#artificial cherry stick

[eikaebana]

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[mssishipi]

SPEED IT UP — pjs

— BMW luxury, but make it filthy.

content tags: established relationship, profanities, dangerous driving lol, bratty? reader (she's so down bad), explicit content (smut): semi-public, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, somnophilia. MDNI! WC:6.7k

"No smoking inside the car."

You rolled your eyes but didn't argue, the weight of the cigarette between your fingers grounding you in the chill of the early morning. The air was thick with dew, mist curling around the trees.

You huffed quietly, turning to toss your duffel bag into the backseat with a soft thud. With one last drag, you inhaled deeply, letting the burn settle in your chest before flicking the stub to the gravel and grinding it beneath your boot.

It was 4 AM. The forest around the cabin still hummed with nocturnal life. Jay leaned against the car, door already open, engine off. The soft yellow dome light cast a glow over his profile.

"Come on, baby. Gotta hurry up. Sun's gonna catch us if we don't move," he said.

You didn't reply immediately. Just gave a low hum, your brow knitting as you brushed invisible ash from your crop top and walked around to the passenger side. Sliding in, you exhaled slowly and popped open the glove compartment, grabbing the half-used bottle of alcohol spray. The plastic crackled under your grip.

You sprayed your palms, rubbed it down your arms, neck, even your chest—anywhere the smoke might've clung. The chemical tang stung your nose, but it was better than the stale scent of cigarettes. You hated smelling like it around Jay, even if he didn't seem to care. It made you feel careless.

You tucked the crumpled pack of Marlboro Reds into the compartment and shut it.

"Why won't you let me hit some in here?" you asked, half-joking, half-serious, already settling into the seat as he started the engine. "We could just crack the window."

"It'll still smell around the car, baby," Jay said, not looking at you. He reached over and tapped the center console. "Just grab a lollipop in there. Cherry or something."

You sighed, opening it to see a few crumpled wrappers, some candy sticks, loose change. You pulled out a lollipop and unwrapped it lazily, slipping it between your lips. The taste was artificial, sharp and sweet. Not the same, but it would do.

Jay started the engine with a soft rumble, the dashboard lights glowing a muted blue in the dimness. You leaned back against the passenger seat, eyes drifting to the scenery slipping past the window, dense trees, low-hanging mist, an occasional flicker of distant headlights disappearing into the curve of the road.

The AC in the BMW kicked in, instantly cooling the cabin. Jay reached forward and turned on the stereo. A mellow playlist filled the space—lo-fi beats and slow, grooving instrumentals that matched the stillness outside. He adjusted the mirror, then placed both hands on the wheel.

You glanced at him. He was always like this when he drove, silent, too concentrated. No conversation, no music requests, no touching. Just the road, it annoyed you a little, though you understood it in some part of your brain you weren't in the mood to access.

An hour passed. Your lollipop was down to the dry nub of the stick, which you lazily chewed until it bent. You flicked it into an empty bottle in the cupholder and sighed, scrolling through your phone for something or anything worth looking at. There wasn't. Notifications were dry, feed was stale, and none of your apps offered enough distraction to fight the weight of the boredom settling in.

You tried to nap, leaning your head against the window, but the vibrations of the car and the occasional curve in the road jolted you awake every few minutes. The silence stretched. Jay didn't even glance at you. Always so damn responsible when behind the wheel.

You stared at the glove compartment.

You didn't have a cigarette problem. You weren't addicted. It was just comfort. A way to shake the fog in your brain, to make the dullness float away. A cigarette wasn't a need. It was a solution.

You shifted in your seat, groaning softly. "Jayyyy," you whined, dragging his name out like a child begging for candy. You popped another lollipop into your mouth. "It's so boring."

You lifted your legs, planting your feet on the dashboard, angling your knees toward him. Not to annoy him. Not just to annoy him.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye but said nothing.

You pouted, your voice a little softer, a little more teasing now. "C'mon, babe. Say something. Look at me. Do something. I'm rotting in here."

Jay didn't bite. His eyes stayed forward, hands steady on the wheel. "My iPad's in the bag. Play some Block Blast or something," he said casually.

You rolled your eyes, clicking your tongue against the lollipop in your mouth. Your gaze shifted again to the glove compartment. You needed to hit a cigarette—desperately. The urge itched at the back of your throat.

"I need to suck cigs. Please," you whined, putting your palms together in mock prayer, bottom lip jutting out in the most dramatic pout you could manage.

Jay flicked his gaze toward you, just for a second, then back to the road.

"Baby, I told you. You can't," he said gently.

That tone. Soft like a warning wrapped in velvet. You sighed, sinking into your seat. You wanted to be annoyed. You wanted to roll your eyes and push more. But it was Jay. And when he said no like that, so calm, so controlled—it didn't piss you off.

You rested your head back, still pouting. "I'll blow it outside, promise. I'll even hang half my body out the window if I have to," you mumbled, trying again.

He chuckled under his breath. "Just stick with the lollipop for a while," he said, "I'm not against you smoking, even if it wrecks your lungs. Just... know when to pull back. Put it in the right place, baby. Okay?"

The way he said it, respectful, with just a trace of that steady dominance. Not a scolding, not a demand. Just Jay, being Jay. Always that calm force in the middle of your chaos. He didn't shame you, didn't raise his voice. He just held you there in his orbit, and somehow that was hotter than any fight.

God, the way he lectured you like that, so soft, so unbothered made your thighs press just a little tighter together.

You turned your head, resting your cheek against the seat, eyes fixed on him from the corner of your gaze. The stick of the lollipop shifted between your lips, and you bit down gently, letting it click against your teeth.

The cigarette could wait.

A minute passed, maybe more, but you didn't notice. You were too focused on him. The way his hands gripped the steering wheel, veins visible beneath the smooth stretch of his skin, tendons flexing subtly with every slight turn. The road curved gently, and his knuckles followed.

His hair was down, bangs loose and framing his face, still slightly messy from the rush of getting up so early. It added to the casual, half-wild allure he wore without trying. The strands brushed against his cheeks just right, softening the sharp angles of his jaw while somehow making it look even more defined. The slope of his nose, the quiet focus in his eyes, the way his lips pressed into that unconscious pout whenever he was thinking.

Then your gaze dropped.

His thighs. Thick and tense beneath his joggers, spread just enough to make the posture feel unconsciously dominant. You watched the muscles shift slightly as he adjusted in his seat, the fabric stretching across the solid shape of them, giving away more than you knew he intended. The heat in your stomach pooled lower, slow and heavy.

Jay looked so hot right now.

You sucked slowly on the lollipop, the cherry flavor suddenly feeling too sweet, too on-the-nose, as your tongue toyed with it lazily. Your eyes traveled back up, lingering on the slope of his neck, the faint line of his collarbone visible through the stretched collar of his hoodie.

How could he be this attractive without doing anything?

He wasn't even looking at you.

Your voice slipped out before you could second-guess it, "I want to suck you off."

Jay let out a short laugh, the kind that vibrated through his chest more than his throat. His hand came down from the wheel, resting on your thigh. His palm was warm, fingers steady as they began to rub up and down—slow and absent-minded.

"Yeah?" he murmured, not taking his eyes off the road. His thumb slid just a little higher on the inside of your thigh. "That lollipop not doing it for you anymore?"

You smirked around the candy, pressing your knees together, feeling the throb pulse through you as his hand stayed exactly where it was, teasing you. Jay was always like that, he never rushed. Always knew exactly how to make you fall apart while he stayed in control.

It was unfair how good he was at it.

"You're so hot, fuck. I'm horny," you whined, shifting in your seat.

Your hips arched subtly, your body leaning closer toward him, craving proximity, anything that could bridge the space between his restraint and your need. You tugged the lollipop from your mouth, your lips slightly parted, breath warm.

Without another word, you leaned in and kissed the forming bulge in his joggers.

Jay hissed through his teeth, his hand tightening briefly on the wheel. "Wait, baby... this is a highway. I can't pull over right now."

But you weren't listening.

Your fingers worked fast, tugging down the waistband of his joggers just enough to free him. His cock sprang upward, hard and flushed, thick against the cool air of the car.

Your mouth watered at the sight, breath catching at the heat radiating off his skin. You leaned in, inhaling—soap-clean with a trace of sweat and something purely him. The scent only worsened the ache between your thighs, your panties already damp, your body begging for friction.

You pressed a kiss to the base, then another up the shaft, taking your time. Jay's breath grew heavier, chest rising a little faster beneath his hoodie.

"Baby—fuck—stop," he groaned, his voice strained but still trying to stay composed. "I could totally crash the car right now."

You just hummed around him as you let your lips part wider, taking the thick head of his cock slowly past your tongue. He was heavy and hot, stretching your mouth already, and you hadn't even gotten halfway down.

The cherry lollipop was still clutched loosely in your hand, forgotten now as the stereo played on, low beats humming through the BMW's speaker system, a lazy backdrop to your sin.

The cold air from the AC kissed your skin, but your body was burning, flushed and restless. The interior of the car is smooth leather, subtle lighting, the muted rumble of the road beneath. It felt far too intimate now. Comfortable, yes. Spacious? Not really. But maybe that made it even hotter.

You adjusted your position, knees curled beneath you as you leaned over the console, one hand braced against the seat. Not exactly ideal for sex but the idea sparked inside you anyway. You and Jay had never tried it in a moving car. And right now, with your mouth full of him and your panties soaked through, it was hard to think of why not.

"Baby..." Jay's voice broke again, raspier now. His other hand left the wheel, then tangled in your hair, fingers flexing as you took more of him into your mouth. The muscles in his thigh twitched beneath your palm. You felt the car lurch forward slightly, speed climbing.

You pulled back just a little, teasing the tip with your tongue, then swallowed him again, deeper, your throat beginning to ache in the best way. Your saliva coated him, warm and slick, and his low moan echoed under the pulse of the bass-heavy track on the stereo.

"You're going to kill us both—oh God," Jay breathed out, his hand clenched tighter in your hair, the other white-knuckling the steering wheel.

His hips jolted forward, enough to make you take him deeper, feel him press against the tight clutch of your throat. You gagged, eyes watering slightly, the sensation just on that edge of unbearable but you loved it.

You glanced up through your lashes. His profile was everything. Lips parted, panting. Brows drawn tight. Jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped under the skin. His focus was fractured now, no longer completely on the road.

And fuck, that made him even hotter.

You moaned around him, muffled and needy, the vibration making his cock twitch against your tongue. You needed more. You began to bob your head faster, greedier, your spit slicking him all the way to the base. The wet sound of your mouth choking on him grew louder, rising above the hum of the stereo and the increasingly erratic purr of the engine.

"Shit—fuck, baby—" Jay hissed, and you felt the car jerk slightly, a small swerve. His hand stayed tight in your hair, guiding you just enough. You could feel his restraint crumbling with every second, every stroke of your tongue, every time you swallowed around him.

Your body moved with the car, every sudden jolt of speed, every shift of the wheel. Your hips instinctively rolled against the seat, legs squeezing together as your own arousal throbbed, hot and insistent. You could barely think past it.

His foot slammed harder on the pedal. The BMW roared forward.

You gasped around him but didn't stop, not even when he made a sharp, desperate turn onto a gravel pull-off, the tires crunching and skidding slightly. Trees blurred past the window, then the car jerked to a stop, engine still running, headlights slicing through early-morning mist.

That's when his hips snapped forward. Fast, and rough, he groaned your name as he began thrusting into your mouth, not giving you a second to breathe. His composure shattered completely. Both hands now tangled in your hair, guiding you down, using your mouth with a desperation you'd never seen from him before.

You took it. Gagging around him, drool slipping past your lips and down your chin, your eyes locked on his face. He was gone, lost in the feeling, in you, in the heat of your mouth and the pressure building in his core. You could feel it. The way his thighs trembled. The way his rhythm became erratic. The way he started whispering curses under his breath.

"Fuck, fuck, baby—don't stop—don't fucking stop," he growled, voice cracking, head falling back against the seat.

Your hands gripped his thighs, holding yourself steady as his thrusts grew wild.

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum." he gasped, hips jerking up into your throat one last time.

With a final, broken groan, his whole body locked—hips freezing, muscles taut, cock pulsing hard between your lips. Hot, thick release spilled down your throat, and you moaned around him as you swallowed, tongue cradling every last drop. Your eyes fluttered shut, rolling back just slightly as you held him there, savoring it.

You slowly pulled off, his cock twitching slightly as it slid from your lips. A slick string of saliva stretched between you and him.

Jay collapsed back against the seat with a shaky exhale, head tilted, eyes shut. He reached down and adjusted the seat, giving you more room but his cock was still hard as fuck, standing proud, flushed a deep red and glistening. Not even release could cool the heat between you now.

With a quiet rustle, you slipped your bottoms off, panties and all, tossing them into the backseat without a thought. The cold air brushed against your bare skin, but the heat inside you burned hotter. You popped the lollipop back into your mouth, sucking lazily as you climbed into his lap, knees on either side of him.

Jay's eyes opened slowly, hazy with lust, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.

"Come here," he growled.

You settled over him, letting your soaked pussy drag along the length of his cock, his tip brushing your clit with every rock of your hips. Your head fell back instantly, a soft cry slipping from your lips as you circled your hips.

"Ahhh—fuck," you moaned, dragging your folds across him again and again, letting the friction tease you both to the edge.

Jay's hands flew to your hips, then lower, one of them cupping your mound, fingers spreading your lips, rubbing slow, delicious circles near your clit. The wetness was obscene, your arousal practically dripping onto his length, coating him in slick heat.

"Jesus Christ," he hissed, eyes fixed between your legs. "Your pussy's fucking soaked—fuck, baby. You're fucking dripping."

You whimpered, rolling your hips down into his touch, desperate for more.

"I can't help it," you panted, voice slurred slightly as the lollipop shifted in your mouth. "You're so fucking handsome—God, you look so good when you're trying not to lose control. Makes me wanna—ahhh!"

Your words cut off in a cry as Jay pushed two fingers into you. Your body clenched around him instantly, hips jerking down to meet the rhythm he set. He knew exactly where to curl them, just the right angle to pull sounds out of you.

"My pretty baby," Jay murmured, eyes locked on your face, drinking in the way it contorted with need. His thumb brushed your clit while his fingers pumped steadily, coaxing every ounce of slick from your cunt.

You were riding his hand now, shameless, grinding yourself down on his palm. Jay leaned up, his lips brushing against your jaw, hot breath ghosting over your skin. "Makes you wanna what, baby? Don't hold out on me. Say it."

You whimpered, rocking harder into his hand. "M-Makes me wanna ride your fat cock. Fuck, Jay, I want it so bad—want you to fill me up till I'm leaking all over your lap."

He groaned deep in his chest, teeth grazing your neck, and just as your back arched and hit the steering wheel—honk!

The car horn blared suddenly, sharp and loud, slicing through the haze of lust.

You both froze for half a second, startled then burst into low laughter. Jay reached down with his free hand and killed the engine, the dashboard lights dimming as silence fell. Except for the slick, wet rhythm of his fingers still inside you.

"Fuck," he grinned, voice low and ragged. "You're about to make me wreck and get us arrested, all in the same damn hour."

You moaned, grinding your hips harder, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Then shut up and fuck me, Jay. I need your cock. Now."

"Take it then," he growled, pulling his fingers free with a slick pop and grabbing the base of his cock, still hard, flushed, glistening with precum. "You want it so bad? Show me. Get yourself on it. Ride it like you mean it."

You didn't hesitate. One hand braced on the headrest behind him, the other guiding him to your entrance, you eased down onto his length with a moan that scraped from your throat. The stretch burned in the best way. He filled you completely, inch by inch, thick and hot, and by the time your hips met his, you were trembling.

"So big," you gasped. You rocked your hips once, then again rising up just enough for his tip to almost slip out before dropping back down, hard enough to make the slap of skin-on-skin echo off the leather interior.

Jay groaned beneath you, his head tipping back, one hand gripping your waist while the other fisted the edge of the seat.

Your mouth hung open, saliva slicking your lower lip, too lost in the pulse of your body to even speak. Your rhythm picked up, your hips grinding in slow, firm circles between thrusts, making him hit every sensitive spot inside you.

Jay's eyes locked onto your face, then dropped lower to your bouncing tits, to your soaked thighs, to where you were stretched around him. He bit his bottom lip and reached up without a word, fingers slipping the lollipop from between your lips.

He popped it into his own mouth, sucking lazily as he watched you ride his cock. "Mmm," he moaned, sugar-sweet and sex-drunk. "Taste even better when it's mixed with your spit."

"F-fuck, Jay," you whimpered, hands sliding up his chest, nails scraping over his hoodie.

You rolled your hips harder, faster. Your clit dragging against his pelvis with each bounce, making you cry out. You didn't care how filthy you looked, how loud, how desperate, you wanted more.

Jay shifted beneath you, planting his feet firmly, bracing himself and then thrusting up to meet you, perfectly timed as you came down. The angle was brutal, perfect, splitting you open so deep your head snapped back.

Your mouth fell open in a voiceless scream, hands flying to his shoulders, gripping him.

"Fucking ride it," Jay growled, breath ragged. "You wanna act like a needy little brat? Then prove it. Show me how fucking bad you want this cock. Work for it."

He punctuated the words by slapping your tits twice, and quick smacks that made you clench around him involuntarily.

You gasped, back arching as your pussy squeezed him tight. He yanked your crop top up with one hand, tugged your bra over your tits and latched onto one nipple, rolling it between his fingers, tossing the lollipop into the cupholder, he then leaned in and sucked the other into his mouth.

You bounced faster, trying to keep pace with the relentless rhythm, but the space was killing you. The roof of the car pressed against your head every time you moved too high. Your thighs screamed from the cramped position, the passenger seat squeaking beneath your frantic movement.

The air was hot with your breath, the windows had fogged completely now, blurred shapes of the outside world lost behind the film of heat and sweat.

"Jayy," you whined, voice cracking as your rhythm faltered. You were drenched in sweat, your skin slipping under his grip. "C-can't—fucking—move!"

He pulled back from your chest, mouth wet, lips slightly swollen from how hard he'd been sucking on you. His gaze found yours, and the wicked amusement behind it made your stomach twist.

"You're the one who begged for this," he murmured. He dipped his head again, tongue flicking lazily over your tender skin, circling your areola in slow, deliberate licks that made your spine arch involuntarily. "What, already worn out?"

"M-My legs," you breathed, nails digging into his shoulders for support, "they're cramping. I can't—I can't take it anymore, Jay. Please."

Your body was shaking from the strain. Every joint, every muscle begged for relief, but the heat building inside you was still screaming for more. It was maddening—to be this close and unable to keep going.

Jay exhaled through his nose, a quiet scoff that bordered on a laugh. "Could've just said you wanted me to take over," he muttered, the smirk returning to his lips as he slid his hands under your thighs. "But sure, cry about it first."

With a sudden shift, he lifted you off him, just enough to reposition and then he lowered the seat back, just a little, giving himself more room. His hands stayed firm on your hips, guiding you down slowly, letting gravity do the work as he filled you again, inch by throbbing inch.

"Lie back," he said, his tone low. "Let me fuck you properly."

Your back hit the steering wheel again, but this time it didn't matter. You let yourself collapse forward, resting your head on his shoulder as your body trembled around him.

He adjusted his grip, thrusting up into you, slow, controlled movements at first, deep and precise. You gasped, voice caught in your throat. Your entire body tensed around him.

"Yeah," he breathed into your ear, one hand slipping between your legs again. "That's it. Let me feel you give up. Let me do all the work now. Since my pretty girl wore herself out."

You whimpered, nodding weakly, surrendering everything.

Jay wrapped his arms around you, holding you close for a moment, before he shifted again beneath you. He adjusted his angle, pulled you flush against him, and drove his hips up.

He slammed into you so deep it knocked the air right out of your lungs.

Your voice cracked in a strangled cry, your body going rigid, then melting around him, clenching tight, pulsing with desperate need. You buried your face in his neck, moaning helplessly.

"Shit," he growled, his breath vibrating against your cheek. "This pussy's choking me. So tight. So fucking hot."

His grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into the softness. He was fucking you from below with complete control, every upward snap of his hips is bruising

You could barely keep your hands still. They roamed without direction—slapping blindly against the fogged window, leaving streaks and prints as your body rocked against the glass. Then they were at his shoulder, gripping the thick fabric of his hoodie; then in his hair, twisting, tugging, trying to anchor yourself.

Jay's mouth was everywhere, he kissed the curve of your throat, then bit your jaw with just enough pressure to make your eyes roll back. He licked a slow, hot trail across your collarbone, then sucked a bead of sweat from your skin.

"Can feel you, baby." He whispered, one hand sliding up your spine to cup the back of your neck, keeping you close. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't you?"

"Y-Yeah," you choked out, barely able to hold on. Your legs trembled violently, muscles twitching as your body struggled to keep pace with the intensity crashing down on you. "I'm—fuck, Jay—I'm right there—"

"Good," he murmured, teeth grazing your throat. "Then cum for me. Let go. Give it to me."

His thrusts grew sharper, each one punching a breath from your lungs, your hips colliding with his in a staccato rhythm of need. The sound of it filled the car: slick, obscene, mixed with your cries and the ragged sounds of his breathing. Your vision began to blur around the edges, your body too overwhelmed to process anything but sensation.

"I-I'm gonna—!" you gasped, voice cracking as the wave surged through you.

Jay caught your jaw in his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his for a breathless second then he kissed you. His mouth swallowed the ragged sob that tore from your throat as you shattered in his arms.

At the same time, his thumb found your clit again, circling fast. The moment your climax hit, your whole body keened. You went rigid, then completely undone, spasming around his cock so hard it forced a groan from his chest.

Your body slumped forward against him, completely spent, your skin sticking to his as you trembled in his lap. But Jay didn't release you. He held you close, his breath ragged against your neck, cock still buried inside you, twitching—still hard.

His fingers slid beneath your chin, tilting your face to meet his. His gaze was hooded, wild, drenched in a hunger that hadn't dulled at all.

"Back seat," he murmured. "Now."

You nodded, dazed, barely functional, still pulsing from the orgasm he'd dragged out of you. Your legs felt like jelly as you moved, fumbling your way off his lap. His cock slipped free with a wet sound that made both of you groan. You reached for the handle, pushed the passenger seat forward with a shaky hand, and climbed into the back.

Bags cluttered the floor, some half-unzipped from earlier when you'd thrown your clothes in, but Jay didn't care. He followed you in, kicking the duffel bags out of the way without even looking. His focus was entirely on you.

You were already on your knees, body too wired to think about modesty, hands braced on the middle seat for support when you felt him behind you.

"There she is," Jay muttered under his breath, running a hand up your spine. "My filthy girl."

He grabbed your hips, positioning you exactly how he wanted—arched, ass in the air, legs spread just enough to give him the perfect view. You felt the tip of his cock brush between your folds, dragging through the mess he'd already made of you.

"You're dripping down your thighs," he said, almost with pride, dragging his thumb along your inner thigh to collect it.

You whimpered as he pressed the head of his cock back into you, slower this time but it felt even more intense now. The sensitivity made you jolt forward, your hands gripping the seat tighter as he filled you all over again.

"F-fuck," you gasped, back arching more as your walls stretched around him. "Jay—oh my God—"

"Not done with you," he groaned, thrusting in deeper, hips slamming into the curve of your ass with a sound that echoed sharply in the tight space. "Not even close."

The car rocked slightly with every movement. The leather creaked under the shift of weight. Your breath fogged up the already-blurred windows as you gasped against the glass, leaving new streaks beside your earlier prints.

Jay's rhythm turned savage, his body slamming into yours with purpose, one hand tangled in your hair, the other squeezing your hip so tight

"We're gonna ruin the seats," he growled, thrusting harder, his voice cracking slightly with the effort.

You moaned, your hips moving back to meet every thrust with desperation, you could feel him hitting that perfect spot over and over again, and every time he did, you swore your knees buckled a little more.

"Jay," you sobbed out, unable to stop yourself, "want you to cum inside me—please—I want to feel it leak out while I'm still full of you."

He froze, his hips slowed, pulling almost all the way out, leaving just the swollen head of his cock lodged inside you. He watched the way your body tried to pull him back in, your ass pushing back in tiny, desperate motions, trying to fill yourself again.

"Say that again," he rasped, voice shaking as he gripped your waist harder, thumbs digging into your soft flesh.

"I want you to cum in me," you panted, looking back over your shoulder with glassy eyes and swollen lips. "Fill me up. Claim me. Make a mess."

He slammed back in, one hard, deep stroke that punched a cry from your lungs. His grip shifted, both hands now on your ass, squeezing, spreading. He slapped you once, hard, and you yelped, your pussy clenching around him so tight he hissed.

"Ahh, fuck, baby." He moaned, pulling back to watch your ass slap against his pelvis.

Your hips started moving faster, chasing his rhythm, the slick sounds of your bodies meeting reaching a fever pitch.

"Fuck, fuck," Jay breathed, voice cracking as his hands slid up from your hips. One traced along the curve of your spine, rough palm gliding over slick, sweat-damp skin, before his fingers dug into your shoulder, pulling you back into him, forcing you to take him even deeper.

"Please," you choked, "I want all of it—don't pull out, Jay—I wanna feel it drip down my thighs."

His breathing turned erratic, his rhythm faltering as his control slipped completely.

"I'm about to creampie your fucking pussy, baby," he snarled, hips slamming into yours hard enough to rock the whole car. "Gonna fill you till you're leaking. Stuff this sweet cunt like you begged for."

"Yessss!" Your orgasm slammed into you out of nowhere, your clit untouched, no fingers, no pressure, just the sheer brutality of his cock. Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, vision going white at the edges, your core locking down around him like a vice.

Jay's moan cracked from his chest like a growl dragged through gritted teeth. He drove in once more, deep, deep, hips pressed tight to your ass as he spilled into you. His ears are ringing at the intensity.

You felt every throb, every twitch, every pulse of his cock releasing inside you. The heat of it flooded your core, thick and warm, coating your inside.

You cried out, not from pain but from relief, your body going limp beneath the weight of the moment. Your pussy fluttered around him as you milked every last drop, and Jay wasn't done.

He kept moving. Small, grinding thrusts keeping you full, keeping himself deep, pushing his release further into you with each roll of his hips.

"God," he groaned, burying his face between your shoulder blades, teeth grazing the damp skin there. You trembled beneath him, whimpering with every movement.

Jay didn't move to pull out. He stayed buried inside, cock still twitching, thick with release, his arms wrapped around you. His lips found your shoulder, then your neck, planting slow kisses while your body shook with the last of your orgasm.

By the time your orgasm began to fade, your body felt boneless, pliant, ruined in the most perfect way. A breathless, broken laugh slipped past your lips—half-delirious, half-relieved—as you collapsed forward onto the seat, your hands lazily finding their way to Jay's shoulder. Your fingers curled weakly into the fabric of his hoodie, grounding yourself against the aftershocks still rippling through you.

Jay didn't speak at first. He just held you there, still inside you, his chest rising and falling against your back. Then he leaned in slowly, pressing soft, lingering kisses to your temple, your cheek, each one landing with a wet smack that made you giggle.

His nose nuzzled against your face, tracing the line of your jaw, his lips brushing over your damp skin. You turned your head just enough to meet him, eyes fluttering half-open, your lips found his.

A sudden jolt of pain surged through your leg and your whole body jerked.

"Fuck, cramps!" you yelped, voice breaking through the heavy quiet. Your muscles seized. "Oh my God—my thigh, it's dead—completely fucking dead—"

Jay laughed, "hold on," he murmured, placing a steadying hand on your lower back.

He pulled out slowly, and you winced again from the sensation. You both felt the thick stretch of him slipping free, followed instantly by the warm slide of his cum spilling from you. It dripped down your inner thighs in slow, lazy rivulets, and Jay's eyes locked on it.

His breath caught. "Shit..." he muttered under his breath, his tone dipped low, eyes wide with something between awe and filthy satisfaction.

You flopped onto your side, trying to stretch out your cramped leg, your body still twitching with residual sensitivity. "Ugh, Jay—help—I'm dying."

"Baby," he chuckled, leaning forward, still staring at the mess between your legs, "you can't say shit like 'cum inside me' and then get mad when I fuck your legs into paralysis."

"I didn't think physics were gonna get involved," you whined dramatically, punching his shoulder with the strength of a wet noodle.

Jay grinned, eyes still glassy and high off the intensity, and leaned over you again. "C'mon, let me help. Gotta get you out of this position before your legs give out completely." He gently lifted one of your knees, massaging the cramp away with slow, circular pressure.

"There," he whispered, eyes focused. "Is that better?"

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, head dropping back against the seat. "God, yes. Keep doing that and I might fall in love."

Jay smirked. "Might?"

You grinned, eyes fluttering half-shut as he kept massaging, then slowed. He pressed a final kiss to the inside of your knee before sitting back, reaching for a water bottle from the center console and cracking it open for you.

"The next stop's only four miles out," he said, settling into that post-fuck softness. "I can grab you a Salonpas patch or something if you're still sore."

You took the water, chugged it like you hadn't just been moaning his name ten minutes ago, then looked up at him with wide eyes. "Can I smoke before we leave again?" you asked, blinking innocently.

Jay paused, narrowed his eyes at you like he already saw the trouble brewing behind your sweet expression.

He sighed. You knew that sigh.

Without waiting for his response, you grinned and mimed zipping your lips shut, pretending to toss the imaginary key out the window. "Okay, okay," you said with a dramatic shrug. "I said nothing."

He gave you a look, but the corner of his mouth still twitched like he couldn't help but find you ridiculous and adorable all at once.

Then your eyes dropped down, your voice lowering.

"Okay," you said, leaning in just enough to whisper it, "can I at least cock warm you while you drive?"

"Excuse me?"

You gave him your most innocent look—too wide eyes, soft voice, coy little smile. "What? I said warm. Not ride. Warm. That's, like, the most passive, wholesome form of love."

Jay barked a laugh, head falling back as he covered his face for a second. "You want to sit on my dick while I drive."

"Well, yeah," you said casually, already shimmying your hips to adjust your sore muscles. "I mean, it's already warm in there. Might as well keep him company. You don't want him to feel neglected, do you?"

Jay looked at you, he was grinning, hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. "Fine,"

Together, you climbed back into the front seat, Jay adjusted the recline of his seat, just enough to give you space, and you straddled him with a slow exhale, easing down onto him with a shiver.

You sighed, your head dropping forward against his chest as your body settled, molded around him. Jay's hands moved to your waist automatically, steadying you. With one hand, he reached down and draped a blanket, pulled from the mess of bags in the back—over your legs. The soft fleece shielded your bare skin from the AC.

The engine rumbled to life beneath you.

"I've got you," he whispered, adjusting the wheel with one hand while the other stayed on your thigh, tracing idle patterns against your skin. "Comfortable?"

"Mm-hmm," you murmured sleepily, nuzzling your face into the side of his neck. The scent of his cologne, Jo Malone wrapped around you. "Love you."

He glanced down at you, heart in his throat. His lips brushed your hairline, then pressed there in a lingering kiss.

"Love you more," he whispered back, and then shifted into gear, pulling back onto the dark road.

You let yourself sink into him completely, your eyes already starting to flutter shut. Your head slumped on his shoulder, mouth slightly open, your breath slowing.

You started snoring loud, unbothered, fully passed out in the lap of the man still very much inside you. You didn't care about the cramped space. Or the soreness creeping into your thighs. Or how uncomfortably good it still felt to be stuffed full of him.

You'd deal with the cramps when you woke up.

Jay glanced over and shook his head with a quiet chuckle, his hand smoothing down your back beneath the blanket.

He turned off the highway when the sign for the next rest stop came into view.

Maybe it was the way your hips shifted slightly in your sleep, or the way his cock throbbed just right inside your soaked heat—but something snapped again.

"Fuck it," Jay muttered,

He parked behind the convenience store, engine still running, rain starting to mist lightly on the windshield.

And he sped it up.

His grip tightened, and he began thrusting into you again from beneath—slow at first, rocking the seat, then harder, faster, building up to something messy and rough again, even with you half-asleep and whimpering against his chest.

You woke up mid-moan, dazed, grinding into him like your body already knew what to do before your brain caught up.

He kissed your shoulder between thrusts. "Just one more," he murmured. "Then I'll get your damn Salonpas."

[melanchoire]

Reader has an oral fixation and is usually sucking on lollipops to soothe the fixation but when there’s none for her to fixate on her girlfriend (Karina)offers to help her out by letting her suck on her boobs/breasts/tits(idk which to use lol)

BETTER THAN SWEETS ──── yu jimin

── ( 🍨 ) you’ve always found comfort in the sweet, hard shell of a lollipop, the constant motion a balm for your restless mind; however, your chronic oral fixation, fueled by an endless supply of lollipops and the incessant schmack of your chewing, has finally pushed karina, your girlfriend, to the edge; one night, instead of nagging or leaving, she takes matters (and your mouth) into her own hands, devising an intensely sensual and shockingly effective intervention that will challenge everything you think you know about your desires… and maybe even her own.

pairing. soft dom!girlfriend!karina x sub!girlfriend!fem reader

warning(s). nipple play, titsucking, oral fixation, suggestive at the end.

word count. 2,5k

the flicker of the television screen dances on the walls, a pale blue glow that does little to illuminate the comfortable clutter of your apartment. karina is lost in the endless scroll of her phone, the soft tap–tap–tapping a counterpoint to the quiet hum of the refrigerator. you barely register the movie playing on the screen, your world narrowed to the sweet, artificial cherry flavor coating your tongue. this is your haven, this small, sugary escape. you’ve always found comfort in the act of sucking, chewing, the sensation of something in your mouth, and a lollipop is a perfect, portable solution.

the sweetness coats your tongue, a familiar comfort, a sensory anchor in the mundane. you run the hard candy over your teeth, licking the sugary surface, the rhythmic sound of your enjoyment filling the space. it’s always been like this. when you were a child, you were a magnet for well–meaning adults, hands filled with sugary treats, happy to indulge your insatiable sweet tooth. it was a simple, innocent pleasure then; grandparents would slip you hard candies, aunts would press chocolates into your palms, and the world felt like a giant, edible playground.

but then you grew up, and your habits, like everything else, evolved. the candies became gum, then lollipops, then the nervous gnawing of pen caps during class. you knew it was a quirk, an oddity, but it was a part of you, and you’d learned to live with it, mostly.

you steal a glance at karina, lost in the glow of her phone screen. you’re grateful for her understanding, her acceptance when you first hesitantly confessed your “problem” as you sometimes called it. to her, it was just another habit, like the way she always rearranged the throw pillows on the couch or how she had to have the radio on while she was showering. “everyone had their things” she had said.

but tonight, the silence of the apartment is suddenly broken by the thunk of her phone hitting the coffee table. you’re pulled from your sugary reverie as her eyes, a deep, startling brown, land on you. her face is devoid of expression, an unsettling blankness that makes your stomach clench.

karina throws her phone onto the coffee table, the sudden clatter startling you. she turns to you, her eyes fixed on you, her expression unreadable, blank. “do you have to chew it like that?” her voice is flat, devoid of the usual warmth. “like you’re a horse eating grass or something?”

the question catches you off guard. you pull the lollipop from your mouth, the sweet, cherry scent still lingering in the air. “was i… making a lot of noise?” you hadn’t noticed, lost in the comfort of the familiar flavor and the rhythmic motions. you’d been so focused on the simple act, you hadn't even considered that it might grate on someone else.

she folds her arms, her gaze intense. “It’s like… i can hear you slurping it from across the room.”

you set the lollipop on the table, the plastic stick clicking softly against the glass. “sorry, i didn’t realize.”

a moment of silence hangs between you, thick and uncomfortable. then, she asks, “how long have you had that thing? you opened it this morning, right?”

your heart sinks a little. you know she means well; she’s always been concerned about your well–being. but this feels different, like a criticism. “uhm, actually.” you admit. “i had more than one.”

her eyebrows shoot up, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “more than one? how many more?” she asks, incredulous. “you didn’t even eat lunch. how are you not sick?”

you nod, avoiding her eyes, suddenly feeling like a misbehaving child caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “i… i don’t know...” you can’t bring yourself to look at her. “i think— three? maybe four?”

a sharp intake of breath. “four lollipops? today? that’s… a lot of sugar, isn’t it?”

you feel a prickle of defensiveness. “it’s not like i’m eating them all at once!” you quickly add: “mostly.”

she looks at you, a mixture of exasperation and worry swirling in her eyes. “okay...” she says, her voice calmer. “okay... you know, i used to buy you those boxes of lollipops, because i thought it was… helpful, to allow it. i never thought you did it so much.”

you’re immediately sheepish. it wasn’t to hurt. you never thought you did it that much.

you shrug, a little sheepish. you know it’s a lot of sugar, but it’s not about the sugar, not really. It’s the sensation, the movement, the comfort. you carefully remove the lollipop, leaving it on the coffee table, discarded like a toy that has outlived its use. you were about to reach for it but she called you over.

“come here.” she gestures for you to come closer. you obey, your heart pounding a strange mix of nervousness and anticipation. you settle onto her lap, the soft fabric of her pajamas a welcome contrast to the sudden tension — along with the gentle pressure of her thighs against yours sends a shiver down your spine.

her hands find your hips, her fingers tracing gentle circles on your sides. she smiles, that slow, mesmerizing smile that always sends shivers down your spine.

her voice, usually laced with warmth and amusement, is now a husky whisper that makes your skin prickle. “maybe…maybe we could try something different.” she purrs, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of your hip, but moving away from your curves and towards her own pajama shirt.

the buttons of her pajama shirt yield to her nimble fingers, one by one, until the silk falls away, revealing the soft, pale expanse of her chest. the sight of her breasts, full and inviting, sends a jolt of heat through your veins. they look… edible. the thought, unbidden, makes you blush.

her fingers dance over your skin, sending sparks of desire through your veins. “think you can help me out with that?” she asks, her fingers trailing up your sides in a light caress. “try something new?”

your gaze is fixated on her chest, your mouth suddenly dry. the craving you usually satisfied with sweets takes on a new, almost overwhelming intensity. it’s not just about the taste or texture anymore, it’s about something deeper, a connection. you nod, your own hands reaching up to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin.

karina leans closer, her gaze locking onto yours. “I’ve always wondered if you…” she hesitates, a shy smile playing on her lips. “if you’d like to try this.” her hands, now gripping your hips with more purpose, guide you forward. your face is level with her chest now, the faint scent of her skin and vanilla lotion filling your senses.

a soft gasp escapes you as she gently pushes your head forward, her fingers threading through your hair, guiding you toward her right breast. it feels incredibly soft against your cheek, warm and pliant. you hesitate for a moment, still processing the sudden turn this night has taken. but then, she strokes your hair again, her low hum vibrating through her chest, and the last vestiges of hesitation melt away.

you open your mouth, and with a nervous, almost reverent gentleness, you take her nipple into your mouth. it’s softer and warmer than anything you’ve ever tasted.

she leans her head back against the sofa, a soft moan escaping her lips as your mouth finally reaches her. the skin is soft and warm, and as you gently suck, the taste is intoxicating, a combination of her soft skin, warm body temperature, and the subtle, almost salty flavor of her sweat. a tiny gasp as you explore her. the feeling is overwhelming, the warmth and softness nothing like the artificial sweetness you usually crave, and you find yourself drawn in, completely captivated.

her hands tangle in your hair, her fingers gripping and massaging your scalp as you continue. you suck on her nipple, your lips moving in a gentle way that she deeply appreciates. her skin is supple and soft, the perfect texture just for you. you suckle gently, your tongue dancing over her nipple, reveling in the sounds escaping her lips: moans of pleasure mixed with soft sighs.

your tongue circles the areola, exploring the texture of her skin, before you begin to suckle more. it’s not a frantic, desperate need, but a slow, deliberate exploration, as if your mouth is mapping every inch of her. with each delicate tug, a wave of pleasure washes over you, and the gentle hums escaping karina’s throat become more pronounced, a clear indication that you are doing something right.

“oh, baby.” she murmurs, her voice thick with a mixture of pleasure and wonder. “that feels… incredible.”

you continue, drawing her nipple further into your mouth, your lips caressing the sensitive skin. you suckle harder, the gentle tugging a source of immense satisfaction. the taste of her skin is subtle, slightly salty and warm, and it mixes with the faint scent of her vanilla lotion, creating an intoxicating combination. you move back and forth, letting your tongue flick over her nipple, the soft rasp driving her wild.

“you’re so good.” she whispers, her hands moving from your hair to your back, pulling you closer, her nails lightly scratching at your skin. “you have such a gentle mouth, baby. i love the way you’re doing this." her words, a gentle wave of praise, makes you want to continue, to explore every inch of her, to taste her entire body.

you try to deepen your hold, your hands cupping her breast, trying to draw her closer, as if to meld yourselves. the sensations are overwhelming, and so you concentrate your efforts on pleasing her. you suck a little harder and she moans again.

“you’re so good.” she says, her voice breathless. “so, so good. i love how you do that.”

you shift to her other breast, teasing and tantalizing her nipple, drawing out soft groans and shivers from her. the low hum of her pleasure is a melody you find yourself wanting to replay forever. you lick, you suck, you nibble, exploring every inch with your mouth, finding satisfaction in her pleasure.

“yes...” she breathes out. “that’s it. you’re making me crazy.”

as you continue to suckle, the tension in your shoulders starts to melt away. it’s like you’ve found the perfect substitute for the lollipops, a new and infinitely more satisfying way to soothe your oral fixation. you’re not just filling a need, you’re connecting with karina on a deeply intimate level, sharing a moment of vulnerability and pleasure. her skin is soft against your lips, her heartbeat a comforting rhythm against your cheek, and each delicate suck brings her closer to you, and you to her.

you pause for a moment, looking up at her. Her eyes are half–closed, her lips parted, and your skin tingles with the power that your mouth has over her. she looks beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly in your thrall.

“you’re my little baby.” she murmurs, her fingers tracing the line of your cheek, and she pulls you back to her chest. the sweetness of her skin fills your mouth as you continue to suck, your desire finding not just release, but connection and genuine, deep intimacy. this is so much better than any lollipop could offer, and you know, in this moment, that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

oh, and that’s what makes you completely lose the little sanity that was still present in your system.

your hand, almost instinctively, seeks the other breast. you cup it gently, the weight a grounding sensation. you press your face further into the first, inhaling the scent of her skin, a warm mix of vanilla and something uniquely karina. it’s a comfort, a balm for a restless soul. you find yourself tracing the areola with your tongue, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine, not of sexual arousal, but of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

karina doesn’t react at first, content to let you have your moment of quiet bliss. but then, you start to get silly. it’s not intentional, not exactly. it’s like a switch flips, and the playful, somewhat childish side of you takes over. you don’t realize it, but you accidentally start drooling on her skin, your attention on her mounds becoming more messy, your hand now moving to grasp the second breast. it’s a clumsy hold, a little too tight, but somehow right. you pull the other one closer to your mouth.

this is where things take a turn. you try to hold each of her breasts cupped in your hands while trying to keep the other one in your mouth. you’re like a newborn, trying to coordinate your limbs, and she can’t help but burst into laughter. it’s a bubbly, infectious sound, the kind that warms your chest from the inside out. it’s not mockery, but genuine amusement, and something that makes her whole face shine.

you lift your head, a little confused by the sudden sound. you see her face, lit up with laughter, her eyes sparkling with mirth. it’s both disarming and strangely endearing. your usual self might be mortified, but in this moment, you find yourself beaming back at her. you look like a little kid who's just found the best toy in history. you even try to nuzzle back into her chest, trying to recapture the feeling, but she gently pushes you back slightly, still chuckling.

“alright, you little baby.” she says, her voice laced with a playful tenderness. “i think that’s enough now.” you try to move back into position, reaching for them again, but she holds you back. this time, there's a sparkle of something more in her eyes.

she gently but firmly pushes you away from her chest, her hands now resting on your shoulders. your lower lip pouts out, and you make a grab for her breast, your face now a mask of mock desperation.

“no, no, no.” she says, shaking her head, “that’s enough. it’s time to move on.”

you whine, a low sound of protest that somehow manages to sound both comical and needy. you try to nuzzle back, your hands searching for a familiar grip. but she’s firm, her hands a gentle but impassable barrier.

“oh, don’t give me that face.” she says, her eyes dancing with mischief. “i have something planned, and it’s time to go to the bedroom.”

a slow smile spreads across your face, a sudden rush of excitement replacing your earlier silliness. you can’t help but notice the way her eyes are sparkling, the promise that lingers in her voice, and your heart skips a beat.

"the bedroom?" you ask, your voice a husky whisper, no longer childish.

karina smiles, a slow, knowing smile that sends shivers down your spine. she takes your hand, pulls you to your feet, and tugs you towards the bedroom. “yes, the bedroom,” she repeats, her eyes never leaving yours, “now, come on.”

and as she leads you away, the lingering scent of her perfume still clinging to your skin, you feel a thrill of anticipation wash over you.

based on her smile, you can’t tell if that means she’ll let you fuck her with the strap–on in missionary to have her tits bouncing in front of your face and do whatever you want with them or she’ll fuck you with the strap and put two fingers in your mouth when she feels you’re being too loud.

[luvvixu]

he knows my shade / k. bakugo

he knows your makeup shades, brands, and preferences by heart!

the bell above the shop door chimed as you stepped inside, eyes lighting up at the familiar rows of skincare, blushes, and lip tints. you hadn’t expected to end up in a makeup store today, but when you spotted it on the corner and pointed it out, katsuki bakugo just gave a gruff, “tch. if we’re already here, might as well.”

you didn’t expect him to follow you inside. you really didn’t expect him to stay close by, arms crossed, eyes scanning shelves like he was on some kind of mission.

as you wandered over to the lipstick display, you heard him mutter behind you, “that’s not the one you use.”

you turned, brows raised. “huh?”

he pointed at the tube in your hand. “that brand’s too dry for your lips. you always use that other one—the one with the gold cap.”

you blinked. “you… noticed that?”

he looked away, ears tinting pink. “i’m not blind, dumbass. you always complain when your lips feel dry. that brand sucks.”

you bite back a smile and reach for the right one—your shade, your favorite brand. the one he somehow remembered down to the packaging.

you wandered a little more, grabbing a concealer, and without hesitation he said, “you’re shade 105 in that. you went too light last time and kept whining about looking like a ghost.”

“...”

“bakugo katsuki,” you said slowly, looking at him like he’d grown a second head. “how do you know all of this?”

he shrugged, still not making eye contact. “you talk.” he pointed at you. “i listen.” then pointed at himself.

your heart skipped.

he didn’t say it to be romantic. that was just him—blunt, rough, no-nonsense. but those four words said more than any cheesy pickup line ever could.

you reached out and gently bumped your shoulder against his. “thanks, kat. that’s actually really sweet of you.”

he grunted. “whatever. just hurry up before you end up buying the whole damn store.”

still, he stayed by your side the entire time—grumbling, yes, but you caught him sneaking glances at you every time you smiled at a new item.

and you knew, without him ever needing to say it, that he liked seeing you happy. even if it meant memorizing every shade, every brand, every detail just because it mattered to you.

as you reached the lip care section and immediately lit up. “ooh, they have new flavors! i’ve been wanting to try a different lip balm.”

bakugo followed behind, glancing lazily at the shelves “what's wrong with the one you always use?”

“i dunno,” you said with a shrug, twisting open a tester to sniff. “just thought i’d change it up since i'm always using strawberry flavor. maybe try this cherry one—”

“no.”

you blinked, turning to him. “what?”

he crossed his arms and frowned, a bit too intensely for such a tiny lip balm. “the one you use now tastes better. the strawberry one.”

your brain short-circuited. “i…i’m sorry, what?”

bakugo looked away, jaw clenching. “i said what i said. the old one’s better. that cherry crap’s probably gonna taste all artificial and weird.”

you gawked at him, warmth blooming in your cheeks. “wait…you’re actually savoring my lip balm tastes when we kiss?”

he tsked, clearly flustered now. “i’m not fucking savoring it, i’m just saying…i notice, alright? and that one—” he jabbed a finger toward the familiar pink tube you always used, “—that one’s the good one.”

a beat passed.

you broke into a wide grin. “katsuki. are you telling me you enjoy kissing me when i wore that strawberry flavored lip balm?”

“don’t make it weird,” he muttered, grabbing the old brand and tossing it into your shopping basket with zero hesitation. “just stick with the usual.”

you were still giggling as you walked toward the register, and bakugo, still flushed and fuming behind you, grumbled something under his breath about how you’re the one who kisses him first anyway.

after ringing up the products you bought, katsuki immediately beat you at paying as his card was already pushed on the cashier's hand. you looked at him in surprise but then blushed at his act of kindness—but to him, he just loves spoiling you.

when you thank him with all of your heart, he couldn't help but to feel warm in his chest as he literally watched you hoover him with sparkles in your eyes. and in his mind, he was sure he would do that all over again just to see you this happy.

as the two of you stepped out of the store, the little bell above the door jingled behind you. your bag was full of your favorite essentials—plus a few extras bakugo had thrown in with an annoyed scowl and muttered, “just get it already.”

he reached out and plucked the shopping bag from your hand before you could even blink.

“hey—!”

“i’m carrying it,” he said flatly, already walking ahead.

you jogged a few steps to catch up, a smile tugging at your lips. “you’re such a softie.”

“shut up,” he shot back, ears already turning red.

the two of you walked side by side, your free hand brushing his. when you slipped your fingers into his, he didn’t pull away—just squeezed gently, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

the city buzzed around you: people, traffic, distant music—but it all felt quiet with him next to you, warm and steady.

then, just as you turned the corner toward a quieter street, he suddenly stopped walking.

you turned to him, confused. “kat—?”

he set the shopping bag down for a moment, then leaned in and kissed you.

soft. quick. familiar.

but when he pulled back, he made a face as he licked his lips. “yep. that new lip balm would’ve ruined that.”

you laughed as you hooked your arms around his neck. “oh my god, you’re actually obsessed with my lip balm.”

“nah, not the balm,” he muttered, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and tugging you closer as you walked again. “just the way you taste.”

that shut you right up.

but the grin you wore all the way home? yep. he definitely noticed.

and if he kissed you again at the next stoplight just to prove his point? well… who were you to complain?

masterlist

©luvvixu2025

a/n: based on true story lol! i think this is by far my most favorite katsuki story that i wrote.

[spookyji]

cherry pop! p.sh

ngl i don’t really like my non-dark content writing for enha LOL

cw. nsfw, improper use of a cherry lollipop.

wet spit coats the sphere of sweet candy, turning hard sugar to sticky syrup as sunghoon drags the lollipop down his tongue, a thin string of saliva hanging from his lower lip to the artificial cherry. it tastes like your kisses, the ones he steals when he can’t resist guiding you to your knees ‘cause why would your pretty lips be wrapped ‘round a piece of candy when you can suck him off the same? but it’s time sunghoon returns the favor, after all, he loves to spoil you rotten like the sugar in your favorite candies.

perched pretty on his lap, back to sunghoon’s broad chest, one of his hands palming your cute berry print panties, keeping your thighs spread for easy access, a little wet spot forming as his thumb rubs over your clothed folds, a tease here and there, just enough to make your little head spin, can’t think straight as your gaze remains affixed to the slight red tint to his lips, want a cherry flavored kiss? he can tell. his kisses barely carry the candy flavor, but the sweetness is all in, wet, slow kisses that drip with adoration, sunghoon’s forehead pressed to yours for a brief moment to catch your breath before he’ll steal it away again, tongue and all.

and the moment you’re a little too lost to his kisses, the lollipop rubs against your flimsy panties, leaving a smudge of artificial red dye and spit over the wet, thin fabric, a whimper spilling from your lips swallowed up as your panties are slowly pushed aside so agonizingly slow, shivers racing up your spine as the sticky lollipop prods against your sensitive folds, sensation heightened as the candy circles your clit, feather light and a touch of stimulation, spreading need beneath your skin as your core pools with heated desire, the teasing touch just a hair away from the sensation of true pleasure.

but the moment you move, trying to rub into the little candy, a scoff slips from sunghoon’s lips, lollipop pulled away, leaving behind a sticky sensation on your pussy folds. behave, doll. his quiet word breathed against your parted lips before a sharp slap lands on your pussy, a sting of pleasured pain as heat rushes from the sudden hit, your little whimpers just what he wants to hear. after all, pleasure comes with patience. trapped beneath his weighted gaze, the kind that makes you squirm with anticipation and slight shyness, the kind of gaze that sees everything about you. just as the lollipop pushes into your wetness, out of the corner of your eye, the mirror reflects the embarrassing sight, the sound of your slick triggering an impulse to close your legs, trapping his hand between your legs.

you know better than that, baby. open up. sunghoon’s calm voice tinted with a hint of sternness, as his hand stills between your thighs, drawing a choked, begging whine from your throat. what did i say? his voice whispered in your ear, sharp eyes meeting your gaze in the mirror. don’t make me repeat myself, doll… or else i’ll make you play with this pussy by yourself. face burning with heat, forcing your trembling thighs to spread open, revealing the embarrassing sight of your drooling pussy, wetness tinted a slight red from the cherry candy, his fingertips holding the stick of the lollipop as his hand moves again, the whimpers instantaneous as the ball of cherry pushes deeper, rubbing all of your sweet spots.

pretty, teary whimpers spilling from your pouty lips, squirming in his lap as the head of the lollipop slips in and out of your cunt, such an embarrassing squelching sound as your wetness coats the candy, sucking it back in so eagerly.. look at you, baby, gonna cum on a lollipop? the corner of his lip raised with the hint of a smirk, his hand finding and gripping your cheek, forcing your gaze to watch in the mirror as your body trembles and squirms with sugar sweet pleasure, a glisten of red as your pussy makes a mess on the lollipop, drooling wetness into his lap, the little unconscious movements of your hips to chase pleasure, candy buried to the stick in your pussy, at sunghoon’s complete mercy, pace quickening as your face buries in the crook of his neck, his hold on your cheeks letting go, you’re just too cute when you’re about to make a mess.

h-hoonie, ‘s too much, your whines cried into the crook of his neck, drool on your kiss-swollen lips, the pleasure tied in ot your stomach too much to bear for much longer, even if you haven’t behaved yourself at all, he’ll be nice. you want to cum, baby? i’ll let you. his permission, and the sudden gush of wetness coating his fingers as you tremble in his lap, clinging to his firm arm with weak fingertips, ‘til you feel the lollipop pulled out of your pussy. good girl, sunghoon murmurs, his fingertips stroking through your hair, before tapping on your chin. a cherry lollipop, glistening with your cum and arousal, lightly resting on your lower lip. open up, doll.

—

i’m not v good at writing anal but lowkey sunghoon would do that too. just saying.

[paarksunghoon]

i saw a jay edit with him and lollipops… pls do your magic 🤧💗

your wish is my command 😇

***

“Tastes so sweet, baby.”

Jay pushes the lollipop in his mouth and you’re forced to watch his tongue roll over the hard candy while your legs are spread wide open, one of his hands harshly gripping your thigh with palm. He looks at you when he swipes his tongue over the cherry-flavored lollipop and chuckles when he sees your eyes following his mouth.

“Keep this for me, yeah?” Jay beckons your mouth open by pushing the lollipop towards you. The candy is wet and warm from and your hips buck at the sight of his reddened tongue hovering over you. “Gonna eat this pretty fucking pussy.”

Jay descends on your folds and licks you like he licked the lollipop. He lets his spit drip over you and scoops up your arousal with tongue just to spread it around. His palms push your legs flat on the mattress while you try not to bite the candy with your teeth. But he’s making it hard, especially when his expert technique makes you want to buck your hips right into his face.

His tongue laps and laps over you until he moves the tip of his tongue to thrust right into your open, warm hole. Jay moves his head back and forth to push his tongue in and out of you, loving the way you squirm beneath him. The tip of his nose bumps your clit on occasion and it has you moaning around the candy.

Jay lifts himself up and grins to himself when you whine at the loss of his tongue. He pulls the white stick from your hand and pushes the lollipop back in his mouth.

“You taste like cherry, you know that?” God, Jay’s so fucking good at making you clench around nothing. “Wish I could take you wherever I go and eat you out wherever I want.”

Jay pulls the candy from his mouth and angles his head above your pussy, gathering a wad of spit before letting it slowly drip onto your clit. He loves hearing you whimper, especially when you see the wet string until it inevitably breaks.

Before you can think of his tongue again, Jay brings the lollipop to your pussy and pushes the candy around the spit. He gathers the wetness and rubs the it over your slit in a back and forth motion, staring at your pussy like he’s just hit the jackpot. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth parts open wide, a pained moan emitting from his throat. You swear it could’ve been a whimper.

“Fuuuuck. Yeah, you’re gonna taste so fucking sweet in just a minute.” His pretty hands keep sliding the lollipop up and down your slit.

Your hips buck against the candy when he puts it directly onto your clit. “Fuck, Jay.”

“Yeah? You like that?” You moan when he lightly taps the lollipop against your bud. “Like it when I use this on you? Wish you could see how hot you look.”

He taps it against you a few more times before pulling the candy back and sucking it once more. Jay’s lips look incredible around it and the satisfied moan that comes deep within his chest makes your clit ache. You welcome the remnants of the lollipop when Jay puts it back in your mouth and moan around it when his tongue is back on you.

It’s like he’s on double time now. Jay licks up a fat stripe when he goes back down and flattens his tongue like he’s trying to taste all of you at once. He buries his nose deep within you and doesn’t worry about breathing as long as his tongue continues to taste the mixture of your arousal and the artificial cherry he’s come to associate with you.

He laps you up like a dog drinking water after a hot summer day. He’s precise but quick, tongue expertly grazing over all of your sensitive points as your hips buck against his face. This time, Jay isn’t forcing your legs down to be obedient for him. He’s gripping your thighs and doesn’t care that you’re starting to suffocate him by squeezing his head. The pleasure feels far too good and he moves his body until his hard cock is directly on his bed.

Jay brings down in his boxers and humps the mattress below him, not caring that he might look like an inexperienced teenager. He knows he’s got the mouth of a sex god when you moan for him. He feels the vibrations in your pussy and it only urges him to continue his ministrations. Jay’s fingertips grip your meaty flesh and he pushes his hips down below him, not caring that he’s probably making the bed move.

Your own hips chase after his mouth erratically like you’re thrashing around. You have to pull the candy out of your mouth to prevent yourself from choking as the bottom half of your body moves until you’re arching off of the bed. The added pressure of his tongue reaching the deepest points inside of you pushes you over the edge and you swear you’ve never come so hard in your life.

Jay moans right into you as soon as he tastes your release. He humps the bed harder and pushes his rock hard cock against the fabric of his boxers until he’s spilling into it, the sticky, wet mess turning him on even more than he already is.

He feels his cum spurt out in thick ropes as you come down from your high and soothes your pussy over with a gentle motion of his tongue as he finishes his own orgasm. Jay’s eyes lift to your face and sees your euphoric expression between the valley of your breasts and pushes his cock against the mattress one final time before pulling himself away from your body.

When you feel him move off or the bed, you put the lollipop back in your mouth and suck on the candy. You watch as Jay kneels beside you on his knees, pushing down his boxers to pull out his still-hardened cock with his cum around it.

Eagerly, you discard of the candy by handing it to him and wrapping your lips around his dick, putting the enlarged head between your lips as your tongue runs over his slit to catch the last bit of cum. Jay watches from above and finishes the rest of the lollipop while you push your head further onto his cock to clean him up, humming at the salty taste of his orgasm.

Your tongue runs underneath his dick and he twitches inside of you. With the way you keep pulling him into your warm, wet mouth and how your cheeks are hollowed to created a makeshift vacuum, it’s no surprise that Jay cums again.

Jay throws his head back and lets out a long, deep moan. He discards of the white stick on his night table and pushes his cock into you until the tip hits the back of your throat. You keep your head there, hand coming up to massage his balls as you milk every last drop out of him. He pulls back when he finishes cumming and drags his cock against your tongue until he slips out of you. Still half-hard, Jay pulls your body to the edge of the bed as you yelp.

“Such a good mouth, making me finish like that. Wanna cum for a second time?”

Jay doesn’t wait for you to nod and pushes himself inside, forcing his semi-hard dick into your hole and groans at the pain and overstimulation. You moan and claw at his abdomen at the delightful intrusion. It feels too good for the both of you to quit right now. He doesn’t want to stop the sex marathon he’s started with you.

And he doesn’t. Neither of you know how many orgasms are shared collectively between you two by the time you’re too spent to continue fucking. All you know is that the room smells like candy and sex.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[solarmorrigan]

Impulsive Thoughts: 1, Eddie: 0

For the @steddie-spooktober day 18 prompt: Candy Rated: M | Words: 534 | CW: discussion of sex | Tags: Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a tease, sometimes you gotta fellate a lollipop to get your point across y'know? Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie has never wanted to be a lollipop so badly in his life.

Actually, he’s never wanted to be a lollipop ever in his life, but he wishes to God he could be one right now – specifically the one in Steve’s hand, because the things he’s doing to it are fucking obscene.

He’s giving the ball of artificial cherry long, slow licks before closing his lips around it and sucking, and he’s twirling the candy against his lips and licking away the sticky-sweet juice it leaves behind, and his mouth is lush and red, red, red, and Eddie can’t take it anymore.

“Steve, what the hell are you doing to that sucker?” he demands.

Steve looks over at him, eyes half-lidded and lazy, and pulls the sucker from his mouth with a little pop that makes Eddie want to squirm.

“Eating it,” Steve says drily. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it– “It looks like you’re blowing it.”

Impulsive thoughts: 1, Eddie: 0

Instead of the offense Eddie expects, though, Steve just hums. He sticks the lollipop back in his mouth, twirls it, pulls it back out.

“Does it look like I’m doing a good job?” he asks.

He gives the lollipop another broad lick, eyes locked on Eddie, and Eddie’s mouth goes dry.

“Uh,” Eddie says eloquently. “Yeah, I’d say the, uh… lollipop his having a pretty good time.”

Candy tucked back inside his mouth, Steve smiles at Eddie, revealing white teeth clenched gently around the stick.

“I always kind of wondered if I’d be any good at it,” he says after pulling the sucker out again. “Blowing a guy.”

Eddie stares. Is this real? Did he have a stroke? Is he dead? If he’s dead, is this heaven or hell? Steve is talking to him about blowjobs, but he’s not actively blowing Eddie, so it’s hard to say if this is a reward or a punishment.

“I mean, I’ve always liked going down on girls, and I’m pretty good at that. But I figure a guy would be a little different, right?” Steve gives the candy another thoughtful suck, eyes still boring into Eddie’s. “But it’s nice to know I have your vote of confidence.”

Eddie can’t take it anymore, he really fucking can’t. This is all either a hallucination or an elaborate invitation, but whatever it is, it has him launching himself out of his seat and over at Steve, landing on him lips first.

Steve lets out a startled noise that melts quickly into a pleased hum, and he starts kissing back almost immediately, one hand cupping the back of Eddie’s neck and pulling him even closer.

Air eventually becomes a necessity, and Eddie pulls away to take a breath and ask, “That was what you wanted me to–”

“God, yes,” Steve cuts in, pulling Eddie down for another kiss.

Eddie can taste the candy cherry on Steve’s lips, and then he’s licking it straight out of Steve’s mouth, and Steve is moaning and sucking on his tongue, and this is what it feels like to be a lollipop. Wish fucking granted.

Impulsive thoughts: 2, Eddie: probably about a million, actually.

[potatipejr]

Hopeless, but Happy

Spencer Agnew x F!Reader

Summary:  Spencer is out at a bar, not drinking, clearly pining for his girlfriend, and not even trying to hide it— despite all the teasing.

Word count: 3.0k

A/N: y’all i really thought i cooked with the last one, so yes i used ‘bakery employee’ as a callback

—————————————————————————

The music was too loud.

Like way too loud.

And not in the cool, pulsing-through-your-chest kind of way you’d expect at a concert or a club— but in that muffled, bass heavy way that made every sentence sound like it was being shouted underwater. A pop remix of a song from eight years ago blasted through outdated speakers, warped just enough to be annoying. Loud laughter, clinking glasses, and the unmistakable screech of a barstool dragging across the floor layered on top of it all.

Spencer didn’t say it out loud— he knew better than to complain when everyone else was clearly enjoying themselves. The whole Smosh team had spilled into the place after a long, chaotic shoot day. There had been confetti, numerous costume changes, and way too many retakes of a gag involving peanut butter. Everyone was running on adrenaline and caffeine and that strange buzz you get from knowing you pulled something ridiculous off. It made sense they wanted to celebrate.

The bar itself was nothing special— one of those places with sticky floors that gripped your shoes when you walked and booths you sank into whether you wanted to or not. It smelled like old beer and bar food grease, with just a hint of artificial lemon cleaner trying to mask it. The walls were lined with fake vintage signs advertising drinks that hadn't been cool since the '90s, and there was a broken pinball machine in the back that clearly had fallen victim to the angry outbursts by its drunken customers.

Spencer sat at the very edge of the booth, his shoulder half off the cushion, posture stiff and angled slightly toward the door. A nearly untouched Shirley Temple sat in front of him, sweating condensation onto the wooden tabletop. He stirred it idly with the straw, the red cherry long gone but the drink still full. He wasn’t really in the mood for sugar— he’d just needed something to do with his hands. Something that didn’t involve texting you... again.

He was checking his phone a little too often. Not in a subtle way either. Every couple of minutes, his hand would drift down like it had a mind of its own. The screen would light up with the same background, a photo you’d taken of the two of you in the park, both laughing, and then dim again when he realized, for the fifth or sixth time, that no, you had not messaged yet. His thumb hovered over your contact, paused above the tiny text bubble as if maybe just looking at it hard enough would make a notification appear.

It wasn’t like he was expecting anything major. Just a “hey.” Or a “made it home.” Maybe even a dumb meme, something you would’ve sent him just to make him snort in public and look around like he wasn’t falling in love. 

But the screen stayed quiet, and the party around him carried on without him.

Shayne and Angela were deep into a very dramatic argument about whether mozzarella sticks were the superior bar food. Courtney was at the bar ordering another round with Tommy, already halfway through some complicated drink the bartender had rolled his eyes at. In front of Arasha’s small digital camera, Chanse posed effortlessly, shifting every few seconds like he was born for it. Everyone was laughing, warm with alcohol and that looseness that comes after a successful day of chaos. It was the kind of night Spencer usually loved.

But not tonight.

Tonight, all he could think about was you— your voice, your laugh, the way your hand fit against his chest when you cuddled into him on the couch. He missed you with an intensity that surprised even him. It wasn’t that you were far away. You weren’t on vacation or in another country. You were just... not here. And for some reason, that felt like miles.

Maybe it was how long the day had been. Maybe it was the way the booth cushion had a weird dip in it and he kept sliding toward Shayne. Maybe it was the third couple he’d seen kiss in the last ten minutes.

Or maybe it was just you. The you–shaped space beside him that no one else could fill.

He took another sip of his Shirley Temple, more out of habit than desire, and sighed. His phone buzzed against the table, and his heart did an embarrassing lurch— until he saw it was a group text from Courtney, sending a blurry photo of Shayne holding mozzarella sticks like nunchucks.

Spencer forced a smile, thumbs-upped the picture, and set his phone down face-up.

Then picked it up again five seconds later. Just in case.

“Who are you texting?” Angela’s voice cut through the music with ease, sly and lilting, like she already knew the answer but wanted to hear him squirm anyway. She sipped her cocktail and arched a perfectly judgmental eyebrow over the rim of the glass. In her hand, she held a violently neon pink thing that looked like it could summon demons and smelled like it could strip paint.

Spencer blinked. He looked up a little slower than he meant to, still blinking at the brightness of his phone screen. “Hmm?”

Courtney leaned across the table, her forearms braced against the sticky surface with the kind of knowing look that only meant trouble. “Dude. You haven’t looked up in ten minutes. We’re beginning to think you’re secretly in a long-distance relationship with Siri.”

Spencer gave a small laugh, setting his phone down, screen up. No shame. No apology. “I’m texting my girlfriend.”

There it was: that telltale shift in his face. That barely-there, dopey smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth and made his eyes go all soft around the edges. He didn’t even try to stop it. He couldn't even if he tried.

Across the booth, Shayne dragged out a groan like he was on a fake reality show, flopping dramatically back into the seat. “Ohhh, here we go. Cue the Spencer Is In Love segment. Episode fifty of season four. Bring in the roses, the doves; I'll even throw a violin in there for you.”

“Wait,” Chanse said, perking up, “is this the same girl from the bakery?

“Yep,” Spencer nodded his head, a little too excited, which made everyone immediately cackle.

Angela pointed her cocktail at him like it was a weapon. “I knew it. You were way too detailed when you told me how you met. ‘Her apron had this little chocolate smudge right on the edge.’ Bro, that’s not a story. That’s a romantic novel.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and sank a little deeper into the booth, but he wasn’t even pretending to be annoyed. The teasing rolled off him tonight, feather-light, because they weren’t wrong. He was stupidly in love. Unapologetically. And he kind of loved that they noticed.

“She just got off work,” he murmured, almost to himself, glancing down at his phone again. “She said she might call.”

Courtney reached over and gently thumped her knuckles against his glass. “So that’s why you’re being the most sober person in this whole place. You’re waiting by the phone like someone’s dad in a G-rated Disney movie.”

Spencer laughed again, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I just… I like hearing her voice after a long day. Sue me.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re in love.” Angela said with mock exasperation.

“Tell her we said hi.” Chanse chimed in, lifting his beer bottle and clinking it gently against Spencer’s glass. He winced after the clink. “God, even your drink is wholesome. This is embarrassing.”

Spencer shook his head, grinning now. “She’s not on the phone, dude.”

“Yet,” Chanse added with a knowing smirk.

Arasha narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. “Wait, you’re not even drinking, are you?”

“Nope.” Spencer sipped from his straw and leaned back, crossing one ankle over his knee. “Why would I? The only thing I want to be dizzy from is her.”

A chorus of groans met that line.

“Boo,” Chanse said, tossing a napkin at him. “Boo this man.”

“I’m serious!” Spencer protested, laughing. “I’ve reached full simp status and I am thriving.”

“You were always a simp,” Angela said, raising her eyebrows.

“True. But now it’s a two-way street of shameless simping,” Spencer replied with a proud nod.

He leaned his head against the booth’s cushion, smiling softly like he was thinking about something far better than dive bar lighting and stale beer. Because he was. You. 

“I just don’t get it,” Tommy said, more thoughtful now. “You used to be fun.”

“I am fun,” Spencer said. “I’m just not ‘blackout at 9 PM on a Tuesday’ type of  fun.”

Courtney gave him a playful nudge with her elbow, nearly knocking over his glass. “Be honest. If she called right now, like right now, you’d bail on all of us without looking back.”

Spencer didn’t even pause. Didn’t even pretend to be coy. “Yep,” he said, deadpan and proud. “I’d leave so fast I’d forget all of you existed.”

Chanse let out a dramatic gasp. “Cold, man. Cold-blooded.”

Angela took a slow sip of her toxic–looking drink, smirking over the rim. “And your dignity, dude.” she added under her breath, high-fiving Chanse under the table.

But Spencer just shook his head, unfazed. “Wrong,” he said, pointing a finger in mock-seriousness. “You don’t understand. I have never had more dignity in my life. You should see me when I show up at her place with Indian food in one hand and a romantic comedy queued up on my phone like a damn knight. I am the peak version of myself.”

Shayne leaned back and whistled low. “Damn. He’s gone.”

Spencer lifted his glass like a toast. “Oh, I’m absolutely gone,” he said with a grin. “Like, hook, line, and sinker. Unrecoverable. Doomed to be forever in love with the woman.”

Laughter erupted from around the booth— loud, easy, unfiltered. Angela smacked the table once. Courtney buried her face in her hands, grinning behind her fingers. Tommy muttered, “We’re witnessing a whole love story in real time and I don’t know how to emotionally process that.”

But none of it was mean. Spencer knew teasing when it wasn’t good-natured— he’d gone to high school, after all. This wasn’t that. This was affection disguised as sarcasm. This was what it looked like when people liked you so much they couldn’t help but tease you. It was comfortable and familiar. Warmth in the shape of side-eyes and sassy one-liners.

He could take it.

Honestly, he liked it.

Because underneath the jokes was something real and genuine. His friends had seen him through worse— bad dates, burnt-out days, long weeks of weirdly timed shoots and barely-slept nights. And now they were watching him be happy, and all they could do was make fun of him because it was too sincere to say out loud.

And he didn’t mind being the butt of the joke if it meant he got to keep thinking about you.

If it meant he got to remember the way your face lit up when you opened the door and saw him standing there, movie in hand. Or how you always wore his hoodie when you got cold without realizing it. Or the way you texted him little things— baking playlist today is just Taylor Swift and chaos. please send help. — like you couldn’t not include him in your day.

So yeah, he lets them tease.

He smiled down at his phone again, screen still lit up with your last message.

And when Angela leaned over and whispered, “You’re smiling again, dork,” he just shrugged and took another sip of his drink.

“Can’t help it,” he said.

There was a beat of silence, filled by the music and the faint clatter of glasses from the bar. Spencer’s phone buzzed, and he glanced down so fast it looked like a reflex.

One new message: Just got home. You still out? Missed you <3

His grin grew impossibly wider the second his phone buzzed. It was instant like someone flipped a switch inside him. One second he was just sitting there, hunched a little over his drink, tolerating the sticky booth and the too-loud music. The next, he was glowing.

You could actually see it happen.

His shoulders relaxed. His spine straightened. He looked like someone who had just been handed a mug of hot cocoa after walking through a snowstorm. Warm, safe and a little stunned with happiness.

“Oh no,” Shayne groaned, slapping a hand to his chest like he’d been wounded. “There it is. That’s it. We’ve officially lost him.”

Spencer didn’t even glance up from his phone. He was too busy re-reading your message. Something about your finally getting home, that you missed him, and a single, perfectly placed heart. It was simple. But it knocked the wind right out of him in the best way.

“I repeat,” Shayne declared, standing up like a ringmaster. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are witnessing the look of a man who just got a text from his girlfriend. Call in the fire brigade! He’s combusting.”

Courtney, sipping from her cocktail like a queen unfazed by theatrics, just smirked and said, “Can’t relate.” She glanced across the table at her husband with exaggerated judgment. “Mine sends me TikToks of cats in costumes and thinks that’s romance.”

“Which it is,” Shayne replied from beside her, raising his drink proudly.

Angela, of course, leaned in with zero shame, trying to sneak a peek at Spencer’s phone screen. “What’d she say? Oh my God, did she really put a heart?”

Spencer blushed, quickly angling the screen away like it was classified intel. But he wasn’t fooling anyone— his expression said it all. Soft, dreamy, completely and utterly smitten.

Angela laughed, dramatically pushing her drink away. “You guys are disgustingly cute. I feel single just looking at you.”

“That’s because you are,” Chanse muttered.

“I said feel, Chanse,” Angela snapped, but she was grinning too. She was happy for her friend.

Spencer just chuckled and finally looked up. “She just got home,” he said, casually. Like he wasn’t glowing. Like he wasn’t already mentally planning how fast he could drive over to your apartment.

Tommy chuckled. “Wow. You’re at, like, level-ten simp energy right now. It’s actually impressive.”

“I aspire to this,” Arasha added.

“Okay, okay,” Shayne said, pretending to gag. “Wrap this man in a plaid blanket and drop him in a Nancy Meyers movie. This is simp energy on steroids.”

“Hey, you can’t really legislate for the decisions that your heart makes.” Spencer grins back.

“Okay, but real talk,” Arasha said, leaning over the table, suddenly serious. “How do you keep your cool when you like someone that much? Like, I get nervous texting a friend I’ve known for six years.”

Spencer shrugged. “You don’t need to keep your cool when it’s the right person. I don’t have to pretend. She knows what she’s getting.”

“And she wants this?” Angela gestured at him, mock-suspicious. “This lovesick nerd who drinks Shirley Temples and leaves bars early to watch movies with his girlfriend?”

Spencer smiled again— smaller this time, but deeper. “Yeah,” he said. “Apparently, she does.”

That earned him another round of laughter, this one warmer, less biting. No one could even pretend to roast him too hard anymore. He was too… content.

“I will cry if she sends you a selfie wearing your hoodie,” Courtney warned.

“She already did,” Spencer said, sipping his drink like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb.

The entire table erupted in chaos.

Angela screamed. Tommy dropped his head on the table and pretended to sob. Chanse clutched his chest and whispered, “I need a moment.”

And in the middle of that noise, he glanced down again at the screen.

Come over? I saved you the last cookie.

And that was all it took.

He stood up— not quickly, but instantly, with a kind of gravity no one else in the room had. He slid out of the booth, grabbed his coat, and gave them all a casual salute. “Alright. I’ve got a better date waiting.”

“You’re actually going?” Courtney asked, half-shocked, half-expecting it.

“Cookie,” Spencer said, practically halfway out the door already. “Love. Beautiful girlfriend. Priorities. Bye.”

Angela shouted after him, “TELL HER WE SAID SHE’S THE LUCKIEST WOMAN ALIVE!”

He just threw a thumbs-up in the air without looking back.

The cold night air hit him like a system reset. He walked faster than usual, practically bouncing with each step. A few blocks, a fast car ride, and some fidgeting at red lights later, he was standing outside your door.

You opened the door on the first knock.

“Hi,” you said, and everything else— the bar, the noise, the teasing, the whole world for that matter— fell away.

“Hi,” he said, just as soft, already stepping forward to wrap his arms around you.

You let out a small, content sigh against his chest. “You didn’t have to come, y'know.”

“I wanted to.” He kissed the top of your head.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, brushing a thumb across his cheek. “Your friends think you’re a simp.”

“I am.”

“You’re not even denying it.”

“Why would I?” He looked at you. There was so much feeling behind his gaze it made him feel lightheaded, like the air had thinned and the only thing keeping him grounded to earth was you. He didn’t try to hide it. He just looked at you as if seeing you was a privilege, and knowing you was something holy.

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?”

“Only you a hundred times.”

A smile. 

He leaned in, brushing your lips with his.

“Then one more time could not hurt.”

[forlorn-crows]

sun-kissed freckles and lake-cool skin. sand in places it shouldn't be, hiding in the creases of his thighs and sticking to the nape of his neck. afternoon light streaming in through the broken window pane in the bathroom, illuminating the bright shower tiles and casting dappled patterns across blue-gray thighs.

dew shouldn't be this enamored by the trivial, the mundane--but the way his hands caress rain's hips as his fingers follow the rivulets of water as they wash away the remnants of the day has him captivated. its like he can taste the coolness of his skin just by looking at it.

getting tan lines, starfish.

rain smiles so easily when he says it, shaking his head a little at the reverent graze of dew's hand. summer's barely started yet. they'll get darker later, just like you like.

the shower spray darkens rain's hair further, if that were even possible. flowing through inky curls and clinging to the curves of his shoulders, his chest. dew can't resist that either, smoothing his hands up from rain's hips to gently cup each soft swell of breast. nipples darken and pebble between his fingers just from proximity, rain's body always eager and willing when dew is his company.

don't wear a top next time, dew muses, the world needs to see these beautiful tits.

mn. rain pulls him in then, chapped lips with a tongue coated in smoke and melted artificial cherry meet his own cool mouth as gently as one might brush an eyelash off a lover's cheek. maybe i only want you to see 'em.

dew snorts against rain's face, hands already roaming even as he says mount would throw a fit if you kept these from him.

he's a good boy, he can wait his turn sometimes.

dew hums amusedly and keeps kissing him, blindly reaching behind rain's body to turn down the pressure of the shower head. instead of the steady power of a stream meant to clean and cleanse, it's a soothing rainfall that preserves the space between play and work. preserves the momentary pause observed just by the two of them, a timer driven only by the speed of dew's hands over rain's body.

stay with me, he whispers like a wish, one that floats past rain's teeth and tongue, swallowed as a promise.

touch me. it's whispered just as easily. fingers are guided into blooming warmth, nestled in places where rain swears they were made to fit.

the granules of sand run down the drain, but ecstasy echoes across the tile.

- amongst the fleeting steam

[romanoffsbish]

Kissing Booth

Natasha Romanoff x F!R (College AU)

Tired of your girlfriends on and off kind of love, you set off to see just how invested she is in keeping you | WC: 2,848

Warnings: Toxic-Ish themes | Jealous Nat | Blood

Smut: Public | Jean-Riding (R) | Oral (R) | Degradation (Slut)

18+ | Minors DNI

"Y/N Y/L/N's pledge to the campuses first ever, Mental Wellness Festival is: a one woman booth meant to stimulate your joy receptors; a smooch of serotonin. Fellas, swing on by and steal a kiss, from the palm of my hand, and enjoy your sweet treat. Ladies and They's lean in closer love, if you set the right price, you can take the grand prize—a kiss of your choosing; my lips taste like artificial cherry and melted chocolate if that's of any interest to you. All proceeds go to a fund set in place to create better avenues for those suffering to cope with their hefty course loads as they manage heavy thoughts too." Natasha read the words over and over again in her traumatized mind until her pure feelings came to a boil as she huffed and ripped the paper off of the wall of every place she'd found it.

———

It didn't matter though. Because even though she took them down within the same hour they'd gone up, when she stepped onto the quad lit up by stadium lights she saw that your booths line had wrapped around the diamond twice in the five minutes that it was open.

Her fists clenched briefly as she saw Wanda and Carol, her sorority sisters, eagerly stood in line. Then she shook her head with a near manic laugh. The redhead truly felt bad for the other people here who thought that you'd actually kiss them on their mouths. Foolish to even dream of it really, because you knew better than to let them taint your sweet lips with their lust.

Theirs was carnal; vile another way to express that they wouldn't care for you like she would. Hers was soul crushing, but in the euphoric sense, because you knew no matter what happened between you two, that you were never alone. Natasha might be away, or distant, but she'd never leave you to become another's prey.

Far too perfect for her to lose to her traitorous sisters. They'd be dealt with later, but right now, your (ex) girlfriend had to focus on creeping in the shadows. Watching to see just how far you'd push her buttons.

All Natasha needed was your patience for a month, not even the full thirty days honestly. It was only meant to be a break so that she could focus on her studies, the way her A+'s, and full marks had dropped to A-'s had scared her into thinking that space would help fix it.

It didn't, but she pretended it did because she could not psych herself out of sticking to her desired path. You clearly lacked the patience and respect only your mommy could teach you. The exams are literally next week, you've been so good up until this final stretch. Not bothering her with physical ambushes, or even texting her, which she actually scolded you for, to which you re-shared your location with her just to limit the contact you'd have to make with her through text.

That hurt her feelings a bit, but she refused to wallow in the mess that she'd made. Your feelings were hurt first, and the aftermath treated hers no kinder, and lord knows this wasn't the first time she's done this.

That was in high school, junior year, and you were distraught by the decision. Then Summer came with apologies, and forgiveness. Now, in your fourth and final year of undergrad, you're just used to it. For some reason she just kept getting away with it unscathed...

Until now at least.

The woman you craved watched you with dilated eyes that caught everything. She's only hiding to see who you flirt with, genuinely, and consequently putting them on her list of people whose life she must now ruin in relation to you. Her mind raced when you let an older woman peck your cheek, she had only given you $500, and yet you let the corners of your lips brush.

Natasha growled in place of a whimper, she couldn't get the infuriating image out of her mind, her eyes burned with frustration as she pictured you and the football captain's girlfriend leaving the field together.

The redhead wouldn't let that happen. Darcy Lewis, the gifted scientist, and lover to a Mr. Sam Wilson, would leave here sooner in a body bag than with you.

Natasha pictured shoving the overzealous woman off of a cliff, then she'd return so she could approach you as she dug in her deep crossbody fanny pack, to then slam her wad of cash into the full jar, pull you up into a bruising kiss, and lift the bowl as she kicked the table over, helping flip to the red closed sign for good.

It was $4,000 in hard cash, money she'd just pulled out this morning to get a cashiers check for rent and to pay her other bills; Natasha was pissed, you sure felt that in the way that she harshly nibbled on your lips, cracking open the silky smooth skin; bright red blood smeared your coffee stained teeth. Everyone's whispers of fury and shock were drowned out as your heart pounded wildly in your chest. Natasha hungrily sought out this elevated moment where she took a chance and recklessly guided your body around the corner until she could slam you up against a random concrete wall.

.... It paid off.

"Oh fuck," you huffed as your exposed upper back brushed against prickly vines, the crisp chill in the air instantly solidifying your blood against your skin. You could hardly care about the pain though as Natasha's thigh brushed against the bare cunt you'd sported beneath your skirt the entire night. That shiny metal chair was dripping with your essence as you saw your soulmate (ex-girlfriend) watching you with fury.

You were drenched, painfully needy, and screaming: "Natasha please—god I'm so fucking wet right now!"

"I know you are slut," she growled as her sharp canines grazed over the throbbing veins of your jugular. "I can feel your sticky mess through my jeans." You mewled at the rough press of your slick cunt to her pants, it had you seeing staticky stars. If she kept up a steady pace you were certain to be discovering galaxies. "Mmm, I need to cum mommy, need to cum so bad, please!"

"Yeah?" She scoffed, and you nodded frantically. "Well I need my money back, but instead I've donated it to do with these lips as I please so how about you shut it."

You didn't heed her warning, "Please, I'm sorry..."

"So fucking greedy," she growled, the glare she held as she pulled away from your neck sparked a thrill of fear to run straight to your core, your pretty eyes plead for reprieve, and naturally, the redhead gave in. "Go ahead slut, but make sure to let them hear you." Natasha's arms flexed as she expertly guided your core against the rough material of her jeans, and so you moaned out into the world her outwardly embarrassing title, letting everyone know they never stood a chance, it was a beautiful symphony to your on and off again lover that ended on a high note when she heard a familiar gush.

While you heavily panted, desperately breathing in the crisp night air that chilled your lungs into a hitch, she reveled in how the delicate rumble felt against her lips that were spread against the thin skin of your throat. Her tongue darted out, licking up the salty layer atop of your tacky skin, her teeth brushed back down, going the opposite way her tongue just had. The redheads goal of an endgame was etched into your exposed skin.

Your collarbones now decorated with her marks; ones that spoke of jealousy, and paired with a fragile love. You whimpered softly, the way her wet lips suckled on the already marked skin of your thudding pulse point bled off into the more painful side of things. Her wet tongue slid over the same spot in apology, then her lips founds yours after she kissed up the side of your neck.

Natasha's lips pressed against yours much softer than before, but you could tell she was frustrated with you. Which was fair, and matched as you stewed yourself, a part of you did feel guilty, but mostly, you felt broken.

But you weren't about to cry, no, you'd rather get mad.

It was what the naive asshole had earned. Natasha was great, a caring girlfriend who looked to you to smother with all of her love, the last six years together were a dream come true. A dream that faded into a nightmare whenever she becomes stressed, becoming someone you hardly recognize. She'd become dismissive, cold and quick to call for a blip; a break in your sacred union. Each time she said the same thing, "Just a bit of space is all I need, we'll be okay, mommy promises."

It was what she needed—never you, but she made it seem as if you'd happily agreed to her conditional love. As if letting you feel like her life could only improve if you were to leave it was something you took positively.

You were young, and carefree but not dumb enough to not know this wasn't healthy and maybe for your own petty thrill, you wanted to test her very limits. To see if she might just see what she risks losing, but you feel like all she got from this was more frustration. It only took a moment for her to huff that angrily against your chapped lips. "All I asked of you was for time Y/N."

You leaned your head back and pouted, eyes soft like a wounded puppy's. "We're better together Tasha."

Natasha sighed, "I know detka," she conceded with ease, her guilty face falling into the crook of your neck as she took in a calming breath. "I've been miserable without you honey, but we had to know that this could work. I'm going to have to travel for work, and I don't want to have to worry about you entertaining others."

"I'd never cheat," you hissed, "You asked for a break, that means we're no longer in a relationship Natasha."

"That's not what I meant and you know it Y/N," her nails dug into your sides. "Never have we ever ran a kissing booth during one, now stop being so difficult."

"I'm not being difficult Natasha, I'm doing charity work, and having a bit of fun as I do it." You shrugged and she frowned. "So breaking my heart is fun?"

You sighed softly, unwilling to unpack the hypocrisy of her words, "The only way this works out is if only your body leaves me in those times, but if you're saying random bouts of silence is the final answer th—." Nat cut you off, "You stopped texting Y/N, not me."

"Yeah, because you just wanted a 'good morning' and 'night' or an 'I'm home' after my classes got out, and you'd simply like it. Not even a 'morning love' or a 'glad you made it home safe' or an 'I love you.' in response."

"I needed to focus on school," she tried to defend, it was a pathetic excuse, and you both knew it. "Then you can do that Natasha, but I won't be waiting for you anymore, these breaks in affection are killing me."

"What? I-." You pressed your hands to her shoulders and attempted to push her away but she fiercely stood her ground. "What are you saying Y/N? Because I—."

"Need to let me go," you tiredly replied, "If I, um, if our relationship is too much of a problem for you on your journey to success then it's best we end this now."

Natasha's heart froze in her chest, the idea made her ill. "No!" Natasha fell to her knees, lips brushing over your abdomen before her hands lifted your skirt, and then her nose was nudging the wet skin of your thigh beside your cunt. "I'll do better honey, I swear to it." Her lips trembled, "No more breaks," her voice cracked and your heart sank. Your hands fell to the outline of her head that was buried beneath your skirt, her erratic breaths fanned across the sticky mess between your thighs and your body shivered. "Natasha, get up."

You felt the godly crafted curve of her nose nudge your clit as she shook her head, your mind was reeling with desperation, the same as her words. "I'm insane Y/N, clearly, because my reckless hypocrisy nearly lost me you, but I'm not so crazy that I'd actually let you go."

"Nat..." your muttering of her name cut off in a shaky breath as you felt her shake her head again, the thin twigs snapped as you threw your head back. "No," she murmured against the slick curve of your labia, a wet kiss made your hip jolt off the wall and slip more of her face between your folds. "You are my home Y/N."

Your heart stuttered as you heard her sniffle, her warm tears cascaded over the slick of your thighs and soaked into the cracks of your kneecaps. Hurting her wasn't something you relished in, but it was also necessary.

You knew that up until now things had been toxic, but you also knew your threat of dissolution wouldn't be dismissed. Natasha wouldn't let you go, she'd fell for you way back in middle school, she had the diary's in a locked drawer outlining your future together, the stars were aligned well before you knew, and they officially clicked when she made her move sophomore year.

After puberty gave her a much needed confidence boost she'd asked you out, using homecoming as an excuse, and you didn't hesitate to say yes. She kissed you after walking you home, her mind shifted when her lips pressed into yours, giving her a taste, and from that moment forward she has held on possessively.

Which is why you knew the moment your flyers went up that she would be all over you. A minute part of you lived for these raw moments where the insecurities her distance had created are edged out of your wary mind. Natasha wasn't a fan of breaking your heart either, but with who her parents are you can show her some grace, her expression was clearly a byproduct of their neglect.

Especially when she worked your body so perfectly. "Mmm, fuck," you gasped abruptly, mind exceptionally fuzzy as her despair had turned into the sloppiest head you'd ever received in your life. The noises were lewd, not even the school's festival could drown her out the more her tongue lavished away at your oozing cunt.

Natasha forgot what it was like to breathe for a long moment, her nose and mouth too busy working together to keep your mind fuzzy from pleasure. It was also her way of relishing the time she spent with your intimacy, fear clawing at her heart that this could be it.

The final time she was able to make you cry out her name, to make you feel this good, to love you as she always should. Her mind ran wild with the thought that you might've been scoping out your next lover tonight—could Wanda or Carol be better suited for you? No! She shook her head again and you came, crying out for her—you needed her, and her alone.

Natasha's nails dug into your ass, spreading your cheeks so that she could delve even further into your core with her tongue. Intent solely on drinking you dry, not that she ever really could, no matter how much she lapped away you never failed to become wet again. It was a vicious cycle that she endured with glee.

Your essence was something she always savored, but in this exact moment she found herself rushing to clean it up, her body now plagued with a persistent urge to cry.

Tears and slick intermixed on your thighs, creating their own slippery consistency that led to the redhead falling further into you as she tried to push herself up. You chuckled slightly before reaching a hand down to help her to her feet, the humor dying as soon as her face was leveled with yours. It was hard to feel joy when the love of your life looked so damn despaired.

"Oh Tasha," you coo'd, hands gentle as they cupped her  wet cheeks. "Please, don't leave me detka," she sobbed, her slick hands laid over yours, attempting to keep the comfort of your touch on her, even if it was forced. Fortunately, your intent was only to bring her closer as you pulled her face forward and into a sloppy kiss. The way she whimpered at the affection solidified your choice to stay and fight for the love you knew existed.

"Take me home baby, these lips are yours to keep."

[hungerhutch]

PURPLE

Clapton Davis X Best friend!GN Reader

Summary: Red + Blue = Purple 😉 (literally the title)

Tags: fluff, making out, best friends to..?, no uses of Y/N, my first fan fic!!

wc: 2.498k

Notes: ahhhh my first time writing! tips are appreciated<33

-------------------------༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶------------------------------

You were with your friend Clapton and his friends, Sander, Riley and Ione, bowling.

Riley and Ione, as always, were arguing.

“Cinderhella wants to kill me more. I’m hot. Your house sucks. You lose.” Ione argues and scoffs. Riley just rolls her eyes and scowls.

“Why do you both always feel the need to argue? There’s a literal killer on the loose and you two are fighting over who's gonna die first! You’re totally wrecking my vibe!” you groan and walk away to refill your slushy.

You hear Ione call you a bitch but you just ignore her and walk over to the concession stand.

You take your cup and place it under the bright red cherry flavor, pushing the button down to fill it up with the artificial, cold goodness. When you’re done filling it, you turn around to walk back to the group when you see Clapton right behind you. He grins at you and reaches for the blue raspberry flavor.

“Hey.” you smile back at him and put the lid back on your cup.

“Hey to yourself.” he chuckles and fills his own slushy up.

“God, have they finally stopped arguing yet?” you roll your eyes playfully and glance back at Ione and Riley.

“Nope. Still going at it about Cinderhella.” he groans and sticks his straw into the round lid.

“Damn. I really can’t stand their arguing sometimes.” you shake your head and take a sip of it. It's so sweet that you almost grimace.

“Too sweet?” Clapton laughs and raises his eyebrow.

“Yeah.” you laugh with him and smack your lips together.

He takes a sip of his own and sticks his tongue out playfully. “It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah, minus your blue tongue.” you giggle and point at it.

He snickers and slips it back into his mouth. You take another sip and stick your tongue out.

“What about mine? Is it red?” you ask, slightly muffled from your tongue sticking out your mouth.

“A little.” He laughs again before continuing. “Hey, wanna try a science experiment?” he smirks mischievously and raises his eyebrow.

“Since when have you been into science?” you tease and laugh.

He rolls his eyes and pouts playfully. “Pleaseee? Just one experiment!”

You sigh and nod hesitantly. He rests his hand on the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. You gasp in surprise before slowly kissing him back. He tugs your bottom lip with his teeth and slithers his tongue into your mouth. He intertwined his tongue with yours before pulling away breathlessly.

“What was that for?” you breathe and raise an eyebrow.

“I was testing color mathematics!” he grins and wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

��You mean color theory?” you laugh and shake your head.

“I don’t care what it's called! I just wanted an excuse to kiss you.” he rolls his eyes playfully and flicks you on the forehead.

“Ow! Why didn’t you, I don't know, just ask?”

“Cause that was more fun.”

You laugh again and walk away to sit back down with the rest of the group.

You sit down and they look at you.

“What's with the.. Purple lips? I thought you hated grape flavor..?” Sander points at your lips and raises an eyebrow.

“Uh-” You glance at Clapton and then back at them. “Whoops!”

---------------------------༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶-------------------------------

[eikaebana]

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[probably-flowers-and-cats]

I wanna yap about Furin Trio (my beloved) and since the song by elijah woods "we should stick together" replays in my head almost on a constant basis and perfectly describes them three... here we are 💚

(did I spend too much time doing it? yeah.)

(do I regret it? not really.)

they reflect each other, they impact each other, heal, carve their way into each other's heart, they care, fear, and they love. unconditionally, undoubtedly.

the past can be wrecked all the way from the very beginning. messed up. and they live on with all those unnamed demons raging in the cage of their ribs. but continuing onward and by going and hoping and losing this hope... they are able to finally achieve what they wished for.

0. "I'm thinking about it"

at some moment of the story all three of them will have to stop and look and see. they've came a long way. they've faced struggles and aches, they believed and they were wrong. and despite anything, they're still together.

1. to get attached.

learning what it means to be attached to people you care dearly. to settle yourself in the storm you created, ready to face it alone and endure it, and come back unscathed as usual. learning that being attached goes both ways.

they're glue — Sakura and Nirei — and Suo is a feather. he was distancing himself from others. fists aren't a heartfelt conversation, but simple small talks. food is a concept he's not ready to acknowledge at all, reserving himself to drinks — those you can't share.

until Sakura and Nirei order a huge glass of some cherry-mango flavored drink and are not able to finish it without the certain third person.

(drinks can be shared. a glued feather is doomed — oh, but in a way Suo want to be doomed. food is an unknown concept, but "you live you learn". and having a conversation via fighting? well, Sakura deserves one heart-to-heart conversation after being too reckless).

2. to get warm.

3. to get impacted.

learning that loneliness and coldness are synonyms. being lonely leaves you hollowed out, competely drained, and the second someone's touch doesn't hurt, but warms up gets you shaken.

Sakura's been cold hellos entire life — loveliness does that to people, but he didn't mind the cold. he can get dressed up — jackets, warm clothes. all those artificial tools to keep his limbs warm and working. after all, he had to protect himself.

until he doesn't have to. there's no one attacking him. and the set of clothes he brought is embarrassingly... light. it can't get him warm. but he's not cold. no chills traveling his body up and down, shaking him, no stiffness in muscles, messing with his ability to throw hits.

he's warm.

he tilts his head and sighs. Suo and Nirei laugh, and they brought scarfs and blankets, and in his home now placed a heater, and winter is looming over them all, but he knows.

they will be warm. and cared for. and they will be loving and be loved back. it's all that simple.

learning that changes aren't a bad thing at all. learning that when you love, you can't get out of it unscathed. you start striving for the better, for the best, for the possibility and opportunity to stay no matter what.

Sakura points out that Nirei started sounding way too much like Suo. and pouts. it's so silly, Nirei can't hold himself back from little loving teasing, and Sakura yelps that what he was talking about. Suo, chiming in, adds that Nirei also got used to stand his ground in quite a familiar way and also hardened his stubbornness to the same level as Sakura.

Nirei smiles: well, of course.

of course he did and does and will do.

and. in conclusion.

[skyeslittlecorner]

Thoughts on Orias' event

I try to pretend that I have already cooled down and stopped howling with delight at the sight of the boys from Hades. Okay, I'm not very good at lying. They. are. gorgeous. So, ekhm. Some loose thoughts about what we know. No serious analysis this time, just my happy rambling.

Spoilers under cut!

Devils can lie

Earlier it was hinted between the lines, now we have official confirmation. Orias and Leviathan sure know how to lie.

Here is a suggestion that Foras can do it too.

On the one hand, my and my biased heart are happy that he is special, on the other hand, I think I would rather not know what he went through to learn how to lie. On an unbiased note, it would be interesting if all the nobles of Hades could lie.

Nobles stick together

It's a little thing I noticed. In Avisos we are often mentioned that seeing more than one noble at a time is an unusual thing. Meanwhile in Hades…

A large part of the event is from Foras' perspective, and how was I supposed to be calm?

We see that the boys often spend time together on patrols. Their relationship is also delightful. Foras doesn't like Glasyalabolas, and it's not mutual. Look.

Glasyal you bully, I love you lmao

Barbatos is gorgeous (even more so without clothes, but please, not on patrol).

Either way, it looks like they spend a lot of time together. They give so much siblings' energy.

AND THIS

I died. I didn't know I needed Barbatos saying fuck, but now I need him for my life. So hot of him.

Orias age

We have information that Orias is older than Leviathan…

…but this is information from biased, unconfirmed sources. Nobles only know rumors. I believe that Lucifer is the oldest. He's an angel, he makes sense. But when it comes to Orias, I would trust Leviathan more here.

I want to draw attention to this one quote in particular:

We know that devils get old. The stronger, the slower. But this suggests that Orias has been artificially aged.

Especially since the angels also refer to him as a kid.

+ it is interesting that they were taken for the same experiment.

Don't know what to call it, just some sexy guys ahead

Enough with serious topics, time to get back to silly things!

We've seen Satan's anger spreads to his subordinates, we've also seen it with Mammon's greed, so it's no wonder Leviathan's jealousy has the same strength. However, Levi's second main thing, his punishment, doesn't seem to be going as well as he dreamed.

They are terrible, I love them. No wonder the cavalry from Tartaros comes for us in Ch5, the guys from Gehenna would still shake hands with Hades. By the way, Hades and Genenna really seem to have the most similarities.

Hot.

Also, their devotion is insanely sweet. Leviathan isn't even truly in danger and they've already summoned their coffins to protect him.

But let's get to the cherry on the cake. You know what else is hot? We are in hell, it should be warm in here, but oh lord- I expected boiling lava, not a walking embodiment of perfection.

I totally agree with Glasyalabolas and his fourth wall breaking. JUST LOOK.

The smirk of this proud asshole. The fact that he is little known in heaven simply because he leaves no survivors to tell about him. And how much he smiles during this event. And how gently he treats Orias.

This event shows his soft heart and that's why I'm here. I'm glad that we don't see this side of him right away, in the chapter, and he only shows true himself with someone he really knows and cares about. Even if he does it his own way. This event, his attacker comic and his selfie comic, how he behaves towards heaven farm survivor and his childhood friends.

Final thoughts

Let's end this here before I start fawning over him even more. Of course, there was much more here. Even out of chronicler's duty, I would like to mention:

While escaping, Leviathan made a pact with his monster

There are beads in the hearts of angels that, when eaten, keep Orias young

Orias himself, if he didn't eat angel hearts, would age into a mummy in a week

Barbatos is secretly Sailor Moon or Winx or other magical girlie

This is how he dressed himself with his vines, prove me wrong.

Leviathan calls Glasyalabolas cute. Agree.

Orias calls Foras a child. It just sounds like a much older person addressing a younger colleague. And you know how much I agree

Astaroth mentioned (another point to the relationship between Hades and Gehenna)

Cherubs with their New Heaven are mentioned

That's all I remember for now. If you're curious about more things, @/thrones-of-buer collected here a lot of points from the event. I agree with a lot of them, and they're definitely interesting to check out. And here a whole report from the event from @/jazeswhbhaven so if you're hungry for more, head over there!

[daisypreaker]

inmate 13453

okay don't get excited, i just felt like writing a bit of a drabble to feel out the atmosphere of a potential start to this au (clicking the tag will give up the other stuff i've posted for it btw)

btw check out the playlist and the pinterest board made by @theageofsilver and @allicentsallure bc they're fab

cw: kidnapping

Soft seventeen.

Bambi eyes, bambi legs.

There’s a certain edge to the way people describe the age she’s at. Not quite eighteen, not quite legal, tangible as cherry juice on greedy fingers. She isn’t sixteen, sweet and tender. It’s a soft first step into adulthood, skirting the border, the in between, the unknowable horrors that lie ahead.

She fucking hates being seventeen.

It’s a shit number first of all. Odd numbers make her want to spew. They feel like nails on a chalkboard, polyester static on leg hair. She can’t even dance, so whatever ABBA are singing about doesn’t apply.

Amara sticks out her tongue and tastes the air as the breeze blows west. She swears she can get a sense of the world when she does.

Her stepfather mocks her for it. That blue-eyed, blonde maniac with the ugly Buick Electra he treats like a brand-name Italian from the southern coasts of Europe. He used to treat her mother the same. Until he began to tell Amara you look just like her when she was young. He leaves his porn tabs open on his computer, as if he wants her to know. ‘Teen’, ‘Latina’, ‘Stepfather’, ‘Rough’, ‘Face-fucking’, ‘Breeding.’

She doesn’t have a drop of Hispanic blood in her.

She really wants to tell her mother, but there is a chance her mother will look right through her instead. She’s been doing that a lot more nowadays. They can’t afford her meds anymore. She just sits on the porch and watches and waits. For what, is anyone's guess.

>> can you pick me up?

>> its dark

>> pls

>> sorry ik its inconvienant

'Step-Daddy' always replies quickly when it’s her. He has a heart next to her name on his phone. She never agreed to that.

>> it’s spelled inconvenient

“Suck my dick,” Amara tells the screen and switches her phone off before he can message again.

She can walk.

The route back runs dangerously close to the edge of the forest. All kinds rot away in there, but she doesn’t like to think of them by name. They’ll become real if she does. She wishes her mother had found a man who lived in the wetlands, and not here at the cursed border between life and the realm beyond. Marshes are easier to understand. Forests are cursed.

Still, life is horribly simple here. Her high school is placid and filled with the dull-eyed children of dull-eyed adults. The gas station where she works didn’t bother to interview her. She walked in and the guy behind the counter stared at her breasts until he remembered she had a face. Her breasts aced the interview for her.

Can I work here? Just until I graduate.

Sure, grab a nametag.

Four months later, and she doesn’t mind it anymore. Her brain shuts off. Her customers are a ragtag mixture of suspicious, ferret-eyed locals and the occasionally buoyant hiker from out of state. If she doesn’t look like she belongs, she’s pretty, and that usually gives people like her a pass. At least until the sleazy comments become ethnically charged. But even then, Amara has a way of making her eyes go ‘dopey’ and just smiling like she’s too slow to understand. Displaying discomfort is what eggs them on (kind of a nasty realisation she opened her eyes to one day).

An engine growls some way down the road.

Old Chevy pickup, faded gold.

She recognises it from the parking lot at the station near the end of her shift.

A guy stepped out, young, early twenties, with a shock of hair that looked white until she realised it was just really, really blonde. She remembers thinking it was odd. The range of blondes in town runs from deep and dirty to the artificial bleach rattled out of holographic boxes of dye. No one has hair like his. She’d have noticed.

His eyebrows were a little darker, and his lashes were darker still. He had a funny way of walking, and he looked at her like she had the head of a fish and the body of a human being. Amara did her best dopey eyes. She asked him if he’d had a good day, pointed out the offers they had on pork rinds. He didn’t say a word. His skin had smears of black grease, glistening with sweat and bronzed by the sun.

Deep blue eyes.

Horribly deep.

Not the kind you’d want to swim in. She likes a softer blue, blue like chlorine, reminiscent of the safety of swimming pools. His were anything but.

She picks up her speed, and for some reason, puts her phone to her ear as if mid-conversation. Nothing about him said he was dangerous at the time. At least not from the way he’d barely said a word or looked down at her body. He was just there, and then he was gone.

And now here he is again.

The Chevy hits the horn. He is creeping closer. Amara turns and waves at him to go on. She doesn’t want a ride. Why isn’t he rolling down the window to offer one though?

It slows to a crawl. Her throat closes up. She has a feeling speeding up will give him what he wants. He’s obviously trying to be a prick. But if she goes back to talk to him, that would be exponentially worse. She switches her phone back on and sees her stepfather’s message telling her to get back home herself after she didn’t reply to tell him her location.

She quickly shoots him a message, and prays he’ll respond.

He doesn’t.

Fuck it.

She walks faster. The Chevy matches the increase. Sweat blooms on the back of her neck.

Every woman has that oh fuck moment. That I’m going to be on the evening news moment. The please god if he catches me let him kill me before he gets to raping me moment.

None of that goes through her head. She keeps thinking of her mother’s cooking. Her mother hasn’t cooked in a year and a half, not since her mind began to slip. But Amara can taste the spices on her tongue, the way the rice was perfectly simmered, the cinnamon in the back of her throat, the smell that clung to the walls, the heat of it.

I wanna come home, Momma.

Her mother’s face gathers into shape in her head, built with sand particles and saltwater. When the Chevy roars, she starts running. Her mother vanishes.

The lights of the truck blink across the tarmac. It’s a signal. But it isn’t for her.

She looks over her shoulder, and she can’t see him.

Run me over. Leave me like carrion on the road. Let the maggots eat me. Don’t cut me up first.

He slows when she starts to tire out. Picks up when she tries again. No other car has graced this road since she first turned onto it. A sign points her to the right, ushering her deeper into the backwoods. The town is to the left.

He figures out where she’s going when she suddenly makes a dash for the bend in the road.

There’s no time to dodge the pickup when it goes for her this time. The wheels skid as he yanks it at an angle and blocks her way. The door flies open and misses her by an inch. His arm grabs for her. She dodges, animal fear and rust on her tongue. He still doesn’t say a word.

A heavy fist connects with the small of her back and she drops like a stone.

The pain is electric. Air turns her lungs into taut balloons, but she can’t make a sound. She twists around and the bruise forming over her spine grates. Adrenaline quickly numbs it as she lashes out with her arms and legs. Kicking, punching, scratching, biting. Her teeth hit home. A mouthful of tattooed flesh, car oil and sweat. Still no sound from him.

She never sees the fist coming, just like last time.

A blow to the head and lights out, nancy.

[bleedspink]

sugarcoat

-

the walls hum in soft pink.
powdered sugar light
sticks to my skin
like something saccharine
trying to smother the rot.

plush carpet muffles my footsteps.
every corner is padded—
stuffed with velvet animals
whose glass eyes never blink.
they stare like they know.
like they remember.

the scent of artificial strawberries
hangs heavy in the air,
too sweet, too forced.
it clings to my clothes,
my hair,
my throat.
i choke on the nostalgia.

gold bangles clack against my wrists
when i cover my ears.
sometimes silence is worse
than the screaming was.
sometimes silence is just
another way to listen too hard.

i suck on hard candy
until it slices my tongue.
grin red.
pretend it's cherry.

under my bed—
a shoebox full of secrets.
crayon drawings,
a locket with a stranger’s face,
a dress i don’t remember wearing
but still can’t throw away.

the mirror reflects someone
smaller than she should be.
shoulders curved in like parentheses,
like she’s trying to fold
into the space of someone
who never made it past twelve.

i wrap myself in fleece,
layers and layers,
until the weight quiets the shaking.
call it comfort.
but it’s really armor
stitched in bows and pastel thread.

don’t touch the doorknob.
don’t raise your voice.
don’t ask.
just sit quietly
in the pink glow
and pretend
you’ve always been safe.