#I pulled most of these off the top of my head so I could very well be missing something iconic

[kurooh]

PROFESSIONAL ( AT LOVIN’ ) !

⊹₊˚. HAWKS’ BDAY 2024 — after six months of being his press agent’s friend with all kinds of benefits, keigo struggles to find a way to tell you that he can’t keep up his side of the agreement any longer. / or, his heart’s been in it since the very beginning.

word count: 14.3K (um….please read🧎‍♀️)

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, friends with benefits -> lovers, angst, unprotected sex, creampies, cunnilingus, drinking (everyone is mid twenties), dirty talk, squirting once, office sex.

xoxo, juno: happy LATE birthday to keigo <33 WOOO first fic of 2025 and it’s the longest one i’ve ever written.. inspired by the weeknd’s kissland! hope you enjoy, love you guys :,) 🩷

“this pussy of yours is pretty fuckin’ greedy, huh?”

“how could i not be when you always fuck me so g-good?” the filthy words rush out of your mouth in a surge of euphoria that has taken over your cognitive functions and renders you clinically cock drunk. in this state, things you’d normally never agree to are suddenly more alluring than a shiny trinket to a nesting bird. sex on the roof of the heroes’ safety commission is outlandish and obscene (you’d used those words when keigo had first brought it up in jest) — but here you are getting plowed by none other than the no. 2 hero of japan.

“aw, dovey,” keigo coos, gloved hand closing around the slope of your neck and tugging you back into his chest, “you’ve always got the best compliments, don’t ya?”

“ah, r-right there!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into your skull as your third orgasm of the half hour boils in your tummy like magma in an explosive volcano. “shit, kei, ‘m gonna cum again..”

“heh, go ahead ‘n let it out for me,” the heel of his other hand digs hard into the plush skin above your pubic bone and the crude slapping of skin against skin grows louder. “c’mon, baby, cum all over this cock. show me how good you feel, yeah?”

“yeah,” you whimper, desperately throwing your ass back onto his cock to get him even deeper, “oh my god, keigo, fuuuck—‘m cumming!”

it nearly sweeps you off your feet, the strength of your blissful orgasm leaving you shaking violently and clenching uncontrollably on keigo’s cock. his teeth sharply sink into his lower lip when he quickly pulls out of you, lamely stroking himself to completion above your ass and spraying strings of ivory onto your skin. your body is slick with sweat and now cum, but the messiness of the situation doesn’t hit you quite yet — you’re busy trying to catch your breath while he hangs his head lowly behind you.

keigo still holds you upright on legs of jelly, lightly beating his wings to help stabilize himself. watchful gold eyes sweep over your body, doing a once over and admiring every inch of you. he’s always considered you as the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and has always felt lucky to touch you — so why does he feel so damn unfulfilled? it’s probably a form of karma; keigo hasn’t ever had a consistent relationship, all due to his own actions. so many of his old girlfriends had clashed with him over his neglectful habits — his inability to give them time, attention, and effort. all of his relationships began positively, then quickly deteriorated into toxicity he’d grown tired of dealing with.

he’d been single for a year, and went without sex for longer. if he didn’t always have the press looming over his shoulder and scrutinizing each of his damn movements, he would’ve been able to get his dick wet sooner! keigo would certainly never admit it, but the total deprivation has been a good thing, allowing him to reset and understand why those relationships had completely gone downhill. at the time, he’d pettily blamed his girlfriend or the new guy she’d moved on with.

you let out a tired puff of breath and break away from his hold too soon just to look at your phone, which is sitting on top of keigo’s jacket. “so, my lunch break isn’t over just yet. we can hit the sandwich place around the block if you’re up for it?”

god, you’ve got that lazy smile playing on your lips like it always does after he’s made you cum. how is it possible for someone to look so elegant even as she buttons her blouse and wipes cum off her ass with a spare napkin? his brain literally short circuits when you hand him his jacket, plush lips shaping around a word. words. didn’t you just say something? maybe his post nut clarity has faded into obscurity, or he’s lost his hearing from how hard he just came.

“keigo,” you sigh, snapping your fingers in front of his face and briefly contemplating slapping him out of his stupor, “is the light on upstairs?”

a shiver jolts through him despite the fact that the weather’s warm, and his disassociated eyes finally hone in on you, standing right in front of him. “yeah, sorry. what’d you say earlier?”

you shrug on your suit jacket and slip into your heels. “i’m still free. we can grab sandwiches around the block if you’d like.”

so thoughtful. his heart swells happily at the prospect of eating lunch with you. it always does, usually accompanied with a flip in his stomach, whenever he tags along on something you’re doing, whether it’s eating lunch or sorting through lengthy documents after the office closes.

“sounds good. are we walking or flying, dovey?” your favorite sex petname rolls off his tongue naturally, and after months of this arrangement, you’ve stopped correcting him.

“let’s just walk,” you say decisively, wrapping the used napkin in another, “it attracts less press, showbird.”

☆ ☆

still thrumming with the sensations of sex, keigo walks into the restaurant behind you, piping up to place his order and then to swipe his card for the lunch. he dutifully waits at the table while you stand at the counter, glancing at your phone every now and then to alleviate the impatient boredom that accompanies most edible purchases. keigo allows himself a moment of respite, and instead of looking at his phone, he looks at you — particularly the way your clothes hug the slopes and curves of your body, much like he does when he’s coming down from an orgasm.

it was exactly eight months ago when keigo had first laid eyes on you. he knew right then and there that under no circumstances would he allow his old persona to shine through or mess things up between the two of you. for the first two months out of those eight, keigo had befriended you (with much encouragement from his friend mirko, bless her) and spent time getting to know you as a person over friendly lunches and the occasional drink. he’d committed each of your stories to memory and marked your birthday down on the calendar, something he’d never done for anyone else before. the beginning of everything was after one of those rare drinks that had landed you in keigo’s apartment and sitting criss-crossed on his bed, discussing your unlucky love life.

he’d listened with rapture as you pored over the freaks you’d met and gone out with in detail, mistakenly trusting your friends to set you up with someone nice on a blind date. in their defense, you’d drunkenly mumbled, it’s not their fault that there’s so many people catfishing. one inebriated conversation led to another, and you’d happened upon the fact that neither of you hadn’t had any good sex in a very long time. in the morning, you came into work late and sore all over, but also newly enlightened. for the past six months, you’ve successfully maintained a friends with benefits relationship with keigo takami, the no. 2 hero of japan.

“this one’s yours. here’s the receipt,” you push him a tightly wrapped sub sandwich and his tab.

he catches the sandwich after letting it spin on the table like an arrow on a game spinner, then crumples the receipt. “why don’t you believe me when i say i enjoy paying for you, hm?”

you sigh after a bite. “it makes me feel like a sugar baby . . but also, i can pay for myself.”

“so you’re either saying i’m old or rich,” keigo chuckles when you roll your eyes dramatically, “i know you can, but just let me spoil you, dovey.”

you knew it was a losing game the moment you brought it up, cheeks heating a little at the implication of his words. maybe being his baby isn’t that bad. conversation comes to a comfortable standstill as you both dig into your sandwiches, crumbs falling to the table and making a small mess. when you look up to pause and wipe your mouth, a laugh tumbles out before you can stop it.

“what?” keigo asks confusedly, holding his sandwich tightly and going so far as to swivel around backwards in hopes of pinpointing whatever made you laugh. 

you wrap a napkin over your fingers and lean across the table. instinctually, keigo leans in for a kiss, only to be a little more than heartbroken when you swerve to the side and dodge it to instead dab at a streak of mustard across his chin. the sudden intimacy and close proximity cause the apples of his cheeks to turn rosy in embarrassment. “did you just lead me on?” he asks when he notices you giggling at him again, voice taking on a playful and petty tone. “because it totally feels like you did that on purpose.”

“no, keigo,” a wide smile spreads across your face at his usual antics, “you were the one eating so quickly you got mustard all over your face! someone had to clean you up.”

in an instant, his voice drops an octave, becoming low and sultry. “you keep talking like that and i’ll clean you up.”

“i— we’re in public!” you exclaim, a dull ache pulsing between your legs at the thought of him using his tongue on you. 

he shrugs noncommittally, feeling triumphant now that he’s briefly flustered you. “public or not, you know you love it. now eat your sandwich.”

“way ahead of you,” heat floods your cheeks as you pick up the sandwich, feeling dirty because of the slick pooling into your underwear. keigo doesn’t understand how easy it is to get you worked up, whether it’s with his words or the mischievous footsie he keeps playing under the table with you. “if i come across a headline about this conversation, i’m gonna kill you.”

☆ ☆

“late night?” keigo hums, shattering your concentration on the current task. startled and disheveled, you glance up just in time to catch his typical smirk. his gold eyes shamelessly rake up and down your body as if he’s spotted something he wants—no, needs—to claim. however, his raunchy ogling comes to a screeching halt when he hones in on the shadowy dark circles beneath your eyes.

“the latest,” you blow out a peeved breath through pursed lips, doing your utmost to avoid looking out the window. it’s completely dark outside, the sky an inky blanket of night and stars over the city. “i’m fucking swamped.”

it comes out bitterly, and keigo cautiously steps forward, wings twitching nervously behind him. that well-groomed mess of vermilion feathers at his back seems to have a mind of its own, constantly betraying their owner by displaying his emotions so openly. 

“what, you coming to rescue me?” absentmindedly, you swish around your empty coffee mug. not a single drop flies over the edge, the porcelain totally dry as if it was never used.

“c’monnnn, you know i’m always up to rescue you,” he teases playfully, gently tugging the mug out of your grip and setting a reassuring palm down on your hunched shoulders. “i’ll get us some coffee and help you out when i get back.”

“i highly doubt that you’re qualified to deal with PR work, keigo.” a small though rascally smile plays on your lips, corners flicking up as your sour demeanor starts to mellow out. 

he sticks out his tongue and steps out of your office, heading to the kitchen. as his feet quietly pad along the hard carpet, he considers your recent behavior — last week you were fucking around on the roof and then getting sandwiches like it was nobody’s business. keigo was seeing you around the office and outside of it, but the time he’d been spending with you had decreased dramatically over the past few days. the coordinated lunch breaks and escapades were no more, and keigo’s been caught up wondering why. now, the reason for this couldn’t be linked to anything he did or said — still, it’s impossible for him not to overthink.

“god, you’re a lifesaver!” you groan joyously as keigo sets down a full mug of coffee in front of you and away from your laptop and notepad. “thank you for this.”

“slow down, you haven’t even seen the things i can do outside of making coffee.”

you rotate your laptop once he finally takes a seat in front of you, insistently pointing a finger at the various tasks on your metaphorical plate. “if i give you some work, you’ll have to do a lot of proofreading.”

keigo nods, and his eyebrows suddenly pull downwards in a mix of playful confusion and surprise. “wait, is that a virtual shrine dedicated to me?”

“what?” you mutter, squinting your eyes as you frantically look over the computer screen to no avail. “oh, shut up. just start reading while i finish up the rest.”

there’s a pause and a beat of silence as you both settle into your respective assignments.

then, “i actually came to the office because i missed you a little.”

“you what?” you laugh increduously, licking a finger to aid you in flipping through paperclipped pages. his eyes follow you, from the moment your tongue darts out to wet your skin and then flicks through pages you skim to find what you’re looking for.

“well, i haven’t seen you outside of work in a while,” keigo sniffs, tearing his eyes away from you and refocusing on the words on the screen. at the risk of sounding too vulnerable, he throws in something disgustingly horny to save himself. “was just wondering about my fuck buddy.”

fuck. he’s really cringing now, throat instinctually closing up once he feels waves of nausea crashing over him. but you don’t even bat an eye, too busy setting papers aside in different stacks and barely paying attention to him. “oh, yeah. i’m sorry, it’s just that a ton of people have been dumping so much work on me.”

“so that’s why i’m reading a drafted article enshrining endeavor as number one?” he grins, briefly catching your eyes. you’re not quite sure if it’s the exhaustion finally catching up or something else, but your stomach flutters when you automatically meet his gaze. loose papers drift to the floor, falling right past you. 

“yep, that’s why,” you laugh nervously, snatching up the papers so forcefully that they crumple in your grasp. keigo’s always so damn charming, and it affects you more now that you’re so tired. right?

“you want some dinner, dovey?” the affectionate pet name lingers in your mind, echoing loudly until it finally fades into a memory from a while ago. the transition of his affectionate voice into one choked with unadulterated pleasure is seamless, leaving you breathless in an instant. a glance at his wings has you sloppily picturing them fanned out above you and frantically beating the air as keigo ruts his hips into yours . . god, what’s gotten into you? he certainly could.

“i want you,” it slips out before you can stop it or even control it, words laced with a silent desperation only he can detect. “uh, i mean—”

“bold words,” a wolf whistle trills out into the air, reminding you that you’ve now started something you won’t be getting out of easily. “sure you can handle what you’re askin’ for, baby?”

“don’t act like i haven’t countless times before,” you retort, voice a little weaker than you’d like. it’s frustrating, the influence he has over your body — he hasn’t even said anything meaningful and yet heat’s surging to your cheeks while a shiver of excitement ripples through you.

“riiiight. aren’t you the one always saying you can’t handle it? ‘oh, keigo, please! i can’t, i—’”

the endless teasing is just too much — it makes your blood boil, gets your pulse racing, and absolutely does what it was intended to do. your full mug of coffee tips off the edge of the table and spills when you slam the laptop shut, leaping forward to rapidly close the distance between you two. your lips, slightly sticky with coffee, crash onto keigo’s hard, causing your foreheads to knock together too.

it’s a palpable invitation, one that he eagerly accepts without hesitation. his strong hands settle firmly on your hips in an attempt to stop their slight tremble, fingertips pressing into the curve of your waist. he pulls you into his lap and you fall into sync with one another just like always: keigo slips his tongue into your mouth while you tug at his blonde curls. impatience curated by time apart and characterized by frustration has the air in the room sparking with white hot electricity that’s strong enough to cause a power outage — you’re so close to finally scratching that unbearable itch, at least until it comes back tomorrow with much more ferocity.

keigo draws back with a knowing smile, lips curling up. “we should stop, dovey.”

a thin, glossy string of saliva connects your lips to his. you’ve got this desperate, needy look written all over your face, which crumples petulantly as you consider the possibility of being left unsatisfied. something purely horny twists in his chest, alongside his still yearning heart — keigo fucking loves being in control, being the only one who can give you the satisfaction that you so desperately need, but the thought of being something more resurfaces in his mind again.

it always comes to him at the worst times: right now, during a sexual moment, or before he falls asleep and when he opens his eyes to daylight in the morning. it’s eating him up inside, and he’s already too far in to stop — or is he? no, he isn’t! not if he finds a way to extricate himself from the suffocating casualness of this mess and advance whatever’s left into a real relationship, one that’s abundant in love and adoration. the evolution of the relationship hinges on the timing of his love confession, so he’ll definitely plan to wait until you’re not holed up in the office and on his lap looking like you’re about to shed tears.

“i c-can’t,” you gasp breathlessly, heart pounding in your ears, “kei, please— i need you so badly, i’ve been waiting so damn long.” 

and who is he to deny you, when you’re begging so beautifully?

“so you missed me?” keigo murmurs, pressing kisses to the column of your throat and savoring the way you softly gasp. this is his moment. he’s going to slyly frame a question for you, and when you answer it correctly, he’ll spring his confession onto you and then give you what you’ve been dying for.

“god, yes,” a moan rushes out from between your lips, head tipping back to give him easier access. with his nose pressed into your skin, keigo blissfully inhales the faint wisps of your favorite perfume. eight months later and you’re still wearing that scent daily, ever since he complimented you the day he met you. “you know i did, keigo.”

“what’d you miss the most?” he smirks between open mouthed kisses, guiding you straight to the answer with his warm hands that slip under your shirt and languidly caress the small of your back. 

“your cock, t-the way you fuck me,” you groan, unintentionally shattering his plan into pieces; but he doesn’t let it show, chuckling into your neck as he rapidly snatches them up and off the floor. it’s okay, he’s okay. all he has to do is ask a few more questions and offer up some multiple choice answers — in doing so, he’ll have a chance to tell you how he really feels.

“mmmm, is that all?” 

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you tug him back by the hair, scrutinizing him with eyes clouded by lust and nothing else. a carnation colored flush sits high on his cheekbones, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows down a pesky i love you. not now, not here — this isn’t the right moment.

“keigo, why are you questioning me like my boss does?” he blinks, averting his eyes to your glossy neck, shining with his saliva in the dim light. it smells like coffee now, and he’s wondering if it’ll ever get cleaned up, dark liquid overflowing and soaking through the carpet, straight into the floor. he doesn’t want to be like the coffee, forgotten about and lingering in the air since it had fallen off the desk without you having caught it.

keigo knows you — he always has, and it’s too easy to pick up on the unmistakable tension twisted in your question, along with undertones of discomfort and deflection. automatically, he slips back into his typical persona, lips curling into an impish smile while he waggles his eyebrows to emphasize his words. “heh, you’re so impatient. can you blame me for wanting to build things up?”

you visibly relax, plush mouth forming into a pout he wants to kiss away. “i think there’s been plenty of build up. don’t tease me again.”

“yes ma’am,” he replies coolly, lifting his hands into the air in a show of submission. you release his hair and he pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly as he stands up from the chair. it rolls away into a corner, plastic backing hitting the wall with a soft thud just as keigo slams you down on the desk, papers flying every which way. 

“keigo, hah, you haven’t even gotten me naked yet,” you sigh, heat rushing to your face as he sinks to his knees on the hard carpet, his eyes never leaving yours. dexterous, impatient fingers find the clasp of your pants, and he drags them down your legs, along with your sticky panties. 

“i know,” keigo breathes, pulling your thighs over his shoulders and pulling your hips close to his face, “and yet, you’re already fucking soaked for me. aren’t you, baby?”

“yeah, i am,” you whimper, feeling your cunt clench around nothing when he rewards you by spitting onto your clit. “all for you, kei.”

“you’re so cute.” 

you really are, all spread out on the desk, pretty and pliant just for him. there’s not a shred of resistance when he manuvers you closer or teases his fingertips around your quivering hole, ignoring your strained cries for more. dark pupils enlarge against gold irises, and keigo’s wings flutter eagerly as his arousal crashes over him in continuous, steady waves of heat. now that he’s between your legs and focused on his favorite late night snack, the scent of the coffee dissipates along with his thoughts. 

“keigo,” you keen, fingers threading through his tousled curls, “please, just—oh god, stop fuckin’ teasing me.”

a sportive smack! lands on the side of your bare ass, kicking up a few papers when you jolt forward in surprise. “easy, baby. easy,” there’s a low, warning pitch in his voice, and you settle down frustratedly, gnawing on your lower lip. keigo’s never been one to rush when it comes to eating your pussy, even during quickies—you’d be more aggravated if he didn’t always make you cum so damn hard. his face is flushed pink and shining with eagerness as he pushes two fingers inside you, fixated on the way they slide in so easily. 

he experimentally curls them, and a lick of heat washes over his whole body when he watches your face crumple, head tipping back weakly while you tug at his hair. the blond curls are soft between your fingers, giving you something to grab onto when you need to steady yourself. 

“fuckkk,” keigo groans, attaching his rosy lips to your clit and lightly sucking at the swollen, sensitive bud. clumsily, you grind your hips against his mouth, body sweltering as the small office fills with the impolite smacks of his lips and wet squelches of your sloppy cunt. “loosen up for me, baby, you’re too tight.”

a trembly breath leaves your lips as you obediently readjust for him, spreading your legs and trying to relax so he can tug his fingers back. for a moment, he pauses to appreciatively look over his glossy, creamy fingers—he sticks them into his mouth, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he puts on a show of swirling his tongue around them like some kind of slut. once he opens his eyes, those piercing gold hues meet your own and he plunges them back inside, making you whimper.

“listen to me, dovey,” keigo murmurs, breath fanning over your wet clit, “i want you cumming hard on my fingers in the next thirty seconds.”

“but—oh,” your voice cracks when he deeply curls his fingers, purposefully interrupting you, “what if it’s not enough? i don’t think i can—”

sharp, pearly teeth lightly graze your clit and make you mewl noisily, the action both a warning and a reward. “yes, you can, dovey,” he utters in a hushed voice, “c’mon, show me you’re a big girl. i’ll be counting for ya.”

with that, keigo dives back in, furiously licking your clit while he roughly curls his fingers into that sweet, spongy spot inside you. it’s probably not serious, but something in your stomach flutters at the thought of disobeying him—if he wants you to cum, you’ll do just that. your hips rock into his tongue, developing a messy rhythm that could possibly rival his own when he’s inside you—he smirks against you, clearly pleased with himself. papers lift into the air, swirling around in a flurry of white as if they’re caught up in a tornado. the source of the miniature storm is his wings, uncontrollably flapping about as he determinedly licks at your clit like a lollipop. 

twenty five. a thin sheen of sweat shines on your forehead, making the skin tacky. absentmindedly, you wonder if it could be possible for him to cum in his pants just from eating you out. he certainly enjoys it enough — whenever he says he’s feeling thirsty or hungry, he’ll end up eating you out for so long you pass out by your seventh orgasm.

twenty. keigo’s absorbed in the smell, sight, and taste of you. nothing’s better than watching you fall apart on him, dewy tears in your eyes as you fight back overstimulation or impatience. but this is new: he’s never demanded you to cum after setting a time limit in place. it occurs to him now that he didn’t think far enough ahead to answer the question you’ll probably end up asking afterwards, something along the lines of ‘what would’ve happened if i didn’t cum?’ . . 

fifteen. with your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips lurch off the desk, a bit of drool pours down your chin. covered in a mixture of sweat, spit, and slick, you’re at a loss for words as keigo’s damn tongue rolls over your clit again and again. perhaps you’re too dazed, but you swear you feel him etch the letters of his name into you with the tip of his tongue.

ten. keigo’s pussydrunk, soaking his boxers with precum as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. his eyes are dark with lust, and the rosy skin of his cheeks and chin is smeared with that sticky wetness he just can’t get enough of. all of your muscles pull taut like a bowstring, and you sob out his name, pushing his face into you as euphoria hits you from every direction and all at once.

“kei, oh my god, ‘m gonna fucking cum,” within seconds of your frantic gasps, you abruptly gush on his fingers, hard enough to push them out of you — cum squirts from your cunt, getting onto his face when he curiously leans in to lick it away.

you don’t get a second to come down from your high because keigo roughly licks you through it as if he’s severely dehydrated. “mmmph!” you squeal, hips immediately pulling away from him like he’s given you an electric shock. “wai—wait, keigo, it’s way too much!”

he relents, rolling his eyes as if he doesn’t believe you. “fine, fiiiiine. you win this one, dovey.”

“pants off.”

he quirks an eyebrow but starts to undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft bang. “you’re so fucking greedy, i swear.”

you throw him a glare, wiping sweat off of your forehead as you sit up, slowly hopping off of the desk. 

papers fall all around you, quietly crinkling as they hit the floor and surround the desk in a sloppy circle. your lips press into a thin line as you take the sight in, mildly exasperated by the mess you’ll force him to clean up. “on the desk, keigo. tuck your wings in too.”

he laughs in disbelief, used to calling the shots when it comes to sex, “so demanding, baby.”

you fix him with a serious look, crossing your arms over your chest while papers ride the dying currents of air made by his wings. keigo clears his throat and folds his wings close to his back, “yes ma’am.”

his flushed cock is rock hard, bobbing as he settles onto the desk; it’s fraught with veins and beautifully curved to one side, something you’re endlessly thankful for when he’s inside you. above him, you’re dripping wet and ready to take him deep — keigo shudders when you grip the base of his cock, carefully balancing yourself on the desk so that you can easily sit down on it.

“holy—oh, shit,” he curses, abs clenching beneath his clothing as he forces himself to keep his hips down. if you want to take control, he’ll give it to you — anything you could ever want is immediately yours. bleary gold eyes clear up and hone in on where you’re connected; your pussy swallows his cock whole like it’s nothing, leaving him breathless.

you swallow, gnawing at your lower lip, “i’ve fucking missed this, kei. been s-so long.”

memories from your most favorite escapades rush back to you so quickly your head spins, momentarily distracting you from the task at hand. there’s a beat of silence before keigo grips your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he borderline begs you, “baby, c’mon, fuck me already.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” you breathe, placing your hands in the center of his chest to hold yourself up, “you don’t get to do that right now, keigo.”

“god, you’re gonna kill me.”

maybe you won’t, but your hips will — they start to move until you’re bouncing roughly on his cock, letting his tip bully itself against your cervix. it’s the kind of kiss that only the two of you can understand, filled with affection and an hungry obsession for more.

for what seems to be the hundredth time, this mahogany desk is christened with more sex. skin claps against skin, filling the room with the same applause that echoes in a theater after a successful show; the whole building is empty, and it’s only your window that’s flooded with fluorescent light in the otherwise dark night.

“dovey,” keigo moans, voice cracking on the familiar pet name, “if you keep going like this, i’m—i’m not gonna last much longer.”

you don’t answer, eyes squeezing shut against the burn of exhaustion setting into your muscles. handsy as always, he grabs at your tits, pulling you further on top of him and taking a hardened nipple into your mouth.

the sharp edges of his pearly teeth drag against your skin as he sucks, golden eyes shutting once he hears your whiny moans grow louder. you’re fluid and all too smooth, riding his cock into oblivion while working in these little humps against his pelvis that don’t disturb the rhythm you’ve built up. your clit drags across his skin deliciously—shit, it’s possible that you could cum together.

“haah, baby,” keigo trembles beneath you, wings spreading out and quivering against his will. “i’m so damn close, i want—” it nearly sounds too intimate, but he ignores the voice in the back of his mind and focuses on his impending orgasm that’s fighting its way out of him. “shit, i just want you to cum with me.”

sensitivity creeps up your spine and makes your body ripple with a shudder, “r-rub my clit ‘n i will, kei.”

everything happens so damn fast; it doesn’t take long for your body to respond to his frenetic touch, and you completely fall apart on his cock, triggering his own high. while your cunt desperately grips him like a vice, he’s shooting endless ropes of cum deep against your cervix. ultimately, it was pointless for him to fold up his wings — they’ve fought against him like usual, strewing more papers around the room and knocking objects off of your desk.

“d-don’t move just yet,” he wheezes, holding your hips in place the moment you try to retreat, “just stay here for a second, dovey.”

a mixture of slick and cum is smeared in the wispy beige hair that adorns his pelvis, and he looks at you pleadingly, cheeks a blotchy pink. it’s cute, but not nearly convincing enough for you to stay much longer than half a minute. “c’mon, i’ve got some stuff to finish up.”

begrudgingly, keigo lets you go and winces as you pull off of his cock. it flops lamely against his stomach, cum dribbling down the sides and adding to the creamy ring around the base. he sighs, unsurprised by your eagerness to depart — his thighs are cooling now that you’re no longer sitting on top of them.

“that was good,” you say, voice layered with praise as you stand on the tips of your toes and peck an appreciative kiss to his cheek, “let’s get started on sorting papers, shall we?”

you’re already across the room before he can grab your waist and show you what a real kiss feels like, slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand each and every time. 

☆ ☆

rules are the stitches in the seams of anything, always there to hold things tightly in place. it’s natural to break a few every now and then, but what if there are some that should be broken? perhaps they tend to hold things back rather than securely in place.

“okinawa’s just beautiful,” keigo says wistfully, reminiscing about white sand beaches and the bird’s eye view of colorful tourist umbrellas dotting the shoreline from above. there’s a small glitch in his memories that adds you to the scene in a bikini, sunbathing on a towel while he convinces you to come swim in the water with him. he hears himself say something impulsive, but he doesn’t regret it. “maybe we can go on a trip there together. i’ll fly us.”

you stir your drink with a straw, watching the alcohol whirl around ice. “ah, i think we should build up to that, keigo. you’re forgetting that i’ve never flown around that far with you before.”

“we could always change that,” he replies, voice suave. “nighttime is the best time to fly.”

“someday i might just take you up on it,” a laugh spills out of your mouth after a gulp of sweetened tequila, and keigo’s face softens. one of the things he loves most about you is the fact that you’re not afraid to be yourself around him, never once hiding a smile or laugh. “anyway, is there anywhere you haven’t traveled?”

“hmm, let me think,” he raises his fingers to his chin and ponders momentarily, although the answer had come to him the moment you’d started to ask the question. “well, there’s your house.”

you shake your head, nudging his wrist with your own. “noooo, i’m talking about other countries and cities. haven’t you flown out of japan?” 

“only to okinawa,” he supplies, wings twitching anxiously. whenever he brings up your home in the city or worse, him going to it, you always clam up or push him away. granted, it was a boundary line you’d marked in the sand when you’d gotten into this reciprocal relationship all those months ago. escapades have taken place everywhere but your home—he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d mentioned doing it at your place, only to end up on a random rooftop or in an empty alleyway. ever the quick learner, keigo learned not to bring it up. but now, when he’s considering all the variables involved when it comes to confessing to you, he can’t help but feel that it’s necessary to see your house at least once.

sweat rolls down his spine and he unconsciously tugs at his fitted shirt, feeling the heatwaves brought on from both the liquor and the crowded atmosphere of the bar. there’s so many people walking behind the two of you, so much noise, so many bodies all in one space — he feels a little trapped.

“i’ve never been,” you say, derailing his train of thought as you drain your third drink of the night and then flag down the bartender for another. “it’s supposed to be a great vacation spot, though.”

he wipes away the sweat from his forehead with his arm and finishes his drink before nodding your way, wings fidgeting behind him. “it really is, dovey. you wanna take off after another drink or two?”

two glasses slide on the counter, the sides dripping with condensation and cold to the touch. it’s nice to feel in his hands, and he feels his nerves calming after a few long sips. “sounds good,” you answer, feeling hot yourself. the edges of everything in the room seem to blur, thanks to the halos circling the dim bar lights. “you might have to carry me out of here, though.”

“oh, i don’t mind,” keigo answers with a smirk that you can hear in his voice before looking up at him, “but only if you promise you’ll hold on tightly.”

“yes, keigo,” you drawl, scooting your barstool a few inches closer to him. he follows your shameless eyes, tracing your weighted stare to the small gold chain around his neck. it makes a tinkling sound when keigo loops a finger beneath it, hazy eyes meeting your own.

“can’t stop staring, can you?”

you automatically roll your eyes and look away, although your heart starts to race with anticipation. it should be an innocent question, but keigo’s words roll off his tongue in a way that is loaded with his unique charm and flirtatiousness. in a matter of seconds, you’re overthinking the question and the certain innuendo behind it; your breaths come in shallow pants that are just barely audible, and a finger slips beneath your chin to tip your head up. 

keigo leans in, lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “gettin’ all worked up and i haven’t even touched you? that’s a first for you, baby.”

just stop it, you think, yet you’re unable to turn away. damn, he’s got you right where he wants you, and he knows it — keigo shoots you a knowing smile when he notices your thighs unconsciously squeeze together. it’s so hot in this bar, and it only grows hotter in his presence; an uncontrollable shiver races up your spine and you shakily reach for your drink. “stop it, kei.”

your words are shaky, and his wings twitch triumphantly behind him, feathers slightly puffing up. the dewy glass slips right out of your hand and splashes all over your blouse, sticky tequila soaking all the way through to your bra and dampening your chest. keigo stifles a snicker and plucks the glass out of your lap, a little bit of liquid still sloshing around inside it.

“that—that was your fault,” you drop a loose ice cube into the remains of your drink and glare at him angrily as he dabs a handful of napkins against your chest, unabashedly looking over the shrinking fabric. now that it’s all wet, it clings to every inch of your chest and emphasizes the outline of your tits.

“oh, but i wasn’t holding the drink,” keigo clicks his tongue and sends you a wink, sweat shining on his forehead. 

“someone has to foot the bill,” you grouse, sourly blaming him for your now stained blouse and sticky chest. then, it hits you—neither of you are drunk enough to leave the bar. after flagging down the bartender and requesting six shots, you look at keigo competitively. “listen up. whoever finishes the shots first wins and doesn’t have to pay.”

“really, a drinking challenge?” keigo grumbles, knowing you have a better chance of winning. normally, he wouldn’t mind paying for you, but you’ve challenged him and might risk covering the bill you’ve both racked up. his head is fuzzy, but one thought is clear: he won’t let you.

“yes, really,” you shoot back, nose crinkling at the smell of the liquor all on its own in the shot glasses. it’s not sweet and there’s no chaser, but you’re determined to fight your gag reflex as it goes down. “ready?”

“i’m ready,” keigo sighs, lifting a shot glass. 

it ends faster than the alcohol was poured. you’re proud to have won, and keigo doesn’t let on the fact that he assisted you. despite the liquid fire burning your throat, you’re happy—too happy; this is the most drunk that keigo has ever seen you, and he’s in the same boat as you, looking for the oars.

he nearly forgets his card when he struggles to his feet and walks out of the bar with you, right into the not-so-dark nighttime of the city. all of the streetlights are fuzzy and the sounds of racing cars are muffled; this is a different area of the city and it takes a moment for you to register where you are in relation to keigo’s apartment.

“dovey,” he says, cheeks flushed a bright red, “do you wanna go to my place?”

strong, possessive hands find your waist and pull you close, pressing your damp chest against his. those gold eyes of his search your face carefully, as if he’s taking in your features and committing them to memory or looking for something he’s intent on finding. 

your hand settles on his cheek and you pull him forward for a kiss on the busy street, not caring about who sees or writes about it. you’re in your own world, thinking of nothing but keigo and his plush, yearning mouth—he’s got the sense to pull away before it goes further, vaguely gesturing for you to turn around. when you oblige, he wraps his arms around you and under your own, holding you securely against his chest.

“i’ll treat you to a little night flight.”

vermilion wings beat the air powerfully, kicking up dust and litter along the sidewalk as keigo lifts you off the ground and into the sky. you’re shocked and speechless as you look over the city from above, thousands of buildings endlessly illuminated with light and color from the entertainment district. “it’s beautiful up here,” you breathe, feeling a little less drunk now that chill air washes over your face and cools you down. “why didn’t you invite me up here sooner?”

keigo laughs, riding on the wind and becoming one with it. “i did, you just never took me up on it. as to why, i don’t know.”

everything’s so much clearer from up here. the view is impeccable, and the air is fresh, free of the different scents of the city — exhaust fumes, restaurants, cigarettes, the occasional incense store. you’re shivering, a little too cold from the breeze blowing through your damp blouse, but being pressed against keigo’s warm chest makes it more bearable. something prods at the back of your drunken mind, a thought you’ve pushed away each time it arrives.

keigo thinks he’s slick. he thinks you don’t notice his lingering gazes, the odd way he tries to snuggle up to you every time you finish having sex, or the acute tenderness written all over his face every now and then when he’s talking to you.

but you do. you notice it, each and every time—in fact, you know exactly what all of this behavior stems from, but you choose to ignore it. clearly, keigo is in love with you. it’s evident in his actions and body language, yet he hasn’t actually said anything. it’s so damn easy to notice and understand because you feel the same, you’re just better at hiding it. something about the idea of a relationship with the no. 2 pro hero of japan is daunting — not only because you’re his agent or you’ll constantly have to face the public, but because there’s a possibility that transitioning into something more from being friends with benefits may be too dramatic of a change. 

“oh, fuck,” keigo groans, getting lost in the myriad of lights and buildings below. he doesn’t know where the hell his apartment is and isn’t sure if he has the time to fly around for a half hour looking for it.

“what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly, suddenly aware of the fact that your legs are dangling in the air. in order to preserve his pride and sensitive ego, you don’t bring up anything about him dropping you, but your body tenses.

“it’s the shots,” he grouses, speaking quickly, “they’re gonna come back up.”

“where’s your apartment?”

“i don’t know,” keigo answers, and now you can hear him starting to gag as he forces the contents of his stomach back down. “i can’t keep flying around much longer . . sorry to cut this little flight short, baby.”

“it’s okay, just don’t get sick,” you reassure him slowly, trying to pinpoint your own apartment. surprisingly, the building is a minute or two away from you, if he flies fast enough. “keigo, we’ll head to my place. see that dark building right there, near the red billboard?”

he nods, and the waves of nausea evaporate instantly. after months, he’s finally going to see your apartment—he’s now leagues closer to successfully confessing his feelings to you. keigo’s heavy wings slice through the sky as he hurdles toward your apartment; while the speed is steady, the course is not. from below, people watch as something wobbles through the sky, shifting awkwardly from side to side in a way that isn’t at all graceful . . or intimidating.

you assume he really has to throw up, when it’s quite the opposite. “k-keigo, see that balcony with the potted plants? there’s only one pot of flowers.”

“is that yours?” he asks, struggling to control how giddy he is. “i see it.”

☆ ☆

with the solid, familiar ground of the balcony beneath your feet, things around you are a little steadier. still, the alcohol buzzes persistently in your head and makes you giggle over nothing. it’s warmer now that you’re out of the sky, standing close to keigo and surrounded by all of your potted plants. a pleasant tingling sensation courses through your limbs as your body wobbles, adjusting to being out of the air and the new thoughts that rush into your head.

everything’s still a little fuzzy at the edges, a reminder of your tipsiness and disorientation. keigo wraps a supportive arm around your waist when you nearly stumble to the ground, quietly giggling at your own actions and sighing contentedly in his grip. there’s a beat of silence as your body meshes into his, the kind that settles between two people who’ve just shared a long day, and it feels so natural that your mind absently drifts to two pairs of shoes beside one another and two cups of coffee in the mornings—perhaps you didn’t notice the routine you’ve slipped into, one so innate that it makes everything else feel a little less important.

“hey, did i mention how sexy you are when you’re drunk, dovey?” keigo hiccups, wings quivering as he leans on you for some support, struggling to balance just like you are. his knuckles nudge into your side gently, grin widening as if he’s waiting for a reaction from you. the playful edge to his voice falters momentarily, and you exhale through your nose, shaking your head in disbelief.

“ugh, you must’ve had much more than i thought,” you laugh, kicking the doormat up and retrieving the brass key from beneath it to unlock the door. it’s dark out here on the porch and the same inside, leading you to awkwardly jam the key into the lock.

“you always blow me off,” he sighs ruefully, smile dropping as he notices you using the key upside down. “what, do i embarrass you or something?”

“i-it’s not that,” you breathe, tensing the moment his chest presses against your back and his hand envelops yours to help you with the key. goosebumps rise on the tender flesh of your arms first, then all over your chest, beneath your damp blouse. you recover once the lock gives, sliding the heavy glass door open and catching your breath. “kei, you’ve always got something to say to me.”

“you, of all people, have the power to shut me up whenever you want,” keigo teases, following you into your quaint apartment. instead of appreciating the moment, his mind races to find an answer to the million-dollar question: why were you so intent on keeping him out of here? even in total darkness, the place is cozy, shelves adorned with knickknacks and décor that suits you. totally lost in concentration, keigo’s wings bristle and he accidentally knocks something off a shelf, but manages to catch it in his hand. you’re in the middle of saying something, but he doesn’t even notice, his eyes completely lighting up at the sight of the object.

“is this that glass bird i gave you all those months ago?” 

a nervous laugh rushes past your lips and you nod, hand falling away from the light switch. “yeah, i thought it looked nice up there. it’s pretty.”

“wow, baby,” he gingerly puts the figurine back in its place, elated by the possible significance that this little glass bird holds. “if i’d known you liked it that much, i would’ve showered you in gifts.”

in the middle of unbuttoning your blouse, you trip over your own foot, and keigo, ever the hero, catches you as gently as he did the figurine. his fingers splay across your bare side and you blink up at him, faced with another small gap that’s dying to be closed. “i know what i want as a gift,” you utter, voice low and sultry. the words seem to hang in the air like more of a promise than a request.

keigo can smell the liquor on your breath and the temptation that accompanies it—without a second thought, his lips are on yours and he’s pushing forward with alcohol buzzing in his veins. he’s so full of hope, believing the best over what he’s considered a sign of something more; it feels so right to kiss you like this, with his hands spanning your bare waist and tugging gently at your waistband. it doesn’t quite occur to him that he is inebriated and therefore may not be thinking as sharply as he would if he were sober in this situation. 

you shove forward, pushing him hard into a wall and nipping at his lips hungrily. despite being a little bothered by him being in your apartment, you can’t say you’re not interested in fucking on your own bed for once. a shaky gasp leaves you when you pull away for breath, stomach fluttering delightedly at the hardness of his cock pressing into your thigh.

his breath hitches in his throat, hazy mind racing a thousand miles an hour. the question leaves his lips with more urgency than intended. “i—shit, you really want me to take you right here?”

“in the hallway?” you laugh, astonished. “i’d much prefer my bed, it’s easier for you to fuck me as hard as you want.”

desire and lust conducts your actions, has you dropping your blouse to the floor and unclasping your bra next. each article of clothing falls to the floor in a heap, forming a trail leading to the bedroom door. keigo follows your lead, wings jittering with anticipation as he crosses the threshold. billowy curtains blow up and around the window, lifted by the night breeze, and your room is dark, the details barely visible: keigo notices the many pillows on your bed (so that’s why you were on his ass about buying more than just one) and the full length mirror off to the side.

keigo stops to glance at his reflection in the mirror, fraught with the sculpted curves of muscle—each line a testament to years of hard work and dedication. dark hickeys litter his tanned skin, all left behind from the heat of many moments. momentarily, his eyes shift from the glass to you, perched on the bed and waiting for him. his fingers subconsciously graze over one of the marks, just as he recalls one of your rules, a line that had been drawn in the sand early on—no marks, nowhere near your neck or anywhere at all, even if people couldn’t see them. 

it’s a curious little thing, isn’t it? you clearly have no qualms about marking up his body, but you never let him give you some in return—he hasn’t voiced it, not yet. he exhales softly, feeling the ache between his legs flare once you call his name expectantly. it’s like a switch flips, causing his mind to sharpen and his pulse to quicken when he steps toward you.

bathed in opalescent moonlight, you sit back against your makeshift throne of pillows, eyes raking over him shamelessly, as if you’re looking for something else to sink your teeth into. vermilion feathers puff up and shake themselves out as the bed dips beneath his weight. “come here,” he beckons you lowly, with every intention of making you his. “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

now mussed with abundant wrinkles, the bedspread shifts beneath your bodies as keigo slots himself on top of you and hastily kisses down your neck, lightly nipping at the tender skin, just enough to elicit soft moans from you. doubt melts into desire, lacing his ministrations with something more urgent. for six months, keigo has never seen or left a single mark on you, and tonight, that’s about to change—you’ve already broken the biggest rule you had by bringing him to your apartment, so how much further could this go? 

“yeah, ‘m all yours,” you whine, back arching off the bed when he bites at the soft skin of your tits, tongue lapping away the sticky tequila you spilled earlier. it’s so different—he can’t believe he went this long without making any objections. 

things are heating up fast, and that haziness from the liquor creeps up on both of you, blurring your thoughts just enough. his hips chase yours into the bed, and he eagerly grinds his hardened cock against your thighs, all over them. your voice cracks slightly when you try to moan his name, impatient as always. but keigo decides to take his time with you, kissing and biting longer than usual—he’s in no rush, not yet.

it’s intoxicating in every way possible, causing your body to swelter and thrash beneath his own. keigo’s moving fast, delighting in your pleasure and drinking in every reaction unapologetically. fuck, to think you’d denied him and yourself for so long—he should make it up to you somehow, shouldn’t he?

“dovey,” he pants, fingers slipping under the fabric of the panties appreciatively, “you wore my favorites?”

crimson fabric adorns your waistline, threaded with soft lace. for lingerie, it’s pretty comfortable: it doesn’t floss your asshole like a thong or g-string does, something you’d told keigo when you tried it on in the dressing room. he knew he’d be buying it the moment you stepped out with a bright smile on your face. seeing it on you now is surreal, and he nearly creams his boxers at the sight of it, wings conveying his thoughts for him through a tremble.

your hips rise up and off the bed so he can pull away the last bit of fabric that covers your body. “yeah, but it doesn’t matter now,” you titter cheekily, shockwaves of arousal shooting straight between your thighs.

unceremoniously, your legs are thrown open and keigo’s wings flutter in amusement, always the first thing to react to whatever you have to say. “it matters to them,” keigo comments, jerking a thumb back to point at his pesky wings, “fair warning, this place might be a mess by the end of this.”

“so long as you help me deal with it tomorrow, i don’t mind,” your fingers swipe his cooling spit off your chest, and you’re a little startled as you press at a fresh hickey. it’s sticky, skin now sensitive and tingling in a way that’s just right.

fierce as always, keigo doesn’t waste any time diving between your legs, eager to fuck but even more so to eat your pussy. glistening strings of slick stick to the tender skin of your inner thighs, connecting them to each other thinly until he licks it away. “mmm, dovey,” he moans adoringly, and your pulse quickens, “taste so goddamn sweet.”

keigo’s a proud pussy eater, the filthiest and best you’ve ever met. he could be gasping for air with his face covered in your cum and yet, he’d still have something utterly nasty to say. unapologetically nose deep, he slurps loudly at your soaking cunt and pins your antsy legs down over his shoulders. 

“ngh, keigo,” you thrash forward, thighs squeezing his head like a vice while your hips uncontrollably buck into his face. “please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

“keep squirming around like that and i will,” he grunts, one hand pressing you down into the bed while the other pushes between your thighs. those tenacious gold eyes of his are hooded now, gleaming rapturously as he devours everything you have to give him like he’s been starving. loud, sloppy slurps soon fill the room, falling into cadence with your whiny moans; scarlet feathers ruffle in response to his most favorite sounds, and his hips rut carelessly into the mattress, desperately seeking friction.

your head falls back into the downy pillows, jaw dropping slackly as you unsteadily sneak a hand down to your clit, fingers seeking to rub a lustful itch away. keigo’s fingers wrap around your wrist and snatch it away from your pussy, instead guiding your hand to his head in a show of acquiescence. 

“don’t go doing that,” he groans, pulling up for air and pressing a thumb to your swollen clit hard enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull, “use your words instead, dovey.”

you weakly nod his way, and a sudden, swift slap is delivered right to your clit, the force behind it causing you to see stars. a twisted yelp tears from your throat, and you’re doe eyed when you tearfully glance down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“gotta work on using your words, baby,” keigo coos, thumbing away a stray tear from your cheek. “jus’ trying to make you understand that i need you to tell me what you want.”

there’s a dark edge to his voice that makes the apologetic tone he’s taken on seem ingenuine, almost a little mocking. and yet, you let out a sweet moan, leaning into his touch with a hushed, “yeah, kei. i understand.”

still reeling from the tingling impact of the pussy slap, you guide his head back down between your legs and unsteadily grind into his mouth. he greedily drinks you in, smacking his lips like he can’t get enough of your honeyed taste, and unconsciously pulling you closer. his fingers rub tight circles into your throbbing clit, occasionally pinching the bud to elicit a scream or two before letting go.

keigo had always been taught not to play with his food—but when she’s quaking against his face and sobbing out his name over and over, he just can’t help himself. he’s had a perpetual  mean streak that he’s only ever unleashed during sex with you, taking an overwhelming satisfaction in fucking you dumb and then teasing you about it. he notices the way your thighs tense at either side of his head, the way your head falls back whenever he tenses his tongue.

your clammy fingers claw through blonde curls, saccharine moans spilling from your lips with each ravenous push of his tongue through your folds. it’s a push and pull rhythm that is nothing less than addictive, dragging out the air from your lungs and leaving you utterly breathless. 

“g-god, keigo,” you keen loudly, shoving him down without any regard for his ability to breathe, “need you to—i need you to fuck me with your tongue.”

he groans in response, shamelessly humping the bed now that the ache between his legs has become too prominent to ignore. it flares dangerously every time you say his name or look at him with that blissed out expression written all over your face . . fuck, now you’re telling him exactly what you want and pushing him around, something he’s always enjoyed. his tongue slips into your awaiting cunt and pushes deep, tasting even more of you once he finds that puffy, spongy spot inside of you that makes you clench up every damn time. 

your breaths come in rushed, frantic gasps that soften each word. “fuuuck, right there—yeah, t-that’s it,” your voice shakes involuntarily, tight with inevitable euphoria. “kei, you’re gonna make me cum, hah—‘m real close, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

you chant those last words religiously, and keigo’s offended that you’re thinking he’d ever want to. “on my fuckin’ tongue,” he half groans, half begs, not sure if you even hear him at all.

keigo doesn’t dare to stop until you finally come undone on his tongue, shuddering uncontrollably as he licks you through your high, nearly passing out from a severe lack of oxygen. you’ve got him in a beautiful leglock that he regrets breaking out of, but seeing the dazed, drunken look on your face when he comes up erases the thought from his mind. the entire half of his lower face is covered in your cum, and heat floods your face when his pink tongue darts out to clean up his lips, all while holding your lidded gaze.

a few sanguine feathers float around your face, falling from the air like snowflakes and lightly settling on the bed like rose petals. it seems to make the moment warmer, more romantic as if this is your first time with him—in hindsight, it would’ve been nicer to christen the relationship with a bed of rose petals and scented candles scattered around the room. instead, it was something that happened fast and right after conversations about ex partners.

you pout at him as he positions himself on top of you once again, pressing a wet kiss to your mouth. instinctively, you lick away the mixture of spit and slick he leaves on your lips, tasting yourself on your tongue momentarily. it’s bittersweet and a little syrupy . . maybe he really isn’t lying about you tasting like candy. your thoughts fade away when you catch a glimpse of his vibrant wings — you’ve always seen them, but not like this. this time, you’re up close to them, so close you can see the downy barbs and delicate vanes of each individual feather.

“are your wings . . sensitive?” you ask curiously, voice carrying the barest note of reverence as your hand tentatively inches over his shoulder. after each and every covert tryst of yours, you’ve seen keigo smooth out the feathers or greet you in the morning with stimulating news of his freshly scrubbed wings. but this—touching them—feels like crossing an unspoken threshold.

keigo doesn’t answer, his breath catching in his throat. he’d been in the middle of dazedly tugging his boxers down his body when you’d just dropped a miniature bomb on him. this is the first time that he’s been this astonished, features mellowing profoundly. soon, he finds his voice and uses it, words intertwined with an unexpected tenderness: “ . . it’s alright. they’re just a little sensitive, heh. nobody’s ever touched them before.”

as if they understand you’re talking about them, his wings shift toward your fingers, obviously inviting you to touch them. this is certainly new — for the first time, his defiant wings are actually yearning to be touched, even though they get a little choosy when it’s him who’s brushing his hands through the feathers. gingerly, you reach forward and your hand disappears into the mussed feathers, fingertips brushing lightly against the sensitive skin beneath. the apex of his wings is abundant with small, downy feathers that quiver at your touch.

his eyelids flutter shut and he emits a shy moan, swallowing a sudden heart-shaped lump in his throat. courage swells in your chest and you push further, awed by the all-encompassing softness that meets your fingers. you’d expected them to be coarse, rough from years of flying and smelling earthy or musky. the faint scent of mango wafts through the air, stirring up a sense of familiarity and comfort in your chest, reminding you of all the times he’d protectively wrap his wings around your body as if to steady you. 

“they feel so nice,” you murmur, feeling his cock throb against your thigh. it draws you back into the moment, where you’re naked beneath him with anticipatory legs sprawled open. “so . . soft.”

keigo’s buzzing when you experimentally stroke your fingers through the thin feathers, an intimate form of worship that is only understood between the two of you. “you, ah, didn’t expect them to be?”

a wind created by his flapping wings kick up your curtains and make the metal rings clatter on the bar they’re hanging on. “i thought they’d be a little rougher,” you purr, voice smooth and sultry as your legs lift, locking tightly around his waist. his v-line is visibly sharp and hard to the touch like cut marble against the pillowy skin of your thighs, muscles flexing as he guides his cock to your soaked pussy. 

“i’ll show you rough, dovey,” keigo huffs, smearing his cock with your slick and pulling your legs away from his sides. he’s going to fuck you up, and he can’t do it properly in this position—your feet are thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, thighs folded tightly against your chest. he’s painfully hard, leaking sticky precum all over and trembling by the time he pushes the tip of his cock between your folds. your response is immediate; an eager moan slips out of your mouth, hips bucking impatiently onto his cock.

“damn, baby,” his chest heaves tirelessly, skin flushed pink and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, “you’re ready f’me, aren’t you?”

you look up at him with dewy eyes, electricity shooting through your every nerve. “i-if i was made for—ah—anything, it was taking your cock.”

god, you can’t just say shit like that and cluelessly think he won’t actually fall in love with you—he was only asking for a simple ‘yes’, but now he’s got hearts in his eyes as he finally pushes inside you, swallowing down the sudden urge to blow his load this fast. pulsating, gummy walls wrap around him and seem to suck him deeper without him even moving; he weakly presses his head into your shoulder, gasping frantically as he tries to adjust to the grip you’ve got on him.

“f-fuckkk,” he stutters out, regaining his cool composure after a moment despite the room feeling like a sauna, “i’m gonna hold you to that, you better not forget it.”

he’s relentless, going from zero to sixty in a second with no thoughts of slowing down — he’s jackhammering his hips, curved cock ramming right into your sweet spot and french kissing your cervix. you’re dripping wet, slick pouring down your ass and making each thrust slip ‘n slide all the more smoothly; the bed creaks ceaselessly beneath the weight of your bodies, groaning so loudly it occurs to you that it might just break. but that isn’t even a problem, not with keigo, who’d drop a ton of money on something you could just express the slightest bit of interest in.

“h-holy fuck, keigo,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed, “i could—oh my god, i could cum just from this.”

“yeah, dovey?” he grins, voice tight as he quite literally plunges deeper into heaven. “jus’ from my cock?”

sweat beads on your forehead, making your body swelter with endless steam that seems to vaporize any inhibitions you still had after all the drinks. “nghh, w-wait, ‘m gonna cum—”

“wait?” keigo practically barks out a laugh, shaking his head ruefully at you, “there’s no waiting. i want you to cum right on my cock ‘n i’ll fuck you through it, dovey.” 

you nod with mascara infused tears streaming down your face, legs quaking uncontrollably. everything seems to happen at once — a twinge of pain takes root in the backs of your thighs just as the built-up tension inside you snaps into thousands of sparks, finally igniting your long awaited orgasm.

keigo forces himself to keep his eyes open despite the fact that he’s risking an early orgasm, balls clenching at the sight of you: your lips form an o shape as euphoria washes over you, making your body quiver frenetically. he swallows dryly, closely rocking his hips against yours so you don’t push him out. 

“kei,” is the first thing you sob out when you recover, struggling to catch your breath with every thrust fucking the air out of your lungs. you’re sensitive all over, skin prickling with heat that doesn’t cool even with his wings creating a draft. 

he’s straining tight at the seams, heart pounding in his ears as he thinks of nothing but you.

you, you, you.

with your sweet, glossy-lipped smile in the mornings and the voice of a vixen when you innocently call his name. you’re nothing less than beautiful beneath him, clawing at his shoulders and staring up at him with those glazed over, blissed out eyes while your body molds against his. it’s a shape he knows well, one he’s pictured in his head when he’s all alone, one he’s been dreaming about whenever his eyes close.

his breath catches in his throat. “haah, fuck—dovey, i can’t hold it anymore.”

“right fuckin’ there,” your voice cracks into a squeal, “mhm, jus’ cum inside me.”

“you mean it?” keigo asks dumbly, nearly melting at the wild look you throw him in response.

“yeah, kei—shit, ‘m gonna cum again,” the words rush past your lips, urgent as ever and spurring him on to keep going, “i want you to—i need you to fill me up.”

something sweet flashes behind his gold eyes and he tucks his face into your shoulder, breath coming in frantic pants while he gasps your name. you’re practically in your own world, moaning loudly and dragging his slim hips closer to your own. when his cock starts to twitch deep inside you, the heel of your palm digs into his lower back, forcing his tip right against your cervix. he’s burning hot, utterly lost in you with no way of finding his way out — cum spurts from his cock and the spasms wrack his body, each stripping away a layer of him until he’s left with only his heart in his hands. 

“i fucking love you,” it rushes out and he doesn’t regret it for a second, “god, baby. i love you so much.”

your eyes roll back as your body surrenders to the toe-curling sensation of your third orgasm of the night, euphoria hitting you from all directions and rendering you clinically cock drunk. you muster just enough strength to wipe the salty tears away from your eyes, teeth chattering just the slightest bit as you drag in a gasping breath. 

after a moment, you yawn, stretching out your folded body and nudging at his chest to get him to lay down beside you. “ooh, that was great, kei. there’s no fucking way i’m walking tomorrow.”

coming down is the hardest part.

keigo’s shaken to his core by your flippant response to his confession, but most of all, he’s deeply embarrassed to have said something—no, to have thought something this stupid. finally, he’s getting a taste of karma from all of his failed relationships; he wishes that he could allow himself enough pity to ask the abyss of the universe what he did to deserve this. the heat that had once been sexy dissipates immediately, leaving him as cold as a corpse. he rolls over to the side, letting go of you and staring up at the ceiling, laying on top of wings that don’t even have enough life to twitch. pathetic tears prick at the corners of his marked eyes, and for the first time, he’s happy that the lights are off.

“keigo? did you hear me?”

“sorry, i didn’t. what was it you were saying?” he drags a forearm across his sweaty forehead, overlooking the tender inflection in your voice.

“i just . . i don’t know. that was really good,” he may not hear it, but you do. quickly, you clear your throat and tug up the blankets, inviting him to crawl underneath with you. “goodnight, kei.”

he should bite his tongue, but he doesn’t; this is the last time. “goodnight, dovey.”

☆ ☆

after tossing and turning the whole night, keigo finally decides to end the torture at 5:20 am the next morning. it’s still dark out, and he figures that he can easily slip away under the cover of night. he’s got a mild hangover, but it won’t impair him, not when he’s determined to keep it together until he gets back home.

soberly, he absorbs his surroundings and recalls the memories that have been plaguing him for hours. his body tenses, thick cords of muscle pulling taut as if he’s bracing against the impact of a punch, and like it has countless times before, the scene replays in his head again. his emotional, devoted admission of love was something you’d completely ignored—again and again, you’ve only ever shown an interest in his body.

in his chest, he feels his heart clench horribly as he looks over your sleeping form. you’re curled up in yourself under the warm blankets, turned toward him with a serene look on your face that makes it all the more difficult to slip out from under the sheets and into the cold. like a cat, he silently pads into the hallway and collects his clothes as if he was never there. he’s inches away from the back door he’d been so excited to step through last night when he stops in his tracks, head hanging lowly as pangs of guilt hit him like fists. it’s not right to just leave you like this, not without making an effort to say some kind of goodbye.

keigo hesitates in the hallway, feet seemingly glued to the floor. all he can hear are loud alarm bells—every instinct is begging him to leave, to spare himself the imminent heartbreak of going back in that room to see you. against his better judgment, he eventually tiptoes into your room with every intention of giving you one final kiss. at your bedside, he bends forward and presses his lips to your forehead; the kiss is entirely chaste, the brief touch carrying a blend of quiet grief and the tenderness of a love that was bound to fall through.

like most things in his life, this kiss doesn’t go as planned. there’s a momentary flash of blue and white—he’s managed to give you a strong, accidental static shock with an innocent kiss at 5:22 in the morning. you blearily wake up, squinting up at him in confusion and making out the high collar of his hero jacket.

“good morning, keigo,” you stretch under the blankets and reach for his hand, “what—what time is it?”

“it’s early,” he answers unsurely, sitting down on the foot of the bed. his wings droop, vermilion plumes seemingly inanimate. “y’know what, don’t worry about it. go back to sleep, baby.”

“but where’re you going?” you sit up abruptly, eyes narrowing at his fully clothed body. a glance over the edge of the bed reveals that he’s even got his boots on! 

“i’ve got patrol, silly,” keigo picks the easiest excuse out of an array of choices, and you sniff it out immediately. “i’m a hero, remember?” silence hangs in the air for a moment before you slowly speak up, sounding more confused than anything else. “but saturdays and sundays are your off days.”

keigo pauses, tongue sliding over his teeth as he contemplates what to say now that he’s been caught in his lie. like an idiot, he’s managed to trap himself. you scoff, cognitive functions coming to back to life as the final vestiges of sleep fade away into the ruined morning. did he actually expect you to wake up naked and hungover, all by yourself?

“okay, you caught me. i’ve got some stuff to deal with.”

“this early? c’mon, why’re you in such a rush?”

ultimately, it’s best for the both of you if he pulls away.

keigo’s usual smile drops and he sighs, “i’ve got shit to do, okay?”

it’s this early in the morning, and your blood pressure is already spiking in a way that is most undesirable. “are you fucking kidding me, keigo?”

the way you say his name so angrily, so accusingly—it fucking irks him, causing the corners of his lips to pull downwards into a scowl. he’s not really angry at you, he’s angry at himself for causing this dilemma to begin with, but you don’t know that. how could you really know anything about him aside from the way he likes to fuck?

“why are you getting so damn pissy? i’m going to leave whether you want me to or not, okay?”

stark naked, you exit the safety of the bed and make a beeline to your dresser, where you yank open drawers in search of clothes. keigo stands, watching longingly as you pull on some panties and a bra.

“i’m getting pissy because you wanted to take off so i could wake up naked and alone! you didn’t even say goodbye.”

“i was trying to,” keigo argues back, jumping to his feet, “but you were the one who ruined that for yourself, didn’t you?”

“a kiss isn’t enough!” you snap, now covered in a loose t shirt and pajama shorts. “couldn’t you have just waited a few hours? maybe then you could’ve told me why you were leaving.”

“what the hell? so you’re saying i need a reason to go back to my own house?”

“i don’t see why you think you can lie to me!” your voice raises furiously, words sharp as daggers, “i’m not just your agent, keigo. i know you, i care about you! don’t you get that?”

it’s quickly evolved into a dangerous game of catch, the pressure to be the one to drop the ball growing heavier atop his shoulders with each passing moment. painfully, a vein in his forehead pulses from the headache brought on by the hangover and the memories that follow it. it’s been hours and he can’t seem to shake away the pain that gnaws away at him. he’s so stupid.

“yeah, i know you are,” keigo grits out bitterly, “all i wanted to do was leave.”

“so abruptly?” you press him for answers, flicking on a small lamp so you can see him clearly. deep wrinkles span the entirety of each article of clothing that hangs on his body, but it’s the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes that makes him look unusually sloppy, getting you to pause as you take the sight of him in. concerned for his wellbeing, you soften, body relaxing. “what—keigo, what’s wrong?”

“it’s just the hangover,” he squints defensively, backing away and into a corner, “anyway, you got your goodbye, didn’t you?”

your gentle, worried face falls away. it hurts more than any injury he’s ever gotten, but he has to keep the walls up to protect himself from the pain even though guilt slips in through the cracks like mustard gas. with a pinched sigh, keigo backs away from the wall, wings limply hanging behind him as he prepares to exit your bedroom with no intention of ever coming back.

he’s blindsiding you, lying to you out of nowhere and slipping through your fingers like steam, too elusive for his own good. without a second thought, you close the distance and grab firmly at his wrist, a gesture that would’ve worked once. “i can’t do this anymore,” he mutters without looking over his shoulder, snatching away from you as if he’s been burned. “i just . . i can’t.”

“what’re you—what do you mean, keigo?” he looks out into the distance of the hallway, focusing on a specific floor tile and tracing its grooves so he doesn’t have to see your face. just from your voice, he knows you must be absolutely crushed. for courage, he allows himself a steady inhale before stepping past the threshold and leaving you in the lurch.

“this,” keigo turns, gesturing wildly and spitting out the words as if everything that’s happened in this room is horribly filthy, “it’s bullshit, all of it. i’m done, got that?”

there’s a beat of silence, and keigo stays a second too long.

“keigo, you’re breaking my heart here.”

you’re probably referring to the sex, aren’t you? surely you’re disappointed by the fact that you’ll no longer be fucking the no. 2 hero, petting his wings and calling him by a name few are able to.

“oh, come on,” he looks over you sourly, shaking his head as his eyes span the entirety of your body, “you’re pretty. you’ll find yourself a new fuck buddy, it’s not that big of a deal.”

immediately, he regrets saying it, feeling a rush of nausea in his stomach—he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

you blink back tears, his stare suddenly invasive and hurtful. “i don’t want a new fuck buddy, i want you.”

“tough shit,” keigo grunts, wings drooping further down. the longest feathers now drag along the floor, picking up whatever there is to offer. “i’m done being friends with benefits.”

“i just—all this fucking time, i’ve been wasting my time wanting to be with you,” the words tumble out of you bitterly, filling up the space between you with everything you’ve ever wanted to say, and his ears prick, grasping at a possible implication beneath all of it, “god, to think i was afraid we wouldn’t be able to become something more—all of this was a mistake.”

keigo pauses, heart pounding in his ears and possibly affecting his ability to hear. “you’re . . in love with me?”

“i was,” the correction is swift and choked, reverberating straight to his core and making his body stiffen. it hurts more than anything to hear, carrying a horrible weight, the kind that makes him realize you’ve given up on him.

“then why didn’t you—that doesn’t make any sense,” he gasps, the newfound information hitting him like a freight train, “if you were in love with me, why didn’t you—how couldn’t you have said something?”

“what’re you talking about?” you hiss, harshly rubbing away the tears in your eyes with the back of your hand. keigo’s bewildered now, face devoid of anything but shock and some kind of adoration as he seems to process something inside his head.

he stares at you desperately, struggling for the right words, “fuck, dovey, why didn’t you say anything last night?”

“don’t call me that,” you snap, the petname far too fond for a moment like this one, “why would i possibly have said something last night?”

keigo falters, and his voice cracks as the words rush out like a torrent. “i told you that i—god, i fucking told you i loved you. didn’t you hear me?” 

oh.

oh.

his heart squeezes painfully in his chest when the realization washes over your face, making him realize the gravity of this misunderstanding—you didn’t hear him.

wearily, you take a seat on the edge of the bed. he sees the way your spine curves forward, and bites down hard on his lower lip once the first sob slips out of you. in an instant, keigo’s beside you and pulling you into his arms, shaking all over. he doesn’t know what to say, but his voice breaks with endless regret when he finally comes up with something. “i’m sorry, god, i’m so sorry,” tears race down his cheeks and into your hair as he murmurs despairingly, “i thought you didn’t care, i didn’t know—”

there’s nothing more to say. 

keigo tries anyway, brokenly whispering apologies that fade into the air like smoke. his arms are tight around your body, holding you closely — it’s an unspoken promise to never let you go again. for the very first time, he truly melts into you without the walls in the way or the burden of hidden feelings. when you slowly relax against him and your sobs become quieter, something shifts in the air. vermilion wings, once held down by the weight of everything they’ve been carrying, finally come back to life. wings that have had no other purpose but to protect keigo now extend outwards to protect you too, soft feathers cradling you tenderly in the quiet of the morning. just over the horizon, the sun begins to rise, bathing the city in the light of dawn and new beginnings.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

sorry if this is like uncomfortable or off limits but uhhh

really sweet and loving smut with dave- him and his gf have been dating for a few years now but shes still a virgin and whenever Dave made advances on her she would go until they got their pants off bc she was too embarressed- but one day, Dave makes sure they have the most perfect day together, going out and getting fav foods, doing fav actvoties all the good stuff and hopes the night will end w them in bed. she hesitates a lot but agrees none the less and they get the the bedroom and kissing and stuff and when he has her laid out on the bed he reaches to take off her skirt/pants but she gets really nervous and scared again bc she thinks that hell think shes a monster or ugly or messed up but she just has SH scars on her thighs and dave reassures her and comforts her that nothing vcould make him think that and he takes them off and feels a bit sad that she once did that but kisses them and praises her and is just very sweet and then its gentle loving smut

sorry this is so so so so so so so so so long and confusing but yah love ur fics btw

A/n: Something about Dave just gives me the vibes of “hurt her and I’ll kill you” but in a “I’ll give anything for her” kind of way, y’know?

Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), angst, talk about self harm, brief description of scars, drugs (just at the beginning), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

"She's just gonna stop you again." Junior said, chuckling as he held the joint between his fingers out for Dave to take.

The ginger scoffed as he took the joint, bringing to his lips. "She won't, she said she was ready." He insisted, holding the air in as he spoke before letting smoke flood out his nose.

Junior made a face and Dave pushed him, knocking him off the box he was sitting on. They just laughed, so hard Dave fell off his own box and they laughed harder.

"Fuck, we are so high." Junior mused, reaching for the joint back.

Dave had planned out the perfect day for you, a walk down through the park, down by a creek and taking a straight from there to a new café he knew you'd been wanting to go check out. Then it was back to your place and he'd finally get to have you to himself.

Everything had been going great, just the way he planned, although he hadn't expected the food to be so pricey, but it didn't matter so long as he got to see you smile.

As you walked with him up the street, getting closer to your house, you could tell something was on his mind but he wouldn't say.

"Come on! Just give me a hint." You pleaded, tugging on his arm thrown over your shoulder.

"No, it'll ruin the surprise!" He said, laughing at your insistence.

You chewed your cheek, thinking for a moment as you turned the corner, your house coming into view. "Tell me or no you're sleeping outside." Dave stopped completely at that.

"Are you kidding me?" He asked, eyes wide in fear that you weren't joking.

You bit your lip as you thought it over, eventually shaking your head. "No, I want my cuddles tonight." Dave let out the breath he'd been holding in and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Don't scare me like that." You chuckled as he lifted you up, letting you wrap yourself around him like a koala bear. "I'm serious, I'm not a dog, I'm your boyfriend."

"That you are, Davie, that you are." You purred, kissing along his jaw as he walked the rest of the way to your house.

He pulled the keys from the back pocket of your jeans and opened the door, letting you hold onto him until he set you down on your bed. He hovered over top of you between your legs, arms on either side of your head, caging you in while his soft hair fell around his face, framing it.

Not that you could see it, his lips barely left yours for longer than a second to mumbled something into your mouth. However, you felt his hand sliding lower on your body, groping your chest which he'd done countless times before, moving down your sides and squeezing your hips and waist, mapping out your curves.

His hands didn't stop and he unbuttoned your jeans before you could stop him. "Davie-Davie, wait." You said, pushing on his shoulders until he pulled away.

"Why, what-what happened?" He asked, looking over you for anything that could be wrong, searching for what was making you uncomfortable.

"I- we-we have to stop." You said, squirming under him.

"Why?" He asked, brows furrowing slightly. He didn't mean to get upset but it was hard not to, he loved you, he didn't want to hurt you, he wanted to show you how much he loved you. "Tell me why, I'll get off if you just tell me why."

You nervously bit your lip, holding yourself up on your elbows. It's not that you didn't want to go further, you tried to convince yourself every single time that it would be fine but you had to stop before he saw what you'd done to yourself when you were younger.

"I- my legs are... I have scars." You muttered, looking down to the sheets instead of him.

"Scars?" He repeated, looking for confirmation. "Like, stretchmarks?" He asked. "You're scared I won't like your fucking stretchmarks? Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me-"

"They're not fucking stretchmarks, Dave." You bit, cutting him off.

He stared at you for a moment, not having expected you to use such a harsh tone with him. "Then what is it?" He asked, his voice significantly lighter.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the upcoming conversation. "They're from me..." You mumbled, still not looking at him.

The pieces slowly connected in his mind and his expression softened. "Sweetheart, you made them?" He asked, reaching up to cup your face in his hand. "Why? Why would you do that?"

You chewed your cheek, not really having an answer, not one that would be good enough for him, anyway. "When I was younger... Highschool was hard, Dave." You mumbled, hoping even though it was vague it would satisfy him.

Dave looked over your eyes for a good long moment before inhaling deeply. "Well, highschools over, you have me now." He kissed your lips and moved down to your jaw and neck. "And I love" then he kissed your collarbone and pushed up your shirt to reveal your stomach, "every." he kissed just under your bra. "Single." Your abdomen. "Part." Finally he tugged your jeans down and you lifted your lips to let him.

He took in the scars embedded in your otherwise pristine skin, some deeper than others, all over your thighs. His gaze met yours as he continued to pull your jeans off. "I love this part of you, too." He said, making sure you heard him. "I don't love that you felt like you had to do this, but I love you no matter what."

Dave adjusted himself so he was laying between your legs, his arms hooked under your thighs as he held the plush flesh of them in handfuls.

He planted tender kisses over your scarred tissue, looking up at you periodically to make sure you were watching and enjoying yourself.

Soon his kisses moved to your panties, watching you twitch and bite your lip. Dave smiled and kissed right over your clothed clit. "That feels good, doesn't it?" He asked, waiting for you to nod before he continued. "It's gonna feel a lot better soon." He assured, giving a last kiss to your scars before pulling your panties out of the way and licking up your folds.

He hummed, satisfied with the noise it drew from you. His tongue swirled around your clit, listening to the whines you let slip passed your lips as he did. "God, you sound so pretty." He mused, licking up you again before his tongue delved into you.

Your hand slammed down onto the mattress, clutching onto the sheets as he fucked you on his muscle, his eyes staring up at you the entire time as his nose repeatedly bumped your clit. Your hands clenched and flexed, mind going blurry at the sensations he was bringing between your twitching legs and trembling thighs.

He watched you come undone, watched your hands finally let go of the sheets to grab onto his hair so you could pull him right to you, holding his face to your cut as you rode out your high on his face. "Hah-! Oh-oh, fuck, Dave!" You moaned, back arching off the bed and your head fell back.

Your foot pushed down on Dave's back gently, moving down his torso as you slowly came down from your high, breathing as heavy as your eyelids.

Dave moved back up the bed, wiping his mouth and chin of your juices. "How was that?" He asked as he hovered over you, hands planted on either side of your head. "Feeling loved yet?" He teased, pecking your cheek.

You chuckled, hands going to his shoulders. "Mm... I could use some more love." You said, pulling him down to kiss you. "You know, to really feel it." He smirked at the implications of your words, grinding against you, his jeans snagging your clit and making you whimper into the kiss.

"I can do that, I can definitely do that." He muttered against your lips. He reached down to undo his own jeans, pushing them down and kicking them off the bed before he pulled away and tore his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the ground with the rest of the clothes.

He looked down at you, still with your shirt bunched up by your tits. You sat up, pulling it off and wrapping your arms around his neck, lips crashing into his once more.

Neither of you broke the kiss, only taking quick gasps for short breaths. Dave unclipped your bra and slid it off your arms before trying to get your panties off, only to eventually give up and just snap the flimsy strings on the sides.

Dave quickly got his own boxers off and pulled you into his lap, easily slipping into you in a swift thrust and holding you down as you moaned. "Ngh- just sit-sit still for a minute, it'll- fuck, it'll feel good in a second." He stammered, trying to hide his own sounds, his muscular arms tightening around you.

Needing more friction you reached down to rub your clit, Dave took it as a sign to start moving so he rolled his hips up, bucking into you. You choked out a moan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Dave snapped his hips into you, tip of his dick angled just right for you. When he heard the moan that left you, felt your muscles relax in against him, he knew he found your sweet spot and hit it repeatedly, setting a steady rhythm.

"That's it, let me do all the work, let me show you how much I love you." He said, mouth not far from your ear so you could hear every word of his praise. "You sound so pretty, and, fuck, let me show you how much you deserve to be loved."

Part of you wanted to stay hidden in his neck, but the other part won, the part that wanted to pull away and bounce on him, to hold onto his shoulders and watch him fuck you.

Even sitting in his lap you were only barely eyelevel with him. His bruised lips parted slightly, just enough for soft grunts and grown to leave him, along with whatever affection he decided to spill to you. His eyelids were heavy, lust and adoration swirling in his pupils.

The knot in your gut was tightening again, Dave was close and pulsing in your gummy walls. "Don't-don't ever do that again." He blurted, struggling to keep the same rhythm. You tried to ask what he was talking about but it just came out as moans. "If-if you ever, ever feel like that again you-you come to me and I-I'll- fuck, I cah-can't-!" With a few final thrusts he finished inside you, cum painting your insides.

You followed shortly after, fingers still on your clit, the warm, gooey feeling he spilt in you was nice too.

Dave lowered you down onto the bed, pulling out and curling up beside you. His arms stayed nicely wrapped around you as you laid your head on his chest.

"So," you started once you got your breathing right again, "do you want to finish what you were saying?"

Dave snorted and shook his head. "No fucking way." He brought a hand up to play with your hair. "You're tired, go to sleep, I'll be right here when you wake up." You didn't have to be told twice, smiling softly and letting the sound of his heartbeat and breathing lull you to sleep.

Dave lay there awake, tired but not enough to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about you, about what might've driven you to do such a thing to yourself. He didn't see you as a monster, some messed up psychiatric patient, you were still his love, his girlfriend. You were still you, just with a little more hurt that he needed to help heal.

"If..." He started, voice low to avoid waking you up. "If you ever feel the need to hurt yourself... you come to me first, sweetheart, I'll help." He knew you couldn't hear him so he continued. "You can hurt me all you want, can't break plastic... but you, love... you are the stained glass in a century old chapel."

[crguang]

corps à corps

when your older french girlfriend is sooo sexy you can’t be away from her for more than 2 hours

smutshot so absolutely no plot, fem!reader, service top!reader (albeit kinda pathetic), fingering (bleu receiving), grinding, lots of french kisses, 3.2k words

A/N: i wrote this quickly when i was so horny for that french woman my hands were shaking. and it was 4am. but i cant be sorry.

“Don’t pout, mon coeur. You’re too young to have wrinkles.”

Vautour Bleu leisurely traces the curve of your bottom lip with a painted fingernail, her touch light and soft. Her amused gaze drops to your deepening frown. Your arms tighten around her frame, and somewhere deep within her navy blue eyes, a pleased glint betrays her otherwise mellow expression. Her bedroom is the only lit room in all of Désir, late as it is now, and within it, you hold on to her like it’ll delay her imminent departure. Your chin on her chest, your weight on her body, you’re looking up at her with the most adorable petulant face and she can’t resist teasing your impatience some more. She lies against clean linen and plush pillows with one finger absentmindedly drawing imaginary shapes on your lower back, just below where your shirt has lazily ridden up your torso. The open patio door across her bed carries over the fresh fragrance of newly planted datura flowers from the balcony, mingling with the sweet scent of the shampoo you applied a few hours earlier. Under clear yellow lights, she can read every unuttered thought on your features with a lingering touch. Your lips pull downward and the faint crease between your brows speaks of your displeasure before you do. So expressive, you are. So easy to learn. With you there are no games, no double meanings or concealed knives; your openness is as refreshing as it is naive.

“You could have warned me you were to leave in the morning,” you reproach her, a fierceness in your eyes born out of clinginess. She can’t take you seriously with that pout still on your lips, though.

“It was a last minute decision,” she replies easily. Her finger pulls at your bottom lip and lets it resume its original position with a muted sound.

“You don’t make last minute decisions.”

She smiles at that. For all your naivety, you counter it with impressive perceptiveness. You are an open person, and under your knowing gaze, so is everything else. Vautour Bleu lightly taps your cheek.

“Ah, you got me,” she feigns remorse at being caught, sighing quietly. “I didn’t want to ruin the mood. You shine so brightly around me. Besides, it’s only for a couple of days.” Her thumb slowly strokes your skin in a gesture she means soothing. “You can wait a few days for me to be back, can’t you, mon ange?”

“Don’t you try to placate me with your Frenchwoman charms.” Even so, your head tilts sideways to lean into her touch.

“Why not? They seem to work very well.”

You lift your eyes to the ceiling. “You’ll have to make it up to me.”

“Oh, really? And what do you want?”

Your pout is gone in an instant and a playful smile takes its place. She raises a questioning eyebrow, though she already recognizes the darkness in your gaze as you press a lingering kiss between her breasts. Your arms loosen around her body and your hands trail up her thighs, raking up her thin nightgown in the process. Vautour Bleu watches you adjust your position on top of her, straddling her waist for easier access to her body, mirth dancing in her eyes. She rests her palms on your thighs and idly drums the fingers of one hand. Yours gently brushes her abdomen before ending its destination in the valley of her breasts, where capricious fabric meets smooth skin.

“I have a few ideas…” you trail off for a couple of seconds. You cup her to feel the weight of one breast in your palm. She simply observes you with the same amused smile fixed on her lips. “I could send you off on a good note.”

“Oh? Didn’t get your fill earlier?” Her voice is low and teasing, causing a familiar tingling sensation in your belly. You shake your head. “Non? Hmm, I could have sworn you were the one begging for reprieve.”

“I’ll say anything with your fingers inside me, I don’t think it would be fair to use those words against me.”

“I see. Come closer, then.”

You don’t wait to be ordered twice. You lean forward, your chest flushed to hers, and don’t shy away from her intense stare even from this close. Her long lashes flutter with every relaxed blink, her skin is entirely bare of any makeup from the bath she took with you not long ago, and you get the sudden urge to kiss the beauty mark on the corner of her mouth, so you do. With the voluminous golden hair framing her cheeks she seems more painting than human, as if this sort of beauty could only be made through the burning passion and meticulous care of an artist. She’s gorgeous, undeniably so, and looks even more enticing with blown pupils and parted lips.

You press kisses down her jaw and back up her chin, making sure not a single inch of skin is neglected under your attention. You feel Vautour Bleu’s hand sneak under your shirt to caress the length of your spine. Her body is lax and open beneath you, and she never looks anything but completely at ease, but you find that her affection lies through her usual nonchalance. Even if it’s with the same easy smile she wears every day, she is letting you smother her face with adoration and can’t help touching you in return. You are the first to know the minute she steps foot back into Désir and the last one to see her off once her caravan departs. She lets you cling to her as much as you like provided it doesn’t get in the way of her work and you’ve abused that privilege every day you have spent with her. She doesn’t mind. It's rare that she demonstrates anything but a peaceful attitude, and some days you have the fleeting thought that it belies something melancholic in nature.

“Mmh,” you kiss the corner of her lips after a thorough exploration and slightly pull away to look at her, “if it were up to me, i’d incapacitate you until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.”

She takes hold of your chin between two fingers. “You and your fondness for making me lose my ability to walk…”

“I can’t help it.” You lean further into her, lips brushing hers. “You look so gorgeous when you come. I just want to do it over and over again.”

“And how will you achieve that tonight?”

“Mmm… I want to kiss you silly. So I’ll use my fingers.”

Her chuckle is deep and warm, it sends an excited shudder through your limbs. Vautour Bleu guides your hand to her inner thigh, unable to go further due to you lying directly on top of her, and keeps it there.

“Better hurry up,” she murmurs against your mouth, “I need my beauty sleep, you know. Want me to help you?”

“I’ll never say no to that.”

You shift so you’re only halfway against her with a leg tangled up around one of hers, giving your joined hands access to the heat between her thighs. Vautour Bleu’s eyelids droop an inch as you both make your way to her thin underwear. You capture her lips in a longing kiss before you reach your end goal and feel her exhale softly into your mouth. She tastes like strawberry filling and meringue, no doubt from the pastry she indulged in earlier this evening. So sweet, you think furtively, always so sweet. Though her mouth is busy returning your insistent kisses, she doesn’t halt the movements of her hand for a second. She expertly leads you to where she wishes to feel you the most and guides you to rub her clothed cunt with two fingers. She knows how to take her time, prefers it even, but there are moments like this one where she just can’t be bothered. You feel good against her, your lips melding with her own and your digits running over the front of her panties. Each of your breaths are shared and the warmth of your skin lights up every nerve ending in her body. She welcomes your tongue when it swipes across the seam of her lips, parting her mouth wider to gracefully meet the wet muscle with hers. Though you initiated the first kiss, she effortlessly takes control of the rest of them and explores the interior of your mouth like she’s done over a hundred times since you’ve met, languidly and methodically. She kisses you how she wants while she helps you get her ready to take your fingers, and you follow her desired pace without a fuss, almost melting into her. The breathless moans you release into her mouth are intoxicating— like you’re the one being pleasured despite sneaking a digit past the waistband of her underwear. It trails down her wet slit and comes back up to feel her slick curls.

Vautour Bleu lets out another sigh of pleasure. Her free hand snakes to the back of your neck. The other one loosely holds on to yours between her thighs as you rub her cunt, occasionally brushing the tip of her sensitive clit, until she’s wet enough to take at least two fingers up to the knuckles.

“Ah, that’s good— mmh…” Her words are swallowed by your kiss. She’s panting once you withdraw from her lips to lick the chain of saliva that broke out on her chin.

Her nipples are stiff and visible through the flimsy fabric of her nightgown. You look at one, yearning to touch but unable to in your position, and make a sound that is half groan and half whine. You’ll get to them later, Bleu will indulge you as she so often does. For now, you direct your attention to her pink, kiss-swollen lips and her erect clit just begging to be toyed with. She leads you there before you can do it yourself, seemingly reading your mind. You circle the aching nub with the pad of a finger and her following moan is at once breathy and deliciously dragged out. Your own pussy throbs at the lustful sound, you squirm a little against her, and Bleu bends the leg closest to your center, pressing her knee into your needy cunt. A broken gasp of surprise escapes you. Your hips move on their own accord, seeking the sweet relief she generously offers you.

The tip of your nose nuzzles into hers as you masturbate her together, slipping your fingers back and forth through her warm dripping folds. Your skin is sticky with her arousal, you can never wait to taste her as if it’s the first time each night she guides your head between her thighs. Her underwear isn’t that stretchy, so it’s a snug fit for your hands. You lick the corner of her mouth when she audibly moans a second time. Your breathing picks up another pace and you’re left almost panting while you rub your covered cunt over her bare knee.

“Regarde toi,” she breathes out, “tellement avide de moi. You can’t even help yourself, greedy girl.”

You don’t dare contest her truthful statement, opting for a sloppy kiss instead. Your tongues meet wetly and you feel saliva on your bottom lip that she swipes over a second later before she slips her tongue back inside your mouth. The hand on your nape tightens its grip and her hips jerk towards your joined hands, a sign of her growing need. She doesn’t outwardly ask for more, but she doesn’t have to. She leads your hand over her aching pussy and presses it against her entrance. You make a pitiful noise against her lips; she’s so wet that the first finger slips inside without resistance and her warmth greedily clamps around your digit, begging for further stimulation. Vautour Bleu’s eyes are dark and half lidded as you pump your finger inside her cunt, their blue alike lobelia flowers blooming solely for you. Her mouth is open and the prettiest moans tumble from it in the quiet of the bedroom. You selfishly hope the soft breeze carries her breathy sounds to her innocent neighbours, that each of them gets to hear how good she sounds for you when you fuck her nice. You add a second finger past her entrance and delight in the clench of her cunt when you do. She squeezes you tight, sucking you in with each deep thrust, and you grind against the smooth skin of her knee in time with your digits plunging into her.

“If you’re any louder there’ll be no doubt as to what we’re doing,” you plant an open-mouthed kiss on her cheek, breath hot on her skin.

Bleu chuckles through a moan and pushes her knee into your soaked underwear, prompting a weak response from you. Something close to a whimper leaves you and you get a glimpse of her satisfied smile through heavy eyelids.

“Let all of Désir know, for all I care. Let them know how well you take care of me.”

She tilts her chin and steals the little air in your lungs with a firm kiss. Her kisses are dizzying, your head pounds after a couple of them and you readily surrender to her affection. Her tongue swirls around yours and passes over your upper teeth, and her demanding grip around your neck keeps you from straying too far. Your fingers curl inside her, knuckles briefly brushing the spot that makes her lashes flutter like butterfly wings. Her chest stutters, her lips part wider, and you take the opportunity to sink your teeth into her lower lip. You teasingly pull it between your teeth before letting go. You’re more panting in each other’s mouth than anything else, sharing sharp inhales and long exhales. You’re no longer sure if it’s her saliva smeared on the corner of her mouth or yours— likely a mix of both. Pleasure coils tight around your guts the longer you mindlessly chase the delicious friction of your pussy against her knee.The material of your drenched panties adds a layer of stimulation that makes you shut your eyes with a high moan. The squelching sounds of your digits thrusting into her clenching cunt and her heavy breathing create a rhythmic melody that you deeply revel in.

Vautour Bleu’s hand moves from yours to swipe needily at her neglected clit. “Putain– tes doigts,” she sighs absentmindedly, mind hazy with pleasure; whether she’s asking for more or praising you, you’re not sure. The sensitive nub aches for more attention and she smothers it with hers. She rubs her clit from base to tip with a slender finger, then lightly flicks the tip just the way she likes. “Oh…”

“Hah, Bleu,” her name is a soft exhale past your lips. She hums lazily in response. “M’close…”

“And here I thought— Ah!— I was the one getting fucked,” she teases breathlessly.

She doesn’t say it explicitly, but you can tell she’s teetering on the edge as well. Her cunt clamps around your fingers and her hips follow your pace dutifully. You’re too far into the pleasant sensations of your body to be bothered by her condescending words. You rut into her, desperate to reach your peak, and scissor your fingers inside her sopping wet pussy, which earns you a beautifully raspy moan directly into your mouth in return. You can feel your imminent orgasm deep in your belly but you try to hold it back long enough for her to come first. It’s an inhuman effort that you just barely manage. Vautour Bleu’s breath hitches before her cunt squeezes you tight and she comes around your fingers with a long drawl that vibrates along her throat. Her body tenses against you, forcing you to slow your pace somewhat, and she clings to you with the hand on your nape as she rides out her high. You rub her inner walls in a slow massage, and a few seconds later, you follow right behind her. Your brows furrow with the onslaught of pleasure that crashes over you at once. Your hips falter though don’t stop grinding into her until you’re too sensitive for the stimulation. For a considerable moment, you both lie there as you regain your bearings, breathing heavily into each other’s mouth.

Vautour Bleu’s hand leaves her ruined panties and you follow suit not long after, easily slipping out of her well-fucked pussy. Your eyes drowsily blink open just as you feel her slick digit against your lips. Instinctively, you take her finger into your mouth and clean the tangy cum from it with a few quick swirls of your tongue. You lift your own cum-covered fingers to the light, and her gaze drifts to the way they glisten enticingly for a second. She meets your eyes, then wordlessly parts her lips and extends her tongue. She sucks on two of your fingers without breaking eye contact, tasting herself, her stare ablaze with lust. Then, she takes her digit out of your mouth and silences the rest of your whiny protest by gently swatting your hand away and pressing her lips to yours. You both taste the same, her heady essence on your tongues. You melt into her almost immediately and let her lazily kiss you to her heart’s content. You’ve long forgotten about your previous desire to take control and kiss her silly; with your hand now free, you don’t bother pulling down her nightgown before sneaking into it to tweak her hardened nipple. She hums as she withdraws from your lips and regards you darkly.

“Behave, mon coeur,” is all she utters, but she doesn’t stop you from rolling her nipple between your thumb and forefinger. You don’t have the time to pout before she adds, “No pouting. I have to be up early.”

“Of course…”

You stare at each other for some time, you with the most innocent look you can muster and her with narrowed eyes, while you unhurriedly circle the rosebud. The room is silent, tense with anticipation, and the breeze slightly cools your heated bodies. You send her a lopsided smile.

“Absolutely insatiable.”

You know you’ve won when she suppresses a smile after saying those words. You pepper the underside of her jaw with triumphant, giggly kisses then shift on the bed to straddle her thighs. You waste no time in pulling the thin straps of her nightgown down her shoulders, baring her torso to your devoted gaze. The hand on her chest cups her fully and you bend down to kiss the supple flesh in your palm. Vautour Bleu sighs in pleasure. She rests a hand on your cheek to guide your mouth towards her stiff nipple and revels in the muted sound you make once the bud is suckled on. Your eyes grow hazy with each quick suck, eyelids heavy like you could fall asleep with her tit in your mouth. She gazes down at your dazed expression and feels her pussy pulse with growing need once more. She’ll reprimand your clinginess plenty— after you’ve made her come down your throat at least a couple of times.

[chrattho1]

bsf!chris x reader

summary: you and chris have been friends for the longest time,but what happens when you get to know about his fantasy of fucking your face?

warnings: smut,bj,use of pet names ( a little ), no use of y/n,slightly sub!chris

a/n: do not copy my work,but if you want you can use it as inspo whenever!!! (english is not my first language)

your tiny palms,long fingers,your freshly manicured nails,wrapped around chris’ dick pumping it slowly as you bend your head down to take him in your mout-

“chris?” you spoke waving your hands in front of chris’ face to bring him back to earth

unfortunately,for chris he was just day dreaming again. it had become a frequent thought train for him when he is around you,at first he ignored thinking maybe its just because he is a horny kid but he started questioning himself after jerking off to a very specific picture of you almost every night since the past month.

“whats up with you kid?” you asked chris as he slowly bought a couch cusion upto his lap and set it there to hide the tent in his pants that was becoming prominent with each passing second

“nothing,just alot on my mind,also can you go grab a pepsi for me thank you” chris spoke fast,catching a breath as soon as he ended his sentence

“okay…” you get up from the couch rolling your eyes at his odd behaviour

chris quickly puts a hand in his pants to adjust himself before you walk in again

“chr-” you were taken aback from the scene in front

chris quickly pulled his hand out of his pants and sit up straight,contemplating if he should make an excuse and leave or tell you that he was itchy

“i-that was-it-” chris tried to come up with something

“chris” you almost sighed

“its okay” you continued speaking,now coming closer and taking a seat next to him,fearlessly looking into his eyes

“its not what it seems like?” chris asked narrowing his eyes trying to see if he can convince you that it isnt what it seems like

“chris i can see your dick almost popping out of your pants” you chuckle,eyes wide looking at the dick print on his sweats

“god” chris groans,his face falling in his hands as he sank down the couch

“hey hey hey” you spoke trying to pull his hands off his face

“its okay” you tried assuring him

“no its not! its weird ive been having these-thoughts about you since the past month i dont know” chris laid his hands to his sides,looking down at the carpet,embarrassed.

“i thought we shared everything,why didn’t you tell me” you look at him innocently

“are you crazy why would i tell you i was having wet dreams and thoughts about you giving me head and what not” chris scoffed now looking directly at you

he cant seem to read the expression on your face currently

“and?” you asked coming closer in contact with his face

“a-and?” chris repeated dumbfounded,his eyes not moving from your lips

“and what other kinds of thoughts” your eyes flicker

“uh-um you-uh riding me” chris’ breath hitched,he can feel you breathing on his face,that alone driving him insane

“yeah? and?” you asked again slowly changing your position and getting off the couch

“most-mostly just you sucking my dick with your boo-”

chris eyes follow you,as you get down on your knees in between his legs and pull off your crop top before he could finish his sentence

“with your boobs out-fuck” chris finished his sentence groaning at the sight of your lacey black bra

“go on” you said putting your hands behind to unclasp the bra, slowly and gently removing it off of you

“fu-oh my g-yes and-um uh-you let me fuck your face” chris cannot form sentences,nor can he blink as he takes in the sight in front. he bucks his hips forward sinking in the couch,pulling his trousers off,still in disbelief that his dreams are coming true

“fuck your’e so fucking beautiful” chris says hastily getting rid of his black calvin clein boxers looking at you like you’re a piece of meat

he watches as you spit in your hand,that image alone making him almost cum

“fuck ma you’re killing me” chris has forgotten how to breathe

you slowly wrap your spit covered hand around his dick and pump up and down at a painfully slow speed

“shit-dont tease me im gonna cum like right-t now-w” chris spoke,voice shuddering with pleasure

you collect some spit in your mouth before bringing your lips to his tip and sloppily kissing it,releasing the said saliva,you tease his tip,kissing it,swirling your tongue around it,which brings out a reaction in chris

“ahhhh-fu-fuck” chris groaned rolling his head back,eyes shut as he removed the red backwards hat he was wearing and throwing it somewhere

you quickly stop what you’re doing and that makes him shoot up,his eyesbrows in a knot

“keep your eyes on me” you spoke before going back in and chris complied nodding his head several times in desperation

you finally take him whole,your tongue touching the underside of his dick and slowly swirling around it

“oh my-" chris spoke, blinking repeatedly trying not to cum right then and there,he quickly grabs your hair in a messy pony tail before you start bobbing your head up and down his huge dick,his tip reaching the very end of your throat making your eyes water and saliva collect around your mouth with each dive

chris watches in awe how your tits move rhythmically with your movements

“tha-just like that yes baby” he spoke between his whimpers and heavy breath

his words just making you up your speed,his whimpers get louder and heavier with each moment. he bucks his hips fucking your face and you take it,he goes harder with each thrust

“fuck fuck im go-nna come fuck fu-” you and him both aligning your speed with that

“shit shit shit shit-shi” chris gets louder and louder as he reaches his climax

“ahhhhhhh fu-ck” he groans loudly,shooting white ropes down your throat with one final big thrust,eyes shutting right after and thrusting into your mouth a few more times to get rid of his high

you pull yourself off of him,both of you catching your breaths.

you get up putting on your crop top,completely forgetting about your bra that is probably lying on the floor somewhere and go grab a tissue to wipe the access cum off your face. you look over at chris,looking at you in disbelief,his face tinted with a shade of red

he grabs his trousers and boxers putting them on before slouching on the couch again,you go sit beside him

“you are fucking awesome” he looks you dead in the eye.

[confused-bi-queer]

¿Quién quiere rosca?

¡Feliz Día de los Reyes Magos! A Mexican Tradition:

Hello, friends. I am once again back with my Mexican SnowBaz.

During December, I noticed I could draw and I realized I could make Mexican prompts, so that’s what I’m doing.

Today is January 6th, and here in Mexico, we celebrate something that's kind of the equivalent of Christmas morning for some people, but it depends on the region of the country. For example, most of us don’t believe in Santa Claus (only the north does, like Monterrey which is in the border with US, next to Texas; I don’t know about the rest), but we do believe in “the Three Kings” or “the Magi”, which are entirely from Catholic/Christian lore. Jesus was born during Christmas, so after 12 days, the Three Kings come to give him gifts, so we Mexicans get those gifts today. You’re allowed to ask for 3 gifts (one per king) and we give the letter through a ballon we throw into the sky on the night of January 5th. Kids (and myself as well) are receiving their presents today.

Alongside that tradition, we have something called “la rosca de reyes”, or king’s bread or king’s wreath. It’s an oval orange bread with ate (quince jelly), fig, cherry and sugary bread. We cut this bread with our family and, inside the bread there are a few figurines of baby Jesus (nowadays, people put more things into the rosca, like the Kings or tamales), so if you cut your piece and you get the “niño” (child, baby, kid, whatever), on February 2nd, el día de la Calendaria, you’re in charge of making the tamales. Allegedly. And yesterday I learned why there are babies Jesus in the rosca: it’s a reference of how they had to hide Jesus so he wouldn’t get killed by Herodes. Insane.

This is one of my favorite festivities because it entails so many little traditions and because it’s very Mexican. And I wanted SnowBaz to have this memory because it’s something sweet. I wanted them to enjoy my culture, and I like sharing it.

I wrote something for the art I’ve made, and you can find it here down here:

BAZ

There is nothing that could make being awakened by yelling and the bed jumping a good thing. My eyes are heavy as I try to get them to open, but thankfully there is no light outside.

It’s not even morning yet.

I turn to Simon and hide myself on his neck, searching for his warmth, and shaking him awake.

“Your son is up,” I mumble, closing my eyes, relishing in Simon’s soft body.

“My son?”

“Wake up!” Ángel yells, too loudly for any kind of ears.

“Those early-riser-genes aren’t mine,” I groan.

Ángel lays down on top of both of us, his arms around our heads, and we decide to get up. Much against our wishes.

Simon sits down, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and Ángel grabs him by the shoulders, shaking him awake.

“The Kings came!” he yells, his smile as bright as his dad’s.

I smile as I get off the bed, putting on my dark blue slippers. I grab the closest robe, and as I wrap it around me, I notice it’s Simon’s. I turn back to find him putting my football Watford hoodie over his head, his wings guarded into it.

“I’m going down alone if you don’t hurry!” Ángel yells again, and he grabs Simon’s tail. “Dad!”

“We’re up, we’re up,” Simon says, standing up, letting Ángel pull him out of our bedroom.

As soon as Ángel’s out the door, he rushes to the stairs but doesn’t go downstairs. He smiles at us, jumping in his place.

“Hurry!”

Simon and I walk faster, climbing down the stairs, full of 3 gigantic framed pictures of our wedding, and a smaller one of Ángel’s newborn face with six different expressions in it. I like the one where he’s looking to the side; Simon and I were being silly to make him laugh for the photos.

When we reach the bottom of the stairs, Ángel yells.

“Look, papá, it’s a sword! Like dad’s!” he screams, throwing himself to the floor.

He grabs the long, thin box with a plastic toy with the figure of a sword.

I turn to Simon, fake-smiling.

“The Magi brought our seven-year-old a sword,” I say through gritted teeth.

Simon smiles without taking his eyes off our kid, desacrating the box of the toy.

“Ángel asked for it,” he mumbles.

“Maybe Melchor should have asked Gaspar and Baltazar about it beforehand.”

Ángel jumps up and starts looking for scissors to get the sword off its container.

“Balthazar couldn’t have brought it to him,” Simon says. “He was too far away in the East.”

“Balthazar brought another gift. The kid has four.”

Simon looks at me then, eyes wide open in fear.

“What?”

It’s at that moment that Ángel notices it as well.

“The Magi brought me four gifts! That’s so cool!”

I force a smile as our kid looks up from his sitting position on the floor, a sword large enough to resemble Simon’s.

“Does this mean I’m getting four gifts every year?” he asks, eyes lit up with excitement.

Simon and I sit down slowly on the floor, next to Ángel.

“Maybe this year you behaved extra well,” Simon says. “We’ll see what they think next year, okay?”

“I’ll be super, extra, mega good!”

Simon kisses Ángel’s forehead.

“I’m sure you will.”

Maybe a kid with a plastic toy can make this day better.

SIMON

While Ángel’s showing Baz everything the Magi gave him this morning (I can hear everything from the kitchen since he's loud), I pull out the lid of the rosca for us three to be able to eat some for breakfast.

I’ll make some coffee for Baz and then I’ll give Ángel milk, and we’ll see who gets the baby. It’s not a rule for us to prepare tamales, but we do have some on February 2nd.

“Alright,” I call out. “¿Quién quiere rosca?”

[ltadoriyuujl]

your orbit is the best place to be

☆ earth is large and space is infinite and yet you still can never be more than 2 degrees of separation from the boy made of stars that has held your heart in his hands forever.

☆ bakugou katsuki x reader, 7.2k words

☆ no cw, bkg gets jealous, mineta is there as the worlds sleaziest plot device

☆ a/n: wow my first official tumblr fic! a million thank yous to all the oomfs that kept me motivated enough to finish this. @teddybeartoji @ms0milk <3 you guys

“Man, it's been ages since we've been to a station. I don't know about you guys, but I'm so ready to get off the ship.”

“Tell me about it. I'm honestly starting to go a little crazy in here.”

“I'm definitely excited. A buddy of mine told me the, ahem, ‘working girls’ of Iltari-7 can suck the silver off a new cybernetic.”

“Fucking hell, Denki, what kind of degenerates do you hang out with and why are they giving you hooker recommendations?”

Boisterous laughter bounced off the chrome walls of the lounge as your face screwed up in disgust. Most of the crew of the Aldera were scattered around the room, reclining and relaxing in various positions. Kirishima Eijirou, first mate, copilot, and the one who had spoken first, was seated on a stool by the small bar, his muscular back resting against the table so he could face the room. Sero Hanta, the ship's mechanic and gunnery chief, sat cross-legged on the floor, the parts of some new passion project littered around him. And Kaminari Denki, one of the best software engineers this side of the galaxy and the current source of your ire, was sprawled on the old couch positioned directly across from your own chair. 

“C'mon, cut me some slack, Doc. A guy can't get lonely?” Denki’s grin was large and unabashed, even as he tried to feign hurt. The corners of your own mouth started to quirk up. 

“You say that like the rest of us are imaginary or something. I'm touched that you value our friendship so deeply, Denki,” you replied, your tone dry despite the amusement on your face. 

“Love you too, but friendship doesn't get me-”

“And that is my cue to leave.” You swung your legs down from their perch on the center table, a second round of laughter ringing out as you stood. “I'm going to talk to our esteemed captain, see if I can negotiate an extra day in port.” 

Kirishima snorted as you passed him on your way to the door. “Good luck. Cap says 3 days, so really we're looking at 2 and a half. But hey, if anyone could get him to budge it's you, Doc.”

Solidly ignoring the implications of that statement, you pulled open the lounge door, stepped out into the hallway, and slid the door home again with extreme prejudice. The howls of your crewmates were audible from behind the thick steel as your legs began to carry you towards the bridge.

Bakugou Katsuki, captain of the Aldera, was something of an enigma to the larger spacefaring community. Only a handful of people even knew his full name, half of them being the ship's crew and the other half either on Earth or scattered through the far reaches of space. To most, he was the fearsome Dynamight, scourge of the endless night, the man who haunted the nightmares of hardened Federation admirals. The reward for his head was large enough to buy a small moon. He wasn't just a space pirate, he was the space pirate.

He also set the ship's day/night simulation settings to the Tokyo timezone so he could get 8 hours of sleep no matter where he was in the galaxy. He didn't drink, didn't smoke, and his only vice was the adrenaline of a fire fight. You'd been there when his arms were almost blown off, and kept him alive long enough to get them replaced by top of the line implants with veins that carried lighter fluid instead of blood. He'd knocked out one of your front teeth when you were 6 and he was 7, and there was a very faint scar on his left shoulder because you bit him immediately after. When he'd shown up to your dorm in the middle of the night, freshly defected with nothing to his name but a stolen ship and a handful of flight school buddies and asked you to come with him to the stars, you'd been gone before your RA was even awake enough to investigate the racket.

Lost in recollection, you almost ran face-first into the bridge door, catching yourself just in time to avoid being laid out by an inanimate object. Katsuki's first order of business as an outlaw was calling in a couple favors from some below-board mechanics and getting the whole ship remade into the specimen it was today. The Aldera, formerly the S.S. Yuuei, was refitted with brand new guns, shields, and stealth tech. Your captain also had the onboard AI stripped to barely more than glorified autopilot and, despite Denki's grumbles about the boredom of his post, the decision wasn't without merit. It disabled the Federation failsafe of remotely hijacking a vessel through its operating system, but while it was no doubt a great safety measure that had allowed you all to evade capture more times than you could count, even 5 years on the run wasn't enough to erase a lifetime of being used to automatic comforts and there was surely more security footage of you smacking into doors than you'd like. 

You're forced to squint as you step into the navigation room, the sunny “high noon” lighting at stark odds with the inky blackness outside the plexiglass window that dominated the room. Katsuki's form was visible in the captain's chair, right where you suspected he'd be. Vermillion eyes darted to yours as you moved to stand next to him, and with a small huff he dismissed the holopad he was reading and turned his full attention to you. 

“Doc.” Your title rolled off his tongue and fell at your feet, almost slimy with sarcasm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hello to you too, Captain. I'm great, thanks for asking. I love that our first conversation of the day is starting off on such a good note.” Your tone was sickening in its faux sweetness, and the snort you received in return made you roll your eyes good-naturedly. 

“We've known each other way too long to bother with idiotic small talk.”

“Yeah, but you should be nice to the person who keeps you and your crew in fighting shape.”

“That person is me, and I've told you how I feel about your wellness tips.”

You flipped him off, though the grin on your face matched his. Talking with him was always easy.

“Seriously though, did you need something?” Katsuki asked, his hands flitting over the ship's console as he minutely adjusted the course. “We should be docking within the next 4 hours.” 

You let out a hum of acknowledgement, your gaze turning to the multitude of stars twinkling outside. “I told the guys I was going to ask you about getting another day in port, but really I just needed to get out of the conversation. Denki was starting to talk about station whores and that is not a topic I have the energy for right now.” 

Katsuki made a disgusted noise. “If that dumbass catches anything I'm venting him out of the airlock.”

“It honestly might be the best course of action. You abducted me before we got to the ‘alien STI’ section of the curriculum.” You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from doubling over in laughter as he groaned. The glare he fixed you with was venomous, but it'd been a long time since his irritation could get under your skin.

“If I recall correctly, and I'm pretty fucking sure I do, you basically tripped over yourself to come with me. You had a bag packed and everything!” 

“It was my overnight bag. Who knew midnight hookups and spontaneously going off-world required such similar supplies?”

A shadow passed over Katsuki's face, his features clouded by an expression that you almost recognized, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He huffed and started to fidget with the controls again, obviously trying to occupy his hands. 

“Whatever, you were still embarrassingly eager. All ‘Oh ‘Suki, I'd follow you anywhere’.” The pitch of his voice rose mockingly and you gasped in indignation. If he wanted to go low, you'd take it to hell.

Bracing one hand on the back of his chair and the other on the armrest, you leaned as far into his space as you were able without falling into his lap. Katsuki fixed you with a hard stare but, bullheaded man that he was, refused to give any ground. Your faces were inches apart, and you could hear him dragging in each breath with purpose, desperate not to let his pulse quicken in your presence.

“Since your memory is apparently so good, Captain,” your voice was low, bordering on sultry, “remind me, which one of us begged? What was it you said… ‘I don't want to do any of this without you?’ At 3 in the morning no less. If we're going to talk about eagerness and desperation, let's start there.”

Your faces were still close, closer than they really had any right to be. Red began to color Katsuki's ears and cheeks, but his mouth was set in a grim, determined line. You two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, unstoppable force and immovable object. Finally, your captain scowled and turned his head away from you, breaking the deadlock. You bit back a whoop of joy at your victory in whatever odd dominance play you two had been engaged in, settling instead for a satisfied smirk as you straightened up again.

“Doesn’t matter who said what anyway,” he muttered under his breath, and you could almost see the wounded animal that was his pride settling hard in his chest. “We’re both here, aren’t we? Five years and you haven’t jumped ship yet.”

Your expression softened, and you reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. “You’re never, ever getting rid of me, I can promise you that. We’re stuck with each other, ‘Suki.” You felt the tension leak out of his frame and something like longing mixed with affection and took root in your lungs. For all the ways he was different, more grown-up and mature, he was also still the boy that drew his own star maps, the one that sat with you on the roof of his house and taught you how to recognize each constellation until you could point them out blindfolded.

His eyes were on you again and you withdrew your hand, suddenly conscious of the change in atmosphere. Clearing your throat, you took an awkward step back and turned halfway towards the door in an attempt to escape before you said anything you'd regret. “I'm going to double-check the supplies in medical. Make sure my shopping list is complete and all that. I’ll, uh, catch you later, Captain.” Your retreat was hasty, despite your best efforts at keeping calm, and you only allowed yourself to breathe once the cockpit door was shut behind you.

~

“Ah, good old station air!”

The Aldera was nestled comfortably into a dock in the Iltari-7 ship port, a small swarm of mechanics already seeing to any necessary repairs. You'd all wasted no time disembarking and Denki looked about ready to kiss the dubiously clean ground.

“You know, it's weird how every single port manages to smell like the same combination of recycled oxygen, burnt fuel, and piss,” you remarked, stretching your arms languidly above your head. “It’s almost comforting at this point.” The men around you let out various noises of agreement before delving into a conversation about whether or not the smell was natural or purposely manufactured. 

You tuned them out, your eyes glued instead to the distant form of your captain barking instructions at some poor dock aide. You couldn't quite make out the words but you’d be willing to bet it was something about making sure there wasn't a paint chip out of place when he got back. He was clad in his favorite faded leather vest (originally from his days in the Federation Academy, it was now so covered with studs and patches it was barely recognizable as Federation property) and a fitted black shirt and pants combo that showed off his figure in a way that was deeply detrimental to your sanity.

Eventually he finished scaring the piss out of the innocent and stomped over to where your merry band was waiting. He reached into the satchel resting on his hip and dug out 4 cards. 

“The keys to our hotel rooms,” he said as he shared them out. “You lose it, I’ll kick your ass and take the money to replace it out of your next paycheck.” 

Kirishima whistled as he turned the small piece of plastic in his hands. “Damn boss, what kind of place did you find that still uses physical keys?” 

“The kind of place that doesn’t ask about shit like existing criminal records.” You glanced down at your own key card before slipping into the small satchel you kept hidden under your coat. The mild inconvenience of having to worry about a physical object was a small price to pay for peace of mind, especially considering how during a pit stop last year you’d all woken up in the middle of the night to Federation officers in the lobby of the inn you were staying at. Personally, you weren’t eager to experience another mad dash to the hanger in nothing but your nightdress.

Katsuki rolled his neck, a series of pops sounding out as he did. “Alright, housekeeping. We’re here for 72 hours, no more than that. I don’t give a shit what you do with that time as long as you don’t get sick and don’t get arrested. If I call you to check in and you don’t pick up, I’ll hunt you down and you won’t like what happens when I find you. Any questions? No? Great, scatter.”

Sero and Kaminari didn’t need to be told twice, the two of them practically bolting down the street. Kirishima gave an exaggerated salute before heading off as well. You were just about to start making your way to the nearest depot when a large, familiar hand enveloped your elbow. You looked back and cocked a quizzical eyebrow at your captain. “Not you, Doc. You’re coming with me.” You scoffed and tugged your arm out of his grip. 

“I have actual plans, you know. Since when do you have business where my presence is necessary?” The look on his face did little to inspire any measure of confidence in you.

“Word on the net says the guy who's offering to fence our haul has delusions of chivalry, or some shit like that. Apparently he doesn't scam chicks, so if you're at the meeting with me we might actually get a better deal.”

You blinked once, twice, brain desperately trying to interpret the words that had come out of his mouth in a way that didn't make you want to beat him over the head. “You want me,” you began, the words rolling slowly out of your mouth, “to be your date…to a haul negotiation.” 

“Date is a strong word.” The blonde man didn't look nearly bashful or penitent enough for the request he was making, and you felt a muscle twitch in your jaw. “You'd just be there to help smooth things out.”

“Ah, so you want me to be eye candy. That's such an improvement.”

“I'll buy everything on your shopping list.”

“My shopping list is full of medical supplies. For the ship. That we all fucking use.”

“That new headset you've been itching for, then. With the fancy AI and diagnostic capabilities.”

“The one you said was unreasonably expensive?” 

“I won't even bitch about it.”

You crossed your arms and looked away from him, a scowl painted on your features. On one hand, the request was demeaning and just subtly misogynistic enough to really get under your skin. On the other hand, more money was always a good thing, and you were honestly a little curious to meet a man with such an interesting set of principles.

Plus, you really wanted that headset.

“You also owe me a favor that I can cash in at any time.” You fixed Katsuki with your best “dead serious” glare. He threw his hands up in surrender, but his grin could only be described as shit-eating.

“You drive a hard bargain, but we have a deal. Now come on, let’s see how fast we can get this over with.”

~

Whatever you'd expected the mysterious fence to look like, it wasn't anywhere near the reality. The man on the other side of the counter was short, so short he needed a step stool to make eye contact with you. The rest of him looked honestly pretty human, no extra limbs, digits, or facial features. The most bizarre thing about his appearance was the texture of his hair (or whatever it was that was on his head), which resembled large squishy purple balls.

“Well, well, look who it is!” His voice echoed through the space, briefly covering the noises of the small gadgets and trinkets littered around the “pawn shop”. “Dynamight, can I just say what an honor it is to have you in my establishment? I mean, you're something of a legend to us guys on the, ahem, other side of the law.” 

Katsuki grunted in response, his nose twitching like he was trying his damndest not to wrinkle it in distaste. The other man either didn't notice or didn't care, his attention switching immediately to you. 

“And what fine company you've brought as well!” He was still addressing “Dynamight”, but his smile was directed entirely at you. “It's a pleasure to meet you, miss. I'm Mineta, the owner of this here establishment and a professional…well I like to refer to myself as a ‘procurement specialist’ in polite company.”

“You hear that, ‘Suki? We're polite company.” You couldn't keep the smirk out of your voice as you responded. “Is ‘smuggler’ too dirty a word for you, Mineta?”

To his credit, the small salesman didn't rise to your barb, his customer service smile still fixed to his face. “Well no, but it doesn't exactly look great on a business card, does it?” 

You chuckled airily. “Fair enough.”

Your captain, apparently fed up with the back and forth banter, leaned on the countertop with an unimpressed expression. “Are you two going to yap all day or can we talk business?” The words seemed to snap Mineta out of his casual demeanor and into work mode, and he zeroed back in on the outlaw before him. 

“Of course, of course.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a holopad, setting it between all 3 of you. The shopkeep pressed some buttons and a number was projected into the air. “20,000 credits” read the hologram, for sure not an amount to scoff at, but one look in Katsuki's direction showed he was less than enthused. 

“Is this some kind of joke?” The blonde's voice wasn't quite a snarl, but definitely close. “I sent you a scanned content list and you decided 20k was a decent number for a haul that good?” 

Mineta frowned, but his tone was still calm as he replied. “Well, this is a negotiation. If you think I'm lowballing, you're welcome to put out an offer.”

“50.” Your eyes almost bulged out of your head at the number he spat out. The cargo was valuable for sure, but not 50 thousand fucking credits worth, and Katsuki of all people should know that. Then, his eyes met yours, and your role in this particular dance finally clicked into place in your mind. 

You pressed against the counter, arms folded over your ribcage to subtly push your chest up. You gave the blonde your best chastising look and pout combo, setting the stage for your performance. “‘Suki, come on. Aren't you being a little unreasonable?” You paused to shoot Mineta a warm smile. “Ignore him, he's woken up on the wrong side of the bed every day for 5 years.”

Mineta's expression instantly brightened, and you didn't miss the way his eyes darted to your tits and lingered there. Hook, line, and sinker. “I understand,” he began, slightly lifting his heels off the stepstool to lean closer to you. It took all your composure and professionalism not to move away. “It's a grueling line of work you two are in. That said, you seem to bear it with nothing short of the utmost beauty and grace, miss.” Someone was laying it on thick. You forced yourself to giggle and hoped it came out halfway believable. 

Katsuki grimaced at the exchange and moved closer to you, but you paid him no mind. Your eyes were fixed on the prize, now. “How about we try again, hm? I do think 50 is a bit much, so maybe we can try 40?” In truth, you didn't believe the items you brought to the table were worth a dime more than 25k, but if batting your eyelashes and playing ditzy lined your pockets with a little something extra then you were going to milk this, goddammit. 

Mineta still looked unsure, but was obviously more receptive to the high offer than before. “Well, considering it comes with the Dynamight name attached to it, I suppose it is worth a little more, yes. I'd have no trouble reselling…can we compromise at 35?” A good number. A great number, in fact, but you wanted to see how far you could push. 

“37, final offer. We worked awfully hard to keep this raid quiet, you know. The feds don't even know about it, which means they won't be on lookout for the stuff. Don't you think we deserve a little extra for making your job easier?” You kept your tone light and playful, going so far as to reach out and run your index finger under Mineta's chin, tilting his head up slightly to meet your gaze. A full body shudder passed through the man, and again you suppressed the desire to recoil.

“I think,” the salesman's tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I think that's fair.” You retracted your finger as Mineta began to fiddle with the holopad again, the 20 swiftly replaced with a 37. 

You beamed as you retreated from the counter, allowing Katsuki to occupy your spot and handle the specifics of closing out the deal. The smile on your face was the peak of self-satisfaction, and it only grew when you heard the telltale chime of a money transfer. As you made your way out of the shop, you sent a silent prayer of thanks to whichever god was responsible for handing out perfect racks. You also shot a small kudos to the patron saint of sleazy idiots, for good measure. 

As soon as you were both definitely out of hearing range you whirled on Katsuki in delight, but your expression faltered when you caught sight of the storm brewing in his features. He looked irritated, on the edge of downright pissed off, and it effectively dampened your own mood. Tugging on his arm, you steered him into a nearby alleyway in an effort to avoid prying eyes and ears.

“What's up with you?” you asked once you were sure there'd be no unwelcome intrusions to the conversation. “I thought the deal went great.”

He scowled and crossed his arms as he leaned against the rough synthetic brick of the alleway. His face was casted down, very pointedly not looking at you. “‘m not pissed off about the deal,” he mumbled, and your confusion only grew.

“Then why are you pissed off?”

Your captain scoffed. “Maybe because that bastard looked like he wanted to fucking eat you,” he ground out through gritted teeth. 

For the second time today, you contemplated strangling him. You raised a hand and pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to gather your patience. “I thought the whole point was that my job was to be arm décor. Was the end goal not to get him to think with his dick and not his head? I mean, you brought me as a sex object and now you're mad that the guy wanted to have sex with me!”

“I know what the fucking objective was, I just-” His mouth snapped shut, but the look in his eyes and the set of his jaw told you everything you needed to know. He looked the same as he did earlier when you mentioned your past hookups, the same as he always did when he caught you in the hallways of wherever the crew was crashing at, waving goodbye to whoever had warmed your bed the night before. Same dark eyes, same twisted up mouth, same neck twitch. You'd assumed before that he was just being protective, but the truth was glaring in your face brighter than any neon sign.

Bakugou Katsuki was jealous and you were pissed the hell off.

“How long?” you demanded. His expression morphed from petulant to confused as he looked at you. 

“What?”

“How long have you had feelings for me?” You willed your voice not to crack, though the equal parts anger and yearning that bubbled to the front of the emotional storm brewing in your chest made it a herculean task. This wasn't fair. He didn't get to do this to you, not 5 years in, not when you'd finally made your peace and were on your way to killing the pesky adoration you'd spent far too long grappling with.

“I- That's not what this is about-”

“Don't even try to pull that shit. This is my favor, I'm cashing it in right now. Tell me the truth, how long?”

You stared at him. He stared back. The alleyway was silent except for the low whirring of the machinery under Katsuki’s skin. The foot of distance between you felt impossibly charged and volatile, like one false move would trigger a city-leveling explosion. Just as your eyes started to burn from strain and the pressure of the tears behind your eyes, Katsuki ducked his head again, breaking the stalemate. Normally, winning two battles of will against him in the same day would inflate your ego to unmanageable heights, but the moment was too bittersweet to fully appreciate your victory.

“I don't know.”

“That's not an answer.”

“It's the truth.” Crimson eyes met yours, and the naked vulnerability in them almost took your breath away. “I don't remember how long I've wanted you. Feels like forever.”

Your knees felt weak and your mouth was dry and every night you spent staring at the cold chrome ceiling of your ship quarters with longing and want ripping through you came rushing back in cold clarity. The storm in your chest broke, and the roiling waves of emotion threatened to choke you. You needed air, and space, and maybe to slap him then kiss him stupid. 

“Right.” The word felt foreign, almost wrong, on your tongue. It wasn't what you wanted to say, but it was all your traitorous vocal cords would allow you. Katsuki's brow furrowed and his lips parted, and you were far too emotionally fragile to hear whatever he was about to say. 

Beating him to the punch, you blurted out, “I’ll see you back at the hotel,” before spinning on your heel and striding out of the alley as quickly as your legs would carry you. Half expecting him to follow you or call you back, you were filled with both relief and disappointment when he made no move to go after you. His gaze burned against the back of your skull until you disappeared around the nearest corner. 

~

It was well past sunset (or “whatever star this trash heap orbits”-set) when you finally made your way to the hotel. The building itself was nondescript, the paint on the outside was faded, and it was altogether generally unimpressive. Only the flickering sign that matched the stamp on your keycard signified it as the place you were looking for. At least the inside was free of any foul scents or mysterious stains, which automatically put it above at least half of your past accommodations. 

You trudged up the steps to the second floor and prayed on all that was kind and good that this place had hot running water. You'd calmed down significantly since you'd ditched your captain, but a hot shower would give you the chance to sort out the last stubborn remnants of your emotional turmoil. You turned the corner into your hallway and were wholly unsurprised to see the last person you wanted to acknowledge standing right next to your door.

Katsuki had dressed down since you'd last seen him. His worn leather vest and fitted shirt were gone, leaving him in only a white undershirt that was definitely a size too small. Desire flared in your gut, unwelcome, and you forced yourself to suppress a groan. Clearly he had no intentions of making the conversation you two needed to have easy for you.

His head snapped in your direction as you approached, and your heart clenched at the flash of uncertainty that ran across his face before he managed to school it back into careful neutrality. You stopped in front of your door, placing a hand on the handle as you turned to look at him.

“We should talk.” His voice was low, gentle, like he was scared you'd run again if he disturbed the air too much.

“Is that an order, Captain?” you asked in response, fluidly inserting your keycard into its slot until the light on the door turned green. Pushing it open, you looked back over your shoulder, one eyebrow arched. Katsuki’s jaw clenched as he visibly swallowed. 

“No. It's not an order.” You hummed and jerked your head towards the inside of the room, signaling for him to follow, before pushing the door open wider and stepping in.

Flicking on the light, you surveyed the space. It was decently furnished, with a large couch taking up the opposite wall and a loveseat slightly adjacent to it, a hard light projection of a coffee table the centerpiece of the room. There was a small but seemingly functional kitchenette off to the side, and a door set into the wall on your right that you assumed led to the bedroom. 

You moved towards the small table in the kitchen, shucking off your coat and draping it on the back of one of the two dining chairs present. Your satchel followed, tossed carelessly onto the table as you strode towards the couch. The color was likely a rich navy blue once, but time and wear had turned it much lighter in places. It was comfortable, at the very least, and you sprawled over it, head resting on one armrest while your legs were tossed over the other side.

The man you'd known almost all your life slumped into the loveseat, his arm inches from your head. You shifted to be able to see him properly. He was sweating bullets with the harsh blue glow of the coffee table illuminating half his face from below. One of his best looks, in your humble opinion. 

He inhaled, long and deep, before exhaling just as thoroughly. He opened his mouth, glanced at you, glanced away, and closed it again. It struck you that while you were aware of both his feelings and your own, you'd never actually expressed to him that you reciprocated his affection. Come to think of it, fleeing the second he confessed probably hadn't done his confidence any favors. You winced slightly as guilt squeezed your insides, and reached out to drop a (hopefully) comforting hand on his knee. His eyes snapped to the appendage, and his gaze crawled up your arm until he finally managed to settle on your face. You tried your best to project encouragement, and he drew in another deep breath. 

“10 years.” You blinked, your features suddenly clouded with confusion. 

“What?”

Katsuki huffed like you were the one being difficult and adjusted his posture, leaning over the arm of his seat to be closer to you.

“You asked me how long I've had feelings for you, so I did some soul-searching or whatever the fuck and decided 10 years was the answer. Ever since you showed up to my house on my 16th birthday, clutching that crystal telescope lens that I'd been eyeing for ages. I asked you how the hell you afforded something like that, and you told me you'd saved 4 months’ worth of allowance plus walked every dog in the neighborhood 5 times over. You had this big goofy grin on your face like you hadn't dropped a crazy amount of money just so I could have a clearer view of the same star systems I'd already memorized.” He paused, working his jaw as he contemplated whether or not to continue. A squeeze from the hand on his knee seemed to thoroughly convince him. 

“I honestly almost told you to take it back, to return it and get your money back and use it on literally anything else. But you were just…you were so fucking happy about it, going on and on about how I'd finally be able to personally count Jupiter's moons or something like that. I didn't have it in me to reject it, I mean, it was literally the nicest thing anyone ever did for me up to that point. And when we finally got the chance to slip up to the roof and slot the new lens in…the sights were beautiful. Better than I'd imagined, better than the ads. Your shoulder jostled mine when you went in for a look and it was like I'd eaten a whole swarm of butterflies. It was the first time I'd ever felt like that around you, around anyone really. I guess that's when I knew.” 

10 years. You're not quite sure how you expected him to answer, but what you got was certainly more than you anticipated. Every interaction between the two of you in the last decade flitted through your mind, colored by this new information, and your chest tightened almost painfully. 

“Wow,” was all you managed to say when you finally opened your mouth. His whole body tensed, and you blurted out your next words before he could get too deep in his head. “Do you want to know when I came to terms with my feelings?”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes boring into you like twin suns. “Your feelings?” His voice was almost a whisper, and you offered him a gentle smile.

“What, you think you have a monopoly on pining?” He huffed out a laugh as you repositioned yourself, pushing upright and shifting until you were leaning over your own armrest, putting the two of you eye to eye. 

“When we were 17, and I was sitting with you in the nurse's office at school and watching you get your knuckles wrapped because Enzo-”

Katsuki's groan was loud, cutting you off mid-sentence. You snickered, amused that the mention of your first boyfriend was still enough to get him riled up.

“Can I continue, or do you still have curses to pile on him almost a decade later?”

“I definitely do, but you can keep going as long as you don't say that idiot's name.”

“Well, what do you want me to refer to him as?”

“Preferably ‘that worthless bastard’ but you can get creative with it if you want.” You rolled your eyes, but you were fighting a losing battle trying to keep a smile off your face. 

“Fine, whatever, moving on. You were getting your fists taken care of because you'd fucked them up in the process of beating my ex's face to a pulp.” Katsuki tsked in annoyance at your word choice but you forged on. “On account of him cheating on me with one of the student trainers.” 

“And I'd do it again too.” 

“Am I ever going to get to finish my story?”

“Sorry.” The man across from you at least had the good sense to look sheepish at your scolding tone. You shook your head in exaggerated exasperation.

“Like I was saying, you, me, school clinic, split knuckles. The nurse was ripping you a new one while she bandaged you up, and all I could do was sit there and replay the moment in my head. The way we ran into that prick at lunch and I immediately got choked up and hurt all over again. The expression on your face when you looked at me. Next thing I knew there were like 3 people pulling you off him, and he was a sort of groaning person-shaped heap.” Slowly, as if  handling something wild, you moved your hand to settle on top of his. Your thumb brushed gently over the long-healed skin and his breath hitched as a faint shiver ran through him. 

“Even when they threatened you with expulsion, you never looked regretful or remorseful. As far as you knew, the end of your space pilot dream was staring you in the face and you didn't so much as flinch. One look at me and you'd been ready to throw it all away. That's when my crush kicked into full gear, and saying it all out loud is making me feel kinda stupid for not realizing how you felt about me sooner.” 

You chuckled, but the sound turned into a soft gasp as Katsuki flipped his hand up to grip yours, the hold firm but not painful. Your eyes moved from where your palms were connected to his face, and the intensity you found there made your heart beat faster. 

“You wanna know when I knew I loved you?”

For a brief, beautiful moment, every mechanism in the universe ground to a screeching halt. The stars stopped burning, the planets stopped spinning, your breath caught in your throat and your heart paused mid-beat. His words rung in your ears like church bells, deafening in glorious cacophony. Even after the natural order resumed, you still felt nailed to your seat. You nodded mutely, not trusting your voice to be steady enough not to shatter the moment. 

“When I woke up,” he began, his grip on your hand tightening marginally, “in that shady implant center, brain fried from hours of pain and being in and out of consciousness. Everything hurt like hell, and my new arms felt heavy and weird. Then I turned my head to look at the ceiling, and there you were. Your eyebags had eyebags, your hair was a mess, and you had a nasty bruise peeking out from under your collar where a laser blast had hit the protective mesh in your coat. Despite all that, you were beaming like you'd won the lottery. Plus you were directly under one of those old-fashioned fluorescent bulbs and it was casting a flickering halo around your head. I swear I thought you were an angel. Sometimes I still do.”

You made a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh as you blinked back the tears gathering at your waterline. Unthinking, you stood from your seat and moved to stand in front of Katsuki. Your hands were still intertwined and he used that connection to tug you forward, his other hand moving to settle on your back as you fell gently into his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs.

“Never took you for a sap, ‘Suki.” Your unoccupied hand drifted to play with the baby hairs at the nape of his neck and you laughed softly at his exaggerated eye roll. You liked this version of him, the type that existed for your eyes only, bathed in artificial light yet deeply human.

“Yeah, whatever.” His hand on your back was big and warm, and you felt almost embarrassed by how much it affected you. The synthetic nerve endings in his arms were bad at detecting heat, a necessary failsafe to facilitate his explosions, but now all you could think about was if he could feel the warmth of you through your shirt.

“You know, it’s sorta funny.” Katsuki’s head tilted slightly, his eyes fixated on you. The center of his attention was both a wonderful and slightly terrifying place to be. “You liked me first but I loved you first.”

“That so?” he asked, a smirk curling his lips as the palm at your back slipped under your shirt to trace patterns over your spine. The feeling of his digits dancing over your bare skin almost robbed you of rational thought entirely, but you pushed through.

 “Call me cliché, but the night you showed up to my dorm and begged me to run away with you was so romantic from my point of view. It’s a miracle I didn’t swoon into your arms like one of those fainting damsels in a shitty romance novel.”

“There you go again, saying I begged. I asked politely.”

“Call it whatever you want, starboy, you were the one who made an objectively unnecessary detour while you were an active fugitive just to fulfill a promise you made when we were kids.” Your expression was as smug as humanly possible, but he seemed wholly unphased. You weren’t sure when in the course of the conversation his attitude had pivoted from nervous wreck to playboy.

“I promised we’d see the galaxy together, and we have. I’m a man of my word.” It was your turn to roll your eyes in an exaggerated arc, tugging lightly on his hair in reproach.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe I didn’t clock you earlier. Denial is truly a hell of a drug. You want me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Katsuki scoffed and pushed you even further into him, eliminating almost all space between your bodies. “Don’t throw stones from glass houses, Doc.” 

You huffed and pulled your hand away from his at last, both palms moving to cradle his face. His newly free hand immediately took up a position at your waist, mirroring its twin. “Say my name.”

The first syllable managed to slip past his lips before you crashed into him.

You poured almost half a lifetime of longing into the kiss, and your other half responded in kind. It was deep, desperate, and more than a little messy. His lips molded over yours like they belonged there, like the very notion of parting from you was absurd. Your fingers curled over his jaw and left small crescent indents on his cheeks as his tongue poked at the seam of your mouth, a request that was eagerly granted. His hands tightened on your sides and you were grateful for the sensation, for something to ground you as you dived into him over and over. 

When you finally parted, lungs strained and panting, you were sure there were stars in your eyes. He pressed his forehead against yours, unwilling to let you pull away too much, and you happily obliged him. The two of you spent a minute simply trading breaths, the world outside your intimate bubble entirely unimportant. You turned your head to press a kiss to his cheek, chaste and almost shy. You could feel the muscles in his face moving as he smiled.

“...so about that headset-” He sealed his lips over yours again, and you’d never been happier to shut up in your life.

[thatgenericwriter]

The Proposal || Gregory House

Paring: Gregory House x fem!reader

Summary: House is going to propose to you but your nail color is not what he was expecting

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 0.5k

P.s. based off a request by anonymous

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

"Bright fucking green! Out of all the colors she could have chosen, she chooses bright green!" Wilson could only watch as his best friend loses his mind.

"Why would she choose now to venture out of her comfort zone! She's had some funky colors before, but BRIGHT FUCKING GREEN!?" House paces the room, as best he can, occasionally swinging his cane around wildly.

Wilson can only feel pity for his friend and a tad bit of guilt. He was the one who told House to make sure you got your nails done before he proposed to you. He was scolded by his ex about not warning her before and he just wanted his best friend to have a better proposal than he did.

He never thought this would be the outcome. "Why don't you just tell her to get them done again? This time something a little more tame.'" House stops mid-pace pondering the suggestion before shaking his head and collapsing onto Wilson's couch.

"I can't. She likes them too much and she was so proud of herself for going outside of her comfort zone. It would crush her if I told her to change to her normal color." Wilson shakes his head at his friend, glad that he actually is considering your feelings, but knowing House is going to find an elaborate way to make you change them. Most likely hurting your feelings even more than if he was to tell you.

Luckily, House did not have to create an elaborate plan as you walked in with a fresh new set of nails. "There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere!" House sits up as you come bounding over to him holding up your hands to show your very natural looking nails. "What do ya think?"

House looks from your face to your nails before pulling you down onto his lap. You yelp in surprise and try to avoid his bad leg as you are manhandled into a straddling position on top of him.

"I love you so much." Another yelp leaves your mouth as House smashes his lips onto yours. You pull back slightly panting and questioning his actions.

"All I did was change my nail color." He pulls you back in for another kiss that continues until Wilson clears his throat. "As much as I love to watch you guys make out, I would rather get back to my work." Taking the hint you shimmy off of House's lap and start for the door.

"Why did you change the color?" You turn back to face House who hasn't moved from his spot on the couch.

You smirk at him, "I couldn't let you propose to me while I had bright green nails, duh." House lets out a little chuckle and you watch Wilson's jaw drop before opening the door and bidding them goodbye.

[sequinsmile-x]

Confetti

She didn’t think it would be this difficult.

AKA - the one where Emily takes a pregnancy test.

-x-

Hi besties,

Today was my first day back at work since 20th December and my brain is a pile of mush, so here's a fic I prepared earlier.

This is for the wonderful and very talented @eyesontheskyline who did a lot of research for her incredible fic 'reckless (just enough)' - which you should read if you haven't for some reason yet. I borrowed said research for part of this, so it only felt right to dedicate it to her <3

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: pregnancy, trying to conceive, references to infertility, mentions of blood, very minor Aaron whump I guess

Words: 2.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She wakes up first, although she isn’t sure she ever really fell asleep. She’d spent the night struggling to drift off, her chest tight with anxiety she couldn’t shift despite her best efforts. 

Normally, she’s the last to wake up. Aaron’s love of early mornings was apparently genetic so he and Jack were always awake before her. She’d wake to Aaron waking her up with a kiss against her cheek or his hand on her back, or she’d hear Jack in his room either getting ready for school or playing with his toys on a weekend.

The silence of the house unsettles her, makes her skin itch, and she blows out a breath as she rolls onto her back. She turns and smiles at her husband as his arm stays in place, warm and heavy across her hips, his face slack and his mouth slightly open. She takes the opportunity to look at him, to run her fingers through his hair and smile as it flops back onto his forehead. He looked younger like this, carefree as if nothing bad had ever happened to him, and it makes her ache, makes love fill her chest as she swears to herself she’ll do her best to make sure nothing bad ever happens to him again. She leans in to kiss his cheek, and it wakes him up. He presses his hand against her lower back and tugs her closer, his head turning so he can capture her lips with his. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, scrunching her nose up at his morning breath but kissing him again anyway, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“Don’t apologise,” he replies, kissing her forehead as he pulls away, his voice rough from sleep and misuse, “I like being woken up by you.” 

She hums and tucks herself up against him, rests her head against his chest so she can hear his heartbeat and anchors herself to him with her hand on his shoulder and her leg over his hip, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

He wraps his arms around her and holds her closer, and the sound of his heartbeat drowning out the overwhelming silence of the house. He reaches for her hand and links his fingers through hers as he drops a kiss on the top of her head. 

“It’s not like you to be up first,” he says carefully, running his hand up and down her back, his fingers sneaking under a t-shirt that used to be his. He feels how she tenses in his arms, her stuttered breath passing from her chest to his, and he rubs a circle on her back, desperate to ease the anxiety he knew only one thing could. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she replies, and it feels like an understatement. She’d laid next to him most of the night, tried to let the press of him against her and the feeling of his breath skipping across her skin lull her to sleep but it hadn’t worked. She’d drifted in and out of bouts of restless sleep as she thought of the pregnancy tests lined up in their bathroom cabinet, now familiar anxiety bubbling low in her gut as she spent the entire night trying to tell herself not to get her hopes up again. 

It had been a year since they’d started trying. They’d been engaged and married since she threw away her birth control and they said that they’d try, both of them hopeful in a way that now felt nothing short of naive. Her doctors in Paris had assured her that the damage Ian had done to her hadn’t affected her uterus, that there was no reason they could see why she couldn’t have a baby if she chose to in the future, but she couldn’t help but wonder if they were wrong. 

She didn’t think it would be this difficult. She’d fallen pregnant the first time she’d ever had sex. A few moments with a boy who was supposed to be her friend that changed her life and made her militant about birth control ever since, the harsh words of a doctor questioning her age but not her fake ID who hadn’t realised she spoke Italian still ringing around her head even now. She thought it would be easy this time too. She’d allowed herself fantasies of Aaron standing on the other side of the bathroom door as she peed on a stick and her running out with a positive test in her hands and happy tears on her cheeks. She’d imagined it all being easy because this time this was something she could want and that she could have. 

They’d had agreed that after a year they’d go to her doctor, because she knew she’d be told to try for that long anyway, and now it was here the thought made her feel sick. Nausea rolling in her belly when she thinks of taking a pregnancy test and looking at a negative result again, something that was apparently no less painful when she did it for the 11th time last month than it had been the 1st. It felt definitive, like the test she’d take today would draw a line in the sand and bring this part of their lives to a close so the next stage could take over. And she’d have to come to terms with either never having a baby, or the fact it certainly wasn’t going to be simple to have one. 

“Em-”

“I should get it over with,” she says, swallowing thickly as she sits up, a chill left in his wake as she separates herself from him and gets out of bed, not sure she could take kind platitudes from him again, “I’ll start getting ready for the day.” 

He sighs and sits up, “Em-”

“Aaron,” she says, turning to look at him, stopping him in place with tears shining in her eyes, “Please just…” she drifts off and clears her throat, smiling tightly at him as she flicks the switch for the ensuite’s light, “I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

He nods and stays put, sitting on the edge of the bed to wait her out. It’s where he sat as she did this every month, the amount of time it would take her to come out to see him getting longer each time, the look on her face somehow breaking his heart even more than it had the time before. He wanted this as much as she did, and it hurt to see how much pressure she was putting on herself as time went on. As if somehow she’d convinced herself that his love for her was conditional, that it was dependent on this one thing. He told her time and time again that she was what was important to him, that everything else would be wonderful and a bonus, but that her and her love were the things that had helped bring him back to life, that had helped him feel worthy of love again. 

Everything else was confetti - beautiful and bright with her by his side, but just strips of paper fated to dissolve in the rain without her. 

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll be right here.” 

She smiles sadly and walks over, stamping her lips against his before she walks away again, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

She closes the door behind her and blows out a slow breath, giving herself a moment to try to centre herself before she carries on. She pulls a test out of the cabinet and wraps her hand around it tightly, screwing her eyes shut before she shakes her head at herself and heads to the toilet. Once she’s done she clips the lid on and puts it on the counter, sighing as she flushes the toilet because she knows Aaron will hear and know that the countdown is on. She actively ignores the test as she washes her hands and starts her skincare routine. 

It isn’t lost on her that close to 30 years ago she was staring at a pregnancy test and hoping for an entirely different result to what she wanted now. The process was harder then, more complicated and drawn than simply peeing on a stick, something that only added to her panic as she read the instructions again and again to make sure she did it correctly. The thirty minutes she’d had to wait for the result had been tortuous in a different way to the three she had to wait now, the time drawn out into what felt like hours as her fate felt like it had already been decided for her

She pats her face dry after washing it and reaches for her serum, and she looks down at the test despite her intentions to ignore it as long as possible, the result both what she wants and what she fears until she sees it. She gasps as she reads one single word on the digital screen, her hand coming up to her mouth to try and capture it as she drops the serum she’d been holding, the glass bottle smashing into countless pieces as it hits the tiled floor. 

Pregnant. 

She was pregnant. 

“Oh my god,” she says, picking up the test with shaky hands, holding it closer as if the result would change or she’d read it wrong, and she chokes on a sound between a laugh and a sob, relief and love and half a dozen things she can’t name rushing through her all at once. “Holy shit.” 

There’s a knock on the door just before it opens and Aaron’s already talking as he walks in. 

“Sweetheart, is everything okay? I heard something break,” he says, drifting off when he sees the tears shining in her eyes and the test in her hands. He sighs sadly, opening his arms out to comfort her, “Oh, Em I’m sorry-”

Her eyes go wide as he steps forward, “Aaron, no wait there’s glass-”

“Ow, Goddamn it,” he exclaims, hissing as he lifts his foot, blood already visible from where he’d cut himself. 

“Sorry, honey,” she says, placing the test on the counter as she steps over the glass between them. She wraps her arm around his shoulder to guide him over to the toilet and helps him sit on the closed lid, “I dropped my serum,” she says, wiping her cheeks, only aware she was still crying when she kneels in front of him, “That’s expensive stuff too.” 

He chuckles and cups her cheek, wiping away a fresh tear, “It’s okay, I think we can afford it.” 

She smiles and then winces when she looks at the sole of his foot, “It’s not deep, but it does look sore,” she says, reaching for the tweezers behind her on the counter. She raises her eyebrow and brandishes the tweezers at him, “You’re lucky I love you, I use this for my eyebrows usually.” 

“Well, I appreciate the - ow,” he exclaims, furrowing his brow as she pulls out the small shard of glass. She smiles apologetically and shrugs.

“It hurts less if you don’t know it’s coming,” she says, standing up briefly to get the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet, her eyes drifting to the positive test again for a brief moment before she kneels back in front of him, “I’ll just wrap a bandage around it for you to stop the bleeding.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, watching as she wraps it around his foot, a tender gentleness to her touch that he knows he couldn’t live without. A soft type of love she gave him and Jack without question or the expectation of getting the same in return. He so desperately wanted to watch her love a baby that was half him and half her in the same way. She smiles up at him when she’s done and he wraps his arms around her as soon as she stands up, encouraging her to sit on his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek. 

“I know usually we tell Jack you have to kiss an injury to make it better,” she says, kissing his cheek again, “But I’m not kissing your foot, so you’ll have to deal with a kiss on the cheek.” 

“I’ll never say no to a kiss on the cheek from you,” he smiles and hooks his finger under her chin to turn her head to face him and he kisses her on the lips, “I’m sorry it was negative.” 

She furrows her brow, “What?” 

“The test,” he replies, “I’m sorry it was negative, and I’m sorry I stood on glass and took all the focus off of you-”

“Aaron, honey,” she says, chuckling as she cuts off his spiral, shaking her head at him because he’s the only person she knows who would apologise for standing on glass, “It isn’t negative.”

He stops, his brow knitting together in confusion, “It isn’t?”

“It isn’t,” she shakes her head and unwraps one of her arms from around his neck to get the test from the counter, “I’m pregnant.” 

He takes the test from her, his view of her and the result immediately blurry with tears, “You’re pregnant?” He says, tears slipping down his cheeks, “We’re having a baby?” 

She nods and leans forward, kissing away his tears before she rests her forehead against his, “We’re having a baby.” 

He kisses her fiercely, “I love you so much,” he kisses her again, “And I hope you know that would be true no matter what. I love you.” 

“I know,” she nods, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob catching in her chest, “I love you too,” she kisses him again and rests her forehead against his, “We really should do something about the glass before Jack wakes up and comes looking for us.”

He nods, his forehead gently knocking against hers, “In a minute,” he says, kissing her again, entirely unable to stop himself from doing so, “Let’s just sit here for a little bit. We’ve waited a long time for this.” 

“Okay,” she says because she doesn’t want to move either, rooted to the spot in his lap, the absurdity of the fact they were having this life-changing, romantic moment whilst sitting on the closed lid of the toilet not lost on her, “Just for a little bit.” 

He kisses her temple and slips his hand onto her still flat belly, “You’re never going to let me forget that I stepped on glass and interrupted you telling me that we’re having a baby are you?” 

She shakes her head and places his hand over hers, happiness she didn’t think was possible warming her from the inside out, “Not a chance, honey.” 

[sceletaflores]

slippin' and slidin' all over you!

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, sweating, mutual masturbation, sweat licking (i don't know???), not-so-dry humping, p in v, JUST THE TIP RAHHH, creampie, fingering (fem!recieving), oral sex (fem!receiving), come swapping, come eating, literally over four thousand words of pure nasty smut, this is gross lowkey, idk i'm h*rny, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: very much not the winner or even an option of the poll i posted last week but...shhh don't hate me. it’s october and over 80 every single day, what the fuck is that? only good thing that came from this heat is thoughts of nasty sweaty sex with logan. once again shoutout to my wonderful husband @ebodebo for reading this over for me (i successfully changed her vendetta against sucking up some man sweat...which was the real point of this fic tbh) go give her fics some love if you're a slut for ghost! kisses!

logan forgot to fix the ac...

It's too hot out to be alive. 36°C and sunny.

One of the hottest days in recent memory for Alberta, and you're really feeling it.

"Remind me," you say slowly, the first words spoken in almost ten minutes. "How many times did I ask you to fix the air conditioner?"

"Don't start," Logan says from his spot across the room. His head is tipped back to rest on the couch cushion, eyes slipped shut.

You ignore him, lazily rolling your head to the side to look at him through squinted eyes, your brows furrowed in thought. "Was it ten? Or maybe thirteen?"

Logan huffs a breath, slow and heavy, but he doesn't move--doesn't even open his eyes. “I said don’t start,” he mutters again, though there’s the faintest edge of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't worry baby," you say, voice pitched lower in a terrible impersonation of Logan. "I'll get to it, promise. Won’t get too hot for another couple months."

Logan finally cracks an eye open, just enough to give you a sideways glance, his mouth twitching with amusement. "You done?"

You hum noncommittally, the sound lingering in the air like the lazy summer breeze doing nothing to cool the temperature outside. Your gaze slips down the side of his face to trace the jut of his jaw, then lower to the sweaty column of his neck. 

Both you and Logan lost most of your clothes earlier in the day, too hot to bother wearing anything but underwear. You trudged around the house like zombies until you finally gave up on trying to be productive, you both ended up in the living room. 

All the windows are cracked open, trying in vain to let in any cool air. You claimed the armchair closest to the fan, refusing to be anywhere near Logan and the massive heat wave he constantly gives off.

Logan’s on the couch, stripped down to the thinnest pair of sleep shorts you’ve ever seen. His chest is bare, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that mats the dark hair dusted along his pecs to his skin. 

You can’t help the way your eyes follow the drops of moisture that slide slowly down the contours of his abs. A low heat starting to swirl through your gut when it disappears into his happy trail.

It's funny. When you basically peeled yourself off your mattress this morning, sex was the absolute last thing on your mind.

Now, as your eyes glide over the strong expanse of Logan's body on full display, you're having second thoughts.

Maybe it just comes with the heat. That sort of slow, syrupy feeling that slides along your overheated skin to pulse pleasantly between your thighs.

A bead of sweat slides down the length of your spine slowly, falling until it soaks into the damp waistband of your panties. You try to not notice how Logan is halfway across the room, not touching you.

You fail.

“It’s just a shame, though,” you start, fingers idly toying with the hem of your tank top. “If it was cooler, I could come over there.”

You slide a leg up, letting it rest against the wooden rest, newly exposed skin gleaming under the sunlight filtering in. 

The move isn't lost on Logan. You see his jaw clench slightly, the tiniest shift in his posture.

"Something you wanted?" Logan asks, his voice going low and teasing. "Looks like you've been gettin' yourself all worked up over there."

“Just thinking,” you reply, shifting slightly on the sticky leather of the chair.

Logan’s fingers twitch at his sides, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. His eyes slide the rest of the way open, his gaze heavy and lingering as it ventures down to where your thin shirt sticks to your skin, outlining every curve.

“Oh yeah?” he prompts, his voice a little rougher now. “Thinkin’ about what, baby?”

“You,” you say easily, fingers slipping down to your thigh. You bring your other leg up, perching it against the opposite armrest. Your thighs spread wide enough that you know Logan has a full view of the wet spot growing along the gusset of your panties.

The hitch in Logan’s breath has you stifling a smug smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch the way his chest starts rising faster.

"That's real sweet, sugar," he drawls, an unimpressed look on his face as he drags his eyes back up to your own. "But if you're tryin' to get me over there, you're gonna have to do better than that." His voice slides through the air heavy and warm like molasses.

You bite back a grin, enjoying the slow game that's unfolding between the two of you. 

"Maybe I don’t want you to come over here," you let your fingers trail a little lower, just to the edge of your panties, teasing. “Maybe I like you right where you are.”

Logan’s brow raises, his thighs tensing before he spreads them just a touch wider. The fabric of his boxers goes taut over the strong muscle, riding up to expose even more hairy skin to your greedy eyes.

"You're playin' with fire, kid," he warns.

The tent in his shorts is obvious now, the hard length of his cock pressing against the fabric where it lays across his thigh. Your other hand twitches by your side at just the sight, your pussy throbbing with the sudden need to be filled.

"Am I?" you murmur, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, just enough to make sure he knows exactly where this is headed. ”It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it, you’re too busy pouting."

With a deliberate slowness, you slide your fingers lower, brushing against your clit with just enough pressure to let out a soft gasp at the contact. You arch your back slightly, relishing in the way the air feels against your skin, hot and sticky.

You want him to see how badly you need him—how his heat is the only thing that could truly satisfy the insatiable ache building between your legs.

Logan's nostrils flare, jaw tightening and eyes darkening at the sight of you teasing yourself. His restraint is slipping, and you can practically feel the tension building in the room, thick and stifling like the oppressive summer heat. 

But he still doesn’t move, doesn’t rush over like you expect him to. Instead, he shifts his hips slightly, spreading his legs wider and letting his hand fall on his thigh. 

You can’t help the way your breath quickens at the sight, the way his fingers drift dangerously close to his own growing bulge, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him. 

You tilt your head to the side, gazing at him through your lashes. “You're really just gonna leave me hanging?” you goad, fingers circling lazily around your sensitive clit. “Come on stud, whip it out.”

Logan chuckles low, a sound that sends shivers through you. "Is that what you want, baby?" he asks, voice thick and taunting, a smirk curling on his lips. “You want me to whip it out for you?”

“Yeah,” you murmur breathlessly, biting your lip as you maintain eye contact, your breath starting to come in short bursts. “I need to see you, Logan. Need to see how hard you are for me.”

“Need to, huh,” he muses slowly, fingers finally grazing over the hard length of his cock. “What’s in it for me?”

“How about this?” You slip your hand out from your ruined panties, fingers glistening with your own wetness as you hook your thumbs on either side and drag them down your legs.

You let the soaked cotton fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Logan’s pupils dilate, an inky black completely swallowing the warm hazel. He licks his lips slowly, the tip of his tongue running along his teeth like he wants to sink them into you. His cock twitches visibly beneath his shorts, the growing tension in the air between you thick enough to choke on.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his voice low and gravelly, more of a growl than a word.

You smile, shifting in the chair to give him an even better view, your legs spreading wider. "Yeah?" you purr, running your fingers over your slick inner thigh, feeling the heat radiating from your own skin. “You like what you see?”

Logan swallows hard, his hand finally slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, palming his cock as he watches you. “You know I do,” he says, voice rougher than before. 

You let your hand trail back down to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as you hold his gaze. “Then show me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea now. "I wanna see you."

Logan lets out a low, rumbling groan, his fingers making quick work of shoving his shorts down enough to free his cock. It springs free to slap lewdly against his stomach and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips at the sight.

He strokes himself slowly to start, his eyes locked on you, watching your every reaction, feeding off the way your chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.

"Like this?" he asks, his tone taunting as he strokes himself from base to tip, his thumb swiping over the head with a low hiss. “That what you wanted?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, straining and in his hand. The sight of his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock sends a hot, electric pulse through your body, your hand between your legs moving in time with his slow strokes.

"Yeah," you whisper, voice trembling with need. "Just like that."

You slip your hand lower, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a low moan. Logan groans like he’s the one being touched, his hand speeds up, eyes glued to where your fingers disappear in your slick heat.

His cock leaks pre-come over his knuckles each time his fist passes over the dripping head, the wet sound of it mixing with the low hum of the fan and your own breathy sighs.

"You look so fuckin' good like this honey," Logan groans, his voice rough, strained. "All spread out, playing with that pretty pussy for me."

You whimper at his words, your body aching for more than just your own touch. You need him, need the feel of his rough hands on your skin, his mouth, his cock—anything.

Your fingers move faster, slipping deeper inside with each pump, but it’s still not enough. The stretch is nothing compared to taking Logan, to the feeling of him carving a place for his thick cock inside your pussy, hitting that spot inside you that your fingers can’t quite reach.

Your hips buck up towards your hand, your back arching off the chair as your free hand clutches the armrest tightly.

Logan’s pace quickens, his fist pumping his cock with a new urgency, heavy balls bouncing with every rough tug.

“God, look at you, such a needy fuckin’ thing” he growls, chest heaving as his gaze flicks between your flushed face and the glistening mess you’re making of yourself like he can’t decide where to look. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

"Please," you whine, desperation creeping into your voice. Too keyed up to draw this out any longer. “I need you inside me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore.”

Logan groans, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. His hand falters slightly on his cock, squeezing hard around the base as your words push him dangerously close to the edge. His jaw clenches, eyes raking over you, and with a growl, he stands. 

The last threads of his restraint snapping.

 He crosses the room in two long strides, towering over you where you sit. His cock swollen and hard, sways between his legs with every step, glistening with pre-come that drips to the floor. His eyes, hooded and burning, drink you in as he reaches down, yanking your hand away from your slick heat.

“Thought you said it was too hot to move,” you tease breathlessly, unable to quit egging him on even when your legs start to tremble with need, spreading wider to welcome him.

Logan ignores you, tugging your hand to his lips. Your breath catches in your chest, a weak moan escaping you as he takes your soaked fingers in his mouth. His tongue swirling along your skin to taste you, his eyes never leaving yours as he does.

“Changed my mind,” he growls, strong hands rough and possessive as they drop your wrist and haul you out of the chair so he can spin around, collapsing into it with you in his lap. The wood gives a warning creak beneath you but neither of you care.

Not when his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding as he slides his tongue past the seam of your lips. The heat radiating off his body is suffocating, but you welcome it—craving the weight of him on you.

You melt against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours, every inch of him alive and pulsating with need. Logan’s hands find their way to your hips, fingers digging in just enough to send a rush coursing through you.

It’s intoxicating, the way he devours you, his hands exploring every inch of your back, grasping and pulling you impossibly closer. 

The hard jut of his cock presses against your thigh, a thick plane of heat that makes your pussy throb with need. You shift your hips, grinding down on him in messy circles.

“You feel that?” he growls, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s all for you, darlin’.”

“Need you,” you whimper, grinding down against him faster, desperate for the friction that sends pleasure rippling through you. “Please, Logan, I need you inside me now.”

“Hold on, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending sparks all up your spine.

He dips his head, capturing your lips again, while his hands roam hungrily down your sides, fingers curling around your thighs to urge your legs open wider. “You wanna tease me, you’re gonna have to get off just like this.”

Logan angles his hips so that his cock slips between your drenched folds the next time you roll your own down.

The hot, slick glide sends electric shocks of pleasure racing through you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You gasp against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as you push down, desperate for more.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, his voice dripping with lust as he watches your movements with hungry eyes. “Just for me, huh? She’s droolin’ just for me.”

You nod breathlessly, chasing the friction, craving the feel of him so close. You lift your hips and rock back down again, the blunt head of his cock brushing against your swollen clit, and you feel your body pulse in response. 

“More,” you plead, leaning in to nibble at his lower lip. “I need it.”

Logan pulls away, shaking his head with a wicked grin. “Come on, tough shot,” he says, giving your ass a quick smack and kneading the tender flesh in his hand roughly. “You’re gonna come like this, you can do it baby.”

You whine, dropping your chin to your chest. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into the strong muscle. Your chest slips slickly against his, the front of your tank almost entirely soaked with sweat.

Yours or his, it doesn't matter. The white cotton turned transparent enough that your breasts are on full display, nipples hard and visible.

You watch a single bead of sweat make its way down the length of his throat. It trickles down and down and down until it dips between the pronounced muscles of his chest.

You duck your head, dragging your tongue up the valley of his pecs. A deep moan bursts from your lips, pussy drooling more slick over Logan’s cock at the coarse feel of his thick hair on your tongue, at the heady taste of his sweat filling your senses.

Logan groans, hands tightening their hold on your waist. The dull ache his strength leaves behind is enough to let you know that two hand shaped bruises will be blooming over your skin by tomorrow morning. 

“Come on, girly,” he encourages, nipping at the sweaty column of your throat, the sharp points of his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin deliciously. “Fuck me, give it to me good.”

Your hips speed up, his hard cock sliding through the slick folds of your cunt faster. The tip bumps against your clit deliciously with every move, smearing pre-come along the way to add even more to the mess between your legs.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he groans, breath puffing warm and hot agasint the slick skin of your lips. “Pump you so full of my come you’ll be leakin’ for a goddamn week.”

He shifts underneath you, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance just enough for it to push inside on the next grind of your hips.

The barely there fullness has you coming with a sharp cry, nails roughly dragging down Logan’s back hard enough to leave red welts that heal as you go.

The pain mixing with the pleasure of finally getting to feel the warm, wet suction of your pussy has Logan coming with a rough shout of your name. He throws his head back, hands tightening their grip on your hips enough to have your bones grinding together as he pumps you full of his come. 

“Logan…” you mewl, your pussy fluttering over the tip of his cock, greedy little clenches like you're trying to suck him the rest of the way in. Drunk on the way his release paints your insides, how you can feel each thick spray coating your walls to claim you in the rawest way.

Logan pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and smoldering as he watches you squirm in his lap.

"You’re not tapping out on me already, are you?" he teases, his voice rough and gravelly. "I thought you were tougher than that."

A weak, breathy laugh escapes you, but it’s cut short when he applies just a little more pressure, making your thighs quiver. "Not tapping out," you manage between shallow breaths, your head falling back against the chair. "But you’re—fuck—you’re insatiable."

Logan smirks, leaning in to nip at the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth scraping just enough to send shivers coursing through you.

"When it comes to you, baby?" he murmurs against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over your pulse point. "Fuckin’ always."

A lazily smile takes over your lips as you tighten your core and push, the rest of Logan’s come leaking out over his fingers. Logan groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder to try and ground himself.

His cock throbs where it sways heavily between his thighs, still hard and ready to go even after he just came. His hand slips down your body, thick fingers running through the creamy mess of come and slick to messily push it back inside you.

“Fuckin’ shit, honey,” he groans lowly, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

Before you can respond, he stands again, gently placing your trembling form back into the chair and dropping to his knees in front of you.

Your breath hitches, legs widening despite the way your pussy shakes with overstimulation, like you can’t help but spread your legs for Logan anytime he wants.

Logan smirks up at you from between your legs, his lips already ghosting over the inside of your thigh. "Look at you," he growls, voice low and filled with lust. "Still so needy."

The slick heat of his tongue runs along your folds, lapping at the mess he just made of you. You let out a sharp gasp, thighs trembling as your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him closer.

The sensation is overwhelming—the rough, demanding pace of his tongue as it swirls around your clit, teasing you, while his hands grip your thighs with bruising force. Keeping you exactly where he wants you, keeping you spread open for his tongue.

Your body arches off the chair with a loud cry, every nerve alight with raw pleasure as he feasts on you, his growls vibrating against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck! Logan," you moan breathlessly, head falling back as you try to keep up with the sensations he's pulling from you.

The heat that was pooling low in your belly reignites, stoked by the way his tongue flicks faster against your clit, each stroke sending you higher.

Logan doesn’t let up, his tongue delving deeper, drinking in every moan, every shaky gasp as he drives you closer to the edge. He moans into your pussy, his own arousal clear in the way his hips buck into the air, seeking any kind of friction.

You tug on his hair harder, desperate for more, for release. "Logan, please," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with need.

"Atta’ girl," he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "So fuckin’ pretty like this. You gonna give me another one, baby? Gonna come for me again?"

Every lick, every rough squeeze to your thighs, every teasing stroke sends you spiraling closer to that edge you’re dying to reach again. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hot against your soaked skin and driving you wild.

“Logan, I—” You gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer, closer, closer. “I’m so close—”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, nose and jaw glistening in your juices.

"Give it to me," he growls, the rough rasp of his voice sending a shiver through your overheated body. "I wanna feel you come on my tongue."

It’s all the encouragement you need. With a strangled cry, your body tenses, thighs quaking as the orgasm crashes over you.

Logan keeps his mouth on you, tongue working you through every pulse, drawing it out until you’re trembling and gasping, your body boneless in the chair.

When you finally come down, panting and spent, Logan pulls away. With one last kiss pressed over your clit, he makes his way up your body, not dropping eye contact as he settles over you.

His hand comes up to your face, thumbs meanly hooking into either side of your cheeks to gently force your mouth open. You part your lips willingly, the heat still radiating between you, a mix of lingering pleasure.

Logan leans in, and the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex surrounds you as he spits what he collected from between your legs back into your own mouth. 

Your cheeks burn with shame, a broken moan ringing through the space between you. Your glassy eyes stare into Logan’s, his own gaze so intense and all consuming you fight the urge to squirm.

"Swallow," he commands, unwavering. 

You hesitate for just a moment, caught off guard by the pure audacity, but the way his eyes darken with hunger makes your resolve crumble. With a breathless whimper, you obey, tasting the remnants of your own pleasure mingling with his, the act both humiliating and intensely arousing.

Logan watches you closely, his gaze never straying as you swallow, a dirty smirk creeping onto his lips. “That's my girl,” he praises, his tone thick with satisfaction.

As the taste lingers on your tongue, you can feel the weight of Logan’s stare like a physical touch.

“Think you can handle another round?” he teases, his voice low and sultry. “I don’t plan on letting you off that easy, kid. Not with all that mouthing off earlier.”

You catch your breath, shaking your head in exasperation. “You’re relentless,” you whisper, a hint of laughter in your voice, though your body betrays you, already craving more.

“Only for you, baby” he replies, brushing the strands of hair plastered to your sweaty forehead behind your ear. “Only for you.”

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mini nat's note: i started my period today chickens...that explains it...

[autumnmatt]

𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺.

summary: matt is playing fornite with his two brothers and he gets to loud when he keeps losing, causing his girlfriend to wake up from her slumber.

classification: fluff

warnings: kissing, pet names, suggestive language, use of y/n

it was about 3 in the morning and you were fast asleep in yours and matts bed, snuggled up in a blanket with matts stuffed pug mr. wrinkleton tucked under your arm.

matt on the other hand was in the middle of a very intense fornite match with his brothers nick and chris. there were about 10 people left in that match and your boyfriend was very determined to win.

all was going good during the game play until him and his brothers came across this very sweaty team. “on me on me!! these kids are good I need backup quickkk” matt yelled to nick and chris through his headset.

he then faced one of the opposing teammates but of course he lost the battle between them and got knocked. “FUCKKKKK” he screamed out of frustration. nick also got killed a little while after matt did by the same person.

y/n wasn’t that much of a heavy sleeper so when he started to yell out, she shifted in bed a little opening up her eyes to see what the yelling was coming from.

she looked up and saw the bright screen in front of her with fornite being played along with her boyfriend sitting in his gaming chair banging on the desk from just getting killed. she puts the blanket over her head and closes her eyes in an attempt to fall back asleep.

“CHRIS DUDE YOURE SO BAD THOSE KIDS WERE ASS” matt yells, slamming his controller on the desk making a very loud sound that could be heard throughout the room.

y/n tossed and turned once more slowly losing the battle of getting back to sleep. so she got up, yanked the covers off of her body, and started sleepily walking over towards matt, dragging her feet with every step she took.

once she made it over to the chair where he sat she stood there, waiting for matt to realize she was standing here. and once he did he could see the pout forming on her lips, instantly feeling guilt for being so loud so late at night.

“oh baby I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” he frowned, muting his mic and taking his headset off then holding his arms out to her and patting his lap, inviting her to come sit down.

she straddled him and rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the comfort of his warm body and taking in his familiar scent, the scent she loved most.

“go back to sleep baby, I promise I’ll keep it down”. he said and kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her so that he could still have access to the controller also slowly rubbing up and down on her lower back.

“come to bed with me.” she groaned into his shoulder. she was already strarting to fall back asleep.

“of course I will baby.” he smiled taking his hands off the controller putting the headset on one last time to tells his brothers his was going to sleep. he shut of his computer, put his headset and controller up and gently picked her up to bring to the bed.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to prevent yourself from falling out of his arms. your face now buried into his chest.

he set you down on your side of the bed before walking over to his pulling the blanket over the both of you and situating the pillows so they were at a comfortable position under your heads.

you faced him for a few seconds to say your goodnights. you kissed his lips lazily before speaking. “goodnight I love you.” you spoke up, resting your head onto his chest and wrapping your arms around him.

“goodnight I love you too baby”. he said before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. he kissed your forehead before you slowly drifted off to sleep in each others arms.

a/n: AHHHH I think this is so cute. my 2nd story on here, thank you so much for the love on my first story and definitely send me some requests. hope you enjoyed this fic, love you all!!!

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[saetoru]

imagine being fwbs with gojo n in the middle of folding you like a lawn chair he noses at your cheek n goes “hey do u wanna be my girlfriend?”

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BEST OF THE BEST — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fwb! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, unprotected sex, mating press, creampie, non canon compliant (suguru and shoko are ur friend group >:( tyvm), very cheesy ending my b, yes i made a reference to this is where you’re weak, right? sue me, petnames (sweetheart, sweet girl, princess, baby)

“bet you were waitin’ for this all day, huh sweetheart?” satoru always has a way with words—a very unique, special, and irritating way with words that routinely manages to get under your skin.

you would scoff—in fact, you would call him quite a colorful variation of words if his thick cock wasn’t pressing comfortably against your sweet spot.

so instead, you gasp a quiet, “f-fuck—right there.”

“yeah, i know,” he chuckles, “this is where you need me, huh? where you’re weak?”

you can’t do anything but whimper at that, hands wrapped tightly around him as they claw into his shoulder. he always wears the marks you leave like a good sport too—shows up to the gym in a tank top that shows them off good and well, right for suguru to see them clear as day. you almost block satoru right on the spot when he sends you a selfie in the mirror, showing off the angry marks with a wink following.

it’s a bit of a predicament, fucking your high school friend and not letting anyone know. the idea of shoko and suguru finding out that every other night, satoru is in your bed as his cum leaks out of your abused cunt is enough to make you nauseous—but never nauseous enough not to open the door for him.

the most unfortunate fact you’ve learned in your life is that satoru knows how to fuck—in fact, he knows how to fuck you well enough that you let him come back. it’s a bit shameful, really, the way you let him knock on your door, the way you open it and let him in, the way you actually fuck him and let him sleep in your bed until the morning.

and then (because he’s an asshole) he wakes up, gives you a sly wink, and murmurs i’ll be back soon, yeah? keep that bed warm for me, sweetheart.

“c-close, toru—‘m gonna….gonna—”

“gonna what? cum? already? barely even fucked you yet,” he hums, hooking your leg over his shoulder before all but pressing you in half. you mewl at the way his tip brushes past your folds and splits you in half—deeper this time with the new position. “look at that,” he coos, staring down at the way his cock slips in and out of you, “takin’ me so well, sweet girl. i think you can go a bit longer, don’t you?”

“m-more, more—need—”

“i know, i know,” he grins, “need me to fuck you dumb, don’t you? don’t worry, princess. i’ll give you more.”

his hips snap into you, pelvis rocking against yours as his pre cum and your slick mix, making a mess between your bodies as it coats your skin. you gasp, pulling satoru closer as his head falls to tuck into your shoulder, his labored breaths fanning against the shell of your ear.

“‘s good,” you whine, “f-feels good, toru.”

“yeah? feel that? squeezin’ me so tight, i can barely move,” he groans, letting out a sweet, low sound into your ear that has your spine shivering—you think you could come undone from that, from the sounds he makes as your walls flutter around him.

you think everything about satoru is enough to send you over the edge, from the sound of his voice to that pretty face of his when he spills into you.

you know he’s close—you can feel the slight twitch of his cock as his pace gets sloppier, as his thumb finds your clit and rubs desperate circles into the sensitive nerves, as he practically presses your knees to your shoulders and bullies his throbbing cock deep into your dripping cunt. and you’re close too, head spinning as your eyes flutter shut and your lips part with a broken wail.

“c-close—‘gonna cum, toru,” you gasp, voice coming in labored pants as his breath hitches.

you look perfect like this—like you’re his, like your body was made for him to touch in sinful ways, like it was his cock that was always supposed to fit into you and make you fall apart. his hand grabs yours, and without thinking, both of your fingers interlace.

“baby,” he hums, his nose pressing into your cheek as he kisses the skin softly, “‘m gonna make you mine, yeah? wanna be my girlfriend? my sweet girl? you want it, right?”

you should be shocked—you should stop and ask him what he means, what he’s playing at, what he thinks he’s doing toying with your mind.

instead, you gasp, pulling him closer as your walls spasm around him, back arching and eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly snaps and you cum. hard. harder than he’s ever made you before. does the idea of being his really do that to you? does the idea of being his sweet, precious girl outside of your bed at night really send you hurdling over the edge like that?

evidently, it does—and your high sends him right into his own. like he needs you to fall apart so he can too, like the way he knows you feel good makes him feel good too. maybe he does want you, maybe it’s not a sick joke. the way his voice cracks with a strained call of your name certainly says as much—the way his hand tightens its grip on yours, the way his hips rut desperately as he presses impossibly closer, the way he presses hot, scattered kisses along your cheek and jaw as he groans through his release.

it’s messy. it’s filthy. it’s downright dirty the way satoru fucks his cum into you, letting it drip down your thighs and mark your skin—but it feels like being his.

you think you might want that.

he’s gentle when he finishes—carefully unhooks your legs from his shoulders before running a hand along your thigh and squeezing as he observes the cum dripping between your legs. you huff when he collapses over you, glaring at him as his weight presses onto your form.

“you’re heavy,” you grunt, smacking at his shoulder.

he hums, nose pressing to your jaw as he kisses it. “not moving till you answer me.”

“satoru, don’t joke about—”

“how rude,” he gasps, “you think i would joke while i’m balls deep in—”

“oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands, “please stop talking.”

he grins, chuckling as he shuffles up to bury his face into your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. “you don’t wanna be my girlfriend? that’s gonna hurt my feelings, y’know.”

satoru has always been like that, wearing an easy grin and plastering that playfulness on like a second skin. you can hear it though—the slight unease in his voice. you can’t fathom letting everyone know that sometimes, you let satoru fuck you…but maybe knowing that sometimes, you hold hands, and maybe kiss, and perhaps snuggle on the couch, and potentially even share a bed to sleep, not just fuck, but sleep—maybe they can know that. 

that doesn’t sound so bad. 

“that depends,” you hum, pretending to think, “how good at being a boyfriend are you?”

“excellent,” he plays along, “best of the best.”

“that’s just big talk. you could be lying for all i know,” you point out—but your fingers slip into his hair, twirling the sweaty strands along your fingers. 

“well, you’ll just have to let me prove i’m a good boyfriend—so that means i have to be your boyfriend. sorry, it’s the only way.”

if satoru hears the giggle you try to hide as you sigh exaggeratedly, he doesn’t mention it, lips pulling into a giddy smile as he pulls his head out of your neck and presses his forehead to yours. your hands cup his cheeks, squeezing gently.

“i guess if this is the only way,” you shake your head theatrically, “you can be my boyfriend. for now.”

“i’m grateful,” he snorts—and then there’s a peck to your lips. one, two, three gentle kisses before he presses a lingering one. it’s sweet, and slow, and just a bit needy as he presses deeper into you. “now i can tell suguru the scratches on my back are yours. he’s been asking a lot.”

leave it to satoru to speak and ruin the moment just by opening his mouth.

“satoru,” you hiss, throwing him a sharp look, “i think you’d be a better boyfriend when your mouth is shut.”

“then i can’t kiss you,” he gasps, “that’s the best part of being my girlfriend.”

and just to prove it, he kisses you again—and maybe, although you hate to admit it, he’s right. it is the best part. 

i wanna be his girlfriend :(

[boowritess]

part 2 lol

so apparently it's really fucking hard to get into the SAS. and ontop of that I've been getting tiktoks of people going around an army base asking why they joined. most responses were to pay off student loans, bills, school, (someone said there's was 6 years of prison or school and *mental note for idea*), the recruiter lied or spoilt them, barracks bunny.

141 (poly?) x notsobaddasssoldier!reader

and now i can't stop thinking of soldier!reader. who really half-assed their way through everything - only doing the job for the money and to pay off student loans + they had nothing better to do.

who somehow ends up being adopted by Price (kinda like Gaz i guess ???) all because reader happened to be in the right place at the right time and saved Price's ass while managing to complete a mission the Task Force were doing.

and it's not that you saved his ass or completed the mission that makes Price go *this is mine* - it's the fact that afterwards all you can say is-

"this shit is so not worth paying off my student loans."

"oh fuck i forgot to cancel my subscription. fuckk- waste of fucking money"

- all the while a building is burning in front of you but yeah just not at all concerned about what had just happened. so price just *grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you up, claiming you as part of his task force now.*

(lol you probably can't do that irl but this is fiction sooo suck my ass.)

and laswell's just like no... they are very much still green john. way too green. no.

but it's too late. he's already introducing you to the task force. singing your praises and you're just like

"man he promised to pay off my student loans and give me food." basically how ur recruiter got ya ass.

enough said. you get the whole off the books speech, saving the world by doing things others wouldn't like. but u couldn't give a rats ass - you should but nah...

and like... you know you're the rookie... you're still green... but some of the shit 141 do you just...

"so you just gonna kidnap the wife AND the child...? right... kid, you wanna watch bluey? here..."

"and you do this often...? crazy."

but you don't exactly protest. how could you with how much you get paid. you kinda just side-eye and look away when it's geta a lil crazy. *bombastic side-eye*

and the other 141 guys - oh my days. become just as enormed as price and want to start really trying to amplify your skills. but every time, they start explaining how to do things - the best way to go about a situation or how to fight a certain way.

you pull this face. like your top lip pulls back, your eyebrows scrunch together, and there's a slight frown on your lips as they speak. like you look confused/disgusted. but you don't even realise cause-

"why're you pulling that face?" 141

"that's... that's just my focusing face..."

"oh..." 141 feels bad

then when they do take you in feild you're shaking your head no. like you haven't been around that long. what the fuck? now you're bout to infiltrate an enemy base!?!?!

"can i just wait in the car?"

"no." price

"i'm gonna vomit."

"aim at the enemy." ghost

people think that because you're suddenly in this badass task force that surely they're just using you for your assets.

they all think you're the 141 barracks bunny. and maybe you should be pissed or annoyed or grossed out. but all you can do is sigh and pause from the burger price got you, and let out a long exhale.

"fuck... maybe i can just do onlyfans or be a pornstar... shit maybe it's not too late..."

"military is bascially sex work - selling my body..."

"not that different from what i'm doing now. body being used, check. body sore in the strangest places, check."

your tone so empty, blank and nonchalant, but there's a serious look in your eyes that when you grab your phone out to maybe do a little research on how you could do that, your phone is snatched from your hand by one of the guys and they walk out the room without a second look back.

with an annoyed huff, you go back to eating your burger. but suddenly, you turn to the person who genuinely thought you were a barracks bunny.

"hey you think if i be a barracks bunny i get out of missions and shit?"

"...that's not how it works..." rando.

"fuck."

and maybe you try...

like you go to price's office and the guys are already in there, chatting about something that you should really pay attention too but you can't be assed. instead you unashamedly start to speak...

"if i suck ya'll dicks can i get out the mission?"

"no. you still have to join." gaz says amused

"even if you-" *que long sigh from price* "even if you suck our dicks."

"that's fucked up. i should've done porn."

and with the most hurt and broken-hearted look on your face, you leave the office, closing the door with a dramatic sigh. the guys just stare at the door in... confusion, amusement, and maybe arousal if ya'll dig that

idk man just gimmie more soldier!reader who just really ain't the fucked, there for money, lowkey hungry and doesn't know what the fuck is happening. kinda a pet or little sibling energy that the 141 love.

bonus*

"wait so they aren't sucking our dicks?" *soap says getting slapped in the back of the head by ghost

a/n: brain is rottinnggg. i should be doing so much other shit but... cod just consumes my brain 24/7

[bwabys-scenarios]

CAN YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO PERV ILLUMI i do not think there is enough perv illumi content on this app

He’s a perv

Perv!Illumi x Fem!Reader

A/N: sorry this is short and may resemble my other perv writings… but I hope y’all like it! Join my server

warnings: pervy Illumi, yandere behavior, masturbation, panty stealing, he’s kind of yucky, breeding, pregnancy

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter

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Illumi had never experienced sexual attraction before. Had he gotten some morning wood once or twice? Yes, but he rarely felt the urge to jack off.

That was… until he met you.

He wasn’t quite sure what made you so appealing. You looked ordinary, at least… you should have. Illumi had been surrounded by the worlds most beautiful women since he was but a boy… yet here he was, getting hard over a girl he had barely met.

Maybe it was your soft curves, or the ways your hips swayed when you walked… it could have even been your sweet voice, and those pretty, glossy lips that made him want to pull you in and taste the shiny lipgloss you were wearing…

Whatever it was, ever since he first laid eyes on you, Illumi’s body had been acting strangely. Even a whiff of your perfume could have his cock twitching, standing at attention and ready for you… it was quite embarrassing, or it would have been if Illumi had any shame.

No, the only reason Illumi his his overwhelming desire for you was because he wanted these feelings to go away as quickly as possible. He couldn’t fall for some nobody Hunter with nen weaker than all the other applicants that had passed with you. No, Illumi was supposed to marry the best of the best, a woman whose womb could bear a strong heir.

But… that didn’t stop him from acting on some of his urges…

Unfortunately, Illumi couldn’t seem to let you out of his sight. It was annoying, following you around as you did your little daily chores in town. He could hardly get any work done when you looked so cute. You didn’t even realize your panties were showing when you bent over to pick up a coin…

When he couldn’t be constantly watching over you, Illumi would steal little trinkets from your home to… keep him satiated. Used panties, your lipgloss, and clothing items that smelled like your perfume.

He’d wrap your panties around his cock as he jerked off, your cardigan pressed against his face. If he really focused, he could imagine your pussy tightening around him, your plump thighs pressing against him as he bounced you on his cock…

He’d cum buckets into your panties, then break into your apartment and drop them off on your floor, like a cat leaving a dead mouse as a gift.

After a while, his urges grew and grew, until your panties just weren’t enough for him anymore.

Wooing you wasn’t too hard, and getting into your pants was easier than he would have though. The fact you were a virgin was very surprising… but welcomed. After all, he was a virgin as well.

The second his cock sunk into you, he immediately knew that he could never let you go. To hell with a strong heir, he wanted you, and only you. You were the only one that could make him feel this way… soft, vulnerable, and so goddamn horny.

Poor, poor you, having Illumi fuck into you for hours on end, unable to pull out of your pretty, warm cunt. He fucked so much cum into you that you felt so swollen and full…

Even after he was done, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he held you close, kissing the top of your head. “You’re all mine, darling. I’ll have wedding preparations ready within a week.”

You were much too exhausted to argue… and you weren’t sure you could say no to Illumi Zoldyck… so you just slept, accepting your fate. You’d be taken care of, and would never have to worry about anything ever again.

Shortly, Illumi would have his now pregnant wife in his home, where she would be safe, and where he could ravish her whenever he felt like it.

[hurlingdown]

                     DRESS . . . TO IMPRESS ?

synopsis. in celebration of the most wonderful time of the year, the one piece men have prepared extra special gifts for you. zoro, law, luffy, ace.

tags. dom! reader, implied top! reader. christmas fluff, crossdressing, big muscly men in skimpy skirts, law in a nurse outfit, lingerie, heavy petting, dirty talk, kissing, horribly written crack (i inserted my humour into this), mentions of sex, fingering, cock-warming, rimming etc, don’t read this seriously, it gets progressively worse, spending the holiday season with them <3

a/n. this is my christmas gift to the one piece fandom. enjoy lol.

“merry christmas,” zoro grunted, and you felt a little dizzy from the overwhelming endorphin rush that went straight to your head and somewhere else. 

because this… this was something you would have never anticipated for a christmas gift. this was zoro you were talking about. the epitome of stoicism. had he been just… pretending all along? you would’ve expected something like an earring, maybe, to match his three. a love letter was simply out of the question… though a bouquet of poinsettias wouldn’t be over the top, if he had consulted nami in the first place. but this? this was just… breath-stealing. 

you watched as your lover rolled onto his stomach in his scanty outfit to show off the crystal pink plug that he had stuffed into his puffy rim, shooting you a coy glance over his shoulder. “well?” he hummed. “do you like it, babe?” 

“yeah,” you breathed out. “i love it. you look gorgeous. i think… i think i just fell in love with you all over again.”

he coughed, a blush rising to his cheeks, and yeah, this was something you were more familiar with—not the balmy heat shrouding your face, the dry crawl of your throat whenever you so simply looked at him, the hint of sweat building at your temples at the thought of doing nasty, sinful things to him. 

was he even real? were you dreaming? you better not be, because this was a meal you were going to spend your good time ravishing. 

“well, merry christmas to you, too,” you murmured lowly, climbing onto the bed after him, and he bit his lip with a shiver, raising his hips slightly to present you your christmas gift. you wasted no time in laying your hands on him, squeezing at the skin-tight fabric over his luscious thighs, giving his cushiony ass a small slap before smoothing over the warm ache. 

“gonna eat you out until you’re wet and sore, baby,” you told him, “and then i’m going to finger you while we binge watch shitty christmas movies together on the couch.” you licked your lips, pretending to think about what you were going to say next. “actually... might as well have you cockwarm me while we’re at it. and once we’re done with that, i’m gonna put it in your slutty hole and fuck you ‘til you start crying, okay?” 

“and after that too,” zoro mumbled, shifting onto his back and pulling you down for a soft, wet kiss that sent butterflies roaring in your stomach. 

TRAFALGAR LAW

“traf, sweetheart, have you seen my—oh.” 

“get. out.” 

“what are you wearing…?” 

“are you deaf? i said get out!” 

“hold on, okay? it’s not like i haven’t seen you naked before! just… is that a nurse uniform?”

but this was different from being naked. this was far more embarrassing. law looked at you with narrowed eyes, tone sharp with accusation that bordered on hurt. “what? you don’t like it?” he nervously bit his lip, pulling down his skirt and squeezing his legs together as though it would hide the very obviously aroused state of his crotch. 

“i do! how could i not? you haven’t even let me say anything yet!” you swallowed, feeling saliva seep into your mouth at the erotic sight before you. “you look so fucking hot, you have no idea. i love it, traf. i love it so much—” 

“okay, okay, i get it.” he huffed with feigned irritation, a small breath of relief escaping him as he shyly glanced at the floor, hands still clutching at the fabric of his dress. “m-merry christmas.” 

you took a few tentative steps forward until you stopped in front of him, and he frowned and turned away, heat rising to his cheeks. “don’t look at me like that. it wasn’t my idea, just so you know…” he swallowed when you put your hands on his bony hips and squeezed, subtly exploring the rest of his outfit with your eyes, and he sighed, relaxing a little. “hey, say something…” 

“sorry,” you chuckled, meeting his gaze again. “you’re just… beautiful. i love you. i love the fit. it looks so good on you… thank you for the christmas gift, love.” 

“and where’s mine?” he said, attempting to distract you from the deep flush on his cheeks. he slung his arms loosely around your neck, giving you an almost pouty look, to which your heart clenched at. “... don’t tell me you didn’t bring me one.” 

“oh, but i did.”

. . . you swore you tried so hard. but you could feel it creeping up on you, like a silhouette, surreptitiously tugging at the corners of your lips. fuck it. you just couldn’t hold back your smirk. you thought you were just absolutely brilliant, coming up with this idea of a gift. you knew he would love it. you just knew. 

“eyes on me, baby.”

maintaining sensual eye contact with him, you gently laced your fingers with his, pressing each of his knuckles to your lips in tender kisses. then, with a gentle smile, you guided his hand down, slowly, slowly, until it was fully pressed against the front of your trousers, right where the zipper was. you nudged your hips towards the cup of his palm, faking a moan.

“there’s your gift,” you murmured seductively, and watched giddily as his golden eyes widened in shock and arousal before a sharp, splitting pain on the side of your face knocked you out. 

“pervert!”

you laughed victoriously as you went down. like he wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black with that cute little outfit of his.

MONKEY D. LUFFY

“merry christmas!” you heard a deafening guffaw before something crash-tackled you from behind, and you fell onto the floor in a heap of rubbery limbs. 

“luffy!” you choked out a laugh as your lover wrapped himself around your ribs, still unwilling to let go. “baby, i can’t breathe.” 

“oh. sorry!” he retracted his arms and legs, getting off you with a spring. you sat up, and that’s when you saw what he was wearing. a cute christmas skirt and matching leggings, and he looked so ridiculously adorable you had to do a double take. he frowned at your flabbergasted expression, leaning in to inspect your face. “huh? did i break you? i promise, i didn’t mean to hit you that hard! wait, why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” 

he pat your head, as though that would fix things. you squinted at his carefree smile. hold on. what the absolute shit. was that lipstick? 

“luff,” you took a deep breath, trying to steady your heartbeat. “who dressed you up?” 

“nami, duh,” he sung, giving you a little twirl to show off the fit. you already knew the answer—you just had to double confirm. crap. just how much money did you owe her now? a thousand berri? two thousand? to be fair, for this quality of work, you’d pay her a fortune. “nami said you’d like it. well? d’you?” 

“yeah,” you murmured, half in awe, half in devastation, because this was a really bad time to get horny if luffy wasn’t in the mood. “you look really pretty, baby. i love it a lot.” you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will away the horny. but it was just so hard to stop being horny all of a sudden. every time you closed your eyes, all you could envision was the horny: him in that skimpy christmas skirt, a bright flush on his cheeks, sprawled out on the bed underneath you… 

the soft press of lips against your cheek made your eyes shoot open. “huh?” 

the red colour on his lips was now slightly smudged, and you raised your hand to gently touch your now stained cheek in realisation. “oh…” 

“you looked consti- constipated sittin’ there!” luffy explained, in a much louder voice than usual, a thick blush covering his face. “i had to, y’knoow, help you out… in case you were having a hard time…” 

and well, there goes your horny.

PORTGAS D. ACE

“darling! you’re home!” you watched as your lover clumsily hobbled out of the bathroom, swathed in the most colourful gift-wrapping paper you had ever seen from chest to heel. “merry christmas!” 

you blinked. were you seeing things? “ace, honey,” you started, slowly, with a laugh. “know that i’d love it either way, but… are you supposed to be my gift?” 

“well, yeah, sort of.” he grinned, trying to make his way over to you in awkward steps. he winked, keeping himself just out of arm’s reach when you tried to pull him into a kiss. “just watch. you might even be surprised.” 

he raised a finger mischievously, and you watched as the tip of it caught on fire. he continued smiling his infamous ‘up-to-no-good’ grin, carefully bringing the small flame near his clothed chest. you raised your eyebrows, unsure, because as much as he was immune to fire, the gift-wrapping probably wasn’t... and the furniture in your house definitely wasn’t. 

“watch…” ace stressed with a hush, dramatically pressing his blazing finger onto the wrapping paper, to which it burnt a hole right through, orange flames immediately clinging on to the circular edges, rapidly widening the puncture. soon, his entire so-called ‘outfit’ was on fire, and you were starting to get alarmed when an eye-catching dark red slowly emerged from the burgeoning flames, strapped right across his chest. 

you choked. was that… a bra? 

“ta-da!” he shouted, opening his arms in full display with what could only be described as pure mirth. “fireproof lingerie!” 

what the fuck. you stood there, gaping, unwilling to believe. the rest of the flames gradually died down, revealing a gorgeous pair of red lace lingerie that hugged his crotch and chest in all the perfect areas, showing off his muscled figure, broad in the shoulders but tight in the waist, with thick hips and strong thighs. you could feel yourself salivating post-shock. 

“baby, you look really, really sexy, but…” you began, swallowing down your laughter. “forget it. why am i even surprised at this point?” ace grinned, albeit a little more sheepish than usual, rubbing at the back of his neck as you checked him out unabashedly. “ah, damn it. you look like a whole feast. i’m going to have a hard time keeping my hands off you tonight…” 

“ain’t that the purpose,” ace purred, shooting you a naughty glance through his lashes. “come and get me, hot stuff. and hey, guess what? we won’t have to worry about me accidentally burning my clothes off this time.” 

and needless to say, the both of you had a very merry christmas that night, indeed.

masterlist!

MERRY CHRISTMAS! SORRY IF YOUR BONER DIED 💓🫶

[evieelyzabethh]

"taste"

☆"you're wonderin' why half his clothes went missin', my body's where they're at"☆ Wearing Arcane characters clothes {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw☞ slightly pervy jayce, a bit of fluff, Viktor calls reader a whore, a bit suggestive for all of them

an: this is the case for all my titles, but I feel I should clarify; the songs are not meant to accompany the headcanons, I just get lazy when naming things so I cherry pick song lyrics then use the title lol.

♞Vi♞

♞Vi never thought she would have to worry about her clothes going missing. They're all tattered and torn, holey from all the times she's been cut or stabbed, blood stained from all her injuries throughout the years, and absolutely falling apart at the seams. Hell, her own shirts are so ruined she usually just walks around in chest binding bandages. Granted, stealing Vi's clothes started from an accident of convenience.

You didn't think anything of it as you slipped on the old thing, the writing so faded you could no longer make out the outlines of the letters and the color so sun-bleached it just looked a dull beige. There were holes along the shoulder blade, rib cage, and chest, the hems had long since unraveled, and the neckline had been cut. It Vi wasn't so averse to throwing things out, it's home would've been the garbage can ages ago. But still, it was comfy and clean and something of hers, so you pulled it over your head and carried on into the laundry room where you sat on top of your washing unit, vibrating along with the clunky machine beneath you. You decided to read as you wait, eventually become so engrossed with your book, you miss the sounds of Vi trudging her heavy feet across the floor as she returns from her most recent bout of getting her ass kicked. She hums her way around the space, painfully shrugging her jacket over her aching shoulders, enroute to the laundry room where she finds you, ankles crossed with some old mystery book in your hands. She gawks at you for a moment, not quite knowing what to say at the sight of you in her clothing. It looked good on you. Well, everything looked good on you, but this looked right. "Did you get all dressed up for me, pretty? You jump a bit at the sudden intrusion of her slightly gravelly voice, but eventually relax into her warm, musky presence. She knows how you feel about her smearing her bloody lips across your freshly showered skin, so she bites her lip to swallow her urges. "Depends, did you get yourself all battered just so I could patch you up?" She snickers, wiping the remnants of dried blood from her top lip. "Will my honest earn me a pre-shower kiss?" Of course, you nod your head. You have a very hard time denying her, not even bothered by the feeling of her gauze bound hands grip on your thighs and your skin beneath her shirt. She whimpers, leaning heavily onto the washer, her fingers likely leaving marks from how desperately she grabs at you for stability and her own sanity. She doesn't realize until the adrenaline wears off how much tonight did a toll on her, pulling away from the kiss to rest her head on your shoulder. "You need help to the shower?" "Yeah", she murmurs, hardly louder than a whisper, holding onto your waist as you hop down and sling your arm over her shoulder. "No more pit fighting for a while?", you question lightly, to which she responds by pulling a hefty bag of coins from her pants pocket. "Not for a few months."

★Ekko★

★Ekko has a commune, he is absolutely no stranger to sharing, especially when it comes to clothes. As many times as you have snuck a few of his jackets over the years, he has taken his fair share of your tops, liking the way they constrict and show the definition of his biceps and show off his sculpted lower abdomen. You swap rings, hair ties, and all sorts of accessories, it's another way that you two are visually all over each other. I also wouldn't be surprised if he was the type to buy things knowing they would eventually end up in your closet.

★This being said, you would have better luck getting a reaction out of him showing up wearing nothing rather than in his clothes, at least clothes that aren't important to him. He's so desensitized to the idea of sharing; a regular hoodie wouldn't get him going. Wearing something of his though, his jacket, his mask, replicating how he does his face paint, that would certainly get him. It's the explicit connection to him that gets him, it's you proudly wearing an echo of Ekko.

It was cold and wet and dreary. The sky was grey, and murky puddles formed in the innumerable cracks and crevasses in the dirty floor of the Undercity that the ground began to look like a muddy sea of water. It was the perfect day to be inside, maybe make some warm soup, put on a vinyl and pretend the crackley sound bites are early lightning bolts, and bundle up beside Ekko and call it a day before the sun went down. This was not the case as Ekko was out covering the gardens so they wouldn't be flooded by impure water and preparing for any potential storm surge, leaving you home alone, wrapped in his favorite jacket. You doubted it would be a big deal, it's not like he's ever been upset about borrowing his clothes without asking before, but his reaction when he returns home scares you for a moment. His eyes are closed as he walks through the door, carelessly toeing off his shoes, lifting up his already soaked shirt to wipe the running face paint before it gets into his eyes. From your place on the couch, you look out the window for the first time in hours to see it pouring down, the droplets pelting on your windows and the wind sending the occasional pebble flying at the glass. "I'm telling Scar to do this shit next time, it's too damn w- oh." He freezes, midway through yanking off his raincoat, eye's slightly irritated as they stare at you. oh? "Is that my jacket?" You falter a bit. "Yeah...is that ok?" You had no plans of going out in it, wearing only some old cotton shorts whose elastic waistband snapped years ago and a thin tank top. You didn't even have a bra on. He collects himself though, smirking as he looks you up and down, how good the color compliments your complexion, drinking in the slivers of skin, the sight of your nipples through your top. Of course it's ok, in what fucking world would it not be? "Yea, baby, it's fine." His mumbles, his voice lower and his eyes a bit wide. "You look good in it, too. C'mere, do a spin for me."

❂Jayce❂

❂This man is 6'7 and built like a brick shithouse, his clothes absolutely swallow you and he thinks it's adorable. He gets a fit of cuteness aggression, he just wants to squeeze and hug and kiss you until you pop. It speaks to that part of him that is quite aware of his sheer size, his biceps are the size of your head, you have to look up just to make eye contact with him, his clothes practically fall right off you. He's just so...big.

He awakes slightly startled and feeling empty, immediately feeling your lack of warmth in his arms and slightly panicking. It's too early in the morning to be rational and his frequent nightmares are doing him no favors. He hates waking up alone and cold, he feels like he's waking up in that cave again. His senses calm his rapidly beating heart, the comforting smell of coffee and something syrupy sweet, the sound of something sizzling on the stove. He throws the comforter off him, cringing at the feel of the cold floor on his feet before he throws on some socks and sweatpants to wander around half-asleep in. His brain short circuits when he sees you, his large shirt practically hanging off your shoulders, flowing around your bruised and kiss-bitten thighs. You moved lithely around the kitchen, going back from chopping strawberries for the waffles, stirring the eggs, flipping the bacon, and he's man enough to admit he's blushing a bit. You made breakfast for him! That's so cute. He slides behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, bending down to plant kisses on your neck. "My shirt looks really good on you, gorgeous." You giggle, turning around to face the big man behind you who picks you up by your hips to set you on the countertop, settling in between your thighs. "You think?" He hums. "Maybe a few sizes too big, but it's endearing. You look like a little fairy, like I could carry you around in my pocket all day." And his eyes are big and out of focus, that charming gap-toothed smile on display as his hands rub over your smooth skin, pushing his shirt higher and higher. Too big is certainly a familiar sentiment, how desperately you were crying that out just last night is still looping in his brain as he says it. "Maybe I'm normal sized, and you're just a giant. Have you ever thought of it that way?" He chuckles. More times than you can imagine.

☽Viktor☾

☽Hard immediately, next question. His work outfits look completely normal on him, but the buttons pop at your chest and the vests accentuate them in a way that's pornographic. Even his ties only serve to enhance the fantasy, even though they are the exact garments he wears to his lab every day. There is nothing innately sexual about it at all, but that's the fun of it. The fact thar you chose to wear that black lacy bra that you knew would show through the top, the way you wear his reading glasses low on your nose, the red bottom heels that you wear, which in any other context could be seen as perfectly appropriate work attire. It's the performance of it that he appreciates.

He knows exactly what game you are trying to play with him, no matter how hard you try and play coy. There is no way that you accidently shrunk your blouse in the wash, hell, he knows that's not your blouse because the buttons are on the wrong side for it to be female attire. He knows that's his tie, he is one thousand percent sure that if he was to yank you by it and check the underside, he would see his initials embroidered. He knows you left it loose on purpose, you have requested for the entire relationship to pick out and tie his ties for him, he knows you can make it tighter. Everything is utterly loose, for lack of a better word. The top button is undone, the tie isn't completely tucked under the collar, the slit of your skirt is not where it should be. It's a play at looking professional that you and him both know is just a test to see how long it takes for him to crack and rush you both home. At first, he's willing to play ball because you always crack first, but today, however, you decided to be serious about your productivity. He tries to focus, he really does, but after a while the clicking of your heels becomes too hypnotic, the fake attempts at adjusting your tie begin to pile onto the sexual frustration, and you lean over one too many times, giving him a good whiff of your perfume and oh you went with a red bra to match his red tie. He waits for Jayce to leave the room, slamming the book he was 'reading' shut as he lets out a very aggravated breath. "I want my shirt back." Cut and dry, his hand flipping the tie you're wearing to confirm that is indeed his. You smirk, and he would feel the need to wipe it off your face had it not been for the fact that he swallowed his pride hours ago after his hard on became too much to ignore. "You want it back now? Right here." And you're already slipping off the other buttons and he contemplates whether it's worth it to barricade the door with the table to buy you more time or be rational and tell you to stop. "Had I known you planned on being a whore today, I wouldn't have invited you over." You pout as he pulls the knot of his tie, grabbing your hands to bind your hands. "But don't I look pretty, Vik?" He rolls his eyes. "You look magnificent, love."

☼Mel☼

☼Like Ekko, she isn't a stranger to sharing clothes with you. Even if it's not hers, she has an exact replica tailored just for you. This being said, she loves playing dress up with you with her clothes. Anytime she needs to clear out her closet or has an article of clothing she doesn't know how to feel about or just gets bored, she'll call you to wherever she is and request you be her doll for a little bit.

Though you had been in Mel's closet for what had to have been hours at this point, you couldn't really complain. Never had you felt more pampered in your life, tens of gowns, trousers, and blouses gracing your skin as you twirled on the platform in Mel's closet as she analyzed the garment from every angle. Now you stood in something white and flowy, the sleeves long, the bodice double lined for winter weather, the hemline off the shoulders and trimmed with fur, the bottom thick and heavy. "What do you think lovey? Do you think it's too on the nose, you know I've never been the biggest fan of fur." Her hand feels across your chest, dusting off where some of the fluff had fallen and rubbing the soft material in her hands. "I don't see you in fur, it's too much of your mother's thing, but I do think it's nice. The lining is really nice on the skin, sorta has a fleece feel to it." She nods, moving her hands along your waist to connect with the silver zipper. She clucks her tongue. "Would I be silly to not wear it because the zipper isn't gold. I know it's a miniscule detail, but I really don't do silver." You chuckle as you look around her closet, a room larger than the bedroom you grew up in filled with racks of clothes that had some sort of golden sheen, be it from the color of the fabric, some sort of metallic accent, or a reflection from the general vibe of the room. "My love, you have so many clothes in here I doubt you would wear it regardless." She smiles. "Are you getting tired of this." You hesitate, which is plenty answer enough for her. You had been standing for hours at this point, and your back was starting to ache from how straight your back had been. "Do you have it in you for just one more. I promise, it'll be quick." She already has it out of the box, a very small party dress that you had never seen her wear before. "I bought it months ago but have been going back and forth between whether or not it would look better on me or you." Of course, you oblige, and she giggles as she zips you out of the dress, carefully sliding it off until the fabric pools around your nearly naked body. Her tunnel vision is briefly abandoned as her movements slow, lingering over the curves of her body, her fingernail tracing tiny hearts on the skin of your chest. "I know I say this every time, but you truly do look beautiful out of everything. Undressing you may be my favorite part of this." You playfully roll your eyes. "Stop being a flirt and just zip me into the dress, I want lunch."