands immediately grabbing your ass to lift you up, making you yelp. “don’t!”

“what? scared i’ll break it?” you teased, wrapping your legs around his waist.

he places the needles that were spread lazily on the table, inside of a box. he turned, his grip firm as he carried you a few steps and sat you on a nearby armchair.

“there were needles on that table, genius,” he scolded, his tone sulky but his fingers tracing slow lines along your thighs. “you’d be bleeding before I even got started.”

“aww,” you cooed, dragging your nails down his neck. “you worried about me, hao?”

“no,” he muttered, kneeling, dipping his head to kiss along your jawline, his teeth grazing just enough to make you arch towards him. “just don’t want to ruin my night with a trip to the hospital.”

your laugh turned into a soft moan as his lips found the spot just below your ear. “guess you’re not as heartless as you act.”

he pulled back slightly, his smirk sharper than ever. “you talk too much.”

you pulled him in for another kiss, your tongues colliding this time. when you tried to take control, tilting your head for a deeper angle, he pulled back just enough to make you chase him.

minghao’s hands were firm on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin like he wasn’t about to wreck you in the middle of his office. his eyes dragged down, lingering on the way your skirt was pushed up, the space between your legs bare and unapologetic.

he clicked his tongue, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “no panties, huh?” he said. “came here like this?”

“what can I say?” you shot back, shifting slightly so his hands pressed harder against your skin. “i had a feeling you’d end up on your knees.”

his smirk deepened, his fingers tightening slightly as he leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath. he pressed your legs further onto the armrests, spreading you wider, his hands splayed like he wanted to leave imprints.

his tongue flicked out, close enough to make you tense—but he didn’t touch you. instead, he pulled back, his eyes locking with yours as a smirk tugged at his lips.

he leaned in again, his tongue brushing so close you could feel the warmth from his breath, but once again, he pulled back just as you tilted your hips forward.

“hao..” you warned.

“what?” he teased, his lips hovering over your folds.

your hands gripped the armrests as you glared down at him. “if you don’t stop playing, i swear—”

he cut you off with a broad, strong lick, dragging his tongue from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your clit in one unbroken suck. your head fell back as a gasp tore from your lips.

“that shut you up,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he dipped lower, his tongue swirling around your entrance before moving back up. “needy much?”

“shut up and do it again,” you shot back, your voice sharper than the way your thighs trembled under his grip.

and he did the same. your clit throbbing at the rough skin of his tongue, making you melt on his armchair, he smiled at the sight, he knew how a good head felt after months dealing with needles and sparkly cloths.

his lips latched onto your folds, sucking them into his mouth before he pulls back just slightly, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, teasing strokes. you let out a pornographic moan, before your clap a hand on your mouth, remembering the team outside the office. he chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you still. his lips wrapping around your clit again. this time, he sucked it fully into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it as his eyes flicked up to yours.

“you’re so good at this, hmm—fuuuck!” you said, your nails drowning in the leather of the armchair. “you must’ve practiced on a lot of other girls, huh?”

his eyes narrowed slightly, and his teeth grazed your clit just enough to make you wwhimper. “jealous?” he asked, his voice smug, though he didn’t stop the relentless motion of his tongue.

“please,” you shot back, though the way your breath hitched betrayed you as he did a zig-zag on your bud with the tip of his otngue. “you’re better when you’re silent.”

he smirked against you, his lips curving as he pulled back just enough to speak. “then shut me up.”

your fingers tangled in minghao’s hair, tugging him closer, harder, until his face was buried against your pussy. his groan vibrated through you, desperate, and his hands clamped down on your thighs to steady himself as you rolled your hips against his mouth.

“that’s it... mhmm, just like that...”

he obeyed, his head bobbing as his tongue slid against you in broad, wet strokes, his lips sealing around your clit every few seconds to suck, deep and rhythmic. the wet, obscene sounds filled the room, and your nails scraped lightly against his scalp as you held him there, guiding him exactly how you wanted.

the heat in your core coiled tighter, and you barely had time to register your orgasm hit.

your back arched, your mouth falling open as moans spilled out shamelessly. your hips rolled against his face as you came, and minghao didn’t stop—not for a second. he worked you through it, sucking and licking as though he felt your climax before you did.

he only pulled back when you began to squirm, your breath coming in sharp gasps as overstimulation took hold. his lips and chin were slick as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glinting as he looked up at you.

“had fun?” he asked, sarcastically.

you gave a breathless laugh, your chest heaving as you leaned back in the chair. “you talk too much for someone who just spent five minutes swallowing my pussy.”

his smirk widened, and he stood, his hands braced on the armrests as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “and you talk too much for someone who’s about to beg me to fuck her.”

your gaze flicked to his lips, and then lower—to the bulge straining against his pants. “big words,” you said. “let’s see if you can back them up.”

his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he walked you back toward the desk—no needles this time. you didn't even had time to register what was happening before your skirt was pushed higher, his fingers brushing over your thighs as he settled you on the edge.

his hand worked his belt, the clink of the buckle making you clench around nothing.

“this isn’t gonna be quick,” he said as he freed himself, the sheer size of him making your breath catch. it was big both in length and girth.

you swallowed hard.

“relax... mhmm”

he teased your entrance with the tip, sliding it slowly against you, and the stretch was immediate, even as he slightly pressed in. your breath hitched, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as he pushed forward, achingly slow, giving you time to adjust.

“ngh—fuck!” you gasped, your voice breaking as he filled you inch by hard inch.

“breathe,” he murmured, his tone gentle despite the tension in his body. mouth glued on yours to make sure he feels your puffs of air.

“trying”

he paused, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re okay,” he whispered. “just breathe for me.”

you hiccuped, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as your body struggled to adjust.

“there you go,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he waited “good girl. just like that.”

you exhaled slowly, your body relaxing slightly helping him to slid in further, the fullness stealing the air from your lungs.

your hands gripped his arms, your nails digging into his skin as he finally bottomed out, his body pressed flush against yours.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice tight as he buried his face in your neck. “you’re—so fucking tight.”

you swallowed hard, your head tilting back as you tried to catch your breath. “you’re—so fucking big.”

he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as a smirk tugged at his lips. “think you can take it?”

your breath hitched, and you nodded, your hands sliding to his back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “try me.”

minghao hips pulls back just an inch before thrusting forward experimentally. the sound that left your lips was somewhere between a moan and a strangled gasp, your nails biting into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

he paused, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes flicking over your face. “yeah, knew that’d happen.”

“don’t—” your breath hitched as he moved just slightly, a tiny shift that made you clutch at him even harder. “don’t fucking smile like that.”

his laugh was quiet, he leaned down, his forehead brushing against yours. “why not? you’re almost cummin already.”

“i’m not—” the words caught in your throat as he slid just a little deeper, your body trying desperately to adjust to his size.

“not what?” he asked, his tone playful as he stilled again, waiting for you to catch your breath.

“not—cumming” you managed, though your voice shook with the effort of speaking.

“hmm.” his thumb grazed your clit, circling it trying to soothe your nerves. “then why are you holding on to me likethat?”

you glared at him, though the effect was probably ruined by the way your mouth fell open with a gasp as his thumb pressed down just slightly harder.

your body tensed as he began to move again, sliding in slowly, each inch dragging against you in a way that made your head fall back. the wet squelch of your body adjusting to his girth filled the room, obscenelly.

“shit,” he muttered, his voice tight as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you steady. “you’re so—tight. feels like you’re trying to squeeze me out.”

“maybe i am.”

he laughed softly “you’re all talk,” he murmured, his thumb still circling your clit. “that pussy is begging for me.”

“hao,” you whispered, your hands clutching at his arms as your legs tightened around his waist. “i—fuck, i can’t—”

“you can,” he said softly, his lips moving against your neck. “breathe for me, baby. you’ve got this.”

you exhaled shakily, your chest rising and falling against his as you tried to relax, tried to let the tension in your body melt away. his thumb pressed a little harder against your clit, insistent, coaxing pleasure to override the discomfort.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice soft as his arm tightened around your waist. “just like that. let me in.”

your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut as he finally slid deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. the sensation stole the breath from your lungs, and your fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you.

“you okay?”

you nodded weakly, your hands sliding up to grip his hair as you whispered, “move.”

he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “not yet.”

your eyes snapped open, frustration bubbling in your chest as you glared at him. “hao—”

“relax,” he murmured, his thumb circling your clit again, making you cry out slyly. “i’m not gonna ruin you all at once. gotta make sure you can take it.”

“i can,”

“we’ll see,” he said, his tone smug as he finally, finally pulled back, his cock dragging against you.

“hao, just—fuck me already.”

his laugh was quiet. “you’re not ready for that yet, look—” he roll his hips, making you hiccup again. “but don’t worry—I’ll get you there.”

“how about you?” you ask, feeling your orgasm building up as he circled the thumb faster, your hips rolling slightly, weak, like the cock inside you was to heavy to make you roll them freely.

“i can get off just by looking at this pretty face...” he slaps your cheek weakly, twice, making you squeeze around him. “listen to what i'm telling you… you're still going to model for my brand.” he chuckles.

“i’d rather choke to death than work with your brand.”

“why don’t you choke on something else, then?”

[ieatratsforbreakfast]

oh my god this whole fucking thread is images, get ready for it

[ID:

First image: a tweet from @/autismlor that says "Sorry for being so inactive on this account, the Taylor hyperfixation kinda died a little once I started getting laid Imao" underneath in the replies they say "People bookmarking this are you gonna come back after you get laid and report if it happens to you too or"

Second image: a tweet from @/meanlore that says "honestly ever since i got on the right meds it's been really hard for me to care about taylor swift being gay" then in the replies they say "(lamotrigine for anyone wondering !!)"

Third image: an instagram post from @/btsarmy222777 the photo is a pink and purple gradient with the text "SORRY I HAVEN'T BEEN POSTING ON HERE A LOT GUYS I STARTED TAKING A MOOD STABILIZER AND NOW I'M NOT OBSESSED WITH BTS ANYMORE" in white. The caption reads "Still love them though 💜" (purple heart emoji.)

Fourth image: a tweet from @/larryslittlefrk that says "sorry for being so inactive lately, just wanted to give you all total transparency 💕" (double pink heart emoji) with a screenshot of a notes app entry attached. The note is titled 🚨 (siren emoji) life update 🚨 (siren emoji). The text below it reads "hey guys! Life update!!! So they found a bunch of mold in my dorm vent and since l've been home and on antibiotics I noticed how much better I am really feeling and also feel like I can think more clearly now, and with a heavy heart I have to admit I think being a no stunt Larry was probably the mold talking. Not really sure why any part of that makes sense, especially Louis's fake kid and them both hiring beards for 10 years when they pick their own managers now... guess black mold can really affect your brain hahaha! anyways i'm so grateful for the friends i've made through this community and i hope all of you reach the same clarity as i have ❤️ (red heart emoji) get your vents checked everyone!"

Fifth image: an instagram post from @/jamesmcavoyupdates. The image is a photo of James Mcavoy standing on what looks to be a gate. The caption reads "im done with this account. Thank you for all the laughs but i have no motivation to keep updating on James. this account was initially to help me let my feelings out and sometimes rant but my antidepressants have started working and they helped me realize i actually do not like James mcavoy as much as i thought i did. If you were looking forward to my updates i apologize you will have to find another account to follow as i am no longer suffering from mental illness. Xx ❤️ (red heart emoji)"

/end ID]

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

64 / 4.1k / soap soulmate au, final part

...

"You doing okay?"

Hearing Graves’ voice knocks what little breath you had out of your lungs. It's been months, but that's him. Your old boss. You never thought you'd hear his voice again.

"I've been better," you say finally. "Been awhile."

"Yeah, it has," he says. "Wish you'd've called me to catch up sometime, rather than under the circumstances. You don't sound too banged up. They treat you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask how you feel. I asked if they roughed you up."

You feel your own temper shorten in response. "I need you to call KorTac off."

There's a pause. You can imagine his frowning face, the way he's thinking that one over. "I'll take that under advisement," he finally says, but you can tell he's not going to do what you ask of him. "Puttin' me in a predicament here, kid. You're giving those boys a hard time, and here I thought I was helping you out. Paying your bail, so to speak."

"It’s more complicated than that."

"Always is. Let’s just have you dropped off back on base with us. You can clean yourself up and we’ll talk."

He waits for your crisp yes, sir, but it never comes.

He speaks again. "You got somewhere else to be?"

"I can't go back."

"Can't or won't? You got something you ain't tellin me, soldier?"

"I said I can't go back. And I'm not your soldier anymore. You're not my boss. I don't work for you."

"You know Shadows don't leave one of our own behind. Not to rot in some CIA prison cell. So lose the attitude," he says, voice like iron. "This ain't a good time to play games, kid. You're comin' back with me because I spent a pretty penny on you. You owe me. You have your personal business, fine. Come on back to base and let's talk this out face to face before you go makin' any hasty decisions."

You're so frustrated it's hard to form words. You should be grateful. You know that. Graves doesn’t pretend to care about his men. He cares enough to lead from the front. But you met your soulmate, and you can’t act like it didn't change you. You need to make things right. You also can’t exactly tell Graves you kind of sold him out.

"Hey. Focus up." He doesn't raise his voice to a command. Still, the order is in his voice, and you have been long trained to follow your commander's orders. Then he sighs. "What happened to you, kid?"

"You betrayed the 141. You killed innocent people in Las Almas, looking for them."

You can almost hear his jaw working behind his clenched teeth, the muscles in his face tight. He does not allow this kind of disrespect. "You think I like what I had to do? General Shepherd's orders were clear. We followed them. 141 did not." He huffs out a sigh. "I didn't enjoy it. But that's the job. You of all people know that."

You swallow. "You told us they were our brothers. You killed innocent people, Commander. Johnny said he saw you do it--"

"Johnny?" Grave's voice rises. "You on a first name basis with Soap now?"

"We all know what happened in Las Almas," you retort. Your skin goes hot at the way he says Johnny's name. "I won't work for Shepherd anymore after that. I won't fucking do it."

"Don't pull that with me." The warning is written in his voice. This isn't like you. To the Shadows, you’re calm. Cold. You don't lose your temper. You don't talk back. Especially not to Graves. "You think you can walk away at the drop of a hat just because you don't agree with an order? It doesn't work like that. You follow an order, even if you don't like it, even if it pisses you off. You don't get to decide what you think is right or wrong to carry out. When I give you an order, you follow it. That's your job. Your loyalty is with me. Not with the 141."

"I did my job."

"Then act like it," he snaps. "Stop acting like I'm some evil bastard out here. I made the only choice I could. Task Force 141 was not supposed to be there. They knew my orders, and what did they do? They came after my men, went behind my back, screwed us over. We did what we had to. You wanna be pissed at someone? Be pissed at them."

You glare down at the ice, but say nothing.

"You know I'm right." He knows you. He's getting to you. "And you know what else I find interesting? You don't seem a bit surprised to hear me alive." His voice is too casual and sharp as a knife. "Didn't you get the memo? Did no one forward you my obituary, soldier?"

You stiffen. You're not supposed to know he's alive.

"You're an awful liar. Always have been." He pauses for a long moment. "It ain't easy, surviving against the 141 if they want you dead. You know how I managed it, soldier?"

Yes. "No,” you retort. “And stop calling me that. I'm not your soldier. I don't work for you anymore."

"The hell you aren't. Maybe you're not on the payroll anymore, and maybe you're no longer under my command, but once a Shadow, always a Shadow. That makes you my responsibility. And my goddamn headache." Something shuffles on the other end of the line. "You know exactly what I'm willing to do to keep one of my Shadows safe. But if you're so keen on turning yourself in, fine. I'll have you in front of Shepherd's desk first thing tomorrow. Is that what you want? You know Soap and Ghost put Shadows in the ground that night in Las Almas."

"Shadows tried to put Johnny and Ghost in the ground first."

"This isn't about who shot first. This is about you." His voice is dangerously low, but he keeps his temper in check. Then he huffs a laugh. "You keep callin’ him Johnny. Makes my brain itch." Johnny MacTavish. John MacTavish. Yeah, that's it. "I'll be damned," he mutters.

You touch your exposed soulmark compulsively as if to hide it. Most soldiers hide theirs, but yours has always been tough to cover up. He's seen it more than a few times.

"Got you right out from under my fuckin' nose."

Your stomach tightens. You feel too exposed, like suddenly he’s putting the story together--how 141 got in.

"Shoulda known. Shoulda known. You know the military has a registry for this shit. There are rules. What's wrong with you?"

"I made a mistake," you mutter.

That might be the funniest thing he ever heard. And he's heard some good jokes. "You don't make mistakes, kiddo. You never have. That's not how I trained you." He's right, and you know it. "But hey. Guess it's true what they say about it."

"What?"

"Soulbonds. Make you take your best-laid plans and raze ‘em. Full scorched earth.”

“This isn’t about that. I’m making this decision on my own.”

“You think?” He takes a puff on his cigarette. “I don’t. I don't blame you, either. You sure as hell fought it as best you could. Didn't give in to save your own life. If that's not the soulbond making your decision for you, soldier, I don't know what is."

You look up at the sky. For all the time you spent working with Graves, that past version of you might as well be dead. Maybe that’s the grave you’ve been digging. "I can't work for Shepherd anymore. I won't do it."

"You're a good soldier, 86. You were loyal. I still think you're loyal, even if I'm not who you're loyal to," he finally says. His voice is still calm. It doesn't make you feel any better. "You know if you choose to walk away from this, the next time we meet might well be as enemies."

"Then I guess we won't meet again, sir."

He says nothing. Then he lets out a long huff. You really are going to do him dirty. You can hear his scowl. "That's a damn shame, kid. But you have more of a spine than I gave you credit for," he says. There's a tone of reluctant respect to it. That's as close as you're going to get to a compliment from him now. "You're a loose end, then. You'd best stay well out of the way. Mine and Shepherd's. I hope you're not making the wrong choice, 86," he says quietly. "I really hope you're not."

"It’s out of your hands now. And pay KorTac," you add. "Pay my squad. They did their job."

That makes him scoff. "Now why would I do that? You might be a traitor, but you're still my investment. You were worth more on my payroll than theirs, and that’s a fact I intend to maintain."

"You owe me," you remind him.

"Don't push your luck," he warns. "You're an asset. You don’t get the privileges of rank anymore. But, well..." He sighs. You imagine him with his heels kicked back on his desk, cigarette in hand. "I’ll tell you what. I’m in a charitable mood. I'll pay them off. I'm a man of my word when the time comes to pay off my debts. Hell, I’ll even throw in a tip for a job well done." Despite the annoyance in his voice, you don't doubt he'll do just that. "But that doesn’t mean I trust you anymore. I trusted you once, and you went rogue. I let you go now, that means I expect you to keep my secrets. Don't you go singing if Shepherd puts you in a chair. You got that?"

You glance up out of the corner of your eye at Soap, whose hands are still clenched in tight fists at his sides. "If Shepherd puts me in a chair, he's the one who's gonna sing. Not me."

Graves chuckles. "You're a good soldier, 86, but you can't take on an old war dog like Shepherd. Leave that to someone more qualified."

"Like who? You?"

"As I said, you best steer clear. I don't want to hear your name again." His voice hardens, and you hear your old commander again. "Good luck, kid. You'll need it. And give Soap hell."

You toss the phone back to Horangi. He listens to what Graves has to say. Then, eyes meeting yours for a moment, he wordlessly moves out away from the river, leaving you weary with relief. It's over. Finally.

Soap watches him disappear into the trees. Then, he looks back at you, alone and shivering on the ice. You look half-dead, bleeding, and your lips are near blue. He wants to make his way to you, but the ice is scarcely holding you. It won't hold him, too.

"Oi," Soap calls. His voice is rough with anxiety. "Get over here. You're gonnae freeze to death even if you don't fall through."

You blink up at him. Standing in the rising sun the way he is now, he looks like someone’s guardian angel. Yours? You'd like very much to be wrapped in his wings.

You make your way over to the bank, but the rocky ledge up is slippery and icy. Behind you, between the ice where you're standing and the bank, there's a yawning gap. To your left, there's a bridge, but snow has already melted off the surface of the ice, and it looks thin. "There's no way up," you call. "But downriver..."

"No’ a chance in hell I’m going to let you try to cross that," Soap says as he approaches the edge. "You'll be swept away and drown, hen. You're not in any condition to swim, and even if you were, that river's too bloody fast to risk it."

"Then what do you suggest?"

His eyes sweep over the river once more. It's wide; too wide to attempt a jump across. The ice has fallen in, leaving it almost impossible to make it to the bank. It isn't safe. The longer you stand there, the more the ice cracks under you. He admires your guts for putting yourself on the line like that to get back to him, but damn you. His blood pressure has never been higher.

Soap throws off his pack and slings his gear onto the bank. "I'll pull you up."

"But..."

"But nothing." With the adrenaline still pumping through his system, Soap thinks nothing of the risk of the bank collapsing under you both with his added weight. The only thing on his mind is getting you back in one piece. "We both know damn well, if I was the one on the ice now, you'd already be down there trying to help me, so for once, just shut up and let me help you."

Can't argue with that.

He pulls out an ice hook--mountaineering equipment; he was prepared to climb this mission, luckily--and offers it to you.

You toss the grenade as far as you can in the opposite direction. Then you raise your hands to grasp the rope. He's holding the sharp end and giving you the handle. You try to keep hold, but as he lifts, your bloodied hands slip just as the grenade explodes nearby, too close, spiderwebbing the ice with a final crack.

You land hard, break through, and disappear under the freezing water.

Soap has never known panic faster than when he sees you go under.

He dives after you. He has to get you back to the surface before whatever air you had in your lungs gives out. Your survival is his survival.

He finds you in the rushing black abyss when your fingers hook around his sleeve. Wrapping his hands around your arms, Soap anchors you to his chest.

You come to in his arms. You're colder than you ever have been in your life. Your fingertips tingle in pain and numbness. He's carrying you ashore somehow--far downriver, thinner ice--and he ducks into an old cabin with you in his arms.

Soap kicks the door shut behind him and moves into the cabin to set you on the floor, propping your back against the wall. His hands work fast as he pulls out his knife to cut away your soaked thermal clothes and gear. You dip in and out of consciousness until he wads up a fistful of gauze and packs it into your side wound. The sudden pain chokes you. Then a wave of nausea washes over you. You’d like nothing more than to tell him where precisely he can shove that gauze, but you’re too lightheaded.

"You with me, hen?" His gruff voice wavers. "I need you to stay awake."

He gathers you up in his arms and lifts you into his lap. It's a tight fit, wedged underneath the frosty window and between a table and an upturned stool. You register the warmth of his skin on yours and dimly realize he's stripped both of you almost bare, huddling around you to prevent hypothermia.

You soak up Soap’s body heat instantly. He's a furnace, and he needs to be, given the state you're in. He tucks you as close as he can. You're both shivering, but he doesn't care. He can be cold as long as you're warm. His broad body shields you from the drafts leaking into the decrepit cabin.

"No, no, eyes open." He tilts your face up as your eyes flutter. "Don't go passin' out on me."

You gaze up at him in your stupor. Maybe it's the blood loss, but even through your own pain and frustration, he's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

"You have really odd eyes," you mutter. "Like blueberry soft serve."

Oh, you're definitely delirious. Maybe concussed.

But he can't deny the look you're giving him right now makes his stomach flip. The sight of you in his lap, your frost-scorched fingers wrapped idly around his ID tag and staring up at him like he's just pulled the moon out of the sky for you... it's the first time he’s seen you with your guard down.

He swallows and keeps you pressed against his skin. There’s a lot of blood. He can’t tell what’s yours and what isn’t. "You're in no shape to flatter me."

You hum, your fingers dabbing idly at a smear of blood on his chest.

He doesn't move to stop you. Instead, his eyes flick down to your hand. Your fingers leave a trail of sparks over everywhere you touch.

With a soft sigh, Soap catches your wrist. "Quit it, hen."

"Quit what?"

"Teasin'. Makin' me wish you'd put those hands to other uses," he says, voice quiet and rough. It's just you and him in the little cabin. The world is far away. His thumb rubs against the inside of your wrist, trying to bring some warmth back into your skin. "You're in no shape to be feelin' me up, either."

Your head lolls against his shoulder. "Maybe it's the perfect time. Maybe we won't get another time."

Hearing you say that twists his insides into knots. He leans down to rest his forehead against yours. "Maybe you just need to shut up and let me take care of you. Don't talk like that." His voice leaves no room for argument. He tightens his grip on you, pressing you closer as if he can somehow press that into your skin by sheer will alone. "There'll be plenty of times for you to get your hands on me."

"Mm." You tuck into him tighter. You'd be mortified with yourself if you weren't half-dead from blood loss. "Sorry."

He exhales into your hair, pressing chaste kisses there.

You're practically in his lap, the two of you tangled into each other from head to foot in the space under the window. He's surrounded by the smell of you. It's a soothing presence in all that surrounds him.

He shouldn't want to touch you, shouldn't want to take advantage of your weakness--but the thought of having you so open and wanting, of you willingly in his arms, makes something in him ache. Makes the selfish parts of him scream.

"You're a pain in my arse," he says. He focuses on taking inventory of your wounds, brushing over your arms with his touch to assess the damage. "You gonnae bleed out on me?"

You shiver a little as he drags you closer by your bare thigh. "Wouldn't be the worst way to go."

"Oi," he snaps in warning. He slides his hand up your side, checking for bleeding. It’s just as much a caress over your bare skin. He has to ignore how his skin tingles every time the curve of your body slides against his in that tantalizing way. Something in his lower belly tightens. "You don't get to tap out after makin' me go through all this trouble for you. You're livin' through tonight or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else." He moves his hand up to the base of your throat, his large, calloused fingers wrapping around your neck and tilting your chin up to look at him. He fixes his blue eyes on yours to take in the dazed expression on your face. "I'll drag your arse out of hell and tan it until you can't sit right."

You're too weary to laugh, but you rest your scuffed cheek on his thumb, and it pushes your lips into a smirk. "All for me?"

"Aye. Hell of a lot more trouble than your pretty face should be worth."

You pull free and rest your head on his shoulder again. "Where do you live?"

"Glasgow," he says. "Not sure I should be tellin' you that."

You trace his chest around the chain of his ID tag. So many muscles. "Probably not."

"And what about you? Do I get to know?"

"No. Maybe. If we get out of here."

"Yeah? Well, you're not goin' anywhere with this wound. Bleedin' out, nearly froze to death, and still mouthin' off. No idea how to shut up and be good." He looks down at the injury, assessing how bad it really is in the dim light of the cabin. "You lost a lot of blood. I bet you feel tired." He brushes your hair off your face. "Stay awake a bit longer. The boys'll be here soon."

"I shouldn't," you mutter.

Soap doesn't miss the slurring of your words. He knew the blood loss would affect you, but he was hoping for more time before he had to really worry. "Shouldn't stay? Too late to get away from me now," he says, trying to keep his tone casual. Your skin is too cold for comfort. The gauze in your wound soaking through with blood can't mean anything good. "I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. Sure as hell not letting you out of my sight. You've got a lot to repay me for."

You try to keep your eyes open. Every blink is more sluggish than the last. "Like what?"

"Runnin' away and makin' me chase after you, for one. Puttin' yourself in the line of fire for me, second. Takin' a swim in a frozen river. Scared me to death." He presses his lips to the crown of your head, a gentle, chaste touch at odds with the possessive, dominating instinct he can feel creeping into his thoughts. You're vulnerable right now, something he should never want, but part of him wonders if he’d ever have caught up with you without this. "Aye, you owe me. First thing we do once you're patched up? We have a long talk. We have a whole hell of a lot we need to say to one another. And you'll answer every question I ask you."

"I dunno if you'll like the stuff I say," you mutter.

"Hardly matters. You’re plenty keen on spittin’ fire at me as it is. No reason you can’t keep tellin’ me everything I don’t want tae hear."

Another shiver wracks your body.

Soap rubs your arms. "You gotta give your word you stay awake for me, aye? Stay here."

His radio beeps nearby. You huff. "Fine."

"Fine." He leans over to grab his radio and tries to keep an arm around your shoulders to keep you warm as he does. He keeps you cradled against his chest as he responds to Price.

"Soap here."

You don't hear the conversation. Instead, you listen to Soap's voice vibrate through his chest. He speaks to Price in hushed tones, talking about your condition and the team's ETA.

Price has a laundry list of questions, but Soap manages to wrangle them into holding off until they have everyone back on base. No sense exhausting you on a mission that's already been a shitshow. Finally, they're done. Soap lets the radio go to focus entirely on you again. "Still with me?"

"How long do we have?"

"Shouldn't be too much longer," he says. He checks your side again. The coldness of the air has soaked into the wet gauze. You shiver again. It makes something in him ache. "ETA's about ten minutes out."

You pull his lips down to yours and kiss him.

He's surprised, but he doesn't pull back--not from you. He lets you kiss him. Your taste seeps into his brain and turns all rational thought to white noise. One hand cups your jaw with a surprising gentleness, and the other slides behind your waist to keep you against his body. He's gentle--you need to be handled with care right now.

He pulls back before he loses himself in the desire to deepen the kiss. His eyes search your face, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

"You're lucky you're injured," he murmurs. "Or you'd be in a very different kind of trouble right now."

You shiver, but not with the cold. Just that one kiss has you feeling much warmer. You touch your name where it's written on his arm. Then you curl your fingers around the back of his neck and pull yourself closer. "Hold onto that thought for later," you murmur. "Give me something to wait for."

Then you kiss him again.

...

← previous part / [part 13] / epilogue →

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

thank you <3

[sir3n-s]

Steve knew that one day he wouldn't be able to refuse to play dnd. 

Especially since he was now dating a dragons master or whatever it's called. He can't keep up with all the names. 

And don't get him wrong Eddie is great and dnd sounds sort of interesting but he's been against playing for so long he doesn't want to give up the act. 

But he if was going to give up the act he was going to get something in return. 

The kids were all gathered at Steve's house for a movie night. 

They had 2 different kinds of movie night, one where they all actually watched movies and the other where the movie was just there for background noise while everyone either talked or worked on something.

Tonight Mike, Will, Lucas, and Dustin were making character sheets for Eddie's new campaign while trying to get Steve to join as well. 

"Just play one campaign" Dustin whined for the 20th time that night. And probably the 100th time in his life. 

"Are you ever going to let this go?" 

"No! You have to play one now that you're dating Eddie. Aren't couples supposed to try out each other's hobbies?" He got him there.

"He's got a point Stevie," Eddie says finally engaging in the conversation after being glued to the TV. Despite the volume being low he was still watching it with intense interest. 

"You're right, couples should try each other's hobbies" Steve agreed. 

"Uh oh," Robin says without looking up from the puzzle she was going with Nancy, knowing what he was going to say next since he ran his plan through her first.

"I will play a campaign but!" He says before the kids could get too excited, "you all have to play basketball with me" 

They all groaned. Except Lucas who was completely fine with this arrangement.

-

It was Saturday and they were all at basketball court in the park. Most of them were wearing their gym clothes. 

Except for Lucas and Steve who actually had basketball jerseys. 

Max and el were also playing since they wanted to join despite the fact they won't play dnd either. 

And who was he to say no to them? The more the merrier.

Robin and Nancy were sitting at the bench in the shade, Robin saying she refuses to play a sport because she's too clumsy and Nancy saying Robin shouldn't have to sit alone. But Steve knows they just want to talk shit about them. 

He wasnt going to stop them, he knew it was a lost cause to try to get them to join as well. 

The only rule they had before playing was that Steve and Lucas couldn't be on the same team, 'it wouldn't be fair' Dustin said and everyone else agreed. Even Robin and Nancy. 

So they ended up being the team captainsin on each team. 

Steve's team was Max, Mike, and El while Lucas had Will, Dustin, and Eddie. 

And it was going well! Better than Steve thought it would. Especially with how unathletic most of them were. 

Steves team was winng, and despite Dustin whinning about how it was because Steve was older and had more experience he hasn't even made all the points. 

He did score the first point but El scored the last 2. 

It's was 3 to 1. The only point they had was from Lucas. Eddie couldn't throw for shit, Dustin kept dropping the ball, and Will was actually doing pretty well but was kinda being ignored because Lucas and Dustin wouldn't stop arguing.

He can tell eddie was getting annoyed with having to constantly break up their fights.

Their team only needed one more point to win and Mike had the ball.

"Pass it to me!" He yells towards Mike and he does pass it to him. Just way too hard. 

Because it goes past his hands and right towardd his face. Smacking him hard in the nose and knocking him over. 

He hears everyone gasp as he groans on the ground.

He heard the tapping of people feet on concrete, and on grass, get close to him. 

"Holy fuck are you okay?" Despite his eyes being closed he can easily tell that's Eddie's voice.

"Damn Mike why did you throw it so hard" he hears max says. He also hears a light punch but doesn't comment on it this time.

"I didnt mean to!" 

"I'm okay" Steve says while getting up, grabbing his nose when he felt something on his lip. Blood, of course.

"That would've been a great throw if I was a little bit farther from you," he says towards Mike as Eddie helps him off the floor and leads him to the bench despite saying he was okay to keep playing.

Everyone gather arounds him as El hands him some of the napkins she keeps in her pocket.

"If this is how you all act everytime someone gets hurt it's going to get extremely annoying as we keep playing" Everyone makes weird faces, except for Robin who was grinning.

And Nancy because Robin definitely told her. 

He smiles. "You guys are going to want me to play more than one campaign, so you will all be playing more games of basketball."

While Lucas smiled, everyone else groaned.

[demonic0angel]

OWO, you take prompts? How about this?

Danny was born a premature and with a heart defect. The Fenton's try to make a clone so they can get his heart transplanted without fear of organ rejection. But they end up making a full on baby and don't have it in them to kill another version of their son just to save their original boy. Danny ends up pulling through and the clone gets filed as a twin that no one noticed was still in when Maddie was in the hospital. So Maddie "had him at home" and went back so he could be medically examined. The new parents feel ashamed of what they initially were going to do and give the child to a cousin who couldn't conceive.

Tim Drake doesn't know he's adopted until a DNA test reveals that the 'Meta' running around Gotham is his 'twin brother'. And the babies he has, that he does babysitting gigs with, are his twin's 'children'.

(I don’t exactly take prompts, but I don’t mind if you send them. Also, I’m going to assume that the twin’s “children” are Dan and Dani, since that seems to be what people prefer.)

“… are you serious?” Tim asked through the phone.

“Yep,” Dick said, sounding like a mixture of amusement and concern, “How do you feel about it?”

Tim thought about it and then responded, “I guess it makes sense why my parents neglected me so much, since I’m adopted.”

“Awww, baby bird…”

“I’m fine, Dick,” Tim said. He picked Dante and set him on a baby chair. Said child stared at him with electric blue eyes, scowling with his pudgy cheeks as if he wanted to tear Tim apart with his nonexistent teeth. Tim rubbed his chubby cheek with a finger before moving away, still holding the phone to his ear as he picked up the other baby.

Dick continued, “Yeah… also, Bruce says that he’s sorry that he checked your blood without telling you.”

Tim snorted, “No, he didn’t.” Bruce was never sorry for that kind of stuff.

Dick sighed. “Yeah, I lied. Sorry. But he did look guilty! He didn’t want to tell you at first, but Jason convinced him so I’m the one telling you right now.”

Tim hummed, picking up little Ella, who was stubbornly holding onto a small cardboard box. Tim let her hold it and placed her onto the baby chair next to her brother, who immediately reached out for her. It was kinda funny seeing how clingy he was compared to his sister.

“We have more information too. We tracked down the new meta and we’ve been looking into his routes. We suspect that he’s living around here, in Bristol,” Dick said. “We think he’s living in an apartment, at XXX on XXXX street, possibly with a roommate named Jazz.”

Tim paused, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was in the same building, babysitting a bunch of kids on the same street, who also lived with another woman named Jazz. “Uhh. What else?”

“We think he lives on the third floor and possibly also works at a pizza delivery place? Or maybe a fast food restaurant? He’s been flying back and forth between two places besides the apartment.”

Tim began to sweat. “Uh… anything else?”

“There’s a high chance that his name is Danny Nightingale, and Jasmine Nightingale is in on the fact that he’s a meta.”

Fuck.

Tim looked at his niece and nephew with a new light, eyes wide. Ella beamed at him, giggling while Dante just glared.

Welp. At least Bruce would be happy to be a grandfather now. Even if it was to Tim’s secret meta twin brother.

[sugurusfavemonkey]

A Helping Hand (Part 2) read part 1 here summary: after a long winding wait you and Gojo finally take your relationship to bed the next level. pairing: Satoru Gojo x reader word count: 4.5k warnings: MDNI; fluff and love confessions, cursing, oral (female receiving), creampie (this is a work of fiction, wrap it before you tap it irl!); rough s&x; canon divergence - both Gojo and reader are over 18 when Gojo takes in the Fushiguro siblings.

a/n: I lied, put your clothes back on... we're going on a fluff ride (roughly 1.6k words) before the sexy bits make an appearance (the other 2.9k), because, apparently, I cannot control myself once I start writing.

Unfortunately for you and Gojo, things did NOT progress as expected that night.

Tsumiki insisted they should help you with the cleaning after dinner and dessert and then launched into an animated retelling of the debate club happenings earlier that day as she dutifully dried the dishes you handed her.

It was many hours later before the kids finally were ready for bed.

You put both of them to their beds with a parting forehead kiss for each - the embarrassed blush on Megumi's cheeks never failing in making you chuckle.

By then you were exhausted, hand covering a big yawn that had Satoru laughing.

He threw his arm over your shoulders, using the leverage to pull you away from the kids' bedroom as he closed the door behind you with his other hand.

"Tired, sweets?" 

"Completely wiped." you admitted, letting your head fall onto his shoulder, the realization of just how well you fit under his arm making you giddy "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Well, I guess I just wanted to have a wild night of rowdy pleasure with my new boyfriend, but I can't even fathom the idea of keeping up with his stamina right now."

"This boyfriend of yours sounds like a dream." Satoru's casual comment made you snort with constrained laughter. The man really had the greatest ego you'd ever seen.

"Except when he's being a self-centered dimwit." You tried to untangle yourself from under his arm, but Satoru had a different idea. You momentarily thought you were falling until the realization that he had reached his free arm underneath your knees and picked you up before you had time to protest set. A yelp of surprise the only noise you managed to release as you threw your own arms around his neck for support.

"I'm sure he has good reason to think so highly of himself." Satoru spoke as he rearranged his hold to support your weight with one arm under your rear in an impromptu display of strength, so he could open the door to the other bedroom. 

"Stop praising yourself, Gojo." You chastised, but there was no heat behind your words.

He kicked the door shut behind yourselves as soon as you crossed the threshold. "Nuh-uh. That's Satoru to you. We went over that already." 

"Not when you're being insufferable, no." Your words were barely discernible through the yawn you let out as you let yourself relax against him. 

"Hmm. Let's get you to bed, sweets."

"Yeah? You gonna do unspeakable things to me in the master bedroom, Gojo?" Your words were slurred, breath fanning teasingly against his neck, eyelids heavy with sleep.

"It's Satoru," he insisted, "and no. Not tonight. Even though I'd like nothing else than just taking you, you're so sleepy you sound drunk right now."

"Look at you being all gentlemanly. I though Nanami was the last one left of those." 

"Why are you bringing up Nanamin when we're talking about sex?!" Satoru sounded absolutely disgusted at the notion and you would probably have laughed at that if you had the energy to do so.

"You jealous?" you hummed, eyes already closed.

"Pfff! As if I had any reason to be jealous of that emo nerd."

"I don't know... I think he has his charms." just as you finished uttering the words Satoru unceremoniously dropped you on the bed, "what the fuck, Satoru?!"

"That's for talking about other men in my presence." He huffed, a cute pout on his lips.

"Oh my god, Satoru! Are you really going to be that much of a possessive boyfriend? What did I even get myself into?" There was no way you were letting him live his near tantrum at the mere mention of Nanami down.

"Too late to back off now, sweets." He playfully stated, leaning over you teasingly before dropping to the other side of the bed and making you bounce on the mattress again.

You turned your head, staring at his annoyingly perfect side profile as he brought his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles. You mused his words for a second, focusing specifically on the nickname he used. The pet name Satoru had always used when referring to you

"Why do you always call me that?" Though you always wondered the nickname's origins that was the first time you proffered the question aloud. 

"You know how much I love my sweets." His matter-of-fact demeanor threw you in for a loop.

"Who would have thought you could be so corny? I'm serious, Satoru."

"So am I," he turned his head to face you as well, "I think I've loved from the moment we've met." his small confession has your heart stuttering in your chest, your smile faltering a bit at the vulnerability etched to that simple whispered phrase.

"Now, that just can't be true. If I remember correctly, you called me weak and said I'd never be able to keep up with you and Su-" you cut yourself off before you said something that would potentially strike a sour note in an otherwise wholesome occasion. 

Still, you weren't fast enough. You saw the moment Satoru's face fell, his expression becoming somber. He looked away from you and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, well... everyone is weak compared to me."

You sighed bitterly, annoyed at yourself for spoiling the moment.

The heavy silence that fell over you begged to be ruptured, so you did just that:

"I shouldn't ha-"

"You're not-"

Apparently Satoru had the same idea because the both of you started at the same time, pausing once you realized the other was also talking. Satoru was the one to break the repeated tense quiet following the sudden standstill: 

"I was wrong. You're not weak. You never were." his voice was quiet, serious. So different to his usual laidback disposition. It was a night for many firsts, it seemed.

"I mean, I'll never really get anywhere near your level." You shrugged, showing you understood his point.

"Still. You are strong. You're efficient and resourceful. And you care. You care so much sometimes I'm scared you'll wear yourself thin." Somehow you knew he wasn't just talking about your prowess as a sorcerer. "Just like- just like him."

"Satoru. Baby. Look at me." You pleaded, turned your entire body this time and tenderly grasped his chin, coaxing him into looking your way once more.

"I'm not leaving." You stared intently into his impossibly blue eyes as you made the vow. "You won't get rid of me that easily."

His hand found yours on his face and gently entwined your fingers before guiding them to his lips, where he placed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

You're not sure if he ever said anything in reply because you soon doze off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

Satoru was no longer in bed with you when you woke up the next morning to a chime on your phone.

You sighed and sprawled onto your back, hand skimming over your face to find creases in the shape of the ruffled pillowcase under your head and a bit of dried drool at the corner of your lips before finally picking up the offending gadget to find 4 new messages from one strongest hoe🫸🟣:

Leave it to Satoru to make you go from embarrassed to delighted in less than a minute.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

You spent the rest of your Saturday with Megumi and Tsumiki, thankful you weren't summoned for anything. You were suspicious that had something to do with Gojo, he probably took on more curses just to spare you - it would explain the two whole days of a job when he usually handled curses in less than a minute.

Sunday came around and Satoru called you by noon, letting you know he threatened the elders into leaving the two of you free at least up until Monday and also asked Shoko to watch over the kids for the night.

"Huh. The damn curse is tougher than I thought. Gotta go finish this. See ya tonight. Love ya, sweets!" He ended the call before you even processed his words, your heart skipping a beat.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

You had left Tsumiki and Megumi back at the apartment in Saitama with Shoko and went back to your own home in Tokyo to get ready for your first date with Satoru a few hours before.

The clock had just hit 7pm and you were anxiously pacing the living room back and forth when there was a knock to your door. Your feet carried you forward without you even noticing, still lost inside your own head.

"I love you." You snapped as soon as you opened the door for him, immediately regretting the outburst at Satoru's smug face.

"That would have been awkward if it wasn't me. What happened to hello?" He laughed extending the bouquet of red roses in his hands to you.

"You fucking hung up on me before I could say it back and this has been hammering in my head ever since." you explained with a small shrug, cheeks going warm in spite of your attempt at nonchalance as you took the offered flowers to arrange them in a vase.

You put the arrangement on the center of your dinning room table after filling a priori empty container with water from the kitchen sink and it wasn't until his hands found your waist and Satoru welded his chest you back that you realized he has followed close behind you as you moved.

"Say that again." his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, warm breath causing a shiver to run down your spine, your hands falling to the table for support when your knees wobbled.

"Say what exactly?"

"Don't tease me, sweets." His warm lips leisurely glided down with each word. You gasped, head falling back against his shoulder and leaving your neck open to the butterfly kisses he purposefully left to the column of your throat.

"I l-love you, Satoru." You mumbled brokenly.

His grasp on your waist went impossibly tight, his breath stuttering and a low groan erupting from his chest.

"You have no idea what you do to me, sweets."

He sounded absolutely wrecked and the knowledge that you were the one causing Gojo Satoru to lose his cool made you throw your caution to the wind. You pushed your hips back against him and, sure enough, you can feel his hardness pressing back into you.

"Hmm. I think I may have an idea." You crooned teasingly.

"Brat!" He reward your taunt with a bite to the junction of your shoulder to your neck, immediately followed by his tongue lapping away at the harsh sting.

You stretched one arm backwards, hand reaching for the short hair on the nape of his neck as he relentlessly attacked your neck.

"I love you so fucking much, sweets. Have I mentioned how fucking stunning you look right now? I mean, you're always hot, but this look... I just wanna bend you over and fuck you right on this table." there was something nearly unhinged to the way he babbled, like those words had been stuck at his throat for too long and he was finally letting loose.

"And what's stopping you?"

"I don't know, maybe the reservation I made for our dinner in 30 minutes." Even though Satoru tried to stop your advances, the way his hips kept lazily rocking against yours sent a different message. He nuzzled against your neck, inhaling the sweet perfume you sprayed just for him and mumbling something about how you smell good enough to eat under his breath.

"I can't think of a lot of things we can accomplish in 30 minutes."

"Ugh! You'll be the death of me. I'm trying to be responsible for once here!" He nearly whined.

You turned around in his grasp and had to crane your head to look into his eyes with the way he looms over you "Gojo. I don't need you to be responsible or a fancy restaurant date to make this real. I think we're way past that anyway. I just need you."

He seemed conflicted, eyes searching yours through the dark lenses of the sunglasses still perched to his nose.

"Please."

"Fuck it." Your last plea was all it took to break his resolve.

In a flash, Satoru had hoisted you up and sat you at the edge of the table, slotting himself in between your parted legs and lips taking yours possessively, his tongue shoving itself into your mouth, savoring your taste. His hands were suddenly all over you, sliding and grabbing at you like he owns you. You readily opened up for him.

When you finally did part ways, you felt his thumb tracing your swollen bottom lip. He stared at the skin, glistening with your mixed saliva in a daze for a moment before his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

"I wanna taste you. Will you let me taste you, sweets?" Satoru's hands found and toyed with the button to your pants, eyes begging silently for your assent.

You nodded mutely, throat suddenly dry.

The green light you gave was all the encouragement he needed to drop to his knees, finger dexterously popping open the button and sliding down the zipper before nearly pawing the offending piece of clothing down your legs. Satoru didn't have the patience to remove your boots, so the cloth remained bunched up at your ankles. He nibbled at the skin of your inner thigh, slowly inching closer to where you needed him the most.

"'toru!" You whined, letting yourself fall back against the table, head knocking loudly against the wood.

"What is it, sweets? What do you want."

"Touch me!"

"But I am touching you."

"You little- Aw!" You complained when he bit into your thigh as a warning, head lifting from the table to glare half-heartedly at the man in between your thighs.

"Watch it." Satoru alerted, a dangerous glint to his electric blue eyes.

"Ugh. Fine." You relented, not wanting to test him that night. You'd have plenty of time for that on other occasion. "Touch my pussy, Satoru."

"Have you no manners?" He rested his cheek against your thigh, his earlier rush hidden beneath his commitment to have you begging for him.

"Pleas- Oh my god!" You bellowed when he finally dove in, practically french kissing your pussy. His tongue easily found your clit, making random shapes against the bundle of nerves that had you seeing stars behind closed eyelids.

He moaned loudly and shamelessly when your hand found purchase on his soft white hair, encouraging you to pull harder as his own fingers dug into the soft skin of your thighs.

Satoru let go of your hips to hitch your legs up, spread your thighs wider and then one of his hands roamed down until he's brushing your entrance, whining pathetically at the slick that gathered on the finger prodding at your hole. The muscles on your thighs tightened in response and you forced yourself up on your elbows so you could take the delicious show playing out down there.

His free hand reached underneath your sweater, slowly gliding upwards, finger teasing the edge of your bra while his mouth changed its path and traveled up and under your sweater, kissing, licking, nibbling at the skin of your tummy and ribs. The comical sight of his head disappearing beneath the warm fabric had a giggle bubbling up at his silliness, but the feeling of the pad of his thumb striking wet and sticky across your clit draws out a sound deep from your chest instead, something sweet and guttural that made Satoru wish he could record to hear over and over again.

Gojo pulled your bra down and didn't waste a second before taking one of your nipples in his warm mouth at the same time he pressed his ring and middle finger into you, curling them upwards to touch that sweet spot and thumb rocking against your clit with each thrust of his hand. You were squirming as he pressed down on your clit just hard enough. A cry left your lips as the fingers of his other hand pinched your nipple.

His actions made it seem as if he's not sure where to touch first, like a man starved, Satoru needs to feel all of you.

Without warning, he popped out from under the sweater, raising himself up and using both hands to reach for the offending piece of clothing and pulling it up and off of you before reaching behind your back for the clasp of your bra. You sat up again to help him remove it as he slid the straps down your arms.

"You're so hot." Satoru sounded winded, wide eyes traveling all over your body in awe.

"Toru. I need you, please." You begged when you could no longer take his gawking.

Satoru smirked deviously and you nearly regretted pleading with him, knowing he was scheming something.

"I Got you, sweets" was all he said before abruptly picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, hand smacking your ass with a resounding slap sound. Your shriek only making him laugh. "Let's move this to bed so I can fuck you into the mattress."

Soon you joined in on his laughter even as he jolted you around. Just as it has always been, Satoru had a way of making any moment with you lighter.

When you reached your bedroom he thoughtfully placed you on the mattress, kneeling by the bed to help you with your boots and finally remove the pants and underwear that has still been stuck at your ankles up until then.

Once you were completely bare you expected him to do the same. Instead, he passed you by and sat down against the headboard, patting his lap excitedly when you twisted around to follow his movements with a curious gaze.

"You're still too dressed, Toru." You frowned.

"Yeah, and? Come here before I make you, brat."

Even though you were unsure of what he had planned, you trusted Satoru enough to do as he told you to. You got up and walked around the bed, slightly sheepish at your state of undress, but the astonished look on his face gave you enough confidence to move forward.

You went to sit on his lap, but Gojo was faster, hands picking you up by your waist and settling you down, knees on each side of his legs, so you have no choice but to settle your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself balanced.

Satoru hummed in delight as he pushed you back and forth until you got the idea. You braced your hands against his chest, your hips taking up the rocking against his hard length through his dress pants, your bare slit dripping all over his bulge.

“That’s it, sweets,” Satoru grunted, eyes hungrily following your movement “Get yourself nice and wet and ready for me. Rub your sweet little cunt all over my cock.” At his urging, you rolled your hips harder, eyes falling closed as you took your pleasure from his body.  

Your knees spread even further so you could press down on him harder, your slick staining his pants.

When you opened your eyes, you found Satoru's blue stare already on you, an overjoyed smile etched onto his face.

"I'm gonna fuck you so deep you're gonna be feeling me for weeks."

You moaned at the dark promise, unconsciously speeding up your hips as your hands grasped the lapels of his shirt in tight fists.

"Does the thought turn you on, sweets?" His hips thrust up from below, forcing another moan from your lips. "Having your pussy so abused you can still feel it for days on end afterwards?"

“Oh god,” you moaned, letting your head loll back. But Satoru wasn’t having none of that. He brought his hand to your throat, tugging your head until you had no choice but to meet his blazing gaze.

"Hmmm... I wanna feel you, Toru." You sobbed, desperate for more. “I need it—I need you, please.”

In an instant, Satoru had pushed you onto your back, one of his hands pinning you to the bed by your throat as he forcefully snapped his hips against yours, your head towards the foot of the bed.

You reached up, yanking at the buttons of his shirt and pulling it free from his slacks with a hushed demanding "off."

"I should have know you would be bossy even when underneath me." He chuckled, letting go of you momentarily to shrug off the shirt. Meanwhile, you went for his belt, deft fingers unbuckling it before unbuttoning and pulling the zipper on his pants down. "Eager much?"

"Satoru. We've been dancing around each other for years, you can't blame me for being impatient now."

"Trust me. I get it." He licked his lips, eyes damn near burning a path through your skin as his gaze travelled your form. "You have no idea how many times I've pictured you just like that, naked and wet for me."

"Yeah? You jacked off to the thought of me?" Your pleased smile was not lost on him.

"Like I said, so many times." Satoru admitted unashamedly. "And I gotta say... the real thing is even better than I imagined."

You wanted to giggle at the notion the both of you had unknowingly been pining for each other at the same time for so long, but the sound got stuck in your throat when he finally bared himself to you.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of him bare. You watched intently as he hastily stood up to kick off his shoes before pushing his pants, underwear and socks down and throwing it all behind himself. Revealing corded thighs and a magnificent long, twitching cock, so big you were glad you were wet and ready for him.

A soft smirk played on your lips as he leaned over you, one knee between your legs, arms caging you in against the comforter.

He gripped his cock and rubbed the bulbous tip up and down your slit, teasing your clit and making you whimper. You rocked your hips up against his dick, trying to find the angle to take him inside you. When that didn’t work, you resorted to begging, whimpering, “I'm so empty. I need you inside me, please Toru."

"Yeah, want me to fill you up sweets?"

You nodded, tangling your legs behind him and attempting to draw him in. For once in your life, you cursed his superior strength, because he sure was having a great time making you desperate for his cock.

“Toru,” you cried with a gasp, your arms around his neck trying to pull him closer, "Please!”

"Since you asked so nicely..."

Satoru captured your lips, pouring his passion and desire for you into a searing kiss. As his lips slid against yours, he pressed the tip against your entrance. 

He drank down your sounds of pleasure as he pushed inside you, inch by inch. You broke away with a gasp when it became too much.

"You're taking me so well, sweets." He mumbled almost incoherently.

Brows knitted and thighs trembling, your eyes didn’t leave his as you basked in the shattering, yet sublimely pleasurable sensation, slowly allowing yourself to relax around him.

Gentle caresses of his thumb to your tight nub made you feel like the smallest push could tip you over edge and into ecstasy. Tight circles that didn't relent until he could bury himself inside you entirely, the air getting punched out of your lungs once he bottomed out.

"Fuck. So tight for me." Satoru remarked with a low moan at the feeling of your walls firmly hugging his dick. "You good?" He checked when you didn't say anything.

"Y-yeah. You can move."

He started off slow but worked up to a gentle but intense rhythm soon enough, wanting you to be comfortable above anything else.

"You feel so fucking good." Satoru praised, one hand moving to hold onto your wrists and push them together against the bed above your head.

"Satoru. Don't stop. Please, don't stop." You begged.

"Don't worry." He rasped, "I don't plan to stop any time soon." timing the words with each frantic drive of his hips, gradually picking up speed until you felt his heavy sack slapping feverishly against you.

His girth stretched you out and filled you to the brink with each hard stroke until there were tears trickling down your cheeks as you drowned in the overwhelming pleasure of it.

"You crying?" Satoru quipped, peering down at you with a smirk.

You swore you would have slapped him if your hands weren't being held down by the very man torturing you with delectation. You couldn't even respond, only unintelligible garble spilling past your lips.

"What? Have a fucked you dumb, sweets?"

Instead of allowing you time to recoup, Satoru gave into whatever restraint had been holding him back and lost himself in the pleasure of your warmth, thrusting with abandon. He just kept going until your moans turned into cries, the lewd and sloppy sonance of your coupling reverberating throughout the otherwise quiet room. His free hand rubbing at your clit and, too fast for your liking, sending your body straight to cloud nine. 

Satoru let his forehead rest against yours while he rutted into your body.

The pleasure you felt so grand it had you unconsciously trying to scoot away, but Satoru was unwavering in his foraging, "Nuh-uh, come back here." he mumbled, dropping kiss after kiss to your lips.

"I-I can't. It's too much. Too bi-big!"

"You can do it, sweets. You're doing so-" He moaned, "good. You can give me one more. C'mon."

The grasp keeping your hands in place relented as his fingers extended, entwining with yours and making the experience that much more meaningful.

Your free hand went straight to his back, nails finding residence sliding down his back, a move which rewarded you with a hiss from the white haired sorcerer. Your legs wrapped around the backs of his thighs helped you meet him thrust for thrust, the two of you writhing together in a frenzy.

He looked at you like you were something meant to be cherished, his lips finding yours with wordless devotion, his tongue slipping into your mouth to slide against yours decadently.

It wasn't long before your eyes were rolling back into your skull and you sensed your thighs begin to tremble once more as you fell over the edge, white heat running through your veins and stars exploding in your vision. Satoru let go once he felt your walls fluttering widely against his cock and buried himself inside with a final thrust forward, warm ropes of cum painting your insides as he traded the firm motions of his thumb with a gentle bit of contact and, finally, halting it all to a complete standstill.

He fell forward, but still made sure not to completely crush you against the bed in a sweaty and jumbled pile.

Your thighs were still quivering when Satoru slid out of you and turned the both of you around so you lied on top of him, his fingers brushing against the skin of your back soothingly.

"Holy fuck." it's all you can say at first.

"Second that."

And then you're both laughing breathlessly, because there's so much love and happiness and oxytocin laden in that moment that you just feel high on it.

"I can't believe we haven't done this before." Satoru chortled, dropping a tender kiss to your head. "How am I suppose to get anything done now?"

"Get your head out of the gutter!" You chastised half-heatedly "I need some time to recover in between sessions. Speaking of which... I'm kinda hungry right now. Is it too late for that reservation now?"

"By nearly two hours, I'd say."

"Whatever. We can just order in."

a/n: this was much harder than I thought it would be to write. How do smut writers do it regularly??

[bugbyte]

This this this. I absolutely hold no ill will toward anyone who got a diagnosis in months. Everyone should have that option. Faster, really.

But it’s been hitting me lately about how many little oddities and weird injuries and other problems that made my life hell growing up were more than likely just undiagnosed EDS/POTS/the other muscular dystrophy situation I don’t want to think about yet.

There’s grief. Being told for decades that you just have weird knees, but being unable to explain why gym class makes you feel like you’re actually dying. I was a skinny little kid and I think doctors and gym teachers wrote it off as me just not wanting to try. I tried and I tried and I tried. I wanted to play a sport like my friends, and because that was apparently the only capital that would get you treated like a real person and serious student by the teachers and administrators. If I had known I couldn’t do it because of a disability, just, fuck. My self esteem would have been a whole lot better.

Doctors saying these kinds of things led me down a path of “well, I just have to work harder.” This turned into an escalator of “eat better” (actually helpful) and “work out more” (coulda been helpful with proper guidance.) So I decided over time to take it to an extreme so hard that no one could deny I wasn’t doing enough exercise: I started training to run marathons. And I did! Multiples of them! It was a unique and delicious hell.

Runner’s high is real, and so I’d spend the first 5 miles staving off agony through mind over matter, snacks, music. Eventually the bone-grinding pain turned to numbness and then the high feeling somewhere between miles 5 to 8, reliably. I could ride that for a while, but when it wore off, it wore off.

Whatever the remaining distance at that point felt like dragging my body through quicksand. Whatever pain I had at the start came back multiplied by ten. But seeing the folks around me, no one was having a great time at the end of the race and I assumed all of this was normal. I would be incapacitated for days afterward, but no one could tell me I hadn’t worked hard enough to get there.

I absolutely cannot do this now. I am sad because despite the pain and injuries, it was a lot of fun. I have no idea if I contributed damage to my body but I try not to think about it too hard because it’s so far in the past.

Anyway, to bring it back around, I guess my point is that not having a frame of reference for why your body seems “wrong” to you, and the people whose job it is to advise you about it just…don’t…can really, really make you spend a lot of time trying desperately to be “normal” and it can be potentially dangerous at worst, or at least a waste of time.

It took my entire life (with a decade in the middle where I gave up for a while) to find the right path and the right people to help me understand myself and my weirdo genetics.

I wonder a lot how my life could have been different if I had known more much sooner. But I try not to think too hard about it, either. Just keep moving forward like a shark, one of the things I’d repeat to myself during races. It still applies.

I’m going to be a bitch for a second, but when I’m conversing with someone newly diagnosed with MCAS/POTS post covid and they complain about “the long wait” to get diagnosed and that “long wait” is 3-4 months my entire brain blue screens.

Like on the one hand, yes those 3-4 months must have been so, so scary and I am so unbelievably glad we’re in a place where doctors know enough to reconize it now. Like truly, I am so sincere I am so happy for them.

But I’m also just like... 30 years, man.

I spent 30 years being told from the age of eight I was manifesting my allergic reactions through anxiety by health care professionals.

Fuck, five years ago when I was starving to death from how severe my MCAS had gotten an allergist told me it was anxiety.

And you got diagnosed in three months.

MONTHS

MONTHS

AND YOU’RE COMPLAINING

I’m not mad at them. I’m not. I’m just sad for myself.

But also, hey, yeah. If you come into an MCAS forum and wonder why a bunch of the old timers get upset when you complain it took months for a doctor to listen to you, this is why.

It's not that you deserved to wait longer. It's that we didn’t either and and sometimes even good changes can unearth a world of hurt.

[dazzlingjaeyun]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

brother's best friend!jay x fem!reader

genre: smut, MDNI!

warnings: mean!jay, a looot of bickering lol, degradation, jay is a little manipulative, nipple play?, oral (f & m receiving, head pusher!jay), unprotected sex (hell no), cumming inside (+ lmk if i missed anything!!)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: biggest thank you to my favorite jay girly, my other half and the one who motivated me to start writing on here in the first place. thank you for proofreading a lot and for letting me yap 24/7, this one's for you mwah @sudi109

↝ dazzlingjaeyun's bookshelf

mature content under cut, minors do NOT interact!

2:47am, your phone read when you grabbed it with a sigh after tossing and turning in your bed for what felt like an eternity. the heat in your room felt oppressing – the flimsy sheets might as well have been a double blanket and your pajamas felt like a winter coat despite barely covering any skin.

with a sigh, you got up from bed and tiptoed to the kitchen. with each step down the stairs you felt the air getting just a little cooler and your tense muscles relaxing just a little more.

you flicked on the light above the sink, before grabbing a glass from the top shelf. it slipped right through your sweaty palms and landed directly in the sink before you could catch it. it didn't break, but the noise cut through the silence of the night so loudly and suddenly that you were sure it could have woken up at least half of the neighborhood.

"fuck," you whispered to yourself, wiping off your sweaty palms on your silky shorts and carefully grabbing the glass from the sink.

just as you thought no one had heard your little accident, a sudden, sleep-laced voice broke the silence again and startled you to a point you almost dropped the glass another time.

"are you kidding me?"

you didn't have to turn around to know it was jay's oh so humble self standing in the kitchen door.

"enlighten me, what's your problem this time?" you asked, although you knew the answer. you kept your back to him as you filled the glass with ice cubes and cold water, waiting for him to reply.

jay's jaw clenched at your words. you had woken him up, just as he'd fallen asleep after hours of tossing and turning on the sofa, trying to somehow ignore the heat that pressed down on him like a weight too heavy to carry. and now you had the audacity to ask stupid questions?

"it took me forever to fall asleep and you wake me up cause you can't even hold onto a glass?" he snapped. his voice sounded less sleepy now – still raspy but regaining the usual edge he had to it whenever he was talking to you.

he was your brother's best friend and you'd known him since forever. you were sure the two of you had gotten along back then, when jake brought him over for the first time – sometime in his first year of high school when you were still in middle school. but just a little later, he'd started to pick fights with you every chance he got, which eventually led to him mostly ignoring you, and if he did talk to you, his voice always had that annoyed undertone.

for a moment, you didn't say anything, bringing the glass to your lips and taking a sip, letting the cold run down your throat and hoping it would somehow also cool off the anger that started to bubble up in your chest.

as you stayed silent, jay's gaze remained on you, only now noticing the light blue silk pajamas you were wearing. they were unnervingly short – more skin than fabric, really – and it annoyed him even more how the shorts outlined your ass perfectly, your plush cheeks just slightly exposed from how little coverage the piece of clothing provided.

when you finally turned around, his eyes shot up to your face immediately. you took in the sight in front of you: jay's messy hair and the way his shirt clung to his torso a little more than it usually would – you were pleased to see that he was suffering from the summer heat as much as you were.

"well," you broke the staring contest between the two of you, involuntarily trying to look meaner than the other, "if you didn't sleep in my living room, maybe you wouldn't have to bother me."

jay's eyebrows shot up at your remark. "or if you were a decent person for once and weren't so inconsiderate–"

"i'm inconsiderate?" you interrupted him. "that's rich coming from someone who moved in here two weeks ago and thinks he can make the rules," you huffed.

jay's jaw clenched another time as he took a step toward you, but you didn't back down. you looked up at him, returning the same fiercey look he gave you.

"you think it's fun living with you of all people?" he asked through gritted teeth, his taller figure hovering over you.

"no, but it's not my fault your girlfriend kicked you out," you replied, keeping your voice steady although your heart started to pound in your chest at the way his eyes narrowed slightly. yet, a tiny pang of amusement at how your words seemed to affect him joined the nervousness of wondering how far you could push him before he snapped.

oh, now you were curious.

"honestly, i'm not surprised," you added, your voice not faltering even when he stepped so close your bodies practically touched. "if you were only half as much of an asshole–"

"shut. up." he snapped, accenting each word.

the corners of your lips shot up into a smug grin. "can't stand me talking back to you?"

"i can't stand you in total."

"i never would have guessed," you replied sarcastically, taking a step back to casually lean your back against the kitchen counter. you brought the glass of water up to your neck letting the cold condensed water on its outside cool your skin. "wonder why you hate me so much, though. i don't remember pissing in your cereal when we were kids."

jay's jaw tightened even more. he was so annoyed. there you were, standing in the stupid kitchen with your stupidly short pajamas showing way too much of your skin that looked so. stupidly. soft. and you were bashing him, although he should be the one to talk you down right now. god, he couldn't stand you and how fucking hot you looked when you were snappy.

"you just make it hard not to," he replied, his voice laced with more annoyance than you'd ever heard from him before.

you chuckled at his words, the sound making his blood boil even more. what was so funny about him being annoyed, borderline angry?

"listen, jay bae," you said sarcastically as you put the glass down on the counter behind you, "if you want to stay with me and jake, you'll stop acting like i'm some kind of tragedy. you either ignore me, or you at least pretend to get along with me. deal?"

for a few moments, he just looked at you, his eyes still full of frustration. then, he suddenly stepped forward, his hand reaching for the back of your neck and his lips crashing onto yours harshly.

you were too shocked by his sudden action and the rush of warmth flooding through you to react. he pulled back just as quickly as he'd leaned in, leaving your lips cold with the shadow of his, and looked at you as if searching your eyes for a reaction.

"what the fuck?" you asked, still taken aback.

you wanted to take a step back, but the kitchen counter was already pressing against your back. jay smirked at the shocked expression on your face.

"i said shut up," he repeated his words from earlier that night, as if that would suddenly validate that he'd kissed you. he placed his hands on the counter directly next to your body, trapping you between him and the cold marble surface.

"you don't get to–"

he leaned in again, his lips brushing along the curve of your neck. you felt his breath against your skin, and despite the heat he radiated, you shivered – your words caught in your throat.

you could have pushed him away – should have pushed him away, really – but instead, you stood there, too stunned to move, with your heart violently pounding in your chest.

his hands found their way from the kitchen counter to your hips, fingertips pressing into your clothed skin in a way that made you almost feel his frustration.

the warmth of his breath brushed against your neck, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes. you could feel your breath coming faster and your mind growing foggy as his lips traced a line to your collarbone, leaving a heat that shot right down to your core.

“w-what are you doing?” your voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it was enough to make him pause.

"pretending that we get along," his lips brushed against your neck as he replied.

your breath hitched as he slid one of his hands under the thin fabric of your silk top, his fingers digging into the skin on your waist as he held you.

you wanted to push him away, really. everything told you to do so. but instead your hand found its way to the back of his head, pushing him towards your neck again. you couldn't make sense of it, but the way his lips brushed harshly against your skin, and the way you fisted his hair slightly whenever his teeth grazed against your skin, felt like you could finally let out the frustration that had been building up over the past two weeks of living with him.

"you're so goddamn annoying," he mumbled, pulling away from your neck only to push your top up your torso, over your head, and mindlessly discarded it on the floor.

just as you were about to cover your bare skin, he attached his lips to it again, moving from your neck to your collarbones and down to your chest. his hands found their way to your shoulders, holding you in place as he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and causing you to shiver, despite the hot summer air. you bit your lip to hold back a moan, yet you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of his tongue against you.

"speechless suddenly?" he asked as he pulled off and brought his lips to the other side of your chest.

"fuck you," you mumbled back before quickly pressing your lips together. your fingers were still tangled in his hair, keeping him close to you, but you would not give him the satisfaction of a moan.

"a little more patience," he grinned, before swirling his tongue around your sensitive skin another time.

his words suddenly made you hyperaware of the situation. you shouldn't have let him kiss you in the first place, much less help him to take off your top by voluntarily lifting up your arms. as the realization hit, you quickly pulled him off of you.

"you're disgusting," you said, trying your best to not sound as breathless as you felt.

"oh please," he grabbed your wrist to hold you in place as you attempted to pick up your shirt, "the way you're acting, you're practically asking for it."

"asking?" you echoed in disbelief. he was insufferable. "you have too much of an ego, don't you think?"

jay narrowed his eyes. "no, i think it's the truth," he said, letting go of your wrist and leaning down to your neck another time.

you swallowed hard. "stop playing games, jay," you said in a warning tone, yet you didn't push him away as his teeth grazed your skin again.

"you started the 'game', and you're losing it, darling," he replied, the nickname dripping with sarcasm.

you hated to admit he was right. maybe it was just your sleep-deprived mind, or maybe it was cause the air was so unnervingly thin, but his touch sent shiver after shiver down your spine, covering you in goosebumps and sending waves of heat through your body all at once. even his annoying words started settling between your legs and no matter how much you pressed your things together, it just wouldn't stop.

"look at you," jay said in an amused tone as his eyes flicked down to your legs, your thighs subconsciously rubbing against each other, "bet you soaked your pretty panties for me and i didn't even touch you."

a wave of heat shot up to your face. you didn't know if it was from embarassment or anger, but you didn't bother trying to hide it. "oh please, jay, you couldn't even make me cum if your life depended on it," you said, the words slipping past your lips before you could stop them.

he looked up, his eyes flashing with something you didn't understand as they met yours. "bet," was all he said before sliding your flimsy shorts down your legs, making sure to cup and squeeze your ass just once after he'd taken them off.

before you could react, he knelt down in front of you, harshly grabbed your thighs to spread your legs, and pressed his tongue flat against your clothed core.

your knees buckled slightly at the sudden contact, and you swore you could feel jay's stupid grin. "like i said. soaked." he murmured as he pulled the wet piece of fabric to the side.

"shut up," you whispered, not quite trusting your voice when the way you felt his breath against your wet core already caused you to clench around nothing.

"someone's sensitive," he whispered back, the airflow hitting your skin yet again.

"i said shut up," you repeated, and without wasting another thought, you grabbed his hair and harshly pulled him to where you needed him the most.

jay immediately licked a stripe along your folds, humming in satisfaction. "mouth so dirty but your pussy's so sweet," he mumbled against your skin before focusing his tongue on your clit.

your eyes fluttered shut, only to open again shortly after, as you failed to suppress a quiet moan. the sound went straight to jay's cock, causing him to hum against you another time as he sped up his movements, eager to pull another moan out of you.

he succeeded when he pushed his tongue into your leaking hole and his nose brushed against your clit. you sounded so sweet, he could cum only listening to you – but he'd never admit that.

you pulled on his hair harsher, subconsciously bucking your hips forward for him to reach deeper, as your legs started to shake more. jay grabbed one of them and rested it on his shoulder, never stopping to lap up everything your cunt gave him.

just as you felt your orgasm approaching, your legs closing around jay's head with a force that almost made him dizzy, he pulled back.

your eyes shot open and you looked down to him with an almsot bewildered expression on your face. he looked so hot with your slick covering his lips, his chin and parts of his nose, but right now you really just wanted to punch that stupid grin off his lips.

"seriously?" you asked as he stood up and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. "i was so close to–"

"so i could make you cum," he cut you off with the same annoying grin.

you didn't reply. instead, you tried to bend down to grab your clothes from the kitchen floor, but jay held your wrist again.

as he didn't let go even after you'd shot him a glare, you rolled your eyes. "congratulations, jay. do you want a trophy for your efforts? i didn't think you were so committed to win the gold medal in orgasm delivery–"

"shut up, will you?" jay interrupted, the smirk quickly replaced by his usual annoyed demeanor. "you're playing so hard to get when–"

"maybe you're just hard to want," you cut him off again, but he only raised his eyebrows.

"right," he replied, sliding one finger through your folds and collecting your wetness, the sudden contact drawing a surprised whimper from you. you quickly bit your lip, mentally cursing yourself for letting the sound slip.

"doesn't seem like 'hard to want'."

you glared at him for a moment, before averting your gaze. without another word, jay grabbed your arms and turned both of you around so he was standing with his back against the counter and you were in front of him.

before you could open your mouth to speak, jay placed his hands on your shoulders and firmly pressed down, causing you to sink to your knees in front of him.

"so much talking when you could just put that damn mouth of yours to use," he murmured.

the words made you gulp, but for some reason, they also sent a new wave of excitement through you.

one of his hands moved to cup your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. "let's see if you can only talk big or if you're actually useful for something, hm?" he asked, the tone of his voice almost soft.

the question annoyed you as much as it challenged you. eager to prove him wrong, you hooked your fingers under the waistband of his shorts, pulling them and his boxers down in one go, and only hesitating slightly when his hard cock sprang free.

"backing down?" jay cooed, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

you didn't reply, just wrapped one hand around his length, gliding your thumb over his leaking slit to use the precum as lubricant, before slowly pumping your hand up and down.

jay hissed at the contact, his hand tightening around your chin and the other gripping the counter behind him to steady himself.

his reaction made your lips curl up in a victorious smile, but you knew you could do better. you stopped your movements, waited for him to look down at you with a puzzled face, and licked a stripe from his base up to his very top. you closed your lips around it and swirled your tongue just for a second before releasing it again while looking up at him through your lashes.

jay groaned quietly, his hand leaving your chin and finding its way to the back of your head instead, where he gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail before pushing your head closer to him again. his other hand reached to tap on your lips, which you wordlessly parted just enough to close them around his tip again.

jay pushed your head closer, letting you take his length into your mouth – inch by inch until you gagged around him and he grinned smugly.

"can't take more?" he teased, but you were determined to wipe that damn grin off his face.

you breathed in through your nose and moved your head forward in one go until your nose hit his pelvis and you could feel his tip against the back of your throat, swallowing around it to suppress another gag.

the feeling drew a surprised moan from jay that caused you to look up at him with teary eyes. you swallowed again, humming in satisfaction as you received the same reaction.

"c-can't believe you're actually good at something," jay stammered. "do that again."

you obeyed, the feeling causing his eyes to flutter shut and his head to shoot back with another quiet moan.

he slowly pulled your head off his cock only to harshly push it back forward again after you'd swirled your tongue around his tip. he continued, his movements growing faster and rougher as his hips started to thrust forward every time he brought your head close – hitting the back of your throat each time, while you tried your best to not gag and he tried his best to not moan too loudly, not wanting jake to hear.

your hands reached to grab his thighs, attempting to somehow ground yourself when he slammed his hips forward another time. your jaw was tense, your eyes were burning from the tears that dared to roll down your cheeks, your head hurt from the force with which jay pulled your hair together, and yet all you could think about was finally making him cum and proving him wrong.

as his hips stuttered and his breaths started coming ragged, he held you in place, your nose pressed against his abdomen and the tip of his cock against the back of your throat. you eagerly hollowed your cheeks and swallowed again, pushing him over the edge.

"stay there," he ordered in between quiet moans. you felt his cock twitching as ropes of his cum ran down your throat. you quickly swallowed, yet couldn't stop a little from running down your chin as he finally pulled off.

you quickly wiped your chin with the back of your hand and stood up on shaky legs, shivering at how your arousal made your thighs stick together.

jay looked at you, his chest still rising and falling quickly. "hard to want, hm?"

"my god, fine. just fuck me already," you replied, your voice laced with frustration, which caused his lips to curl up into a little smile.

he turned you around and firmly pressed his hand on your back to guide your chest down onto the cool marble countertop.

"beg for it," he said in the most casual way possible.

you turned your head back and looked at him in disbelief. "seriously now?" you tried to stand up straight, not willing to feed his enormous ego more by begging, but his hand stayed firm on your back as his other slowly pumped his cock a few times before he guided his tip up and down your sensitive folds.

you clenched your fists, trying to move your hips back against his, but jay stepped back.

"i said beg for it," he repeated sternly.

when you hesitated, he lifted his hand from your back, attempting to step away fully. you squinted your eyes and mumbled out a quiet "please." you felt the embarrassment wash over you, but you just really wanted to finally feel him.

"what was that?" jay asked, stepping closer again.

you sighed. "please, jay," you repeated, still quiet but a little clearer than before. a hint of relief rushed through you as you felt jay's hand on your back and the tip of his cock against your needy hole again.

"please what?"

srew that. you were desperate but not desperate enough to ruin your pride entirely.

"you know what, fuck off, i–"

the words caught in your throat as jay suddenly pushed his entire length into your aching hole, knocking the air out of you. the stretch was so intense that you desperately searched for something to hold onto, but jay didn't give you any time to adjust as he pulled out almost entirely only to snap his hips forward harshly again, drawing a chocked moan from you when his tip hit your cervix.

"gonna finally put you in your fucking place," he said, hissing at the way your walls sucked him in so perfectly with each thrust.

"j-jay..." you whimpered once the pain gave way to pleasure, hating yourself for giving in to him, but also not caring enough to make him stop.

he groaned lowly at the way his name rolled off your tongue, mixing perfectly with the sounds of your wetness and his skin slapping against yours.

"takin' me so well," he mumbled in between his thrusts. you felt so warm and tight around him, the moans you tried to muffle clouding his mind until there was nothing left but you and the way you felt.

the sudden praise caused you to clench around him involuntarily. his hands moved to grab your hips, holding you in place as he continued to pound into you. he looked down to where your bodies connected, watching as his cock disappeared in your pretty cunt with each thrust.

"you're so stupid," he muttered, slipping back into the way he alway spoke to you, "for ever letting other idiots have their way with you when i was right there all the time," he blabbered out, slamming his hips into yours even harder.

you wanted to speak back, but each thrust knocked the air out of your lungs all over again as you placed your hands on top of his to somehow ground yourself.

"so tight for me," he mumbled at the way your walls clenched around him the closer you came to your high. "mhh, so wet"

"o-only for you," you managed to slur, way too far gone to realize what you'd just said, only focusing on the tight knot in your stomach that was dangerously close to snapping.

"jay, i-", you cut off as your orgasm washed over you in waves, each feeling heavier than the one before. jay brought one of his hands to your mouth to cover it, muffling your moans as his own high hit him at how strongly you clenched down on him.

you felt his cock twitching inside you before the warm ropes of his cum painted your walls white. he thrusted into you a few more times, sloppy and less energetic, riding out his high, before coming to a halt.

he took a few seconds to catch his breath. then, he quickly pulled out of you, the sudden feeling making you hiss. as you slowly lifted your chest from the counter, turning around on wobbly knees, jay had already pulled up his shorts again.

he bent down, picked up your pajamas and threw them in your direction. you caught them, wordlessly putting them back on as the reality of what had just happened started to crash down on you.

jay walked past you, opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, before giving you one last glance and heading toward the door.

"wait," you held him back. he turned around to look at you, raising his eyebrow in question.

"what," you hesitated, "what... are we doing now?" you asked, averting your eyes and looking at the floor in front of you instead.

jay shrugged. "pretending that it never happened," he said casually before walking out the door.

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2024. please do not copy.

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❥ perm. taglist: @sudi109 @woniesun

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 6

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 4.7k

c/w - language, tiny bit of angst (this is only the beginning i fear.)

a/n - is it cringe of me to ask for live reactions? bc i want live reactions sb. anyway, sorry ik i said this chap would be long and juicy but i decided to hold off on the juicy part, i needed a lil more plot development! also ty to everyone who sends me asks, even if it’s just things like “when’s the next part😫” i love it sm lol. hope yall like this one!!

The next two days are—at least compared to the first two—almost peaceful. The weather is nice, just warm enough and not too humid, which Azzi’s hair appreciates. She got goddess braids done just before the trip and even in protective styles, her hair gets frizzy at the very notion of moisture.

The peacefulness largely comes from the fact that Paige is avoiding her parents like the plague, instead spending all her time with Azzi and her siblings. The third day they spend almost entirely at the local park, shooting around at the court there under the hot sun. Lauren even reluctantly joins for a few games, and she may be adamant about not wanting to play basketball but the talent for it must be genetic because she’s a natural. And if Paige and Azzi spend the whole ‘competition’ brushing hands and flirting, nobody says anything. (Though Ryan does wrinkle his nose at them a few times.)

The fourth day starts out warm, and so Paige and Azzi sneak the kids out bright and early (Azzi, of course, ends up with the job of waking all three siblings up—not one of them is a morning person whatsoever) and go to an ice cream shop, where they eat their cold, sweet breakfasts on the curb while they chat. Both Ryan and Lauren may have argued that they were too old to be excited about ice cream for breakfast anymore, but they both end up with matching, chocolate-covered grins when they’re done.

The weather turns for the worst before noon, though, and the kids want to go home but Paige insists they go to the arcade instead. When she says she’ll pay for as many games as they want, they’re easily swayed. Of course, Paige and Azzi make a competition out of the day, deciding to keep a tally of all their points so that whoever has the most wins by the end has to buy the whole group prizes.

Azzi gives it a fighting go but Paige plays way more video games than she does so she very nearly beats her—but then, when they’re almost out of game tickets, Azzi pouts at her about the whole situation, and suspiciously, she ends up making an incredible recovery, easily beating Paige at almost every game after that.

Lauren picks a koala plushie, Ryan picks some new shoes, and Azzi gets this shiny plastic tiara.

“You didn’t have to get the cheapest prize,” Paige says as Azzi adjusts the tiara on her head. “I got money.”

“I know,” Azzi replies, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. “But I had to. As the princess.”

Paige gives her that stupid fucking look again—the one Azzi still can’t figure out even though she knows Paige like the back of her hand, which is just driving her crazy—and that look shows up so often Azzi should really just start referring to it as The Look at this point.

But then Paige smiles, previous odd expression gone, and the way she does that,—slips out of it like she doesn’t even realize it was there in the first place—drives Azzi even more crazy than The Look itself.

Now, it is the fifth day. And Azzi reminisces on these past two blissful days to try and distract herself from the fact that Paige and her parents are having a heated argument right in front of her and her scrambled eggs.

“No, Paige,” Amy is saying. “Absolutely not.”

“You can’t do that!” Paige replies, throwing her hands into the air. “I’m an adult, I make my own money, I can do—“

“It’s stupid.”

“It’ll be fun!”

“It won’t, because it’s not happening.” Amy is unpacking a load of groceries, and Dean is lingering in the corner of the kitchen being absolutely useless. That seems to be his brand.

“Yes it will, Mom,” Paige replies, voice lower now but still obviously frustrated. “I wasn’t asking for your permission. I was just seeing if you wanted to come with us. I was tryna be nice!”

“Well it won’t be nice when you crash and we all drown, Paige.”

“Jesus, Mom! I ain’t gonna go around crashing!”

Azzi feels very uncomfortable, wishing she were literally anywhere else, but at the same time this is sort of amusing and she has to hide a smile in a bite of eggs.

This argument is, out of all things, about a boat. Paige wants to rent one and have a lake day, and though she didn’t want to, Azzi convinced her to invite her parents—she figured they’d decline but that they’d be offended if they weren’t at least invited.

She wasn’t really expecting a lecture to come out of it, though. But by the tired look on Paige’s face, she knew exactly what was coming their way.

“You don’t even have a boating license,” Amy continues, placing a new jug of milk and some apples in the fridge. “This is illegal. If you won’t listen to your mother, at least listen to the law.”

That very nearly gets a giggle out of Azzi. She chokes it down.

“This is a private lake, I’on need my license.”

“Well that doesn’t sound shady at all.”

“It’s not, it’s super legit!” Paige makes for her phone in her back pocket. “It has its own website and everything, I looked way into it.”

Amy stares her daughter down for a few seconds, hands on her hips, before she lets out a resigned sigh. “Like you said, Paige, I can’t tell you what to do. You’re an adult, do what you want. But you will not be taking your siblings on that death trap.”

“Wha…” Paige flounders, eyebrows furrowed, and her voice raises again, “that was the whole point of this entire thing!”

“Well, that’s too bad. It’s dangerous.”

“I’ll make them wear life jackets!”

“They’re teenagers,” Dean points out rather unhelpfully, and it’s the first time he’s spoken around her in days but Azzi is already sick of him again. “Neither of them are gonna wear life jackets.”

“I’ll force them, I swear.”

“Paige Madison,” Amy snaps, and Paige may be an independent adult now but she still straightens her back subconsciously at her mother’s warning tone, “no means no. They are my kids.”

“They’re my siblings!” Paige replies—rather boldly, Azzi thinks, because if Azzi were in her place she would’ve given up by now.

But Paige, as most daughters do, knows exactly how far to push her mother to get what she wants—apparent in the way Amy massages her temples with her fingers before saying, “You know what, Paige? Fine.”

Dean is jumping in immediately. “What? No, she can’t take my kids out on a boat.”

“She’s right, Dean,” Amy says, though she looks a little pained to be siding with her daughter for once. “They’re her siblings. She wants to do something fun for them.”

“It’s dangerous!” Dean motions sporadically at where Paige and Azzi are sitting at the island. Azzi’s eggs are gone now and so she has nothing to put her awkward energy into. “Neither of them owns a boat, and they are practically strangers—“

“She is my daughter,” Amy says, and it’s so quiet Azzi almost doesn’t hear it, but she does, and it sends shivers through her. Because there’s something dangerous, something protective in her tone, something only a mother who loves their child could convey. And it sends a flicker of hope through her. “She is my daughter and I trust her with her siblings.”

Dean flounders for something but comes up empty, instead storming off all red-faced like a child. Amy doesn’t look either of them in the eye when she says, “Let me know if you kids need anything today,” before leaving the two best friends alone in the kitchen.

Slowly, Paige turns to look at Azzi, something like disbelief in her expression. “Did that—actually go well?”

“Yeah,” Azzi responds. “I think it did.”

Things may just be looking up.

———————————————

Dean may be an asshole, but it turns out he was right about one thing: Ryan and Lauren will not wear life jackets.

“C’mon, guys, it’s the law,” Paige insists, thrusting a pink life jacket at her sister, who scrunches her nose in disgust.

“No way! That’s so ugly, Paige.”

“The color wont matter when you’re drowning.”

“You sound just like Mom!” Lauren sighs, and Paige’s mouth falls open.

“You did not just say that.”

Lauren gives Paige a smug smile, which amuses Azzi because it’s the same smile Paige gives her whenever she wins an argument. “And I meant it too.”

If Lauren were not much smaller than Paige, she would be tackling her right now, based off the look on her face. But instead she composes herself and turns to Ryan, who is sitting at the front of the speedboat on his phone. He feels his older sister’s gaze and looks up at her, then at the life jacket in her hands. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being so for real.”

“There’s gonna be hot girls in bikinis on the lake,” Ryan replies, as if this is the most obvious thing ever. “No way I’m wearing a life jacket.”

Paige sighs and rubs her temple with her fingers, and Azzi would never say it out loud (for fear of being pushed into the lake) but she does kind of look like her mom in this moment.

When Paige turns on her with a warning look, Azzi startles, wondering if she’s somehow read her mind. But instead, Paige picks up another life jacket and says, “Will you at least wear one?”

Azzi smiles, a little puzzled. “Paige, I don’t need a life jacket. I can swim.” Which is obvious considering she and Paige have spent various lake days at her family’s cabin.

“Yeah, but for my peace of mind, though!” Paige shakes the life jacket in Azzi’s direction.

The truth is, Azzi wouldn’t mind wearing the life jacket. But ever since she put on this bikini—pastel purple in color—Paige has been swallowing thickly and averting her eyes constantly. So Azzi thinks she has other reasons for wanting her to cover up.

And Azzi can’t let her get away with that, can she?

“I don’t need it.” Azzi steps forward and takes the life jacket out of Paige’s grasp, tossing it aside before reaching to trail her hand down Paige’s bicep, squeezing the hard muscle a little bit. “And besides, won’t you save me if I’m drowning?” she asks, smiling coyly.

Paige’s throat bobs, eyes landing respectfully on a spot past Azzi’s shoulder. “Well, that’s not really how that works.”

Azzi blinks, and she knows just how big and brown her eyes are when she looks up at Paige through her lashes. “No? Thought you’ve been in the gym?”

“I have,” Paige says defensively.

“Hm.” Azzi lets her hand trail off Paige’s arm, resting it on Paige’s side before dancing her fingers dangerously over Paige’s exposed abs. “You wanna prove that to me, baby?”

Paige’s eyes widen, and Azzi loves the way she can not only see but feel her stomach tense under her fingers. But the moment is broken by a gagging sound nearby.

Lauren—who has sat beside her brother and pulled out her own phone—is now looking at them with disgust. “You guys are so gross.”

“You shouldn’t be making sexual innuendos in front of Lauren,” Ryan adds on, though his eyes don’t leave his screen.

“Yeah!” Lauren agrees, then furrows her eyebrows and starts tapping at her phone. Azzi guesses she’s probably searching what sexual innuendo means.

“Hey, yo, don’t blame me,” Paige says, putting her hands up and taking two big steps away from Azzi. “She started it.”

“Azzi’s a freak,” Ryan says.

“Whoa, chill!”

“Hey, that’s actually offensive,” Lauren says. She has picked up a habit of defending Azzi with her life these last few days they’ve spent together, and Azzi has decided she would do the same. “That’s like calling her a monster or something.”

Ryan smirks, finally looking up at them. “I didn’t mean that kinda freak.”

“Okayyy!” Paige jumps in before Lauren can do any more Googling. “Let’s get this show on the road. Imma go untie us real quick, then we’ll head out.”

For the first time, nerves bubble in Azzi’s tummy. “Paige, you sure you’ll be able to drive this thing?”

Paige looks almost offended at the question. “Yeah, duh.”

“It’s just, you’ve never driven a speed boat before…”

“Trust me, mama,” Paige says, nodding cockily to herself. “I got driving skills like you’ve never seen.”

Fifteen minutes later, Azzi realizes Paige was telling the truth. She has certainly never seen these driving skills before.

Paige is an—erratic driver, to put it mildly. This lake is private, huge, and though there are plenty of other boaters out Paige drives as if they’re the only ones on the water. At one point, she gets to such a high speed that even Ryan grasps onto Azzi a little bit.

When Paige very nearly runs into a cruising party boat, Azzi finally gets up from her place between the kids and marches over to Paige, who glances up at her with a sheepish smile. “Whoops.”

“Lemme drive,” Azzi demands, beckoning for Paige to get up.

“No!” Paige says stubbornly. “I’m doin’ good!”

“I thought I was going to die!” Lauren pipes up angrily.

Azzi motions to her. “See? You’re scaring your brother and sister.”

“Whoa, who said I was scared?” Ryan says.

Azzi decides against bringing up the fact that he kept clinging to her arm. “This is scary, I wanna drive.”

“But babeee,” Paige groans, bringing the boat to a stop so she can properly argue, “you drive like a grandma.”

“I drive like a sane person, is what I think you mean to say.”

“It’ll be boring.”

“Paige.”

Paige stares her down for a moment before sighing like a stubborn little kid. “Fine. You can drive.”

Azzi nods, pleased, and shoves at Paige’s shoulder when she doesn’t move. “Get up.”

A slow smile creeps over Paige’s face and Azzi doesn’t like the look of that at all. “I gotta show you the ropes.”

“I don’t need you to teach me how to drive this thing,” Azzi says as if it’s obvious, because really, it is. The thought of Paige trying to teach anyone her…unique ways is downright scary. “I got it.”

“Nah, I think you’ll need some help.”

“P, for real, stop being difficult and move.”

“I’m not about to—“

“Can we go?” Lauren says loudly, getting both girls’ attention.

“Yeah, I’m getting hot as hell just sitting here,” Ryan agrees.

“I wanna get to that diving cliff Paige was talking about!”

Before Azzi can turn back to Paige to continue arguing with her, Paige has her hands on her hips and is pulling her firmly into her lap. Azzi squeaks, grabbing onto the wheel for leverage.

“Paige!” she exclaims, turning to glare at the smug-looking girl underneath her.

“You heard them,” Paige says simply, shrugging her shoulders as if her hands are tied. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t—“ Azzi starts to argue once again, but then Lauren is sighing dramatically in that teenage-girl way of her’s and saying, “Seriously, come on!”

So, almost in a daze, Azzi turns back to the front and moves her hand to the shift, getting the boat moving slowly again. She tries desperately to ignore it when Paige leans up close to her ear and murmurs, “Atta girl,” but she can’t help the goosebumps that erupt over her neck and Paige must spot them because she chuckles lightly before leaning back, letting Azzi do her thing.

Trying to shake off the feeling of Paige’s hot breath fanning over her skin, Azzi amps up the speed a little bit, determined to show Paige that she can be fun and safe, as promised.

After a few minutes of skimming over the water, Azzi calls over the wind, “Thought you were gonna ‘show me the ropes’?”

“Looks like you got it,” Paige says, sitting straight so she’s pressed up against Azzi’s back again, and her hands find their place on Azzi’s waist.

“Why’d you make me sit on your lap, then, P?” Azzi asks, and her tone lilts teasingly but she is sort of freaking out on the inside because moments like these—moments where Azzi hardly bothers to hide her feelings for Paige and Paige, instead of shying away, responds—are becoming a little too common for comfort.

Paige rests her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, lips brushing her cheek when she says, “Think you know why, hm?”

Yeah. Definitely far too common for comfort.

Ramping up the speedboat a little bit—enough that Ryan whoops and Lauren leans over the side to touch the water—Azzi shifts her hips. She moves out of discomfort, almost subconsciously trying to get away from this buzzing energy between her and her best friend, but Paige lets out a huff of air at the motion and, curious, Azzi does it again.

A full-on gasp this time.

A flush creeps up over Azzi’s cheeks all the way down her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s from pleasure or shyness, though likely it’s both. But she can’t let Paige have the upper hand, because Azzi can’t even imagine how quickly she’d fold if that happened. So instead, she turns her head to the side and says, “All good, Paige?”

The problem with this is Paige’s face is still turned toward her when she says it. And when Azzi moves to reciprocate the angle, their lips are so close that they brush on the last word. On the utterance of Paige’s name.

Azzi jerks back as soon as it happens, putting a couple inches of distance between their faces, and she’s sure the flush is noticeable by now. She tries for a lighthearted laugh, “Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you were so close—“

She doesn’t see it coming when Paige kisses her.

It pulls a gasp out of her, lips now pressed against Paige parting slightly in surprise, and her eyes don’t even close until she feels Paige’s tongue dip inside her mouth.

It’s a quick swipe, her tongue against the space between Azzi’s teeth and upper lip before she’s pulling away—only enough to make the kiss much more chaste.

Her hands slide from Azzi’s waist to her stomach, and Azzi grips onto the steering wheel for dear life when Paige moans ever so quietly into her mouth, the sound barely heard over the wind whipping around them. And then the wind is whipping Paige’s hair into their faces, a few strands getting in Azzi’s mouth, which she takes as her opportunity to pull away. Paige stares at her—The Look again—for only a split second this time (Azzi much prefers that over the lingering one) before her face is breaking into a smile, not cocky or smug or teasing but just bright, and Azzi can’t help but laugh with her as they pull Paige’s hair out of her mouth.

“Keep your eyes on the lake!” Lauren yells at them, and when they look at her she’s got her nose wrinkled. “What is it with you guys and PDA today?”

“Maybe someone put viagra in their coffees this morning,” Ryan suggests, looking equally as disgusted as his little sister but also twice as amused.

“What’s viagra?” Lauren asks.

“Yo, Ryan!” Paige snaps, her hands moving tantalizingly from Azzi’s tummy to rest low on her hips instead, and Azzi forces herself to look back where she’s driving. “Keep it PG, dawg!”

“I could say the same thing to you,” he replies, and Azzi isn’t looking at him but she can picture the smirk on his face—she knows the look all too well by now.

The three of them bicker for a few more minutes, and Azzi tries really hard to focus on where they’re going rather than the implications of that kiss and all the questions that follow it.

Paige is the bad driver, but when she leans forward and mimics her—“All good, baby?”—Azzi worries she may be the one to crash this boat.

———————————————

“Sunscreen time!”

“No, what?”

“We just put some on!”

“Az, I’m never gonna tan at this point!”

Shaking the sunscreen into her hands, Azzi motions the three siblings towards her. “C’mon, you need it.”

“I don’t burn,” Lauren insists as she steps up in front of Azzi, lifting her arms dutifully anyway.

“You’re already getting a little red,” Azzi points out, applying an extra-thick layer onto Lauren’s rosy nose.

“This is lame,” Lauren groans, though she still lets Azzi work in silence and mumbles a thank you before she turns back to the lake.

Ryan is next, and he doesn’t complain about it but he does stare down at his phone the entire time, his head only falling back down when Azzi tries to push it up. “Ryan,” she sighs.

He tears his eyes away from his phone, only to look around subconsciously. Azzi knows he’s trying to see if the gaggle of teenage girls along the rocky beach have noticed him getting his sunscreen done.

“Hurry up,” Paige complains, nudging her younger brother in the back, and he turns around to shove her.

Azzi fights back a smile. “You can put it on yourself if that’s better.”

“It’s good,” he says nonchalantly, but he hasn’t quite mastered acting like he doesn’t care.

Azzi finishes up quickly, ending the torture with an encouraging smile, watching him run up to join his sister where she stands on the ledge above the lake, sneaking up on her. He pushes her in and Azzi laughs at the way Lauren screeches before her eyes drift to Paige, who is now standing right in front of her, looking awfully petulant.

“You really don’t want me to tan, huh?” she says, wincing as Azzi rubs the cold lotion over Paige’s sun-kissed shoulders.

“Your white ass is gonna burn if we don’t do this every thirty minutes,” Azzi says, reiterating what she said the past five times Paige complained about the sunscreen.

“I got a little melanin in me.”

Azzi looks at the way Paige’s blue eyes are squinting against the summer sun, the way her pale skin is already tinted pink, and raises her brows.

Paige holds her hand up. “Just gimme the sunscreen.”

Chuckling, Azzi squirts some into her hand before giving the bottle to Paige, who turns around and starts doing her front while Azzi does her back. They’ve done this maybe a hundred times, before countless sunny fair days and hot boat rides, but today it just feels a little…off. Everything feels a little off about them recently.

Azzi worries it may be her fault. She has always been good at hiding her feelings for Paige, good at making sure her attraction doesn’t show on her face just like she knows all her other emotions do. But recently, ever since they began this facade—and more so ever since they arrived in Montana—she knows she’s been slipping up. She thought she’d be okay but she wasn’t prepared for the way Paige would look at her like she wasn’t pretending, the way Paige calls her pet names even when they’re alone, the way Paige told her she liked kissing her and wants to do it again.

The way Paige did do it again.

And there lies the burning question: why?

Azzi knows Paige doesn’t have feelings for her. Azzi knows that she’s the only one who lies awake thinking about having Paige in every sense of the word, the only one who wakes up in the middle of the night thinking of Paige with an uncomfortable stickiness between her legs. She is the only one, of course, who is in love.

Then why do Paige’s eyes and hands wander nowadays? Why does she call her baby in quiet moments? Why did she kiss her when she really didn’t have to?

Could she be—attracted to Azzi? Maybe through playing this role, she’s seen Azzi in a new light, and realized her best friend is no longer dorky and fourteen but rather a tall, pretty twenty year old with a great ass. (And yes, Azzi knows she has a great ass.)

She could be attracted to her and not be in love. She could be attracted to her and have no other attachment whatsoever. The two things can be true at once, can’t they?

The thought flatters her but it mostly scares her, because she’s barely surviving this unrequited love as it is. But with her best friend having any level of attraction back? How is she supposed to continue on like that?

“Azzi?” Paige asks, and the tone of her voice implies she’s already said it a few times.

Azzi hums, blinking. “Sorry, yeah?”

“Uh,” Paige says, and it’s then that Azzi realizes her hands have stopped rubbing lotion into Paige’s back and have sort of just come to rest on her waist—like it’s instinctive. Like it’s natural. “You done back there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Azzi says, but for some unknown reason she can’t find it in herself to let go.

Paige glances over her shoulder. “Azzi?” she repeats.

Azzi can’t really take it any longer.

“Why’d you kiss me?”

Paige’s sides tense up under Azzi’s hands, and then she’s stepping away, out of her grasp, and turning to face her.

The look on her face is guarded, almost closed off completely. This is dangerous territory and Azzi has barely dipped her toes in the water yet.

When Azzi’s hands fall helplessly to her sides, Paige says, “I was pretending.”

As much as Azzi doesn’t buy it, the words—and the flat, cold intonation of them—sting. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“Why’re you being weird about it?” Paige asks, eyes dancing nervously away from Azzi’s face.

“I’m not, Paige. I just—I wanna know. For real.”

“You agreed to do this for me,” Paige reminds her, as if that has anything to do with this. But, of course, it has everything to do with this, and Azzi hates how easy it makes it for the both of them to hide under a facade, a lie.

“I know,” Azzi says carefully, also taking a step back if only to get away from Paige’s chilly stare. “But you didn’t have to kiss me this time. There wasn’t a reason.”

Paige shrugs, and Azzi hates to admit it but she is much better than her younger brother at acting nonchalant. “We’re s’posed to be a couple. I don’t want my siblings getting suspicious. They know I’m a touchy person.”

Getting the sinking feeling that Azzi won’t get anything out of this conversation other than a fight, she nods slowly, looking down at the ground. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Paige, as usual, thaws at the slightest hint of weakness, taking a tiny step forward. “Did it make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Azzi is a little too quick to say. The kiss caught her by surprise, but they’ve only done it two times and Azzi is quickly coming to find that kissing Paige is the most comfortable thing in the world—it’s natural, and right, and like curling up in bed with a book and a warm cup of tea—and Azzi also knows they should never do it again.

Despite the earnest answer, Paige looks at her suspiciously. “You sure, ma? Don’t ever wanna make you uncomfortable.”

Azzi does her best to fix her face, which she worries may be showing a little too much. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure.”

“Aight,” Paige says, but she still doesn’t sound very convinced. Azzi’s just glad she’s letting it go.

“Sorry for bringing it up,” Azzi says. She’s not.

At this, Paige sighs, reaching out to bridge the gap between them, running a gentle hand up and down Azzi’s arm. “Nah, don’t be, I get it. Sorry for getting a lil defensive.”

A little? Despite the fact she doesn’t believe Paige one bit, and that she doesn’t like anything about the interaction they just had, Azzi manages a smile. “You’re good.”

Paige nods, and her smile at least seems to be sincere. But as they jump into the lake, and as Paige talks Azzi’s ear off while Azzi floats around lazily in a donut floatie, things feel even more off than before.

Azzi can’t quite place what it is until late that night, when they’re both going to sleep and Paige is, for the first time in ages, strangely quiet. She glances over to find Paige lying on her stomach, face turned away, breathing too quickly to be asleep.

And that’s when Azzi notices it. The gap between them, the sheer amount of space from Azzi on her side all the way to Paige, who is almost on the edge of the bed.

Paige always sleeps close to Azzi.

And she always sleeps with her head turned towards her.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa

lmk if u wanna be on my tag list btw!!

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ keep on comin’ back

babydaddy!toji x fem!reader

the reason he keeps on comin back.

tags: dilf toji, explicit language, dirty talking, creaming, squirting, mentions of breeding, missionary, riding, creampie, nipple play, spanking, etc.

note: shoutout to oomf who said toji keeps coming back to me, you the inspo for this.

“What are you doing here? It’s not my week—hi megs, mimi!” you diverted your attention from your baby daddy to your adopted son and your daughter, hugging their small bodies; before letting them inside of your house.

Turning back around to block him from getting in, you bring up your question again. “What are you doing here? Don���t think you’re getting any, last time was a mistake.”

“Last time we almost gave those two another sibling and I didn’t hear you complaining when you were screaming my name and scratching my back up, while i made you cum back to back.” You bit your lip as he helped you remember the last time he unexpectedly came over, which led to you having multiple mind blowing orgasms that night; and a pregnancy scare.

“well that’s never gonna happen again. now are you gonna answer me?” you stared at his green eyes, arms folded over one another—unconsciously pushing your boobs up through your black beater.

“megumi’s supposed to be having a sleepover with his best friend, yuuji, at our place, but the plumbing’s backed up for like a good week. so, he asked could we do it at mommy’s house. plus, mimi said she missed her mommy.” you cooed and looked back at your daughter and step-son, watching them play with one another.

and before you could open your mouth up to ask a follow up question, toji beat you to the punch.

“tried to find somewhere else for me to go. but, there wasn’t any hotels available. and i think it would be great for the kids to have both parents under one roof. what do ya think?” he asked and you sighed, before moving aside to let him in.

“bags are in the truck,” he smiled and kissed your cheek, turning on his heel to grab their things from his car.

being in an on again and off again relationship with each other was took a toll on you both, but it was also tough for the kids. they couldn’t understand why mommy and daddy aren’t together, however it was moments like this they were happy to have. and deep down inside, you both felt the same.

Toji returned with their bags and made his way up their stairs to the kids room, and the guest bedroom, with mimi hot on his tail. While the two of them got situated upstairs, megumi followed you into the kitchen to help you with tonight’s meal. You giggled as you watched him put on his mini apron before stepping onto his stool to watch you clean some meat for dinner.

Megumi watched with an intent stare as you moved with ease, learning from you while you cooked. “mommy? do you love dad?”

his question caught you by surprise and you nearly sliced your finger off. “yes, but not as much as i love you,” he giggled when you ruffled his raven locks before focusing back on the meal. although megumi’s mom died when he was a baby, you still loved him like he was your own. and truth be told, you really did love toji; no matter how many times he annoyed you.

“so, then why aren’t you guys married? my friend yuuji said that his dad said if two people love each, they should marry each other. plus, i saw this shiny ring in dad’s room at the other house—“

you eyes were wide. a fucking ring? there’s no way—maybe he’s got someone else in mind…right?

“mm…i don’t know. hey, you wanna have that sleepover still? go get the house phone and I’ll call yuuji’s dad.” you nervously laughed and watched him leave, before sighing out.

there’s no way, right?

—

the next couple of hours flew by, your mind was practically a blur—still caught up on the fact that toji has a ring and that he could possibly propose to you.

even though you guys broke up on good terms, parts of you missed him. real bad. you missed having him in your arms at night. missed his scent being all over you. missed him being with you and the kids. missed having him so deep inside of you almost every night.

and the reason the two of you broke up was because of him. he pushed you away, pushed you away from his heart.

yuuji came over and was having a ball with your kids, before the three of them crashed for the night, finally allowing you to have some time for yourself. you lounged on your plush brown couch, glass of wine in your hand as you caught up with one of your favorite shows, when toji’s deep voice echoed through your ears.

“knew I would find you here. what are ya watching?”

“uhh supernatural….toji can i ask you a question?”

“ya just did,” he chuckled and ducked when you hit him in the head with a throw pillow. “you know what i meant.” he nodded and you sipped some more of your wine before turning to look at him, your heart beating out of your chest; while you felt a heartbeat elsewhere.

“the ring you have, is that for me?” there was pause and his eyes caught yours. and before he could open his mouth, you spoke once more.

“meg’s told me you had it. do you really wanna marry me? do you think—“ your nervous rambling was caught off by his lips. the scar on his upper lip rubbing smoothly against yours, making you moan out. and when he pulled away, you whimpered; yearning for more.

“gotta teach him to keep secrets. damn big mouth.” he teased megumi and you gave him a slight kick, giggling at him, before he pulled you onto his lap—your plush thighs melting against his waist.

“but, yeah. ‘m gonna marry you. make you mine and pump you full of my babies,” his last comment sent shivers up your spine and you could feel your panties moisten with arousal. the tension was overwhelming and you couldn’t take it anymore. you crawled off his lap and swiftly pulled his dark grey sweatpants down to his knees, making his fat cock spring to life; before you immediately wrapped your plump lips around his head.

toji sucked in some air and tangled his thick fingers in your hair, pulling it while you worked your way down his dick. his cock was coated with your salvia, dripping down from his angry red tip—to the top of his balls, before you scooped it up and rubbed it all over him.

he was in pure bliss. basking in the sheer pleasure you were giving him. his jaw clenching as you made a sloppy messy on him, trying to suppress the moans that wanted to slip; until you swirled against his frenulum & teased his tip, making him loudly groan out.

you released him with a ‘pop’ sound echoing, your small hands jerking him off while you maintained eye contact with him, “shhh don’t wanna wake them up. now do we?” the look on his face sent a jolt of electricity up your spine and to your aching cunt, causing a switch to flip inside of you.

he watched you quickly pull your panties down, your slick sticking to the fabric, webs of your arousal following; before you squatted down onto his lap once more. “need you inside. need you to cum deep inside of me.”

you whined when you pushed him in, walls immediately stretching out and wrapping around him. this is what he missed. this is why he kept coming back…..well, one of the reasons.

his hands met your hips and helped guide you up and down on his dick, tip pressing into your cervix every once and a while. it didn’t take long for the moans to flow out freely from your mouth as you continued to bounce, stuffing you. and soon, you became even more gushy, cunt squelching while cream started form around his base—sticking to your skin while you moved.

“fuck you’re so tight. missed this pussy,” his hands collide with your ass, the fat rippling from the impact. he gripped the globes of your ass, loving the soft fat, before resting his hands on one of your cheeks.

everything about this felt sooo good. the noises you created and the touches he was giving you, was sheer bliss and you could feel an orgasm approaching. toji could feel you clenching down on him repeatedly and he groaned at the sensation. with his free hand he pulled the sleeves to your beater down—pushing it down a little—before putting one of your plump mounds into his mouth.

the warm, wet feeling of his mouth made you throw your head back; still enduring the workout of bouncing on his fat cock.

he didn’t know how he was able to last this long inside of you, especially with how long it’s been since the last time and the unbelievable head you gave him. but, he was nearing his end too.

you could feel his hands move to your waist, before your back met the soft plushness of the couch and your legs were planted at his sides. now, his cock was nestled deep inside of your tummy, hitting your spot each time he thrusted.

toji reached underneath your thighs and pulled out your wet sticky underwear, putting it into your mouth to muffle the lewd noises that left your lips. your eyes was rolling back into your head as he fucked an orgasm out of you. well, that is until he pulled you by your hair; forcing you to watch him fuck everything out of you.

“look at the mess yer makin—shit! cum for me mamas”

oh the mess you made.

specks of white blurred your vision as you stomach caved in and a stream of clear fluid splashed out, drenching his black t-shirt and the cushions underneath. you had reached nirvana, but the pleasure didn’t stop there.

toji’s grip on your hair tightened while he pounded your cunt silly—splitting you open, pumping thick white ropes of his seed inside of you.

unable to formulate any words, he just smashed his lips onto yours; hands around your neck as the two of you shared the best orgasms of your lives.

this was it. this is exactly what you wanted. what he needed. why he kept coming back.

he sat back, catching his breath while you started to come back to reality, staring at you with pure love. “guess we gotta order a new crib. hm?”

[vidavalor]

<<I would also not accept Crowley hate. I just never see it.>>

Same. Yeah, it doesn't exist. A lot of people's internalized issues at work, if you ask me, as to why there's only hate for Aziraphale when there shouldn't be hate for either of them.

<<I think for that to work, you have to take Crowley as the protagonist of the story and Aziraphale as an -- um, adjunct? romantic interest? Rather than seeing them as 2 equal players in the story.>>

If you want to get really technical about it? From a writing standpoint, Aziraphale is the main character because it's his story arc we're following the most throughout the story. He is the character who will under go the most change from chronological start-to-finish in the story. He and Crowley are two halves of a whole, though, so it's a little tricky and they're closer to being co-main-characters than you might get in other stories. Inside the story, though, the characters are definitely equal partners, and I agree that it's irritating to not always see that reflected in attitudes towards the characters.

The funny thing is, though, that people who think Crowley is the sole main character are showing that they don't really know what one is and are just focused on Crowley. For reasons. I wouldn't presume to know why, exactly, but I suspect that they are likely of 'want to fuck him even though he's fictional and subconsciously hate the main character who gets to' variety. Also shows how little they know the character as Crowley would not. care. for it. if he were to learn that they were disparaging his angel.

<<the Edinburgh minisode, that make it look like Aziraphale is still toeing the Heaven line and he is the only one who still (in 1827!) has learned nothing>>

Yeah, that attitude in people is showing that they're not really putting together the minisode, imho. Aziraphale struggling with conflicts of what he's supposed to be according to Heaven versus who he really is are not the same thing as Aziraphale being on the side of Heaven. He's never been on the side of Heaven. He gave away his sword in Eden. He lied and miracled to save Job's kids. He's been badass since the start.

I think it's also a feature of some people not seeing that Aziraphale is kind of dryly bitching about his job to Crowley in 1827 more than he is actually disagreeing with Crowley and Elspeth. He lives on Earth. He knows how lunacy Heaven's ideas about things are. He's complaining to Crowley about what he's up against and getting some reassurance in Crowley's wtf that's crazy! response that he's not alone in thinking so. The moment that he learns that Dalrymple isn't just a ghoul but someone who wants the bodies for greater good reasons, Aziraphale is happy to throw over whatever Heaven nonsense he's supposed to at least pretend to believe to help. He'll always do what he can to help. It's just all very tiresome that people think Crowley is perfect. He's not always right. There also isn't always a "right" at all.

<<such as the way the f15 was shown (many people do not sense any real threat from the Metatron, don't get the "able to see/hear what's happening in the shop", don't see anything weird about Crowley letting Aziraphale go off with the Metatron, etc.>>

Yeah, this... 😂 My favorite wtf interaction that I've had here on the Tumblr Dot Com is the person who told me that Aziraphale and Crowley weren't worried about being spied on in The Final 15 and when I pointed out things like... Aziraphale, looking out the window at Our Villain, doing the downward hands of "not right now" at Crowley, and trying to get him to stop talking? I was told-- kid you not-- that he just turned his head.

The closet is a theme of the season and there's an entire foreshadowing plot with the Nazi Zombie Flesheaters about Crowley and Aziraphale being spied on through the window and people who cannot make simple connections enough to understand what's happening, so... how's that for irony? There's a whole plot about people being unable to make connections... about which this person couldn't make a connection.

I agree to some extent that it's designed to appear a certain way, with particular emphasis on Crowley acting out of character, but it's not so cloak-and-dagger that we can't see that something is amiss. The number of people who don't seem to see Crowley as acting out of character by letting Aziraphale go alone with The Being Claiming To Be The Metatron amazes me. It should be the primary question to come out of that scene. This is what we were saying above, though-- they are too focused on precious demon got his feelings hurt to notice that there is something really, really wrong with precious demon. He just sat there and let Aziraphale go alone with someone who had tried to kill him and he'd never do that of his own free will and that's somehow not the biggest point of discussion?

But this is also the same problem as most people just believing without question that it's The Metatron at the door. Sure, it might be, but they definitely gave us a laundry list of clues that suggest we should at least be questioning it. Five angels cannot recognize him and he has to get a demon to identify him but that's not Satan? Really? After a whole season of "who are you" in every other scene? And all the minisodes being about Hell? Even if it's not, the point is that it's all very weird and many people are just taking what's happening as if nothing is weird, which I find to be... well, weird.

So many people think that The Metatron was legitimately offering Aziraphale a job and everything was on the up-and-up and... why would he ever do that? He'd never offer Crowley to be restored as an angel, either. That'd collapse Heaven and Hell in a day as every demon then would demand their own status as demons reviewed. They think this is The Metatron and they still believe him, even though he just tried to murder Gabriel? I was so surprised to see the number of people who don't think Aziraphale is in any danger here and think he just got promoted when the whole season seems like it's building towards something quite different but we'll see what happens in The Finale.

The gods of the Disc have never bothered much about judging the souls of the dead, and so people only go to hell if that's where they believe, in their deepest heart, that they deserve to go. Which they won't do if they don't know about it. This explains why it is so important to shoot missionaries on sight.

Eric, Terry Prachett

[submattenthusiast]

dad!dilf!matt blurb cockwarming

"sweeheart we can't there's people 'round" he said, trying to resist you. matt's eyes followed the various people mindlessly passing by you both. "and the kids what if they come back" he motioned towards the water that occupied them for now. you continued to slide your fingers in the waistband of his swim trunks, needing to break him down. "they're fine matt and we'll be covered up so only we'll know" you plead "cmon... i see the tent forming, let me help". matt gave up on trying to stop your wandering fingers with a sigh. you were right and he knew it, his cock was aching for you. he took one last look around before nodding, giving into you.

pushing the tinted sunglasses on his straw-hat to see properly, he kept watch while hurridedly pulling his cock out his trunks and ushered for you to straddle him. you grabbed the blanket from beside you and hovered over him. quickly, you slide the bikini bottom to the side so matt could slip inside you. matt's hands find your waist to glide you down on him. still being cautious he holds back a deep groan as you take him fully. sat on his cock you let a moan slip, forgetting were you were for a second.

covering your bodies with the blanket, you relax into matt's firm chest. you caressed his hands, sensing that he was still slightly on edge. "relax, it's done we're good" you coo. matt takes a hand off you for a second to pull his glasses back down and adjust his "dad hat". "i'm relaxed, i'm cool, we're just cuddling" he tried to convince himself. you giggle at his antics, "just cuddling?" you tease, clenching around him. his smile faded into a o shape as your walls clamped around him. "fuck, sweets y' said no funny business" he groaned.

a/n - got this idea randomly. inspired by matt in the dti video!