#WEAR AN UNDERSHIRT OR SOMETHING AT LEAST

[penofwildfire]

I swear to god they make these design choices just to piss me off

[miss-floral-thief]

kinda bs that weight gain might make your chest grow but if you lose weight it wouldn't necessarily shrink your chest

[mercuriallily]

One of the things that bothers me the most about the Until Dawn remake is the lighting at the beginning

The game takes place in Canada in February. The sun goes down at about 5PM during that time. Sam arrives around 9PM. It looks like it's 4:30PM

Are the devs unaware of how Canadian winters work

[chososdiscordkitten]

Can I Suck Them?

Synopsis: Asking jjk men if u can suck on their boobies, ranked from most sensitive nipples to least w/ GN!Reader

Includes: 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢

(a.n)the only one that has like 'real' smut it gojos, the first time I write for Naoya...... scary.

MDNI

Kento Nanami

Nanami had caught you staring at his chest a handful of times, often thinking why you were looking- or why you had that depraved look in your eye. But when you finally had the gall to ask- “Can I suck your tits?” in a playful tone- eyeing the little bumps beneath his white sleep shirt that accentuated his large pecs. 

“I don't have tits, sweetheart.” he smiled with a sigh as he looked down to his coffee cup. You hummed, looking at the curve of his chest, 

With a smile you crooned, “Is that a no?” watching his expression fall- in all honesty Nanami thought you were kidding, the question not too strange from the usual things you'd say to him. Knowing you'd say little unfiltered comments with no meaning behind them. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side waiting for you to laugh and say you were kidding. 

Only you didn't. 

Finding you standing before him, thumbing the protruding bud hidden by the white fabric as you stared at his waning expression. 

Nanami tried keeping a stoic face- he tried pretending that it didn't feel like anything. But the more he tried to keep the little sighs in the sound of whimpers to himself- the more they wanted to come out. 

All that from just a few swipes of your thumb on his nipple. Nanami knew he was sensitive- often having to wear an undershirt beneath his button downs to avoid the light grazes from the coarse fabric. But he didn't know they were sensitive in this way. 

In the way that had his cock jumping in his pajama bottoms, had his heart pounding beneath his plentiful pecs, and most embarrassing of all- had his eyebrows pinching up in a light crease, with soft puffs coming from his lungs in the shape of small whimpers. 

And though you looked at him with an astonished expression- he still felt a sprinkle of vulnerability as you pressed your thumb onto the pebble beneath the fabric. 

Here you were- thinking if he’s squirming now, even with the millimeter of his shirt separating your thumb from his nipple- what face would he make once you sucked them?

Nanami placed his mug onto the kitchen counter, fearing if you continued he might drop it. 

You pulled your thumb from the white cotton, mouth watering, scoffing lightly at how you could almost see the halo of pink beneath the white fabric. 

Your hands fell to the hem of his shirt- looking into his eyes and asking, “Can I?” with an expression that could only be described as wondrous. 

Nanami hesitated, he furrowed his eyebrows and thought about it for a solid few seconds- unsure if he wanted to tread through these waters so early in the morning. 

Bordering on perverted how fast your hands maneuvered his shirt off the second he nodded ‘yes’. 

You stared at his plump chest for a second- admiring the light peach fuzz on them, Nanami was used to your deranged antics, sure. Times when you'd bring up something new to try in bed. Or when you'd spout insinuating compliments to him when he got home from work. Almost all those times, you were on the receiving end. 

But this- this was easing into a new dynamic that was unexplored between you two. You flashed your eyes to him, parting your lips and leaning in closer to his chest. 

The sound that left his throat when you licked a stripe onto the little stiff mound- was intoxicating. 

Your hand went to his other, rolling it in your fingers as you pressed your lips onto his chest. Nanami’s shoulders shivered from the warmth of your mouth, small huffs falling from his lips without censorship. 

The feeling of succession you felt when you finally swirled your tongue around it, how it felt to feel his cock harden against your tummy- it was like finally cracking a level of a game you've spent countless hours trying to beat.

The satisfaction of hearing the little gasps from his throat when you grazed your teeth against the little bud was something you didn't know you needed to hear till now. Even more when you'd let it go with a quiet ‘pop’, blowing light air onto the damp peak on his chest. 

The shivering breaths he exhaled were exhilarating to hear.

It wasn't long till you granted him the favor of pulling his weeping cock from his bottoms, stroking him slowly as he braced his hands onto the kitchen counter, knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping onto it. 

It wasn't an act that needed any dirty talk, nor any teasing from you. All you wanted was to please him. And maybe, soothe the itch you've felt in your brain since you noticed how suckable his chest really was. 

You were sure that this little discovery would make its way into some intimate moments with Nanami, judging how fucked out he looked from a few soft strokes and having his nipples sucked on. You were positive he could cum from that alone, but that was a trial for another day. 

Naoya Zenin

I honestly don't think he'd be open to it- but if he was he'd need a lot, a lot of convincing. But, I think if you were to be kissing him- sloppy and his tongue practically shoved down your throat. His back flush against the wall as your hands gripped onto his bare torso. He’d pull away, huffing with a light blush on his cheeks-

Naoya would place his hand atop your head, aiming your head down his bare torso. He would always do this, guide you to suck his cock before any kind of intercourse. 

Only you weren't some anti-romantic monster like he was. In an attempt to make this more caring- more sensual. You placed light kisses onto his collar bones, undoing the buckle of his pants as he huffed in annoyance. 

Naoya gruffed, “Hurry up.” he spit through clenched teeth, not knowing why you’d always have to take your time when it came to these things. Even when you explained ‘it feels better when it's slow’ he didn't believe you. 

But as you licked a small stripe past his nipple- just trying to convince him that a little build up was fun. Naoya unwillingly let out a sound neither of you had heard before. 

A mix of a hic and whimper- You froze with your lips parted, almost as though time stopped. Naoya’s shoulders tensed up, waiting for you to make a snide comment or make fun of him. 

Only you didn't, instead you darted your tongue past your lips, pressing it back gently onto his nipple as he huffed a quiet, ‘Sto-’ with a quivered lip, melting into the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive bud. Swirling the tip of your tongue around the erogenous zone as he sighed with a gulp.

That was till the realization of what was actually happening set in. He grasped your shoulders- pushing you back lightly. The look on his face was littered with confusion, a deep blush, a hint of thrill and most of all: he looked mortified. 

You looked at him with wide eyes, inhaling as you parted your lips- only for Naoya to interrupt. “Don’t.” he gritted through his teeth, “Don't say anything.” he avoided your gaze as he tried catching his breath. 

“It’s okay Naoya-” you exhaled in a whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek only for him to pull away with an exhale. “Shut up.” he gruffed, pushing away your hand that tried to caress his cheek.

Seeing as he refused to look at you or accept your assurances, instead you leaned down to the center of his chest. Right below his collar bones and pressed a kiss to his flushed skin. Being able to feel his heart pounding against your lips as he sighed. A mix of distress and satisfaction at feeling your lips press against his skin.

With your lips brushing against the little curve of his chest, “I just wanna make you feel good.” you murmured against his skin, only hearing a small exhale from Naoya’s bowed head, trying to hide the embarrassing expression he was making. 

“It's repulsive-” he whispered with a hidden grimace as you pressed soft pecks around his sensitive nipple, the blush on his cheeks tingling the tip of his nose. 

You tried hiding the smile that tickled his skin, “No, Naoya,” your words vibrated against his chest as you pulled from it, “It's hot.” you smiled before darting your tongue back out of your mouth. Assuring him that this wasn't some anomaly or out of the ordinary. You were ready to show him just how alluring his sensitivity was with your tongue. 

Again, he would let you do it. But only after a lot, a lot of convincing. But once you start, he's a puddle in your hands. 

Satoru Gojo

I see him applying lotion after a shower, carelessly swiping his hands to massage the lotion onto his chest. If he was being honest, Satoru had noticed your little staring problem whenever his chest would be glazed with something, clenching your jaw as you eyed the curve of his chest. 

A shit eating grin splayed onto his lips as he felt you gawk at his bare chest. “Hungry?” he spoke up with a cocky giggle. You sighed heavily, almost agreeing with what he asked. 

“It's so unfair.” you muttered, keeping a light tone as you watched his eyebrows furrow.

“Unfair?”

You took a few steps closer to him, a feigned mournful look on your face as you reached out to his still damp chest, holding his tits gently in your hands as though they were a prized possession, earning for Gojo to let out a breathy giggle, “Yes, deeply unfair.” you scoffed, running your thumb over his pale nipple. Earning a small huff from him in response.

Gojo felt an itch crawl up his back as you lightly grazed his nipple with your thumb, your other hand indenting into the swell seeing how pliant his skin was.

Early in your relationship you were aware his nipples were on the more sensitive side, seeing how blushed they'd get after he straightened his back, the friction from being chest to chest in missionary the cause. But you had yet to suck on them, even if most times your mouth would water seeing the light sheen of sweat on his chest after intercourse. 

You sucked your teeth, “They're sooo pretty ‘toru.” you exasperated, causing him to scoff at your words that sounded more sarcastic than you meant them to. 

Trying to play along- “You wanna suck ‘em?” he smiled, expecting you to laugh it off and continue your little charade. Only your eyes glimmered with a smile on your lips, and you didn't laugh it off. 

“Would you let me?” venturous and mouth watering at the thought. 

True, Satoru would let you if you really wanted to. Knowing you sucking his nipples wouldn't be the oddest thing done in your sex life- but it was an unmapped area that neither of you had brought up till this point. Though there were small grazes in passing- kissing down his torso before you went down on him, sure. But never did you latch onto it. 

And as Satoru looked at your expression, filled with yearning and want- it made one thing clear to him, that he was gonna be on the receiving end of nipple stimulation this time. 

You wanted to find a better place to do this than in the humid bathroom- so with a few sloppy kisses as your fingers lightly tugged and pulled on his pinkening nipples. You were surprised with the little whimpers he breathed into your mouth, knowing he was sensitive generally but he was extra sensitive as you tempted the rosy peaks of his chest to harden. 

Finding yourself kissing down his neck, your hands rolling his pink buds in your fingers as Gojo laid his head into the pillows. Softly whimpering as his cock started to harden against his pj’s. 

You pulled your lips from his collar bone, amazed with the roaming blush that only accentuated his pretty tits. You sighed as you watched him wriggle from your hands pinching his nipples, “Does it feel that good?” you asked, awestricken from how loud he was starting to whimper. 

Gojo huffed with a small smirk, “You have no idea how good it feels.” he whimpered with a light whine. You placed your lips onto the glistening swell of one his pecs, removing your stimulating fingers and tracing it down his carved torso. 

Your hand found its way to the elastic of his bottoms, softly palming his bulge as you placed wet kisses to the blushed swell of his pec. His large hand was on the back of your head- almost cradling it as he felt a ghost-like stripe of your spit dampen his nipple. Pulling back ever so slightly and blowing gently onto where you previously lapped. Causing a shivering whimper to rumble from his chest.

Breathlessly, Satoru huffed, “You keep doing that and I might cu-” he tried warning, only to be interrupted by your hand dipping into his pants, softly grasping his shaft as you attached your lips back to his nipple. A whiny ‘nngh’ from his throat as your reward. 

Swirling your tongue against the sensitivity- his hand on your head bordering on fisting your hair from how worked up he was getting. 

You were amazed at how pretty he sounded- how his cock was crying into your hand. Gojo sounded so fucking desperate- so needy. Like he was close to orgasm, but he couldn't focus enough on cumming. Your hand was too slow, stark comparison to your tongue that was flicking and slathering over his tender nipple. 

Satoru inhaled- filling his lungs with as much air he could as he reached his hand up to his opposite nipple, gently rolling it like you did before- you flashed your eyes to his hand, watching him play with his nipple causing a low groan to vibrate onto his nipple from your tongue.

This caused Satoru to grunt from the sudden tingle- “Faster baby- m’so close-” he managed, the words littered with whimpers as his hips bucked into your hand. 

You quickened your hand- fisting his cock as quick as you could. Hearing chopped throaty moans fall from his lips at the action- various breathless’- ‘Dont stop’ and warnings, ‘m’cummi-’ between every whimper and moan. 

Even if he meant it as a joke- you were happy to suck his tits till he was shuddering with ragged breaths. And Gojo was more than happy to let you.

Toji Zenin

Oh god, this man. I think you'd make a comment on it once. Just once, and now anytime he'd catch you staring he'd remind you he can feel your gaze.

“You're staring.” he'd say, knowing he wore a compression shirt that was not only- a smidge too tight (a lot tight), but it was also white- put those together and you can practically see the pink ring of his nipples through the fabric. 

It was almost like he was doing it on purpose. Like he was trying to tempt you to ask him. “Hard not to when you wear those tiny shirts.” You scoffed, earning Toji to look down and pretending to think if it was too small. Being able to see the stretch of the fabric across his chest. 

“They shrink in the wash.” he retorted, almost offended by your complaint. You gave a sarcastic ‘uh huh’ before returning your gaze back onto his chest. “I mean I can see your nipples from here-” you complained, hearing a sigh fall from his lips.

It was early, having breakfast after getting dressed. Which brought on this whole ‘tiny shirt’ debacle.

“You don't like it, don't look.”

“That's exactly why I'm looking.” you huffed mindlessly. Earning for him to scrunch his eyebrows together and pout his lip in a light grimace. You inhaled, chin in your hand as he played with the food on his plate, “I mean- you don't feel the air brush-” 

Toji called your name, almost too stern and in a borderline irritable tone. “-If you wanna ask me somethin’- ask.” he huffed, looking at you with a stoic expression. 

“Can. I… ssssuck them.” You droned out- not even bothering to make it sound like a question. Toji perked a brow in astonishment- he knew you wanted to do something to his chest- but the way you said it shocked him from how forward you were, knowing you usually danced around what you wanted leaving him to guess. 

“You want to suck my-” Toji tried speaking trying to get a clearer answer from you. 

“Your tits. Yes.” he scoffed at your crudeness. Toji thought it over, leaning back into the chair as he looked at your expression that got more and more flushed by the seconf. 

He sighed, tilting his head almost in pity at how nervous you had gotten, “I don't see why not.”

And with that you practically teleported onto his lap, straddling him as he sat on the dining chair. The over excited look on your face told him this had been a thought in your mind for a while-

His hands reached for the hem of the tight shirt- only for your own to halt it. “Don’t.” you smiled- almost maniacally. 

Toji shrugged it off, assumed you'd take it off for him and watched your hands trail onto his chest, placing your extended fingers onto each pec and squeezing lightly. “Are they sensitive?” you whispered feeling his hands rest on your hips with a sigh. 

“Dunno- no ones ever been weird enough to ask if they could suck ‘em.” he spewed almost in exasperation. Keeping a straight face as you huffed in amusement.

Excited to be the first to ever find out if he’d be responsive to you sucking them, you grinned. And that only proved his point in you being peculiar. 

You trailed your right hand down, now that you were up close you could see his nipple clearly through the strained fabric. Placing your index and middle finger on either side of the peaking color, pressing them closed and feeling the little bud between your fingers. “You said suck ‘em, not play with them.” he practically scolded, his cheeks starting to flush in the slightest. 

You sighed, leaning down and slipping your tongue past your lips- so ready to lick a stripe against the cotton. Only Toji watched what you were doing with furrowed eyebrows, a little unsettled that you were so eager to lick at them through fabric. But Toji knew he was in no place to judge, there have been stranger things done between you two, at his request. 

You fluttered your eyes shut as your tongue wet the white cotton. Almost instantly making the fabric clear against his nipple. Toji tried to keep an unbothered expression, but the small little laps against his nipple. The wet fabric caused his nipple to harden beneath the translucent spot you had licked.

Little by little, one gentle lick after the other, Toji started squirming beneath you. His cock rising not knowing if it was from your tongue, or from watching you. 

Feeling the sensitivity build up with every roll of your fingers over his opposite one. Till the feeling started making him regret allowing you this, and when he finally removed his damp shirt. 

Toji was able to feel the difference of how the air felt against his chest, being able to feel every light breath you exhaled from your nose. A shiver settled in his lower spine as you lightly brushed the tip of your tongue against the little bud of his nipple. 

Though the feeling was new- it wasn't unwelcomed. I think Toji would just see it as a new form of foreplay to be explored. 

Choso Kamo

Ahh my favorite boy. I'm discarding my favoritism for once. After a deep detailed conversation with my brother and a lot of analyzing, i've come to terms with choso being in the lower middle when it comes to how sensitive they are *sigh* as much as i'd like to say he's the most sensitive, i have to write this unbiased (￣ε￣〃)

I feel like the first time you ask him- out of all of them he would have the most ?? reaction. Let's pretend this takes place well after the many firsts of a relationship, okay? 

Sitting criss cross in front of each other on your shared bed. An expression that can only be described as mortified on his face, “You want to what?” he murmured with an irked head, thinking he misheard you. You sighed, all the confidence it took to say it the first time only to repeat it. 

You inhaled, “Choso can I-” you huffed seeing the look of mortification stay on his face, realizing he didn't mishear you the first time. “Would you let me- suck your… chest?” 

Choso knew of nipple stimulation, of how it can provide some pleasure. Though he himself hadn't explored it, he was skeptical of it feeling like anything to him. At first he’d only say yes to not embarrass you. 

“I don't see why you'd want to.” he mumbled to himself as he took his t-shirt off, you scooched closer to him, reaching out your hand and running your fingers atop the swell of one of his pec’s. 

“I found out the other day that some men have really sensitive nipples.” you smiled, running your thumb over the little peak. Flashing your eyes up and watching his expression go unchanged.

“And if mine aren't?” he looked down to your exploratory hand, raising a brow as you lightly swiped across it. 

You grinned, “There's no harm in checkin’.” with a hum, pressing your index finger and middle finger on either side of his budding nipple. Lightly pinching it between the sides of your fingers as he shifted softly.

“What does it feel like?” you whispered, flashing your eyes to his expression that seemed slightly perplexed. Choso felt his cheeks tingle, not from the action itself but watching that little glimmer in your eye form, how amazed you were at it getting firm between your fingers. 

Choso shifted slightly, feeling your fingers pinch softly. A small smile formed on his face as he felt the little pinch send a tingle down his spine. Choso furrowed his eyebrows, “Dunno.. weird?” he mumbled, causing you to flash a giddy smile. 

You pulled your fingers from his chest, and placed them into your mouth. Only the action confused Choso, since you asked to suck them, and didn't really get what this build up was about. 

“Like-” you scoffed, placing your damp fingers onto his nipple. “A good weird or a bad weird?” you smiled, seeing his lips part as you rolled his firm nipple between your fingers.

Answering your question without words, he let out a little exhale that took the shape of a moan as you pinched it lightly. “Is t-this what it feels like for you?” he huffed, his cheeks starting to blush as his cock jumped in his sweats. 

You grinned, seeing your efforts pay off in the meek way he asked that question. “Sometimes-” you hummed sweetly, watching his shoulders shudder. “Can I put my mouth on it now?” you grinned, Choso bowed his head- not wanting you to see the expression forming on his face. 

“If you want to.” he mumbled, straightening his back and planting his hands behind him- pushing his chest out to you as he looked to the side. You almost let out a lecherous giggle at how shy he looked, but you held it in. Not wanting to embarrass him any more than what was needed. 

You rested yourself on the backs of your calves, placing your hands on the sides of his ribs as he inhaled. Aware of what was coming but not knowing what it would feel like.

With a smile you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple, “You want me to jack you off too?” you whispered into his ear as you trailed your hand to his neglected nipple. Being able to see his cock rising to life beneath his sweats as you grazed your fingers against the other.

The way Choso called your name made it seem like you had just said the most filthy thing he had ever heard, brushing lightly onto his unstimulated bud, making note that though at first he may not feel much, the more you play with them the more sensitive they became. 

“I just wanna help,“ you smiled, looking down at the prominent bulge in his pants, “-but if you don't want it~” you teased, rolling the hardening bud between your fingers. 

“Just-” he huffed, feeling you roll the bud between your thumb and pointer finger, “Just don't say things like that-” he managed, feeling a small kiss pressed onto his cartilage before you trailed them down his neck.  

You left light trails of your saliva on the curve of his pec, looking up at him as you fiddled with his other nipple, “Is that a noo..? Or?” you smiled against his skin, being able to feel his heartbeat pound against your lips. 

Choso took a minute to think on it, your mouth avoidant of his nipple and your fingers stimulating the other making it very hard to think right now. You huffed a smile against the little trail of spit that glistened on his chest, “You think I can make you cum from just sucking them?” there you went again saying things that made Choso let out a sigh.

“No, probably not,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “probably’ll be frustrating to try.” he finished, feeling you hum against the curve of his tit. You took that declaration and started trailing your hand down his torso, keeping the other planted on the bed as you plunged your hand into his pants, grasping onto his member and assisting it out of his bottoms. 

You locked eyes with him, mouth watering at the thought of how tender and malleable his nipple would feel on your tongue. In tandem with the first stroke on his cock, you traced the tip of your tongue around his slightly swollen nipple. Choso’s lips unwillingly letting out a muffled grunt mixed with a whine. 

Though it takes more time to get him to that whimpering point, it's worth it.

(if u want more my ‘prettier in pink’ fic has soooo much nipple play with choso ʘ‿ʘ)

Suguru Geto

He'd look at you with a quirked brow, all but asking- ‘Are you serious?’ as you looked at him with dazzled eyes, your hands planted on his sternum as you straddled his hips. 

The question came from your lips without permission- middle of foreplay when your eyes caught onto his nipples. You traced the pads of your fingers onto one of them, hearing a low groan rumble from his tongue. Not from the feeling, but from the act of it. 

Suguru has always been open to trying anything once, and the way your eyes glimmered as you thumbed the little bud on his chest. “Can I suck them?” you muttered, feeling his hands trail up your hips, he perked his eyebrow, a light blush on his cheeks as you ground your heat onto him. 

Though he was confused at your request, he nodded his head ‘yes’. Causing you to hunch your back and lean your head down. Kissing on his bare collarbones, trailing them between his chest, leaving a trail of your spit between them as his clothed cock shifted beneath you. 

Usually Suguru was the one who took on the responsibility of pleasuring you over his own needs, even if you offered- he’d just tell you it's fine. So the dynamic was a little different as you kissed onto the swell of his pec’s. 

Suguru was watching you with furrowed eyebrows, convinced that this was hardly foreplay. Besides, what's gonna come from a little nipple sucking?

But as you circled the ring of his bud, the exhale that came from your nose tickling his damp nipple- a chill ran down his spine settling in his lower abdomen as you swirled your tongue around the ring of color. Again, not from the action itself, but how you mimicked the way he would swirl  his tongue around your own.

You flattened your tongue and did a full swipe of his velvet nipple.

Keeping up the light licks and small grazes of your teeth as he did with you, earning little to no reactions. 

And even as you were riding him- trying your best to give him some kind of pleasure through his nipples. But not only did you manage to get them sore, you managed to get him frustrated enough to groan in dissatisfaction. Even if he was fucking into you- your attempts at stimulation were mildly irritable.

“They've just never been sensitive.” he huffed guiding your head to pull from his chest and looking at you, only you muttered something like ‘lemme keep going’ 

That's when he just gave a little laugh, “No- its starting to hurt.” he joked, gripping onto your hips and fucking up into you- hoping you’d forget this little urge to suck his chest. 

Overall, he would let you. But realistically he wouldn't feel much, would let you try and try till they were sore just because he liked you so very much. 

Hiromi Higuruma

Unfortunately I think Hiromi probably has the least sensitive nipples:( 

When you asked he kinda grimaced? Not seeing attraction or a point in it since he's not reactive to those kinds of touches. But he would let you try after you looked at him with a pout. 

And try you did. You did all you could, rolling them between your fingers, pinching them, lapping at them softly, then harsher. Didn't really achieve much, but Hiromi did get hard watching you try. Finding it endearing that you were so eager to make him feel good from just his nipples. 

But once you gave up, Hiromi was eager to show you how sensitive his cock was instead. 100% believe all the sensitivity he would’ve had in his nipples, doubled onto his cockhead. 

Hiromi was very excited to show you where he was most sensitive, “You can suck and lap at that as much as you want- I'll be responsive.” He assured with a smug smile.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

[evieelyzabethh]

Warmer than a Comforter

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

summary: it wasn't unusual for Spike to 'break' into your apartment, but it was unusual for him to want to spend the night.

warnings: very long (4.4k words), spike being a simp, one bed trope, dry humping, thigh fucking, masturbation, some fingering, slight praise, Spike being Spike, a smidge of possessiveness, and thats about it

It was no secret to anyone your favorite time of day was long after the sun went down. A full-time college student who worked a part time job on top of that was no easy feat. Your time during the day was never your time, it was your shitty professors time who assigned reading after reading that needed to be read for the never-ending stream of papers and theses, it belonged to your shitty boss who piled on tons of paperwork and demanded you be at his beck and call even after you clocked out. As much as you loved them, your time off belonged to your friends; patrolling, looking through dusty-old books, trying not to die every time you stepped out of your apartment.

When you got home (if there was no patrolling to be done), it was your time and while you were tired, you made time for your nightly routine. You'd slip off your shoes and walk in the dark to make it to your room to turn on your lamp, because you'd be damned if you were turning on one of the big lights this late.

You would usually strip down and dig a pair of pajamas out of your drawers before taking a scalding shower. You'd brush your teeth and wash your face, maybe if you had the energy, you'd do a face mask and paint your nails. You'd turn on your stereo or switch on your TV to fall asleep to the fuzzy sound and soft light. This, of course, is what you'd be doing right now had you not walked into your house with company.

You could see him lounging on your bed, the darkness of his attire somehow darker than your unlit room. His duster slung on the back of your desk chair, only clothed in some tight navy shirt and jeans.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" You crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed when you realized he had his dirty ass boots on your bed.

"M' paying my favorite Scooby a visit." You walked over to turn on your lamp, giving you enough light to see how smug he was. His arms sat behind his head, his eyes glittering with amusement. He was doing this to annoy you. He did most things just to annoy you.

"Pay another Scooby a visit." You were dead tired, practically forcing your eyes open. You had just gotten back from work, your bag still in your hand which you used to knock his legs off your bed. He could've been stubborn, but he let you.

You stripped off your hoodie, flashing him your stomach as your undershirt rose with the movement. He whistled, "Scandalous."

"Get out of my apartment." You tossed your hoodie at him while rolling your eyes. He caught it midair, bringing it to his nose to sniff it.

"Smells different. You using a different bodywash?" You hummed as you walked around your room to find something suitable to wear to bed. It was dreadfully hot out, even worse than what you'd expect from a California summer. You had at least 3 fans going anytime you were here, especially since your landlord could never seem to find a permanent solution to the junky A.C unit.

"Midnight Rose. Real fancy stuff." You hadn't even noticed a difference, but of course Spike would. Vampire senses had a way of being intrusive in a way that was only helpful when it came to your cycle and saving you bed sheets.

"I like the other one better: the cocoa butter one. It was fainter. You smelt more like you." You scoffed.

"Duly noted." Your hands roamed over the old t-shirts from high school and camisole tops so old the straps had snapped on a couple of them.

Spike sat up on your bed, untying the laces on his shoes haphazardly before setting them by your bedroom door. He roamed around like you had been, picking up bottles of nail polish and flipping through one of the books on your shelf.

"You could spare me a bit of your attention, love. I mean I did go through the trouble of-"

"Breaking into my apartment?" You interrupted.

"On second thought, it was a bit easy. I pushed it a bit and the window came right out. Are you leaving it open for somebody?" His tone was supposed to sound much more teasing than it did. There was a pang in his chest, probably of jealousy. Much to his chagrin, he was jealous a lot these days and he couldn't quite tell if his frequent visits were enabling that or the very cause of it. Either way, it was hard not to just crawl through your window anytime he pleased.

You acted like you were annoyed and if he had a dollar for every time you threatened to call Buffy on him, he wouldn't need to dumpster dive for furniture. If he had another dollar for every time, you never followed through, he'd be even richer. You said it's because you could handle yourself without her help, but, admittedly, you didn't hate his company that much.

As far as house guests go, it could be worse. It's not like he eats all your food, talks your ears off, or is unfunny. He was just there. A pain in your ass sometimes, like when he insists on being half a step behind you during patrols and never fails to tell you how great your ass looks from behind. Never a malevolent presence, just annoyingly noticeable.

His boots were clunky, and he smelled of faint cigarettes and alcohol. He also hated silence. He was fidgety and anxious, even if his intentions were stealth, he couldn't help but break the tension and open his mouth. At times against his will, he just wanted to be noticed that bad. He just needed to be around you that bad.

"I keep telling the landlord to fix it, but he insists it's just fine. 'Nothin' some glue won't fix'." But you had tried gluing it. Had it not been for the clear shit jammed in the lock, the window would've just come right open with the flick of a finger.

"I could fix it for you." He went ignored while you had made your way to your bathroom, taking your hair down from the claw clip it had been stuck in for the past few hours. A slight moan of relief slipped through your lips as your fingers carded through it to massage your scalp.

"You know how to fix windows?"

"Well...no. But it can't be that hard. I've been around a few hundred years, surely I can figure out how to fix a bloody window." What he meant to say (if he had the balls) was that he would be more than happy to learn how to fix a window for you. It would give him an excuse to hang around, it would keep him in your good graces for a solid month, and he wouldn't have to break an entering anymore. Granted, his preferred place of entry had long been broken and he could always come through the front door, but it was a matter of principle.

You looked him up and down, trying to decipher if this was a set up for a joke or if he was actually serious, but he kept his head down. He hadn't been able to blush since he was a human, but the habit had a way of rearing its head for you.

He was so pretty too. With his high cheekbones and the way the warm light made his complexion look less ghastly. As ironic and cliche as it would be to say, he looked slightly angelic. Like one who fell from Heaven and donned the dark and mysterious charade to make it hurt less. He would burn away under a cross just to make it back to Heaven. Nearly break his spine falling out of windows and bleed out taking stabs if it meant he was closer to your doors. If there was one thing Spike did well, it was devotion.

"You wouldn't even know where to start. I'll just call Xander or something."

"What're you gonna do that for!"

"Because, Spike," you laughed incredulously, confused as to if this was going to become an argument or form a chip on his shoulder. "If I want something fixed, I'm going to call someone who does it for a living."

"But would Xander do it for free?"

"Would you?"

"I wouldn't charge anything of monetary value." You snorted, not surprised at all with his answer.

"You are such a whore, you know that?"

"What can I say, baby?" He leaned against the door frame of your bathroom, where you stood staring at your reflection in the mirror. He was happy that his nonexistent reflection could betray him. He was grateful to be a part of this routine - your routine- in a way that didn't disrupt your peace. It was soft. Almost domestic.

You were so meticulous about the way you scrubbed your face and brushed your teeth. He liked how when you took off your makeup the glitter remained. You sparkled at the right angles, really fucking sparkled. Of course, he was going to sit and stare at you; mascara still not completely wiped away, hair tied back with a fuzzy headband, lips agitated from being bit throughout the day. It was poetic. Second nature to him. He didn't need to breath, but it came to him then, overwhelming and filling his lungs like water until he was full as he stared at you in the mirror with not even his own reflection to judge him.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower."

"How rude, without me?" Damn, he sounded like a bloody idiot. You only looked him up and down, trying to appear deeply disgusted but stopped just shy of mildly annoyed.

"Get out of my apartment before I stake you." You slammed the bathroom door in his face, hiding your blush behind the wood.

"That's not a no." His voice is muffled behind the door, and as much as you'd like to believe he didn't hear it, you did laugh.

***********************************************************

Spike had to have been a cat in a previous life, is what you decided when you found him still on your bed, nose in some magazine he found pretending to care about the newest Natasha Denona palette.

"That crypt must be uncomfortable as hell for you to still be here." You skated around your room to sink beside him. He reaches across his side to pull out a bottle of water and hands it to you.

"Your showers are hot as hell; I'm surprised you didn't pass out in there." He flips through the pages nonchalantly, pretending not to be incredibly fixated at the water dripping from the nape of your neck and disappearing into your shirt.

"You would've loved that, wouldn't you? Getting to play 'knight and shining armor' while I'm conveniently naked." The sound waxy pages being torn was a surprise. So much of you and his banter was contingent on the assumption that neither of you meant anything serious so nothing would become anything.

Spike, who spent most of his mortal adult life swallowing his feelings until his stomach became an endless chasm where his feelings went to fester rather than die, was more than okay with this unspoken arrangement. Sarcasm was a second language to you. You were used to your words not mattering, especially since in your group of friends, your existence seemed to matter far less than everyone else's. You wondered if that was why you and Spike got along so well.

He just got you. Maybe a side effect of him being around you whenever he could. He just got you. In a stupid way. In an annoying way. The kind of way that made you worried that reading minds was also one of his vampiric powers. He wormed his stupid way into your brain, slithering around in his own sort of Spike way til you didn't know where his influence began.

He did sort of have this hypnotic way of speech. Maybe because he was a poet. Poets have to have some sort of hypnotic power, right? Surely, there was some connection between rhythms and brain waves that made the effect of Spike's voice so persuasive. Maybe it's not the rhythm and it's just the honesty. Ironic, since the basis of your "relationship" was built on never assuming that the other meant what they said, but who cares. It gave you guys flavor. Something to keep things interesting.

"I'll have you know; I am a very old-fashioned guy with manners." You snorted as his response. He talked about his "old-fashioned" ways a lot. Maybe to convince you that he was a gentleman. Gentleman your ass, you'd seen what he kept in his crypt.

"My deepest apologies for assuming that a guy that used railroad spikes as a murder weapon of choice wouldn't be above jumping at the opportunity to see me naked."

"Am I that transparent?"

"When it comes to mirrors, yeah." His scoff was lost in the sound of a car horn going off across the street. Damn, you needed a new place. He had complained to you about the noise before. If you didn't leave near a busy street, he would try his luck spending the night far more than he already did. Each blare deepened the scowl on his face as he flinched at the sound, even louder from where he sat in front of it.

"Those death buggies have to be the worst thing to come out of the 20th century. So obnoxious, and for what?"

"I imagine they are more convenient than horse drawn carriages."

"Yeah, more convenient and not even half the charm." He turned his head to gaze out the window. "It's not even a nice car! I'd rather ride around in the fucking Angel Mobile than drive around in that thing."

"You are so dramatic. Usually I just," you swing your leg over his waist, straddling and reaching over to close the window. He swallowed hard at the feeling of your chest pressing against the magazine, the only boundary between him and you, and the nonchalance of the action. "Shut the window." You felt him tense beneath you, his right hand awkwardly meeting your hip, blue eyes staring up at you through dark eyelashes. "Then again, I'm not a pansy who needs complete silence to sleep."

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "I sleep in a cemetery, love, ain't much noise around those parts." His eyes wandered everywhere they could but the worst part about beautiful people is that there is no unsightly place to avert your gaze. He couldn't stare at your gorgeous eyes, or your stunning nose, or your lips to distract himself from the steadily growing boner that you were sitting right on top of. You were no better than he was.

Within the context of the unspoken agreement, this meant absolutely nothing. The boner was just a normal reaction, that didn't have to mean anything. The way he was looking at you was a bit hard to ignore, but that was the way he always looked at you. He was a lot closer right now, sure, but that stupid lovesick look that you have spent years trying to ignore, totally just a joke. Not real at all. A trick of the light, in fact. The hard-on was very real though.

After sitting there for a few seconds too long, you shift your weight to move back to your side of the bed, but his hands keep you in your place. " 'm cold", he mutters, his thumb rubbing circles between where your shorts meet your bare skin.

"Yeah?" You feel him pressing up against your core. "I didn't think you could get cold."

" Me either but-", you lowered yourself completely on his clothed dick and the groan he let out was salacious. "Here we are." The frigid way he moved made his lie believable. Incredibly cautious, hesitant. No idea what to do with himself. He ran his hands along your thighs, up and down your side, one cold hand sliding underneath your shirt, rubbing the hem of it between his pointer finger and his thumb.

You leaned forward, warm breath fanning against his nose. It smelled like mint. You smelled like some sort of cocoa butter. Smooth and soft on top of him and he didn't know if you were going to roll right off or melt into his skin. Your hands come to the sides of his face, and you stare intently at him. He felt like he was under a microscope with the way you looked at him like you were committing each detail of him to memory so that even when you closed his eyes, it was still him burning in the forefront of your mind.

"You gonna kiss me?" You whispered, pressing yourself further into him. He let out a breathy laugh.

"What, a guy's always gotta make the first move?" With that, you leaned down to give him what was meant to be a quick peck. A tester. A tease. But when you give Spike an inch, he takes a mile, and he took the opportunity to devour you. Mouth open, sloppy, wet kisses while his hands worked as eagerly as his tongue did. You were a calming presence, slow and sane as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to try and ground the both of you.

Breathing through your nose, you inhaled him. The faint smell of smoke, the fresh smell of whatever he washed the gel from his hair with, the distinctly Spike musk. Your thighs wrapped him more closely, subtly grinding into his lap, ignoring the slight burn on your knees from the friction between them and your sheets. His large hands covered swathes of skin, cooling you where you grew too hot from his touch. When he had his fill, he broke away from you, still nose to nose, a string of saliva still between the two of you.

"Do you wanna spend the night?" Your voice was somehow meek as if there was any way in hell he would say no to you. He breathed out, turning his head into the crook of your neck, leaving searing kisses on your silky skin, worshipping at his altar, and thanking who or whatever got him here tonight. He kisses you from your neck, along your jawline, to the corner of your lips.

"Yes", he whispers against your skin. He bucks his hips into you, the imprint of his cock and the rough material of his jeans kissing your pussy through the thin layers of material. You nearly choke on his tongue at the feeling. Fuck.

Your eyes are closed, hips moving furiously against his, too blissed out to even care about the steadily growing wet patch in your underwear. You're lost in kisses, kisses that overwhelm and confuse and steal your breath until you wonder how much you need to breathe anyway. Along with not needing to breathe, you learned they must have incredible resolve. He chases you. Not like how a wolf chases a lamb but how the sun chases the moon.

He pulls and you push for breath, some sort of reprieve, some time for your mind to catch up with your body because right now everything but the way the seams of his jeans catch your clit is one of the only things on your mind. He pulls you, still, his hands squeezing at your waist, moving up to cup your breasts, thumbing at your nipples, and flicking the already hard peaks. And you push, still, not in protest but in harmony. Your hips pressing down, his jerking up. Your hands tugging his hair, his squeezing your waist. It was good. It was so good.

"What is the point", he starts breathlessly, "of these damn shorts if they're so thin. You're leaking right through, love." He smiles against you, sharp teeth grazing against your cheek as he smirks.

"Take 'em off me then." For once in his life, he takes his time. The desperation of his prior movements forgotten as he looks at you as he trails a finger from your chest down between the valley of your breasts, to your navel. He draws invisible shapes along your stomach, diamonds, hearts, and letters spelling m-i-n-e. And he stalls there. Looking from beneath you, smug as you ground yourself onto his dick in an attempt to move him along.

He was amused. Fascinated. You in your own world, mewling, moaning, putting on a show just for him. Choosing to ignore how sticky your panties had gotten, how much they stuck to your cunt as you wiggled your hips as if you could get any closer. Your tits moving with you, the way your mouth was slightly agape, the way you keened when you rubbed against him just right. It was no motivation for him to move his hands at all, not when it was much more rewarding to angle his hips up and make you see stars. "You gonna cum like this?" He crooned, full of fake sympathy.

"You're really gonna make me get myself off." You rolled your eyes, maybe out of pleasure, maybe out of faux annoyance. Either way, his hand slithered to the waistband of your shorts and dipped even deeper. He left feather-light touches on your clit which sent jolts of electricity up your spine. Overcome with the tightening feeling in your belly, your hands grabbed at his shoulders as your hips worked and worked you snapped. Impossibly wet and dazed, you rocked into him until the high had passed and the stars had left from behind your eyelids leaving only Spike.

His fingers still, in your panties, he moves to slide them and your shorts off your body. You hover slightly, still too sensitive to rub your bare pussy against him. You fidget with the button of his jeans and zipper, Spike's hands coming to cover yours to ease the shakiness. Maybe to give the appearance that he was much calmer than he was. He was painfully hard, and you felt it when you palmed him through his boxers after getting his pants down enough. Where his tip sat was a wet spot. You smirked.

"Did I get your dick that wet?" A shiver went down his spine. The heat from your palm was felt through his boxers. Your hand was barely big enough to cover it. Before either of you was prepared for it, he flipped you on your back. His hands sat on either side of your head while yours removed him from his boxers. He was so big.

You tore your gaze away from his cock to meet his gaze. He still looked at you the same. Pupils widened from lust, cheeks with a slightly pink tinge, lips puffy, eyes looking down at you with the same look they always had. It's then he leans down to kiss you for the millionth time. No urgency, less messy, a kiss like he was trying to wake you from a thousand-year slumber.

Your hand still on his cock, you pumped it a few times, swiping your thumb against his tip to lubricate his dick. He groaned into your mouth, humming in pleasure. You try to line him up to sink in your hole, but he slaps you on the wrist. "Don't want your cunt tonight," he mumbled in between kisses, "Jus' let me feel you."

He pumped his cock a few times before slotting it in between the meat of your thighs. The veins and ridges of his dick would occasionally slide between your folds, but that wasn't the focus. No matter how much you wiggled for him to plant his cock so far deep it kissed your cervix, you were ignored as he squeezed your thighs together, panting as he fucked them.

The juxtaposition made your head dizzy. The softness with which he kissed you and the fervor of his dick between your thighs, them getting wetter with the accumulation of precum leaking from his dick. It only forced him to press harder, leaving handprints from how hard he gripped. "Such a pretty thing, aren't you." He sighed out, his pace still even but his breaths far from it. "Go ahead and touch that pretty cunt f' me."

As much as your brain wasn't working, it wasn't needed to do what you were told. Bleary-headed, your hand traveled from the outside of your leg to between your folds. Still wet from your previous orgasm, it didn't take much to just slip a couple fingers in, moaning as you did. One hand toyed with your tit as the other toyed with your clit, your hips wanting to buck into your hand had it not been for Spike's palm on your stomach.

Had he had the composure, he would have made some sarcastic comment. Slow down, love, what's the rush, is what he would've said had his thrusts not been as sloppy as they were. He pulled away from your lips to see the mess he was making. White beads pooled on the skin of your stomach, dripping down your thighs like liquid pearls. And you. Low warm light bouncing off your skin, lip tucked in your teeth, staring right up at him. It took all of him not to cum at the sight.

Not before you did, he decided, which by the way your moans pitched up wasn't that far away. Each "accidental" slide into you was met with a jerk of your hips. "Stop it", you squealed, the bucking of your hips screaming otherwise.

"Feels too good, doesn't it." Then he did it again. His large hand drifts around before grabbing your abandoned tit, groping it until you hit your limit again. Your chest heaved unevenly as you tried to catch your breath as Spike's hips sped up, stuttered, then stopped as his cum splashed on your stomach and breasts.

Spent and not knowing what to do, he kisses you again. He smiles into it, and to his surprise, you do too. Like it was the only thing that made sense to do. The fuzz gradually fades from your mind, the noise from the multiple fans running and the faint humming of electricity apparent again. There's a breeze coming in from your window and you giggle.

"Are you still cold?"

[ddejavvu]

anakin being so pussy drunk that he cant sleep bc he didn’t fuck you at least once that day but you’ve already gone to sleep. he can’t help himself seeing you all so pretty and peaceful sound asleep that he doesn’t even bother to wake you up just sinks his cock in without a second thought.

does anyone know where to get a wet floor sign cause i gushed

obvious cw for somnophilia, very quick and fleeting mention of anal (no actual activity), don't like don't read.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

His cock is already hard from the moment he steps through the door- perhaps if he hadn't spent the elevator ride thinking about sinking it into your wet, warm cunt, he wouldn't be so inconvenienced.

But it's hard, and aching, and only getting worse, so he sheds his Jedi garb as quickly as humanly possible. A belt here, a tunic there, boots sloppily discarded by the door. By the time he gets to your bedroom he's wearing only an undershirt and briefs, but he disposes of the thin cotton shirt in the doorway.

You're sleeping. Illuminated gorgeously by the two of four moons that are visible from Coruscant's surface. They spill a pale halo of light around your sleeping form that catches on your sleek satin gown, pools deliciously in the space just beneath your thighs where the chub of your ass takes over and- Anakin's even stiffer.

It's a gift from whatever god Anakin unconsciously believes in. Whether it's a local legend from his days on Tatooine, or the will of the Force, some higher power has shed ethereal light on your body, and Anakin feels called to indulge in its divine gift.

You're laid out on your stomach with one knee tucked up to your side, and an arm thrown beneath your ribs to offset the heft of your breasts. You complain about pain when you lie on your stomach for too long- Anakin's surprised that you're sleeping like this. But he is not complaining, not when it offers him a perfect view of the gentle curve of your mound that rests between your thighs, parted to offer your leg enough room to bend the way that it does.

His cock begs for your pussy, tearing and ripping and struggling against the fabric of his briefs, and when he yanks them down his thighs his cock springs so tightly that it hits his stomach, leaving a sticky smear there.

No matter - things will get messier.

Anakin can't spot a wet stain on the pad of your panties, but it's no matter. He can supplement until your body catches up. He retrieves a bottle of lube from your bedside drawer- almost empty, seriously, do you guys fuck that much? -and pools some on his palm, stroking his dick with it so that it smears over his length.

He has to be careful not to work himself up too much with his own hand- no self-achieved orgasm will ever be as good as what he'll experience in your cunt.

His dick is properly slicked now, but he squirts a generous stream of the stuff onto your cunt once he pulls back your panties, unable to resist the urge to spread it through the split of your ass.

That's not the hole he's going for tonight, but he's never been able to keep his hands to himself.

Hands braced on either side of your body- one slick with lube - he leans his weight on the mattress, and draws his wet hand back to his cock. He needs no help after the initial guidance of the first thrust, and once he's gently pushed his cock through your artificially slickened entrance, he huffs out a sigh that blows hot against your back. The slip you're wearing is low-cut enough that the heat hits your bare skin, and he's not sure if it's the penetration or the sudden gust of air that makes you shiver.

You let out a strangled moan- something between surprised and pleasure, and Anakin is relived to feel his cock sliding smoothly through your cunt. You nag him about wasting lube; he's a very generous pour, but if it means you're feeling pleasure and not discomfort, he'll empty the whole bottle.

He dips down to kiss your cheek, his broad shoulders flexed against his muscled back- not that you're awake to enjoy it.

"Shh, s'okay angel," He groans, drawing in a shaky breath as he drags his hips backwards, pushing in once more to the heat of your cunt, "It's- it's okay, I just- agh, I need this. Just- let me have this, angel, let me- let me take it."

[lovebugism]

Heat wave with Eddie and he's watching you on the other side of the couch and he wants you so bad but it's so hotttt

thanks for your request lovey!! — the one where you and eddie try to make the most of the heatwave (established relationship, implications of smut, 1.3k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Metal heads hate summer. It’s an unspoken fact. Wild hair, leather jackets, and denim jeans don’t fare well in the heat.

And while there were many bonuses to the warmer season — the music, the ice cream, and you in a bikini to name a few — it didn’t quell Eddie’s personal vendetta with summer. Or rather, summer’s personal vendetta with him.

The month of August was hardly more than an incessant heatwave. One hundred-degree heat, statewide. Without a cool breeze to fill the seasonal silence, there was nothing but a low sizzling sound — like burgers cooking on a grill. The two of you got into his van for a Slurpee run one simmering afternoon and suffered second-degree burns from the pleather cushions and metal seatbelts in the process.

It was miserable. Eddie was far too pale and he liked the color black far too much to find any enjoyment in the summer months. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the power goes out. 

And the only thing worse than a power outage during a heatwave is being horny during a power outage during a heatwave.

“The neighbor said there’s outages all over town—” Your voice comes muffled from where you pad around in the kitchen. “—So, we’ll probably be out for a while.”

You return to the living room wearing an old, white-ribbed tank top and a pair of Eddie’s plaid boxers, rolled at the hem to fit you better. You carry two glasses of lemonade in your hands, fogged with the cubes of ice you’d dropped into them before they could melt in the freezer. 

You’re too pretty for your own good. Eddie’s suffocated by the sweltering heat as much as he is by the overwhelming urge to touch you.

“Fuuuck,” he groans in response, sprawled out on the couch across the room. He’s barely moved from that spot all day. He only got up once to tie his hair back and then anxiously pace back and forth for several minutes. A few ornery curls stick to his forehead, damp with sweat. “Should we just, like, get a hotel or something?”

“With what money?” you scoff in place of a laugh.

His scrunched brows go lax. “Oh, yeah…”

“We’ll be okay. It’ll only be out for a couple more hours— at least.”

“Hours?” Eddie whines, all pinched-browed, as you hand him his lemonade.

You scrunch your nose down at the boy with a sympathetic gaze. “Think we can survive that long?”

“I’m withering away as we speak,” he deadpans.

“You’re so dramatic…” you giggle. The unkind words come out coated in a layer of sweet honey. You love him too much for anything else.

You pluck your book from the coffee table and plop down on the other side of the couch. You curl your knees to your chest, not having much room left over from Eddie’s longer legs. 

He’d tried to do the same an hour or more ago. He’d been too bored to read then. All the words melted together because his brain was swimming with heat. He doesn’t know how you’re doing it, honestly. All he knows is he can’t stop looking at you.

You’re a pretty little thing sitting across from him. So much of your skin is on display — arms, collarbones, ankles, and thighs. He wants to kiss every inch of you. He could if it wasn’t so damn hot. Now, all he can do is admire you from a distance and pray the power comes back soon so he can love you all over.

Eddie shifts on the couch for a few moments. He jostles the cushions beneath you as he twists on them, maneuvering so his legs are propped up on the coffee table and he’s slouching against the back of the sofa. 

His underwear rides up his pale thigh. The white undershirt he refuses to take off is damp at the collar with sweat.

You pay little attention to his fidgeting. He’s often restless, but especially when he’s got nothing to do. You feel his sticky fingers curl around your stickier calf a second later. His touch is soft and slow, sweet like syrup, as he smooths his hand up and down the back of your leg. 

You shoot the boy a look from over the top of your book. “You okay, Eds?”

“Other than melting?” he retorts with his head tilted to his shoulder. He shoots you a wide, fatigued grin through his reddened cheeks. “I’m peachy, sweetheart.”

“It’s a little too hot to be touching each other right now, babe,” you advise with your gaze turned back to the book in your lap. He keeps on caressing you, though, and you keep on letting him.

“I know…” he murmurs with a faint pout scrunching his features. His palm squeezes the top of your ankle before rising again. “I just miss you…”

“I’m right here,” you counter with a soft giggle.

“You know what I mean…”

“Yeah,” you concede with a sigh. “I know what you mean.”

If you had it your way, Eddie Munson would be touching you all the time. He usually is, anyway — but every second he’s not, it feels like you’re grieving. You’re made restless because of how underwhelmed you are, all grumpy because you’re so sticky with heat. You want so desperately to curl up in Eddie’s arms and hide there forever, but it’s already getting hard to breathe without the AC on. And the sweat’s making your clothes cling to your skin. The thought of physical affection right now makes you feel a bit sick.

He squeezes your calf again, this time to get your attention. 

Your eyes peek at him from over your book. You find his flushed face curled into a tired, yet still mischievous smirk. 

“And, you know, just for the record or whatever,” he lilts quietly with a twinkle in his chocolate syrup eyes. “If it wasn’t a billion degrees in here, I’d totally plow the shit outta you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes go wide at his words.

You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so immediately turned on.

You squeeze your knees together, clenching your thighs in hopes of soothing the ache that begins to pulsate between them. “Wow. That is… very forward of you, Eds.”

“I think the heat’s making me delirious,” he admits with his head tilted back against the couch. His pale, sticky neck is on display for you. You feel the sudden urge to sink your teeth into the milky white tendon there.

“Well, good thing about power outages in the summer — the cold water in the shower feels like heaven,” you tell him, feigning absentmindedness as you flip a page of your novel.

Eddie’s brows raise beneath his damp, curly bangs. He grins with a newfound light in his eyes. “Ooh,” he singsongs. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

“I have… three more pages left in this chapter,” you tell the boy after flicking through the book. You shoot him a glance beneath your lashes — less obvious in your mischievous disposition but still sparkling with it anyway. You knock his thigh with your foot. “Go get undressed, loverboy.”

Your words bring him back to life. 

He surges with an energy he lost sometime between the late spring and early summer as he leaps off the couch. He nearly trips over the coffee table on his journey to the bathroom. His hurried footsteps stomp, stomp, stomp down the hallway.

You hear the shower faucet hiss on from a distance. It’s music to your ears. You know you’ll be in there all day — or, at least, until the power comes back on. You’re left suddenly hoping it won’t come on for another good while yet.

Not until Eddie makes you forget your name against the shower wall.

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Academy! Coryo x Academy!Reader,

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus is a warning in and of itself. Smut, p in v, tittie sucking, tittie fucking, cum licking, groping, cussing, first time, just the tip is NEVER just the tip, Obsessed!Coryo, Big Breasted!Reader, Pervy!Coryo, Virgin!Coriolanus, Virgin!Reader, Shy!Reader

When you hit puberty you begin developing breasts faster than your peers. When the other girls are in training bras you're wearing an underwire. And then when everyone hit high school at the Academy, well they're in cute little demi-bras and Lacey bralettes while you're in full coverage/support bras. You have a drawer full of underwires, front closures, etc. Yes, your bras are cute too, but unlike the other girls at the Academy you have to go to a special bra/lingerie shop that specializes in products for large breasted women.

Your mother was shocked that you're so busty since she's on the smaller side. Your older brother, Rein, was so afraid that you'd be taken advantage of or find yourself in trouble with boys because of having big boobs at such a young age. He more of less big boob shamed you (which you learned after dating your boyfriend wasn't cool) and convinced you to wear larger/baggy shirts to hide the size of your boobs.

So for years you listened to your brother and wore larger shirts. Underneath your shirts you always had a strappy tank or a cami on over your bra, to work as an undershirt/barrier between your skin and the larger, baggy shirts you always wore.

One day, when you're in your senior year literature class, you feel like you're being watched. As if somebody's breathing down your neck. You look over your shoulder, trying to catch whoever’s staring you down in the act, only to see your classmate with his head buried in his book.

Coriolanus Snow.

You've known him since kindergarten. He's best friends with Sejanus Plinth. You're friends with both of them, but it's not like you hang out with them alot. Or actually it's not like you hang out with Coriolanus a lot. You hang out with Sej. In fact your mother encourages it. But you think that's cause his family's filthy rich.

You just brush off your feelings as silly, as being paranoid. The boy with a halo of light golden curls wasn't leering at you, he had his prominent nose in his copy of The Crucible. He was the top of your class; very serious and studious.

Of course he's engrossed in his book. The same book you and the rest of the class are reading.

It's about the Salem Witch Trials thousands of years ago in a New England colony of North America during the Pre-Panem times. The book's actually a screen play by a famous writer- Arthur Miller. Your teacher says that there's a film too; that once the class has finished reading the book, testing on it, and writing the thesis on it, then the class will watch the movie.

Oh, you can't wait for that.

You go back to reading your book, causing Coriolanus to let out a tiny breath he didn't even know he was holding. The top student was, in fact, staring at you like you hung the moon and stars. Truth be told, he stares at you in the few classes you share.

Coriolanus always sits behind you, looking at you longingly. He's known you for at least 12 years now, but it wasn't until this year that he realized he needs you.

Biblically!

Coriolanus is enthralled by you. There's just something about you, he can't quite put his finger on it, that makes his cock twitch and his balls tingle. His palms go sweaty and his mouth waters. He can't look at you without getting hard.

Hell, he's thankful for the godforsaken kilt that's apart of the Academy uniform otherwise he'd have visible wet spots (cum stains) on the crotch of his pants. Yes, he cums just by staring at you and fantasizing about all the things he wants to do with you.

God, how he wants to fuck your pussy for bad. You're such a smart, sweet girl and he's got a dark desire to fuck you dumb. He also wants to fuck your throat until your vocal chords are shit to hell. Damn, he wouldn't mind tearing up your ass either.

And of course, he wants to eat your cunt. He also wants to suck on your titties. Coriolanus will never admit it, but he's a boob guy. Bigger the boobiea the better.

But that's the only thing about you that puzzles him. Your boobs. He can't get a good estimate on their size by looking at you because you always wear baggy and loose shirts.

Coriolanus often imagined what your tits look like underneath your light blue uniform shirt. He hopes that one day he gets the chance to find out.

Almost being caught staring at you was what Coriolanus needed to give him the courage to approach you. He's been staring at you like a creep since Fall and it's now late Spring, so it's time to make his intentions known.

Coriolanus’ icy blue eyes look at you from over his book as he hatches a plan to get you to go out with him. He knows that you're friends with Sejanus and that the big bear of a boy has a crush on you, so he needs to make his move fast.

Maybe after class?

Yes, Coriolanus decides he'll approach you after class.

You're packing your stuff up in your Academy issued leather satchel whenever a shadow falls over you. You look at, curious to see who's casting a shadow over you, only to see Coriolanus’ tall form towering over you.

“Hi, Coriolanus.” You smile, closing your satchel.

“Please, Y/N, call me Coryo.” The handsome blonde boy insists with a smile.

“Okay, Coryo.” You agree to use the nickname while slinging the satchel over your shoulder. “So?...”

“I was wondering, my darling, if you, perhaps, would like to eat lunch with me?”

“Are you asking me out on a date to the mess hall for lunch?”

“Yes?” Coryo smiled, sounding nervous.

You thought it was so cute how Coriolanus Snow, who's usually so composed and confident, was a bundle of nerves asking you on a lunch date. His cheeks were flushed and the tips of his ears were pink.

“Okay, let's go.” You tell him, smiling happily.

And that's the moment that Coryo snagged you up as his girl.

You've been with Coryo for a couple of months now and the boy's eager to get into your panties. So eager that if he doesn't fuck you soon then he's going to explode and die. Well, not really just metaphorically, but still…If he doesn't get to stick his desperate over horny, pervy big cock into your tight virgin cunt he's going to lose his mind.

And it's not like his sanity's that stable to begin with. He's already a bit obsessive with you.

The 10th Hunger Games is fastly approaching and nobody really gives a shit. There's commercials for it on CapitolTV, but people’s grown bored of it. It'll be airing in about 3 weeks, starting with the reaping on July 4th.

And of course in your social studies class you're learning about the reason for the games- again. The Academy teaches it every year. It's overkill really. Of course, your teacher assigned a group project about the good of the games, blah blah blah. You could care less, but of course your boyfriend volunteers to be your partner for the project.

And he cares.

Not about the games, but the grade that the project on the good of the games can grant the two of you.

So, that's how you find yourself in your bedroom on your bed books scattered around and a poster board on the floor one afternoon after school. Your mother's staying the week with her boyfriend, trying to fuck and marry her way out of living paycheck to paycheck, so you're home alone with Coryo.

Which is why your project supplies are scattered all over and Coryo's got you in his lap, tongue shoved down your throat as he kisses you like a starving man that's just been given his first meal in years.

You've kissed Coryo before a few times since you've been dating, but nothing like this. Nothing were you're all alone with no one to interrupt you, where you have the freedom to maul each other's faces off while breathlessly melding your lips together and rocking your lower bodies together.

Coryo hasn't been able to cop a feel of your boobs yet, since you've never been alone for too long or always had the fear of somebody walking into the room on you. But now, since you've got your apartment all to yourselves for a few days, your boyfriend with the light golden blonde curls is finally able to fondle your tits. Unknown to him, you're very busty.

And unknown to you, Coryo's a simple man with simple tastes when it comes to a woman's body. He's a classic T&A man.

He loves himself some good old tits and ass. And the bigger the titties the better.

Coryo's mouth pulls away from yours, leaving a messy trail of spit hanging between your kiss swollen lips. As you pant, trying to catch your breath, your boyfriend's leaving sloppy open mouth kisses along your jawline and down your neck. You feel warmth pooling between your legs and let out a little mewl, but then your eyes go wide as you feel Coriolanus' large hands each grab at one of your large breasts.

Coryo smiled into the crook of your neck as he realizes that you're hiding some big ole boobies underneath your loose fitting uniform shirt. Fuck, he squeezes your big boobs again while lifting his head up. A wide, manic grin spreads over Coryo's face. “You're hiding some big titties under this baggy shirt, huh, baby?”

“Coryo…” You sigh, feeling a bit embarrassed, while trying to squirm away from him.

“What's wrong, Y/N?” Coryo asks, feeling a bit rejected as you try to push him away. “I thought we were having a good time fucking around?”

“We were but then…” You trail off, only to wave a hand in front of your big boobs.

Coriolanus’ brow knitted and his nose twitched slightly in disbelief. “What? You mean you're embarrassed that I grabbed your perfect, squeezable tits?”

“It's embarrassing to be 18 and have boobs bigger then some grown women, Coryo. It's-” You began to explain why you're self conscious about your big breath only for him to, oh so eloquently (not) interrupt you with, “That's bullshit, Y/N.”

You blinked at him, unsure of how to react to his sudden outburst.

“I like titties; ass too, and believe me the bigger the better.” Your boyfriend, who’s usually so prim and proper, bluntly tells you.

“Yea?” You ask a bit thickly, feeling all of your nerves fluttering in your stomach like butterflies.

“Yea.” Coryo nods, a lopsided grin on his lush lips. “How ‘bout you show me what's underneath your shirt? Hmm?” He suggests, waggling his brows.

“Okay.” You nod, causing your boyfriend to quickly unbutton your shirt.

But as soon as he pushes your open shirt over your shoulders he's signing in frustration. Tilting his head and giving you a sideways look, he dryly asks, “Why're you wearing another shirt for?”

“I always wear a cami over my bra. It's a barrier between my skin and the loose fitting shirt; it also slims down the bulk of my boobs.” Was the explanation You gave your stumped boyfriend.

“Well, I don't think that you need to do that anymore, Y/N. And, darling, I also think that you need to wear shirts that actually fit you.” Coryo tells you his honest opinion while grabbing the hem of your strappy camisole, he pulls it up. You raised your arms, letting him pull it up over your head. Tossing it over his shoulder, he licked his lips as he saw your big boobs threatening to spill out of your bra. “Let's free these puppies, shall we, baby?” He rhetorically asked, icy eyes gleaming with joy.

You nod and unhook your bra for him. As soon as you finish taking off your simple, but supportive bra, your boyfriend's on you like a magnet. His hands are grabbing and jiggling your large breasts while he burries his face in your cleavage.

Coryo feels like he died and went to Elysium as he sucks and nips the the sides of your boobs, where your cleavage is. Oh gods, how he loves your big ol’ boobies. Being face first in them turns him on, makes him harder than he's ever been in his entire life.

Coryo pays your big breasts lots and lots of attention. He sucks, kisses, and nips them all over before alternating sucking and pinching your nipples. He massages, gropes, jiggles, and fondles your big tits. He even takes his shirt off and makes you ride his thigh while your chests are pressed together.

Fuck, he just loves the feel of your perfectly big titties.

You're laying on your bed, legs spread wide open as Coryo fucks you with just the tip of his cock. Because just the tip doesn't count. It's not real sex if it doesn't go all the way in.

At first the two of you agreed to mutual.masterbation sitting across from each other on your bed. But then with how horny and pervy your boyfriend is, that turned into you two practically inches away from each other with him saying that the tip of his cock would feel so good in your cunt. That you could rub your clit and get off while he could jack off and get off.

At first you were iffy about it, saying that you've never done anything like that before. But he assured you that if you didn't like it then he'd stop.

Well, as it turns out you really liked it and he didn't stop.

“Coryo, your tip feels so good.” You mewl, rubbing your clit as you were trying to satisfy that itch you needed to scratch, that tingling feeling twitching deep inside of your wet cunt.

“Fuck, baby.” Coryo half groaned, pumping his shaft while lightly thrusting the tip of his cock in and out of your juicy wet cunt. His large cock’s red and angry with arousal. If he doesn't fuck you, really fuck you balls deep, then he's going to go completely insane.

Not like he isn't already halfway to looney tunes town already, but still…

“Baby, please, just let me slide my cock all the way in. Let me fuck you; make us both feel so good.”

“But I don't have the birth control implant; were too young for an accident.”

“How bout after you cum I pull out and tittie fuck you; cum all over ‘em big ol’ titties I love.” Coryo suggested while bucking his hips a tiny bit harder; making his tip slide a little bit deeper into your slippery wet cunt. A cunt that wants to greedily suck his cock inside of her warm, wet depths.

“Okay.” You nod. “But you have to promise to pull out and cum my tits, Coryo.”

“I will, baby. I promise, I will “ Coryo quickly swears before slamming his hips into yours and sliding his cock past your barrier and into the tight, hot, wet canal of your virgin cunt.

Or should he say no longer virginal cunt. Just like his 8 inch cock's no longer a virgin cock. Oh, how he loves the fact that he's finally fucking you after so long.

Coryo, having never fucked anyone before (just his fist and he's desperately humped his pillow a few times while fantasizing about you too, but he'll never admit) was a bit jumpy and all over the place with his movements. His thrusts were uneven and all too buckled. You were feeling desperate for some kind of relief so you start canting your hips up, chasing your high. A high that you desperately need.

Your hips rising up to meet his grounded your boyfriend's thrusts, gave him a guide on how to pace himself. Well, how to pace himself as best as he could cause he still wasn't really slowing down or something out of his motions.

It's only his first time (yours too) so it's going to take a couple more times of exploring each other to get more comfortable with fucking. He's a horny teenager after all.

Seeing your big tits bouncing around as he fucking you desperately into the mattress had Coryo in a trance. Goddamn, how he loves watching your big boobies jiggling around. The sounds of them smacking against your skin was like music to his ears.

The platinum blonde with a halo of curls dipped his head down and began sucking on one of your nipples while squeezing and smacking your other boob with his large hand. His free forearm was bracing the mattress, keeping him balanced and upright as he frantically fucked you like a bitch in heat.

Oh god how your tight pussy felt so good around his cock. And playing with your big titties as he rutted against you was.the icing on the cake.

The feeling of his large cock sliding in and out of your cunt, slamming into your special spongy spot, paired with the feeling your his mouth and his hands on your boobs had you nearing your peek. One on your hands was on his shoulder, nails digging into the skin; sure to leave marke, while the other was between your legs rubbing your clit.

“I'm so close, Coryo.” You whine, causing him to pull his mouth off of your boob with a loud pop.

‘Let me play with your pussy, baby.” He tells you, batting your hand away from your pussy only to replace it with his own. As his thumb quickly rubs fast circles against your clit, he fucks you fast while ordering, “Fondle your titties for me, baby.”

So, as he continues to pound you fast and desperately, you play with your nipples and grab at your big boobs- just like Coryo told you too.

Suddenly, the feeling of everything’s too much and the dam breaks. White hot pleasure shoots thru you as you let out a mix of curses and Coryo's name.

Coriolanus groans as he feels you soak his dick. The feeling is heaven. It feels so good. He continues to fuck into you until your panting and coming down from your high, then he's quickly pulling out of you and scrambling to straddle your chest.

“Y/N, hold your tits together so I can fuck the space between them.” Your boyfriend instructs you, causing you to quickly do as you're told. He quickly positions his dick in your cleavage only to start bucking his hips back and forth.

A throaty moan fell from his throat as he held onto your headboard, looking down at the sight of his cock slipping between your big breasts. “Oh, fuck…that's so hot…” Coryo chokes out in a deep moan. He watched his cock slip in and out, in and out of the tight space you made for him between your perfect breasts by holding them together.

And suddenly, with a final thrust,.his balls are twitching and he's emptying out rope after rope of hot, thick, cum on your boobs.

You stop holding your boobs as Coryo carefully stops straddling your chest and takes his place next to you on the bed. You thought that he was going to reach over to grab some tissues from your bedside table, but he didn't. Instead, Coryo used his tongue to clean the thick, pearly cum off of your boobs.

Yes!

Your boyfriend's so obsessed with your big titties that he licked them clean.

That shocked you.

And then after your big boobies are clean, Coryo kisses you passionately. You can taste the slight saltiness of his cum on his tongue as he slips it into your mouth. It's a very erotic kiss, to say the least.

When you break apart for air, Coryo gives you a satisfied smirk. Pulling you into his chest as he lays back in your bed, he tells you, “That was perfect, baby.” Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he tells you, “We need to get you some shirts that show off my beloved big boobies better. How can I go back to not seeing them on display after what we've just done?”

“I’ll talk to the Academy’s uniform department, get a couple of new shirts in my right size.” You tell Coryo, causing him to smile like a kid in a candy store.

Your project for your social studies class was half-assed and you had to skip your lunch period to work on it in the library since you spent the entire week meant to work on it fucking Coryo. But it all worked out. You and Coryo ended up getting an A+ on the project. You and Coryo also had lots of fun fucking each other and learning each other's bodies.

But one thing that never changed is how obsessed Coryo is about your large breasts. He's so obsessed with them that he'll just cuddle with you and rest his head on them. Something that freaks out your mutual friend, Sejanus Plinth, when he witnesses it at school during lunch and break periods.

But what can you can say? Coryo’s obsessed with your big boobs, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Especially when the mentoring project comes around…

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[admirationandromantics]

Tension-Filled Moments

Another request I got! Hope everything's fine with everyone, currently remodelling my posts, so I guess having some sort of intro here is obligatory? Anyways, requests are still open, so come with more if you want to. Enjoy! <3

Word count: 2,9 k

“Sam, I look ridiculous!” I complain, walking out of the fitting room. I’m wearing a horrid-looking orange-red dress. It highlights my worst features. 

“Okay, I hear you” she sighs. “It looked better on the rack, try the red one instead” she waves her hand dismissively, urging me to get this filth out of her vision. At least she didn’t have to wear it. I take it off, making sure to be careful. I swear to god, if I ruin this and have to pay for it, it’ll be the end of me. The end of my wallet to be specific. Anyone who bought this type of clothing should be ashamed of themselves. I hang it back on the handler, taking forth the red short dress and putting it over my head. It’s dark, fitting, with a neckline that’s a little too low. I love it. I walk out, spinning and parading in front of Sam, and she cheers in response. 

“That’s what I’m talking about! See, you kiss a thousand frogs, you’ll eventually find your prince!” 

“Well, all that time trying on outfits paid off when this was the result” I exclaim, turning and looking at myself in the mirror. I look amazing, hot, sexy. Just like I was planning. 

“Ashley’s wearing brown, right?” I ask, looking over. It was a colour-party, but since no one wanted a colour that had the same letter as the first one in their name, everyone improvised. Sam was gonna wear gold, Chris green, Matt orange… Everyone was different. “I know, she said she wanted to go for something homey, though I think she and Chris will match more than we think” she smirks, and I smile in response. How can the both of them be so oblivious? 

“Think anyone will end up in the same colour?” she asks, a bit worried. 

“Nah, I think Jess made sure of that. She was scared for the same thing” 

“Well then, nothing to worry about” 

***

We make our way up to the Washington residence, the cold autumn wind flowing through our hair. The music is loud enough to be heard from where we parked, and the lights inside are blinking furiously. Sam opens the door for me, and I walk inside, surprised by the lack of people. We are late, at least by half an hour, but only Ashley, Chris and the Washington siblings are here. 

“Hey guys” I greet, walking over. Ashley looks stunning. How can someone look so approachable and glamorous at once, in brown? Chris didn’t put his heart in the outfit, a dark green shirt and tie paired with black pants. Beth arrives, wearing a dark grey suit with a white undershirt. It looks amazing, exactly her style. 

“Hey girls” she greets, walking over to us. She holds out her hands to Sam, signalling for her to take off her jacket. 

“Wow, such gentleman behaviour” Sam comments, taking off her coat, revealing her glittering golden dress. She looks stunning, like a goddess. Everyone looks at her in awe, and I get a glimpse of a slight blush on both her and Beth’s faces. 

“You’re like the sun, like a literal glowing person” Hannah comments, walking past her sister and giving her a hug. She’s wearing a long dark purple dress, almost so dark I can’t see the colour. 

“Matches her personality” I state, opening my jacket to hang up. At this moment, I suddenly feel a warm presence behind me. Something dark, something big. Two hands go to my shoulders, slowly dragging off my jacket. 

“I guess I’ll take this” he whispers, and I immediately recognise the voice. The famous Josh Washington. His breath is going hot against my ear, sending small shivers down my spine. I let him pull off the clothing, painfully slow, head near my neck the entire encounter. I try not to blush, try not to let the erotic images in my head get to me, but it’s hard. Each second feels like several minutes, like the whole room goes dark and we’re the only ones here. 

Safe to say I might have a thing for Josh, but he’ll never know that. We’re those types of friends who always flirt, always take the joke a tad too far, always do something to fluster the other. Everyone has gotten used to it by now, our bickering and small comments. They are never mean, but always have some sort of suggestive undertone to them. As he whispers in my ear, no one pays attention, everyone being busy with each other. If they only knew what goes through my head every time he does something like this. 

I turn around, the jacket finally being far enough down to not be in the way. I meet his face, now awfully close to mine. The things I’m thinking about, the things I want to do right now… 

“Well, I guess chivalry goes in the family” I state, looking him up and down. He’s wearing all black. A black suit with a black shirt. His eyes stand out as the only colour shown. 

“Maybe it does, but you wearing that dress isn’t gonna make it last long” he whispers, just out of earshot for the others. 

“Say, are you staring down my chest right now Joshy?” I ask, a smirk forming on my lips. 

“Hard not to” 

“Funny guy”

“I try to be” 

I clap him on the shoulder in a joking manner before turning to walk over to the others. 

“Well, keep trying” 

They’ve started drinking, everyone having some sort of colourful drink. I grab a blue one, making my way to Hannah. 

“Wow, look at you!” she shrieks, eyes widened. “You look like you just came out of Vogue!” 

I laugh in response, thanking her. “What about you though, looking like you’re about to go to a gala”

She twirls in response, the dress following in a graceful manner. It is truly a stunning one, and the colour is breathtaking. We talk for a while, not about serious stuff, just random things that happened during the week. 

“Mike came to see me” she suddenly says, taking a long sip of her drink. I furrow my brows in confusion. 

“Why?” 

“Well, he had some down-time from his studies” she smiles, giving me a wink. A dark feeling grows in my chest. They’re not close friends, they never have been. 

“And you…” I start, hoping that she finishes my thought. 

“Oh no, no!” she laughs, waving her hand. “Nothing happened, of course not. I would never do that to Emily. We just talked” 

“Right” I sigh, uncomfortable with the whole situation. I know Emily is very insecure, at least deep down. I don’t think she would appreciate her boyfriend coming over to her friend late at night to talk. I look over at Sam, and she’s on her way to the bathroom. 

“I’ll be right back Hannah, just have to accompany Sam to the bathroom” I quickly say, making my way to the hall, following the blonde. 

“Psst, Sam!” I whisper-yell, and she turns around, noticing me. She shakes her head, holding her hands forth. 

“Let me come with you, please” I beg, making a pouty face. She rolls her eyes and signals for me to join her. 

“This better be important” she huffs, linking our arms as we walk down. 

“I just wanted a break, heard a little more than I wanted to” I state, relaxing against her. 

“The late visit Hannah got from Mike?” she asks, and I look at her face, confused by how she already knows it. She notices my stare and laughs, a small and gentle one. 

“Heard it from Beth” she explains, and I nod in reply. That makes sense. 

“How long do you need to be gone for?” she asks impatiently.

We stop, a couple of doors away from the bathroom, and I look at her accusingly. She seems anxious, like she doesn’t really want me here. 

“Sam, what’s going on? Are you okay?” I ask, sensing her impatience. 

“Um- I just” she starts, unsure of what to say next. A switch in my head clicks. She snuck out, she doesn’t want me here, and her cheeks are red and flushed. The realisation hits me in a flash. 

“You’re going to have sex with Beth in the bathroom!” I exclaim, proud of my mystery-solving skills. Her hand flies to my mouth, shutting me up. I didn’t realise how loud I was. 

“Are you insane” she scolds, and I immediately feel bad. 

“Sorry Sam” I muffle under her fingers.

Her hand moves away from my mouth, a little at first to check that I won’t scream. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep her away” Josh says, suddenly standing beside us. 

“Josh?” we both say in unison. What is he doing here? 

“I was just-” Sam starts, stammering even more than before. He holds a finger up, and she stops. 

“I absolutely DON’T want to know about my sister’s encounters. Please don’t make me kick you out”

Sam smiles in response, giving him a nod before continuing to the bathroom. She disappears down the hall. 

“Wow, you saved yourself a murder trial” I comment. “I was positive she was gonna kill me” 

“Nah, Sam couldn’t, but Beth would” he adds, holding out his hand for me. I take it, and we start walking back. 

“You know, you should wear suits more often” I say, looking over at him again. 

“Oh, really? Are you into this?” he smirks, eyes catching mine. 

“Maybe a little” I shoot back, and he takes a deep breath. Two can play this game, and he should know how easy it comes for me. I only say what I think. 

“Let’s say I were to slam you against this wall right now, and feel myself up your thigh” he starts, and my cheek flush. Thank god it’s dark here. “How would that make you feel?” 

I feel my heat getting wetter just from the thought. It would never happen, but it’s still something that I think about every night. Often ending in a cold shower. 

“Fine, we can both do this” I say, and he gives me an intriguing look, eager to see what I can come up with. “Let’s say, Josh, I was to slam you against this wall. I would kiss your neck, bite your skin…” I continue, stopping us, and letting my finger trail his upper body. I slowly move it down as I continue. “And I would bend down in front of you, lower, and lower, and lower” I say, each repeating word slower and more sensual than the last. His breath quickens as my hand makes it to his lower stomach. He’s quick to take hold of my wrist before it goes further. 

“You’re good at this” he whispers, faces closing in. He smells good, a mix of pine and cinnamon.

“Don’t start a fight you can’t win Josh” I tease, dragging him over to the party. 

The others have finally arrived. Jess in a stunning light blue, Emily in glittering silver, Mike in white and Matt in orange. 

“Hey guys!” I greet them. Jess gives me a loud shriek, jumping up and down like a child. 

“You look beautiful!” 

“So do you, Jess” I exclaim, and she gives me a little spin. I look over at Emily. She’s got shiny silver pearls in her hair, complimenting her 20s dress. Classy and elegant, like she always is. Hannah approaches her and Mike, and I take that as a sign to leave. If something breaks out, I don’t want to stand in the middle. 

I walk to the kitchen, quick to make myself a drink. I don’t care about which colour, just that it’s strong. Suddenly, a hand makes its way to my waist, grabbing my skin harshly. I bite my lip to stop a sound about to escape from my mouth. If he only knew what doing these small things did to me. Not only this, but the small touches too. The slight brush of our fingers when walking past each other, those beautiful eyes narrowing just a bit, that small lick to his lip whilst talking. Everything gets me going, and it’s exhausting. I turn around to face the culprit. 

“Well, hello again” I smile. 

“Felt the need for another break so quickly? You were barely out” Josh comments. Again, everything seems to fade away as we talk, every single person and object being blurred out in the background. 

“Or maybe I just wanted to get your attention” I tease, biting my lip a tad too noticeable. He glances down at them, his own lips parting slightly in response. 

“You certainly got it” he whispers back, head slowly moving closer to mine. 

“Guys!” Chris shouts, running into the kitchen and slamming the door close. The heat of the moment fades as fast as it came. 

“What’s up Chris?” I ask, and Josh takes a step back, moving to lean on the counter on the opposite side of me. Chris is panting heavily, a light pink shade covering his cheeks. 

“Calm down bro, what’s going on?” 

“I think I’m about to fuck Ashley”

I stare at him, eyes widened. Where did this come from? I thought this would take an eternity for the both of them. 

“Chris, you need to take a breather” I state, holding my hands up for him to calm down. “We already know you want to, but you’re about to?” 

“It just- it happened so fast!” he exclaims, rambling on. 

“Wait, have you already had sex with her? How many people are gonna take advantage of my house tonight?” Josh asks, looking over at me. I smile. 

“Everyone but you darling”

“Oh, but believe me, princess, I’ve got someone on the hook tonight” he winks, and I roll my eyes. 

“Guys listen to me!” Chris yells, stealing our focus back to him. “We were in the hallway, and I think we’re both drunk, I don’t know-”

“You’re definitely both drunk” I interrupt, earning a glare in response. 

“Anyway, and the moment was there, everything was heating up and… Well, she kissed me” 

“Oh my god!” I exclaim. Finally it happened. 

“Dude, are you serious? Well done!” Josh moves to give him a high five, but Chris leaves him hanging, causing him to disappointedly take down his hand again. 

“And what happened after?” I ask, intrigued and excited. 

“Well, we made out for a while, and she said something about ‘being sooooo tired’ so I ran over here to you guys” 

We both look at him, mouths wide open. He just left? She gave him such a hint and he came here instead of being with her? 

“Dude, you messed up” Josh says, hand moving to his head. 

“Ashley is probably waiting for you” I add. It’s like he has a major realisation, eyes widening and a surprised look. 

“Shit, shit, shit” 

“Run man!” Josh urges, and Chris thanks us before running out of the kitchen again. 

When he leaves, I look over at Josh, who’s already facing me. We both burst out laughing, and keep going for at least two minutes. We finally calm down after a bit, and I try to regulate my pulse. 

“God, I can’t breathe” I smile, flapping my hands for air. I feel hot, my face is probably super red and my stomach hurts from all the laughing. 

“You know, there’s other ways to get your breathing like that” he says, and I look up to find him smirking, both hands leaning on the counter behind him. He looks stunning in the black suit, and I can already imagine him taking off the jacket and choking me against the wall. 

“Does that do something to you?” he asks, biting his lip. 

“I’m positively dripping right here where I stand” I answer, not exactly lying. 

“Then you know how I felt in the hallway” 

“Luckily for me, it doesn’t show, you however” I say, pointing to his nether region. 

“You think I don’t know when I turn you on?” He takes some steps closer, leaning a bit over me. 

“As if you’ve ever seen me turned on” I whisper seductively. 

“Trust me, I know. There’s a slight blush on your cheeks” he starts, hand moving to cup my face. “And your body gets incredibly warm” he continues, the other hand moving to my arm. “Of course, there’s also those small squirms, the way you subtly rub your thighs together, as if waiting for me to do something about it” his hand graces down my arm, following down to my hips. 

There’s no air in the room, no way to breathe. His face gradually moves closer, heads tilting a little in opposite directions. My heat pools as his hands continue feeling me up, groping me. One flies to the back of my head, tangling in my hair and pushing me towards him. His hot breath graces my skin, the smell of alcohol and wood mixing. Or noses touch, and- 

The door abruptly opens, and Emily barges in. We hop away from one another. 

“Fucking hell Josh, can you please control your sister?” she asks, irritated and going right for the strong stuff. 

“What’s going on Em?” I ask, almost afraid of the answer. 

“She’s all over Mike, my Mike!” she shouts pouring her drink all the way to the brim of the glass.

“Just chill Emily, everyone knows he’s your boyfriend, she’s not gonna do anything” Josh says, trying to calm her down. 

“You’re right, at least she won’t if her big brother is in the room. Come on, both of you!” she urges, waving her hands like one does with dogs. We look at each other before obliging, walking with her out to the living room.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

So for new year cards...

Jack SSR is actually so cool; I like it. Malleus SSR is beautiful and all, but he really reminds me of a bride in forced marriage tropes. 😭

[Referencing the Twst JP Jan 2025 schedule!]

Finally, some good fucking food for Jack stans 😭 Port Fest feels like so long ago… fbjssbdjjs I feel like I can’t appreciate his design as much as others can. I’m not into the skintight undershirt on a character as buff as Jack is, and I'm confused as to why his gloves are... like that??? But!! I do like his fluffly little boa thing and how enthusiastic his pose is. You can tell he’s really putting his all into the New Year Sale~!

Malleus got another new hairstyle (any hairstyle that's different than his default one is a win in my book www)!! I think it's a well-liked look among his fans; I already saw so many people commenting that he looks like a love interest in a reborn as a villainess isekai or something to that effect.

I also saw some chatter around the thin fabric that Malleus seems to have over himself. A common joke is that it's a "wedding veil", but given the traditional Japanese clothes everyone is wearing for the new year, it's more likely also a Japanese article of clothing. A friend theorized that it's a 被衣 (kazuki/katsugi), a garment worn over the head that fully covers the body. These are mostly donned by noblewomen to cover their faces when they go out--and that sort of makes sense, given that Malleus himself is a noble. How demure and mindful... I thought the veil could also be a frost blanket (you know, to protect the budding flowers from the cold)?? But I'm not entirely sure right now; maybe the vignettes will give us more context!

A friend and I were speculating as to what flowers might be featured in the initial card art and the conclusion we came to was ume (plum) blossoms. The color and shape are similar, and they're a classic flower in winter anime. Something else I noticed was that the same flowers seem to appear in Sebek's New Year Attire from two years ago! If you compare Malleus and Sebek, you'll notice that the lighting is much warmer in Sebek's too. In fact, all previous SSR cards are pretty much like that, save for maybe Trey but at least Trey is shown to be in front of the shop. It really makes Malleus's card "stick out", since he's the only one that appears to be in a lonely and isolated location, just him and the plum blossoms.

On the subject of clothing worn by Japanese women! The same friend and I talked about Jamil's New Year Attire too. (Figured I'd throw this in here since I'm already talking about the other three 2025 New Year boys. Don't wanna leave him out, y'know??)

You can see that he has his hood up in the initial card artwork; my friend joked that Jamil's a newlywed. Why? Brides that choose to dress traditionally for their wedding days wear a wide white headdress/hood called a 角隠し (tsunokakushi), which covers an elaborate hairstyle like Jamils'/j. The "tsuno" (horns, as I'm sure you're all familiar with) in the name refers to the "horns of jealousy"; the tsunokakushi is meant to blanket the jealousy so she can enter her new married life at peace.

Of course, the shape, color, and context of the tsunokakushi is very different than what Jamil's got going on and the Twst team most likely did not intend for this comparison to be drawn, but I thought that this was interesting to share ^^ (*feeds Jamuil yumes this delulu cultural trivia*)

Aaaand let's close out with Floyd! The answer to his question is simple, actually. To put one's arm inside the kimono is just a very casual or relaxed way to pose. It suits Floyd and his attitude, doesn't it?

[cherie-doll]

I need to chew on Philip Graves

Could I get graves and Rudy reacting to you biting them:)

They are occupying all of my mind rn

I like your thinking.. i like it very much, yes we're on the same wavelength

Gnawing on a couple of muscly and built men because what else are those muscles for?

Rudy

He's just in bed with you, probably looking through a catalogue, smiling softly to himself as you're lying close to him

He likes being shirtless around the house because he just wants to be comfortable, but this often exposes his back to you

His shoulders grab your attention the most, so much you like sinking your teeth into them and making him gasp as if he just had cold water poured over him, but you make sure it's always gentle, applying less pressure with your canines and using your front teeth more

And sometimes when you're resting your head on his chest and he snores off you like trailing your lips up to his neck and pressing soft kisses that make him murmur softly in his sleep, then you'll kiss a little harder, leaving sloppy trails until you're biting and leaving marks

He'll draw in a sharp breath and wake up to hickeys on his neck and you just batting your lashes innocently at him

He's not mad, the opposite actually, but just a little embarrassed and surprised you're like this

"O-oh"

Phillip Graves

Aggressively loving this man is your favorite thing to do because his reactions always amuse you

Coming up to him while he least expects it, prob when he's sitting on the couch, legs splayed wide open as he switches through the channels on tv for something to interest him

He's wearing nothing but a white undershirt and boxers, leaving his meaty thighs vulnerable to you, your mind already in the gutter

He's frowning at the tv as he continues in search of something to watch, finally he does find something and he rests back a little, readjusting his hips as he sits more comfortably, interlocking his hands behind his head

You slide onto the couch next to him, bringing your head down to his lap and he rests a hand on your hip, sliding it down slightly to your backside

Turning your head you bite into the inner side of his thigh, not caring to leave a mark that'll last a good while, he only grunts, hissing our your name as he swats at you

And you've stopped biting, giggling into his skin as he catches a glimmer in your eye as he scoffs playfully, his fingers feeling how deep you bit

[zepskies]

Big & Tall

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You steal Sam’s shirt. But that simple theft comes at a big price.

Request: Can you write something where Sam notices the reader wearing his shirt?

Song Inspo: “Look At You” by Screaming Trees

Word Count: 2,200

Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Fluff, thievery, kitchen shenanigans, implied smut, tinge of angst and feels.

It was an honest mistake, really.

After the latest hunt, Sam graciously offered to let you wash your clothes here in the bunker (since most of them were bloodstained). You had to pull a finished load from the dryer before you could use it, not knowing if it was Sam or Dean’s clothes you were shoving into a nearby basket.

When you later went back for your clothes in the dryer, you’d apparently grabbed one of Sam’s black undershirts in all the fabric shuffling.

An accident. Though you hadn’t realized it until you were back in the comfort of your borrowed room in the bunker, sitting on your bed and folding your laundry.

You pulled out one of those big-and-talls and took one good look—and you knew it could only fit perfectly on Sam Winchester’s extra-long torso.

A smile unconsciously drew across your face.

You knew you should just bring it over to him. His room was a mere two doors down the hall…but instead, you gave into the quiet, secret urge to fold it up and put it with the rest of your laundry, knowing full well you were going to use it from now on as a sleep shirt.

The thing was so long it reached halfway down your thighs. (AKA: the perfect length.) But you really didn’t think he would miss an old-ass undershirt like this one.

The next morning, you made sure you were dressed in some pajama pants, your most comfortable bra, and an old college shirt before you ventured out of your room and into the kitchen.

Predictably, Sam was already up and dressed for the day, making some coffee. It was early enough that Dean was likely asleep, or at least still getting himself together.

Sam turned and greeted you with a smile. “Morning.”

“Mhmm,” you nodded groggily, though you offered him a “pleasant” smile before you accepted a coffee mug from him.

Sam’s smile deepened slightly. He knew you weren’t a morning person. He sipped at his own mug while you held yours with both hands, raising it slowly to your lips. You closed your eyes at its hazelnut warmth; trust him to stock the fridge with your favorite creamer. You hummed in delight.

Sam’s gaze was warm on you too, though you didn’t realize it.

“Hey, uh…we’re running low on stuff. Want to go somewhere for breakfast?” he asked.

You met his gaze and had to stifle your smile this time.

“Sure,” you nodded. “Want to wait for Dean?”

Sam shrugged. “We can bring him something back.”

Interesting. Your smile grew, despite your best efforts.

“Okay. Let me just get dressed,” you said.

And maybe you’d put a little makeup on, fix your frizzy bedhead. Apparently you and Sam were going on a brunch date.

Not a real one though, you rolled your eyes at yourself as you trekked down the hall. You had known the Winchesters for a couple of years now, and had gone through some real scrapes together whenever they needed your help, or vice versa. They were quickly becoming part of your people. Your family.

…But never more than that, it seemed.

Your smile slowly fell before you reached your room. You just couldn’t know that Sam was staring after you, down the hall, with a similar contemplation on his face.

“Think Dean’ll crap his pants when he sees the Impala’s gone?” you remarked. You were the passenger while Sam drove. You knew he must've been savoring this, as it was one of the few times he’d ever sat in that seat.

“I left him a note,” Sam replied in amusement.

“Aw, damn,” you teased. “Here I thought we were going on Mission Impossible.”

He shook his head, but his smile kicked up at the corners. He paused when something occurred to him. 

“Hey, by the way.” He turned to you in askance. “Did you happen to see one of my shirts when you were doing laundry yesterday?”

You perked up internally, but you tried to school your features into something more nonchalant. Casual. Yeah.

“Uh, no,” you replied. Somehow, even that small lie made you feel a prickle of guilt. “What color was it?”

“Black,” he said. Good thing he was focused on pulling into the diner’s parking lot, and not on your blushing face. “Can’t seem to find it.”

You averted your gaze and bit the inside of your lip so you wouldn’t smile.

“Sorry, haven’t seen it. I’ll keep a lookout though.”

After a nice morning with Sam (you brought back a breakfast burrito for Dean), you spent the rest of the day catching up on Game of Thrones with the brothers.

It was nice to have a rare day off, even if you spent most of it trying to ignore how your thigh was resting against Sam’s. How you could feel his warmth radiating from his arm, laid behind your head on the couch, and how if you’d just leaned over a few inches, you could’ve been resting against his flannel-covered chest.

God. You’re such a girl, you inwardly lamented at yourself. Fucking c’est la vie.

At their insistence, you spent another night at the bunker while you rested up. That werewolf hunt had been particularly brutal on everyone, especially your wounded side. It was already starting to heal, but would definitely be uncomfortable while driving.

Now, ordinarily you weren’t one to let that keep you down…though it did give you an excuse to stay a little while longer.

When you all finally called it a night, you took a long, hot shower and pulled on the shirt over your underwear. It now kind of felt like contraband, but that thought also amused you. It also made you feel closer to him, in whatever small, pathetic way.

You spent the next couple of hours trying and failing to fall asleep in your room. You tried listening to music, daydreaming, even counting damn sheep for what that was worth, but your brain was wide awake. 

You blew out an irritated sigh into the darkness and silence.

And then your stomach growled. Ugh, fine!

You got up. It was late enough at night that you didn’t bother changing clothes, lest you be spotted by a wild moose. You just padded out barefooted down the hall and into the kitchen, where you raided the fridge.

Geez, Sam was right about them being low on options, you thought as you perused a damn near empty fridge. There was milk and creamer, a couple cases of beer (of course), some crumpled ketchup packets, and a half-eaten burger that already had something fuzzy growing on it.

This is just sad. You grimaced, but you stuck your head in closer to see if you could find anything in the back. If you only knew about the hot gaze on your ass.

“Midnight snack?”

The voice, though familiar, startled the shit out of you. You banged your head on the edge of the freezer door when you jumped on reflex. You cried out and your hand flew to the back of your head, just before a larger hand covered yours.

You glanced up at found Sam’s handsome face—very apologetic, but somehow silently laughing.

“Uh, sorry. You okay?” he asked.

“Y-Yeah,” you replied. You faltered a bit as you realized how close he’d gotten, staring down at you with those earnest hazel eyes. But those eyes soon dipped and took in the rest of you…clad in only a black shirt that brushed your bare thighs.

You watched it start to compute on his face, in the tilt of his head, and the subtle raise of his brows.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked.

Your lips twitched, despite your blushing embarrassment.

“No,” you replied.

His gaze flicked up to yours. He smiled a little incredulously.

He knew you were a filthy liar. But you slipped your hand from under his and crossed your arms under your breasts, leading him to drop his hand from your hair.

“It’s soft…and comfy,” you said lamely. And you wished it smelled like him.

Sam was amused, and a little surprised…and undoubtedly turned on. He couldn’t help but notice your bare legs, the smooth expanse of skin, the suggestion of curves under his shirt, and the firm peaks of your nipples through the fabric.

“Okay. You can keep it,” he said, when his gaze finally drew back up to yours. “For a price.”

Your face felt hot. Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth for a moment, but somehow you managed to answer him.

“Name it,” you said gamely. Your stance became an unspoken challenge.

Sam’s lips drew closer to a smile.

He reached for your chin and tilted your face up towards his. There was a moment of uncertainty there, as if he was giving you time to pull away, if you wanted to.

The truth was, you were holding your breath. It felt like you’d been waiting a small eternity for this exact moment.

Your arms uncrossed. Slowly you reached for him, grabbing onto the front of his blue flannel, and he bent down to you. When his lips finally touched yours, it almost short-circuited your brain. You inhaled deeply and melted a bit, raising your hand to the back of his head to keep him there.

You felt the gentle way he caressed your cheek, and later the strength in his hands when he molded them to the curve of your waist and pulled you in close. You wrapped your arms around his neck in response, and the kiss became a fierce, sloppy meeting of lips.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip and sought entrance. You welcomed him in with a wordless moan.

Your fingers slipped into his hair, nails grazing his scalp. It earned you a deep sound of pleasure from his mouth into yours. Soon enough, those same strong hands were roaming down your waist and hips, then squeezing your ass, and pressing you against the hard planes of his body. You also felt the hardening length of him against your stomach.

“Sam,” you gasped against his lips.

That seemed to pull him out of the frenzied haze. Panting for breath though he was, he broke from you, pulling away far enough to look down at you with furrowed brows. There was a question in his eyes that he still voiced.

“Too much?” he asked.

It was a loaded question, but you thought you could read them all.

Do you want this? Do you really want me? We can stop…

Your answer was simple. You pulled yourself up on your toes and claimed his lips with a devouring kiss. Sam’s eyes closed on a sharp inhale, but his hold on you tightened again. He bent down to move his hands down the back of your thighs, and he squeezed twice, wordlessly encouraging you to jump for him.

You had electricity in your veins and a warm pulsing between your thighs. In your frazzled state, you did your best to jump up, but he helped you the rest of the way. You were able to wrap your legs around his waist, though you let out a small yelp at being vaulted so high.

Now you had the rare privilege of looking down at Sam’s amused face. You smiled down at him, caressing his cheek.

“I think I want a tour of your room,” you said.

“Good,” Sam replied. Despite the care he took in how he held you, you saw the hunger in his eyes. “I could go for a midnight snack.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that. You clung to his shoulders as he carried you down the hall and into his room, where he locked the door behind him.

The man was a furnace, you discovered, after your skin was dewy and glistening against his, and the sheets laid tangled between your bare legs.

He held you to his chest while he recovered on his back. You rested there, just enjoying the sound of his heartbeat slowly coming down from its race. His fingertips traced lazy patterns up and down your naked back.

Sam had taken great pleasure in tossing the shirt along with his other clothes onto the floor. Your panties had been flung to parts unknown.

You smiled at the thought, while your nails made delicate tracks of their own across his slightly furry chest.

“What’re you thinking?” he asked you. Quiet and steady.

With a sigh, you pushed up onto your elbow on his pillow, so you could see his face. Your hand found his cheek. There his stubble pricked against your palm, and you drew your thumb tenderly across his his lower lip.

“I’m hoping you want more from this than one…very awesome night,” you confessed.

Sam smiled, reaching up to grasp your wrist gently. It was a different kind of touch, where just a few moments ago, he’d pushed your body damn near to its limits. And yet, he knew his own strength. Controlled, even in his bed.

“Yeah, I do,” he replied, though his eyes gradually fell from your face. “I’ll be honest, it uh…scares me a little.”

“What does?” you asked with a frown. You waited until he looked up at you again.

“This matters to me,” he said at last. “You matter to me.”

And the people that mattered all too often got taken away from him.

Your throat constricted. Because in his wary eyes, you could almost see the thoughts that were likely plaguing his mind. Things that might’ve kept him from this night with you for so long.

In that moment, you made a decision. You lowered down to press a gentler kiss to his lips.

“Then let’s give it a try,” you said.

AN: It got a little angstier than I intended there at the end lol, but I went with it! I so hope you guys enjoy this. I love me some Sam. 💜

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Sam W. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @violetlilysunshine @nic-kolas @hobby27 @idiotdyslexic

@pizzagirlxnsfwx @malindacath @brujaporfavor @torchbearerkyle @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @adoringanakin @sanscas @pap3rtigers @kaleldobrev @nix-rose @angelbabyyy99 @jackles010378

[asidian]

And finally, one last color to examine in Dead Boy Detectives:

WHITE

White is vulnerability.

White is the color that Edwin wears in hell, and it's the color of the lighting in Despair's realm.

Edwin wears white while he's being tortured by Esther Finch.

Niko wears white on the day that she dies. As a very neat aside, a white kimono is also the traditional burial wear for a corpse in Japan, so in addition to being marked vulnerable by the in-universe symbolism, she is visually marked for death from the start of that episode.

White features prominently in Crystal's outfit on the day when she loses her powers. She's rendered helpless without her psychic abilities, but she's also left vulnerable by her fear that the boys don't actually want her around unless she can offer them something.

White also creeps in among all the black in Jenny's outfits here and there throughout the show, notably appearing only for the scenes where she opens up and exposes her feelings more than is typical for her.

Charles is stripped down to his white undershirt just after he dies.

When Esther kidnaps the boys in the final episode, they appear as glowing white orbs when they are initially taken into captivity.

Comparably few scenes in the show are lit in white. Among them, notably, are the scene where the Cat King compels Edwin to tell the truth, the scene by the seashore where Niko and Edwin talk about his feelings, and the scene with Edwin and Niko on the rooftop, discussing Niko's father and Edwin's confession. They're all incredibly intimate, vulnerable scenes.

And finally, last but certainly not least, in the very first episode both Edwin and Charles appear largely in white while they are dressed down in their office. They are metaphorically and physically exposed around one another; they've laid themselves bare by choice, as a matter of trust, and they're comfortable with it.

red | blue | pink | green | green (alt) | purple | orange | brown | black |white

[solovelyanddry]

A Case For Bottom Oliver Quick

To start, let's establish some terms - a top is the penetrating partner in anal sex and a bottom is the receptive partner. These terms are descriptive - they are not personality traits or strict categories. You can be a submissive top or a dominant bottom, which brings us to the case of one Oliver Quick and his night with Farleigh.

Let's first start with this:

Oliver is offering to let Farleigh fuck him (i.e., let Farleigh top him).

Later that night, Oliver surprises Farleigh in his room, straddling the larger man around his upper waist so they can see face-to-face (remember Farleigh/Archie is about 9 inches taller than Oliver/Barry). Note that Oliver is wearing an undershirt in this scene.

Oliver asks Farleigh if he is going to behave and then reaches behind him with his left arm, going under Farleigh's sheet. Notice the top of the sheet is behind Oliver's butt.

Oliver is clearing doing something to Farleigh's dick here, as we can hear the sheet continue to rustle and "Farleigh moans softly." Like in the vampire scene with Venetia, he is asserting dominance by providing the other person with pleasure.

"Are you going to behave?" Nnooo." Farleigh looks down between him and Oliver to whatever is happening under the sheet. "I'm going to behave," followed by more moaning and rustling. At this point, having triumphed, Oliver does something new, as Farleigh asks, "What the fuck?"

The lube spit enters the scene! After reaching back with his left hand, Oliver, who has maintained a steady posture during this whole encounter, tips his head back and up slightly. His expression changes slightly, and whatever he is doing become more vigorous as the bed creaks.

Oliver's face turns to one of pleasure as he inserts Farleigh into him. Farleigh, for his part, tries eating Oliver's chin. Studying Oli's neck seems to indicate that he is slightly arching his back.

Finally, in the two scenes we see of the events that immediately follow this encounter Oliver is (at least) shirtless (framing Farleigh for trying to sell the Palissy plates) and naked (back in his own bed in the morning). If he's worried about the maids reporting back to Elspeth, bottoming would make a bigger mess on the underclothes that he was wearing and would necessitate stripping down once he gets back to his own room.

Again, while I mentioned that bottoming isn't a personality trait, it fits with his theme of consumption throughout the film. He is taking the family into himself, presenting himself as something that is thought of as submissive while really being the one in control.

[zo3mess]

Laundry girl

Summary: Laundromat is usually empty so late at night except for Adrian, until it isn’t. But there is no reason for him to get nervous around his new laundry buddy, right?

Warnings: mentions of violence, mention of death, mention of period blood, foul language and that’s all? If you notice something that might be triggering, just let me know. Also female reader and no use Y/N as far as I remember.

Word count: 3.8K

Extra songs for this fic

Masterlist of my works

Note: My ongoing brain rot with Vigilante, inspiration from the song Laundry Girl from Ludo (I politely stole a lot from their lyrics) and need to practice my English before test somehow escalated into this. This is a mess, nothing makes sense idk. Honestly, I have no idea why I decided to make it public, but hey, bad content is still content right? English is not my first language, so if you see any grammar mistakes or weird words, just ignore them. However every criticism is welcomed and appreciated.

Oh, the sweet contrast of late spring. Days warm enough to let bare skin be caressed by heating sun, yet cold nights leave shivers down the spine, a fleeting reminder that the carelessness of summer is not entirely there yet.

Exactly on one of those nights, Adrian found himself in a 24-hour laundromat down the street from his small apartment. Neon lights from the sign were illuminating dark streets as well as the faint lights from inside.

He didn’t like that smell that lingered in the air. Fragrances from detergents that are far too strong and mix in an unpleasant whiff, plus the disinfection and the smell from forgotten socks that got stuck somewhere between a wall and washing machine. No, thanks. He could buy his own washing machine, which would be much more practical, but why make anything easy when you can make it difficult.

When Adrian entered the familiar environment, he sighed at the strong smell hitting his nose. Temperature in the laundromat was slightly warmer than the one outside, but not enough for him to take off his hoodie. Adrian settled his bag with dirty clothes on a scraped metal table in the middle of the cramped room.

There was one thing he liked about this laundromat, even though it was open almost nonstop, no one was ever there late at night like he was.

Usually.

Sometimes few drunks were sleeping peacefully in the corner, desperately seeking just a tad bit of warmth, but as long they didn’t do anything, Adrian had no reason to pay any attention to them.

Tonight was different, his regular loneliness and peace was disturbed by another person entering the room. However screeching of old doors, quick gust of cold air and heavy tired footsteps did not alert him at all.

"Do you need help with that?" you asked with a soft voice, a smile on your face while you looked at the stranger in front of you expectantly "I don’t want to call myself a professional, but I can pretty much clean every stain. Or at least I haven’t been defeated so far,"

His mind was too focused on a single task before him, getting rid of dried blood that was plastered on his black undershirt. The one he wears under his chest plate, one that was stitched up too many times from all the slashing and tearing.

Will he ever buy a new one? Of course not.

Not until he finds a shirt that looks and feels the same as this one. Adrian cursed the guy that got his suit in such disheveled state. That bastard deserved a bullet to his head even before he managed to get Vigilante’s suit all messy and sticky with blood.

Your question caught him off guard, his hands wincing a little. Green eyes glancing up at you with startled expression. When did you get here? Were you watching him the whole time? Crouched up above his shirt, scrubbing away with bile soap, tip of his tongue stuck out in concentration. You leaned across the table, examining his work. "Ketchup?"

"Blood actually," Why would it be ketchup? He doesn’t even like ketchup. It does not taste like tomatoes at all! Goddamn lying sauce. "I got a really bad nosebleed. I get that a lot, that’s why my clothes are always bloody." No other reason of course.

"If your clothes are always bloody you should have no problem with cleaning them right? But I gotta admit blood is a hell of an enemy when it dries and sits on the fabric for a while. Just put it in cold water to soak off, that should do it."

"Why do you know so much about cleaning blood?" Adrian asked with suspicion in his voice. Eyebrows furrowed under his glasses and his eyes stared at you intently. Paranoia creeping up on him again.

"Well I don’t know if you noticed but I’m a woman. Periods teach you a lot. I’m not some blood-stained killer I swear." You said the last sentence with a wide smile, shaking your head before returning to your own work. Throwing dirty laundry into the washing machine without even glancing back at Adrian. He was standing there with fingers tapping on the metal table, burning a hole in the back of your skull with his stare. Yeah, you better not be. He thought to himself.

He forced a smile and went back to scrubbing, he did not have the time to soak it off, he needed it ready for tomorrow, preferably without blood. You paid him no mind and pushed the button to start the cycle. With a sigh you took out a small book from the laundry basket you brought with you and sat down on a screeching chair nestled between other washing machines. If you have to sit it out here you might as well do something productive.

"Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy," his voice made you flinch and you glanced at him absentmindedly "I love that movie!"

"Book’s even better." You acknowledged his giddiness with simple words. The truth is you enjoyed reading books after you watched movies that were based on them. Sometimes they were better, sometimes worse, but they always expanded the story and the universe.

"Reading is for nerds plus it can’t be that much better." Doubting Thomas, of course. Adrian quickly waved off the idea that books can be better than movies.

"There is extremely many things that did not make it in the movie, not gonna mention directive changes. But go on, live your life without all the great details." You returned to your reading, barely registering quiet mumbling coming from Adrian’s direction.

"My washing machine broke and I don’t have spare money to buy a new one. I’ll be coming here until my next salary" The other option was attempting to fix it yourself, that would be a death sentence for the washing machine and you as well.

"What are you doing here anyway? I come here almost every Saturday and I am alone here." He wouldn't drop it, curiosity gets the better of him most of the time, why would this be any different? It was suspicious that another girl is washing her laundry in the middle of the night.

The fact he was currently getting rid of blood from the undershirt he wears out to kill criminals is an entirely different story.

"But why so late? It’s way past midnight."

"Couldn’t sleep." You just shrugged. You did not care if he believed you or not, it was true. Your new neighbors were blasting music practically all evening, it was better to wait it out elsewhere. "It seems we will be meeting each other more often. I didn’t catch your name."

The more time you spent together in the chilly room, words drowned out by buzzing washing machines, the more you got along. Starting off with awkward small talk, through petty debate whenever books are better than movies, all the way to wishing each other goodnight as well as Adrian wishing you had a monster under your bed and parting ways. Only if he knew monster wasn’t the one creeping up on you in your sleep. Thoughts of tonight busying your mind.  

"It’s Adrian." His voice was hesitant, suspicion rising and falling with each word you said. He’s not sure if you are a poor soul with dirty laundry or a spy hired to watch the infamous Vigilante.

How would you even know his secret identity? He had no idea, but sometimes it is better to account for all possibilities.

You nodded at his answer and told him your name in return. Little something he burned into the back of his mind.

------------

The second time he met you was two weeks from the last encounter, just the way he mentioned previously. This time you were there first, already occupying one machine with white clothes while the other part of your laundry sat in a basket nearby. You quickly shot him a smile and he greeted you in return.

"You’re here early." Adrian commented almost under his breath as he put full duffel bag on the table and began sorting his clothes by colors.

"Yeah well, no reason for it really. Maybe curiosity got the best of me and I got here earlier just to see if you would came like you said you would." It seems that old habits die hard. Unknown to you, Adrian was always on time in his routines. Even if he wanted to do his laundry on a different day or at a different time, his body would urge him to do things in the exact same way.

She’s joking, Adrian, don’t sweat it out. There is no way she could kill anyone. His inner thoughts creep up to him again. From time to time, he would appreciate if his Vigilante mind left Adrian alone. "So uhhh… You don’t like cheesy jokes?" Yeah, great save, do not mention hanging Debbie.

The conversation went on quite smoothly, like good old friends meeting. Usual chatter about their days, unnecessary details of “total baller” breakfast from Adrian’s side, gossip about migraine-inducing coworkers from yours.

Adrian attention was glued to every word you said, piece by piece putting together a bigger picture. He can’t even remember the last time someone actually wanted to talk with him and not just wave him off with dismissive answers.

"- And then she put a fucking poster on our shared fridge. That stupid one with cat on a tree with “Hang in there” under it. And I thought our office could not get any more stereotypical," you were throwing your hands around, visibly stating your annoyance at your coworker Debbie.

"I don’t want to “Hang in there” I would much rather hang myself and I swear to God I will hang her in janitor’s closet if she puts another poster on the fridge or tells me a cheesy joke about how much she hates her husband, it’s not funny"

"I like jokes, just not stupid ones. To be honest I can’t remember the last time someone told me a funny joke. I guess it is a curse of modern times, humor changed." You shrugged your shoulders and walked around the crumpled room, looking around and taking in details you missed on your first visit.

"I could tell you a funny joke. I know plenty of them!" Adrian’s enthusiasm made you stop in your tracks. He’s just standing there, a wide smile forming on his face, fingers fidgeting with hem of dirty shirt that laid in mountain of laundry on the table in front of him.

Even if you told him no, Adrian had decided to recite every joke he knew. Some of them were horrible, some of them were… better. Yet it did not made you laugh.

It was a fun game to pass the time, he told you lousy jokes and after each one he patiently waited for your reaction with puppy eyes.

You, on the other hand, had tried so hard to not even let a corner of your mouth turn upwards. The bigger satisfaction it brought the more he stammered as he tried to remember another joke. Adrian could not let himself be a loser in this situation. He will not give up.

"Knock knock," he started again, determined to win this imaginary joke war.

Not laughing at his jokes should be illegal. And that would make you a criminal. In that case, he would not feel bad if he had to take you out as Vigilante.

And maybe if he got rid of you, he wouldn’t feel that irritating need late at night, body itching to go to the laundromat near his apartment to see if you couldn’t sleep either.

If you’re scrubbing spilled wine from your shirt with cheap detergent before throwing it in a washing machine with the rest of your clothes.

If you’re waiting patiently not only for your clothes to dry but also for that funny stranger with curly hair and a dorky smile to show up.

Maybe then his mind would calm down again. He doesn’t need any more distractions in his head.

"Knock knock," a firmer repetition. He’s not going to get discouraged.

"Come in," you retorted while a chuckle was threatening to slip from your lips. Adrian’s arms slouched down his body, enthusiasm transforming into…

Annoyance?

He so desperately wanted to see you smile, why couldn't you comply?

People usually laugh at his jokes, or more like they laugh at him. No matter the reason, people occasionally laugh in his presence alongside constant eye rolls. You haven’t done either and it is messing with him.

"Who’s there?" this time you decided to go along with his joke. These types of jokes are… foul, but you just want to see where he will land with it.

Determination is admirable in certain situations, in others it just leads to doom.  Like that one time when Adrian was chasing a thief down the street, low on bullets, ringing in his ears, lungs burning, but he could not forgive himself if that rat got away. All his attention was set on the dark figure way ahead of him that he did not notice a car when he sprinted across a badly lit street, ultimately knocking him down. Heavens were on his side that night, nothing serious happened except for a few nasty bruises and unrelenting remorse that haunted him following weeks.

But the good kind of determination? That’s gonna win him a smile from a pretty girl in the laundromat.

"Honey bee,"

"Honey bee who?"

"Honey bee a dear and get that for me please?" Adrian said it with a wide smile and excitement in his voice. He pointed at your laundry beads that boost the scent. "It smells so good when you open it, can I try it?"

You laughed just a bit. Fucking finally.

Now Adrian felt like at the top of the world. He made you laugh, no matter if it was just a pitying laugh to get him to shut up, he decided to believe you actually found him funny and no one could take that from him.

You noticed the dreamy look that plastered his face, especially when you let him borrow scented beads. Part of you cherished the fact he liked the ones you washed your clothes with every time and part of Adrian cherished the fact that now his clothes will smell like you before it wears out.

That his sleeping shirt will carry part of you on those nights that he doesn’t see you here.

Wait, when did that happen?

Smell of another person on his clothes should weird him out, it should give him goosebumps all over his pale skin. Why does it sound so comforting this time? Why does he want to keep part of you close?

The last time he felt something similar was when his brother Gut died. They weren’t super close, but his death hit him like a train and he quite literally became a trainwreck. Adrian sat in his brother’s childhood room for hours, taking notes of all the small details, remembering the exact position of each and every piece of furniture. And at times when he felt close to breaking into tears, he took out his brother’s shirts. The familiarity and memories brought comfort. Comfort that disappeared as fast as it came.

This time he was not mourning death of someone close to him, this time he did not miss the feeling of adrenaline that he felt with Peacemaker when they shot appliances in forest or when they killed criminals together before he got locked up.

This time Adrian felt a need to be close to someone he met just a few weeks ago, someone who barely knew him and had not gotten the chance to be taken back by his weirdness.

------------------

These thoughts and confusion followed him home that night. Not even the cold air could not break him out of trance. The way you laughed, the way you softly wished him goodnight when you parted ways, skin illuminated by purple neon light hanging above laundromat, and the way his now clean laundry smells like you since he begged for your scented beads.

Pull yourself together Adrian.

"I don’t understand how you might think Fargo is better than the Office or Better Call Saul for example. Saying it is the best show ever made is crazy" Friendly banter about TV series was accompanied by clicking of your flip-flops as you made your way towards your apartment complex just a couple blocks away from the laundromat.

Adrian had insisted that he walks you home this time, apparently he was afraid you might "fall asleep on your way home" since you two spent almost the whole night in the laundromat.

Sun was lazily rising, yellow painted the sky but few dark clouds were spoiling the otherwise beautiful picture. The smell of rain was in the air, you both knew there was a storm coming on a calm Sunday morning. Few joggers passed you in a hurry. Early birds. Psychopaths. Not like Adrian wasn’t psychotic at least a bit, but he wasn’t that mad to get up so early to run in still-cold weather.

Not just doing laundry, you also brought your book, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and read out loud for him to hear the difference between book and movie.

While you waited for your clothes to dry you two sat on uncomfortable chairs, you with book wide open, pages visible for Adrian to peek from behind your shoulder whenever he wanted. Though most of the time he spent with his eyes closed, face leaning on a stock of washing machines next to him, listening to your reading like a bedtime story.

Even after your laundry was done you decided to stick around, competing who flicks quarters farthest, catching peanuts in your mouth and testing echo in every washing machine. Until you finally decided to head home and get at least few hours of sleep, by that time it was past 5 a.m.

"What do you think is the best show then?" he calmly asked and nudged your shoulder with his own, encouraging you to answer.

"That show is like 100 years old! Dinosaurs watched it!" Adrian shook his head with laughter. You didn’t find his jokes funny but you loved this out of all the shows. Unbelievable.

"Well… I think the best show is The Kids in the Hall, undying classic." You knew your walk slowly but surely reached its end. You could see your main entrance, the fact you were reaching your home was setting you aflame in the worst way possible.

Nonetheless, your eyelids grew heavy and you could not stop yourself from yawning every few seconds, an unavoidable need to fall into your bed and surrender to sweet slumber.

"Hey! If you call that show old, it is like you’re calling yourself old! Should I call nursing to pick you up?" You stopped in front of your apartment complex, not entirely sure if Adrian realized this is where your hangout ends. You turned around to face him and quickly jabbed him in the chest with your finger.

"Ha ha, very funny. But really? So many good shows and you pick this one? And call me out for liking Fargo? You have horrible taste." He couldn’t let this go now he saw how adorable you looked when you were angry. What is the worst that can happen if he teases you more, right?

"Shut it, Adrian. I’m serious." You said that so calmly it almost took him aback, however he could see the fire burning behind your eyes. It only riled him up more.

"You can’t make me-"

Oh, you could.

You grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him down swiftly. The best solution to shut him up was to press your lips against his. A firm, simple kiss that sent electricity through your body.

You felt a muffled yelp that escaped Adrian’s mouth when you surprised him in such an affectionate manner. And at that moment, when your lips touched his, for the first time in a while his mind was quiet, yet his soul was singing.

Time stopped, eyes were tightly shut, heart hammering inside, begging to jump out of his chest, one of his hands found its place on your forearm in uncertainty and took a step closer to get his body closer to you.

You, on the other hand, were fully aware of what was happening. The feeling of gratification that you “won” an argument was the last thing on your mind.

The only thing you could think of was acting up on your secret wishes that swam through your head every time you went to the laundromat to see him.

Suddenly aware of everything, you felt the heat that radiated from Adrian’s body, warming you up in cold air, a few raindrops making you shiver as they fell on your skin. Or were you shivering from the closeness of this intimate act? If anyone asked you would not be able to answer. It did not matter anyway, the only thing that mattered was you kissing him.

The kiss lasted only for a few seconds, but you would both swear it was an eternity. When you pulled away, slowly and delicately, Adrian still had eyes closed, hand hanging in the air where your arm used to be. You realized his mind was completely shut off. A smile formed on your lips at the thought of shutting Adrian up this way every time he brings up some stupid nonsensical squabble.

You left him standing there as rain started to fall on his hair, diamonds in those dark brown curls. And when he finally came to his senses and decided to open his eyes…

You were gone.

Coldness on his body where you were pressed together, sparks lingering on lips, sweet perfume filling his nose, those should be indicators that it was very much real, but his mind was not certain. How could it be, when the stupid brain ceased the second his dreams came true.

You quickly ran upstairs to your apartment, running up to the window in your kitchen and from behind a curtain you watched confused Adrian, who was walking in the opposite direction.

What other choice did you leave him than to head home and wonder.

Wonder about what you were doing when raindrops splattered on the sidewalk, sounding like your flip-flops.

Wonder if you’re already sleeping safe and sound in your bedroom like he will when he reaches his home.

Wonder if you kiss him again once you see each other next week in the laundromat.

Wonder if the laundry girl was real or just a dream.

[octuscle]

Hotel room: filthy chav tf

It was an imposition. An absolute imposition. Having to spend the night in a youth hostel was unbelievable. But in a triple room? Without your own bathroom? Using a communal shower room? That had to be a joke. Yes, his company had to cut costs. There was a new travel policy that banned five-star hotels and business class flights. All well and good. But a youth hostel?!?!?!?!! He called the travel agency and insulted his colleague in the worst possible way. She just replied dryly that everything else was fully booked because of the trade fair and that she had even written Alexander an e-mail asking if the booking was okay. And he had replied with a curt "yes". Unfortunately, there was nothing more she could do, he was still on the waiting list for two hotels. But if there was no answer by now…

Alexander moved into his room. It smelled like a lad's changing room in a community school on a council estate. Of course, he had no idea what it smelled like. But that's how he imagined the stench. Without greeting or acknowledging the teenager lying on the bed playing with his cell phone, Alexander went to the window and pulled it open. "Oi, did someone crap in yer head, mate? Shut that window, innit?" the chav yelled at him. "I don't understand a word you're saying," Alexander replied and began to unpack his suitcase. I don't know how the chav could live like this, he thought to himself. He needed order. He then changed into his bedding, which he saw as a further humiliation, and lay down on the bed. The chav was listening to music so loud that Alexander could clearly hear the bass. He found it more than annoying. But he tried to ignore it. He put on his headset and called his fiancée. Alexander assumed that the chav lying in the bed above him couldn't hear anything, as loud as he was listening to music. So he complained without a care in the world and blasphemed about the young man with the disturbed relationship to personal hygiene and the impossible haircut. "Honey, I have to stop, I have to get out of here and have lunch somewhere civilized." Alexander ended his phone call. He looked up. And he was looking at a dirty white sock.

"Oi, I'm Callum, but me mates call me Cal. So you call me Callum. Did ya just say my smell's botherin' ya? I thought posh gits like you love the scent of real man's feet." Alexander almost threw up. Without saying anything, he jumped up, grabbed his coat and left the room. He had a lunch date with an old school friend at a trendy steak restaurant. It was supposed to distract him and save the evening as much as possible. As he stood in the subway, he wondered what the devil had possessed him not to take a cab. It smelled almost as bad here as in his hotel room. Suddenly he realized that the smell was coming from his armpits. Damn, had he forgotten the deodorant this morning? The journey seemed like an eternity. People wrinkled their noses. My God, that was embarrassing. In the restaurant, he went to the toilet first, wet a towel, took off his shirt and jacket and wiped his armpits. In the stress, he didn't even notice that instead of a white microfiber undershirt with a V-neck, he was wearing a worn-out, yellowed fine rib undershirt. The waiter eyed him a little disparagingly as he brought him to his table. His friend was already sitting there and stood up to greet him. Alexander gave him a fist bump. His friend looked irritated and returned the greeting. "My best man, what kind of ghetto attitudes are these? At least it goes with your casual footwear." Alexander looked at the floor. He was wearing rather expensive-looking sneakers. And white socks. He stammered something about a suitcase that had gone missing and that he'd been a bit stressed. His friend grinned a little disparagingly and poured Alexander a glass of red wine.

The conversation was somehow wooden. Marcus told stories from their school days. But Alexander couldn't remember any of them. The wine was quite tasty, the steak was too rare for him, but he didn't dare complain. With lots of ketchup, it was fine. When the waiter asked if he should pour more wine, Alexander replied with his mouth full "Oi mate, gimme a big beer, yeah? And some mayo with them chips." The rest of the meal passed in silence. All you could hear was Alexander smacking his lips. And after he had finished, a loud and passionate burp. Marcus looked horrified at first. Then he laughed uproariously and burped at least as loudly. "Blimey, mate! That was a good one. Now off for a fag and a fart outside?" "You can proper bet on it, mate. Got a spare cig for us?".

Marcus and Alexander had to put their last few pounds together to pay. The waiter looked disgustedly at the stale bills. "You got a problem, mate? Our money not good enough for ya? What's it gonna take for a blowie, eh? Would ya prefer that?" Alexander could barely stop Marcus from starting a fight with the waiter. He waved for security. A few minutes later, the two chavs were thrown out the back exit.

The evening was still young. Alex called Cal to see if he would like to have a beer in the pub at the youth hostel and watch the game. Cal replied that he had just taken a punter up to the room and had to fuck him first. Blimey, Cal was always lucky. Mack suggested he stand by the mess hall exit. Maybe you could pick up a customer there too. Alex looked in his wallet. He was broke again. He could do with a few pounds. They had at least managed to scrounge two fags from a passer-by. The evening was off to a good start. And at some point it would end with a hot threesome in their room.

Pics found @maennersneakersockenfuesseskins and @belgiquecuir