#but then you get it and you're like 'oh my god' and it kind of just sinks into your chest t and becomes this core thing in a way

[escarmargott]

Double trouble

Considering the Justice League is supposed to be composed of the most powerful and capable individuals on the planet, it's concerning how slowly they realise that two of their main members have been switched. Well, Bruce finds it concerning. Clark finds it hysterical.

They switched costumes in the locker room, just because of the sheer complexity of the costume mechanics. Kryptonian clothing technology is dexterous and flexible, but has no handy zippers, springs and clever hooks like on the Batsuit. Bruce practically has to wring it like a washcloth just to yank it over his thighs. Bruce scowls at his reflection one last time. The brightness of the suit's colours, which usually brings out the natural inner sunlight glow of Clark's skin, highlight his dark under-eye shadows and lack of melanin. God, he looks rough. He looks like he was chewed up by Bane and Killer Croc and then spat into the sewer.

This is exactly why he doesn't wear bright colours. He's a warm winter, damnit, not a bright spring. These tints make him look like Mister Freeze.

He scowls harder. He honestly feels kind of bad, like he's... tainting Clark's costume, a symbol of hope and safety, with his darkness and sourness. It looks wrong, it feels wrong, this suit is Clark in every way, from the colours to the cut. The suit feels too thin, leaving him uncomfortably vulnerable, making him feel practically naked. He doesn't mind how the suit looks on Clark, but he feels like his naked body has been put on display in a glass case in a museum.

Clark knocks on his locker door before entering, and Bruce spares one last glare at the mirror before turning around. Clark gasps immediately, and Bruce feels like he's going wedding dress shopping and modelling a gown. Clark's hands go to his cheeks and his eyes shine, cartoon-like.

"Oh, my, Rao. You look AMAZING. Now I get why so many people say we look similar."

"You're two whole inches taller than me. The difference is staggering."

Clark frowns. "That's like... five centimeters. And also, this suit has heels, so we're basically the same height." Bruce chokes. "They are not heels. They were a tactical decision made to optimise my advantages in the field." Clark doesn't seem to be listening, and looks like he's about to cry from happiness.

"Is there any way I could get you to twirl for me-"

"No."

"Also, I have a question... Why is the crotch material... stretch-preventing."

"...none of your business."

"Stop stomping."

"I'm not!"

"You are. March, not stomp. You're striding, not invading Poland."

"Yeah, but I'm not used to wearing weighted shoes to make me taller!"

"Oh hey guys, what's up?"

Shit. it was Flash, carrying a doughnut in one hand and a coffee in the other. Bruce resisted the urge to smirk. He just couldn't help it with the cop stereotypes. sometimes the jokes just write themselves

Oh wait, he was supposed to be Clark now, he could smile all he wanted now. which, still wasn't a lot, but he didn't have to hold it in anymore.

"we're good. having breakfast, Barry?" Bruce put on his brightest smile, remembering to tilt his head slightly to the right the way Clark usually does.

"Uh, I'm good.... hey, is Bruce okay? he's somehow... even quieter than usual."

clark minutely bit his lip, trying his hardest not to laugh. oh, this is the best fun he's had in a long time. Barry was still looking so confused, glancing from Clark to bruce-- no, from batman to superman-- wait.

"yeah, he's cool, you know how he is." Bruce tries not to squint suspiciously at Barry. he knows that gossip is addictive for these... young people, so who knows what people say about him behind his back.

"yeah, classic bats. anyway, I'm heading to the briefing with Hal and Ollie, you guys coming?"

"sure!" Barry looks a little taken back at how wide his smile is, but moves on. once he's gone, Bruce elbows Clark in the ribs.

"you didn't even say hi? now he's going to tell the rest of them and they'll go out on strike against me." Clark snorts, which is disconcerting to see from someone wearing the Batsuit.

"also, I don't frown that much. loosen up on the lip lock; you make me look like an SS officer."

"I seriously cannot believe the new game is already out. I wanna play it so bad but it's like, 600 dollars, and I don't know who can afford that and groceries right now." Barry slurped on his coffee, watching Hal bounce a green construct ball off the wall.

"what happened to a cop's paycheck, dude? I thought you guys were like, swimming in moolah."

"for the last time, I am not a cop. I am a forensic scientist; and we don't earn a lot."

"why don't you make drugs like they do in breaking bad? I mean, you have all the knowledge and the tools, bro, it's a wasted opportunity."

"hmm, that's a great question, Hal. why don't I open a meth lab, as a husband, a scientist helping the police solve crimes, and a member of the Justice League?"

"hey bats, I think you should be concerned about Hal, he's been asking too many questions regarding meth labs in my opinion." Hal chucked the construct ball at Ollie's head.

clark swallowed, doing his best bruce impression. "Hn."

bruce tried to hide his snort, but obviously Clark could hear him. ugh, it was so hard to not laugh and smile all the time. how on earth did Bruce do it?

"So, if we could all settle down, the meeting is about to begin." Diana clears her throat and looks pointedly at Clark. well, she probably meant to direct that look at Bruce, but with the whole body-centred go prank, Clark had no idea what he was supposed to do.

clark says nothing, fully committed to his role as playing Bruce, but Diana's eyes narrow, barely noticeably. they sit in their swapped seats, and Bruce adjusts his legs to sit the way Clark does, slightly spreading thighs. Clark sits as straight as he can and doesn't make a sound.

the meeting goes relatively smoothly. there's talk of new heroes surfacing in respective cities, and Bruce makes a mental note to do more research. being Clark, or superman, is honestly exhausting. he has to focus on not frowning all the time. Clark on the other hand is trying to contain his excitement. New heroes? that's awesome! getting to meet new people and knowing that you share the same goals to help people is one of Clark's favourite things. besides, even though there is a tiny risk in having new heroes, Clark tries not to think the worst in people, no matter what he's been through and what horrible people he's encountered.

at the end of the meeting, Clark stands up and tries not to groan. it's just a Midwest thing, but he's pretty sure that Bruce doesn't do that. he and Bruce walk past Diana, and Clark simply nods at her, his heart twisting at not saying hi to her properly. Diana raises an eyebrow at them, and Bruce starts to sweat, but just grins clark-like.

diana leans in closer to them, her voice low, mouth close to Bruce ear.

"you boys are terrible at this. no one else has noticed except for me."

clark tries not to gape, but Bruce allows himself to smile at that.

they reveal the body swap dramatically later and Barry is so embarrassed about what he said to Bruce.

smutty sequel will be uploaded afterwards

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

HOLY SHIT THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SO SORRY GUYS

i graduated and I'm hella tired so I'm a little late in uploading

anyways I hope I guys like this

also shoutout to the original artist @noodles-and-tea I love ur art man it's so yummy

They’re only pretending to be bad at it, they’re scarily good at imitating each other

[mononijikayu]

the first time you tasted alcohol was with geto suguru. both of you were seventeen. both of you had just gotten home from a miserable mission. it was something of a thing, you breaking into the boys dormitory on the other side of the campus without yaga's cursed puppets seeing you.

but you couldn't let the moment pass. your brother had sent you this lovely little gift. and it would be quite a sin to not share it with others. not when these are the last moments of your experience as an seventeen year old. and suguru, at the very least, has drank rice wine before.

"i can't believe you're abetting to the distribution of alcohol to a minor." suguru teased as he looked at the cup of rice wine.

"oh shut up." you rolled your eyes at him. "you really shouldn't be a goody two shoes about this. you hid from your mom that you drank before."

"well the less my mother knows, the less i get in trouble. more i become my mother's lovely son!" he cheered as he downed the drink.

"hmm, but not in yaga's eyes."

"you're acting like you won't be in trouble either." he raises a brow.

you laughed at him, holding your own glass of rice wine. "well, if i go down, you go down with me. its a win for me!"

he watches you down the wine, having quite a cute reaction as you sigh. you called the wine too sweet for your liking. but suguru's glad your brother had the due diligence not to send a strong one.

"hey, [name]?"

"hm?" you wordlessly hummed as you poured yourself and suguru another cup.

"if we make it to thirty and we aren't married, would you consider marrying me or satoru?"

you nearly fumble the bottle to the ground but miraculously caught it. you sighed, feeling flustered as you looked at him.

"w-where did you even find the thought to ask that, 'guru?"

".....i don't know, just curious." he mumbled absentmindedly as he looked at his glass. "i mean, would you not?"

"i-its not that i won't! just.....i can't think all the sudden!" you pout at him. "its all your fault, 'guru."

he laughs at your words in a way that was genuine and soft, real. the kind that tugs a little at your chest. the kind that makes your seventeen-year-old heart flutter even if you pretend it doesn’t. he looks at you with a fondness he usually hides under teasing remarks and too-easy smirks.

“you’re cute when you’re flustered you know that.” suguru says, and this time, you nearly spill the wine.

“shut up.” you hiss, cheeks hot.

“see? cute.”

“i swear to god i’m going to throw this bottle at your head.”

“not before we finish it.”

you end up sharing the rest of it cross-legged on his bed, backs pressed against the wall, speaking about the future like it’s something promised. the years ahead look like open roads.

all full of maybe’s and one day’s, and cities you’ve never seen. suguru talks about opening a school that doesn’t treat sorcerers like tools. you talk about maybe writing one day. stories that don’t end in tragedy.

you fall asleep leaning against each other, all those glasses still in hand. that night, you dream of nothing but peace. and that peace, being held in the hands of someone as warm, as loving and as kind as geto suguru.

the second time you tasted alcohol with suguru, you were twenty-two.

he found you in a crumbling temple outside miyazaki. you’d been waiting. someone had tipped you off he might pass through, and you knew him well enough to guess where he’d go. it was the place he once mentioned in passing to you.

"a quiet spot, real peaceful. used to go there with my mom when i was a kid." he has said with a fond smile. he always did that at the mention of his mother. "i liked it there a lot."

you should’ve reported it back to headquarters. but you didn’t. you couldn't. not when a part of you still longs for him. he came at sundown. slow steps. purple eyes like smoke, shoulders heavy with the weight of something irreversible.

you met his purple gaze. for a moment, you could feel your heart in your throat. you didn’t ask why he was here. you already knew what he had done. and what he had come here to do.

"hi." he said simply.

you nodded, voice failing you when it mattered most. your hands shook as you pulled the bottle of rice wine from your bag. the same kind from your youth. unopened. untouched. you had just bought it, at the street market. he stared at it.

“you remembered. how nice.” he murmured.

you handed it to him. he sat beside you, just like before. the silence between you was older now. sadder. everything felt suspended in the amber of memory. he uncorked the bottle. poured two swigs in those paper cups. he gently handed one to you.

"to our pact." he said with a bitter smile.

you didn't say anything as you drank your drink. the rice wine you drank years ago was sweet. it was smooth as it went down. but this one, this was too bitter. too damn aching as it flowed down. but you didn't want to say anything.

"i don't think we'll make it to thirty."

you toasted your paper cups anyway. "is that so?"

"hmm, i know so." he drank. so did you.

"mind reader, aren't you?"

he doesn't say much after that. instead, he looks onto the city as the lights started to flicker on one by one. and you didn't bother to say anything either. not that you could when the bitter feeling of alcohol remained as bitter as the thought of not having him by your side anymore.

“why?” you asked quietly, not looking at him. “why them, suguru?”

he exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the cup. “because if i didn’t, someone else would have. because no one would’ve saved them. because this world doesn’t let us live unless we become monsters.”

“so you became one.” you whispered.

he didn’t deny it. not one sound, not one word. yet he didn't need to say anything. his actions were all too much of a proof. they were enough. you gulped. the wine was too sweet. your chest ached.

“you know, i still see you sometimes.” he said, voice cracking. “in dreams. laughing. stealing wine. you were always braver than me.”

you looked at him now, really looked. not at the curse user. not at the murderer. not even at the traitor. you looked at the boy who once leaned against you and asked if you’d marry him someday.

“i would’ve said yes.” you said.

he froze at your words. “you asked, remember? if i’d marry you or satoru if we were thirty and alone. i would’ve chosen you. always you.”

geto suguru closed his already weary purple eyes. weary from all the crying. a long silence passed. the cicadas outside the temple cried like grief. his paper cup lay abandoned beside your own.

“i’m sorry." he said, and you believed him. it didn’t fix anything. but you did believe him.

“you should go now.” you said.

he nodded back at you, soundlessly.

he left the bottle behind.

and you never saw him again.

the third time you tasted rice wine, you were twenty-nine.

it was on your lips as you knelt at family his shrine. satoru saif there wasn't any body left to be had. but he was kind enough to leave a memorial. something to mourn. at the very least. it was what you deserved.

you weren't in jujutsu society anymore and yet you truly felt that this was another life which had been taken from you by that life all over again. even now when life has gone on, this was tragedy lived over and over again.

it was summer once more, though it will never be like those nights you had with him ever again. everything no was too hot and too heavy with memory. memories you didn't yearn to remember.

you poured two cups.

drank yours.

left his untouched.

and you didn’t cry until night fell.

it was your final hours as a twenty-nine year old.

soon enough you would be thirty.

and there will never be a wedding.

[sluttyenthusiast]

More on my childhood best friends to college with Chance and Parker 😄

You and Parker were upset that Chance was going to a different college, but still happy for him

You joked (totally) that you'd miss seeing the "handsome hunk" everyday and Parker agreed

You and Parker became closer than ever, but what else would you expect when going to the same college as your best friend

You both had a copy of each other's dorm room key but Parker had steered you clear of his because the last time you came over his dorm mates stared at you like a lamb in a pen of wolves

Parker came over to your dorm quite often, and you were lucky enough to have a room to yourself (your roommate had dropped) so Parker often spent the nights there

Parker's favorite activity was when there was a party you were invited too, of course you were invited you're beautiful and kind, and you always extended the invitation to Parker, telling him he was you "bodyguard"

He didn't like the party per say but rather the "pre gaming" which involved you changing outfits at least twice and Parker telling you that you look hot in whatever, you would then play music as you pulled some cheap alcohol from your mini fridge to share with him

Once you were at the party tho, Parker was already pulling a joint from his front pocket (I just know he smokes weed) not caring about lighting up in some shitty frat house

So many people would swarm you, excited to see you there but you never left Parker's side, and the smile never left his face

One night, on the way back to your dorm, Parker was a little high, but still grasping what's going on around him as you began talking

"I don't get how you're still single"

He paused in his tracks, dropping his arms from his shoulder, furrowing a brow

"I mean, you're attractive and smart and so nerdy it's hot, I would fu-" Your hand instantly covers your mouth and he begins to laugh

"No, what was that you were saying" A smile graced his lips as he teased you, you scoffed, grabbing his hand to take him back to the dorm

"I didn't say anything, you're high and imagining this whole thing"

He pulled you into his side as you walked

"So what is it, is your type nerdy hot men" He laughs, watching as you stumble to answer

Oh my god.

"You wanna fuck me." He laughed again as you rolled your eyes

"Don't get so cocky"

"So if i'm your type, then i'm gonna assume our Chancey boy is too" he nudged your shoulder with a wink

"Shut up, Parker"

"You totally wanna fuck us, you want an Parker and Chance sandwich" He made a kissy face at you as you opened the door to the dorm building

"I can't speak for Chance (he can though) but I wanna fuck you"

It took everything in you to not tear his clothes off in the elevator

Your steps becoming rapid as you try to quickly approach your door, Parker hot on your tail

Once you were in the safety of your dorm you were on him in an instant, pushing him back onto your bed, your lips on any exposed skin you could find

He pulled your face into his, teeth clashing as he kissed you, spit rolling down your chin

Clothes were off in an instant as you straddled him, riding him feverishly until you both were blubbering messes

That became your new normal, if you could call it that, and that is what Chance walked in on that day he planned to visit

Neither of you were ashamed, he didn't know where to look

He felt his dick twitch in his pants as you continued riding Parker, both unashamedly naked

Your eyes lit up as you saw him

"Chance!"

Your motions had stopped, but still not departing from Parker

Parker sat up at that, holding you close to him

"Hey bud!"

Fuck, he was gonna cum, how could you act like this was normal

Parker had let go of you as you climbed off your bed, throwing on a shirt and shorts as quickly as you could so you could hug him

Chance was hoping you'd forget and press your naked body to his

"Sorry about that" Parker pulled his boxers up, patting his shoulder as he nudged him

"Things have changed a bit" You had gleamed up at him

You could say that

Parker pulled you both into a hug as he laughed

"Just hot casual sex" Parker had winked at him

Chance was so out of the loop

"I'm so glad you're here we've missed our best friend" He was trying not to cum while looking at your perfect post sex face and hair

You had hugged him again and Parker wiggled his eyebrows at Chance, making eye contact with his boner as it pressed against your thigh

"I-it's good to see yall," his voice was raspier than he meant it to be

"You two catch up, i'm gonna go shower off" You smiled at them both as you grabbed a towel, closing the door behind you

Neither of them moved until the heard the shower turn on

Chance had so many questions

"How did this happen?" "What is this?" "Are you two still friends?"

Parker laughed sitting on your desk

"She said she had a type for hot nerdy guys" He wiggled his eyebrows at Chance again

Oh. Oh.

"Like she said, just hot casual sex, and yes we're still best buds, y'all are my only friends"

Chance got quiet as Parker sat back

"You know she said she'd fuck you"

Chance whipped his head to Parker, a blush covering his cheeks

"What?!" Fuck, he was gonna burst

He ran a hand through his hair as Parker laughed at him

"She told me once she wants both of us at once, but that's up to you"

The pair got quiet as they heard the water turn of, Chance sat in your desk chair, pulling one of your throw pillows on his lap as Parker teased him

You entered the room in just a towel, staring at the pair with a smile

"Miss me?" You blew a kiss as obnoxiously as you could

"When don't we babe,"

You furrowed your brow at Chance, eyes glancing at the pillow in his lap as he forcibly laughed at what Parker said

"Chance, do you want this too?"

You looked at him with sincerity in your eyes

"If we're making you uncomfortable we can stop,"

"No, fuck no, I want this, I want you, both" His words stumbled from his mouth as you and Parker smirked at him

The rest of that night, week even, was a mess of sweaty bodies and tongues

[extraspicynoodles-blog]

you started it!! (satoru x you sexting)

sexting, satoru x you, nsfw, phone sex

text thread - 10:48PM

Satoru<3: room service just got here. megumi's glaring at the dessert cart like it personally insulted him

You: did you get the kids something good?

Satoru<3: duh. i'm the fun dad. also nobara said i have "sugar daddy energy" and i don't know how to feel about that

You: well... you do pay for everything and you do wear sunglasses indoors and you spoil those kiddos rotten so yeah. i see it.

Satoru<3: omg wait am i the blueprint??

You: yes. just... unhinged. and taller. and louder.

Satoru<3: you forgot hotter ;) anyway whatcha doin sugar tits?

You: you did not just call me sugar tits.

Satoru<3: shut up you love it. so whatcha dooooin?

You: i'm in the bath. chase atlantic is playing. i'm rotting peacefully

Satoru<3: ...you didn't warn me. you didn't warn me you were in the bath.

You: lol sorry?

Satoru<3: this feels like an attack.

Satoru<3: lemme see.

You laugh. He's so dramatic. Your cheeks are already warm from the heat of the bath, and maybe a little from the thought of him, sprawled on hotel sheets, texting you like he's already half hard and kicking his feet just thinking about your wet skin.

So you angle your phone and snap a quick pic.

Shoulders up. Hair slicked back, wet and clinging to your skin like forbidden silk. Lashes damp and heavy, eyes hooded, lips parted just enough to be dangerous. Your cheeks are flushed; partially from the heat, but mostly from the slow, hazy kind of arousal that creeps in when you think about him.

You look... wrecked. Not in a tired way, but in the way that makes you look exactly the way you do when he's got his head buried between your legs, when his name is dripping off your tongue, when your fingers are knotted in his hair and you're trembling from how good he's making you feel.

You send it. No caption. Just a little killshot.

Attachment: 1 Image

The reply takes all of five seconds.

Satoru<3: ...

You smirk as his texts start rolling in; dramatic as always, but you can feel the shift in tone. You're already warm from the bath, Chase Atlantic's vocals spilling through the steam like temptation, and something in you just wants to see how far you can push him tonight.

Satoru<3: are you fucking kidding me.

Satoru<3: nope. nope. no. i'm not doing this. you can't just drop a picture like that looking like you just came from my tongue and expect me to ACT NORMAL

Satoru<3: you look like you just moaned my name. you look like you're still tasting me. your fucking cheeks are flushed and your lips are glossy and you KNOW what that does to me

Satoru<3: i'm literally shaking. i'm shaking. my whole fucking body just flinched like i got sniped. i think i felt it in my soul

Satoru<3: oh my god i'm gonna fucking explode do you even realize what you just did to me?

Satoru<3: i'm hard. like. hurts level hard. and i can't even do anything about it. i'm just casually in the fucking hallway now tempted to teleport back to my fucking room and i'm suffering

You: oops :)

Satoru<3: that's not fair. you're not fair. you look like you're about to say my name with your legs over my shoulders and i'm just supposed to SIT HERE???

Satoru<3: are you FUCKING kidding me.

Satoru<3: i was just here trying to be a good influence and now my dick's about to bust a hole in my sweatpants you are NOT REAL

You: oh no, poor baby

Satoru<3: don't "poor baby" me! you didn't even have to show anything but your shoulders are glistening and your lips are all pink and fuck i'm so fucking hard right now

Satoru<3: god i miss your mouth. i miss your thighs. i miss your everything. fuck.

You stare at his messages, lips curving, heart pounding just a little harder beneath the steam curling around your skin. He's spiraling. And you? You're evil.

So you shift in the water, just a little. Not enough to make a splash, but just enough to pull your arm across your chest, pressing it close, the soft slope of your cleavage rising just above the waterline. It's nothing explicit. No nipples, nothing wild.

But it's intentional. The wet sheen on your skin. The lazy tilt of your head. The way your lashes lower like you're seconds away from purring. Your lips parted curled in a subtle, sweet smirk.

You take the photo and send it.

Attachment: 1 Image

You don't even get the read receipt before your phone buzzes violently.

Satoru<3: OKAY i’m already on my way to my room. immediate emergency. DEFCON ONE. CODE RED. GONNA HAVE A HEART ATTACK

You: hehe

Satoru<3: you are the devil and if you ever say "hehe" again i'm flying home mid mission

Satoru<3: no. actually. say it again. say "hehe" while i'm between your thighs next time.

You: aw, poor baby. need a little break?

Satoru<3: baby i need a break from reality. hold on. gimme 3 minutes. sprinting to my room before i bust in this elevator and have to kill myself out of shame

seen

And then he disappears.

You laugh, sinking a little deeper into the bath as Chase Atlantic hums in the background, your legs lazily dragging through the water. You almost forget what you’re doing to him until-

Satoru<3: Attachment: 1 Image

It's not subtle. His sweatpants are stretched tight. You can see the imprint of his cock, long and thick and visibly twitching beneath the gray cotton. It's so hard it looks painful, the head pressed tight to the fabric, the outline unmistakable.

Satoru<3:

LOOK

WHAT

YOU

DO

TO

ME

Satoru<3: you think this is normal? i'm so hard it hurts. i'm leaking through the fucking fabric. i haven't even touched myself and i'm about to lose it

Satoru<3: all because you're in a tub looking like the fucking goddess of ruin, the patron saint of making me cum in my pants

Satoru<3: you wanna fix this or should i fuck my hand and cry

You don't reply right away. You know he's waiting. You know he's sitting there, phone clenched in one hand, rock hard in his sweats, twitching every time your typing dots pop up. So you take your sweet, sweet time.

You: hmm. maybe i've already been fucking my own hand this whole time. you'd never know :)

You: water's all rippled and my thighs feel all tingly. wonder why

Satoru<3: NO NO NO NO NO don't say that don't say that unless you're gonna tell me EVERYTHING

Satoru<3: are you? are you touching yourself right now? oh my fucking god

Satoru<3: baby baby please

Satoru<3: send a voice note just one just a tiny moan. please. i'm BEGGING

You: you touching yourself?

Satoru<3: no! i swear! i'm being good.

You: good boy. keep it that way.

You: unless you want me to stop texting.

Satoru<3: NO I'M SITTING ON MY HANDS. I SWEAR. i'm gonna explode. this is torture. this is illegal

You smirk, lean back, and maybe trail your hand through the water. You don't actually touch, but rather let the tension build, for you more so than him. Then a few seconds later...

Attachment: 1 Voice Memo

You chuckle a little, then press play. It's his voice. Not the playful, cocky tone you're used to. He sounds fucking destroyed.

God, this man was gone for you. And you loved every bit of it.

"F-fuck," he moans, breathless already through your phone speaker. "Please. You're so fucking mean." There's a pause. A faint, shuddering inhale. Like he's trying to compose himself, but he’s absolutely failing. "Just- just lemme touch it, baby. Please. I'm so hard it hurts, I'm- I'm losing it," he babbles, tone climbing rapidly into desperation. "You're in the bath, looking like that, and I'm just supposed to sit here and suffer? My dick is leaking through my sweats. It's- fuck, I'm shaking."

You swear you hear him thump his head back against the wall.

"You make me so fucking pathetic. I wanna put the phone right on my chest, let you hear how fucked up you make me. Please. I'll be good. I'll send another pic. I'll do anything. Just say the word." Another quiet, barely there whimper. And then a desperate little whisper: "...please."

You record it with one press. One take. Nothing too dramatic; just enough breathlessness, just enough softness. A quiet, drawn out moan that drips with suggestion. A little catch in your throat like you're holding something back. Like you might be touching yourself, or maybe you're just really good at pretending.

You send it.

Attachment: 1 Voice Memo

You: guess right and i'll let you. am i touching myself, or just teasing you, baby?

You stare at the screen. Three dots. Then they disappear. Then again. Then disappear.

Satoru<3: oh my god i had to bury my face in a pillow. i'm losing motor function. you sounded so... fuck. fuck. that little gasp at the end??? i need to be inside you NOW

Satoru<3: okay okay okay. you're not touching yourself. your voice was too controlled baby. that little moan was pure theater, wasn't it? you're trying to ruin me

You: ding ding we have a winner!

Satoru<3: FUCK. i win. i win. let me touch myself. please

You: hmm... but wouldn't it be more fun like this?

You take a quick moment before texting again, letting the suspense chew at him. Then you drop the next line, sweet as sugar and twice as cruel:

You: i just really wanna watch you cum without me even touching you, maybe without you even touching yourself. don't you think that'd be fun? making each other fall apart from just words and visuals?

Satoru<3: baby. baby i can't even BREATHE. i just leaked through my sweats again. i think i might actually die

Satoru<3: fuck. okay. okay. gimme a second. say more. just say anything. i'll cum like this. i swear i will. just please talk to me

Your finger hovers over the mic icon. You know exactly what you're going to say. You hit record. Your voice is low. Velvet soft. The kind of voice that wraps around him like silk and squeezes just a little too tight.

"Okay, baby. Go ahead. Take your cock out for me. Slow, okay? I want you to stroke it like I would. Just the tip first. Just a tease. That's it. Breathe for me, Satoru."

You end the message there. Just long enough to guide him. Just short enough to keep him needing more.

Attachment: 1 Voice Memo

You don't even get the typing dots. Just-

Satoru<3: Attachment: 1 Video

Your breath catches. He did exactly what you told him. His sweatpants are pushed down, and his cock is in his fist; red, dripping, twitching in his palm. He's stroking the head with slow, shuddering movements, precum smearing across his fingers. You hear him panting, just barely, like he's trying not to be loud, but completely unraveling under your voice.

Satoru<3: Attachment: 1 Video

This one's longer. His whole hand is wrapped around his cock this time. He's thrusting into his own fist, hips jerking, abs flexing. His breathing is louder, less controlled. He's trying to whisper your name, over and over, but it keeps breaking into soft, choked moans. And fuck, he looks so good. Sweat damp hair sticking to his forehead. Eyes glazed. Mouth parted.

Satoru<3: just like that? fuck your voice in my ear and my hand on my cock, i'm gonna cum. i'm gonna fucking cum please please please

You bite your lip. Time for his reward.

You shift in the tub, carefully angling your phone. Legs spread, skin still slick and glowing from the water. You slide your fingers down, parting yourself slow, teasing, and then ease two fingers inside. Not just a pose, and not just a suggestion either. You fuck yourself for five whole seconds. Your face visible, your moan soft and shaky, your body gorgeous and completely bare.

Attachment: 1 Video

His reaction is priceless.

Satoru<3:

I

AM

GOING

TO

DIE

Satoru<3: you are the most dangerous thing that has EVER existed

Satoru<3: i miss you so fucking bad i need to come home i need to live inside you

You grin. And then, like the evil little minx you are, you press record again.

Attachment: 1 Voice Memo

"Aww, baby, you're gonna finish so fast. Slow down for me, okay? I want this to last. Be a good boy. Don't cum yet."

You don't even get a reply. Just the FaceTime logo exploding onto your screen. You answer with a smirk.

He's a fucking mess. Face flushed, white hair tousled, lips parted in a desperate gasp. He's propped his phone up somewhere, and you can see his cock twitching in his fist as he tries to steady his breath.

"Nope. We're doing this live," he pants. "Sorry. I can't. Fucking hell. I need to see you."

You giggle softly, sweet and dangerous. Then shift your camera down, just for a little tease.

The view is devastating; your bare chest and stomach, skin glistening, bubbles pooling around your figure as your fingers are still buried deep inside your cunt under the water. You're moving slow, rhythmic and controlled. The kind of slow that taunts, not pleases.

His moan is immediate. A broken, strangled sound that makes your thighs twitch.

"Jesus fuck-" he groans, gripping himself tighter.

You bring the camera back up. Angle it close. Your flushed face fills the screen; lips parted and glossy, eyes half lidded and dark, a hint of smugness tugging at the corner of your mouth. You bite your lip. Your lashes flutter.

"Satoru," you whisper, voice warm and breathy, "I wish you were here. You'd fuck me so good, wouldn't you?"

He's trembling.

"Oh my god, yes," he gasps. "Yes, I would. I'd- I'd eat you out until your legs shook. I'd fuck you so slow just to hear those little noises. You'd let me, right? You'd ride me 'til I cry?"

Your brows furrow, then raise. That expression. The one he always says makes him lose his mind. You move your fingers just right and let your head fall back slightly, a soft moan escaping as your stomach tenses.

And he fucking whimpers. He's full on babbling now.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck- you're unreal, you're so fucking beautiful, I can't- how are you real? Look at your face, I- I'd worship you for the rest of my life. I'd crawl for you, I'd beg, please, please tell me I can cum-"

You tilt your head. Smirk. Voice soft, dangerous, in that tone you know drives Satoru up the fucking wall and back down again. "Only if you tell me whose cock that is, baby."

"Yours," he chokes out. "Yours, yours, everything is yours. Please, let me, please-"

Your moan is barely a whisper. You nod once, deliberate and slow, giving him permission. And really, that’s all it takes to break Satoru.

He cums with your name in his mouth like he's worshipping at the altar of you and a sob so visceral the phone vibrates. It's violent the way it hits him. He jerks up off the mattress, spine arched, cock spilling ropes of cum all over his abs, his fist still pumping instinctively through every wave. His moans crack into broken, choked off sounds. Eyes wet, lips parted, face completely destroyed.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck- baby, oh my god-"

His head drops back. He gasps, shuddering. And then he sniffles. Deadass crying. You can see the tears clinging to his lashes, the wet shimmer in the corners of his eyes, his chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon.

He slowly brings the phone closer, hand still trembling. "...I think you killed me," he breathes. "I think my soul left my body and came all over my stomach."

You giggle softly. Innocent. Cruel. "Aw. What a shame. I didn't even finish yet."

His entire body reacted. He sits up so fast the camera jostled. "No. No. Stop. Stop right now." His voice cracks, acting like you not cumming was on the same scale as a war crime. "Let me," he pleads, breath catching. "Let me talk you through it. I'll make it so good. I swear. Baby, please."

You bite your lip. Shift the camera. Legs still parted in the tub. Fingers still between your thighs. You nod. “Mm, go ahead and try baby.”

His voice drops, breathy and shaky, but soft. "Okay...okay, angel. Touch yourself again. Just slow at first. Just tease me. Act like I'm not even allowed to see."

You move your fingers, slow and shallow. He watches with parted lips, eyes glued to your screen like it's holy.

"You're so pretty. Fuck. I wish I was there. I'd kiss your thighs while you do that. Hold you open with both hands and just...watch."

You let out a shaky moan. His breath stutters.

"I'd slide inside so slow, baby. Let you feel everything." His voice cracks again. "You always take me so good. You get so wet for me. You'd wrap around me like you're made for it."

Your hips start to roll.

"You like when I stretch you open, huh?" he breathes. "When you can feel me deep, pressing against that spot that makes your eyes roll back? I'd go slow, baby. I'd make it last."

Your brows furrow. A soft gasp escapes you.

"God, your face- that face- you're so close, huh? Can I hear you? Can I hear how good you feel?"

Your breathing's getting heavier. Your fingers move deeper now, slick and steady, and your thighs part wider beneath the water.

He sees it, feels it, even through the screen. You don't have to say a word.

"Easy," he murmurs. "Don't rush it yet, baby. I wanna watch."

His voice is low and soothing. Still wrecked, but with a softness reserved only for you as he coos and coaxes you through your own orgasm. You can hear the rawness in his throat; he probably hasn't stopped shaking himself since he came.

"I'd be kissing your stomach right now," he whispers, eyes locked on your screen, like not even the world ending could make him tear his gaze away even only for a second. "Soft, messy kisses while my fingers fuck you stupid."

Your moan escapes unbidden; quiet and cracked.

"You like that? Hm?" he breathes. "You'd be grinding on my hand, wouldn't you? All needy. Whispering my name like it's the only word you know."

You whimper again, your hips starting to roll in rhythm. “Mhmm, and?”

"I'd rub your clit so slow," he continues, breath hitching. "Just circles. Gentle ones. Just enough to make your legs shake."

You gasp softly, eyebrows knitting, and he groans like it physically hurt him.

"God, your face. You make that little expression when it feels just right, right there, baby? Is that it?"

You nod. Barely able to breathe.

"I'd be inside you so deep. I'd fuck into you slow and smooth, over and over, until you couldn't take it."

His voice is shaking again, full of awe and praise.

"You'd look at me with those eyes. Those perfect, sexy eyes. Like I'm the only one who's ever touched you right. You always look so pretty when you're close, baby. Always so fuckin' perfect."

You can feel the pressure building, winding tighter and inching closer to snapping with every word he speaks.

"I'd hold your face while you came for me," he whispers, his voice softening by an octave or two at the thought. "Kiss you through it. Moan with you. I'd be right there, baby. Just like I am now. I'm watching you. I see everything. You're so close, aren't you?"

You nod again, moaning louder this time, body starting to shake. He leans closer to the camera, his eyes wide and pleading, voice full of endearment and encouragement. "Cum for me, angel. Please. I wanna watch how pretty you look."

You're moaning shamelessly from his words alone. The tone, the way he says them, the way he’s so clearly, obviously desperate for you. Your moans start quiet andragged, but build fast the more ruined Satoru becomes. Eventually your whole body’s arching, thighs and stomach convulsing, fingers buried deep and curling, your mouth open in a breathless cry. You make sure your face is in view of the camera; flushed, shining, wrecked, as you moan his name.

"Fuck, Satoru-"

He's watching in absolute awe, like seeing one of the world’s seven wonders through his phone screen; Eyes wide, mouth parted. His eyes watery and glossy as he whispers, "...holy shit."

Your fingers curl deep. Your toes flex beneath the water. Your mouth falls open, and your head tips back just slightly, just enough for him to see the ripple of tension through your throat. Your lashes flutter, lips quivering, body shaking as it's trying to hold on just a little longer. But you can't. It hits like a tidal wave.

"Satoru-" you gasp, and the sound of your voice like that entirely destroys something in him.

You're fucking falling apart right in front of him; eyes glazed, brows furrowed, mouth open in the prettiest, most helpless moan. You look like you're about to cry from how good it feels. Your thighs shudder, hips stuttering as you ride it out with stuttering, shaky breaths. But then you heard him, too.

"F-fuck- oh my god, fuck baby- "

You blink through the haze, phone still in your hand, but your jaw drops as he shifts the camera, propping it back up on a pillow. He’s cumming. Again. And giving you a whole front row seat to the spectacle.

He didn't even mean to, really. But then his hand is back on his cock as you came, barely stroking, just watching you with wide, tear glossed eyes. It fucking shoots out of him, messy and sudden and completely unprompted; ropes of it spilling over his stomach and chest again as his mouth falls open in a silent cry.

He pants like he can't catch his breath, like you knocked the wind out of him, moaning through gritted teeth. "You're so fucking beautiful, oh my god- I didn't even touch it that time, I just- your face, fuck- your voice, Jesus Christ baby-"

He's twitching through aftershocks, eyes locked on his screen, completely wrecked. And all you do is smirk, flushed and glowing, your voice still breathless, "God, you're so easy. Came again just from watching me?"

He groans, collapsing back against the pillows. "You're gonna kill me."

You giggle, trailing your fingers down your stomach as the bath water ripples gently around you. "Mmm. Maybe. But what a way to go."

He's still catching his breath. Hair a mess, eyes heavy lidded, lashes damp. You watch him collapse dramatically back onto the bed, face flushed, cum still streaked across his skin. "Okay," he wheezes. "Okay, princess. Get out of the bath. We're done. You win. I'm cooked. Fully destroyed."

You giggle softly, rinsing off in the warm water as he rambles.

"I want you to put on that sweater," he mumbles. "You know the one. The big knit one. Mine. The one that smells like me and makes you look stupid cute because it's way too big for you."

You smirk, standing and wrapping yourself in a towel.

"Put that on," he whispers, watching you through the screen with adoring, sleepy eyes. "And get in bed. I'm telling you a bedtime story."

You towel off and pull the sweater on; it swallows you whole, the sleeves covering your hands, the hem brushing along your upper thighs. You climb into bed, still warm from the bath, and snuggle under the covers with the phone propped up.

"You comfy?" he asks gently. "You look so pretty like that. Soft. Safe."

"I'm comfy," you whisper, settling in. "What's the story?"

"The story," he hums, blinking slowly, "is about this girl I'm in love with who deserves everything. Like, everything. She's the prettiest, baddest, softest, smartest woman to ever exist, and I'm pretty sure she has me under some kind of sex magic spell, but I'm not complaining."

You giggle again, cheeks warm.

"And when I get home," he continues, voice dipping into something soft and and promising, "I'm booking you a spa day. No, actually. I am the spa now. I'm gonna turn our place into a spa. Hot towels, essential oils, deep tissue massage. I'll scrub your back with my lips if you want. Exfoliation by Gojo."

You snort. "You've officially lost it."

"I'm in love," he whines. "Different thing."

He rolls onto his side, eyes soft and sleep dazed. "You deserve the world," he murmurs. "Like, actually. Do you want it? I'll give it to you. Just say the word. I'll fly to space. I'll name a planet after you. You can take all of my generational wealth."

You bite your lip, smiling fondly. "I just want you," you say softly.

He goes silent for a second. You watch him blink like he's buffering. Then he groans, face scrunched. "Ughhhh, why would you say something that cute after I just came twice. You're gonna kill me. I love you so bad it's stupid."

You just hum, eyes fluttering closed. "Night, Toru."

"Night, baby," he whispers. "Dream of me. I'll be dreaming of you. And your bathtub. And your face. And your- okay I'm stopping. I'm stopping now."

The last thing you hear before drifting off is his voice, sleepy and warm.

"...love you. love you. love you."

[lovings4turn]

I'LL WATCH YOUR LIFE IN PICTURES..

pairing: best friend!luke hughes x reader

summary… a look into luke’s camera roll, and a trip down memory lane [1.4k]

becca’s notes… a little insight into the kinds of pictures luke keeps in his phone (and close to his heart). this was supposed to be so much shorter, but, i got a little carried away so... oops!

📰 series masterlist masterlist ⋆˚࿔ likes + rbs appreciated

1/202

blurry, terrible angle, and dimly lit.

it was the first selfie you’d ever taken together, from the night you’d met, actually, and it’s clear that neither of you were really ready for the picture.

sure, you took it, were the one fully in control of pressing that circular button that would capture the image after you'd stolen luke's phone from his grasp. yet, it seems your alcohol-laced mind was more preoccupied with actually getting both you and luke into the frame at the same time than really posing for the picture.

to your credit, you're both smiling. luke actually looks like he's been captured mid laugh, and your grin is bright and toothy, though clearly drunken. you vaguely remember saying cheese, bursting with energy at the thought of making a new friend.

it's one of only nine photos in luke's 'favourites' album.

15/202

"oh my god, send me that."

once every blue moon, luke can actually be a good photographer. if you can suffer through the occasional finger over the lense, or weirdly ‘artistic’ framing, luke can claim ownership to some of the best photos of you ever taken.

this is one of them.

taken on a mild, spring day, when you’d dragged him out on a picnic. you’d provided the blanket, and luke had begrudgingly provided everything else, transport to the park included.

you’re sat cross-legged, daisies littered throughout your hair from where luke had taken to placing them amongst the strands in an act of boredom. juice from a perfectly ripe strawberry stains your white shirt, but you still look absolutely divine. your eyes are bright, like sunlight harnessed but not dimmed, and a playful pout adorns your lips as you look just wide of the camera.

in short, it’s a fucking great picture of you. he’s just got an eye for photography, is what he’d said at the time.

what he thinks now, though, is maybe his feelings for you manage to seep into the lenses, warp the image so you can finally see yourself as he does.

67-81/202

a series of selfies, all seemingly taken within seconds of one another. luke quickly learns never to leave his phone unattended around you, unless he wants to return to a significant chunk taken out of his iphone storage.

and to your credit, you'd maintained an incredible poker face when he'd came back from the bathroom, and his phone seemed to be in exactly the same place. he hadn't even noticed anything was amiss.

it was only later that night, when he was sending his mom a photo of him and quinn, that he discovered them. he'd laughed to himself, shaking his head as he muttered an 'unbelievable'.

in one, your tongue pokes out, as though taunting him for what you'd managed to pull off. in another, you blow a kiss. somewhere in between, you're making a facial expression that luke knows you'd rather die than let see the light of day outside of his phone.

your mischief practically radiates through the screen, infiltrates every low-quality pixel, and luke swears he can see that familiar look in your eye, the one you get whenever you’re plotting something stupid. 

there's fourteen photos in total, and luke keeps every last one. blackmail material, he claims, for when you get too cocky.

109/202

absolutely disgusting, you'd called it. had all but launched yourself at him with a screech, acting like a provoked animal in an effort to steal his phone and delete it for yourself. luke didn't see the issue.

sure, you obviously weren't prepared for the photo, were mid-bite of your burger and also mid-blink, but it wasn't awful by any means. a little unflattering at worst, endearing at best.

luke had held his phone above his head, out of your reach. he called you dramatic, you threatened to knee him in the balls. luke deleted the photo to appease you.

not five minutes later, he retrieves it from his 'recently deleted'. you keep your peace of mind and luke keeps his photo. it makes his instagram dump for your twenty first birthday.

131/202

technically, it's not even a photo of you. wasn't intended to be, at least.

it’s from last summer, at the lakehouse. past midnight, but not too late, when the evening was just starting to dwindle down.

everyone had gathered around a small, makeshift fire, half full beer bottles gripped lazily in their hands as meaningless chatter mingled with the sounds of cicadas.

luke was just messing around with his phone, really, trying to get a decently aesthetic picture of the fire. the fact you happened to be in frame was sheer coincidence, or cruel fate. he’s still unsure as to which.

sparks dance over your head like a halo, an arcing display of light that bathes you in a golden-white hue. half of your face is lost to the darkness. the portion you can see looks utterly content, eyes closed and lashes fanning over your cheeks.

luke’s thumbs had hovered over the screen a beat too long, threatening to zoom in a fraction further. impossibly, his self-restraint won out, and his locked phone was promptly stuffed into his pocket.

147-148/202

one of you, one of him, both taken with the zoom set to 0.5. 

it’s a ridiculous trend that luke still doesn’t understand, but it had made you almost giddy with joy. maximum effect for minimum effort, something luke couldn’t complain about even if he tried. 

you’d taken the picture before he could even process it, before promptly thrusting the phone into his hands and demanding he do the same. the distortive zoom had thrown him for a second, but he’d still snorted a laugh as he positioned you within frame, looking up at him with puppy-dog eyes that were only intensified by the dramatic angle. 

luke tried it out on a few teammates shortly after, and was disappointed to realise he didn’t find them anywhere near as entertaining as the one he took of you. 

180/202

not a creeper shot, no matter what anyone else tries to say. sure, you were asleep when the photo was taken, but luke had his reasons.

it dates back to one of your movie nights, where you were slumped against luke’s shoulder, hood of your sweater pulled low over your eyes. thanks to the way you’d cuddled into his side, luke had no way of knowing whether or not you’d drifted off yet.

talking during a movie was worthy of the death sentence, in your eyes, and it wasn’t a risk luke was willing to take. carefully, luke had pulled out his phone, acting as though any sudden movements would be fatal.

it took a second for him to get the angle correct; he couldn’t really see his screen thanks to your position, and so snapped a photo and hoped for the best.

what greeted him caused his heart to stutter uncomfortably, a weird mis-step in the otherwise rhythmic beating. as predicted, you were totally passed out, lips parted, and the damp spot on his hoodie provided the damning evidence that you do drool in your sleep, thank you very much.

he’d intended to delete it after receiving the answer to his internal debate. with a few taps of his fingers, it became your new contact photo.

202/202

the most recent addition to the collection is nothing spectacular.

a cosy, quiet cafe plays backdrop to you, who proudly beams and carefully clasps a drink between two hands. the porcelain white of the mug is disturbed by a tendril of coffee spilling over the lip, a result of your slight clumsiness and inability to merely hold the thing straight whilst posing.

the fancy latte art was the reason for the photo, of course. after all, it would be rude not to take a picture, when the barista had managed to fashion a small cat out of milk atop your - unseasonal - gingerbread latte.

what if luke wanted to look back on the small, yet impressive feat one day? the fact that you were also featured was secondary, not even relevant, in all honestly. 

“smile,” he’d said, and so you did. only you were aware that it wasn’t just for the photo.

[namilettes]

Yan!Two time x reader who's really forgiving and loving and would still love two time no matter what they do to reader, I'm cooking twin

YAN!Two Time x Gentle!reader small headcanons

i lowkey had to rush with this as ive been working on many fanfictions all at once, and i need sleep,, <//333

Oh this is...

You're probably feeding into their delusions, but your forgiveness lowkey pisses them off sometimes.

The voices get lowder whenever they hear your soft ''It's okay.''

Even though deep inside they know you're hurting. But they have no signs of stopping anytime soon

if anything, they get even more thrilled from this.

''Oh Azure you're as kind as the day we met!~''

They just latch onto you, gently sliding their dagger along your thigh.

If you had any ideas of gently reminding them ''I'm not Azure/The spawn.''

They just stab their dagger into your thigh, laughing like an unhinged maniac and patting you off with ''STOP BEING SILLY!''

They need you for the illusion you give them, and your kindness feeds just into that.

If they think you're the Spawn, they lowkey just blush and giggle everytime you're kind to them.

Sometimes they even get on their knees and thank you for your godlike kindness.

You've been stuck in their basement for months now, if you had any ideas of even suggesting leaving, they'll crash out

''I knew you were being kind just to gain my trust- Y-you.. YOU STUPID- CUNT.''

Again, with the same dagger smashing into your flesh, this time they'll drag the dagger further, transforming it into a gashing wound.

They'll kiss on it, lick it, even sink their teeth into your flesh and eat it to show that your divinity is now a part of them.

yeah they'll kiss you with that same yucky mouth, whisper to you about how they know you'll forgive them because that's what a gods job is to do.

Even as their sadistic games continue, you patting their head as they sink their dagger deep into your flesh- it makes them tear up. But they continue nonetheless.

Oh this is...

You're probably feeding into their delusions, but your forgiveness lowkey pisses them off sometimes.

The voices get lowder whenever they hear your soft ''It's okay.''

Even though deep inside they know you're hurting. But they have no signs of stopping anytime soon

if anything, they get even more thrilled from this.

''Oh Azure you're as kind as the day we met!~''

They just latch onto you, gently sliding their dagger along your thigh.

If you had any ideas of gently reminding them ''I'm not Azure/The spawn.''

They just stab their dagger into your thigh, laughing like an unhinged maniac and patting you off with ''STOP BEING SILLY!''

They need you for the illusion you give them, and your kindness feeds just into that.

If they think you're the Spawn, they lowkey just blush and giggle everytime you're kind to them.

Sometimes they even get on their knees and thank you for your godlike kindness.

You've been stuck in their basement for months now, if you had any ideas of even suggesting leaving, they'll crash out

''I knew you were being kind just to gain my trust- Y-you.. YOU STUPID- CUNT.''

Again, with the same dagger smashing into your flesh, this time they'll drag the dagger further, transforming it into a gashing wound.

They'll kiss on it, lick it, even sink their teeth into your flesh and eat it to show that your divinity is now a part of them.

yeah they'll kiss you with that same yucky mouth, whisper to you about how they know you'll forgive them because that's what a gods job is to do.

Even as their sadistic games continue, you patting their head as they sink their dagger deep into your flesh- it makes them tear up. But they continue nonetheless.

[stellarsturniolos]

━━ ⟢ ‘soft lips’ ╰ 𝐌.𝐒.

・ ˖  ✦ ⋄ . in which.. you love matt's lips, but he loves tasting you even more.

warnings: smut, tit sucking, fingering, matt the munch, light dirty talk, i think that covers it !

A/N: reblogs and likes are appreciated! i do NOT give consent for my work to be copied or uploaded to any other platform. divider by @bernardsbendystraws !!

word count: 946.

you've been dating matt for a few months. and you can honestly say you've never been happier.

he's attractive, he's hilarious, he's generous and he's so kind to everyone he meets. he's your dream guy, without a doubt.

every inch of him is totally mesmerizing to you. you could sit and watch him as he goofs off with his brothers for hours on end, or sit and listen to him talk without ever getting bored.

but there's something about his lips that have you under a goddamn spell.

they're always so soft, thanks to nick's lip balm brand. and he always tastes good. you sometimes joke that he tastes like apples, because he's addicted to any apple flavored drink. but really, his mouth is so sweet — just like the juicy watermelon lip balm he never goes anywhere without.

matt is constantly calling you out, lightly teasing you for staring at his mouth so often. you blush and sputter and deny it every time, but he knows how much you like his mouth. hell, everyone knows.

as your relationship has progressed, you have found yourself wanting his mouth on you. all the time.

you love kissing matt more than anything. you love the taste of his lips, the feeling of his tongue against your own, how he dominates each and every kiss the two of you share.

and now, several months in, you like to feel those soft lips on other parts of your body. and matt likes it too.

you're in his bedroom, curled up together on his bed, your shirts discarded on the floor somewhere. the only thing hiding your breasts from his gaze is your bra. he's playing with the straps, and you're so eager for him to take it off.

"please, matt... please..." you beg. his briefs are hiding his hard cock from your view, but you can feel it against your thigh, and you can feel the excessive amounts of precum leaking from his tip and soaking through his boxers.

he swiftly removes your bra, like he's done so many times before, and tosses it carelessly aside. you gasp as you feel him press soft kisses along the underside of your breast, slowly making his way up to your nipple. his lips make loud slurping noises around your left nipple while his fingers pinch and tug at the other teasingly.

"mhmmm.." matt moans as he sucks harder. "you like that, baby? hm? can feel how wet you are. you're drippin', sweetheart, fuuuck."

you feel a shiver roll down your spine. you whimper, trying to grind your hips against him. it feels so fucking good, but you need more.

he nips at your nipple gently before slowly pulling back. "wanna taste you somewhere else now.." he rasps as he kisses down your stomach, sucking and nipping, leaving marks in his wake.

he presses a kiss to your pussy through your underwear, before leaking a teasing stripe along the sticky wet fabric. he pulls your panties to the side and grazes a finger through your slippery folds. he brings the finger to his mouth and sucks it clean. "shiiiit, baby.. tastes so fuckin' sweet.."

you let out a strangled moan, not even caring that you should be quiet because nick and chris are both right outside the door in the living room. matt just chuckles before his fingers are holding your pussy lips open so he can slurp up your juices.

evidently he doesn't care about his brothers hearing either, and something about that kinda turns you on a little bit.

"matt, i..i—oh my fucking god," you cry as his soft lips and warm tongue attack your pussy like it's his favorite meal. which, if you asked him, he'd say it is.

"so, so wet f'me.. so delicious.." he husks. the bed creaks as he grinds his hips down against the mattress, chasing his release as much as you're chasing yours.

his fingers join his mouth on your pussy, circling over your clit at first before moving down to your entrance. you let out a startled gasp as he shoves two of his long, thick fingers inside, along with his tongue. you whine and tangle your fingers in his messy hair.

matt loves the way your face scrunches up with pleasure as he both finger and tongue fucks you, making you feel so good. he could watch you like this all damn day.

"matt—," you shriek. "i.. i'm gonna.." you trail off as another moan slips from your lips.

he licks a slow stripe through your folds, gathering your wetness on his tongue. "mmm.. gonna cum f'me, baby?" he asks as your pussy drips more hot slick down his fingers and all over his hand. "do it, baby.. soak my tongue, let me taste more of you.." he rasps.

an airy whine escapes your lips as a warm feeling snaps in your gut. you clench around his fingers, feeling nice and full. his mouth continues to suck up your juices and his fingers scissor inside you as you come undone. more slick slips out of you, and he licks you clean as soft moans spill from your lips.

"mmmm, fuck. your pretty pussy is squeezin' my fingers so tight. just feels sooo good, huh?" he coos teasingly.

he keeps going, still fingering you and slurping up any juices he left behind. and you know he isn't going to stop any time soon.

"gonna make you cum again, baby.. over an' over.." he says as his fingers pick up the pace. "wanna eat this pussy all day long. my pussy."

you love his mouth so much, but matt loves tasting you even more.

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧

Parings → Nathan Drake x Reader

Warnings → angst, fluff, teasing

Summary → Nate unexpectedly reunites with Sully's daughter, whom he previously hurt on a date, causing tension before a new adventure begins.

Nathan Drake slipped silently into Sully’s apartment, the door creaking faintly as it closed behind him. The place was dimly lit, a little dusty, full of old maps, trinkets, and the scent of cigar smoke and aged whiskey.

His eyes scanned the room with one purpose: Retrieve the bracelet, but his attention veered as he spotted something familiar: the map. The one he and his brother had dreamed about since they were kids. His fingers itched to trace the lines, to dive into the puzzle of it.

“Hey, I see patience ain’t your virtue,” Sully’s gruff voice called from behind.

Nate turned around, a crooked smirk already forming on his face. “Surprised to see me?”

“Not even slightly.” Sully stood with his hands in his pockets, effortlessly casual. “Made you a drink.”

Nate raised an eyebrow as his gaze landed on the glass Sully nodded toward. A Shirley Temple. The absurdity tugged a chuckle from his chest. “Shirley Temple. That’s hilarious. And the bracelet?”

Sully gestured toward his desk like it wasn’t even worth the energy. “It's in the first drawer there on my desk, if you want it. But I think you're here because you got bigger fish to fry.”

“Nah,” Nate replied with a casual shrug. “I'm just here for the bracelet.”

He strode across the room like he owned it, opened the drawer, and plucked out the bracelet with a swift flick of his fingers. The cool metal curled into his palm like a prize.

“You done?”

“No.”

He stuffed the bracelet in his pocket, but something else gleamed nearby. A lion-shaped emerald trinket. He let out a low whistle, picked it up, turned it over thoughtfully in his hand.

“Oof, this looks valuable,” he muttered, slipping it into his bag like it was his birthright. “Now I’m done.”

But before Sully could toss some sarcastic comment his way, the sound of footsteps hit the air, light, soft. Then came a voice that hadn’t crossed Nate’s path in months.

“Dad, what are we getting for di—”

You stopped dead at the bottom of the stairs. Your eyes locked on Nate like you’d seen a ghost… or something worse.

Nate’s entire face shifted. His smirk disappeared.

“Oh… my god,” he breathed, stunned. His shoulders tensed as he straightened up instinctively.

Your jaw dropped, and then your expression hardened like steel. Arms folded. Eyebrows arched.

“What are you doing here?!” The fire in your voice made him flinch, just slightly.

“I—um—” He sounded nothing like the confident guy from seconds ago.

Sully’s eyes darted between you both like he’d just stumbled into the middle of a soap opera.

“Wait, wait… you two know each other?”

Your glare sharpened, and your voice was like ice wrapped in gasoline.

“Yeah, Dad. Remember that date I went on a few months ago? The one that went horrible?”

Sully’s brows shot up, connecting the dots faster than you could stop him.

“That was him?! ”

“Yep.”

The disgust in your tone could have curdled milk. You didn’t even bother to look at Nate again.

---

Flashback – A Few Months Ago

The first time you walked into that bar, you didn’t expect to keep coming back. But there was something about the bartender with the boyish grin and soft brown eyes that made it hard to stay away. Nathan Drake had this effortless magnetism—he was charming, funny, confident in that annoyingly hot way, and every time he caught your eye across the counter, it felt like the air shifted.

You started going once a week. Then twice. Sometimes with friends, sometimes alone, pretending you just liked the drinks when really, it was all about him.

You were quiet, more reserved—the kind of girl who watched the room rather than commanded it. But once you had a drink in you, the edges of your nerves softened, and the flirty back-and-forth with Nate became addicting. He’d tease you, call you “mystery girl,” and flash that grin like he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

Then, one night, he leaned on the bar with his elbow and said, “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you always come here just to see me.”

You’d blushed, laughed then shrugged, “maybe I do.”

“How about you prove it, then?” Nate smirked.

“How?”

“Go on a date with me.”

You nearly dropped your glass.

You said yes, of course. And for the rest of that week, you couldn’t stop replaying the moment over and over again. The possibilities swirled in your chest like butterflies—romantic, chaotic, hopeful.

✧･ﾟ: *✧ The Date ✧･ﾟ: *✧

The reality was… less dreamy.

No music. No dim bar lights. No cocktails to help you flirt back effortlessly. Just the two of you, seated at a small café table, a single flickering candle between you, and a silence that stretched just a little too long.

You sat with your hands in your lap, trying not to wring your fingers into knots. The words in your head felt scrambled, like you couldn’t quite reach for the right ones fast enough. Your voice sounded small. Meek.

Nate, on the other hand, looked... unimpressed. He leaned back in his chair like he was watching the clock tick, his foot tapping against the floor, fingers lightly drumming on the tabletop. He hadn’t made eye contact in a while.

You forced a smile. “So… uh, you ever came here before?” God, that’s what you went with? Basic small talk? You immediately wanted to melt into the floor.

“Nah,” Nate replied absently, barely glancing at you. “Not really my scene.”

You nodded, laughing weakly, then fell back into silence. You could feel it—that heavy, suffocating awkwardness setting in like fog. Every second without conversation made your heart pound faster.

You picked up your water, sipping to stall, trying to think of something clever, something flirty. But nothing came. He wasn’t giving you much to work with.

He checked his phone.

You looked down at your napkin, tracing the edge with your nail. “Is everything okay?” You asked softly.

“Hm?” He looked up, startled, like he hadn’t realized you were still there. “You seem… distracted.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look… you’re just not really the girl I thought you were.”

The sentence landed like a gut punch. Your stomach dropped, and your lips parted before you could even think of what to say. “What… what do you mean?”

“I thought you were like me—y’know, fun. Flirty, wild.” He shrugged, casual as ever, like he was commenting on the weather. “But this? The whole quiet, shy thing? It’s not really my type.”

You blinked, hard. It felt like the table had just dropped out from under you. “I-I’m sorry if I—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupted quickly, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s just not working. No hard feelings, okay?”

No hard feelings. Like he hadn’t just pulled the rug out from under a version of yourself you’d been building up the courage to show him.

You nodded, slow and mechanical. “Yeah… sure,” you said, even though your voice trembled and your throat felt tight.

“Thanks for being honest,” you managed to say, voice trembling as you stood up on stiff legs, already pulling some cash from your purse, fumbling to leave enough to cover your untouched coffee. Your vision blurred at the edges, tears threatening to spill, but you blinked them back with everything you had.

You weren’t going to cry in front of him. You wouldn’t give him that.

He didn’t even flinch as you turned and walked away. No protest. No “wait.” Not even a glance.

And that was the part that stung the most.

✧･ﾟ: *✧ Present ✧･ﾟ: *✧

“You’re the fucker who broke my daughter’s heart?!” Sully’s voice could’ve cracked a wall. His glare practically burned through Nate’s soul.

Nate’s hands flew up defensively, but his voice stayed annoyingly smug. “Look, I was just being honest. I didn’t want to waste her time. But, hey, if I knew she was your daughter, maybe I’d have thought twice. She’s probably got some fire in her, huh?”

Your eyes flared like a warning signal. “Don’t you dare flirt with me!”

Nate shrugged, a smirk creeping back onto his face. “Just saying, sweetheart.”

The audacity in that smile. You wanted to slap it off his face.

“What the hell is he doing here, Dad?” You spun to Sully, your patience fully gone. This was not how today was supposed to go.

Sully sighed like he’d aged ten years in ten seconds. “That’s Sam’s little brother, Nathan Drake.”

You blinked. “He’s Sam’s brother?”

Nate gave a cocky little wave, like it was an honor to be in his presence. “Yeah, baby. Surprised?”

You groaned, threw your hands up like the universe itself was playing a joke on you. “Great. Just great. I’m not going anywhere with him, Dad.”

“Come on, honey,” Sully pleaded, voice gentler now. “I need you on this one. I can’t do this without you.”

You held Nate’s gaze for a moment, fire in your eyes. Then Sully’s. Back and forth. Trapped.

“Fine,” you hissed through gritted teeth, stomping toward the stairs.

“But I’m not happy about it.”

“I’ll see you later, baby,” Nate called after you, voice soaked in smugness.

Sully looked like he was five seconds from throttling him. “Stop flirting with my daughter. She already hates you.”

Nate leaned against the wall with a self-satisfied smirk. “We’ll see how long she can keep hating me.”

Sully muttered something dark under his breath as he walked away, probably cursing the day those two ever crossed paths.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Tags: @sir-this-is-a-wendys @words-to-accomplish-something @ptergwen @lightgreysoul @moniffazictress11

[cherry-smokes]

Guard Dog

Pairings: Bob Floyd x OC (could be read as an ‘x reader’ fic) Word Count: 1.2K Notes: The beef between Cutthroat and Hangman is biblical. This does indeed live within the Bittersweet universe. The next chapter will indeed be Sweetheart and Hangman centric so….keep an eye out for that. Also again, I don’t know shit about the Navy. But I have a big heart, and isn’t that enough? hurt/comfort fic. Save her Bob Floyd. Introduction Mood boards

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

Dogfights.

You know that feeling you get when you're doing the one thing you know you were meant to do. That heavy weight of fulfillment. The rush of adrenaline you get that makes the experience feel like it passes by in the blink of an eye. So quick you can't wait to do it again. The soothing warmth that washes over you afterwards. Yeah. That's how Cutthroat feels about Dogfights.

They're quick, brutal, all or nothing, it’s basically heaven on earth for a woman like her.

Which is why everyone can practically see the steam blowing out of her ears as she finishes her 200 pushups. Sweetheart’s next to her, powering through her own set. “At least we got shot down last. That’s still a win.” Her breath is strained and the wincing she’s doing isn’t just because of the physical exertion. She knows her friend. She’s a powder keg about to explode, one wrong move and a deeply unlucky individual will be caught in the crossfire.

“Please stop talking.”

Cutthroat is a sore loser. People tell her all the time, it's why no one likes playing against her at beer pong. She allegedly ‘takes it too far’ and for most people that's a problem. Maybe it’s a pride thing. Not in the obnoxious way that it is for Hangman though. He’s a bragger. Gets off on being better than everyone else and for some reason he brings out the absolute worst in her. He should know better than to poke the bear.

He doesn't know better.

A shadow casts over her as she pushes up from the ground. Just seven more. She can ignore him for seven pushups.

“God that was rough to watch.”

Six. “Fuck off Hangman.”

“No seriously, I think you might be losing your edge.”

Five.

“Maybe you’re not cut out for this mission.”

Four.

“You might as well cut your loses and head home now.”

Three.

“Jake don’t.” Sweethearts voice rings through her ears. Though it’s tuned out by the blood rushing to her head.

Two.

“I’m just saying Sweetheart, you’d probably have a better chance at coming home with someone else flying upfront.”

One.

In a split second Hangman feels a shockingly strong shove at his chest. He stumbles back, he’ll swear later it was just because he was caught off guard.

“What the fuck is your problem!”

His hands go up, he wipes the surprise off his face and replaces it with a cocky smirk. “Woah there! Sweetheart why don’t you get your guard dog under control.”

“I'd rather be guard dog than a fucking flake.”

“A flake? That's the worst you can do?"

It's not.

“You think Sweetheart would have a better chance flying with someone like you?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re a coward. You don’t know shit about loyalty and anyone unlucky enough to fly with you has a higher chance of coming home in a coffin.”

She shoulders him harshly as she walks back onto base. Trying to ignore the glances she's getting. The heavy weight of embarrassment settles over her, the kind you would get in middle school when you said something out loud only to be met by whispers and snickers.

The rest of the Dagger Squad watches her walk towards the locker room. Phoenix glances at Sweetheart. Who simply shakes her head. The lit fuse just needs time to burn out. Unfortunately not everyone knows this and Bob is already following after the woman.

“Uh-Bob. Bob honey I wouldn’t-“

He barely spares her a glance as he mumbles his response at her. “‘m just gonna check on her.”

Sweetheart can’t do anything but cover her face with her hands. “Oh my god she’s gonna eat him alive.”

Phoenix sighs. “If he dies you automatically have to take over as my WSO.”

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

The locker room is quiet. Unfortunately. She doesn’t feel good about what she said. He went low but she shouldn't have met him there.

She doesn’t know when this deep rooted need to be great at something began. She thinks it may have always been there. Always needing to prove something to someone. Anyone really. Teachers with good grades, her superiors by always being fifteen minutes early. She never needed anyone to explain something twice to her because she didn’t want them to think she was deadweight. She gets this rush when someone gives her that look. The one that says “I’m impressed.” After a while it just became the standard for her. She has to be the best because what is she if not that? It’s crucial especially in a field like this. In this field if you aren’t the best people get hurt, and Cutthroat is hyper aware that she carries precious cargo with her.

The sound of soft footsteps echoes around the corner. It comes out of her mouth before she can stop it. Sharp and biting. “What?”

She looks up just as his shoulders jump. He takes a small step back and raises his hands as if he’s approaching a rabid animal.

She didn’t expect Bob. Truly, and something horrible stirs up in her chest that he ended up at the receiving end of her anger.

“Sorry I- I just-“

“No I didn’t- I’m sorry.”

A soft silence falls over the two bodies in the room. Eyes dancing up at each other and glancing away. Eventually Bob makes a silent gesture asking to sit down next to her on the bench.

She nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically before looking down at her feet.

“I’m not exactly sure what happened but whatever it was I’m sure he deserved it.”

That gets a soft laugh out of her, covering her face with her hands. “Jesus I’m so embarrassed.”

Bob’s eyebrows furrow, “why should you be embarrassed?”

She peaks through her fingers at him with a deadpanned look. “I’m supposed to be better than this.”

Bob glances down at her, “Hangman was probably asking for it.”

“He was but that’s not-“ She stops herself. Moving her hands to rest on her knees as she subtly scratches at the fabric of her flight suit.

This look comes over him, and it scares the hell out of her because for a second she swears he saw right through her.

Bob shakes his head. “Everyone got shot down today.”

“Yeah but that’s them.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, and despite the truly harrowing way she’s feeling it makes her warm inside. Just for a second.

“You got shot down but you still gave Maverick a run for his money. They wouldn’t have asked you to come if they thought you couldn’t fly an impossible mission. I don’t think that’s anything to be embarrassed about.”

Cutthroat leans back on her hands and rests her head on her shoulder. Her eyes are shining in the way they usually do when he looks at them, no longer cloudy or dull. “Is that what you told everyone else?”

“No, just you.”

She hums softly. Hoping that he can’t hear the loud thud beneath her chest. “Just me huh?”

He nods softly. He hopes she can’t see how his blush is making his glasses slightly foggy. He reaches over and brushes his hand over hers. Fleeting, almost as if she’d imagined it. “I should probably head back before they send a search party.”

“Am I that scary?”

Bob turns around just for a moment and in the most tender and soft voice says “Terrifying.”

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

a/n: this is short I'm sorry. I'm just a girl who really loves a slow burn.

[fangedforyou]

🍒 Naga Roommate (Sirus)

Should l start adding a summary so you know what you're getting into? Let me know! Also, in case it isn't clear because of the academy setting, all the characters in my stories are over 18! I don't usually specify ages, but I write my characters to be 20 at the youngest

You're playing spin-the-bottle and it lands on your shy naga roommate, Sirus. Then you get stuck in a closet and things happen... Sirus has two cocks, make-out session, Sirus is his own cockblock

"Kiss, kiss, kiss!" The faint chants of your friends filter into the closet, and you giggle in the dark. 

"I didn't think it'd land on you, Sirus. This is kind of awkward, isn't it?" 

"We probably shouldn't." 

His shyness comes across as prickly to most people, so even though he's been in Evergrace Academy for a couple of months, the only friend he has made is you, and that's likely because you share a dorm, so you're together a lot. 

"Come on, don't you want to know what kissing a human feels like?" 

"I... I don't know." 

"Here." You scoot closer in the dark, straddling his tail because the closet is rather small. His thick tail shifts under you.

You take his face in your hands and guide him to your own, so you can gently press your lips together. He stiffens, but he doesn't pull away. You hold the chaste kiss for a moment before you lean back.

“How was that?" 

"Good. Can we do it again?" He whispers. "A proper kiss this time?" 

"I'm glad you asked." 

You take your time, brushing your lips against his own before turning your head just a little to deepen the kiss. There's venom in his saliva, and you can feel it going straight to your core. You moan against his lips, and he takes the opportunity to slip his forked tongue into your mouth. Your tongues tangle together wetly. You're so absorbed by the kiss that it takes you a moment to feel the hardness jutting between your legs. You shift your hips forward, glad you're wearing a skirt that allows you to grind your core against him. He shudders and breaks the kiss. 

"Sorry," he groans. "I... I can't help it. You're so soft and you smell so good..." 

"There's nothing to apologize for." You bite your lip as the venom coursing through your veins makes everything so much more sensitive. 

His cock rubbing against your clit feels so good. He lets out a soft grunt, squirming against you. Something feels slightly strange, so you reach down to investigate, and your fingers bump against two shafts. 

"Oh my god, you have two? Now I really want to fuck you." 

He grabs your hand. "That's just the venom," he says gently. "You might as well be drunk. I don’t think it’s right." 

"What? No!" You try to explain, because your cunt is aching so badly that you might cry if you don't get to cum, but a thump on the door interrupts you. 

"It's been more than five minutes, guys! Other people want a turn!" 

You choke out a laugh. "God, maybe you're right," you murmur to Sirus. "But we will talk about this. Later." 

You give him one last kiss and get out of there, ignoring the cheers and whistles as you hurry back to your dorm room, because you need to take care of yourself, now.

@fangedforyou

[stemmmm]

Could you pretty please give a creator breakdown of the love cage playlist? I just want to know why you picked the songs you did (besides them all being absolute bangers)

hoo boy i'll try! (the playlist in question)

We'll Meet Again -- obvious

Dream -- very good for their meeting!

Fools Rush In -- Ford is canonically the tastiest Bill bait and Bill is canonically fully fucking aware of this from the beginning. the references to ignoring the danger here felt perfect

Mr. Sandman -- again, Ford is the tastiest tastiest bait

I've Got A Crush On You -- I like to think Bill fell first and fell harder even if he didnt necessarily let it on. Also I love that this song is like "he is kinda ugly tho" it cracks me tf up. I had another that said the same thing but it also implied Ford was stupid and that just couldn't fly

Moonlight Serenade -- I just like it! I wanted the playlist to have instrumental bits spread about and this just seemed like a good place

Falling In Love With Love -- in TBOB Bill talks about love like it's a giant scam. the song has bits about getting burned by it that could make it fit in better later in the playlist, but given this is about the point where it's happening to Bill, I left it here

You Go To My Head -- honestly its more Ford perspective when this is a very Bill persp playlist, but we gotta have a little "you're in my head" as a treat

Tonight May Have To Last Me All My Life -- they only have each other in dreams 🥺 kind of. not really. bill can show up whenever he wants to. but. you know. let me have this.

Sh-Boom -- Life could be dream! This is a portal plan has been started type song to me. It also has that tasty threatening "do what i say" layer to it that I wish more songs in here had

Just One Of Those Things -- I wanted a song with wild energy to imply karaoke night. this particular song implies its something that'll never happen again, and I think bill could be thinking that and then oops

You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Loves You -- we have entered the down-bad just straight in love era. falling for ford causes a shift in priorities. not much of one but like. you know. nothing else is going to matter as much as it did after this

Dream A Little Dream of Me -- i dont need to explain myself

Sleep Walk -- it's just here for the title and I like it!

Fly Me To The Moon -- on god they are gonna explore the universe together

Unforgettable -- this one didn't particularly need to go in this spot, but for the romance i thought it fit here

Half as Much -- there's a level of uncertainty now. things are not all perfect in paradise

Ooo Baby baby -- Bill fucked up

You Always Hurt The Ones You Love -- Bill fucked up 2: no he didn't

You Mean Everything To Me -- baby take me back

Cry Me A River -- actually Fordsy I'm more hurt than you are did you ever think of that. do you know how much I cried

Rain In My Heart -- actually I didn't cry at all

I Wish I Didn't Love You So -- Bill in his feelings. it's all fucked by now

You'll Never Know -- we're talking 30 years here, we can have 2 songs about this

If You Ever Change Your Mind -- Fordsy's gonna come around, how long has it been, like a week?

Don't Get Around Much Anymore -- I think events may have effected Bill's party animal spirit

Till Then -- he's gonna get his party and get Ford back someday, maybe even very soon

Welcome To My World -- oh would you look at that

Mack the Knife -- not a love song! but I thought it suited weirdmageddon vibes nicely with its whole "oh god theres a dangerous criminal in town" shtick. its fun for bill

On The Street Where You Live -- he's been wandering around Gravity Falls via the mindscape for so long but now he's here for real, isn't that wild

It's Been A Long, Long Time -- oh hey there's Ford

Oh Look At Me Now -- Bill's such a humble guy, he only has everything he's ever wanted and isn't that beautiful

Seems Like Old Times -- it's just like things were back then, him and his golden statue of his husband who can't talk to him

Long Ago -- more on that same vibe. I had a bunch of romance songs that couldn't really fit anywhere else so this section kind of lasts a hot minute. but Bill also just partied for days before he tried to get that equation so it's fine

Remember -- hey you used to love me. hey.

Last Night When We Were Young -- hey.

Let's Fly Away -- we could have anything, I could give you anything. in particular i love the line "I'll take up all your time compromising you"

You Made Me Love You -- negging

A Little Cooperation From You -- FINALLY it's time to make that deal. it's just. i can't express how perfectly every single word fits

Don't Look At Me That Way -- so this song is about not wanting to be flirted with in public. however there are other kinds of looks ford can be giving. "If you wanna get home alive, don't look at me that way" ;)

Minnie the Moocher -- to ME... this is bill being like hey ungrateful fuck i could give you anything. the tone works great for the shift into torture

Let's Dance -- just a fun jazzy tune that I thought would be funny placed in the torture section

Something's Gotta Give -- Neither one of them is budging for anything

All or Nothing at All -- Same energy. Bill's not gonna take any less than everything

Stardust -- That's what Bill is by the end of this

You're Gonna Miss Me -- speaks for itself IMO. and Bill's right.

Once In A While -- oh god please miss me

The Things We Did Last Summer -- well I've already explained this one. But let's reminisce on the journey we went through, shall we?

I've gotten some recommendations on the original post that I haven't gone through yet, so perhaps some of this is subject to change! but for right now, that's all of them

[lovelyhavenn]

DJ GOT US FALLIN' IN LOVE | BUCKY BARNES X READER

Summary: after a heavy week, you convinced the team to go and spend your night partying in the club. Under the flashing neon lights, something snaps in bucky as he saw someone making a move on you.

Warning: none!

Note: play "rock that body by black eyed peas" And "Dj got us fallin' in love by Usher"

It was a heavy week for all of you guys, mission after mission that all of you barely got to sleep or maybe eat on time. You think that you guys deserve at least one night to have fun, to party, to drink and dance till the night dies. You managed to convince them, they were hesistant, but they agreed.

" We might need it, to loosen up. Afterall, it's been a while." Yelena was the first to agree, so the others did too. You were happy, excited, it's been a while that you've been in a club with blasting music, you missed that feeling.

Before you became an avenger, or maybe years prior to that, when you were in college you always threw parties, attend parties and sneak out all the time. You were a wild child but the responsible kind, never did anything more reckless than drinking the end of dawn. That's all.

"Sure, just pick a good place," Ava said before phasing into her room. You looked over to the others, bucky nodded, while walker, alexei, and bob walked over to their room.

You wore this black dress, backless and hugged your body in all the right places. It was comfortable yet sexy, sultry, and breathtaking. You paired it with your heels, maroon stilettos and maroon lipstick. You sprit your perfume and finally looked in front of our mirror.

"You trying to break bucky?" Yelena asked, leaning against your door frame. She looked good, especially with her blue eyeliner.

"Break bucky? How?" You asked, arching a brow, face plastered with confusion.

"You don't see what i see, but he's got eyes on you," She chuckled. You scoffed, that sounds impossible.

"Uh huh, in my dreams, maybe." You joked. That was literally impossible. Bucky barnes, having a thing for you, his eyes on you. He's everything that you want, but you think or you believe that you're not everything that he might want. Yeah, he's kind, caring, attentive, observant when it comes to you. He learned how to braid a woman's hair for you, because apparently he noticed your hands shaking while doing it, you were struggling, that's why he learned. That doesn't mean anything, he might do that with others too.

He does everything for you, he carries your bag, makes sure you don't walk close to the road, when you're out he lets you walk in front of him so he can have a better view of you and your safety, he goes to book stores with you, and more. He takes care of you when you're sick and when you're sick you get whiney, but he didn't leave you. There's just to many, to many that you can't count the things he does for you. And he wouldn't fall for you but you did fall for him, down bad.

"Think about it, and see for yourself." She left your room, and you follwed right after. You caught up with yelena, walking side by side with her.

"See for myself, what does that mean?" You asked. When you arrived in the common room, everyone's eyes was on you and yelena. Well, you two were late. What do you expect, of course they'd stare the of you down.

Bucky's eyes lingered on you, staring at you up and down, swallowing a huge lump on his throat. The moment he saw your eyes, he smiled, his glance not leaving yours.

"Told you, need more proof?" Yelena said, walking over to ava. All of you got in the elevator, your body bumped against bucky.

"You look beautiful." He whispered, his voice sending you to insanity. That damn soft yet there's a hint of roughness.

"You don't look bad yourself, barnes," You teased. Oh he was gorgeous, mouth watering, breathtaking, like and absolute god but that's a secret you won't tell. Bucky is driving and you're in the passenger seat, walker and alexei in the back and ava, bob, and yelena in the middle.

"So this club i know is underrated, not a lot are coming here but the music and the drinks are good. Trust me, I've been... Nevermind." You cut yourself off, bucky does not know how you used to party all night when you were in college years ago.

"You've been? Mind continuing that, doll?" Bucky glanced at you before glancing back into the road.

"Uh, I've been partying there when i was in college, a long time ago. Almost every week?" You confessed. It was a whisper though, only bucky could hear, you hope.

"So, you love parties? you are the social type?" He asked. Of course he knew you were the social type, you talk to people as if you've known them for years. And you get along with everyone.

"Uh, maybe? I knew almost everyone? I get invited to parties all the time," You confessed. Bucky parked the car and when you all entered the club, it had lights flashing, music boosted and bodies dancing and drinking everywhere. It wasn't packed like other clubs, it was just enough. It smelled like alcohol, sweat, and cologne everywhere.

The moment you entered, you got pulled into the dance floor along with yelena and ava. While the guys went to the bar, ordering their drinks. The club was playing 'rock that body by black eyed peas'

"Rock that body! C'mon, rock that body!" Everyone screamed the lyrics, dancing along with it. Everyone was having a blast.

You swayed your hips through the beats of the song, yelana and ava danced along too with drinks on their hands.

You were already three shots in, heels forgotten, dancing like the floor was on fire. The club lights flashed neon pink and electric blue as you grabbed Yelena's hand, spun her around, and shouted, “THIS IS OUR SONG!”

Yelena cackled, drink almost spilled on herself. “This is trash music, but I love it!”

Yelena spun in place, it was already full of chaos while yelena was trying to pull ava to dance. "If i die tonight, i want this at my funeral!" Yelena said, in a loud voice since the music was blasting loud.

All three of you doubled over laughing, still dancing, still jumping, arms around each other in a ridiculous triangle of movement.

While you had your fun, the guys, especially bucky is looking at you from the bar. He doesn't interfere, just looking at you having the time of your life. You looked so carefree and happy, and it made him happy too just seeing you. You definitely didn't notice him staring.

Yelena raised her glass. “To bad decisions and great music.”

You clinked your glass to hers. “And even better friends.”

Ava rolled her eyes. “You’re both the worst.” But she clinked her glass too.

While the music is blasting, you twirled, arms in the air, eyes closed for just a second, letting yourself feel free. You closed your eyes, feeling the rhythm of the song, your hair bounced and flowed because of your movement, your body swaying through the beat of the music and your waist moving side by side.

Suddenly, while dancing, a guy touched your waist, maneuvering it over to his own body, riding the rhythm of the song. You stopped on your tracks and so did he, you backed away.

"Hi, wanna dance?" He asked, smiling. "I can buy you drink, pretty girl." He started offering you a drink.

"Sorry, no. I can buy my own drinks, and my friends wouldn't appreciate me talking to a stranger. Stranger danger," You laughed. You were about to leave, but he held onto your wrist.

"I'm clyde, nice to meet you. Can i get your name so we wouldn't be strangers anymore?" He asked, smiling. It was irritating. He's just so persistent, you already said a clear 'no' yet he wouldn't listen.

"N-" You were about to say no again, but someone stood in front of you. Bucky. He's towering the guy, looking at him intensely.

"She said no. Are you deaf or plain stupid?" Bucky asked, although he tried to show calmness in his voice, him being furious still peaked through.

"Bro, step aside. I got to her first, wait for your turn." Clyde tried to push bucky off to get to you, but bucky held him, using his vibranium arm, yanking the guy away from you.

"Wait for my turn? She ain't a toy to have people waiting for their turn on her. Step forward and I'll break your jaw." Bucky hissed, clearly mad and irritated. Clyde tried to punch him, but bucky caught his fist using his vibranium arm. Clyde tried to fight it, but knowing Bucky's strength, Clyde's fist didn't get to move any further.

"I warned you." He then pushed Clyde, he fell to the ground, and with the right enough of embarrassment going through his veins the moment he stood up, he left and didn't look back again.

"You okay, doll? Did he do something?" Bucky asked, checking you out for possible hints of pain or discomfort. Crazy how he can change his voice from being furious to being soft in an instant. You can melt right here because of it.

"No, I'm okay," You answered. He didn't look convinced though. "Bucky, I'm really okay, he didn't get to touch me further because of you, thank you."

"You know, I'll keep you safe anytime, right?" His soft voice is doing something to you. Your huge crush on him is just growing day by day, and this night does not help.

"Yeah, you'd to that to all of us."

"Yeah, i would. Especially you, I'd break anyone's jaw if they tried to hurt you." He looked down on you, hand on your cheek. He's looking at you with his steel blue eyes, just you, under different colors of light flashing in the club.

"I... Bucky, i kinda hoped you'd do that, " You confessed, the alcohol kicking in your system. Bucky smiled with disbelief and happiness, having to hear you say that cracked something in him.

"Even if you don't hope, I'd do that. I can't watch them have their hands on you, doll." He took your hands, guiding them to his neck. Your hand stayed in his neck, while the other one played with his hair, bucky closed his eyes shut, breathing heavily. The dj switched the song again, it's now playing 'Dj got us fallin' in love by Usher'

"You drive me insane, you know?" He said, voice low, soft, his forehead rested on yours. "You've been driving me insane, doll. It's hard acting all normal and shit everytime i see you when all i wanna do is to be yours." He breathed out, your heart skipped a beat. So... He felt the same way?

"I love it when you hold me during nightmares or when I'm tired, you don't have too but you do. Love it when you play with my hair, when you always reach out and include me, when you smile as if this fucked up world hasn't hurt you, when you jump in danger for us, that's rare, but please don't do that. Even if i say I'm fine, you always know what's up, you don't push but you make sure that your presence is felt and that makes me feel better. You made me believe that's there's still good in me, and i believe that now too. Or when you kissed my scar one time, no judgement. Fuck, I'm talking too much... You feel like home."

His hand resting on you back while the other one reached for your face. You can practically hear each other's heart right now.

"Wow... "You uttered.

" Wow as in you feel the same way, or wow as in 'you talk shit, bucky' " He asked, making you laugh.

"God, i love your laugh," He uttered. Your body is still swaying with him, your hand still playing with his hair. Your bodies are literally close to one another.

"I haven't push you off me yet, that's a start. And wow as in, i wanna fucking kiss you, bucky."

"Call me james, doll... I'm yours."

"James... "And with that, he connects his lips with yours. The crowd and music faded in the background, it's just the two of you in your own world. The kiss was soft, filled with love and patience and it was long overdue.

Your lips moved along with the music, bucky pulled your body closer to him, eliminating the gap between the two of you. from soft, his kisses turned into eager, as if he doesn't want to let go of you. And when he pulled away, his lips formed into a smile. Both of you are breathless, yet happy.

"I've always wanted to do that. It's even better that what I've anticipated," He blurts out. You chuckled softly, cheeks flushed.

"You anticipated for this?" You asked, softly, with a hint of teasing.

"Yeah. I've always wanted to feel your lips on mine, and it's better that what I've imagined. Doll, I have a thing for you, always have, I love you for so long now. It's not just a crush i feel, it's more. And i can show you if you let me." Bucky said, hoping that you'd give him a chance to show you how much you mean to him.

You didn't say anything, you just smiled and pulled him for another kiss. He immediately kissed you back with no hesitation.

"Does that answer your question? I've always wanted this too, for so long. Show me your love and I'll show mine." He pulled you for another kiss, this time, softer and the both of your smiled in between kisses.

"Pay up, told you they will crack tonight." Yelena nudged Ava's shoulder, clearly they made a bet about the two of you.

[herearedragons]

so the Drakona Iron Republic situation was crazy: summary post.

(cw: grief/loss, suicidal thoughts, dissociation, what is definitely ptsd)

messing with the timeline and putting the Firebrand's Feast of the Exceptional Rose "you and I have been reforged in flames of irrigo" scene Right before Drakona leaves for the Republic. like, for gameplay reasons it has to happen during the festival, but for the purposes of me playing dolls in my mind it Doesn't Have To

so for the purposes of this, he takes them on a nice "before you go to Literal Hell" date, where he says the whole thing about how he's given up on trying to recover the memories he lost and he'd rather build a new identity instead, and how they're one of the things he remembers perfectly, and how the irrigo made them both stronger actually. he says the "tell me what you need, I'll be that and more" thing. and in what is a sweet but also kind of unhinged moment considering what they're about to do, they go "then be mine."

he goes "that will be easy."

can we get a round of applause for Drakona Finally Committing. this is like the last good thing that will happen to them in this.

anyway, in my mind this conversation finally makes their thing Official in the sense that they've been seeing each other, but neither of them has really SAID anything about where this is going. until now. this is a surprise tool that will help us later.

he's very much not going with them to the Republic (they do not want him there), so he gets them a little gift to take with them. specifically a deep amber pendant necklace (mirroring his first gift to them). he asks them to think of him while they're away. this is a surprise tool that will help us later

they do in fact think of him while they're away, which, during the zee journey, just seems to complicate things. they're out there trying to empty their mind of everything but Revenge, and instead they keep thinking of who they've left behind in London. they're not planning on dying in the Republic, but the little they know of it frightens them (THEY ARE CORRECT IN THAT. OH MY GOD ARE THEY CORRECT.), and also, well, it's The Final Act. it's revenge time. they don't know what they might have to do, what it might take. and they'll never back down, because they owe it to James, because they'll never be able to live in peace until they see it finished, before they see justice done. but can they be the person they need to be to do this if they keep thinking back to someone else?

visiting the three sisters in Hunter's Keep who seem to only ever to want to talk about the lovers they left back in London does not help.

overall though, zeefaring actually does them some good. they settle into the role of captain surprisingly well. they can conjure an air of authority when they need to, they're a quick thinker, and their newfound unhingedness is enough to strike fear and/or respect into the hearts of whoever they need to strike it into. that Bizarre/Dreaded combo really coming through as they prowl the deck shouting orders. by the middle of the journey they have enough of a hold on the crew that when Drownies start singing around the ship, they don't lose a single soul

cue the Iron Republic leitmotif.

so the second they set foot in the port the sky opens up and rains a new law down, and it's a Law That Kills You Unless You're Really Faithful To Someone and they get caught by it and don't die. REMEMBER THAT SURPRISE TOOL, FOLKS?

this is going to mess with their head for a while because they don't actually know which commitment saved them. is it their commitment to their revenge? is it the amber necklace tucked under their shirt? is it something else entirely?

but we don't have time to ponder that too much, because we have UNCEASING REALITY WARPING NIGHTMARE scheduled!

damn Warning wasn't lying that Iron Republic sure can Changed You

it's. bad. even for an experienced honey user, it's bad. every day is mental and physical torture and there's no reprieve from it and they just have to keep going. but it's too much, and I think the longer they stay, parts of their mind just start shutting down one by one. emotions go first. then smaller concerns that can be spared in the face of existential danger, like neat appearance, or wondering how their friends are doing back in London. actually, it's easier not to think about London at all, the way it's easier to not think about the Surface sometimes. if they pretend this is all they've ever known, it's easier. just a little. but, god, they'll take those crumbs when they can get them.

the deranged becomes normal. it feels like they've forgotten how to be shocked. nothing phases them anymore.

a reality-shift makes them tear the chain on the amber necklace and they don't have the presence of mind to fix it, so they're keeping it in their pocket now. sometimes they can't bear to remember it's there. sometimes holding it in their hand feels like the only thing that's keeping them sane

they work towards their goal.

they find the prison.

they find Scathewick.

and it's ALL STAGED it's FUCKING STAGED

they're right where someone wants them to be. someone wanted them HERE, EXACTLY as tortured as they are, and that someone wants them to kill that man.

and they're going to do it. because the part of them that would have thought twice is not home right now. because it's justice. because IT'S THE KNIFE IT'S THE SAME KNIFE IT'S THE

the details of WHY they're even doing this became blurry in the... how long has it even been? how many days? they don't remember. they just remember revenge. they have a mission, they NEED to finish it, they CAN'T LEAVE until they FINISH IT

it becomes clearer when they see the knife, though. when they remember finding his body.

it's justice.

it's not over. it's not even nearly over.

killing Scathewick doesn't even feel good.

they walk back on board of their ship, drenched in blood, still holding the knife, staring directly in front of themself, say nothing to no one, and lock themself in their quarters.

they clean up. they cry. they break the hell down because it's not over, all that and it's not over, and James died because of THEM. to lead THEM here. to make THEM into this.

Drakona has enemies. that makes sense. but who the FUCK cared enough about Catherine to do all of that.

and that someone is still watching them. all this time, they've been doing exactly what was expected of them.

somewhere in the middle of that breakdown they reach for the amber necklace and realize that it's gone. they've dropped it while they were murdering Scathewick.

it's somehow the least bad thing that happened to them today. the realization gets one miserable noise and that's it.

on the way back to London, they get a little too contemplative staring at the waves. if it's all about them. if James died FOR them. BECAUSE of them. how long until it's Jacob*? how long until it's their cousin, again? how long until it's Sunny, again? and this isn't Jack-Of-Smiles. this will be permanent. whoever is doing this isn't in the business of sending messages, they are removing people, by the hands of others.

others like Drakona.

they can keep investigating this. they have the notes. but isn't this exactly what the murderer wants them to do?

is the best ending achieved by removing themself from the equation entirely?

they don't go through with it. they do agree with the ship surgeon's (their cousin's) decision that they should probably stay in their quarters for the rest of the journey.

it's a lot of staring at walls. it's a lot of not looking or touching or interacting in any other way with the knife they brought back from the prison, because whenever they think about it they start getting the kind of ideas that got them confined to their quarters in the first place. they don't let anyone else touch or take it away, though, so it's just. sitting there. at the very bottom of a chest. and they can pretend it's not there, that they've left it behind on the floor of that cell instead of the amber necklace — and they're crying again.

they do come out towards the end of the voyage to manage a naval chase situation, which honestly probably does them some good, but also uses up the rest of their energy. which might also be good. they're to tired to do or think anything too self-destructive after that

back in London, it's a lot of bed rest to recover from the wounds they brought back from the Republic. they don't mind. it's a lot of empty time; even when they're technically well enough to walk around and go outside with some assistance, they choose not to. they can't really bear to face anyone or to undertake anything bigger than moving from one spot in their townhouse to another. they read a little, then the story reminds them of something, so they stop. mostly they sleep, and pretend to sleep.

they know that when they get up, they'll have to pick up the case again. it's going to start again. and they don't want to. so they don't get up.

they probably can't stay like this forever, but they can stay like this for now. and maybe forever.

word gets out that The Dreaming Detective was badly injured at zee and is recovering at home. people send gifts. letters. they are a person of interest. they have allies and admirers who wish them well.

the only thing they really touch is a weird puzzle-box from the Honey-Addled Detective, which they make a halfhearted attempt at solving every now and then. he's visited in person, said that when they can solve it, it means that they're well again. that doesn't sound true, but it's a way to pass the time

Jacob comes to see them, early on. they sit him down and explain the situation. someone is after them; it's serious; it's worse than Jack; it's someone powerful; it's who knows them from the Surface. they tell him everything about James. about their life as Catherine. they explain that they can't protect him; that if he chooses to stay, he should know that.

he does not leave. he joins the rest of their inner circle in keeping them company, in rotation, making sure they're not alone for long periods of time.

mostly they don't feel like talking to anyone, but telling him about their past leads to him sharing some of his, admitting to things he doesn't remember and wishes he did.

half-jokingly, they say that they've half a mind to throw themself into irrigo again, if not for the fear that it would leave the awful memories and take everything else

even in the midst of it all, it gives him pause. he's been looking into ways to cancel out the irrigo entirely, but what if he could give them what they want? what if one could let the irrigo in, and control what it takes?

it's something to think about.

he won't say anything to them. not yet. the last thing he wants is to get their hopes up, and then disappoint.

time passes.

it's hard to say what exactly happens. there's just a sudden moment of awareness, catching a glimpse of themself in the mirror — they've been avoiding mirrors — their body feels like an ill-fitting suit, after the Republic, and they know they'll find some fault in what they see — would their eyes be different? the eyes of a murderer? —

they catch a glimpse of themself in the mirror. Catherine stares back.

their hair has grown out to where it was before the Neath. in their nightgown, it's almost like they're back on the Surface. like they've never left. like they stayed, and let the grief wither them away.

they certainly look withered. they haven't been eating a whole lot. maybe that's why they feel so damn tired all the time.

taking the scissors in their hand feels like a gamble, for a moment, but the weight and balance is different from a knife. this could be an implement for violence — who if not them knows that most things could — but the part of their mind they'd been wary of stays silent. they're just holding a pair of scissors. nothing more, nothing less.

they cut most of it off, but not all of it. the person in the mirror is now entirely unfamiliar, neither from the Surface nor from the Neath, and it suits them just fine.

the next time someone walks into their room, they find a wall cleared, paintings and furniture removed, and the Detective propped up against a table they've dragged over, tacking pages torn out of Scathewick's journal to the wall. there are notes. possibly there is red string. they aren't working with their usual feverish determination; their movements are slower, mechanical, the first awkward steps of someone stepping back into their own body. it's muscle memory more than anything, sorting through evidence, noting down patterns and inconsistencies. but they've done more in two hours than they have in several weeks, combined.

a few days later, they put their morning coat on, and go outside.

a week or so later, Jacob has a gift for them. a necklace like the one they've lost, set with violet amber this time. he had some in his pocket in the cave, he explains; later he found it changed. he's been experimenting with it, and he's fairly sure it's safe. for forgetting the things that pain you, he says.

changed. like them. like him. it is fitting; they'll give him that.

they smile.

"I'm glad you're still here," they say.

he told them that once, right after the Nadir. they understand now.

the Dreaming Detective has changed, but London hasn't. London, that is twisted and dark and unforgiving in its own right; that will drink the love out of you and then bleed you for more; but there is a rhyme to it, and the walls usually don't bleed, and one is that less likely to find themself briefly turned inside out on their morning stroll.

all in all, it's still familiar. it's still their city. they've carved their name into it, and now the walls echo it back to them when they walk around.

they've changed.

they're home.

they have a case. they better get to solving it.

* the name I've given the Revolutionary Firebrand for fic purposes

[wellidly]

WARNING!! English is not my native language and I write poorly. I use the translator a lot for some words or even whole sentences, but obviously it's not the best help in my case, I will check a lot of what I write but anyway, this is all I have... (You can correct me in the comments so that I can correct the mistakes, I will be only glad )

If Shanks and Buggy were co-captains they would have been too eager to fight like they did on Oro Jackson, seriously or not, but anyway, they were adults now and no one was going to stop them from fighting with each other, right? Will they discuss and solve their problems? Eh... No. They're two idiots after all.

Their entire team basically doesn't pay attention to their arguments anymore, they just treat it as a joke, but when it happens seriously... oh my god.

It's hard for them because they already know that their job now is to reconcile them, just to avoid having to watch all these awkward scenes and tension. Now you might think that I would say that part of Shanks' crew goes to talk to him and give him advice, while part of Buggy's crew goes to listen to him, BUT they realized that this technique doesn't quite work and decided to do the opposite.

You see, it's a lot easier to get one to see the other's point of view when you understand one of them better. So Yasopp and Beckman, as Shanks' best friends, go to Buggy's while Mohji and Cabaji take care of Shanks.

Just to make it clearer how it works, here's an example:

Shanks: I don't understand why he reacts like that! Aren't I trying to do what's best for all of us? Aren't I?

Mohji: No, no, Captain, what are you saying, everyone knows that, it's just... Uh... You know

Cabaji: Maybe you really do better, Captain, but I think Captain Buggy would like you to ask his opinion too

Cabaji: Especially since you know, he's a bit... eh...

Mohji: Our Captain doesn't like to talk about feelings.

Shanks: well .... You're right...

Meanwhile

Buggy: WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS BASTARD?! WHY IS HE BEHAVING LIKE THIS?! WHY DO I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE HE'S HIDING SOMETHING!

Yasopp: Woah Woah Woah! Captain, hold your horses, I don't think you're the only one to blame for this.

Buggy: WHA—

Beckman, lighting a cigarette: Well, that's true...

Yasopp: I mean ... Yeah, our Captain likes to be mysterious, but you are not clean either, I think it hurts him too when you hide what you really feel, you know...

Beckman: Moreover, this is part of your problem too, how can he know what you want and how to do it better if you don’t talk about it? With his emotional intelligence, it only makes it more difficult...

Buggy: Oh Jesus Christ, whatever!... But you're right, Shanks is kinda... dumb idiot. It's not his fault, he was born this way.

Well, that often really does help. Otherwise, their crew has to join forces to come up with some kind of plan to reconcile their captains, but that's another funny story.

[willsimpforanyone]

i LOVE your writing, you're so talented!! can i request a leo valdez x reader pirate au? leo is a pirate, reader's a witch he has his eye on for some time and it's slow burn and steamy and really magical overall lmao sorry i get too carried away (also sub whimpery leo pretty please)

oh my GOD i love these kinds of requests, let’s go right ahead

content warnings! there is smut at the end of this, containing a desperate leo, who very much gets off on his witch’s pleasure

The bell above the door rings and I don’t even turn around. “Sorry, we’re closed right now, come back tomorrow.”

There’s a pause, during which I assume whoever walked in had left. I jump out of my skin when there is a voice instead. “…Isn’t that bad for business when your shop is on the docks?”

I whirl around, magic singing at my fingertips like a reflex, eyes wide and glaring. Somehow, the voice matches the person; he’s short-ish, curly, very dark brown hair, tanned in a way that you only get from being on the sea almost every day. He’s got a loose shirt, billowy as a cliche, almost cinched at the waist with a belt laden with… general sailor crap, I guess.

His eyes are as wide as mine, and clearly the pause lasts a little too long for him to be comfortable. He clears his throat. “I was told there was a sea witch here?”

“That depends.” I hide my hands behind my back and straighten up behind the counter. “Who told you that?”

The guy slowly closes the door behind him, quieting the noise from the docks to a low hum. “You know that saying ‘that depends’ is always a ‘yes’?”

I roll my eyes and shrug, relaxing and leaning my forearms on the top of the counter, loose sleeves grey and dull against the dark wood. “Do you only talk in questions?”

He opens his mouth and promptly closes it. I smirk and I can see the way his cheeks go pink even in my shadowy shop and his tanned skin. Clearing his throat, he steps forward, a hand held out.

“Leo Valdez, first mate and engineer for the Argo II.”

My fingers curl around his, ringed and decorated against his rough, bare hand. “I’d say a pleasure, but it’s more a confusion. The Argo II? Really?”

��Hey, it’s my ship, I’ll call it what I want,” Leo frowns, and our hands break apart. “And I know it’s already been hours since I walked in-“

“Three minutes,” I correct him.

“-but do you think I could grab a couple protection charms before I reach my time limit and my captain gives me a verbal lashing worth ten physical ones?”

My eyes narrow. “How many is ‘a couple’?”

Leo does some mental mathematics, then counts on his fingers. “…five.”

“Five?” I run my hand over my head, barely brushing my bandana. “…fine, but payment first.”

His hands go to his belt, beginning to rifle through the pouches and pockets. “Oh, yeah, how much?”

With a cough, I rap my knuckles against the counter surface. “Not monetary, First Mate Valdez.” Yes, the capitalisation is verbalised. “I want a secret.”

He freezes, and slowly retracts his searching fingers. “You want a secret?”

I reach behind me towards the boxed shelves against the wall, and a beautiful curled seashell jumps into my hand. It’s a creamy-pink, and my rings clink softly against the surface as my fingers fit neatly into the grooves of the curl.

“A secret.” I set the shell down and look at him expectantly. “Better be quick for your captain and all.”

Clearly, this takes a minute for Leo to process, the whir of clockwork thoughts almost audible in the subdued atmosphere of my shop. I wait patiently; it’s on his head if he wants to take his time, I guess.

A minute goes by before he appears to reboot. Shaking his head a little, he exhales and braces his hands on the counter. “Okay, okay, a secret, huh? Okay… sometimes I make up problems in the underneath of the boat so I can go be by myself, and none of the others know because I can use complicated language that only the captain understands.”

The silvery thread of his words spins invisibly from his lips, something thin and delicate but reasonably strong. It’s a pretty big secret for Leo; not something I’m particularly impressed by, but maybe he just doesn’t have many secrets.

The secret fills the seashell neatly. I kiss my thumb and swipe it over the shell opening, sealing the secret. Leo looks baffled and intrigued, but has the sense not to ask, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet as I tuck the seashell back onto the shelf behind me.

“Five protection charms…” I mutter to myself, the wooden floor creaking under my feet as I search the shop. There’s no way I have five matching ones, so I end up with a mismatched collection of seaglass against misfortune, weather abnormalities, two for favourable winds and one for aiming true with a blade.

I dangle them in front of Leo’s face, each one strung on a leather cord, and explain which is which. “Good enough?”

“Good enough.” He grabs the charms with a bright smile and brighter eyes. “Thanks, witch!” And he bolts.

Damn, guess that captain of his is serious.

/// /// ///

I barely spare Leo a thought until a few weeks later when he bursts through the door and making me jump out of my skin again. He’s soaked, head to toe, dripping onto my floor, and somehow steaming.

“…Can I help you?” I raise an eyebrow as he pants, raking wet curls out of his face.

“You got something for not being the unlucky motherfucker that got squid-ed?”

I blink. A smirk twitches at my lips. “I’m sorry, ‘squid-ed’?”

“Squid-ed.” Leo takes a breath and grabs a piece of seaglass from around his neck. “I got squid-ed. Tentacled. Non-consensually ejected from my own ship by a multi-legged bitch with a beak.” He drops the protection charm on the counter, where it becomes evident it’s split in two. “Anything to help with that?”

There’s a beat before I’m able to swallow my laugh. “Okay, first of all, stop dripping on my floor.” I brush my hand out like I’m sweeping dust, and the puddle that’s accumulated at his feet creeps back out the door like a scolded child.

Leo watches with abject fascination until I clear my throat. “Oh, oh, yeah-” And the steam around him intensifies, clouds of warmth seemingly produced from him until he’s almost completely dry. I shoo the steam out the crack of a window, a chill facade masking wonder at what the hell just happened.

“Now that’s sorted,” I clap my hands, rings clinking. “You’ll need something specifically against aberrations or something that dulls your aura enough that monsters won’t be able to detect you.”

Leo sucks in air through his teeth. “Sounds expensive.”

“But worth it.” I’ve already turned around, searching my shelves for what I need. “I’m guessing you got stuck with the charm for true aim, right?”

“Yeah,” Leo sighs, his eyes darting over the contents of the shop for apparently the first time. Well, it’s only the second time he’s been here, I guess. “I was late so I got stuck with the useless one.”

I shoot him a stern look over my shoulder as I pull and snip a length of copper wire. “Word of advice? Don’t disparage a witch’s spells in front of her, especially when she’s currently making you a new one. And anyway, the glass split, so the charm did its job.”

He makes an absentminded sound and I watch as he pokes at a jar of coral. I snort in amusement as the coral snaps at him with needle teeth against the glass. Leo shakes his head again, pretending to casually saunter back to the counter. “Yeah, once. I had to throw my sword into the squid’s beak ‘cause it was going to eat me so I wanted to piss it off.”

“And you’re still here, so my magic did its job,” I point out, setting copper wire, pink sea glass, six wooden beads and a bottle of lily oil. “It only had one use because that’s all I had last time you were here.”

Leo frowns at my materials, but it’s a look of curiosity, of looking for a solution he can’t quite solve. After a moment or two, he looks up at me. “Payment first? I got some good secrets.”

“Payment first,” I agree, but hold up a hand as he opens his mouth. “But I don’t want a secret. I want to know how you dried yourself off.”

“…but I had a secret prepared.”

Leo shifts his weight from foot to foot, and I grin at his discomfort. “Clearly, but I don’t care about that. Tell me how you did it, and I’ll make you a strong aberration deterrent.”

I think I can see the scales being weighed in his head - I’ve only met him twice, and he’s had more thought processes in a sum of ten minutes than most people have in a day.

“Percy could probably save me… but I really don’t want to be squid-ed again,” he mutters, fingers drumming against the counter before his hand lands flat. “Okay, deal.”

I gesture with my hand, as if to say ‘you have the floor’. Leo lifts his hand and his fingers spark, sputter smoke, and light. A controlled flame, barely enough for candlelight, flickers at his fingertips.

My eyes widen, glancing between him and the almost playful fire dancing and throwing light onto my shop walls. Slowly, I reach under the counter and grab a small jar, setting it down. I hold out my hand, barely an inch away from his. “May I?”

Leo raises his eyebrows but nods. Carefully, like I’m handling something delicate and breakable, I take the flame from him and gently place it in the jar. I replace the lid on the jar and the flame dims, wiggles, and brightens again like it just realised it can breath just fine.

“Perfect,” I whisper, setting the jar off to the side. Leo watches the whole thing, his lips pressed together like he’s physically holding his questions in his mouth.

There’s an odd kind of calm that descends over the shop, a bubble of magic that focuses me as I weave Leo’s aberration protection. I douse my hands in oil of lily, and thread the beads around the sea glass in the centre with the copper wire, green strings of my magic tightening the knots and the loops and stabilising the sea glass into a proper, durable talisman.

At the quiet snap of my fingers, Leo passes me his broken protection charm, setting it in my outstretched palm. I separate the broken glass from the leather cord and string the cord into the talisman to make a necklace.

I know he can’t see it, but the talisman glows with a soft but steady green-pink light, and I hold it out with a smile and sense of satisfaction.

Leo accepts the necklace with something like reverance, and slips it over his head, tucking it under his shirt. “…no more getting squid-ed?”

I laugh and nod, leaning on the counter with my elbows. “No more getting squid-ed, while you have it on.”

He nods in satisfaction, glances briefly at his flame in the jar, and heads for the door. “My appreciation, witch, is all yours.”

“And the pleasure,” I wink. “Is mine too.”

Leo missteps at my wink and manages to miss the door handle. His flustered exit is soundtracked by my cackle.

/// /// ///

It’s a whole year before I see Leo again. The oddly charming, easily flustered first mate of the Argo II fades to the background of my life as I deal with familiar clients, gain new ones and lose a few old ones.

His flame still glows happily in its jar on my shelf, flickering and dancing within its confines to some invisible music. It’s through this that I know Leo is okay- the flame is linked to him, it used to be a part of him, so it has a connection. Whether or not he knows this, I have no idea, but he’s hardly unique in this; I have many jars containing a tiny link to people, a little something so I know who is nearer.

And… maybe it’s a reminder that there is a world beyond my shop.

I know that, of course, but being a witch of Amphitrite can have some stigma attached to it around the docks. Sticking to my four walls is safe, people come to me if they know me and need me, and I don’t do much beyond that.

It’s late when there’s a knock on my door, past dusk, past even the night fishers heading out for the evening.

“Come back tomorrow,” I call out, sat in the middle of my shop on the floor with a notebook and pencil.

“But I haven’t seen you in so long,” comes the voice, and it takes me a minute to place it as the voice speaks again. “I don’t want anything, can I come in?”

“…Leo?”

The door creaks open, and he peeks inside. His hair is longer - obviously it is, it’s been a year - but his eyes are exactly the same. Wide, curious, filled with more questions than the universe is equipped to answer.

“Hey, witch.”

I expect to bristle at the term, so often used in fear or anger or anxious reverence. Instead, his mouth wraps around the syllables with something like affection.

After a moment, I beckon him to come in. He does so, and promptly sits on the floor with me. “What are we doing?”

I smirk a little at the ‘we’. “I’m taking stock.”

Leo cocks his head, leaning over to look at my notebook page. “…from the floor?”

“From the floor.” I nod, resuming my stock-taking. My eyes go over my shelves, letting the contents speak; which ones need more, which ones can wait, which ones are sure they will be used soon so I should get more just in case.

Leo is quiet, just watching me as I make notes in my book. His hands reach into his pouches at his belt, seemingly unconsciously, and fiddles with whatever he finds.

After a while, I pause my note-taking, looking over. “…Why are you here?”

He doesn’t seem surprised by the question, and his lips pull into a soft but real smile. “I missed you.”

Not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that. “You… missed me?”

Leo nods, spinning a thin, short wooden dowel in his fingers. “Yep. I missed you, so when we docked, I came over. That okay?”

Warmth pulses in my chest, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. There’s a long quiet, or at least it feels long, before I find the words to respond.

“Yeah, that’s… that’s okay.”

Leo stays until I’m done, quiet and occupying his busy hands with anything in reach. When I’m finished, he helps me stand up and asks me if I need anything, then gives me a small, honest smile before leaving.

I’m left with a strange longing in my chest and a coolness in the spot he was sitting. He missed me.

Hm.

/// /// ///

This time, it’s only two days before Leo is back. This time, he has a wrapped box in his hands and a skip in his step.

My eyes narrow as he waltzes through my door. “Can I help you?”

“Yes.” He sets the box down on the counter with a flourish. “I have fruits that need to be eaten and a need to spend time with my favourite witch.”

My confused silence clearly makes him nervous, and his bravado cracks somewhat. “…is that, like… okay? Is it weird, did I make it weird? It’s Piper’s idea, blame her-“

I laugh as Leo starts rambling, holding up a hand to stop him. “No, no, it’s not weird- well, it is, a bit, but I like it. No one has ever brought me a box of fruit.”

Nor wanted to spend time with me without wanting something.

Leo relaxes, sighing in relief as he runs a hand through his hair. “Thank fuck, I was gonna have to throw myself to the Kraken otherwise.”

“Drastic, and fortunately unnecessary,” I reassure him, pulling at the knot of the fabric surrounding the box to undo it. The wrap falls open, a sweet scent bursting from the box and curling around me like a hug. “…Wow.”

We end up behind the shop, where I actually live. It’s small, contained, but Leo fits neatly into the space like a piece of my puzzle. The fruit covers my dining table once it’s unboxed, and we eat with our hands, fingers sticky with juice. He tries to roast a blueberry and I almost fall off my chair laughing at the face he pulls when he eats it.

The sun has set by the time the fruit is gone, our voices softer and a little tired but persisting anyway.

Leo’s eyes meet mine, warm and brown and happy. “You know I like you, right?”

My heart does a funny little thing in my chest. “Yeah, I know.”

The lull is thick but not uncomfortable. Leo taps his fingers and opens his mouth again. “I can wait. I waited a year to see you again, I can wait some more.”

“Wait for what?” My voice is quiet, curious, a little hesitant.

He shrugs, standing up and picking up the empty fruit box, putting the fabric wrap inside it. “For you to like me too.”

His lips meet my forehead and he leaves, the bell above my shop door echoing his departure. I stay sat for a while, my magic humming in my veins like it knows something I don’t, and wonder if I’ll have to wait another year to see him again.

/// /// ///

I only have to wait a month. Then I only have to wait a week and a half, and then suddenly I’m seeing Leo every few days. Sometimes he asks me for spells, a charm for someone or other, but mostly he just… talks to me. He asks about the magic, the spells, the components and what they mean. I explain his talisman, replace one of the wooden beads that has cracked, and I ask him about his ship in return.

Once he comes with a blonde, grey eyes that sing with intelligence. She doesn’t introduce herself, Leo simply stares at her, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

I feel a little like she’s scrutinising, opening me up with surgical precision and examining what she sees. Apparently, I pass whatever exam she had in her head, and she gives Leo a nod before turning and leaving without a word.

Leo beams, hops up on my counter and launches into a spiel about recent repairs he’d made on the Argo II.

He doesn’t say he likes me again, but I’d have to be utterly ignorant to not see the way he looks at me, the way his flame in a jar on my shelves glows a little brighter whenever he comes in, the way he looks like a puppy with a treat when I thank him or tell him he did a good job.

He fixes shelves and sands down my counter, and when I say I can do it myself, he simply winks and replies, “I know, but those hands should focus on magic. I like helping you, chica, please let me.”

Slowly, he becomes a part of my shop. Regulars know him, and Leo knows where everything is on my shelves, even anticipating some of the more common components I need and gathering them for me.

Leo becomes a part of my magic.

/// /// ///

The knock on my door feels like someone is hammering directly on my head. My magic, always a little more volatile when I’m annoyed or exhausted, buzzes like a wasp under my skin.

“What?” I snap at whoever is outside, honestly harsher than I’d meant to but I don’t have the energy to take it back.

Leo’s head peeks inside cautiously as he opens the door a few inches. “…You don’t sound happy.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” I gripe, rubbing my temples with my fingers to try and alleviate the throbbing behind my eyes. Leo slips inside and pads over, and I don’t even have to see him to know the look of concern across his face.

“Anything I can help with?” He offers. “Gathering something? Assisting in murder? Do you need a hug?”

All three propositions are said in an equally earnest tone that brings a tiny smile to my lips. “Thanks, Leo, I’m just pissed off - some twat wants ten infatuation charms and no matter how many times I told him I don’t do that, he kept pushing and said they better be done by the end of the week or he’ll throw me into the sea.”

Leo’s eyes widen in alarm. “That sounds really very not good.”

“I can deal with him,” I shrug, rubbing the heel of my palm into one of my eyes. “Bit pointless throwing a sea witch into the sea, but he can try. I’m more inclined to go warn everyone in the village that there’s a creep wanting love spells.”

“Still,” Leo frowns, leaning on the counter and gently pulling my hand away from my eye. “He shouldn’t have threatened you. How about a hug, then we go cause some murder?”

I laugh, tired but real. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

Leo grins and makes his way around the counter to be on my side, not hesitating to wrap me up in his arms. I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth soaking into me. My arms loop around his waist, and the tension in my body loosens just a little.

“I’m sorry that guy was a dick,” he mumbles into my hair, lips brushing my temple. “My witch doesn’t deserve to be threatened.”

“I can take him,” I murmur, eyes closed as I bury my nose into his shirt, the smell of the sea perpetually clinging to the material. I pull back, looking at him with a tired smirk. “You don’t get to fuck with a witch and just leave.”

His arms squeeze me tighter for a second, his grin directed full power at me. “That’s my girl.” And he kisses me on the cheek.

We both freeze.

For four, long, agonising seconds, nothing happens. Then Leo opens his mouth.

“I didn’t mean to do that, I swear, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it- well, no, I did mean it, definitely meant it, but I didn’t mean to actually do it- I mean, I kinda did, ‘cause I like you a lot and I think I might love you- shit, I didn’t meant to say that-”

“Leo.”

His jabbering mouth snaps shut and he looks very much like he’s trying not to set his cheeks on fire from how red they are. I make him wait another four seconds, just because I can, then… “Do it again.”

Leo makes a noise of confusion, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to not grin like an idiot. “You heard me. Do it again.”

Slowly, cautiously, like he’s approaching a feral animal, Leo leans in and gently kisses my cheek again. He barely moves away, his lips hovering over my skin so close I can feel his shallow breaths. “Again.”

It feels like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop but wants to make the most of the situation while it’s still in the air. He kisses my cheek again, a little closer to my lips. “Again.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, barely a touch of his lips to mine, and I swear I can feel his heart trying to escape his chest.

“Again.”

He hesitates, big brown eyes looking into mine like he’s not sure if he’s hallucinating. I quirk my eyebrow. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

And just like that, Leo surges forward to capture me in a kiss. His hands fly from my back to my cheeks, slightly shaky as he cups my face. The kiss is hot, meltingly so, and Leo becomes breathless immediately as he presses kiss after kiss like he wants to memorise the shape of my mouth.

My hands grip at his sides, fingers curling into his shirt as I keep him close, my tongue swiping at the seam of his lips and earning myself a tiny whimper as Leo lets me deepen the kiss.

“Oh my gods,” he mumbles into the kiss, the words coloured in disbelief and tentative excitement. “I’m kissing you- you’re letting me kiss you, oh my gods, thank you-”

I laugh into the kiss, nipping at his bottom lip to get him to whimper again, the sound crawling under my ribs and curling up next to my heart. “You’re thanking me?”

“Yes.” He says it like it’s obvious, of course he’d thank me, why wouldn’t he? “It’s a gift.” Another deep, longing kiss. “Should always be grateful for gifts.”

“Gods, you’re so cute,” I breathe, my hands running up from his waist into his hair. Leo honest-to-gods wobbles on his knees, a single compliment enough to have him wavering with what little composure he has.

“Don’t do that,” he whispers, kissing me again like he’ll forget how to breathe if he stops. “Don’t do that because then I’ll have to get on my knees and I don’t know if you’d be okay with that.”

Oh, that just sounds like an invitation. A wicked grin spreads across my face and I tug lightly at his curls. “Aww, but you’d look so good on your knees for me.”

“Fuck-” Leo inhales sharply, visibly shuddering. “Is that what you want? I can do that, shit, I’ll do anything you want, please, just let me taste you.”

His begging simmers hot and heavy in my stomach. I slip a hand down from his hair to the back of his neck, and gently push.

Leo, eyes wide and kiss-swollen lips parted, goes down beautifully easy. His knees land with a soft thud on the wooden floor, his hands reaching out to tangle in my loose, layered skirt. I was right - he looks so fucking good on his knees.

“Go on,” I murmur after a moment of him just looking at me like he’s not sure I’m real. “You wanted to taste me, right?”

He nods so quickly I’m briefly worried he’ll give himself whiplash. Trembling but still dexterous hands undo my belt and pull down my skirt, his breath audibly catching. My shirt falls over my hips like it did it on purpose, and Leo actually whines as the fabric obscures his view.

“No, come back-”

It’s impossible to stifle my laugh as he paws at my thighs, pushing the edge of the shirt up to my stomach with trembling hands. Leo pouts up at me, but his sulking lasts maybe two seconds before he drags his nose over the tops of my thighs. “Gods, you smell so good.”

The first touch of his lips between my legs is soft, barely a kiss, but it sends a shiver up my spine and a ripple through my magic. With gentle hands, he coaxes my thighs further apart and I lean back against the counter, bracing my hands against the edge with a steadying breath.

The second touch is firmer, a little more confident. Leo grips at my thighs, fingers dimpling the flesh as he presses a warm, open-mouthed kiss to my folds. The soft noise I let out is lost under the wanton groan that Leo makes, like he’s been looking for something for forever and has finally, finally been allowed to find it.

There’s no more hesitation, Leo burying his face in my pussy with reckless abandon. Each moan vibrates through my entire body, his tongue hot and eager as it laps up the mess already weeping from me. His hands squeeze at my thighs, like he’s physically holding himself back from digging his fingers in to ground himself as he gets utterly lost in my taste.

One of my hands remains gripping the edge of the counter, but the other finds a new home amongst his curls, tangling in the strands. Each accidental tug earns a muffled moan until they’re no longer accidental, and I pull his mouth to exactly where I want it to be.

He doesn’t resist, following my lead. His lips wrap around my clit and suck, and he visibly shivers when the action pulls a sharp gasp from my chest. He does it again and again until I forcibly pull him off, redirecting him a little lower. I can feel my release glowing hot and bright in my stomach, my breathing shortening as my heart pounds and stutters in my chest.

“Leo,” I moan, and he opens his eyes to look up at me. Words vacate my head as our gazes meet, my mind going blank at the shiny glaze of his eyes, his pink cheeks pressed to the insides of my thighs.

My restraint breaks as the sweet boy whimpers against my pussy. Head thrown back, my fingers grip his hair painfully tight as I come on his tongue, a breathy cry pulled forcefully from my lips. Leo whines, licking up every drop of release, drinking it down until my legs are shaking and I have to push him away to be able to breathe. My magic shimmers around me like waves of heat, distorting the air above my skin with a silvery shine.

He sits back on his heels, panting, his lower face glistening, and I watch with aroused fascination as a droplet rolls down his neck. The smile on his face is almost pure despite the debauchery that inspired it, and his hands lay still on his lap. My shaky hand cards through his hair and if he could purr like a cat, he would.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Leo shifts on his knees, swallowing, a hint of nerves in his voice as he speaks. “Did I- Was it- good?”

“Yeah, sweet boy,” I huff a laugh, hand leaving his hair to cup his chin, thumb stroking over his jaw affectionately. “That was… yeah, you did a really good job.”

He melts, leaning into my hand as his body sags in relief. “Oh, thank the gods, I think I would have cried if you’d said anything else.”

I laugh again, gently lifting his chin up until he takes the hint and stands up on wobbly knees. Leo grabs onto the counter either side of me, slightly shaky, and he rests his forehead against mine. “Did I help, lovely witch of mine?”

“You did.” My hands loop around his waist, pulling him closer until his front is flush with mine. A short hiss escapes his lips and I raise an eyebrow. “…you okay, sweetheart?”

Leo has been blushing this entire time, but he’s never been more red than the moment after I asked that tiny question. “I-I’m fine, just…” He shifts a little and damp fabric brushes again my lower stomach.

My eyes widen, heat and delight curling in my gut as I look down, then back up. “Did you-?”

“I really, really liked eating you out,” he confesses, quiet and shy. I cup his face with both hands this time, pulling him into a messy, fierce kiss, moaning as I taste myself on his tongue. He makes a noise of surprise before sinking into it, his arms weaving around my waist.

I break the kiss, giggling as he tries to chase my lips with a needy whine. “Oh, I’m keeping you.”

Leo closes his eyes and grins nuzzling into my cheek. “My captain might have something to say about that.”

“Nah,” I whisper, shaking my head with a mirrored grin. “I’m a witch, honey, I can do whatever I want.”

“…can you do me?”

this is over 5k words, it’s a monster, I was gonna make it longer but i wanted to get it out to you so much! if you read all the way through, well done, you get a seashell charm from the witch’s shop, but remember the price…

[p1nk-ang3l-games]

ok im sorry but i have to send this one in because i can't stop thinking about your answer regarding otome games 😭

could you do a scene with a lads player mc (+ a li of your choosing) and jayce's reaction? thank youuuuuu

Dammit.

Fucking dammit.

You and that fucking phone!

It's all you do. You whine and giggle into your phone. To your fake little boyfriends.

Callahan and Zade? Is that their names?

No, of course I know their actual names. I couldn't forget.

Fuck them.

As I sit and watch you lounge out and squeal to your phone for the hundredth time today, I dig my nails even deeper into your couch, the sound audible.

"Oh my GOD. Jayce, you seriously have to play this."

Me?

Do I look like the kind of guy who would-

Jesus Christ, you're doing this to tease me, aren't you?

As I grind my teeth in accusation, you jut out your tongue and give me a wink.

You know I hate this. You know I can't stand a second more of this bullshit.

"Is that why you invited me over?" I almost snarl. "So you could sit there and play with your little boyfriends?"

You do what you always do in retaliation.

You roll your pretty little eyes and grace me with a scoff.

"Jayce, you're really overreacting! It's just a cute little game!" "Cute?" I scoff now. "Yeah, it's cute." You angle your phone to show off Zayne donning glossy eyes and rosy cheeks. "See?" You smirk. "Cute." Am I not cute? I play it off with anger but it hurts. God, does it hurt. Hurts so bad, I want to play dirty. I want to hurt you back. I shouldn't, I know I shouldn't but I lash out, letting the pent up anger fly off my lips. "Kind of really fucking pathetic." I shrug my shoulders and furrow my brows, not able to look into your eyes as I insult you "What kind of no-life just sits there and fantasizes over a game?" To this, you click your tongue and roll over on the couch, gracing me with a delicious view of your backside. "I'm not a loser, Jayce. I'm just playing a game." You turn back to sneer at me. "A game where the guys actually treat me pretty well." Wait... Fuck. Hits like a truck going one hundred miles an hour and I flinch. Did I actually hurt you? The revenge I sought earlier pangs my stomach. I should apologize. I should- What the fuck? My eyes laser in on your phone and I can't miss the striking scene. You've already moved on from Zayne that quickly?

Caleb is shirtless, his body on display as you let out another soft giggle, ignoring me completely. What kind of game is that?! I knew that it was a dating game, but this is too motherfucking far! No! Hell no! Dirty, stupid-! I dash to my feet, my hands becoming tight fists. "Hey!" You cry out as I yank your phone from your grasp. I should smash it! I should fucking smash it! "Give it back!" "What the hell is this game?!" I cry out, my throat burning. "What kind of trashy, disgust-" "It's not trashy! It's a romance game and-" You amble off the couch and bounce for your phone, but I raise it as high as my shivering hands allow. "You like this? This kind of thing?" I shake your phone, dangling it above you. "Yes!" "Shirtless, panting, in heat or something?" I bellow, feeling sick. "Fine!" For a brief moment, we make eye contact, mine pleading without uttering a word, and yours scathed and defiant. I work to tear the shirt off my chest, my heart burning with the same gnawing jealousy I've become accustomed to. "What are you doing?" You've stopped bouncing for your phone and your eyes dial in on my chest. "You can have it! It's right here!" I gesture to my exposed nipples, now hard from the new air. "Take it! You want me to take off my pants, too?" I toss your phone across the room and begin to work on the buttons of my jeans, sweat collecting on my desperate fingers. My breathing quickening, I yank down my jeans and throw them on a pile over your phone. "Here! You don't need Zayne or Caleb or Rafayel or Xavier or Sylus or Gregory or Ryan or Chad!" I'm panting, my chest heaving and my eyes wide. "Or any of those-" "I get it." In stark contrast to mine, your voice is soft, shivering. You cross your arms over your chest and purse your pretty little lips, making me wish I could kiss them again and again. "You do?" "Yeah, I do." "Then- Then-" I stutter, taking a step forward, "Use me! Fucking use me! For anything!" Another step closer to you, my love. "For whatever you want! Please!" My voice trembles. Why do I feel like crying? I refuse. I won't. "Use me! Touch me! Please! Please, just use me instead!" (I'm leaving this one on a cliff hanger. Hehe. If anyone wants more, I will just send me a message!!! or if you want a different writing prompt!!! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა)