#also vaguely annoyed in his direction

[starscelly]

soooo it sounds like there’s rlly not gonna be like ……. any stars coverage from the athletic anymore except for whatever saad has the free time for basically and i’m ://// we’re second in the league come the fuck on

[fragmentedblade]

I hate that when I look up the "Kalpas" tag here there's me and then there's me again, but on another blog. Fake moustache me

[grandline-fics]

If you’re down for it, could you do Ace and the prompt for “taking a hit for them”? Idk if you need other specifics but preferably with a afab!reader 👀

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Taking the hit for them

WARNINGS: angst, description of injury, comfort

CHARACTERS: Ace

WORDS: 1,303

A/N: Thank you for the request! I wasn't expecting for this to be as long as it was but I hope you're happy with the result for this one.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

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“You need to stop being so overconfident you know that?” You lectured, frowning heavily down at Ace as he lay on the railing of the Moby Dick for his afternoon nap. At the sound of your voice he tilted the rim of his hat up to blink at you sleepily and confusion. Already he’d forgotten and you rolled your eyes, staring down at him with arms folded tightly and and scowl deepening. If there was a competition for the most laid back person, you would have no doubt Ace would have a gold medal. You were almost jealous. Strictly speaking you admired his personality a majority of the time, but then moments like this came up and that admiration swiftly turned into worry and a lecture. You just needed him to think a little before charging headfirst into things. “That fight back there? They had you surrounded when I arrived. You could have been hurt!”

Ace lolled his head to the side, lazily looking in the direction of the town you’d both just returned from. It took a moment for his mind to drift back to the ‘incident’ that you were getting so stressed over. A long yawn rose through his chest and idly he scratched his chest. Vaguely he recalled a few nobodies trying to start something with him in the hopes of getting their own bounties increased. Honestly that was the only thing that slightly resembled a fight that he could remember being apart of. But still it was hardly anything and he threw you a grin, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. “Hurt by them? If I did, I’d happily give them my bounty myself. I’m fine, you’re fine. What’s got you so tight?”

“You, Ace!” You shouted firmly, your frustration drawing the attention of others on board, their own relaxation being disturbed by the beginning of the lover’s tiff. “Is it really so hard to just take a couple seconds and assess the situation for once? Just because someone looks weak doesn’t mean that’s the case. I mean look at your brother!” At that remark Ace’s need for a nap dissipated and he sat up to glower at you. Just because you were annoyed at him for some needless reason didn't mean you had to drag Luffy into it.

“What about him?” Ace asked evenly, his voice colder than normal. “He’s proved his strength time and time again on these seas.”

“Exactly! He’s taken down big names and part of that is because his appearance makes those he fights underestimate him.” You let out a sigh and rubbed your neck, feeling a headache coming on. “I just don’t want to see you hurt over something that could have been avoided.”

“Sweetheart I’m literally made of fire. No one can hurt me even if they tried.” Ace smirked at you, now that he knew you weren’t insulting his little brother his demeanour had returned and he flopped back down onto the deck. “I love that you worry but please don’t.” Seeing the discussion was hopeless you shook your head and left muttering under your breath. 

It was a week later before it all came to a head. Word came that Whitebeard’s territory was under threat from attack by pirates on the island. Obviously Ace insisted he could handle the threat on his own and you lightly smacked the back of his head. You rolled your eyes and remained quiet, breathing a silent sigh of relief when Pops insisted that a small group go to handle it instead of just allowing Ace to go. Ace accepted the order without hesitation. While you were glad Ace saw sense in that respect you just wished he would listen to you as readily. It was an even greater relief that Marco was also joining the group, at least he would be level-headed.

Your group landed on the island and almost immediately were drawn into a fight. For the most part it was barely worth a warmup, the pirates were in over their heads against you and the other Whitebeards, a clear show in difference in your power against theirs. However in the middle of the fight you noticed two of your enemies disappear from the thick of the fight. If they were drawing back they had a reason for it. Something didn’t feel right, and the fact that the others you were fighting didn’t seem bothered by their allies disappearance only reenforced your suspicions. Then you heard the sound of their fast approach and saw them draw their guns, aiming them at Ace. 

They were already aware that he was a Devil Fruit user from reputation and the beginning of the fight but they stared at your boyfriend with glee and sickening satisfaction. You felt your blood run cold at the realisation that they were fully confident their weapon would harm him so you ran. Quickly you made it to Ace in time just as the sound of the trigger being pulled rang out. Ace turned sharply as you hit the ground, watching as blood slowly darkened and spread against the fabric of your shirt. Immediately the group launched into a vicious assault, no longer going easy on their attackers while Ace gathered you into his arms and yelled for Marco. When Ace tried to reach for your stomach to put pressure on your wound at the same time your blearily made out the soft blue glow of Marco’s flame approaching you found the strength to grab Ace’s hand to stop him from coming into contact with your injury. “N-n-no….sea…seastone!” 

You slipped in and out of consciousness, blurred shapes and muffled voices that you could partially make out as Ace and the others working together to get you stabilised enough to get you back to the ship. You finally tumbled into darkness when you were set on the operating bed. Ace paced outside the infirmary with anxious fury. He wanted to burn the bastards that hurt you but they were already dealt with, he wanted someone to hurt him since this was his fault. Not only had he let the one responsible flee but he’d also heard them pull a gun on their return and made no move to avoid them. You, however had known, you’d considered the possibility that their actions weren’t just bravado or a bluff. Now you were hurt and it could have been avoided had he just done what you’d always asked him to do; consider everything, stop underestimating the enemy.

“Sweetheart, you can tell me ‘I told you so’ everyday.” Ace whispered from your bedside when you were out of surgery, his hand holding yours tightly. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting with you, but through it all he kept talking. “I swear it anything you want, you got it. Hell, I’ll even give you my hat. You just need to get better.”

“Ace?” Your groggy voice broke him from his constant rambling and looked to you with relief and adoration. You smiled tiredly when his free hand stroked your face, always finding comfort in his touch. You could see the guilt in his eyes and tension in his shoulders. You didn’t need to tell him you told him so, he’d be remembering this day for the rest of his life. “I don’t want your hat. I want my own and a kiss. I want a kiss.” 

Ace couldn’t help but let out a small huff of laughter and lightly pepper your face with gentle, loving kisses until he found your lips and kissed you properly, deeply. What had happened had shaken him completely but for you he’d be strong, he’d be better than he had been and more certainly of all, he’d take things more seriously. For you. Always for you. 

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TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld

[ssahotchnerr]

aaron hotch where she gets hurt during a fight with a unsub and she gets really clingy, and everyone at the bau noticed. and when coming in one morning she overhears someone making fun of her to aaron because of it. she hears him laugh and walks away, and begins avoiding him.

turns out it was a fake laugh and he yelled at the guy who was brave enough to make fun of her infront of him. and he didn’t mind her clingy-ness and was glad he made her feel safe.

unwilling to part

cw; fem!reader, no established relationship/mutual pining, officer makes a mildly misogynistic comment and is just an asshole overall, small angst to comfort wc; 1.4k

your injury had been mild - as mild as it could be within your job title. some bumps and bruises, a black eye was most likely in your future. the surprise of the attack had been the worst of it; leaving you spooked, especially when your gun tumbled out of your hand and slid across the floor away from you.

but that's what backup was for, and the situation had been resolved almost as quickly as it started. aaron had heard the fight commence from his position down the hall, the loud clatter of your weapon, and to your rescue just as fast as you could blink, pulling the unsub off you and slamming his front into the nearest wall, forcefully restraining him.

due to the shock numbing your mind and body, the next few minutes were a haze. you vaguely processed aaron crouching beside you, his concerned expression or his hands cupping your face, nor did you hear his repeated question if you were alright.

all you could do was hold onto him, and he let you.

the team and a few officers had crowded around, providing quite the audience. but aaron hadn't seemed to mind; allowing you to cling onto his side until you came back to the real world, your fingers clutching onto his fbi vest. one of his own arms had been around you, escorting you to the medic, to the waiting suv, up to your hotel room. he even relayed the instruction to please call him if you needed him at all throughout the night - he'd be at yours within the second.

the following morning you had been the last one ready, soreness delaying you. your muscles ached as they pulled in every direction - simply getting your shirt on had been a tedious, and painful, task.

the jet was scheduled to leave early afternoon, allowing the morning to be spent at the pd, settling what was needed before returning home.

you could hear ongoing conversation from inside the conference room the bau had been inhabiting the past few days, but before you entered, something in your gut told you to remain put and listen.

you heard aaron first, finishing his thought. "- to be put into evidence, and the rest can be sent over to our technical analyst in quantico."

"gotcha." someone answered, another officer you presumed as the voice wasn't familiar. there was a quick shuffle of papers, a quiet thud of something being put into a box, before he voiced his next thought. "they'll let anyone into the fbi these days, won't they?"

aaron's composed voice followed, "sorry?"

"that agent who got hurt last night." at the mention of yourself, your face immediately burned - his tone not setting up for a positive. "thought you all were 'posed to be tough. with the way she was attached to your hip," he laughed, "fuckin' annoying if you ask me, that was nothing. should've stuck to an desk job if that scared her."

aaron had the heart to chuckle, and your heart dropped right to your stomach, your feet moving to their own accord as you hurried away, not craving to hear more.

tears pinched at your eyes and your body swarmed with heat, full of embarrassment and most prominently, betrayal.

what made it more painful, you could recall on one hand instances where you have heard aaron laugh (a mild exaggeration, but the point still stood) and laughing at you, was now one of them. what also didn't make sense then, the entirety of last night. even as you parted ways at the hotel room, aaron's expression, had been unwilling to part. maybe you read into it wrong, but you could've sworn that's what those brown eyes of his you loved so much indicated.

so for the rest of the day you refused to make eye contact with him, moving swiftly away if he approached, choosing to sit as far away as possible on the jet. even when you all had entered the bullpen, you beelined straight for your desk, eager for the busyness to be your next excuse to avoid contact. but, it was only a matter of time until aaron had trailed down to check on you.

"hey."

you ignored him, acting like the paperwork in front of you was suddenly the most fascinating thing you've ever seen.

aaron's brows furrowed, his question low. he had been quick to notice your clear avoidance earlier in the day, yet another reason why he wanted - needed - to make sure you were okay. "are you alright?"

"yeah, i'm supposed to be, aren't i?" you stated bluntly as you looked up at him, your tone a bit more harsh as you intended.

aaron had the audacity to look perplexed, the confusion in his tone almost convincing if you hadn't known better. "no? someone twice your size blitzed you, disarmed you-"

you slammed your file shut - causing heads to lift and look in your direction. you got up from your seat, not wanting to remain in his presence. "don't bother. i'm better suited for a desk job anyway, right?"

"wait, no." aaron moved in front of you, stopping you from moving forward. he understood immediately, or so he thought. "you heard that?"

"a black eye doesn't affect my hearing, does it?" you snapped, tears brimming your waterline.

aaron sighed deeply, his eyes playing up the shame you're certain he felt. "i'm sorry he-"

you nearly let out a laugh at that, interrupting, "sure. that guy was a ass, but don't you dare apologize for him. what about you?"

aaron's eyes widened in surprise. "me?"

"you laughed." your anger immediately dissolved, hurt filling it's place instead. it was written all over your face, making aaron's heart plummet. "i thought... look, i didn't mean to embarrass you in front of everyone if that's what i did. and i know, in and out of the field we're supposed to be objective and i let my emotions or whatever that was get the best of me. but if i can't do that, then you shouldn't have let me depend on you like... that. despite popular belief, i am tough. i can take rejection."

aaron opened his mouth to respond, but paused, as in his peripheral he noticed all the heads still turned in your shared direction. it was probably best to do this in private. "come with me."

just as last night, his hand found the small of your back, leading you up into his office, closing the door behind him. you went willingly, but remained by the doorway as he walked a bit further inside, your arms crossed.

when aaron turned to you, his eyes were sad, but compassionate.

"i did laugh," more tears burned behind your eyes at his confession, until he provided clarification. "at his idiocy. you sadly missed the good part, i believe it's safe to say he's now highly appreciative of you and the work you've done. check your email, i'm sure a thank you, if it's not already there, will be in your inbox shortly." a small laugh came from his chest. "you can even ask prentiss, she can vouch he left with his tail in between his legs."

your defense dropped, hands falling to your sides in realization. in aaron's character, of course that made more sense.

"oh god i'm sorry," your hands rose to your face, momentarily hiding in humiliation. "i heard... so i thought-"

"exactly, you heard what you heard." aaron's hands grabbed yours gently, pulling them away from your face and allowing you to see his understanding, kind one. "and given what you did hear, i wouldn't expect any less of a reaction. i also would've given me the cold shoulder." a small, closed smile formed on his lips.

"no, i'm so stupid-" aaron shook his head, stopping you halfway.

"you aren't. and despite what we do, you're still only human. you reacted appropriately." his voice softened, rather adorably at that. "i wasn't embarrassed either. i'm glad - honored actually - you can depend on me when you're frightened or need further support. trust me, you can cling onto me all you want." a faint blush tinted his cheekbones. "and i'll never push you away."

his hands squeezed yours, swinging slightly with solid emphasis. the gesture, caused you to just now realize he was still clutching onto them, unwilling to part.

[notthecutesttrash]

Nostalgia

Content: Sukuna found himself intrigued by your spunk, and when he notices that Yuji is struggling to overpower him one day, he finally has a little fun.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ DARK, NONCON, readers a bit obnoxious at first, time skip for obvious reasons, Smut, suffocation, no like actually, blood, loss of virginity, fingering, hair pulling, spanking

Word count: 4.3k

The school is blatantly empty today, which was rather boring. You had decided from the moment you woke up, that this would be the day you saw Sukuna’s supposed vessel. How disappointing to notice everything so empty, like an abandoned building. No Gojo, no other first years, whatever. It was all lame. 

Huffing to yourself you open the door to another spacious classroom with zero people intact. You thought to even check the nurse’s office, only to see Ieiri doing who knows what with the bodies there. She turns up at you as blood adorns her lab coat,  “Oh, hey, what’re you doing here?” You blink and close the door. She shrugs and diverts her attention back to work. 

Where else could they be? Principals room? Sealed room? Ah possibly there. 

You make way for the chambers, passing the empty hallways. The year above you's class is more than interesting. There's a panda, a dude who speaks in rice ball ingredients, and a zen’in lady. The lady was also able to keep up with your rude remarks which was amusing.

As you walk you hear small far away grunts. Humming, you curiously begin to switch directions, and near the sounds of groaning and “Hyah’s!”

From far away, you’re able to see a faint, puffy pink-haired man slapping a training dummy with a weird fuzzy blade. He’s so caught up in training that he doesn’t notice you, so you watch, judging his stance and how he struggles while dragging his breaths.

He’s doing it all wrong.

Though you’re amused at the pure confidence brimming in his expression; he was almost cute it's laughable. Eventually, that makes its way from your mouth, and he shifts to you, completely oblivious that you were even there that whole time. He’s a bit taken aback, and you near closer to see him.

“Um.. who are you?” He asks, dumbfounded. 

You press your hands to your waist ignoring the question and direct one back at him “Are you a first-year?” 

“Yeah. Are you one of those second years? Did you guys already come back from your mission?” 

You shake your head, and point to him exclaiming loudly, “No, I’m with you! Yuji Itadori!” 

He blanks, “Uh.. okay..” you squeal, throwing your hands in the air. 

“I knew it! Sukuna picked you? Look at that, you’re so innocent looking, you’re not even holding that blade right.” You giggle to yourself obnoxiously and he tilts his head, a small flicker of annoyance inside him. 

“Actually, he didn’t pick me, I just swallowed one of his fingers and-“ you cut him off with a sound of disgust. 

“You did that willingly? Ugh, how interesting, what did it taste like? Was it crunchy? Gooey? Was it old?” 

He ponders for a moment before answering, “Old, definitely old, and wrinkly.. and his fingernails are sharp.” 

“Ew.” You cringe at the thought, and he tilts his head to ask, “So, what are you here for?” 

Shrugging, you think. “I just wanted to see,” you answer vaguely. Being Sukuna’s vessel is more than interesting, considering it’s been what, hundreds of years? 

He opens his mouth to speak and you look at his cursed tool, probably one that was given to him by Gojo. Something in you wants to admit the morbid curiosity of seeing Sukuna, but in reality, you know that would be terrible.

“So, how does that work? Do you just have him inside of you? Does he talk? Do you hear him? See him like a ghost and he talks to you, is he standing here right now?” You ramble all your ideas at him and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. You were definitely weirding him out.

“No nothing like that, though I do hear him every now and then. It’s sort of annoying.” He points to the back of his hand, “or he’ll show here.” You tilt your head, weird. 

You move close to him, enough to invade his personal space. You lift your hand and he’s confused, then you dive it down on his head, patting the fluff. 

Beaming, you pet him mockingly while cooing, “I heard you’re going on your first real mission tomorrow, how exciting.” 

Yuji lightly slaps your hand away, grumbling, “Can you not do that?” he steps back so you would no longer be at arm’s length.

You smile. Truthfully, you were planning on being more annoying. Why? Well, you're not sure. You quite liked him instead, he was cute, and you know you're going to enjoy teasing him often. He's still fussing over his hair as you think until you twirl away with a laugh.

“Hey, tell Sukuna I said hi when he saves your ass from death.” You stick your tongue out at him and Yuji furrows his brows immediately. That annoyed him.

Safe to say, Sukuna was definitely amused by you since then.

Yuji is your boyfriend, and he's someone you love to death even if you can still tease the heck out of him. But you've calmed since then. And through the years nothing ever came of Sukuna. Many times you had even forgotten he existed.

Occasionally you two would get food together, and sometimes you had a morbid curiosity when remembering after all this time. 

“Does Sukuna still talk to you?” You’d ask and he’d turn his head to the side with a grave expression. He knows, but he never admits.

“No, not really," he'd mumble to himself. You’d nod in response, giving him a knowing gaze. Was it really that bad? 

Yes. 

From the day he first met you to now, all that was always on the curses mind was how he just wanted to kill everyone and have fun with the punk’s lively girlfriend. Luckily, that day never came, and it never will. 

That was until.. he got sick of course. 

You’re patting the washcloth against Yuji’s head, a worry setting a deep frown on your face. His breathing is heavy, and he's panting with a newfound flame that burns in his forehead. He’s hotter than you’ve ever felt, it was almost inhuman. No reverse curse technique seemed to have been helping, no doctor, no medicine, no bath, no rest, just nothing was working. 

You’re rushing to look through Yuji's cabinets. There has to be something here that you haven’t seen before. No simple pain medications would help, nothing generic. You pick up a bottle, maybe this one? It was a herbal medicine, and you knew it was a fat chance, but you’re desperate. So you rush back to Itadori and pour him a small cup of water near the pills. 

“Hey, Yuuji.. baby,” you lightly caress his cheek, but to no avail. His skin is steaming, and his eyes are clasped shut.

You frown and take the pills in your hands, pouting at what you have to do. You open his mouth and drop the pills in lightly, holding his head up at a good position, then making sure a very small amount of water is poured in so he won’t choke. This reminded you of something, but you weren’t sure of what. 

Setting the cup back down you stare at it, then him, then gasp as a bad thought strikes you. Sukuna. The only person who can heal him. 

You can’t do that. Sukuna only works for his own gain. He probably wouldn’t even care if he died with Yuji. But still, you won't just let that happen.

Albeit.. are you really going to allow possibly hundreds, if not thousands to die by his hands just because you selfishly want one man to live? Emotional connection or not, that wasn’t smart. Or is it?

Yuji is probably the only person who could hold Sukuna off- or not probably, he is the only person who can hold him off. Maybe besides Gojo, but that didn’t count when it came to a literal internal affair. 

Either way, the fingers are all stowed somewhere. Surely you could find one. but still, you’d rather not have the god of curses of all beings roam around. You knew Yuji wouldn’t want that either, in fact, he’d probably be disappointed.

You sigh and pat Yuji’s head, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead. “Hope you get better… I’m gonna go now, okay?” You stand and stare at him, knowing he probably couldn’t hear you, or respond. You were sure he was deep in there somewhere, maybe even kicking Sukuna’s ass.

Sighing, you arrive at your home and slam your back into the bed, draping a hand over your forehead. You’re exhausted. Lately, you’ve just been spending days and nights at his house.

Sometimes you aren’t able to sleep depending on the day, this time might be one of those, but you aren't sure.

Battling with the idea of Yuji’s worsening sickness and Sukuna’s possible revival made you almost get a migraine.

You glance at the time. It’s already been a full hour, and your corneas are burning from the lack of sleep. Alright.. suppose it was time. You sigh and make yourself comfy, curling in a small ball before closing your lids. 

When you awake, there’s a blur in your eyes as you tiredly open them. It’s dark and when you glance at the window you’re thinking it’s maybe 2 AM. 3? Rolling over to your side, you pull your leg up and get comfy again, groaning at how hot your pillow now is. Lifting your head to turn it, you slam back down comfortably, a flicker of pink in your sight. Yawning, you rub your eyes and blink at whatever that could be, but decide eh, whatever, it’s your room, nothing out of the ordinary. What you needed was sleep for tomorrow. 

Shuffling, you clutch your pillow and squeeze it against you, loving the feel of the brisk cold that rubs against your cheek and satiates the heat of your neck. Closing your eyes with a small moan, a faint chuckle sounds near you. Blinking your eyes open, a jolt of fear slithers down your spine, and you raise your upper half and rotate to survey the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. You’re tired, just hearing things.

Huffing, you press yourself against the pillow again and clench your eyes shut. Just go to sleep damn it.

This time you heard an audible step. Your heart sped into your chest and you forced yourself to rotate the other way. You’re just hearing things, lack of sleep will do that to you, it’s been a long day too, so surely it’s that.

Step. It must be a curse, but you didn’t feel anything, so it had to just be you. If you go to sleep now, then it’ll all be gone. Just keep closing your eyes and when you open them again it’ll be morning.

Step. You squeaked at the sound and the creak in the floorboards. That’s when you heard another chuckle.

“How long are you going to feign sleep?” A raspy deep voice erupts a squeal from you. 

Turning shakily, you struggle to adjust to the lighting as you see a familiar figure ahead. “Yuji?” Your small voice whispers out. He grins wide. No, something was not right here. Yuji didn’t have markings or whatever this was on him, and he never kept his bangs back.

When you glanced down to study his body you froze. There was a hole in his chest, not an incision, not a Halloween effect, a full-on hole that you could look inside of. Blood was dripping from the wound, but it seemed as if it was drying judging by the goop. 

A realization hits you, and you gasp, your body shaking under the weight of Yuji- no Sukuna's gaze. His smile is large, and his dark orbs glow red in the darkness. “Y-You’re…” you hold your breath.

“H-How..?” You’re still whispering, tremoring as nears your features. He suddenly laughs loudly, cackling horribly with that new voice of his. It echoes into your ears and makes your heart drop. This was it, you were going to die. 

“You see, I was planning on having fun with that other lively girl. But, because of the brat’s affection for you, I have decided to pick you first.” He has a rumble in his hoarse throat when he verbalizes, and a horrifying smile still paints his face. You’re stuck, shaking in your spot.

“A-Are you..” you struggle to think of the words, your voice cracking as he gleams at you. “Going to.. kill me..?” Sukuna’s grin widens, and finally, you can see the way his double pair of eyes glimmer even in the lack of light. 

“After you’ve quenched my insatiable thirst, then yes.”

He takes a moment, pausing to press his hand against his chin as he thinks. “Or perhaps I’ll bond you to a life of servitude, whatever amuses me more at the moment.”

You know he’s more than serious. You had to do anything, talk, and keep on conversing until he got bored. Reason with all your might. 

You attempt to continue as you swallow hard. “B-But… Yuji will switch back.” He had to switch back, right? Won’t he? Or does the hole in his heart not prove to you enough that he won’t be able to? 

“Unless the punk wants to die, then he’ll have to be my guest. But he seems to be struggling at the moment, so, I’m going to take my sweet time with you.”

He gets close, his finger twirling around your hair. 

You bawl your fist into the sheets. You have to escape. You have to. Your legs quietly press beneath you, as if readying for a sprint.

“If you so as flinch I’ll make quick work of your death.” 

Suddenly you’re rigid as can be, terrified that the quaking in your heart and the stammering in your hands would get you killed. All you’re doing is heaving, barely able to meet his gaze. 

“Now bow.” He commands and you quickly rush to cradle your head between your hands that lay flat against the bed. He enjoys the scene, delighting in the fear. 

A second passes, and you’re flipped on your back with a strength you’ve never felt before. It was enough to bruise you just from the sheer weight. He lifts his clawed finger and suddenly your clothes are ripped, and before you can think to cover yourself with a blanket or anything he’s over you, staring into your desperate eyes. 

He was truly a pure evil that no one could think to reach. 

Tears are forming. You’re terrified. “Please don’t,” you mutter weakly.

He cackles loud enough for you to flinch. He won’t kill you yet.

The glimmer of his teeth when he grins wide makes you gasp. He’s snickering to the point it becomes manic laughter, and it makes you sick to your stomach. It sounded nothing like Yuji. His laughs are always a lot lighter and sweet. 

Sukuna sighs longingly to himself, trailing his fingers down your body as you cry.  “It’s been a thousand years, and I will never stop delighting in these sweet whimpers.” His palm meets your cunt. He presses against your clit hard and you squeal out from the pain. He doesn’t care for your enjoyment. All he wants to do is force himself down your tight hole and release every bit of cum he's had stored up for years. 

“To believe the fool hadn’t claimed you, what a shame.. for him. A treasure to me.” He’s chuckling as he kneads your clit more. It’s impatient and mean, but it gets you wet enough. His middle finger promptly shoves inside you, and you whine at the pain, curling your toes into the bed. Blood drips from the wound, lubricating his finger to pulse into you more. Sukuna grins at the liquid, and he’s purposely speeding up his pace. 

Tears swell in your eyes. You always wanted to save yourself for Yuji. Save yourself for the perfect moment.. and Sukuna just took everything away from you. 

“A thousand years and I get a virgin, ah I just delight in it, this is going to be fun.” His eyes are glimmering wide, brimming with joy as he adds another finger. You hiss at the sudden discomfort. His other hand moves to your neck, but it pauses, just hovering above it. You gulp tightly, scared for what was to come. 

“On second thought,” he pulls away and uses his free hand instead to circle your clit harshly. You’re tensed up, quivering with the pain of him spearing you mercilessly while gasping at the pleasure of your clit.

"I wouldn’t typically allow you the pleasure to breathe, but since you’ve never felt this, your cries will satisfy me more," Sukuna grins. If it wasn’t for the need to stretch you out, he wouldn’t be doing this at all. But he enjoys the way your cunt attempts to swallow his fingers whole as if attempting to expel him. He forces another in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion. You’re hands are clutched around your sides desperately as you moan and cry.

His fingers are fucking you furiously, eventually attaining a pleasant amount of wetness from your cunt. The obscene sounds feel as if they’re blaring in the room. You’re still tense as could be, but once he finally takes them out, you slump in response, heaving in relief. 

Sukuna chuckles evilly at the slick surrounding his fingers. As if it wasn’t a moment ago that he had just broken you and stretched you wide. 

“Ah, virgins. So easily excitable.” He breathes in delight to himself. You’re quivering, attempting to remain stiff, but every time his hand grazes your skin you flinch. You forcefully drape your arm over your sight while streams roll down your cheeks. Whenever you would glimpse at him all you wanted to do was cry and run. 

There’s no remorse in him, no guilt, nothing but happiness as he lives his fantasy. 

You feel his tip suddenly poke at your entrance, and you don’t even feel how clenched up you are. Your teeth are dragging against one another in anticipation, and he attempts to push in. You can’t help but peek fearfully, and you tighten at the sight. Sukuna gazes at you, annoyed. You shiver. Did you move? Did you do something wrong?

Quickly you’re spun around, your chest landing on the bed and your face bouncing off the pillow. Your view is met with the headboard. You can’t see anymore, and you panic. Your head moves up and you attempt to turn your body to fixate on him. He forces you back down instantly with a grip on your scalp. It tightens and you're shoved into your pillow hard.

When you attempt to move, the strength increases. His sharp fingernails are grazing your skin, almost drawing blood. You can’t breathe. You try to take an inhale and you’re stopped by the force of the pillow stuffing and blocking your airway. 

Without warning your pussy is spread wide by his cock and you scream incoherently. He instantaneously groans loudly at the warmth that meets him. His gaze turns to the ceiling, and his eyes are practically rolled to the back of his head as he relishes the feeling. He’s been waiting centuries for this exact moment. This scene has been revolving in his mind since day one. The idea of forcing a helpless virgin on their knees and taking them completely.

“Ah, I thought I’d never feel this again.” He exhales a deep breath of satisfaction, “It’s wonderful."

Your tight cunt swarms around his cock, sucking him in helplessly, and he groans, a newfound lust within. You're struggling to swallow his size, quivering as you feel your pussy forcefully stretch. You cry into the pillow, convulsing beneath him. He’s usually a patient man, but not this time. 

He moves, gripping your head tight and pulling you down while he begins to pound you murderously. The brutality of his thrusts while you gasp for air has you thrashing around, adamant to get him off of you. He has no care. He'd make sure he would let out all of his frustrations from being in your punk-ass boyfriend’s body for so long. 

“Do I need to remind you of what I’ve said? That would be rather impolite don’t you think?” Sukuna breathes heavily, annoyed by your muffled screams. He rams his cock to the very end of you and back. He's huge, and it burns endlessly when he thrusts. You’re shouting against the fabric, desperately attempting to shake off the force and lift yourself for just one inhale. He was going to kill you and defile your body. This is how you’re going to die, in the worst possible way. 

He’s using you like a mere plaything. Eventually, the pressure rushing to your head starts to make your vision go dark. You limp against him as he fucks you senseless. Sukuna starts cackling, and he pulls your weak head up, watching you come to life with a heavy inhale. Tears are pouring down your cheeks, drool falling from your lips as you greedily heave. He's still bucking his hips sharply into you, slapping your ass hard.

Sukuna would've sneered, but there was a large amount of impatience beginning to surge. “Now, if I need to remind you again, then the next you won’t be breathing. Not that it matters to me. But you wouldn’t like that, would you?" His tone is dark, and you shake your head a complacent no. Anything to not go through that again. 

“Good."

He slaps your ass with a rush of strength, making you jitter against him. He pulses into you, enjoying the way your pussy is now melting into a wet slop. 

“It appears you enjoy this just as much as I.” You’re sputtering with your breaths, unable to even hear him chuckling as he slams into you. Your hair is suddenly pulled back. Sukuna is grabbing a fistful and the ache in your neck has you groaning uncomfortably. 

You’re moaning nonsensically and his pace is merciless.  “How cute, maybe I will keep you alive.” 

His tug is impossible to push back at, and you yelp when he pulls you even further. He’s still slapping your ass repeatedly and you’re squeezing tight around him at every hit. His force is painful, and he finds it amusing. He only thrusts himself to the brink of his own orgasm while yanking you like a rag doll and stretching you wide. 

You’re whining desperately as he speeds up, and a jolt of electricity rises. It pulses into a quivering release while you slur incoherently, subconsciously circling your hips into him.

Sukuna breathes hard against you, merciless excitement running through his veins as he pulls you back hard and fucks your exhausted core, all while you still ride out your climax. He finally hits deep inside of you, reaching the furthest his cock can and even more. There's a sudden warmth in your walls as a heavy thick stream of cum pours inside of you.

“How I miss this.” Sukuna exhales loudly, nearly moaning at the sweet release. His clutch on your skin is still tight, causing you to jolt beneath him. 

And It was only a few moments that had passed before he left your sore cunt, only to push himself back in and slam into you. You’re a slop, whining desperate slurs into your pillow as he fucks you senseless.

You don't know how much time passed, but it never stopped. You found yourself eventually heaving and imagining a place where this wasn’t happening. Where Yuji was alive and he was the one taking you instead. 

Sukuna had whirled you around, pushing himself deep into you, his tongue dragging against your neck. Your legs are barely gripping his as he pounds you beneath him. His grasp was tight on the sheets beside you, and you were just relieved it wasn’t on your skin anymore.

Suddenly a rush builds and you’re whining loudly, your thighs feeling a new strength as you clasp around him. Your hands don’t dare to grab him, but as you lose yourself in your orgasm you can’t help the way you claw at his back. Sukuna pulses into you and lets out another stream of cum. The eventual number you didn’t know. Tears were rolling down your face, you're tired, you just want it to stop.

“No more.. please,” you whisper desperately. 

Sukuna snickers into your neck, breathing not nearly as hard as you were. He pulls himself from your throbbing hole and you still manage to whine at the loss. Relief follows swiftly, and the cum that clogs itself inside of you drips slowly.

“Did you think a mere few climaxes would be enough for me? You truly don’t understand.” His tone gets low as he grins. “I am going to keep playing with you until I get bored.” You pant exhaustedly, barely able to register his words. You just want to go to sleep.

As quick as that relief had come, it diminished the moment he buried himself in your cunt again. You whimper and let out a choked breath, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head. His deep breath brushes your skin, his groan rumbling something deep within you. 

“And yet you have joined them all so wonderfully. It’s been so long since I had a woman keep up with me,” he beams wide with that evil sparkling in his red eyes.

“I’ve decided I’ll let you live. I’ll keep you by my side whenever I feel the need to use you.” At his words, sobs begin to overtake you. He grips your arms tight, pushing into you repeatedly and cackling maniacally.

You would never be free from that grating sound ever again. 

[nishloves]

jelly; yuji itadori (jujutsu kaisen)

yuji itadori (jujutsu kaisen) x f! reader // fluff oneshot //

words : 1.5k // masterlist

requested by @feat-sun

hey there sunny! i sincerely hope this is upto your expectations and that you like this little oneshot which I wrote (I'm sorry that it's rather short) yuji is such a walking green flag and it was so fun to write him 😭🩷 also let's pretend that sukuna is prolly hibernating inside yuji's brain (coz i didn't know how to add his snarky remarks in the fic 🥲) also, hope it's to your liking <3

"yuji~" a small pout graced your features as you laid your head on yuji's shoulder while he gamed, too oblivious to your pout and desperation.

you just wanted cuddles and he wasn't giving you any, you understood he couldn't just turn the game off and spoil you and you didn't want to seem like someone who would deprive her boyfriend of games but you were feeling clingy and yuji not paying attention to you did slightly hurt a little.

"yuji," you reluctantly whispered in his ears as your boyfriend just hummed, "y/n, give me like fifteen minutes please, todo and I are nearly going to wipe this round off!" he announced, burying himself deeper in his video game as you pulled away from him.

you could vaguely hear todo's voice asking yuji if he can still play the round and your boyfriend immediately said a yes with so much hype that it almost made your pouty mood foul.

you realised you weren't gonna get any attention from him, so you switched to the next best thing, megumi.

you got up from your boyfriend's side and went over to megumi's room, who looked at you lazily and allowed you to come in.

"itadori annoyed you?" megumi asked as he passed you a can of coke which you happily took.

"precisely. i don't really think it's his fault though, maybe I'm just being clingy and desperate," you groaned, sipping your drink as you settled yourself on fushiguro's bed who scowled at you as he had just made his bed.

"it's not bad to want your partner's attention," megumi muttered.

"but atleast lay down like a person, not an animal," he smacked your leg as he sat on his bed's edge, thinking about how to retain his peace back and help you without offending you.

"not my fault that you're grumpy, grandpa," you muttered, nudging fushiguro with your toe as he sighed in exasperation.

and then something clicked in his brain,

"hey, you had a crush on inumaki, right?"

"mhm yes."

"how did you go from inumaki to itadori is beyond me, but why don't you hang out with him?"

"inumaki?" you asked, your eyebrows quirking up.

"yeah, you used to like him so maybe you won't leech off attention from him," he rolled his eyes as a grin embarked on your face.

maybe megumi didn't mean that it will help making yuji jealous but that's what you thought.

you suddenly got up from his bed and left the can on his bedside as megumi called after you, while you just grinned in his direction and saluted him before taking your leave.

"did i accidentally do something?" megumi whispered to him himself as he smacked his head on the bed.

you rushed towards inumaki's room, a small smile on your face as you knocked on his door.

"good morning inumaki!" you greeted as inumaki's eyes turned into crescents on your arrival.

"kelp." (greetings)

"well, yuji is busy, so i was just wondering if you would you know... like to go to the market with me? i was thinking to buy some clothes and accessories," you said, a bashful smile on your face.

"tuna mayo?" (me?)

"yes!"

"tuna tuna" (do you really trust my skills?)

"i do, and it will be more fun if I have someone with me, so please?" you asked, trying your best to seem convincing as inumaki sighed, a small smile evident on his face as he replied, "salmon." (okay)

as much as fun you were having with inumaki, it was better posting every picture you took with him on social media; a picture where you both are grinning next to each other, another where you dressed inumaki up with jewelries and a girlish hat, another where you both hid your faces beneath ridiculous masks and another which you took next to beach and the best of all, you captioned the post with "a platonic date" and inumaki commented with red hearts on it.

now amidst the outing, inumaki had himself understood the meaning behind your actions, but you were really so sweet to be around that he didn't say anything, well why should he when he was having so much fun too?

"thankyou so much, leaving my intentions aside, i really did enjoy the outing," you grinned at inumaki as he smiled at you slightly. his eyes looked away from yours to the scenery as he said, "oh salmon cod roe." (hey look here)

you whipped your head around to where inumaki was pointing and it was the prettiest sunset you had seen, pinkish sky with hues of blue still lingering, clouds framed the sun as slight wind blew on the beach, you grinned and clicked a picture of it, and then a picture of inumaki with the sunset, and then posted it too.

"salmon tuna mayo kelp roe cod," (you're really going after yuji, aren't you? even he will get jealous of that.)

"I am," you affirmed as you chuckled, a small smile on your face as you found yourself lucky for having such great friends.

"thankyou so much."

"mustard leaf." (it's okay)

now when you had returned, maki had called inumaki over for some second year discussion and your eyes fell upon megumi and then on yuji who was talking to gojo behind megumi.

another wild thought crept up to your mind as you rushed towards megumi to give him a giant bear hug almost making the poor guy fall, but as cold as megumi was he was still very tolerant of you and he still reciprocated the hug.

you could feel yuji's eyes boring into you and you could see gojo's lips quirking up as he understood just what was going on.

"thanks for the drink today megumi," you gushed as fushiguro slightly patted your head.

as soon as you pulled away from megumi you eyes landed on another pair of kind brown ones, his face contorted in a frown as he looked away from you, you giggled as gojo whistled, "I think there's some talking due here so~"

he pulled both you and itadori together as yuji whined for being dragged.

"nu-uh you both are gonna talk and we," he pointed towards himself and megumi, "are gonna leave."

he pushed you both in a room and closed the doors (he didn't lock them) as yuji groaned and looked at you, "what was that for y/n?" he asked, a pout etching it's way on his face again as a small smile quirked up on your lips.

"what do you mean, yuji?"

"baby~" he whined, looking away from you, "you know what I mean..." he fiddled with his fingers as he looked down at the floor, "you know... you going on a date with inumaki..."

"but that didn't mean anything," your heartstrings pulled at you as despite your plan you rushed towards him, your hands snaking around his waist as you rested your cheek on his back.

"i don't know, you both looked pretty happy, and you were gone for practically the whole day," yuji murmured, his hands coming to rest on yours as he leaned his head back on yours.

"yuji," you laughed at his whines as his pouts became more prominent and he pulled you in front of him from his back, your eyes widened slightly as you momentarily stopped laughing from the pleasant shock.

yuji's hand rested on your shoulders as his eyebrows were furrowed, you don't think you have seen him look this adorable before.

"you shouldn't laugh on that!" he whined, a deeper frown on his face as his eyes sincerely looked sad. "i came to find you in fushiguro's room and then he told me that you were out with inumaki, you didn't even inform me by yourself."

your smile dwindled as you lean forward, letting your lips rest on his as you kissed him softly, you could feel yuji's hold relax on you as he pulled you in a hug, pulling you closer to him.

"sorry for making you feel bad, yuji."

you both pulled away as your noses still touched, both of you red with slight embarrassment and proximity, and both immediately realising that you just had your first kiss with itadori!

"sorry for ignoring you earlier, baby," he muttered against your lips as he looked at your eyes for any signs of discomfort from the kiss, but all he saw was your radiant and bashful smile as his heart started beating miles faster.

"y/n, baby..." he murmured as you hummed cooly, "yes?" his hands rested on your waist as he leaned his forehead to touch yours, his ears red as he still looked into your eyes.

"can i kiss you again?"

you grinned, rubbing your noses together you said, "yes."

[erendur]

The Gil-Galad choice

You know the Peredhil choice ?

Well, let's imagine that in light of a. his dubious parentage (somebody somewhere must know the truth, but they won't tell) and b. his long and honourable service as High King of the Noldor and also c. his heroic deeds, a reembodied Gil-Galad is also given a choice : he gets to choose to which branch of the Finwean family he is going to officially belong.

So one sunny day in Tirion (they are all sunny, it's Valinor and it's boring, but they have chosen that particular day so), all assemble in the grand public square in the middle of the city, in which Prince Fëanáro had once memorably threatened his brother Prince Ñolofinwë with a sword and on another occasion called the Noldor to rebellion and also sworn an Oath (nothing much happened there after that), to hear the head of each of the three Houses of the Sons of King Finwë present to Gil-Galad their arguments as to why he should chose them.

The current King of the Noldor, Arafinwë, goes first.

He is feeling a bit light-headed and jittery, because the poor guy has been in charge of what was left of the Noldor after the departure of the exiles, had to manage the de-Fëanárification process (see there), the tense relations with the Vanyar (while being himself part-Vanyar - awkward), the even more tense relations with the Falmari (his wife is a Falmar - awkward doesn't even start to cover it), and as if that wasn't enough has also had to manage the thickening stream of reembodied Noldor coming back to Valinor over the centuries - and these guys range from the frankly annoying (won't shut up about their war exploits, sing inappropriate songs in public, have adopted weird, Avarin/Mannish ways) to the downright terrifying (you'd think the reembodied Fëanorians and you wouldn't be wrong, but Arafinwë is particularly appalled by the crazed look in the eyes of some of his son Finrod's followers).

In short, the only reason why Arafinwë hasn't had a burn-out yet is because it's technically impossible in Valinor, and his body is betraying him by holding on. He sees a vague window of opportunity there : maybe Gil-Galad will want the crown ???? And will manage the Noldor for him ??? After all a lot of the recent arrivals are his people !!!! And Arafinwë can take his wife to the sea-side (away from any Falmari settlement) and have a good 500 (Valian)year-long nap !!!!!

"Oh, wise Gil-Galad, the echoes of your wisdom and of your proud and determined leadership of our people have of course made their way to us..." Arafinwë starts.

Gil-Galad immediately takes three steps back. He knows the over-eager look in Arafinwë's eye. He's been fooled once. He won't be fooled twice. He is staying the hell out of crown-throwing distance.

"And, er, I would be honoured and proud to count you as a member of my House, where your, er, wise advice ? Would be most appreciated", Arafinwë keeps plodding on, the light in his eyes going progressively duller and duller as Gil-Galad's gaze remains stubbornly fixed somewhere in the general distance and his facial expression carefully arranged in a polite not-on-your-life expression.

"My son Felagund and his wife Amarië would be most eager to welcome you among us as well", here Arafinwë points in the general direction of what looks like a tall mound of golden hair and jewellery, topped with a couple of live snakes, that on closer inspection reveals itself to be a smiling Findaráto.

He waves enthusiastically in the direction of Gil-Galad. His equally golden-haired and bejewelled wife does the same. They both wear late-Númenorean fashion (as in, the latest in Númenorean fashion before the boats stopped going there) which, to Valinorean eyes, make them look like the equivalent of pot-smoking hippies, but their friendly appearance is canceled out by the feral looks of Felagund's followers, all of them dressed in some form of forest/jungle tactical camouflage, some with added wolf pelts, others with live poison-dart frogs jumping on their shoulders (and hair accessories that look suspiciously like darts), and with facial expressions worthy of later-stages Fëanorians (they've seen the darkness. They liked it). Gil-Galad waves back weakly.

"And, er, you might also have heard of my sons Angaráto and Aikanáro ?" Arafinwë continues in an even more depressed voice than before.

Two buff-looking golden-haired Elves, one vaguely fiery-looking, wave in Gil-Galad's direction. They look nice and fierce but he has literally zero idea who they are. Still, he waves back a bit more enthusiastically. "And of course, you know well my daughter, Artanis", finishes Arafinwë, a bit more enthusiastically.

Gil-Galad gives a little shudder there. He does know her well indeed.

Arafinwë goes back to his seat, looking like he needs a nap more than ever. His wife gives him a sympathetic look. Looks like today is another day he won't manage to get rid of that damn crown.

Ñolofinwë stands up next.

He's a bit the worse for wear (for an Elf) because the night before was the Crossing of the Ice evening, a bi-weekly event during which veterans of the crossing of the Helcaraxë meet up to commemorate the crossing of the Ice (they trade anecdotes in a loud voice, sing in an even louder one, drink a lot and sometimes cross the ice over the Tirion river when they have managed to pester a Maia enough that they have conjured up some - not to be mistaken with the Dagor Aglareb night, a weekly event commemorating the Dagor Aglareb, during which they trade anecdotes in a loud voice, sing in an even louder one and drink a lot, or the Siege of Angband night, a weekly event commemorating the Siege of Angband, during which they trade anecdotes in a loud voice, sing in an even louder one and drink a lot - all of which celebrations end up in the small hours of the morning when a very tired-looking Arafinwë, cloak hastily thrown over his nightclothes, drags himself out of bed to politely ask them to go home). Ñolofinwë is very bored to have nothing much to do after having been High King for so long, and therefore consistently organises attends every single one of these celebrations.

"My dear chum", Ñolofinwë starts in a booming voice that fails to be entirely patronising only because it is still slightly hoarse from the recent celebrations, "I think you and I will see eye to eye. You know, of course, of my own paltry feats of arms."

Here Ñolofinwë stops to let off a short, self-deprecating laugh, which, like the word "chum", he thinks makes him look likeable and approachable by the common Noldorin soldier.

"How I lead my people through the dangers and harshness of the Helcaraxë, how I was unanimously chosen as the leader of my people, how I came up with the idea of, and maintained, the siege of Angband against impossible odds, how I and my people won the glorious Dagor Aglareb, how I personally challenged the Enemy in a single duel and gave him wounds from which he suffers to this day."

At that point almost every member of the assistance that is not a close personal follower of Ñolofinwë is rolling their eyes. Yes, he has been a very heroic Elf, but hearing about it non-stop for an entire Age and a half has kind of worn everybody's patience out (especially hearing about it sung at the top of some very drunk Elf-lords' lungs in the small hours of the morning).

Gil-Galad looks a bit taken aback by the familiarity of the tone (NO ONE has ever called him "chum" in his life before - and he's been patronised aplenty in the Second Age by the superb Númenorean descendants of Elros, the half-feral Peredhel whose education he'd thankfully considerably polished before he became the first King of Númenor).

"You've also heard, no doubt, about the deeds of my son, Findekáno, who would give you a warm welcome among our family and join his voice to mine to express how much in your environment a renowned warrior like you would be among us, if he could."

There's a slightly awkward silence there. Everybody knows that unlike his Father, Findekáno doesn't like to hear, and much less talk, about anything that happened in Beleriand, and furthermore suffers from severe agoraphobia due to the manner of his demise, hence his absence from the city square on that day.

"But my son Arakáno is here ! And you know of course of his deeds in Lammoth !"

A tall, dark-haired, stern-looking Elf nods slightly in Gil-Galad's direction. Never much one for smiling, he always looks particularly sour on the days after the bi-weekly Crossing the Ice celebrations, for some reason (his father has never managed to figure out why).

"And, er, my daughter Írissë is also...there", Ñolofinwë adds, a bit falteringly, his eyes scanning the crowd until they finally manage to locate his daughter - Oh, Eru - in the middle of the scant Fëanorian crowd, a smirk on her lips as she sits provocatively on her cousin Tyelkormo's lap, clad in her usual all-white hunting outfit.

She raises her eyebrows and waves at her father, then at Gil-Galad, who does his best not to stare. Oh, dear.

"And my son Turukáno has also made us the welcome surprise to get out of his house and join us today", adds Ñolofinwë acidly. "He is of course the grandfather of the hero Eärendil, as well as the great-grandfather of the first King of Númenor and, er, your former herald, Eirinion", he concludes with more warmth.

Gil-Galad waves at a slightly embarrassed-looking Turukáno, a tight smile on his lips. Elrond is of course his dearest, closest friend, and he has some fond memories of Elros of course, but both of them, and principally the former, are the main reason why his hair went prematurely silver, and responsible for enough headaches over the course of an Age that he had worry lines etched onto his face pre-reembodiment, and while he loves them very much he does not much fancy getting into an even closer relationship with them.

Ñolofinwë sits back down next to his wife, and it's now the turn of the Fëanorians to present their case. Of course, their very presence in the city square on that day has been frowned upon - they rarely leave their settlement of Formenos, much to everyone's delight, and the very idea that they could have a right to present their claim has raised many eyebrows. But they don't have peace and reconciliation processes and committees for nothing, and Manwë had ruled that they should have the right to present their case as well as the others.

It's a surprisingly sprightly-looking Maitimo that jumps to his feet to speak in the name of his House. His father, while reembodied, has been confined to an uninhabited region North of Formenos, where he lives alone with his wife (in between visits from their children and grandchild), who voluntarily decided to accompany him, and spends his days between working in his ever-sprawling forge and trying to convince his wife to have an eighth child (he is nowhere nearer to winning that argument than since he'd started it a few hundred years prior), and never comes to Tirion (Ñolofinwë is half-relieved, half-sad - and bored).

"Eirinion, I have been charged today by my brother Curufinwë, King of the Noldor of Formenos, to convey an invitation to come and reside there as a member of our family, which his official duties sadly prevent him from delivering in person." Maitimo smirks there.

The reason his brother Curufinwë, King of the Noldor of Formenos (the crown has be attributed on a "Oh, you wanted a crown, didn't you ??? Well, here's one ! Be my guest ! YOU are in charge of that troop of bloodthirsty crazy lunatics now !" basis) is unable to attend the meeting is because the Valar have strictly forbidden for the Noldor of Formenos (read : hardcore Fëanorians) to be left unattended at any time, and Curufinwë, as the one in charge, has therefore to remain there. He is also barred from public speaking. And the toilet in the public square of Formenos was clogged (it's part of his kingly duties to take care of it).

"Now, we might not have almost-met under the most auspicious of circumstances back in Beleriand. And the actions of my family and my faction have been indefensible," he pauses long enough to glare at the small group of Fëanorians at his back, daring them to make a protest. No one seems particularly inclined to.

"So of course, we don't have much to offer to tempt you to join us. What do we have, indeed ? A far-out of the way, small settlement, in which people mostly mind their own business. Nothing much to do there, except try on my father's latest inventions, which do not always work at the first try - it took him two goes to get the electricity working in the whole of Formenos, and that revolutionary de-greying hair product he invented was very underwhelming at first. I'm not going to lie, there is no chance that you would ever get any sort of political responsibilities, or even be asked for advice there - my brother Curunfinwë is 100% in sole charge there of dealing with each and any problem that arises, with additional help from my brother Tyelkormo. I - I mean, the Valar, - insist on it. As for grand celebrations of our proud military past, or any current martial activities, you can well imagine that they are entirely out of the question there. There is actually a ban on them."

Maitimo pauses there for a second, deep in thought. "Of course, you also have probably formed a very poor opinion of us, based on the Peredhil situation. Know that we tried our best. All I can say is that they used to bite even more."

He pauses again, and gives Gil-Galad a wry smile. Gil-Galad shudders for the second time on that day.

"What else could I add ?" One of his brothers stands up and whispers something in his ear.

"Oh yes, and Moryo makes THE BEST cookies."

[theminecraftbee]

fae zedaph, avian tango, and/or butterfly impulse?

Tango pinches the bridge of his nose. He breathes in. He breathes out. He looks at Zedaph.

"Okay. Why do you have a baby," Tango says.

"Well, it was an accident!" Zedaph says.

"How! How do you accidentally end up with a baby!" Tango says. He pauses. He considers what he has just said. He revises: "How do you or I accidentally end up with a baby! I am a robot and you are an immortal fairy creature. You can't babyificate. I know. You've checked."

"You don't have to sound so haunted," Zedaph says, vaguely hurt.

"I am very haunted by most of what you do, that's not the point. How did you end up with a baby! I can't take care of a baby, Zedaph! You definitely can't take care of a baby! What are we going to do with a baby?"

Zedaph shuffles his feet. When they'd first met, Tango had been reluctantly impressed with how human Zedaph's mannerisms were for a guy who, at that time, still hadn't been entirely certain you weren't supposed to eat people who were rude to you. He's come a long way since Tango had discovered he was just alive enough to be able to accidentally slip into the feywild, and Zedaph discovered he was actually much happier experimenting in the human world most of the time than dealing with other fair folk and their 'predictable rules' and 'annoying laws of hospitality'.

If Tango wasn't mostly made of steel and cold iron, he probably wouldn't have survived the early encounters with Zedaph. Nowadays, though, it's easy to mistake Zedaph for just an exceptionally weird human. Sure, he still looks at everyone a little bit like they're more of an experiment or strange animal than a person, but that's just Zedaph. Even if he were human, Tango's pretty sure he'd follow his own idiosyncratic laws.

None of this explains why he has a baby.

"Okay, look, it's not my fault this time, I swear," Zedaph says. "It's--look, I was in-town, and there was this guy, and he made a bargain with me! It was a very little bargain! I didn't think he'd break it. Honest! He just wanted gold--"

"Oh no," mutters Tango.

"--and I just told him that I wanted him to take care of a sheep for me without looking at it! I wanted to see what would happen if a sheep grew up without anyone looking at it. Would it want to look at other people more or less? You know my problems with sheep and looking at me."

"I hate that I know where this is going," Tango says.

"And he was all like, oh that's easy, I won't break that bargain. And I remembered what you said about how most people don't like having their babies swapped out with fey, which still doesn't really make sense honestly because I think a baby me is WAY more exciting than a baby human to take care of and also then I can experiment with the baby human but that's not the point. The point is that you said most people would avoid that! So I said, okay, if you break our bargain and look at the sheep, I'll come take your first baby. It's a traditional fey thing! I thought he wouldn't do it! I don't want a baby, I want a traumatized sheep!"

"Sometimes I wonder if my inventor knew my life would end up like this," Tango says.

"So imagine my shock when one day I just--poof--I have a baby!"

"I don't know how to take care of a baby," Tango says. "You absolutely shouldn't be trusted with a baby. What do we do with a baby."

The two of them look at the child.

"I mean, I cast a spell on it so it would sleep?" Zedaph says tentatively. "But to be totally honest with you, I don't actually know how long those last. You know how it is with my magic."

"I have decided this is Impulse's problem," Tango responds after a moment. "We give the baby to Impulse. He's a human. Humans know what to do with babies, right?"

Zedaph gives Tango an extremely skeptical look. "I got this one from a human."

"Impulse will suffer with us," Tango says.

"Sold," Zedaph says. "Let's go give Impulse a surprise baby."

"Please don't phrase it like that," Tango says, and they both start heading in the direction of where Tango thinks Impulse is currently living. Surely, he has the solution to this problem. Surely.

[yozzers]

ouuu some more stuff for my nyon port town au... people outside of nyon

my rambling below the line

prowl is more based on his g1 incarnation and that one abridged dub I saw where he was very soft-spoken and walked all over. idk about you guys but some hospitals I see have security at the front and this is basically what prowl does, checking people go in and out.

i have nothing special for ironhide i just think he makes a really good Old Guy Coworker who annoys you at worst and endears you at best, hes still working in security god knows why and has a beautiful wife working as a tankermen at Iacon's ports

red alert heads the security firm that Iacon's hospitals hire out of, not for very long though i imagine he ends up out of the job like 6 months in bcs of the stressful workload getting to him and gets whisked off to work as like, in search & rescue w/ inferno

also this really is a case of everyone kinda vaguely knows everyone if you reach hard enough you could add how ironhide and chromia know elita, op and kup and that gets the rest of the nyon citizens connected to everyone else in someway shape or form

characters who arent drawn but I've also been thinking abt:

jazz and blaster are both radio hosts and in the entertainment industry. blasters cassettes work in diff parts of it, rewind idrk yet, eject and ramhorn commentators for cube, rossana and steeljaw are in music

all ik fr rewind is itd be cute for him to work w/ the reflector trio

soundwave and his cassettes stream gladiator battles, frenzy and rumble are ofc the commentators while soundwave works more like a producer and the others go between working cameras/mic/directing

IVE BEEN STRUGGLING W WINDBLADE AND STARSCREAM TBHHH, starscream polisci space engineering double major nightmare working w/ xenobiologist jetfire in tandem... but also smt funny abt making him part of a circus w/ windblade, bumblebee, cliffjumper and skywarp

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

How would they react if their crush shoved them out of the way to hug their friend instead of them (ALSOOO I LOVE UR WRITING AND I LITERALLY GET SO HAPPY WHEN YOU UPDATE UR BLOG EVEN WHEN ITS NOT ABT WRITING HCS ETC AT ALL)

Aww thanks, glad you like them! I kinda imagined the reader walking past instead of shoving them but here's them being ignored when they hold their arms out for a hug!

Takemichi- He has the saddest expression on his face, he looks like somebody just died (it was his happiness). This has literally ruined his whole day. 

Mikey- Pouts, that wasn't very nice of you to just ignore him like that and no one ignores him. Immediately walks over to you to confront you about it, he wants to know why you just did that.

Draken- Frowns but shrugs and "moves on". Basically he doesn't let it show that it effects him but mentally he thinks about it all day.

Baji- Curses under his breath, he's going to go fight a bunch of guys to calm down now

Chifuyu- He looks like he's about to cry for a moment, he got his hopes up that he was going to get a hug only for you to walk straight past him. Vaguely wonders what he did wrong and decides to study more later (read manga). 

Mitsuya- He's pretty chill about it, a bit shocked at first but mostly understands that you probably just didn't want a hug in that moment and that's ok. 

Hakkai- Sighs in relief, he only did that because Yuzuha told him to (she knowd he likes you and is trying to get him to make a move already).

Pah- Frowns but assumes you just didn't see him, maybe he'll try again some other time.

Peh- He looks so sad for a moment but quickly shrugs it off. It probably doesn't mean anything right?

Smiley- His eyes snap open in surprise and his smile fades for a minute before he puts it back on. He spends the rest of the day muttering unhappily and seems to threaten more guys then usual. 

Angry- Blinks as he takes in what just happened, he's disappointed but tries not to let it bother him so much. You walking past doesn't mean you hate him or anything.

Mucho- Calls your name and asks you about it, figures the direct approach is the best way to clear things up. 

Sanzu- Says nothing but stares after you for a bit too long. Spends the rest of the day silently being annoyed, not with you though, he's annoyed with himself for hoping that would work.

Kisaki- He really didn't like that, spends a lot of time going over the scenario in his head over and over. He's trying to figure out where he went wrong and how to avoid it in the future. 

Hanma- Oh you want to play games with him? He can play games with you too! Hugs you and introduces himself as your boyfriend to your friends, all while having a very smug grin on his face.

Kazutora- "oh..." he just kinda stares blankly the rest of the day, being more quiet then usual. He's upset but tries to hide it (doesn't do a great job).

Taiju- Says your name, calling out to you. He doesn't exactly yell but he says it loudly enough that it can be mistaken as yelling. Of course he's marching over to you to ask what that was about. 

Koko- Pouts for a second before sticking his tongue out and acting like that didn't just bother him. He thinks about other ways he can win you over with later.

Inui- Shrugs and walks off, no one can actually tell if that bothered him or not. He's good at hiding his disappointment. 

Izana- Frowns and tries to convince himself that he didn't want a hug anyway. Watches you very closely though, if you offer anyone else a hug then he's going to get a bit jealous. This also makes him want a hug even more, he plans to get one eventually. 

Kakucho- He's a bit confused, he really thought that was going to work but it didn't. Worries that he did something to upset you. 

Shion- Just stays standing there, he thinks you're coming back after you're done talking to your friend. 

Ran- Sighs before walking after you, he stops quickly to whisper to you that you owe him now before he walks away, giving you a half hearted wave and smile before he disappears round the corner.

Rindou- He's just frowning a lot, frowns the rest of the day. But quickly says nothings wrong when Ran tries to question him. 

[tkaulitzlvr]

can you make a tom!sub? also i am INLOVE with all your writings💓💓

i was thinking if you could write tom being submissive and the (female) reader not letting him finish untill she says so?also if the story could contain some stuff like handcuffs and you know you know... ( only if your comfortable! )

thank you again and no rush! take your time💓

PLEASE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: after tom loses a bet that the two of you had made, as promised he has to face his consequence - which involves the roles you usually have in bed completely reversing for the first time.

content: smut

a/n: sub tom has been requested soooo much on my account and honestly i’ve avoided it cause in my eyes he’s like the most obvious dom and that’s all i see him as…but him as a sub is just as hot so i finally decided to write it - i hope it lives up to ur expectations🙏

my eyes light up when i watch tom look down with a cheesy grin plastered on his face, no longer able to hold eye contact after i had blown him a kiss and winked from behind the barrier. i can just about distinguish his features from the dull flashing lights of the venue, and most importantly, the way his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. i made him blush. the bet which, in any other circumstance would be completely ridiculous, had never meant so much until now. the whole idea is somewhat stupid, tom deciding that it would be fun to see who could make the other blush first - clearly under the impression that he would win. the reward, though not explicitly discussed, is the thing that excites me the most, the endless possibilities from the vague prize of ‘getting whatever you want from the other person’ too good to pass up.

and by the way tom shoots me a quick glance, a defeated smile tugging on his lips, he knows that he has lost too. he shakes his head and mutters something under his breath - not that i can hear it, the speakers blasting out the band’s music paired with psychotic fans’ screams stop me from hearing even what the person next to me is saying. his fingers resume their fast-paced strumming on the guitar splayed across his lap, eyes occasionally darting in my direction until he stands on the stage above me, in line with the rest of his band.

“thank you so much for coming tonight paris. we love you all and hope to see you again soon, goodbye!” bill’s voice is followed by thousands of high-pitched screams, the irritating sound only seeming to get louder when tom snatches the microphone from his brother, shouting ‘thankyou’ to the crowd in his thick german accent.

i make my way to the backstage area whilst tom and the rest of the band say goodbye to the fans, throwing drum sticks and guitar picks into the crowd as they would after every show. i flop down onto one of the couches, the loud screaming still not slowing down as i wait for tom to exit the stage, knowing that he won’t be thrilled after losing the bet he was so eager to initiate.

“you did so good baby, i’m so proud of you!” i smile widely when tom walks through the door, standing up from the sofa and engulfing him in a tight hug, burying my head into his shoulder. he smiles weakly, planting a soft kiss into my hair and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“thank you schatz.” he mumbles, his voice somewhat sad despite the wide smiles that remain etched on the rest of his band members faces - the show they have just performed being one of their best so far, practically flawless. tom pulls away and moves to sit on the couch behind me, sighing frustratedly and spreading his body across it. i don’t need to ask why he is so upset - not only because the reason is totally obvious, but he decides to express his annoyance himself.

“i can’t believe you won.” he groans, tilting his head back and letting it rest against the back of the couch. he gives me a small smile, not intending to seem mad with me, instead he seems annoyed with himself. he opens his arms out, gesturing for me to join him on the couch. i move over, sitting beside him as he wraps an arm around me.

“have you thought of anything yet? for your reward, i mean.” the pads of his fingertips run along my arm, his chin resting on my head as i smile slowly, knowing the answer to his question the second he had asked it - hell, i had known exactly what i would do if i won the second he proposed the bet.

“i think i have something in mind.”

“you want to be in control?” his face displays a mix of confusion and interest, his eyebrows raised, slight smirk on his lips. i nod my head, moving closer forward as i already straddle his lap with my hair disheveled and lips swollen - tom having initiated something the second we had entered the hotel room. things didn’t turn out the way he had expected though, my hand resting firmly on his chest when he had attempted to climb on top, as he did every other time.

he tilts his head to the side, seeing that i am completely serious about this. his hands find my waist, fingers threading through the loops in my jeans as he grinds my hips over his already prominent erection. i shake my head when he tries to manoeuvre my hips again, placing my hands over his and stopping his movements entirely. his eyes widen, body stuck in place as he seems startled by my sudden change in attitude, knowing that usually i would be underneath him in this moment. he shifts around a little, squirming beneath me and sitting up slightly, his back now resting against the headboard as my legs are wrapped around his waist.

“stay still.” i rest my hands flat against his chest, watching as his mouth falls open a little, lips parted as he looks up at me, his gaze bordering desperate as i can tell that he wants me to do something, though he doesn’t know how to say it.

i shift my hips to get closer to him, a low groan leaving his lips in the process, soon cut off when i press my lips to his own, his noises muffled into my mouth. and when i begin to grind against him at a more consistent pace, his ability to kiss back seems to diminish by the second, his breath hitching in his throat. i pull away, watching as his face falls in disappointment, clearly wanting more than just a kiss. and i plan on giving him that, as long as he uses his words, just as he tells me to.

though words can wait for now, my actions taking control as i reach forward, my hands finding the hem of his t-shirt as i lift the material upward and off of his frame, revealing his toned upper half. i throw it to the floor somewhere, returning my attention to tom as his hands reach out, attempting to pull my own small crop top off. he doesn’t get far though, his hands roughly returned to his side as i shake my head.

“no touching. not unless i say so.” he seems to understand that he has next to no control right now, that he can do nothing but wait on me, and i can tell that it irritates him, a low groan sounding from his lips. my eyes never tear away from his own, watching the way he stares intently at my cleavage, eyes drinking it all in as i lift my top over my head, revealing the small lace bra holding my breasts in place. his tongue comes out to flick the small metal piercing that rests on his bottom lip, eyes quickly darkening.

“fuck baby…let me touch you- please.” his voice is barely above a whisper, bordering between frustrated and desperate, both causing him to go next to insane as i deprive him of the one thing he relies on to show affection - touch. he begins to squirm beneath me, attempting to create some sort of friction between us, his hips moving up and down along my clothed heat.

“sit still or you won’t get to touch me at all. you have to be patient.” i scold, watching as he nods his head, his movements soon slowing, cut off by his breath hitching in his throat when my hands make contact with the small metal button of his jeans, undoing it slowly. his eyes stay locked on my fingers, watching as i tug the zipper down, showing no resistance and instead bucking his hips upward and allowing me to slide the denim off of his body when i tug it downward, the material pooling at his feet. i quickly slip out of my mini-skirt, our underwear now the only thing separating us, and i can tell that it drives him crazy.

his chest rises up and down, a thin coat of sweat lining his forehead as his entire body jolts with even the slightest of movements, desperate whines leaving his lips when my hands finally palm him through his boxers, the first bit of attention i give towards the place where he craves it most.

“fuck…oh god, oh my god.” his head falls backward, teeth sinking into his bottom lip when i run the palm of my hand up and down his length, still separated by the thin fabric of his boxers. his erection seems to get more and more painful with each second, every gentle touch i press to his clothed dick generating more sounds from his parted lips - small whines soon turning to loud groans, to the point where he can’t handle it any longer.

“please schatz…do something…need it so bad-shit!” his eyes squeeze shut, wincing slightly when i touch his tip through his boxers, this area more sensitive than the rest of him. despite his pleas, i decide to go that little bit further, knowing how crazy it will drive him.

“what do you want me to do tom?” my voice is low, crossing the line between innocent and seductive, creating a sickly mix of the two that seems to drive him crazy. my head moves downward, lips directly against his ear as i take his lobe in my mouth, biting it lightly before releasing it, feeling the way his whole body shivers below me. my lips make contact with his neck, placing slow kisses, just enough to tease him a little more. “you have to tell me what you want baby.”

“you want my hands?” i whisper into his ear, my hand trailing to palm him once again, yet another groan falling from his lips. “or my mouth, maybe?” i take the skin of his neck between my teeth, sucking slowly before letting it go, my tongue running over it momentarily. he stays quiet, his breathing heavy and body becoming more restless.

“or…” i add, pausing for a few seconds, buying time to leave him guessing, pulling back to study his face, the sight enough to resemble heaven on earth - or at least something pretty damn close to it. his eyes are half-lidded, eyebrows furrowed slightly, tongue poking out of his mouth. he watches me intently, eyes fixed on my hand as it moves to grab his own, trailing downward to my clothed heat, placing it flat against my panties. “do you want this?”

he nods his head rapidly, fingers trying to pull the lace from my lower half, not getting far as i pull them back, leaving him even more desperate than he was seconds ago.

“need to be inside you.” he whines, sighing under his breath and adjusting himself once again, thrusting his hips ever so slightly in the hopes that he will feel any contact, even if it is only for a second. but when i smile weakly above him, sitting up a little and reaching for my panties, his eyes visibly light up, thrilled by the possibility of finally getting what he wants. i step out of my underwear, fingers finding the clasp of my bra and removing it from my frame. tom’s eyes scan my body hungrily, starting at my now exposed breasts, moving down to my lower half. his hands reach outward, making contact with my waist as he pulls me closer to him. i let him this time, watching the way relief takes over his expression from being granted the simple permission of touching my body.

the pads of his fingertips trail upward, moving along my stomach, just about to touch my breasts before i stop him, much to his frustration.

“please baby…can’t take it- need you so bad, need to touch you…” he is practically begging at this point, his body tired and sweaty beneath me, desperate for any sort of relief.

“wait.” i state simply, showing him no sympathy, though my actions seem to act as some consolation as my hands make contact with the waistband of his boxers, fingers dipping underneath them teasingly. his breath catches in his throat, breathing becoming even more erratic as i get closer and closer to giving him what he wants, before tearing away his hope and moving my fingers almost completely away. i tug on the waistband, slipping my fingers in once again, inching closer to his dick, the presence of his boxers frustrating to him as i can only do so much with them there. my hand finds his length as i run a single finger down it, a loud moan pouring from tom’s lips as his head falls backward. i struggle to fit another finger into his boxers, the fabric restricting my movements too much - and it drives him insane.

“fuck schatz…take ‘em off, please…just take them off.” he whines loudly, groaning when i slip my hand out of his boxers, only to tug them down ever so slowly, almost too slowly for tom as he bucks his hips slightly. his dick springs free, hitting his lower abdomen and god, the sight is enough to make me cum on the spot. it is almost painfully hard, the veins within it more prominent than ever, the tip red as pre-cum spills out of it. i almost pity him, watching how he grunts at the slight touch of my fingers wrapping their way around the base.

he hisses when i pump him a few times, my thumb moving to swirl around his tip, his mouth falling open whenever i apply pressure. i don’t give him too much, though, nothing that brings him anywhere close to his release, just enough to show him what he can receive, and he craves for more.

“please just sit on it, please schatz…i can’t, want you so bad- fuck!” he attempts to bring one hand to his hard dick, stroking it once before i pull him away roughly, swatting his hand and placing it by his side.

“what did i say, hm? you have to listen to me to get what you want.” all he can do is nod his head, far too focused on my actions as i speak his eyes glued to my heat as i begin to move forward, lifting my hips upward so that his tip is aligned directly with my entrance. my hands place themselves on his shoulders, maintaining a firm hold before slowly sliding downward, taking just the tip inside of me. he whines loudly, hands flying to rest on my waist, his fingers already digging into the skin, bound to leave marks.

i lift my hips upward after a few seconds, his tip sliding out of me as he whines in frustration, desperate for something, anything, besides from being teased like this. he knows that there is no point in trying to do anything himself - realising that i will just stop him. instead, he watches impatiently as i shift my hips downward again, taking a little more inside me than i did last time. i moan quietly at the sensation, his dick slowly stretching me out as i stop when he is around halfway.

his eyes are now completely closed, squeezing shut as his mouth is now wide open, chest rising and falling at a fast pace, clearly far too lost in pleasure from my minimal acts to think about anything else.

“tell me what you want baby.” my voice is more forgiving this time, lacking the harsh tone it had when i scolded him all those times. now he knows better than to initiate anything, his eyes slowly opening when he registers what i say.

“keep going.” he pleads, his hands trailing to my hips, squeezing the flesh roughly. he clears his throat, though his ability to sound even a little bit composed is long gone, and he knows it too, soon realising when he opens his mouth to speak again, his voice low and whiny. “take all of me, please baby…”

i lean my face closer to his own, lips ghosting over the corner of his mouth. “open your eyes…watch me.” i smile when his eyes flutter open, dark and tired, their gaze flickering to watch where we are connected, struggling to stay open when his dick begins to slowly disappear inside of me, inch my inch.

“oh god-fuck…feels so good…” i haven’t even moved yet, staying sat completely on top of him, not circling my hips and instead adjusting to his size, my walls stretched out as i wait for the pain to turn to pleasure. it doesn’t matter that i haven’t done anything yet, not to tom, anyway. the evident euphoria on his face tells me enough, the continuous teasing i had put him through meaning that literally anything is enough to leave him a moaning mess.

and when i begin to circle my hips, grinding them over his pelvis, the noises that sound from his parted lips become louder and more inaudible, once clear attempts to say my name now barely understandable, lost in the whines that take over any speech. his body shines with a thick layer of sweat, highlighting each defined muscle from beneath me as they contract with each harsh squeeze of my hips. i lift them up, almost all the way off of tom’s dick, before slamming back onto it, soft curses spilling from his lips when i repeat my motions, soon finding a fast rhythm. somehow his hands don’t leave my waist, taking advantage of how i allow them to rest there, afraid that i will tear them away if he decides to move them anywhere else. but i see the way his eyes are fixated on my breasts, fighting the urge to close them purely so he can watch the way they bounce up and down with each movement of my hips. there are times when he jerks his hand upward, seeming to hesitate and return it to its position on my waist, though it doesn’t take long for the urge to become too strong.

“let me touch them liebe…please- just wanna touch them.” a string of pleas follow his request, his voice returning to a low whisper as he awaits my response, his head falling backward when i angle my hips a certain way, his tip brushing directly against my g-spot. i moan loudly at the feeling, eyes rolling to the back of my head as i repeat my movement, his tip drilling against it repeatedly. i am far too lost in pleasure to refuse his ask, nodding my head and mumbling a quick and almost inaudible “go ahead baby”.

and he wastes no time, his hands rushing to cup my breasts, his thumbs running over the hardened nipples as he lets out a satisfied groan. he squeezes the flesh harshly, mesmerised by the feeling as the movements of his hands become more feverish, his need seeming to increase as he moves his head forward, allowing his lips to make contact with them. he places rough and open-mouthed kisses onto the flesh, kneading what isn’t in his mouth, sucking on my breast for a few seconds before running his tongue over the skin, his lips leaving a trail of purple marks scattered across my chest.

“i’m so close…please don’t stop baby- fuck, don’t stop- please!” his voice vibrates against my breast as he continues to kiss the skin, often cut off momentarily by a loud groan whenever i clench around him. and i can tell that he means it, his dick twitching inside of me every few seconds, the frequency of his moans increasing with each movement of my hips.

“you’re not cumming yet.” i state through breathy moans, circling my hips and digging my hails into his shoulders. he whines in response, pulling his head away from my breast to look upward at me. “hold it, you have to wait for me, mhm?”

“can’t baby- i can’t…fuck- it hurts so bad…” if i weren’t to desperate to chase my own release, i would probably pity him and let him cum out of sympathy, though now all i can focus on is finding my own climax, my bounces becoming more sloppy and feverish, craving nothing more than to release the knot in my stomach that begins to build.

“yes you can.” i breathe out, taking my hands and pressing them to the back of his head, bringing his lips closer to my breasts and moaning when his tongue swipes across my nipple. “you can cum when i say so.”

the knot in my stomach becomes more noticeable, my free hand moving downward to rub soft circles on my clit, my head falling backward at the overwhelming pleasure, knowing that it won’t be long until i get to my release. i don’t tell tom that, though, watching intently as he can no longer plant firm kisses to my breasts, instead he falls backward to rest his upper half against the headboard, soft and frequent curses pouring from his lips as he holds back his release, the task becoming harder and harder for him as each second passes.

my own head falls backward, eyes rolling back as i finally let go, feeling my release wash over me. i clutch onto tom’s back for support, rocking my hips back and forth slowly as i ride out my high, still aware that tom hasn’t come yet. and i can tell that he can’t hold on much longer.

“please baby…please let me cum- it hurts so bad schatz, shit!” tears begin to roll down his cheeks, soft whines spilling from his lips far more often than before. the slow roll of my hips on his dick doesn’t help - the angle allowing him to hit the deepest spots inside of me, my walls unconsciously clenching around him when the pleasure gets too much. “need it so bad baby, just wanna cum, please…”

my lips collide with his softly as he still tries to kiss back, the taste of tears on his mouth as i move against him slowly. “c’mon, cum baby…” he sighs loudly once he registers that he has my permission, no longer able to kiss back as his head falls backwards, eyes squeezing shut and eyebrows furrowing, loud and elongated groans elicited from his lips as i feel his hot cum shoot into me, coating my walls as i ride out his high.

“shitshitshit…oh my fucking god!” he begins to lazily thrust upward into me, anything to increase the pleasure he already feels, his movements somehow matching mine as he moans into my mouth, his hands glued to my hips. his nails dig into the skin, leaving harsh marks there. eventually, both our movements slow down, tom’s body trembling as it lays against the headboard, his breathing fast and heavy. i collapse on top of him, his dick still inside of me as i rest my head on his chest. he rubs my back up and down, fingers tracing random patterns there.

“fuck me.” he mumbles into the now silent room, my head whipping upward to look at him, his fucked out expression enough to leave me mesmerised, taking in every feature on his face - the way his eyes struggle to stay open, slight wrinkles on his forehead from his furrowed brows, his lips remaining slightly parted, he somehow looks perfect. “you need to be on top more baby, that’s the best sex we’ve had.”

his hand tiredly reaches to cup my cheek, drawing my face nearer to his as he connects our lips. the kiss is lazy and sloppy, still filled with passion as i press my lips firmly onto his own. he pecks them a few more times before pulling away, standing up and pulling me toward the bathroom to clean up.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[bucca2]

okay not to wax poetic about a minor side character in Skyrim that annoys the fuck out of most people, but it really does sadden me that most people are like “he’s annoying, kill him!” and then do no self reflection on the fact that they only killed him because of a petty personal gripe and because they were sent to do so by a power tripping traitor who LATER ALSO TRIES TO KILL THE LISTENER THEMSELVES.

For a long time I’ve had Thoughts™ on the phenomenon of Gamers (derogatory) who treat any NPC who is even slightly an inconvenience with disproportionate and often violent vitriol, but this post is already getting long. General musings on the tragedy of Cicero’s character and how it’s objectively the wrong choice to kill him below.

Thanks to my partner @wrenanigans I’ve had reason to re-examine Cicero’s character, and his past just makes me so deeply sad. Of course, his journals only cover DB-related events, so maybe he had a personal life he just didn’t write about, but it kind of struck both of us that he feels the loss of his fellow DB members so keenly and yet never really mentions any personal relationships outside of obligation to his fellow assassins. (i.e no family or lovers pre-insanity when he was a normal, extremely capable man) Like of course he went insane. The organization that was his entire life’s purpose not only promoted him to a position where he could no longer do what he joined them to do, but then he watched the organization dissolve around him and all his friends be slaughtered.

Then he was alone with the Night Mother waiting for her to talk to someone and give him direction for eight fucking years!!! Of course he went completely off the deep end! If I was isolated, paranoid (but is it paranoia if they’re actually out to get you?) and constantly on survival mode for that long, I’d be relieved if being a little quirky and doing little dances was the extent of my deviant behavior! (The murder comes with being in the Dark Brotherhood, so I don’t wanna hear any whining about him being stabby. Murder isn’t OK if the Dragonborn does it, but suddenly immoral if people you don’t like do it. In video games.)

I think for most people who don’t put much thought into Cicero and his actions, they just vaguely think “oh, Cicero betrayed the family and tried to kill Astrid, so killing him is justified irrespective of her later betraying us”, which is simply not true. There’s a very interesting post I saw floating around lately about how you can’t treat religion in fantasy worlds like TES the same way you would with religious groups IRL, because in TES there is tangible proof that gods exist, and they can and will fuck with the mortal world for their own whims. The point of the DB quest line is that the Tenets matter, and straying from them and the Night Mother almost snuffed the DB out for good. The narrative of the game explicitly justifies Cicero’s actions and QUITE LITERALLY tells you that killing Cicero is not the right call.

TES has a lot of creative interactivity with picking your own outcomes and going with your own solutions, but quests don’t usually end with “go kill this guy. but you can also spare him… ;)” They usually don’t give you an old wise dude whose spirit you can summon who tells you not to kill that clown. And then if you spare Cicero, he comes back and is a potential companion. Like…I don’t know how much more obvious it can get that you’re not supposed to kill Cicero. I get for most people it’s not that deep, but this is TES. We talk about lore here.

[eskir]

formal dance - vampire!sunday x reader

yada yada, i haven’t written for sunday in a while (also the hsr sunday reddit is a cult, somehow??? (i’m not against it tho lmao)) but have this. i have some world building ideas and may expand, but for now enjoy a little writing from me (and my eepy self) gn!reader as always

the tales of vampires, sunday had discovered over the course of his new life, were quite misguided. perhaps that could be due to the tales originating from many amber eras ago, but a sly smile was still brought to his face when he saw his reflection in the mirror.

he was quite fortunate, sunday had thought to himself before. it would be annoying if he were unable to peer at himself and adjust his clothes accordingly: smoothing out any creases and tucking his hair so that no strands were sticking out. he had to look his best. even if mr. gopher wood was no longer around, sunday still clung onto those old habits and teachings.

adjust the glasses on the table, eyes wandering over the ballroom critically, and a polite smile on his face as he wandered around. although, the word wander did imply a certain lack of direction, so no, sunday only appeared to be wandering. in reality, he was mingled with key figures of the main five family figures of penacony, simple greetings and the like, before standing by your side.

he hands a flute of champagne to you, your favorite, with a coy smile. “are you enjoying yourself my dear?” a simple question, yet all too formal, but that was simply the nature of these kinds of gatherings.

“yes,” a genuine smile on your face, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you gesture at your outfit and then back at his, “which dressmaker did you employ this time? give my compliments to them, the feeling of the fabric is otherworldly.”

sunday looks at you fondly, and you’re struck with the knowledge that his affection is only shown vaguely, through gestures or purposeful micro expressions. “they are old pieces, just well maintained with multiple alterations for your size,” he chuckles, “i’ll give your compliments to the one who did the alterations.”

your champagne glass is half empty as he plucks it out of your hand and onto the server’s plate passing by. “but enough about that, let’s dance.”

there was only a moment for your eyes to widen and protest at the disappearing glass before he whisks you onto the dance floor with such graceful movements that makes your stumble seem purposeful. he is a vampire, that fact is brought to the very forefront of your brain when he brings his face close to your neck. your heart skips a beat, but then you are twirled around the room. you manage to eventually catch up with the tempo of the song, your feet now moving alongside his as he shoots you a closed eye smile.

he’s glad that you adapted well, and he didn’t mean any harm when taking you into the dance floor, that much is apparent when you look into his golden navy eyes. mirth and joy swirl in his eyes, in fact, alongside that very familiar fondness as you both lose yourself to this dance. it ensnares you both in its joyous grasp, like the way fae entrance foolish mortals. but one of you isn’t mortal, and the other isn’t foolish enough to not stop when the musicians take their pause.

applause. loud and raucous. it’s been far too long since sunday has last danced.

sunday’s eyes crinkle slightly as he looks towards you, his hand around your waist as you both stand up from the bow. “thank you all,” and back is his polite smile, those closed eyes and perfect aura, “i hope you all will enjoy the festivities as much as i enjoyed dancing with my beloved.”

there is only a slight chuckle from him, but the rest of the crowd quickly imitates it, before the chatter resumes and the attention is brought elsewhere.

“come, i have a surprise for you,” he murmurs against your ear, pulling away with a grin, his sharp fangs showing, “and i promise that it won’t be as unpleasant as me guiding you off for a dance.”

you snort out a laugh, shaking your head as sunday had already brought you several paces from the ballroom. there’s no one else around here, so you aren’t forced to put on airs anymore, a fact you merrily take advantage of. “i think you owe me for that surprise,” you roll your eyes at him playfully, “and don’t tell me to come when you’ve already whisked me out of the ballroom and to the front of our room sunday.”

he huffs with a smile, opening the door and closing it behind you two. “well i’ll make it up to you in the coming weeks,” he breathed, moving closer to you as his wings brushed against your face, “but for now let’s relax.”

his hands gently take your jacket off of you, folding it neatly and draping it over the chair nearby, “alright?”

a soft hum from you, “alright love.”

and when the night had already ended, the bright sun rising to the occasion, you two were already tucked away in the shadows of your room, small smiles and intermingling breaths.

[autisticlancemcclain]

“No.”

Lance groans loudly, forgoing smacking his face in his hands and going straight for banging his head repeatedly against the elevator doors, which Keith thinks is a touch dramatic. But regardless he crosses his arms over his chest and stubbornly refuses to budge from his position.

“Keith. For the love of God.”

“God is dead and I’m not climbing out of a goddamn ten thousand foot elevator hatch with you.”

Keith admittedly puts a tad too much emphasis on the ‘with you’ part of the sentence. It’s obvious in the way Lance stops and lifts his head up and glares at Keith so icily he doesn’t need to squint to make out Lance’s expression in the low emergency lights; his eyes practically burn a hole through Keith’s forehead. Keith winces but doesn’t say anything.

“You have gone toe to toe with a goddamn zombie dictator,” Lance grinds out, “but you’re too much of a pussy to climb an elevator shaft?”

Keith stiffens. “I’m not — shut up!”

Smirking, now, visibly delighted that he’s managed to press Keith’s buttons (God Keith wants to punch him), Lance leans against the elevator wall, hip cocked, feigning nonchalance.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he says, inspecting his nails like it doesn’t matter. “I just never would have thought that the best pilot out of the Garrison and literal pilot of the Red Lion is, you know, a chicken.”

Keith clenches his fists. Lance is frustrated and bored and pushing Keith’s buttons because there’s fuck else to do. He is. Keith knows this.

But he is so goddamn good at it.

“I’m not a fucking chicken, Cargo Pilot.”

‘Cargo Pilot’ is usually a hole-in-one insult that’s guaranteed to make Lance bristle, sure to make him bare his teeth and go bright red and generally lose his absolute shit. Keith is even sparing in his use of the term, careful not to let it lose its potency.

But because the universe hates him and also Lance is the most annoying motherfucker alive, his smirk only widens, and he flexes his fingers, still fucking casual, still not even bothering to look up in Keith’s direction.

I hate you, Keith thinks, with feeling.

“Sure,” Lance says, without. He shrugs. “Prove it.”

For a second Keith thinks he’s so mad that he might. But then he imagines it fully, pictures his bare back pressed against Lance’s, feet planted on the slippery castle walls, lights probably still out, struggling to put one foot in front of the other and drag each other upright. He thinks of how much effort that would take and how easily he would start to sweat, how easily every shift of their muscles would loosen the friction-borne grip between them, how easily his foot could slip. He thinks of how long a ten thousand foot drop would take, how long he would have to accept that he’s going to die before he splats on the pristine floor.

His stomach turns. His face goes green.

Lance’s jaw drops.

“Oh my God, you’re afraid of heights!”

“I am not!” Keith snaps, because he isn’t, he just has a fucking brain. “It’s just — it’s ten thousand fucking feet, Lance!”

“A pilot!” Lance screeches. “A pilot afraid of heights!”

“You are so goddamn extra!” Keith cries.

Lance makes more vague screeching noises. He gestures furiously at Keith, then pauses, then makes a sound in the back of his throat akin to a loudly dying whale, then gestures back at Keith, then at the ceiling, then at the elevator as a whole. Then he lets out one loud, long, final yell, completely wordless and directed at what Keith can only assume is the heavens, and stops, closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and very calmly crawls onto the floor, belly first, and lays perfectly flat with his face pressed to the tiles.

“I hate it here,” he says serenely. He pauses for a minute, thoughtful. “Also, I hate you.”

“Ditto,” Keith mutters, finally giving up and joining him on the floor. He tips his head back until it thumps on the elevator wall and sighs, loud and long, wondering vaguely if this is punishment for the hundreds of times he mocked Shiro for his fear of squirrels. He truly thinks it might be.

All he wanted was twenty goddamn minutes in the pool. That’s all. He’d have even taken ten. He just wanted to swim a few laps, maybe float for a bit, and pretend he was in a lake somewhere without pressing problems such as saving the universe and the fate of every single soul in it.

Eight minutes, really. Seven.

The lights flicker back on. Lance lifts his head, hopeful, then stretches out one ridiculously long leg (seriously what is the deal with that he’s basically a giraffe, it’s too much, Keith should talk to someone about it because since when were legs allowed to be that — long and shapely, or whatever, it’s weird) and presses the closest button with his toe.

It does nothing. Lance stares at it for a few minutes, as if attempting to bring the elevator alive by manifestation alone, but no life is forthcoming. Lance huffs sadly and returns his face to the floor.

“That’s really disgusting,” Keith says, although he has his fair share of Floor Time. “People walk on this floor all the time.”

Lance doesn’t bother looking up, groaning loudly for several minutes before simply rolling away to the opposite side of the elevator.

“Shut up,” he says finally, after so long Keith almost forgets his original comment. “You just —”

Abruptly he straightens up, pulling the towel off his neck and crawling forward to place it in the middle of the elevator. Keith rolls his eyes so hard it actually hurts, a little.

“You and your commentary stay on the loser stinky mullet half of the elevator,” Lance says. “The pretty half that’s not infected with your rancid vibes belongs to me.”

“Were you trained to be this annoying?” Keith ponders, half out of genuine curiosity. “Like, do you do this on purpose?”

“Ignoring you now,” Lance says primly.

Keith scowls. He’s not — Keith isn’t the one who’s too irritating to be around without going insane.

“I’m ignoring you, asshole.”

Lance doesn’t respond. Keith closes one eye and holds up his thumb and forefinger to the approximate shape of Lance’s face, pretending he’s squishing his head. It brings him great peace.

After a while, though, he starts to get restless. His legs starts bouncing, up and down so fast it’s blurry, and then his fingers start to tap, but the feeling of rustling under his skin only gets worse, spinning faster and faster and coil tightening more and more in his stomach until he just — implodes, really, until his brain goes boom and says if you don’t get moving right this second, and Keith says in response to it, believe me I’m on it. He’s scrambling to his feet before he has the conscious thought to do so, hands moving before he tells them to and pushing him upright, bare feet padding rapidly on the floor as he paces, three steps until he hits the wall then pivot then three steps then pivot then three steps again. Over and over and over. His fingers stop tapping but his shoulders get twitchy; itchy under his skin and on it, sweaty because there’s no airflow and this goddamn elevator is sweltering. Or he’s just hot. He usually runs hot. He’s not sure and he doesn’t care to know, because the pool would have been refreshing but instead he’s stuck in a ten by ten by ten cube stuck somewhere on a ten thousand foot tube and to his right his rival-slash-teammate keeps huffing and rubbing his hands on his arms and muttering to himself.

“Could you maybe cut that out,” Keith snaps, which is entirely unfair because his pacing isn’t quiet, but Keith is three seconds away from attempting to climb the walls and it’s Lance, anyway, when are they not arguing, so it doesn’t matter.

Maybe when you’re having a crisis-brought bonding moment, says a voice in his brain. Stuck elevators are kind of a crisis.

Shut up or I’m going to give myself a concussion, Keith responds to it.

“Not my fault it’s goddamn freezing in here,” Lance snaps.

Keith pauses. He looks down at Lance. He frowns.

“Your lips are blue,” he observes, bewildered.

“Eat shit,” Lance responds, predictably. He’s fucking — he’s shivering.

Keith is made astutely aware of the cooling sweat on his back and grimaces.

“Lance,” he says slowly, “it is not cold in here.”

Lance blows out a breath like the goddamn weight of the world is on his shoulders. He flicks his eyes up to meet Keith’s, who is standing behind his head and leaning down, and somehow manages to seem like the more put-together person between them, which is bonkers.

“I’m anaemic, stupid.”

Keith blinks. Suddenly the air feels very solemn, and he shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t know you had an eating disorder,” he manages eventually.

Lance’s faces scrunches up in confusion for seven whole seconds before it clears, and he looks at Keith like he is the dumbest man alive and then bursts out laughing.

“That’s — anorexic, you idiot! I don’t have enough blood!”

“Oh,” Keith says, face heating. He scowls as Lance continues to laugh way harder than what was called for, clutching his stomach with tears rolling down his face. He pokes Lance aggressively with his toe, and by that he means his kicks him. “Will you stop — it’s not that funny, dickhead!”

“It really is,” Lance wheezes.

Keith scowls harder. His face is as red as his shorts and the flush is starting to spread down his chest and Lance notices and it only makes him laugh more, because he’s a shithead of the worst kind. “I hope you choke.”

Keith flicks his towel over his head and yanks, embarrassed, stomping to the other side of the elevator as if that will somehow make Lance shut up faster. It doesn’t, obviously, and he hears Lance laugh for several minutes until he finally winds down to giggling, then eventually nothing.

Keith harrumphs quietly to himself. He resolves to sticking in his corner like he should have from the very beginning, until the elevator starts moving again or someone on the team comes to save them. At this point he’s so done he wouldn’t even care if it was Shiro, wouldn’t even care if Shiro gloated about it for eternity (Keith saved his ass from government experimentation, anyway, so he wins by default for the rest of time). He faces his corner and pulls his knees to his chest and starts picking at a loose thread in the seam of his shorts to amuse himself.

Several minutes later, he hears Lance shifting. He ignores it. He pulls at the thread until it comes loose, then busies himself with tying the thread into the most complicated and random knot he can.

A few more minutes later, and there’s the sound of fabric rustling and draping, then quiet cursing. Keith untangles and retangles his knot for the fourth time.

After what must be a half hour, Keith hears the sound of teeth chattering.

He sighs. He looks forlornly at his knot.

“I could just ignore him,” he mutters to himself. “He probably won’t die.”

He thinks of how short Lance’s shorts are. He pinches his own towel in his fingertips, so thin he can practically feel his fingerprints. He remembers blue lips and a clenched jaw and raised gooseflesh.

He sighs loudly, more of a groan, and flicks his ball of thread away.

It takes Lance a few seconds to respond to Keith looming over him, which is worrying. But eventually he cracks open one brown eye and flares up at Keith.

“What,” he mutters. His teeth are chattering so bad it sounds like two words.

“You’re freezing,” Keith says. His voice is softer than he expected it to be.

Lance huffs, closing his eye again and curling further into himself. “No shit.”

Keith frowns. “I’m not.”

“Well, rub it in, why dontcha.”

Keith frowns. “You’re not understanding.”

Lance ignores him. Keith has a sudden and vivid memory of the year Shiro and Adam drove him up to Seattle in the winter so he could be more cultured, or whatever (or less of a desert menace, Adam had argued, and perhaps more inclined to stop biting people), and spent the whole car ride lecturing him about hypothermia.

“It doesn’t take very long to set in,” Shiro had said.

“And once you have it you need to warm up or your heart can stop,” Adam had finished, very serious.

Suddenly Keith starts to feel very panicked.

Lukewarm tea, warm blankets, skin to skin contact with someone who’s warm, were Shiro’s instructions. And then possibly hospital.

Well. Keith has one of those things.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he wraps a gentle hand around Lance’s shoulder, tugging him upright, then pulls him forward so his cradled hands are pressed against Keith’s chest and his head is tucked into the junction of Keith’s neck.

Worryingly, it takes Lance almost thirty seconds to start complaining.

“You smell like mullet,” he whines. But he doesn’t move away. In fact, he burrows closer.

Keith swallows down his worry. “Mullets don’t smell like anything, dumbass.” He brings his hands up to press against Lance’s back. Lance groans, curling deeper into Keith’s hold. His nose is icy and burns a trail across Keith’s shoulder, down his collarbone. Keith’s flush from earlier makes an enthusiastic return, because nothing good still exists in the world.

“I still think you’re annoying,” Lance mumbles. Every move of his lip brushes against Keith’s skin.

“Shut up and focus on not freezing to death,” Keith snaps.

Lance snorts. “I’m not gonna freeze to death, doofus. It’s just a dead elevator. Once I fell asleep on the Garrison rooftop in January and only had to spend three days in urgent care, so basically I can withstand anything.”

Keith pauses. He tries to reconcile the Lance who just said that to the Lance who came up with a life saving plan in thirty seconds on the Balmera to the Lance who threatened to stick Keith in a wormhole to the Lance who smiled and said they made a good team before passing out in Keith’s arms.

“You are a very confusing person,” he says when all the reconciling does absolutely nothing.

“Thank you,” Lance says, sounding pleased.

Keith snorts and tightens his hold. Lance sighs and sags a little. Slowly his fingers stop feeling so much like ice blocks, and his breathing doesn’t sound so erratic. Keith doesn’t know how long it’s been. He stopped trying to count somewhere between when Lance’s cheek squished against his chest and his fingers started tracing featherlight patterns across his skin.

Lance yawns. Keith tries to fight his but ends up yawning anyway.

“Is it bad to let a person with hypothermia sleep?” he mumbles, half-slurring his words.

Lance hums. “‘M not hypothermic.”

“Dunno. Could be.”

He sighs again, a puff of air against Keith’s neck, and spreads his palms against Keith’s chest, flat. “‘M not. You’re too warm.” He pauses. “Freak.”

His tone is fond. The corners of Keith’s lips quirk up. “Weirdo.”

“Mhm.”

He falls asleep trying to count Lance’s breaths. It’s — groundbreaking, somehow.

———

(“Oh, my God.”

Keith cracks open bleary eyes, lifting a hand to rub his face. Lance groans from his place on Keith’s chest — in a puddle of drool, why is that not nearly as revolting as it should be — and snatches Keith’s wrist way faster than he should be able to as groggy as he is, placing it back around his waist.

“Oh, my God,” the voice repeats, gleeful.

“Shut up, Shiro,” Keith mutters. “Fuck.”

It takes him a minute.

His eyes fly open at the same time as Lance’s, and they look at each other, and then Keith is being shoved and kicked at the same time somehow and Lance is scrambling backwards at the speed of light, screeching. A loud bang makes Keith look over and he discovers his brother, who is dead to him, collapsed on the floor, laughing so loud Zarkon can probably hear him.

“What — Shiro — go — stop fucking laughing, you piece of shit!”

Lance continues to screech. Keith whips a towel at him.

“You gay pining loser!” Shiro shrieks. “I’m going to tell literally everyone!”

Keith puts his head in his hands and wishes he’d fallen down the goddamn elevator shaft.)

[purinfelix]

could you please write something where trent pining for his bestfriend for a long time before he finally confesses to her that he has feelings?? thank you! i love your writing sm <3

something stupid ₊˚⊹

pairing: Trent Alexander Arnold x reader summary: Trent’s never been the best at concealing his jealousy, especially not when it comes to you - even if the two of you are ‘just friends’ warnings: none w/c: 1k

a/n: had to combine these two because they gave me the best idea everrr ... anyways i missed writing for trent like i realised i don't acc write for him that much - soo pls send more trent reqss!! <33

♬ and then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like "I love you" ♬

Trent couldn’t decide what feeling was worse - the intense, almost burning jealousy ripping through him as he watched you from across the bar, or the even more intense guilt consuming him for even daring to feel that way. To feel such an all-consuming possessiveness over someone who wasn’t even his, and to be left with no option other than to loiter in the corner like some idiot, his grip on his drink growing tighter by the second.

You wouldn’t blame him, surely, you couldn’t. With the way you looked tonight, and the fact that you had personally invited him out with you - albeit with a couple mutual friends - but none of them mattered, at least not to him. It also didn’t help that you had spent the last couple of years, ever since meeting through a group project in some long-forgotten university class, dragging him through some sick cat-and-mouse game. Always toeing the line between being just close friends, or something vaguely more, and Trent hated himself for just going along with it, but he’d by lying if he said he didn’t enjoy how weak he was to your charms.

But as he watched you, his breath heavy and heart beating steadily, he couldn’t help but question whether you had meant to do any of it at all. He watched you throw your head back in laughter and hot jealousy pulsed through him once more, yearning for nothing more than to be the one making you laugh instead of whatever other guy you were lending your attention to. Still, you looked so happy, so at peace, he couldn’t help but curse himself for even considering the possibility that you were purposely making him pine after you. After all, it was his fault - he had still yet to muster up the courage to ask you out on a date, even after being stupidly enamoured with everything about you since the day he met you. It was probably more rational to consider that he had just misread most of your actions beyond the friendly gestures they were supposed to be.

Suddenly, his attention was turned to the steady arm of another one of your male friends snaking around your waist, which Trent had been dragging his gaze along excruciatingly slowly - but now his focus was turned to the fact that this asshole was pulling you closer to himself, and further away from Trent.

Fuck rationality.

The thud of his glass was definite, followed quickly by his heavy footsteps as Trent shoved past the small group you had amassed, not bothering to make his actions subtle. It was clear to everyone, including himself, that Trent was moving faster than his rational thoughts could form, but that didn’t seem to matter when his hand was already wrapped tightly around your wrist, dragging you in the direction of the bar’s exit. You protested, struggling against his grip, but all it took was one look from him as he turned back to you - equal parts pained and pleading - for you to go with him.

The biting cold of the late night hit you the minute you stepped out of the bar, causing you to stop straight in your tracks and huff with frustration.

“Trent, what the hell is going on with you?” your tone was demanding, not making any effort to conceal your annoyance with him.

“I wasn’t going to stand by and watch that filth lay his hands all over you,” he retorts, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was equally annoyed with you. But from the way he can’t stand still and his eyes are scanning the pavement, avoiding yours, you know there’s something else at play here.

“Bullshit.”

“Wh- I can’t do something nice for you?”

“Giving me a life, paying for dinner, those are nice things - not snatching me away when I was in the middle of a conversation? Why do you care if some guy touches me?”

“Why do I care?” he scoffs, almost as if he doesn’t believe you haven’t realised why yet, “Because I’m in love with you! You’ve invited my out tonight, and you seem to be having the time of your life, but when I saw you with that guy, him making you laugh, touching you, all I could think about was how much I wanted it to be me instead. How much I’ve always wanted it to be me.”

A silence falls over you two, and it’s only now that the weight of Trent’s actions have hit him, as well as the realisation that he can’t do anything to take back his words now, or stop whatever reaction you’re about to give him. He makes his regret obvious almost immediately, his flustered expression dropping as he looks down to the ground once more, unable to bring himself to look at you. His confession hangs in the air, having changed both everything and nothing at once.

You stood there, slack-jawed, mind racing yet absolutely speechless. You’d be lying if you hadn’t at least suspected Trent of having feelings for you, but you had brushed any inkling you had off as your own misinterpretation. Hearing him say it out loud was another thing entirely, and it was overwhelming your every sense, but in a good way.

The silence became too much to bear, and Trent figured he’d have to be the one to brave it, “Say something, please,” he mumbles, voice heavy, almost preparing himself for rejection.

“Trent…” you begin, stepping slightly closer and reaching out to take his hand in yours, “I’ve wanted it to be you too.”

At this, he looks up at you, eyes glistening. “Really?” the disbelief in his voice almost breaks your heart.

“Yeah,” you say, almost laughing at how ridiculous this is, “for a while, actually.”

“God, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that,” he lets out an almost comical sigh of relief, finally breaking into a smile, and you can’t help but do the same.

“Now, I’d like to get back to my drink, if you don’t mind,” you say, but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“Why would I mind?” he laughs, and you could slap him right there and then, but you can only smile in faux-annoyance as the two of you walk back to the bar, hand-in-hand.

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Twist around the lounge - George Daniel & Matty Healy

A/N: i've been writing since 10am also this is barely spellchecked @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff ur a legendary beta thank u for fixing the fuckass formatting xx

wc: 5k

content warnings: super gay, smut, fluff, kissing, power dynamics, fingering, handjobs, blowjobs, begging, teasing, threesome, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, so gay, pain kink, cumplay, sub! matty, switch(?)! george, shy G oh my god, they get high moments before they fuck so tw for that, allusions to pegging (i reckon that isn't even a warning but better be safe xx)

“What happened to ‘girls don’t roll their own spliffs?’” George comments as you drag your tongue along the paper, the question directed at Matty. You roll your eyes dramatically, holding your hand as George passes you the lighter and you flick it on, rotating for an even burn. Matty shakes his head from across you, adjusting his legs under him he wipes his thumb on the glass of the coffee table.

“There's some things I'm willing to give up.” he settles on a vague answer, eyes darting over your face as you chuckle at the implication. Your legs shift over George’s lap to a more comfortable position as you take the first drag, letting the smoke curl around you in pretty patterns.

Passing the lit spliff to Matty, you pick at your nails as you let the hazy sensation take over your body, though it's not quite as strong as you’d like.

A soft breeze from the open window kisses your skin and you close your eyes, enjoying the feeling. George lets his arms splay out on either side in a relaxed manner, sucking in a deep breath as he watches Matty inhale the smoke, his eyes drooping closed when it hits him, a lazy smile spreading onto his face.  

Matty blows an O in your direction and you catch it like a kiss, shooting him a wink. Too distracted by you looking at him, Matty manages to fumble the spliff, letting it drop into the sliver of skin exposed by the mid-length black skirt he’s wearing.

“Fuck– shit, fucking bullshit-” he curses, brushing hot ash off his leg, hissing in discomfort. 

“Hm, I thought you liked pain?” you joke, eyeing him up and down in a teasing manner, giggling quietly. George perks up slightly at your words, his eyes darting between you and Matty.

“Not like that, you know well enough the type I enjoy.” he breathes, wiping his fingers on his skirt to rid them of the black residue from the ash, going to take another drag. 

You expect a fucked off groan from George, the typical annoyed expression you’re used to replaced by one of undeniable intrigue, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. Matty looks up, a bit confused at the lack of conversation, a heavy silence falling over the three of you. George runs an unsteady hand through his hair as Matty blows smoke, his eyes getting visibly redder as the seconds tick by. 

The silence is broken by George’s deep voice, timid and unsure.

“What do you mean he likes… uhm- pain?” The end of his sentence is punctuated by an uncharacteristic voice crack, your eyes narrowing at the odd question. It takes a few seconds for the words to finally register as Matty hands George the spliff, their hands lingering in a way that could be labeled as more than platonic if you looked close enough.

The more you look, the faster the gears in your head turn. You can see a thousand thoughts running through Matty’s mind as George stares at both of you, a faint blush dusting his cheeks at the obscenity of the question. It finally clicks for Matty when he sees him looking at the bit of skin visible over the collar of his shirt, littered with multicolored hickeys and bite marks.

“Oh you know, just like….” you trail off, moving your legs from their position on George’s lap, sitting up in a more normal position.

“I like it when she pulls my hair.” Matty’s bluntness almost makes you cringe, but the feeling of embarrassment is curbed by the look on George’s face, his lips parted in surprise at the answer. The curly haired boy smirks at you mischievously, eyes flicking between you and George, waiting for one of you to answer.

“Oh, uhm– thats-” George stutters, his voice incredibly meek right before Matty cuts him off.

“Really fucking hot? Yeah, mate, you wouldn't believe.” your eyes widen at the conversation being held right now, and you try to gather your words to steer it away from whatever this was, hoping and praying Matty hadn't spooked George into never wanting to speak to either of you ever again.

“Yeah, it is.” George breathes, no stutter in sight as Matty watches his every move, acting accordingly. In what feels like a fraction of a second, you suddenly feel the weight of a body in your lap, and it takes a moment to realize its Matty, straddling you like George isn’t sitting two fucking feet away from you.

His lips catch yours in a searing hot kiss, all tongue and teeth as our mouths work against each other, quiet wet sound filling the space as you feel George’s eyes on you, shamelessly staring. 

“See? I was right.” Matty murmurs against your lips, vaguely gesturing in the direction of an incredibly flustered George, his confidence unfaltering. You pull away for a few moments, cocking your head in confusion as you see him set the spliff down in the corner of your eye, bright pink ashtray glimmering in the dim light.

“Our little Georgie here,” he cuts himself off with another peck to your bruised lips before continuing. “likes to watch, don't you, love?” The pet name makes George visibly twitch, Matty’s sultry words evoking something primal in him, something he’d never felt before. You feel his hand trail down your chest, grazing over your nipples as he caresses your skin, his touch tantalizing. Turning your head slightly, you see a sight that will be ingrained into your frontal lobe until the day you die. Georges nods, confirming Matty’s suspicions and you gasp as curls brush under your jaw, hot lips pressed to your collarbones. 

The energy in the room shifts dramatically as George makes a move towards the two of you. He opens his mouth to speak once, twice, until he finally manages to force a string of words out.

“W-what else–” Matty stops, turning towards him with a look of encouragement, nodding at the clearly nervous blonde.

“What else does she– does she do..?” The question is directed at Matty, his eyes avoiding you at all costs, too shy to even look at you properly.

“Fuck, she makes me hurt so good, m’dizzy even thinking ‘bout it.”

George's breath hitches and you can tell he's turned on by the way Matty moans the words, grinning maniacally at the both of you, this whole situation like a dream come true for him.

“See this?” Matty hooks his fingers into the collar of his shirt, pulling it down to reveal a myriad of bruises and marks, flaunting them to George. You can see a small part of him wish George would touch him, run the rough pads of his fingers over his pale skin, maybe even press down onto the fresh splotches of color.

“Got a bit too annoying so she put me in my place, marked me up all pretty.” Endless nights spent holding him down, murmuring into his ear, your mouth attached to his throat as he whines spin in your head, the memories going straight between your legs as you absentmindedly spread them, and action not going unnoticed by Matty.

“Fucking hell.” George mutters, entranced by the scene in front of him, trying to convince himself he was dreaming. You don't even notice how close he really is until Matty grabs the edge of his half unbuttoned shirt, smashing his lips against his. A startled gasp escapes George before he melts into the kiss and Matty moans, licking into his mouth at a dizzying pace. 

Your heart beats against your ribcage when George threads his dominant hand into his curls, tugging experimentally. The action is tentative, unsure, but Matty’s wanton groan spurs him on, a sudden rush of confidence making him pull harder, earning more sounds from him. A high pitched moan spills from Matty’s lips as George slips his tongue past them, the sight pornographic as you watch them, eyes darting between the two men. 

Letting out a groan of protest when Matty pulls away, you catch the beginnings of a smirk right before George presses his lips to yours, his stubble scratching along your chin roughly. It feels different yet so, so fucking good as he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck, that's so hot.” Matty breathes, running his fingers through his hair, still perched in your lap as George continues kissing you frantically, wanting to feel every inch of your lips. 

You barely notice Matty sinking to his knees while George keeps you busy, your eyes screwed shut tightly as a carnal desire takes over your body, lighting every fiber of it aflame. Both of them can visibly see how worked up you are the moment Matty slides your shorts down your thighs, your hips lifting to help him out. There's a visible wet patch on the front of your panties, one that makes George gasp when he sees it, breaking the kiss. 

“Oh, don't stop on my account.” Matty pouts, not liking this you-and-George-not-kissing turn of events. George catches your lips again, the kiss searing hot as his hand finds your jaw, his chest pressed up to the side of your body.

“Gorgeous, isn't she?” you giggle at Matty’s words, letting one of your hands thread through his hair as he mouths along your thigh, licking over your clothed cunt. His fingers play with the hem of the cotton, making you shiver at the coldness of his fingers against your skin. 

“You should see him in a bit of silk, takes your fucking breath away.” you whisper to George, quietly wondering if he did have a pretty little number on under that skirt of his.

“Fuck, seriously?” George says, almost to himself, looking down and locking eyes with Matty. Matty rests his cheek on your thigh, his fingers slowly pushing the fabric of your panties to the side.

“Shame I didn't have time to prepare, would've even gotten those pretty little garters out. Love those, don't you?” You nod, smiling at George as the mental image flickers in front of his eyes, fantasies running wild in his mind. 

You feel rough fingers against the skin of your stomach, and you realize what the blonde is hinting at.

“Can I..” he trails off before he can even finish his sentence and you nod, urging him to rid you of the unnecessary material. A choked gasp spills from his lips when he realizes the lack of bra under your top, his hands shamelessly groping your tits as you moan, fingers toying with your nipples meanly. 

His mouth finds the space between your tits, leaving aggressive marks in his wake as Matty watches the scene in front of him unfold, licking his bottom lip. Matty’s fingers dip under your underwear, applying pressure to your clit making your hips buck upward, searching for more pleasure as Matty grins up from below you.

“Fuck– you’re so tight.” he murmurs as his digits sink into you, stroking against your walls at a dizzying pace, your head spinning at the blinding ecstasy. 

A desperate moan escapes you as George feels you up, your chest looking eerily similar to Matty’s as your nails dig into the cushions of the sofa, your feeble attempt at grounding yourself. Matty presses soft kisses to the inside of your thigh as you writhe under his touch, sucking lightly and leaving similar marks to George, if not a bit less harsh. 

“Matty, please– m’so close.” you whine, cut off by George’s lips against yours, all the oxygen in your lungs being knocked out of them in a split second, leaving you feeling weightless. Your vision is blurry as your orgasm approaches, the coil in your belly winding impossibly tight as Matty’s hand reaches up to graze your stomach reassuringly. A rough hand grabs yours and you open your eyes fully to realize it's George’s, smiling softly as Matty brings you to that delicious edge.

You cum with a whimper of his name, gripping the blonde’s hand so tightly you might've cut off the blood supply to his fingertips, pleasure washing over you in tidal waves, your hips unabashedly grinding down onto Matty’s fingers.  

It takes a few minutes for you to properly come to, your chest heaving with effort as Matty kisses your thighs sweetly, gazing up into your eyes. A beat of silence passes between the three of you as you and Matty exchange silent conversation, George blinking rapidly at what he had just witnessed. He still felt like he was dreaming, his whole body floating above the mortal plane as you move to get up, Matty shuffling to the side to make his way between George’s legs, giving you space to do the same.

“You don't have to– I can just-” he stutters, so unsure of himself it's adorable, his face flushed a deep shade of red. You smile to yourself as Matty speaks, his confident tone having a visible effect on the boy above you.

“Do you want us to? Because I want you both so fucking bad.” Matty’s hands grope George's thighs, playing with the buckle of his belt cheekily as he peers up at him, his eyes dancing with desire. 

“Let him take these off you, hm?” You trace your fingers over his stomach where his shirt had ridden up slightly, making him twitch. The movement reminds you of Matty, yet still starkly different.

“Yeah, okay– fuck.” he groans as delicate hands unbuckle his belt, the clinking of metal making your heart thrum in your chest in anticipation. Matty’s fingers start unbuttoning his jeans, stealing a glance at your face, signaling you to take over. George’s cock is hard, precum leaking from his tip as he strains against his grey boxers, a sight you commit to memory

Matty’s now free hands grip the back of your head, pulling you into a messy kiss, so clearly for show it makes your head spin at the mere implication that George was getting turned on from watching you. Your hand finds the front of George’s boxers, palming his cock through them as soft groans fill the room, his legs shaking at the sudden stimulation.

“So ready for us, hm? Should've done this earlier if it got me that.” Matty gestures to the blonde's face, scrunched up in ecstasy as you take him out of the confines of his underwear, fisting the base of his cock. Settling into a more comfortable position on your knees, you take the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as George gasps, screwing his eyes shut in pleasure. 

Matty takes the few spare seconds to grab at the hem of his shirt, sliding it off of him to reveal his bare chest, glistening with sweat and adorned in tattoos. The sight of him half naked never ceases to make you stutter, the low rise of his skirt only adding to the inherent erotic energy surrounding him.

It takes effort to take all of him into your mouth, Matty watching intently as you choke, sputtering on his cock with spit dribbling down your chin obscenely.

“Look how well she’s taking you, feels so fucking good I bet.” Matty reaches down to touch himself to the scene in front of him, letting his face fall onto one of George's thighs. Soft whimpers and moans spill from his lips, barely audible over George’s masculine groans, the juxtaposition making you feel lightheaded as one of his hands finds its way to the top of your head, resting there. 

“Please– fuck, feels so good. Keep doing tha- ohhh shit, fuck.” The head of his cock hits the back of your throat, making you gag. Matty presses an encouraging hand to your lower back. One glance up makes your breath hitch. George isn’t looking at you, but at Matty, his hand disappearing under the waistband of his velvety skirt, squeezing himself through his underwear. The air is charged with lust, the eye contact between the two men so intense you can feel it in your bones. 

Matty’s eyes are glazed over with desperation, the sight of you getting George off fulfilling every fantasy he’s ever had. He’s sure nothing could ever top this, silently begging this wouldn't be the last time it would happen. Matty brushes strands of hair out of your face, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek as you deepthroat George, tears threatening to spill at the effort.

You feel his cock twitch in your mouth, a low groan following as his hand goes slack in your hair, his hips bucking involuntarily. Sincere apologies spill from his lips and you pull off him, wiping your mouth and assuring him everything was alright, offering him a sickeningly sweet smile like you didn't just have his cock down your throat. 

“Make him cum, darling, I wanna see him cum– shit.” Matty whines, eyes begging you. You nod, a smirk spreading onto your face as you take George back into your mouth, his immediate groans of pleasure letting you know just how close he really is. Matty watches as you manage to not gag, making George throw his head back in ecstasy, moaning your name like a prayer. 

The thing that finally does him in? Matty’s hand grazing over the skin of his arm, making him spill into your mouth with a cry, the musky taste of his cum filling your senses. George shakes, actually shakes at the force of his orgasm, hair sticking to his forehead. An idea pops into your head moments before you swallow, and you turn your head to Matty, tapping his bottom lip with your index finger.

Matty’s eyes widen as he realizes what you want to do, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he opens it. You let cum drop into his mouth, some of it missing and hitting his lips, a pornographic moan ripping itself from Matty’s throat at the salty, distinct taste of George.

“Love tasting you on my tongue, shit.” Matty mutters at George, growing impossibly harder at the eroticism of it all, his cock visibly tenting his skirt. 

You lick a stripe up the side of his neck, bringing your wet lips to his ear and whispering into it.

“Get up on the sofa for me baby, let's get you off.” you speak, your words sultry and coated with thick honey, making both Matty and George shiver. 

The curly haired boy nods frantically at your request, scrambling up to find his seat next to George, still panting from his recent orgasm, and the proximity to Matty definitely not helping his current state. You let out a sigh Matty knows all too well, searching your expression to decode what you really meant. It clicks for him when your eyes flicker over to George’s lap, grinning wildly as he clocks it, draping one of his legs over George in a heartbeat. 

Using his body weight to hoist himself to a sitting position, he relishes in the surprised sounds George makes, stuttering over his words while trying to process the events unfolding. Something shifts when Matty makes direct eye contact with him, that sight probably the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“God, you’re so pretty.” George mutters, his lips inches away from Matty’s as they both breathe heavily.

“He is, isn't he?” you grin, your thoughts running wild as your eyes dart around the space, your breath hitching when they land on the discarded leather belt right in front of you, innocent and unassuming.   

Matty is the one who initiates the kiss, immediately taking George’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting down meanly as the blonde gasps into his mouth, pupils completely blown out. Both of them are completely breathless, too caught up in each other to notice you get up and circle around to stand behind Matty, leather in hand.

Matty’s eyes fly open when he feels you grab his arms suddenly, the belt clamped between your teeth as you pull them back, a small yelp spilling from his lips. George notices your movements, knitting his eyebrows in confusion before he realizes that you’re restraining him, the thought making his heart race. The metal clinking is deafeningly loud as his movement is restricted, a high-pitched whine leaving Matty.

“He loves this, look at how hard he is.” you say, your lips pressed to George’s ear as Matty’s hips twitch, bucking up against nothing, desperate for any kind of friction. He’s been hard for the better part of an hour now, watching and talking but never getting off. You see George hesitate, his hand ghosting over the bulge under his skirt while Matty yearns for his touch, eyes pleading with both of you simultaneously.  

“Touch him baby, promise he doesn't bite.” you coo, letting your fingers linger on the leather, tracing the small designs of the belt.

“Unless you want me to.” he bites his lip at George, earning a chuckle from both you and him. The lip bite, despite being ironic, still made something in you stir. 

“I don’t know how– i’ve never-” George whispers, deathly afraid of messing up, afraid of ruining this perfect moment.

“It's alright love, just–” Matty speaks, cocking his head in a sweet manner as George looks at him, red dusting his otherwise pale cheeks.

“Do what you do to yourself when you’re alone, yeah?” Matty reassures him, writhing against the restraints as George tentatively palms his cock over the velvety material.

The thought of George getting himself off is something you file away for later, the mental imagine making the heat between your legs grow exponentially, and you squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of that pressure.  

“Ah, fuck.” Matty whimpers, and you see the blonde flipping the fabric of his skirt up against his stomach, the clothing bunching up at his waist.

“Look how much he wants you, basically begging for you to get him off.” you speak slowly, drinking in the scene in front of you with a primal hunger, the bulge in Matty’s boxers adorned with a wet patch on the front of them. 

“So responsive, isn’t he?” 

Matty whimpers as George finally reaches into his boxers, taking him out and wrapping a hand around his leaking cock, beads of precum bubbling at the tip. George mirrors the movements he uses on himself, eyes searching the other boy’s expression for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he’s met with a blissed out Matty, face contorting in pleasure as George’s hand works him, using his precum as lube.

“Hear that?” you speak, taking in Matty writhing against George, wet lips parted as his eyes droop shut in ecstasy, wanton whines filling the room. You can see abandoned spliff in the ashtray across from you, last remnants of smoke curling in the air as the weed goes to waste, reminding you of how this situation even came to be.

“Those are the same noises he makes when I fuck him.” Your inflection makes the sentence all the more erotic as George stares at both of you wide-eyed, scenes playing out in his mind like a film.

“Y-you-” He stutters and you nod, Matty’s face flushing in a way you don't quite recognise. He’s embarrassed. A smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth as you realize this, finally finding his Achilles heel. That spot was George.

“Yeah, and he takes it, takes whatever I give him. He’ll take whatever you give him, too.” A choked whine leaves Matty’s lips as you speak about him like he isnt even there. He leans forward, resting his cheek in the crook of George’s neck as he makes eye contact with you, fucking panting like a dog in heat. 

“Shit, your hand feels so fucking good.” Matty whimpers, his cock twitching in George's grip as he speeds up his movements, basking in the curly haired boy's praise. Sweat makes Matty’s curls stick to his forehead, his bare chest glistening in the dim light of the living room. You watch as George gets him off, so blatantly turned on by the boy in his lap that it's genuinely laughable. 

“Let me see you, wanna see your pretty face.” George mutters against Matty’s hair, catching you both by surprise. Matty pulls back, a clear look of arousal at the boy’s words, his lips parted in a way that shows you he’s so, so close to the edge it's physically painful for him. 

“Make me cum, please– i’m so fucking close, feels so good, G, fuckk.” Matty braces himself as you trail your fingers up and down his spine, shivers blooming through his whole body as his orgasm rushes at him full throttle. George’s hand squeezes his cock roughly, the slight note of pain sending white-hot pleasure straight to Matty’s lower half, making him moan desperately as George murmurs against his jaw.

The audible sounds of frustration as Matty pulls at the belt restraining his arms is incredibly hot, your tongue darting out to lick a stripe along his throat as he gasps, the stimulation feeling like pure heaven

“That's it, baby, let go for us, doing so well.” George groans, his commanding tone of voice sending Matty hurling over the edge, his orgasm crashing over him so violently tears start to stream down his face as he cums all over George’s stomach and his own, panting their skin as you watch, a soft noise slipping past your lips.

George works Matty through his high, watching every reaction, expression, and movement he offers him, his hand steadily slowing down as Matty’s full body twitches subside, high.pitched pants and whines spilling from his lips as he closes his eyes, basking in the afterglow.

“Fuck- that was.”    

“The hottest thing you’ve ever seen?” You smirk, finishing his sentence for him with a cheeky wink. It takes a few beats for George to fully come down from his power trip, eyes darting between you and Matty as he registers the compromising position he is currently in. You notice his slight panic, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, acting as his tether to reality. 

“Is this going to happen again?” The question is heavy on the three of you for a moment, but eye contact with Matty tells you he already has an answer.

“Do you want it to?” Though he is still restrained, Matty is as cocky as ever, raising his eyebrows at George in a teasing manner. You watch as George gathers his words, your heart thrumming against your ribcage in anticipation. 

“That depends,” George says, sounding confident. 

“Depends on what?” Matty cocks his head and you mirror the movement, equally as confused at his statement. The curly haired boy is still out of breath, his panting ruining the calm and collected demeanor he tries so desperately to portray.   

“Depends if you take it as well as she says you do.” he gestures to you, your smirk growing as Matty flushes a deep shade of crimson, squirming under George’s touch as he rests his hands on his velvet covered hips. You chuckle quietly before answering, making deliberate eye contact with George and George only.

“Oh trust me, my sweet G, he does.”