#ashtray was supposed to be a one-off guy

[honeycollectswhump]

for the bingo card: human furniture?

-🪷

thank you for sending this ask!! and i hope you don't mind my late reply :)) it was so fun to write <3

the bingo card was made by @gentlelittlehorrors (i hope you enjoy what i did with your prompt)

[masterlist]

CW: dehumanisation, pet whump, burns

“Up!”

It’s the first thing Ashtray hears, the first thing he understands, while laying down under the table, letting the noise of conversations pleasantly wash over him. 

Up means he is needed, Up means he is going to be used and Ashtray is eager to be used. Recognizing a word makes his nerves tingle with happiness. Ashtray rarely gets talked to –of course–, and it's even rarer that he understands.

He gets on his hands and knees, crawling closer to the soft velvet voice of his beloved Mistress. From his point of view, Ashtray can only see her silky smooth dress, a slit revealing her elegantly crossed legs. 

Careful of the leash binding him to the table, he takes his place, kneeling right beside his Mistress. Only like this, he is allowed to look at her, Ashtray has learned. He turns his head towards her, waiting for another cue amidst the pleasant waves of her voice.

Ashtray knows few words, short hints like Up and Down, Good Boy and Punishment, Hands and Back and Tongue, but he is very proud of his collection. It makes him a Good Boy, he thinks, that he has learned to recognise the otherwise strange sounds. Ashtray strives to serve his Mistress, in the way he was made for, and in any way at all. 

“Hand out.” his Mistress says, and Ashtray is thankful he is such an attentive Good Boy to filter out the right words. He tries his best to copy her poise, even though it is so unnatural for a simple thing like him. 

Mistress didn’t say which hand or maybe Ashtray doesn’t know the word yet. He can only guess what the most logical answer would be and sitting at her left side, he has an idea. Everything should always be elegant, so as graceful as possible he lifts his right hand to rest on her thigh, just like she trained him to. 

He can feel the cigarette getting closer, even without seeing it directly, can feel it burning and sizzling against his skin. Despite this, Ashtray doesn’t flinch, just like expected of a Good Boy. His eyes never leave his Mistress’ face, drowning in the pleased smile she gifts him. 

Other owners wouldn’t smile at their Ashtray like that, but his Mistress does. She is gentle, and loving, and so beautiful that Ashtray knows he’d let her hold his hands in a fire just to gain another smile. 

Twisting the cigarette into his skin, his Mistress makes sure it truly is put out. Ashtray marvels at how responsible she is, even as it leaves an angry red crater that will surely leave a mark in the field of raised, almost perfectly round scars that coat his hands. 

After fulfilling his purpose, Ashtray lifts his hand back down again, barely conscious of the way his skin seems to be lit on fire. This is what he was made for anyway. He resumes his position next to his Mistress, both hands in front of his knees, still and Good, bathing in her presence until she will inevitably send him under the table, only to come out when he is needed. Maybe then, she will call him a Good Boy again and Ashtray wants to be a Good Boy so badly. 

If he continues to be a Good Boy, his Mistress will even provide Ashtray with cream so that the fresh wound won’t get infected. Another thing other owners wouldn’t do for their possessions.

Ashtray is so lucky to belong to such a kind Mistress.

[ikinremu]

I don’t know if your still doing story rqs or not but I would love a possessive!tommy shelby x innocent!reader.

idea: thomas saw a guy flirting with reader but was to innocent to know it, or notice it—reader does know about sex and other shit, just didn’t really understand it.

Hi anon! Tysm for requesting, hope you enjoy! Also, just to let everyone know that if you have requested, I will be working on it I’m just working through a lot of requests atm so bear with me!! <3

My Property

Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

! Smut Warning !

Tags: Innocence, Virgin!reader, Fingering, Unprotected sex, P in V, Multiple orgasms, Praise, Possessive/jealousy, Praise, Cream Pie

"What can I getcha, miss?" Came the low, hoarse voice of the bartender, burnt cigarette faltering in his mouth.

"An Old Fashioned, please." You smiled politely, shuffling a little atop the rickety old stood, resting your hands upon the bar's scuffed surface.

The man returned the smile, accompanied by a nod of understanding. His gaze seemed to linger on your face for a moment, fingers swiping the cigarette from between his lips. His eyes never once faltered from your own as his mouth puffed out a cloud of foggy smoke, and he stubbed it out on a nearby ashtray accordingly.

"Rough day?" He inquired, the broad span of his back facing you as he reached over the bar's vast array of contents, seizing whichever components he needed.

"Not particularly, no." You smiled.

"Just figured somethin' had to bring a beautiful woman like you 'ere." He spun to face you once more, laying all intent to the way he studied your expression. He leant forward quite the distance, pouring out your requested drink, gaze never leaving yours.

His words caught you rather off guard, making you stumble over your own slightly, "Oh- um, just fancied a drink, I suppose."

At that, he slid the glass into your open hands, "Here you are."

"Thank you." You gave a honey-like smile, raising the glass to your lips.

As you did so, the man turned once more, slotting the previously retrieved bottles back into their correct places. Glass clinked together, and one particularly large bottle slipped from the shelf, just barely saved from smashing by his splayed hands.

He let out an exhale of relief as he seized the bottle, assuring it remained firmly in place this time.

"That's not like me." He chuckled to himself, pivoting back round in your direction, "I'm usually good with my hands."

He followed the sentence with an obnoxiously bold wink, which you unknowingly ignored, allowing it to fly right by.

There was a moment of drawn out silence as you nodded politely in response, "Well I'd hope so in a job like this."

His brows creased ever so slightly, and he cleared his throat once more.

"Guess I must've been.. distracted." He accentuated the very last word, wetting his lips. You felt his eyes roam over your entirety, lingering over your chest specifically.

With a small nod, you indulged in another sip from your drink, brows furrowed slightly. You could feel his gaze trained upon your mouth as your lips met the top of the glass.

It only then became apparent that you ought to return to your table - you'd become entirely too caught up with polite conversation.

"I best get back." You smiled, hand cupping your beverage as you shuffled atop your barstool. 

His disappointment was blatant, "Leavin' so soon?"

Your gaze spun back to the table you'd been at until only recently. John and Arthur were cackling about God knows what, and Tommy sat beside, smirking, although it appeared he was a little more focused on yourself than the accompaniment of his chortling brothers.

"Ah, I see." He observed, voice a low rumble as your swivelled back toward him, "They seem like they're coping." He chuckled, "Maybe I can convince you to ditch them for the night, hm?"

"No need for that." Tommy's voice cut through like a blade from behind you, making you jump out of your skin for a brief moment. He stepped close beside you, the scrutiny of his stare channelled upon nothing but the bartender.

An obvious, frustrated exhale escaped the man, "I think the lady can make up her own mind, don't you?"

From the very corner of your eye, you observed the tight tick of his jaw.

"Listen, darlin, if you want a good time you know where to find me."  He bargained on.

Irritation painted Tommy's face - although you couldn't quite resolve the puzzle as to why he was so agitated by the man offering you company; he seemed nice enough.

He was practically glaring at the bartender by now, his eyes struggling to leave as he nodded in the loose direction away from the counter, signalling the pair of you should make your way back.

As you hopped off the rickety, wooden stool, your eyes travelled back and forth between the two men, "Uh, thank you for the company." You offered a sweet - more so polite - smile, followed shortly by yourself and Tommy heading back.

"I think we should leave." He spoke, monotone as ever, "Arthur and John will be fine."

It was as though he knew you'd ask of them.

It wasn't particularly late, however you didn't fancy bargaining and in all honesty, you had no problem with leaving early.

Tommy's hand planted suddenly upon the small of your back, guiding the pair of you to exit out into the cool evening air.

A chill whisked over your face as you walked, "I don't understand why you're so upset."

"I'm not upset." He exhaled as the both of you ambled into the familiar, locked door of the betting office.

"Well, judging by the way you're jamming that poor key into the lock, I'd say otherwise." You mumbled, stood uncomfortably beside him, watching as he forced the key over until the lock finally clicked, turning it and shoving the door open, "You looked like you wanted to throttle that bartender."

He let out a scoff,  raising a brow a little as he turned to face you specifically, shutting the door the very moment you strode inside.

"I thought he seemed nice.." You uttered, accompanied by a genuine sense of confusion, "Friendly."

Tommy's eyes flickered across your face, from feature to feature; practically drinking you in, "You weren't gonna entertain the bastard, were you?"

You simply furrowed a brow, "What do you mean?"

He wet his lips, another blatant sigh escaping him, "Clearly thinks he was in with a chance, I don't want you doin' something you'll come to regret, eh?"

Somehow, his words were rather sudden to your ears, and it was a secret to no one that you were confused.

"He was gonna use you to get off, we both know you deserve more than that, don't you?" He leaned in a little as the words floated from his lips, the heat of his breath caressing your skin.

Your breath caught in your throat, hitching at the utter proximity of it all, and his hand found your waist suddenly. You were stunned, losing a single, soft gasp upon the feeling of the possessive squeeze he offered.

"Tell me you want this." His mouth mumbled, a mere inch from your ear.

An ambush of butterflies fluttered through your stomach, and you just couldn't deny his words, "..I want this."

"That's right, my fuckin' girl." Tommy grumbled, snaking a callous hand beneath your skirt, sliding slowly up your thigh, "Mine to touch, eh?"

A shiver coursed down your spine; intoxicated by the way he looked at you with such possession. Greedily, his fingers splayed over your thigh, inching nearer and nearer to the place you were most sensitive.

Your teeth sunk into the pillow of your bottom lip as one single, gentle finger brushed over your silken underwear.

"Acting so innocent, but you're fucking soaked." Tommy chuckled, beginning to trace subtle circles around your clit through the material, "Needy, eh?"

The way his fingers moved felt unbelievable, like nothing you'd ever experienced before. It was entirely new, and you didn't want it to end.

As though reacting to the unfamiliar sensations, your back hollowed an arch from the door, drenched cunt pressing against the motions of his hand, drawing a chuckle from his lips.

"Feels good, hm?" He taunted, lips curving into a prideful smirk as his digits crept beneath your underwear, hooking the silk hand and tugging it aside quickly.

A loud, breathy sound left your mouth as his fingertips came in contact with your bare, sensitive pussy.

"You want more, love?" He raised a brow, aware and deliberate of the question he knew the answer to, the strain of his own arousal increasing as he watched the way your face twisted in pleasure.

You nodded, "Mhm."

Tommy trailed his touch down your soaked cunt, pulling yet another gasp from your lips as he slipped one finger between your folds. You cursed under your breath, unable to resist as he slid a single, skilful finger inside you.

He watched your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed and pouring heavy breaths. Your cunt twitched around him as he so slowly slipped another finger beside the first.

"That's it, fucking feel it, eh?" He whispered, voice low and raspy.

Easing in, Tommy began to move his grouped digits inside you, reaching a spot so sensitive it was made simply impossible to restrain your whine.

"Oh fuck.."

"Look at that sweet little cunt squeezing my fingers.." He breathed, "Mine."

Your arousal further soaked his hand as his fingers thrust at a tortuous pace, finally beginning to quicken, gaze focused solely on yours; the way in which you reacted.

The warm, though rough, pad of his thumb pressed itself to the swell of your clit, toying with the pressure as his digits moved faster, curling and pumping in and out in a way that had your chest heaving.

"Please.." You murmured. You weren't at all accustomed to this new feeling, rather like a knot building in your stomach.

"I know, love," Tommy encouraged, "You like the way my fingers fuck that tight little cunt, hm?" He smiled, only further fuelled by the sight of you losing composure at his touch, "Come for me."

His words snapped the tightly-wound knot in your stomach, and a wave of intense pleasure stormed  your entirety - no trace of mercy.

Tommy's hand didn't halt, maintaining his pace as you came undone, guiding you through the release.

Your thighs trembled desperately around him, the feeling dying down, an air of euphoria about you.

Slipping his fingers from the heat of your pussy, he pressed his forehead against your own, eyes flickering and locking onto yours. Finally, his mouth connected with yours, lips soft and warm - enticing your body to the feel of his as he deepened the kiss. His hands gripped at your waist, stumbling back without shattering the embrace, the pair of you shuffling into the centre of the betting office.

The kiss grew hungrier by the second, his tongue gliding between your lips, he assisted you in perching atop his - usefully - wellkept desk. His hand snaked a path between your weakened thighs, parting them.

As you moved your mouth desperately against his, you felt the movements of his dark, certainly costly trousers being unclasped, followed immediately by the sound of fabric crumpling. He tore back from the kiss, breathing ever so heavily as he wrapped his fist tightly around his cock, throbbing against his palm.

"Going to let me ruin that sweet fucking cunt, aren't you?" He grumbled, to which you gave a delicate nod.  "Ready?"

The subject of your gaze switched, roaming downward to the sight. Tommy's large, veiny hand grasping his erection. To say you couldn't quite process it would be a vast understatement.

"Yes." You nodded, fingertips digging firmly into the desk as he stood before you. He lined up the thick, pulsing head of his cock with your sopping entrance, one hand planted loosely to the small of your back.

With a low, hoarse sounding groan, he slid inside the warmth of your cunt. At a volume you hadn't yet reached, you gasped, adjusting to the feel of him inside you, a sharp moan rolling off your tongue.

"Fucking hell," He exhaled, "You feel incredible."

His cock twitched within you, your hands instinctively flying to the broad of his back for support. Tommy pulled his hips back, then forward, thrusting so very slowly into you as floods of soft whimpers fled your throat.

"You're mine, eh?" He groaned, controlling his hips at a divine pace, "And I take care of what belongs to me."

Clutching helplessly onto his waist-coat clad shoulders, your breaths grew shallower and far more frantic as he picked up the pace. The desk wavered beneath your bodies, suffering from the impact of the pair of you working with one and other.

"My property." He whispered, bare hips bucking hungrily against yours, as though a craving overcame him. "No one touches my property."

A shiver shot down your spine, pussy squeezing greedily at his length, his cock reaching perfectly deep.

"Fuck.." You practically heaved out, unable to prevent your whimpers as his tip struck repeatedly against your g-spot.

"That's it." Tommy praised, bright eyes rolling back for the span of one brief moment as he slammed his hips against yours, "You take my cock so well.."

Your cunt soaked his cock further as it stroked back and forth at a fulfilling pace, room swarmed with the sound of skin colliding and frantic breathing.

The thick, pulsing head of his cock struck repeatedly against your g-spot as his pace fell sloppier, clearly losing composure as you squeezed him.

"Fuck.." He grumbled, "So good."

Fingertips digging into his lower back, you felt Tommy tremor beneath your touch, his hips bucking with far less control. Once more, his fingers crept toward the heat of your pussy, pressing the perfect level of pressure to your clit.

A newly familiar sensation began to build in your stomach, bringing your teeth to bite down on your lower lip; overwhelmed by the combined feelings of Tommy’s thrusts working with his fingers to bring you closer to a second release.

“Shit,” He groaned, “Gonna fill up that sweet fuckin’ cunt, hm?”

“So good.. Please..” You practically babbled out, mouth falling open with a breathy moan.

Abruptly, the very same tidal wave of pleasure washed over your body, although far more intense this time. Your soaked, overstimulated cunt twitched around his deep, pulsing cock.

“That’s it.” He encouraged, jolting his hips at a divine pace as he fucked you through the release, feeling your nails push down against his waist-coat.

Eyelids fluttering over his eyes, Tommy slipped a raspy, broken groan. A spurt of warmth filled you suddenly, pooling within your drenched pussy as he breathed heavily. The pair of you struggled to catch your breath.

He stroked one warm, callous palm over your cheek ever so softly, though contrasted with possession, “Mine to ruin, eh?”

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! As I said, I’m working through a lot of requests so thank you for your patience if you’ve sent one in <3

[bugsmunched]

"My Slut" - Derek Danforth X Reader

ASKS ARE OPEN, IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS PLEASE ASK!!

Summary: A jealous Derek confronts Y/N, one of his mother's employees, about flirting with a bunch of guys at a party when they were supposed to be there to keep him in line.

A/N: This was a little rushed ngl, but I did my best My Jhutch hyperfixation is coming back. So expect more fics, and please remember if you have any ideas please share!

Contents: GN! Reader, drug usage, smoking, drinking, plot? What plot, filthy smut, Dom! Derek, degradation, use of 'slut' and 'bitch', choking, spitting, impact play, face fucking, spoiled brat Derek, no mentions of readers' genitals, hate fucking, no prep, no protection (wrap that shit), dumbification, possessive Derek, jealous Derek

Word Count: 2750

SMUT UNDER CUT, MINORS DNI!!

"I'm not your property, Danforth." you spat, venom lacing your words as you stared at him in a cold, annoyed manner.

"Aren't you?" he asked, raising a brow and looking at you with all the arrogance in the world.

God, he was SO annoying. You couldn't believe the audacity of this sociopathic con artist. "No Derek, contrary to popular belief, I don't fucking belong to you. I don't even work for you remember? Your mother hired me. " You hissed, placing the glass of bourbon that was in your hand onto the table in front of you.

"Well I don't think my mother hired you to flirt with a bunch of men like a little whore now did she?" He asked, taking a long drag of the joint that rested in his hand.

"She hired me to keep an eye on you, Derek. I'm a glorified babysitter, I might as well have a little bit of fun whilst trying to keep you sober. "

"Yeah you don't exactly do a good job of that, now do you? I wonder if my mother knew how poor of a job you were doing. "

"You threatening my job? " You snorted, rolling your eyes in amusement. "You're threatening my job just because I flirted with a couple of guys, how mature of you Danforth. "

"just flirted with a couple of guys?" He asked, raising a brow in amusement. "Honey-"

"Don't." You warned him, not wanting to hear the sickening nickname fall out of his mouth.

"Don't fucking interrupt me, slut. " He growled, his eyes narrowing with anger. " As I was saying before you opened your disgusting mouth- Honey, I don't think palming a guy in the corner counts as 'just flirting.' And the entire party does not count as 'just a couple guys.' You're a slut, admit it. "

Your face turned a bright pink, you hadn't realized that he knew about that. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, the drinks had just hit and one guy kept eyeing you up and down. So, when you noticed that Derek was preoccupied by some other guy talking about crypto or some similar nonsense, you snuck off and made out with the guy in the corner. But you were so deprived, that you had begun palming him desperately like a highschooler at a dance. But before it could escalate to anything more, you heard Derek calling you away, unaware that he had been watching you the entire time, seething with anger.

"I'm not a slut, Derek. If anyone's the slut it's you. You're the one who's hooking up with someone new every time I turn my head. " That really got him going. He placed the burnt-out joint in the ashtray in front of him and stood up, swiftly walking over to you, standing over you.

"You want to say that again?" He challenged, crouching down in front of you and meeting your gaze. When you didn't say anything, he growled and grabbed your chin. "What? Now you've finally decided to shut that big mouth of yours?" his grasp on your chin was harsh, yet his gaze was even harsher. Fire plagued his gaze, and his jaw clenched.

" Let go of me, you sociopath." You snapped, matching his energy.

"You can't talk to me like that. " He huffed, his grip on your chin tightening, leaving red marks on either side of your face.

"I can speak however I damn please, you don't control my paychecks."

"Someone needs to show you how to fucking respect others. " He said as he let go of your face. You rubbed the sore sides of your face, looking up at him with a scowl.

"Someone needs to teach you how to not be such a spoiled brat, you useless fucking-"

Your harsh words were cut off as his hand found itself wrapped around your throat. "shut up." he growled, squeezing the sides of your throat. Your face turned a bright red as you fought back a whimper from the feeling. When you stopped speaking, he smirked, clearly satisfied with the results of his actions. "That's all it takes to shut you up, huh? All the little slut needed was a hand around their throat?" he cooed, squeezing a little harsher.

You tried to speak, but your brain was a little bit fuzzy from the feeling of having a strong hand wrapped around your throat like that. You felt so stupid, so vulnerable, to have been so thrown off by that.

"You really are nothing but a slut, and I don't like that. I can't stand seeing you flirt with other men. You see, I don't have a problem with the fact that you are a slut, I have a problem with the fact that you're not my slut. " He said as malice laced his words.

You gave a little bit of a whine, looking up at him with desperation in your eyes. Your cocky demeanor had completely faded away, as it had changed into something new, something far more desperate and needy. Maybe he was right, maybe you were a slut...and maybe you should be his.

"C'mon baby, say something." he cooed, loosening his grip on your throat for a moment so you could speak. But you were absolutely star-struck at the moment, at a complete loss for words. When you didn't speak, a hand harshly landed a blow across your face, leaving a bright red mark. "I said say something. That wasn't a request, you dumb fuck. "

"Make me- make me yours. " You managed to stutter out, the smack he left on your cheek causing it to sting.

"Oh look, you can speak after all! The dumb slut can speak." He said with feigned amusement in his voice. "And they know their place. " He purred softly as he let go of your throat completely, standing up from his crouched position. " On your knees. And don't make me repeat myself again." He commanded.

You slipped off the couch and fell to your knees in front of him, looking up at him with pitiful, desperate eyes. What was happening to you? As soon as you were on your knees, his pants and boxers were around his ankles, belt resting in his hands, and his surprisingly girthy and pierced cock sprung free, half-hard already from the attention he was giving you. A hand harshly gripped at your hair and tugged you close to him, looping the belt around your neck and pulling it tight, much like a leash.

In one hand he held the belt that was wrapped around your neck, in the other he held his half-hard cock, stroking over the Jacob's ladder piercings. After a few moments, his cock stood at attention, a bead a precum leaking from the tip. He pulled you close via the belt, pushing his leaking tip against your lips. His other hand cupped your cheek, stroking it gently. "Open. " He commanded, and you quickly obeyed.

You parted your lips, which were now glistening with his pre-cum, as he pushed his dick into your mouth. He wasted no time in tugging on the belt, which forced you to take more of him down your throat. The balls of his piercings rubbed strangely against the walls of your throat, but you welcomed the new sensation.

Soon enough, he had forced himself all the way down your throat, balls pressed against your chin. "You really are a slut, huh?" he asked in amusement, amazed at how easily you took him down your throat. "Have you been sucking dicks behind my back? huh?" he asked as he spat on your face, it sliding down, coating your eyelashes in the process. You shook your head, trying to say something in protest, but that just caused you to gag on his cock, spit bubbling from your own mouth and dripping down your chin. It slipped off of your chin and dripped onto the floor. "You're cleaning that up later, fucking bitch. " He remarked, smacking your face lightly.

After a few moments of forcing your nose into the base of his cock, he pulled his hips away, leaving you panting with spit dripping down your face. After giving you a second to breathe, he smirked before slamming back into your mouth, holding the belt tightly in his hand as he began to roughly thrust in and out. His tip kept hitting the back of your throat, causing you to gag, which caused more spit to drip down your chin and pool on the floor.

"Fucking bitch, making such a mess." He growled, spitting on your face once again, his hand that was resting on your face going up to your hair, tangling itself in the strands roughly.

He loved the sight below him; you drooling and spitting all over his cock as his spit dripped down your face, his cock pumping in and out of your throat. The sight alone was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he wasn't anywhere near done with you.

Once again he pushed you all the way down his shaft, shoving your nose into the base of his cock. "Choke on it you dumb slut. " he growled softly, watching as you tried to breathe, which caused you to start choking on his dick, more spit bubbling on the corners of your mouth. Once he was satisfied with the mess you made on the floor beneath you, he pushed your head away, leaving you a panting mess once again.

"Looks like we finally found a use for that mouth that isn't bitching and whining, isn't that right, honey?" He cooed, using the belt that was wrapped around your neck to pull you off of the ground, his spare hand resting on your side. " answer me." he growled, his eyes filled with a dangerous lust.

"Y-yes sir." you managed to stutter out, the name for him falling out of your lips far easier than you would like to admit. he smirked at the nickname, his cock twitching in satisfaction.

"Call me that again." He purred softly, the hand resting on your side making its way to your clothes ass, gripping at it harshly.

"S-sir."

He smacked your ass, "Again." he commanded.

"Sir!" You yelped out, whining at the light sting on your clothed ass, imagining how much more that would sting if you were unclothed.

"Good job, slut. Now, undress and bend yourself over that table over there. " He said, pointing to a table that held alcohol and other drugs over in the corner.

You quickly obliged as he let go of the belt. You practically tore off your clothes, rushing over to the table and bending yourself over it, biting your lip. You scolded yourself for being so excited to fuck Derek Danforth, someone that you were hired to keep from fucking random people and doing drugs.

He sauntered his way over to you and pushed your face harshly into the table, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. "Fuck, look at you, so eager for me to fuck you. Your boss' son, bending you over the desk and dicking you down, it's kind of pathetic, really. " He remarked, smacking your ass a few times till both cheeks were bright pink. The smacks caused you to mewl in pleasure, back arching against him slightly.

After prodding your entrance with the swollen and ripping head of his cock, he finally pushed past the barrier and sheathed himself inside of you. He didn't try and go slow, he just shoved himself deep inside of you as quick as he could, a groan escaping his lips. The lack of prep caused the stretch to burn your hole, making you wince and take a few deep, sharp breaths. You weren't used to being so full.

But before you could get used to the feel of being stretched out, he pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back in, causing your body to jolt forward, eyes rolling back slightly at the rough thrust. He repeated that rough thrust a few times, one hand resting on your hip, the other shoving your face into the desk. The harsh thrusts drew long, high pitched whines and moans from your mouth, hands gripping at the table harshly, nails digging into the wood.

"ah-ah! Slo-slow down!" You whined out, your pleading being muffled by the table. He smirked at your pleading, hips speeding up, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the air.

"I don't think I will. " He spoke in an arrogant tone, continuing to thrust his hips forward, burying his cock inside of you. A few moans fell from his lips, the grip on your hip tightening, he was sure to leave a few bruises.

" fu-fuck you." You spat, wincing as a hand collided with your ass harshly once again, a shiver being sent up your spine.

"Watch your fucking tone with me. " He growled softly, continuing to harshly piston his hips into you. His nails dug into your flesh lightly, leaving marks. "you're my little slut, aren't you?" He purred softly.

You moaned in response which caused him to smack your ass once again. " Say it. Say that you're my little slut. Tell me that you're sorry for flirting with other men. "

You opened your mouth to talk, but no words came out, your brain fuzzy from the feeling of being fucked like an animal. "oh, is the poor slut already fucked stupid? You're in for a long night, poor baby. " He mocked you, giving a particularly harsh thrust which caused you to cry out in pleasure. He stilled his hips for a moment, laying a harsh slap to your ass. "Still, I need to hear the words...say that you're my little slut. " He hummed softly, massaging the fat of your ass between his fingers.

"I-I'm yours..."

"You're my what?" he cooed, grinding his hips into you, which caused a long, drawn-out whine to fall from your lips.

"your little slut.."

"C'mon, use all your words..."

"I'm your little slut."

"I'm your little slut - what?" he mocked you, prompting you.

"si-sir. "

"Good job, bitch." He growled as he started up his thrusting once again, pulling nearly all the way out just before slamming right back into your tight hole harshly.

Foul, lewd sounds fell out of both of your lips, Derek's head rolling back slightly as he fucked into you like you were his personal fleshlight. He groped your ass, his nails leaving red marks as he marked his territory. He wanted to make sure that people knew you were his little slut, that you belonged to him. You were his little toy and he was your owner. He leaned forward and started leaving love bites on your neck, both in a way to mark you as his and a way to muffle his moans, which were slowly turning into whimpers as he got closer to his climax.

You, meanwhile, were already in a state of fucked out bliss, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you felt that knot in your stomach tighten. Your knees were becoming weak, and your entire body felt like it was on fire. You tried to warn Derek that you were about to cum, but you couldn't talk, so all you did was whine and smack at the table with your hand, arching your back to make him go deeper.

However, he was lost in his own pleasure and neglected to recognize the signs of you getting close, his thrusts quickening due to his own desperation for a release. After a few more thrusts, you yelped, a few tears rolling down your cheek as you came undone, but he barely even noticed, his growls turning into high-pitched whines as his hips stuttered.

You whined, feeling overstimulated, but soon enough he was coming undone inside of you. Thick ropes began to paint your insides, causing you to whimper at the feeling of being so full. He pulled out, which caused you to gasp at the sudden lack of something being stuffed inside your desperate hole.

He stood up straight and looked at you for a moment before realizing that you had made a mess of your own. He smacked your ass harshly, which caused you to whine out. "Dumb slut, you didn't ask for permission. Looks like... you're going to have to be punished." He murmured. You looked back and realized that he had already gotten hard once again. You were in for a long night.

[aloesarchives]

Popular Boy (JJK One-Shot)

TW/Warnings: Fem Reader and She/Her pronouns, Angst with Fluff ending, Profanity, Smoking from Shoko and Suguru, Highkey Miscommunication Trope, Cheesy cliches, this one-shot being way too long than it's supposed to be, a little OOC Satoru and Suguru

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader

AU: Modern/High School AU!

Pronouns: She/Her(any gal could read this, but Reader is slightly coded to be introverted, good at drawing and crafts, and a nerd)

Word Count: 10.2k words

Summary: You weren't supposed to fall in love with your best friend Satoru Gojo. But you did anyway. It doesn't help that he is the most popular guy in your school.

(A/N): This is my longest one-shot to date. I went off the rails and wrote this out of this idea and brain dump I had. Un top of being sick, I didn't post for like 2 weeks because I was working on this and having little motivation. But I'm back!

[!!!Unedited and not proofread!!! 1/24/2024 4:27pm CST]

Having a crush on your best friend is the absolute worst. You promised yourself you wouldn’t. But after reviewing your symptoms, you concluded that you are, indeed, in love with your best friend, Satoru Gojo. It's too bad he’s the most popular guy in the school. Suguru is second to him but doesn’t bask in the attention like his friend does.

It all started when you became friends with them in your first year of high school. Shoko was in your class, and you two became best friends instantly. You’d usually eat alone somewhere during break or lunch because the cafeteria was always rowdy, making it overstimulating. One day, your usual spot was taken over. Though it bummed you out your little spot was discovered, it wasn’t yours in the first place, so you went on a search for a new one. After a few minutes of searching, you spotted Shoko smoking in a hidden spot behind the school. She hears you from how your feet crunch on the dirt and asks you to join her. Though you didn’t smoke, you stayed with her. After talking briefly, Shoko asked if you were free after school, taking a long drag out of her cigarette.

You never stayed too long after school, only for your respective clubs, but that’s it. You also had no friends, so maybe this is your chance to get closer to Shoko. Upon agreeing, she smiles before taking her last drag out and extinguishing her smoke in a nearby ashtray. As the two of you returned to class, she told you that her other two friends were coming. Hinting that they were quite the handful. Your expression lightens upon hearing the two new people joining your hangout with Shoko. Perhaps this could be what you needed to step outside of your comfort zone to have a social experience like everyone else your age.

 After getting off the train with Shoko, she pulled you along the busy crowd and met the two boys at the subway station entrance. You didn’t, however, expect Shoko’s mystery friends to be Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto—the most well-known boys in the entire school and possibly the whole district. Shoko was making your introduction to them as you grew shy under their gaze. Nervous was an understatement; anxiety was brewing in you like rain clouds forming a storm. What if they scoff at you? Mock you? Purposely pick on you for fun? Each thought raced against each other across your mind that you didn’t notice Satoru placing his hand on your shoulder. It snapped you back to reality as you looked up to avoid being rude.

 You’ve heard the rumors and the hushed whispers from every corner of the school about how Satoru Gojo was among the most good-looking guys. How he had blue eyes that matched the sky and hair like snow. You only caught glimpses of him throughout the campus but never saw him up close. But now that you are, you can confirm it for yourself. To you, he looked more ethereal, if anything. His blue eyes were like the endless cerulean sky above, his white hair lightly tousled in the wind; he was beautiful to you.

“Hey, you don’t have to stiffen up around me. I don’t want you to go all shy on me (Y/N). Satoru Gojo, at your service~.”

Extend his hand to shake yours; you return the gesture, albeit clumsily. Satoru chuckles before he unexpectedly brings your hand to his lips. He kissed your fingers ever so gently, feather-like almost. Your body most certainly would have erupted in a blaze by his actions. But it didn’t; you were more caught off-guard. You wondered if he did this to every girl he came across. He just smiled afterward but gets bonked on the head by Suguru, who went to introduce himself to you.

“Satoru, you’re going to scare her off. Sorry (Y/N), he’s always like that. I’m Suguru Geto, and I hope you’re not uncomfortable because of him.”

You quickly dismissed it, trying to ease Suguru’s concerns. After hanging out with them, you knew you found people you would call friends. You never had that much fun until you hung out with them. Going to arcades, eating out together, and wandering the city of Tokyo filled you with non-replicable happiness. After that hangout, the rest was history. Since then, you have always hung out with Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko. You all stuck together like glue every time possible. You never guessed their popularity rubbed off as well. You became known on campus as a well-known upperclassman and now a senior. 

But you noticed you spent more time with Satoru than with Shoko or Suguru. You could credit it to his goofy, childish personality that matched your vibe even more. He loved discussing Digimon and was happy you shared the same interest. You two would indulge in each other’s interests and hobbies. It became more evident that both of you had grown closer from when Shoko adopted you into their group. Yet, you told yourself time and time again not to fall for Satoru. In fear of losing what you have with each other because you caught “feelings.” In addition, Satoru had many, many, MANY admirers—girls across the school, district, and the Tokyo Metropolitan area. Many come from prominent backgrounds, blessed with being gifted, or simply beautiful in every way. While you didn’t mean to self-sabotage yourself, you were beautiful and brilliant in your own right; you were being realistic. How could someone like Satoru Gojo, from a wealthy and prominent family for centuries, go for someone like you? It was wishful thinking at that point, but it was stretching itself thin even then.

Anyhow, this brings you to the present. It’s December 1st, six days before Satoru’s birthday. You were in your dorm, conjuring up what to get him. It was more complicated than because the man was loaded. He had the money to buy anything and everything he wanted. So what can you get for him that wasn’t already bought? After some time, you had the genius idea to make something for him. You decided on making a bracelet and a framed sketch of him from one of your sketchbooks you occasionally draw in.

While working on your gifts, you were on the receiving end of teasing from Suguru and Shoko, specifically from Suguru. I mean, he was the first one to catch on to your feelings for his friend. Shoko had her suspicions but never mentioned them in case she was delusional. But once Suguru brought it up, she instantly joined in the teasing. It was harmless fun, yet you couldn’t help but rethink your crush on Satoru. Your feelings for him shouldn’t exist, yet you can’t help it. You felt alive, but most of all, you felt comfortable and safe with Satoru. You never hid your lovely personality or felt ashamed of your interests. Satoru was always supportive and was a part of your shenanigans too. As cheesy as it was to admit, it felt like you’ve found your soulmate, your other half. You always relished your moments with Satoru, no matter how short or dumb they were. Sure, you loved your moments with the gang, but it hits differently when it’s only Satoru and you. It was as if your life changed when he came into it. 

During the day before Satoru’s birthday, Shoko and Suguru hunched over your desk as you finished the page you were doodling. The smears from the graphite and erased pencil markings showed the fine details to capture Satoru’s features. 

“Wow, those look exactly like him. If he were animated, he'd be drawn like this. May I, (Y/N)?” Suguru asked.

You nodded, and Suguru picked up the sketchbook to inspect the page further. Shoko peered over his shoulder to also get a look.

“I think Gojo would love this. Don’t you think so, Suguru?”

“I would think so too, Shoko. It’s a well-thought-out gift (Y/N). Satoru would love it.”

“Wait, (Y/N)! Show Suguru what else you made him!”

Suguru raises a brow at the brunette as you pull up a photo on your phone to show to Suguru. Suguru squinted his eyes a bit to see the picture a bit more clearly.

“You made that bracelet for Satoru? It’s pretty nice. Where’s our (Y/N)?”

“I have them back in my room, Suguru! I just. . . You know. . .”

“So you’re implying we’re not as special as your beloved Blue Eyes White Dragon?”

“SHOKO, you’re not helping!!! OfcourseImadeitmorespecialforhimbecausehereallylikesdigimonandhisbirthdayiscomingup–”

“(Y/N)! I was just joking! Geez, calm down before you pop a blood vessel.”

As you catch yourself from any further rambling, you are about to explain the bracelet to Suguru before Satoru slides the classroom door open. You think it’s him but can’t tell through the mountain of gifts and bags in his arms. But seeing a wisp of his white hair gave you all the more reason that it was Satoru. Satoru plops the pile on his desk as his arms cave in, some gifts falling off the edge and onto the floor. One fell near your desk, so you picked it up and placed it back on his desk.

“Is it Valentine’s Day? What’s with the gifts, Satoru?”

“*sighs* These are from numerous girls all over the school from varying grades. My birthday is tomorrow, so I guess I'll get the early gifts. Though, I don’t know how to return all this to my dorm. You guys wanna help me open them up back in my room?”

You all replied yes and helped Satoru with his pile of gifts. As you put on your sketchbook, you felt a breath tickle your ear.

“Hey, whatcha drawing, (Y/N)? Drawing (favorite Digimon/Pokemon) again? Let me see!”

You caught a whiff of his surprisingly minty, fresh breath. Usually, it comes in hot with the number of sweets he’s been eating, so this was a pleasant surprise to you.

“I’ll show you later when we open your gifts in your room, ‘Toru. You gotta be patient.”

You chided while swatting his all too-close face away from you. Little did you know, a sickly sweet smile flashed on his face upon hearing his nickname. Once the last bell rang, you four headed straight for Satoru’s dorm to open all the gifts he received from the day. Once dumping them into a pile, you each read the note attached to the gifts and opened them up. Some were cool, homemade gifts, others were basic and generic. Most were sweets or baked goods since he is widely known to have a sweet tooth. You all were open and chatty when Suguru grabbed a neatly wrapped velvet box.

“Hey, Satoru, isn’t this from your ex?”

“Which one?”

“Don’t know, let me see the tag. . . From Satomi. . .”

“Oh, her! Let me see, Suguru!”

You cringed hard hearing Satoru talk about his numerous “girlfriends.” As much as you didn’t want to say it, Satoru’s playboy attitude was your least favorite thing about him. All the girls he saw shared one common trait: they never stayed too long with him. Satoru would cycle through many girls every few weeks to maybe a month. He never bothered to introduce them into the friend group, let alone bring them to your shared hangouts. Now that you think about it, he never talks about them when you or the others are present. He never calls them his girlfriends or partners, just sugar-coated words and nicknames meant to sweeten a non-existent fruit that never grew in the first place. You wondered if he would treat you the same if you dated him. But you were thinking too deeply, FOCUS GIRL!!! It’s now or never. Well, not really, but you have the perfect chance to give Satoru his birthday gift! You can make it work for just the two of you! Find him by himself, steal him away to deliver your gift, and possibly confess. 

Satoru's birthday gifts from his fans dwindled to only small boxes and clear bags. Shoko and Suguru categorized his gifts as apparel, food, trinkets, etc., while Satoru plopped beside you. You were munching away at some candy, deciding to take a break from opening the cookie cutter-esk presents as your vision became spotty. It was silent for a moment, only the sounds of your other two friends' voices bickering about which pile a gift should go. Satoru shifts his attention towards you, mindlessly popping the candy into your mouth before dramatically yawning, spreading his limbs across his bed. His legs would stretch over your lap. You popped the last candy before throwing the empty bag at him.

“What’s wrong, Satoru? You've grown tired of your gifts or what?”

“That and feeling sore from sitting on the floor. . . Hey! Will you show me your drawing from earlier (Y/N)?”

“Uh. . . I dunno, Satoru–”

“Pleaseeeeeeee?! I promise I won’t crease the pages like last time! Come on (Y/N)!”

Satoru juts out his lip and gives his puppy eyes with praying hands. You glance at Suguru and Shoko, who snickered at your little predicament. You sighed deeply and pulled out your sketchbook for him to see. He was giving you his full attention, asking questions, and complimenting the fine details of your latest creation. You two were smiling and giggling along as you turned the pages. However, you were getting nervous because you didn’t want Satoru to see his page. You hoped he got bored or distracted so you didn’t have to flip through more from your book. Suguru has a sixth sense because he called Satoru’s attention before you flipped to the next page, which would’ve been his. 

“Okay, man, we sorted your gifts into these four separate piles, which one should be obvious. . . Look at the time; it’s almost curfew for the girls. I’ll walk them to their dorms, Satoru.”

Before Satoru could protest and tag along, Suguru snatched you and Shoko away and out of the dorm. Satoru stood up perplexed, before shrugging it off and storing his gifts away. Suguru dragged you two to the skywalk and looked dead into your eyes, startling you from his sudden closeness.

“You have to do it tomorrow, (Y/N).”

“Uh, do what, Suguru?”

Shoko and Suguru gave each other a face before looking back at you.

“You gotta confess to Satoru, (Y/N). Do it tomorrow when you give him your gift on his birthday. And before you ask, we knew about your feelings for him way before. It’s painfully obvious, (Y/N).”

Shoko just nods her head in agreement. You knew Suguru had a point; it’s now or never. But you didn’t want to make things awkward for Satoru, let alone pressure him to say yes because he feels terrible for rejecting. Overthinking started kicking into high gear, and you started thinking about every possible scenario Satoru could react to. None of them were of him reciprocating your feelings. Unfortunately, Suguru had to say the dread words no one wants to hear when trying to confess to their crush.

“The worst thing he could say is no, (Y/N).”

Shoko elbows him while you wince at his words. You knew he meant to comfort you, but it didn’t help ease your nerves. Suguru, observant as ever, picked up on it, and from Shoko’s reaction, he knew his words were a miss.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll come with you for support, so it won’t be as stressful going alone.”

Suguru gives you a comforting smile, and you give on in return. Shoko said she couldn’t come because she volunteered to tutor some underclassmen for some Visa gift cards. So she says good luck to you before walking across the skyway and into the building of the girls' dormitory. You gained some confidence and bid Suguru goodnight to finalize your gifts. You framed Satoru’s page in a sleek dark blue frame and knotted Satoru’s bracelet. The marble beads of the bracelet were white, cerulean blue, and black. Complementing each with a small interchange charm in the middle where an Agumon charm dangled freely. You wrapped up both gifts and placed them in a mildly used paper bag you had from when you went shopping.

As the next day rolled in, you were surprisingly giddy to give your gift. You just had to catch Satoru alone and give yourself a good ten minutes to slip in your confession. The problem was you hadn’t seen Satoru at all. Sure, today was a half-day, but Satoru was barely in class. When he was, though, he was flooded by many girls telling him happy birthday or giving more gifts. Since it was a Friday, Satoru didn’t do much after school and would wander Tokyo for the remainder of the day. You knew you were losing time, so doing it right after school was best.

Once the last bell rang, you packed your bag and held your present tightly to find Satoru. However, he was gone from his seat when you looked at his desk. While you tried to find him, Suguru texted you. He said he saw Satoru go behind the school. He also said he would wait for you at the front gate to hear about your results. As you go to the back, you are smiling so hard that it would make your teeth rot. But as you got closer, your sweet smile instantly dropped when you heard a girl’s voice and another voice you made out to be Satoru’s. Your heartbeat repeatedly drummed in your ears as you hid yourself to not be noticed. Trying to even out your breath, you slowly peek your head in a slow, agonizing manner to get a better look. Unfortunately, your curiosity kills your heart as it confirms your worst fear.

Satoru stood smiling, and another girl giggled like a classic school girl in a high-school rom-com movie. You recognized her as she was in the same grade but from a different class. You’ve seen her around but never been a part of Satoru’s unofficial fan club. Yet you could never have guessed she liked him too. You knew you should look away, already seeing what was needed. But the naive sliver of hope forced you to continue watching, hoping it was a delusion your mind conjured up. Although you couldn’t hear what they were saying, you knew the other girl beat you to him as she held Satoru’s hand and smiled up at him. Satoru places a hand on her cheek and probably says something you can make out ‘I love you' before dipping his head to meet hers. A chill washes over your body as your grip on Satoru’s present stiffens, further crimping the paper bag. Shakily, you pulled out your phone and took a picture before turning on your heels and going anywhere but here.

Suguru was ever so patiently waiting on the outcome. He was blissfully smiling. Hoping all is going well and in your favor. He was distracted by his phone when he recognized the sound of your footsteps. He pockets it as he sees your figure walk towards the gates. He cheerfully called out for you but was met with silence. When you walked past him, your head hung low; Suguru knew something was wrong. Concerned, he quickly went after you while calling for you. When nothing works, he steps in front of you to hold your shoulders still to prevent any more movement. Shaking your shoulders, he firmly asks what’s wrong.

A wretched look contorted on his face when he saw your face. Your eyes are shiny from glossy tears on the verge of overflowing from the edges. Lips in a tight quiver, trying to not let a sob escape from within the depths of your hurt soul. You were trying your best to stay together, but Suguru saw you were hanging on by a thread. He gives you a comforting, tight hug as you begin to cry into him. Letting it all out and providing comforting pats on your back. As you start to calm down, Suguru gently takes you to a nearby cafe where some of your group hangouts and study sessions happen. Considering your current state, he keeps you from paying for your drink. Once he got them and sat down, you told him what you saw that caused this. Suguru chokes on his drink in disbelief upon hearing about Satoru’s doings.

“He what?! Are you sure, (Y/N)?”

You nodded as you pulled up the picture on your phone to show Suguru. His eyes widen even further as he stares at the picture. Returning back your phone, he takes a big sip of his drink.

“So, what are you going with your gift then, (Y/N)? Are you still going to give it to Satoru?”

“I... I. . . Don’t know, Suguru. . . I did make it for him, but I don’t think he’ll care.”

“What makes you think he wouldn’t, (Y/N)?”

“You know what I mean, Suguru. Satoru doesn’t really hold onto any gifts he gets. Unless it’s sweets or something he thinks is cool, he’ll donate, give, or throw it away. My present would collect dust in his room and be forgotten. We literally sorted out his fan mail yesterday.”

You glance over at your initial present for Satoru. The bag has deep creases and wrinkles from death gripping it in your disassociated state. You delicately bring it to your lap, blankly staring at the two dedicated gifts inside. Sighing in defeat, you slowly fold the top of the bag before setting it back in its previous place. You gave Suguru a tired smile, saying how wishful thinking blinded you from reality. Suguru couldn’t help but feel pity. It hurts him to see you like this and blame yourself for dreaming about something he knew would become a reality. But he was thrown in for a loop because he was sure his best friend was hopelessly in love with you. The glances, the consistency of bringing up your name, the extra care he gave when it came to you, IT WAS ALL RIGHT THERE! Was Satoru leading everyone on, you included? Suguru was going to get to the bottom of this. He escorts you back and asks Shoko to stay with you until nighttime. 

After filling Shoko in, you looked at the crippled bag sitting alone on the floor. Taunting, making a mockery of you, and constantly reminding you how you really let your feelings get out of hand to let you believe a fantasy. How foolish you are, little stupid fool you were, you think. Getting off your bed, you go over to the bane that reminds you of your naivete as a hopeless romantic. You were tempted to throw the whole bag away; consider burning it all.

Despite thinking of wiping the existence of those gifts from this world, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. They were drawings of Satoru and a handmade bracelet with his favorite Digimon, and you were proud of how they turned out. The time and dedication you put into it really showed how much this man had a chokehold on your life no matter what. Crush, friend, it didn’t matter. He really changed your life; you would be forever grateful for that. Even if that meant you always stayed friends. It was a better fate than being strangers altogether. So you decide to store the bag in an empty drawer for miscellaneous items, not wanting to see it anymore. Shoko was surprised by your actions. Though she would understand you destroying them, she didn’t expect you to keep your gifts. You just shrugged, saying destroying it wouldn’t do you any good. No amount of satisfaction or fulfillment would come from it. Shoko just gives you a hug as you lean into it.

Ever since that day, you slowly stopped talking to Satoru. He didn’t notice it because you would make excuses or leave immediately before he could catch up. He thought you were busy with homework and school. It was brought to his attention when you wouldn’t hang out with him. Whenever he texted you to hang out, you would say you were busy or not feeling good. It got worse when you didn’t attend your group hangouts with Suguru and Shoko. It was always the four of you. Without you, it felt incomplete, and Satoru started to miss you and the vibe you brought. Even when he asked Suguru or Shoko where you were, they would give the same answer you did. And it was starting to frustrate him. Did he say or do something to distance yourself from him? Did he accidentally hurt without realizing it? Why did you suddenly not want to talk to him anymore? He sees you talking to your other friends and classmates without a care in the world. Your lovely lips always curled upwards, and how your cheeks and eyes molded to highlight your face, you were absolute divinity in his eyes. Had you always looked so beautiful to him? Yes, but he didn’t realize that until now since his only way of looking at you is from a distance. 

Every time he would try to make his way over to you, you gave a quick side glance in his direction before wrapping up any conversation and leaving. This honestly began to hurt Satoru. He had never dealt something like this with anyone else. Maybe when he had severe fights with Suguru, but they would make up in the end since he knew it was mostly his fault. But this is different because he was in the dark of your avoidance. It was like he was the bubonic plague, and you were straight-up social distancing yourself from him. It didn’t matter when or where; as soon as he entered within a 12-foot radius, you were going in the other direction. This had been going on for almost two weeks! It was now the 21st, the last school day before winter break. Nothing significant was happening today besides the classic winter break assembly. He needed to talk to you so you two could somehow talk it out and make it. It’s ironic how oblivious he was to the circumstances he was in. The roles are now reversed because now he’s pining after you like you had been for him for the past few years. You usually would sit with them during these events, but since you’re distancing, you opted to sit with your peers. When you did sit with them, you would be the furthest away from Satoru. 

Satoru should’ve been paying attention to the assembly. But his only focus was you, who was on the other side of the gymnasium. You were sitting on opposite bleachers with one of your underclassmen, Riko Amanai. Satoru wished he could teleport himself to you, pick you up, and go to a quiet place to talk. But he knew he had to be patient to make his move, something Suguru had to remind him constantly. Once the assembly was over, Satoru by-lined to where you were. However, the sea of students eager to leave school is challenging, even for the 6’3 boy. He saw glimpses of you with Riko as you pulled her along and weaved through the crowd out of the school. The resistance he met trying to reach you became so aggravating he was shoving anyone who got in his way. It got to the point where students made room for him to pass through, fearing the wrath of Satoru Gojo in a bad mood.

Alas, once he exited the school, you had already gone off campus to who knows where with Riko and Kuroi, her caretaker. Satoru tightened his fists, and his face bore a scowl as you slipped away again. He would have punched the school���s concrete fence if Suguru didn’t pop up in front of him. Satoru was slightly calmed when he saw his friend, but a twinge of unease settled in when he saw Suguru’s strained smile. To a regular person, it seemed like a genuine smile. But Satoru knew Suguru enough to know when he gave these smiles. This one meant he was in deep trouble. Suguru said he needed to talk to Satoru about something over a bucket of KFC with one of the Visa gift cards Shoko gave them. Satoru followed it, knowing there was more to Suguru’s unidentified mood. However, Suguru just stops in front of the KFC, idly standing with his back to him. Seeing his standoffish behavior, Satoru becomes confused and finally breaks their tense silence.

“Look, Suguru, I know this isn’t the best time. But we need to talk about (Y/N).”

“What is there to talk about her, Satoru?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Suguru. You noticed how (Y/N) has barely been hanging out with us. Giving excuses to not hang out. I don’t understand why this happened so fast. Two weeks ago, (Y/N) was fine. She was laughing with us and being a part of our stupid antics. Then, after my birthday, she slowly stopped replying to my texts and avoided me altogether. Suguru, you got to know something. I don’t want to be left in the dark anymore. I need to know what I did to make her stop talking to me.”

Oh, Suguru knew the reason why you were doing this. You told him yourself. You admitted to Suguru you didn’t know how to act around Satoru anymore, in fear of spilling your confession and making a fool out of yourself. You knew how cowardly it was to do this. Not correctly communicating your emotions and actions to Satoru was self-sabotage, and your relationship with him would suffer severely. You tried to ride out your feelings to the best of your abilities. But you learned that those feelings for Satoru wouldn’t go away no matter what you did. So, you thought the best option was to slowly distance yourself from Satoru to heal your broken heart and save your dignity. Suguru was against this at first. But he let it slide since it was only Satoru and not him or Shoko.

What he didn’t let slide was how he saw his best friend paraded around his latest girlfriend. He knew that relationship wouldn’t last at all because there was one thing he knew about his best friend. Satoru Gojo is a lonely person. No amount of fan girls or guys dick-riding him would fill the void of loneliness Satoru faced in his life. He always was told that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was talented and good at anything and everything he did. But with that, people only saw him from afar, never really caring to realize Satoru was like anyone else besides his wealth. Suguru knew you made Satoru feel seen and let him dwell on his antics so he could be a teen, not some high, mighty God people were willing to kiss his feet. Satoru fell in love with you but doesn’t want to admit it. Seemingly taken you for granted. Suguru doesn’t blame you for trying to lose feelings for him. He would, too, if the person he liked gave mixed signals and had a cycle through partners like daily outfits even though they heavily implied to their best friend they wanted you but never cared to tell.

You would have made the first move. But with many rejections, some harsher than others, you decide to wait for the other person to say something first or drop an obvious hint. You aren’t going to drive through a red light, only green ones. You often hear the phrase, ‘Girls who make the first move on a guy get the relationship.’ That is a blatant lie and bullshit because it only works if the guy doesn’t care, the girl asking is conventionally pretty, or the guy already liked or was interested in the girl. You experienced so much rejection that you might as well give up on telling your feelings so as not to be seen as pathetic. You thought it would be different for Satoru because of your powerful chemistry together. But he sent many mixed signals, being flirtatious and teasing you, genuinely looking out for you simultaneously, all the while still never giving a break to dating and having a long line of girlfriends at his beak and call. It was too complicated for you. Then, with the incident, you knew you had no chance with him because it seemed he would never feel the same.

“Do you like (Y/N), Satoru?”

Satoru gave his best friend a bewildered look, his face recoiling.

“Yeah, of course, I like (Y/N), Suguru. What kind of question is that—”

“That’s not what I’m asking you, Satoru. Do you love (Y/N)? Yes or No, simple as that.”

“What are you trying to get at, Suguru?”

Suguru visibly groans at the Satoru’s density. This was annoying Suguru at this point.

“Satoru, be honest with yourself. Admit it, you’re in love with (Y/N). How you look out for her, care for her, and constantly bring her up in conversations every chance you get, the longing gaze you give her when she isn’t looking, always staring at her instead of anyone else in the room. The list goes on and on, Satoru. Stop denying it. Do you love her, or are you just saying that because you want to joke about someone’s feelings?”

Satoru’s voice was caught in his throat; he had his answer, but his body wasn’t giving him a chance to say it. It was like Suguru hitting the nail every time, making Satoru feel cornered. Suguru sighed frustratedly at the silence of his best friend, who usually would have his answers ready in the queue.

“So you never really loved (Y/N) then, Satoru.”

“What! No! I do love (Y/N), Suguru—”

“Then why the fuck do you still indulge in your playboy personality? You and I both know that won’t get you anywhere, Satoru. It’s doing you more damage than good, yet you continue feeding into it! Maybe if you gave a break from your causal flings, (Y/N) would have confessed to you, and the two of you would have been dating by now. God, You’re just a headache, Satoru…” Suguru doesn’t shout, but his sharp tone is on the edge of becoming angry.

Wait, what?

You were going to confess to him?

You like him too?

Satoru blinks owlishly while trying to process this mind-breaking information. You liked Satoru, so the feeling was mutual, right? Then why is Suguru getting mad at him for feeling the same way?

“Wait… Suguru...(Y/N) likes me too? Why didn’t she say anything in the first place? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Because you already had a girlfriend, Satoru. (Y/N)’s not a home wrecker.”

“Yeah, okay. But I was single for two weeks! She knew that! Why didn’t she confess to me then?!”

“I don’t know, Satoru… Maybe because she was more focused on making your birthday gifts than her confession towards you. How much of her time was dedicated to making them? She was going to confess to you but decided not to.”

“When, Suguru?!”

“ . . .Your birthday. . . (Y/N) was going to give your gifts and confess on your birthday, but you decided to fuck yourself over.”

“ ‘Fuck myself over? What do you mean, Suguru?” Satoru said in a hushed but shocked whisper.

Suguru pulls out his phone, pulls up the picture you took, and shows it to Satoru. Satoru’s eyes widen like saucers, surprised by Suguru’s possession of a photograph that captured his private moment. He grabs Suguru’s phone to take a closer look before looking back up at him, face still bearing the same expression.

“Wait, that happened on my birthday. How did you take this? 

“I didn’t take it, Satoru. . .”

“Huh? Then who—”

Oh. . .Oh. . .

Oh no. . .

It all was starting to click for Satoru. Suguru looked unamused as he saw his friend’s gears moving in his head.

“Suguru, I—”

“So, do you love (Y/N), Satoru? Yes or no?”

Satoru stays silent with no motions to verbalize an answer.

“*sighs* Then tell me, Satoru. Do you love (Y/N) because she is beautiful? Or is she beautiful because you love her?”

Suguru left a defeated and devastated Satoru in the streets to be alone with his thoughts. In doing so, he hoped his friend would connect the dots himself. Satoru stood frozen in front of the KFC, finally understanding it. The distance, the consistent decline in hangouts, the short conversations, being ‘happy’ around others but never near him, how your smile droops at the mention of his name, and the solemn expression your eyes wore ever since his birthday all added up. It was all because of him. Sure, it’s both parties at play here.

On the other hand, your actions were just reactions to his own, especially when his loneliness caused him to become desperate in seeking out the attention of multiple girls he would ‘date.’ Consequently, it signaled he was looking for something casual with no strings attached, making you believe giving a confession would be useless to someone like him. But that’s far from the truth.

 He couldn’t believe he had done you dirty for so long. You were always in front of him, waiting for him this whole time. You were the one to give him warmth and fill in the void of loneliness that has plagued his soul for so long. But he never gave you a chance because he never cared to ask or consider it. He took you for granted because he knew you would always be there for him through everything and anything; you were his ride or die. Oh, how irresponsible of him that not truly appreciating your presence would lead to your eventual withdrawal.

Now he realized his love for you was real and profound as it was tiered above anything else. The way he flexed his bicep when you linked arms with him to stay close in big crowds, the stars your eyes have when talking about your favorite topic made him have this dumb love-sick look, or your smile that always filled him with love and joy when it’s directed at him, he still wanted to experience these things with you but as more as friends. And yet, he was on the verge of losing it all forever. Three years of friendship/pining would be wiped away in three weeks. All because he was scared to admit his fragile vulnerability behind his pompous attitude. He had to do something; he needed to. Or the only thing he will have of you is the memories you two created. Satoru booked it and ran through Tokyo for ideas on what to do. He didn’t care if he looked absurd. All that mattered to him was finding a way to mend things. The only thing on his mind was you.

Because he knew it was you.

It always has been you.

And he had to pull off miracles to save your relationship with him.

It was the next day; Satoru was carrying a big shopping bag around Tokyo, hoping to find you. After spending the rest of his afternoon and night finding some ideas, he made you what he dubs his ‘I’m sorry’ present, which was also your Christmas present. It contained a 15-inch plushie of (Your favorite Animal/Digimon/Pokemon/Character), a jacket you told him you wanted but was too expensive a while back, and (earrings/necklace/bracelets/rings/any sort of wearable jewelry) in your favorite color as you stared at it longingly when at the mall with the gang, Satoru always made a note of that.

Now, the hard part giving them to you in hopes of talking with him. It would have to be a  miracle to cross paths with you. Satoru couldn’t text you since you stopped responding to his attempts at communication. In a vast city being hectic in the upcoming days of the holidays, he needed all the luck he had just to spot you in the crowd. But even if he knew your schedule by heart, there was no sign of you in Tokyo. He could visit your home, but he assumes he’s an unwelcome guest since you lived with your (sibling(s)/guardian/parent(s)/loved one), and you confide in them frequently. As time never stops, he’s losing time. His precious time with you is slipping away, never to return. Both and forth, the wind chill nipped and whipped at his exposed skin. Satoru’s cheeks, nose, and knuckles were rosy as his body worked overtime to keep warm. The puffs from his mouth fogged up his glasses as he forced himself to continue searching just to have a chance to run into you.

Satoru is not religious, nor does he believe in a god. And yet, in those moments, Satoru started to pray. He was praying, begging, pleading for any divinity to hear his desperate cries to come across you. Just a chance, anything, he’ll do anything to see a wisp of (hair color) hair walking along the streets. His strides slowed; every step he took was heavy. Until they eventually came to a stop; his chest puffed in and out after wandering aimlessly along the bustling streets of Tokyo. He exhausted himself to the point that he was unaware he was in front of the school’s gates. He didn’t even notice the gates were wide open, and a familiar figure approached them along the adjacent side. His hands were on his knees, hunched over where a shadow loomed over him. Then he hears a voice so angelic and heavenly that he believes he was hallucinating at first.

“Satoru? Satoru, are you okay?”

Slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, seeing you are bundled up well. You wear a slightly troubled face while holding an umbrella over his head. 

“What brings you here, Satoru? I thought you had stayed home today since it was forecasted to snow.”

Once pointed out, Satoru noticed white specks falling in front of him. He stands up at full length, making you adjust your umbrella's height on him. Though his signature grin is on his glossy lips, internally, he is screaming and celebrating that his prayers have been answered. After hours of aimlessly trying to find you throughout the city, you were finally in front of him in the most ironic place. He chuckles at your gesture before gingerly taking your umbrella and hovering it above you two.

“I was going to ask you the same thing, (Y/N).” He gives a warm smile at you.

“The school left the campus and dormitories open so students could grab their things to take home. I forgot some stuff at my dorm, so I came today to get them. Would you like to accompany me, Satoru?” You said, adjusting your empty canvas tote bag on your shoulders.

With no hesitation or thinking, Satoru immediately said yes. He smiled as he walked the two of you to your dorm.  But you couldn’t help but glance down at the big shopping bag he was holding. ‘It must be a Christmas present for his girlfriend… she is so lucky.’ you thought. Not a single peep came out of you two throughout the trip to your dorm, even with no words, tension building up in the air surrounding you. Neither one of you wanted to make the first move. It was childish to continue like this. There was no bad blood between the two of you at all. But you were persistent in embarrassing yourself in front of Satoru. Before all this, you were never afraid to have banter or say the most off-the-record stuff with Satoru. But it was different when it was unrequited thoughts and feelings, as you didn’t want to further humiliate your pathetic self. Once you got to your dorm, you said you wouldn’t take long. Closing your door, Satoru leans against the back of it. He watches silently as you diligently gather your needed items and place them inside your bag. Each item is packed into your bag, and he has less time to make his move. He knows he needs to say something because he sought after you for a reason. 

Likewise, you were in the same boat. You can feel the tension blanket your body as you retrieve your things. Avoid direct eye contact with Satoru for fear of breaking your facade and folding. While trying to focus on anything that wasn’t him, your eyes kept glancing at the massive bag beside Satoru’s feet. It was a decently sized bag spaced out from the items it contained. By the looks of it, you assumed Satoru went out splurging on his latest girlfriend for Christmas.

‘Wish that was me receiving that bag. . .’ You thought to yourself as you arranged the items to avoid ruining your bag.

Satoru snapped out of his trance when the sound of your shuffling stopped. Your head slightly hung low as you stared at the bag with flat palms. You sighed with your head shaking side to side. You decided to break the silence to ease the tense air in your room.

“I didn’t know you did last-minute shopping, Satoru. Guessing how full that bag is, it’s your Christmas present to your girlfriend. You love spoiling your girlfriends with endless money to burn. Keep doing that, and you’ll go broke, dude. . . Lucky her. . .” You slipped the last part out under your breath. Your smile dropped briefly before returning, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Satoru.

However, you remembered Satoru had excellent hearing. He could pick out of the faintest of whispers. When you realize that, you panicked and faced him. From how his brows were raised, you knew he definitely heard it. Your brain scrambled to find a way to cover the creaks in your walls from your slip-up, causing you to speak up. What you didn’t expect was Satoru doing the same.

“Sorry, Satoru, I didn’t mean that–”

“(Y/N), I need to–”

After catching each other’s words, you both abruptly stop to give space for the other to talk. Satoru gestures for you to go first. Gentleman as every. Feeling the anxiety and embarrassment weighing on you, you didn’t dare to look at him when talking, so your head focused back on your bag.

“Look, Satoru. . . I know how immature this is, but I want to apologize for the sudden change in my behavior and distance over the last few weeks. It was uncalled for, and you deserved a proper answer.–”

“No.”

“It’s because– huh?”

Prompting you to look up at Satoru, to which he had an unreadable expression. His glasses were blocking the creases of his eyes to indicate any of his emotions. A chill of uneasiness ran up your spine when you saw the serious look on Satoru’s face. He walks over to you with his hands in his pockets as he stares down, his expression unchanged.

“No, I need you to hear me out.”

Satoru cut off any chance for you to speak because he and you would be done if you did. He knew if he didn’t find you before Christmas Eve, what you two had would cease to exist. Once winter break ends and school resumes, he and you would be in two separate worlds. Ultimately becoming strangers who once knew each other. The thought of it made him nauseous and clammy to the core. You were the sun that shined in his endless cerulean sky. The moon and stars that gave illuminated his night sky. You gave light to the vast numbness he’d endured for all he could remember. You were the light he had been longing for years. And he was going to lose it all because he was a coward who didn’t have the balls to admit it and used dating as a coping mechanism to fill the hole in his heart.  So it’s now or never for him to be vulnerable to you because he feared this was his last chance.

“I know you didn’t mean to distance yourself from me at all. I know you still cared about me and didn’t want to push me away for fear of humiliating yourself. Being me, I didn’t notice at first that you were hurting until you uprooted yourself from my life, and it’s been god-awful without you. . . I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

The genuine sincerity in his eyes as they bore into yours. You noticed that. It came straight out of Satoru Gojo, not from the egotistical, pompous, popular senior, but from your best friend. So you decided to up your ears to what he has to say. When you gave him your undivided attention, Satoru knew this was it, so he spilled it out.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t really appreciated your presence. I took you for granted because I thought you would always be with me, with no chance of leaving me. That bit me in the ass once you slowly stopped being with me. But I know there’s more: the mixed signals I gave off, the playboy attitude, and the lack of self-awareness I had for myself. It was a way for me to not confront the crimpling loneliness and numbness I’ve been having. I indulge in my fangirls and causal relationships, hoping it would fix it. But it was just a temporary solution to a long-term problem. I saw the girls as a means to get my mind away from it, and the girls get to be with the famous Satoru Gojo. . . I’ve done this song and dance for so long that it was a part of my routine. . .”

“Oh, Toru. . .”

God, he missed that nickname you gave him. The way it rolls off your tongue in any tone, it’s seared into his memory and mind. When people, especially his ‘girlfriends,’ try to use that same nickname on him, it fills him with unexplainable rage. That name was for you to use on him, not them. They didn’t have a place in his heart like you do, so he always corrected them to minimize the usage of that nickname. But when you said it, it was soft and tender like the snow falling outside. He knew he was getting to you, and it was working. He relaxes as he closes his eyes, only to open them when your hand gently holds his cheek. Thumb swiping it in a comforting manner. You wanted to say something so Satoru didn’t have to do all the work. For him to admit, he took down all his walls so you could see all of him. To you, it was a privilege and honor to see such vulnerability coming from an individual who was charismatic and oozing with unspeakable rizz. So you continue to listen patiently to see what point your famous friend is making.

“But you disrupted the routine, (Y/N). . . When you came, it felt like I didn’t have to do that anymore. You made me feel free and alive. Allowing me to be my authentic self around our group or just the two of us. But most of all, you made me savor each moment I shared with Suguru, Shoko, and you. I always cherished what I had with them. I cherish what I have had with you over the time I’ve known you. I always did. Maybe that’s why the moon and stars shine brighter when I tell them about you. They know how brightly you shine in the endless sea of regular people. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to admit you already had my heart. . . And in doing so, I hurt you in ways I couldn’t have imagined. . . I am so sorry I had to make you wait so long, (Y/N).”

You hadn’t realized your tears were cascading down the curves of your cheeks. Was this really happening? Did Satoru just confess to you? You think this is all too good to be true, a scenario you conjured up to cope with hopeless romantic delusions. But his voice was full of raw fondness. His face had this lovesick expression, and his eyes bore sheer devotion as his tears were caught in his eyelashes. He really did feel the same way after all. He would’ve resumed pouring his heart and soul out if you hadn’t firmly pulled him into a tight hug.

Though caught off guard by the gesture, he warmly welcomed it as he returned the action. Tears wet his shirt as you clung to his chest. Satoru lightly kissed your head before cradling it like it was the most fragile thing in the universe. The once-thick tension disappeared, and a comforting warmth blanketed the two of you in its place. You two dared not to pull away, taking in the moment that has caused mental gymnastics for both of you. Eventually, someone had to pull away, and it would be you. You smiled so warmly at him with love-filled eyes. You wipe away Satoru’s tears that continue to fall and hit his glasses.

“. . . I love you too, Satoru. I should also apologize because I didn’t communicate my feelings to you. I was scared of how you would react to my confession. I didn’t want to lose what we had, nor did I want to pressure you into saying yes to spare me the heartache. I also didn’t know how to act when I was with you, and I feared I would look stupid. I shouldn’t have thought the only solution was to cut myself out of your life. Though these are my explanations, they don’t justify my excuses. Please forgive me, Satoru.”

“All is forgiven, Sweetheart. Will you forgive me, too?”

“Of course, Satoru. . .” 

Satoru starts to dip his head as you both smile at each other. You were going to let it happen, but a thought came across your mind as you softly stopped Satoru’s head. With a pout, Satoru would ask what was wrong before he was faced with a panicked look.

“Satoru! What about your girlfriend?!”

Satoru blankly stares at you before he starts to chuckle quietly. You were truly a kind person.

“Satoru! I’m being serious! Stop laughing!”

“Oh my dear, (Y/N). You truly have a kind and caring heart. I promise you I’m not cheating on her, nor are you homewrecking. She texted me she found someone else and ghosted me right after. I’m all yours, baby~.” 

Satoru waves his hand as he pulls out his phone to show you the proof, as you have always been skeptical of his words. Once you visibly relax, your gaze returns to the big shopping bag Satoru carried around. He already knew what you were going to ask and had an answer.

“Why don’t you take a look and open it yourself, (Y/N)? You did say the bag was my Christmas present for my girlfriend~.”

Your face heats up as Satoru retrieves your Christmas present. He holds it out, and you slowly take it from him. His grin becomes a soft smile at the reaction to the gifts in the bag. You squealed at the massively cute plushie as you gave it a happy squeeze. You gasped and were awed when you pulled out the jacket/sweater, gleefully trying it on.

“Give me a twirl, Love.” On command, you spin yourself so he can see how it captures your figure. Anything does look good on you in his eyes.

“I thought this was sold out, Toru! How did you get your hands on this?!”

“I have my ways. Now open your last gift.”

You go to open your last gift, and how your mouth was opened reassured Satoru that he was the best gift giver in the world. Fingers delicately hold up (favorite jewelry), observing the glow and reflection it gave off. It was gorgeous and unique as it had (favorite gemstone) being the main centerpiece. Only the best for you.

“Satoru, you still remember this?”

“Of course I did!”

“But that was over three months ago. . .”

“I know, (Y/N). But the way your eyes lingered on it when we went to the mall, I always noted it. Plus, I thought it suited you the best, so I had to buy it.”

“Oh, how sweet of you, Satoru. Thank you for the Christmas present. I really love them.” 

After returning your gifts to their bag, you walked to your dresser to fish something out. Satoru watches curiously as you pull out a crumpled paper bag. Satoru eyes widened as you handed the bag to him.

“ While they are Christmas gifts, they are technically your birthday gifts. I would’ve given them on your birthday but chickened out when I found out you had a girlfriend. So Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Satoru. They may not be as good as your gifts, but it’s something, right?”

You offer a smile as Satoru opens his gifts. You giggled at his extravagant reactions, praising and adoring his Agumon bracelet that he instantly wore on his wrist proudly. He pulls out the other gift and is shocked to see the drawings of him. The frame fits in his hands as he analyzes each sketch of himself. The detail and precision that went into each told Satoru you took the time and energy to draw him. But it also made him giddy as he looked extremely handsome and good-looking in each of the drawings. It caused him to blush when he realized this was how you see him through your eyes. As he was looking at your drawing page, he noticed the frame’s stand was attached to its sides.

Turning it around, he saw another drawing on the other side. But this sketch made Satoru’s heart beat out of his chest. The page contains only one illustration of two people walking with smiles. However, those two were him and you walking, smiling at each other, and holding each other’s hands. Satoru’s silence did concern you for a bit, but it was shattered when Satoru went in steadfastly to seal the gap between your lips. Your initial shock wore off before you let him reciprocate his kiss. You can feel his soft and smooth lips; he needs to give you his lip care routine. After parting, Satoru leans his head against yours, his arms not unraveling from you. 

“No, they are wonderful gifts. Thank you, (Y/N). I love them. . . and I love you.”

“I love you too, Satoru~.”

Basking in each other’s warmth, eliminating the cold and gloomy atmosphere from outside. As much as you wanted to stay together a little longer, the campus would close soon for the rest of the break, and you must leave quickly. You didn’t want to leave Satoru yet, so you tried to extend it as much as possible.

“Hey, Satoru? Can you walk me home? The forecast said the snow will pick up tonight, and I don’t want to go home alone.” 

Satoru gives his classic grin before kissing your forehead sweetly. 

“I would love to, Sweetheart. I’ll carry your bags while you can hold the umbrella.”

The snow continues to softly fall as the two of you walk along the bustling streets of Tokyo. Although the white puff clouds appeared every time someone spoke and the tips of Satoru’s face were bright red, Satoru never paid attention to the frigid temperatures. Even in this cold white winter, he can see that your bright aura always gave a comforting warmth he yearned for. Making you stand out amongst the sea of passersby, the bright neon lights of Tokyo, and the white dots that continue to cover the city.

The light that shines and gives light to his dull Cerulean sky. Satoru’s world wasn’t grey anymore as he had finally found his light, you.

Bonus:

—A few days later—

“You think they made up, Sugs?”

“Honestly, I hope they do. If not, we’re fucked, Shoko.”

It had been a few days since Shoko and Suguru had last heard from you and Satoru. Neither has responded to your texts as often as usual, making the two nervous. Then Suguru proposed a hangout before New Year's Eve. He didn’t add it in the group chat because he was unaware of the situation. Opting to ask you two individually instead. Even though you two responded, he was unsure if the storm between you two passed over or was still raging on. 

However, his initial worries would be meaningless soon enough. As Shoko and Suguru were taking a drag at the meet-up spot, they spotted two figures approaching them. Squinting their eyes to get a better look, they recognized that it was you and Satoru. Their eyes traveled down a bit to see both your hands intertwine. The love that came from Satoru’s smile and your eyes told them everything.

Though the two smiled and high-fived each other, Suguru grinned ear to ear, which earned a frustrated sigh from Shoko. She then reaches into her coat to fish out her wallet. 

“I guess I win, Shoko. Hand over that $25 Visa gift card, please?”

[the-californicationist]

Good Fences (Fluffuary #04)

FEB04: Cheering Them Up

You had a boyfriend.

Keyword: had. 

Getting broken up with in the middle of the night was one thing, but having it be over a text message (all lowercase, no punctuation) was a whole new low. You knew it wasn’t going to last, but the suddenness of it was dreadful, as were the personal criticisms he decided to throw your way just to rub salt into the wound. 

your bodys just not doing it for me anymore

we could still hook up if you want just hmu

but not in bethesda obvi lol 

You weren’t sure what possessed him to say those things to you, but you had seen enough, so you blocked him.

Tear-stained and angry, you went outside to get some fresh air. You wrapped your blanket around you and stared up at the stars, trying to move on from that asshole as quickly as possible. 

Suddenly, you heard John’s sliding door open up. You turned to look at him, and he seemed just as startled to see you there. 

“Oh, hey… Hey,” he furrowed his brow, “What’s happened?”

You sniffled, trying to find your voice,

“Got dumped.” 

“What? Just now? It’s midnight,” he sat next to you, “Did he just leave?” 

You shook your head, dreading having to admit to the fact that you hadn’t even deserved a capital letter much less an in-person visit,

“Text message.”

You passed over your phone to let him experience the drama first-hand. As he read the messages, his face grew increasingly dark, almost scary. You couldn’t help but notice his attire while he read, and you felt insane for doing so. He was in running shorts and a cut-off tee shirt with some rock band’s logo fading and flaking on the front. You were supposed to be sad, but now you couldn’t stop staring at his very visible and extremely muscular arms and abs.

“You’re joking,” he handed you back the phone in disbelief.

You shook your head again and looked down at the tissue in your hands, trying to come up with something to say. 

“What a fuckin’ wanker.”

You laughed, nodding, and he cracked a smile. You let his voice wash over you like a salve, healing the hurt another man had caused, 

“Well, this calls for a bloody drink, don’t it?”

“Don’t think the bars will be open by the time I make it out,” you joked. You weren’t going out anywhere tonight. 

“Wait here,” he said, ducking back into his apartment.

He reemerged with a bottle of Scotch whisky and two glasses, pouring one for you and then one for himself, each equally generous. 

John tinked your glass and drank. You followed suit, albeit a bit more timidly. 

It burned. Then it spiraled into oranges and vanilla and honey. And then it burned again. You tried not to, but you made a face, and said,

“Wow, it’s good. Thanks.”

“Strong, hm?” He purred softly, pleased with his choice.

“Yeah, but still good,” you insisted.

“Don’t worry about those messages, love. Your body is doing wonders just how it is. He wants your reaction.”

You tried not to let the compliment linger in your mind for too long, but it was stuck in there like popcorn in your teeth. 

“I know,” you admitted, “And I wasn’t going to marry this guy or anything, but…”

“Still hurts.”

“Yeah.”

John was clipping and lighting a cigar to have with his drink, and you watched him as he worked. He still hadn’t bought that ashtray he’d promised, but he was using an old glass bowl for now. He smoked for a bit, sharing it with you wordlessly. Then, he took a long breath and gave you a droll look.

“What is the difference between a condom and a coffin?”

You laughed before he even gave you the punchline of the joke, shocked by its crudeness,

“What?” 

“You come in one and leave in the other.”

“John!”  

He snickered, listening to you laugh, turning a little red in the face as he did so. 

“Alright, alright,” he prepared another one for you, “What can you spell with P, E, N, I, and S?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, and shrugged, 

“Penis?”

He scoffed, 

“Spine, you filthy thing.”

You stayed outside talking and telling jokes long enough to see the black starfield give way to a pale pink morning, and before you knew it, half a bottle of whisky was gone. John had certainly worked his magic in you, and by the time you said goodnight and climbed back into your bed, you’d forgotten why you’d even been wasting your tears on a jerk like that in the first place.

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

We've Got Tonight (Paul McCartney x Starr!Female!Reader)

Find Part Two Here

A/N: WOW, is all I can say. The alarming support from those of you reading my work is driving me to write more than EVER right now! I cannot say thank you enough, y'all. Your notes and comments inspire me, so please keep it up if you wanna read more from me!

I'm about to bless y'all with some McBeardy angst, so I hope you all enjoy!!

Also, this fic was inspired by Bob Seger's We've Got Tonight, so I highly recommend listening to the song before and/or after reading this one to get into the vibe of it.

Summary: Paul is in his lonesome after a break up. So are you. You decide to keep each other company.

WARNINGS: ANGST, but it gets sweet in the end. Mentions of cheating, low self esteem. Suggestive actions, mentions/insinuation of sex, but no smut (that'll be saved for a bonus part 2 if anyone's interested in that.)

There is mention of the Beatles' extended family, so if I have any incorrect info in here, I apologize in advance; I didn't want this to become too much of a history lesson.

Also, like my other fics, this one is a NOVEL, so please read when you have a good half hour+ of free time :)

I don't wanna rate this a T, but there is no smut in this, so please just be aware that there is sex mentioned/insinuated, so PLEASE just read at your own discretion. But most of all, enjoy!

Paul was sitting on the sofa in the den, alone with the lights out. He was staring out the window at the night in silence as he sucked down another cigarette and sipped at another glass of scotch.

It was late enough that the world around him was dead sleep, yet he was wide awake, and alone with his thoughts.

He broke it off with Linda. She was a sweet girl, and no one was really quite sure why things ended between them, but they all knew it was a mutual agreement.

Paul really hadn't been taking it well, though. He hadn't been sleeping right for almost a month, and he stared drinking a little more. He didn't want anyone really knowing, which is why he did it in his lonesome.

He wasn't necessarily by himself, because the rest of the Beatles were upstairs in their collective rooms asleep; but what made him feel alone was that alongside the bandmates in their rooms were their families and wives. And Paul just didn't have that.

Usually he would have been rather vocal over something that bothered him so much, but the band felt like recently they'd been clashing, so he wasn't wanting to bother them with something like that.

While Paul finished the final puff of his cigarette and put out the butt in the ashtray on the coffee table, his head snapped to the entrance of the den, where he caught sight of a silhouette in the threshold.

You stopped in your tracks when Paul made eye contact with you. You supposed he'd heard your footsteps.

From what you could tell from the light of the moon shining in through the window, Paul seemed worn out. He rubbed the side of his face with his free hand before wordlessly nodding to you in acknowledgement.

"... I'm sorry to intrude. I didn't know anyone was still awake. I was just needing a drink," you explained quietly. You'd met Paul a few times here and there-- you had to, with Ringo-- or Rich-- your brother, being one of his bandmates and all.

Paul was always kind when you interacted with each other, but you could definitely tell something was a little off about his behaviour this time around.

Rich did mention Paul's break-up to you briefly, but you were going through your own separation, so you were in your own head with your own problems. That's why Rich offered to bring you along with him, Maureen, Zak, and Jason on this trip with the rest of the guys and their families, so you could get away from thinking about your ex.

Unfortunately, the unfamiliar space put you in the same position as Paul; wide awake, in the middle of the night, with a racing mind.

"'S alright," he sighed before drinking the rest of the scotch in his glass and raising to his feet. You watched him move around the room to the alcohol cabinet right outside the kitchen.

He refilled his glass right to the top before wordlessly grabbing a second glass out, tossing in a few ice cubes, and filling it three quarters of the way before sliding it over to you.

Your eyes widened a little, considering you'd actually come down for some water, but maybe this was a sign you were going to want something stronger.

"... Should've asked you if you even like this stuff," Paul stated apologetically when he realized how gentlemanly he was not being. You smiled sadly at him, but picked up the glass anyways.

He matched his glass to the same level as yours before you both gently tapped them together. The sound of the glass chimed for a moment before you and Paul raised the drinks to your lips.

The scotch was harsh, and you surely made an unflattering face as you took a sip, but Paul didn't say anything to you, as he was too busy staring at the ice swirling around in his own glass.

"... What're you doing up so late, if you don't mind me asking?" You asked after a moment of silence, and Paul's big brown eyes met yours for another quiet second as he thought about what to respond with.

He pushed his tongue into his cheek before shrugging and mumbling into his glass, "thinking."

After taking another sip of his drink and staring off into space for a moment or two, he bit his lip, gesturing over to you with his glass.

"And you?" You shook your head, realizing it was your turn to scrounge up an excuse for being wide awake at such an absurd time.

"Can't sleep," you lied.

Paul frowned, motioning you to the sofa he was just sitting on to invite you to sit for a while. After a moment of pondering whether you should really go back to your room, you made up your mind and headed to the sofa, Paul following suit.

There was just something about the way his dark eyes gazed into yours, and behind them was this sadness you just couldn't ignore.

Before he took a seat, you were able to get another good look at him. He was in black jeans, and a green sweater; his day-clothes completely contrasting your pyjama set. He'd grown his hair out since you saw him last, and now he was sporting a full beard.

You always thought he was a good looking guy, but now, without being blinded by any bias, there was really no denying how handsome Paul had become since you seen him last.

In fact, it felt like every time you ended up seeing him next, he always seemed to look better and better, and you weren't quite sure how that was possible.

Paul took the seat right next to you, and he set his drink down on the coffee table, clasping his hands together, elbows on the thighs, and hanging his head.

"To be honest with you... I went through a separation about a month ago. And I don't seem to be handling it well." He finally sighed, turning his head so he was looking at you again. He unclasped his hands and ran his fingers through his beard a few times.

"I'm a romantic, y'know, and I'm not a fan of being so lonely." You nodded your head a little at his words. What was tough was that you didn't have anything encouraging to say to him because you were in the same boat.

Paul swallowed when you remained silent, and then he cleared his throat. He scratched the back of his head nervously as he leaned back into the sofa.

"I'm sorry, I know it's late, and you're probably just wanting to head to bed." He gave a little head nod of understanding as he rubbed his eye with his finger. "You're not here to talk to me about my problems."

It was your turn to set your drink down on the table, turning your attention to him again.

"Well... will that help make you feel better, perhaps?" you watched Paul's eyes meet yours again, and he pressed his lips together tightly in thought.

"... I don't know if there is really much to say," he said after a moment, reaching for his glass again.

"Thank you, though. Was very kind of you to offer somethin' like that."

After he took another sip of his drink, he gestured to you again with his glass.

"... Ringo sort of mentioned you were going through a separation too... You doin' okay?" Paul tried his best to be as inclusive as possible, but it was all rough stuff to talk about, so he treaded carefully.

"I mean..." you trailed off for a moment before responding with a simple, "I'm angry, above all else."

You were honestly taken aback by Paul's question. Rich wasn't necessarily the greatest person to receive comforting advice from, especially when it came to this separation, since he thought so highly of your ex, but you perhaps weren't telling him the whole truth.

But you were definitely surprised he even mentioned your pain to anyone else, let alone his bandmates.

"Kept a lot of heavy things to myself for a long time, it just became exhausting." Now it was your turn to reach for your scotch, still cringing at its strength as you took a generous mouthful.

Paul waited a beat before asking, "would talking about it with me maybe make you feel better?"

"... you really care to know that stuff?" You asked gently for clarification. As mentioned, you and Paul weren't close, you could probably count on one hand the amount of times you met him prior to this moment...

And this was heavy stuff you were seemingly about to share, and you really wanted to make sure he was okay with that.

Paul nodded his head without hesitation, and offered, "'s the least I can do for you for keeping me company so late."

You sighed a deep breath, and took a few more sips from your glass before putting it back down, curling your legs up to your chest, and began.

You told Paul about your ex. You told him about how you were with him for five years, and watched him slowly fall out of love with you, sleep around, and how you struggled with self-image and self-worth for a long time.

You also mentioned how you were the one to leave, but he had no idea you had any strength to do so, so he tried for a long while to guilt you into going back to him.

The difficult things to talk about made you a little more emotional, so you breathed your way through it slowly as to not cry. The drink Paul poured for you was helping you relax at least.

Paul was more than patient with you, and you were grateful for that. At one point during the lengthy conversation, he lit another cigarette, and began offering you drags throughout your story to calm your nerves.

You took those offers graciously, and thankfully.

"... I don't know. I just lay awake every night, wondering if there was something I could have done different so he didn't do what he did."

You were staring out the window with Paul now, taking in just how many stars you could actually see from the den. He took his final puffs of his smoke, the thin silver waves swirling in the air above the both of your heads.

"Sounds like he didn't cherish you enough when you were around," Paul debated gently, shaking his head and putting out his cigarette end in the ashtray next to the others. He picked up his scotch again before mumbling against the rim,

"He's not worth it."

You pulled yourself from the trance of the tiny lights outside to wipe remnants of silent, salty tears off your cheeks, and you used that moment to glance over at Paul, whose nose was still deep in the glass. When he pulled the drink away from his mouth and swallowed, you parted your lips to speak.

"... was Linda worth it?" You didn't mean it in a rude way, but you hadn't met her personally, and you wanted to pry Paul just a tiny bit.

He smiled, but it was bitter. You figured you struck a nerve, and before you could apologize for what you said, he answered simply, with tears glossing his own eyes,

"Yes. She was."

You tilted your head a little and frowned, trying to understand what drove them apart.

"It was just never the right timing. She was ready for things I wasn't in the beginning, and then down the road, when I was seemingly ready for those things, she wasn't. And I didn't want her wasting her time on a life she didn't wanna live, y'know?"

"So she's the one that got away," you mused gently.

"Indeed, she was." Paul nodded a little before finishing the rest of his scotch in his glass, leaning back again, and cradling his head in his hand as he looked at you for another quiet moment, resting his glass in-hand on his thigh.

"... I'm not a bad person, am I?" Those watery eyes never disappeared, and you had to break his sad gaze, opting to reach out and rub his shoulder comfortingly.

"Hey, no. Wasting your time, or her time, like the way my ex did to me, would have made you a bad person, Paul. Saying good bye was the right thing to do."

"Well, I wish that made me feel better," he mumbled, dropping his own gaze to the space between the both of you. He pushed a stray tear away before he thought you could see it, and then scratched at his beard again. You guessed that must have been a habit of his out of stress.

"Something about her made me feel like she was the one. Like we were meant to share the same story; but we always seemed to be on a different chapter,"

He sniffled, but only once. "That being said, was I perhaps too lovestruck in the end to want to believe that her future was meant to be shared with someone else?"

His voice carried so much sorrow, and you knew he needed some kind of advice. It took you a moment or so to find the right words to say to him.

"... Knowing my ex wasn't right for me and the reality of me leaving doesn't make me feel any better. At all." You offered to Paul, before adding,

"... But why should the expectations of those we chose to take out of our life dictate the way we behave today?"

The words that came out of your mouth were surprisingly wise, and you watched Paul's eyebrows knit together as he absorbed what you said.

He focused his sight to you again, a more determined look on his face. Paul knew you were absolutely right. He was a charmer; romancing people was his thing.

There was no denying Linda was special, but when he realized he really had no commitment in romancing her anymore, he finally understood that it was his own thoughts holding him back.

Even if it took him a little longer than expected, he knew you were right. He would recover from this.

"... I think you just opened my eyes and made me realize something... Thank you, y/n, really." He reached up with his free hand after a second, fingers grazing your own hand still on his arm in comfort, showing you his gratitude for your words of advice.

You smiled a little, glad you were able to help him somewhat through his times of trouble as you pulled your hand away.

Paul stood up again, retrieving his empty glass from the coffee table before facing you fully, a more genuine smile beginning to pull on the corners of his mouth, but it was still rather sad.

"I'm grabbing a refill, you too?"

Your sight drifted to your near-empty glass on the table.

Why let tonight go to waste? End so soon?

"Please," you asked, grabbing the glass yourself, but Paul began to tut at you as he grabbed the glass from your fingers.

"Please, I'll get it for you," he insisted, and you watched his slender figure move around the couch to head for the alcohol cabinet another time. He filled them only halfway this time, and on the way back he made a brief stop at the record player near the entrance of the den.

Soft classical music rang out quietly from the player once Paul dropped the needle down onto the vinyl, and he returned to his spot next to you with your two drinks. You thanked him quietly as he passed the glass over to you, and he leaned in a little, raising his drink between the two of you.

"Hello to... new beginnings," he began slowly.

"And Goodbye to false finales," you finished, your glasses tapping together again before you took yet another sip of the drink.

Paul matched your movements, his eyes watching you, even when you turned away to gaze longingly out the window for a moment, basking in the feeling of the gentle music flirting with your ears.

Sure, you and Paul could have went on for the rest of the night discussing your heartbreak, but you decided to drive the conversation elsewhere.

You sighted back to him after a while, his sight unwavering from you. Your eyes locked for just a beat before you decided aloud with a gentle nod,

"... you know, that beard really suits you."

Paul's eyebrows shot up, and his face darkened a little as he bit his lips between his teeth almost nervously.

"... Think so?"

You'd never seen him lack so much confidence when given a compliment before, but instead of pitying him, you almost admired his innocence.

It sounded like he needed to hear a compliment like that.

"Yes," you laughed airily, raising your glass up for another drink. Paul couldn't bite back his smile anymore, so he copied you to mask his lips. You then gestured to your head with the point of your finger as you swallowed the alcohol back easier and easier each time.

"Your hair, too. I think it's a nice length."

Your kind words made Paul feel warm and fuzzy inside, and he placed his scotch back down on the table.

"Well, thanks, Love." He rubbed the back of his neck, and laughed weakly. "I call it my 'Don't View The Mirror For Three Weeks' look."

Paul paused in his moments of self-deprecation to realize he should have maybe complimented you back. He took a second to take another good look at you as he decided what to say, exactly.

"... Y'know, the last time I saw you was a few years ago, now."

You thought for a moment on that. It had been a while since you'd seen him last. You nodded your head as you recalled the day.

"You're right, it has been some time. Christmas, 1966." John and Cynthia had hosted this massive holiday dinner, and everyone's extended family was there.

You were single at the time, and spent dinner conversing with Paul's sister, Ruth, who was at least fifteen years younger than you. There was no introduction made by Paul, she just walked up, introduced herself to you, and made a friend by herself.

She went on and on about school, and music, and how the potatoes were her favourite part of dinner; and you paid attention to everything she had to say, responding with your own opinions and jokes to keep her feeling included amongst the adults at the table.

And Paul, who was seated next to Ruth, couldn't help but overhear your conversations throughout the evening, and he found it rather charming that you treated Ruth with such respect despite her young age.

And after dinner, you and Ruth danced together almost the whole night. She eventually went over to do a little dancing with Paul, and you watched as she bounced around excitedly with her brother, who, for just a moment, locked eyes with you across the sea of dancing guests.

You remember giving him a shy wave with a smile, and he sent a wink back your way before returning his attention to Ruth, spinning her around as she squealed happily.

"... I'm rather fond of that evening," Paul stated simply, the reality of your melancholy evening strongly contrasting with the memories of the wonderful night.

Now you and Paul weren't so young, and this time he was noticing the little lines under your eyes, indicating the dragging march of time slowly catching up to you both.

"And, even after all the years that have passed... you still look as lovely tonight as you did then."

You blushed at Paul's compliment, biting back a stupid grin as you repeated the words in your head.

"And I admire your ever-present kindness," he added on, and you knew he really just meant he showed appreciation for lending him an ear in his time of need.

"More people need to be like you."

"I don't know what to say," you said honestly, settling for a gentle "thank you," in the end. Paul just nodded, unsure if there was anything to say back.

"You know..." you paused for a second, watching as Paul went for another sip from his glass. "It was quite a shame we never got a dance in that night together, just you and me."

Paul was mid sip when you said that, so you continued on.

"The music was great, everyone was in high spirits, and I was maybe too shy to approach you myself and ask you to dance with me. So I guess that's on me." You scratched your elbow as you announced your rather dumb confession to him.

Paul, who was nearly done with his drink now, waited a moment or two in thought, before rising to his feet, and wandering back over to the record player, scotch still in hand.

You tried to watch his movements over your shoulder, but it was really dark. All you knew was that he was changing the music.

The classical tune cut, and the player began to drawl a much slower, more recent song; one you hadn't yet heard.

Paul turned on his heel as he reapproached the sofa, taking the final sip of scotch he had left in his glass before placing it back down on the table, and reaching his hand out for you to take.

"Well, let's not let this dance wait any longer, then, yeah?"

You froze for just a moment, Paul's outstretched hand hung in the air for a few seconds, and your sight moved up to his face, where you noticed his confidence falter just a little.

"Again, I know it's late, and I know your plans for the night surely didn't include me..."

"But, still, here we are." Your words came out almost effortlessly. You finished your scotch as well, and when you finally put your hand in Paul's, he squeezed your fingers gently, that warm upturn finally returning to his lips.

He guided you slowly over to the windows so you weren't in so much darkness, the moonlight still shining just enough for you both to see one another; and when Paul decided he could see your face much better, he let his other hand drop to your waist, watching as your own hand rested on his forearm.

You both shifted from side to side to the beat of the music, and you stared absentmindedly at the small space between you both.

"... You okay?" He asked you quietly after a minute, and you looked up at him, cheeks reddening as you realized you could feel his breath fanning your face.

"I've realized just how long it's been since I last danced with someone like this," you mentioned sheepishly, and a little smirk pulled at the corner of Paul's mouth.

"You don't have two left feet, y'know," his tone was almost teasing, and you smiled back, glad he wasn't feeling so much sadness anymore.

Paul then added with a little shrug, "'Sides, I wanted to dance with you that night, too. But I'm very glad I have the honours now."

Paul began turning with you in slow circles together as you continued to sway, and you took a moment to decide your next words carefully.

"... I suppose what I'm trying to say is that it's different when you're dancing with someone who actually wants to dance with you. It's just... it's really nice. So thank you, Paul."

Paul let go of your waist for a moment, and raised your clasped hands above your heads so you could twirl under his arm.  When you did just that, and faced him again, he pulled you just a little closer than you were before, your torsos flush as his hand snaked slowly to the small of your back.

"Thank you," he mumbled back, quietly. You weren't entirely sure what he was thanking you for this time, but you never asked.

Instead, you shut your eyes and opted to rest your head in the crook of his neck as the hand you had on Paul's bicep slid upward so your arm circled around his shoulders, in a half embrace.

And then you felt Paul tilt his own head down as if to envelope you more. You'd be lying if you said your heart didn't skip a beat when he did that.

Paul then began to hum the lyrics of the song, quietly, as if you were the only person in the world who was meant to hear it. Both yours and his eyes were closed now as you two basked in such a beautiful moment.

Two lonely people, finding comfort, and peace in each other.

Paul raised your clasped hands closer to him so he could rest them against his chest. You could actually feel his heartbeat pounding against the side of your hand, which made you a little nervous, but not in a bad way.

Paul stopped moving you around in circles, but the swaying never ceased. He lifted his cheek off your crown after a while, and you couldn't help but open your eyes and raise your gaze back to his face.

Paul smiled so sweetly at you, and you watched his eyes shift ever so slightly from left to right as he looked back into yours. His eyebrows then worried for just a moment before he opened his mouth slightly as if to say something, but no words came out.

Your shifting finally slowed to a standstill, and you opened your mouth this time to speak, yet you found yourself in Paul's very position.

There was nothing to say.

You watched as his gaze softened on you, and you weren't sure if it was the drinks, or the lack of sleep, but it was like you could almost feel the gravity around you manipulating you to move just a little closer to him.

And he must have felt it as well. Paul's head began to drop slowly, and it wasn't long before you met him in the middle, your lips coming together in a very soft, and very unplanned kiss. The both of you kept still, almost as if the smallest move would have frightened the other away.

You were both holding your breath as well, and Paul pulled away from the kiss first, arm still wrapped around your back, hand still clasped in yours.

He was staring at you in awe, as were you, eyes wide, and lips still slightly parted as you both processed what exactly just happened.

Paul still couldn't muster any words, nor could you, for that matter; but he could definitely read your gaze. Your eyes were almost begging him to do that again.

And that's exactly what happened; your lips came crashing into each other again after only another second.

You weren't stupid, and neither was he. You both already knew this night was going to become something else entirely. You were craving the touch of someone, and you didn't even have to tell him.

You could just tell with the way he was moving his mouth against yours, and the way his body was flush with you, that he was wanting it just as bad.

Paul's hand finally let go of yours so he could lace his fingers into the hair at the back of your head, and your own hand slid around to his back. He tried pulling you even closer, but it just wasn't possible.

You sighed quietly as you kissed him again, and again, and Paul's hand unweaved itself from your hair as he cupped your face before breaking the kiss off again, another troubled look on his face.

"Ringo'll kill me if he knew I was--"

"Paul, please. I need this," you didn't let him finish his sentence. You didn't really care what your brother thought of anything, and you assumed, deep down, Paul really didn't care either, because he dove back in for more kisses as soon as he could.

His hands cupped your jawline as you gripped his sweater in your fists at his chest. You parted your mouth slightly and just melted into Paul's arms when he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip.

You moaned lowly against him, ears ringing, and all Paul could think to do was blindly shuffle you backwards towards the sofa, but instead, you felt the coffee table hit the back your legs, and you nearly stumbled back. The glasses, once filled with scotch but now only ice, shuffled against the table's surface at the force of you bumping into it.

Paul ended your kiss once more, one of his hands leaving the side of your face to circle around your hips quickly so you didn't fall back. He smiled at you when he knew you weren't going anywhere, offering you a teasing, "maybe you do have two left feet, Darling."

That wonderful pet name made your flesh rise with goosebumps, but all you could mumble to him was, "Just shut up and kiss me, Paul."

Without hesitation, he did just that, which felt like an eternity to the both of you since the last one.

He, still blindly, yet carefully, directed you around the table and to the sofa. Paul, with his hands holding your hips, was the first to sink down, but encouraged you to straddle him as soon as he was fully seated with an encouraging tap to the back of your thighs.

It was your turn to pull away now, your dominant hand resting flat against the centre of Paul's chest as you gave him a good once-over, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm.

Paul was leaned back, lips parted and shining, assumably from the spit you'd been exchanging, and his eyes almost twinkling at you in adoration.

Your heart was full of something you hadn't felt in a very long time, and it was all because of this sensual interaction.

You reached out with your other hand and ran your thumb over his bottom lip, his shallow breath fluttering gently against the skin on your fingers. You tilted his head up and kissed him again, and your fingernails just couldn't resist playing with his beard any longer.

Paul's grip on your hips tightened when you started doing that, and when you decided to take your other hand off his chest and start playing with his hair, he let out a very low groan against your lips, and to both of your surprise, his hips bucked up involuntarily against you.

He gasped at his own actions, and you pulled away to view the look of apologetic shock written on his face. His cheeks and neck were flushed, and his eyebrows were bent in worry, again.

"I-I promise I didn't mean to..." Paul's voice carried a hint of... shame, almost. You watched as he nervously toyed his bottom lip between his teeth as he tried searching his brain for something to say, but the effects of his drink and your sweet attention had him grasping for any type of clear thought.

But all of his attempts went completely out the window when you lowered your hips down and rocked them back against his, his head falling back against the sofa as his eyes rolled, a guttural moan rumbling from deep within his chest.

It was absolutely apparent that Paul's jeans were lacking the room they'd possessed a few minutes prior, and when you repeated the circular motion with your hips again, feeling him hard against your core, you were rewarded with another low growl from him.

"W-wait," Paul uttered weakly after a second, arms and fingers tightening at your hips to keep you from moving around and teasing him again, as much as he didn't want you to stop.

"I want this so much. I want you so much," he began, taking a beat to rake his eyes down your body as his tongue swiped against his own bottom lip. His gaze flitted back to your eyes, and he swallowed nervously.

"I don't want you to do this if you aren't, y'know..." you waited for him to finish his thought, and his round pink cheeks seemed to flush just a little more.

"If you're not okay with it."

You took a second to think on his argument. You and he were relatively fresh out of troubled relationships, and you both seemed to be hurting from the aftermath of said relationships...

But you were so lonely, too. And, to each other, you were simply beautiful, and respectful people, offering your... company... in a time of isolation for you both.

And it wasn't like there was any label for what you two were, either. All you and Paul needed was to feel wanted-- to feel loved.

And only if you could experience such a feeling for one more night in your life, Paul was offering now. And you were going to take it.

"I want this moment to last, Paul. If you're okay with making me feel wanted again, I am more than comfortable doing the same for you."

You could see him visibly relax when you said that, relief washing over his features as he reached a hand up to caress the back of your neck and bring you into a single, sweet kiss. You still couldn't get over how gentle and polite he was still being about all of this.

"We should really... go to my room," Paul suggested quietly after pulling a fraction of an inch away from the contact. You nodded your head, sighing "okay" as Paul closed the gap between you both just once more, only for a peck.

He let go of your hips and he reached for your hands instead, fingers intertwining slowly, and affectionately. You slid out of his lap, and Paul rose to his feet, guiding you without a hurry towards of the threshold of the den, where you stood to greet him unexpectedly just an hour or so before this moment.

The 45 on the record player had since finished playing the song, needle spinning needlessly in silence. Paul briefly resituated the player before continuing your journey one step at a time towards his bedroom, the heart in your chest beating erratically.

You climbed the stairs together, one dragging step at a time, and Paul led you around the corner of the hallway, pausing at the first room on the right. He glanced over at you, hand on the doorknob as he gave you another look. One that was asking a final, "are you sure?"

You placed your free hand over Paul's without a sound, and together you opened the door. He pulled you in for one more intimate embrace, lips on yours again before he pulled you into the dark room, gently kicking the door closed behind him.

And that night, you stayed with Paul. Hand-in-hand, bodies entwined, souls healing, loneliness fading away, and hopes of feeling whole again finally returning.

Being awake in the middle of the night had never been so gratifying.

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A/A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this! like I said, I can always whip up a part 2 regarding what happened behind those closed doors, so lmk if you're interested in that at all! Thanks for the support again and stay tuned for more works!

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[rileysluvr]

almost 4k words of john price and throat fucking omg i love old men. this one is a little crazy i won’t lie guys my bad

“Hi, Captain,” you smile, closing the door behind you. “What are you up to?”

He hadn’t bothered lifting his head from the documents in his hand when he heard the knocking on his door, nor to bark a gruff order of entry. He simply doesn’t have the time to. When he catches sight of you in his peripheral, though, with that sweet as sugar voice greeting him like a heaven-sent amusement, he does suppose a short break won’t horribly kill him. You are always reminding him he works too hard, anyway.

Your presence is always sure to cheer him up. Whether it be on a day where far too much is happening for his brain to keep up, or one that progresses so slowly he can actually feel himself aging in real time; you show up near the end, all spry and dolled up for him, and he’s sure to forget all about even the shittiest of days. You’ve just got that sort of delightful energy to you.

“The usual paperwork, nothin’ exciting.” He taps his cigar on the corner of the ashtray in front of him, just next to a glass with a thin line of brown liquid he’d been working on. Whiskey, presumably. “Why?”

The room is lit a dull color, easier on the eyes. He always liked things that were easy on the eyes, yourself included.

The admiration for warm, maybe even domestic comfort like this, comes free with the job, and he’d be a fool to not notice the sweet girl in front of him who fits all the requirements and more. Actually pursuing it, however, without the childish sneaking around; that’s a whole ‘nother ball game, trickled with millions of obstacles of every kind.

“No reason. Just that you’ve been in here a while,” you say as you walk over to him, hands clasped behind your back. “And we all missed you at the bar.”

He drops everything—cigar hits glass, documents hit desk, hardened manner going unnourished—and pushes his chair back. Your eyes instantly fall to see how his legs are spread naturally, big and just begging for you to come closer. You’re not going to pass up the opportunity.

He jeers, arms crossed over his expansive chest. “So you’ve come here to save me, is that it?”

“Maybe not save you.” You step between his knees, wondering when his posture had dropped so that he was leaning farther back, hips forward and closer to the chair's edge. Like he’s showing himself off, welcoming you to take a bite. You’re not going to refuse him. “But I can always try my best to help.”

He’s no idiot. He knows what you’re suggesting; you’ve done it plenty before, without fault. He just wants to hear it in that unabashed and wildly indecorous tone of yours. “And how are you going to do that?”

Bottom lip stuck between your teeth for a moment, balancing back and forth between your heels and toes. Your head tilts down a bit but your eyes stay on his figure, like a cheeky pout.

“Lemme suck your cock?”

He heartily laughs at your proposal. “Right now? While I’m working?”

“I promise it’ll be quick,” you pry, in that dangerously, easily seductive voice of yours. You’re dangerous. You’re the only one who’s capable of breaking the bond between the captain and the work he’s bound and effectively caged himself to.

“You’re a devil, y’know that?” The disapproval in his voice is entirely for show, and you seek out that playful coyness in his tone like it’s your favorite candy. “How do you expect me to say no to that? ‘Specially with a pretty girl like you offering?”

He looks you up and down, from smile to hips, and it’s like his stare holds the power of a thousand daggers, each piercing blade laced with arousal and relentlessly digging into your soft skin. God, you really are just a needy thing for him, aren’t you?

He clicks his tongue, eyes landing on yours after practically stripping you bare in his head. Let him finish his work and it doesn’t have to be left up to the imagination, he reasons with himself. “You can’t wait ‘til I’m finished with all this?”

“But I want to now,” you pout, head tilting to the side and making it far too difficult for your captain to deny you.

You play it up, dramatizing your disappointment with the idea of him so invested in his work rather than what you’re offering. Though, it certainly isn’t entirely a charade; you fear that a few tears may actually prick through if he turns you down. Then he definitely wouldn’t have it in him to send you away.

He glances to each side of the room, thinking on what he’s already sure of. He has to appear at least slightly annoyed, otherwise he loses all authority to a tricky thing like you. An inkling of his hesitation is real, but not for longer than a second.

He sighs, “Alright, then. Knees.”

You give a great smile of pure excitement over victory before doing as he so vaguely ordered, sinking to your knees with a helpful hand on his thigh. Even through cargo pants and a military-green fleece jacket, your mind is doing cartwheels thinking about what’s beneath the baggy, yet so tight around the arms and chest, clothes. And he can’t deny the same thoughts for you, dressed in your issued getup as well.

“You lock the door?”

You shake your head; there’s that cheeky look on your face again, except it’s somehow infinitely better when you’re knelt between his legs rather than standing upright. He’ll take it either way. You’re his favorite vice, by far.

He scolds you with the click of his tongue. “Then you better get on with it, right? ‘Less you want someone to walk in and find you down there, now.”

You giggle, telling him all he needs to know. You wouldn’t mind being caught all that much.

“Oh, you naughty thing…” He shakes his head, “Pretty little devil, like I fuckin’ said.”

You grip and pull at his cargoes, growing impatient. “Can’t help it, Sir. Wanna be your girl.”

“You are my girl, sweetheart.” His big hands soothe over the sides of your head, cupping your cheeks as if you held more value than any prized possession. “You know you’re my good girl, don’t you?”

You nod with a sultry hum, just like you do every time he tells you that. Your hands glide up his thighs and reach up to the buckle of his belt, pulling the leather loose as the clanging of the metal rings in your ears. With his elbow on the armrest of his chair to prop up his head, watching your hands work at unzipping his pants with your big eyes looking right up at his stern ones.

Palming him through the clothing a few times, your mouth watering and lips aching to wrap around the fat, hardening cock beneath your fingertips. You can see the glint of adoration in the blown out centers of his eyes, a smirk crept onto his face. Like a king sat on his throne with prey presented at his feet, and you surely make the prettiest prey.

When you’ve got his cock out, you waste no time in wrapping your fingers around the base and sticking your tongue out flat to lick a languid strip up the entire length of him. He groans lightly, though it turns throatier when the tip of your tongue reaches the head of his cock, precum salty on your tastebuds and a bitterness your body learned to miss after mere days of going without it. You know where he’s most sensitive under your tongue, and you begin to play into it instantly.

He grits his teeth with a quick hiss, though he’s so quick to compose himself. “Haven’t got all night, sweets. Suggest you stop your teasin’ and get on with it.”

You take him in your mouth, head of his cock nudging the roof of your mouth as you work to fit more of him. Relaxing your jaw to get used to his unruly size, earning an appraising mutter of a swear from under his breath. Sucking on him like your favorite flavor of lollipop, drool spilling from the corners of your lips.

Making such a mess before you even take him down your throat, faint strings of saliva tickling your chin and sending waves of cool liquid down his spine when it drips onto skin still untouched and unwarmed by your mouth.

You ease more of him past your tongue until he hits the back of your throat, a muffled moan coming from you having his cock twitching in your mouth. He rolls his shoulders back, actually giving into comfort. “Fuck. Jus’ like that, lovie…take your time.”

Even when he’s off the field, he’s still going to coach you through your tasks like a good captain does. No matter how overbearing it gets, no matter how obvious the cues. You’re his responsibility, and he’s always going to watch after you.

Your hand that’s wrapped around his cock proceeds with languid strokes up the length of what you don’t reach with your lips. You trace a vein with your thumb and bend your wrist a bit; anything to boost his pleasure, and anything to get the chance to consume said pleasure like it’s your first and final meal.

He pushes your fallen hair out of the way, tucked behind your ear so you can better choke on his cock without a single distraction. So he can see that pretty face of yours going all dumb, lips stretched around the sheer size of him as that view he loved more than any.

“Keep goin’, sweetheart, it’s alright. I’ve got you.” His big hands hold the sides of your head in a way that really makes you feel treasured without force. You swallow around his cock and he huffs a heavy breath.

The hand on the back of your head is getting heavier and heavier as you bob up and down on his cockhead, and a sick part of you just wants him to shove your skull fully down and make you to take all of him without a breath to yourself, nor a single care spared from him.

“Christ, this mouth of yours…gonna be the death’a me.”

He reaches forward to pluck his still-burning cigar from the ashtray, tapping it against the glass once before bringing it to his lips. He takes a long drag from the dry, rolled paper, and the sight has your efforts of properly sucking his cock faltering just a bit. His other hand, remaining on the nape of your neck, urges you to keep going with a nice squeeze, so you do.

Smoke spills from his mouth and clouds the air around you, and not once does he take his eyes off yours. The scent of tobacco and burnt paper spins your head around in all the best ways; that smoky aroma that lingered from the moment you walked in the door is nothing but homey.

You swallow around the head of his cock again, and he just about loses it. Every word he says is so breathy and spent, yet so authoritative as usual. “Yeah, keep doin’ that right there, love. Fuckin’ brilliant.”

You push on, doing your best to make him feel good. All you’ve ever wanted was to make him proud.

And he is proud of you, beyond what words can describe.

You’re valuable to him both off and on the field, and the progress he’s watched you make while under his command is mind-reeling. He takes pride in having you on his team, to himself. He revels in the fact that he was the first cock you’ve ever taken in your mouth and now you do it on your own volition almost flawlessly, every time, always with a devoted gleam in your naive eyes that nearly suffocates him.

Your tongue glides up to pay more attention to the tip of him, causing him to muffle a groan between his teeth and shove you back down in an instant, almost too hard. You whine around his length and widen your eyes at the sensation of his cockhead hitting farther than what you had progressed to. A gagged noise fills the space and your eyes squeeze shut, only opening when he’s gently pulling your head back.

“Already strugglin’?” He takes you all the way off his cock and you gasp out. You hadn’t even realized how you were depriving yourself of air, though the shock mainly comes from how uncomfortably empty your mouth has become, so suddenly.

“Let me fuck this pretty throat, love. Y’gonna let me do that?” Care laces his voice and it’s near hypnotizing, so much so you’re entirely deaf to the slightest tone of mockery beneath it. “Be easier on the both of us.”

You nod as best you can with a spinning mind, and it’s so utterly desperate that it would surely bring shame to your name. A pleading mantra repeats itself in your mind, running through every possibility you can think of that consists of him using you in ways both pleasant and torturous, yet all landing around the same area; if he feels good, you do too. And if you’re on the brink of passing out from whatever he’s subjected you to, and you keep going because nothing would kill you worse than to fail him? Well, then he feels pretty fucking good himself.

He leans forward to abandon his cigar; it’s not like he needs both hands to use you however he’d like, no. He just loves to have his touch encasing you, feel the way your head gets heavier and easier to maneuver as you go on. Leaning into him, drooling all over his palms; the more control he has, the better.

The big hand on the back of your neck is moving up to lock into your hair, a snicker being heard from above as your mind goes numb. He spares a quick glance at the door, returning to you as fast as he left.

He’s a mixed blessing; he cradles your face in his calloused palm and collects your hair in a messy ponytail, the roughness of his skin alone speaking volumes of what he’d do for you. How he’d always protect you, before he’s tugging tight and pulling you up to your knees and off your haunches, impossibly and overwhelmingly closer so you can better gag and choke around him without backing out.

You take your own hand from his cock and land it on his knee, giving him full reign.

“Good girl.” He eases you off of him before he’s slowly pushing you back down, this time with added inches of his cock in your throat. Both of his bruty hands encase your head like he’s just come into possession of a priceless jewel, and in his eyes the analogy doesn’t lapse far from the truth. “My good fuckin’ girl.”

He repeats the process until he’s fully fucking your skull like a fleshlight, though ever-so nice with it. He keeps the same pace you had set for yourself, and he refuses to push you entirely down to where your nose would make contact with the ending hem of his fleece zip-up. At least not yet, anyways.

You open up the best you can for him, until you’re scared your jaw will lock up on you or even unhinge. You squeeze a thumb in your fist, curl your toes in your steel-cased boots, ship your mind off to somewhere else. Remind yourself over and over how much you value his pleasure; anything to keep your body from rejecting his bully of a dick in your mouth.

“That’s it, lovie. Easier like this, ain’t it? S’just like I told you.”

You spiritually agree, convinced that this was your true purpose in life. If you aren’t pleasing your superior—the one who has always been there for you to lean on, cry on, save you from your own stupidity—then you aren’t really living.

“Christ. Letting me use this tiny mouth like you’ve got no shame, eh? No dignity?” He laughs in your face, and you’re only able to flutter your droopy eyelids in response, tear after tear overflowing to your cheeks with each blink. He pushes your head down rougher. “It’s a good thing ya don’t…be no fun if you actually gave a shit ‘bout your humility. Your fuckin’ career…just so you can be your captain’s perfect, little fucktoy.”

He’s laughing again; he doesn’t give two shits right now, as he’s pressing your head down and fucking your face harder than ever. He’s murmuring more to himself than anything. “Don’t know if I should scold you or applaud you for it.”

He pulls you off him for a moment and you catch your breath like a madwoman, coming close to choking on the saliva that pools in your mouth. Tears fall freely from your burning eyelids, rolling down your cheeks and dripping onto his cargoes while your pinkened, glassy eyes don’t leave his worshiping ones.

He’s prying your jaw wider and pushing you back down before you can even think.

“Cryin’ and gagging ‘round my cock isn’t gonna make it any better, honey.” He grinds his teeth, telling you sweetly, “C’mon, you’re almost there. You’ve got this, baby.”

Your jaw hurts like hell, a familiar soreness you could never learn to simply get used to. Though, it’s a pain you so easily ignore each time. You suck it up and pull through like the good soldier you are, wishing for it not to go unnoticed by the teacher. And he always notices, just like he does your breaking and pleasure points. He wouldn’t push you terribly too far.

One of his hands falls to land on your neck, thumb reaching around until his grip is fully and loosely wrapped around your neck. Until he feels the bump of his cock moving in and out of your esophagus under the pad of his thumb, protruding up and down beneath his knuckles. It gets him higher than any drink or cigar ever could, even the rush of a battlefield can’t compete.

“Fuckin’ A, sweetheart, that’s it. Perfect, little thing.”

You’re doing too good of a job for him to even think of making a snarky comment about how much you must love having him so deep down your throat. He knows the answer well enough, and it shows through the glistening tears in your eyes and the willing, faithful hands practically anchored to his knees.

His grunts become more gravelly and common as he gets closer to finishing. It’s a prospect that bubbles deep in your belly, like his orgasm was worth far more than any pleasure to yourself at this point.

“Tell me. Y’want me to paint this pretty face?” he proposes, all exasperated but still so fucking cocky. You’re dizzy, lightheaded, every other word that could be used to describe the out-of-body feeling of him treating your body so harshly, in the nicest, most giving way possible. It’s visceral, really.

“Or should I come down this throat instead?” he pants. A smirk plasters itself onto his lips, though you don’t think it ever left in the first place. “You’d like that, wouldn’t ya, sweetheart?”

You can’t even respond, apart from your strengthening grip on his knees and the flexing and tightening of your neck muscles around him. He scoffs above you, but it’s loving. “Throat it is.”

It’s only a few more thrusts of pushing your head down to the base of his cock until his hand is stuttering in its movements, and he’s holding you in place as he spills his hot cum down your raw throat. A deep, long groan emits from his own, and it’s well-earned music to your ears with the way it vibrates in his throat as his head is thrown back. At least, the bits of his high that aren’t drowned out by your own struggling are a nicer gift than you could ever ask for.

You can’t breathe as he does this, and it’s even worse than when he was relentlessly shoving his cock down your throat; you can only think to swallow until he’s satisfied. You can only writhe and cry beneath him and try to savor the feeling of making him feel so good, until you have no choice but to beat your hand down on his muscular thigh to let you up for air.

He listens, but not without a laugh that would make him seem evil if you didn’t know him well enough as the compassionate captain with a warmer heart than most would imagine. He rips your mouth off his cock, yanking your head back at a rate that has you stumbling backwards on your ass and palms on the hard floor, under his old, wooden desk.

He watches on as you feverishly catch your breath, him as well but not nearly as crazed as you, gasping for air with your chest heaving up and down and a hand clasped to your neck. Attempts at blinking away your teary vision, your other hand soothing over your strained jaw; all the while, he’s shoving his softening, spit-soaked cock back in his pants and zipping them up with a predatory visual hold on your pretty form.

Once he’s got his fix of staring and you’ve caught up to a somewhat stable reality, he helps you. “C’mon, darlin’.” He reaches a hand out to you and you take it, smaller fingers being enveloped by his strong ones. He tugs you up gently and matches the action with a benign, “Up here, now.”

You wipe your tear-stained cheeks with the back of your free hand as he pulls you up onto his lap. Your back leans up against his shoulder and the armrest of his chair, legs hanging off the other side like the bridal-style position. He wraps his big arms around you, knowing your head is still far up in the clouds.

“Did such a good job for me, love. Y’know you always do. One of your best goes yet, don’t ya think?” His hand replaces yours with a duty, thumb swiping over and around your lips to clean you up so tenderly. “You feelin’ quite alright?”

Your mind is beyond numb, words that actually spill coming nowhere near what you’d actually want to say; pour your heart out about how much you’d do for him, how much he means to you. It’s all indescribable. “Mhm…always good f’you.”

“Awh, sweetheart.” His face matches yours with a grin, but the broken grogginess in your voice doesn’t go disregarded. “My poor girl fucked her throat raw like she wanted and now she can barely talk, eh? Is that right?”

You nod drunkenly, still with that needy pout in your demeanor that had him babying you like it was his only responsibility.

He brings the glass of whiskey from his desk and to your mouth, pressing the rim against your puffy lips rather harshly. He’s already beginning to tip the glass towards you, so you have no choice but to open up a bit wider and take what he’s offering. “Take a drink,” he tells you, and you listen.

He actually laughs, watching how you wince and whine from the burning of the hard liquor tainting your throat. Similarly to how his cock was only a moment ago. “Atta girl.”

Something about the control that comes with directing your next move, and your innocence to it, your compliance; it all has his mind elated. The only thing he’s sure of is that he likes it, far more than he probably should. You’re gonna get him in some serious trouble, one day.

You adjust your body on his lap so that you can wrap your arms around his neck and press your chest to his, burying your face in his neck to escape whatever was not him. His beard tickles your skin, and his huge, welcoming frame beneath you grounds and stabilizes you so comfortably like no other.

He brings a hand to drag up your back, tracing your spine a couple times before he palms the back of your head to keep you close. Truthfully, he wants to stay like this until morning.

“What now, pretty? Tell me what you need, anything.”

“Just wanna stay here with you.” You nuzzle in closer, attempting to absorb all of him and be devoured by his being. Your voice is muffled and mumbly due to being pressed up against his neck, “Promise I’ll be quiet while you work.”

He chuckles a light, sincere one, words muttered quietly for the close proximity. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

His eyes land on the door to his office; blinds closed, thick wood and metal sure to keep any noise of your endeavors from reaching the ears of any unsuspecting individual on the other side. He squints his eyes. The door is indeed unlocked, but he can’t seem to view that as an issue anymore. So what if someone were to walk in and see the two of you like this? It’s far past the peak bureaucracy hours of the day, anyhow.

His thumb soothes circles on the back of your head, and he can tell you’re calming down more by the second with the way your chest is gentle against his and your pulse has slowed. “I don’t mind that one bit.”

[holdinonto-heartache]

Netflix And Chill

Summary: Y/N and Louis spend the day in at home together, smoking and 'watching' movies

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, smoking weed, unprotected sex, teasing, creampie, fingering, oral(m), hair pulling, biting, filth

Not a request // not edited

Masterlist

"C'mere, love." Louis extends his arm out to you.

You smile and look down at his hand, "What's in it for me?" You tilt your head and he smirks as he pulls a joint from his hoodie pocket.

He holds it up and raises his eyebrows as he wiggles it back and fourth between his fingers, "This good enough?"

You bite your lip and move down to him. He lights it as you lay between him and the back of the couch, resting your hand on his stomach.

"Here ya go." He puts the joint between your lips and you inhale, closing your eyes as you kiss being sober for the day goodbye.

He pulls it away and puts it back between his own. You open your eyes and take a deep breathe, "wanna watch a movie?"

Louis chuckles, "Sure, love. We can watch a movie." He grabs the remote that's next to him after you take the joint.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You ask trying not to laugh as you take another hit.

You know what it means, you just want to hear Louis say it.

"Mm." He laughs and shakes his head, "You know exactly what I mean, babe." He looks at you and leans in slowly.

Your eyes move from his lips to his eyes.

He smiles and quickly pecks your lips before taking the joint back, taking a hit before handing it back to you.

You take the last hit and lean up to set it in the ashtray, before you exhale, Louis pulls you to him and hovers his lips against yours.

You exhale the smoke into his mouth and he closes the space by kissing you. He places his hands on your cheeks, slowly deepening the kiss.

Your fingers scrunch up his hoodie and you whimper quietly.

Louis moves away, only a little bit, "You know what I mean." He smirks and chuckles as he leans back, pressing play on the movie.

You bite your cheek and nod as you slowly cuddle back into his side. He wraps his arm around you, his fingers resting gently on your hip.

When you're high, you turn into a complete slut for Louis.

And he knows that.

But as said, you just wanted to hear him say that.

You focus on his heartbeat and watch his chest rise and fall. You wanted him so bad, but after what he just did, you wanted to be petty.

You lift your hand up off his stomach and his eyes move to watch it. You move it down and slip it under his hoodie.

You feel the muscles of his bare torso flex against your touch and you bite down on your lip.

He's teasing you without even trying.

Louis one finger starts to lightly draw a circle on your hip.

You bring your one leg up and lay your thigh over his.

He loved when you laid like this on him, even when he knew you were trying to get into his pants.

He wraps his arm tighter around you, laying his hand on your waist, "You enjoying your movie?"

You giggle, "I think it's missing us passing a joint back and fourth."

"That's me girl." Louis says pulling you to him. He laughs and you can't help but smile. He reaches into his hoodie pocket and pulls out another joint.

"How many do you have in there?" You say shocked, "Fuck babe." You laugh and look up at him. He smiles and shrugs, "You've been having some bad days at work, and I just wanted to give you a nice day off."

You smile and lean in to kiss him, "Thank you."

He rolls his eyes and smiles, "Mhm."

He puts the joint between your lips and you guys get back into the cuddling position you were in before.

You bring your leg back up onto his and slip your hand onto his stomach again. His breathing hitches slightly and you smirk knowing that you're getting to him.

He brings the lighter over and carefully lights the joint between your lips. You take a hit and Louis pulls it from your lips, moving it out of the way so he can lean down and breathe in the smoke from your mouth.

Things turn spicy and Louis pulls you on top of him as he pulls you in to kiss you. It gradually turns into a make out, fast.

You moan into his mouth as you grind down onto his growing hard cock, "Need you so bad." You whimper against his lips.

You kiss back his jaw and down his neck. He take a hit of the joint holding it for a few seconds before hitting it a second time.

He gently grabs your chin, pulling you over so you can shotgun the smoke with him.

Your lips barely brushed his, you felt like you needed to kiss him. You wanted to do so many things to this man in this second you felt like you could go crazy.

He blows the smoke into your mouth and you inhale, leaning back to exhale what little smoke was left.

"You're so fuckin' hot, babe." He extends his arm out, holding it between his two fingers. You smirk slightly and lean forward as you slowly move your hips to grind on his cock.

You wrap your lips around the joint and look up at him. His eyes are locked on yours and his thoughts are also locked on to your lips being wrapped around his cock.

"What do you want, babe?" You asks as he pulls the joint back. He presses it to his lips, taking a drag as he still watches you, "I'll tell you-" he says before exhaling.

He leans up ashing in the tray before gripping your hips and sliding his hands up. He grips your shirt and lifts it slightly, "I want this to come off."

You slip your hands under his sweatshirt and gently run your nail up his sides before slipping them out.

You nod and grip his sweatshirt, "I want that too."

He empties his hoodie pocket, which contains another joint, another lighter, and his phone.

You laugh slightly as he lays it down and he looks at you with a smirk. He chuckles as he reaches behind him and pulls the sweatshirt off of his body.

You follow quickly by taking off your shirt.

You toss it down and shrug, "Now what?"

He smirks, "Your turn. Tell me what you want."

You move down and snap the waist band of his shorts, "I want these off."

He tilts his head and nods, "Same for me, love." He smirks and raises his eyebrows.

"Okay." You smirk as you stand up and turn around.

You slowly slip your leggings down over your ass, making sure you give Louis a very good view.

You feel Louis hands on your ass, pulling down your panties and letting them drop before sliding his hands to your hip. 

He pulls you back onto his lap, moving his legs so you sit and lean back against his chest.

You whimper as you feel how hard he is against your back, "please." You whisper quietly and he chuckles lowly, "Do you want me to touch you?"

You nod, "I need you to touch me."

His hands slowly slides up your armsand down your chest, stopping at your boobs. He takes each one in his hand, massaging and kneading gently, "Where else, babe? Hmm?"

He kisses your neck as he pinches and pulls at your nipples. You moan and arch your back, "Here." You take his hand and pull it off your boob and move it down to your pussy, "Please touch my pussy."

Louis groans against your skin as his fingers start to circle your clit, "So, my little slut has finally decided to speak, yeah."

Louis loves when you dirty talk to him. It drives him insane, in a very, very good way.

You moan and tilt your head back more, "Shes always here for you."

Louis slides his hand from your boob to your throat and gently squeezes, "I fucking love you."

You smile and whimper slightly, "I fucking love you."

In one quick motion, he slips his fingers down and dips two of them into you. You gasp and let out a loud moan, "Fuck, yes, yes. Yes."

You clench around his fingers and turn your head towards him. He presses his lips to yours and steadily thrusts his fingers in and out of you.

It's not too fast and it's not too slow. It's the right pace and it's working very well for you so far.

"M'gonna cum." You whimper our against his lips. He slides his hand back down to your boob, pinching and pulling at your nipples.

He kisses down your neck as you tilt your head over more, "b-babe." You clench and hold around his fingers, moaning as you feel yourself being consumed by your orgasm.

"F-fuck. Fu-" you moan and pant as you come down from your high.

Louis slips out his fingers and without even thinking you reach out and grab his arm, bringing his fingers to your mouth.

Louis gasp and groans, "Shit, babe."

He watches in awe how you lick yourself from his fingers.

"Such a dirty girl." Louis whispers as he pulls his fingers from your mouth, "Spin around here, babe."

You turn around, straddling him, "Only for you." You whisper before leaning in to crash your lips onto his.

His hands slide around to your ass, squeezing as you grind down on him, causing him to groan.

You lean in and kiss him before slipping a hand between your bodies. You lay your hand his hard and restrained cock, "I want you in my throat, daddy."

"Go on then, love." Louis eggs you on, "I'm not complaining."

You bite your lip and move down his legs. You palm him though his boxers as you kiss across his stomach. His muscle flex under your touch as he groans, "You're teasing, baby."

"I know." You giggle slightly and slowly pull his boxers down, giving into him.

He lifts his hips up and once they're off, you wrap your hand around his cock licking your lips as you down, taking as much of him in as you can.

He moans and his hands finds it's rightful place on the back of your head, "Fuck.. yes.. babe. That's it." He takes a deep breathe and looked down at you, slightly dazed.

You work down, relaxing the best you can before you feel him slip into your throat, you keep yourself composed, breathing through your nose as tears we'll up in your eyes.

"Okay baby." Louis pulls your head off of him and you gasp slightly, wiping under your eyes and chin. You look up at him and he shakes his head, "I fucking love-" he pulls you over to him by your hands, "-how you look after you suck my cock."

He wraps his arms around your waist and leans in to kiss your chest and slowly works his back up your neck, leaving little marks as he goes.

You moan and tilt your head back, "Please, fuck me."

Louis nips the edge of your ear lobe, "Do it yourself." He slides a hand down to grab his cock and slides the tip against your folds.

You push your hips down, "Fuck, yes. Okay."

He loosens his arm and allows you to move into a more comfortable starting position. You lean back, laying on hand on his shin and the only holding the back of the couch.

Louis licks his lips and takes a second to admire you're soaked pussy.

"You have got such a pretty pussy, babe." He slowly thrusts his hips, rubbing his cock against you, "You're soaked, love. Shit."

You whimper and Louis chuckles, "Got my cock wet without even being in ya." He slips his cock inside of you, moaning as your walls clench around him.

You gasp slightly, moaning quickly after, "Shit, yes daddy, fuck." You start to move your hips, pushing them as far down as you can.

You bring your hand from his shin and place it on his chest. He grabs your other one and lays it over his shoulder as he sits up, moving back to sit up more.

You grip his shoulder and the back of the couch as you start bouncing, moaning and whimpering out his name over and over again.

"Feels so fuckin' good, babe." Louis moans lowly in your ear, "Makes me want to cum already, fuck and we just started.

You smirk and turn your head, meeting his lips with yours.

He slides a hand up, pressing it firmly against the center of your back as he gently wraps his hand around your neck.

You start to grind your hips, whimpering as you squeeze his cock, "m'so close, daddy." You whisper as you slide a hand up his back, tangling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his back.

You open your eyes and you spot the last joint sitting on the cushion. You smirk and lean over to grab it, placing it between your lips.

Louis already has the lighter ready for you.

It's a love language. No matter where your are, cigarettes, joints, anything that you need lit, he lights.

You shake your hair out of the way and lean into the flame. He tosses the lighter onto the couch and lays his hands on your hips.

You place it between his lips and he takes a hit without breaking eye contact with you. You exhale and start to move your hips again, moaning as you sink all the way down.

Louis pulls you to him, blowing the smoke into your mouth and you breathe it in.

You take the joint from his grasp and lean back holding onto the back of the couch again, which gives him the full view of his cock sliding in and out of you.

"Jesus Christ." He groans, "You such a fuckin' dream, y/n."

You smile and exhale the smoke, closing your eyes as you extend your arm out. He takes it slowly, laying a hand on your knee.

You open your eyes and look at him as you slowly slide up and down on his cock, your orgasm coming back quickly, "I'm so close." You whine, "Fuck."

"Need some help?" Louis sits up and wraps his arm around your back, "Lay down, babe. I'll take care of ya."

You move and lay on the couch, taking the joint as Louis moves into his new position. He gets between your legs and you instantly wrap them around his waist,

You take a puff, inhaling loudly as he slips his cock back into you. He tilts his head and groans, "Fuck, I'm not going to be able to hold it much longer babe."

You nod and hold the joint up for him to take the last hit as you exhale, "Okay." You smile up at him and he put the dead joint in the ashtray.

He leans down, blowing the smoke into your mouth as he starts to thrust. You try to keep focus on inhaling but you can help it, you moan and arch your back up off the couch.

"Fuck, daddy." You whine and look up at him.

"Feel good, Mm?" Louis brushes hair from your face as he pushes his cock deeper with each thrust, "you feel-" he leans and kisses you, moaning into your mouth, "fuckin' incredible."

You wrap your arm around his shoulder, laying a hand on his cheek as you deepen the kiss.

He slides his hand down to your waist, fingers pulling at your skin as you both moan into each other.

"M'gonna cum.. fuck." Louis groans as he rests his forehead on yours. You slide a hand down, pressing your fingers to your clit.

You moan at the added pleasure and clench Louis' cock, "Right there." You moan out as Louis pounds into you.

Within minutes, you're orgasming at the same time, clinging to each other like your life depends on it.

"I love you." Louis whispers quietly against your lips.

You smile, "and I love you."

He presses his lips to yours and sits up, pulling out as he looks around, "um."

"Just use my shirt, I'll wash it later." You reach down and grab it for him. You go to the bathroom and then grab a clean shirt and panties before going back out to Louis.

You guys get settled in, all nice and cozy, "Now.. can we actually watch this movie?" Louis look down at you with a cheeky smirk.

"Yeah, that's if you don't start anything this time." You lay your hand on his bare stomach and he tilts his head, "This is how it all started last time."

He tsks his tongue and you smirk up at him, "Why do you think I'm doing it again?"

——

Hi hello! I know it's been a little while since the last Louis one shot so I just wanted go say thank you for being so so patient with me! I hope it was worth the wait! <3

Likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[touretticeddiemunson]

“(if i get more pretty) do you think he will like me?” [wayne’s pov]

summary: transmasc eddie trying so hard to be a girl because he likes steve, and as far as he knows, steve is straight. he’s constantly putting his own mental health in jeopardy just because of a stupid boy.

~

Wayne wonders why his boy is suddenly curling his hair again, putting on lip gloss, and wearing those little black dresses he once wore when he was in junior high. He watches Eddie come home with mascara stains stuck to his cheeks, a dead giveaway that he’d been crying.

It gets to the point that Eddie asks Wayne to stop calling him “he”.

He tells Wayne he’s not a boy, he was wrong; he wanted to be a girl again.

Wayne had no problem making Eddie comfortable, so he did what she wanted. She wanted to be called Ella again, wanted Wayne to take her shopping for different clothes. But even though Ella insisted, Wayne couldn’t help but notice that “Ella” still wasn’t happy. “She” still came home crying, as unhappy as she was before her transition to male, possibly even moreso.

Eddie never seemed the type to pretend to be something he wasn’t. So why was he doing it now? Eddie seemed to be perfectly happy as Eddie.

One day, Wayne’s boy came home in his old clothes. He looked just as dejected as the days he’d come home crying. Every time he asked what was up, Eddie shut him down. He decided to be “Eddie” again, shouted that he was done pretending, that he would never like him anyway. Despite all the questions Wayne had brewing, he knew better than to ask them. It wasn’t like Eddie would answer them.

-

Years went by and his boy still wasn’t happy. He didn’t see him that way until months after the earthquake came and destroyed their house. Even then, he wasn’t himself, and rightfully so. Wayne longed to see his boy the way he was before he was affected by whoever made him question who he wanted to be.

He finally saw Eddie happy again one night. Wayne came home late to find his boy smiling in his sleep on the couch, cheek pressed against the shoulder of the Harrington boy. There was a snuffed joint in the ashtray and a few empty bottles of beer on the floor. He gave Eddie a kiss on the forehead and watched lovingly as the boy shuffled in the other’s strong arms. He wondered if this was the person who’d caused Eddie try to be his old self; the person who made his boy so unhappy. He hoped to whatever god there was that this boy was going to be good to his Eddie, that he wouldn’t make him feel unloved again.

-

Over the course of several more years, the two boys grew closer. They didn’t have to say anything to Wayne for him to know they were in love. They moved off to Chicago with Eddie’s band, where they put out their first album.

-

In the times Eddie was convincing himself that he was supposed to be a girl, Wayne could hear Eddie picking up his guitar in the dead of night and plucking out chords. He heard his quiet, pained voice fighting against sobs, choking out words to a song Eddie was writing.

-

After spending 2 years traveling through America with the band, Corroded Coffin was a household name for metal fans. Eddie became a hot topic in magazines, became a staple of the metal scene. They held their biggest concert at Lollapalooza that year and got Wayne VIP seating.

That evening, they played a new song.

“Is everyone enjoying the show tonight?” Eddie called into the mic. He was met with thunderous cheers, enough to make everyone’s ears ring. “That’s great to hear, you guys. It means a lot that you came out to see us. We’re gonna end the night with a new song and then we’ll turn it over to your next artist, but I have a little to say about it first,” He announced.

The chords took Wayne back to a time he’d never forget. Weeks after the concert, they released their new album containing the song. The album “In the Dead of Night” was a hit everywhere, released on streaming platforms and even printed on vinyl. The moment it hit the record store in Hawkins, Wayne bought the first copy he could get his hands on. He rushed home and put it on his record player, sniffling as the familiar chords reached Wayne’s ears again.

Wayne stood crying in the kitchen next to the record player as he listened to the full product of Eddie’s teenage torment.

“If I get more pretty, do you think he will like me?”

~

a/n: i was inspired by the lyrics of “prom queen” by beach bunny for this. the song is originally about developing an ED, but i also thought that it would fit really well as someone going back in the closet pretending to be someone they’re not.

[lxversharkss]

( LIL P ! )

warnings : one swear word , platonic! ashtray , fez and reader are dating

a/n : in love with the sibling relationship ash and reader have.

requested : no

summary : ashtray and reader buy a dog and try to hide it from fez

ashtray rolled his eyes as you held the dog close to your body, as if you were cuddling it (which you were and had no shame in admitting that).

but when he held the dog all his ‘tough guy’ acts dropped and all he wanted to go was take him home.

so that’s what you did.

“what should we name him?” you mumbled, as you stroked the adorable puppy.

ash shrugged, “i dunno. maybe, lil p”

“lil p?” you questioned, holding back your laugh.

“yeah , stands for little pup” ash told you, taking the dog off you and into his arms. “don’t like it?”

you smiled softly, looking at the boy you considered your son brother. “I love it”

the sound of the door unlocking filled both your ears, you turned to face each other with wide eyes. neither of you asked fez if you could get a dog, ash whisper-yelled, “what do we do?”

“uh - go hide the dog in your room and I’ll put all your stuff in the bathroom closet, he never goes in there.” you explained.

with one quick nod, you both split up and done what you were supposed to. after, ash was sitting on the sofa and you quickly jumped next to him.

fez came into the room, “hey ma” he placed a quick peck on your lips with a smile. “hey , ash”

ash nodded at him , to focused to the sound of little steps in the background.

“be right back.” he told the two, before going into the bathroom. “uh, y/n. why is there all dog stuff in the closet?”

“I don’t know.” you called back.

ash turned to you, “we need to get lil p outta here.”

“why? lil p is fine in your room.” you shrugged it off before turning back round and seeing the puppy on the floor , right by your feet. “ash? why didn’t you shut the door?”

the boy stayed silent, the sound of the toilet flushing filled the room as you quickly (but gently) grab the door and hide him behind you. ash smiled with a playfully roll of his eyes, while you acted like the dog wasn’t there.

“yo, ma.” fez said , “what the fuck is that dog doin here?”

“what dog?” you acted clueless.

ash received a look from fez that made him exclaim, “it was her idea!”

“you snitch! he named it.”

“you paid for it”

“you tricked me into getting a dog.”

“no I didn’t , it was all your idea.”

“no , you said ‘let’s got to the pet store’ to just look at some dogs when you knew how much I wanted one.”

fez just sat there with an amused expression .

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic May 4 - prompt 4: Marriage of Convenience [word count 759]

“Mais merde à la fin!” Sirius cursed, failing for the third time to properly knot his tie.

“Here, let me help you.”

James got up from the bed and reached for Sirius, his fingers deftly working on the tie, his own already perfect and a white rose in his lapel.

“There you go,” James forced a smile before he sighed. “I really hate this. I’m supposed to help you fix your tie the day of your wedding to the love of your life, not as you get ready to marry a complete stranger.”

“Yeah, well, blame your fellow countrymen for taking this place out of the EU,” Sirius grumbled. “It’s either this or me having to move back to France and I haven’t lived there since I was three.”

Sirius gritted his teeth. After the exit polls things had gone barreling towards the worst for him quite quickly, ending him up in the position he was in that very day, with only those two options, the second of which he refused to consider. His whole life was in London, he wasn’t about to move. So he had to marry someone with a citizenship as soon as possible before the new laws ended up with him being deported. Thankfully, he hadn’t been alone in that. The London queer community had so many people in his same situation that Lily and her girlfriend Pandora had immediately sprung into action, changing the goal of their charity into something that these days resembled a matchmaking scheme. At first they had had the time to set up meetings between people, but as time ran out and laws were made and protests ignored it had all turned into a text with a picture, a name and date, time and location of the wedding. Since he knew her well, Sirius had been privileged enough to get a call from Lily after she had sent him a picture of a guy in a brown velvet jacket, a book in his hands.

“He’s a good friend of mine, Sirius, and he’s truly a wonderful person. He’s very active in the community and teaches at UCL, I’m sure you two will get along.”

He had thanked her but shrugged it all off. It wasn’t as if they needed to like each other to sign a piece of paper. This Remus Lupin had volunteered to help out, they would both walk into the marriage office knowing it was just for convenience.

“It should’ve been me,” James sighed as he slipped another white rose in Sirius’s lapel. “If you have to marry someone to stay in the country it’d be better if it was your best friend.”

“You’re already doing that for Regulus, James.”

“That’s different, Regulus is my boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and he would murder me if I tried to marry you before he could,” Sirius laughed, then he patted James’s arm. “Let’s go, it would be rude to keep my future husband waiting.”

The ride to the registry office was silent, and when they emerged on the steps of the building Sirius immediately scanned the crowd, looking for the man in the picture.

“That must be him,” James said behind him. “By the main door, talking with Lily.”

Sirius looked up and blinked a couple of times. Remus Lupin was very tall, dressed in a navy blue suit, a white rose in his lapel too and a cigarette in hand.

“God Prongs, he’s hot,” he whispered.

“He really is,” James chuckled. “Come on, let’s go to them.”

They walked up the steps and Sirius had the time to detail Remus’s soft-looking hair, his long fingers and the way his white shirt hugged his torso. He almost didn’t greet Lily when they stopped in front of them.

“Your picture really didn’t do you justice,” Remus smiled at him. “And it was one of the hottest pictures I’ve ever seen all the same.”

Sirius felt himself blush as he shook his hand.

“So you’re doing this only because you find me handsome?” he chose to say.

“Anything to send a big fuck you to this government,” Remus shrugged.

“A real Englishman in shining armour then.”

“Fuck that, I’m Welsh.”

Remus put his cigarette in the nearest ashtray and extended his hand.

“Shall we go pledge our love until death do us part then?”

As Sirius walked into the registry, his fingers intertwined with a stranger’s and his heart pounding he decided he would wait until they had both said yes and then he would ask his husband out on a first date.

[ledder4]

taskforce 141

womenpov

wordcount:2357

Word spread fast enough of the collective interest in y/n, boys will be boys and locker rooms are made for talking. They welcomed her to the team six months ago, and she has occupied many after-mission conversations for the last four. Of course, they're all interested for their own reasons, but they found a common goal: her submission.

When the news broke of mandatory time off, Soap and Gaz all but dropped to their knees and begged Station Chief Laswell to let them stay on base for the duration, badgering her until she relented. Once she said yes to them, she couldn’t refuse the others, and suddenly five men are sulking around base with nothing to do while their muse runs off on solo missions.

They all have a pretty good idea of what they want to do with this time off, though.

8 days into their supposed ‘vacation’, the apple of their eye finally had a night off, which Soap took as an opportunity to invite her to drinks in the common room. It started innocently enough, he was just inviting her for drinks with the guys, but with a week of agonizing nothingness under their belt, that purity doesn’t last.

Their shared agenda quickly became apparent: feed her drinks and loosen her up. It didn't take long for them to turn her into a giggly, drunken mess, not with them all subtly compelling her toward excess. Soap started playing music from his phone, pulling a stumbling y/n onto her feet to dance with him, and it only escalated from there. Careful touches and gentle teasing quickly turned into fervent groping and whispered provocations. And once he had her like putty in his hands, he decided to put on a little spectacle of his own orchestration.

Which brings us to now.

Soap sits cross-legged in front of her, watching as their lovely recruit humps and grinds against a pillow on the floor. A fixed grin is adorning his lips and a red tinge has settled on his face, a testament to the adrenaline-liquor mixture that is coursing through him. He can't believe he got her to do this. And seeing her like this, touching her like this, it's more than just a rush. His fingers trail over her body, tracing the swell of her breasts and teasing her nipples, worshiping her delicate curves and all her little scars with a reverent touch. So perfect, Soap muses silently, his eyes trained on the subtle nuances of her pleasure. Such a beautiful sight.

Seated adjacent to Soap, Gaz leans in closer to her, guiding her movements with a tight grip on her left hip. His fingers press into her skin, forcing her to stay in rhythm. “Don’t go slowing down on us now, sweetheart. We’re just getting started,” he murmurs, a mellifluous lilt to his voice. He can't remember the last time he felt like this, the pulsing in his jeans rendering him acutely aware of every beat of his heart. He isn't sure how much longer he can half-participate, he's twitching at the thought of pounding into her.

Two thin wisps of smoke linger over a nearby couch where Price and König are seated, languidly puffing at cigars, amber-colored whiskey swirling in a glass in the older man’s hand. They're both completely rapt by the performance. Price is content to be a passive observer, allowing the boys to have their fun for the moment. He’ll be filling one of those pretty holes soon enough. If you asked him right now, he would say that they need this. Standard rest and recovery aren’t going to cut it. His motivations for allowing this are selfish too, though. He is but a man, and what man wouldn't want to witness the transformation of a pretty, respectable woman into a creature of primal desire?

Less keen on staying uninvolved, König’s fingers twitch as he taps off the ash on his cigar. His eyes flick between y/n and the smoldering vice tucked between his digits, contemplating for a second before it is stamped out in the ashtray. He pulls his hood down from its perch on the bridge of his nose, enveloping the sliver of his features once exposed back into the sanctity of cover. He moves to join Soap and Gaz, sighing softly as he lowers himself to the floor. “Can’t let you hunds have all the fun,” he quips with a chuckle, tracing a path along her thigh. His other hand comes up to her visage, caressing her bottom lip with his thumb, then his index finger. “Look at you, Maus. You’re doing so well for us, putting on a show.”

Ghost’s fingertip dances lightly across the rim of his glass as he watches the scene unfold, his broad frame casually leaning against a counter on the other side of the room. He is caught between curiosity about where this goes on its own and the desire to walk over there now so he can drag her back to the couch and fuck her properly. Such a good little whore, his mind whirs as he reaches down to adjust the painfully tight bulge growing in his jeans. She truly is a sight to see when she’s like this, he can't help but wonder how pretty she’ll look when he's gripping her throat and spitting in her mouth.

The room is thick with the heady mix of lust, alcohol, and testosterone. The air is charged, and the tension is palpable. Every touch, every word, and every movement seems to reverberate through the room. Soap’s fingers graze her nipple again, tugging gently, sending a shudder through her body. The moan that escapes her lips is ragged, needy.

Gaz chuckles, his grip tightening for just a moment, making her gasp. “That’s it, baby. Let us hear you. We love it when you make that sound.” He leans in, his lips brushing against her ear as he speaks, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. “You’re ours now, aren’t you? You’re going to do everything we tell you, aren’t you?”

The question hangs in the air, and she can’t help but nod, her cheeks flushed, her eyes searching for approval.

Price, watching from the sidelines, can’t help but let out a quiet, approving hum. Gaz’s words are a command, and she obeys without hesitation. He’s always admired that in a partner, that willingness to submit to the whims of another. He’s not surprised to find this trait in their new recruit, but it does make him all the more eager to claim her.

König’s fingers tease along the edge of her panties, dipping just a little, brushing against the slick heat beneath. He looks up at her, his eyes hidden behind the black cloth of his hood, but his voice is gentle. “You’re a good girl, Maus. Now, let’s see how good you are at swallowing.”

Ghost, unable to resist any longer, strides over to join the group. His voice is rough, commanding, as he speaks. “Get rid of those, now.” He gestures to her clothing, and she hastily shimmies out of the confines of her pants, leaving her in nothing but her bra and lace thong.

Gaz grins, pushing her down onto her back, her legs spread wide, her wanton display causing his cock to strain even more against his pants. Soap, meanwhile, has pulled off his own trousers, his erection standing proudly at attention. He moves between her legs, rubbing the tip of his cock against her swollen clit, teasing her.

Gaz’s hand slides between her legs, his fingers finding her slick entrance. He pushes one inside, then another, stretching her, preparing her for the onslaught. “Feels good, doesn't it, babe?” His thumb brushes against her clit, rubbing in circles, sending waves of pleasure through her.

Ghost, unable to wait any longer, rips open his fly and frees his throbbing cock. He positions himself between her legs, guiding the head of his cock against her entrance. He looks her in the eye, his expression a mix of hunger and possession. “I’m going to fuck you now, Maus. You’re going to take every inch I give you.”

He thrusts in, burying himself deep inside her. She gasps, her back arching off the floor, her eyes wide with both pain and pleasure. He begins to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed, his hips slapping against her ass with a rhythmic thud.

Soap, not to be left out, moves in beside Ghost, his own cock ready to join the fray. He lines up his shaft with her entrance, and plunges in, stretching her even further. The two men begin to fuck her in unison, their movements synchronized, their grunts and groans filling the room.

Gaz, still between her legs, continues to rub her clit, his fingers working in tandem with the thrusts of Soap and Ghost. His other hand roams up to her breast, pinching her nipple, twisting it roughly. “Such a good little slut, taking it like a champ. You’re going to cum for us, aren’t you?”

König, still cloaked in the shadows of his hood, moves in close, his hands cupping her face. He leans down, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss. As their lips part, he slides his tongue into her mouth, exploring, tasting. He pulls away, leaving her breathless, her eyes searching his.

Price, watching from the sidelines, feels a surge of desire. He can’t resist any longer. His hand finds its way to his cock, stroking through his pants. He’s always enjoyed a good show, and this certainly qualifies.

Ghost and Soap continue to pound into her, their rhythm relentless. Sweat drips from their bodies, coating her skin. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, her body trembling as she nears the edge.

Gaz, seeing her imminent release, leans in, his breath hot against her ear. “Cum for us, Maus. Let us hear you. Let us feel you."

The words are the final push she needs. Her body convulses, her pussy clenching around the intruding cocks, her release washing over her in waves. The men continue to fuck her, their own climaxes building.

Ghost grunts, his thrusts growing more erratic. He pulls out, his cock pulsing as he coats her stomach with his seed. Soap follows suit, his hot release filling her to the brim. The two men stand there, panting, their cocks still twitching, as they watch their cum leak from her quivering pussy.

Gaz, his own release close, pulls away, his hand wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock. He jerks himself, his eyes never leaving her face. With a loud groan, he comes, his cum splattering across her tits, painting her in their combined release.

König, still watching, reaches down, his fingers tracing the path of Soap’s cum across her stomach. He brings his fingers to his lips, tasting her, savoring their conquest.

Price, unable to resist any longer, steps forward, removing his pants and underwear in one swift motion. His cock, already hard, stands at attention, begging for attention. “Time for my turn,” he growls, eager to claim her mouth as his own.

He moves in, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep, demanding submission. His hands roam her body, teasing her nipples, kneading her ass. The other men, spent, watch with hungry eyes, their cocks still half-hard.

Price breaks the kiss, his voice a low growl. “On your knees, Maus.” He doesn't wait for a response, instead, he pushes her down until she's kneeling before him. Her eyes meet his, fear and excitement mingling in her gaze. Price smiles, a predatory grin that makes her heart race. “Good girl. Now, show me how much you appreciate what we’ve given you.”

She reaches out, her hand wrapping around his cock, slowly stroking him. Her head bobs forward, her lips brushing against the head of his cock, teasing him. Price groans, his hand tangling in her hair, guiding her movements.

As she takes him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head, he lets out a soft moan. The other men watch, their cocks stirring, eager for another round. Price thrusts into her mouth, his hips moving in a steady rhythm.

Gaz, Soap, and Ghost, their lust sated for now, sit back, watching the scene unfold, their hands roaming over one another's bodies, soothing the ache left by their release. Price, however, is not far behind. His thrusts grow more erratic, his breaths coming in short, sharp pants.

He pulls out, his cock glistening with her saliva. “On your back, now.” He pushes her down, her body landing on the floor with a soft thud. Price positions himself between her legs, his eyes dark with desire. “I’m going to fuck you, Maus, and when I do, I want to hear you scream my name.”

With that, he thrusts into her, filling her once more. Her back arches, her nails digging into the floor as she takes him. Her moans fill the room, each one a melodic symphony to his ears.

Ghost, Soap, and Gaz watch, their cocks hardening again, the sight of Price taking her driving them wild. They get to their feet, ready to join in once more.

Price’s thrusts become more frenzied, his balls slapping against her ass with each powerful stroke. He reaches down, his hand finding her clit, rubbing it roughly. The sensation, coupled with his relentless pounding, sends her over the edge once more.

Price, feeling her tighten around him, grunts, his release imminent. He pulls out, his hot seed splashing against her stomach, joining the others. He collapses beside her, panting, his chest heaving.

The room is filled with the scent of sex and sweat, the air thick with the aftermath of their debauchery. The men, sated for now, lay around her, their bodies still connected, their breaths slowly evening out.

In the afterglow, they lay, basking in the satisfaction of their conquest. They’ve claimed her, made her theirs, and in doing so, they’ve forged a bond that transcends their missions.

Taskforce 141, a multinational elite

made by ledder4

[gfmima]

c. 東京卍リベンジャーズ | tokyo revengers + f!reader t. showing why flirting with his girl is a no-no

on nights you had time to spare, you went with your darling boyfriend on his gigs at the club he and his brother owned. you had nothing to worry over, most of your needs were taken care of the moment word spreads of your visit. all you had to do was sit pretty, drink, and watch him do his setlist.

you were utterly wrong when a strange man chose to settle down on the stool next to you despite the empty bar. a tragedy that frequent clubgoers were constantly reminded of after hearing tales of broken bones and disappearances.

his other error was calling the music blasting “lame noise,” believing it would make him appear intelligent and impress you. when in fact, it made him look like a conceited moron.

it was pathetic.

with the scummiest attempt at a smile you’ve ever seen, he drawls out, “ya’ come here often, cutie-pie?”

you cringe hard.

“my visits here are none of your concern.” peering across at rindō, you give him a reassuring nod, telling him nonverbally to relax and concentrate on his set because you could handle one moron for the evening. it wasn’t a big deal to you, but it was for him.

every now and again, he takes a glimpse at you to check on how you were faring. he wanted to know you were find, despite the fact that he might have behaved like a madman. and he didn’t try to hide his emotions. the way the music would increase each time the stranger opened his mouth to offer another overused pick-up line was no fluke on his part either.

he knows you’ll turn down the advances of the ugly bastard, for sure. he knows you were highly capable of taking care of yourself. he saw how decently you carry yourself around his friends and associates.

however, it doesn't mean he won’t fret over your well-being or not be irritated about the unfamiliar bloke next to you. even from the distance between his station and the bar, he couldn’t help but keep a super close eye on you throughout the evening while he transitioned from mix to mix.

ran begrudgingly volunteers to run the DJ booth. 

he had been eager to intervene soon when he first glimpsed the immature scowl on his brother’s face. it was irritating to see him mope around like a mutt in desperate need of its owner. and it was an even more pathetic sight to witness on a haitani of all people.

lighting the cigarette hanging loosely on his lips, he motions for rindō to move along. it was conceited to believe he’d let him anywhere near his ‘darling booth.’ suppose he damages it; misses the ashtray and digs the bud to its body? besides, he’d rather spare himself the argument and continue to sulk in place unless beckoned.

“you’re being a pussy, rindō.” then exhales the smoke in his direction.

he says nothing.

instead he raises the volume until it drowns ran’s voice. the last thing he needs is for him to pull the ‘older brother’ card and nag his ear off.

his brooding comes to a halt once your eyes lock again; this time with you wordlessly asking for him to interject. a surge of adrenaline flows through his veins, he chuckles,

it’s been a while since he started a fight.

“get away from her.” his tone eerily aloof. whispers start up, filled with interest and fear for the guy who is about to meet his end.

“or what, four-eyes?” he mocks, and takes a long gulp of his drink before slamming it down on the bar counter with such force that several onlookers were surprised it didn’t break in his palm.

ran lets out a low whistle.

your boyfriend didn’t hesitate a second later to hit the man on the nose, earning a startled yell at his eagerness to start a brawl. and it didn’t end there! rindō grabs him by the collar and continues to harass him until he was begging for him to stop.

“did you miss me, ‘fuyu~ ♡?”

“can you not be annoying?”

takemitchy awkwardly laughs along. he didn’t know what to do. he heard many stories about the former vice-captain of the first division from baji and chifuyu, though, to finally hang out with the young man himself was a meeting he was happy he didn’t forget.

you happen to come as well which was a big relief since you could keep him in check before he drives chifuyu mad.

he would’ve never figured ryusei was once part of the tokyo manji gang, much more a vice-captain, by the way he carries the conversation for them all buddy-buddy. you had excused yourself from the table minutes ago to order more drinks for the group. and while it was subtle to most but not to takemitchy’s keen eyes, he caught his gaze wandering to your figure every so often to confirm you were okay.

ryusei took his duties as your boyfriend seriously — enough so, he was willing to be thrown out of the restaurant. 

his patience was put to a test as soon as that bastard came up to you. he wasn’t familiar with his name yet he does recognize him as the coursemate you frequently rant about to him during those late night phone calls. in your words, he was a nuisance.

tanaka? or was it takaeda? whatever. he didn’t understand that “no” means “no,” desperate to arrange a date with you regardless of how goofy it made him appear.

“can you quit it? you know that i’m taken. so, why don’t you bother someone else, yeah?” he listens to you not so kindly turn him down. his mouth slips a wisp of a grin, he didn’t need to look to know your arms were crossed and your face bore the most judgemental expression.

“oh, c’mon! he doesn’t need to know.”

ryusei’s eye twitches.

“talk to a brick wall. ‘m not interested.”

one after another, a pool of thoughts flood his head, lagging his ability to think clearly. all that was going through his mind were methods to beat up this scumbag and a barrage of obscenities he would’ve said if you weren’t there to scold him like a disgruntled mother in front of his friends. 

chifuyu, who used to work alongside him, notices the quick change in his attitude and instantly sighs to himself for the ensuing catastrophe to happen. takemitchy, on the other hand, sweats from the heavy, tense atmosphere inside the booth.

“don’t make a scene!”

he rests a hand on his chest in mock offense. “i could never do that!” he pouts. “have you no faith in me, ‘fuyu? i’m simply going to make sure my girl is okay. i know you won’t get it but i’m sure takemitchy does.” then stands up before either of them could say a response.

“hey! what’s that supposed to mean?!”

up until this point, takemitchy had trouble viewing ryusei in the role of former vice-captain of the first division. he didn’t realize how unnerving he could be when you were the object of his ire. without the charming, boyish grin, his new friend emitted a darker aura. he would’ve meddled as usual but if hinata had been in a similar predicament, he would’ve done the same.

he shoves the bastard to the side and rests his arm by your waist to pull you away from his poor attempt at wooing you. “move it. you’re upsetting my girl here.”

ryusei would say he was a good partner. he was patient, not overprotective, and respected your boundaries. he wasn’t easily annoyed but this stranger was beginning to get on his nerves. he wasn’t going to cause any trouble, not after right after he swore he’d behave. he wasn’t listening to a word this guy said, he was going to shrug it off either way until he catches you mime a tiny, “do it,” at him.

your lover delivers a solid hit to his face before he can throw another remark. “what the hell?! fuck, she isn’t even worth all the trouble!” he shouts, as he slumps backward.

once he fled the restaurant, ryusei drifts back to his regular demeanor and feigns an injury in spite his time as a former gang member to have you coddle him.

what a baby.

[missadangel]

Little Bird in a Cage (Javier Peña x Reader)

Part 2 -Kidnapped Again-

Gifs by dinjarring - perotovar - djo

---------------------------- All episodes here ------------------------

The days continued to pass in the same monotonous way, but finally something new had happened. You were now allowed to walk inside the building. To being a good girl, Javi said.

So what it really meant was that you didn't try to escape anymore.

Fucking asshole.

The building was like an old military guesthouse, 2 flat with high and wide hallways, probably having more than 20 rooms. Javi and the others staying in these rooms, but spending their most time in the common area. In this area there was a TV, radio, 3 seater couch, and lots of ashtrays. Cigarette smoke was everywhere, even from a distance you could smell it.

On instinct you thought more than once how you could escape from the building, but it was almost impossible. The soldiers were everywhere.

You were tired of even thinking about it, so just wanted to let it go for now.

----

One morning when you left the room and went downstairs, Chris and Daniel were discussing something, there were a lot of photos and folders in front of them. It was like the case files the cops were going through.

Your eyes looked for Javi and as you looked around, noticed that he was talking on the phone -that you tried to call your father couple times but failed- a little further away, he noticed you immediately, but he lift the phone receiver up making gesture like saying “hey”.

You responded with a half smile and then he turned around, oh you wished he hadn't, he looked much more attractive from behind.

The tight jeans he was wearing showed off his great ass. Suddenly you realized that you flushed and you turned around afraid to caught by him. This kinda thoughts were getting into your head a lot lately and you cursed yourself for not being able to control it.

You looked at the photo Daniel holding.

"This is my house," you said quickly.

Daniel and Chris looked at each other.

"Yes, senorita," Daniel said, "well we..."

"It's okay, I know you followed me, didn’t mean to interrupt you guys," you said, but again someone's face looked very familiar in the photos.

"It's Jorge," you said surprisingly, and this time your voice rang like a silver bell all of the hallway.

Daniel and Chris looked at you curiously.

"Do you know him?"

You slowly nodded your head yes, but you were also worried about Jorge, as far as you knew he was a good guy.

"Okay, keep me posted.” Javi said before he hung up the phone and hurried coming close to you.

"Jorge is a good guy why do you have his photo?" you asked almost mumbling.

"Y/N, how do you know him?" Javi crossed his arms and sat on the arm of the couch where Daniel was sitting on.

You looked up at him, his brown eyes looking at you piercingly, you felt a little like you were being interrogated by this former agent.

"He came to our house a few times, he was nice to me, but, my dad used to talk to him in private. I have no idea what they were talking about but you're not going to do anything to him are you?"

When Javi saw you tense up, he sit beside you. There was a strange excitement in his eyes, but his piercing gaze was back and torturing you again.

"Of course nothing will happen, he's important for us like Cali's KGB," the honesty in his voice was palpable. "He's actually contacted us, but we're not sure if we can trust him yet or not."

"You can, I don't think he would lie, but of course I can't be sure, no one can be trusted these days anymore."

The sarcasm in your voice made Javi roll his eyes, he stood up but eyes locked on you again thinking about something.

"We were supposed to meet him tomorrow," Chris said, "after Gilberto, sir, this might be our only chance to catch his brother."

"Okay, let's do it," Javi said, can't stop smiling at your stubborn attitude though.

Chris and Daniel walked outside in a hurry.

“By the way,” Javi put his hands on waist.

"I'm going to see your dad tomorrow," he finally said.

You were excited for a moment, but then feeling down again, knowing that you wouldn't be able to see him.

"If I asked you to take me with you, you wouldn't, would you?" you asked desperately.

Javi shook his head as no.

"But soon you’re gonna see him again, I promise."

"I hope you keep your promise, Javi," you said without looking at him.

"I believe that we can get along with him," he said sincerely.

As he was about to leave, he plucked a red rose from the ivy that grew from outside through the window.

"Just hang in there little bird, you’ll be free soon" gives you the rose, he winking at you and walked out with that wonderful smile of his.

“’lll try,” smelling the rose he gave you.

It was weird that you can't get mad at him anymore.

---

As soon as Javi left the minister's office, he went downstairs and lit a cigarette. He had just been rewarded for the successful capture of Gilberto Rodriguez. As he enjoyed his cigarette, happy with his victory, he thought of you. He was happy that he was going to keep his promise, but there was something he has to do first.

As he walked into the DEA building, everyone who saw him was congratulating and cheering.

Agent Javier Peña is back.

After getting his gun and badge, he stayed there for a while to celebrate with Chris and Daniel over a drink.

Then when everyone there insisted on going to the bar, he couldn't resist them. They were all quite happy, celebrating and laughing, but also aware that they were just getting started. Javi was close to getting drunk when he saw a familiar face. He was wellknown at this bar so he knew almost all the waitresses.

"Javi," one of the girls said, put her tray on the table and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Why don't we celebrate this together, like the old days," she smirked. "You haven't forgotten the wonderful moments we had, have you?"

When she reached up to kiss him, Javi stopped her and gently lifted her arms around his neck and pushed her away.

"Not tonight, sweetheart," he winked.

"Wow, normally you wouldn't say no to that, but whatever," she said and picked up the tray and move behind the bar, looking quite upset. All Javi could think about right now was you, and maybe this was the first time he'd ever missed an opportunity for sex.

------

By the time you were getting ready for bed, you wondered what was taking Javi so long, why he wouldn’t come, however you were tired of thinking and wanted to go to sleep.

When you pulled the cover of bed, you realized that a piece of paper had been pushed under the door. It was a letter.

With so many questions running through your head, your first thought was to open the door and look into the hallway. But no one was there.

You opened the letter in a hurry and curiously.

"You will see your father tonight, be ready."

Your heart raced, hands shaking. "What in the world,” you said to yourself.

Who could have sent it? Your first thought was Javi, but why would he write a letter?

No, it was probably someone else. But who. What if it was a trap? The possibilities were many, but time was short.

Who could you tell about this?

Finally you open the door slowly, looked down the corridor, the soldiers were still walking around. Was it one of them? You thought of calling Javi, but the soldiers were downstairs, watching over the phone specially because you had tried to call your father several times before.

You went back to the room and closed the door slowly, you body starting to shake. Was your father specially sending troops with the support of the army? Could it be?

"What should I do, what should I do,"  said to yourself as wondered if there was a traitor among the soldiers. Well, he or she wasn't a traitor to you, of course, but still, you couldn't trust anyone.

You get super impatient, opened the door of the room quietly again and looking around. It didn't feel right to wait quietly, so you wanted to try your best.

The soldiers were coming and going, two by two, counting how long it takes, and you had about 30 seconds to get yourself out somehow. Without thinking too much, you tiptoed down the corridor once the soldiers were on the other side. As soon as you heard the footsteps you hid behind the couch, and by the time they turned around for another round you had made it out. This was different from the last time you tried to escape. This time you didn't know what you were running from or where.

This was so stupid of you but you couldn't just sit and wait.

The soldiers outside were talking about something among themselves. This was good for you, first wanted to go to Don Berna who you believed was Javi's ally, can help you. Yes, he is the one who helped him to kidnap you too, but you had no choice, you trusted Javi, you trusted him to take you to your father one way or another.

It was just something doesn't right with that note.

You weren't sure where Don Berna was staying or even if he was here now, but you had to try. When you move forward you accidentally stepped on a piece of broken glass, fuck, then someone grabbed you from behind.

“What do we have here?”

A soldier grabbed your arm roughly, cocky smile on his face.

"I wasn't running away, really," you tried to convince him. "If you take me to Don Berna, I want to tell him--"

“Move,” he jerking your arm roughly heading to the dark green tent out front.

As soon as you entered the tent, you were shocked to see the commander pointing a gun at Don Berna's face. All the soldiers were also pointing their guns at the other men. You were confused, but this made you panicked even more.

"Ah, senorita, you couldn't wait, could you?" the commander laughed looking at you, without moving his hand.

"Fuckin motherfucker, I paid you generously, what the fuck is this? We had an agreement for fucks sake."

"I'm sorry Mr. Berna, but Miguel Rodriguez offered 5 times what you paid for this girl. So what could i do? we're mercenaries, right guys?"

All the soldiers nodded smirking.

"Yes, sir."

"And I have no faith in that fucking agent Peña to do what he promised," he added.

"Miguel Rodriguez? But note you sent to my room were saying im gonna see my father," you yelled at him.

"If only you had waited in your room like you were told, senorita, you wouldn't have seen this part and you would keep thinking you were going to see your father, but what the hell, you'll suffer the consequences. What the fuck are you waiting for? Get her on the fuckin helicopter now!" he ordered his soldiers.

"No, let go," you screamed with all your might, but you were dragged into the helicopter anyway.

It was the second time this happening, you were kidnapping again, but this time you were more afraid of where you were going. You wished you could lost your consciousness again.

As tears falling down your cheeks, thinking about Javi, you would rather he kidnaps you instead.

-----

“FUCK!!!”

When Javi returned to the military base, he was so angry when he find out. He clenching his fists and banging them against the wall wanted to smash everything close.

He had never felt so angry and helpless. 

"We'll find her," Chris said, trying to calm him down.

Daniel added.

"So yes, you're officially an agent now, we can use all our powers to find her. Right?"

"Sure, lemme call the headquarters," Chris run towards to phone.

"We'll back you up," Don Berna said. "I'll do anything to end Cali. Motherfuckers. Miguel made a fool out of me, the fucking cartel king."

He spitting with anger while talking.

Javi walked inside without saying anything, all he could think about as he lit his cigarette was you, he had promised that you wouldn't get hurt, but how was he going to keep that promise now?

As the thoughts raced through his head looked at the red roses and promised to himself.

"I will find you and bring you back little bird, no matter what.”

-------

It was around 3 a.m. when the helicopter approached the helicopter landing area of a large mansion.

Armed men were everywhere, all dressed in civilian clothes, unlike the soldiers, but they all had guns just like them.

As soon as the helicopter landed, the commander grabbed you by the arm and pulled you. He helped you step down and kept pulling you towards a tall man in a suit waiting in the courtyard of the mansion.

"Here, sir, I brought her."

He pushed you forward towards the man. Fucking bastard.

The man in the suit clapped his hands happily.

"Great, now pay the commander and his unit and send them on their way,”

He made hand gesture to his men. “And you,” he looked at you.

“You come with me honey," he said calmly but commanding.  

Unlike the commander, the man didn't grab your arm, he offered his hand for you to take.

"My hand waiting, honey," he said in a threatening tone.

You had to take this stranger's hand even if this disgusts you, but of course you had a guess. This must be the man they called Miguel.

He began to introduce himself as he escorted you inside.

"I'm Miguel, and this is my personal living space, it's a bit of an insult to call it home, you understand right," he laughed to himself.

He was promoting the house like a real estate agent which was super weird.

"And you, sweet Y/N, welcome. You know, your father and I are kind of close friends."

"Then take me to my father." your voice was louder than you wanted it to be.

Miguel stopped and looked at you and you felt a shiver run down your spine. Because this man was looking calm and very threatening at the same time.

"Sweet Y/N, you're going to have to stay here for a while, until we work things out with your father, do you understand? hm?"

"Besides," he continued as he opened a door with golden ornaments on it," whatever you wanti your needs, will be done here, don't worry."

"I've heard that before," you muttered.

He laughed at your reaction.

"One more thing," said Miguel raising his indexfinger just like trying to warn you.

Also with one hand he brushes your hair which was in mess because of the helicopter ride.

Man, this motherfucker likes to touch.

"If you try to betray me, intent to leave or sneak out and somehow get to your friends from DEA, then you no longer will be my friend's daughter, but instead, you will be the most worthless person in the world to me, okay?"

He put his hands on your shoulder now which disgusts you badly. Looks like he wants to be sure about you understand him clearly. You gulped and nodded.

"Great! Good girl," he clapped his hands again.

"Good night, sweetie."

When the door closed your body collapsed on the floor, feeling exhausted, this night consumed you badly.

"Jesus! What a nightmare!"

----------------------------- All episodes here ------------------------

[stellar-collective]

Not Worried

a quick IEYTD Ollix fic

the fic behind this drawing i made :P my first time sharing my writing, hope you guys like it!

when Reginald shows up to work sick, Ollie volunteers to cover Agent Phoenix’s next mission. Ollie knows it’ll be dangerous, but he’s not worried. 

  Content Warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, knives, needles, stitches

  “Morning, Mr. Crane!” Ollie opened the door to the office, carefully balancing two mugs brimming with coffee. “I brought your—“ he cut himself off as he saw Mr. Crane. “Wow, you look awful!”

  Reginald Crane, the lead support agent and his superior at the Agency, was normally bright-eyed and ready for action, but today he looked exhausted. His eyes were puffy and his face was unusually pale. 

  “Thank you for noticing, Ollie.” Mr. Crane said wryly. His voice was thick and scratchy. 

  “You sound awful, too!” Ollie set both mugs on the desk, concerned. “Are you sick?”

  “That’s one way to put it. I’m afraid that I have too much to do today to call out, though.”

  “Nonsense; you’re no help to anyone like this. What’ve you got? I can fill in for you!”

  “Ah, well—“ Mr. Crane rubbed the back of his neck. “We have a mission for Agent Phoenix scheduled today. We located a large Zoraxis facility that we believe has some valuable equipment inside. They were supposed to go in, steal what they could, and burn what they couldn’t. I was going to run point for them.”

  “A mission with Phoenix?” Ollie’s eyes lit up. “I’d be happy to take that off your hands for ya!”

  “Really?” Mr. Crane’s eyebrows raised. “Are you sure? It’s going to be dangerous. Running point for Agent Phoenix is no game. They may need direct back-up. Are you… certain you could handle that?”

  “I managed to survive Zoraxis onboarding; a mission with Phoenix will be a snap! I’m not worried. Plus, we get on pretty well, if you’re concerned about that. Go home and sleep. I’ll take care of it!”

  With an obvious effort, Mr. Crane stood up and pulled open one of his drawers. He withdrew a manila envelope and handed it to Ollie. “Here’s the briefing, then. I sent the blueprints to Agent Phoenix yesterday morning, so they should have the place memorized by now. You’ve worked with them before, so I don’t need to give you the rundown. Just remember that they don’t talk on missions, and you’ll be fine.”

  “You’ve got it, sir!” Ollie gave him a casual salute and tucked the envelope under his arm. 

  “Thank you, Ollie. I’ll owe you one.” Mr. Crane patted him on the shoulder and shuffled out, coughing. 

  Ollie picked up both mugs of still-hot coffee and headed down the stairs to Phoenix’s office. If they had a mission tonight, they should be there. 

  He awkwardly knocked on the door, trying not to drop anything. With a hum, the doorknob turned and opened for him. 

  Phoenix had their feet kicked up on their cluttered desk and a cigar between their teeth, their hand still raised from using their TK to open the door. When their eyes landed on him, they sat up and grinned. 

  “If it isn’t my favorite support agent!” they greeted, tossing their cigar into the ashtray on their desk. “I was expecting my favorite lead support agent, but this is just as good! Is one of those for me?”

  Ollie held out one of the mugs, and Phoenix TK’d it across the room and took a sip. Their brow furrowed. 

  “This is how Reginald takes his coffee. Was this his? Oh no, is he actually sick? Aw, by the time we can get tonight’s mission back on track, Zor will probably have cleared out the whole operation.” They blew out a sad sigh, ruffling their bangs. “Shame. I was really looking forward to trashing some Zoraxis junk.”

  “Don’t you worry about that, Phoenix!” Ollie opened the envelope and pulled out the roll of film inside. “I’ll be taking over for Mr. Crane, so the mission is still a go!”

  “Hah! Ollie saves the day again!” Phoenix put their feet back on the floor and scooted over so Ollie could slot the disc into the projector on their desk.

  It wasn’t complicated; just a get-in, get-out sort of mission. If all went according to plan, Zoraxis wouldn’t even know that they’d been there until after the fact. ‘Course, things rarely went according to plan, but both he and Phoenix were pretty good at thinking on their feet. He wasn’t worried. 

***

  “There it is.” Ollie said, putting the van into park and pointing through the windshield at the seemingly abandoned warehouse before them. “You ready?”

  “Always!” Phoenix jumped out of the door and landed soundlessly on the grass. 

  Ollie scooped up the small bag of break-in supplies he had been given and hopped out too.  He tapped his earpiece. “Test, test? This is Ollie, can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear,” Phoenix said, rounding the front of the van. 

  “Loud and clear.” One of the guys back at headquarters was also on the line, just in case additional back-up or an evac team was necessary. They would stay quiet unless things went very wrong. 

  “After you!” Ollie said, sweeping a hand towards the factory. 

  “How kind!”

  Phoenix led the way through the long grass. There shouldn’t be any cameras or guards this side of the building, but Phoenix stayed alert as a rabbit, swiveling their head back and forth and flexing their fingers in case their TK was needed. 

  They reached the planned entrance, a window, without incident. There was a padlock on it, but Ollie pulled a boltcutter from his bag and with one heavy snip, Phoenix was able to slide it open and slip through. 

  “Should I come in or stay out here?” Ollie asked, putting his hands on the windowsill. “I can give you the bag.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be much help out there. You’d better come with me. Just follow my lead, and we’ll be okay.”

  Phoenix helped Ollie through the window and slid it back closed, then tapped their earpiece. “We’re inside. Going quiet.”

  They wouldn’t talk again until the mission was over. 

  Phoenix stole over to the door of the small, empty room and listened intently for a moment before opening it a crack, then fully, motioning Ollie to follow. 

  The warehouse certainly felt abandoned. It was dark and quiet in there, the only light coming in through the intermittent windows and the occasional flickering, half-powered fluorescent light. 

  It was a labyrinth, but Phoenix’s steps were sure as they went deeper and deeper in. 

  Phoenix suddenly froze, Ollie nearly bumping into them. A moment later, he heard distant talking and footsteps.

  The two of them waited, silent, until it was certain that the noise wasn’t headed their direction and Phoenix continued forward. 

  They heard a couple more vague voices and indications of life, but Phoenix was careful to give them ample distance. 

  At length, the door that they were looking for came into view. It looked like every other door, except it had the Zoraxis logo spray painted in red on the front. 

  “Not very subtle, are they?” Ollie commented. 

  Phoenix shook their head with a smile. They pointed at him, then at the ground. 

  “Good idea. You go in, I’ll stay out here and keep watch. I’ll knock if I hear anything!”

  Phoenix tugged at the door, but it was locked. They stooped, looking at it closely, then beckoned Ollie closer. 

  “What do you need?” He said, reaching for the bag, but they just grabbed his hand and slapped it on the doorknob. He felt his thumb slide into a groove, and a nearly invisible light lit up green. 

  Phoenix nodded a thanks and opened the door. 

  “Fingerprint recognition? I can’t believe I’m still in their system as an employee!” Ollie said. “I would’ve figured I got taken off when they tried to kill me! Lucky they didn’t, eh? You would’ve found a way in regardless, I know. Wait, I have something for you.”

  He rummaged around in the bag, and then pulled out an Agency lighter and tossed it to Phoenix. They grinned and disappeared into the room, closing the door behind them. 

  Ollie waited patiently, keeping one ear on the warehouse and one on the room behind him. The halls outside remained as dark and silent as ever, but he could hear activity within, muffled by the thick walls. 

  In rapid succession, he heard clanking, thumping, an automated voice complaining, and what sounded like metal crashing against metal. 

  The door opened a crack and a single screw came floating through. Ollie almost laughed as he pulled a screwdriver out of his bag and tossed it through before shutting the door again. 

  More clanking, then the distinct sound of roaring flames. 

  A moment later, Phoenix emerged, smelling like smoke and looking smug. They held up several trinkets; a data disc, something techy and vaguely cylindrical, and something small and mechanical inside of a glass tube. 

  “Whoa, nice work! Want me to take them?”

  Phoenix held them out, and he tucked them into his pockets, not trusting the bag with them. 

  “Alright, you know the way out, then?”

  Phoenix gave him a decisive nod and began strolling down the hallway, Ollie easily keeping up. 

  Before they got too far, though, alarms abruptly started blaring. All the lights turned on full blast, flooding the corridor with red light. Ollie took a breath, noting the distinct taste at the back of his throat and the more high-pitched, whining lilt to the noise. Oh, good. They hadn’t tripped anything. 

  They were just smoke alarms. 

Still alarms, though!

  “Well, ah, that’s not what I’d call ideal.” Ollie muttered. 

  Phoenix bolted down the hallway, tugging off their gloves and shoving them into their back pocket. They slowed while Ollie caught up, holding out their hand expectantly. 

  “What? Ah, right.” Trying to look in the bag and not trip at the same time, Ollie snatched out a roll of fabric and pressed it into Phoenix’s palm. “You think we’re going to have to fight our way out?”

  Phoenix shrugged, rapidly wrapping their left hand, weaving the strip of fabric in between each of their fingers with astonishing speed, binding up their knuckles in preparation for a fight. Better to be ready. 

  “Well, at least it sounded like you had a fun time!” Ollie said, trying to find the second roll amongst the other objects in the bag. “It must be satisfying, dismantling Zor tech like… that…”

  Ollie trailed off as they rounded the corner and made direct eye contact with two Zoraxis operatives who were casually walking down the hall towards the source of the noise. One was thin and had long eyelashes, and the other was short, stocky, and had spiky hair. Both of them stared at Ollie and Phoenix blankly, clearly not registering who they were. 

  The four of them stood there in silence for a long, deeply uncomfortable moment. 

  One of the operatives, the one with spiky hair, narrowed their eyes at Phoenix. 

  “Hang on. You look familiar. I’m guessing you ain’t here to turn off the alarms?”

  “Evac and medical are both on the way.” The support agent back in headquarters impassively informed Ollie through his earpiece. “But you’re going to have to get out of the building for them to reach you. Good luck.”

  A third operative rounded the corner, looking sleepy and rubbing their eyes. 

  “Will you two hurry up? Those blasted smoke alarms are giving me a headache.” They stopped, their eyes sweeping across the scene, then they shrieked. “HOLY— It’s the Phoenix! Don’t just stand there, get ‘em!”

  Phoenix sighed and dropped the end of the wrap, shifting into a fighting stance as the three operatives sprang into action. Phoenix leapt in front of Ollie, fists up, blocking Spiky Hair’s first attack and returning one of their own. 

  Ollie had never been much of a fighter, but he was fast on his feet. He nimbly dodged as Sleepy Eyes charged in, tripping them on their way past.

  There was a sharp crack! and Phoenix went stumbling back into him, their nose bleeding. Recovering themselves with a shake of their head, they dove back into the fray, shoving Eyelashes against the wall and bringing their knee into their stomach, sending them crumpling to the ground. 

  Sleepy Eyes was back on their feet, but Spiky Hair tackled Ollie before he could do anything about it. 

  He fell to the floor with a painful thud, Spiky Hair on top of him. They yanked at his bag, and, knowing there was nothing valuable in it, he let them take it and toss it away. 

  They wound up for a punch, and Ollie twisted out of the way just enough that it only grazed his cheek. Phoenix ran over and pulled Spiky Hair off him, spinning them around for a hammer blow to the jaw that dropped them to the floor alongside Eyelashes and Sleepy Eyes. 

  Phoenix cracked their bloody knuckles and helped Ollie to their feet. The wrap around their hand was half unraveled, but it had gotten the job done. 

  “Thanks. You took care of those guys, huh?” Ollie walked over and picked his bag back up. Might as well not waste the equipment. He turned back around just in time to see movement and a glimpse of steel. 

  “Phoenix, behind you!”

  Eyelashes had gotten to their hands and knees and had procured a knife from inside their suit jacket. Phoenix turned around just in time to see the operative lunge towards them, blade flashing. 

  With a gasp, Phoenix crashed to the floor. A moment later, Ollie was there, aiming a kick at the operative’s nose. His shoe connected with a lovely crack! and the operative crumpled, out cold. 

  “Let me see, let me see,” Ollie said, stooping over Phoenix. Their pant leg was torn and positively soaked with blood. So much, in fact, it was hard to tell exactly what the situation was. 

  “Not good! I’m going to need to patch you up.” He could already hear more operatives on the way, drawn to the commotion. “Come on, up you get.”

  He crouched down on Phoenix’s injured side, slinging their arm over his shoulders and lifting them up. They pointed down the hallway, and he half dragged, half carried them as fast as he could. 

  They then pointed towards a nondescript side door, opening it for them with a flex of their fingers, and Ollie pulled them through, instantly noticing the medical kit hanging on the wall. They must’ve known this was here. 

  The room was a very small L shape, with a rusty bed frame pressed against the wall and a small window with tinted glass. 

  He kicked the door closed and carried Phoenix around the L bend, just barely out of sight of the door. 

  “Alright, Phoenix, let’s getcha fixed up,” he whispered, gently lowering them to the floor. Even in the dim, warped light from the window, he could see how horribly pale their face was.

  Before he could turn around to grab the med kit, Phoenix had lifted an arm and pulled it to their hand, holding it out for him. He took it and dropped to his knees, cracking it open as quietly as he could. He couldn’t hear any operatives yet, only the smoke alarms, so they were safe for now. Hopefully long enough that he could prevent Phoenix from bleeding out. 

  First things first. He untied their bowtie so they could get some air, then he pulled a pair of scissors out of the kit and cut away the sticky fabric from around the injury. Close up, it was easier to see through all of the blood, but he still didn’t like what he was looking at. 

  It was real wide and frighteningly deep. He wouldn’t be surprised to hear that it scraped bone. How Phoenix had stopped themselves from screaming when that operative had sliced them open he couldn’t understand. 

  There was so much blood, sticky and red, gushing from the cut that it was dripping off the bottom of their pant leg and onto their shoe, where in ran in rivulets to pool on the dirty tile flooring. 

  Ollie moved fast, yanking a needle and thread out of the med kit. He was glad that both Zoraxis and the Agency required extensive medical training as part of their onboarding process. He threaded the needle, his hands steady and certain even as his heart was racing. The job didn’t need to be perfect, just good enough to get them to the evac team.

  Phoenix was sluggishly pulling the loose wrappings off of their hand. Their nose had stopped actively bleeding, the red line tracing down to their chin drying fast, but their eyes looked worryingly unfocused.

  “I’m going to clean it first,” Ollie whispered, setting down the needle so he could pull out a cotton wipe. “I need you to do something to make sure you stay lucid. Can’t talk… um, how about you do morse code on my shoulder?”

  Phoenix’s hand was uncharacteristically cold even through the fabric of his shirt, but their morse code was still in good shape, drumming out letters as he tried to clean up the injury. 

  Tap tap tap. Tip tap tip tip. Tip tap tip tip. Tip tip. Tip. Pause. Tip tap tip. Tip. Tap tap tip. Tip tip. Tap tip. Tip Tap. Tip tap tip tip. Tap tip tip. 

  “That’s as good as it’s gonna get.” Ollie wiped his fingertips on the now red cloth and reached for the needle. “I know this’ll hurt, but don’t bite your tongue or anything to stop from screaming, okay? Squeeze my arm instead if you need it. Ready?”

  Phoenix nodded, and Ollie began stitching. 

  Their hand instantly leapt to his arm as they inhaled sharply. They didn’t make a sound, but their fingers unwillingly tightening around his bicep told him that it definitely wasn’t painless.

  Wincing in sympathy, Ollie finished as quick as he could and snipped off the excess thread with the scissors. He dipped his hand back into the med kit for bandages and wrapped the wound up tight. It was messy, but it was good enough. 

  He tied off the bandages. Color was already starting to come back into Phoenix’s face; just the slightest bit, but it was an improvement. They started wrapping their hand again, the motion practiced and sure. 

  Ollie released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and sat back. He wiped his bloody hands on his pants, his eyes sliding towards the door, just out of sight.  

  Phoenix pulled the wrap tight with their teeth, their free hand stealing into his to give it a reassuring squeeze before they used it to finish off the wrap. 

  As long as Phoenix was still alive and moving, Ollie wasn’t worried. 

He wasn’t. He wasn’t.

  There was a shout and a thud down the hall, then a sound like doors being violently flung open. 

  Ollie shut the medical kit and pulled it into his lap, pressing close to Phoenix. It would be better if they weren’t caught, if possible. 

  Phoenix grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. Without saying a word, he heard their silent,

  We’ll be okay. 

  He held their hand tight, a reply. 

  I know. 

  Ollie held his breath as the shouting and thudding steadily grew closer and closer. Phoenix was gripping his hand so hard that his fingers were starting to go numb, their brow set and their body tensed. 

  The door slammed open. 

  “I see more blood, but there’s no one in here!” Someone shouted, slamming the door back closed. 

  Shouts of “where are they?!” and “keep looking!” faded down the hallway. 

  Ollie leaned over, pressing his lips to Phoenix’s ear and whispering, “We would’ve been okay either way. Do you need a moment?”

  They shook their head and tried to force themselves to their feet, only to fall back down with a pained hiss. 

  “Easy, easy!” Ollie pulled their arm over his shoulders and braced himself against the wall, easing them to their feet. 

  They tested putting some weight on their injured leg and nearly crumpled, Ollie only barely catching them. 

  “That’s alright, just lean on me. Are we close to our way out? Evac is outside if we can get there.”

  Phoenix closed their eyes, brows furrowed in thought. Then, they nodded, opening their eyes and pointing to the door. They hooked a thumb towards the right, then held up three fingers. 

  “Down the hallway, hang a right, third door down?”

  They nodded again. 

  “Aw, that’s not too hard! We can make that, easy peesy! Let’s go before those operatives come back.”

  With Phoenix’s fingernails digging into his shoulder and his hand around their waist, he helped them limp carefully out the door and down the hall, just how they told him. They were still leaving behind traces of blood, which was not good, but hopefully they’d be gone before the trail could be discovered. 

  A right turn, three doors down. Phoenix used their TK to open it. 

  Sure enough, they were back in the room that they’d started in. Phoenix must have some incredible sense of direction to be able to get back here after getting stabbed. 

  Ollie adjusted his grip on them so he could slide open the window, pushing it up as far as it would go. 

  Now was the problem of getting them through it. 

  They weren’t looking so good. Their gaze was vacant, and their head was swaying like they really wanted to pass out. Ollie didn’t blame them. 

  “Alrighty, looks like I’m picking you up, then.”

  Phoenix was lighter than he’d expected. He wasn’t particularly strong, but he scooped them up with relative ease, then swung his legs out the window and carefully landed in the grass outside. 

  “Dust-off in twenty seconds at the tree-line.” The support agent helpfully informed him. “We’ve already got someone driving back your van.”

  “That’s great! Thank you!” Ollie set Phoenix back on the ground and walked them towards the tree-line. They were really struggling to stay upright now, leaning on him so heavily that he might as well still be carrying them. 

  The helicopter arrived, just as promised, and medical took Phoenix off of Ollie’s hands. Within minutes, they were in the air and headed back to headquarters. 

  “You did a good job,” one of the nurses said, examining Ollie’s handiwork from the stretcher they’d laid Phoenix on. “We’ll be able to stabilize the agent easily enough. They’ll be just fine.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear!” Ollie laughed. He gently patted Phoenix’s shoulder. “Wonder if you wish Mr. Crane hadn’t called in sick?”

  Lightning fast, Phoenix seized his wrist, making him jump in surprise. 

  “No.” They muttered, peering at him through half-lidded eyes. “You did good.” They swallowed. “Thanks, Ollie.”

  “Ah, well, it’s no problem. Don’t want my favorite agent bleeding out on my watch!”

  Phoenix smiled. “…I’m your favorite agent?”

  “D’you want to know something bad?” Ollie looked back and forth furtively, then leaned in close. “Number two isn’t even close.”

  Phoenix laughed at that. Actually laughed out loud, noisy and alive. 

  They shifted their grip on his wrist, sliding it up until they were holding his hand.

  “Wow. Favorite agent of not one, but two handlers. You don’t think Reginald is going to be jealous, do you?”

  Ollie laughed. “I’m not worried.”

~~~

tag list: @wyvchard (you can still write something for this if you’d like!) @brain-is-a-toaster

[batcvntry]

synyster gates x ftm!reader [lips like licorice, tongue like candy]

rating| mature

word count| 2,403

warnings| Drug Use, Getting High, First Kiss, Making out, Grinding, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

“Come here, sweetheart.” Synyster calls to you with his hands. You giggle as you bound over to him, he grabs your hips and pulls you onto his lap. Your cheeks flush light red as you wiggle to get more comfortable. His hands find their home on your hips for now, his eyes hooked to you as the rest of the guys get comfortable around the room. Zacky hands Syn a joint and a lighter,

“No fair, he gets the biggest one.” Matt whines out. 

“Hey, I’m teaching the kid how to smoke.” Syn bites back, looking past you at Matt. His lips curl up, “Besides I doubt we’ll use all of it. You can have it when we’re done, if you don’t mind my seconds.” Matt cheers happily, Syn turns his attention back to you to see that you have crossed arms and are glaring at him. “What?”

“I am not a kid.” 

“Oh yes you are.” He ruffles your hair, “You’re the youngest. Plus I have to teach you how to smoke properly. So yea, kid.” You stick your tongue out at him, his eyes harden oh so slightly but you notice. “Keep this up and I’m not teaching you shit.” 

You immediately step down, whispering a soft apology to him. He smiles, rubbing your thigh as a silent way to accept your apology. You watch intently as he brings the joint up to his mouth, lighting it with one hand. He takes a few small puffs, blowing the smoke to the side so it doesn’t end up in your face. You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to hand you the joint.  

He takes a bigger hit and you finally think that he is going to hand you the joint but instead he gently grabs your chin and forces your head down a little. Your eyes widen as he presses his lips against yours, you grab his shirt pulling him closer. There is chuckling from around you but you pay it no mind. Syn moves his hand so he can force open your mouth. You can’t help but let out a small moan as the smoke hits your tongue. Syn pulls away, a small smirk on his face as he looks at you. You carefully blow the smoke out to the side before looking back at him with lust in your eyes. You exchange a silent conversation about if you want to go again and you nod so he repeats his movements. Taking a hit, putting his lips on yours and blowing the smoke into your mouth. 

“Jesus, I thought you were supposed to be teaching him how to smoke, not make out with him.” Matt cackles. Your cheeks flush bright red and you hide your face behind your hands. Synyster flips Matt off before gently prying your hands away from your face. 

“Don’t worry about them, sweetheart. Just focus on me.” You nod, biting your lip softly as you gaze at Syn. “Do you want to try hitting it yourself?” You shake your head fast causing him to chuckle. So he takes another hit before once again repeating his movements.

Soon the smell of weed has filled the basement of the beach house you guys are renting. Syn puts the mostly smoked joint to the side on an ashtray. He rubs your hips before his hands settle on your lower back, dangerously close to your ass. Somewhere along the line someone had put a cd on, the unmistakable sound of the Beastie Boys echoing around the room. You rest your head on Syn’s shoulder, giggling softly as you realize that your high is hitting. Syn absentmindedly traces the waistband of your shorts making you whine softly and hide your face in his neck. Bad idea. Your nose is assaulted with his familiar scent, you grab his shirt, burying your face deeper in his neck. God if you weren’t high off of the weed, you are definitely high off of his scent. 

Syn’s chest rumbles as he talks to the boys, not that you are paying any attention to any of them. The only thing you can think about is how good Syn smells and the pulsing in your pussy. Your hips move on their own accord, you blush brightly as you realize that you are subtly grinding against Synster. But you can’t fucking stop, not when it feels so good. Besides it was pretty dark in the basement so it’s not like anyone would see what’s going on. 

Your body acts on its own, you don’t realize what you are doing until your lips are on Syn’s, and he’s not pushing you away…. He’s not pushing you away. You deepen the kiss as he moves his hands so he is cupping your ass and pulls you closer to him. You whine as your clit rubs against your shorts. You gently cup his cheeks, pulling him impossibly closer to you. It sounds so fucking cliche but it’s like the rest of the world fades into the background, the only thing you can think about is Synyster. You don’t even notice that you start to grind against him again, grinding against his already forming erection. 

“Wow sweetheart. Was I that good with the smoke that you had to come back for more?” He chuckles as he pulls away from the kiss. You growl playfully,

“Shut up.” And before he can respond, your lips are back on his. Little do you know Zacky had pulled out his phone, taking a few photos so he’ll have proof when he tells you what you did tomorrow. Syn slips his tongue into your mouth causing you to moan oh so pitifully. You can feel his lips twitch into a smirk but he never stops kissing you. You nearly freeze when you feel his boner rub against your sex. Nearly. He tightens his grip on your ass, growling so lightly that you barely hear it. You whine against his lips as he forces you to grind a little faster. 

God you never knew that you could feel this good, everything is heightened by the weed and you fucking love it. You let out a small gasp as he slides his hands under your shirt. He rubs your back a little before slipping his hands to the front of your shirt, feeling up your sides. He gets dangerously close to touching one of your boobs and you almost have to grab his hand and place it where you want it. 

“Ya know, you’re kinda cute when you're desperate like this.” Syn whispers between kisses. His fingers trace the underside of your boob and you accidentally moan out loud enough for everyone to hear. You blush bright red, not that anyone besides Syn can see. He darts his tongue over his teeth, smirking at you. And you respond to him with the only thing that you can think of,

“You haven’t seen half of it, Synner.” You lean in, your lips ghosting over his as you run your hands down his chest. Matt exchanges looks with Zacky, Johnny, and Jimmy, all four men smirking at each other. Synyster’s eyes darken with lust, a dangerous smirk pulling at his lips as he leans in even closer. 

“Guess you’re just gonna have to show me, darlin’.” This time he is the one to close the distance between you. His hands fall to your hips and he pulls you impossibly closer. You tangle your fingers in his hair. At this point you are practically humping him but you could care less, the embarrassment has long since washed away and the only thing you can think about now is pleasure. You are all too aware of the sets of eyes boring into your back, you should probably move this somewhere private but god you are so close, it would be a shame to stop now. Besides you can’t deny that being watched is only adding to your arousal, it doesn’t matter that it’s your friends watching you. 

You accidentally tug on Syn’s hair and he lets out a small moan. You take this as an opportunity to slip your tongue in his mouth, instantly fighting for dominance. Syn doesn’t let you have the upperhand for long, he trails his hand to your ass and gently pinches it. You gasp out a whine and he forces his tongue into your mouth. You can feel your orgasm encroaching on you but you don’t care. Syn kneads your ass, making you whimper and whine into his mouth. Finally you pull away, hiding your face in his neck, one hand in his hair, the other gripping his shirt. 

“Fuck fuck fuck.” You whimper softly. He chuckles softly, rubbing your hips softly as he kisses your shoulder. “Syn, oh fuck.” You moan into his neck. His cock twitches in his pants, he groans softly. “Fucking shit.” Your hips stutter and Syn quickly takes over, guiding your hips to move against his. 

“Fuck, Syn.” You come hard, your thighs trembling softly, your grip tightening on Syn’s hair and shirt. Syn helps you through your orgasm by slowing down your hips. You grab at him as best you can, not wanting him to slip away. Your pussy clenches and suddenly you realize that there are two, maybe three very thin pieces of fabric keeping the two of you separated. You move your head so you can look at Syn and he can tell that you are still so fucking high. 

He moves his hands so he is gripping your thighs, making sure you are secure before scooting toward the edge of the couch. For the first time since getting high he looks at his friends, all four of them are facing the couch as they casually talk among themselves. You wrap your legs around his waist, giggling softly as you rest your head on his shoulder, just letting him take you where he wants. 

“I’m gonna sober him up a little bit. You guys have fun.” Johnny whispers something making the men howl with laughter. Jimmy calms down first, 

“Have fun getting him sober, lover boy.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at Syn. Syn blushes lightly and shakes his head. You hold onto him tightly as he turns and starts making his way out of the basement. You can hear the guys laughing, your name is thrown around a few times but you can’t make out the rest of what they are saying. Before you know it, Syn is gently putting you down on the edge of his bed. You cling to him, whining softly. He guides your face so you are looking at him, 

“I’m just gonna get a pair of my boxers for you. I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” He gently kisses your lips. You let him go, pouting softly that you can’t be touching him constantly. He stays true to his word, he is barely gone one minute before he is back in front of you. He holds out a pair of his batman boxers and your face lights up. He makes the mistake of sitting down on the bed, in an instant you are on his lap, tossing the boxers to the end of the bed. 

“Come on, sweetheart. You gotta get into clean clothes.” 

“In a minute.” You giggle out as you study his face. His eyes are full of lust, his cheeks dusted in a light pink blush. You lean down and kiss him again, somehow this one is even hungrier than the ones that you exchanged in the basement. His hands fly to your hips, pulling you closer to him. You put your hands on his chest, carefully pushing him back until his back touches the bed. You start feeling up his chest through his shirt, starting to get turned on yet again. He squeezes your hips, pulling away from the kiss.

“Slow down. You just got off not even five minutes ago.” You giggle softly, shrugging your shoulders as you look down at him. Fuck you think he looks gorgeous under you. You plant your hands on his pecs, 

“Yea but,” You lean down, teasingly licking a stripe up his neck. He moans softly, tightening his grip on your hips. “You just make me feel so good.” It takes nothing for Syn to flip you over, smirking down at you.

“There we go, I think you look a lot better under me, sweetheart.” You whine and squirm under him, trying not to feel too turned on by the way he just manhandled you. “Now, we’re gonna get you in clean clothes and then try and sober you up a little bit.” 

“But I don’t wanna. Being high feels so good and it’s sooooo much fun.” You wink at him. His lips curl up in a smile but he stands his ground, 

“Come on sweetheart. It won’t be that bad, besides we can also get high tomorrow.” You sit up at his word, eyes bright. 

“Really?” 

“If you want to.” You wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug as you giggle. 

“Okay.” Syn hugs you back before you let him go so you can change. You glance at the boxers and then at your shirt, which is far too tight for you to wear to bed. “Syn, do you have a shirt I can have?” 

He nods and goes back to his suitcase and gets your favorite shirt of his to steal. He gives it to you and then turns to face the wall to give you some privacy. You can’t help but giggle, he has seen you naked a million times before so it’s not like it’s anything new. And on top of that you literally just came on his lap after making out with him. But you still think the gesture is nice. You stumble a little as you get undressed and redressed but after a few minutes you are done and you drape yourself over Syn’s shoulders. 

“So what are we gonna do now?” He turns so he can see you,

“I’m gonna get us some drinks and snacks and you,” He boops your nose softly. “Are going to pick out something for us to watch.” You nod excitedly. He kisses your cheek before going to the kitchen. Your eyes follow him, you let out a content sigh, thankful that your friends insisted you tried weed.