#WHY DO I KEEP FORGETING THS SHIT

[5kiyo]

i forgot to draw his mole

[dootplusone]

(OG post has Reblogs turned off. You can find it here!)

(OG post has Reblogs turned off. You can find it here!)

(If the OP would prefer this post not link back to the OG post or is otherwise is not okay w/ this post in reference to theirs, please let me know in some form so I can delete/edit it as needed.)

Thinking. Abt this but with Bones. Like. Post-Tholian Web? Post-Mirror Mirror?

For AOS, could be after Into Darkness and/or Beyond.

A Bones who's just. So anxious. So stressed. So overwhelmed that it starts taking a toll on his health. Maybe he doesn't even realise - or maybe he does and tries his best to push through it until it knocks him on his ass. Kind of in the vein of "You don't actually know how tired you are until you stop. And then you just physically cannot start again." It becomes his new baseline, a problem that just brews and storms in the distance.

And he just carries on. And keeps going and going and going until one day he realises that 'Oh fuck, I'm not okay' and has about 5 seconds of warning before he straight up collapses, doesn't matter if it's on the bridge, in the madbay, on a planet - he's going down. (Maybe a repeat of Tholian Web where he just straight up faints into Spock's arms? Full whammy, why not)

Maybe it's a high-tension situation getting resolved that does it. The pure relief of it reminds him of how tired he is. How tired he's been for a while. His body sees that momentary rest and goes "More of that, please. And I'm not asking."

And he's so rendered by it that he doesn't grumble about being coddled like he normally would when he wakes up. He knows not to fuck with the medbay staff - they're just as firm as he is on recovery, and that's not by accident - and he knows that Spock and Kirk will be hovering, because they see any problem as something they, too, should shoulder the burden of.

...And because they're some of the most protective people in the damned universe. And that goes for pretty much all the people on board the Enterprise.

In some scenarios, it's just a case of letting his body and mind rest properly. In others, there's a lot more recovery involved than anyone initially expects. Luckily for him, he has a found family who are determined to be there with him at every step. It just takes a couple reminders, every once in a while.

[tonycries]

Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? [Part 2] - G.S. 

Synopsis. “Besides, Toru, just because it worked for you doesn’t mean it’ll work for me.” “Wanna bet?” For Satoru, convincing you to take the aphrodisiac chocolate too wasn’t the hard part - the hard part was being shoved into that bathroom stall, cock throbbing, mind spinning - trying not to beg for mercy. 

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected sex, slight femdom, overstimulation (male), lots of cum, you absolutely ruin Satoru, semi-public sex, subby! Satoru, aphrodisiac sex, multiple rounds, shutting up Gojo Satoru by making him cum in his pants, pet names (darling, my girl), swearing.

Word count. 3.7k

A/N. Can be read as a standalone, but PART 1 HERE.

Bros this was mad hard to write oml. Art by @_3aem on X.

Satoru had everything he needed to absolutely ruin you tonight.

Overpriced Cartier glasses? Check.

Jet-black Hellcat freshened up, ready with a little surprise for you inside? Check.

You, all dolled up and brows furrowed adorably at him? Holy shit, check.

“Toru, if we’ve missed our reservation because you had beef with the neighborhood cat again…”

“He was looking at you wrong! I had to defend your honor!” Dramatic protests falling on deaf ears, Satoru speeds through the darkening city streets, still grumbling under his breath about “cats these days”.

With your fiancé being absolutely swamped with missions recently, you’d been anticipating this night for weeks now.

Little did you know, Satoru had just as much - if not more.

Soon enough, the neon lights of that upscale, new restaurant you’d been absolutely dying to visit recently come into view. 

Okay, it’s time. 

“Y’know…” he begins, glancing at you with that familiar mirthful glint in his eyes. Laughter bubbling to his throat at your knowing stare, he plows on “Remember that one night where I just so happened to come across your special chocolate?”

“You mean swiped from my secret stash?”

“Semantics” he waves off. “But anyway, I was thinking…” he voice trails off mischievously as he swiftly turns to grab the mysterious black bag sitting on the backseat that you’d been eyeing suspiciously ever since you got in the car.

Oh shit, so that’s what he was onto. Eyes widening, “Toru, no.”

He whines, a pout forming on his lips. “C’monnn, no one’s gonna know except me. I want to make this night unforgettable, my girl.”

You raise a brow, “Unforgettable? Toru, your idea of unforgettable will end up with both of us arrested.”  After the madness of last time, you’d ignored his sticky note for a reason!

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you try to justify - probably to yourself just as much as Satoru, “And just because the aphrodisiac worked for you doesn’t mean it’ll work for me.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, twinkling eyes still undeterred. “Wanna bet? I’ll do the dishes for all of next month. We’ll never know till we find out, darling.” 

You narrow your eyes at the hand already snaking its way inside the bag, faded finger marks from last time still searing into your skin. Catching Satoru’s gaze - behind the amusement, something else shines darkly. 

Shit.

Goosebumps erupt down your spine. 

A beat passes. One. Two. Only the revving of the engine filling the tense air. 

“...two months.” 

It’s all Satoru can do to not jump in joy in his seat right now - knowing his girl, you’ll probably take back what you said and immediately bonk him on the head for being so ridiculous. 

“Deal.” he mutters lowly, pulling up to the driveway.

 A flash of hot pink. In the short time it takes the valet to reach your car, Satoru has already split that too-familiar chocolate, holding out the bigger part to you, eyes gleaming with excitement. “I swear this’ll be a night you won’t forget.” he grins, biting into the chocolate. 

God, he was going to be the death of you. 

The decadent flavor washes over your tongue, a slight tingling on your tastebuds. But, it’s still just chocolate, right? You scoff - at least you won’t have to do the dishes for two months.

Now, Satoru knows he won’t have to do the dishes for two months. 

Ah, how heavenly you’d be, splayed out and begging for mercy underneath him. Heels clacking against the polished tile and your hand warm in his as the maître d’hôtel ushers you both inside, dick twitching in anticipation. Shit, was the chocolate working already?

He risks a glance at how you’re faring - nope, still normal. That’s okay, he’ll be driving you crazy in no time.

---

Okay, maybe he won’t be driving you crazy in no time. 

How dare you sit there so gorgeous and unbothered, sipping slowly on your wine while he’s here mind whirling around how he’ll fuck you right here right now on this table without getting arrested for public indecency.

Fuck, it was hitting him hard.

Cock aching, heat rushing to his cheeks, eyes bleary - he sighs in frustration, resigning himself to do the dishes for two months.

Why did he even think of this? Damn his big fucking ego, he should’ve never taken that chocolate again. Maybe if he eats you out just right he could lower it to-

A feathery touch on his thigh. Too light for any sort of friction - just enough to set his skin ablaze. So deft that Satoru thinks he must’ve imagined it.

Until there it is again. Soft caress dancing delicately up his thigh. 

You.

A shiver creeps down his spine, blood rushing straight to his dick. Probably for the first time in his life, Satoru is speechless - maybe because you’ve reached underneath the table, teasingly sliding a heel along the top of his thigh.

“…darling…”

“Hmm?”

He blinks away the haze in his eyes, raising them to meet yours. “Wha-”

Oh. Oh, fuck.

What has he gotten himself into?

Eyes half-lidded, brows furrowed, and looking into his soul with a predatory glint that jolts the great Gojo Satoru right to his very core - and to his throbbing cock. He’d be lucky to make it out alive. Maybe he should just beg for his life right now.

Minutes tick by - or maybe it was seconds - Satoru is clueless. Mind only focused on the heel inching closer and closer, dangerously near to where he needed you the most. A smug smirk curls your pretty lips as his mouth drops into a soft oh.

The air crackles with an unspoken tension - his hips trying to subtly move you towards the erection furiously straining against his pants. He needed it so bad. It’s fucking pathetic, he knows. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck as your sole grazes his aching head. Pressing down. Hard.

“Fuck!”

Stomach flipping - before Satoru could fully process what the fuck was happening - he cums embarrassingly in thick spurts that pool on his pants, soaking right through the fabric, probably smearing on your new heels.

Head spinning, he bites his knuckles hard enough to draw blood, muffling the desperate moans threatening to escape his lips. 

He grinds his hips in shallow, mindless motions in a desperate attempt for more friction.

Instead, he gets the opposite.

“Behave, Toru.” you warn, swiftly resting your heel back on the floor, voice strained with something that makes his sensitive dick quiver animalistically. 

You huff out a chuckle at the almost-inaudible whimper of disappointment that rips from his throat. It’s laughable, really, he was supposed to be the one ruining you. This was so not fucking suave.

Face burning - whether due to the chocolate or embarrassment at the warm patch on his pants, he doesn’t even know - Satoru wishes the Earth would swallow him up whole. Would it be overkill to just teleport outta here?

The only thing that snaps Satoru out of his little reverie is your pretty lips forming into a tut. “Now now, Toru. It’s rude to make a mess at a restaurant. Why don’t we go to the restrooms and get you cleaned up, hm?”

Oh. Shit. 

A firm grip on his arm, his hands desperately covering his crotch. 

He was not going to make it out of this alive. 

Honestly, it wasn’t hard to bribe the waitress into letting you follow into the restroom after your fiancé - and put up an Out of Order sign promptly afterward. The actual hard part was trying not to rip off his clothes and give into your desires before you two even made it there. But you couldn’t let anyone else see him like that, of course. 

You were sure that if you had Satoru’s powers then you would’ve hollow purpled everyone here and taken him already.

You were going to ruin him.

Mind running a mile a minute, Satoru wouldn’t even be surprised if he’d just teleported to the restroom. If he was in a better state of mind he might’ve even admired the decor.

“My girl.” he breathes out, voice ragged. It’s all that is said before your lips are on his. 

It was like a fever dream - the bruising urgency of your lips, your aching pussy, and the heat of the stall as your quickened breaths mingle in a desperate dance. Your tongue intertwining with his. 

Manicured nails ripping his shirt open, you don’t have half the mind to register the designer buttons hitting the floor.

Satoru’s lips hazily chase yours as you pull away delicate strings of spit snapping just as quickly as your sanity. 

Your mouth waters at Satoru’s chest in all its chiseled glory, creamy skin peeking out from whatever remnants of the shirt were clinging to his sculpted shoulders. You wanted to ruin him.

“You dirtied my heels, Toru.” you frown, mockingly innocent. A choked-up gasp leaves his throat as you snake a hand down to firmly grip the erection straining against Satoru’s wet pants. Unmoving. “What shall we do about that, hmm?” 

“Ah! Please, my girl.”

“Please what? Use your words, Toru.”

“Please. Wanna cum so bad.”

Satoru learned the hard way that he could never turn back after uttering those words. 

Though, he already had an inkling once you immediately slam him against the stall door, fumbling with his belt, nails digging hard into his prominent v-line. “If you say so, Toru. Better not stop till you’re shooting blanks.”

The only thing that registers in his mind is the deadbolt echoing throughout the empty bathroom and his still-rock hard cock throbbing in your hands. 

“Ah- hah! Fuck.” low groans leave his throat at each jerky movement down his length. 

Head thrown back, pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, your tits pressing against his body as your hands urgently move along his veined length - up, up, up. 

Your thumb harshly teases his flushed head, spreading the precum from his leaking tip lewdly. “Oh God.”

His knees buckle, hands slamming against the top of the stall hard enough to make the walls tremble, desperately trying to keep himself from collapsing. Mind spinning, he doesn’t even know if he’s on planet Earth anymore.

“Toru~ Gonna let me join in on the fun?” your dangerous purr sends his cock twitching, breath hot against his ear.

Your cunt quivers, slick soaking your panties and trailing down your legs at the pornographic moans spilling from his lips as you fucked his thick cock with your fist. You wanted him so badly it was driving you insane.

Straddling a muscled thigh, your clothed core meets the fabric of his pants. It was already ruined, so what was another stain?

You grind your hips down on him, hard. Humping him like an animal in heat. 

Your slick seeping into the fabric of his leg. Harsh texture stimulating your needy cunt so painfully good. Swollen folds parting, mewls of pleasure leave your swollen lips as your clit catches on the rough fabric of his overly expensive pants. Over and over. 

Distantly, you register a strong hand tugging roughly on the thin fabric of your panties - easily ripping it and letting it fall to god-knows-where. 

Your hand doesn’t let up either, milking Satoru’s cock mercilessly the way you’d been dying to ever since you stepped foot into his restaurant. Your head spins, hips moving so animalistically on Satoru’s thigh.

A hand reaches down to sensually massage his heavy balls, squeezing and pressing hard circles - just the way you knew he liked it. 

“Oh, my girl. Always so good t’me- Ah! Hngh, gonna-” 

Satoru doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he’s pumping hot ropes of seed that decorate your pretty hands. Hips fucking up into you desperately.

You’re not far behind, juices squirting all over that expensive fabric, pooling on the tiled ground with a drip! drip! drip! that bounces off the walls of the restroom.

You two were so fucking loud. 

But right now, you wouldn’t even mind if anyone walked in to see your Satoru so debauched - as long as they see you fucking the soul out of him as well. 

It wasn’t enough.

“You said you wanted to cum, didn’t you, Toru?”

A shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his dick. “What? W-wait, darling. Fuck- Oh!” the strained words tumble out of Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips as you push down his soaked pants, kneeling to leave a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down to his twitching, thick base. 

“I won’t be merciful, Toru.”

Ah, you could do this forever.

Nipping teasingly till you’re satisfied with the bite marks decorating his pelvis, you pool the saliva in your mouth, spitting a long stream into his furiously flushed head.

Once. Twice. Mixing enticingly with his precum, trailing down his length. “Ah! Hngh- oh, darling. So sensitive-” he bucks his hips into you, moaning loudly.

“You can do it f’me, Toru.” you murmur darkly against his twitching tip. Satoru keens as you take him until his fat head hits the back of your throat, pulsing around your warm mouth.

Your fiancé’s choking on his breaths more than you as you hollow your mouth, bobbing up and down at a ruthless pace. Gagging, you shove his throbbing dick all the way in with a desperation that eclipses the need for air, till you’re nose-deep in those tufts of snowy hair. 

“Oh, darling. Jus’ like that. Losing m’mind.” he whines.

Your pussy quivers at Satoru’s slightly salty taste, making you moan around his rock-hard length. Drool and precum dribble down the corner of your mouth, mixing with the mascara running down your cheeks. It was debauched. It was messy. And it was exactly how you wanted him. 

Tonguing Satoru’s sensitive slit in a delicate dance, you feel drunk off his sinful moans as you suck on him desperately. Breathless. Craving for more. 

Looking up to see a delicate streak of tears falling down his pretty face at the overstimulation, your cunt clenches around nothing. Fuck, you could just devour him.

“Cum, Toru.”

It was too much for him- 

Tight balls twitching sensitively, he cums onto your ready tongue. Fucked out whimpers leave his lips, tears clinging to his long, white lashes as he paints your pretty mouth with his thick, white seed.

Ah, he was always your favorite taste. Tasted so good - so good that you could cum untouched. 

And you do.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head and pussy clamping down on nothing as you reach your high.

You milk his cock ruthlessly, relishing in the thick cum flowing down your throat. But it still wasn’t enough.

Removing yourself off his dick with a lewd pop! you reach a hand to grab Satoru’s flushed throat, nails placed right over his thundering pulse. With a single tug, the great Gojo Satoru is on his knees before you, in the bathroom of some fancy restaurant. 

Walls still quivering, you stand over him, connecting your sweaty forehead - and your mouth - with his. 

Kiss-bitten and smeared with your lipstick, Satoru’s lips are soft - or maybe that’s the cum coating yours. A part of you delights in his half-lidded, fucked out gaze as your eyes bore into his - does he even know what he’s doing anymore? 

Hot seed flowing down his throat, Satoru can do nothing else but kneel there and take it. He feels lightheaded, all the blood in his brain rushing to his cock as you suck on his tongue. This was driving him insane. You were insane.

And he fucking loved it.

“You d-drive me insane, my girl.” his words muffled by your hand still around his throat. His voice cracks with sensitivity in a way he would definitely be embarrassed about if he were in the right mind. 

Yet, how could he ever be with the slow, feral smile that spread across your beautiful face?

Leaning down, you whisper lowly against his ear. “I’m the same, Toru.” 

Maybe it’s your words, and the hot breath that sends shivers down his spine. Or maybe it’s the way you lift your dress so alluringly - cunt dripping on full display, slick trailing down your legs. 

All Satoru knows is, he’s surging forwards. He’s got your front pressed against the cold wall, cock twitching to life and bullying its way through your swollen folds. 

Mindlessly, a strong hand smacks against the stall as Satoru tries to keep himself steady. Too drunk off of you - off of your whimpers of his name, and the feeling of your plush walls clamping down on his throbbing erection, struggling to accommodate his size despite being so dripping wet. 

He doesn’t give a fuck. 

“Hngh- S’tight. Oh, fuck! S-sucking my cock back hah- in s-so needily” 

Ramming in and out of your hole at a merciless cadence, Satoru’s balls smack your clit so animalistically. You two feel like a pair of fucking animals. 

Shudders of overstimulation and pleasure wrack his body. Chest heaving, his blown-out eyes roll to the back of his head at the rapid, desperate thrusts inside your warm core. 

Pulling out all the way to slam back in mercilessly, Satoru could pass out at the sight of your ass jiggling as it arches to meet the rhythm of his hips. 

“God, m’girl. Gonna- gonna cum ah! Fill this pussy the way you want-” he groans raspily into the heady air of the stall, exhausted cock shooting wispy strings of cum that fill you up - some missing as he pumps into you, spilling out to paint your swollen folds white.

Before he knows it, a low hiss leaves his throat as you remove yourself off of his furiously pulsing cock - only to shove him seated on the commode. 

You take a split-second to admire your gorgeous fiancé - face flushed as much as the prettily leaking tip of his throbbing cock, eyes dazed and miles away, curtained by his sweaty white locks. A delicate trail of drool made its way down the corner of his ruby, kiss-bitten lips. Exactly how you wanted him.

What a fucking picture. Maybe you should take that chocolate more often…

“Toru~ Remember what I said? You’re not tapping out, are you?” you hum, eyes narrowing at the way his erection twitches so ferally at your dangerous tone. 

“Ah- don’t know- Can’t, please.”

You loom dangerously close, a hand reaching out to mockingly push his cheeks together, drool pooling at your fingertips. “I’ve told you before, Toru. Use your words. Please what?”

“M-mercy, please!” pathetic pleas muffled by your hand.

“Mercy?”

“Mercy!”

“No mercy for you, my darling Toru.”

The great Gojo Satoru, begging for mercy, will face none at your hands. 

You straddle his muscled legs, shivering with sensitivity. “Ah! Hah- Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god-” he whines nonstop as his quivering tip teases your swollen, messy folds. In one, fluid motion, you sheath him fully in your dripping cunt.

Ah, you feel so full. 

You relish in the way he twitches instinctively inside you. Steadying yourself using Satoru’s shoulders, you drag your cunt along his length, his prominent veins grazing that one spot inside you. Pulling out till his thick head teases your entrance, you drop down - inch by inch - over and over.

Satoru thinks he could cry right now - or maybe he already is. He doesn’t know, nor does he care - not when you’re so beautiful and fucked out, nails digging into his shoulders and heart eyes palpable in your gaze as you ride his sensitive cock into insanity.

He can’t stop the ragged moans that escape his swollen lips, head thrown back and hips bucking up exhaustedly into you to meet your every bounce. A hand is at his throat, pulling your face to his, “Don’t run away, Toru~”

He felt so raw. More a feral beast than a man as he watches his abused cock get swallowed up over and over by your wet pussy.

If he thought his dick was broken after this time then it’s really unsalvageable now.

He wanted to run away. He wanted more. He wanted you to keep looking at him with that fucking predatory gaze that made a carnal part of him twitch so good. He wanted to cum.

“I wan’- I wanna cum, please, my girl.” Satoru gasps out, teary eyes blown and looking up at you so delicately.

“Cum?”

“Yes.”

“Cum, Toru.”

Maybe it was the glint of fondness in your eyes, maybe it was the piercing of teeth as you bit down hard into the crook of his neck. Or maybe it was the way your snug cunt clamped down on him so sinfully as you cum as around him. But Satoru is immediately bucking up into your hips - reaching his climax, if you can even call it that. Poor, exhausted cock cumming dry. “Ah- Cumming- M’cumming hgnh-”

Satoru doesn’t even know if he feels his orgasm, just waves of pleasure that overwhelm him as he rides it out on your cunt. 

Ah, he thinks if heaven was a person then it would be you. 

Maybe he’s died already.

“Toru? Open your eyes, darling.”

Slowly opening the eyes that he didn’t even realize he had furiously scrunched closed, Satoru slowly blinks his vision back.

An angel?

“No, Toru, your fiancé.” you huff out a laugh. Oh shit, he said that out loud? 

Head still reeling from, well, everything - the great Gojo Satoru can do nothing else but sit there, exhausted and fucked out of his mind as you slowly remove yourself off his twitching cock. He’s never felt so vulnerable - so ruined.

Ah, someone remind him to never let you have a bite of that chocolate every again. 

A low hiss leaves him, along with a few tears that later he swears were never there. 

As you tenderly clean both yourselves up in the humid stall, Satoru thinks he’s never been handled with so much care. Ah, he loves your gentle hands. He loves you.

“I love you too, Toru.” you whisper into the intimate silence. Oh, shit, he said that out loud again?

Your beautiful laugh, “Yes, you did, Toru.” Throwing away the used tissues, you grin “Y’know they’ve probably brought out our food by now.”

Absent-mindedly, “Mhm?”

“I was thinking I wanted chocolate for dessert.”

A/N. Oh Satoru, you poor, innocent fool…

Also this turned out longer than expected. Reblogs so so appreciated!

Plagiarism not authorized.

Taglist:

@sage-ove @mo0nforme @thirtykiwis @planetzetra

[sweetnans]

So I imagine a Reader and Bakugo are neighbours and their parents are friends so she’s known him since they were children but he dosent really care— anyways going to the future, reader confessed to Bakugo in middle school however since he dossnt get much attention from girls since they always ignore him he didnt know what to do and just reject her harshly, little did he know he started to develop feelings and it got worse when they both moved to UA💀. To make it worse reader made friends with Izuku lmao,,,

How do you think he would handle the crush thing and treat the reader before and after the war?

Before the war, he would definitely be super distant with Reader. Besides, Bakugo is the kind of guy who doesn't comprehend his feelings very well, so that leads him to suppress them until he explodes. Once he realizes he can't hold them anymore, he starts taking care of Reader in a super subtle way, like he makes sure she's good, she has eaten, that she doesn't strain herself too much on training, that she doesn't have any problem with tests and her assigments but if you think that if she has those problems he would approach her? You're wrong. If she's bad at training, he would send kirishima to train with her saying something very harsh like: "That loser can't fight for shit," and Kirishima would scold at him saying back: "that's not very cool, bro" and he would go and help you. He knows his people, so he knows how to play them.

After war, he realizes that everything can end in a second. After he dies and miraculously revives, he has a new vision of the world. He has a new vision of Deku, of his friends, of his family, and of course you. He needs to make amends.

Everyone is in delicate state after the war, physical injuries, and mental injuries. Every single person he knows is battleling with PTSD including you. After you heard him that he died and the tragic news spread almost as fast as the news of Todoroki taking down his own brother, you felt something breaking inside your chest. Your heart was ripped in two.

You knew that confessing your love to him wasn't very clever of you, and because of his response (or the lack of it), you thought that it'd be easier for you to forget him. You wished your feelings would be gone when you entered UA. But, just because the world hates you, they were still there, and even worse, they intensified.

So when you heard he had died and then revived, you decided to take a leap of faith and let your feelings be.

After the tumultuous end of the war, you haven't seen much of your classmates. Everyone was at home, including you, trying to heal wounds and getting a well-deserved rest.

You were admiring the ceiling of your room when a faint knock on your door snapped you out of your trance.

What you saw was like a mirage. Not even in your craziest dreams would you believe that this would ever happen to you.

"Are you busy or something?" He asks, taking a peak in between the door and the frame.

You are now sitting at the edge of the bed, shaking your head without talking.

"Then what are you waiting for? Come with me, " he huffs like it is the most obvious thing to do.

You two walked together to a nearby park where you used to play with Izuku when you were kids. He guided you to the swings, taking the one on the left, leading you to sit on the right.

The silence is heavy but no awkward.

"Are you feeling okay, now?" You ask, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," he says in a sigh.

You grab the chains of your swing and play with your feet until you reach some sort of rhythm that keep you swinging.

"I know you're wondering why I brought you here," he imitates you moving at the same tandem.

"I mean, we haven't been here since we were kids...is this some sort of reunion I'm not aware of? Is izuku coming too?" You ask with enthusiasm.

That was the thing with you, after you two kinda fell apart and took differents paths, you stayed with Izuku, you kept being his friend and that boiled Bakugo in a way that, in the past, he didn't understand. But now, everything was different. Now he understands that you needed Izuku and Izuku needed you.

"No. Just you and me, " he says. And he prays that in the near future it could stay like that.

"Oh," it is the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

Again, the silence.

In your skin, you could feel how he was fidgeting and turning every gear in his brain to say something, but Bakugo wasn't good at words.

"Okay, I'm gonna say it anyways," both his feet stop in the ground, doing a screeching sound that has you stopping your swinging too. "I was an asshole. I'm still an asshole I think, but I want to make this right. I apologized to Izuku, now you're next, so you're gonna listen to what I have to say. That day when you said those things to me and I made fun of you? I was wrong because since that day I can't get you out of my mind. I tried to, but I never could. Then everything was shit timing, and I didn't have the time to tell you this, but now, seeing what can happen I'm done fucking everything up. I'm sorry. I know I mistreated you, you didn't deserve that, and I'm sorry I did everything wrong"

The way he said that, like he was verbally puking on the ground, got you breathing like the air was limited. The first thought in your mind when he appeared at your bedroom door was that you were dreaming, and now you needed somebody to actually pinch you because you weren't understanding anything.

"Say something," he partly begs and grunts.

"What can I say? You appeared out of nothing, then dragged me here to say what I've been waiting to hear for like two years, and I've been picturing this in my mind for those years and in every scenario I know what I'm going to say but now I'm completely empty, nothing comes to my mind" you murmur more to yourself than him.

He was stoic. He didn't remember a time when he spoke that much to you, so he felt like it was the first time he had heard your voice in decades.

"In those scenarios, you cursed me?" He asks.

"Oh boy, I cursed you in languages that don't even exist." There's a mixture between a sigh and a laugh that erupts from inside of you, melancholy, you could tell, looking to the sky being the exact opposite of what you feel. Bright and blue, perfectly clear.

"Do you want to do it? I mean, I can take it without spatting back, " he shrugs nonchalantly. You raise both of your brows at him. "What? I can do that!"

"Sure," you say sarcastically. "So, that's it? You came here to say sorry? I accept your apologies"

You were being honest with him. There wasn't any bad blood between you two, and after what happened, you really wished that you two could get along again like old times.

Bakugo felt the same. He still had mixed feelings about you. Everything that happened made him realize how short life can be and how he shouldn't be wasting any more opportunities. He was about to verbalize that when he felt your hand on top of his.

"I hope we can be friends" you say.

Your smile is bright, and your eyes are sincere. And for the first time, he smiles at you, hoping and wondering that you could be more than just friends.

[thebestsetter]

He has never been afraid of dying.

Death doesn't fright him. He sees it as a natural part of the cycle of life. One must be born, live their life, possibly reproduce so their species can keep on existing and then die. All animals, be it a big magnificient whale or a little insignificant ant, have to do this too. This is what they all have in common (and honestly, it's beautiful how all animals have to experience this. It brings humans and animals closer).

Everyone dies, be it the sinner or the saint, the rich or the poor. Death doesn't discriminate people. It just comes and takes everyone (which is kinda funny, since people think that money or looks make them different from the other. They don't. We're all equal. The bullet that kills the powerful is also capable of killing the weak). And frankly, he's okay with that. He knows it'll happen.

Given his work condition, he knows he's more inclined to die than the average person. Everyday, he has to go out there and risk his life, saving hundreds of people he doesn't even know and sometimes not even getting a "thank you" back. It's frustrating, but it's not like he's giving up. Before he dies, he wants to make this world a little bit better. It probably won't be much, but he still wants to feel useful. He wants to feel like he did something good.

"Oh God! You're okay! You're really okay! I was so worried about you!"

He doesn't fear death. Which is why he doesn't understand why he feels like crying when you visit him at the hospital he was staying at after a mission that went wrong. Death doesn't scare him, so he's not quite sure why his hands tremble when they reach to pat your head. He shouldn't react like this. He's never reacted this way before

"Please, don't ever do that again! Never ever!" Your grip in his waist tightens to the point where his lungs are burning for air, but he still doesn't want you to let go.

"You have no idea how scared I was. When the hospital called me saying you were here, I felt like my mind was going a hundred per hour! Please, don't die..."

How can you ask him this? You both know it's impossible. He's going to die one day, it can't be helped. You can't escape death's claws. No one can escape their funeral. You're torturing him. You know he doesn't like to lie to you. He can't just say "I won't die" cause it's simply not true!

"Please don't die" you repeat, and his hands movement comes to a halt "Because I'll be lonely if you die. Don't leave me alone, please."

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He still isn't afraid of dying. But suddenly, the mention of death leaves an itching feeling at the back of his throat. It makes him sick thinking about you going on with your life, possibly mourning over his death for a long time (he doesn't ever want you to be sad, especially not because of him. Strangely, a sick, twisted part of him wants you to cry when he dies. To be sad. To not move on fastly. He quickly supresses those thoughts though) and then completely forgetting him and starting a new family (this thought makes him sick to the stomach. He feels like a very bad guy when thinking about how he doesn't want you to find another man to replace him. You always said he was irreplaceable after all).

He will forever be someone who was, not someone who is. He'll be lost in time, a name you'll mention once or twice on a conversation while smiling and thinking about the good times you had together.

He'll never hear your laugh and your voice again, will never take you out on extravagant dates and have movie nights watching silly movies and laughing at the special effects. Leaving you alone in this dangerous world feels almost criminal.

Death doesn't make him feel bad. Having you forget him after he dies makes him feel like absolute shit.

And so, even though he can't promise you that he won't die, he can promise one thing. He grabs one of your hands in his, looking at you as serious as he can be.

"You won't ever be alone." He says, and you feel like crying. He then smiles weakly "I promise. I love you. Our love is too strong to be stopped by death." He kisses your hand and then quotes the same sentence he uttered at your wedding day "Remember? 'And if death do us apart, I promise to find you in every other timeline.'"

And just like he did that day, he props up in the hospital bed and kisses you.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ITADORI YUJI, Gojo Satoru, Inumaki Toge (or maybe I'm just a glazer ☹️), Nanami Kento (idk, I just feel like it fits him), TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Ejirou, Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa Shota, HAWKS + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: this can be read as a sequel of another fic of mine. It also can be read on it's own though (but please, do check the other one if you're interested!!). Also, you can see some Hamilton songs' references here and there (cause I'm a theater kid 😔) AND this was inspired by a line in "Cowboy Beebop"

Masterlist

[hp-hcs]

• smut • literally everyone here is so problematic (but oh, so hot) [part 2 of drunk words, sober thoughts] — best friend! dom top! jealous! theodore nott x gn! bottom/receiving! dumbass! reader x best friend! switch! jealous! manwhore! mattheo riddle

tysm to the anon who gave me this idea ur a real one 🤲👑

okay so like, i never really state it in text but like, reader, theo, and mattheo have been like a best friend trio since first year alr?

working on a part three rn you silly lil horndogs

read the title man idk

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“We can’t keep doing this,” you mumbled, but your head still tilted to the side to grant him better access.

“Why not?” He asked, kissing along the newly-freed skin of your neck and lightly biting down on your collarbone.

You let out a breathy half-moan. “We can’t- this isn’t fair for either of us. I can’t give you a real relationship.”

“I don’t care about that,” he said dismissively, tilting his head up to suck on the sensitive flesh on the underside of your jaw. “As long as I can have you in my bed.”

“How romantic,” you deadpan.

He laughed, shutting you up with yet another sharp thrust of his hips. “Never said I was, darlin’.”

You gasped and moaned. “Fuck! Th-there!”

He followed your directions, gripping your hips tighter and driving into you with renewed vigor.

Your thighs trembled and your nails raked along his back as you came with a low moan of his name.

He followed right after you, moaning and burying his face into the side of your neck. His hair, damp with sweat, brushed against your jaw, making you smile as you felt him shake above you.

He caught his breath after a moment, pulling out and rolling off of you. “You know that you can’t just keep sleeping with me to forget about him, right?”

“Oh, c’mon. Like you’re gonna complain? Don’t you want a hot-albeit-emotional-disaster such as myself in your bed?”

“I mean, I’m not gonna say no to that,” he snickered, reaching over the side of his bed to retrieve his shirt from the pile of discarded clothes before tugging it over your head and helping you get your arms through the sleeves. He laid back down so you could curl into his side, wrapping an arm around your middle and mindlessly running his fingers up and down your side.

You both lay in a comfortable silence for a moment before you quietly murmured, “Thank you.”

“For the sex or the pep talk?” He teased, running a gentle hand through your hair.

“Both,” you give him a half smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “But really, I mean it. Thank you, Mattheo.”

~~~

“That’s it, shit- yeah, fuck,” Mattheo moaned, dropping his quill on his desk in favor of threading his fingers through your hair. “So good- so damn good at this.”

You’d really thought you’d be able to go to the library with Mattheo after school “to study”. And you were doing plenty of that, if studying what that fine Riddle dick looks like up close is going to be a question on your Charms exam. Which, y’know, it probably won’t.

You could feel your legs cramping up from being curled up in a kneeling position underneath the table for the past ten minutes, but that didn’t stop you from tightening your grip on his thighs and taking him down as far as you could go.

His grip on your hair tightened in warning. “Shit- someone’s coming,” he hissed.

You pulled off of him just to sassily respond with, “Yeah, you.”

With just a few pumps of your fist, wrapped tight around his dick, Mattheo fell apart in the middle of the library.

~~~

“Fuck! Yes- shit!” Mattheo groaned and cursed.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed. “Are you trying to get caught?”

“I won’t claim to not be an exhibitionist,” he said in a mock-serious tone. “Besides, tell me this isn’t a hot place to fuck.”

“This isn’t a hot place to fuck,” you scoffed as you tightened your legs around his waist. “If I drown in this damn lake ‘cause of you, I will haunt your bitchass.”

~~~

“You seem to be awfully…close with Matt right now,” Theo said in an odd, stilted tone.

“Yeah,” you said shortly. “We are.”

“That’s…nice, I guess.” Theodore cleared his throat. “Riddle’s cool.”

“Yup,” you said in a bored tone, not even sparing a glance in his direction.

Theo huffed out an annoyed sigh, abandoning his fruitless questioning. “Whatever. Can you pass the butter?”

~~~

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Mattheo drawled.

“Apologies, won’t happen again,” Theo sneered, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

His longtime crush, sprawled out naked on his best friend’s bed. He kept his eyes trained pointedly at your faces, making no acknowledgment of the fact that Mattheo was three fingers deep inside you.

“So, like- this is real awkward,” Mattheo licked his lips and pursed them, unabashedly meeting Theo’s gaze and quirking an eyebrow. “You can either leave or come in, but either way, you gotta shut the door, man. That’s just common courtesy.”

Theo scoffed. “Are you seriously suggesting I stay?”

“I’m not not seriously suggesting you stay.”

“I’m not watching my best friends have sex, you fuckin’ freak.”

“Shit, what d’ya want me to say then, Mr. Prude?” Mattheo rolled his eyes. “You rather join in?”

“I’m not having a threesome with my best friends!”

“Coward.”

Theo spluttered out a protest that fell on deaf ears.

“Boys, boys, we get it. You’re both pretty,” you say dryly. “Either stay or don’t, Nott, but I’m getting fucked either way.”

Theo hesitated at the doorway before cursing under his breath and stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “I hate you both.”

“We hate you too,” you and Mattheo replied dryly in unison.

Theo scoffed and took a hesitant step closer. He chewed on his bottom lip nervously and looked at you as he sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed. “What about the…y’know, disagreement?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, I’m still mad at you for that.”

“Yeah, and I’m mad at you too!” Mattheo interjected before leaning in to loudly whisper to you, “What exactly are we mad at him for?”

“Teddy’s only been my friend for the last six years because he thought he’d get lucky.” You said through a tight smile.

“That’s not- I- I mean, it kind of is, but- it’s-”

“That’s kind of a dick thing to do, Teddy,” Mattheo said in a mocking tone.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Riddle. Like you’re not doing the exact same thing!”

“Wait, what?” You interrupted at that, but the boys continued arguing.

“You don’t get to call dibs on a person, Nott!”

“You don’t get to hook up with your best friend's crush, Riddle!”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” Mattheo seethed.

“Boys!” You snapped suddenly.

They both went dead silent, looking over at you with matching deer-in-headlights expressions like they’d forgotten you were there—despite the fact that you were the literal topic of their argument.

“Are you done with the damn fighting?” You prompted, your eyes narrowing.

“Yes, Y/n,” both boys chorused sheepishly, only to shoot each other glares when they thought you weren’t looking.

“Good boys,” you taunted. “Now, kiss and make up.”

“What? I’m not going to-” Theo spluttered.

“I wasn’t asking, Theodore.”

“Fine,” Theo seethed in annoyance, grabbing Mattheo by the back of his neck and yanking him into a harsh kiss. There was no romance there. No lust, no real passion. Just jealousy and anger.

Mattheo, ever the slut, still moaned and grabbed onto Theo’s hips to pull him closer, practically climbing into his lap.

Theo growled, biting down hard on his bottom lip. Mattheo whimpered and unabashedly started grinding against Theo’s thigh, moaning like a goddamn Muggle porn star.

“Fucking whore,” Theo hissed against his lips, shoving him back down onto his bed. “Thought I could trust you.”

“What, so it’s okay for you to incessantly chase Y/n, but when I do it, I’m a whore?”

“Yes!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Nott.”

You rolled your eyes at their pettiness. “For the love of Merlin- you’re both stupid, how about that?”

They pause their bickering to glance over at you.

“What did you just call us, darlin’?” Mattheo asked in a suspiciously calm voice, seemingly unbothered by the fact that his best-friend-slash-current-enemy-slash-crush-stealer was actively straddling him and busying himself by nibbling and sucking at Mattheo’s neck.

A sarcastic comment died in your throat as you watched them interact. Despite Theo being preoccupied, coaxing tiny sounds out of Mattheo’s mouth with every jealousy-fueled nip at his neck, his gaze remained locked on yours.

You gulped. You’d been so confident before, but now they were staring at you with matching expressions of jealousy, possessiveness, and lust.

Ah.

Whoops.

[m00nh1gh]

JEALOUS

Lee Know x reader

Your boyfriend is good at making you mad, especially when he keeps talking with his particularly beautiful coworker at a business dinner.

Contains: Spanking, fingering, multiple (2) orgasms, Minho is a piece of shit, subtle mentions of squirting, dacryphilia.

Word count: 2.4k.

You bitterly sipped on your wine as you stared at your boyfriend in front of you, talking with one of his coworkers. She was beautiful and he was smiling at her the whole time. Your legs were crossed and one of your feet was so close to Minho's leg. You'd been wanting to give him a little kick for a while now to grab his attention.

But, you decided to stay calm and as professional as you could be, given that you weren't even an employee of the company your boyfriend worked in, you only agreed to accompany him because he'd been clinging onto you the whole day. Yet, he wasn't even talking to you, and instead, he was having a seemingly fun conversation with the girl next to him, who'd been biting her lower lip a little too much tonight.

You weren't mad at Minho. You knew he loved you, but it was so clear that the girl next to him wanted your man and he didn't seem to get the hint. She was the problem. You wondered why you didn't sit next to him. Instead, you were seated next to his boss and another coworker. They made boring jokes and the boss’ hand brushed against your arm too much to your liking. Maybe you were both in the same boat, after all.

You sighed in relief when Minho finally looked at you and smiled sweetly. You returned it rather unenthusiastically, and he raised an eyebrow. He stood from his seat and he excused himself to the bathroom. Not wanting to further force your laugh at his boss’ rather misogynistic jokes, you followed him and waited outside the door with crossed arms.

You heard the muffled sounds of water running, and you guessed Minho would come out soon. You tapped your finger on your arm, not because you were impatient, but because you were in deep thought about the way the girl kept tugging at your boyfriend's sleeve to keep his attention on her.

“Y/n? You didn't stay at the table?”

You looked at Minho as he wiped his hands on his trousers. He was looking at you with a surprised expression. He didn't expect you to be waiting for him here.

“Is everything alright?

- Can I switch places with the girl next to you?

- Why?” He furrowed his brows a little and you stared at him, dumbfounded.

“She's been flirting with you and touching you the whole night.

- My boss has been doing the same with you and I didn't plan on saying anything about it.

- But I'm talking about it. I don't wanna have your boss’ hand on me and I don't want to see that girl all up on you the whole night.

- Are you mad at me?

- No?” It was now your turn to furrow your brows. You weren't sure if he was just teasing you, and you weren't mad, truly. But, if he kept talking like that, you might be.

“You don't trust me? You haven't seen how I've not been returning her suggestive glances all along?

- I trust you, Minho. I just want to be next to you.”

He grabbed your wrist to pull you closer to him and now you were angry. How could he assume your mood and to add fuel to the starting fire in you? You could very well just go back home at that point.

“Talk to me when you don't have that attitude anymore or I'll make sure to do something about it,” he said at a low volume just for you to hear, as if you were in a crowded room.

He let go of your wrist and you followed him back to the table just to grab your coat and make up a lie to leave. You didn't even share a glance with Minho, you completely ignored him and you called a taxi since he had the keys to the car.

Oh, if he dared to talk to you like that again when he'd come back, you'd slap him across the face. No regrets.

Once you were home, you stormed into your bedroom to change into your nightgown, not even bothering to take your makeup off. You only wanted to sleep, to forget that woman who stole all of your boyfriend's attention. You also wanted to forget about him for a while.

“He's the one with an attitude!” You said out loud in a sudden outburst of frustration and you kicked the bed sheets off of you. You turned the lights off and you fell asleep with a visible frown on your face.

“Why'd you leave like that?” Was the first thing you heard when Minho turned the lights on, making you groan and hide your face with your arm.

“Fuck, Minho. I was sleeping,” you complained, but he didn't seem to feel empathy about it.

“I don't fucking care, you made everyone think that I'm not good to you. You were seriously mad about the girl?” When you finally opened your eyes, he was still standing by the door with his arms crossed and the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up.

“If you keep talking to me like that, then I'll start thinking you're not good to me either.

- Oh, really?” He shut the door before walking over to you. You were still lying on the bed, so he leaned down to properly look you in the eyes. “You wanna try it out? Fucking make me mad and you'll see how bad I can be.”

Oh, right now wasn't the time to be turned on. But his clenched jaw and sharp eyes just above you made you shift uncomfortably in your position and you shifted your gaze away from him in shame.

“Look at me,” he snapped his fingers to grab your attention back and you looked up at him with big eyes, empty of any defiance they had before. You hated how shy he could make you because that meant he'd always have the last word with you. But he radiated dominance, especially when he was annoyed like this.

“You see how stupid it was to start all this? I'm not in another woman's bedroom right now. I already told you I don't give a fuck about anyone else but you. I'm the one who has to make sure you're not being stolen away from me. Haven't you seen how all my coworkers looked at you? Probably not, mmh?” He was stroking your cheek slowly and it made you shiver. “That's just how good I am to you. I make sure you stay with me and that no man can touch you.”

You batted your eyes at him without any answer. He was hard to read. You didn't know how serious he was, but it made you squeeze your legs together. He leaned further down so his lips would only ghost over yours before he whispered to you:

“I can tell you're turned on right now. I'm not giving it to you tonight. Brats like you don't deserve to get dick.

- Min!” You whined in protest, but he only scoffed before straightening up. He walked over to the full-length mirror, undoing his tie and carelessly throwing it to the floor. From the reflection of the mirror, he could see you were now on your knees on the bed, waiting in silence for him and he raised an eyebrow at you as he undid buttons of his shirt after having untucked it from his pants.

“What? I told you, I'm not fucking you tonight.

- Please.

- You have to learn to talk better with me. You can't just get anything you want like that. Besides, it's late.

- I'm sorry, I- I was just insecure. Please, Min, I need you,” he loved seeing you desperate like this and he did want to fuck you, but he also wanted to stand by what he told you.

He didn't bother to undress further before walking back to the bed and your eyes filled with hope.

“I want you on all fours. Take your panties off.”

You almost immediately obliged and your panties were eagerly tossed to the floor before you did as he asked, lifting your silky dress just a little so he could get a good view of your ass and already wet pussy.

“Look how easy it is to be a good girl,” he softly rubbed your ass before giving it a firm spank, making you yelp and bury your face into the pillow to muffle your whines. He lifted your dress further up with both hands. He was slow at doing it and it tickled your skin. He was on the bed too now, just behind you and his thigh was just against yours.

“But you know you still got to do better, right?” He soothed the spot he had just slapped as he kissed your shoulder too before leaning away again and giving more attention to the lower part of your body.

“You can and will be satisfied with my fingers only. You don't need more,” he slid one finger along your folds, spreading your wetness all over your pussy as he found your sensitive clit. You moaned into the pillow in desperation while he roughly rubbed it, his other hand squeezing your ass before spanking it again and easing the pain by stroking the reddening skin.

You were already whining loudly and squirming, trying to get away from his hands to stop yourself from cumming already. He tutted at you and slipped a finger into you to make you stay where you were and a sob escaped your mouth. He curled it to reach your g-spot and you bent your knees a little more to the pleasure before going back to your initial position to bury your face in the pillow again. He was going so fast already and your ass stung due to the slaps he landed on it.

“Min, please,” you tried speaking, but you were so unable to talk properly that your words got stuck in your throat.

“Shh, baby. It's alright. I'll make you cum, don't worry,” he added another finger to add precision to his actions, his free hand snaking down your lower abdomen to find your clit. You shook under his touch and you could feel you were close; you felt as if you were going to pee, which made you sob a little louder. You were completely writhing and Minho savored every second of it, the sounds of your moans and the squelch of his fingers working on your pussy making him smirk and lick his lower lip.

“You close? Gonna be good and cum for me? You can do that, right?”

You moaned loudly in response, he could feel you clench around his fingers and right when you were going to go over the edge, he removed his hands from you, making you cry in frustration and reach for his hand. You were literally so close to orgasming that you figured if you made the slightest move, you'd cum without him even touching you. You heard him laughing behind you and he lowered his head to your aching pussy to blow at your clit, making you fall apart and moan uncontrollably.

“Fuck!” You sobbed as your arms and legs shook, they would soon give in and you'd fall flat on the bed. But, before that could happen, Minho turned you around and your back hit the mattress instead of your chest and you were met with his almost evil smile.

“Aww, look at you. Your makeup’s all smeared, baby,” he wiped your tears with his thumb. “Why are you crying? Not satisfied?”

You weakly wrapped your hands around his arms to pull him closer and he trailed his lips from your cheek to your lips, his tongue occasionally tangling with yours as a hand subtly made its way back to your swollen pussy.

You gasped and your whole body shook when he pinched your clit, making him redirect his kisses to the corner of your lips. You could feel his smile and he pressed his thumb against the sensitive bud, slowly rubbing it.

“Min, ‘m too sensi- ah,” you choked out a moan and your legs closed around his wrist. Nonetheless, he continued what he was doing and he shook his head as he pulled away from you.

“Gonna make sure you sleep after this. You can handle it.

- No, I can't,” your eyes got watery again and he spread your legs forcefully. It was safe to say that his dick was throbbing in his pants, craving you, but his self-control was crazy. He'd just have to go jerk off in the bathroom while thinking back at your tear-stained face, your dripping pussy and at the way you clenched around his fingers. He'd be satisfied with only this.

“You gonna cry again? My baby's too sensitive? Too bad she's been disrespectful with me. Now she has to live with the consequences,” you weren't even listening to what he was saying. One sentence entered by one ear and directly left from the other. You were spasming with every time he'd touch you at a certain spot, then you'd let a moan and a sob escape your mouth as he pinched your nipple through your dress.

“I like seeing you like this,” he captured your lips with his, biting softly on the lower one from time to time. It was fast for your second orgasm to build up and this time he didn't want to ruin it.

“Min!

- I know, I know,” your nails dug into the skin of his arms, probably leaving marks that would leave after a few minutes. He hadn't fingered you, he'd only been abusing your clit the whole time and it felt just as good as anything he could've done to you. In fact, you'd never been crying like this during intimate times.

“I'm gonna… Gonna- ah-

- Go on,” he buried his face into the crook of your neck, putting more pressure on your clit, making you shake and squirm again, but this time you were way louder. Your back arched as much as it could, your chest was pressed hard against his and he guided you through your second (and last) orgasm of the night.

You were a panting mess. He stayed close to you for a few minutes so you could both organize your thoughts in your heads and he left one last kiss on your neck before pulling himself away from you with an apologetic smile.

“I'm sorry I made you mad, baby,” he put a strand of your hair behind your ear and your eyes fluttered closed. “You should go to the bathroom before sleeping, okay? I'll help you take off your makeup.”

[ryomens-vixen]

Yandere!Gojo Satoru -Drabble?

❤️‍🩹 CW: Gojo is a Warning, Cheating, Slight NSFW, Yandere Tendencies, threats, dub/noncon?

❤️‍🩹 Word Count: 🤷🏾‍♀️girl idk...no wc today.

❤️‍🩹 Author's notes: This was COMPLETELY out of no where, I was bored and instead of finishing this Toji fic I randomly decided to write Yandere Gojo. So enjoy and don't ask me to write for Gojo 🙄 this is a one time thing...

I don't think y'all understand how TERRIFYING yandere Gojo could actually be- like I'm not a Gojo girlie, but I pay attention to him enough to know this nga is real deal terrifying. Like let's say you and him had a bad break up and he pops up at your house after you blocked him on everything, trying to explain himself and you close the door in his face. Now the RATIONAL thing to do would just be to leave. But Satoru? Chile his only rational thoughts are he either hollow purple the house or simply teleport inside and continue where he left off. Cause what the fuck does he look like letting you go?

Nah, he'll teleport in the house and of course scare tf outta you- and whatchu gone do about it? Nothing, you can't even touch this man. Like yeah you can scream, shout, throw shit at him all you want, but it's not like you can touch the nga. You gone hear him, you gone listen to every word he has to say and even if you do decide to reject his advances he WILL stay in your house, all up in your face, all up in your bed, eating your food, etc. He's gonna make you take him back whether you like him or not, but you not leaving him. Whatchu gone do? He's the strongest, nobody can step to him except Suguru, but where is he? Nobody knows. So really all you can do is deal with him being there, annoying you, trying to talk your panties off, the mood swings I mean really you have to watch what you say to him cause his cheerful mood can switch to unhinged so quick and you know exactly how bad he can get so it's better to just play along with him until you're no longer mad at him.

I mean just the other day he told you he loved you so much but you- you clearly forgot who you were dealing with and slipped up saying you didn't love him. Now why would you slip up and say that to him? Now he's all eerily quiet and you were standing there washing the dishes like you didn't just piss off a monster? Next thing you know he's got your head in the dish water and his dick buried in your pussy, His blindfold restricting your hands, every now in then he feels you pushing your head against his hand he pulls your head up from the water only to ask you in a serious tone of you love him or not. Now... There's a right answer for everything so even if you didn't love him it would be very.. Wise to say you do- unless you want this blue eyed, white haired demon to drown you?

Or the time he caught you swiping on tinder? Are you out of your mind? You have to be- ain't no way you forgot who's in your house. Gojo had half a mind to trap you in his infinite void for a second, but listen- he's trying, he's trying to not be so impulsive, trying to communicate better, trying to not show you how weak you are compared to him. He tried to communicate to you how much it hurts him to see you on tinder, and what did you say to him?

"We're not together so it doesn't matter, Satoru. "

It's something wrong witcho dumbass like do you just forget how much danger you're in fuckin around with Gojo? THEE strongest? The Six Eyes? Head of the Gojo Clan? Now you're sitting here wondering why you can't breathe and seeing stars. He literally took you're phone and shattered it, now he's knocking the Sonic Rings out your pussy. Do you still wanna keep playing with this man? Because after this you're sure as hell going to watch what you say or do around him now.

Only after you get done getting the Chaos Emeralds knocked out your pussy. I mean he is ruthless, turning your ever which way but loose, knees always behind your heads while he's quite literally bullying your cervix, but the way that you're a babbling mess underneath him turned him on even more, but I guess that's you're fault you should have watched what you said, and now here you are getting stuffed to the brim with his cum, those bright blue eyes, that crazied smile stretched across his face, forcing you to make eye contact with him. Gojo enjoyed seeing that expression you were making, he knows he's the only only who could ever fuck you like this, his dick is the best you've ever had nobody could compare to him no matter how mad you were.

"That's right baby, you're my girl, aren't 'cha? Mine, Mine, Mine. You.. Fuck.. You and this pussy mean so much to me!"

"Say it, Y/N, Say you love me baby, say it, say it, say it!"

"Fuck- This pussy s'good, s'good baby, just for me."

"You'll t-take me back, be a family again, you'd like that wouldn't you? Putting a fuckin baby in you- wouldn't you?!"

Out of everything he said that's the only thing that caught your attention, your panic? You were never ready for a baby- But what were you gonna do? Deny him? You've already fucked up denying him a relationship, Yeah he cheated, but in your current situation was it really ever that deep? He never showed his crazy until now and too be honest it was scary and arousing at the same time. But you had to come back to earth before he ACTUALLY baby traps you. Maybe tricking him into giving you a break? You had just the idea, asking him in strangled moans to let you ride it, damn near begging.

Surprisingly- it did work, you were engaging with him instead of fighting against him, Gojo thought to himself as he sat up pulling you on of him. His demeanor seemed a bit more cheerful than deranged like earlier. But now that you've come back to your senses and realized who you're fucking with.. It was time to play along, maybe even reason with him. Once you were on top of him finally able to catch your breath- your fingers interlaced with his, impatient as ever he bucked his hips up into you making you plead with him to wait a second.

*Pant* "Sa- Satoru wait, just a second lemme talk!"

He looked so annoyed, so irritated with you, but way not he'll bite.

"Fine, what more important than me putting this fat cock in your stomach?" Oh that devious look only his face.

"Satoru, you're right, I do wanna get back together, I was just being jealous, Toru- I wanna fix us before we ever consider having a baby, okay? Please?" God he loved the way you pleaded with him, even saying please? Man it made his dick jump, but it also mad him so happy, you wanted to be with him again.

You watched his facial expressions in worry since he hadn't said anything yet. That was until he bucked his hips into you again ... Repeatedly. But at least he had on his usual joyful expression- he seemed happy now. Nothing could ruin it just as long as you were cautious about the things you say or do. There's no use in being petty or angry with him because will always without missing beat show you his crazy.

But you should be glad you don't live in an apartment, because babeh.. The noise complaints y'all would be getting right now, I mean the headboard is literally banging against the wall. Your screams were nothing to talk about either you two were being so loud right now, you were his again and even though he didn't respond to your statement beforehand, his actions would surely speak for him. Like instead of his baby trapping you Gojo pulls out cumming all over your stomach and himself.

"My Girl.. Now how about we try for a baby when you move in with me tomorrow?" He said so cheerfully like it was nothing.

"HUH?!"

Yeah... Gojo Satoru was insane and you're the only person that has EVER seen this side of him. You're stuck with this monster now, but at least his dick is good, right?

Tags: no tags this time we'll see what the algorithm does with this and again do not bother asking me to write more Gojo I literally hate this dude. 💕

[flowerprincesscherryblossom]

mine

pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader word count: 2543 warnings: fluff, smut, a lil angst, dom!kook, dirty talk, explicit language, vaginal sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, wall sex, marking, jealous!kook, bff!kook AO3 A/N: request - Hi!! Can i request one where reader is jungkook's bff and he get's jealous of taehyung flirting with her and jk takes her home and fucks th shit out of her? Lol i love possessive jk sORRY, thankss💕 Hope you like it and that you have a wonderful day wherever you are💜

It wasn't like Jungkook was jealous or something, he just didn't like when you paid more attention to his friends than to him.

Especially if said friend was Taehyung. And when it happens right in front of him. Like right now!

Jungkook was laying in his bed, trying for all the world to concentrate on finishing his homework while the Taehyung was blatantly flirting with you and you responded with your giggles, red cheeks, and biting your bottom lip.

It was really fucking annoying.

Jungkook had every right to be angry at this, didn't he? After all, the two of you had best friends since you were babies. You grew up together, spending every moment together either being generally messing around or having sleepovers and nothing could separate the two of you.

Not even high school, when that started and the both of you went your separate ways, him being more of an athelic kind of guy and you being more of a bookworm, you still managed to spend time together - even if sometimes it mainly consisted of him helping you pass P.E. and you helping him study.

The two of you always tried to keep your friendship intact, even after the time where he kissed you when he was fourteen - the two of you had finished your homework and were just laying your bed as you kept talking about a crush you had on some dude and that he had invited you out but you kept freaking out because well, what if the guy was expecting something?

After what felt like forever of that Jungkook just couldn't take it anymore and crashed your lips together. The kiss was slow, gentle and short, as he pulled away he took notice of your expression - wide eyes shocked, red cheeks, biting your bottom lip - Jungkook really liked that look on you. He couldn't stop thinking that if this was how you looked after a simple kiss, how would you look after he had made you cum - he was a teenager, he couldn't help himself.

After the shock passed however you grabbed your notebook and repeatedly hit him in the arm with it because he had just stolen your first kiss.

He didn't regret what he did - not that he would ever admit it - but he always thought that you did because you never talked about that night - but he still had to hear about your disastrous date with the guy.

When college rolled around everything the same, him busy with his film studies and you with your literature and creative writing, he had made new friends along the way and so had you but at the end of the day, the two always made sure that you had enough time to spend with each other.

Even when it came to dating. Jungkook had a line of girls waiting patiently to have a chance with - and he wasn't going to lie and say that he hadn't taken advantage of that just to get some sort of release - but he knew those girls were only there for the night while you were the one that stayed, no matter what.

Maybe that's why this entire situation with Taehyung was pissing him off so much. The two of you had a history together and maybe he was scared that you would forget about him if you started visiting him just to spend time with one of his friends…

He also had a feeling that Tae was doing it on purpose. His evidence? The older boy started to flirt with you after Jungkook had drunkenly admitted that he found you hot, before that you were just 'Jungkook's friend'. The reason why he was drunk? Well, you had canceled on game-night because of a date and Jimin and Taehyung didn't have a better solution after watching him mope around the room.

Or maybe he was just being paranoid.

"I honestly don't understand why every date I go on always ends up the same." you said with a sigh, pulling him out of thoughts.

Tae put a hand on your thigh, softly caressing it, and Jungkook could feel his anger rising at it. "It's okay baby. You're so beautiful and intelligent, that guy's a complete idiot for letting you go."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not. Look, if a guy doesn't want to see you again because you didn't blow him on the first date then he's a fucking moron." he took your face in his hands, putting a few strands of hair behind your ear, and if Jungkook wasn't seeing red before he most definitely was now. "You're smart, beautiful, you fight for what you believe, and whenever the world gives you shit you keep your head held high and do whatever to prove it wrong."

You felt your cheeks reddening at his words as Jungkook kept staring daggers at his elder.

"Listen, why don't I take you out on a date when we're both free? You deserve to spend so quality time with someone that appreciates everything about you."

Taehyung was dead. Jungkook was going to kill him. Even you were shocked by his words, you just kept gaping like a fish.

Before you had a chance to pull yourself together and give him an answer, Jungkook got up from his bed and was next to you in a second. "You know what? It's getting late and it's best if I drop you off at your dorm." he didn't even try to hide the angry tone in his voice.

"O-oh, hum, okay I guess…" you started packing your things, confused by your best friend's actions. Had you done something wrong?

As you walked towards your friend, how was by the door waiting for you, you waved at Taehyung and promising to text him once you reached your decision. And he winked at you which, of course, left you flustered, and made Jungkook angrier than he already was.

Slamming the door, hard enough it could almost break it, and started walking in hurried steps, you behind trying to match his pace.

"Jungkook are you okay?"

"Peachy." he spat, gripping onto your wrist and pulling you along with him.

"Jungkook, what's wrong with you?" you were trying to pull your wrist away from his firm grip but it was proving to be impossible. "Why are you acting like this?"

"I'm fine!" he shouted, making you shrink at his loud angry tone. At the sight of your wide eyes filled with fear, Jungkook took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "I just… need a moment to think things through."

You nodded and continue walking towards your dorm, taking his hand in yours. He had shouted at you. He had done something that he tried to never do to you and still, you were completely understanding and didn't force him to share, knowing that he would once he felt comfortable enough. And he loved that about you.

The entire walk was made in silence, He felt guilty for what he had done to you but he just couldn't help himself, even if that didn't serve as an excuse. He was just so fucking annoyed at what his friend had done.

The walk was supposed to help calm his overactive mind but instead, it only intensified his thoughts and anger - he couldn't stop thinking of Taehyung touching you, kissing you, calling you his - unintentionally Jungkook's hold on your hand tighten.

He doesn't think he would survive having to see that.

When the two of you arrived at your dorm room you opened the door and pulled him with you before closing it behind him. Your roommate wasn't around, it was just the two of you in the room.

"Now that we're alone, do you mind telling me what's on your mind?" you sounded concerned and he couldn't blame you. The silence was broken by the sound of a text, coming from your phone which you checked almost immediately. "Oh, it's from Taehyung."

At the mention of the other boy's name, Jungkook let out a groan, taking your phone and throwing it on the couch. Before you had a chance to say anything however, he takes hold of your waist and crashes your lips in a harsh, heated kiss.

Devouring your lips like it was his last meal, he takes steps forward to press you against the wall, taking both of your wrists and holding them above you with one hand as the other kept a firm grip on your waist.

Separating for breath, Jungkook leaving a trail of open-mouth kisses of your jaw and neck. You tipped your head back to give him better access.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to see everything Tae did to you and not being able to do anything about it?" he started nipping and sucking at the juncture of your neck, the moans he pulled from your lips and marks he left on you making his cock harden at the thought of everyone knowing that you belonged to him.

"J-Jungkook."

The hand that had been on waist went under your shirt and cupped one of your breasts, switching between fondling it and pitching the nipple, before doing the same to the other one. "Do you know how much I had to control myself and not punch every guy that dared to touch you?"

Suddenly he pulled away from you, wanting to see if you wanted him to continue or to leave, and took note of your appearance - pants leaving your bruised lips, neck filled with his mark, thighs pressing together, lust-filled eyes blown wide - it was all he ever expected and more. "You can't even imagine how many nights I thought of you like this, all for me."

He cupped your face and kissed you, slowly and gently. "If you want me to stop, tell me now because once I start, I'm not gonna stop."

You stared at him for a while before pulling him by the shirt and smashing your lips together. Jungkook wastes no time in urging your mouth open with his tongue which you allow without any resistance, engaging in a dance he easily dominates, swallowing every sound that left you.

He made quick work of discarding you of your clothes, throwing them somewhere behind and leaving you in just your bra and panties, before doing the same himself.

Falling to his knees, he focused on your clothed center, tugging the damp fabric to the side and coming face to face with your dripping heat. Jungkook places one of your thighs over his shoulder and then uses the flat of his tongue to lick from your entrance to your clit.

A soft moan of his name leaves your lips, making his already hardening cock even harder with the fact he was the one making you like this. He moans as he savors the taste of your wetness and buries his face even further between your thighs, making you gasp for air as he brushed the tip of his nose against your clit with every flick of his tongue.

Separating from your heat he inserted two fingers into you, curling them with precision against your sweet spot, making you arch your back and let out a moan of his name louder than you intended.

"That's right baby, let everyone know who's making you feel this good."

"P-Please Jungkook, I-I'm-" a moan escaped you as you felt his lips sucking your clit as fingers kept bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You were so close you could almost taste it.

"Cum for me, cum all over my face." that was all it took for the knot to break, you loudly screamed his name as pleasure washed over you. You leaned against the wall, regaining your breath as Jungkook watched you hungrily as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Pulling your ruined panties down your legs and throwing them somewhere, doing the same with your bra and his underwear. At the image of you bare for him one of his hands found purchase in your chest, fondling it as he kissed and marked your chest.

"I'm not finished yet baby. By the time I'm done, you and everyone else will know who you belong to."

"Jungkook, please," you whined. "Please fuck me."

He cursed under his breath at your desperation, wrapping one of your legs around his waist as he positioned himself at your entrance.

You held your breath as he slid into you, both letting out moans once he bottomed out. You never felt so full in your life.

With a firm grip on your thigh, Jungkook slowly moved his hips back until only his tip remained inside before slamming into you. You arched your back and let out a scream at the sensation as your arms wrapped around his neck.

"Louder baby, I want everyone to know who's fucking you this good." his hips moved faster, his grip on you tight enough that you were sure it left bruises. "Let everyone know who owns this sluty cunt."

You could feel every inch of him inside of you, each flush of his pelvis against yours had him hitting your cervix. Each thrust bringing you closer to the end.

"Jungkook, p-please don't stop. I-I'm so c-close." Spurred by your words, Jungkook reached and gripped your other thigh, pulling you closer against him, pinning you between himself and the wall.

He continued to harshly fuck into you, the sound of skin colliding and your loud moans of his name bringing him closer to his own high. His fingers slid down and began to rapidly rub your clit, your head hitting the wall behind you as your nails left crescent marks on his skin.

At the combination of everything, it didn't take long before you were cumming all over him and screaming his name. "That's it baby. Cum all over my cock." his movement becoming sloppier as your walls clenched around him.

He kept slamming against you until you felt his warm release filling you, the sensation almost having you cumming again.

Jungkook held you up like that as you both caught your breath, him still buried inside of you.

Slowly sliding out of you and carefully letting you stand on your own feet, Jungkook took your face in his hands and pecked your lips. "I know it's a little out of order but I would really like to take you out on a date."

You couldn't help the chuckle at seeing him so shy and flustered after what he had done to you. "I'd love to." you kissed him in a slow and gentle manner. "But I think we need a shower first."

He smiled as you started to pull him in the bathroom direction. Finally, you were his and nothing could bring the euphoric feeling he had down. Not even Taehyung asking you out. "By the way, what did Tae wanted?"

"Oh, he wanted to know if you had fucked me already. He had this idea that with the right push he could get you to confess your feelings to me."

Jungkook was going to kill him and then thank him for what he had done.

[toruro]

he gets me so high

kind of a follow up to this mingyu drabble but can be read as a stand alone

tags: smut (18+ / mdni), toxic relationships / friendships, pet names (pretty, baby), implied oral sex (m receiving)

w/c: 860+

a/n: no i CANNOT get enough of toxic bff mingyu. sue me ^^

your toxic best friend mingyu just wants you all to himself, is that so bad?

“hey gyu, remember that cool cafe i was talking about? i think i’m gonna go check it out with a friend tomorrow morning,” you tell him back while you're eating your favorite takeout at his place.

“who’re you goin’ with?” he asks casually. you don't notice the way mingyu has his eyes narrowed at you.

"seungcheol invited me, so—"

mingyu scoffs at you after you say that. asks you if you're serious, to which you respond confused with, “yeah, why?” you don't expect to be called a bad best friend. you don't expect to be told that he can't believe you'd done this to him. "i told you two days ago i wanted to check that place out with you, and you said that we'll do it together soon!"

you're a bit confused, because you don't remember that conversation happening, and mingyu is the one who tends to be forgetful, but then he looks at you with this big pout, buff arms crossed over his shoulders, and something in your heart just sinks. "sorry gyu," you tell him with a sigh of defeat.

and suddenly, there are tears in your eyes because the way mingyu had called you a "crappy best friend" reverberates in your skull. your throat clogs up with an ugly ball of hurt as you turn away, eyes stinging with unwanted tears. they're rolling down your cheeks—fat, dripping tears that stain your soft makeup—and you turn away because you just can't bear to have mingyu see you like this.

but then he's next to you, pulling away the hands that cover your face, and you wanna cry even harder when he cups your cheeks and looks down at you as you try and hold back your soft sniffles, whispering, "why're you cryin' baby? don't cry ..,, your face isn't meant for crying ..." so you cry harder because! what could mingyu possibly mean by that?!

and then he's pressing soft kissing into your cheek—his frame is so much larger than yours so when he holds you, it's almost as if he's boxing you in. boxing you in, to keep you in, to keep you safe, and then you realize that you feel so good in his arms—so warm, so loved, and then the tears keep coming because you're a crappy best friend, like mingyu said. you shouldn't deserve any of this!

but then mingyu is quick to cradle the back of your neck and tilt your head up so you can look at him, and he looks so pretty under the dim lighting ... looks so perfect.

mingyu tells you he didn't mean to make you cry. didn't mean to make you feel like shit ... he just wanted you to know how he felt! wanted you to know how much you mean to him!

so you nod along and agree ..,, you hug him close and tell him you're sorry for the nth time and then suddenly, his arms are around your waist and your hands slide under his shirt and then you're on his couch ...

"a-are you sure best friends are supposed to—oh, gyu—" you cut yourself off with your own, high pitched moan when his fingers brush over the sensitive nub of your clit. "—are you sure best friends do th-this?"

"'course pretty," mingyu says casually, rubbing lazy circles over your clit before sinking one finger into your tight hole without as much of a warning. your jaw slacks, breath hitching in your throat. "best friends make each other feel better ... right?"

"y-yeah," you stutter when he slips in a second, fat finger, curling them forward so they hit that one spot that mingyu knows has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"'m making you feel good, right baby?" mingyu asks you, using his thumb to rub against your clit as his fingers start to pick up their pace inside your hot cunt.

"re—really good 'gyu," you manage out between soft, breathy moans, before glancing over his body next to you and eyeing the large tent that rests between his legs. some kind of guilt overcomes you—mingyu's the best best friend you could've ever asked for ... so why is he doing all the work? "i—oh shit," you moan when his fingers jut just a bit deeper.

"like it?" he says over a breathy chuckle when you reach your hands over to try and palm him through his pants.

"yeah i—lemme suck you off," you tell him, circling one hand around his wrist to pull his fingers out of you, despite the way your pussy screams at you to be filled again. slowly, you slip off the couch and shift between mingyu's legs so that you're on your knees on the ground.

when you finally look mingyu in the eye, you wonder if it's the same person. he's got this bewildered look, glinting in his irises, and your cunt flutters in anticipation. quickly circling your palms over the cock through his pants, you smile slowly.

"lemme be the best best friend i can ... please 'gyu?"

[bizaar]

Cruel Summer Epilogue - Part Two

Masterlist - Part One - Part Two

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

warnings: sexual content (18+) minors DNI (you guys they go the fuck off idk what to tell you, gird your loins), pregnancy, mentions of sickness and vomiting, traumatic flashbacks, angst, swearing (please let me know if I missed anything, there's a lot going on here)

word count: 10k (still a beast but come on tumblr)

a/n: you guys don't look at me I am not kidding when I tell you this is NOTHING but filthy rabid smut

“Please,” you cry, “Please, please, please–”

“Good girl,”

You barely have time to register the way those words cause your walls to flutter and clench before he catches you in a tight, wet seal of heat, and goes to work with the soft warmth of that worship you’ve been waiting for. 

Your eyes slide shut, and your head drops back into the pillows. Somewhere in the distance, your mixtape has changed tracks again, and Heart is playing a heady soundtrack of commiseration as Eddie makes a meal out of you.  

Ohhh, he’s a magic man, Mama… and you can’t help but agree. 

The sweet warmth of concentrated attention fills your senses and makes your insides feel heavy — tongue, lips, gentle suction, bright burst of pleasure, rinse and repeat. 

A single direct graze, the stuttered rise and fall of your chest quivering on the beginnings of a needy whimper.

Christ, you always forget how good he is at this. You don’t know why, except that maybe the reverent finesse with which he applies the perfect combination of tongue and teeth and lips is enough to completely wipe your memory.

Eddie has always had a knack at turning that good head atop your shoulders into a useless piece of wanting, whorish meat, and part of you is certain that is never going to change. 

Your knees drift impossibly wider, allowing him the space to do all that he has to, and with every confident swipe of that lithe muscle, you feel yourself growing a little stupider in the best possible way. 

He teases your drooling center with the tip of his tongue, drawing a tight circle ‘round and ‘round and gently probing until your jaw goes slack on a moan that you swallow before it can escape. 

You set your teeth, breathe in through your nose – steal half a dozen pregnancy tests and go all the way across town to drop your jeans and pee on the stick and wait wait wait – 

“Eddie—” you whine. 

“That’s it. Keep talking, Baby…” Eddie hums, you flinch against the fanning of his breath against your slick folds, “Wanna hear that sweet voice of yours…” 

Shit — fuck, oh fuck… should you keep trying to tell him? Where did you leave off? 

Thankfully, your man is nothing if not a gentleman and is more than happy to prompt you. 

“Something good but…?”

“B-but…” You stutter, gasp, “But it's-it’s kind of –ahh, hmm– kind of … s-s-scary.” 

Your fingers drifting instinctually down to knot themselves in the tangled halo of still-damp curls set snuggly between your trembling thighs. You’d intended to use your grip to ease him back — because you’re going to need the use of your brain if you expect to get anywhere with this confession— but you suddenly don’t know which way is up and end up pulling him closer rather than edging him away. 

You rake your nails over his scalp and tense against the way he hums in encouragement, bucking your hips forward and grinding against his face in search of more more more… 

Eddie hooks his hands under your hips and pulls you closer. Closer, closer, he always needs you closer, and you’re nothing if not happy to oblige him. 

A vulgar wet smack rings out a little too loudly through the room and your stomach clenches, cheeks burning with the lewdness of it. 

For a time that seems to stretch on and on and on indefinitely, the pair of you simply exist like that, sealed together by one lewd point of slurping, sopping, writhing connection. You’ve lost complete track of yourself, where you end and Eddie begins, and suddenly there is nothing and no one but you and him and this moment of mounting ecstasy. 

If you had any functional use of your brain at that moment, you might have tried to reign yourself in a little, because you’ve suddenly become exceedingly vocal – vocal in the way your neighbors are bound to complain about later on – but what's a girl to do when her head has gone so empty?

You’re aching inside, moaning so loud that you’re practically howling with ecstasy, and you can barely hear the music, imploring you to come on home girl – you’ll be there before you know it if he keeps up like this.

“So good to me,” Eddie moans when he breaks for air, “Always so good to me – let me be good to you, huh? Let me treat you right…” 

Pussy drunk is perhaps the best way to describe the slurring, heady timbre he’s suddenly adopted, and the notion would have made you laugh if you weren’t feeling its effects too. You can barely think through the fog of impending orgasm.

You lick your lips and nod your head — yes, he’s so good, it’s so so good and you’re so close– 

“Huah fuck! Jesus Christ—!” You yelp, hips bucking up at the sudden and startling intrusion of the two thick fingers you were not prepared to receive, stretching you and crooking up to tease the coil in your belly tighter and tighter. 

“Nope, still me,” he says — Jackass — and you can feel his teeth on your pussy as he smiles.

“Fuck you” you’d meant to say, but with your wires so hopelessly crossed, you get lost along the way and forget just who the sentiment is meant for.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, head lolling back again into the pillows as it swells and becomes suddenly much too heavy to lift.

“Be patient, Sweetheart,”

Oh, he’s the worst – he’s the absolute worst.    

The rational part of your brain that wants so badly to be heard might usually suggest that a fella ought to warn a girl before he goes doing something like that, but it has gone suddenly very quiet under the muffled howling of your animal brain when Eddie turns his attention to that swollen bundle of nerves, so woefully unattended to.

You curl your hands into fists in his hair and you pull. Harder than you’d meant to, but there are no small measures when he’s sucking and fucking you like a drowning man fighting for air.   

A particularly sharp burst of pleasure has you yanking hard enough on his hair to jerk him up ever so slightly, and Eddie makes a noise that nearly sends you over the edge. It’s the kind of noise that is going to haunt you later in the most inopportune moment, and he grips your thigh so tightly, you know it’s going to bruise. 

You don’t care. That useless slab of meat occupying space in your skull is more concerned with canting your hips forward and back in a stuttering rhythm, trying so desperately to match time with Eddie’s fingers, all while he’s still got your clit trapped in the tight seal of his lips — sucking, sucking, fucking hell, you’re so close.

Tragically, before you can let him in on that secret, he releases you with an unbearably loud slurp that sends a chill rocketing up your spine. A man’s got to breathe, sure, but you still whine out your disappointment in the sudden absence of that sinful mouth. 

Eddie leans heavily against the trembling flesh of your inner thigh as he fills his lungs. He rubs his face against you to wipe away the slickness coating his lips and chin before evidently changing his mind about that, and lapping it back up with gentle kitten licks. Each shy swipe of his tongue brings with it a hungry sound of ecstasy, rumbling up from his chest.

You shudder and clench almost painfully around his probing fingers, and you can feel him smiling against you again — God, he’s the worst — working you in the way he knows best and getting off to it. 

You can’t see him doing it, but you can feel the bed moving independently of you, and the haggard uneven cadence of his breath fanning your folds and drying the sweat in the crook of your thigh tacky. You can hear him tugging on his cock, using your slick to ease the friction, and it’s entirely too much. 

The sound is already halfway out of your mouth before you realize you’re even making it. You’d only meant to try and breathe out, but the raunchy schlick schlick schlick of skin on skin as he fucks his fist forces a strange, guttural sound out of you. One that Eddie quickly mimics.

“Yeah?” He pants, “Getting close, Sweetness?”

Close is a gross understatement – you’re right fucking there.

He curls the fingers inside of you in a come hither motion, pressing firmly into that coveted spot on your inner wall – the one you can never reach on your own – and your body lights up like a live wire. 

You pull your lower lip tight between your teeth but quickly release it as you cry out, nodding emphatically as tears suddenly prick at your lashes.

“So close,” you mewl, “God — I’m so close—“

“Don’t cry, Baby,” he says, slipping his fingers from the quivering, clenching walls of your pussy and reaching up to stroke your cheek fondly – wetly – the unabashed raunchiness of the gesture has you clenching tragically on nothing, gasping — sobbing. “Don’t worry – Daddy’s coming…” 

Ugh, God… 

He’s lucky you’re so hot for him because it just about kills the mood entirely. 

“You’re the fucking worst–” you moan, and he cackles villainously in a way that sends an electric shock right down to the base of your spine.

Eddie wipes his hand crudely on the mattress beside you, then inexplicably, he untangles himself from your legs and retreats. 

What the fuck?

In the moments it has been since he stopped finger fucking you, the coil in your belly that had been so tight, so close to snapping only moments before, begins to lose tension.

You shift up to look at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes and are devastatingly confused to find him just sitting there, sphinxlike, and watching you with immeasurable patience.  

He’s not even touching himself anymore, he’s just got that shitty little mischievous smirk on his face, and you know whatever it is he’s about to do, it’s going to be unbearable. 

Oh, it’s not fair, it’s not fucking fair. You were right there.

You squirm, trying to catch the climax that is so steadily slipping through your fingers, but every time you move your hips to try and entice him once more, he shifts backward a little further and denies you your prize. 

The coil continues to unravel, losing slack at a devastating pace. This time when you try to reach him, Eddie pushes your legs up to pin your knees against your chest, and he holds you there, bearing down on you with all his weight. 

“Eddie–” you whine. “Come on–” 

“Take it back,” he says, and you almost don’t believe you heard him correctly.

“...Huh?” you gasp, blinking stupidly up at him as he looms over you in a way that might be misconstrued as menacing on anyone else. “Take what…?”

“Tell me I’m the fucking best,” He demands, shifting off the mattress and slowly easing out of his boxers. 

“W-what?” you stammer, trying not to get caught on the way his cock bounces up to slap audibly against the taught line of his stomach. 

He kneels back on the bed, never taking his eyes off of you as he moves with a glacial, calculated stoicism.

“Who’s the fucking best?” he calls in a gentle sing-song, spreading your legs and pushing them flat against the mattress, splaying you open and taking a good long look at what you’ve suddenly got on display – his gaze is blown dark and wide when his eyes flit back up to your face, “And who’s the best at fucking?”

You groan. 

“Jesus – you and that fucking ego—” 

You bite your sentence off with a startled yelp as, with both hands on your hips, he yanks you further down the bed and slots himself in place between your legs.

You watch him watching you as he takes himself in hand and begins teasing you with a raunchy, painfully slow-up and down. He nudges the domed tip of his uncut cock through the dripping slick of your folds, only just barely there and not enough to actually do anything useful. 

“Take. It. Back.” He says slowly, emphasizing the words with each agonizing pass through your wetness. 

You grind out a deeply frustrated groan and push up on your elbows, shifting uncomfortably as the waterbed rocks beneath you – stupid waterbed – and opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

“What makes you think you can–ah!” He snaps his hips into place with all the grace and finesse of a cowboy holstering his gun.

Eddie slides in all the way to the base and is seated firmly in your guts before you feel the press of his hips on your ass. 

Your mind turns to meat again – giddyup.

“Say it.” He says, thrusting into you and setting an agonizingly slow pace – fucking you the way he’d lay fucking the bed – and it already has you coming apart at the seams. 

You suppose that’s what you get for teasing him earlier.  

“Hah–!–fucking shit! I take— Jesus Christ — I take it back!” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

You feel every inch as he pulls back and almost all the way out before snapping back again, each hungry thrust slamming home with enough force to make you see stars. Your arms tremble and fail under your weight, and you drop back into the pillows.

He’s punishing you for something, you know it. Maybe for being mean, for yelling at him, or maybe for making him wait around all afternoon and refusing to tell him where you went, but it’s punishment all the same. 

Eddie’s not cruel, but he likes to take his time as he dismantles you. He likes it painfully slow and hard enough to knock the headboard against the wall, and you are nothing if not the impatient recipient of his love.

“...you’re so… hah – s-so…” You try to say, but he drives the words right out of you with a sharp snap of his hips.

“So what?”

He knows exactly how stupid he’s making you. 

“So f-fuckingg mean…”

You can feel the vibration of his laughter buzzing into you through his cock and it’s nearly enough to make you seize.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” he pants, “Tell me how much you like it,”

You try to answer, to tell him to fuck off and stop bossing you around, but you’ve been rendered understandably mute as you fist your hands in the sheets and do your best to push back against him and meet his every thrust. It’s difficult with the waterbed roiling beneath you, but you try all the same because you know at this pace he isn’t going to last long and you’ll be damned if he runs out of steam before you cum. 

And then, almost as if he’d anticipated the thought, Eddie puts a hand on your hip and forces you down, holding you pinned so you can’t do more than take what he has to give.   

It is only enough to keep you teetering on the torturous edge, never enough to send you over, never too little to draw you back, but it feels so fucking good.

This is why you really let him fuck you into oblivion every night. Not because he needs it or because it’s one of the only things that stirs the embers of his old personality. 

It’s because he’s really, really fucking good at it.

You can feel the litany of whorish noises flowing from your lips more than you can hear them over the vulgar sounds that fill the air with every pass of his cock through your aching hole. 

You’re painfully tuned into it all: the harsh slap of skin on skin, his soft grunting and moaning fills the room as he moves, and the slick mess dripping down the backs of your thighs, making for a smooth glide in and out of you and helping him to sustain his quickening pace. 

You’re suddenly so wet. You can feel it making a sopping wet mess of him as well as yourself, and it’s enough to make your toes curl and your walls flutter. You clench over the length of him, drawing a low rattling moan from deep within his chest, and feel a bright burst of warm satisfaction flood your veins.

Good to know you’re not the only one so affected by this. 

You’re only vaguely aware of all the things Eddie has begun to say as he fucks you. The raunchy little questions and affirmations to which you can only nod along in consent, too drunk on the delicious sensation of being so perfectly stretched to form any kind of coherent response.

You can’t believe you weren’t going to let him fuck you tonight.

Yes, it feels good — so, fucking good. Yes, you like it when he fucks you like this —faster, more! Yes, you’re his good girl, taking him so well — don’t stop — yes, yes yes yes…!

“God–” He grinds out, cutting into the endless tide of your babbling, “—I can feel you squeezing me – Jesus — fuck, you’re so tight…”

The sudden vice Eddie has on your waist is a crushing thing as he forces your knees up and bears down on you with all his weight. He’s suddenly so much deeper than he was before, pressed flat against you and as close as he can possibly get (without slipping beneath your skin). 

He begins a punishingly slow, grind, just the perfect amount of friction against the swollen, needy bundle of your nerves to have you writhing under him.

Now, this? This is exactly how you like it. 

Your eyes roll back and slide shut as you press your head into the pillows and arch beneath him, exposing the tender columns of your throat and mewling at the intensity of this new position.

“Oh— f-f-uh—!” You bite the curse off with a shrill gasp, one hand flying down to grip his wrist as his palm splays over the lowest point of your belly, applying pressure there like he is in danger of bursting through your abdomen and needs to hold himself in, “Fuck! E-Eddie—!”

“I know, Baby,” He grinds out, cupping your cheek with a tender, sweaty hand, “I know…”

You’ve got your lower lip pulled so tightly between your teeth that you half expect to taste blood as the heat in your abdomen quickly begins to bloom and wind itself into the tight, vibrating coil which had eluded you before. Your lips part on a gasp, and he presses the pad of his thumb down into the middle of your tongue. You close your mouth around the digit and suck the lingering salt of your own desire from where it has dried tacky on his skin. 

Eddie moans, and after a moment, you can feel him beginning to tremble. He falls forward to brace a hand on the mattress beside your head, and he keeps fucking you, but with decidedly less gusto than a moment before as his thrusts become sloppy and immeasured.

You heart jumps in anticipation of what is about to happen.

“Are you close?” You ask, curling your fingers around his quivering, sweaty forearm.

He’s breathing so hard over you, you might be surprised to learn he wasn’t teetering on the edge of an earth-shattering orgasm, but only if you didn’t know what you knew about Eddie’s stamina these days.  

“Uh… hah – n-not quite, Sweetheart.” He says, swallowing hard and gasping out a haggard, raspy breath, “Not yet… but I’m getting there.”

Oh, shit – you were afraid he was gonna say that. He’s getting tired, too tired to keep up this pace at least, and that means you’re suddenly on a time limit here. 

The problem with Eddie on top these days is he has, unfortunately, become all bark and no bite. 

He can’t do a lot of things he used to, like sit up straight in a chair for too long, or run faster than a staggering jog, or fuck you like he used to without cramping, stuttering, and losing steam before either of you can finish. 

It’s not his fault, and yet it is, because he quit physical therapy before he could make any real headway, and more specifically because he smoked half a pack of Camels today.

Suddenly faced with the possibility that he might not finish, you take matters into your own hands.

“Come on,” you say, reaching up to hold the back of his neck, pulling him down so you’re nose to nose. You kiss him, “Don’t stop, you’re almost there.”

He nods and does his best to find his rhythm again, and you do all that you can to assist him in that. You hook a leg over his hip when he paws at your knee, feeling only the slightest bit of difference in this new position, lying on your side and facing him. 

“Doing so good,” you say, hoping that a little praise will be as effective on him as it is on you, “Keep going – that’s it, that’s my good boy…”

“Oh, fu– fuck!” he stammers, sweaty fringe sticking to the both of you as you knock foreheads.

Normally, referring to Eddie as your “Good Boy” is just about enough to turn him completely feral, and despite the eagerness it attempts to muster in him, he only manages a short burst of wild thrusting before he stutters and falls off his rhythm altogether. 

It draws a pitiful whine from deep within you as the orgasm you’d been hurdling toward begins to turn gossamer and slip through your fingers.

You try to take as much of the slack as you can and smother him with everything you know drives him crazy. 

“Such a good boy… so good for me,” You moan in a hushed and breathy whisper. “Love you fucking me like this – love you so much. God – don’t stop, Eddie… don’t–”

He tries to oblige you – he really does – picking up the rhythm again and again, but it’s slower every time he falters, and the desperate canting of your hips becomes borderline violent as you attempt to compensate for the way he’s steadily flagging.

He’s burning so hot and shaking badly enough that you have half a mind to put your hand on his forehead and check his temperature, but you know his is a fever of a different kind, and it sends a hot wave of pressure blooming in your stomach. 

You’re almost there, you just need a little longer and you’re almost certain you can get him there too if you can make this last, but after only a few more arrhythmic stops and starts, Eddie makes a harsh sound and hitches as something evidently pulls in his bad side. 

“Ow, shit–!” he yelps, stopping to grasp at the spot where it suddenly hurts, “Ah – Goddammit…”

“What’s wrong?” You ask, but he’s shaking his head, and you know before he says anything that he’s reached the end of his tether.

“I can’t–” he says, fighting for breath between every word, “Baby, I’m sorry … I gotta … I gotta stop,” 

He drops heavily on top of you, crushing you flat, and just like that, he’s finished without either of you managing to cum. 

Goddammit indeed.  

You try not to let him hear the agitated sigh you breathe as he rolls off of you, painting you in his sweat and sliding onto his back with a weighty groan. For a moment, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to him try to catch his breath as the euphoric high of your bunnyfucking steadily begins to fade.

“Sorry, Baby,” Eddie’s voice comes lilting up from your right side, bracketed by the charcoally rattle of his labored breathing. 

You pull your shoulders up and cross your arms over your chest, hugging your biceps as you sigh. 

“You tried your best,”

“Don’t say that,” he says, sounding incredibly hurt by the idea that that could be his best.

He didn’t even finish.

“Why not?” you ask, turning over to face him, “Didn’t you?” 

It occurs to you that it sounds a tad too much like an accusation, but before you can rethink your tone, it’s his turn to sigh. It’s a deeply frustrated thing that quickly turns into a loud groan as he throws his arms over his eyes.

“Fuck me,” Eddie growls.

After a moment, you sit up and cross your legs, staring down at the pitiful, sulking form of your boyfriend – another image you would hang with the placard of “man’s mounting shame” – then again, maybe not, considering the indecent little detail of his hard-on is still lying stiffly against his belly. 

Evidently, not every part of his body got the message that the game was over. He may be done, but his dick is not, which means it’s not all bad news.    

He did just ask you to fuck him after all. 

“Lay back,” you say.

Eddie drops his arms to watch as you swing your leg over to straddle him.    

He puts his hands on your hips and gets caught in a volleying back and forth of looking up at you and looking down at where you’re settling over him, like he can’t believe you would do something so generous. 

“You sure?” He asks unevenly, and you shush him.

“Just lay back,”

“...You’re an angel, you know that?” Eddie sighs and does as he’s told, settling back into the pillows and letting you take the reins.   

You resist the urge to tell him you’re only trying to get off, and let him believe it’s a tirelessly selfless act as you lift up onto your knees, carefully taking his tender, twitching cock in hand and guiding it home once more. 

If he knew how self serving the gesture really was, you don’t think he would mind, because at least this way he still gets to cum. 

You do all the work, and you’re still the vessel. 

Eddie breathes out a weighty, relieved sigh, and you shudder as he slips in with only the slightest bit of resistance. You never get used to that initial stretch the pull of gravity gives in this position as you sink down over the broad flare of him. 

You’d been on top the first time you’d ever slept together, and you remember thinking that it was a deeply generous gesture on Eddie’s part, letting you set the pace like that. He’d pulled you so tight against him that night and held you close as he guided you through those first few moments of bright and blinding discomfort. It was the best first time a girl could hope for, and you used to love being on top, but these days, it’s never as good as it used to be. 

With you on top, Eddie is more than likely just going to lie there with his hands on your hips while you do all the work. He’s a considerate lover when he’s not tired, or at least he used to be, but you can’t imagine he’s got much steam left after the earlier pace he’d set. 

What it really means, however, is that you have got to be very careful how you proceed, or the orgasm you’d been hurdling toward moments ago will have a very good chance of wandering off entirely. So, you shut your eyes, and you go to work, with your brows furrowed and your lower lip pulled taught between your teeth in concentration.

At some point over the course of the last few minutes, your mixtape ended, so the room is nearly silent as you bounce and listen to the soft, wet sounds that steadily begin to fill the room again. The much quieter groaning and muttered praise – coming entirely from Eddie’s end this time – your own breathing, the halfhearted creak of the bedframe, and worst of all, the loud slopping of the mattress roiling beneath you.

It’s all suddenly unbearably gross.

You do your best to shut it out and focus on the stretch when you drop, the pull when you lift up again, and how you can feel every ridge and imperfection sliding through your pussy. 

It's not nearly as effective as it was before, but then again, you don’t have nearly as much help this time. Something stirs in the pit of your stomach, and it is tragically not the first inklings of an orgasm. You breathe out slowly to try and banish the sick feeling roiling there, and distantly feel a muted stab of pleasure make an attempt at rising to claim the real estate it vacates. 

It’s middling, at best, but it’s better than nothing.   

Had you been looking, you would have seen Eddie staring, eyes hooded and mesmerized by the joining of your bodies.

You would see him looking so completely lovesick and watching the creamy slick ring dripping down to wet the thatch of coarse hair at the junction of his trembling thighs. It might even be enough to help you skip the prerequisite buildup and jump right to the ecstasy, but you’re not looking. You’re too busy rising up on your knees and dropping back down at a starkly disciplined pace – not so fast that you might bite things off too soon, but not too slow as to lose the steady building of bright sensation, welling in the pit of your stomach for the third time.

You shift, trying to find the perfect angle, to emulate the way he so easily takes you to pieces. Every one of your calculated movements is made with extreme caution as you work to construct that elusive tower of power. You don’t understand how Eddie does it, how he always knows exactly where to touch you, where to find that perfect spot and press on it until you’re a blubbering sloppy mess. 

Maybe if you can just – a slight shift backward. A little to the left … you know it’s there, if only because of how aggressively he’d been pounding on it only a few moments ago – bastard. You grit your teeth and breathe out hard through your nose, searching… searching … getting warmer. 

You jump as you feel the tip of him graze it – that elusive spot – and gasp at the bright sensation darting shyly across your midsection and fight to remember just exactly what you did to get there.

Then, your concentration falters when you feel Eddie reach up to paw at your tits and tug impatiently at the hem of your shirt.

“Take this off,” he says, voice thick with the gravely timbre of arousal.

You swat his hands away.

“Shh, I’m trying to concentrate,” 

It’s suddenly so much harder to pretend that this hasn’t become a completely self serving act – the bloom is officially off the evening’s rose. He makes a put-out sound in the hollow of his throat and answers you with no small amount of sarcasm. 

“Oh, boy, isn’t that sexy?” 

“Eddie – shut up,” you warn him and brace your hands on his stomach, tilting forward ever so slightly to try and change the angle without losing your rhythm.

You’re not trying to be sexy, you’re just trying to get this over with, and if he’s too stupid to realize that, that’s his problem. 

Don’t be unkind – that little nagging voice can shut up too. If Eddie doesn’t let you cum this time, you’re going to kill him.

The rocking of the waterbed is so much worse up here, and suddenly you’re teetering on the edge of seasickness. You drop your chin to your chest as another wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you grab for Eddie’s hand, peeling his fingers away from the fat of your hip and moving them to the point of your connection.

The way you see it, he might as well do something while he’s doing nothing.  

Thankfully, he takes the hint without needing to be asked, and presses his thumb down, drawing tight, firm circles over your clit that sends out an immediate beacon of relief. Waves of ecstasy bleed up into your abdomen, steadily smothering the sick feeling scrambling for purchase there, and you sigh out a wistful moan of pleasure.

And thank God for that.

“Like that–?” He tries – you put your hand over his mouth.

Normally, you like how mouthy he is during sex, but under those circumstances you would have already cum twice by now, so what you need is for him to shut his goddamn mouth and let you do this.

Why can’t he just shut up and let you finish what he started? That fantastic, euphoric thing?      

You need to feel that again, feel him, but you’re not as good as he is at this, and you’re starting to grow numb under the continued up and down, hitting all the wrong spots and hopeless to find the right one again without his help.

You fold under the weight of the conflicting sensations – the middling results of your bouncing and the building pressure of his thumb on your clit – and you fall forward. Forearms braced on the bed, bracketing Eddie’s head, your hips stutter and you fall off your rhythm. 

You drop your head to press your forehead to his and hum out your frustration. 

“Help me,” You say breathlessly, and if there is one thing you can trust in on this good green Earth, it is that Eddie will do anything you ask, no matter what. 

You gasp when he rolls his hips and instantly strikes the spot you’d been working so hard to find. It’s a halfhearted effort because he’s too tired to do much else, but he curls his free arm around your back and pulls you flush to his sweat slicked body.

Your legs drift wider over top of him, and with the gentle rocking added to the dutiful ministrations of his fingers on your clit, you finally start to get somewhere.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck and moan, and the part of you that loves him so badly you feel insane with it sometimes, even when you can’t stand him, urges you to bite him. Not hard, you don’t want to hurt him, but there’s something primal about the need to feel his skin between your teeth.

Something about his neck has always made you hungry, ever since you first met, you’ve always felt the need to sink your teeth in, but the tender, puckered skin beneath your lips as they part reminds you that you are not the only creature who has ever given in to that urge. You want to bite him, to thank him and let him know just how much you love him, but it’s because you love him that you won’t do it (even if he did it to you first).

You press your tongue to the ruined skin stretched over his jugular and taste the salt of him. The hand pressed to the small of your back comes up to cradle the back of your neck as you lathe and gently suckle the spot, hyper conscious of every wonderful sound it pulls from him, waiting for the slightest hint that it is becoming too much. 

But fucking him like this suddenly feels so unbearably impersonal – he could be anyone laying beneath you. Not truly, because his is the only body you’ve ever known and you know his body as well as you do your own.

You’d know him in the dark with your eyes closed (you have, many times before) but a misplaced, creeping dread building at the base of your spine is suddenly so worried he won’t be there if you look, despite the needy pull of his hands and the gentle fanning of his breath warming you. It’s been too long since you checked to make sure he is still here with you.

You need to be sure, but, if you open your eyes, you’re half afraid you’re going to lose your concentration and all this will have been for nothing – it’s never for nothing, but some nights you need those means at the end of that long and winding road as badly as he does – so you reach out with scrabbling fingers and take a possessive fist of his hair. 

Eddie groans out a pitiful sound, and when you give a sharp tug to his scalp, his hips buck up, driving him deeper into the greedy sucking heat of your pussy. 

You gasp and share the sentiment of “oh, fuck”, which comes tumbling from both your mouths when you spasm around him.   

“Shit—getting close,” Eddie says, and you’re struck with an oddly contrary feeling.

You’re not nearly there yet, so you pull tighter, and you rock your hips back and try to force some kind of a synergy into your conjoined, sloppy movements. No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to manage to get in sync. 

You roll your hips over top of him like he isn’t even there, and fuck him the same way you would fuck a pillow you’d forced into the shape of something. You’re using him to get off rather than working together, and if you were thinking clearly, if you weren’t just trying to cum, you might understand that that was the issue here. 

You feel the muscles in his abdomen tense and release as he makes a high, desperate noise and tries to swallow it down. He starts to squirm and writhe beneath you, and you know he’s reached the edge – he’s about to cum.

You also know that by the way he’s suddenly gone silent, he’s probably fighting tooth and nail to hold on to it until you can get there, and you hate him for being such a gentleman. 

“Fuck-fuck –” he pants after a long moment of squirming, “Baby – tell me-tell me you’re close – I can’t…m’gonna–”

“Don’t–” you gasp, seizing him by the jaw and pushing bolt upright so you can ride him in earnest. “Don’t you dare!” 

You don’t even want to hear him say it. He hums out a pathetic whine, but nods in agreement. He won’t cum until you do, and you’re gonna hold him to it. 

You rock your hips violently back in forth, rising on your knees until he’s almost slipped out of you entirely and dropping with enough force to make him grunt with the effort. You feel almost panicky, heart pounding against your ribs as you desperately try to feel him as deeply as possible in one last ditch effort to beat him to the finish line.

You hadn’t realized that’s what you were aiming for until this moment, but that nasty little competitive streak in you has lit a fire in your belly that doesn’t feel nearly close enough to an orgasm as you need it to.

You know he can go deeper, and yet you can feel his hip bones kissing bruises into the backs of your thighs, and when that math refuses to explain itself, you release your hold on Eddie’s jaw and tilt backward, bracing your hands behind you on his trembling thighs.  

Beneath you, Eddie squirms with the effort of trying to stay above water. Had you been looking – and part of you truly wishes you had – you would have seen how he’s flushed a bright, pretty crimson all the way down to his chest, brows pinched, jaw set, teeth clenched, and upon closer inspection, you would have seen tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he goes to pieces beneath you. 

You can’t see how you’re tearing him to pieces, but you can hear it. Every needy little sound he makes as you ride him to the end of the earth.  

“Oh, God–” he chokes, “Mmmgonna cum… Baby – Sweetheart, please let me–”

“Almost there–” you gasp, reaching down to flick at your clit, “Just– just a little longer…”

“– I can’t I can’t – hnnghfffuck  – please!”

You ignore him in favor of bouncing faster, trying to keep Eddie from going to smoke beneath you, trying to keep him here with you, and he makes a harsh, pitiful noise, something crossed between the agony of ecstasy and a pained yelp.

Almost there, almost…

“Don’t stop,” you say, over and over in a breathless mantra, as if they were the magic words to push you over the edge, “Don’t stop, dont—don’t stop…” 

And then, he braces his feet on the mattress (as best he can, stupid fucking waterbed) and arches as he drives up into you, three sharp thrusts that hammer the elusive spot in your furthest wall with enough bruising force to nearly send you toppling over backward.

You would have done just that if he hadn’t seized you by your forearm to aid in the movement he wasn’t prepared to make, but it’s the last blessed push you needed to get there. 

It hits you like a freight train, without any hint of warning. Fire explodes in your belly in a storm of ecstasy that shoots sparks out to every corner of your body. You tense so hard your bones creak under the duress of your orgasm, and the sound that tears itself from your lungs is loud enough to savage your voice box. 

You’re powerless to resist the way your body seizes under the force of your climax, though distantly, you realize that’s not you – when it struck you and sent you hurdling over the side of that cliff, you pulled Eddie right down with you.

His face is screwed up in that devastated look of agony as he punches his hips up and pulls you down in the same moment. The muscles in his stomach spasm and heave with every beat of his orgasm, painting your inner walls with ropey bursts and filling you to brimming.

It’s just enough to keep the hot bloom in your abdomen undulating for that much longer, and when the initial brightness of climax releases you and finally begins to subside, you continue to tremble under the waning aftershocks of pleasure. 

Eddie sinks bonelessly beneath you, and hisses from the blessed kiss of overstimulation every time you clench over him. You don’t mean to keep doing it, but yours is a hungry pussy, and she never seems to know when enough is enough. 

When it becomes too much and those little noises become distant and pained, you push up on shaking knees. He slips out of you, you slump forward, and you lay your head on his heaving chest to listen to your favorite song as his cock grows soft against his thigh.

Eddie’s heart thumps with the erratic fervor of exhaustion as you lay pressed together, gulping down needy breaths of stagnant, sex tinged air. 

You’re vaguely aware, lying atop Eddie like this and bearing down on him with all your dead weight, that you ought to roll over, so you don’t hurt him, but your body has taken on the consistency of half-set Jell-O and you’re not certain you could move if you tried. 

Suddenly, the heavy up and down of wounded lungs fighting for air is replaced by a mirthful shaking, and you realize that Eddie is laughing. 

“Jesus fuck–” he says, completely spent yet totally satisfied and you can’t help but share the sentiment. 

You pat the side of his face with your open, sweaty palm.

“Good job.” 

“Team effort,” He peels your hand from his face and raises it to clap with a weary high five, “Go team,”

Your body trembles as you begin to snicker, and the bed moves right along with you.

“God, I hate this motherfucking bed.” Eddie sighs, and your insides bloom with residual pleasure. You win. 

You keep the triumph of that to yourself, however, and just pat him gently on the shoulder.

“I know, Eds.” 

As the blissful numbness of the afterglow begins to fade, you start to come back to your senses and realize with no small amount of aggravation that you’re going to have to get back in the shower. 

At least this time it’ll be easier to coax Eddie in with you.

Your palms stick as you brace your hands on his chest and push up, slowly, because you’re still too wobbly to trust that you won’t go toppling over again. 

When you look, there are angry red marks in his skin where you hadn’t realized you’d dug your nails in when you came, and you feel a pang of despair over hurting him.

He follows your eyes down to them, and regards them with a gentle, probing hand.

“Like ‘em?” He asks, “I just got ‘em done.” 

“Did I hurt you?”

He offers you a lopsided shrug.

“I’ve taken worse knocks,” he says, “What about you?”

“I’m okay…” you say, trying not to think about how unpleasant the cooling slickness between your thighs is. 

It suddenly reminds you far too much of sticky blood spurting with every thump of your erratic heart, and your scar throbs with the memory of how badly your hands shook as you fought to tie a tourniquet off at the top of your thigh.

You feel the pinch of fingers at your elbow as Eddie fumbles with putting a hand on you.  

“Hey, you good?” he asks unevenly, lifting his head to peer at you through heavy lidded eyes, “You’re shaking.” 

You banish any lingering feeling of your trauma, attempting to claw it’s way back to the front of your mind and give him a wry smirk.

“Wonder why,” 

He makes a pleased, fucked out sound in the hollow of his throat.

“You ready to say it now?” he asks, and when you give him a puzzled look, his eyebrows jump with innuendo, “Who’s the best at–”

You whip the pillow out from beneath his head before he can finish and hit in in the face with it.

He really is the fucking worst, and you hope he never changes.

This time when you step into the shower, you do it together. You lean heavily against each other as the stream washes away all evidence of your lovemaking – save for the bruises, of which there are many – and after, you let Eddie towel you off.

Neither of you has it in you to change the bedsheets, so you settle on laying a towel down. You’ll do laundry in the morning – it feels oddly hopeful, that there is something waiting for you on the other end of this strange, strange night, even if it’s only laundry. 

Tomorrow well and truly is another day. You settle into bed together, and take great comfort in that – you did you best, and you can try again tomorrow. 

Back to front, knees tucked in behind yours, arms around your midsection pulling you tight against him, you lay against Eddie and feel his heart beating between your shoulder blades.

Forget all your petty grievances and fears and frustrations. Forget anything but this moment and every moment you’ve had like this since you first climbed up into the hospital bed to lay against him. Whatever happens, whatever you lost, this is enough. 

It has to be, because you almost lost this, and you don’t know what you would do without it. You don’t know what you would do without him. 

Laying there in the still dark of four hundred square feet, you begin to feel something drumming on your throat. Not Eddie or anything tangible, but the urge to speak, to spill your guts, to tell the truth. 

Oh, fuck off, you tell the feeling, Alright already.

It’s only when you feel his breathing go slow and deep, and you are almost certain he is asleep do you finally muster your courage.

You’re possessed with a sudden calm. Maybe it’s because you’re certain Eddie isn’t listening, and maybe it’s because secrets are always easier to spill when whispered in the dark, but that hot coal of truth has suddenly become too much to bear. 

Behind you, Eddie shifts in his sleep, readjusts, and pulls you tighter against him so he can rest his head on yours, cheek pressed against your temple. 

You’ll tell him for real tomorrow, but right now you have to say it out loud, if only to make sure it sounds right. 

The words have to be perfect.

“Eddie, I’m pregnant,” you say to no one but the ghosts. 

Your voice bleeds into the room and sounds eerily hollow against your eardrums, but there is a truth to the words that is inarguably relieving. 

Like releasing a breath you’ve been holding too long, the tightness you’ve had in your chest all day begins to dissipate, and you finally feel like you can relax.  

And then Eddie sits up. 

“What did you just say?” He asks, and your heart leaps up into your throat so quickly you’re half afraid it’s going to come flying out of your mouth. 

Every muscle in your body goes tense as you freeze against him. You hold your breath and wait to see what will happen, what he’ll say. Maddeningly, he doesn’t say anything, he just sits there. 

You twist over to face him, and with him leaning over you, you can see the faintest suggestion of his eyes shining in the dark. For a long moment, you just lay there, staring up at him, waiting for him to speak, and suddenly so afraid of all the unknowable things that must be running through his head.

“I’m pregnant.” you say again, a little softer now that it’s the real deal. 

“Oh… okay…” He says, suddenly sounding so painfully boyish it makes your chest ache. “…okay…”

Kids having kids. 

You don’t know what to say to try and ease the shock of it all, because you’ve already been through the rollercoaster of thoughts and feelings and emotions he is bound to be experiencing and you hadn’t done so well with the information yourself.  

After a moment, the silence becomes unbearable.   

“I just… thought you should know…” You say, “…It’s yours.”

“Oh…” he says again, then “...yeah, ’course it is.” almost like he’s assuring himself of that fact rather than agreeing with you.

Whose else would it be? It’s not like you’re opening your legs up for anyone else around here. Still, the way you can’t read any sort of emotion on Eddie makes your chest go tight with panic. You want to shake him and snap him out of the paralysis that seems to have seized him, but you can’t make yourself move. 

“I don’t know what to do.” You say, and it’s finally enough to get him to look at you again.  

“Me neither.” He says. 

It’s a deeply disappointing thing to hear. You hadn’t realized just how much stock you’d put into Eddie telling you exactly how to proceed. How heavily you’d been leaning on that crutch. With it kicked so unceremoniously out from under you, you fall.

Your voice is wet and burbling when you speak, tears are collecting on your lashes and it would be almost startling if they hadn’t been simmering just beneath the surface all day – all month if you were being honest with yourself.  

“What should I do, Eddie?”

Something changes in the dark, a shift in the air, a flicker of something across his face that is gone before you can read it, and he lays his palm on your cheek. 

“...You should go to sleep, Sweetheart.” He says softly, “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

It’s not what you wanted to hear. You wanted him to have all the answers, to solve your problems with a gentle guiding hand, but you conveniently forgot that he doesn’t know any better than you do. 

He is right, though. There’s nothing you can do about it right now. You could stay up talking about it all night, you suppose, but what good would that do?

You’re tired. He’s tired. Even without the rabid session of mindless bunnyfucking, you had yourselves a day and a half, and you can feel it turning to sediment in your bones. 

You need to sleep. You should sleep while you still can.

And then, you're struck between the eyes with the memory of having heard somewhere that most new parents don’t sleep for the first year of their baby’s life. You don’t know which part of that intrusive factoid is more startling: the idea that you’re not going to sleep for a whole year or the concept that you are going to be parents. 

Eddie can’t be somebody’s father, you’re thinking as you cross your hands over your chest and stare up at the ceiling, He can barely take care of himself. 

Don’t sell yourself short, Babycakes, the Eddie part of you chides. You’re not doing so hot yourself. 

Out of the dark, you feel the real Eddie’s hand come down to grip yours and crush your fingers into a fist. 

“Don’t worry about it,” He says, the sweet sureness of his tone chasing away the snarling angry doppelganger that lives in your mind’s eye, “We don’t have to worry about it until tomorrow,” 

We.

The relief you feel to have someone shoulder the burden you’ve been struggling with all day is enough to push you back to tears. You swallow hard and breathe out a shaky, wet sigh, and sniffle when Eddie squeezes your hand and tells you once again not to worry about it.

Easy for him to say, he’s not the one who is about to become a human incubator.

But he is right.

There is nothing either of you can do about it in the hours preluding twilight. Tomorrow is another day, and for now, you only have to do exactly what you’ve been wanting to do all evening.

You’ll sleep this weirdness off, and feel better in the morning.

Somehow you don’t believe that for a second.

You roll over, and let your eyes slide shut when Eddie pulls you snug against him again, but you don’t sleep. You just lay there feeling his shallow breathing fan your neck and his fingers flex periodically over the curve of your hip. 

A little while later, he shifts and rolls away from you. He sits up, and you can feel him looking at you, trying to decide if he thinks you’re sleeping, and then the mattress sloshes as he gets out of bed. 

You listen to Eddie padding back and forth across the apartment, moving aimlessly from corner to corner as his mind no doubt spins out with worry. There is the muted rustling of things being moved, the telltale thump of a shoe being dropped and the pawing of searching fingers in the dish by the door. 

He’s putting on his shoes. He’s looking for his keys. He’s leaving.

He's actually fucking leaving. 

The notion is terrifying, but something about the way you left it has you paralyzed.

You’re committed to this charade of sleep, and there is nothing that can rouse you from this bed. Not even if the floor opened up and swallowed you whole.

You don't care what Eddie decides to do. You’re going to sleep, and you’re going to feel better in the morning, even if it kills you.

You hear Eddie call your name softly from the other end of the room, and you do your best to stay perfectly still, feeling his eyes on you in the dark, watching for any sign of movement.

You’re asleep, you’re listening, you’re holding your breath and waiting to see what he will do. 

After a moment that feels like eternity, Eddie breathes an uneven sigh, and you hear the telltale sign of the knob twisting. The door unsticks, swings inward, and he slips out. 

It shuts with a hollow thud, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter and tighter, tight enough to squeeze a salty bead of moisture out from your tear ducts as there is the distant whine and thump of a car door shutting. 

The van’s engine fails to turn over immediately, but the second time he tries, it roars to life with enough gusto to wake your neighbors, had they already been in bed. 

You sit up and watch the door, and listen to Eddie leave. You don’t wonder where he’s going. 

There is only one place he would be going at 10:30 on a Thursday - only one place he can go. 

You drag yourself from the bed and move to the phone, feeling your legs wobble beneath your weight with the residual of your evening activities as much as nerves. 

You punch in the numbers you’ve long since memorized and put the receiver to your ear, feeling an emptiness begin to claw at you as you listen to the line ring. 

Brrzzzbrrzzz. Brrzzzbrrzzz –click —

“Y’ello.”

“Hiya Wayne,” you chirp, your voice cracks. 

“Well, hey there, Sweetheart — wasn’t expecting a call from your neck of the woods ‘til tomorrow.”

Eddie and Wayne have a standing weekly conversation — Fridays at two — and you feel a wave of giddy panic wash over you as you begin to wonder about all the things they’ll have to talk about tomorrow.

“Everything okay?” he asks when a silence you hadn’t meant to allow room for stretches between you. 

“Yeah… yeah everything’s—” you can’t make yourself say it, “I’m sorry, I know it’s late—“

“Nah, don’t you worry about that. What’s up?”

The sudden urge to spill your guts rises violently in you, and you have to clench your teeth to stop it from tumbling out.

I’m pregnant, Eddie’s not coping, nothing is ever going to be the same as it was and we can never go back. 

I don’t know what to do and I’m scared. Help me, help me, help me.

But in a feat of stunning self control, you manage to keep the tide of that existential madness at bay. 

You clear your throat in a futile attempt at keeping your voice steady.

It quavers anyway. 

“Eddie’s on his way over.” You say, trying and failing to sound casual about it.

Wayne doesn’t respond right away.  

Because Eddie hasn’t driven anywhere by himself in fourteen months, let alone to the other end of town in the middle of the night on a random Thursday in June. 

Something is wrong, and he knows it.

“He is, is he?” He deadpans, and you can practically feel the intention to ask why. 

You can’t stand to hear him ask, because you have no idea how to answer. What would you even tell him? The truth? 

You can’t even begin to try explaining that to Wayne, especially when whatever the hell just happened feels entirely too much like you had a fight, and it’s your fault. 

You can’t stand it.

“I just thought you should know,” you mumble into the phone, “He just left.” 

The words stay ringing in your ears far too long and then are quickly followed by a measured silence that stretches before you like the unending march of time. 

He left, he’s leaving, he’s gone – you try to swallow against the way your throat has begun to close and put your back to that door.

You hold against it, the fear, the worries, the impending future and everything else you have no hope of stopping. 

By the time Wayne finally responds, your brain has begun to crawl with spiders and your hands are trembling.  

“Alright then,” he says with no small amount of finality, “You want me to send him back to you after or…?”

You shake your head for no one in particular. 

“No… I think — it might be better if he stays over with you. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all. I’ll keep him for the night and send him home in the morning — don’t you worry, I’ll set him straight.”

The words are out before you can stop them. 

“… please be gentle with him,” you hate to have to say it, because if there is anyone on this earth who does not need to be reminded how to treat Eddie, it’s Wayne, but you still can’t help yourself, “He … he had a rough day…” 

The hum that comes rattling up from the elder Munson’s throat reverberates through the phone and makes your back teeth buzz. 

“You gonna be okay?” he asks and your heart palpitates.

Suddenly, the urge to tell the wretched truth sits once more balancing on the end of your tongue.

“I will be—” you lie, “...bye, Wayne,”

“G’night, Sweetheart,” 

The line clicks, and on the far side of town, Wayne Munson heaves a sigh that carries the weight of the world. 

He puts the phone back on the receiver and feels that weight settle into his deeply tired bones as he runs through all the possible scenarios laid out before him. A fight, most likely, a real knock down drag out if he knows anything about Munson men and their penchant for hitting the breeze. Then again, that doesn’t fall in line with the call you just put in to warn him of his nephew’s impending arrival, and it’s not as if Eddie can get very far on his own anyway. 

He spends the next few minutes wondering if he ought to go out and try to meet the boy halfway, pick him up and stop him before he can blunder through some terrible mistake that is bound to upset the lives of everyone around him for the foreseeable future.

He wonders if that’s even possible where his nephew is concerned.

He ultimately decides against that kind of tom foolery. He’s got better things to do on a Thursday night than go chasing Eddie around town.

Got to let kids make their own mistakes, he tells himself. 

Anyway, he doesn’t know why the boy is on his way over. You said he was coming, nothing more, nothing less. And yet, Wayne can’t shake the trill of warning raising the hair on the back of his neck. He knows what it looks like when someone is about to cut and run, he’s spent an entire life watching that kind of behavior play out before Eddie was even born.

He swallows that doom saying, and takes small comfort in the fact that at least his nephew has got sense enough to come and ask for help before he runs for his life.

Usually. The previous spring notwithstanding. 

Of course, those were extraordinary circumstances, this is just Thursday, so he tells himself he doesn’t know anything. 

He moves to the kitchen, flicks on the light, and puts a pot of coffee on the stove to boil.

It’s going to be a long night.

[pythoness94]

Fanon party and how they react to Byler. (and how it makes the party OOC.)

One thing I hate about some fics is that SOME people get to damn deep into the fanon. Like, I swear some people treat Will like he's incapable. It's like people think Will is going to completely break and fall apart if Mike is straight. Like no? Will already thinks Mike IS straight, chat he's sad but he isn't some "uwu baby". It's completely apparent that some people think Will NEEDS to be protected at all cost and it shows in how they write the Party treating Mike. Basically, in multiple fics and videos i have seen (Cough, cough, gacha reacts, cough, COUGH.) the creators write the party absolutely LOATHING Mike. Berating him, putting him down, taking apart his every insecurity, calling him homophobic, MAKING him homophobic, acting like he's satan for not showing that he likes Will back. I've seen a few were they kick Mike OUT OF HIS OWN PARTY, for not liking Will back. Like, I've also seen a couple where they treat the garage scene like it was worse than the upside down. They don't even have the party try to understand why Mike did that, or ask if Will forgives him, or even make Mike apologize. No! Because that would be just TO inconceivably. No, they say fuck that noise and chose the secret fourth option of making Mike into some homophobic dickhead that hated Will from the start and everything he did before that was just acting. Like WTF???

The way they treat Will is WORSE. Like I touched on it earlier, but they have the party FAWN over him. Acting like Will can do no wrong, and like Will needs every member at the party at his beck and call while sobbing every five seconds. This is, of course, the most extreme cases but once you see these things you can't UNSEE it. They make Will into some fragile thing that Mike sought out to break, it also seems to like babyfy? (i don't know the word.) Will, he's more childish and well fragile. he's not Will anymore. Like did we all collectively forget the POINT of season two's byler relationship? Mike was the only one who didn't treat Will like he was going to break, Will hates that shit, he would NEVER act like this and yet some fanfic writers do that. Also,also, Will would be SO FUCKING PISSED at the party if they excluded and bullied Mike like they do in those fics. He would lose his shit on him. People forget but while Mike and Will may have crushes on each other. They are BEST FRIENDS above all else.

One of the plots of season four was that despite the relationship getting in the way of their friendship, they will stay friends. That "let's make our own party" line wasn't just romance coding, it was saying that they are always friends solo. If Dustin and Will fought, Mike and Will would still be friends. If Lucas and Mike fought, Will and Mike would still be friends. If something happens to the rest of the party, Mike and Will are always going to be Mike and Will because they have their own "Solo party." they are best friends above everything. So the party bullying the fuck out of Mike would NOT slide with Will. The party babying Will wouldn't slide. The party trying to keep Mike and Will away from each other wouldn't slide. Which is another thing, the party would NEVER pull that shit on Mike, because they are FRIENDS too.

Season one was Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and El being best friends without Will. Mike even said that they are all his best friends. The party all adore each other, they would never side with one person and isolate the other. No, they would make each other work it out. They would help Mike make it up to Will and visa versa (REMEMBER THIS REMEMBER VISA VERSA!) because of that "Drawn first blood" rule. You think that they would establish that in season one for no fucking reason? Hell no, Lucas and Mike made up because Mike drew first blood, he apologized, and Lucas held no grudges and that the fucking point. The party doesn't do grudges, they are all each other have and they know it, they know that each member doesn't mean to hurt each other. They will make up every time because they care for each other EQUALLY above all else. So them taking one side doesn't make sense.

Now, here is where visa versa comes in. Some fanfics treat Will like he can NEVER be in the wrong, ever. Like even if it's a throwaway line. i've seen in some really good fics that the characters first reactions, even Nancy and El's, are "Oh, what did Mike do now!" When they have a fight. Like it's never. "Oh what happened?" It's always. "What did MIKE do?" It's a small thing but it shows how DEEP fanon has it's claws in all of us, hell I'm at fault of doing it and I try to go back in fix it. Since, being for real, not a single party member would say that other than Max. As said about, they are all about equality, equal grounds and first blood, they would always say. "What happened?" instead of, "what did Mike do?" because they would be drawing first blood by saying that since it's a unfair slight against a party member. Especially since they've all dealt with bullying in the past, they all know how hard words dig into you, so they would never do something like that to one of their friends. I also hate how some authors don't make Will start a fight too? Like relationships always have dumb fucking fights from both sides, Will would pull some stupid shit just the same as Mike. They are both fourteen in season 4 not only old enough to work their own shit out without being coddled but also old enough to be responsible for their actions.

Will lied to Mike, it doesn't matter if he's trying to save Mileven, he lied and Mike would hate that. Pulling up Mike's past actions doesn't change the fact that Will can slight Mike just as Mike can slight Will. So the party dismissing that but hounding on Mike for paying attention for his girlfriend (even if the way he went about it was dickish and completely messy.) is OOC. Jonathan hating Mike is OOC, the party hating Mike is OOC, Will hating Mike is OOC, Mike hating Will is OOC. They are all equal and equal rights is equal fights. Also, doubling back for a second. Jonathan would NEVER fucking hate Mike. EVER, he's worried for Will's feelings. He wants Will to be happy, but he's known Mike is WHOLE life. Jonathan would be more concerned about why tf Mike is wigging out like this then angry. He knows well enough that you can't make somebody love you (Being in love with Nancy and the whole Steve thing.) He would be annoyed that Mike hurt Will and El, but not pissed of and cold to him. That's the thing fics get wrong. Jonathan would be CONCERNED not COLD. He would grill Mike for answers but not interrogate aggressively, more like gently guide it out of him. Creating a safe space to get the information.

Now, going back to the Will thing. if you can't imagine your party that you're writing, your cast if you will, being mad at Will but can imagine them all being mad at Mike with ease. Then you aren't writing them in character. They can all be mad at each other; Jonathan can be mad at both Will and Mike. Nancy can be mad at Will and Mike, the party can be mad at Will and Mike, and it's never all on one person. The party are scientists and detectives at heart, they don't jump to conclusions, they get the full story. Also, shovel talks. Another thing I hate is when the entire CAST, not just the party, tells Mike that "If you hurt Will, i'll kill you." but Mike is never given the same treatment. They will have NANCY threaten Mike about hurting Will but not Will? She'll threaten her own brother but not his boyfriend? No fucking wonder Mike doesn't really care for Nancy in some fics, I would to if my sister expecting me to hurt my own fucking boyfriend! WHAT THE HELL??? Like, never, in any fic that I have seen. (if you guys have one that does, DROP THE LINK OR NAME! I need to see it and comment my praises.) does any, ANY, of that characters give Will a shovel talk for Mike. They never do a "if you hurt Mike." it's like everybody expects Mike to being a callous bitch at all times.

Like if I was Will, and heard all my friends threatening my other friend and boyfriend but I wasn't getting the same talk, I WOULD BE PISSED. Because not only is that a dick move, since they are already expecting the worse out of my boyfriend and that's THEIR FRIEND too. But because they don't think that i'm capable of the same thing, I know damn well that i can accidently hurt my girl, I don't want to and I would never if i could but I know it. So it would feel like my friends expect me to be some frail thing that my partner could only hurt. FUCK THAT! I want my relationship to always be EVEN, no power imbalance and a shovel talk on always one party is implying one. (i'm not explaining this well but I hope my point is getting across.)

Anyways TL:DR, Will's not an incapable UWU baby that can do no wrong he's a fourteen-year-old boy as of season 4. Mike's not satan incarnated and is also a fourteen year old boy as of season 4. And the party wouldn't pick sides in a fight. Write your characters more in canon instead of STEEPED in fanon.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Idk bout you but I’m a sucker for possessive men, so I’d like to ask for some jealousy HCs for the JJK men. Thank uuuuuuu muah

My darling, I'd like nothing more than to give them to you 💜

Now Presenting...

Starring Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, and Ryomen Sukuna

Satoru Gojo

Gojo likes to think he’s not possessive at all. Key word: Think.

In reality, he’s deeply insecure, convinced he’s not good enough for you, and is obsessed, extremely concerned with not losing you.

This unholy concoction has led to an extremely possessive man.

Now, to be fair, He’s pretty good about keeping it in check. He’s not going to lose his mind cause he saw some asshole checking you out at the supermarket. He’s better than that.

Now, if said asshole tries to talk to you, that’s a completely different story. Then he’s literally grabbing you, arms around your waist and actively trying to give you a hickey while you talk to his new number one enemy.

And good fukin luck to you my friend if you call him out on it, cause now he’s convinced you liked that guy too.

Especially early on in your relationship, when he’s still guarded because he’s scared of getting hurt, he’s going to be straight up toxic about it. 

“No, it’s fine, really. If you like him so much, go talk to him. I just wanna know when you stopped caring about me.”

Honestly, you’re better off leaving him alone to let him work out his own shit. He’ll realize he was being an idiot, no doubt helped by the fact that you’re still here, but it’s gonna take 2 hours minimum. 

Gojo is not about to start a fight over some douche bag flirting with you. Mostly because he can not catch another a case. But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to sit by and let it happen, nay nay dear reader.

No, he’s just also going to also talk part in the conversation. Wrapping an arm around your waist and finding any excuse he can, no matter how weak, to drop the fact that he’s your boyfriend.

The exception being the moment the other person puts a hand on you. The moment that happens, all bets are off, and I hope you have bail money. He’s not going to murder them probably but you’re for sure going to be dealing with assault charges. 

Also, not to get NSFW, but the sex after? When He feels like he has to prove to himself he’s good enough for you and remind you that you belong to him? Good luck bestie.

Suguru Geto

This man is nothing but jealous all the time. If he had it his way, you would never leave the bedroom. . 

He’s quick to lay his claim on you. Holding you close to him and kissing you mid sentence so that whoever the person flirting with you is get’s the point. 

Afterwards though? On the way home? Silent treatment. When you do get him to talk?

“I just don’t understand. Why don’t you love me anymore?”

Yea, he’s gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girlbossing YOU into apologizing to HIM. 

I really can’t see this man as anything other than toxic, my god. 

Still, he doesn’t put up with anyone playing with his toys. If he sees you talking to anyone while out, he’s hugging you from behind, kissing your neck and loudly asking “Hey Darling, Who’s this?” 

That Who’s this is dripping in condescension and hatred. Because he does hate them. He hates anyone that could take you away from him.

Your friends are not immune to this btw. 

Slowly he starts to pull you away from your friends and integrate you into his friend group.

Not that he trusts them either. Nay nay, It’s just easier to keep an eye on you this way. 

He’s always reminding you that you’re his. Marking you, draping his jacket over you, conveniently forgetting to buy you more body wash so you have to use his, literally anything to get the point across that you were his. 

Like, this man has deemed himself your chair, cause if you're going to be together, he’s going to find any excuse he can to sit you on his lap.

Now, Suguru is not the type to get confrontational or physical. That being said, if you express that someone is making you uncomfortable, it's game over for them.

The upsides are: no silent treatment! Instead he’s dotting on you and himself apologetic for letting you be put into that situation.

The downside is now you have to clean blood off of him. Again, probably not murder, but for sure an assault charge.

Kento Nanami

Nanami honestly doesn’t have the time to get jealous. 

He trusts you more than anyone else. He has to to date you. So, he’s not normally worried about other people. 

If he starts to feel jealous, he’ll normally just talk to you about it.

Normally. 

The exception is when it comes to your friends. 

He’s not worried about any of them taking you away from him romantically, that thought has never crossed his mind. And for the most part, he likes your friends.

But he does get jealous of how much of your time you spend with them. And of course he doesn’t want to say anything because he knows it's ridiculous. 

But when he comes home from a long day of work to see you have your friends over, meaning he has to share you when his emotional capacity has already been filled? Yea, he's not happy.

And he doesn’t try to hide how possessive he feels in that moment either, he’s stealing your seat and placing you firmly on his lap for after work cuddles.

Oh, he’s embarrassing you in front of your friends? Oh well. Send them home then. 

He’s going to, discreetly,  kiss your neck, and rub your hips until you’re hot and bothered enough to send your friends home.

He just wants your time. It bugs him when other people preoccupy it, when he feels like you’re prioritizing other people over him. 

He can recognize that this is probably his most toxic trait, and he is working on it. 

But you’re still going to have to deal with him while he is

Ryomen Sukuna

Everyone else is an amature when it comes to being possessive/jealous Sukuna OWNS that shit

It’s literally his baseline. Other people can’t look at you without pissing off your guard dog.

He’s your guard dog btw. 

They don’t even have to be flirting! If someones talking to you, he is holding you close and actively glaring at them until they leave you alone.

And if they are flirting, well I hope they're cool with whatever god they worship. Cause they’re about to meet said god. 

Sukuna is insistent that you are his and his alone. It’s why he even takes the time to mark you up all pretty like he has. So other people can see that.

So if someones dumb enough to see your lovingly bruised neck and still flirt with you then as far as he’s concerned, he’s doing the gene pool a favor by taking them out of it. 

God forbid he thinks you’re into it. 

QUICK NSFW WARNING

He will slaughter your new toy and fuck you until you can’t walk in front of the corpse. You won't be able to walk for weeks if ever again from the punishing he’s going to put you through.

OK, NSFW OVER

Ideally, your best bet is to tell him the moment that you realize someone is flirting with you. Even if they’re not necessarily making you uncomfortable, better to keep your life than theirs, right? 

Hell, you might even get a reward for being so vigilant. 

Honestly I need to write an entire Yandere Sukuna fic cause he is made for it. He is THE most Yandere character.

[apathycares]

Why I think the ending of MHA makes sense (manga spoilers)

So I came out of hiding specifically because MHA ended and this blog started off as a place for me to ignore my other works/fandoms and write stuff for MHA so it's a given that I talk about it. Just a little disclaimer – MHA is not my first fandom, and I've been watching anime for forever, so I'm not biased when it comes to shipping or how mangakas end their work. I'm purely speaking from a place of my own sense of objectivity.

Also, since I don't think I've shared my opinion on stuff too much here so it might be weird to my current followers (hi!!), I'm gonna do it headcanon style.

Midoriya being a teacher is not farfetched – some people have said it would've been better if Hori made him a strategist or something along those lines, but you all have to remember that his only goal has been to be a hero. If he wanted to become a strategist he would've (a) thought about/been suggested that when he was quirkless and (b) there's nothing TO strategize since the big bads are all gone. Hawks is running the Commission. Police exist in this verse. He wanted to be a hero fully, so if he wasn't able to do that, then the next logical step would be to TRAIN the next heroes.

Bakugou wouldn't have become number one straight out of high school. Bffr. I know it's anime and we don't have to use real life logic but it's been said over and over again that rankings are both based on feats achieved and popularity, and even though that man has accompanied A LOT, he's always going to be rough around the edges, and as a hero, people are just not going to rock with that. But, given Endeavour's example, I think he could become number one with his feats alone as the years go on in spite of his attitude.

Midoriya not keeping in touch with the rest of his classmates except Bakugou (or maybe not being able to, whichever way it was translated) is NORMAL. How many of you keep in touch with your high school classmates after the fact, regardless of how close you were? How many of you outgrow your very real and very deep friendships? Eight years is a long time. Bakugou being left makes sense because they've known each other forever.

No ships were confirmed. Please let us leave the ending of that as it is. BUT! Let's all ship who we want, create for the ships that we want regardless. That's the beauty of fandoms. We can toy around and find joy in it, but PLEASE don't push that a ship is canon when it's not. As an old head anime fan, there's a distinction between those two. We can all have fun and accept that the series ended with no ships.

Continuing off of the previous point, I LOVE that the manga ended with no ships. That just gives us full liberties to do whatever the hell we want in this fandom and have fun without people rearing their annoying heads and writing shit comments about their pairing being canon. No one gets any ammo.

Aizawa cutting his hair is a crime.

Did they give Touya an ending??? Why can't I remember??? Well, the fact that he didn't is another crime

Everyone else's endings were solid (and I don't see much discourse about this so let's leave it at that)

See now that I'm thinking about it again, Aizawa cutting his hair isn't a crime....but why did they do him like that???

Giving Midoriya a hero suit at the end of it and Bakugou holding his hand out was GOLDEN (I'm indifferent about the suit because Teacher!doriya would've been a solid ending, but the holding the hand out squeezed my heart that was a BEAUTIFUL ending to the entire Deku/Kacchan storyline)

Some people are mentioning that Bakugou calling him Deku destroyed it but y'all forgetting that THAT'S HIS HERO NAME. Stop being lame.

I wanna know the full rankings of everyone just to gauge where Bakugou and everyone else are. Maybe Hori might do a lil something, who knows, but I don't think we need a MHA Shippuden.

High key, if we do get a spin off or something, we need a Misadventures of InsertSomeoneHere to see what a DITL of them at 24(?) looks like

Now that I'm looking at this...the fact that I watched this at their age and it ended with them being 24 and I'm currently 24 is.......

Anyways! Those are my very rushed thoughts. As much as people like to play around MHA, it was a great manga, it had a solid ending for the lore that the story was going for, and it was a great ride. I'm excited to see when all of this gets animated and we can ride this ride again, but this fandom will always be special to me.

[chaoticace2005]

I’ve seen a lot of people talking about how the exorcists look like demons, and while I do understand where the complaint is coming from I also wanted to talk about how them looking like that kind of supports the narrative.

I’m going to start this off by staying this is from a perspective looking at the narrative presented to us in the Hellaverse, not any specific religion because 1) I am an atheist who doesn’t have the knowledge or background for making any calls on that and 2) the canon hasn’t confirmed this adheres to a specific belief system. There’s Adam and Eve and Hell and Heaven and yes, but this show arguably works as a parody of all of that.

Now that that’s established, I want to bring up one of the main points in the show: the idea that those in Heaven and Hell aren’t that different. In Helluva we’re shown the experiences of hell-born, and we even see cherubs later on who seem to fulfill the parallel role of them in Heaven (with the IMP vs CHERUB fight.) We also know that Lucifer was an angel in this canon. So some of the characters with the most authority in those domains are from the same stock.

The main difference seems to be punishment. Lucifer was punished for his actions and was given those who were deemed “Sinners.” The Hell born seem to be just natives living there and many seem to be products of their environment. So while Sinners may be “bad” and Winners “good”, all those born in Heaven or Hell have no reason for being there.

Whether exorcists are brought to heaven or made there, there is still that view of superiority. The way Lute talks makes it clear she’d be willing to kill the hellborn if she could, despite them not having done anything to be there like the Sinners. It’s similar to how some people born into high economic status view those born into lower. It’s just luck of the draw but now you have access to different opportunities and that influences the way you view others. Those born in Heaven probably look at those born in Hell and argue that if hellborn aren’t bad, then why does Hell suck? Ignoring the fact that Hell is established for the purpose of containing Sinners, who often end up being more powerful that the majority of hellborn.

Even some of the Sinners likely fall into that issue where people who gave to endure harsher environments may have to resort to more extreme measures to get by, and then punishment for it just causes them to need to do even more because their conditions worsened. As seen with the rate of people who keep returning to prison. With Hell some may have fallen down this path (think of Angel, who was born into a crime family, it’s likely a lot easier to fall into drug addiction then when you have access and more things you’d like to forget, but drug addiction can be a slippery slope and the other stuff he needed to do to survive basically condemned him.) Obviously not all Sinners fall into this category and are just monstrous pieces of shit, but they likely isn’t the case for everyone.

Then, once you get to Hell it’s essentially a larger prison, except you aren’t separated and are given powers, causing some of the more malicious individuals to rise up and acquire power, making it even more of a nightmare for everyone else. This continues that cycle of having to do certain things to survive. Similar to have in jail that fear of getting hurt by some violent people make you align yourself with slightly less violent people. Except now in Hell there’s that added issue: there’s no escape.

(Also, Hell is a prison but you STILL have to pay rent and work to survive, so you really get the added stress of both worlds.)

Anyway, this whole cycle causes a similar effect to the growing class disparity we see in many countries. Those on top (Heaven) continue to have power while those lower have to deal with most of the burden. Reinforcing that belief in exorcists that Heaven is “good” and Hell is “bad” because they are unable to see the full picture. They just see it as “they blew their shot” without thinking of why that may be or considering the people who didn’t even have a choice being there— like how some people blame others in poverty for being that way because “they are lazy.” That’s not even remotely the full picture. But because certain things come easy for you it’s hard to understand why it can’t come easy for others.

Exorcists are then given the excuse and opportunity to kill others, people who they believe are lesser than them. And some take genuine joy out of it, yet they continue to see themselves as the “good guys” because that’s what they are and the others “deserve it.” And this shows how when some people are given the opportunity and reason to be assholes they’ll take it- millionaires don��t HAVE to exploit their employees, but they view it as being to their benefit and helping the bottom line.

So now, both exorcists and those in hell have reason and excuse to be violent, albeit for very different reasons. Yet because of this exorcists are still “good” and those in hell are “bad.” And this is largely because of the lack of consequences for their actions. Heaven reinforces their behavior, before episode 8 there was no push back from Hell, so they could continue to use their reasoning as an excuse to kill others.

They’re blind and don’t see it though. They only see the world from one perspective, which is ironic given the exorcist mask is missing an eye. They can put masks on and hurt others and then take them off without dealing with the consequences. They “go down” to the level of the very people they despise and then write it all off, because they have the comfort of taking their masks off at the end. Of having a choice.

It’s also interesting how their masks don’t resemble sinners but Hellborn. Which almost reminds me of mocking another’s culture while actively hurting them. They may not be able to physically hurt hellborn, but they’re still viewed through the same lens as Sinners. They’re still “bad.” So exorcists can don caricatures of their appearances, go around “pretending” to be them by committing violent acts, and when they’re done they can take it off. As I’m writing this I’m now thinking about how in the past black-face has been used to reinforce racist stereotypes, making racist caricatures.

This also camouflage in a way, maybe they were previously asked to “fit in” before things got all crazy, and when told to look for “demon disguises” they all fall back onto the stereotype and dressed up like that.

The usage of exorcists wearing demon-looking masks could be them both “playing bad” while also clearly showing the fact that at the core people aren’t so different. For as much as they hate those in hell, they’re just as likely to fall into the same traps and patterns as them.

Having written this all now, I wanted to bring up Vaggie. Vaggie who took her exorcist mask off to show sympathy for someone only to be punished and marked with an “X” that mirrors her mask. Vaggie who previously was part of the “elite”, where she could forgo consequences until she couldn’t for not following them and was cast out, being permanently marked. Vaggie, who was previously allowed given the gift to “play bad” due to being in Heaven, but when she was cast out “playing bad” wasn’t an option anymore. Taking off her mask can’t get rid of mistakes anymore, and now she has to display them for the world to see.

I don’t know if the “X” was intentional on her part or irony, but if she did choose it it could also be her recognizing her role in the system. Her realizing she can’t go back and using the “X” to remind her of what she’s done. Because she doesn’t have the luxury of pretending she’s a good person anymore— she doesn’t want to forget.

[dc418writes]

✨Pairing✨: softdark!assassin!Curtis Everettxblack!reader

Summary🪄: the mysterious man in the corner booth is gonna make you wish you stayed home

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!!!, language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of adult happy fun times, allusion to reader being held against her will (so dubcon..?? Ish??? 🤷🏽‍♀️)

A/N🎤: hello☺️! This is my submission to the @secretswiftymarvelfan I Love You 3000 Writing Bonanza✨! Congrats again on 3000 followers👏🏾👏🏾!! I hope you - and everyone else who reads - like what I put together!

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual made by me via Canva, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

AU: assassin, Trope: one night only, Dialogue: “I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want”

Taking a deep breath, you stand smoothing your white tennis skirt down against your thighs before making your way to the ridiculously handsome man your friends pushed you into talking to.

“Girl take a chance for once!”

“I-I don’t want to bother him. Plus I’m sure he already has someone,” you replied nervously holding your hands in your lap. From your quick glances his way, he seemed unimpressed with everything - and potentially everyone - around. Content and enjoying his solace.

“Well you won’t know unless you ask,” your other friend countered in a sing-song manner fluttering her newest lash extensions.

Now here you were nearly to the corner booth in the dimmest part of the bar with your fruity cocktail in hand as your pink, strappy heels tapped against the floor. The stranger’s eyes locked with yours as he sips his own glass tumbler half filled with a brown liquid. How his tongue peeks out to collect the small droplets left, paired with the corner of his mouth tilting in the slightest smirk, leaves an involuntary flutter in your lower abdomen that carries down into your core.

Your cheeks - and overall body - warm as you finally reach your destination. “H-Hi.”

He gently bows his shaved head, “Hello.”

“Sorry to bother you. M-My friends and I made this pact to try new things this year and mine is to walk up to a guy I’m attracted to since I don’t really do that so here I am…”

“I’m not surprised.” You feel your mood fall at his words and embarrassment swell in your chest. How foolish of you to think you could do this? That you had an ounce of sex appeal or confidence like those other girls you saw easily able to grab any man they wanted. It’s exactly why you stayed to yourself. Your ultimate fear of rejection keeping you rooted in your seat or at home.

“O-Oh?,” is all you can muster feeling even more stupid that you didn’t even have a solid retort.

“As gorgeous as you are, I’m sure you always have men coming up to you. No need for you to do any work,” he explains making a shy smile spread along your glossy lips and relief soothe the uneasiness of your stomach. He extends his hand to the seat next to him motioning for you to join him, which you gladly take with a quiet “thank you.”

“Truthfully, it’s my friends that get all the attention. Guys usually just walk past me to get to them.”

“Nothing against your friends, but sounds like those boys were idiots,” he firmly states before taking a last pull of his drink to finish it. The tic in his jaw as if he’s bothered by those other men even though he doesn’t know them. As if he’s annoyed at just their mere mention. “Then again, should probably thank em for allowing us to meet huh?”

At that, you seem to lose your train of thought immediately letting your eyes fall to your lap again so giddy from his words. A brief silence falls over your table, but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable in the slightest. Finally peeking up again, his ocean eyes - and overall expression - turn a bit softer, which doesn’t help the butterflies erupting in what feels like your whole body.

“Shit, sweetheart you got me forgetting my manners. Curtis,” he introduces in a deep drawl that sends tingles up your spine. Holding his hand out, you notice intricate, black ink along the back of his hand and knuckles - in a design you can’t exactly make out - that looks to extend all the way up his arm covered by his black long sleeve shirt. You feel guilty for it, but you let your mind wander to how far it exactly goes. To his solid chest? His, probably, perfectly sculpted back maybe? Across his firm pecs and down to his abs you could visibly make out through his shirt?

The longer your mind imagined, the more that itch to find out grew stronger. And when you placed your hand in his - noting just how much larger it was than yours, not to mention stronger - you knew you were done for.

“Y/N.”

•

It’s pitch black when you finally awake to the quiet room. The side of your face pressed into the vanilla bourbon scented pillow below you - the same one Curtis had you drooling, moaning, and pleading in majority of the night.

The way he wrung your body exhausted pulling orgasms one after the other - you honestly couldn’t remember the exact number from your brain turning into mush after the second - you’d think he created you. Molded you with his own hands and knew just where he hid that special spot inside you. Then again, maybe it was just from you being..well..out of commission for some time.

Slightly lifting your head, you finally notice you’re lying by yourself in his king sized bed. The sheets pulled up to cover your back and keep you warm.

Additionally, just how quiet it is around you as if you’re the only one there period.

“C-Curtis?,” you hoarsely call out hoping he just journeyed to the kitchen or even another room for a call. Having a house so extravagant, clearly he had to do something highly important that took most of his time.

But you’re met with silence, causing the once tired smile along your lips to falter.

You thought he really liked you. That he would’ve wanted to see you again sometime and maybe grow into something more. “That’s why they call it one night stand,” you mumble to yourself feeling the crack in your heart spread bit by bit as you slide from under the warm covers to collect your things.

It seems like your stomach becomes queasy again with every piece of clothing you put on; making you study your earlier conversation trying to discover any missed signs or warnings. Of course you still didn’t see any, only making you feel foolish and ashamed all over again.

Heels clacking and echoing throughout the home, you’re too busy reserving an Uber on your phone to notice Curtis standing in front of the main door until you nearly run into him. A startled scream pushing from your lungs as one hand lands on your chest and the other drops your phone to the hardwood floor.

With his black top and black pants, he looked as if he’d been in combat having hand guns hanging from the harness strapped across his upper body. Black gloves covering his hands, and red dots splattered along his face match the dripping streaks on his top that are undoubtedly blood.

His expression, hard and stoic, causes an increase in your heart rate now nervous and confused as to what happened to his overall state let alone the change in his mood.

“What happened to you?,” you quietly ask.

“Nothing you need to worry about. And that’s also the first and last time you ask about my business, got it?” His harsher tone has you slightly flinching; taking a step back as you gently nod your head.

“I-I’m sorry..I didn’t mean-,”

“Pretty sure I left you asleep,” he retorts removing his gloves.

“I was looking for you a-and I saw you were gone,” you stammer wrapping your arms around yourself. “I thought-,”

“That this was over? Oh sweetheart you’re too cute.” His words should have you jumping for joy and excited, but his deep chuckle - more menacing than comforting - causes an unwelcome sinking in your gut.

One swift stride forward with his long legs, and Curtis catches your chin in his hand pressing his fingers into your cheeks hard enough to make your plump lips pout and a surprised whimper to leave your heaving chest. You had no choice but to face those blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place; only worsening your nerves.

“I’ll let you know now I’m hard to get rid of,” he whispers ghosting his lips over yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want. Who I want.”

You remain quiet - as if you could even try to fight - letting his grip loosen until his fingertips drag from the side of your neck to your collarbone making you shiver. Your body still somehow willing to give in to this man who surely was more dangerous than you could imagine.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re gonna get out these clothes and you’re gonna help me clean up in the shower. I’ll put you back to sleep then order breakfast for us in the morning, where you’ll rightly apologize for trying to leave in whatever way I see fit until our food arrives. Understand button?”

You need to fight. Any logical person would scream and shout to the heavens punching and kicking past the point of exhaustion in this situation. Yet you were stuck. Partially from fear of not knowing what Curtis was truly capable of, and partially from your greedy core loving that idea. You could feel the light throb and arousal begin to leak from you making your thighs clinch.

Of course he notices too from the smug smirk on his lips. “Y-Yes,” you softly answer.

“Good girl.”

Who would’ve thought your first - well almost - one night stand would be your last?