#and it sounds like he’s just being nice

[screampied]

PUFF, PUFF, ASS! s. ryōmen

ৎ୭ sum. puff puff pass, girl — not puff puff ass! you wanted to smoke one last sesh before winter break but sukuna smokes something far sweeter instead - you.

wc. 8.4k

warnings. fem! reader, plug! roommate sukuna, college au, both are in early 20s, unprotected, substance consumption, slooowish burn, virgin! sukuna, switch reader, quickies, pining, sukuna’s a loser fratboy with no game, p whipped sukuna, creampīes, edging, cowgirl, big dick kuna, he lasts 0.5 secs, blōwjobs, dry humping, shotgunning, spīt, dirty talk (he tried), use of "good boy", praise.

“the usual, ‘kuna.”

ah, those three pretty words.

your roommate and all-time favorite plug, sukuna never got tired of hearing it. of course though, not in a million years would he admit the fact—let alone admit that you juuust might be his favorite clientele.

sukuna was the plug.

most of the other students on campus, including you would always buy from him. he was known for selling the best of the fuckin’ best.

despite you having the luxury of sharing a whole dorm with him, he never gave out free handouts, no half off deals, nothing. “what do you mean you won’t be here until january?”

oh shit.

he didn’t like how clingy he sounded.

not one bit.

sukuna mentally grumbles, burying his hands in the pockets of his gray sweats before you respond. “oh, yeah. for break, i’m going on a skiing trip,” and as you’re rambling, his eyes avert toward your lips.

glossed - they brightly shimmered in the flickering dorm room light, and he struggled to focus on what you were even saying.

you spoke every word so sweetly. sukuna even studied the corners of your lips and they’d cutely crease within each syllable—with your brows slightly furrowing at every passing second. “uh- are you even listening, sukuna?”

“yeaah yeah. stupid skiing trip, nice.” he shrugs, feeling a weird feeling bubble up inside him.

with you being gone for two weeks - he’d have no one to annoy, no one to get high with, no one to-

“don’t be a baby. i’m not leaving until in like-” you pause, pulling up your wrist and squinting at your wristwatch. “two hours. in the meantime, we can just have one last sesh together if you want.”

yes, yes, yes!

“fine, whatever.”

it was just an ordinary sunday.

usually, sukuna would be out at some frat party. every year during the winter, there’s this annual gathering before the break where all the years are invited.

you went once during your sophomore year in college with a few friends, and to be honest - it was pretty shitty.

loud crappy music, stale refreshments, the whole college experience shebang.

you stopped attending a while ago, and you probably didn’t really miss much though.

besides if anything—you’d much rather prefer getting high than going to some overrated end-of-the-year party.

“mmh- thanks,” you sigh, desperately needing something to take the edge off.

with finals finally being over, getting blitzed was just what you needed. the two of you sat on the lower spacey bunk bed, and your eyes stared at sukuna’s fingers. he was so focused, claret pupils entirely fixated at the pre-rolled blunt in his hand.

with a near pout, you shrug your shoulders before finishing your sentence, “—and by the way ‘kuna, i can roll one y’know.”

“yeah riiight. last one you rolled was like a kazoo,” he gruffs, snatching a fresh hollowed blunt wrap from his pocket.

from your recent purchases, sukuna always knew your favorite flavor . . cherry rush.

he snickered at the cute ‘lil frown that would soon stretch across your lips, but you knew that was true. sukuna placed the pre-rolled blunt back in his pocket before turning back toward you.

you struggled a bit at the rolling part, but in your mind - you were a pro at taking hits.

“i’ll teach you one day how to master the art of rolling like me. it’ll cost ya extra though, roomie.” sukuna continues, making sure the materials perfectly stuffed inside. he already did the basics.

preparing the flower, chopping down the bud, breaking everything down, and a bunch of other steps. .

it was only a few minutes, but it felt like hours..

sukuna had to mash up the substance a bit, churning it with a tiny metal tool before then using the grinder to flatten everything up inside the wrap.

making sure it’s not too bulky, he then starts sprinkling a bit of the green substance inside the center and all around the other parts of the blunt evenly.

he’s neat and precise, making sure it’s enough for two instead of the usual one.

and finally, sukuna’s rolling it..

“watch me,” he hoarsely instructs, and your hands are placed in your lap. his fingers slither toward one end, carefully tucking a piece of the wrap around the substance. stubby thumbs of his that were melting with a bit of stickiness rolled around the sides. he’s shaping it, molding it into its right size so it’s nice and even. “the shapin’ is always important,” and you could already feel yourself starting to get bored.

just shut up and roll it.

is what your intrusive thoughts were trying to get you to blurt out, but you stayed quiet. as you’re still observing, sukuna slightly sticks out his tongue and starts to lick near the dry cracks.

oh.

you couldn’t lie—whenever you saw sukuna licking at certain parts of blunts whenever you two smoked together, it did something to you.

always, dirty thoughts would plague at the very front of your mind, wondering what else he could do with his tongue.

speaking of, sukuna’s tongue’s super duper long too. you could feel your breath hitching the more you watched, silently admiring how his lashes briefly closed each time he blinked.

you wondered if he could lick-

“ahem.” sukuna rolls his eyes, and he wasn’t even licking it anymore. he’s been stopped.

and now, he’s openly staring dead at you, a pink slit brow raised to further express his annoyance.

“sorry, what?” you reply, feeling a hot wave of embarrassment shiver down your entire spine.

oh girl, you’re so fucked.

he definitely saw you staring.

with a disappointed sigh, sukuna gives the chubby rolled blunt a soft pierce with two of his thumbs. “i said, why do you think i’m licking the blunt? tell me why that step of rolling is important.”

“um-” you pause, your mind not at all thinking about the smoke sesh anymore.

all you were thinking about sukuna’s long pink tongue.

you were squeezing your thighs shut the entire time. your knees were folded, digging into the squishy bed frame before you tried to gather up a good answer.

“you lick the sides to…uh-” you stammer, mind blacking out straight away. “…to get a quick taste before it burns?”

“tch. sometimes i wonder why i even get high with you,” sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose. as he spoke in that same, husky tone—you could hear a bit of laughter trying to suppress from the back of his throat. “no, girl. i’m licking along the dry areas to help moisten it.”

“oh..” you blink, your mind all in the gutter.

the blunt’s earthy scent starts to fill up the dorm within no time.

it’s that same, strong cherry smell that’s always been your favorite. it’s wholly sweet, and the aroma was just so candied in the air that you could almost taste the tartness already on your tongue.

its smell was quite loud - hence why it was always your preferred choice out of his other flavors.

the scent was sweet but the taste was far sweeter, and the wrap never failed to leave you unsatisfied.

“oh,” sukuna mocks your single response, crimson eyes subtly flickering back into a roll once more. for a moment, you could feel sukuna’s gaze shortly taking in your appearance.

like usual, you wore some nameless brand university t-shirt with shorts on.

maybe you’re batshit crazy, horny- hell, maybe even both, but you could’ve sworn sukuna was gawking at your thighs.

your legs—they were neatly folded back as you sat on your knees. a bit of skin poking from your shorts had slight rips in them and he noticed it straight away.

the cute squish of your thighs coming together every few times you sat upright - so so pretty..

“anyways,” he clears his scratchy, itched throat, burying the image of your thighs away in the back of his mind. you were so close to him that he could practically smell the scent of your shampoo. “ah- you remember how to light, right?”

“mhm.” you gave him a nod, leaning in closer.

the fat blunt remained glued against his fingertips that pressed deeply into the sides. you reached near your nightstand to pull out a lighter, bringing it toward his lips.

sukuna’s viewing you closely, and you felt your weak pulse starting to quicken within seconds.

even though it’s just a small, tiny gesture, sukuna tilts his head down further toward you to reach your level.

sexily, you’re met with his red, darkened stare. pink, overlong bangs were already starting to run down his brows, nearly occluding his vision of you before he swipes his hair away from his face with a hand.

with a clicking, ‘flick!’ the flame brightly ignites, and you start to carefully glide the lighter back ‘n forth under the seam.

then, you start to go around the rest of the blunt, making sure all the parts get lit. sukuna watches as you bring the flame toward the very end of the stick. the smell’s getting even stronger, and sukuna’s stare at your decent lightning work gets him intrigued.

there was a sharp silence, and the only things that could have been heard were outside the dormitory. continuous chatter of other roommates and some pop songs playing in the ambience.

once you two start to actually smoke — you’re both taking turns, sat next to each other and allowing the euphoric high to slowly take over.

puff, puff, pass..

it was simple.

the two of you each got two tokes. since sukuna rolled, it was etiquette that he took the first few hits - then you.

“ugh,” you land on your back against the springy bed, drawing in a sharp breath. your lungs were heavy, and your chest slumped once you started to absorb the lemony puffs of air.

each sucked breath was deep, and every few seconds, you allowed yourself to recuperate from the strong hits.

“been a while,” sukuna speaks again, his voice dripping with a rasp. his throat - it sounds almost grating.

he lies his head back against the bed with you too, slightly craning his head to face you. “gettin’ high with you, i mean.”

passing the blunt back to him, you sleazily grin. “don’t tell me you’re gonna miss me.”

“tch. don’t be stupid, never said that,” he instantly replies, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit.

you talked so sly, and he noticed how your eyes were starting to droop already. sukuna’s jagged breathing hitched once your head softly thumped against his shoulder.

damn.

“it’s just annoying,” he continues, taking a second to inhale through his nose. a cloud of smoke exits through his nostrils and it’s always satisfying to witness.

your head rubs against the fleece of his sweatshirt before he lets out another dull inhale. once that short milisecond of tunnel vision occurs in his sight, sukuna exhales again—his shoulders slackening.

“ ‘m not gonna have anyone to smoke with for two weeks. and yeah, i could get high by myself but it’s… better with you.”

oh?

you glance up at sukuna’s whose eyes are glued to you. there were faint, noticeable bags underneath his eyes as his eyelids started to become heavy.

his entire face — it’s turning flustered once he realized what the actual fuck he just said.

shit. shit. shit.

“oh… my god,” you cheekily grin, grabbing the burning blunt from him. inhaling for two seconds, you place it between the arc of your fingers. “ ‘kuna, you could’ve just said so. well, if that was the case, i could’ve just canceled my flight and booked for tomorrow morning.”

“really?”

“uh- no, i was joking. do you know how much plane tickets cost? in this economy? please.”

sukuna rolls his eyes at your sass before grumbling. “whatever,” and he’s watching your hits turn into more than just two.

he raises a brow, staring at your pursed lips that were twitching every second as you blew out excess smoke. “oi- stop hoggin’ it. you always do this shit.”

“make me-”

he scoffs, narrowing puffy eyes at you before reaching over.

sukuna’s beefy arm extends to grab the blunt but coincidentally enough - he ends up falling flat on your chest.

you look down at him and there’s a loooong, eerie silence.

nothing was exchanged except intimate, prolonged glances and a subtle loud silence. sukuna gawked at you with fiery pupils occasionally flickering toward the rolled stick that was tightly gripped against your fingers.

he then looks at your lips… so shiny, you rubbed them against each other once you noticed his gaze before taking one more hit.

he stays quiet, watching you inhale before exhaling. “i didn’t know the blunt was on my ches-”

“shut up,” sukuna carps, cutting you off with a sharp tone. he leans in closer—and at that, you start to feel the speed of your heartbeat accelerate. sukuna brings a dry thumb toward your chin, gingerly smearing a circle around your skin before huskily murmuring. “fuck- can i . .”

“do it,” you breathlessly reply, already knowing what he was trying to say. the intense high was swarming you both mildly, and your senses were heightening from each elated breath being drawn.

you didn’t have to tell him twice.

instantly, sukuna’s lips crash firmly against yours.

it’s so quick - you barely have time to react, moaning once his tongue dips inside of your mouth. swiftly, sukuna snatches the blunt away from your hand, making his way on top of you.

your arms wrapped around his torso—pulling him closer as you both shared rushed, airy breaths. the cherry flavor lingers in both mouths, tangling with glutinous, sappy saliva and all. “mmgh-” you start to recline back, your left leg slinking around his slim torso.

a throaty groan scratches out of sukuna’s tongue as you hear the occasional ‘claps’ of both lips smacking into each other. every few seconds, it’d pitch louder and louder, and sukuna just couldn’t help himself.

just from his hungry lips, you could tell he’s been wanting to do this for the longest.

he just didn’t want to admit it.

“god-” he grunts against your lips, the tip of his nose softly rubbing against your skin.

yet again, foreheads were stacked right on top of each other, and he felt remains of smoke waft back into his mouth. you tasted so sweet, sweeter than anything he’s ever smoked by a long shot.

“mmh- sukuna,” you moaned, feeling his body in between your wrapped legs starting to grind into you.

it’s slow - his sweats were so soft, nearly tickling against your thighs before it then rubs against something very hard.

that ‘something’ was prodding through his grey pants and he prowls lowly into your neck, sucking against your freely exposed skin. “if.. you wanted to hump me all this time, should’ve just said so.”

“ugh-” he glares, the pink shade gradually painting over his vexed expression clearly betraying his annoyance.

sukuna was a big guy, and the size difference was very much apparent.

his body..

it towers over you, even with you being nearly smushed underneath him. his hips pathetically rolled into you steadily, and he grunts again but this time it’s huskier..

as your legs continued to cage him in with its secure grasp, you feel him stop. “fuck!” his head falls into your chest, and you could see a pout shortly tugging against his lips.

your brows twist into a furrow as you feel his body still itself. sukuna’s hardened bulge still rests between the front of shorts — but it’s . . wet.

heavy, deep pants could be heard from him and then that’s when you started to feel a damp splotch soak near the center of his sweatpants. as you’re still trying to catch your breath, you let off a sheepish, “heh.. ‘kuna.. did you just-”

“yeah, i fuckin’… came,” sukuna grumbles, slit brows contorting as he spoke with such distaste.

his pointed chin rests between the soft valley of your chest before he pinches his forehead. “look- i’m a virgin. i’ve never-”

with a soft-hazed expression, you pat his head. “it’s okay. it happens dummy. don’t uh- feel bad about that,” and his embarrassment leisurely subsides.

you obviously weren’t expecting him to say that.

you figured otherwise.

on campus, sukuna’s highly well-known and very popular. he’s usually seen around frat clubs and parties but wasn’t much social now that you thought about it.

he kept his circle small, and with you being his roommate he grew to get sort of used to your presence whenever the two of you smoked together . . sort of.

“just.. let me,” you quietly reply, shifting your body before getting on top of him. sukuna huffs faintly, placing the blunt near the nearby nightstand before staring at you.

now, you’re straddling him with your perked ass sitting directly above his abrupt cum stain that bled through his sweats. “is this okay? if you don’t feel comfortable we can just finish our sesh.”

“it’s fine,” sukuna swallows, admiring your body before him. even the shorts you wore were such a tease, maybe an ever bigger tease than you.

his eyes ran across the fabric, watching as it perfectly exposed just a nice amount of your ass.

he’s still so hard, and you sitting right on it was only making him ten times more needy. “i want- i want you, screw the damn blunt.”

“okay,” you coo out - your voice sounding like mere heaven.

as sukuna takes a gulp, the roused tent in his sweats pokes out further the more you shimmy your hips around him. closing the distance between you both—you place a wet kiss down the slope of his neck.

he shivers at your touch with one hand trying to reach toward your swaying waist. with a soft ‘whack!’ he scoffs, feeling you swat his hand away. “ah, no touchin’ ‘kuna. you want me to do all the work, remember?”

through gritted teeth, he snarls out a stubborn, “finee,” and he’s already feeling himself starting to melt through his sweats.

you being on top of him - straddling him, it made sukuna sweat bullets. “just- hurry up. ‘m so fuckin’ hard..”

“yeah, i can feel it,” you hush, fishing a hand near his sweatpants.

with a single hand, you yank on the knotted white tie and it quickly becomes loose.

sukuna’s whole physique…

you got a glimpse of his boxers that peeked above his waistline and fuck..

he was ripped, jacked in every way. the ideal fratboy.

the sharpened line of his pelvis looked like it could prick the tip of your finger. “mmh,” you hold in a breath, swerving your hips against his bulged crotch. “are you always this hard whenever we smoke together?”

“haaah? don’t be . . ridiculous,” he pauses, his head tilting back. “fuck- yeah, like thaaat,” sukuna’s voice slows down, and it pitches so low that his mere voice made you throb.

the strip of his boxers was a darkened shade of red, complimenting his maroon eyes. “god- you’re bein’ a tease. just fuck me already, girl.”

as your hand reaches near his boxers, you feel his body shake - erupting violently like an active volcano.

it’s a cruel shudder, with multiple shivers running down his slouched spine as you continue to move on him. your hand was delaying the damn inevitable, taking its time before finally slipping inside his ruined boxers.

“let me touch you- c’mooon,” sukuna continued to speak, his gruff whiny babbles falling on deaf ears. you raise your chin, gifting the bottom of his chin with another kiss. silent ‘mwah’ after ‘mwah’ and it only makes him more frustrated.

as your dominant hand starts to get a good feeling—you wrap your palm around his now pulled-out shaft and he groans.

sukuna’s throat bobs instantly, and you could feel an excited vein prod down a side of his thick cock. “f.. fuck, keep touchin’ it. touch me.”

“you still wanna touch me?” you murmur hotly, his high, drooping eyes filled with cloudy mist returning your glance.

he’s so eager too.

sukuna responds with a nod, coral brows raising in anticipation. “mhm, fine. go ahead.”

with a rough hitch of his breath, sukuna’s callused textured palms finally attach their way toward your hips.

he’s gentle yet firm, rocking you back into place before he moans at the tepid skin-to-skin contact.

you look down at his exposed cock and it’s just so pretty..

sukuna’s shaft was covered with veins - veins, veins galore. your thumb plays with a bit of foreskin, watching it peel back to expose the head and he shuddered from your touch once more.

“mmh..” he sighs deeply, your tender touch nearly hypnotizing him. the top part of his cock’s glans bruised with brightened shades of pink and rosy, hot red.

sukuna’s ridge was tapered too, and you felt yourself sporadically throb once between your open thighs as your curious thumb glided over the long hooking curve.

to top it all off, it’s got a lean to it too.

sukuna’s dick was so big that it could barely hold itself up. you watched as it sort of drooped over.

a tiny, attractive detail that made you release an elated sigh. as sukuna still feels your hand tending to his shaft, he lets out a low grunt. “don’t . . hah- know why we never did this before.”

“because you’re a chicken.”

“tch. girl fuck you.”

“no, fuck you. and i’m going to, relax pretty boy.”

♡ ♡ ♡

you were definitely somethin’ to be reckoned with.

sloppy, chaste kisses created a vertical path down his bare chest. sukuna held up his sweatshirt with one hand as your lips glued against his rock-hard abs that were all on display. you kissed down, down, down..

his abs were just perfectly sculptured - akin to a greek god with how they were just so naturally carved into chiseled, muscular pecs.

the cool air continued to set against his skin as he kept his sweatshirt raised. as your bridge of kisses resumed—sukuna groaned, preparing to sigh once your lips trailed and trailed . . until they eventually stopped at his dick.

it stood tall - slightly tilting forward with how heavy was. squinting a bit, you stared at the tiny hairs of pink that scattered around his stuffed base.

“is this alright?” you mumble through glittery glossed lips, your words so soft it sound like a raspy whisper. his tip was still covered with wetted drips of pre, tearing away at the sides with various white globs.

“ffuuuck- yeah, just do whatever. use your mouth, whatever you’re supposed to do,” sukuna grunts, feeling his core stomach tightening.

the two of you were sitting on the bed with him lying fully down. sukuna’s pants were pulled off now and he’s feeling his dick twitch every time your warm breath fans against his tip.

“mhm, okay,” you reply, rolling out your dripping, wet tongue. sukuna’s eyes immediately lock against you, peering as your tongue hungrily swirls its way around his pulsating crown.

slurrrp after slurrrp, you’re licking up the runny droplets of pre that were racing down all sides.

sukuna shivers, mumbling out a faint ‘ohhh shit’ before drawing in a long breath. each time he did, it felt like his lungs were being pinched from the inside.

you took his breath away,

figuratively and literally.

after all the times he’s smoked, nothing could ever compare to the way your tongue made him feel.

“s.. shit,” sukuna groans. your hand’s wrapped around his dick, and it was a bit limp. it only took you a few seconds (which felt like hours) to lap up his pre-cum before sliding your salivating tongue toward his mushroomy tip.

it’s so colorful - flushed with a burning, bright pink near the very capped head.

you even give it a little kiss, moaning once translucent strands of his pre creates a sloppy concoction with your saliva.

so filthy..

the two words that ran through his mind as he watched your plump-shaped lips.

as you continued, sukuna’s hand found its way toward the top of your head, ogling as you then puckered your lips.

slowly, he stares as your mouth opens up a bit to where it’s agape. you make your way down with his tip brushing past the parched roof of your mouth. he gutturally moans, feeling the scaly-like texture greeting his cock before nodding.

“mmh- your throooat . . feels so fuckin’ good,” he tilts his head back, adam’s apple still bobbing through the center of his larynx.

with sukuna being so big, you couldn’t exactly fit all of it inside.

with your hand still gripped around his hefty-made shaft, your scrunched wet lips gradually made their way to where your fingers rested.

your head’s starting to bob bob bob, and sukuna’s grunting his head off. the slippery, risqué noises were just downright wet - you’re gripping his cock before he feels you angle it further down your throat for a better stretch.

“mmph-” you let off a muffled whine, making sure to wet around his entire cock.

sukuna’s thighs already felt so heavy - they glued down to the bed as your head went up and down, and he just couldn’t look away from you.

the two of you were always smoking together when you both could’ve been doing this instead?

that same question — it kept running through sukuna’s head like a loop.

your mouth.. it kept sukuna’s dick so warm, so wet..

it was just something about the way your head bobbed with those pretty lashes of yours sticking to your eyelids. even your lids were starting to sag, preparing to snap shut at any moment.

your raving rhythm had him getting dizzy within seconds, and sukuna gave your hair a light tug.

“ngh-” you grump, your head pulling forward and it’s almost cute.

sukuna pauses, sheepishly scratching his head. “shit, sorry.. was i-”

“harder, dummy,” you interrupt his apology, saliva dribbling down the center of your chin as your lips briefly departed from his sheen-covered cock. sukuna moans at the lewd sight of you and how you were slobbering all over his cock.

this was the type of image he’d probably fantasize about whenever you weren’t in the dorm and he was by himself. “yank it.”

“eh. f.. fuckin’ kinky girl- fine,” and sukuna manages to grab a good amount of your hair. giving it a nice solid yank like you wanted, your head jerks forward. “mmng-” his nostrils flare for the second time.

sukuna grunts, hearing the wet little ‘ptou’ sounds of you spitting on his tip and lapping it right up.

you’re sucking him off — making him bite his lip, and he starts fucking back against your face until there’s even more glossy drool pouring down your chin.

much to your surprise, sukuna starts to raise his hips into your mouth, hearing strangled moans leave from your throat time and time again. after a few sloppy thrusts of his rolling hips, you took a second to start kissing around his dick again.

torrid, wet kisses ghosted all around his dick and sukuna could already feel his body starting to levitate from your wet lips.

your head - it’s similar to a bobblehead with the way it goes up ‘n down, movements entirely unpredictable.

you use your hand to slovenly twist around his shaft as you suck harder, moaning hoarsely once his bruised tip slams its way against the back of your throat.

it greets your fleshly uvula, and you let off a sweet gargled sound that makes sukuna’s dick twitch.

the single vein that runs down his cock dances against your tongue and you hum, batting your lashes.

he could never deny at all at how pretty you looked.

your cheeks were all puffed - stuffed all because of his dick that’s plugging in and out of your mouth.

sukuna lets off husky grunt after grunt at the back of your tongue skimming over his dick’s top. you’re getting his entire dick wet, not caring at all at how rivulets of your spilling saliva streamed down your chin. not just your chin, but near the cracks of your mouth.

your lips were perfect - they were stretched all out, shaped into a wide circular ‘o’ as you continued to take him down your tight throat.

“hng-” you’d moan, snaking a hand between your legs. sukuna gasped, eyeing you closely as you brought a few fingers of your own toward your puffed, neglected cunt.

you’re soaked, all through your panties too. you reached inside of your shorts, past your underwear before giving your pussy a loving squeeze.

as your mouth’s still occupied, you swiped a thumb over your pulsating clit that’s sobbing for attention.

“f.. fuck, didn’t know you were this nasty, roomie,” sukuna mutters, almost in awe at how you were just playing with yourself while he’s inches deep down your throat.

the downright dirty, racy noises echoed through the thin, dry walls of the dorm — and you prayed no one would hear.

to be specific, you prayed no one would hear sukuna because he was just groaning his lungs out as if he was belting an F5 high note. his voice indeed sounded rough, but every now ‘n then you heard a few cute cracks from your tongue work.

your head still bounces up and down, etching the tip of your tongue down a lightning-shaped vein.

sukuna’s stretchy girth damn near pried your mouth open even more on its own. you’re making sure not to use teeth, moaning at the feeling of your own fingers maneuvering circles against your clit. “ugh- good girl.. good- fffuck,” sukuna praises, feeling his tip stimulate way back toward your uvula for probably the umpteenth time.

he’s in alllll the way, watching as you breathe through your nose. “hah- throat’s just.. perfect for me. thaaaat’s … it, suck it, roomie. suck my.. p- penis.”

oh.. he can always work on dirty talk later.

sukuna’s cock was still sensitive - so much so that he doesn’t even realize that his orgasm’s approaching yet again. it’s a toe-curling feeling that threatens his ego, and a whine slips out.

you’re just so unapologetically sloppy - making out with his tip, slurping up the sides that rained with glittery beads of your spit.

“ahh,” you pop out his dick from your mouth, running your tongue around his tender frenulum.

right there, that moment right there was all it took for sukuna to cum and you knew it too.

“f- fuck, oh fuuuck, ‘m fuckin’ cummin’,” sukuna bites down on his jaw, fingers still dug into your scalp. your head sinks back down as his plump head pounds into your throat before you remove your fingers from the inside of your shorts.

first the tight shortness of breath comes — then, comes the actual release.

sukuna’s shooting down your throat, sprinkling creamy drops of cum on your flatly laid tongue as you look at him with those pretty, fogged eyes.

he already took the initiative to pull his leaking shaft out of your mouth, softly starting to then spank his tip against your greedy tongue.

“mmh-” you hummed again, a purr caught in your throat. it’s raw - and voice sounded a bit raspy, which had of course aroused him even more. this was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and as your tongue lays flat — you nod your head. “good, keep hittin’ your tip against my tongue, mhm.”

“tch..” sukuna kisses his teeth, complying with your sinful request.

your lashes prettily fluttered as he’s still spurting out milky strips onto your tongue. the taste was bittersweet, and judging by the pout on your lips once he removed his cock away from the flatness of your tongue, you only wanted more.

panting heavily, sukuna’s abs clench through his fraternity-made sweats. “what?”

“c’mere,” you breathe, every breath you take becoming more strained as air tries to fill into your lungs. sukuna leans his head down to where you were, and his eyes immediately land on the remnants of cum that dribble a bit near the corner of your lip. “lick it off me.”

“hah- you’re a . . nasty little roommate.” sukuna snickered, a hand gently wrapping around the back of your neck. he pulls you in, pressing his lips into yours at full speed.

both lips were like speeding cars — they rammed into each other, the turbo being both lips quickly slamming against ajar, opened mouths.

sukuna grunts, vehemently running his tongue around the side of your mouth that’s covered with a few pearly tears of his cum. the sourly sweet taste again, makes him moan in your mouth, feeling your teeth playfully nip near his bottom lip.

as foreheads forevermore pressed against each other, sukuna drags his tongue near your chin which is also covered with sleek wet slicks.

as sukuna blindly guides his lips back towards your mouth, the open-mouthed kiss lasts for a while, to say the least. he even started sucking on your tongue, savoring the treacly cherry poppin’ taste that scattered all over your tastebuds.

you were a new high sukuna didn’t mind smoking.

♡ ♡ ♡

sukuna was still struggling to breathe - every breath felt more and more raspy with each singular puff.

pink, puffed lips of his were all swollen from your filthy make-out sesh. also though, his dick - his tip specifically, felt like it was on fire.. and the veiny sides were already starting to dry up with pasty splotches of cum.

you had to admit, sukuna looked kinda cute like this..

submissively underneath you with a pout, dripped in sweat everywhere on his body, sinewy muscles tensing with his cock just aching for more..

sukuna’s pink hair was unkempt and ruffled, messed up, and a tiny bit matted.

his once cocky and arrogant ego thrown was straight out the window all because of your throat and the way your raucous hips made him cum through his sweatpants.

sukuna knows you, and he knew you’d never let him live that down for as long as you two were roommates.

“your hoodie,” you bring a thumb above your vaguely dripping chin, smearing it around your sheeny lips. sukuna’s still laid back, and you’re now hovering over his sensitive cream-covered tip. “can i wear it while i ride you?”

“pft. no, it’s a frat-”

“kuna.”

“ughh- fine. better not ruin it,” he grumbles with a glowering scowl, raising his arms.

you help him take off the piece of clothing before putting it over your head, pulling down your t-shit from underneath.

as you do so, sukuna watches intently, feeling yet another vein prod against the right side of his dick. it was just something about seeing you in his clothing, straddling him too.

you’re wearing his fleecy-made frat hoodie as if it was your own and fuck did you look good in it.

sukuna’s breath nearly choked him as he openly stared at you, noticing how it was a bit oversized and practically covered over a nice portion of your thighs. “lie back more.” you utter, a hand grabbing the shared blunt that still rested idly on the nightstand. you’d almost forgotten about it.

right away, sukuna leaned himself back against the lopsided cushioned pillows that squished behind him.

there was just enough room to where your head didn’t hit the bottom of the top bed stacked above.

your hand grabs his hefty curved cock, aligning it against your sopping entrance before pausing. “tell me if it’s too much,” you mumble, bringing the stout blunt toward your lips.

sukuna’s completely shirtless now - and it suddenly gets so quiet that you hear him gulp in anticipation.

“j- just fuck me already,” he prowls rashly, his words turning into an impatient hiss once his beefy arms wrap around your torso.

with an ‘oof,’ you end up landing flat into his chest.

sukuna’s poor creamy tip was crying - it was starting to sob from the very reddened tip with rivulets of precum.

the wait was antagonizing - you were antagonizing.

he just wanted to be inside you, to feel what it’s really, really like.

sukuna fantasized about this exact scenario in more ways than he could count. he was far too stubborn to ever admit that he was too shy to actually be intimate with someone.

but with you, it only felt right.

“let me take another hit first-” you giggle, seeing the glare forming on his face. “geez, okay, okay.”

sukuna kept his eyes on you as you placed the cherry-flavored blunt in between your teeth.

it’s still securely rolled and fat - and you felt one of his hands creeping toward your ass within no time.

you steal another bit anyway,

and with a single addicting puff, a gust of wind whirls its way into your lungs and down your passageway. “f- fuckk..” you sigh, one hand positioning his teary tip against your drooling, drooling slot.

a cloud of smoke emits from your mouth once you breathe out, and sukuna sucks in a raspy drag. “mmg- hurry the fuck up,” he clenched down on his jaw tightly, bottom lip thoughtlessly quivering.

he’s so sensitive—with endorphins crashing through his veins, they sent rocketing shockwaves all down his spine. your cunt was just dangerously slick, and he knew you were teasing just by the way you rubbed your pussy back ‘n forth against his poor cum-dripping cockhead.

“hah- fuckin’ . . put it in- ngh-”

“ask nicely.” you whisper, wrapping a hand around his thick throat.

oh.

sukuna would’ve probably been lying if he said that didn’t turn him on.

your wet cunt was gradually sliding itself against his cock that rested against his tummy.

a big hand then grips onto your bare right ass cheek before he growls under his breath.

“fuck me, or else.”

“no.”

“fuck me, or else…please.”

“still no. also, speak up.”

sukuna glares at your audacity, seeing a small simper preparing to crease against your lips before he sighs in defeat. you were probably even more stubborn than him..

his shoulders slump before he clicks his tongue, clearing his throat. “okaay, roomie. you win- fuck. please, ride me. i- i need it,” and for a moment there, its a bit of vulnerability in sukuna’s tone.

his baritone-pitched voice, it cracks and you could see his left eye twitching.

you’re killing his pride.

but part of that made him more aroused.

“i need . . you.” he concludes, shaky labored breaths leaving from his lips. sukuna groans, feeling you slide a hand down his hardened chest.

the tips of your padded fingers circle his pecs, outlining each vein that decorated his sculpted body.

sukuna was like a candle melting from just your blazing touch. his body was the wax and your fingertips were the flame. his hoodie that you wore only made the entire scene sexier too.

he allowed his crimson gaze to follow toward your chest. the three-letter logo of the fraternity he was in finely stitched against the fabric. it hugged your body flawlessly, and his eyes never left your frame, not even for a minute.

“good boy,” you hum, hearing him nearly choke at your praise.

good boy.

sukuna’s ears perked before he groans, hearing the long-awaited squelch of your pussy ‘slap’ down on him.

your warmth from the inside surprises him, and he whiiiiines out a sweet, elongated mewl of your name. “ugh- fuck,” sukuna hisses, feeling you sink yourself down.

it’s a tight fit at first with an even bigger stretch!

sukuna’s rounded tip alone could barely lodge its way inside, and you had to use both hands just to guide it in the right direction. with the blunt still buried underneath your teeth, you blow smoke in his face. “mmph- open your mouth,” you airily mumble.

taking in the sugary scent—sukuna moans, bringing his lips apart.

once you’re starting to move, it’s over -

with your head going closer toward his face, you take the rolled stick from your lips to blow more smoke… this time, into his mouth.

your hips started to wind up, and he was already bottomed out inside. “taste it,” you whisper, feeling sukuna’s questing tongue already trying to swash around the inside of your cheek.

smoke pours into the right sukuna’s mouth, traveling within both pairs of full lungs before he kisses you deeply.

you’re each sharing smoke between twisted tongues and it’s so filthy..

your warm breath continues to slide against his sukuna’s—feeling his tongue eagerly dip its way inside your mouth.

the sweetened taste of cherry lingers against your buds and his, and between sloppy kisses, you moan. “mhh- there we go, good. just hold my hips again.”

“f.. fuck,” sukuna clicks his tongue, drowsy eyes already rolling back in such immense pleasure.

your pussy had such power - power that even he couldn’t handle because he felt like the entire bed was about to snap into two.

your hips had sukuna hysterical, and he starts fanning himself too. “p- phew, shiiit..” he groans, pink brows curving into a desirous furrow.

you’re swerving, tightly gripping back against his cock like velcro as you started to cling onto the bed’s railing for better leverage. “damn- goddamn, fuuuck me then.”

the high surrounds you both and it’s just pure bliss..

it was like a trip you didn’t want to end, and sukuna felt like he was floating every time your ass wetly slammed back down onto his lap. you’re making his head spin in the best way possible, dozens of gears turning in his empty brain.

“haah- ‘kuna,” you’d moan, hot breath landing against his chin and tickling the tiny hairs that stick against his skin. you’re clenching down on him from the inside, hearing every sticky plap! of skin clash amongst each other.

sukuna was a bit awkward with his hands - they didn’t know where to go.

one moment, they’re glued to your hips and the next, they’re traveling down your thighs. his favorite part though, was your ass.

as you continued to move, sukuna couldn’t help but thumb a few clammy fingers toward the sides of your jouncing rear.

harshly - he gives it a needy squeeze before spanking it, hearing the cute gasping whines drag from your throat.

he’s getting the hang of it.

“c- careful,” you wheeze, watching as he’s taking a puff now. sukuna’s nude chest was already starting to gloss gloss gloss with gallons of sweat. sure—you’ve seen him at the gym but never this sweaty.

with your arms tossing over his tensed shoulders, your weeping cunt flops right against his cock with a few sloppy single thrusts, earning a loud grunt from him. “now ‘m really startin’ to think you’re in love with m-”

“just…shut up.” sukuna grumbles, silencing you with another deep kiss. it’s rough - and out of the many, many kisses you shared with him tonight, this felt more . . different.

sweet, pathetic whimpers elicited from you as your ass repeatedly whacked against his pelvis. sukuna’s lean cock sloppily digs its way through your cunt and you squealed at each vigorous curve.

riiiight thereeee-

he’s found the spot and he didn’t even know it.

your cute little shriek was all that told him though, because as his teeth were sharply striking against yours—he hit that same beloved g-spot again, and again, and again..

“o-ooh!” your back prettily arches like a cat, tangled colorless strands of saliva reluctantly pulling away from each pair of lips.

sukuna’s tip was vast and huge, it easily ran through the taut barrier of your entrance and you drool every time he kisses near your clit.

it’s just so tender..

your pupils were starting to enlarge with your eyes crossing. sukuna’s got the same eyes too from the overwhelming high… but his eyes were a bit bloodshot.

your hips were just so nasty, and he’s grunting every time your sopping pussy sucks him in before spitting him right back out, then in, then out again — a repeated loop of pure fuckin’ filth.

“mmn- ‘m gonna cum,” you whined, gasping once sukuna’s hands grabbed your waist. you both exchanged a look of utter blitzed lust, and sukuna darkly exhaled. your hips buckled in and out, in and out until your hips were just stuttering over him. “k- keep hittin’ me there, baby~ fuuck-”

baby.

sukuna felt his cheeks heat up - the small pet name making him wonder if the two of you were really more than just smoke buddies, more than just roommates..

“hng- me too,” sukuna rasps, feeling the sultry head of his cock burning up to such a smoldering degree.

he’s not just hot there—but all damn over.

you’re maintaining your rapid pace, moaning at the nerves pulsing through your body that steadily got provoked by sukuna’s deep, pivotal thrusts. “god- so fuckin’ perfect. ride me.. hah- ride it like you own it then, ugh-”

your continuous bouncing on sukuna’s lap even has his eyes rolling back too. it’s undeniably sexy, and you felt the sticky grip of his thumbs starting to lessen its hold against your rocky waist.

sukuna’s cock was starting to stiffen within seconds and your cunt was just so swollen, dribbling from every weeping orifice with syrupy amounts of juices.

it’s an all-around mess, and not before long, the smell of your own arousal mixes in with the feeling of your highly anticipated fervor..

the entire dorm was clouded - fogged, bathed in a mix of all scents. scents of pleasure, of cherry, and lots ‘n lots of sweat.

it was hard to see anything except for the two of you and the windows were just covered with steam.

your thighs practically glued to sukuna’s, and as his dick’s still pumping in and out of you, you let off a clamoring squall.

right then - that’s when it happens.

you cling onto him steadfastly, sensuously bucking your animalistic hips into him weakly as your body starts to slow. everything happens in almost slow motion - and if it was one thing for sure, your pussy had sukuna hypnotized.

sukuna’s angered cockhead swabs its way around your beloved g-spot about three more times before he groans too.

much louder than you, and he suppressed his nose (or at least tried to) by delicately biting into your shoulder. your skin’s softness had his tongue hungry, and he was lapping at your skin until it was turning wet all because of him..

the blunt ended up falling out of his mouth, landing on the wooden floor with a faint ‘thump!’

but sukuna could care less though-

he had far more important things to care about,

like how he was shooting literal blanks inside of you, painting your pretty clamping walls with his ivory-white color that hugged him oh-so tight.

sukuna’s gutturally groaning in your ear, moving his mouth away from your shoulder while leaning against your cheek.

you both came at the same time and it almost didn’t even feel real.

your teeth shatter as your hips finally stop moving, and sukuna falls back against the bed.

you’re whimpering loudly, creaming all down his cock as your body’s met with abrupt currents of rippling waves.

instead though—the only wave was your orgasm, crashing down down down..

“ugh-” he moans, lips quivering once more once he feels such wads spitting out of his tip.

it comes out so slowly, thin ropes of cum that leisurely bubble into pearly ribbons of stripes.

sukuna’s heart’s beating out of his chest - pound after pound so loud that he hears the melody through his ears like speakers.

as he’s still trying to get over his most recent finish—his first instinct was to wrap a burly arm around you.

you’re caught off guard by the sudden gesture, but you don’t complain.

he’s still snugly inside so deep, flooding your pussy with a feverishly hot batch of cum that even starts to ooze down between your legs.

you’re both breathing stiffly, sharing labored delayed pants before sukuna cups your chin. “what... are. we.”

“what?” you blink.

sukuna deadpans, a chastened pout compressing his lips before he brings a sloppy two-second kiss to your mouth.

you return it, quietly moaning at the stickiness currently slimed between your cracked-open thighs.

“i don’t.. know,” sukuna pants, bringing a palm near his forehead to wipe a sheet of perspiring sweat away. “this.. us- whatever.. this is,” he waves a hand around to exaggerate. “friends- er- smoke friends don’t just… casually cum in each other.”

“yeah, that’s true,” you jeer, leaning in while sukuna’s still buried swollen balls deep. inching close, you kiss his neck before sweetly whispering. “maybe we’re more then just friends and maybe you’re more than just my plug.”

sukuna scoffs. “hmph. well- you’re still payin’ by the way.”

with an eye roll, you reach near your burgundy-colored nightstand. with a loud ‘whiiir’ it opens, and you pull out a twenty dollar bill of what was the usual price of your purchases.

a bit overpriced but again, you didn’t have the energy to complain.

not when you were so stuffed - leaking with sukuna’s cum drizzling out of your cunt.

“here.” you hand him the crumpled-up dollar bill. sukuna takes it, and his entire face is just flushed.

for once — you see actual color in his usually stoic, emotionless face. who knew it was all because of you and your hips.

sukuna grunts something under his breath, watching as you slide your panties and shorts back on. scarlet eyes did a slow pan from up to down at your body, glancing at his hoodie that you still had on before you grabbed your suitcase underneath your desk.

“wha- you’re leaving?”

“yeah, i’m gonna miss my flight.” you reply, watching sukuna’s lips form into the nth pout of the night. two hours went by so quick, he forgot all about your dumb trip.

not to be dramatic (except sukuna probably was being dramatic) but two weeks without you felt like an eternity.

especially with how good you just made him feel, the replay of the entire scene that just occurred had his mouth shamelessly watering.

going toward the side of the bed where sukuna lay, you press one final wet kiss against his lips.

he grunts, leaning into your tender touch, gasping once your free hand gives his twitching cock a few ‘goodbye’ pumping strokes.

“mmg- don’t go.” you heard him grumble between your lips.

with a soft wet ‘smack’ — both lips hesitantly depart, and you whisper against his ear before leaving. “i’m keeping the hoodie by the way.”

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley who needs a quickie when you bring him lunch while he's on base. CW : Housewife kink, bit of a breeding kink, dirty talk, hair pulling

You thought you'd do something nice for your boyfriend. Bring him a nice stroganoff.

You didn't think walking into Simon's office in a pretty little sundress and giving him a Tupperware of beef stroganoff would make him so utterly horny.

He couldn't help himself. What man could stand seeing his pretty bird acting like the cutest housewife for him and resist bending her over his desk to thank her?

"Can't look this good, baby" Simon growled. His hips snapping against yours with an audible slap. Over and over.

"I just-I thought it was nice!" you squeak over the sound of skin on skin.

"Oh it was, princess. It was so so nice of you. Being the perfect little housewife f'me"

"H-Housewife?!"

"Yeah, birdie. Gonna put a ring on your finger. Come home to you every night while you hold out a plate of hot food f'me"

You couldn't even think from how good Simon's cock was hammering against your gummy spot deep inside you. Small 'ah!'s coming from you with every thrust.

"You want that baby? Be my sweet wife?" Simon growled. a hand grabbing your scalp and pulling your head off the desk.

"Yes!' you beg, "yes yes, please Simon!" You practically wail.

"and then eventually, I'll fill you up nice and good with my kid. Get you all barefoot and pregnant f'me" Simon grinned wolfishly.

You felt the coil in your lower stomach tighten dangerously at that. The idea of being Simon's housewife, merely having to do the housework and get as many orgasms as you want.

It only took three swipes of Simon's thumb on your clit for you to tremble and cry out as you came.

"Tha's it. Good fucking girl, birdie" Simon groaned as you felt his hot ropes fill you. Patting your lower stomach with a rumbling chuckle

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

I wrote this while playing cookie run kingdom ngl to y'all.

[scorpiosbite]

when actress!reader and drew made it official

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── after casually seeing each other for a few months after that first hook up after the club and then going on that first date, you and drew finally make it official.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in october 2024, at this point actress!reader and drew have been seeing each other casually for a few months, after their hook up and subsequent date in LA. actress!reader is currently in the midst of filming Anora.

you were holed up in your LA home that you were renting while living LA for the filming of your new movie Anora. it was your day off and you were going to spend it rotting at home and swimming in your pool. you’re a big homebody, although people assumed that you were someone who was always going out, you weren’t, going out for non-work related reasons was a rare occurrence. it’s not like you don’t enjoy going out, you do. but going to clubs and parties was something that you enjoyed once in a while, for special occasions and with the right people. and if you were being honest it got repetitive. going to parties, getting drunk, surrounded by people you don’t know or care about. you would much rather spend your time at home and be able to truly be yourself. you were sinking further and further into the plush couch in your living room, your book propped on your knees. when your phone rang.

drew calling…. accept?

you smiled lightly at the sight of his name lighting up your screen, you let it ring for a beat before you answered, wanting to torture him for a bit. “hey.” the greeting came out like a sigh, almost as if the thought of him relaxes your mind and body. “hey, baby.” you grinned and your cheeks flushed at the low tone of his voice, god everything about him was sexy, and you could see the smirk dancing on his lips through the phone, like he could feel the effect he has on you. “what are you doing today, pretty girl?” you hummed glancing at the time on the clock, ten am. “nothing ‘m just gonna chill at home, maybe go swimming, weather’s nice in LA.” drew chuckled, a low rumble, that sent shivers up your spine. “not like london, huh?” you giggled lightly, “yea, not like london.” drew made a noise of agreement. “you mind if i come over?” your fingers played with the band of your shorts. “what if i say, yes, i do mind?” drew snorted, you could hear him shuffling in his seat. “i’m just gonna come over anyway.” you rolled your eyes, playfully. “creep.” you retort, and he laughed, a sound that came from his chest and made your heart jump. “i’ll be there in ten, baby.” you bit your bottom lip in anticipation. “mhmm hmm.”

you were still laid up on the couch, reading your book when your doorbell rang, you smiled before making your way to the door, pulling it open. drew stood in the frame, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and baggy black cargo pants, his buzzed hair now grown out in a baby mullet, fuck he looked good. his hands were locked behind his back and he gave you a crooked smile, his tongue pushing into his cheek, and his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he gave you a once over. suddenly you were reminded of your lack of clothing and you felt you face heat up in turn. drew’s eyes raked over you, running over your tight black boy shorts with a cute little bow on the front and then your black bandeau top with the little matching bow on the middle of the upper hem. after what felt like eternity, you cleared your throat. “you wanna keep looking at me, or come in?” drew smirked, unashamed of being caught staring, well it wasn’t like he was trying to be subtle. “hello, to you too, y/n.” he teased in a slightly sarcastic tone. you rolled your eyes at him, but couldn’t fight the smile that creeped onto your face. you led him to your living room, his eyes unabashedly staring at your ass while you walked, and you may have purposely swung your hips a little more than usual for him.

now, you and drew were laid up on your couch together, he sat with his legs spread, his arms resting on the top of the couch, you were laying against his side, you head rest on his shoulder, and your knees bent, toes brushing against the side of his thigh. drew’s hand came down to play with your hair and you snuggled your face closer into him. “how was filming yesterday?” you sighed “long, i had a lot of pole dancing scenes to film.” drew leaned his head back, letting out a groan. “why would you tell me that?” you chuckled, you had noticed this effect you had on him, and adored using it to your advantage. deciding to make it way worse you turned your head, so that you could whisper directly into his ear. “they had me dressed in barely anything, drew.” you whined, he shot up, picking you up with ease and throwing you over his shoulder. “that’s it. we’re going swimming.” you giggled loudly, punching his back, and kicking your feet as he walked to your room.

spending time with drew felt effortless, everything about him set your mind to ease and your heart ablaze. just like now, when he lounged on your bed in a pair of swim trunks you had found, while you changed into your bikini in the walk-in closet. drew’s eyes widened as you came into view, the white bikini leaving basically nothing to imagination. not that it mattered, drew had seen everything anyway. he sat up spreading his legs apart, and you stepped into the space. drew’s hands came up to your bare legs, caressing the flesh. your hands came up to his hair. stroking the strands, pushing them back from his face. drew hummed “i can’t believe you’re real.” you smiled at him. “thanks, pretty.” drew made a face, tugging you onto his lap so that you sat sideways across his thigh. “shouldn’t i be calling you pretty?” he stroked your thighs with his large hand. “ok, what should i say? yea, you’re well fit, lad.” you exaggerated your accent. he laughed “yea, alright, let’s just get in the pool?”

you were sat on the edge, your legs submerged in the cool water. the heavy LA sun was beating down on your back. but the heat wasn’t bothering you like it usually would, not when the shirtless man wading through your pool is the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. you laughed loudly as drew splashed and you aggressively kicked your legs in attempt to splash him back. drew grabbed you by the waist and lifted you from where you were sat. you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. marvin gaye’s distant lover blaring loudly from the speakers. the two of you didn’t feel the need to speak to each other. simply enjoying each other’s presence in the cool water. drew’s hands stroking your back in comforting circles. you couldn’t help yourself from placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. he smiled at the gesture. a heartbreaking smile that only confirmed your growing feelings for him. he returned the gesture with a soft peck to your chin.

now the two of you sat on the couch in your patio. sunglasses perched on your noses, sharing a marlboro red. drew was quiet, deep in thought with serious look on his face, but you didn’t bother him, knowing that he would bring it up to you himself. the smoke wafted into the air as you handed him the cigarette for one last drag before he put it out on the ashtray that sat next to him on the couch. you sighed leaning your head onto his shoulder, his hand tangled in your wet hair. your legs bent up on the couch, his spread. “i wanna say something.” you turned your head so that you look up at him without lifting from your place on his shoulder. he really is so pretty. “i know it’s still early, and that you’re going back to london once you’re done filming, but this—today—actually, any time i spend with you is the happiest i’ve felt in my life. and i want to be able to be how we were today everyday, in front of everyone. i don’t want to hide what i feel for you. and if you don’t feel the same that’s ok, i just want you to know that i’ve never felt like this before, these past few months have shown me how good we are together.”

you smiled he was so sweet and so nervous and you thought it wouldn’t be long before you would fall in love with him, or maybe you already did, he knew he did, but he didn’t want to tell you and scare you away, so that would be for another day. “i want that too, drew.” his cheeks were pink and he stared down at you with those cerulean eyes, filled with hope and adoration and your heart stirred. “yea?” his voice was low and shaky, like you held his heart in your hands, bared and beating, just for you. “yea.” you brought your hand to his face, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. he nodded as his eyes rushed between your eyes and lips before he crashed his lips with yours. the kiss was messy like he was conveying every emotion he had kept pent up, in fear that you wouldn’t feel the same. but now that he knew you did, there was no need to hide anymore.

TAGLIST: @sunnybunnyy2 @percysley @wearemadeofstardust0 @idgasb @pinkpantheris @emmaaas-posts @grace-sully @chimmysoftpaws @angvl3tears @josephandrewstarkey

i’m back!!!! i’ve been overseas and literally got back today and wanted to get back to it so here’s this one for you guys. also i’m in the midst of updating my tag list so bare with me, and as always hope you enjoyed!! xx

[my-castles-crumbling]

determine - December 20 - jegulus - trans!regulus - @stag-microfic - word count: 471 - request from @anotheronebites-the-dust

When James Potter falls in love, it is with more than the person. Sure, he cares about prank ideas, intelligence, appearance, sense of humor, Quidditch ability. But really, he cares most about something deeper. Perhaps, if he's being sentimental, he could say it is the person's soul. Because he knows that so many things about people can change, but it is the essence of a person that he connects to.

It's probably this that causes him to take so long to realize. He's not stupid or unobservant. It's just that...the parts of Reggie he fell in love with never change.

He recognizes that Reggie has become a bit more anxious. A bit more skittish, and is looking at him with eyes that reflect a bit of hesitation. He sees that now, long hair has slowly been cut shorter and shorter, and outfits have changed a bit. But what does he care? He holds the same person in his arms as night, and that is what matters to him.

He isn't concerned until large, gray eyes look at him with genuine fear, and a wobbling voice says, "I need to tell you something."

And his first reaction is that Reggie is leaving him. Because that's the only explanation. He's never felt good enough for the relationship he's in, so of course, this is it. And he'll be thankful for every moment he was given, surely, but-

"I'm a boy. I'm so sorry, I tried not to be, I tried to stop it, but I am."

He balks a bit at the announcement, not because he's mad or upset, but because it's so...sad. To see his boyfriend so terrified to share this with him.

He choses his next words carefully. "Okay, baby. That's...I'm so glad you decided to tell me. You have no reason to be sorry. How can I support you?"

And he watches as the boy in front of him stares disbelievingly. "You...you're not...I mean...James, you're not gay, are you?"

He wants to laugh, but he knows that's not the best idea. So instead, he tilts Reggie's chin up, so their eyes meet, determined to make the boy in front of him understand. "I love you. I love you whether you're a girl or a boy, or both, or neither, or something completely different. I don't care what label that makes me. I love you, and I want you. So, I'll repeat: How can I support you, love?"

Reggie's chin wobbles, and he looks like he wants to sob. But instead, a watery smile appears on his face. "You can...call me Regulus?" He phrases it like a question.

"Regulus," James repeats, tasting the name in his mouth, grinning. "James and Regulus sounds nice."

It's only then that Regulus throws his arms around James and softly cries there for a long time.

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 5

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts? (That was a nice fever dream. I am now thinking maybe 8-9?)

Max didn‘t wait until he was back at the hotel to call Colette. He was attached to his phone as soon as he got done with that horrible press conference. 

He really didn‘t care what anybody else had to say about that. As soon as he could, he called Colette.

It wasn‘t Colette that picked up though, it was Pascale, her mother.

"Max," she greeted him.

Max was surprised to hear Pascale's voice on the other end of the line. He had been expecting to hear Colette's voice, and hearing her mother instead sent a jolt of anxiety through him.

"How is she doing?" He asked. He didn't need to say more. Pascale understood.

"She's...she's not doing well," Pascale said wearily. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice. "She's been crying almost non-stop since the news broke."

Max closed his eyes, his heart clenching painfully at the news. The thought of Colette crying, of her being so upset and distressed...it was unbearable.

"Can I talk to her?" he asked, desperately needing to hear her voice.

He needed to hear that she was okay, that she was holding up. He needed to know that she was coping.

Somehow. 

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Max held his breath as he waited for Pascale to respond. He could hear muffled voices in the background, and he knew that Pascale was likely talking to Colette.

"Maxie?"

Colette had cried. That was clearly obvious in her voice, how hoarse it was...how even these two syllable seemed to take so much effort from her, her voice hitching. He could hear her shaky breathing over the phone, clearly her trying to get a grip on herself and not worry him even more.

But that had become impossible the moment George Russell had decided to get completely bananas.

"Hey, liefje," he said softly. "How are you doing?"

Colette's voice caught on a sob, and Max's heart ached at the raw emotion in it. He could practically picture her, sitting in their living room, tears streaming down her face as she tried to hold it together.

"I'm...I'm not okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Max's heart clenched in his chest, and he desperately wished he was there with her. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her. But he could only listen.

"What can I do?" he asked, his voice thick with emotions. "How can I help you?"

He needed to do something, anything to ease her pain and make her feel better. "Do you want me to come home?" He asked her. "I'll do it, liefje. Say the word."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. He could hear Colette breathing heavily, clearly trying to compose herself.

"No," she finally said, her voice sounding a bit more steady. "No, please don't. You have a race tomorrow. You need to focus."

Max's heart squeezed at her words. He wanted nothing more than to hop on the next plane back to Monaco and be with her. But he knew she was right. He couldn't just abandon his team and the race like that. "If you change your mind..." he trailed off.

"No, we are not doing that," Colette said shakily. "Your races are yours, and I'll be waiting once you come home."

"You are more important than any race ever could be," he disagreed sharply. More important than anything else to him. He loved her so much. "I want you to know that."

He needed her to know that. 

She had always been a pillar of support to him. Had never questioned how much of his time his career demanded. Had never once thrown it at his head in an accusatory way. She had always accepted it. Had supported him every step of the way, from his first practice in a Formula 1 car, through his first point finish, his first race win, four championships…

She had always supported him. 

But no race win…no trophy, no world champion title was ever going to be as important to him as Colette. 

He would happily give all of that up, if it meant that he got to come home to her. 

He heard her exhale shakily.  "I do know that," Colette said softly. "I know that. But...But even if you were here, you couldn't do anything but hold me. Everybody is..." she trailed off and he could hear another hitch in her breath. "Did you...Did you see what Arthur did?" She asked him, and he could hear the tears in her voice.

"I did, liefje," he agreed softly. "He shouldn't have done that without talking to you first."

"Or to you. This is your life too," Colette disagreed.

"Colette," he said carefully. "I don't care that the public knows. You were the one that wanted to keep this private, which was completely alright with me. I agreed to that. It didn't bother me, liefje. But I wouldn't have cared if it was public knowledge either. I am only upset with Arthur because he upset you."

Colette didn't answer. He could picture her sitting on their bed, cross legged, one hand resting on her baby bump…she took deep breaths, clearly trying to keep her tears at bay.

"I just...I feel so stupid," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. "I feel so stupid...I shouldn't be so upset by this. But I am and I..." her voice trailed off.

"Hey," he interrupted gently. "You are allowed to be upset, liefje. You are allowed to feel however you feel," he reminded her carefully.​​

There was a knock at the door and he looked up to see Gemma stick her head into the driver’s room, a grimace on her face. "Can it wait?" He demanded from her, not caring at all, that he was being rude.

"No, it can't. George Russell had some more stuff to say," Gemma said hesitantly.

Colette must have heard it, because he got to hear another choked off sob from her.

"Liefje," he said softly. "I want you to let me deal with this, alright? Don't look online. Don't search it out. Just ignore it. Your only job right now is to take care of you and our baby," he told her fiercely. "Let us take care of the rest."

Colette let out another shaky breath on the other end of the line. He could hear her trying to compose herself, trying to push the sobs back.

Finally, she said quietly, "Okay," in a small, meek voice, and he hated how defeated she sounded.

"Go cuddle with the cats," he told her softly. "Let your Mom spoil you."

"M…Maman’s making hot cocoa," Colette offered weakly, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

It was faint, but it was there. And that was all he could hope for right now."I am jealous," he teased her lightly.

"I'd save you some, but it's too good to share," she teased back before her voice caught on another sob, and he knew that this was it. This was the end of her being able to converse with him.

"Hey," he said gently. "I love you. So much."

"I love you too," Colette whispered in a broken voice. "So much."

Max hated that he couldn't be there, he hated that he had to hang up. He just wanted to hold her, to remind her that everything was alright.

"I want you to do something for me," he told her in a firm voice. "I want you to take a bath. And a long one," he told her. "One of the nice lavender scented bubble bath, I always make fun of you about. And I want you to eat dinner. And I want you to watch some of those stupid tv shows you love, and for you to relax. And rest. Can you do that?"

"I...I'll try," Colette said weakly over the line. He could hear her crying getting slightly worse again, the realization that they were ending the call obviously hitting her.

"And then you will take the best nap. And cuddle with our cats," he continued. "Alright? You'll do all that for me?"

"Yes," she answered him, her voice breaking on that one word.

Max closed his eyes, his heart hurting as he took a deep breath. "I am going to hang up now. I'm sorry, love."

"I know," she whispered, and he could hear the desperation in her voice. The need to keep the phone line between them open. But he knew that she was tired and he knew that she was distraught. And he knew that she needed rest. He needed to let her go.

"I love you," he said fiercely. "I love you so damn much, liefje. I'll talk to you as soon as I can."

"I-I love you," Colette managed back, before her voice broke on a sob again. "More than anything. Please...be careful tomorrow, okay? Be careful."

"I will," he promised her. "I swear, I will be careful. I'll come home to you in one piece, okay? I promise."

"You better," she told him in a wobbly voice. It was half pleading, half joking, and it just about crushed him.

"I swear. I'll try my damn hardest," he promised her. "And when I get home? I promise I will hold you for hours. I won't let you go, liefje."

He hung up on her then. And then he turned to Gemma. "What could Russell possibly have said that I should care about it right now?"

"How about that you have spent the last 15 years living a lie and that he wouldn't want you to date his sister, because your girlfriend probably is the one dealing with all your anger issues?" Gemma offered drily.

Max looked at her in disbelief for a moment, his mind refusing to process her words immediately, they were so completely insane.

"What?" He finally asked, his voice coming out in a disbelieving croak. Gemma handed him her phone, a grimace on her face. And there it was in black written text. Screencaps of statements George Russell had made.

 None of it making any sense whatsoever. Max had no idea what the other driver had snorted that had sent him off the rocker like that.

"They tried to get Charles Leclerc to comment as well, but he said it was insulting and that he has not once worried about you and Colette, more the opposite," Gemma said quickly. "Everybody that has ever seen the two of you together knows that it's complete bullshit, Max."

Still. He swallowed.

"I would never lay a finger on her," he said weakly. Not ever.

Colette was...Colette was everything. Colette had been his safe place before he even knew what that was or that he needed one. 

He would rather cut off his own hand than to put a finger at her in anger.

Gemma stepped over to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Everybody knows that," she told him gently. "Everyone that knows you knows that you would never. Just like everyone knows that the other stuff Russell has said is nonsense as well."

Max closed his eyes, letting Gemma's words sink in. He knew that they were true. The people in his life, the people that knew him and Colette...they knew that those accusations were completely ridiculous. That even thinking he would ever hurt Colette was laughable.

"But..." he said quietly. "Social media won't care that it's complete crap."

"It'll blow over. You know the online world has the attention span of a goldfish," she said with a shrug. "We'll send the usual suspects to talk to the media tomorrow to make it clear that you neither have anger issues nor that anybody needs to worry about you laying a single finger on Colette," Gemma promised. "I know that this is hurtful, Max, but I think it just makes it very clear that everything that Russell has said has been completely made up."

Max leaned his head against the door behind him, his mind racing, trying to process everything. He knew she was right. That everything she was saying was reasonable. But it still hurt. It hurt that somebody would come at him and his relationship with Colette like that. Especially when it was so clear that they knew nothing about them.

"I'm going to call some people," Gemma told him gently and with a final squeeze on his shoulder left the room.

Max took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, trying to process everything and calm his racing thoughts. He wanted to call Colette again. He wanted to explain again and again that he would never hurt her. That all of this was complete and utter bullshit.

But he didn't want to bother or upset her even more, if she had even been able to rest at all.

And he hated this. He hated this so much.

He really did. He hated that there was nothing he could do.

He hated that the next day was going to be a media circus. He hated that he was going to have to sit in a car for an hour and a half tomorrow, without being able to see or talk to her.

And most of all, he hated George Russell.

Bath. Lavender. Warm Water. And hot cocoa.

She felt like a child again.

Her Maman had been hovering around her all afternoon and early evening, fussing over her when she really didn't need it, but Colette was glad that her mother refused to leave her alone.

Especially when her mother tucked her into bed like she had done when she had been a wayward 6-year old. 

"Arthur didn't think," her mother said softly. "He didn't do this on purpose to hurt you."

Colette let out a shaky breath. "I know he didn't," she said thickly. "But I am just so mad at him. And it just...hurt," she admitted. It hurt more than she had thought.

"I know," her mother said softly.

Another shaky exhale, and Colette closed her eyes, just to keep the tears at bay.

"I knew it was going to come out one day," she admitted weakly. "But I never wanted it to come out like this. Not now.”

Bébé rumbled unerneath her skin, striking out to kick against her ribs once more. She laid her hand over where he had just kicked her. 

Her mother gently sat down next to her, gathering her in her arms and pulling her close. Colette melted into it and leaned into her Mom with a soft, shaky sigh.

"It wasn't right of Arthur to say anything," her mother told her quietly. "He had no right to share that picture. Nor to talk about your relationship. Not without talking to you about it first."

Colette swallowed back another bout of tears, hiding her face in her Mom's chest. "I know," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I know, it wasn't his news to share, but...it's still just...it's just so upsetting."

Her mother ran a hand over her hair while the other circled her back in a soft, circular motion. "I know," her mother agreed, her voice kind and soft. "But this doesn't change anything. You know that, right? The important people already knew," she continued softly. "Your family and friends. They all know that Max and you are in a relationship."

A quiet nod, Colette still hiding her face in her mother’s chest, her fingers clinging onto her shirt.

"It's just...." she said weakly. "It still hurts. A lot."

Her mother's arms wrapped around her a little tighter, a gentle kiss placed atop her head. "I know," her Mom agreed again, gently rubbing Colette's back. "It hurts, and it sucks, and it's not fair that he didn't talk to you about it before. I'm sorry, Choupinette."

Colette swallowed again, and exhaled, trying to hold it together. But a few tears escaped anyway. "I just...I just wish that he hadn't. I feel so exposed now," she admitted in a half-whisper.

"I know," her Mom agreed again, letting Colette let out another round of quiet tears. "I know, Choupinette," her mother repeated, gently rubbing her back again, her arms tight around her.

Colette sniffled again, her emotions a tangled, swirling mess, and clung on tighter to her Mother. "I just...I just wish Max was here," she admitted in a broken whisper.v"He asked me if he should come home," she admitted softly.

Her mother’s hand ran gently up and down her back, still hugging Colette tight.

"What did you tell him?" she asked quietly.

Colette swallowed past the lump in her throat and breathed in shakily. "I told him to race. I told him I didn't want him to come home," she said shakily, more tears escaping her.

Her mother hummed quietly and hugged her a little tighter. "Why?" Her mother's voice was gentle and curious, no judgement and accusation to be found.

"Because I fell in love with a 12-year-old boy for whom racing was the most important thing in his life,” she answered, her voice soft. “Max has this...passion for it. This incredible love. And I promised myself then, that I was never going to be the one to take it from him," she explained softly. "I was never going to make him chose. Between me and racing."

And maybe that was also because for years...she had wondered if she was going to be the one of the two he would chose. 

Her mother was quiet behind her for a moment, only the soothing motion of her hand rubbing along Colette's back continuing.

And then her mother said, softly.

"You know he would chose you in a heartbeat, don't you?"

Colette buried her face further into her mother, her tears starting to flow again as she let her mother's words sink in.

Because she wanted to believe it. She really, really wanted to.

"He will never need to," she said simply. "He said ​​the same thing but…I would never take it away from him."

Her mother hummed again and tightened her arms around her a little.

"I know you wouldn't," she assured. "But he still wouldn't hesitate, love."

Colette took another shaky breath, trying to keep herself from completely falling to pieces just from the thought of it. It was true. She knew it deep in her bones. Max would drop everything to get to her, if she only asked. And it just made her feel like crying more.

"I just...I just miss him," she admitted in a sniffly voice, her nails digging in her mother's soft shirt.

Her mother's gentle hand was running over her hair again, trying to soothe her as best as she could. "I know, baby," she whispered. "You'll see him soon."

Colette huffed a breath against her mother’s chest, the thought both a comfort and a curse.

She wanted to see him. She wanted to crawl into his arms and just listen to him tell her everything was going to be okay, and believe every single word of it.

Another shaky inhale and exhale, and Colette's hands gripped her Mom's shirt, just to keep from completely falling apart.

It was all so overwhelming, with Max so far away, and just everything in general.

Her breath shuddered again when her mother's arms tightened around her once more, pulling her even closer to her chest, as if she was trying to protect her through sheer force of will.

Colette let her, burying her face in her Mom's soft chest and trying to hold it all together.

[boysmentfs]

The trip to the beach.

A collaboration with @misctf .

Steve was the most cliché of the word "nerd" with only 5'4 tall, with pimples and with irritating little voice he was the target for the jock boys in his university. But despite being victim of sneers and bullying, he was the happiest student in college, he always smiled, helped people and was quite studious. So the mockery towards him mattered little to him. Today was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, Steve was studying hard in his room, he didn't have any plans for today and he didn't care to have one either, his parents were not home so he enjoyed being alone quietly until someone knocked on his house door.

"Who could it be?" Steve sighed, “I’m really behind on my work.” He looked at the essay he was in the midst of completing, “I should...” The second knock was louder, “Must be important.”

Steve quickly made his way to the front door. As he went to open it, he paused. He could hear the boisterous laughter from the other side, the frequent use of the word ‘bro’, and a few belches. His stomach dropped.

“What could they possibly want?” Steve thought miserably, “I should really...” He sighed. It wasn’t in his nature to just ignore someone. What if they needed help?

“Oh shit! Look who it is! What’s up lil’ bro?” Garrett laughed, emphasizing the word ‘lil’. He put his arms behind his head, his biceps bulging.

“Uh hey.” Steve stammered, “Uhm, I...I...” His mind was racing, trying not to stare. Garrett was rather good-looking- dark hair and eyes, his chiseled face framed by a well-groomed, short beard. And looking further down, it was obvious that his years on the baseball team did wonders for his body- all of which was framed nicely in his tight tank-top, “Sorry, just studying today.” Steve blushed, mentally admonishing himself for making it so obvious that he had a thing for the star pitches on the team.

"Studying?! Lil’ dude, come on.” Garrett groaned, nudging one of the other jocks, “Seriously dude, how lame. How about this? We came here to invite you to the beach.” He placed his firm rugged hand on Steve’s shoulder and grinned, “Lil’ dude, it’s gonna be fuckin’ lit. Cheerleaders, booze, you name it. When’s the last time you did something like that, huh lil’ dude?”

Hearing this, Steve raised an eyebrow. None of these things were as appealing to him as Garrett likely thought they’d be. Although, the naively optimistic part of Steve wanted to imagine this could be the start of a friendship with Garrett. Part of him yearning for closeness with the jock. But Steve shook his head before adjusting his glasses- on what planet would he ever be friends with Garrett?

"I don't want to be rude or offensive, but why are you inviting me?” Steve questioned, “Jake and Logan were just bullying me the other day.” The two jocks behind Garrett snickered, earning them a disapproving look from Garrett.

"I know... Dude, but believe me we want to make peace, me and my bros promise we won't make fun of you again!” Garrett replied, no hint of insincerity in his tone, “Besides, it's Saturday and being at home? It's boring as hell."

Steve sighed, mulling over the offer. Would it be nice not to be bullied by these meatheads? Yeah. Would it be nice to spend time with Garrett? Yeah. Did he really think they’d make peace after this? Steve sighed again- the rational part of him saying to shut the door. The other saying to give these bros a chance.

"Okay, okay... I’ll go.” Steve said, the uncertainty of his choice evident in his voice.

“Oh sick lil’ bruh, but like, don’t sound too disappointed.” Garrett laughed, slapping him on the back and knocking the wind out of his small frame.

“But really, I’m doing this to make peace.” Steve insisted, “No funny business.” He tried to sound confident and stern. Garrett smiled and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, “Oh and..." Steve bit his lip, “This is so embarrassing but it’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach. I don’t really have any appropriate swimwear.”

"That shouldn't worry you bro! Give me a second." Garret grinned, “You’re just in luck, lil’ dude.” Garrett seemed way too excited, “Check out these!” His bro reached into a bag and handed him some green shorts with a bit of blue and gave them to Steve. "Here! These shorts belonged to one of our bros. Well former bro. He went on to bigger and better things.” Garrett sighed, “Internship or some shit. Brains and brawn, can you believe it?” The other jocks snickered.

Steve looked at the shorts and made a face of disgust. Did Garrett and his bros really think he would wear someone else’s shorts? Why did they seem to have them ready too? Steve awkwardly grabbed the shorts, and looked back over at the group of jocks.

"Garrett... I uh." Steve could see the look of excitement in Garrett’s eyes. Like he was proud of something, “I don’t really feel comfortable wearing another guy’s shorts. And besides, these aren’t going to fit me."

“And why not, lil bro? I wear my bro’s stuff all the time.” Garrett grinned, “I understand that you don't have the same muscle mass as us, but they’re shorts, shorts look good on everyone."

"Yes... but..." Steve sighed- how was he going to make these oafs understand his discomfort when they clearly had no shame?

"Dude, just get changed. We’ll wait here for you." Garrett grinned, “Come on bros, I’ll get the car started. I got a bomb playlist.”

Steve watched as they walked back to their car, all chuckling and talking about their beach plans. And before long, loud obnoxious music filled the air. Steve cringed, worrying what his neighbors might think of the loud music.

“The faster I get this on, the faster we get out of here.” Steve figured, walking back to his room.

Once there, he quickly undressed and examined himself in the mirror. He frowned as he examined his short and lanky frame- his skin pale from the hours spent indoors studying. His brown hair a curly mess atop his head. Nothing compared to the healthy tans and meaty muscles Garrett and his bros sported. Steve shook his head, ignoring these negative thoughts. Instead, he turned his attention to the pair of shorts in his hand.

"This is so disgusting...” Steve mumbled, taking a whiff of them, “Oh god, did they even wash this?” Steve was instantly teleported back to his high school locker room- the smell wafting from these shorts an unpleasant reminder of his days in gym class, “What have I gotten myself into?”

He grimaced as he slowly pulled the shorts up his skinny legs, where they rested over his Marvel boxer briefs. Yet despite his initial disgust, he was surprised to see how well they fit. He figured he owed Garrett some credit- shorts do look good on anyone. Steve walked over to his closet, rummaging around until he found on of his old discarded tank-tops. After placing that over his skinny frame, he smiled.

“Okay, I kind of look the part.” He commented, flexing his skinny arm, “Almost.” He laughed, thinking how ridiculous he must’ve looked.

And as he turned away from the mirror, he felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. He stumbled forward, catching himself against a wall. Steve groaned and wiped some sweat from his forehead, trying to make sense of the sudden dizziness. But as quickly as it had come on, it had passed. And Steve awkwardly walked to the front door, each step feeling somewhat heavier and requiring more focus.

“Oh lil’ dude, you look great!” Garrett said, approaching him, “You’re more than ready for the beach.” He raised an eyebrow, “Ah wait, lil’ dude you forgot your shoes. Logan! Grab ‘em a pair from the trunk.”

Steve only nodded, not really paying all that much attention. His mind felt foggy, his body heavier. When Logan threw the pair of worn-out sandals at his feet, Steve just slid them on. They were clearly too large for him, but he didn’t have the mental bandwidth to make a comment.

“Lookin’ good on ya!” Garrett grinned, putting an arm around Steve’s shoulder and leading him to the car, “God, you reek, lil’ dude.”

Steve shook his head, “No... it’s... it’s the shorts.” He replied, “They smell...”

“Sure, sure lil’ dude.” Garrett chuckled.

Steve wanted to say something in response, but he felt a slight achiness in his feet. And when he looked down, he could have sworn that they looked bigger and now sporting tufts of hair. In that moment, Steve could’ve also sworn that his nostrils were being invaded by an increasingly intense odor- reminiscent of the locker room but somehow worse. Sour and musky, all at once.

“Alrighty lil’ dude, get in.” Garrett said, "Let's go!"

Steve could barely focus. The smells, the boisterous laughter, and the blaring laughter from the bros around him. He grimaced as a can of beer rolled around in the backseat, hitting his foot. He watched as Logan reached down and smirked, before shot gunning the can of beer while his bros cheered.

“Lil’ bro, why don’t you try one?” Garrett asked from the driver’s seat, “Pregame for me, since I’m drivin’ and shit.”

“I’m good.” Steve replied, clearing his throat. His voice sounded off, “I’m not feeling too...”

A beer was thrust against his skinny chest and he looked over at Logan, who had a wide grin on his face. Steve held the beer, staring at it closely. And with his meatier hands, cracked it open. Steve never drank- it wasn’t his thing. But as he cracked open the can, he felt compelled. He was gonna chug it. And as the bros cheered him on, Steve did just that. As he did, he couldn’t possibly realize the bulge in his shorts was growing. His member growing in size, going from a measly 5 centimeters to an astonishing 14 centimeters, a dense forest of pubes sprouting around his new member.

“Buuuuuuuurrrrrppppppppp.” Steve grinned slightly as he crushed the can in his hand as his bros cheered, “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Fuck yeah lil’ dude!” Garrett cheered from the front.

“That was sick bruh!” Logan playfully punched Steve’s arm.

Steve looked down at where Logan punched him and his eyes widened. His arms... his skinny arms... they looked bigger? More defined. Muscles Steve knew he had but never saw were suddenly becoming quite obvious to the naked eye. He looked up at Logan and then up to Garrett.

“Hey somethin’s...” Steve froze. That baritone voice couldn’t possibly be...

But no one paid him any attention. They were going on about the cheerleaders, although Steve noticed Garrett was oddly quiet during the conversation. Occasionally glancing at Steve through the mirror. Steve stirred uncomfortably as Garrett stole glances at him. Why did he keep looking at him? He blushed slightly, trying to appear smaller, but his growing pecs and widening frame made that difficult. He was taking up more space now, becoming uncomfortably close to Logan.

“Dude, can you...”

“Not my fault this car’s so fuckin’ small.” Steve’s eyes widened. He would never talk like that, “What the fuck?” The fogginess in his mind was starting to dissipate. He was becoming acutely aware of his newly massive frame, enlarging pecs, and arms that looked more like tree-trunks than sticks.

Garrett turned to look at him and smiled. "What's wrong bro? You look good.”

“I... don’t... fuckin’...” Steve groaned as his tank-top ripped and he tossed the ruined fabric into the trunk.

He grunted as his muscles pulsed again and again. His frame expanding larger and larger, while Logan just grinned, despite losing more room in the back of the car. Steve gasped as small blond hairs erupted from his massive arms and traveled up. And when they finished coating his massive forearms, the hair in his pits exploded into a dense, musky forest. He grimaced at the smell wafting from them, yet at time went on, the smell was becoming familiar. Somewhat nice actually. He brought his hands to his head as his head started pounding. And in the car’s mirror, he saw that his hair was becoming blond. His curly locks reshaping into a sporty cut. His face becoming sharp and defined, his lips puffing up and forming into a permanent smirk.

“Eric, bruh, you good?” Garrett asked.

Steve let out a baritone groan, “Nah bruh, who the fuck’s Eric?” He grabbed his head again, “That’s... not... my... name...”

As he made eye contact with Garrett, he could feel it. A set of memories. Gym sessions with Garrett. Going to sporting events. Playing videogames. Waking up in each other’s arms... tearing each other’s clothes off... fucking... Steve realized in that moment. Garrett and Eric. They were more than frat bros... they were... A small smile formed on Steve’s lips as he felt Eric’s personality and mind overtake his. And in that moment, he came. The climax so intense that he passed out in the back seat.

“Took him long enough.” Logan chuckled, “You happy Garrett?”

Garrett nodded and parked the car, “Alright bros, give him some time to rest.” Garrett smiled at his sleeping boyfriend, “I’ll be right behind you all.”

As his bros started walking to the beach, Garrett opened backseat door and smiled at his hunk of a boyfriend. He ran a hand down his jaw and gave him a quick kiss, before grabbing his cum-soaked shorts.

“Was hoping you’d save that for me.” Garrett smirked, “But all good, bruh.” He kissed him on the cheek, before quietly shutting the door. He’d let Eric get some rest- besides, they had a long night ahead of them.

[piece-of-pierce]

Danny’s certain that, at this point, he’s tried using almost every abandoned building in the city as a base of operations. This is possibly the longest he’s ever been stuck in another dimension, except for the first time (and the Stone Age dimension), and he’s getting sick of it. If these costumed weirdos stop him one more time, he might have to start fighting back!

Two days later, he officially goes on the offensive. There’s just enough latent ecto in the city for him to maintain invisibility and intangibility, so he can avoid being spotted on any cameras or imaging tech (that he’s encountered so far.) So, he does the only thing he can think of.

He looks for a place the costume kids (and man) won’t be able to reach him. Literally. Are there any buildings with big enough gaps between the walls? No, nope, nada, nice try, didn’t mean to see that, no, no, no again, maybe?… also no, oooh. One of the issues was how loud his tinkering could be. If he was surrounded by moving gears and cogs like, say, in a clock tower, maybe that could work. It’s flashier than he likes, but he’s running out of options here!

Danny slipped through the clock face, purposefully flying further in to get past the gears that… weren’t there? Why didn’t he go through more stuff? Was this a whole-ass room? Danny let his feet touch down, staying invisible as he slowly took in the space. Did someone else beat him to it?

As soon as he saw something bright and electric, a computer screen?, a blur of and black and yellow filled his vision. Then, everything went dark.

-=o0o=-

Barbara turned her chair when Black Bat darted back, just in time to watch the younger woman throw a careful hit at… nothing?

No. The hit landed and, moments later, Barbara heard a thump and saw a young man lying on the ground where, apparently, he’d been invisible.

“Steps,” Black Bat answered the silent question. She’d heard him. “Assassin,” she said, pointing at his face.

Barbara wheeled closer to get a view and, just as Cass said, this was the LoA member who’d been giving them trouble for over a month. No wonder he’d been so annoying. They’d been operating on the assumption that the LoA didn’t allow Metas.

“Tie him up and make sure he’s out. I’ll call B.”

-=o0o=-

Danny’s head was killing him! Ancients! Did Skulker body-slam him or something? Danny opened his eyes and remembered that, no, Skulker couldn’t body slam him from another dimension. Damn. Those were a good few seconds where he though he was home.

Looking at the empty, concrete block he was in, this was definitely not home. Maybe it could look like his parents’ lab, if the concrete was replaced with metal and the room was full of shelves and tables and various experiments. Man, if only it was the lab. Then there’s be a portal he could use.

Or, well, he could use it if he wasn’t tied to this metal chair, which, man, there was like no give on these restraints. Was the chair welded to the ground, too? Okay, the ground was metal, at least, so that’s one thing that made this more like the lab.

Before Danny could weigh the pros and cons of slipping out of the ropes (the many, many ropes, holy shit), heavy footsteps approached him from behind. He twisted his head enough to watch a man nearly his dad’s size wearing a black costume with a cape and horned hood walk in and stop in front of where Danny sat.

It was the man. The leader of the weirdos.

“Doth thee und'rstand me?” His words may have been something Mr. Lancer probably had wet dreams about, but the guy had a Brooklyn(?) accent. Definitely east coast. It’s in that area. Either way, he sounded kinda stupid.

“Doth you have to be so formal? This isn’t exactly a black tie event. At least, I hope that’s not what you wear to funerals.”

“Thee shall answ'r mine own questions without query. Und'rstood?” Ohhh, was this an interrogation?

“Yeah, sure.” Danny could answer questions. At least the weirdo had finally gotten to the second half of ‘punch first, ask questions later.’

“Thee shall answ'r mine own questions truthfully. Any attempts at dishonesty 'r misdirection shall beest did recognize. Doth thee und'rstand?”

“Geez, yeah, I get it. You’ll punch me if I lie.”

“Do thee w'rk f'r the League of Assassins?”

“No?” The man growled, which, rude, living people didn’t usually do that. “No, I’ve never even heard of them.”

“Thee speak their tongue.”

“Do I?” Danny considered some of his other inter dimensional travels. “Ohhhh, shit. No, dude, I’m not a member of whoever that is. I learned the language somewhere else.”

“Their dialect is exclusive to their 'rganization. Doth not speak falsehoods to me again.”

“I’m not lying. I-“ Danny was promptly interrupted by a punch in the back of his head, immediately followed by someone grabbing his hair from behind and something sharp pressing against his throat.

“Traitor!”

“Woah! Ow! Hey! This has to be a misunderstanding! Is that a knife?!” Danny was very, very close to exposing his intangibility, chance to communicate be damned.

“Thee speak mine own mother’s tongue yet claimeth not to beest in league with h'r! Thee claimeth not to beest one of h'r owneth! One of mine owneth! Thee art a coystrill and a coward and thee shall beest punished as such!”

“I only understood, like, half of that. Please don’t slit my throat. I kinda like breathing.” Speaking of breathing, Danny was doing a lot more of it. Was he hyperventilating?

The man spoke to whoever was behind Danny in their language, gibberish with a Jersey(?) accent. The knife-holder responded in the same language, but his accent was notably different than the man’s. He must not have grown up around here. Danny couldn’t quite place it, though. It was maybe a bit southern? Or kinda pirate-ish?

The knife pulled away, the hand in his hair doing the same, and a young boy stepped out from behind Danny to stand next to the man.

“Seriously? I was being threatened by a middle schooler? He’s like, 12.”

“12?! I am good now 15 ages!”

“Seriously? You’re only two years younger then me? But you’re such a twerp.”

The man quickly grabbed the twerp by the back of his neck, scruffing him like a kitten before talking to Danny again. “What doth thee wisheth to accomplisheth h're?”

“Uh, I wanna leave? I’ve just been trying to go home, man.” Man scowled. Twerp clicked his tongue. “I’m serious! I- look, I don’t usually tell people this part but nobody’s actually managed to kidnap and interrogate me, so we’re just gonna stay on the crazy train! I’m from another dimension. I’ve been trying to build a portal home but you,” Danny pointed at the pair, “keep messing up all my hard work and getting in my way.”

Danny saw the man’s eyes squint a little, but was quickly distracted by the twerp snapping at his hand. Oh, shit, right, he’s supposed to be restrained.

“Uh… sorry? I’m not a big fan of the whole tangible thing.”

“Another… dimension?” The man was still holding back the twerp, sounding out the word ‘dimension’ like he didn’t understand it. Actually, considering this obviously isn’t his first language and they talk like long-dead people, he might not.

“Yeah, or a… another timeline? Universe? Reality?” Ooh, there’s some recognition! “Another reality! Another world! Another Earth! I’m not speaking assassin, I’m speaking my English. I only want to go home.”

The man and twerp muttered to each other in their own tongue for a minute, leaving Danny to rest his elbows on his knees. He’d already exposed this power, he might as well sit more comfortably.

“How didst thee locateth the Oracle?”

“You’re gonna have to give me more on that. I don’t know of any oracle. Is that a thing? Did I steal it?”

“Our inf'rmant.”

“Informant?” What on earth..? “Oh, the giant computer? In the clock tower!” The man grunted. It wasn’t a growl, so Danny was probably right. “That was a total accident. I was looking for a new place to build my portal. Nobody would notice me building if I’m in a clock that covers the sound, right?”

“So thy only goal is to buildeth a transporter and wend home?”

“Yes! See, we could’ve done this a month ago, but you wanted to punch first, ask questions later.” Danny leaned back with a grin.

The man and twerp looked at each other for a moment. “Couldst thee maketh a blueprint of thy machine?”

“Make one? Buddy, I’ve got one!” Danny reached into his chest and pulled out the water-proof bag he kept tucked under his left lung. What, he didn’t need to breathe as much anyway, he was fine losing a little air capacity! Danny opened the bag and pulled out the usb that said ‘c.o.d’ on it. “This bad boy has the full, detailed explanation of how to make the portal and what it’s supposed to do. It even has substitutions in case I end up somewhere that doesn’t have necessary components! I once managed to get home from the Stone Age.” He passed over the usb, happy to let the man take it. That was one of 10 copies, 3 more of which were stored in his body at that moment, so it wasn’t too much of a loss. It was also the easiest to get out. Usb number 3 would hopefully never be needed.

Danny stuffed the bag back in his chest, using two hands this time so he could lodge it in their properly. “If you’re willing to help me with that so I’ll finally be out of your hair, I’d be real grateful. You owe me, anyway, you destroyed like 20 attempts.”

The man and twerp studied the usb and Danny, respectively, before the twerp took the usb and left. The man stared at Danny, somehow less imposing on his own. “Thee stayeth h're. We shall returneth.” With that, he walked out the metal door that Danny could now turn his body to look at. There was also a mirror next to the door, so it had to be a classic interrogation room with a one-way mirror, right?

Danny wondered who was on the other side.

Whatever, he could hang out in the concrete box a little more. At least they stopped trying to punch him!

Step 1: Get stuck in another dimension. Step 2: build a portal back to the Ghost Zone. Step 3: Leave.

Danny's got it down to a science at this point. It barely takes him a week to get back home. (Except for the time the dimension he landed in was in the stone age, but we don't talk about that.)

Step 1 was easy enough, if involuntary. Now, step 2 is where it's all going wrong.

This dimension's language isn't one he speaks. That's fine, maybe adds a day or two to the search for parts, but the main problem is the people dressed in Halloween costumes, speaking like they're from a Shakespearean play who always find him and wreck his portal.

And it's not like he can just move to a different city, this one's soaked in ectoplasm. He'd have to spend a pretty fair amount of time searching for another place as saturated as this one.

Meanwhile, the Bats are not having a good time. Some League or League-adjacent member speaking a barely intelligible form of the League dialect keeps attempting to build some sort of weapon in Gotham, and refuses all communication in English.

(AKA: Danny is stuck in another dimension where his English is their League dialect. He just wants to go home now, please.)

[gojhoes]

satoru's brain was struggling to work properly as he was completely overcome by the sensation of you. your skin was unbelievably soft, your breasts sat so nicely without any clothes, and god, that pussy sucked him in with a vengeance. it was as if he was being punished for not fucking you sooner.

your body was perfect. the curve of your waist and hips drove him crazy- he dug his fingers into the soft flesh below your ribcage and urged you closer. your back arched as you pushed your ass into him to fuck yourself on his cock. he drove into you maddeningly deeper, and your walls fluttered around him in approval.

"you're so perfect," satoru breathed. he leaned forward, pressing his chest to your back so he could kiss the side of the neck. "can't believe i waited this long."

you moaned loudly when his cockhead rammed into your cervix, and you flinched bodily. the sound of your whines made him feel drunk with pure lust; he'd needed you so badly for far too long. satoru placed his hands on either side of your head for stability and snapped his hips into your ass at a dizzying pace.

"satoru, mmmph-" you cried out. his cock twitched with pleasure at the sound of his name in your mouth. "you're so big."

he let out a chuckle through his shortened breaths. "i know. bet you're stuffed full, yeah?" you nodded your head frantically, pathetically. "no one's ever fucked you so good, huh?"

you shook your head, and the frustrated whine you let out next sent a wave of heat from his head to toes. "fuck, satoru, i need more."

satoru groaned at your shameless plea. electricity shot through his cock, his heavy balls twitching as he felt a warning of his approaching release. you were so good, too good. he needed you like this for the rest of his life. the strong-willed, bratty, independent sorcerer reduced to a pliant, dripping, pathetic mess underneath him. he loved every bit of it.

"touch your clit for me," satoru commanded. and you did, instantly, obediently. he would do it for you, but he was so pussydrunk that all he wanted to focus on was fucking you right. he leaned back and grabbed you by the hips and thrusted at a pace so quick it surprised even himself. your moans matched his own, only fueling him even more. "give me one more. cum on my cock, pretty girl."

the praise and instruction were your undoing. your entire body trembled with every wave of pleasure as your third orgasm ripped through you. your pussy clenched around him rhythmically and fuck, did you just squirt or were you always this wet when you came?

and he was lost, completely fucked out and drowning in the bliss that was having you like this. his muscles tightened and his hips moved erratically as his breaths came in shorter and shorter. you'd gone limp beneath him, but you still managed to meet his every thrust with one of your own as though you couldn't bear not to have him as deep as possible. one last flutter of your cunt sent him over the edge, and he came hard. spurt after spurt of his seed painted your walls with every twitch of his cock. the sounds that left his mouth were unlike any he'd made for anyone before, a testament to how long he'd wanted you. your name slipped off his honeyed tongue like a prayer until he stilled his movements.

you sucked in a sharp breath as his cock slowly slipped out of your tight, warm walls. satoru was in awe when he caught sight of his cum beginning to trickle out of your puffy, ravaged folds. and, he thought, what a waste it would be it leaked onto the bed. before you could roll onto your back and off your knees, he shoved two long fingers back into your cunt and smiled at the way you cried out and squeezed him tight.

short scene for my longfic

[omgiamwish]

Snowmen and Such

@mp100secretspirit Here is my present for @smoarchok! I hope you enjoy it <3

About 1800 words of pure fluff. Read below, or on Ao3

Shigeo rests his arms on the wooden railing, leaning his weight against it and letting it hold him. Snowflakes fall in big clumps to join the expanse of white already carpeting the landscape. The sky is a soft gray, as far as he can see, and the light is dim despite only being late morning. Except for the soft static of snowflakes landing, the whole world is quiet.

“Hey!” Tome-san’s voice pierces the silence, but it’s not at all unwelcome. He turns to her as she joins him. “You forgot your earmuffs in the room.”

“Oh.” He takes them from her with a smile and puts them on. He hadn’t noticed how cold his ears had gotten. “Thank you, Tome-san.”

“What’re you doing out here, anyway?”

“I wanted to… to watch the snow, I guess.” He looks back to it, eyes catching on individual flakes in their descent. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much at once. It’s really pretty.”

“Reigen-san said it snowed on the company trip you all went on last year…”

“Not this much. I’m glad I decided to come after all.”

Tome-san leans on the railing next to him. “Even though they didn’t even need you?”

Shigeo considers that. “Maybe even more because of that. And it was nice that Shishou asked if I wanted to come this time, instead of just… expecting I would.”

They watch the snow in silence for a long moment. Shigeo imagines laying down in it and letting the falling snow cover him. How long would it take? Until he was just another lump or indent in the frozen landscape? Although, as peaceful as it sounds, he probably wouldn’t like having that much snow on his face.

Tome-san thumps him on his back, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I feel like building a snowman. Wanna help?”

“Oh. Yeah!”

They leave the sanctuary of the porch and wade out into the snow. It’s only a few seconds before Tome-san gives up making her own path and walks in Shigeo’s footsteps. He doesn’t blame her; the snow is knee deep, making every step effortful. By the time they get to the flat area of what might be a lawn in warmer weather, Shigeo is breathing heavily and verging on lightheadedness. He flops onto his back like he’d imagined doing only minutes earlier.

“Hey.” Tome-san kicks his shoe. “You’re not giving up already, are you?”

“No,” Shigeo wheezes, staring at the sky and blinking hard when a snowflake lands in his eye. “I’m just… resting.”

“You’re not slacking off in your club, are you?” She kicks his shoe a few more times. He moves to kick back and she steps out of range. “Letting Sagawa do all the work?”

“I placed twelfth in this year’s marathon, you know.”

“And then you slacked off so hard, you lost a year’s progress in like. Two months. I see, I see.”

“No,” Shigeo protests, laughing. He sits up and brushes snow off his face.

Tome kneels down and starts packing together a snowball. It takes her a few tries before it stops falling apart when she tries to roll it and she laughs in triumph when she finally gets something bigger than a baseball.

Shigeo watches her push the ball around, packing snow onto the sides to keep it a little more even. He picks up some snow and tries to pack a ball of his own. It takes him a lot longer to get it rolling than it took Tome-san, and by the time he has a ball as big as his head, she’s already got a second ball of about the same size.

“Hey Mob-kun!” she calls a bit later. “Come stack these for me! Oh, and bring that over, too. That can be the head!”

Shigeo picks up the ball he’d been working on and walks over to Tome-san, taking the path she’d made with her work.

The first ball she’d made comes all the way up their hips, and the second is maybe about half that size. Shigeo puts down his own comparatively meager sized snowball and tries to lift the smaller of Tome-san’s. It takes him a few tries to get a good grip and then for the next few moments, his entire focus is on Not Dropping It. He clutches it to his chest. Leans back to distribute the weight. Staggers the few steps to his goal. Heaves it into place and holds onto the whole thing for a few seconds to make sure it won’t fall as soon as he lets go.

Then he collapses back into the snow.

Tome-san kicks his shoe.

“That was kind of impressive actually. I thought for sure you were going to use your powers. You should definitely use them for the next one, though.”

“Next… one?” Shigeo pants. Snowflakes tickle his eyelashes.

“Yeah. I want to see how big of a snowman we can make.” He hears Tome-san move around and the crunch of snow. “This one isn’t even as tall as me.”

Shigeo huffs a laugh. For awhile, he just listens to her pushing snow around. Then he sits up and looks at the snowman they’ve already made. Tome-san put the head on and packed snow into the places where the snowballs meet. It looks kind of lopsided and lumpy, stained with dirt and grass, not at all like the perfect white spheres you see in cartoons.

He kind of likes it.

Tome-san is making some weird noises, though, so he stands up and walks over to where she’s pushing ineffectually at a… very large snowball.

“Do you need help?”

“Come over and help me push!”

“With my powers?” Shigeo rests a hand on the ball. It’s about the same size as the bottom one of the complete snowman.

“No, that’s cheating.” She shifts around, digging her shoulder into it, shoes slipping on uncovered grass. “You have to- have to roll them naturally, or it doesn’t count.”

“But it’s okay to use psychic powers to stack them?”

Tome-san glares at him. “Are you going to help or not?”

He kneels beside her and braces himself against the packed snow. On three, they push together. It rolls over easily. The next few rolls are progressively less easy. They keep at it until, even with their combined efforts, they can’t get it to move.

Panting for air, they lean against the snowball, legs sprawled out before them. Shigeo is half sweaty, half freezing. Tome-san opens the top of her coat, so he expects she feels about the same.

“Do you… do you think… we can make the next one… just as big?”

Shigeo laughs, a stuttering, breathy thing.

They cannot, in fact, get the next one as big.

They get close, though, and Tome-san directs Shigeo to stack the two extremely large snowballs next to the first snowman. She rolls a third snowball for the head, no bigger than the head of the other. It sets Shigeo off to giggling.

“Wait, hold on. Look, look.” Tome-san pulls off a glove and digs her thumb into packed snow, drawing the shape of a tie on each snowman torso. “It’s-” She wheezes through laughter. “It’s Reigen-san and Serizawa-san.”

Shigeo makes an embarrassingly high-pitched noise. Shaking with renewed laughter, he packs together a snowball and places it at the feet of the snowmen. “D- Dimple,” he explains.

They both collapse into laughter, Tome-san howling with it.

“What’re you kids laughing at?”

Shishou approaches, walking in the trench of their foot prints that the still-falling snow had been working to cover and thus far only softened the edges of. Ritsu trails a few meters behind.

“Well, I guess those are some funny looking snowmen. Why is that one so much more shitty than the other though?”

“That one’s you, Shishou.”

Tome-san, who had almost regained composure, bursts into laughing again. Dimple pops into visibility to join her, and even Ritsu barks a laugh. Reigen-shishou gapes at him, baffled, or maybe betrayed, but Shigeo just grins, unrepentant.

“What the hell. Who’s the other one, then?”

“Serizawa-san, of course,” Tome-san answers, fighting giggles.

“And Dimple,” Shigeo adds, nudging said snowball with his foot.

“Hey,” Dimple complains, without heat.

“That’s kind of cute, actually,” Reigen-shishou decides.

“Nobody asked you,” Dimple mutters.

“But if you kids are getting up to this kind of stuff, you’re definitely in the mood for a snowball fight, yeah?”

Tome-san raises her eyebrows, then looks to Shigeo. He tilts his head, considering. “I don’t know Shishou, Tome-san and I are kind of tired.”

“Nonsense.” Reigen-shishou scoops some snow from the ground and starts packing it. “You kids need to lighten up. How often have you seen such great snowball weather?” He pulls back his arm, clearly aiming at Shigeo. “It’d be a shame to waste-”

A snowball hits Reigen-shishou in the head, disintegrating into a white halo. He stumbles forward with a shriek, almost face-planting in as-of-yet untouched snow.

“What’s wrong, Reigen-san,” Ritsu calls, gathering another handful of snow. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Reigen-shishou whips around and throws the snowball he’d intended for Shigeo at Ritsu. Ritsu doesn’t need to dodge the poorly aimed throw and doesn’t bother to. The next two snowballs hit Reigen-shishou in the chest, despite his attempts to dodge.

“Mob, Tome-chan, help me out here.”

Three snowballs hit Reigen-shishou at once.

Tome-san laughs. Her laugh cuts off into a shriek when a snowball hits her chest, right where her coat is still open.

“Mob, what the hell!”

She lunges toward him, scooping up snow to let loose over his head. He scrambles away, flinging loose snow behind him. He'd opened his own coat a bit, in the last efforts of making the snowmen, and she wastes no time in tackling him and shoving snow down his shirt.

They keep that up for awhile, shoving snow into each others faces and hair and clothes. Making to get up and run away, only to slip on the snowy ground or be tugged back down with the lightest pull. It’s Tome-san who finally calls a halt, breathing too heavily to laugh, but still smiling.

“That- that’s enough. It’s way too cold to keep doing this. Let’s go in.”

Despite her words, she doesn’t make any move to get up from where she’s sprawled in the snow. Shigeo doesn’t either, only rolling a bit to the side to get out of her personal space.

“Are you alright, Nii-san?” Ritsu calls.

“Mm.” Shigeo looks around. “Did Shishou go inside already?”

“Yeah.” Ritsu smirks. Then he steps closer holding out his hand. “We should, too. Your clothes are wet, and you’ll get sick if you stay in them too long.”

Shigeo takes Ritsu’s hand, accepting his help up. Tome-san stands by herself, brushing snow off her clothes. Dimple hovers around their heads, commenting on the fight. Together, they head inside to the warmth of the building, Serizawa-san’s questions, and Reigen-shishou’s complaining. Shigeo can’t stop smiling.

[venuslarkspur]

Teen Hero Shenanigans

Part 5

With Love, To The New Batgirl.

Summary: Your Damian’s Twin Sister, after arriving 3 years after your brother, you never excepted to take the Robin mantle, until your brother runs away and you volunteer to take his place. Damian eventually returns and you are discharged from the role, after bottling up your anger you decide to go solo by running away and stealing the Batgirl. But you’re not alone, your sort of boyfriend joins you. The main problem is the boyfriend in question is your brother’s best friend, Jon Kent.

Warning: mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy sickness, overprotective Damian Wayne, hidden pregnancy, toxic Al Ghul family. Jason being fuming at Jon. Mentions of food and eating idk.

Pairing: Jon Kent x Batsis!Reader (romantic), Batfamily x Batsis!Reader (platonic).

Notes: this is so late I’m sorry and also I HATE USING Y/N IM SORRY GUYS. This isn’t proof read sorry again. Some Stephanie Brown love in this one.

—————————

You woke up, hair ruffled and memories from the night before rushed in. Dick finding you, nearly dying from the bone crushing hug all your siblings gave you, except your twin brother, the one you wanted to hug the most. Everyone was especially delicate with you, not even mad. Sure, Jason told you to ‘never try that shit again.’ But for the most part everyone welcomed you back, but a few of them were a bit clingier than others; which is why Steph, Dick, Cass and Jason are all having a sleepover in your room, you were sure Duke and Tim probably felt like the only normal ones right now, and you had no idea about Damian. You did let out a giggle at the fact that Steph’s foot was on Cass’s face as she slept on the other end of the bed, but your brothers took the floor.

You eventually pulled up the covers and slipped out of Steph’s grip, you’ve fought deadly assassins and monsters but nothing was more terrifying than Steph spooning you. You tip toed downstairs, as if you weren’t living with highly trained vigilantes; you made your way to the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water. “Damian I know you’re there.” You announced whilst taking a sip of your glass, he revealed himself from behind wherever. “Nice to see you’ve taken the costume off, I thought you just slept it in.” You declared, you assumed that’s why his costume always stank, he needs to take it off more.

“Did you tell father?” He asked, and you immediately tense up. “Damian that doesn’t matter right now-“ you try and grasp but you’re swiftly interrupted, “Did.you.tell.father?” He said, in between pauses. His voice sounded so much more mature now, it was nearly unsettling; of course you had changed a lot too. You were carrying a whole child inside you. “Not yet, it’s not the right time.” You try and stress but he just scoffs. “Seriously! what is your problem Damian?” You hollered, hoping nobody heard from upstairs. “Me? I’m not the one with a baby inside me.” He points at you, so accusatory. But before you can snap back another voice is heard, but weakly. “What?”You recognise that voice, it was Jason.

“I-Jason-“ you tried to find the words but it was null and void, Damian crossed his arms in disappointment and maintained eye contact with Jason. “Other room, now.” Jason said, and you scattered behind him; needing to find a way to keep him quiet. You eventually entered the other room, it had a desk and few sofas and was dimly lit. Jason shut the door, turned to you and crossed his arms; “Explain.” You could hear the discontentment in his voice, you took a deep breath and looked up at him and spoke. “Please don’t be angry.” You pleaded, tears threatening to fall. “I’m not mad at you.” He replied, “Well don’t be grumpy.” You said whilst rubbing your eyes with your hands. “I’m not angry at you and I’m not gonna have a sour attitude with you or anything..I just wanna know what dead bastard had the audacity to put a kid in you.” He trembled, and you did feel a bit defensive considering he was speaking about Jon, your boyfriend.

“It’s not like that!” You almost yelled and he let his arms fall to his sides but you apologised and weakly said “I’m sorry-it’s just, it’s not the way you think.” You said and you felt frustrated. “Help me understand then.” He asked, you were just happy he wasn’t tracking Jon down and shooting him. “Jon and I-“ “I knew it, I’m getting Bruce’s stash of kryptonite.” He announced and slowly began to move but you stopped him, “please listen.” You begged, and he looked at your face and hesitated, he stopped. You took a deep breath in and out before continuing, “Jon and I were very close-“ “clearly.” “Shut up! Anyway we were just so happy and in love- that well..this happened.” You said and he looked slightly less murderous.

“You gonna keep it?” He asked, you fell a bit silent, you were unsure. “Yes.” You answered. His face scrunched a bit and he hesitated but asked again, “Is Jon making you?” He asked, this assumption was crazy; but you knew he was just making sure. “No he isn’t, that’s ridiculous.” You remarked and wondered where this was going. “I won’t tell Bruce but you need to sort this out, hiding doesn’t make it go away.”

“Rich coming from you.”

“Shush- and go back to bed.”

—————————

You were now 1 month into your pregnancy, two weeks had passed and you had not only an amazing Christmas, but a wonderful birthday. Jason had been helping you hide your pregnancy but occasionally scolded you; telling you he can’t cover for your pregnancy sickness forever, you had to tell the rest of your family, or at least Bruce. But what really shattered your heart is that you had heard nothing of Jon, maybe he decided he wanted nothing to do with you or his family has grounded him and taken away his technology, you hoped it was the latter.

Everyone was getting suspicious, you had been quitting patrol and constantly looking out your bedroom window (hoping for Jon to show up), it wasn’t until Steph came in with a letter in her hands that your life would take a new direction. She practically bounced into your room, probably excited for New Year’s Day dinner. Steph passed you the letter and you asked “who’s this from?” She only shrugged and smiled, “Not sure, dinner is in an hour though okay?” “Okay.” And with that she scurried off, and you wondered if maybe you should have told her at least; she would understand.

But no matter, you shred through the letter and payed close attention to its sender’s address. You recognised it, it was Jon’s home. Your heart began to pump faster and your face blushed, you took in the letter and began to read. “Dear Y/N, I’m sorry for not getting in touch with you sooner, I’ve been badly scolded here and it was difficult to even convince my parents to let me write this; they aren’t mad at you but they aren’t too happy with me. Please reply to this when you can; love, Jonathan.” And that hit you hard, like stealing your sort of sister’s costume and running away kind of hard.

You knew there was no better time than tonight, even though you were terrified.

—————————

It after dinner, and your father had finally been alone; he was sat in his office and now was your moment. So you swiftly went in and let out a sigh, your heart felt like it was collapsing in on itself. But you stood brave anyway, you met his gaze from his chair. “Father.” You said and stood in front of his desk, he looked up at you and put down his work. “Y/N, what is it?” He asked, in his usual stoic tone which worried you despite its regularity. “I really don’t know how to describe this..it’s so difficult.” You uttered, whilst fluttering your hands to cool down. He waited for you, and you eventually had the courage to spurt one thing out.

“Jason.” You said and he eyed you, concerned. “Is he okay? Did something happen?” He asked, and you immediately shook your head aggressively. “No-No! It’s not that, he knows he will tell you.” And with that you ran to collect him, eventually finding him in the cave, you guess it was a bad time, as him and Dick were chatting; but no mind. Your father sat in the same place and Jason knew immediately, you couldn’t tell him yourself; so you wanted him to tell him. You would usually be ashamed, your grandfather would be ashamed, you are ashamed. But you could never find the words, but Jason thought it would be best to get it out that way.

“Y/N is going to have a baby Bruce.” He said, quietly so nobody else would hear but you three, jeez he could have just said you were pregnant and shortened it. Almost like he was indirectly scolding you but also sugar coating it, so oxymoronic. Your’s dad face didn’t move, and that worried you. “Jon’s?” He asked, knowingly, and that deeply scared you. “I mean who else?” You sniffled, wiping some tears that escaped you. Bruce sighed but stood up to face you, “I’m not mad at you, just disappointed that you chose now.” He said and unexpectedly pulled you into an embrace. “Do not tell your brothers, leave them to me.” And with that you gave Jason a sarcastic look, he rolled his eyes at you and broke the silence.

“Gosh I’m hardly gonna kill your baby’s father now am I?” He announced and turned the other way, “Jason.” Bruce said whilst pulling away from you gently. “What?! I promise, scouts honour.” He argued and smiled. “Jason you were never a scout!” You retorted in joking annoyance, “yeah exactly.” “Jason!” “Forget me, just make sure Damian doesn’t find out that Jon got you pregnant!” He yelled, practically for everyone to hear. And just when you thought you were safe, you heard a voice.

“Y/N’s pregnant.?” Someone said, you couldn’t identify who as currently all your siblings were standing at the now opened office door.

“Shit.”

——————————

IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT I HAD SCHOOL WORK (AND THE CLIFFHANGER)

Taglist: @waterwyne @planetlotus @girlmachia @type-ink @0924ours @astrelz @icantcryicantstopcrying @twismare @sugarrush-blush @skepvids @dreaming-of-the-reality @otterluver05 @godoreo22 @earth-to-name @krys0210 @allycat4458 @chenlelover @qardasngan

PLS CHECK UR SETTINGS BECAUSE I CANT TAG SOME OF YALL <3

[babyflorencee]

Clingy

Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Y/n was lying in her bed, the soft blankets draped over her like a warm embrace. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air from the fabric softener, mixing with the cool, crisp hint of the evening breeze that slipped through the cracked window. Outside, the moonlight streamed through the thin curtains, casting a silvery glow that bathed the room in a serene, dreamlike quality.

It had been a long day, and all she wanted was to relax and unwind. But the moment she closed her eyes, she felt the weight of someone climbing onto the bed next to her.

"Y/n," Harry whined as he slipped under the covers, his chilled fingers grazing her waist as he wrapped himself around her, resting his head on her chest. His body was cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the blankets.

"Harry," she said gently, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "What’s going on?"

"I’m just so cold," he whined, burying his face deeper into her chest. "And I don’t want to be cold anymore."

"Baby, you’re always cold," she laughed softly, tightening her arms around him. The sound of the sheets rustling filled the room. "And you’re literally wrapped up in a blanket right now."

He sighed dramatically, tightening his grip around her. "But I’m still cold, Y/n. And you have to warm me up."

"Okay, okay, I’ll keep you warm," she said, her tone tinged with amusement as she pulled him closer. Harry nuzzled into her neck, his cheek soft against her skin, his lips making the cutest pout, as she caught a faint trace of his cologne.

"I don’t ever want to let go of you," Harry mumbled. "You’re so warm and comfy."

"Well, you don't have to," she whispered, pressing a kiss on the top of his head.

Harry hummed contentedly, but his grip didn’t relax. If anything, it only tightened as he pressed himself against her side even more, like he was trying to melt into her completely. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

"Y/n…" he whispered, his voice filled with a soft desperation. "Please just hold me."

"I am holding you," she replied, squeezing him back, trying to comfort him.

"No," Harry whined, "I mean, really hold me."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." Y/n assured him, pulling him closer, as her hands traced soothing patterns across his back. "Is this better?"

"Mhm."

"You're a big baby, you know that?"

"I’m not a baby," Harry argued, though his voice was muffled by the way his face was pressed into her hair. "I’m just very affectionate. That’s all."

"Uh-huh, sure," Y/n said with a teasing smile. "You’re just a little clingy, that’s all."

Harry tilted his head up to look at her, his eyes wide and innocent. "Clingy? Me?" he gasped dramatically. "How could you say such a thing?"

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you won’t let me breathe without you being attached to me?"

"Well," Harry said with a little grin, "I’m not going to let you breathe without me attached. I like being attached to you." He punctuated his sentence by wrapping his arms tighter around her, as if to prove a point that didn't really make sense.

"You’re impossible," Y/n chuckled, letting him pull her in tighter. She could feel his warmth against her, and despite the teasing, it felt nice to be this close to him.

"Stop it. I just want to be near you," he mumbled, his voice soft and a little drowsy now. "What if you go somewhere? What if you leave me?"

"Harry," she said gently, "I’m not going anywhere."

"But what if you do?" he whined again, his hand clutching her shirt like he was never going to let her go. "I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay here. Forever."

Y/n’s heart melted at how vulnerable he was being. She brushed a strand of his messy hair away from his face before placing a kiss on his forehead. "I’m right here, Harry. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

He gave a satisfied sigh and rested his head against her chest, still clinging to her like she was his lifeline. "Okay," he said softly, "but if you ever try to leave, I’m going with you."

She laughed lightly, running her fingers through his hair. "I’m not going anywhere, so you can relax."

"But what if you go to the kitchen for a snack?" he asked with a pout. "What if you don’t come back?"

"Harry, I’m not going anywhere," she repeated, amused by his ridiculous worries. "You’re stuck with me, alright?"

He responded with a dramatic groan, still holding onto her as if his life depended on it. "Good. Because I want you all to myself, right here, forever."

Y/n smiled warmly, hugging him back. " I like having you all to myself, too."

A soft, contented hum escaped Harry as he snuggled even closer, pressing his cheek against her chest. "Good," he muttered, already half-asleep. "Because I’m never letting go."

Y/n couldn’t help but smile as she felt his grip around her tighten again, and she realized that despite his clinginess, she didn’t mind one bit. In fact, she kind of loved it.

"You’re ridiculous," she whispered, running a hand gently over his back. "But I’m glad you’re here."

"I’m glad I’m here too," Harry mumbled, his voice fading as he drifted off to sleep, still holding onto her like she was his favorite thing in the world.

And as Y/n lay there, listening to his soft breathing and feeling the warmth of his body against hers, she realized just how perfect these quiet moments were. Even if he was clingy, Harry was exactly where he needed to be—right beside her.

[0omillo0]

Hi, I love your content. I was wondering if you could write something like a failed date with bangchan. Like he takes you out to dinner they are about to be late because chan had overslept in the studio and so t/n rushes chan which makes him park in a place where he shouldn't and well a tow truck takes the car and they have to walk to where the car is and your heel breaks and well you resist a little but finally he carries you on his back and you both end up reconciling.

(Sientete libre de ignorarlo sino te gusta la idea 💗)

“Failed” Date

Bangchan x Reader — 방찬

It was supposed to be the perfect night. Bang Chan had promised you a proper date after weeks of hectic schedules and late-night studio sessions. You’d spent the day excited, picking out the perfect outfit and imagining how nice it would be to just have some time with him, away from the chaos of his work.

But, of course, things couldn’t go as planned.

“Chan?” you called, tapping your phone nervously as you stood by the door. The reservation was for 8:00 PM, and it was already 7:45. He still wasn’t out of the studio. You sighed, pacing slightly before deciding to check on him.

You found him slumped in his chair, headphones still around his neck, head resting against the desk as soft music played in the background. His face looked peaceful, though a little tired, and for a moment, you hesitated to wake him up. But then you checked your phone again. 7:50.

“Chan!” you said, a little louder this time, shaking his shoulder gently. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open groggily as he blinked up at you in confusion.

“What…?” He sat up quickly, realizing the time. “Oh no. I fell asleep. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay,” you said, though your voice was tinged with urgency. “But we’re really late. We need to go now.”

The rush to leave was a blur. Chan threw on the first jacket he could find and grabbed his keys. You slid into the passenger seat as he fumbled with the GPS, muttering apologies under his breath.

“Chan, we’re already late,” you said, trying not to sound frustrated. “We don’t have time to find perfect parking.”

“I know, I know,” he replied, clearly flustered. He spotted an open space just a block away from the restaurant and, without thinking, pulled in.

“Uh… Chan,” you said, eyeing the bright yellow “No Parking” sign.

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, shutting the car off. “We’ll only be here for a couple of hours. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You gave him a skeptical look but decided not to argue.

Dinner was nice… until it wasn’t.

The restaurant was cozy, and for a while, it felt like things were going to turn around. Chan apologized for being late, his hand holding yours across the table as he promised to make the night perfect. You’d started to relax, letting yourself enjoy the warmth of his presence.

But when you left the restaurant, your stomach dropped.

“Where’s the car?” you asked, your eyes scanning the now-empty parking space.

Chan froze, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process what was happening.

“No…” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “No, no, no. It got towed.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I told you that spot wasn’t okay.”

“I know,” he said quickly, guilt evident in his tone. “I’ll fix it. I promise. Let’s just… let’s go to the lot and get it back.”

The two of you started walking, the cold night air nipping at your skin. Chan kept glancing at you, his guilt clear in the way his shoulders were hunched.

“Are you mad?” he asked hesitantly.

“I’m not mad,” you replied, though your voice was tight. “It’s just… this isn’t exactly how I imagined tonight going.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I really wanted this to be special for you.”

You didn’t respond, partly because you didn’t want to say something you’d regret, and partly because your heel chose that moment to snap.

“Are you kidding me?” you groaned, stumbling slightly as you tried to balance.

Chan was by your side in an instant, his hands steadying you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, though your frustration was starting to bubble over. You tried to take another step, but the broken heel made it nearly impossible.

Chan frowned, glancing down at your shoes before making a decision. Without warning, he crouched in front of you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, startled.

“Get on,” he said firmly.

“What? No, I’m not—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, looking over his shoulder at you. His voice softened. “Please. Let me do this. I need to do something right tonight.”

You hesitated for a moment before sighing and climbing onto his back. He adjusted you easily, his arms strong and steady as he started walking again.

The silence was different this time—less tense, more comforting.

“I’m sorry,” Chan said after a while, his voice quiet but earnest. “For everything. For oversleeping, for parking in a stupid spot, for not making this night what you deserve. You do so much for me, Y/N, and I just… I keep screwing up.”

You rested your chin on his shoulder, your anger melting away as you listened to him. “Chan, you don’t have to be perfect. I just want to spend time with you. That’s what tonight was supposed to be about.”

“I know,” he said softly. “And I promise I’ll do better. I’ll plan another date, and this time, I’ll get it right. No studio naps, no towed cars, no broken heels.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “You’re doing okay so far,” you teased.

He smiled, glancing back at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, tightening your arms around his shoulders. “This isn’t so bad.”

By the time you reached the impound lot, you were both laughing, the tension of the night completely gone.

As Chan set you down, he turned to you, his hands resting on your waist. “Thank you for being patient with me,” he said sincerely.

You smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for carrying me.”

His eyes softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Always.”

And somehow, despite everything that had gone wrong, the night felt perfect after all.

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @omgsecretsecret @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

[amorchai]

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊.

original post was 835 notes.

pairing(s): harry styles x reader

words: 842

warnings/tags: r being sick, established relationship.

you’re guided towards the bottom row of seats, the arena empty as it awaited the company of thousands of fans to sing their heart out to your boyfriend’s music. there’s a soft woven blanket tucked beneath your chin, fists keeping it in your grasp as you settle down onto one of the plastic chairs, watching harry as the low tune of ‘matilda’ plays.

his hair is askew, messy brown strands collected in a short pony atop his head along with a comfortable pair of joggers and loose t-shirt to contrast his sparkly outfit in hours to come. you loved harry for who he was, himself on stage and allowing people to be who they are completely. dressed in pinks, covered in skirts. but you also loved this side of him – behind the scenes, swollen face from his previous nap and entirely calm. collected.

you felt like it was a wattpad moment, when harry spotted you in the distance, eyes connecting to yours. only he was already your boyfriend, going through soundcheck, seeing you in the lonely arena and not amidst a crowd. but with his dorky smile and extended hand aimed in your direction it didn’t make a difference to you, your heart fluttered.

once the song came to an end, the soft melody slowly closing harry moves away from the mic and begins talking to the crew of people. you huddle closer to the warm blanket, trying hard to ignore the scratch in your throat meeting the low nausea you’ve been battling the whole day – ‘just travel sickness’ you’ve been trying to assure.

but harry knew you much better than that.

you try to sit higher as harry moves away, beginning to walk in your direction. downplaying the wave of sickness you feel? no, never. just… adjusting your position for purely comfort matters. harry clears his throat when he sits down in the seat beside yours, arm across the back of your seat and the warmth of his side far too inviting you felt like crying in relief when moving into him.

“how’re you feeling?” harry’s watching you intensely, unoccupied hand reaching for your cheek, feeling the warmth – far too warm for his liking – and gently grazing the skin with the back of his pointer finger for comfort.

“amazing,” you huff. harry briefly chuckles at the small differ in your voice, blocked nose the cause. “yeah?” there’s a pause as he looks over your side profile, heavy eyes and mouth agape in heavy hard breaths due to lack of oxygen from your nostrils. you were sick, and he knows before you care to admit it.

your head turns when he continues, cheek pressed to his shoulder covered in a cotton black material, “you look amazing.” the teasing tone making your eyebrows pull in retaliation, “are you saying i don’t look nice?” harry’s gaze doesn’t falter, lip still curved into a lopsided smile when he replies, “you always look nice, darling.”

you huff once more, cheek nuzzling his shoulder as you press further into him, deciding to not look up at him anymore in defence. you feel harry’s head follow, check squished atop your head and ring-covered fingers digging comfortingly into your shoulder as he squeezes you affectionately.

“you’re sick,” he says after more silence, breaking your reverie from watching the crew focus on setting up. you pull back, harry looking back at you once more when you shake your head in disagreement, “you’re sick,” he repeats quietly.

this time you sigh in defeat, looking down to your hands, messily nudging the blanket atop your lap in hopes to get out of the situation, praying he lets it go. but while your boyfriend knew you, you also knew him.

“let’s get you back to bed and some medication, yeah?” his hand which is still holding your shoulder softly shoogles it, pressing for you to move and with a low nod you do. you allow harry to stand with you, to guide you towards the back entrance.

“but you sounded good, baby. wanted to come see you perform,” you pout in sadness, an extra depressed tone in hopes to maybe convince harry that you were healthy enough to stay and see him in concert. harry laughs, opening the door to the array of more staff in attempts to care for you until you’re comfortable, “you see me perform every night.”

he presses an affirming kiss to your cheek but your never-fading pout tells him you are unwilling to let it go. “i’ll sing to you when i get back,” with this your saddened expression falls, a soft glint hidden behind the tired eyes with the softest smile he wishes he could kiss in this moment – if only you weren’t so sick and he had hundreds of shows left in his tour.

“okay.” you give up, allowing harry to take care of you like the gentleman he is as you knew your boyfriend wasn’t going to give up and leave you to wallow in sickness all by yourself, stuck to your side like always.

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amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[chilling-seavey]

I thought of this and had to share it for TWIG. George is away at a race and you are home with the kids. The night before the race, George calls you for phone sex but you know you have to be quiet otherwise the kids will wake up

↳ A/N Thank you for this, anon! You only sent this last night but it really inspired me and I was feeling kind of down and really needed a simple, easy, lighthearted thing to write to get my mind off the craziness of life. This was perfect <3

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 2.1k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, phone sex, male masturbation, dirty talk, unedited

“This triple header is brutal.”

George’s voice was tired through the phone. You could tell he was trying to hide it but you knew him well enough by then; the languidness of his syllables, drawing them out just a little more, the sparkle dulled in his tone. 

Sitting on your side of your shared bed with an ocean between you, you held your phone to your ear with a melancholy smile. Your husband’s voice always warmed your heart but when he was more downtrodden, it was hard to fully feel it. 

“I know.” you replied gently, your book laying open and forgotten on your lap, “They really work you and the team to the bone with those.”

“Not just that,” George sighed, “I miss you…the kids. I hate not being able to fly home between races.”

You rested your head back against the headboard with a fond smile at his sweet confession, “Aw, my love. We miss you too.”

“I really miss you.” he pressed. 

Your fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of your open novel spread across your thighs as his familiar voice caused your heart to flutter. Your gaze was focused on the wall across from your bed where the dresser sat, a few of his things dotted along the surface, some spaces empty with things he had brought with him for three weeks away. With a softly playful tone, you asked, “How much?”

There was a pause through the line and then George chuckled warmly, replying with a cheeky, “What are you wearing?”

“Oh—” you scrunched your eyes closed with a gentle laugh, “You’re terrible.”

“What?” George laughed in return through the phone, “I’m serious.”

You looked down at yourself in your t-shirt and faded pyjama shorts, “Nothing sexy, I’ll tell you that.”

“You’re always sexy.” George countered with ease like he had been telling you that all his life. He pressed a little harder, “Come on. Fess up.”

“I’m wearing one of your old Mercedes team shirts from 2024.” you told him, picking at the logo of one of the now-bankrupt sponsors that had started to flake off after years and years of wash. A piece of the print fluttered down onto your open book on your lap. You added, “And some ancient pyjama shorts.”

“Ooh, the blue and grey striped shorts?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

George hummed in approval, “Those are nice. Make your bum look extra good.”

“What is with you?” you laughed breathily, shaking your head a little at the obvious intention behind his responses.

“What?” he protested, his voice raising a half-octave in defence, “I miss my wife and I want to flirt with her.”

You closed your book with your free hand and set it aside on your nightstand to give him your full attention. Your knees pulled up a little, tenting the duvet you were sitting under, and you teased him knowingly, “Your hand isn’t doing it for you anymore?”

George inhaled sharply, “Now who’s being forward?”

“Am I wrong?”

There was a pause and then a defeated sigh, followed by a one-word answer in which you could hear his playful smirk, “No.”

“Besides, tomorrow’s Sunday and you always liked to have a pre-race orgasm.” you stated knowingly, “Knocks you out like a light. Guaranteed good night’s sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, you know me better than anyone.” George retorted in a feigned mocking tone.

There was a pause again. You could faintly hear the sound of his breathing. You nibbled at your bottom lip as if to physically try and switch your mindset from your calm relaxing night-in to having phone sex with your husband. Through the phone, you could hear the rustling of sheets as he shifted. 

“I can’t go crazy with it,” you warned softly, “the kids are asleep and you know how thin these walls are.”

“That’s okay.” George’s voice was just as quiet, as if he had any reason to whisper on his side of the world, “I’ll take anything. Even just hearing your voice.”

“Okay then…want me to read you the grocery list?”

He let out a strained sigh, “Sweetheart.”

“Okay, okay.” you chuckled. 

You could picture his pleading pout in your mind, the scrunch of his eyes, the tilt of his head. Deep inside you, your stomach stirred. You wondered if he was naked in the hotel room bed at that moment. 

The pause wasn’t doing any favours for your poor husband who was impatiently waiting through the line. George pleaded with you in that sweet voice that somehow always wore you down, “Please, my love, I’m already so hard.”

Your eyebrows raised, “Already?” 

George’s shy chuckle melted into a soft groan of a confession, “I’ve been trying to have a bit of a wank for almost an hour now but my brain keeps thinking of strategies and tyre management and I keep going soft.”

You swallowed back a joke about soft versus hard tyre compounds for the sake of not making him suffer any longer. Instead, you got yourself comfortable in your strikingly empty shared bed and adjusted your grip on your phone against your ear. You comforted him lovingly, “My poor love. Where are you? In bed?”

“Yeah,” George’s breath was shallow. Through the phone you could faintly hear the pop of the lid of a plastic bottle opening. It didn’t take much sleuthing to figure it was lube. 

“And you’re hard…again.” you continued, “And missing me.”

“Yeah,” his voice was a little softer, the word drawn out a little longer than previous. 

“Missing what part of me?” you asked. 

George hummed lowly, “All of you, love, you know that.”

“My mouth?” you taunted, letting a moment for your two words to settle before adding, “My pussy?”

The tight inhale of breath through the line was answer enough. 

“Yeah? That’s what you want, don’t you?” you whispered to him, “Want to be buried nice and deep inside me…right where you belong. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah…” George nearly purred. 

The sound of his voice alone was enough to make your insides burn and your thighs clenched together a little tighter. You could faintly hear the slick sound of his hand stroking his lubed up cock through the phone, keeping to a slow languid pace as you eased him into the wonderful pictures your words could paint. His every soft breath had you shivering, feeling his need through the phone and, almost, the heat of his familiar breath against your skin.

“Just want me squeezing around you so tight?” you continued. 

“Yeah…so warm.” George slurred out.

“So tight and warm and all yours. All yours to stretch out and fill up.”

“Baby.” George moaned, elongating the vowels. 

You knew not to stop, you knew just how much he loved your endless stream of consciousness, how your words didn’t hold back when you got in that right mindset. He loved your voice and every thought that spilled from it. 

“What I wouldn’t give to be in that hotel room with you right now…in that bed with you…just bouncing on your gorgeous dick.”

George’s breath caught a little. You could hear his hand speed up.

He let out a shaky, “Mm, please keep going.”

“And you can hold my hips and move me how you want…”

“Mhm…”

“And you could just feel how wet I am for you…leaking all over you…”

“Fuck—” George choked out, almost a sob, as if he were vividly picturing everything you were saying. In a barely there breath, he added, “Please—”

You shifted in bed a little as the sounds of him getting himself off through the phone went right between your legs. With your children sleeping just down the hall, you couldn’t stomach the idea of sharing in his pleasure just in case they heard you; it was always easier to be convinced when George was there in person. When it was just you, all alone in your bedroom, your nervousness out-powered your desire. That was okay; you were perfectly content just helping him out anyway. 

“You sound so good, baby.” you breathed, your ears perked to his every small moan or groan or gasp. “Keep moaning for me…you know I like it when you’re vocal.”

George swallowed thickly, his words strained and drunken, “Yeah…feels so good…”

“Would feel better with my hands all over you, wouldn’t it? Kissing your neck…pulling your hair…”

The shaky moan he replied with was erotic, sending your heart racing and your thighs clenching. 

“Yeah, I know, you love that.” your voice was low and languid, dragging on your words in a way that had him soaking in everything you were saying, “Letting me pull on the ends of your hair while I fuck myself on your lap…on your perfect fucking dick.”

George’s breathing was getting heavier through the phone, almost as if he was so in his head that he forgot you weren’t even there with him. The steady slick rhythm of his hand on himself was hypnotizing to you, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, knowing exactly what he must have looked like alone in that empty hotel room half-way across the world. It was a sight you had seen more times than you could count but one that always had that unmistakable warmth pooling in the depths of your belly. 

George writhed, his voice strained and urgent, “Don’t stop. Please, keep talking. Please.”

“I can tell you're close…listen to those pretty sounds you’re making.” you purred, rambling anything that came to mind, “I’d be all over you if I was there…I’m sure you’d have already made me come twice over by now…making me come all over your cock just squeezing around it and soaking it.”

George’s breath caught. You heard his hand speed up a little more. 

“Yeah? That’s what you want?” you pressed on, “Wanna feel how hard you can make me come? Knowing you’re the only one who can do that to me? That I’m all yours? Absolutely wrecking me and still making me want more and more and more of you?”

“Yeah.” George moaned, “Fuck, I’m so close, baby, please—”

You always knew exactly what he wanted to hear, speaking to him with ease of your trust and familiarity, “You wanna come inside me? Wanna put a baby in me?”

George choked out your name in the handsomest groan. 

“Yeah? I know you’re so close; bet you’re just throbbing. You gonna give me what I want? Gonna give me all your cum as deep as you can?”

“Uh huh—”

“Uh huh? Yeah, you are. That’s it.” you encouraged, your free hand dropping beneath the bedsheets around your middle to rub over your clothed pussy. You could feel your wetness already seeping through your panties and your shorts, your cunt only throbbing more beneath your fingers at the sounds of his strained breaths and soft moans as he drew closer and closer. “Come on, gorgeous. Gimme it. Come for me.”

After years together, you didn’t have to be in the room with him to know exactly when he came. Your ears easily picked up on the hitch of his breath that was laced in with the prettiest whimper (something that he was always a little self-conscious about, but something you loved most) before letting it out a second later with a wavering moan and another and another, falling into those long-awaited waves of pleasure. 

“There you go,” you cooed softly, “That’s so good. Give me every last drop.”

“Yeah…” George panted, “Yeah, fuck, that’s…it.”

“Good?” you chuckled through the phone as his build up eased into silence of nothing but his breaths.

“Yeah. Perfect. You’re perfect.” he whispered dreamily, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” you reminded him sweetly, before following it up with a casual, “But you owe me when you get home.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” George chuckled, his tone clearly worn out, “I would have done so anyway, even without you asking.”

There was a peaceful pause between you, both of you lost in your thoughts. 

“It’s late here.” you finally stated, pulling your phone away to glance at the time before resting it back against your ear, “I should sleep. You know the little guy is going to have me up at the crack of dawn.”

George’s voice was soft and laced with a knowing smile, “Of course. I’ll let you sleep. I have to…clean up anyway.”

You laughed breathily and lolled your head back against the headboard with a dreamy smile at how flushed and gorgeous and messy he must look after all that. But, you knew the conversation needed to be wrapped up so you kept your thoughts to yourself and, instead, reminded him, “We’ll definitely be watching the race tomorrow…even if it means a bit late to bed for the tot. Give us a call after, okay?” 

“Always do.” George replied simply, “I love you.”

“I love you.” you echoed with ease.

Another pause as if you both just wanted to hear the sounds of the other breathing for a moment longer. 

Finally, George whispered a tender, “Good night, darling.”

“Night, my love.”

And the call disconnected.

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[nodoubtily]

just saw the wayv post girlie and was thinking if you could do enhypen who’s a moaner and who’s not as well.🔥🔥🔥🔥🩷🩷🩷🩷

I LOVE THESE POSTS HOLY SHITTTTTT. Aight, betttt.

Disclaimer I AM DOING OT7 WHETHER OR NOT YOU LIKE IT. Don’t like, don’t read.

Heeseung - 8/10

Heeseung’s vocals are always so loud, but his voice is also very whiny, so expect loud moans throughout sex when his orgasm is building, but as soon as he’s about to teeter to the edge is when the restless, pant-like whines come out.

Jay - 4/10

I don’t really see Jay as much of a loud person during intimacy. Funny considering he’s very loud a lot of the time, but we all know Jay is more of a giver than a receiver, and during any kind of act of intimacy, he’ll be focusing on you and your pleasure, and won’t feel satisfied if you’re not being loud. He’s quiet, focused on you and your pleasure instead.

Jake - 10/10

Are you fucking kidding me. Bro is a screamer! Jake has two different sides, and either way, he’s loud. When he’s feeling dominant, and like he wants to take control of the situation, which only happens when he’s frustrated, he’ll chase his own orgasm and not care if you cum or not. But if he’s feeling submissive, and that he really just wants to be your good boy, he’ll say in-between shameless moans, “am I do-doing good for you?” While he’s relentlessly pounding into you to make you cum. He only wants you to cum, but you feel so fucking good.

Sunghoon - 7/10

I reckon he’s more of a whiny little thing. He wants to cum. So bad. He wants you to let him cum. So fucking bad. He’ll moan if he’s got you in a mating press, but most of the time he just whines like the good fucking boy he is.

Sunoo - 9/10

Sunoo doesn’t care. He actually despises men who say it’s cringy for guys to moan in bed, because if he feels really good, he’ll make sure you know he’s feeling good, while he’s grinding his cock deep inside your hole, his pubic bone hitting your clit. He loves moaning. He’s a moaner and he’s PROUD.

Jungwon - 6/10

He loves little whimpers. You love his little whimpers. Especially when you’re riding him and his face is flushed against your tits and his little kitty whimpers leave his mouth, nice and whiny. He’s only a whiny boy for you.

Niki - 8/10

Niki is still inexperienced, and he loves the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped tightly around his cock. So much so he lets you hear about it. Disregarding the nonchalant-ness he lets out, he’s very vocal in bed as he loves the feeling of sex.

F R E A K A L E E K

1/7 - Jake! The good boy he is, loves letting you know he’s feeling really good (10/10)

2/7 - Sunoo! The feminist of the group, wants you to hear his immense pleasure (9/10)

3/7 - Heeseung! Doesn’t know how to control his sounds still when it comes to you! (8/10)

H A L F W A Y T H E R E

4/7 - Niki! An unexperienced boy; loves being used and loves moaning. Especially when he’s about to cum. (8/10)

5/7 - Sunghoon! and his baby whines. Doesn’t want anyone else fucking him like you. (7/10)

6/7 - jungwon! who’s big on whimpers. Can’t handle anything. He’s very sensitive. (6/10)

7/7 - jay! More of a giver then a receiver. Won’t have it any other way. Radio silence because he’s too busy worrying about your pleasure. (4/10)

* R A D I O S I L E N T *

[hanbinics]

'tis the damn season — m.s.

pairing ⟶ matthew sturniolo x !fem reader genre ⟶ angst, pining. word count ⟶ 4.3k

warnings ⟶ smut, unprotected sex, p in v.

snow blankets the small new england town, turning every road, roof, and branch into a picture-perfect image of the season. it’s the kind of stillness you can only find in winter—the muffled quiet that settles deep in your chest and makes you nostalgic for things you haven’t thought about in years.

you tighten your grip on the handle of your suitcase, gaze locked on the sturniolo household still standing tall before you. it looks the same as it always has with its weathered shutters and the christmas lights strung haphazardly along the gutters. the same inflatable santa bobs in the front yard, defying the frigid wind. it’s all so achingly familiar, and yet you know you’re only paying this much attention to avoid walking up those cement steps and facing the inevitable.

it's a strange feeling being here again, but you don’t have much of a choice. your parents had moved away after you left for college, uprooting the life they’d built here for a quieter one halfway across the country. visiting them for the holidays would have meant burning up the little vacation time you had left from school.

the sturniolos had offered without hesitation. they’d been like a second family to you growing up, and their door was always open. it was a comforting thought—or it would be if it didn’t mean facing the one thing you have to force yourself to stop thinking about.

before you can knock, the door swings open.

matt leans casually against the doorframe, hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy jeans. his hair is slightly mussed, like he’d just rolled out of bed, but he still looks good. he’d never really had a baby face in his teenage years, but somehow the cut of his jaw seems to get sharper every time you see him, the shadow of stubble decorating his pale skin in a way that nearly has you clenching your thighs. what remains almost always the same, however, are his eyes; bright and steady, holding an unreadable expression that flickers briefly only when landing on you.

“you’re early,” he says, voice low and even.

“you’re predictable,” you counter, lips twitching into a half-smile despite the way your heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice.

he raises an eyebrow, but you don't miss the subtle twitch of his mouth, like he's trying not to smile back at you. when you think he's going to respond, a light and airy voice cuts in before he can.

“matt? who’s at the door?”

your stomach tightens. you don’t have to see her to know who it is. the cheerful lilt in her voice is unmistakable, and you’d be lying if you said you haven’t spent an embarrassing amount of time looking through photos of her and matt on his mother’s facebook page. try as you might, that whole “forcing yourself to stop thinking about him” thing doesn’t always work.

“i’ll get your bag,” matt says quickly, stepping aside and avoiding your eyes entirely as you step into the painful world of complete nostalgia.

matt’s fiancé, willow, is everything you aren’t. she’s the type of girl that’s effortlessly kind, her smile bright enough to light up a room—forget needing a christmas tree. she reminds you of the kind of girl your mother used to beg for you to be, but she could never quite smooth out your rough edges, much to her dismay. you can’t help but think about how much she would love matt’s soon-to-be-wife, the thought making your gut coil painfully.

willow doesn’t seem to notice. she’s all too warm in the way she greets you, pulling you into a hug like you’d known each other for years.

“it’s so nice to finally meet you!” she breathes into your ear, her enthusiasm genuine. “matt’s told me so much about you.”

“has he?” you question, forcing a smile. but your curiosity is genuine, and you find yourself turning to chris just in time to catch sight of his shit-eating grin.

“you serious? kid couldn’t stop asking about how long you’d be here, when you’d be here. ‘s like havin’ to calm down a kid waitin’ to see santa,” he teases. you know he’s probably exaggerating, especially when matt mutters an obscenity while punching his brother’s shoulder, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through your body anyway.

in all her perfectness, willow doesn’t seem to think twice about chris’s teasing. a laugh falls from her mouth instead, the pretty girl still beaming as she turns to you and nods.

“he really does talk about you all the time—about growing up here and all the memories you guys share. it’s sweet,” she admits, gaze full of nothing but adoration as her hand finds matt’s once he’s close enough to her, his usually pale cheeks harboring a bit of a pink flush to them now and his smile somewhat uncomfortable.

your heart twists painfully at her words, but your face remains neutral, only mustering up the smallest upturn to the corners of your mouth in response. you’re sure there’s truth to matt talking about you, but it mostly serves to remind you that he’s so curious because outside of these little trips home—which are few and far between—the two of you don’t talk.

you could say it’s because you’re both just so busy, that it’s hard to maintain a friendship with so much distance between the two of you, that your lives are just going in such different directions. but deep down, without a smoke screen and the fear of wearing your heart on your sleeve the way matt always has, you know unanswered texts and missed calls from the boy you’ve always considered to be home has truly driven a wedge—one you feel you can’t dig out anymore.

while matt says nothing about everyone basically speaking for him, you can tell he’s avoiding your gaze entirely, and guilt swirls in your chest even as mary lou and the rest of the sturniolos parade you around the house, showering you with the kind of attention you’ve never been fond of simply because it puts you in the spotlight.

but you let them because you return the love these people have always had for you, a genuine smile resting on your mouth when mary lou finally ushers you to the couch with a warm cup of hot chocolate tucked between your icy hands.

“sweetheart, it’s been too long!” she exclaims, shaking her head. “how’s life treating you? are you eating enough? you’re staying through new year’s, right?” she asks, kind eyes expectant. you can’t help but laugh softly at her string of questions.

“just through christmas,” you correct her, but the words feel hollow in your mouth and guilt comes with the delivery. it never fails to feel as though you’re running every time these trips come to an end.

“you should stay longer,” the older woman immediately responds, undeterred. “it’s not the holidays without you here.”

you breathe out an awkward laugh at that, the rest of the family beginning to chime in about the fact that you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you want, memories of past holidays soon being brought up. it’s all nice, and it makes you feel all the warm fuzzies that you don’t normally allow for yourself, but it doesn’t change your mind.

staying here any longer is dangerous, and you know it. for as long as you can remember, you’d ached to get out of here. growing up in a small town, surrounded by the same people and the same days, drove you absolutely crazy. you’d had big dreams from a young age, and you knew you’d do nothing about them if you stayed here.

as the family chatters around you, you can’t help but feel a pair of eyes on you. you don’t have to look at him to know it’s matt, but you do anyway. he’s leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with a quiet intensity. he hasn’t said much since you’d arrived, but then, he’s never been all that talkative. your mouth twitches at the corners, a soft, almost sad smile threatening your visage. you think he might return the sentiment, but you watch with disappointment as he pushes himself from the granite countertop supporting his rigid spine.

“you know where the guest room is,” he finally says, his voice cutting through the chatter.

all you can do is nod as you watch him disappear, your timid smile now disappearing all together, nothing but a quiet “thanks” falling from your lips that he doesn’t acknowledge.

the first night back was always the hardest. the familiarity of everything—the creak of the stairs, the hum of the heater kicking on—is both comforting and suffocating. it should be of no surprise to you when you find yourself waking up in the middle of the night in need of a distraction, but you quietly curse yourself anyway as you pad down the creaky stairs as carefully as you can.

when you turn the corner, you’re surprised to find matt already in the kitchen, his back turned to you as the soft refrigerator light pours over the otherwise dark room. you’re silent for a moment as you stand in the open frame, arms crossed over your chest while you just watch him, relishing in the fact that he’s not staring at you with those longing blue eyes—the ones that seem to be constantly trying to figure you out while simultaneously reading you like a book.

after another few seconds, you finally build enough courage to speak. “couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

when the brunette turns, he doesn’t seem all that surprised that it’s you standing there, but you suppose it isn’t odd. you’d know the sound of his voice anywhere, and apparently it’s the same for him. still, it doesn’t calm the rapid pace of your heart inside your chest when he looks at you.

“usually up around this time anyway,” he admits with a shake of his head. you watch as he reaches for another glass from the cupboard, and then sets it next to his before filling them with water. “willow isn’t great at sharing the bed.” a roll of his eyes accompanies the confession, but you don’t miss the fondness to his voice, and though you laugh quietly in response, it comes out painfully forced.

“you’re, um... you’re really happy, huh?” you find yourself asking, voice barely above a whisper.

a beat passes. matt’s gaze flickers from you to the glass of water his fingers occupy the rim of before finally answering, “yeah. willow’s... she’s great.”

the words hang in the air, their weight pressing down on both of you. you nod, forcing a smile. “she is.”

there’s another few seconds of awkward, tense silence, the only sound heard being the contact of glass against granite as matt slides one of the cups towards you carefully until you can reach it for yourself. you offer a polite smile as you step closer to him, fingers wrapping around the coolness of the glass. you want the uncomfortable weight settling around the two of you to go away, but you don’t know how.

finally, the brunette clears his throat. “you leaving after christmas?” he asks, his voice steady but quiet. you figure it’s just a way to change the subject, but your gaze narrows slightly with curiosity as you look at him, nodding your head once.

“that’s the plan,” you admit, though it feels sour on your tongue.

you watch as he nods, his jaw tightening. “figures.”

your fingers tighten around the glass, eyebrows furrowing. the only light coming through the kitchen window casts shadows across his face, making him look a bit older, more tired.

“matt...”

he shakes his head, cutting you off. “don’t. it’s fine.”

you want to tell him that it’s not, that you’re sorry, but you can’t get a word in when a humorless chuckle leaves his mouth, and he begins to shake his head slowly now.

“’m used to you runnin’. it’s been radio silence for years.”

this time it’s you who laughs, lacking the same humor he couldn’t muster seconds ago. “what am i supposed to say to you, matt? ‘congratulations on your engagement?’ ‘happy holidays?’ ‘thanks for letting me crash here while i pretend everything’s fine?’” you ask incredulously, watching as his own gaze hardens.

with his jaw tight, matt sets his glass down on the counter with a little too much force behind it. “you don’t have to pretend with me.”

“don’t i?” you shoot back, the words sharper than you intended.

the air is thick with tension between you, crackling with electricity. it’s almost suffocating as the brunette steps closer, his gaze locked on yours and his large hands anchoring themselves on the granite countertop on either side of you, caging you in. your breath hitches in your throat, and you can only hope that he can’t hear the ridiculous pounding of your heart inside your chest, your mouth pressed into a firm line as you look up at him with curious—yet knowing—eyes.

“this was a lot easier when you weren’t here,” he finally says, his voice low and strained as he studies you.

you swallow hard, knowing you shouldn’t answer him nor entertain this pull between the two of you, but you feel like you’re being tossed out at sea where it’s inevitable to crash into the ocean rocks.

“i know,” you finally answer quietly, but your voice betrays you, shaking ever so slightly, and you know it’s all he needs.

for a moment, neither of you move. then, like magnets, you find yourselves drawn together, his mouth inching closer to yours while you press up on the tips of your toes to meet him there, until finally, you’re kissing him.

it’s heated once the two of you actually connect, matt’s strong hands finding your waist immediately. he uses the grip to pull you against him as if he can keep you there, tethered to this moment despite the truth lying just beneath the surface. you tangle your fingers in his hair, tongue greedy and imploring as years of unspoken feelings spill out in every touch, every breath shared.

as the kiss grows hungrier, sloppier, both of you pouring everything into it—love, anger, regret—his hands roam your back before sliding under the hem of your sweatshirt, his touch searing against your skin.

“tell me to stop,” the brunette breathes into your mouth, his voice breaking. it sends a pang of guilt through your abdomen, but you don’t listen to him. instead, you pull him closer, your hands clutching at his hoodie as though letting go would shatter you completely.

as if frustrated by the fact that you’re letting this happen, matt presses your spine into the counter behind you, his hands sliding from beneath your sweatshirt down to the backs of your thighs where he digs his fingers into your skin for a better grip and lifts you onto the counter, his desperate mouth never leaving yours. the kitchen is freezing, but your body feels like it’s on fire, the heat and frustration between the two of you melting away every last thread of restraint.

clothes fall away in a blur, your breaths mingling in the cold air as his hands explore every inch of you, like he’s trying to memorize what he can never have again—what he knows will be gone soon. you’re still trying to adjust to every sense being so overwhelmed with matt’s presence that you hardly notice the fact that he’s already working on dragging your panties down your thighs, your hips and legs thrashing around on autopilot to help him out.

when his fingers make contact with your sopping pussy, your head almost immediately falls back, a breathy moan leaving your mouth. “fuck, matt. need you so bad,” you admit to him, the groan that leaves his throat causing your pussy to throb with desperation, walls fluttering when the rough pad of his thumb presses down on your clit.

he plays with you for a few seconds, giving into the way your hips buck forward in search of more friction, more attention, but eventually the brunette must decide enough is enough. you watch as he takes his hand from between your glistening inner thighs in favor of pushing his sweats down from their place on his hips, the fabric of his boxers following suit. you’re almost amazed at the sight of him already so hard for you, but you can’t say you’re surprised. being in matt’s vicinity is enough to fill you with the need to ease some of the tension between your legs, so you can understand how the dam of years’ worth of need for one another finally breaking could get him to this point so quickly.

after stroking himself a few times, you watch with hungry eyes as matt pulls you to the edge of the counter, a whine escaping your lips when the tip of his hard cock brushes against your clit. you can tell by the subtle smirk on his mouth that he knows how badly you want it, but you’re too eager to care that he can see right through you in the moment.

“matt,” you say again, his name falling from your mouth this time as a warning not to tease, but he cuts you off with a quick, hungry kiss to your mouth before parting once more.

“say it again.”

you blink at him, breathing heavily as your brow furrows in confusion. “what?” you breathe out.

“that you need me—say it again,” he elaborates, and while sirens immediately go off in your head, your heart aching at the desperate gleam in his pretty blue eyes, you find yourself swallowing thickly before nodding slightly.

“i...” you trail off, watching his eager expression carefully, knowing you shouldn’t.

but you’re selfish.

“i do. i need you, matt.”

you don’t have time to feel guilty. your mind goes completely blank when he finally pushes into you, it not being gentle, but not completely careless either. it’s everything—raw and frantic, but deeply, heartbreakingly intimate. you cling to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

it doesn’t feel like just sex, but a confession. a plea. a goodbye.

as if reading your mind, matt’s voice breaks through the haze of your chaotic mind. “why do you always leave?” he asks, his voice rough and barely audible as he moves inside of you.

tears sting your eyes, but you don’t answer. you can’t. instead, you pull his face from your neck and kiss him, swallowing the words you can’t bring yourself to say.

i have to.

if i stay, it’ll ruin you.

it’ll ruin me.

when he finally pulls away from your mouth, you bite down on your lower lip to stifle a cry as he fucks into you deeper, his movements desperate, like he’s trying to convince you to stay with his body since words are failing him at the moment. you can feel in his movements that he blames himself for this, and it breaks your heart. you don’t understand how he can believe this has to do with anything other than the fact that you’re entirely a coward. that allowing yourself to feel what you feel for him scares you. that it could make you stay.

“i hate this,” matt whispers to you, pressing his forehead against yours.

“i know,” you choke out, tears slipping down your cheeks. “i do too.”

his rhythm slows with the moment, his hands moving to cup your face as he kisses you softly now, the intensity giving way to something tender, almost reverent. it’s like he’s trying to say everything he never had the courage to despite knowing it’s too late—that nothing could have changed the outcome of this.

and then, with the realization, his hips are moving again, picking up in pace, and your head feels fuzzy. he’s fucking you like he hates you—like he loves you—and your heart clenches in your chest at the same time that the walls of your pussy begin to flutter around his relentless cock.

“matt, oh my god—i’m coming!” you cry out to him, one hand digging into the middle of his spine while the other cradles the back of his sweaty head, pressing his face further into the crook of your neck where his hot, labored breath hitches against your damp skin.

each slow, deliberate movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, but it's the intimacy of it—the way he holds you as though you might vanish—that makes it almost unbearable.

you come with a string of cries, some jumbled and indecipherable, and some of his name, your body jerking with the ripples of your orgasm that he works you through with his fingers against your puffy clit. your nails rake across his back as you listen to him murmur your name like it's the only word he knows, his breath hitching as he buries himself deeper inside of you. his previously perfect movements falter with his orgasm, fingers tightening on your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip away as soon as the moment is gone.  

he doesn’t move when it’s over, instead pressing his forehead into your shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut while soft shutters wrack his body. you can feel just how tense every muscle is, his hands clinging to you with a desperation that mirrors the one buried in the depths of your being. but it's still not enough. it still doesn't change anything.

“you’re still leaving,” he says after a long silence, his voice breaking. your lower lip trembles, and you’re glad he can’t see you just yet.

“i have to.” you nod, your fingers brushing through his short hair.

you watch as matt pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dull and glassy. “you’re gonna ruin me,” he breathes out, his voice cracking at the end. “y’know that, right?”

again, you nod, your chest tightening painfully.

you don't have the heart to tell him you already have.

morning light streams through the window, golden and soft, but it only makes the heaviness in your chest worse. your bag sits by the door, packed hastily in the early hours of dawn while the house was still quiet, the weight of everything practically crushing you.

matt hadn’t spoken to you after last night. you hadn’t expected him to. after sneaking back upstairs, the realization had hit you like a tidal wave: nothing had changed. what you and the brunette shared in the kitchen—desperate kisses, the raw and aching connection, the unspoken words in every touch—hadn’t erased the fact that he’s engaged, and you don’t belong here anymore.

when you finally build the courage to head downstairs, nobody is awake, and you’re grateful. and you’re painfully aware of how incredibly cowardly it is, but running without the offer of closure has always been the more appealing option for you. it leaves no room for confrontation and hurt, or at least none that you have to face until you’re all alone again with regret and hatred swirling deep within your aching core.

you’re already thinking of what you’re going to say later when you inevitably receive a few confused and probably hurt messages about the fact that you’re leaving unannounced when matt finds you by the front door. the same hoodie he wore last night hangs loose around him, his face unreadable, though his eyes carry the storm you’ve come to know too well.

“leaving already?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

you inhale shakily, but nod, fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. “yeah. figured it was time.” figured it was easier like this, is what you don’t say, but you don’t have to. he knows. and you know he hates you for it.

you watch as he steps closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. there’s a pause, and then, “last night—”

“don’t,” you cut him off softly, shaking your head. “please, just... don’t make this harder than it already is.” your voice is quiet, and it breaks at the end, but otherwise your expression remains neutral.

the silence stretches between you, heavy with everything you refuse to say. the words press against the back of your throat, tears threatening the corners of your eyes, but you know better than to ever let any of it escape. words won’t fix this. they won’t undo the lines that have already been crossed or change the fact that you’re leaving. again.

“i mean it, you know,” matt says suddenly, his voice breaking, “that you’re taking a piece of me with you. that you’re ruining me.”

your eyes burn, but somehow you force a wavering smile. you want to tell him that you’re leaving a piece of yourself behind, but you don’t.

“isn’t that the way it’s always been?”

he doesn’t answer, but the look on his face says enough. his jaw is tight and his fingers twitch inside his pockets, flexing and unflexing. he hates you.

but his chest heaves, quickening with the beat of his aching heart, and his eyes are shiny with emotion you always seem to elicit. he loves you.

as you step outside, the cold air bites at your skin, but it feels like a relief compared to the suffocating weight of the house, of what waits inside for you. every day. every year. you don’t look back, but mostly because you can’t.

as you drive away, the road stretches out before you, empty and endless, but your heart stays behind—a piece of it, anyway. a piece you know you’ll never get back.

you’ll come back to this town some day—maybe next christmas or the one after that. but you know it won’t matter. the hurt will still be there, lingering like the ghost of what could have been.

matt, however, you know you’ve lost. and you can’t help the shaky smile on your lips as you leave yet again because you absolutely deserve it.

©hanbinics

divider credit; @issysh3ll.