#God has always been providing for us and He always will

[semperreformanda]

was being silly and worrying if I have enough stuff for the baby while simultaneously worrying about money so I put a bunch of stuff online in a list and thought I’ll decide on it later. very next day our friends give us a bunch of their hand me downs and most of them were in my silly little list and I almost cried because God was once again gently reminding me of His providence 😭

[liuisi]

lowkey o-(-( right now

[artficlly]

his girls [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x reader alpine barely tolerates anyone but bucky, so when she curls up in your lap without a second thought, the team is left reeling—especially when it leads to the not-so-subtle revelation that you and bucky have been sneaking around for months.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, alpine is a troublemaker, secret dating, swearing, kissing, alcohol, tony knows all, natasha too, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: hello! once again a fic no one asked for lol. i'm supposed to be on hiatus buuut i took some time this afternoon to write this because i'm procrastinating a uni assignment. i'm sure this concept has been done before, but i was thinking about that scene in rivals with the dog (iykyk) and yeah! step away from the usual angst and heartbreak i normally provide you all with. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

You were careful.

Or at least, you thought you were careful.

For months, you and Bucky had kept your relationship under wraps. It wasn’t that you wanted to keep secrets from the team, but there was something thrilling about stolen moments and hushed conversations. About Bucky’s hand on the small of your back as he guided you through a crowded room, or the way he’d brush a kiss against your temple before disappearing down the hall.

You figured no one had noticed.

Until today.

It all started with one of many white hairs stuck to your t-shirt.

Natasha plucked it off you mid-conversation one morning in the kitchen while you were praying—desperately—to whatever all-seeing god might finally make the coffee machine work faster. Between the groaning, spluttering sounds and the blinking lights, it felt like the damn thing was possessed. With flawlessly manicured nails, Natasha held the hair up to the morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the compound.

“Is this Alpine’s fur?” she mused aloud, twirling the long, pale strand between her fingers.

“Probably.” you replied absently, more concerned with the coffee machine’s latest refusal to cooperate. You jabbed the buttons harder, ignoring the way Natasha’s eyes flickered with something dangerously close to amusement. 

“For all of Tony’s money, you’d think we’d have a coffee machine that actually works,” you grumbled.

“Turn around?” Natasha asked. There was a particular lilt to her voice, that barely concealed intrigue she tried—and failed—to mask whenever she was onto something. It set you on edge instantly, the tone that meant she was clicking a mystery into place, giddy with excitement beneath a thin veil of indifference. You didn’t trust it for a second.

“No, just—” You smacked the machine in frustration. It whined pathetically before the lights blinked off entirely. You let out a long, exasperated groan. “Why won’t this stupid fucking thing ever work—”

“Jesus, you’re covered in it—”

You froze mid-motion as Natasha yanked at your shirt, effectively grooming you like a monkey. Her sharp lips had turned up into a wicked smirk, the type of smirk that made dread pool in your gut. 

“Everything is covered in her fur,” you said quickly, still trying for casual. You reached for the plug, praying Natasha would drop it. “She sheds everywhere, especially on the couch.”

“Mm.” Natasha tilted her head, her smirk deepening. “And yet, I thought Tony hired cleaners for that? Especially with Kate always bringing Lucky around?”

You yanked the plug from the socket a little too forcefully. “Honestly, Nat, I don’t know. I just want this damn machine to work.”

Right on cue, a familiar voice rumbled behind you.

“Machine giving you trouble again?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest before resuming its normal rhythm—though maybe a little faster. You turned just as Bucky strolled in, looking frustratingly good despite the early hour. His hair was a little dishevelled, sleep still clinging to him in a way that made him look too soft for someone who could snap a man’s spine in half.

“There’s a trick to it, remember?” He stepped in close beside you, skin brushing yours as he reached for the machine. The scent of his aftershave lingered, warm and familiar. You tried—and failed—not to watch the way the muscles in his forearm tensed, veins shifting beneath his skin as he pressed a series of buttons.

“Barnes, you’ve got cat hair all over you,” Natasha noted, not even bothering to be subtle. You didn’t dare look at her. Instead, you busied yourself wringing your hands, pretending you weren’t hyper-aware of Bucky standing so damn close.

“Huh?” Bucky barely spared a glance at his shirt, where Alpine’s fur was unmistakably clinging to the fabric. “Oh. Yeah, guess I do. She always wants attention in the morning.”

Then, with one final smack, the machine roared to life. The rich aroma of coffee filled the air as liquid finally poured into your mug. You sighed in sheer relief.

“There you go,” Bucky said, looking down at you with a small smile, a few strands of dark hair falling across his forehead.

Your stomach did a stupid little flip. You smiled back, warmth creeping into your face. “Thanks.”

The machine beeped again, snapping you back to reality. You quickly grabbed the mug with both hands, muttered another thanks, and let Natasha tug you away.

“What was that?” She hissed, voice low as she turned to you with narrowed eyes.

“Huh?” You weren’t entirely listening to her words. You found yourself glancing over your shoulder, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. You could still see Bucky standing in the kitchen, both hands braced on the counter as he waited for his own coffee. His back was turned, but even through the thin material of his fur-covered t-shirt, you could see the way his muscles shifted beneath it—

Natasha didn’t even humour your innocence. She crossed her arms. “You and Barnes?” 

“What about him?” You mumbled, pulling your gaze away as the elevator dinged, doors sliding open.

Her lips twitched, amusement clear. “Are you two—?”

You made a face at her. “What are you on about?” 

Natasha didn’t look convinced, but she let it go.

For now.

As the elevator hummed and Bucky was cut from your view as the doors shut, you took a sip of coffee, the liquid a few degrees between too hot and burning. It scalded your tongue, and with the phantom smell of Bucky’s aftershave no longer haunting you, you felt your mind snap back into action.

Right. Focus.

“We’re going to be late for the meeting,” you declared, shaking your head. “And that damn machine is the reason. You know what? Let’s take a detour to Stark’s lab and demand a better one.”

Natasha chuckled, pressing the button for a different floor.

“I like the way you think.”

—

You knew Alpine would be your downfall.

The little white menace was notoriously selective. If you weren’t Bucky, she wanted nothing to do with you. Everyone at the compound had suffered her wrath at least once—Sam even had the scars to prove it. Alpine liked to play dangerous games that usually ended in blood or a yowl of pain. You swore the Avengers bled more dealing with the feline than fighting aliens, wizards, or whatever else tried to obliterate Earth every other week. She was a cunning little creature, lurking around corners, hiding under tables, prowling along bookshelves. And just when you least expected it—bam. Teeth and claws bared, she would pounce, latching on like a tiny, vengeful spectre. This was her idea of fun. The Avengers had learned to tread carefully, tip-toeing around the compound whenever they knew she wasn’t safely curled up in Bucky’s room, where she ruled with an iron paw.

So, when you sat down on the couch one evening, and Alpine immediately hopped onto your lap, you knew you were fucked.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t so much as sniff at you in consideration before curling right up, purring loud enough to be heard over the football game droning on in the background—which you were only half paying attention to. 

You stiffened, caught between awe at the rare privilege and sheer dread at the witnesses currently gaping at you.

Bucky, for his part, had been sitting at the other end of the couch, flirting with danger in his usual way—stolen glances, conveniently placed touches as he shifted in place. Alpine, just as obsessed with him as you were (Bucky had taken to calling you both ‘his girls’ in private, which always managed to make you swoon.), had immediately perched in his lap when he sat down. Only when he carefully pried her off to grab another round of beers did the little white she-beast decide you were a worthy substitute, strutting over with lazy, languid confidence before settling down, blissfully unaware of what she had just unleashed.

The room fell into stunned silence. Several pairs of eyes locked onto you, breath collectively held. They were waiting for the yowl, for the inevitable attack, for you to tense up and leap to your feet in pain. But to your horror, the little sadist simply settled in. Cosy, unbothered, as if this had been the plan all along.

“Okay, what the hell is this?” Sam finally demanded, pointing an accusing finger.

You blinked down at Alpine, then up at Sam, stroking the soft fur like nothing was amiss. “Uh… a cat?” 

You were foolish and desperate enough to pretend this was completely normal, to gaslight the others into believing Alpine was a perfectly gentle and affectionate cat. A sweet, loving companion. Not a tiny, vengeful menace who had terrorised them all—and definitely not a creature who had only warmed up to you in recent months because you spent more time in Bucky’s bed than your own.

“The same cat that tried to claw out my eyeball for getting too close? And now she’s just—” He gestured wildly at Alpine, who flicked her tail with the smugness of a queen on her throne. “—cuddling with you like you’re her best buddy?”

“She likes me, I guess.” You blinked innocently, turning back to the TV, hoping he would drop it, but Sam, ever the dramatic, was not satisfied.

“Are you kidding me? That cat has tried to kill me.”

Natasha snorted into her drink. 

Alpine smugly licked her paw before resting her head upon your thigh and blinking her wide blue eyes at Sam, who shook his head with an exaggerated shudder.  “This is bullshit, and you know it—”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like you, Sam.” You huffed, scratching Alpine behind her ears. “She’s always been fine with me.”

“That is not true!” 

“She took a chunk out of my arm once,” Natasha added, ever the instigator.

“Remember when I gave her a treat and she bit me?” Steve piped up.

Bucky returned at that moment, frowning as he saw the conversation unfolding before him. You turned to him with wide, desperate eyes, silently pleading for help. Alpine, the little traitor, merely pressed her pink nose to your hand, rubbing her face against you with a contented sigh.

“She only likes people she’s comfortable with,” Bucky offered, setting the beers down with a clink, but his pitiful attempt to be helpful only added fuel to the fire.

The room exploded into a series of overlapping voices.

“I didn’t realise you spent so much time with Alpine?” Natasha’s sharp gaze flicked between you and Bucky, her smirk primed to taunt you both. 

“Buck, doesn’t she spend all her time in your room—?” Steve leaned forward, forearms braced against his thighs, invested now.

Sam jolted upright like he’d just solved a murder case. “Now, hold on a second—”

“You have been covered in cat fur a lot lately,” Natasha mused. “And you two have been suspiciously close—”

As you glanced over at Bucky, you couldn’t tell if his repeated blunders were intentional or borne out of genuine panic. He cleared his throat, his brows raising as he casually popped off the cap of one of the beers with his vibranium thumb in faux nonchalance.

“Coincidence.” He muttered with a shrug, tipping back a mouthful of the brew. 

Alpine, completely oblivious (or entirely aware of the chaos she’d caused), didn’t budge as Bucky sat back down beside you, levelling you with a look that screamed we are so screwed.

“You two aren’t even going to try to lie?” Natasha pressed.

“Lie about what?” You feigned innocence, but the act was flimsy at best. The jig was well and truly up.

Bucky, clearly done with this little charade, let out a long-suffering sigh that might’ve sounded exasperated if not for the telltale smirk tugging at his lips. Without another word, he slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you effortlessly against his chest, Alpine still coiled contentedly in your lap. The smug little she-beast didn’t even stir. She just purred loudly—too loudly, like she was taking credit for the entire thing.

“Wait a second!” Sam pointed a dramatic finger between the two of you. “How long has this been happening?”

“How long has what been happening?” Tony strolled into the room, a glass of amber liquid that looked suspiciously like whiskey in hand.

“Her,” Steve announced, gesturing between the both of you. “And Barnes.”

Tony didn’t even blink. “Oh, I already knew that. You didn’t know that?”

Bucky turned so fast you were surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash.  “You what?”

“Oh, come on,” Tony drawled, making himself comfortable on the armrest of the couch like this was all just another day at the office. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice her sneaking out of your room at ungodly hours for the past six months? F.R.I.D.A.Y. kept flagging intruders, and, shocker—it was just you two, utterly failing at stealth.”

Sam threw up his hands. “Did you say six months?!”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but instead of answering, he just turned to you and, without hesitation, kissed you.

It was sudden but warm, his lips soft against yours like he’d been waiting for an excuse. The room erupted into even more noise, Sam shouting something unintelligible, Natasha making a sound of smug satisfaction, and Steve groaning like he should’ve known, but it all faded into the background.

You laughed against Bucky’s lips, breathless but entirely unbothered. “This is definitely her fault.”

Alpine, still purring in your lap like the devious little mastermind she was, flicked her tail.

Bucky just hummed, brushing his nose against yours. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Not complaining, though.”

And, truthfully, neither were you.

[catboybiologist]

Today I just found out that the woman who's been the most supportive of me in my transition believes that trans women shouldn't be able to compete against cis women in sports. Do you happen to have any good peer reviewed resources on the effects of estrogenizing HRT on someone's athletic abilities. Said woman in question doesn't seem to believe there's been any research done, which I deeply doubt. Thank you so much for your continued advocacy for us transfems.

I know you're turning to me for scientific guidance, but I'm just so fucking done with this issue overall. To quote contrapoints: I have nothing left but rage.

I've been on this road before. I could give you some. In most ways, trans women match cis women of their height and weight. But there aren't a lot. Yeah, its a problem. But fucking NOBODY will even study it because of how hot this issue is right now.

But more importantly: There will never, EVER be a study that meets their standards. There's always SOME physical metric that has differences between trans women and cis women. It's become essentially an iteration of the multiple testing problem- if you keep on doing statistical tests, eventually something is going to land.

I don't fucking want to provide studies. I don't want to cut myself down. I don't want my defense of myself to be "oohhh look at me I'm just as weak and pathetic and infantile as cis women"

Is this fucking feminism? Really?

I'm fucking done. Call me the evil hysterical woman, but this entire conversation reeks of misogyny to its fucking core. Organized sports as we know them are made by men, for men, to celebrate male accomplishments and excellence. Cis women can and do equal or excel men in many, MANY physical metrics. But the arbitrary set of rules, the arbitrary set of bouncing balls and scoring systems, are all made to reward the physical abilities of men. We create spin offs and systems of score tracking and variations of the same things over, and over, and over again, to give the fragile little male ego more and more reasons to stroke itself.

Let's take a look at some whiny as piss men not being able to handle the thought that women could EVER be physically notable.

Olympic target shooting used to be mixed gender. A woman won one year. The next year, it was segregated. Not only was it segregated, but the scoring system changed so that the scores of men and women could never be directly compared again.

Last year, Donald Trump sat on stage with Riley Gaines, the transphobic swimmer who whipped up the vitriol about Lia Thomas, and bragged about how it wasn't fair she lost her competition because he, Donald Trump, a 78 year old out of shape wax sculpture of a man, was male. And that he could beat Riley. A trained D1 swimmer. And Riley took it, because it advanced her grift.

There's a now infamous poll that 1 in 8 men think they could beat Serena Williams in a tennis match. Its pretty old at this point, but I'm guessing that number is even higher now.

This entire conversation centers around "trans people crushing the dreams of female athletes" but oh my fucking god, are we not doing that as a society already? This entire fucking "debate" is just an excuse for more and more cis men to sit their, stroking their fucking egos on live television about how big and strong and powerful and fucking WHATEVER men are, and even the trace of maleness in trans women is enough to permanently make them some kind of ubermensch that destroys cis women by every metric imagineable.

I don't give two shits about saving sports, one way or another. I detested organized sports long before I transitioned. Ya wanna talk natural advantage, and how sports rewards exactly the kind of physical ability that a certain brand of cis man pushes themselves to? I have a very mild ankle deformity that means jogging for long periods of time is painful. My best mile time is over 11 minutes. And yet I don't see any of the fuckers that are "better" than me out there in the ocean, clinging to the bottom on a single breath for minutes, or up there with me on top of Whitney. Only one of those skills is celebrated.

Fuck me that was a tangent. My point is, I've long since realized that sports are a self propagating system for the egos of people with a very particular kind of physical prowess. The only exception to this is when its exploitative of people with that kind of extremely specific physical prowess, and leaves those it exploits in the fucking gutter. I don't need to start bringing up CTE, I know y'all know exactly what my take would be on that.

but what is sending me over the fucking edge is how I'm supposed to be the crazy one. I'm the delusional tranny for pointing out that we have lost the fucking plot entirely. This is recreation. Its entertainment. And we are using it to punish people. Fuck this.

I'm so sorry OP, but just don't engage in that game. If you need a calm, measured argument, try attacking the misogyny of it all. The only way to "fix" sports is to create more events that reward and celebrate the physical abilities of cis women: flexibility, extreme long term endurance, and fuck I'm not a sports person nor do I want to waste brainspace on more than that. We need a system for cis women, one that doesn't tell them "here, have this shittier, less viewed, less supported, less encouraged, less celebrated version of something a man is good at". Trans people would find some place in that and in theory, there would be nothing to complain about.

Jesus fucking christ, if I see one more male news pundit start talking about trans women in sports I'm going to straight up devolve into a misandrist.

[strangerstilinski]

smoke me out

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you and eddie are friends — and really, what's a little shotgunning amongst friends? [ 7.4k ]

𝗰𝘄: friends to lovers, dubcon bc they're high, reader with a vagina & breasts, drug use (weed), smoking & shotgunning, pathetic attempts at dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, and goofy eddie (always)

𝗮/𝗻: the stoner in me came out at the beginning, ngl. this is just a horny culmination of my need to shotgun with eddie and also to rub his sweaty body with my own. and yes, that one part is inspired by the gifs of the hoard scene featuring joe's tight little ass grinding away.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+ 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

It's just you and Eddie today.

You're propped up against the headboard side by side, a nest of pillows providing you both with a cushion from the uncomfortable framework behind your bed. The muted sound of James Hetfield's voice floating through your stereo speakers over a heavy clash of drums and guitar has your head bobbing in time with the beat. Eddie has long-since gone from shredding on air guitar to intently staring at the way his own ringed fingers bend toward his palm every time the pitch shifts incrementally, mentally contemplating the chord changes by ear. 

Despite the windows thrown open on either side of the room, your small apartment reeks of smoke and weed. The humid Indiana summer air filtering through the curtains is not nearly strong enough to properly air out the cramped space. It's one of those wonderfully warm days — peak summertime. Not overly hot, but enough to have your skin prickling with heat beneath a tank top and cotton shorts. 

Eddie is still lounging in a threadbare pair of checkered pajama pants and a cutoff tee, the top half of his hair tied back in a haphazard bun to lessen the weight of the thick curls sticking to his neck. 

Eddie is prone to complaining when it's hot. Or when it's cold. And also when it's rainy. Or windy. 

Point is, you're not sure why he's yet to complain about the lack of air conditioning in your apartment, but Eddie seems content as ever. It could have something to do with the little glass pipe the two of you have been passing back and forth all afternoon. The bowl on the end had been packed tight, more than enough weed to have both of you thoroughly stoned, well before it's even finished.

The ceiling fan is stirring up the faintest breeze. You've burned yourself thrice on a rogue, billowing flame while trying to light up. The circulating air keeps pushing an errant dark curl down over Eddie's face every time he dips his head to take a hit.. You've combed it back for him four times, already—God forbid he set his hair on fire. Again. You're not sure he's even noticed the way your hand lingers on that smooth strip of skin behind his ear just a little longer each time.

But you can't help it, not with the way everything's gone a little foggy at the edges. Your eyes seem to process your surroundings in near slow-motion, all while the world shines with a barely-perceptible gleam. The last twenty minutes the two of you have spent smoking have done wonders to soften the world around you. Your head is full of air in that familiarly pleasant way that leaves you feeling a bit like you might float away at any second. Like a balloon in the sky. And with the added bonus of Eddie by your side, you're entirely relaxed. Contented.  

Weak beneath the lazy weight of your high pressing in on you, you suddenly flop your weight down sideways across the bed, your head landing over Eddie's thighs. You blink slow up at him, hazy gaze focusing on the underside of Eddie's face while he brings his bony knees up from the mattress to cage you a little closer to his chest. The angle would be outrageous were you looking up at anyone else, you're sure, but Eddie..

He's so pretty.

All rogue-ish boy. Unkempt and wild, but still entirely beautiful.

You can't help the way your hand finds its way up, up, up. Your fingertips dancing across the barely-there five o'clock shadow on the edge of his jaw. You trace the hard line all the way from his chin to his ear, his stubble scratchy and wholly soothing when you lightly scrape your nails against the grain of it.

Eddie, on the other hand, has found himself entirely focused on the way gravity has moved your breasts in your new position below him. The awkward angle has carried them up and out, bra-less and soft and hypnotizing. They shift just a little every time your hand moves across his face. The tank top you've chosen to wear today is thin, indecently so, in his opinion. His brown eyes have been glued to the obvious outline of your nipples beneath the fabric since the moment you'd greeted him at the door, and his ogling has only gotten less subtle as his high settled in. He risks another longing glance down past your collar bones, reddened eyes dragging over the shape of your puffy nipples hidden underneath.

You're thumbing softly at the coarse hairs just under his chin when Eddie gives in to impulse and  purses his lips to blow a cool breath of air over your neck and chest. You can't help but giggle as your skin reacts, goosebumps spreading down your arms, and unbeknownst to you, your nipples tightening into semi-hard peaks beneath your top.

They're not the only things that are suddenly semi-hard. 

Eddie smacks his lips and swallows the drool that he's embarrassed to admit has pooled beneath his tongue. His ring-clad knuckles brush the side of your breast as he reaches to take the forgotten bowl from the blankets. 

He attempts to gather himself as he takes another hit. He holds it for a count of five and then exhales a cloud of smoke whilst urging himself to imagine something utterly repulsive.. His uncle in the shower, roadkill, the way his balls itch uncomfortably after he plays a gig at The Hideout in too-tight jeans — anything that might keep him from popping an unwanted boner while you've got your pretty, unassuming head resting in his lap.

Your fingers are now trailing lightly over the light freckles dotting the bridge of Eddie's nose. His skin is a little pink from yesterday's sun, despite the number of times you'd physically dragged him from Steve's pool to apply sunscreen to his steadily-reddening cheeks. The previous day outside has Eddie's barely-there freckles appearing far more visible than usual, speckled along the round tip of his nose, his cheeks, even the crinkles around his eyes. You think they make him look even more handsome, boyish perhaps, but handsome all the same.

Through the warm fog in your brain, you find yourself smiling up at him. A dopey grin on your face as you poke at the soft apples of his cheeks — Like he's your own personal plaything. Your heart ticks excitedly when the corner of Eddie's lips quirk up at you in response, his pupils blown wide, surrounded by a thin ring of molten chocolate. His teeth flash with his sweet little chuckle of amusement, cheeks dimpling beneath the sparsest area of his stubble.

“You've got freckles,” You comment quietly. “They're cute.” You smack your lips once, mouth dry with dehydration, “I like 'em.. 'nd your stubble, too. Feels nice.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, stoned and more than a bit flattered under the weight of your attention. His chest puffs up a little proudly, his words flowing without any real thought behind them, “Made it all myself.. 'S hard work.. But, uh, y'know. Someone's gotta do it.”

He slips his lighter between two of his fingers and holds the bowl off to the side so that he can drag the fingers of his free hand softly, delicately, over your hair where it's fanned out over his lap. He doesn't want to mess it up, especially doesn't want one of his rings to get caught and pull. But it looks so soft, and through the haze, he can't fight the impulse to simply.. touch. So gently. 

His attention seems intently focused on the careful motions of his fingers along your hair, and you take advantage of his distraction by finally allowing your gaze to drop to his mouth. Eddie keeps slowly rolling and biting his lips between his teeth. Canines dig into the flesh before he's scrunching his nose and pursing his lips, only to scrape his teeth over them again in a never-ending loop. You doubt he's even aware he's doing it but it's beginning to make his lips swell, the skin darkening to a brighter shade of pink from the abuse.

All at once, your trance is broken when his tongue pokes out to wet his smoke-dry lips. Your mind flashes suddenly with an idea. 

The absence of both the Hellfire crew and your other friends was truly a rarity. You hardly ever got to be alone with Eddie like this. You'd tried to ask him out once upon a time- No, not just once. Twice. Twice you'd asked him on a date — both of which had somehow ended in group excursions rather than romantic one-on-one time, how it had happened two separate times, you still weren't sure — and at this point you'd given up entirely. Because maybe it just wasn't meant to be. It was okay, really, you'd almost grown content in your longing. 

But, the way Eddie's lips shone lightly after his tongue stroked over them.. It had your brain reeling with possibility. If you were ever going to get his mouth on yours in private, even just for a fleeting moment, it didn't seem possible that an opportunity so seamless would ever present itself again.

It was worth a shot.

“I want another hit.” You tell him, licking at your own lips as brown eyes refocus on your face.

“M'kay, well, you're prob'ly gonna need to sit up for that, sweets,” Eddie points out, entirely unaware of the way your tummy always swoops when the thoughtless pet name falls from his lips. “Unless you were really lookin' t'get a face full'a ash.. In which case, you can definitely keep layin-” A burst of air leaves his nose with a laugh of surprise, repeating his own words to himself with a sweetly boyish giggle, “Sounds like ass. Face full'a ass. Now, that I'd like-”

Normally you'd join in on the joke. Poke a little fun at him for saying such a thing. Freak. You'd say it fondly, with an eye roll to go with it, maybe you'd throw in a half-serious offer involving his face and your backside- But you don't say any of those things. You can't. You're in the middle making the not-so-carefully crafted scene in your head a reality — And, can't he see that? Why is he trying to distract you? 

“Ash. Riiight, uh huh. Well,” You pause, feign innocence before your next words. “Maybe.. Maybe you could shotgun it to me n' that way I can stay right here?” You suggest cautiously, before adding as an afterthought, “If you want, I mean.” 

Any amusement is immediately stripped from Eddie's expression. He spends a few achingly long seconds blinking down at you with heavy eyelids, gaze hooded and distant. His weed-hazy brain takes a moment to actually process your words, but then, just as suddenly as he'd zoned out, he's nodding and bringing the glass pipe back up to his lips, one hand cupped around the end to shield the flame from the path of the ceiling fan.

The lighter clicks and swishes quietly as he lights up. He lowers the bowl after a long second, ringed hand dipping beneath your head and guiding you oh-so gently to arch your neck upward, until he can lean down and press his mouth down softly against yours. 

That first soft brush of his lips has your whole body thrumming. Butterflies begin a rampage in your stomach, so much so that you have to actively remind yourself to part your lips beneath his.

He presses down just a bit more, lips squishing solidly to your own parted ones and sending your heart racing dangerously, but then he's exhaling the smoke into your waiting mouth. You breathe it in as it comes, letting the warmth of it flow from his body and into your own.

He watches you intently as he moves to pull back and sit upright again. Watches the way you seal your mouth shut, lips rolling between your teeth while your lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks. You allow the smoke to simply sit in your lungs for a long moment before relaxing your chest and exhaling through your nose, releasing the diluted cloud up into the air between you. 

Eddie blinks down at you with heavy lids. There's a long moment of silence between you. It's a palpable thing — not quite awkward or tense, but brimming with an unexpected energy that neither one of you can quite decipher. It's charged. Something like static electricity, or the tether between two magnets of an opposite charge. It nearly tingles in the breadth of space between you.

Eddie feels it. He wonders if you feel it too.

“D'you want another hit?” He asks after a minute, his voice scratchy.

You merely nod your head, not trusting your own voice, and the movement has you refocusing suddenly on the soft press of his calloused fingers where they linger against the nape of your neck. You watch with bated breath as Eddie brings the glass pipe in his hand back to his lips again, letting his gentle grip fall from the top of your spine for just a moment so that he can flick the flame of the lighter over the tiny pocket at the end of the pipe once again. 

Eddie drops the items in his hands to your bedside table carelessly once he's gotten a good lungful of smoke. He leans down in a faster movement this time than he had done before, his hand dipping back beneath your head in a flash to bring your mouths together again.

His lips are dry against your own, but so soft. You're not sure if it's the high or simply Eddie, but the barely-there scratch of stubble over his upper lip is delicious. It feels so good it makes you a little lightheaded. 

Your mouth slips open, inhaling as he exhales. You feel the warmth of the smoke entering your mouth, taste the bitterness of it on your tongue as the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces.

You're preparing to let your craned neck fall back to his lap, to close your lips in an effort to keep the smoke inside of your lungs — but then Eddie is tightening his grip on the back of your head incrementally, and instead of pulling back, he slots your lips together more firmly. Your heart skips in surprise and you can practically hear the blood pumping in your ears. Your brain seems to white out for a moment, unable to focus on anything that isn't Eddie's soft lips moving tentatively against your own. 

A thin cloud of smoke escapes into the air around you as your mouths begin to move together in synchrony. You can't hold back a soft gasp of surprise when Eddie's tongue swipes warmly across the seam of your lips. Your heart pounds, your mouth opening beneath his again without hesitation. 

The kiss that follows is a frenzied rush of lips and teeth and tongue. Hunger blossoms in the pit of your stomach. But it somehow manages to feel so languid, so sensual beneath the relaxed fogginess of your high. 

Your back arches, shoulders lifting from Eddie's thigh to meet him more than halfway. The movement prompts his hands to find your hips and Eddie is tugging you upright in a flash. Suddenly you're wedged between his legs, practically in his lap. Your knees curling around his waist as he leans farther into your space, chasing your warmth until barely any space exists between you. 

Your hands slide idly along his body in a slow trail. Each scrape against your palms feels divine. Every inch of him feels like silk under your fingers. The smooth, worn cotton of his tshirt. The tight ringlets of curls at the nape of his neck, a little damp with sweat. The soft give of warm muscle beneath your eager hands on his chest, his arms, his hips. You attempt to memorize every inch of him, your limbs seemingly moving of their own accord, touch-hungry and weightless all at once. 

He's so warm and- God, you want to be inside of him. You think you might want to bury yourself beneath his skin and make a home there. He smells like heaven, like sweat and weed and masculine body wash. Your fingertips drag leisurely along the length of his inked arms, inching slow back toward his neck like you have all the time in the world to explore every inch of his body. 

Your touch is scorching across his skin, overwhelming and seemingly everywhere at once but simultaneously not enough. It's like all of his wildest dreams have come to life, and Eddie can't fucking believe that this is happening. That you're practically in his lap, your tongue in his mouth, legs draped around his waist, hands tucked beneath the gaping sleeves of his muscle tee to roam freely and grope at the exposed skin of his hips.

Eddie's head cranes just a bit to the side in an attempt to deepen the kiss, licking his way deeper. His own arms curl around your waist, tightening at the curve of your spine to tug your body flush against his. The action has a needy noise pushing its way into his mouth as your tongues explore one another with warm, wet licks. He groans at a particularly slow curl of your tongue, he swears he feels it in his fucking balls. 

He's so turned on he thinks his dick might explode. Eddie changes your position in another quick movement, holding you flush to his chest before he's directing you to lie back against the mattress and slotting himself right there  between your thighs. 

Despite the way your head has gone a little fuzzy from lack of oxygen, you can't find it in yourself to pull away from him. All you can do is slide your hands from Eddie's shoulders and up into his hair. Tingles shoot from your fingertips as they slide into his frizzy curls, yanking some of them free from his bun just to feel the way they tangle around your fingers. A hot flush of arousal pulses in your cunt at the satisfied noise that Eddie lets out when you tug lightly, and that noise alone has you suddenly frantic. 

You can't get enough of him; his sounds, his taste, the press of his warm body between your thighs.  

The hand he isn't using to support himself against the mattress rubs along your waist of its own accord, his fingertips slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to brush featherlight over your skin. You swear sparks erupt in his wake. 

You pull back just enough to murmur his name desperately against his lips, but the syllables are barely out before you're licking into his mouth again with unbridled hunger. Eddie's groan meets your ears in response to your weak plea — what you're begging for, you're not quite sure, but then his hips drop against yours with a slow roll and that- 

Oh, that is exactly what you needed.

You can't help the soft whimper that falls into his mouth. The warm line of his half-hard cock pressing against your cunt through the thin barrier of your pajama bottoms has you dizzy. Eddie grinds hips against yours in another slow roll, clothed erection pressing soft into your cunt and prompting the seam on your shorts to nudge at your clit. You both groan in sync, parted lips barely brushing through the breathless sounds.

You also can't help the way you lift your hips in time with each grind of his length against you. The warm weight of his balls squishes against the fabric of your shorts every time his pelvis drags over your own. The thin cotton feels far too thick of a barrier currently between you and his cock. 

Ringed fingers sneak up a little farther beneath your shirt, his hand tightening over your naked breast, and you keen at the feeling. He alternates between brushing the calloused pad of his thumb over your nipple and covering the area with his palm to give it a soft squeeze. His lips fall slack against your own, too busy focussing on the way his fingers release and then grope again and again, the kind of distracted intrigue that could only be a result of his high.

A soft whine falls from your lips after a minute of putting up with his lazy fondling. You tug at the hair between your fingers again and nip encouragingly at his lips in a silent plea for a kiss. His mouth finally resumes moving against your own, and you gratefully allow him to direct the kiss. You give him full control of the pace, which turns out to be a give and take of desperate licks into your mouth followed by gentle caresses of his spit-slick lips against your own. Lips smack each time you part, tongues sliding together wetly, heaving breaths rush in and out of your noses as you both attempt to pull as much oxygen in as humanly possible in an effort to not break apart.  

Your fingers find the knob of his spine, and you tug on the collar at the back of his shirt in silent question. Eddie answers by pushing back up on his knees to yank the fabric over his head in a quick movement. His tattooed chest heaves with slightly labored breaths and you watch him with rapt attention, your eyes drawn to the tiny patch of hair nestled between his pecs and lightly dusted around his nipples. Then your focus drops to the thicker trail that leads down into the waistband of his pants. The pale skin beneath the hair glistens with sweat, and good God you want to taste it-

But you're only granted a few seconds to ogle his torso before Eddie is dipping back down to catch your lips with his, your mouths immediately separating just enough that he can strip you of your own top. 

As soon as your naked chest is exposed to him, Eddie is dragging his lips down your body in a slow trail. He pauses for a moment to kiss a spot just below your ear, his voice raspy when he speaks, “You good? This alright?” He checks quietly. 

You reach up to tangle a hand in his hair again, a breathless sigh leaving your lips as you feel the warmth of his mouth pressing against your neck, “Good, yeah. Very, very alright.” 

Eddie wastes no time, his lips trailing lower. He leaves a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses to your exposed breasts, relishing in the way you react to his mouth, the way your spine arches up from the mattress at the attention. 

“Jesus H. Christ. 's incredible,” Eddie mumbles, his words slurred against your chest as he bites and sucks at the skin on the side of your breast. His head has gone hazy with lust, his fingers slipping beneath your body to grab a desperate fistful of your ass, “Hand to God. I swear, I've never fuckin' seen more perfect-”

You interrupt the filth spewing from his mouth with an entirely unintentional moan, slightly overwhelmed by the influx of sensations. His praise in your ears. The feeling of his fingertips sinking into the plush of your ass. The prominent bulge in his bottoms dragging against you. 

Eddie curses under his breath, taking your nipple into his mouth and biting down softly before immediately soothing his tongue over it in apology.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. Sweetly faded and hazy at the edges, but somehow, each touch and sound between the two of you feels heightened — Magnified and all that more intense. As if your high has somehow managed to mute everything on earth except for Eddie. 

You release his hair in favor of sliding your hands down his back to grope the globes of his ass over his pajama bottoms while his hips continue to rock forward in a dizzying rhythm. A knead to the flesh there has Eddie whining sinfully against your tongue and your pussy fucking throbs in response.

"Baby," Eddie pants into your mouth, his voice nearly cracking with need, "Take 'em off, please- Baby? c'n we-?"

He doesn't finish the question but you nod, nose brushing against his as your hands slip underneath the waistband of his pants. Your fingers are very nearly trembling while you shove the fabric down below the curve of his ass. 

You feel the moment that his cock springs free and you immediately have to crane your neck down to take a peek — The urge to see him is too strong. And God is it a glorious sight. 

Flushed red at the tip and achingly hard— Jesus it's thick, gloriously thick. His pubes are dark and untamed around the base, hiding just how big he truly is. It's the most gorgeous cock you've ever fucking seen and it's bumping softly against the crotch of your shorts, wetting the fabric with smeared pre-cum that Eddie's fucking leaked over the head. He's wet with need, same as you, and the thought makes you feel fucking insane. 

Which means you ogle perhaps longer than you should. 

A needy grumble rises in Eddie's throat that has you snapping out of it suddenly and bringing a hand up into the narrow space between your faces. It takes a moment with the dryness of smoke lingering on your tongue, but you manage to gather enough spit to lick a wet stripe up your palm and fingers, and then you're reaching down to curl your fingers around him. 

Half-naked is practically Eddie's default state when he's stoned or drunk, you've drooled over just the outline of him in his underwear more times than you can count, but you're still somehow surprised by the sheer size of him in your hand. The weight of him. Long and curved just a little to the right — so silky and so soft under the slippery glide of your fist. You work your hand slow over him, rewarded with a beautiful little groan of thanks from the man above you, the sound of it guttural as you begin to jerk him with slick strokes. 

“Ohhh my god, that- that's, j-jesus-” His voice fucking cracks. 

Eddie's hips jump as he fucks into your fist. His eyes roll back, a little delirious just from the sight of your smaller hand wrapped around him. You switch from long strokes in favor of shorter ones where you can focus your attention on his tip, your thumb swiping back and forth over the head of his cock with each flick of your wrist. Eddie doesn't even recognize the sounds leaving his mouth. The combination of his high and the wet glide of your hand is too maddening to care. 

You make your own small noise of amazement that has Eddie coming back to himself suddenly. He yanks your shorts down your thighs with an impatient huff, pulling away from you just long enough to discard the last of both of your clothing before he's caging you back against the mattress once again. And then his lips are making their way to your neck, kissing and sucking lightly between these oh-so pretty little groans against your throat, his hips bucking restlessly into your own all the while. 

You give an eager cant of your hips, feet pressing into the mattress until the tip of Eddie's cock brushes the seam of your cunt. Eddie makes another sweet little noise of surprise that has you draping an arm around his neck, your face pressing into his shoulder as you repeat the movement with intention. 

You want him so bad your pussy fucking aches. 

“Ed, can we, please?” You whisper desperately into his skin. 

The question is barely out before he's nodding against your throat, bracing his knees and lining himself up with your hole. His hips push forward until just the tip of his cock presses into the wet heat of your cunt, but good lord-

He's so big. It feels a bit like he's splitting you right down the middle, but it's so good. He rocks his hips forward slowly, each little push stretching you wider than you thought possible. Every time you think he can't possibly have more to give you, he slips in a little deeper. He reaches so far inside of you that your eyes roll back, a long, drawn-out moan tearing past your lips at the slow stretch, the dull fullness behind your navel that you can nearly feel in your throat. 

“Oh, fuck.” You whine breathlessly, hands scrambling for purchase along his skin. Your nails bite into the sweat-slick muscles of his back before slipping lower still. You find the dimples at the base of his spine, nails raking over the pale white skin of his hips and ass. Your whole body goes lax underneath him as the wiry bush of his pubes finally meets your own. 

The noise Eddie releases into the curve of your shoulder borders on a whimper, his breath hot against your skin as he rocks his hips forward again and again. His weight pushes you deeper into the mattress, his cock grinding desperately against the absolute deepest parts of you. He gasps with each nudge of your cervix against the head of his cock, practically humping you through the haze of his high as he tries to give you time to adjust to his size. 

“Y'good?” Eddie pants into your neck, words slurred together with need. He feels half a second from fucking begging when your legs spread further, your thighs falling back toward the mattress and allowing him even deeper and holy fucking shit. “Ohh, c'n I move?” He’s all but whining now, “Please. God, please can I-” 

“Uh huh, 'm good, 'm good, I-” Your assurances cut off with a wail when he begins to pull back and drive in again with a sharp snap of his hips. Your fingers tighten where his hairy thighs meet his ass, nails biting into taut muscle in an attempt to ground yourself. “Ohmygod.” You whine, eyes glazing over with the heat that pools behind your navel with each thrust.

“Y'feel so good.” Eddie mumbles, slack mouth pressed to the sensitive spot below your ear. 

He pushes up on his elbows, but only enough that you can gape up at him with hooded eyes, brows furrowed with just how fucking good he feels. 

“Fuucck, y're pretty,” Eddie groans between deep thrusts, his words drawing a moan from your lips. He brings one hand to your cheek, thumb pushing into the plush cushion of your swollen lips before he's covering them with his own in a messy kiss, “Y're so hot. So. fucking. perfect.” 

His words are spoken quietly against your lips between thrusts, his nose squishing your own in close proximity, and you draw him back down to your mouth in a hungry kiss, teeth clashing. 

The pace Eddie has set is intoxicating, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming his hips forward to fill you up again with deep thrusts. Your moans are loud, wanton and uncontrollable under the haze of your high, only somewhat muffled by Eddie's mouth covering yours. 

In a frenzy, you find yourself kissing away the sweat beading on his upper lip. You lave your tongue softly over the light prickle of stubble at his cupid’s bow, but you're only granted a moment to relish in the scratch of it before Eddie is nosing at your cheek and urging you back into a scorching, albeit distracted, kiss. His fingers wrap around your upper thigh to hitch your leg a little higher on his hip, rocking his hips forward again and managing to hit impossibly deeper inside of you. He drives into that spongey spot behind your navel and you writhe-

“Oh-” You gasp into his mouth in surprise, head gone fuzzy as he continues fucking your at the new angle, “Eddie!  I, fuck-” 

He responds with a groan. His lips leave yours to forge a trail of biting kisses over your skin. He wants to kiss you everywhere. He wishes he could kiss every inch of your skin and still keep fucking you. You're weak to do anything but lie there and take it and it makes Eddie feel dizzy with power. Your arms curl around his shoulders again, head thrown back against the bed in ecstasy. 

Eddie's mouth is seemingly everywhere, lips sucking at the underside of your jaw, tongue leaving a wet trail over your collarbones and throat, teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder. Each new sensation sends another spark of arousal down your spine, sends your brain farther into the clouds. 

It’s almost too much. It has you tightening your thighs around his hips and rolling sideways over the bed to switch positions, his cock slipping free as you find yourself straddling his waist with only a slight wobble from the momentum. Eddie makes a quiet noise of surprise and petulance, but it melts into a grateful, high-keening moan when you sink back down onto him. Your hips press flush to his as you set a new, slower rhythm of your own making. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Eddie whines in amazement, hands tracing over the curve of your waist and breasts as you rock back and forth onto him, “Shit. You look so good like this.” His praise comes out through heaving breaths.

You rest one hand supportively over the sparse hair at the center of his chest, the fingers of your other hand trailing up the skin of his arm until you can tangle your hands together against the mattress. You grind your hips down harder, deeper, and Eddie groans, his hips bucking up unconsciously to meet you halfway. 

Your forearms fall on either side of his head. Your weight pressing down against his chest has Eddie immediately fisting your ass and thighs in a bruising grip to help guide your movements. You lean down to bury your face in his neck as you slide back and forth along his length in a slow rhythm, your legs already aching with exertion even with the help of his strong arms.

The loud slapping of skin meeting skin every time the backs of your thighs meet his own rings loudly in your ears. Your staggered breathing falls against his lightly stubbled jaw, lips leaving distracted kisses in apology for the way your hot breath fans out against his already sweaty neck. 

“God, Eds,” You moan into his skin, sucking a mark against his throat while he uses his tight grip on your hips to fuck you down onto himself, “You feel. So f-fucking good-” 

You let out a yelp as Eddie twists your bodies again with a grunt, and suddenly his body above yours once more, his hand on your shoulder as he sinks back inside of you.

“Need it faster. Harder.” He pants, “That okay?” 

You nod, head rubbing against the mattress, “Yes. Please, yeah-” 

Eddie trails his fingers down the back of your thigh and guides you to wrap your legs around his waist, and then he’s fucking into you in quick, punishing thrusts. Your moans only increase in volume at the change of pace, your whole body seemingly flushed with heat. Your hands scrape desperately over Eddie's back as he pounds into you, nails cutting into pale skin. 

“Shit,” Eddie groans, his forehead dropping down against yours in an unexpectedly tender movement, though it does little to take away from the sound of your bedframe creaking, the wet squelch every time he drives back into you. “God, 're you close?” He asks desperately.

“Uh-huh.” You confirm immediately, brain hazy and muscles tensing with each hard thrust that brings you closer and closer to your peak. 

Eddie's nose rubs soft along your cheekbone as he nods, joining your mouths in a kiss that's more breath and tongue than anything else. You struggle to focus on moving your mouth against his as your orgasm begins to creep into the corners of your vision. Eddie's weight drops down onto one elbow to allow him the stability to reach in between you. His hand settles over your pelvis, his fingers swiping messy over your clit as his quick thrusts grow shakier. 

“C'mon, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against your lips, “C'mon, I really-” He's cut off by the groan that rumbles up his throat when you pulse around him, the sound entirely animalistic. “Goddd. N-need you t' fuckin' cum, baby, please.” 

His voice has gone husky with arousal and exertion, the sound has your eyes rolling back. It only takes a handful more thrusts like that, with the help of his fingertips tracing light circles over your clit. Your whole body tenses as your orgasm crashes over you, legs clamping around his hips. You whine brokenly in his mouth, a sharp gasp immediately following as you scrape your fingers down his shoulders, your whole body shaking as you come undone around him. 

The increased tightness of your muscles spurs on Eddie’s own orgasm within a few thrusts, and then he's following you over the edge. He buries his face in the curve of your neck as he cums with a whine, hips stuttering twice before burying deep. His weight crushes you to the mattress, your back arching at the warmth of his release filling you. Your eyes water with the strength of your orgasm, Eddie's hips unconsciously grinding into your own as he rides out his own, whimpering into your ear with the aftershocks. 

You both remain unmoving for a long minute, sweaty chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath and come back to yourself. You card gently through Eddie's sweaty hair, his curls having long since broken free from the hair tie that had once held them back from his face. You fingers trail thoughtlessly through the damp tresses while Eddie's hot breath fans out over your neck. His dick twitches inside you when your fingertips scrape softly against his scalp and you struggle to bite back a quiet laugh of amusement. Your muscles tense even with the smothered laugh, and Eddie groans as your cunt pulses around him. 

He huffs when he catches the look on your face, entirely dramatic as he begins to roll away, but he only maintains that feigned annoyance for about half a second before he's cackling madly and dragging you into his chest. He nips sharply at your shoulder as he tugs you into his sweaty chest and buries his face in your hair, fingers beginning to trace soft shapes over the skin of your hip. 

“You feelin' okay?” He murmurs after a moment. 

“Yeah,” You confirm with a sigh, already relaxing into his touch. Your brain is pleasantly dulled from the combination of the lingering high and your orgasm. “Yeah, 'm great.” 

“Oh, same, yeah. Super great. I just, uh-” Eddie pauses and you find yourself focussing on the gentle caress of his fingers along your skin, “I wanted to check, y'know.. Make sure you weren't havin' any.. I dunno, just, regrets-”

You're readjusting in a flash so that you can look at him directly, your head settling onto his bicep as your eyes flick between his, “I don't. Regret it, I mean.” 

It feels much too serious of a conversation to be having considering how deliriously high you currently feel, the previous strenuous activity did little to clear your head, but you mean it with every fiber of your being. You've been hung up on Eddie for what feels like forever now, the thought of him outright regretting the events of the last hour- It has you feeling sick, stomach sinking and twisting and souring all at once.

Eddie's throat bobs as he swallows, “Just, I mean.. Y're real stoned and- Shit. I, fuck. I probably shouldn't've-”

“Eddie,” You cut him off, feeling desperate with the need to reassure him, “You smoked just as much as I did—probably more. I-I wanted this. I wanted it, like, really bad. Unless..” Your heart drops, “Do.. Do you regret-?”

“No!” Eddie disagrees immediately, and vehemently — With urgency to correct you. “No. No, sweetheart, I do not regret it. Could never regret you. I mean, that was- Shit, I've been wanting to do that since-”

Your hand finds the warmth of his chest, fingers scraping at the small tattoo there, “You have?” 

Eddie nods his head against the blankets, sweaty curls sticking up every which way around his head like a messy halo, “Yeah.” 

“Does that mean.. I mean, would you maybe wanna do it again sometime? But, like, when we're not high as all hell?” 

Eddie's dimpled grin has an embarrassingly wild burst of butterflies erupting inside of you, “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

You lay like that for a while, pressed together despite the heat. His fingers wander over your palms, tracing the lines there while you watch the way his rings shift. Your naked bodies separated only by a thin layer of sweat. The ceiling fan pushing light waves of blessedly cool air over your skin. 

After a few minutes Eddie suddenly tears himself out of your grip, and he does it so abruptly that your brain is hardly able to comprehend the loss of him. He lets out a quiet yelp of distress and nearly collapses face-first into the blankets in a mad scramble toward your legs. He manhandles you until you're sprawled on your back, pushing your thighs apart before flopping entirely ungracefully onto his belly in the narrow space he's made between them. 

As you push up onto your elbows to peer down at him, Eddie is simply stroking his fingers soft up and down the length of your cum-soaked folds. His eyes are alight with wonder while he watches his own spend begin to leak out. One of his thumbs catches it as it falls, and he pulls his hand back for just a moment to get a better look at the pearlescent mixture of your combined cum. 

“What're you doing?” You giggle after a long moment of simply watching him.

Eddie's head snaps up with such surprise it looks as if he might've forgotten you were even there, if such a thing were possible. 

“Just, uh.. Admiring my handiwork.” He grins like he's all-too pleased with himself, dimples poking into his cheeks. 

“It's our handiwork, actually,” You correct playfully, “Half of that's mine, and- No, wait. Actually, 's all mine now.” You tell him triumphantly.

His eyes narrow in confusion and you redirect your gaze pointedly. His attention follows your own, eyes flicking briefly toward his own hand, where the cum has begun to drip slow down his thumb toward the meat of his palm. 

“What, this?” He questions in amusement. 

“Yes that.” You tell him with a frown, “'s mine.” You have to bite back an honest-to-god cackle at the entirely contrived look of betrayal on his face. “Put it back.” You challenge. 

Eddie's eyes roll in irritation as he repeats your words mockingly, his voice thrown high in an exceptionally poor imitation of your own, but he does dutifully drop his hand down between your thighs again to attempt to push the cum back inside you. 

He looks pleased as punch once he's done. He looks at your cunt with a dopey grin on his face, cheeks still pink with exertion and hair wild. 

“Don't miss me too much, pretty. A'right? I'll be seein' you again real soon.” Eddie murmurs softly, eyes never once leaving your cunt. He punctates his words by pressing a gentle kiss to your mound, just a hair's breadth from your clit. 

And then that dumb, dazed smile takes over his face again. 

You squint down at him, “Was.. Were you talking to me or my-”

“Was talkin' to this pretty pussy.” Eddie says matter of factly, stroking his hand over the coarse hairs between your thighs in the way one might pet an animal. 

“Okay.” You manage, laughter preventing you from saying anything else. 

Eddie tugs a large chunk of loose curls across his face and lays his cheek to your upper thigh. He stays like that for a moment, hidden behind the curtain of his hair, big brown eyes blown about as wide as he can manage through his high.

 “..Do you still wanna fuck me?” 

He pouts. It's ridiculous. It's adorable.

You can't pretend to mull it over for more than a few seconds, your cheeks ache with the need to smile. He makes you so happy you feel borderline deranged. 

Your lips quirk up even as you sigh dramatically, “Regrettably? Yes.”  

He fucking cheers. 

He drums his hands enthusiastically against your thighs and yells so loud in victory that all you can do is laugh and cover your ears until he's finished. 

You don't regret it, not a goddamn bit.

Made it this far? Please reblog to show your support! It only takes a moment, and reblogs are so important when it comes to helping share an author's hard work!

[chosolar]

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈ when I'm with you

street racer sukuna x fem!reader

streetracer!sukuna is arrogant and cocky for a reason. he knows he's the best and no one can compare to him when it comes to being the fastest.

streetracer!sukuna has had a few run ins with the police here and there for speeding ofc and reckless driving, but he has enough money to pay off the tickets. the police have gotten so many complaints about him that they are on a first-name basis with him, but sukuna has always managed to get out of trouble with them

streetracer!sukuna may seem like the biggest fuckboy but finds hooking up and relationships to be a waste of time. he doesn't know why he has a reputation of being a fuckboy when he hasn't been with a lot of girls. why would he spend his money on flowers and date nights when he can use it to buy parts for his car?

streetracer!sukuna drives 2 different cars - the car he often uses for racing is his custom-wrapped burgundy red supra mk5, modded to the gods. the other one is his daily car, a black gt4 that is his baby. both of his cars are unique and anyone knows that the dark red supra is his.

streetracer!sukuna is wealthy enough as it is, but with all he races he's won, he's able to provide himself without his family's money. his parents wanted him to take over as he's the oldest but refused to do so, feeling that his calling in life was not being in suits and meetings all day. his parents aren't happy with the career he chose but they support him by giving him a huge monthly allowance.

streetracer!sukuna met you for the first time at a gala he was forced to go to in place of his father. he was getting annoyed of the other guests asking when he'll be working with his father over and over again so he took off to an empty part of the building, hoping to relax before he goes back in again. sukuna loosens tie and opens the door that leads to the balcony, not expecting to see a lady already there. "oh sorry I didn't know someone was here already."

"oh no don't worry, I was just about to leave," you reassure him and smiled. sukuna sighs and walks over to the spot beside you, resting his arms on the top of the balcony railing. "you don't have to leave. did you come out for a breather too?"

you nodded, "yeah a little. it's my first time going to a gala and I wasn't expecting it to be so..."

"snobby? pretentious? all of the above?" he butts in, his interruption earning a laugh from you. "yeah just a little."

both of you kept quiet for a bit when sukuna speaks up to introduce himself and you reciprocate the action. he's silently glad that you don't know him, either through his family or as the reckless street racer. he ended up staying with you longer than expected but he wanted to continue getting to know so he asks for your number before heading back to the gala.

streetracer!sukuna usually spends his friday and saturday nights driving around when he's not racing. usually he cruises with gojo and geto, but sometimes sukuna prefers the silence of being by himself. he's used to it now though, often choosing to race with no passengers compared to the other racers.

streetracer!sukuna finds himself wanting your company after meeting you at the gala. with races taking place at night, sukuna likes that he has the daytime to meet with you. whether that was picking you up from work or taking you out to a breakfast date, sukuna is always wanting to spend time with you somehow.

streetracer!sukuna is uncharacteristically bashful when you ask him about racing and his cars. he usually loves talking about it and always brags about his cars whenever he gets the chance but when it came to you, he has a hard time. (it's because he's worried you'll think he's living a dangerous and irresponsible life and if it was anyone else he wouldn't care but you're the first person whose opinion he cares about). he makes sure to only tells you half-truths when you question him about racing - yes he goes fast (and has crashed into road barriers), yes the police have stopped him a couple times (he's been arrested a couple of times but is released the day after). he cares about how you perceive him so he tries to not inform you of the dangers he experiences with the career he's in.

streetracer!sukuna usually drives fast but when you're in the passenger seat, he is not going any more than 10 above the speed limit. he's a professional racer so he's used to driving at high speeds but he doesn't want to risk anything with you in the car. sometimes you'll ask him to do a pull which he reluctantly agrees to, but he doesn't even try to reach the red line. he knows his cars well but he thinks about the off-chance that something could go wrong.

streetracer!sukuna is elated that you don't judge him for what he does for a living. he knows that it's a non-traditional job and it can be unstable but for sukuna, it's a lucrative occupation. he asks you often to come with him during races with a large prize because he says you're his lucky charm, he actually just wants to show off. ever since you got together, he's earned more than enough for the both of you to live very comfortably.

streetracer!sukuna only lets you drive his car. word spread around that someone that's not sukuna was in the driver's seat of his supra AND his gt4, and even some of the guys texted sukuna to see if it was true. he asked you first if he can tell them that you guys are together, and immediately said yes when you let him. to confirm everyone's suspicions, sukuna posts on his instagram a photo of his cars side by side with you sitting down on the hood of the gt4 posing cutely with the caption "everything I love". it's the only picture that he has pinned on his profile (yess we love a king who shows off his girl)

streetracer!sukuna is the epitome of gentle giant to you. everyone knows him as the intimidating tall racer who has a resting bitch face and does not like talking to anyone, but he's such a giant softie when he's with you. when you're beside him, all of a sudden he's smiling and doesn't look like he wants to murder someone. other racers only come up to sukuna when you're with him because you force sukuna to be nice and actually talk to them (they're thankful for you).

streetracer!sukuna is 2 words - THE CLINGIEST! because he races at night and when he hasn't seen you for a long time (1 day), he'll come over to your place and sleep over. he doesn't care if he has to drive to the other side of the city to do so, he wants to see you now. he gets grumpy if he doesn't feel you in his arms when he wakes up. mans just wants to wake up being cuddled and who can blame him

streetracer!sukuna was insanely nervous when he met your parents. he wasn't worried when you met his because he knew that they would love you (spoiler alert they do), but his palms were sweating when you said your parents wanted to meet him. he knows that his appearance is not the most conventional with his pink hair and tattoos all over his body, especially his face. he wanted to make a good impression so he opted to went to his mom to get help for his outfit and how to impress your parents. his mom thanked you after he left because she never thought she'd see the day her son would willingly wear a shirt with a collar.

streetracer!sukuna contemplates if he should stop racing when he misjudged the distance of the car when he was trying to take over and got into a really bad crash. he recovered quickly and is fine now, but the image of you crying at his bedside wouldn't leave his head. he knows you want to be supportive but he notices how hesitant you get when he tells you he has a race. he would do anything for you, even if it that means giving up his dream so that you could have a peace of mind.

streetracer!sukuna loves you unapologetically. he's never met anyone so encouraging and so patient with him, and he would be the world's biggest idiot if he fumbles you. he doesn't care if anyone calls him a simp for prioritizing you first above all else, he loves you too much to care about being name called. he knows you deserve the world and does his best to give you so, treating and spoiling you with whatever you desire. he's never going to let you go, and he doesn't care what anyone thinks because he knows that you're his endgame.

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈

I wanna make a smau for this but like idk if I should, what do you guys think? again, not proofread hehe

[kurokawaia]

hii for ur 3k event could i request bakugou with degrading, baby trapping and size kink pls!! ^_^

Bakugou is slightly Oc here! MDNI / 18+ / Aged up! / TW/CW: Timeskip! Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader, Degradation, baby trapping, size kink, unprotected sex + more / DRABBLE /

3k Event | Master list

If Bakugou looks forward to anything at the end of his hard-working day as a hero, it would definitely be coming back to his wife. His wife who provides for him back home, loving how you always make sure everything is clean, having food prepared for him, doing the washing and all of that. On top of that, your small, so small compared to his massive figure and he loves it.

God, you're so easy to manhandle in bed that he loses it.

He fantasises about it all the time (even though he does it every night to you...) how very very blatant the size difference is and makes it quite obvious when you come to see him when he's working. This includes ruffling your hair, leaning down to you and overexaggerating the action of course and so much more.

Everyone is baffled, you basically jump around him and when they see Bakugou, a big, tall, muscular man who could pummel you to the floor with ease is makes them wonder how your relationship works, by that, they mean in bed.  

And it'll be explained now. There is not a time where you aren't completely engulfed in Bakugou's size, rendering you from any sort of form to move. As he pounds into your dripping pussy at a speed that makes your brain go fuzzy.

Every night the same words leave his mouth, along with the same actions. Filling you up until you can't take a step without clenching your thighs together, making sure that his cum stays tucked up in your womb. There's a chance you could already be pregnant, but Bakugou doesn't care, all he wishes is for you stomach to swell with his child, ensuring that there is no running from this relationship, not that you ever would. 

"Shit- That's it," Bakugou says, letting out a deep moan that made your insides churn with pleasure. "Take it like a good little slut, princess."

"Kats," you whimper, not knowing how to handle the over whelming pleasure taking over your body, you still can't get used to how over whelmed he makes you feel and it's been years.

A sharp thrust of his hips causes you to let out a yelp as you claw at his back, leaving scratch makes all down his back as he constantly fills you up. Good thing it's winter and he has to wear his long sleeve shirt while working... "Shhh," he coos, relishing in how tight you keep sucking him in, like your asking to be having his baby. "Fuck, there you go, such a slut."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

[reidrum]

close to home | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a/n: this has been rotting in my brain for days now i hope you enjoy the angsty comfort this brought me <3 my requests are open (guidelines in pinned!) or if you wanna just chat hop in my ask box :) gonna hopefully work on a smut fic in the next week so keep an eye out hehe

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, protective!spencer, afab!reader who uses she/her pronouns, non bau!reader, cm type violence, reader sustains injuries from unsub, vague description of injuries, maeve mentions, derek being a good friend, spencer being so in love with reader, this takes place probably a year after maeve, inconsistencies with tls and characters but who cares

wc: 2.4k

summary: the bau is working a local case when their unsub strikes again mid investigation, hotch tells reid and morgan to go check it out but spencer finds the address of the crime to be a little too familar

_______________________________________________

Whenever the BAU has a case based in the D.C. area, it’s always a little easier on the team. Familiar stomping grounds, ease of resources, no major time difference, and everyone can sleep in their own beds. The hard part about home cases is knowing there’s a serial killer in the place they know deeply, with people they cared about deeply.

Spencer and Callahan are in the middle of the bullpen staring at the giant white board with all the evidence they have so far. The unsub has been killing women in their mid 20s in the local dc area, with the mo currently unknown. there had already been two victims, both killed in their homes. Spencer was currently trying to analyze all the information the case had alongside with what Garcia was able to provide, and he was still hitting a dead end. Morgan had joined them at some point too, trying to offer what he could remember from the crime scenes but to no avail. He felt his eyes straining and dropping so he decided to get more coffee, but was stopped by Hotch and Garcia entering the bullpen.

“Police just got a 911 call about a break in, but there’s a witness this time. She was home when it happened and it looks like he didn’t expect that and tried to knock her out before escaping. I think it sounds like our unsub. Morgan and Reid, I need you to go check out the scene and interview the witness, see what she remembers.” Hotch explained.

Morgan and Reid nodded as Garcia spoke up, “I just sent the address to your phones, it’s a house on Hillcrest so it's not that far from here.”

Spencer froze. he had to have heard wrong, she did not say Hillcrest, “Did you say Hillcrest?”

“Yeah, Hillcrest Drive. It’s like, a 15 minute drive, not that far.”

He felt his heart drop to his feet, a sinking feeling building in his gut. That was the street you lived on. He tried to ground himself with logic, the probability of it being your house is only 10%, but he was dreading asking the fated question.

“Garcia, what’s the house number?”

“Reid, I already sent it to your pho-“

“Garcia, what is the house number,” he spoke again. 

Please don’t say 1159. Please don’t say 1159. Please don’t say-

“1159.”

Fuck. The color drained from his face, and the nausea was building to a head quickly. Spencer hurriedly tried to think through the last time he spoke to you. Last night? This morning? He doesn’t check on you as much as he does when he’s not on a case, but oh my god why can’t he remember the last time he saw you.

“Reid,” Hotch bellows, finally breaking spencer out of his trance, “What is it? What do you know?”

He shook his head, “Nothing. Morgan, let’s go.” he grabbed his jacket and booked it out the door.

Morgan, Garcia, and Hotch all looked at each other in concern, before Morgan spoke up, “I’ll see what’s up.” The latter two nodded softly, though the worry didn’t let up in their eyes.

Morgan walked up to the car to find Spencer repeatedly trying to call someone on the phone, clearly unable to get through and getting really frustrated.

Spencer was alerted by Morgan’s presence hearing the car unlock but he didn’t even look at him, just immediately got in the car and strapped his seat belt. Morgan joined him in the drivers seat giving him a wary look before turning the car on and pulling out of the bureau.

“Okay Reid, spill it. It’s obvious you know who lives here.” Morgan speaks up.

“Just drive, please.”

“Because if you know something, something that could help the case, it would be helpful if we knew.”

“Morgan, just drive.” he borderline yells.

He raises his eyebrows at his raised voice, “Listen kid, i’m just trying to help you. I can see you’re upset but we’re on the same side, you know that.”

Spencer takes a shaky breath, feeling another shade of guilt at yelling at one of his friends, for something he didn’t even know about. He’d kept you a secret for many reasons— your relationship with him was still new, and he just wanted to keep you to himself for a bit. After what happened with Maeve, he felt especially more responsible at keeping you safe and making sure you didn’t get tangled up in his line of work.

Some job he did of that.

The one thing he regrets about how he handled the Maeve situation, was not asking for help until it was almost too late. For not doing anything about her stalker when he was part of one of the most famous fbi teams built to find people like that. He’d always live with that guilt, but he vowed not to do that with you.

He loved you so much. You were so kind, and smart, and beautiful. A breath of fresh air after feeling lost in a dark tunnel for so long. You were so understanding when he explained what he did for a living, and what had happened to him and people he cared about as a result. He still remembers what you said to him when he told you that you could have an out, if you wanted.

“Any risk is worth taking if getting to be with you is the consolation prize.”

Tears welled up in eyes thinking about the memory. If you were willing to take any risk, then he should be able to as well.

He cleared his throat, and Morgan’s ears perked up, “My uh, my girlfriend lives there. Where the unsub, at- attacked.” he voiced softly.

Morgan looked at him for a beat while driving, Spencer missing the way his face dropped. He tightened his hands on the wheels, and without hesitation he turned the lights and siren on and shifted gears to speed up.

__

The car pulled onto your street and the first thing Spencer sees is the flashing light of the ambulances. Morgan doesn’t even put the car in park before Spencer’s bolting out hoping he can find you quickly.

He’s asking all the paramedics he’s passing if they’ve seen you or know if you’re being treated, were you transferred to a hospital and he didn’t know. The tunnel vision slowly overtaking him until he hears a voice breaking through like sunlight call out his name.

He whips his head in the direction he heard it come from, and he’s never been more grateful to be met with the beautiful sight of you. You watch his eyes widen and let out a sigh before running over to where you were sitting in the back of the ambulance. He’s definitely not thinking when he goes in to hug you, not even knowing the extent of your injuries. He’s overtaken by the desperate need to hold you in his arms so he knows you’re safe and okay.

“Hi,” you choke out muffled, “Funny seeing you here.”

He pulls back to inspect your face, taking note of a small cut above your left eyebrow and the beginning splotches of a bruise forming on your lower jaw. His heart aches so much looking at you, knowing what happened to you and who did this to you.

“Hi, honey,” he lets out tearfully, “Are you okay? I mean, of course you’re not. But what did the paramedics say? Did they give you anything? Are you sure they checked all your injuries? You know what, let me go call the guy over. I’ll be two seconds.” his panicked ramble fading off as he rounds the truck you’re sat in to find the emt.

Upon his extensive questioning of the man who treated you, he found out that you had sustained a minor concussion from when the unsub swung at you with an umbrella, superficial cuts caused by a broken vase you threw to defend yourself, and a dislocated shoulder from getting shoved into the wall.

You were okay, but at what cost.

The EMT leaves you two and Spencer sits himself next to you on the rig. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you as tight as he can and the other hand cradles your head into the crook of his neck, holding you so tight he’s hoping he can squeeze the bad memories out of you. It’s at this moment of feeling safe and sound in his arms when the adrenaline of your attack wears off.

Spencer hears a small whimper and feels a few hot tears trickle down his neck, your breathing gets faster as you’re attempting to beat your body’s fear response. The slow build up of sobs starting to rack your chest, and he immediately holds you tighter.

“It’s over, baby, they won’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”

You sniffle, “I know, I just can’t believe this happened. To me. To us. It’s not fair to you.” trailing off the last two words.

“To me? Wh- what do you mean?”

You take a deep breath, “I don’t mean to bring it up again, I just know how eerily similar this is to a past experience you’ve had. and I hoped that I wouldn’t be in a position to make you feel that way again. I don’t know why this happened, I'm sorry.”

He looked down at you incredulously, genuinely unable to believe that you were sitting next to him on an ambulance, beaten up with bruises and scars after a home invasion attack, worried about how he would feel when he got to you. It was enough to finally let the swell of tears saved up in his eyes fall.

“Oh sweetheart,” he chokes out, realizing you’ve been trying to be brave for him this whole time, “What happened is not your fault, do you understand me? My job is to always worry about you and your safety. When Garcia said the address I…I couldn’t even process it, I don’t even know how I got to the car,” he shook his head, “But I am the last person you need to push your emotions down for. I will always take them in stride and love you even more for that, okay?”

“Okay,” you take a shaky breath, “I love you.”

“I love you.” he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

Both of your heads look up at an approaching figure, who you quickly recognize to be SSA Derek Morgan. You knew Spencer hadn’t told the team about you yet, so you tried to sit up independently as fast as you could before he came over and suspected something.

Spencer’s grip didn’t let up when he bent down and whispered, “It’s okay, he knows.” You look up at him with wide eyes when derek finally reaches you.

“Reid, I already talked to the detectives and we’re good to go when you’re ready,” he turns his body to you and gives you a comforting smile, “Hi sweetheart, I’m Derek Morgan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Spencer rolls his eyes at the nickname while you giggle softly, “Hi Derek, I’ve heard so much about you. It's nice to finally meet you too.”

“I wish it were under better circumstances,” he sighs, “Listen, I know it’s all still really fresh for you, but it might help the case if you’re able to come in for a cognitive interview, or even talk to a sketch artist.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat before protesting, “Absolutely not. We can do it later, it’s fine.”

“Reid-“

You look up at him placing your hand on his chest, “Spence, It’s okay. I want to help, please.”

He rests his hand on top yours and gives it a light squeeze, “Okay, but i’m not leaving you alone for a second.”

“I didn’t think you would.” you smile.

“Alright lovebirds, you can have your private time later, we should go now.” Derek teases.

Spencer groans, “See, this is why i didn’t say anything.”

“You think I’m bad? Wait till Penelope meets her.”

__

The three of you pile into the car before starting the drive to Spencer’s apartment so he could get you a change of clothes and other things you might need. You end up falling asleep in the back seat, the final stage of your shock sinking in like a rock. Spencer checks on you from the rear view mirror and sees you passed out, and smiles.

“She’s cute,” Derek starts, “Can I ask how long?”

“Nine months.” he replies, fishing for something out of his pocket.

“Pretty boy hid a girl from all of us for nine months? Maybe we’re not as good profilers as we thought.”

“Imagine that,” he laughs, and gestures to the item in his hand, “Look.”

Spencer’s holding out a well loved photo booth strip with three pictures, of you and Spencer from the time you went to a local county fair. You’re sitting in his lap, mostly due to the cramped space and the expansive limbs. The first picture is the two of you holding up finger guns attempting to be as back to back as you can. The second picture, you intended it to be a normal one where you both smile at the camera, but spencer couldn’t take his eyes off you and the picture captured the love struck gaze he had on you. The last one you were about to tell him the idea for it, when he grabbed your face and pulled you closer to kiss you, neither of you knowing when the final picture snapped.

The edges were worn out and frayed, clearly broken down by the oils on his fingers from pulling it out frequently. It was his most treasured item, a constant reminder of what was always waiting for him when he got back from grueling cases, and how lucky he was to have you in his life.

“You look really happy, kid.” Derek says, thinking about the many times he’s seen his friend at rock bottom, the things that have been so brutally taken from him, and the suffering he’s had at the hands of his job. His heart warms for his friend, who seemed to finally catch a break.

“I am.”

[clare-875]

Irrational Fears (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

_____ Pairings: Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader Summary: Your fears come to light, but your boyfriend is there to protect you. Warnings: Hurt, comfort, fluff, fears/phobias mentioned at the beginning of each character pairing, Female Reader A/N: Sorry for the lack of uploads, I've been swamped by assessment and exams, I hope you enjoy :) [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 2: Law, Kid, Ace] _____

- Luffy - (Fear of Spiders)

You were in your room, not a care in the world. You were hiding from the raging sun that lay on the deck, relishing the peace that comes from immersing yourself in a book after weeks of fighting; finally, back on the open sea. The pages passed through your fingers like clockwork, and you were lost in the ease and safety the Sunny provided you.

You turn your body to the side, your book falling with you as you do so, but your heart is suddenly torn from leisure as your eyes catch movement beyond the pages you look to.

There is a Spider on your bedside table.

In a blur of moments, your heart drops, eyes darting from your book to the black creature, mere moments away from crawling onto the bed with you. Instantly, cold sweat rises from within you, and your breath is suddenly lost and within you all at the same time.

Before you can help it, you scream.

You rush in a hurry of scrambled movements away from the spider that had been only a few inches away from your head, and your back hits a wall now meters away. But there's not enough space. You can feel its eyes watching you, you can see its creepy being as it moves, and you feel a sickening pool in your gut at the thought of it having been so close.

You know you should move - the door to escape is just a few steps in front of you - but fear has made your limbs useless. You feel your eyes fill with tears, and you find yourself silenced; the only sound is the pounding of your heart as your phobia sets in. Your hands tremble as the spider moves, and you resist the urge to squeeze your eyes shut; you do not want to lose sight of the wretched creature.

God, why now? Why me?

You are so panicked, your heart jumps when the door to your room is suddenly opened.

"[Y/N]!!!"

Your boyfriend bursts through your now-opened door, eyes wide and frantic and breath light as though he rushed to get to you.

Because, well, he had.

When Luffy had been sitting on his figurehead as he always does, with the cool breeze on his face and the peace of the open sea, the last thing he expected was an unfamiliar scream bringing him into motion. Unfamiliar because Luffy was not used to you being so alarmed; he was not used to hearing the echoes of your voice catch onto fear.

Luffy swears his heart had almost fallen to his feet when he heard your scream, and despite other crewmembers looking up in surprise and concern. They were no match for the speed of your boyfriend as he travelled quickly to the deck and disappeared in a blur of movements to your side.

The entirety of the ten seconds it took for him to get to you, his heart had paced his chest in worry, but now, as he witnesses your tearful eyes and the way you seem to try to hide within the walls, his worry only increases tenfold. This was you, [y/n], one of the strongest women he knew, and he felt a flare of protectiveness as he witnessed a sight he was not used to: you, scared.

"[y/n], what's wrong?" His voice is rushed, soft hands reaching for you, eyes searching yours for the cause of the dread he sees etched within them. His heart pounds.

Was someone here?

Did someone threaten you?

Who does he need to beat up?

What does he need to protect you from?

His eyebrows pull together as he watches you, the love of his life, try to form words. But it is then that he realises your eyes seem distant, not in an emotional way, but you had been staring past him, not meeting his gaze for some time now. And you know you should feel embarrassed, but you do not find it in yourself to hesitate when you raise a shaky hand towards the direction of your bed-side table.

"[y/n]?"

The Spider.

"L-Lu, please, can you g-get rid of it?"

Your voice is soft but trembles under your fear, a few tears slip past your cheeks, and it breaks your boyfriend's heart to see you that way. His eyebrows furrow in confusion when he sees you gesture in the direction of your bed, and he witnesses the creature you were so afraid of. In normal instances, he feels as though he would've laughed, but when he looks to see you, looking at him tearfully, in need of help, all he wants to do is reassure and protect you.

He quickly goes to your bedside, tilting his head at the creature as though waiting for it to protest to its removal before grabbing it swiftly between his hands. "I'll be back!" He quickly runs from the room, leaving you in silence, but returns shortly after with the absence of the creature in his hands. You finally feel yourself take a breath, and a rush of heat travels to your cheeks.

"Thanks, Lu..."

You murmur, unable to meet his eyes, but all you hear is your boyfriend's laugh, and all you feel is his warmth as he travels up to you, wrapping an arm around you tightly. It causes you to look up, and his grin is so bright and proud it rivals the sun.

"It's okay [y/n], you don't have to worry about Spiders when you're with me. I'll protect you!"

- Sanji - (Fear of Heights)

God, how did you get yourself into this situation? Maybe it was the lack of thinking, or the barrage of enemies that rushed you into movement, but now, in the middle of a dense forest, you found yourself stuck atop an abnormally high tree.

You sigh shakily as you look down at the forest floor, instantly regretting your decision to do so; it seems eons away. You feel sickness fill you and sweat promptly rises across your body, along with a flush that reaches your cheeks. You were a Strawhat, for God's sake, and yet you could not seem to move. Your hands burned at the tightness you held the trunk, bark etching itself onto your skin, and courage was a distant being to you.

Panic invades your senses, and your breath comes to you in short and shaky increments. You didn't know where your friends were, and you didn't want to call out, only for them to see you in no real danger, but lost in your head because of your irrational fear. Irrational. But to you, it was perfectly rational; to you, it felt as though you were on the brink of falling to your death.

Your mind scrambles, in a haze of wanting relief from the stress and the fear, but also in knowing you would likely get laughed at if you were ever found. Luckily for you, however, you hear the voice of one man, who you think will save you from turmoil. A voice calling to you, that took on a worried edge, most likely because of the onslaught of enemies that separated you from him.

"[y/n]!! Love, where are you?"

You find your boyfriend's familiar figure, his blond hair travelling far beneath you. Instantly, you feel queasy at the sight of him so far from you, and you force your eyes to face forward once more. But you don't know if you have the voice to reply.

"Love?!"

But you have to.

"S-," your voice is lost for a moment, but the tears that fill your eyes seem to encourage you to shout out to him; your fears are too much to bear. "Sanji!! I'm up here!"

You find solace in the fact that your voice stayed strong, and didn't give way to the tremors that invaded your body.

"Love?" Sanji's eyes instantly dart upwards, relief filling him in an instant at the sight of you unharmed. You were far up the breadth of an extremely tall tree, and Sanji could only imagine that you were rushed up the branches in the pursuit of safety from the enemies that had swarmed you.

Your boyfriend almost laughs out in ease, but his senses seem to pick up on your distress and the way you stand so rigid and unmoving, even when there is no adversary near.

"Love, you can come down now, there's no one here."

You hear the ringing of Sanji's voice in your ears, but again when you look down, you are instantly regretful, eyes looking sharply upwards and trying to contain your cries and embarrassment. You feel the branches creak at your movements, the breeze ruffles your hair slightly, and you hold tighter and unwavering.

"Love?"

Another swift breeze has you clutching onto the trunk of the tree like your life depended on it. More tears slip past your lashline, and you can't hide the way you are so afraid anymore. Sanji's brows come together in concern and worry, his heart beating faster as he realises you are so distressed. The love of his life, afraid.

"Love-"

"I-I can't! It's too high! Sanji- I can't-"

Sanji's heart drops sharply as he hears the trembling of your words falling from your mouth. He can practically feel the pain of the bark etching itself on your skin, can see the way you are so static and unmoving, can see your tears that threaten to break his heart. Never had he seen you so distressed, so scared of something before. Never had he acted so quickly to one's words.

Instantly, Sanji moves, kicking at the air in a rush to get to your side and reassure you.

"Don't worry, love, I'll come get you."

"Sanji..."

Only a second passes and you open your eyes from when you have fought to keep them tightly shut. You feel the pain in your limbs after being so rigid and stubborn, but you have yet to feel the relief that comes with safety. You can scarcely see past your tears, but Sanji's gaze reflects one of worry, as he caresses your face and catches the teardrops that run along them.

"I've got you, love."

Quickly, he gathers you into his arms, and you squeeze your eyes shut once more as you feel his gentle hands prying you into his chest. You only feel your fear start to fade when you feel your boyfriend's arms wrap themselves around you, in a cocoon of his scent and safety and warmth. Sanji doesn't feel his worry fade as he still feels light tremors travel through your skin.

When you are finally both on solid ground, you open your eyes slowly, a deathly grip still on your boyfriend. You meet worried eyes and try to smile sheepishly, fighting embarrassment as you wipe your tears frantically from your face. "S-sorry Sanji, guess that was stupid huh, afraid of heights, what a-" But Sanji quickly cuts you off with a gentle smile and the caress of hair that has fallen to your face.

"Love, it's not stupid, you were afraid, and that's okay. Everyone gets scared sometimes."

You still feel hesitant even under his love-lorn gaze, and the flickers of his eyes as he admires you, and relishes in the feeling of having been able to save you from your dread.

"But-"

"No matter what, I'll protect you, love."

- Zoro - (Fear of Enclosed Spaces)

"Take them away."

You grit your teeth at how the men behind you handle you harshly; their fingers gripping tightly onto the flesh of your arms. You do not turn, but you hear your boyfriend being treated the same, despite a lack of struggle on both of your parts. You don't exactly know how the two of you had gotten into this predicament, but Nami had told you both to surrender if ever captured; there was an easier escape route from the dungeons.

You try to contain your want to wrench free from grasps and show the men behind you what you are truly capable of, but you know (and Zoro knows) that this place was the primary breadth of enemy territory, and in doing so, it would be almost impossible to find a way out. You are both escorted through hallways and down several flights of stairs, the whole time you can feel your boyfriend's eyes trained on how the guards handle you. But finally, the men slow down and you find yourselves in what you are supposed to be the dungeons.

Supposed, because instead of jail cells, what greeted you was rows of metal doors.

You try to ignore the increased thrumming in your heart and try to stay voiceless when the men start to mutter about the cells you and Zoro would be confined to. You had been expecting metal bars and open spaces, not a metal box to be confined to. But before you can say anything, the guards move once more, opening a metal door before shoving both you and your boyfriend into the small space.

"W-wait-"

But the guards slammed the door shut and you were stuck in essentially, a box, where there was just enough space for the two of you to sit, and only just tall enough for the two of you to stand. The only light was the thin lines that seep in from the edges of the door, and the only sound is a humming sound and a soft breeze you knew to be air that was blown into the space.

Air, and yet you seem to forget how to breathe.

Zoro groans as he sits on the floor, but you remain standing, suddenly static on your feet. A harsh dread has kicked in, and as your eyes dart around the dark and enclosed space, sweat rises on your skin and your heartbeat burns against your chest. There is a panic, an indescribable phobia that fills you, as your trembling hands reach the coldness of metal that surrounds you, your eyes darting every which way to try to find an opening in the space around you.

Your boyfriend, unfazed and simply waiting on the crew to notice their absence and save them, is ignorant of the silent fears that your mind has entrapped you in. But he still feels you tense and standing next to him, and he furrows his eyebrows, confused.

"Oi, sit down woman. They're gonna be a while."

But you do not move, you can barely hear or accept his reassurances. Your panic flares wilder as you think of being entrapped in this space for a long period of time. Instantly you move into action, anxiety coursing through your veins. The chains around your wrists clatter noisily as trembling hands travel the metal box, breath coming in more laboured increments and trying to stop the sobs that want to break free. A rush of tears has fallen past your eyes, and all of a sudden Zoro is all too aware of you, the love of his life, in turmoil.

"Oi, wo-, [y/n], what's wrong?"

His voice is urgent, tense as if he doesn't notice a danger you are all too aware of. But now you can't control the way your breathing is beyond you, and your cries fall more freely from your lips.

"Z-Zoro, I can't- we- we have to find a way out. Zoro please, I can't stay here, I can't-"

Zoro's heart drops at the pain that is etched in your voice, at your pleading and your fear that entwines itself with your words. He cannot see much but he feels the frantic of your trembling movements, the way the woman he considered strongest in the world, crumbled beneath the weight of the metal room they were confined to.

"[y/n]..."

"Z-Zoro," your voice is etched with the weight of your tears, and though you think you should be embarrassed that a strong fighter such as you, crumbles in an enclosed space, those thoughts are beyond you. You just need to get out.

"Zoro, please- please I can't-"

Instantly, calloused hands reach for yours, and Zoro's worry increases tenfold as he feels the way you tremble beneath his gentle hold. You fight the fear that invades your senses as you feel your boyfriend pull your muttering form to the ground next to him and into his warm embrace. More tears spill as you feel one of Zoro's arms encircle you as though to shield you from what burdens you. You let out a gasping breath, feeling as though you were drowning in your fears.

"Z-Zoro..."

You bury your head into his chest and close your eyes tight as if to try and pretend that the two of you were just on the Sunny, lying in the comforts of your chambers. Zoro's heart aches against his chest at the feeling of you curling up against him, small and afraid of something he cannot save you from. He grits his teeth harshly as he thinks of the unknown amount of time the two of you may be stuck here for.

Soothing circles are splayed on your skin, a gentle murmur of words in the silence but still you keep your eyes shut and try to match your boyfriend's breathing.

"It's fine, woman. Nothing hurts you, as long as I'm here, remember?"

Zoro's voice is gruff in the ringing silence of the room, and if there was light and if you weren't so afraid, you would notice the blush on his cheeks as he murmurs his words to you. But instead, you feel his words cure the racing of your heart and slow the rate of your tears cascading down your face. You nod into him, relishing his warmth and strength and scent. Zoro merely holds you to him tighter.

You do not know the length of time that passes until Nami and Chopper appear from beyond the metal door, harsh light invading your senses. But all you know is that your boyfriend was quick to silently offer you a hand, never speaking of the fear that had reduced you to tears, but providing a gesture that silently promised he would protect you, from whatever you needed him to protect you from.

[suiana]

yandere! childhood friend who still reminisces about your childhood together. yeah, the two of you may be grown now but he's been your day 1 and he just can't help but think about how you used to cling to him and adore him so much! he wishes you'd still do that but it is what it is. no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

yandere! childhood friend who did everything with you. yeah, that also includes practicing kisses. he's your first kiss, and he's never gonna let you forget that. you said you wanted to get better and who is he to refuse? he can't pass up such a prime opportunity! and it's not like he wants anyone else to take it. god no. that would be a tragedy.

"yeah, remember our kissing practices? hah, we were such kids back then!" he watches as you snicker, feeling a warm flush creep up his spine. god, of course he remembers. young and immature as you both were, you both learned together. that's all that really matters to him. "thanks to you, i can now makeout with my partners with ease. you're the best man." and has he told you how muchit infuriates him that you're using your experience to get with others? to please them with the mouth that once touched his? nah, he really can't stand for it. but he isn't allowed to say anything. he's just a childhood friend after all. not for long though.

yandere! childhood friend who wishes he would've accepted your offer to learn how to fuck as well. but no, he just had to be way too delusional back then and tell you to wait for the right one. he must've thought that you'd feel the same and confess then he'd court you slowly before getting to that stage... that never happened unfortunately. not yet at least. he'll make it happen.

yandere! childhood friend who's still a hopeless romantic at heart. a delusional one but a romantic nonetheless. he brings you out on "platonic dates" or whatever the fuck you like to call it, comfort you after your shitty excuse of a partner dumps you, and treats you like the deity that you are. you only deserve the best and he'll be there to provide. none of these losers can't treat you well. he can. he really hopes it'll help you see him as a potential boyfriend!

"i just," you blow your nose, tears streaming down your cheeks as your childhood friend rubs at your back tenderly. "don't know why he'd want to dumo me! we've been going strong for a year already! it's so out of the blue!" yeah, out of the blue huh... not really out of the blue for someone who's been actively theeatening that poor excuse of a man. that menas him, obviously. why he's been threatening him, you ask? because he's not treating you the way you should be treated, duh! sure you look happy but are you really? probably not, he's sure of it. "hey hey, don't worry... I'm here now, aren't i?" he always is, and he always will. you just need to understand that fact and you'll start seeing him in a different light too. don't worry, he has lots of patience. just... don't go sleeping with other people again.

yandere! childhood friend who may or may not be totally super duper mega in love with you. yeah, definitely not in love with you. that would be weird, right? come on, he's your childhood friend! sure you two might've kissed when you were kids and promised to marry one another but those were kiddy promises! that's all they are! he... totally doesn't believe you actually wanna marry him and be his forever and ever.

"so have you started thinking about your future?" he pauses at your question, rubbing at his empty ring finger. future, huh? funny how you ask that when you two are destined to be together at the end of it all. i mean, the two of your promised it as kids, didn't you? sure you're exploring now but at the end if the day, it's him that you come back to, don't you? even if just as a friend. but that's the present, not the future. "nah, not really. just wanna focus on the current moment, y'know?" bullshit, and he knows it. but he doesn't wanna scare you away. not yet at least. you're still out lookign for others which means you haven't come round to the idea of you two together. not to worry, he'll give you a little more time to see how good he is. how good things could be between you two if you just gave him the chance. "i mean, you're here with me." he chuckles, taking your hand in his before placing it on his cheek. you're warm. he likes your warmth, it's so soothing. "that's more than enough for me." half lidded eyes gaze at you, full of emotion and hidden longing before he hums softly. the teo fo you sit in the park in silence, enjoying each other's presence. in the moonlight, everything seems to slow and engulf the two of you in a quiet embrace. he only wishes you would just love him back already. "yeah, I'm glad to be by your side too, best friend." ...he really hates those words. don't worry, good things come to those who wait. and you will be his in due time. you've already had his heart, now all he needs is yours.

[gr4cier4cie]

♡ bet you wanna love me now ♡

or: he's is a seven-time world champion, revered by all, loved by most. the only person he can't win over? his goddamned wife. fem!engineer!reader x lewis hamilton (arranged/political marriage au) pt 2, pt 3

warnings: none really just sexual innuendo (LOTS), the enemies part of enemies to lovers, omg i don't even know how i got this idea but it somehow happened enjoy the ride my friends!!! love you all so so so so much ♡

♡

liked by y/nhamilton, f1, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, olliebearman, lando, carlossainz55, danielricciardo, georgerussell63, and 1,090,450 others

lewishamilton this past weekend in monaco, i married the love of my life in a small ceremony attended by our close family and friends. there is no greater joy and no greater love that comes even close to what my heart feels for her. i love you, y/nhamilton. till death do us part.

comments on this post have been limited.

♡

♡

liked by lewishamilton, yourbestfriend, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, lando, danielricciardo, and 890,645 others

y/nhamilton 06.12.25. i'll be forever yours if you'll be forever mine. i love you, lewishamilton. i always have, and i always will.

lewishamilton there she is. my wife. (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton i love you lewis. (now come back to bed) └ lewishamilton i've got to feed roscoe baby └ y/nhamilton I ALREADY FED HIM EARLIER LEW HE'S GOING TO GET FAT AGAIN

yourbestfriend im still crying over your vows (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton oh hon that was the goal im sorry im sorry

alexandrasaintmleux congratulations my love!! you deserve all the happiness marriage can provide 💕 (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton ahhh i love you my girl!! charles_leclerc put a ring on this woman before i do my god └ charles_leclerc picking out a ring is harder than you think!! (♡ by author)

username1 OKAY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKITY FUCK WHO ELSE IS HERE AFTER SEEING LEWIS' POST

username2 love how he just got married to a race engineer in the middle of the season and served cunt i mean did we expect anything else from him └ username4 WAIT WHAT SHE'S AN ENGINEER?! └ username2 omg yes check her bio

username5 omg her and lewis used the same pic of the two of them in their posts that is so damn cute

username6 OMG SHE'S SO GORG THEY'RE SO CUTE username7 PLS ADOPT ME y/nhamilton lewishamilton

♡

♡

liked by lewishamilton, your best friend, scuderiaferrari, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, danielricciardo, georgerussell63, and 945,600 others

y/nhamilton been out of office recently (we're never coming back)

lewishamilton my pretty girl (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton my pretty boy 💖 (talking about roscoe rn)

yourbestfriend HOLY SHIT MA'AM I AM BLINDED BY THE BEAUTY IN THIS POST (the view, i mean. not you naked. obvs) (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton so that's not very kind lewishamilton the view IS her naked in my opinion └ y/nhamilton LEWIS OH MY GOD

scuderiaferrari please come home you two. everything's a mess without you. (♡ by author)

username8 THEY'VE GOT ADMIN IN THE COMMENTS LFMAO username9 i too would be in a chokehold if these two got married and then went on a honeymoon in the middle of the f1 szn

alexandrasaintmleux so beautiful as always my girl!! (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton took inspo from you of course!! username10 oKAY THE WAY ALL THE WAGS ADOPTED Y/N └ username11 she was basically one of them already LFMAO she saw lewis more than anyone else saw him

username12 I AM DECEASED MOTHER HAS POSTED

username13 y/n please divorce lewis and marry me i am on my knees

y/nhamilton i don't know... the offer's just SO tempting... lewishamilton she's taken mate. FOREVER.

♡

♡

liked by lewishamilton, f1, scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, and 1,070,300 others

y/nhamilton congratulations to the team on another amazing race in spa-francorchamps!! thank you to every single member on and off the grid today, as well as our two excellent drivers. your talent and dedication is unmatched by bounds. and to my husband, i could not be prouder of you. there are no words to describe the weight of my admiration for you.

lewishamilton it was all you, my love. all you. (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton so... you're letting me drive the car next time, yes? └ lewishamilton respectfully, not a chance in hell (♡ by author) └ y/nhamilton boooooo buzzkill alert

scuderiaferrari congratualtions on a fantastic race y/nhamilton! you two are one hell of a team. (♡ by author)

f1 the power couple energy in the room right now >> (♡ by author)

username14 PLEASE GIVE THE PERSON WORKING THE F1 MEDIA A RAISE THIS IS HILARIOUS username15 lando might have won the race, but goddamn lewis won the war

yourbestfriend AHHHH I LOVE MY WOMAN IN STEM (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton AHHH I LOVE YOU TOO SO SO MUCH (did you even watch the race bc i doubt you did) yourbestfriend im gonna hold your hand when i say no y/nhamilton IM BETRAYED

alexandrasaintmleux congrats y/n!!! love you lots XOXO (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton ahhh i love you more!! 💖

username16 does anyone else think she's using him for clout?! like she was a nobody before she married lewis

username17 okay ASSHOLE username18 ERM they're married so what its not like she married him to get famous she said in interviews that she prefers to be out of the spotlight anyway.... username19 yeah its so rude to assume she's 'using him for clout' when she has her own job?!! and life?!! like she doesn't need clout

maxverstappen1 great work today y/nhamilton! loved seeing you last weekend. (♡ by author)

♡

[YOUTUBE: Lewis Hamilton's first interview with Ferrari]

♡

♡

note: ermmmm what are these two muppets up to i dont even know they took my ideas and ran w them LOLSIES im def planning another part (since their contract marriage is two years long but.... they're obviously gonna fall in love)!! i wanna write the lovers part of enemies to lovers and lew's already getting jealous hehehe ♡ MUCH LOVE FROM GRACIE XOXO LOVE U ALL!!!!! ♡♡♡

[pupcuntz]

my royalty kink has been going crazy lately…

i just wanna be a cute, innocent, pure prince who’s never had a personal knight before. when i’m finally assigned one, he takes an interest in me right away… always teasing me for my size, overpowering me in our roughhousing often.. the king scolds us for being so boyish, but we really are just two boys filled with hormones. him, more than i..

his teasing starts to escalate to flirting, a protective hand always on my back and he often tilts my chin up to look me in the eye. i’m the prince, he can’t treat me that way!! but, he does say it’s cute when he gets me all riled up like that..

one night he finds me pleasing myself, my dainty hand down my boxers in my resting quarters.. though, i can’t seem to make myself feel good, too inexperienced to know what i’m doing. my annoyed whines and moans go straight to his crotch, and he can’t hold himself back any longer.

it’s only a split second before he’s on top of me, in my own bed, a gentle yet firm hand on my waist. he’s double my size, making me squeeze my thighs together in both fear and arousal.

need some help, my prince? he asks, his large hand playing with the hem of my boxers as a means to ask for permission. just his touch alone is enough to make me dizzy and brainless enough to say yes, god, yes..

good boy, he whispers to me as i whimper, his fingers circling my clit, slowly and steadily. i’ve never felt this good before, my small hands unable to provide such a strong sensation.

please, i cry, my thighs trembling already. please, my knight.. 🩵

[beabatoru]

500 days of you ── .✦ spiderman! gojo x reader

pairing . academic rivals spiderman! gojo x reader

summary ⊹ ࣪ ˖ being at the top of your class for the past few years has not been a problem for you at all, that is until he transfers in, stealing away your spot with his genius intellect and annoyingly good 4.5 gpa, better than your 4.0, all while wearing that stupid grin you just want to punch off. what's worse is he also happens to be the cities hero, in who you fall in love with, unknowing to who was under the blue mask.

warning . college au, academic rivals to lovers, eventual smut, gojo is a pervert, panty stealing, dry humping, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, sexual harassment, toxic relationship with family, unhealthy diet, fluff, set in new york like any other spiderman, female reader, p in v, oral, reader is a virgin, violence, gojo is full of himself, webs used.. inappropriately.

w . c

a . n : this is a reupload from my old blog ! it also means that I will continue this series because I miss spiderman gojo :((

500 days is all you have left until you graduate. according to your calendar that you have self made with several pictures from your childhood up to your teenage years, placed neatly beside your bed so you could cross each day as it passes with your baby pink highlighter, you have exactly two years. today, december 20, marks your first day of long awaited winter break in which you desperately needed after enduring what you believe was the worlds hardest final exam for your humanized and social science class.

your roommate has decided to take this time to go visit her family back at her hometown, to spend a few days with her family wrapped in a comforting warm and cozy atmosphere alongside whatever her family provides. but you chose to stay behind, not that you had anymore exams to finish up or anything, but because going back to see your family, if you could even call them one, wasn't even an option. your relationship with them wasn't abusive or anything, just strained, always putting your brother's needs before yours. that's part of why you picked the farthest college you could away from them, an entire different timezone.

you wouldn't call it running away, because that implies fear, you'd just call it more of a extraction. a nice and peaceful separation. sure, they reach out once in a while, but you always come up with excuses on the spot to end the call early. they barely knew that much about you, hell, they didn't even know which college you were going to even your plan in majoring in physics until a month before you left.

nyu is a beautiful campus, not traditional in any way, it bleeds right into the city. any spot there would be perfect to study, and well you didn't have anything to do for the next two weeks so a little studying before the next semester even starts. so with that you made your way over to your locker which was a brief fifteen minute walk away from your dorm.

you don't mind the walk, no rush, no crowds. the usual buzz of students chirping has died down. its not a eerily type of quiet, its peaceful. the faint sound of your footsteps echoed throughout the almost empty hallway. reaching your neatly decorated locker, you opened it unaware of the person right next to you, the door swung right into them.

"shit-"

your eyes widened as you saw the persons books fall right out their hands.

"oh my god im so sorry! I didn't see you there!" you immediately crouched down to pick of the several textbooks, most of them being physics for semester two. it wouldn't be a surprise if the owner of these books would be in the same class as you. "its alright" the mysterious person chuckled as they took away the books from your hands.

your eyes widened as they landed on them. or him, actually. he had beautiful bright blue eyes that for sure held every secret of the ocean, and snowy white hair that resembled the snow that was falling right outside. you couldn't even get a word out.

"im satoru." he said, waiting for you to give your name to him.

"right.. right. I mean- im y/n." you stumbled across your words. he gave you a crooked smile, almost naturally as he saw you stutter. his hands now itched onto his heavy physics books, tilting his head as he studied you. "you have any idea where mr. thompson's class is?" his smooth voice asked. mr. thompson. thats the name of your physics teacher.

"yeah! yeah he's my physics teacher!" that came out a bit more excited than you intended it to. "yeah? mind being an angel and leading me to it?"

you laughed softly, hoping the light pink tint on your cheeks weren't noticed by him. oh but they were. the awkward tension melted right away. "of course."

he didn't mind the blush, and the way his smile widened told you that he definitely noticed your blushing, but he didn't say anything about it, instead allowing you to show him the way around the campus. he fell into step beside you recalling how you as well had this course. "so.." he broke the silence, "you actually understand physics are you just one of those people who pretend to know what you're doing?"

you shook your head laughing a bit as your gaze fell down to your shoes against the pavement. "no, no I understand. im majoring in it so I kind of have to. but it honestly depends on the day, sometimes I feel like the textbook is gaslighting me" now it was his turn to let out a laugh. and it sounded genuine. "thats great. back at my old uni, people were only there for the credits or whatever. no one was really as passionate as I am." you gaze shifted to him. "oh, which school did you transfer from?"

"colombia university."

"is the lack of people taking physics seriously the reason for your transfer?" you asked half jokingly, but you wouldn't be surprised if that actually was the reason, you knew some people like that.

he sucked in a soft breath, eyes flickering from your figure to look forward. "no I just.. wanted a different environment I guess." there was a bit of hesitation in his voice, but you didn't push it. after all you just met this boy not even five minutes ago. you both finally reached mr. thompson's classroom, his door slightly ajar. "he should be in here.. he always is., im convinced he lives in there"

he hummed looking into the classroom, catching a glimpse of the bald headed man hunched over a stack of papers before looking down at you. "thank you, y/n. I hope we see each other in uh two weeks?" the way he said your name sent your butterflies on a rollercoaster.

"yeah.. yeah I hope so too." you said quietly which earned a sweet smile from him before he walked in to talk about whatever he needed to with the professor. with one final look at the door you turned, only to remember you didn't even grab your books, let alone close your locker which was the whole point you came out of your dorm. you quickly rushed back with the thought of the new student lingering in the back of your mind.

── .✦

in the blink of an eye, the break was over, and the dreadful second semester rolled right around the corner. the traumatizing sound of your alarm that was set at 7 on the dot woke you up for your 9 am physics class, slicing through the silence and especially your slumber.

you groaned, clicking repeatedly at your phone to shut the ear piercing sound off. for a second, you considered skipping. but you knew mr. thompson doesn't play no games, and neither did that syllabus. so you dragged yourself out of your bed, limbs heavy, and mind still foggy as you began to miss the warmth provided by your bed. the sky outside was still that dusty gray, soft flakes falling right out of it.

after making yourself a cup of coffee, you brushed out your hair to be somewhat socially acceptable. you were the top student of the school either way, you had to be presentable at all times. you threw on a jacket and a cute pair of pants before making your way out of your dorm, holding envy for your roommate for not having a morning class.

by the time you reached the lecture hall, well your body because your soul was still trapped in between your blankets, you noticed that you werent there first one there like always. your eyes landed on him.

satoru.

he was seated right there at the front of the class, his posture was excellent, back straight, shoulders relaxed, giving you another reason to like about him. his eyes were trained on his phone, with his earbuds blasting whatever he was listening to in his ears. but they shifted as you walked in, and when your eyes met, a soft smile appeared on his pink tinted lips making your chest feel just a little too full.

maybe the second semester didn't seem so dreadful at all.

"hey.." he took out an earbud out of his ear as you approached, sliding in the seat right next to him. "hi" you replied, placing your bag next to you. "glad we're in this class together. haven't really met anyone else since we talked."

"that so? not even your roommate?" you unconsciously fixed your hair to try and maybe woo him with your beauty. "oh actually i'm living in an apartment" your hand stopped playing with your hair.

"an apartment? in New York? the school is already bleeding us dry.. what are you, rich or something?"

that earned a chuckle from him, a quiet one that made your stomach flip. "yeah.. sure." he had a grin on his face, making you question if it was a joke or not. you both watched as more seats filled up with new and old students. but everyone was eventually startled when mr. thomspon walked in and slammed a textbook onto his desk.

"well I'd like to say im disappointed from last semesters final exam results." he began, a hint of amusement in his voice, "but id be lying."

a beat of silence.

"im proud to say that everyone passed." a relieved sigh escaped almost everyones mouths, echoing across the room. "and of course, ms. l/n, miss goody two shoes," you placed a hand on your chest in mock offense making satoru sniffle a laugh next to you. "you got the highest mark, like every year." he grumbled. "im starting to think you're just here to make everyone else feel bad about their grades."

"only slightly." you muttered under your breath, loud enough for satoru to hear. he turned a bit towards you. "lets see how long you stay up there, miss top of the class, until I snatch your spot."

you stared at him while he turned back to face the front. he was just joking right? I mean no one could steal away your spot. no one has for the past two years, and no one will. right?

── .✦

oh but you were wrong. oh so so so wrong.

this boy wasn't your new friend. he was your rival, like his whole existence was to take away everything you've worked hard for. he wasn't your soon to be charming lab partner or the cute guy you'd hang out with at a local cafe after class.

he was your academic nemesis.

it didn't hit you right away. not until the first quiz given to the class was passed back in which you got a 97% on. but once you saw a fucking 100% on satoru's paper circled in a horrid red ink, thats when it hit you. and the cherry on top was when mr. thompson grinned and leaned down to whisper, "looks like you've got competition." you stared at satoru like he had just murdered your family, not that you minded, but in a way he murdered your entire existence.

he looked at the paper, like he didn't even care that he passed, because to him this was normal. he caught your expression and was confused to see that the usual soft look on your pretty face was now replaced with pure wrath.

this wasn't just 480 days of school anymore.

this was war.

every time you raised your hand to answer a question, it was always outshined by satorus. damn him and his longer limbs. and every time, the professor would call on him.

every. single. time.

you even considered this being sexist. then satoru would answer correctly, of course. damn mr. thompson for finding this whole rivalry hilarious. like if your whole identity as "the smart one" wasn't practically being lit on fire in front of everyone right now. you felt the shift, and you heard the whispers of you being out throned. and what made this whole situation worse was that stupid charm that he offered you with, "im glad to be in physics with you." a lie.

a damn lie.

and you couldn't help but hate him for it every day, every higher mark, every time he got called on, and every time he smiled at you in the mornings or in the hallways thinking you two were still friends.

it didn't help that everyone practically loved him. girls slipped their numbers to him every other day, even undergraduates which you found disgusting. he did everything so effortless while you stayed up until 2 am re-reading lessons, burning through notebooks, killing your pens, and even pulling all nighters like kay chung for important upcoming exams, mistreating your body with more caffeine than you could handle to try and claw your way back up the top.

until eventually you burnt out.

you ignored every 'hello' coming from him or any stupid joke he'd come up with, you settled on a different seat away from him not having the guts to stare at him be better than you for another second. not while he thrived and you crumbled.

and it was like you were back at home, always being seen as the second option right after your brother. a man. of course the second you feel like you are finally worthy of something, someone has to take it away from you. but why now? why after two years in which you spent trying to escape that feeling, was everything going downhill? you weren't even sure if he was even aware of the harm he was causing you mentally and physically.

that he was undoing you without even trying.

but he did notice. he noticed how you stopped talking to him, saying hello or laughing at his jokes or even avoiding his gaze like if it would burn your eyes if you made eye contact, and it hurt because you were practically his only friend other than a boy he met in his calculus class. suguru geto, aka his 'man in the chair.' he always alarmed satoru discreetly whenever there was a bank robbery happening down the street. because not only was satoru now holding the title of the top student of nyu, but he was also the hero of manhattan.

"spiderman makes an unwanted appearance again last night," the news reporter said with her voice being more sharper than the bold lettering on the headline scrolling beneath her, "at a secluded alley near the 'sunny time up' bar, involving a man attempting to steal one of the employee's vehicle."

click.

"when will this vigilante wake up and realize that this job is for law enforcement"

click.

"he's a danger to the people of manhattan! this isn't a comic book, he's interfering with police work!"

every time you clicked on the remote to change channels, spiderman was everywhere. for someone the people claim to hate, he sure is the talk of the week.

"dude is like time square on new years.." you mumbled mostly to yourself.

"my father hates him." your roommate, wendy's father is the head of the police department. he's always complaining about he boy who hides away behind the blue mask, claiming that he is causing more trouble in the busy city. you gave a dry laugh. "your father hates everyone, including me" she sat on your bed next to you, holding a bag of chips in her hand which she offered you.

"I dont see why it's such a big deal. he does more than the police has done in the past five years. he's like what? our age? from what I have heard he is definitely not beyond his twenties." you stared at the video of him swinging across buildings, the sharp blue color of his suit making it hard to lose sight of him.

the color reminded you of satoru's eyes.

your mood suddenly shifted as you thought of him, your appetite was long gone as your stomach twisted in disgust. "how are you holding up with the whole academic rivalry thing."

"shut up." you grumbled.

"I feel like it's one sided, well from what i've heard from you." wendy's voice was quiet, but her words stung. because deep down, you have told yourself the same thing.

"its like he doesn't even try." you dragged your hand across your face as you stared at the textbooks on your desk before they shifted to the calendar right above it. 455 more days.

454 more days.

453 more days.

452 more days.

451 more days.

450 more days.

another school week has passed by. another week of avoiding his intense stare across the lecture hall. another week of hearing him laugh with that black haired boy that had way too many piercings on his face. another week of debating if anything was even worth it anymore.

you looked back up to your calendar, staring at that number written beneath the date. 450 more days until graduation! you got this! how many more days until everything will stop feeling so heavy.

how many more until you stopped caring.

but its like you couldn't even catch a break. your negative thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of your phone. you slowly dragged it out your back pocket before looking down at the called id.

mom.

you couldn't answer. not with your voice cracking or tears falling. you couldn't let them know that you were struggling the same way you were all your childhood and you especially couldn't give them that sense of pride in the way you were burning out. how could you tell them the pressure didn't go away but it only shifted from different mouths in different places. you couldn't handle hearing, "I told you so."

'just stay in state, I dont see why you have to move all the way to the other side of the world. you won't be able to handle it like your brother.'

'your brother stayed here in the same state, why can't you do the same? he visits us regularly!..'

shaking away the echoes of your parents voices, you watched the slow rise and fall of wendy's chest, and you quietly zipped up your jacket before sneaking out. fresh air was what you needed right now. it hit you like a reset button- the kind that clears your head. not caring where your feet took you, you made your way through the city.

the night was still alive, buildings lit up, parties at every corner you looked at, and other people walking as well. it did feel refreshing. until you heard it. a sharp, disgusting wolf whistle behind you. it was low and mocking. the city is big, its bound to have horrible beings. your steps didn't stop, your stomach twisted and you felt sick.

"hey where are you goin' sweetheart? you look delicious." the slurred voice behind you said. you didn't even have to look back to know what kind of man it was. your pace quickened, trying to reach a store or anything that had some sort of crowd. but the footsteps behind you didn't stop, they matched your speed and quickened.

this was exactly what your brother warned you about. being in such. huge city will only be more dangerous. you felt your throat drying up and you looked down at your shadows, seeing the mans hand reach for you. but before even his fingers could brush against you, a blur of blue and white appeared. there was a soft thud, a groan, then silence.

you slowly turned.

"hey," spiderman said calmly shooting a web right on the strangers face. "she's not interested." the man stumbled back, letting out a muffled yelp, fear overthrowing whatever he was on. he didn't even budge. your heart was still racing as you took in his muscular figure. and then he turned to face you. ".. now what are you doing outside at night, hm?" his voice shifted into a much softer one, like he was talking to a kid. you wanted to talk but you couldn't get a word out as you felt the heaviness in your throat as well as the weight you've been carrying from the past few months.

the way he stood was so familiar. "im sorry.." is all you could get out, you soft voice quivered which immediately sent his senses off. "hey, hey its alright why are you apologizing?" his large hands cupped your cheeks. despite them being gloved, they were warm and comforting. his thumbs swept under your eyes wiping away any incoming tears. "why are you apologizing?"

"I dont know.." you answered honestly. but the ache of not being enough was resurfacing. he let out a quiet breath at your answer. "thats okay.. you dont have to explain." his hands didn't move away from your face, in fact you found yourself leaning into his touch.

"let me take you home." he whispered. "..I live at the nyu dorms"

he nodded before dropping his hands to grab the back of your knees without any warning, picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. "hold on baby, okay?" your tired mind couldn't even process the pet name before allowing your arms to wrap around his neck, placing your head in the crook of it as well.

without another word, he laughed upward, shooting a web into the sky. the loud roaring of the wind as you both swung across building from building deafened your ears. gravity tugged at your stomach with every sharp dip and rise. you unknowingly shook in his hold, the hand that was holding you rubbed your back before settling to cupping the side of your thigh, dangerously close to your ass. "its okay, I got you."

his hand and feet stuck to the side of the dormitory building. "which dorm is yours angel?"

angel

that pet name reminded you of satoru. why is it that the smallest things reminded you of him? why does your mind insist in continuing to think about him. "... that one." you pointed to the window just two floors up and to the side, in which he crawled to, tightening his hold your plush thigh. he carefully slid the window open, crawling in.

"we're here.." he could barely get out before the soft click of a lamp lit up the room, revealing wendy who was staring at the both of you, holding onto each other rather intimately. your arms were still wrapped around his neck while his leg was pressed right in between yours, in the middle of placing you down.

your eyes widened as you stared back at wendy. "you're awake.." you whispered.

"you're with spiderman.." she stated the obvious. you and him were quiet, the silence louder than you wanted it to as you backed away from him. "I wake up to see you missing, assuming you probably went out to party, only to see you grinding on spider mans leg? oh my dad would hate you even more right now" the masked vigilante cleared his throat, his hand was still placed on your waist, not wanting to completely let go of you yet.

"I should.. get going." he murmured, before looking at you, not wendy. and behind the mask, you swore that for whatever reason he didn't want to leave.

"oh.. yeah uhm thank you, have I thanked you yet? whatever just.. thanks for everything." you stammered, scratching the back of your neck. with one final lingering squeeze on your waist, he pulled away. "any time." he then turned back to wendy. "can you tell your dad to stop trying to tase me?"

"nope." she furrowed her eyebrows.

"..worth a shot. take good care of your friend for me yeah?" he asked before leaving through the window, allowing the city to take him back. wendy's head sharply turned to look at you.

"what..?"

she blinked, once and twice and thrice. "you've got a lot of explaining to do." she grinned.

── .✦

"you just come back from patrolling?" suguru asked as his fingers moved quickly on his controller letting out a few curse words when his opponent did damage on him. "yeah.." satoru closed the window behind him, tugging off his mask letting his white locks spread out, making him look like a model. he threw it on his bed, making his was deeper into his apartment. "you can't just use my pc whenever you want to man." he grumbled as he watched suguru get a victory royale.

"hey, if im helping you out on your little 'hero' shit, I can play whenever the hell I want."

satoru undressed, pulling up some grey sweatpants, but staying shirtless. scars adorned his torso and chest. "guess who I ran into."

"uhh that crazy police guy that tried tasing you."

satoru shivered at the memory. "no thank god. it was y/n." suguru clicked off the game turning his full attention to his friend. "the chick you like?" the blue eyed boy nodded. "saved her from some drunk shit, took everything in me not to kill that bastard after seeing her cry."

"what happened then?"

"took her back to her dorm.. met her roommate as well. turns out she's the daughter of the head of the police department. anyways, y/n looks horrible.. like there's something going on with her."

"yeah its you. you stole away her spot of top student." suguru reminded him. "I didn't mean to!" satoru defended himself.

"her friend for sure is going to spread around the fact that she saw y/n with spiderman. talk to her about it." satoru thought about it. if he asked you if everything was okay with you after last night, maybe you'll start talking to him again.

one thing about wendy is that she can't keep anything to herself. suguru was right, your encounter with spiderman spread like wildfire. like full blown social media wildfire. your name was brought up in multiple group chats, tweets, even those dumb confession accounts on instagram.

"SPIDERMANS GOT A GIRLFRIEND LMFAOOO"

"yall hear y/n slept with spiderman?"

"what do they call baby spiders?"

you were speeding past everyone, heart racing like you were in a heist movie making your way to your next class before you were stopped. "hey.." the familiar voice cut through the air. satoru. "heard what happened last night.. everything okay?" he asked, noticing how thin your wrists were.

was this another one of his acts? "yeah.." you mumbled. "everything fine." you tried brushing it off but he wasn't having it. he raised an eyebrow before his hand placed right on your waist, the same spot spider mans hand was on. "talk to me. you ghosted me weeks ago.. did I say something or do something?"

dont act so innocent, you thought. of course he did something. "physics is just,, stressing me out I guess." which was partially true. his eyes travelled down your face, looking at your lips before his tongue darted out to lick his. "let me help you then."

despite the hatred you held for your rival, you missed him. sure you only talked a few times, but you missed talking to him, his dumb jokes and his dorky smile. "..okay" you agreed. "maybe later this week." and for the first time in what felt like forever, your chest felt light.

── .✦

your classes were finally over. with your bag placed over your shoulder, you made your way outside after deciding to pick up some sweet treats for both you and wendy, who you were still kind of annoyed at for spreading around your encounter with spiderman. you reached the warm welcoming bakery, picking out whatever looked delicious, chocolate cover croissants, blueberry muffins, and a few cream puffs before making your way to check out. the second you stepped out, the rain decided to make an appearance. one that you weren't prepared for.

you clutched onto the bag full of treats.

"you again?" the voice came from above you. you looked up, moving your dripping wet hair to get a closer look. there he was, perched upside down from a streetlight. "..here to save me from the rain?" you asked half jokingly. he hummed, flipping down to land right in front of you. "of course baby. wouldn't want you to get sick.."

his arms wrapped around your waist before shooting a web straight up the roof of the bakery, pulling you both off the ground. you let out a little yelp holding onto both him and the pastry bag. seconds later you both were outside the window of your dorm, before he effortlessly opened it up placing you on your bed. your shirt rose up a little exposing your cute little spiderman boxers.

"is that me?" he asked tracing the waistband that had his heroine name in bold letters. your breath hitched. you completely forgot about those, or even buying them let alone wearing them today. both you and wendy went shopping a couple days back, going into the kids section and jokingly buying each a pair of spiderman undies.

'hey you should wear these to thank him.' she snorted

'eat shit.'

your hand shot out to push his away, chuckling nervously. "okay thats enough.." but he was faster, he grabbed your wrist forcing it to be on your mattress before his other gloved hand tugged up his mask enough to expose his mouth. his jawline was sharp, and those pink lips.. your eyes widened as you looked up at him. "ah.. spiderman?" he brought said hand up to his mouth, his teeth pulling off his glove before spitting it out somewhere else.

"nah.. let me see this." he pulled up your shirt, showing off your midriff, as well as pulling your pants down to your knees. "mm yeah thats me alright.." you felt your heart pounding in your ears. his tongue darted out to lick your stomach.

"spider-man..!" you gasped. he looked up at you, wanting to savor this moment. as if he wanted to memorize this exact version of you.

"never thought I'd be someones fashion statement." he moaned as he saw the wet patch starting to form. his thumb placed itself right on it. "this alright..?" he wanted you bad, but he also wanted you to be okay with this. you nodded looking up at him with a look that just drove him crazy.

his rubbing continued before he pulled away pulling down just the lower half of his suit. "its hard as hell to hide my dick in this shit." he grumbled.

oh.

oh.

he was huge. like really, really big and heavy, it couldn't even stand up correctly. he fisted his cock a few times, watching his pre- cum ooze out before placing it right on your clothed cunt. you wrapped your legs around his torso, bringing him closer in. "thats it." he groaned slowly rocking into you. your body shook with every hump of his hips, the wet patch in your spidey briefs grew bigger. his hands traveled throughout your body, hot and rough as two fingers found their way into your mouth, forcing you to lick them. "good girl, get them nice and wet for me baby."

his voice was low and dripping with arousal. he brought his head closer to your face. you whimpered softly as your hands tugged at his suit, your legs that were still wrapped around him trembled. "wearing these and you expect me not to ruin you?" he moaned as he dipped a finger into the pouch that every boxer had, feeling how much you wanted him. the two fingers that were toying with your tongue left with a loud pop before his lips found yours in a sweet but messy kiss.

just before he could release his hot seed onto you, there was a knock at the door.

"y/nnnn! let me in I forgot my keys!" damn wendy. spiderman sighed pecking your lips one more time before he pulled back, sliding down his mask. he reached for the glove he threw away as well as his lower part of his suit. "ill be taking these as well.." he murmured ripping off your briefs, which had you cringing at the sound, exposing your cunt to the cold air. "ill see you around okay, darling? thank you for this, such an angel."

and with that he left. leaving you with no release and nothing covering your lower half.

"y/n!" wendy knocked again.

"coming!"

oh you wish you were.

[fairyysoup]

hotel room service

(repost)

pairing(s): adrian chase x fem!reader

summary: An off night, a hotel room, a bottle of peach Jim Beam, and Vigilante. What could go wrong?

words: 9.8k

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), some dubcon elements, shower sex, praise kink, sub!adrian, technically switch!adrian but (gestures vaguely), alcohol consumption, drunk sex, blood kink, mentions of contraception, cowgirl position, choking, gagging, friends to lovers, character study disguised as smut, james gunn said the visor is prescription and i took that as canon, reader uses prescription lenses, yes i did name this after the pitbull song

a/n: we are so fucking back

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

“Working hours” with this black ops group are loosely defined at best, and entirely nonexistent at worst. And don’t even get started on pay, because you think at this point that you’re only getting comped whatever the pay is for your cost of living, and that’s only really when you’re on the clock. They’ll pay for the hotel room and sometimes the food, but besides that, you’re on your own.

But, back to those working hours. You don’t know when they stopped, but maybe it was around the time your roomie decided to crack open a bottle of whisky and pour out half of it for you into one of the plastic solo cups they provide with the coffee pot. God knows you’re not working anymore, you’re just sort of sitting idle while he rambles about the room, gesticulating with the bottle. Like he does.

(Plus, you don’t think he’s even being paid for this? Adrian is just here for the fun and because he’s available, and the rest of the team just let him tag along because he’s useful. The thought makes you smirk a little bit.)

You admire his profile as he talks, one finger pressed to your smiling lips as your eyes trail him back and forth, thinking he might eventually hypnotize you. He’s so… expressive. And he has dimples and curly hair, which you’ve always been a sucker for. He hasn’t even taken off his suit; blue on silver on black, with a red visor on the mask discarded on the table. You had watched him remove it, and carefully tried to hide the fact that you were staring as he pulled his wire-rimmed glasses out of a hidden pocket.

You’re very pointedly staring now, sizing him up like your next fucking meal (alcohol does that to you), and Adrian keeps on blathering in one long spiel, pacing in circles like hasn’t even noticed your hungry gaze (alcohol does that to him).

“Is that prescription?” you ask, cutting him off in the middle of his sentence, which you’d barely been paying attention to. Something something Twilight, something something cultural reset.

Adrian stops pacing, looking at you with a deer-in-headlights expression. “Huh?”

You nod at the mask laying on the table by the door. “The visor. Is it prescription?” 

He swivels to look at the mask, and then back to you with an almost bashful laugh. “Uh… yeah?”

“That’s sick.” 

“Really?” Dimples. You take another sip of your whisky to calm yourself, and it burns at the back of your throat. Objectively, you should not be feeling this way about your pseudo-coworker, who also happens to be somewhat of a lunatic. But, y’know, he’s… sweet. To you. Which is the odd thing, but you’ve gone beyond worrying about the details at this point. You’re hunting alien butterfly creatures that live in people’s brains, you can get past a couple character flaws.

“I mean, yeah.” You lick your lips, which have taken on the flavor of the peach liqueur in the whisky. “I wear prescription lenses, too, but they’re a bitch to keep clean on the job. If I could afford prescription hardware, I would. Good on you.”

“Yeah, I mean… yeah, it is fucking cool, thank you!” He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners and making you clench your jaw with how badly you want to reach out and kiss him long and hard at that exact moment. “I was starting to think no one else would notice how genius it is. Y’know, I don’t even think Peacemaker’s noticed, which is totally not very best friend-like of him, but it’s fine, I’m sure he’ll come around eventually, the guy constantly has a lot of shit on his plate. Like I remember one time, me and him got stuck in a Winnebago that was rolling downhill toward a cliff like something out of Looney Tunes because some idiot crack dealer locked us in there with his load, and-”

He’s pacing again, and the amber colored liquid in the square bottle he grips by the neck sloshes against the glass as he continues waving it around emphatically. And you’ve zoned out again, because now you’re thinking about his hands, and how nice they’d feel on your body. You’ve seen him beat the shit out of people, you know he’s packing some major force in those fists, but you haven’t felt them on your own skin, or had the experience of having them wrapped around your throat for yourself. 

“-then, y’know, Eagly’s a fucking badass, I don’t know if you’ve seen him in action, but the little dude can take a guy out in like one peck. Like do not get caught on the wrong end of those talons is all I’m saying. Anyways, he swooped in and yanked the fucking wheel, so the Winnebago flipped. I mean, can you imagine! A bald eagle rolling a camper. That shit’s gotta be, like, legendary-”

And his quads as he walks, Jesus Christ. You’ve never been super partial to burly, buff guys (sorry Chris), but there’s something to be said for muscle in the right places. Adrian’s legs are nice, you can tell just by the way the fabric of his pants stretches around them when he turns, and fuck his ass is so tight. You nearly salivate just staring at it, thinking about how much you’d love to dig your heels into it, or squeeze it to urge him on as he fucks you. 

Your eyes snap down to your solo cup of whisky, and you frown. When did you drink half of it?

“-but like I’m sure you know Eagly pretty well because he loves you, I can tell. He kind of scooches closer every time you sit near him, it’s really cute actually, I mean, I would scooch closer whenever you sat near me too except I feel like you’d punch me in the dick, good thing my suit’s got a reinforced crotch-”

“Wait, what?” You blink up at him, your brain sort of fizzling out and then rebooting as you stare at him. What did he say? 

Adrian doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, the guy who made it was like, ‘That makes no sense, you’re gonna have the worst time trying to take a piss in this,’ and I said, ‘No, dude, have you ever been karate kicked in the nuts before? Shit hurts.’ I still had to pay extra-”

“No, no, what was that shit about scooching closer? To me?” You squint at him. “Babe, are you trying to tell me something?”

He blushes. You know he’s joked about not feeling emotions like other people do, but you wonder how true that really is, because he goes beet fucking red like he’s having trouble breathing as he stares down at his shoes. “I, uh- well, I mean, yeah, I’d scooch closer to you. Theoretically. If- if you wanted me to. And if you weren’t going to punch me in the dick.”

“Why would I punch you in the dick?”

“I don’t know, it’s like… it’s an understandable reaction to someone getting in someone else’s personal space!”

“No, it really isn’t…”

“Well, how was I supposed to know you wouldn’t punch me in the dick?”

You throw up your hand in an exasperated gesture. “When have you ever seen me punch someone in the dick?”

He screws up his face. “UM, I don’t know, you punched Peacemaker in the dick!”

“What? When?”

“When he tried lifting you onto the truck that one time!” 

“That was a misunderstanding, I kneed him because he didn’t give me a heads up!”

“But you did it!”

“Well, the last thing I would want to do to your dick is punch it, all right?”

You both stop and stare at each other for a long moment. You think you might have stopped breathing, too. Yeah, you are definitely tipsy at this point, but you raise a slightly shaking hand to take a casual sip of your drink, as if you aren’t staring at him with bulging eyes like you’re possessed.

He opens his mouth and closes it a few times before he comes out with a response. “Okay.”

You blink. “Okay?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, okay. I mean, what other stuff would you do to my dick?”

“Uh… stuff.” You jerkily stand, nearly sloshing your drink as you try to get your bearings. You set the cup down on the bedside table and turn to look at him with the most awkward, pin-straight posture you could possibly muster, like a high schooler trying to pretend they aren’t drunk in front of their parents. “I’m going to take a shower now. Yeah. I am. I’m going to do that.”

“Oh. Okay.” Adrian looks down at the bottle in his hand, and then shuffles a bit to the side so that you can pass him.

“I mean, unless you wanted to shower first?” You pause at the end of your respective bed, and turn to see him turning down the covers on his own by the window. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting in bed,” he says flatly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He reaches up and undoes a latch on his armor that frees the chestplate, and lifts it over his head in one swift move, leaving him in his tight fitting black undershirt.

You stare at him, scatterbrained until you manage to scowl at him, and the two knives he wears crossed against his lower back. “You’re going to sleep with all your weapons?”

“Yeah.”

“With all the dirt and sweat and fucking blood from fighting?”

“Yeah.” 

“You can’t just… you can’t just get in bed with your outside clothes on, dude!” you splutter, leaning your thigh against the end of the mattress before you, and slow your speech carefully as you declare, “It’s… unsanitary.”

“Oh, and who are you, the sleep police?” Adrian turns to sneer at you. “I thought you were going to take a shower.”

“Well I was, but that was before I knew you weren’t planning on it!” You throw your hand out at him. “Why?”

“Because! If I go to sleep with wet hair it dries all weird, okay? Get off my dick!”

“I’m sure you’ll look just as pretty regardless, Adrian,” you tut condescendingly at him, rolling your eyes as you turn on your heels toward the bathroom. “Do what you want, or fucking join me if you change your mind, I don’t care.”

You don’t register the full weight of your words until you turn on the tap. But, by that time, you also don’t get to see the way Adrian stares at the door to the bathroom like you’ve just presented him with the key to the city.

You very rarely opt for lukewarm showers, but you certainly do now. With the way your blood is humming through your veins like electricity, and you feel hot just from the sight of Adrian’s muscles in that tight fucking shirt, you feel a cold shower is in order. Well, colder, anyways. 

The water pressure is complete bullshit, of course. It pathetically trickles out, and it takes longer than usual for your body to get completely soaked. In that time, you lean against the tile and hold your head in your hands as the water drips down your face. How the fuck are you supposed to sleep in the same room as this guy? Between the way you’re just aching to jump his bones, and his inability to stop talking, you don’t think it’s a possibility tonight.

You wonder what he would sound like when you ride him. You wonder if he would finally shut up, or if he would switch to talking to you like a lover instead of a drinking buddy. You wonder if he would beg, or if he’s more dominant than that. 

You’re imagining his head between your thighs. You’re imagining what he’d look like with your hands tangled in his hair. You’re imagining the feeling of his mouth on your skin, the calloused planes of his palms on your breasts and beneath your thighs. You’re… you’re shaking.

The white shower curtain rips open, and Adrian steps in beside you, naked as the day he was born. “Hey, can you pass the soap?”

“What the fuck?” You turn your head to look at him with a bewildered expression, simply refusing to tear your eyes away from his face because you do not want to cross that line and have the image of his dick imprinted in your brain while you try to get to sleep tonight. “Adrian, what are you doing?”

“Well, you said to join you if I changed my mind.” He shrugs, his smile the absolute picture of innocence, but his eyes still rake slowly down your body before finding your face again. 

You blink, searching for a proper response to that. His eyes are green. Jesus Christ, that’s three for three: dimples, curly hair, and green eyes. He’s trying to kill you. 

“I was being sar-” you cut yourself off with a sigh, “yeah, you know what, I did say that. Shit. Fucking… okay. Whatever. Here.” You fumble with the tiny complimentary body wash tube and thrust it toward him. “Go apeshit.”

“You have a really great ass by the way.”

“Adrian.”  

“What? You do. I’m just being honest. I’m not even saying that because this is the first time I’ve seen you naked, I always thought your ass was nice, there just wasn’t a good time to say it.”

Your face is burning. You turn your back on him and try your hardest not to clap your hands over your eyes or do something equally embarrassing. You don’t think Adrian is even fazed by any of this; he wasn’t wearing his glasses, either, and you don’t know how strong his prescription is. You imagine pretty strong, if he needs it in his visor. Maybe there’s a good chance he can’t see the exact details of your tits. Maybe-

He touches your shoulder, and you feel lather running down your back as he starts massaging circles into your skin.

“Are you washing me?” you wheeze, your voice coming out an octave higher, and you really do cover your face again this time. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and you can’t focus on anything other than the touch of his hand on your shoulder blade.

“Uh, yeah? I wash your back, you wash mine, right?” He sounds cheery and completely content with everything that’s happening and, despite the sheer oddness of all of it, you don’t really want him to stop. You guess that’s why you haven’t told him to get the hell out, yet.

Maybe you’re just as much of a lunatic as him. “‘Scratch,’ Adrian. It’s fucking ‘scratch.’” 

He pauses. “What?”

“It’s ‘I scratch your back, you scratch mine.’”

“That makes no fucking sense.” He shakes his head in your periphery, his hand resuming its circular motion against your back, moving across to your other shoulder. You feel the soft, wet glide like a molten lava trail.

“Of course it makes sense! Why would it be ‘wash?’”

“Why wouldn’t it be ‘wash?’”

“Because it’s about doing your friends favors,” you argue in a wobbly, strained voice as you shiver while his fingers slide down your spine. It raises goosebumps on your skin, despite the heat in your veins and the cool of the water. “Friends don’t wash each other’s backs, genius.”

“So, we’re not friends?”

His hand pauses again just at the curve of your lower back, where it extends down into your tailbone. You bite your lip, and you can feel his eyes on you, the touch of his gaze almost as real as his hand is. Your thighs clench together involuntarily. You simpering little… weak, desperate thing, you are not going to beg for him to touch you. That’s not it. That’s not how this should go.

But, you could turn around and touch him, too. You could probably kiss him, if you were feeling really adventurous. He just basically implied that he wouldn’t be opposed to fucking you, right? That was where the conversation had been going earlier, if you hadn’t been such a pussy. Neither of you is nearly as subtle as you think you are.

You manage to chew your lip enough to tear a gash in it, and salty, coppery blood hits your tongue. You’re losing it, standing on the precipice of something way bigger than the two of you. You’re just an inch away from becoming more than just friends with Adrian, if you don’t reel it in quickly. Your hand comes up to slam against the wall when his fingers, which seem to be discontented to remain idle, start tracing little shapes on your lower back. A star. A diamond. A heart.

“N… No, I- I mean, we are. But I don’t think we’re going to be, if you keep it up.”

He grunts carelessly. “I’m having a hard time not keeping it up, really.”

“What do you mean?” You turn around, and his hand glides across your lower back and to your hip, because he refuses to stop touching you now (not that you want him to stop, either, if you’re being honest with yourself). Your eyes flick down, and you know exactly what he means, because he’s hard as a rock. 

And also thick, and long, and veiny, but hey. What did you expect?

Your eyes linger on his erection for a long time, and drag your gaze slowly from the burst of dark hair at the base of his cock, up the line of his torso and to his chest. His pale skin is riddled with little scars here and there, from small injuries that weren’t serious enough to slow him down. He has a faint spray of freckles on his shoulders, suggesting that he spends at least some time in the sun. It makes you inordinately flustered to think of him doing some sort of outdoor activities to get that toned body of his. 

You clear your throat as you find his gaze again. “Next dumb question,” you say, and he gives you a wide-eyed, vaguely awestruck look that makes you way more confident than it ought to. “Are you gonna fuck me, Adrian?”

His eyelashes flutter. His cheeks are painted with that sweet pink blush again, like he’s been entirely oblivious to the fact that he’s had you melting for him since he cracked open the bottle of Jim Beam. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a fucking fantastic idea, do you?”  

“Yeah, I do.” And he grabs you by the face to kiss you, and crowds you back against the wall. You give a surprised yelp into his open mouth, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as your back hits the cold tile. He grunts and brushes his soap covered fingers across your cheeks. “Did you bite your lip?”

“Yeah.”

“...Was that because of me?”

You whimper weakly as he slowly, and very purposefully, traces the length of your bottom lip with his tongue like he’s savoring the taste of your blood. “Yeah.”

“That’s so fucking hot.”

He yanks you up off of your feet, making you squeak and hold in a nervous laugh. Your leg bumps the faucet handle, and the water turns ice cold just as Adrian scrambles to hook your legs around his waist. 

“Shit.” Adrian hisses and smacks the wall beside your hip once or twice before he finds the faucet, because he doesn’t stop kissing you. He’s sloppy and rushed and overexcited, but at least he gets the water running warm against as he presses you up against the wall. “I’ve never done this here, have you?”

“Shower sex? No.” You bite his lip as he hitches you up by the back of your thighs, and he groans as his hips jerk up toward yours. “But I think you’re doing a good job.”

“Wait, fuck. Do we need, like, a condom…?” He blinks at you with a glassy look in his eyes. 

“IUD. I have- it’s all good, you’re fine.” You knock your head back against the wall with a whimper high in your throat as he brushes his cock against your entrance. You can feel the world spinning as you tangle your fingers in his wet hair, giving it a small but sharp tug. “Now, if you don’t fuck me I’m gonna-”

You choke when he drives the full length of his cock into you, pushing your hips back against the wall. Your nails scratch down his neck and across his shoulder blades as he splits you open, your legs tightening around his waist while simultaneously trying to spread wider to accommodate him. Adrian spits a curse into your neck, his teeth grazing a vein there as he ruts up into you, filling you so completely that a cry dies in your throat. 

“God, fuck, Adrian,” you sob toward the ceiling, only too aware of him moaning loudly against your skin. He feels better than you had imagined, stretching you out so perfectly that your toes curl as you try your hardest to draw him forward with your legs alone.

“I knew you’d be perfect,” you catch him whispering into the crook of your neck, just barely audible over the trickle of water over your head.

He doesn’t even give you time to adjust before he starts pistoning his hips into yours, jolting you up the wall. Your skin squeaks against the wet tile, and his grunts echo in the curve of your neck. Tears might actually be streaming down your face, but you wouldn’t be able to tell them apart from the warm water coming from the showerhead.

Adrian’s hand comes up to brace against the wall beside your head, and he surprises you. “You really think I’m pretty?” He asks with such a genuine note of hope in his voice that you think he must be serious. 

“I think you’re fucking gorgeous,” you breathe, whining when he nips at your jaw with his teeth. You interrupt your train of thought with a series of hoarse cries, because Adrian picks up the pace with less precision, and more just forceful thrusts that drive all the way to the end of you and make you see stars, regardless.

“You’re the most perfect person in the world and I wish I could paint because the only thing I’d be painting is just you over and over and over-” 

He’s blathering into your shoulder, his mouth brushing your skin as it moves and his hips slamming yours back against the wall hard enough that you’re definitely going to be feeling it in the morning. Every bit of desire you have for him surges up inside you like an inferno catching on, like every stroke he makes is stoking that fire within you.

“-so pretty everyone wants you I can’t believe you would let me touch you or even kiss you but you’re letting me do this to you and it’s all I’ve wanted to do since I first saw you-”

It occurs to you to tell him that you’d let him do anything he wants to you at this point, as long as he just doesn’t stop fucking you- but that’s yet another line you refuse to cross for the sake of self preservation. You’re already drunk, and confessing the true scope of your feelings to him in this state would just be a recipe for disaster. 

Oh god, but he’s like a reckoning. You shake your head to compose yourself and scratch your nails along his neck before you take his face in your hands and draw him up to you. His pupils were already blown out, but you think they nearly eclipse his irises when his hips falter and he sucks in a sharp breath. His dark hair is thoroughly drenched, and water drips down his face in little rivulets that you trace with your fingers just before you draw him to your lips.

You feel his small moan vibrate on your lips, and that’s enough. Your legs spasm, and your orgasm suddenly snaps within you like a rubber band, every muscle in your core tightening down on his cock as you see a burst of white behind your closed eyelids. It snuck up on you just as much as it did him.

“Holy fuck-” Adrian loudly gasps against your lips with a startled jolt of his hips, his full weight crushing you up against the wall. His nose nuzzles yours, so intimate in a way that you hadn’t expected from him, and with a few shuddering huffs of breath you feel him come with a rush of warmth deep inside you.

You’re floating somewhere above awareness when he slouches forward, his forehead resting against yours and his eyes closed as he takes deep, steadying breaths. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s just holding you, with his fingers digging into your thighs like he’s just trying to ground himself in your body.

You raise a shaking hand to smooth his wet hair back from his face. “Earth to Adrian. You still with me, babe?”

He grumbles something entirely non-coherent directly in front of your face, and blinks his eyes groggily open at you. 

“The alcohol’s catching up with you, huh?”

He nods.

“Guess I’m washing your back, anyways. C’mon.” You wiggle out of his grip, and you’re only too thankful that you’re smushed up against the shower wall, or else you may have easily slipped and ate shit on the tile. The alcohol is fucking with your head quite a bit now, too, and your movements are a little jerky and uncoordinated as you try to help him get cleaned up.

He’s uncharacteristically quiet. The rest of the shower takes place in complete silence, actually, with the exception of the little grunt he makes when you urge him to bend down so you can get his hair for him. You catch him looking a little dazed as you turn off the water, and he gives you an unfocused stare when you toss a towel at him. You wonder if you actually succeeded in frying the guy’s brains just by fucking him.

But then, back in the room as you clumsily dig through your bag to pull out a night shirt and a pair of underwear, Adrian shuffles directly to his bed and tosses his towel aside before clambouring into it, bare ass to the wind. He flops down face first, and shoves his feet under the turned down comforter.

“Adrian… what are you doing?” You say for what feels like the millionth time this evening. 

“‘M going to bed,” he drawls into the pillow. His entire body shakes as he hiccups, and then turns his head to the side to look up at you with his big green doe-eyes that make your heart do a somersault in your ribcage. “You should tooootally join me. There’s-” hiccup- “lotsa room. We could go again.”

You blink at him as you semi-stagger, semi-walk toward the bed, stooping to pick up pieces of his uniform strewn across the floor as he had, presumably, just ripped everything off as he made his way to the bathroom. “Mm, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Uh, you said it was a great idea,” he argues as you toss his clothes into a pile at the end of the bed.

“That was before the whisky kicked in and we were both staggering… fuckin… drunk-” you accidentally whack your foot against the corner of the bed and bite your lip as you fight not to crumble to the floor. “One of us has to be responsible.”

“I’m-” hiccup- “responstable.”

“Uh-huh.” You stop as your eyes land on the mostly empty Jim Beam bottle on the bedside table. You’re almost positive it had been at least quarter full when you left him to go take a shower. “Adrian, did you drink all that?”

He blinks his eyes open and follows your pointing finger to the bottle. “Oh, yeah. Hhhuuuhh… had to… I lost the cap so we can’t keep it.” When you march forward to snatch it off the table, he grunts dismissively. “Gotta… get rid of it.”

“Guess that’s why you’re worse off than me.” You shake your head and drop the entire bottle into the trash bin. “Aren’t you gonna put something on to sleep in?”

“I don’t have anything.”

You snap your head towards his sprawling, naked form. Your eyes linger on his ass for way too long. “You didn’t bring a single thing to wear?”

“Why… why would I bring a change of clothes to kill bad guys?” 

“I don’t fuckin’ know! Anonymity!” 

He grumbles into the pillow, “I have a mask.”

“Fuck the mask. You can’t sleep in the mask.”

“Sure I can. I fuck in the mask, I can sleep in it. S’a free country.”

You blink, your eyes flicking between Adrian and the mask on the table. “Dude, you fuck in that thing?”

“Hell yeah I do. I could fuck you in the mask. Could do it right now. Go get the mask.” Despite the conviction of his words, he’s slurring them, and his face is still pressed into his pillow as he lies motionless on the bed. 

“I… don’t think that’s gonna happen tonight.” You sigh as you toe forward and grab the end of his comforter, drawing it up over his body. “We’re both way too drunk. We probably… probably shouldn’t have…”

Adrian flops over to look up at you as you, essentially, tuck him in. There’s a note of hurt in his voice when he mumbles, “You regret it?”

You pause, staring down at his expression of confusion and betrayal. Do you regret it? You can’t deny that you hadn’t been hesitant to have sex with him for a litany of reasons- one being that you work with him, and another being that he’s a loose cannon on the best of days. Not exactly relationship material, you think. 

Or, you thought, but now he’s gazing up at you with these wide, dumbfounded eyes, and you’re tucking the comforter up beneath his chin, and he turns his face down and kisses your knuckle even though he looks mildly hurt. And yes, you liked the sex very much. You liked it so much that you can’t trust yourself not to do it again if you don’t shuffle off to your own bed immediately.

“No,” you tell him firmly, combing your fingers through his wet hair as you draw back. “I don’t regret it, but I think we both need to sleep this off.”

“Okay,” Adrian says quietly, his expression relaxing, but his arms come out from under the comforter and he reaches for you with grabby-hands. “Sleep with me?”

You catch one of his hands and give it a gentle squeeze. “G’night, Adrian.”

You hear him sigh in disappointment when you shut off the bedside lamp. His hands audibly plop down onto the mattress as he rasps, “Night.”

You wake from a dreamless sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning, and your throat is bone dry. Smacking at the nightstand a couple times, your phone manages to illuminate and tell you that the time is only 1:30. 

You blink sleep away from your eyes and try to see through the dark as you stumble into the combination vanity, closet, and kitchenette. You knew you brought a water bottle or two, it can’t be that hard to find-

“Hey, what’cha doing?”

You hardly even startle at this point. You’re slowly becoming acclimated to the idea that Adrian is just constantly awake and witness to your every move, which isn’t as disconcerting to you as one might think. “I’m looking for the water. Did you see where I put it?”

“Uhhhhh mini-fridge?”

You reach blindly under the counter and yank the little fridge open, once again smacking around until your hand lands on the shape of a water bottle. “You want some?”

“Yeah, you could spit it into my open mouth-”

“Adrian.”

“What? It would be fucking sexy.” Adrian grunts, and the light clicks on from the main room. Then, he wolf-whistles just before you straighten up from where he’d caught you, bent over in front of the fridge. “Y’know, I was right. You have a really great ass.”

You grumble a half-hearted thanks under your breath as you approach his bedside and thrust a water bottle at him. “I see you’ve sobered up a bit.”

He waves a hand at you dismissively. “Pshh, I wasn’t that drunk.”

“You were drooling all over your pillow.”

“Maybe I always do that.”

“Yeah, okay.” There’s a long pause, wherein you perch on the edge of your mattress and chug an obscene amount of water. Adrian watches your throat work until he, too, succumbs and lifts his bottle to his lips. 

An uncomfortably heavy silence settles between you two, only permeated by the quiet sipping of water and the cheap motel AC unit kicking in. It’s entirely unlike him to be silent and still for more than a couple of seconds, but he’s just sitting there looking despondent and running a hand back and forth over the white comforter, periodically lifting his bottle to take another drink. He doesn’t even really look tired, and you wonder if he ever got to sleep in the first place.

You know that the tension in the air is so thick because you have yet to address the giant fucking elephant in the room; and to address it is to have the most awkward and intimate conversation you can possibly imagine with Adrian, of all people. As much as you love his sense of humor, the idea of baring your soul to him is almost enough to have you running into the bathroom again, and locking the damn door this time.

But, in true Adrian fashion (because damn it all to hell if he ever lets something be), he beats you to the punch. “So, are you? Sober now, I mean.”

You chew your lip again, and reopen the gash you’d put there before. “Yeah. I am.”

He nods, pursing his lips as he looks down at his lap. He was right, his hair does dry… well, not weird, but just rather unruly if he goes to bed with it wet. Dark curls stick up at odd angles, a cowlick on the back of his crown standing straight up and begging you to come over and smooth it down. More curls fall across his forehead and nearly touch the top of his glasses. He blinks slowly, and severe shadows from his lashes cross his face in the golden light of the bedside lamp. You snap your gaze away, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

“So… was that a lie? About just needing to sober up?”

Your thumbs twitch on your bottle. To tell the truth, or to lie? You feel like your mouth just stays dry, no matter how much water you drink. “Look, Adrian, I-”

“Also, I have, like, no pride and a ridiculously thick skull, or- or whatever Peacemaker calls it. So, you don’t have to beat around the bush or anything for my sake, you probably won’t even hurt me-”

“Adrian, I like you too fucking much, don’t you get it?” 

That fully shuts him up, and he locks his jaw as he fixes you with a startled look. You suck your bottom lip through your teeth, perturbed at the taste of blood still apparent on it, and dig your heels into the carpet. 

“The last thing I want to do is hurt you. You’re… one of my closest friends, all right? But I’m afraid that if we keep going like this, I��m not going to want to be friends anymore. And I think I’ll fall in love with you really quickly, and that might be a really bad idea for both of us. You just…” You shake your head, your voice dipping in volume as you stare bashfully down at your feet, “you have no clue how much I want you all the time, baby.”

“Why would it be a bad idea?” he asks you plainly.

“What?” You pick your eyes up off the floor to squint at him, finding him staring at you challengingly, a flush already on his cheeks. 

“I mean, honestly. Name a single reason why it would be a bad idea. Bet’cha can’t.” Adrian throws his empty water bottle across the room, and it makes a gentle tap against the side of the television before skittering to the floor. “I think we’d fuck like rabbits and then I’d wake up every morning and make you pancakes, because I’m really fucking good at those, but you’d have to make the eggs because I always burn them. And I think we’d kick ass together as a cool superhero power couple, and I’d carry your gun for you if you got tired, and I could show you where all my hidden knives are. And you could also do anything you wanted to me, like any time, and I’d be totally fine with it and probably also turned on by it, as long as you call me baby like you just did.”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m super hard right now. Probably should’ve warned you, I have a thing about that-”

“No, smartass, I mean are you serious about the other stuff?” You tilt your head at him. “I never really took you for the domestic sort.”

“Tsch- yeah! I’m, like, super domestic. I’m like one of those domestic...ated... cats?” He trails off as you step forward and crawl onto his bed, up his legs to straddle his lap.

“Cats?” you repeat with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m… I…” Adrian’s eyes flick across your face, down to your shirt and bare thighs on either side of his, your knees pressing the comforter taut across his lap and (very prominent) erection. “I don’t know, I have trouble thinking when you’re on top of me-”

Nodding, you reach forward and take his glasses by the wire earpieces, and pull them from his face. He goes stock still, his lips parted in awe as you slide them onto your own face, and give him a sweet smile. “I like your glasses. They look good on you.”

“They look good on you.” His voice cracks. “Can you see in them?”

You blink at him, and then turn your head to look across the room. “A lot better than I thought I would. I think our prescriptions are similar.”

“That means you can also wear my mask.” 

You look back at him, and find that he has his million-mile stare on, like he’s completely lost in thought. You smirk. “Do you want me to wear the mask?”

He blinks, and it’s like you’ve flipped a switch and turned his focus back on. “Uh… no. I mean, yes. Maybe later. I want to look at you.” His eyelashes flutter so fast you think he might take flight for a second. “You’re so fucking beautiful I could stare at you all day.”

“You can touch me, too. Don’t be shy.”

He practically vibrates with anticipation as his palms glide up your thighs, hot and big and just a bit rough. His eyes are everywhere at once; your lips, your eyes, your chest, your thighs, where your hips disappear under your oversized shirt. His fingers catch the hem, and he curls it between them.

“You should totally get naked, too. It’s super unfair that I’m the only one naked right now,” he says breathlessly, nodding the whole time like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

“So, do it.” You shrug, trailing a finger up his chest. “Take it off, baby.”

Adrian fists the hem of your shirt and rips it in half up the middle with a loud tear. You gasp, shivering as the garment falls from your shoulders and leaves you in just your panties. “Adrian!”

His eyes are trained on your tits. “What? It’s not like you need it tonight, anyways, and tomorrow we’ll be home…”

“What if that was my only shirt?” you retort.

He looks up at you. “Was it?”

“Well, no-”

“Then there’s your answer. Now, can I go down on you? Because I’ve wanted to for a really long time and I think it’s super hot that you’re wearing my glasses so it’s like I’m watching myself eat your pussy.”

He has such a hopeful expression on his face that you have to hold in a manic string of laughter as you nod at him. “Yeah, sure. Are you going to tear up my underwear, too?”

“No, I wanna keep those.”

“That makes perfect sense.” You shake your head before you kiss him deeply, and his tongue dips into your mouth as he rolls over with you, briefly getting tangled in the sheets before he roughly kicks them off. 

You run your fingers through his hair, snickering as he climbs between your legs and his hands deftly tug your panties down. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Depends on how incriminating it is.”

“I’ve never come from someone eating me out before,” you admit quietly, a blush furiously heating your cheeks until you fear that if you touch your face you might burn yourself. 

Adrian fixes you with a deadpan stare, and a slew of emotions cross his face before he lands on something relatively serene and says, “Okay.”

“Okay?” 

He nods and grins, like this is the most casual conversation in the world, and his green eyes bore into yours. “Yeah. You should probably, uh… hold on, though.”

You frown in confusion. “To what?”

He rocks back on his knees, picking up your arms by the wrists, and he very simply places your hands on his head, with a little smile that conveys, ‘it’s no big deal,’ but the tenderness with which he does it sends another message, altogether. Your fingers weave between soft, unruly curls, your fingernails digging in just a bit when he lowers himself down between your thighs, and you come to the conclusion that this is just how he is. Tenderness, closeness, hidden behind casual sighs and dismissive shrugs.

You’re learning. Slowly. 

His breath finds you before his lips do, where you’re wet and swollen and slippery like you haven’t been touched in your fucking life. But he has once already, and still his mouth feels like a searing hot brand between your legs. In fact, you nearly jump out of your skin at the first brush of his tongue through your folds, your hands tightening on his hair and tugging as you buck your hips up against him. 

Adrian grasps your hips and slams them down against the mattress. Sometimes you forget how fucking strong he is. His slight frame really doesn’t give justice to the force behind those lean muscles, because he holds you in an iron grip that you can hardly wiggle out of. It makes you feel small, in a way, that he holds you hostage to his tongue and won’t let you move away from or towards him. 

A long, miserable whine rips out of your lips before you can stop it, and you could blush at how pathetic it sounds, except that Adrian mimics it with a groan against your cunt. Your head is flung back against the pillows, but when you just barely tilt up to glance down at him, you find his green eyes trained directly on you. They start off wide as moons, and then narrow like he’s challenging you to look away as he drags the flat expanse of his tongue slowly over your clit, curling the tip just as it skims the mark.

“Oh, fuck you, Adrian, you’re so fucking good,” you grit out through clenched teeth. Your nails dig into his scalp and he shudders, briefly nuzzling his head up into your touch before he dips down to give you his tongue again. Your breath hitches, and your eyes flutter shut when he sucks on your clit long and hard. “So… s-so good… good boy…”

The moan that Adrian makes is overtly pornographic, and his hips snap once against the mattress so hard that the bed shakes beneath you. He breaks away from you to rest his forehead against your thigh, squeezing your hips tightly in his hold as his hot breath billows across your sweat-damp skin.

You loosen your fingers in his hair to stroke it softly, subconsciously struggling to flatten the cowlick at the back that you’d noticed earlier. Adrian’s eyes are squeezed shut, his shoulders heaving while he tries to steady his breath through his nose. “Did you just come?”

The tips of Adrian’s ears glow pink. He gives you a little nod and then a feeble, “Couldn’t help it.”

So, he can’t just take his praise in stride, he has to react to it with fervor. “That’s really sexy of you,” you blurt out, your voice ragged and just this side of adoring. 

He returns with a quiet mmm, rumbling across your skin as he drags his open mouth along the sensitive flesh of your thigh, his eyes drowsily shut. It takes him another moment to catch his breath, but once he does, he’s right back at it again. Dipping his head down and absolutely going for it with no signs of letting up, and you have to suck in a deep stream of air and scramble for a hold on him somehow.

“Oh- oh my fuckin-g god-” your voice comes out without thinking, wrung thin and anguished, as your foot plants itself in his shoulder. Adrian simply grunts, paying no mind to the fact that you’re effectively kicking the living shit out of him as he sucks so hard on your clit that you threaten to break his vise-hold on your hips.

He was right that you needed something to hold onto, because you feel like you might leave the ground. He works at you relentlessly, devouring you with his lips and tongue and teeth like he can’t get enough of you, his fingertips pressing so hard into your hips that his nails are turning stark white. 

“Fuck, you’re so squirmy,” Adrian groans when he pulls away from you for half a second, and struggles to hold you down when you try to chase his mouth. “Should I tie you down?”

“Do you have anything to tie me down with?” you mutter breathlessly toward the ceiling.

A beat. “Nope. Stay still.”

You fight not to jolt as the next touch of his mouth on you. He dips his tongue into your channel, seemingly trying to draw your arousal out of you that way. You start whining when he finally nuzzles his way back up, giving you soft, teasing licks to your clit that edge you closer and closer to the release of the swell of heat you feel building in your core. Your volume turns up a notch when his tongue starts drawing little circles around the swollen flesh. 

And when his lips come down to latch onto it and gently suck, you know you’re just shy of howling. His soft groans vibrate onto your skin as you scratch at his head and pull on his hair, and you eventually find yourself babbling, “Adrian, please, I’m gonna come, please pleasepleaseplease-”

He sucks harder, moaning like it turns him on just to hear you say it. You heave a few rapid breaths, and then come against his face with a cry that crackles and breaks in your throat as your head arches back, baring your neck forward. Your heels digging into his back, hands scratching, hips flailing like you can somehow escape the barrage of hypersensitivity he’s putting you through.

You really fucking hope no one is in the room next to yours.

His fingertips stick to your skin once he releases his grip on you. He’s practically glowing, grinning from ear to ear at you from between your legs, and it’s a better image than you had imagined. 

You drop your head back with a breathless chuckle. “Okay, Mr. ‘I Have No Pride.’”

“I made you come,” he chirps happily.

“Yeah, you did. It was really good, too.”

“So, why didn’t anyone else?” Adrian pushes his head toward your touch when you stroke your hand gently through his hair. 

“I dunno. They weren’t applying themselves, I guess.”

“That’s stupid. You’re, like, the hottest person ever. Hotter than Doja Cat,” he grumbles petulantly, and you can tell by the look in his eye that he’s dead serious. “Want me to kill them? I should kill them.”

“No.” You trail your fingers down the curve of his face, going for his chin, but he turns his face and sucks your two fingers into his mouth before you can manage it. You stop dead as the pad of his tongue swirls around the digits, and he blinks up at you innocently, despite the lewd connotations of the act. “N-no, I… hhhhh… you’re distracting me.”

He bats his eyes at you, and he slowly pulls back along your fingers until they pop out of his mouth, covered in saliva. “How am I distracting you?”

“You’re- you… you little shit.” You grab him by the chin and draw him up from between your legs. He clumsily crawls up the length of your torso with his cheeks smushed between your fingers as you hiss, “I’m going to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you, I swear to god.” 

“You know, that sounds slightly menacing when you say it like that,” he slurs, his jaw working against your hold. 

“On your back, Chase.”

He grabs you before you can protest, and rolls back over so that you plop down on top of him, your hand still jammed up against his jaw. A blast of air comes out of your lungs in lieu of laughter, and Adrian snorts, shuffling his hips so that he moves back against the pillows.

“Okay, look, I really really really like you,” he says as you pick yourself up, straddling his lap, “but if you’re too good at this I might accidentally fall in love with you. Just to let you know what you’re getting into here.”

“Oh, is that so?” 

“Yeah, and I think I might actually, um, ask you to move in with me, like, immediately. Like tomorrow. Do you rent or own? Doesn’t matter, I can put your name on the lease. Maybe if you own a house it can be income property-”

You cast your eyes down and find him, remarkably, hard and leaking precum as he continues babbling about living situations. You tilt your head, letting him get his stream of consciousness out there in the open, as your eyes catch on a dark wad of fabric beside his pillow. Your underwear, which he’d gingerly set aside instead of tossing across the room like you thought he would.

“Hm, Adrian?”

He blinks up at you, his eyes wide and dilated. “Yeah?”

You pick up the wadded up underwear. “You wanted to keep these, right?”

He licks his lips. “Um. Yes.”

“Hold them for me, then.” You grab his jaw and stuff them in his mouth, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he makes a noise of protest, but then actually moans when, presumably, he tastes you on them. “You’re so fucking cute, I haven’t even tied you up. You just want my taste in your mouth, huh?” He nods. “Yeah. Pretty boy.”

He predictably moans again, his hands grasping at every part of you they can reach; your arms, your breasts, the expanse of his palms gliding down the curve of your waist and settling on your thighs. You grab one, lifting it and settling his palm against your throat.

“Hold this for me, too?” You ask him sweetly, giving his bewildered expression a devilish smirk in return. You rock forward, sliding your dripping pussy along his erection, and his hand tightens on your throat just a bit. “That’s it.”

You pick your hips up, reaching between your legs to position him where you want him, and when you sink down onto his cock, the underwear in his mouth does nothing to muffle the obscene groan that he makes. His hand flexes on your throat, and his eyes close and open a few times as he tries to maintain a certain amount of control. Something tells you that he’s not really used to taking it lying down. 

You’re already decently sore from the way he effectively fucked your brains out in the shower. This is just ensuring that you’re going to be feeling it for the rest of the week, but you can’t help yourself. You take him in all the way, making agonized noises the entire time, and then jolt your hips down a little more so you can feel him bottom out. 

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re something else,” you snarl down at him, and his eyes go wide again as you squeeze him, every bit of your aching strength bearing down onto his cock until he whines loudly through the fabric and his fingers tighten on the sides of your throat. “Oh, god, I could ruin you. You could ruin me. I want you to, it would be so easy for you, I wouldn’t even be able to walk in the morning.”

And you’re moving, picking up your hips and letting them fall back down in slow, deep strokes that have him writhing, his free hand in a death grip on your thigh. You raise your hand to press against the back of his on your throat, your fingers weaving in between his, and he flexes them back a bit to make room. 

Even when he’s gagged, he’s noisy. Keening and grunting at you, his jaw tightening every once in a while and the tendons of his neck jumping out at you when your hips meet his. Dark curls hang down his forehead, damp with sweat, and you can’t help but feel like the shower was useless.

No, not useless. It brought you here.

Adrian bucks his hips up suddenly, meeting you halfway when you take a particularly long time on the downstroke. You gasp, tightening your hand on his, and your nails dig into his chest. 

“Oh, you want me to ruin you, don’t you?” You murmur at him, baiting him to do it again. And he does, just like you hoped he would. You pick up the pace in retaliation, letting the lewd sounds of your skin hitting his fill the room. “Silly boy, I knew you would.”

He whimpers, blinking up at you slowly, his face screwing up and tightening in earnest when you rake your nails up and down his chest. He makes a couple pathetic, weak groans in the back of his throat like he wants to convey something to you, but he’s not reaching up to remove your underwear from his mouth.

(You wonder if he even remembers that he can.)

“You gonna come for me?” you ask as his whimpers increase in volume. His cock is so hard, twitching and dragging thick inside you, and his chest jumps with every desperate, ragged breath he takes. “Yeah, you are. Go on, baby, make a mess.”

Adrian gives you a curt shake of his head, and paws at your thigh for a second before his hand slides forward, and his thumb touches your clit.

“Oh fuck, Adrian-” you lurch forward, pressing your throat hard against his palm, your legs seizing up on either side of his hips. He makes you come again with a single fucking touch, and it burns through your core like fire, almost more satisfying than the first because you’re able to feel him inside you this time, something warm and hard and thick to come on.

Apparently, that was all he needed in order to let go. His back arches a bit as he jerks his hips up into yours, and he fills your pulsing cunt until his shallow breaths rattle in his throat, his eyes squeezed so tight that you see a tear collecting in the corner of one. He lays with his head driven back hard into the pillow, whimpering and whining like he’s been mortally wounded. 

Too sore to move just yet, you pull his hand away from your throat and kiss his palm. Adrian’s eyes flutter open, and he finds you with a glazed-over stare, like he might either see you or see through you. Still letting out soft whimpers with each harsh exhale. 

“Oh. Sweetheart,” you giggle, and reach forward to pull the wad of underwear from his mouth. It comes out with a long string of his spit attached to it, and you give him a cheeky smirk as you break the string with your finger and lick it off, rather than wiping it on your skin. 

“You… you’re…” You swear his eyes nearly roll back in his skull before he closes them, trying to collect himself. He takes a deep, long breath, and then splutters, “Willyoumarrymeactually?”

You give him your biggest, goofiest grin, a little bubble of laughter wedging itself deep in your chest. “Get a little more whisky in me, and we’ll see what bright ideas I have then.”

“Okay.”

You lift yourself off of his softening cock, and the release comes with a dribble of his cum sliding down your thigh. He groans, but with one look at him you know that there’s not going to be any more action for the rest of the night. 

You shift to the left, and his hand smacks down onto your thigh. “Mmmm no, you sleep with me.”

“Yeah, obviously. But you came all over the sheets earlier, genius.”

“Oh.”

He takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes in time to see you taking his glasses off. You blink a few times, your eyes having adjusted to the slight difference in your prescriptions, and refocus on his face to find him gazing up at you adoringly. 

“I’m gonna take a guess and say you don’t sleep in these, too?” You wiggle the glasses at him. 

He licks his lips. “No, not… not usually.”

You set the glasses on the bedside table, and then slowly slide off of him, off the bed and onto shaky legs. You take his hand and tug just a bit. “C’mon, pretty. Into my bed.”

He follows your lead without a fuss, making the two step journey to the other bed and plopping down face-first. 

“D’you wanna get pancakes when we wake up?” he asks around a yawn as you nudge his ass, prodding him to scoot over. 

You nod furiously, even though you know he can’t see you as you switch the light off and climb in beside him, curling up against his warm back. “Pancakes sound fucking delicious.”

“Not as delicious as your pus-”

“Adrian.”

[sushiwriterhere]

jack abbot is such a wife guy through and through oh my god. even before him and samira get married, he leans into the domesticity and comfort of their partnership. when she starts staying over, he’s clearing out drawers for her, noting her skin and hair care products so he can get her stuff for his place.

(he isn’t sure how to give them to her, not sure how she’ll take it. is it presumptuous? during a particularly slow shift he familiarizes himself with sephora and ulta and eventually decides, fuck it, he’ll wake her up with breakfast and a bag of her things. the packages get delivered after he’s left for his shift and before he can intervene, she’s texting him a photo of the packages all ‘???’ and all he can say is ‘open them!’ and when he comes home she kisses him breathless just after he walks in the door.)

he still has that lingering anxiety about him being too old and her too beautiful, too accomplished, (too young), and so he stresses for a few weeks after he realizes he wants to propose before robby tells him he’s acting weird and threatens to have dana intervene. after that he comes back to himself but realizes the world of engagement rings has changed a lot since the last time he proposed.

(the pain of becoming a widower never really goes away. his therapist tells him the grief doesn’t get smaller, you just grow around it. he hates the thought of amy being a smaller part of his life, but when samira takes flowers to her grave on their anniversary, while jack is suffering through a night shift from hell, he thinks things might be okay.)

abbot decides he’ll need more than just google can provide (he almost has a pinterest induced migraine), and he asks the people he knows will know best.

dana first, to confirm he hasn’t lost his mind. dana blinks at him before laughing and saying ‘took you long enough to get here.’

then he asks mel king because he figures she’ll know what kind of ring samira might want and maybe how she wants to be proposed to? dr king is an unusually helpful resource, sending him a link to a pinterest board (fuck) that samira and her have apparently been diligently curating. she agrees no fanfare.

his army buddies know who she is before she meets them because he’s always saying samira this and mohan that. they all cheer when he says he’s proposing and that it’s about time.

he thinks he’s going to throw up but also that he’s never been more sure of anything in his life when he holds out the box in his palm, kneeling in the botanical gardens, the two of them hidden by the lushness of first spring’s bloom. she doesn’t say anything, staring at the ring, then at his face, then back at the ring. he knows he’s giving the speech he rehearsed a million times over.

(‘abbot i think you should pick a different prayer when a patient is crashing, that one sounds an awful lot like a proposal speech.’)

samira mohan’s hands shake while she lets him put the ring on her finger, because ‘jack i would’ve said yes a month into dating you.’

(‘aren’t you glad i bullied you into a videographer and photographer?’ jack can’t even bring himself to be annoyed at santos’ tone because now he forever has photo and video evidence that samira mohan said yes to marrying him.)

there’s not a dry eye during the ceremony, robby gives her away, and samira told him robby had cried so hard he’d been shaking when she’d asked. and it’s not an extravagant affair, because samira rolls her eyes when he asks her if she wants the dramatic ceremony.

(her dress is still breathtaking and jack’s coworkers see him cry for the first time.)

after they tie the knot, it really is unfortunate that he can’t (actually) use the ‘my wife said no’ excuse because he really just loves the way ‘my wife said’ sounds. not like that stops him anyways, because dana throws a pen at his head after the fifth, “my wife said no.” in response to her strict instructions to stop hanging around after his shifts are over.

it’s not as if much truly changes. samira terminates her lease and properly moves into jack’s place. she was the only one really using the kitchen, but now he’s spending his time off redoing the backsplash because he saw her looking at some picture on pinterest for just a little too long.

they adopt the dog she couldn’t stop looking wistfully at after going with mel and becca to the no-adoption-fee event.

(jack only pretends to think about it so she tries to persuade him. his facade lasts approximately thirty seconds into her kissing down his bare chest after they’ve come home before he caves and admits he was googling doggy daycares while trailing her in the shelter.)

they start doing double-date brunches with robby and collins in their backyard when shifts align and jack pointedly does not cry when he and samira open a gift bag containing the tiniest onesie he’s ever seen.

(samira had apparently noticed weeks before but kept the secret to herself aside from checking in on collins occasionally when she’d disappear to be sick in the bathrooms.)

he puts his first ring on a chain that he wears along with his dog tags. he makes his phone background a photo of samira the morning after the engagement (she’s got bedhead and her eyes are puffy from sleep but she’s smiling sleepily at the ring on her hand and jack thinks it should replace the Mona Lisa).

[calmcoldevening]

Santa Art the clown x reader headcanons

Tw: blood, murdering, some smut, no minors

Note: I just watched the Terrifier 3 and I'm impressed. Can't not to write about this guy

• I hope you've been a good girl all year, because this Santa loves it when you're good. Be sure, he will give you any gift you wish.

• But if you've been a bad girl, that's good too. He loves every side of you, it makes his pants tight. Especially if you flirt with him.

• It will be cool if you like his new costume. Of course Art still has his good old black and white makeup on but the costume is red now. You don't mind, do you?

• Just sit on his lap while he's in the suit and whisper in his ear the most dirty desires you have. God, sugar, he's crazy about you. His buddy will instantly get rock hard and provide you with an unforgettable Christmas.

• On Christmas morning, he will meet you tied up under the tree with some beautiful ribbon. Or your ex's guts. If you're lucky.

• During Christmas, he will be incredibly romantic and will give you a lot of gifts. Sure he stole them, but when did you care?

• Whenever possible, he will try to pull you onto his lap so as not to leave the image.

• He will be glad if you make chocolate cookies and milk for him. He liked this treat too much in homes with children who were waiting for the real Santa.

• In this costume, Art will fuck you like never before. He loves his sweet girl so much. And after all these murders, he feels even hotter, so intimacy will be accompanied by the presence of someone else's blood on his red suit. It may be unpleasant and disgusting, but you're already used to it.

• As long as he wears the Santa costume, he feels warm and cozy. Therefore, he becomes even more clingy, Art literally always wants your hugs or just to keep you close.

• The thought of you looking at him while he's making his new sophisticated weapon makes him so damn hot and hard. But he's still so focused on what he's doing that he can't get distracted. But after that, Art will really give you time.

• He's a damn possessive guy, so now people can often spot you in the arms of a weird Santa. Art just doesn't want anyone staring at you with dirty thoughts. It's better to let these rude people look at him, as long as only he can touch and love you.

• He would love to wrap you in wrapping paper and leave you under the tree as a “gift” to see how long it would take you to get rid of the wrapping paper. He would probably laugh if he saw you in agony. Especially if you were wearing some nice but bloody clothes. Art would have found it damn hot.

• Teach this guy to drink and he will often spend evenings with you in the company of wine or something similar. Of course, this is not his style, but the heat from alcohol in his veins vaguely reminds him of adrenaline and the pleasure of killing. Especially if alcohol makes you more relaxed and playful.

• Art won't let you spend Christmas with anyone else. So just decorate the house and, for example, cook a festive dinner. Art will return and you will spend this magical "family" night together.