#but it's amazing and stands the test of time

[ha-rinrin]

The Metal Touch

summary: What begins as intrigue and banter with Jinx quickly turns into something deeper—a mix of fire and vulnerability as her metal touch becomes both comfort and thrill.

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!reader

Wordcount: 6.5k

Authors note: I don't I really feel like I gave her finger justice but oh well, I tried. more fics are on the way guys I just cant stop writing with the new amazing content of season two 😭 also I didn't proof read 3 times, thats what I usually do, so if its bad thats why.

masterlist

The dimly lit workshop buzzed quietly with the sound of metal grinding against metal. Jinx tinkered with her mechanical finger, her expression an intense blend of fascination and frustration. Every so often, she muttered something under her breath, adjusting a bolt or tightening a screw, her usual bravado toned down by the meticulousness of her task.

“Almost got it,” she mumbled, her fingers moving with surprising finesse over the intricate mechanisms. Sparks flickered, and you instinctively reached out to brush them away from her, grinning when she looked up with a smirk.

“Afraid I’ll break, toots?” she teased, her eyes glinting with that familiar, playful gleam.

“Not afraid—just making sure my girlfriend stays in one piece,” you reply, nudging her shoulder. “Besides, not everyone has a cybernetic finger to work with.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Come on, where’s your faith?” she quipped, giving her finger one last twist and holding it up for a test. She flexed it, and to your relief, it worked without a hitch. “See? Perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, for now,” you teased, reaching out to take her hand in yours, feeling the cool metal of her finger against your skin. She didn’t pull away, her gaze softening as you laced your fingers together, careful of the mechanics but not the least bit shy.

She grinned, standing up from her chair and tugging you closer by the hand until your faces were inches apart. “Guess I should thank my pretty assistant, then,” she murmured, her voice low, as her free hand reached up to cup your face.

Your cheeks warmed under her touch, and before you could come up with a clever reply, she closed the gap, kissing you softly yet confidently, Her lips curled into a smile against yours. Your hands found their way to her waist, holding her close

“You make this stuff look easy, you know?” you whispered when you pulled back, catching your breath.

Jinx shrugged, as if it was nothing, but the way she held onto you said otherwise. "I don’t know, you make it easier.”

She kissed you again, and as the machines hummed around you, it felt like, for a moment, the whole world was just the two of you, tucked away in the quiet workshop, right where you belonged.

The workshop seemed to shrink, leaving just the two of you in the dim light and soft whirring of machines. Jinx’s lips brushed yours again, but this time, there was a fierceness that hadn’t been there before—a sense of urgency you felt all the way down to your toes. Her hand, warm and steady, slid to the small of your back, drawing you in closer as the kiss deepened. It was full of all the unsaid words she rarely let show.

You felt her smirk against your lips, her metal finger tracing along your jawline as her other hand tugged you even closer, leaving no space between you. Your heart pounded, and every nerve seemed to come alive under her touch. She broke the kiss only long enough to catch her breath, her gaze dark and heated as she looked at you, her purple eyes blazing in the dim light.

“See? I’m not all that dangerous,” she murmured, her voice low and breathy as her lips found your neck, leaving a trail of heat with every kiss. Her mechanical finger traced up your side, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and you couldn’t help but tilt your head, giving her more access as her lips and teeth made quick work of your senses.

You tightened your grip around her, pulling her impossibly closer, losing yourself in the warmth and intensity of her embrace. Her breath was warm against your skin as her hands roamed with an expertise that had you forgetting everything else, her laughter soft and thrilling as she felt your heart racing against hers.

Jinx’s kisses intensified, her lips pressing hungrily against your skin, making your pulse skyrocket. Her metal finger traced down your spine, the coolness a sharp contrast to her warmth, igniting shivers along your skin. Every graze of her mechanic middle finger was electrifying, a reminder of both her strength and the tenderness she only shared with you.

She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her breathing heavy, her gaze intense. “You don’t mind a little metal, do you?” she teased, a wicked grin flashing across her lips as she lifted her metal finger to gently hold your chin, her thumb brushing over your lips.

You barely had a moment to shake your head before she kissed you again, deeper this time, her mechanical finger trailing up and down your side, their cool touch making you tremble.

 It was as if she knew exactly how much pressure to apply, a calculated intensity that left you breathless. Her hand moved from your chin to your shoulder, holding you firmly in place as her other hand slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt, exploring with a confidence that made your knees weak.

“Feels different, doesn’t it?” she murmured against your lips, her metal finger pressing into your skin, creating a contrast that drove you wild. She leaned in, her mouth brushing your ear as she whispered, “Bet no one else could make you feel like this.”

You couldn’t form a coherent response, too caught up in the heat of her touch and the rhythm of her breathing. She chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as she pressed you back against the workbench, her metal hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, keeping you firmly in place as she kissed you again, her lips urgent and unapologetic.

“See?” she whispered, her voice a low growl. “Told you I wasn’t dangerous… unless you like it that way.”

Her words sent a thrill down your spine, and you gripped her tighter, pulling her close as your lips met hers again in a kiss that was as wild and intense, just as she was, both of you losing yourselves to the heady mix of passion and abandon in the quiet of the workshop, with only the flicker of lights and hum of machinery as witness to the fire between you.

The intensity between you built, filling the workshop with a charged silence that only quickened breaths and the hum of machinery could break. Jinx’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, her touch both familiar and thrilling, and she paused, her eyes meeting yours with a spark of mischief.

“Mind if I make things a little… warmer?” she asked, her lips curving into that wicked smile she wore so well. Her hands, both warm flesh and cool metal, gripped the fabric and, without waiting for your answer, began lifting it. You raised your arms as a sign of permission, letting her pull it off in one smooth motion, and she tossed it aside, her gaze sweeping over you with an unmistakable glint of admiration.

She bit her lip as her fingers trailed over your bare skin, her metal fingertip cold but thrilling as it traced along your collarbone. “Didn’t think I’d get this lucky in the middle of a tune-up,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving you as her other hand went to her own shirt, tugging it over her head with practiced ease. You felt your cheeks heat up, unable to hide your appreciation as her shirt joined yours in a messy pile on the floor.

Before you could catch your breath, she pressed against you, her bare skin warm and firm against yours, her lips finding yours again with a hunger that made your pulse race. Her metal finger found your waist, the sensation sharp and grounding, while her other hand cupped your face, guiding you deeper into the kiss, her mouth capturing yours with a fierceness that felt like it was made for you alone.

You slipped your arms along her sides, savoring her closeness as her breaths mingled with yours, her laughter soft and thrilling. Jinx’s lips moved to your neck, pressing heated kisses along your skin as her fingers traced patterns down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

“Still sure you’re up for this?” she teased against your ear, her voice barely more than a whisper, filled with both daring and tenderness, her hands roaming, claiming every inch of skin as if she could never get enough.

“Absolutely,” you whispered back, pulling her in closer as the world outside faded to nothing but the heat between you. And in that moment, there was only the two of you, tangled together in the dim light, lost in each other’s touch and the thrill of being exactly where you wanted to be—right there, in her arms.

Jinx’s fingers explored every inch of your skin with a blend of precision and intensity that sent a shiver through you. Her metal hand rested at your waist, the coolness making each touch more vivid, a thrilling contrast against her warmth. Her other hand traced a line up your spine, pulling you closer until you could feel her heartbeat, fast and strong, mirroring your own.

She leaned in, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to fuck you with my new upgrade.” Her lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of soft, heated kisses that made you melt under her touch. Her metal hand tightened on your waist, steadying you as your knees went weak, her gaze holding you captive as she grinned, clearly enjoying the effect she had on you.

You slipped your arms around her, fingers tracing the lines of her back, her muscles tensing under your touch. Her mouth returned to yours, this time fiercer, more urgent, as if she was pouring everything she felt into that one kiss. You matched her intensity, letting her press you back against the workbench, your bodies moving together in a perfect rhythm.

Jinx’s metal hand slid up to your side, the cold touch sending a thrill through you, grounding you in the moment even as her other hand moved with care and confidence exploring your breasts. She deepened the kiss, her lips hot against yours, her fingers now tangling in your hair as she held you close. Every touch, every brush of her skin with yours left you breathless and wanting more.

“Guess you’re not so afraid of a little metal after all,” she murmured with a grin, her eyes dark with something deeper, her voice thick with desire.

“Not when it’s you,” you replied, barely able to keep your voice steady, drawing her back to you as the two of you lost yourselves in the electric pull between you.

Jinx’s hands, both flesh and metal, continued their exploration, her fingers tracing patterns that left your skin tingling. Her smile held a daring glint as her hands dipped to your hips, fingers hooking onto the waistband of your jeans. She met your gaze, a mischievous question in her eyes, and when you nodded, she didn’t hesitate.

Slowly, she slid your jeans down, her hands gliding over your thighs as she dropped the fabric to the floor, leaving you exposed to her smoldering gaze. The intensity in her eyes made your pulse race, your breath hitching as she took in every inch of you with a quiet reverence that sent a thrill through you. She stepped back only long enough to tug off her own pants, and when she pressed close again, the feel of her bare skin against yours was intoxicating.

You couldn’t help but pull her closer, wrapping your arms around her as her hands settled on your waist, her metal fingers cool against the heat of your skin, grounding you in the moment. She grinned, her usual playful confidence softened by something deeper as she leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss that left you breathless. Her hands roamed with practiced ease, each touch sending a shiver through you as her mouth moved from your lips to your neck, then lower, to your collarbone, pressing heated kisses along your skin.

The moment you pulled her even closer, the air between you thickened with anticipation. You could feel the heat of her body pressing against yours, the thrum of her heartbeat matching the pulse in your veins.

Her fingers skimmed your waist, sending sparks of sensation wherever they touched. She didn’t rush, taking her time, savoring every second as if she were memorizing the way you felt. Her breath was warm on your neck, sending a delicious tremor through your body.

“God, you’re perfect,” she murmured, voice low and rough, sending an ache through you as her lips found yours again, soft but charged. When you kissed her back, there was a hunger in it—a craving for something deeper. Her tongue met yours, slowly at first, tasting, exploring, before it deepened, pulling you closer as if she couldn’t get enough.

Jinx’s hands glided down your body, her fingertips tracing the curves of your hips before slipping lower to your thighs, igniting a thrill that left you breathless. She paused, her lips hovering as she looked at you, her eyes dark with need, but there was something else there too—something tender, something dangerous in the way she gazed at you.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” she whispered, her voice a heady mix of lust and something raw that made your heart race even faster.

You swallowed, your breath coming faster as she leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I think I’m starting to get it,” you replied, your voice trembling just slightly, betraying the heat building between you two.

Jinx chuckled, a soft, sultry sound that made you shiver. Her hands moved lower in her gaze that was soft, almost vulnerable, like she was savoring this moment as much as you were. The mix of tenderness and hunger in her eyes made your heart race even more than before, if that’s even possible. She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "You sure you're ready for this?"

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, "More than ever." The words hung in the air between you, a promise you were both eager to fulfill.

Without another word, Jinx’s hands slid lower, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, sending a wave of heat through your body. She paused again, looking up at you, her gaze seeking permission. You met her eyes, steady and sure, and without hesitation, she leaned in to kiss you again, her lips pressing against yours with a desperation that spoke louder than words.

Her fingers, both warm and cool, massaged your bundle of nerves, her touch a perfect blend of confidence and care, even when she pushed them in you, allowing a loud moan to escape your mouth. As she explored you, your senses heightened, each soft caress sending ripples of pleasure through you. You gripped her waist, pulling her closer as the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you locked in this moment of raw, unfiltered connection.

Every movement, every touch, felt like a dance, a rhythm you both knew instinctively. Jinx’s lips trailed down your neck, her kisses slow and deliberate, each one sending a wave of heat straight to your core, your hips bucking and sweet nosies leaving your mouth. 

She smiled against your skin, a wicked grin that made your pulse spike with anticipation. "I love it when you lose control," she murmured, her lips brushing your ear. "Makes me want to take it even further."

You gasped, your body instinctively arching toward hers, urging her on. Her name slipped from your lips in a breathless moan, and that was all the encouragement she needed. her fingers exploring deeper, hitting all the right spots, the mix of warm and cold from her metallic finger inside you made your legs feel like jelly.

Her fingers pushed deeper, and a soft gasp escaped your lips. The combination of her warmth and the sensation of her touch sent a wave of pleasure coursing through you, making your pulse race. Jinx didn’t stop, her movements steady and confident as she sought to draw you even closer to the edge. Her lips parted from your neck, her breath warm and uneven against your skin as she whispered, “You feel incredible.”

The connection between you both electric. She took her time, making sure every moment was felt, every touch adding to the growing intensity between you. Her name escaped your lips once more, barely a breath, and it seemed to spur her on.

Jinx’s eyes met yours, a dark spark of something mischievous in them. “You’re mine,” she murmured, her voice low, sending another shiver down your spine. Her fingers moved with purpose, hitting places you hadn’t even known you craved.

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh, caught somewhere between pleasure and disbelief. “Always,” you managed, your voice thick with need.

The world outside the bubble you shared faded completely, leaving only the two of you, entwined in each other’s presence, moving together in perfect synchrony.

Jinx paused for a moment, her breath ragged as she took in the intensity of the moment, her gaze never leaving yours. Without a word, she lifted you up, her hands gently helping you to sit on top of the workbench.

You felt the cold metal against your ass as she sat you on it, pushing your legs apart so you were perfectly positioned, one of her hands steady as she helped you get comfortable while the other one continues its thrusting, sending a shiver through your body.

Jinx bent a little so that her mouth was right besides your ear, her breath fanning over your skin as she leaned in, her lips brushing your earlobe. "This feels like the perfect spot," she whispered, her voice low and teasing as she pressed herself against you. Her tits meeting yours, the heat of her body undeniable as she took her place between your legs.

"Perfect," she repeated, her lips brushing against your ear as she nipped at the lobe, her fingers working at your hole, sending jolts of electricity through you. "I’ve got you exactly where I want you," she murmured, the palm of her hand massaging your clit.

You could barely catch your breath, every movement of hers driving you crazy with desire. You wanted more—wanted all of her. And Jinx was more than ready to give it to you.

Her lips twitched into a grin as she saw the look on your face, her fingers still dancing against you, pressing you deeper into the moment. “Can’t get enough, huh?” she teased, her voice a low murmur, full of playful arrogance. She shifted her weight slightly, the motion making your body heat up in ways you didn’t know were possible.

The air between you thickened with anticipation, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Jinx’s mechanical hand moved with a fluidity you couldn’t ignore. She paused, giving you a look that was equal parts teasing and uncertain, before slowly pressing her palm against your clit with her fingers still deep inside you.

Everything went still, a moment suspended in silence. Then you felt it—a faint hum, a vibration that seemed to travel from her finger, right into your core. It wasn't just a mechanical shift; it felt like the world’s pulse, steady, and in sync with the beat of your own racing heart.

She smirked, watching your reaction. “How’s that feel?” Her voice was low, filled with something dangerous and playful as her gaze flicked from your face to where her hand lingered.

the vibration echoed through your body, intensifying with each slight movement of her hand, a sensation so intense it sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t hold back a soft gasp, your breath hitching as the sensation became more than just a touch—it felt almost electric, like it was pulling at every nerve in your body.

Jinx’s smirk deepened at your reaction, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Like it?” she asked, her voice dropping lower, almost a growl as she leaned closer, her lips brushing against your ear once again.

You nodded, your body trembling as it arched toward her, a silent plea for more. The vibrations surged again, sending a wave of heat coursing through you, pooling in your lower stomach, igniting something wild inside you. Your fingers curled into the edge of the workbench, your knuckles white as you gripped it, trying to steady yourself.

“It’s... it’s amazing,” you breathed out, your voice trembling with the intensity of it. You met her gaze, eyes wide with desire, your lips parted, whimpers coming out of your throat as the hum of her hand against your skin grew more pronounced, each pulse pressing deeper into you.

Jinx’s grin deepened, her eyes glinting as she reveled in the effect her touch had on you. “I thought you'd like that,” she murmured, her breath hot against your skin. She moved her palm slightly, adjusting her touch, allowing the vibrations to increase in speed, pushing you further into the moment.

The feeling was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. It wasn’t just physical—it was sensory, every inch of your skin acutely aware of the vibrations, the heat of her body pressed against yours. You were lost in it, every pulse, every movement of her mechanical finger drawing you closer to the edge, both mentally and physically.

Her lips were close now, just a whisper away from your neck as she whispered, “Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

“Please,I want the more- FUCK!” you couldn't even finish your sentence before her ministrations became more frantic, the vibration growing harder and faster.

You couldn’t help the way your body reacted as the vibrations became more intense, the hum of her mechanical hand resonating deep within you. It was as if she’d tuned into something inside you, something raw and primal that made it hard to think, let alone speak. Your breath hitched again as the sensation surged, sending a rush of heat coursing through you, you let out laud moans to escape your throat.

Jinx’s eyes never left yours, her smirk widening with satisfaction. She could feel your body respond, could see the way you shifted beneath her, wanting more, needing more.

"Is that what you wanted?" she whispered, her voice low, teasing, yet filled with that dangerous edge. "Tell me, what exactly do you need?" Her mechanical fingers tightened slightly, pressing deeper, as if testing your limits.

At first, you couldn’t speak—your chest heaving with every shaky moan, your body caught between pleasure and need. But eventually, you managed to get the words out, your voice trembling, raw with desire.

"More," you gasped, barely able to keep your voice steady. "Please, Jinx... more."

Her eyes flickered with something mischievous, a spark of delight that only made the tension in the room thicker. With a swift, fluid motion, she leaned in closer, whispered again, her breath hot on your skin.

“Desperate, huh? I like that,” she murmured, voice low and playful, words sending a shiver down your spine. She paused, letting the moment hang in the air, her hand still pressing against you, the vibrations now steady but undeniable.

She could tell you were on the edge, and she reveled in it, enjoying the control she had over the situation, over you. But, with a shift in her posture, she moved slightly away from you, breaking the connection just enough to allow you to catch your breath.

"Now," Jinx purred, her eyes glinting with mischief as she leaned back, giving you that signature, dangerous grin. "Tell me again. What do you want?"

You struggled to steady your breathing, her words lingering in the air, making your heart race even faster. The weight of her gaze felt like it was pulling you in, making your skin burn, every nerve alive with anticipation. She was waiting, holding you at the edge, giving you no choice but to beg for more.

"I... I need you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, shaky with the intensity of it all. "Please, Jinx, I can’t take it anymore. I need you... every part of you,” you breathed, the words barely leaving your lips, heavy with desire

Her eyes glinted, a predatory smile creeping onto her lips as she leaned in again, close enough that you could feel the heat of her breath against your face. “That’s what I like to hear,” she murmured, her voice low and silky, the words wrapped in the promise of something dangerous.

Her mechanical hand shifted again, pressing deeper, the hum intensifying as it surged through you, each pulse igniting every nerve in your body, like it was seeping into your very bones. The pressure of her hand against your skin felt almost unbearable, but you didn’t want her to stop. You needed more.

"You’re mine now, you’ve always been mine" Jinx whispered in your ear, her voice thick with both satisfaction and something darker, something that made your pulse quicken even further. She pulled back just slightly, enough to watch you, her eyes dark and full of mischief. “Tell me what you want me to do next,” she purred, her fingers still sending jolts of electricity through your body.

Your body was already aching, the need for her so overwhelming that it was all you could think about. Every part of you screamed for release, for connection. But Jinx wasn’t giving you any space to breathe, and you didn’t want it any other way.

“More,” you gasped again, your voice thick with need. “I need you... right now.”

A low, throaty laugh escaped her lips, and she leaned back in with a smile that made your heart race. "You’ll get what you need... but on my terms."

Jinx’s smirk widened, her eyes sparkling with something dangerously playful as she hovered above you. She could feel the way your body trembled beneath her touch, the way your breath quickened with each passing second. It was as if she had you exactly where she wanted—teetering on the edge, desperate for more.

“You’re so eager,” she murmured, her lips brushing lightly against yours before pulling away just enough to look into your eyes. Her thumb grazed over you clit, sending another rush of heat coursing through every nerve. “I like it.”

Her fingers shifted, the vibrations quickening, more insistent, yet her thumb stayed still. You gasped, your back arching involuntarily, as the heat inside you grew even more unbearable.

“Jinx, please,” you breathed, your voice a mixture of frustration and need. You couldn’t think of anything else anymore, the world reduced to the feeling of her hand, the pulse of her touch, and the hunger for more of her.

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered, “Patience, toots. You’ll get it... but first, I want to hear you beg for it.”

A shiver ran through you at the sound of her voice, dark and velvety, as though each word she spoke sent a spark straight to your core. You were trembling now, every muscle tight with anticipation.

“Please,” you repeated, your voice shaking, unable to form anything coherent beyond that desperate plea. You didn’t care anymore—this was all you wanted, and you’d do anything to make her give it to you.

Jinx’s breath hitched at your surrender, and she pulled back just enough to get a good look at you—face flushed, eyes wide with desire, lips parted in need. “You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” she purred, her voice dripping with both affection and something much darker. “But you still haven’t told me exactly what you want.”

There was a brief, agonizing moment of stillness as her hand paused, the hum dying down just slightly, making you ache for more.

“I want you, Jinx,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I need you to make me feel... everything.”

Jinx’s eyes flashed with triumph, and she leaned down to kiss you deeply, her lips demanding, as if she was finally giving what you both needed. As she deepened the kiss, her thumb started to move slowly, moving your clitoris in circles, sending waves of electricity through your body once again.

The moment Jinx’s lips met yours, the world outside seemed to fade away. Everything was consumed by the intensity of her touch, the warmth of her body pressing against you. It was like a spark igniting a wildfire, every nerve in your body lighting up with the need for more.

Her lips were fierce and demanding, claiming you with a hunger that matched your own. The kiss was messy, full of urgency—her teeth grazing your lower lip as she pulled you closer, her body flush against yours.

But even as she deepened the kiss, she kept her hand where it was, the hum of the vibration slowly building, and her thumb brushing over your clit sending ripples of heat throughout your entire body. It was maddening how much you wanted her, how she had you wound so tight, barely holding it together.

Her breath came in quick, uneven gasps as she pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. She studied you with that dangerous, teasing grin, her lips swollen from the kiss, her chest rising and falling with every breath. 

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her gaze on you, the heat from her touch radiating through your body. But you needed more.

“Don’t tease me, Jinx,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all. ���I want you... now.”

Her smirk only grew wider at your words, and she leaned in again, her lips brushing your lips as she whispered, “You’ve got me. Just remember, you asked for this.”

And with that, she moved her hand again, the vibrations increasing, sending an intense pulse through you that made your breath catch, her thumb moving faster and harder. You gasped, your hands finding purchase on her hips, gripping her desperately as your body arched towards her.

“You’re so responsive,” she murmured, her voice teasing as her lips traced down your neck, leaving a trail of heat. “I could make you beg for more, but I think you’re ready, aren’t you?”

Your fingers gripped her tightly, the vibrations becoming nearly unbearable, tightening the anticipation in your chest. Every nerve in your body was alive, begging for release. The desire in your eyes mirrored the hunger in hers as you nodded, breathless, unable to form anything else.

“I’m ready,” you whispered.

And just like that, Jinx moved again, every single movement intensified, pushing you toward the edge, both of you lost in the moment, in the desire that was palpable between you. 

Her rhythm quickened, every movement sending you spiraling closer until, with a shuddering breath, the pleasure crested, overwhelming you. A cry escaped as your body tightened, lost in wave after wave, pulse racing as Jinx’s touch lingered, grounding you even as the world blurred around.

Your body trembled, small aftershocks rippling through you as you struggled to catch your breath. Jinx’s hand remained steady, grounding you in the haze, her thumb tracing gentle circles that sent tiny jolts of lingering pleasure through you. She watched you, a satisfied grin on her lips, clearly enjoying the way your body reacted to every subtle touch. Even as the intensity faded, your skin remained sensitive, every brush of her fingers drawing out little shivers, keeping you tethered to the sensation long after the peak had passed.

The world slowly came back into focus as Jinx pulled away slowly, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. Her touch lingered, leaving a hum in your body, each breath feeling heavier. Her fingers stayed still, a faint, steady pulse mirroring the beat of your heart.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence hanging thick and warm between you. Jinx’s breath was slow, almost unsteady, and you could feel the faint tremble in her fingertips as she picked them out, leaving you breathless and still wanting more. She slipped her fingers into her mouth, slowly drawing them out to trace light patterns across your skin. It was as if she was waiting for you to catch your breath, or perhaps for the moment to settle—either way, you could feel the weight of everything unspoken, the lingering heat of the connection you’d shared.

Her eyes softened, the usual mischief replaced with something quieter, more vulnerable. “You okay?” she asked, her voice quieter now, softer than before. It was a rare moment of care from someone who often lived in the chaos.

You nodded, the intensity of the moment still settling in your chest, and you took a slow, deep breath. The touch of her hand felt grounding, like an anchor that kept you from floating too far away. “Yeah, just... catching up,” you whispered, unable to fully explain the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest.

Jinx gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile, the kind that only she could pull off—teasing, but also a little fond, a little more tender. She didn’t move away, her body still close to yours, her fingers lingering on your skin as if she wasn’t ready to break the connection entirely.

She leaned in, her forehead resting against yours for a brief moment, just enough for you to feel the warmth of her skin, the steady rise and fall of her chest against yours. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing you like this,” she murmured, her lips grazing your ear. There was no arrogance in her tone, only a quiet truth.

You smiled softly, your fingers lightly brushing the edge of her jaw. “I think I could say the same.”

And for a while, there was nothing else but the quiet, the two of you wrapped up in each other’s presence. No rush, no urgency—just the softness of the aftermath. The kind of peace that only followed something that felt as real and raw as what you’d just shared.

The air between you both was thick with a new kind of tension, one that felt softer but still undeniably electric. Jinx’s fingers lazily traced patterns on your skin, her touch light but knowing. She could sense the undercurrent of desire that still simmered beneath the calm. The intensity had faded, but that connection was still there, like an unspoken promise.

Her lips brushed against your ear again, this time with a lightness that made your skin tingle. "You sure you’re okay?" she asked, her voice low, almost playful, but there was something deeper in her gaze. “I mean... I’m pretty good at this.”

You could hear the teasing note in her voice, but there was something more to it—a quiet challenge in her words that made your heart race, just like it had when this whole thing started. She shifted slightly, her body pressing closer to yours again, her breath warm against your skin.

“I’m more than okay,” you whispered back, your lips curling into a smile as you met her gaze, knowing exactly where this was heading. “But... I think I’m ready for round two, if you are.”

Jinx’s eyes darkened slightly, that familiar glint returning with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. Her lips parted in a grin, the mischievous spark reigniting, but it was softer now, more controlled. “Round two, huh?” she murmured, her fingers tracing a line down your arm before resting at your waist. “You’re sure you’re not just saying that because I know exactly what you want?”

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your chest, your body reacting to her presence, her words, the closeness. “I want you,” you said, your voice low and steady, a hint of challenge in it now too.

Her grin widened, her eyes tracing your face with a predatory curiosity, as if studying every part of you. "Well then..." She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against yours, her hand sliding down to your waist, pulling you in as she deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate this time. The warmth of her body pressed against yours once more, the vibrations from her hand a steady hum beneath your skin, just enough to tease and tempt.

But this time, it wasn’t just about urgency. There was something more in her touch—a slow burn, a promise of more to come. She pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, her expression both confident and a little softer than usual. “You’ve got me. And if you think you’re ready for more... I’m more than happy to oblige.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication, as her hand rested lightly on your hip, her thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin there. The fire was reigniting, but now it was a steady, controlled burn that left you wanting more.

“Let’s see how much you can handle,” she whispered, her voice a hushed promise, as she pressed her lips to your neck, and you both dove right back into it—closer, deeper, with that undeniable chemistry still crackling between you

The room was quiet now, save for the sound of your breathing, slow and steady. Jinx’s fingers trailed over your skin, her touch almost reverent, as if savoring the moment. Her lips brushed the edge of your ear, soft but with an underlying tension that you could feel deep in your chest.

"Didn't think you'd be this responsive," she murmured, voice low, a touch of surprise in her tone.

You turned your head, meeting her gaze, your fingers lightly grazing her wrist, urging her to stay close. "I told you," you whispered, "I want more."

Her smile was small but knowing, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes. She leaned down to kiss you again, not as frantic as before, but deeper, lingering. Her hand moved from your side, slowly threading into your hair, holding you gently as she deepened the kiss, as if testing the waters for what came next.

When she pulled back, just enough to look at you, the look in her eyes was different. There was no teasing now, just something raw, almost protective. "You’re not gonna get away so easily," she said softly, her voice carrying that same dangerous edge, but there was a tenderness to it now.

You felt the heat rise between you both again, and even though you both needed a breath, you could sense that the hunger wasn’t quite finished—it was only changing shape. Her fingers traced the curve of your jaw, her lips pressing against your forehead in a sweet, gentle kiss.

For a moment, it felt like everything had calmed, but it wasn’t over. The space between you still buzzed with energy, something unspoken lingering there.

"I’m not going anywhere," you said, your voice steady but thick with desire. "And I don’t think you are, either."

Jinx gave a soft laugh, but it was full of promise. "You know me too well," she replied, her smile now a slow, deliberate curve. “Get comfortable, toots... this isn’t over.”

[scrumptiouskoalahottub]

🔞on the down low | George Clarke

[You and George have been secretly hooking up and developing a liking for eachother, however nobody in the friendship group knew you were kind of dating in secret, until you all go on a night out and a flirtatious girl makes your jealous reach new limits, revealing your secrets]

You, George, Chris, Arthur hill all head to the bar, you'd planned this for a few weeks to work around all your schedules. You wore a skimpy red dress which hugged your body perfectly catching the eyes of a deprived George. As the boys enter in before you, George hangs back so he's behind you on entrance, "you look amazing" he whispers into your ear, you glance over your shoulder and look at him with a smile "softie" you say making your way inside.

You walk to the bar to order your drink, "a double lemon gin and lemonade please" you ask the bartender as you flick your hair over your shoulder, you all then make your way to the bar downstairs with a pool table as you were only expecting a quiet get together. You place your gin on the table as you rack up the balls to play a game of "killer", the game was to each take a shot, starting with 3 lives if you didn't pot a ball, you'd lose a life and so on. You take it in turns as you take the first shot, potting two balls on break you snigger to yourself "beat that" you say handing the cue to Chris, "you sure you're okay without a step stool mate?" George asks Chris, receiving a middle finger from him in response. You play a few games for around 1 hour, other people make their way down the stairs, a group of girls followed by a few boys. "Does anyone want a drink?" You ask, pointing to your empty glass, "yeah that'd be great, if you get this round I'll get the next" Arthur hill says, joining you to help you carry the drinks for you all. You both queue for a little while as you clutch 2 drinks each making your way down.

You get to the bottom of the stairs and see a girl basically perched on George's lap, your cheeks turn fiery as your body burns, trying to disguise the jealousy burning inside. You place his pint on the table "here George, your pint" you say sliding it over to him, the girl turns around "who's this?" The girl says, "oh me? Nobody" you say smiling, walking away and hoping the other boys whilst George continues to talk to the girl. Her face inches from him, her hand snaking her way onto his thigh. Your body burning so bad in anger, you decide to down your drink and head for another, ease your mind. "Y/n it's my-" Arthur tries to say but you shrug it off and make your way back to the bar. You order yourself 2 Guinness' this time, on attempts to uno reverse the jealousy onto George, asking Arthur to partake in a "split the g" game with you. You walk down once again "hey Arthur, fancy splitting my G?" You say with a smirk on your face, George still indulged in the girl, but his facial expression drops at your words. You glance over to see the girl basically undressing George with her eyes, "I would never pass that down" he says laughing, you both chug the Guinness seeing who could do it, you both place the glasses on the table to find out your surprise you'd both done it together. You cheer, seeing Arthur had a small Guinness taché, you decide to test the waters wiping it off his face with your thumb, you feel George's eyes burning into you.

"Oh thanks" Arthur says, "no problem, that was really fun!" You say to Arthur, "what the g splitting or whipping the foam off my face" he laughs, a look of menace washes over you "both" you say. The boys all look at you in shock, Chris laughs "get a room then!" He says patting Arthur on the back. You get up and go to stand outside for a bit of fresh air, your face still warm. You preached yourself on the railings outside as George not long follows after "care to explain what the fuck that was?" He asks you then to face him "who me? Or the girl basically dry humping your leg?" You retort "I was only talking to her, you were basically gagging for Arthur just then" he spits, "what if I was? Who's gonna stop me? We're a secret after all, not official" you brush past him on your way inside he grips yoir arm and pulls you back. "Two can play at that game" he challenges, a fire rushes over you George knowing it would send you over the top. He goes back into the bar and asks the girl for her number, she hands him her phone as he puts his number in, she calls it to confirm it's him, it is. "If I weren't with my friends, I'd of gone home with your right now" he says to her, making it loud enough for you all to hear.

"Cheers mate, get yourself off if we're that much of a burden" you bellow over to him, your face stone cold in expression. The girl looks at you with daggers "maybe he will, what's it to you?" She retorts, the boys look at you, George's face turns white at the thought of the chaos about to erupt, but excited for how pent up it makes you, your sexual connections are always better when you're both angry, it's a known fact. "Nothing sweetheart, if he really wanted to, he would have gone by now don't fool yourself thinking he's gonna call" you say coldly, crossing your leg. "Y/n just leave it" Arthur says hovering his hand over you in attempts to calm you down. The girl scoffs as she walks over to you "wanna take this outside?" She says arms crossed, you decide to retract, holding out your hand to look at your nails "see I would, but id rather not scuff my fresh set on a rugged face like yours" you say, lifting up from your seat. "Right that's enough now, y/n stop being insane" George says, grabbing the girl by the shoulder. Your eyes turn red you've had enough of the games now "funny you say that George, I swear you've told me I'm insane before but in different context" his eyes widen at your response and scrunches his nose on a bid for you to shush "oh yeah that's it, when you were 8 inches deep inside of me the other week, I was a different kind of insane then yeah?" You say, slamming your glass to the table as you storm off, barging past them both.

No response from anyone in utter shock from what you've just revealed as you storm out the club. You make your way up the street, face still burning from the tension "y/n!" A faint voice shouted, you turn round and it's Arthur "I'm fine Arthur I'm going home, tell Chris I said see ya" you carrying on walk off. You get round the corner from your flat and your phone rings.

"Geo🤎" is calling

You double tap the lock button and end the call, although you're mad you're craving the thought of taking the anger out with him. A ball of fire waiting to erupt, you unlock your door and throw your keys at the wall, kicking your heels off and slamming your bag down. You grab a bottle of wine out the fridge and start to drink from the bottle. Your mind racing, wondering if he went with her or if he went home. Your phone buzz's.

Geo🤎:"Let me in, now."

A message reads, you don't move, taking another sip of your wine when a pounding noise echoes on your door. You huff, storming over to the door to reveal George "I don't want you here, go find that girl" you say attempting to close the door in his face until he barges it in, making his way into your flat. He close the door as you step back, without hesitation he cups your face and locks your lips together; you a make no attempt to rebel him and it becomes fiery the roughness taking over as George kicks his shoes off, you start to unbuckle his jeans as you stay locked together by your lips. You pull apart and look at eachother for a minute "you being that jealous has drove me crazy, but I didn't mean to get your back up that bad" he says looking down at you with a smirk "if you don't want me acting like that then we need to stop this or put a label on it" you say. He nods but you forget about that for now, making your way over to your bedroom you push him onto your bed, straddling him to assert your dominance, you drug your nails into his chest enough to leave makes, trailing your way down to his boxers. "I want you to ruin me" he says, breath hitching, he slips his boxers down from underneath you as you sit up slightly.

He slides your thong to the side, the tip of his fingers brushing against your entrance, revealing how wet you already were "fuck your really do get aroused when angry" he says looking at you, with that you slowly slide him into you as you start riding him, his length becoming larger inside you each time sending shockwaves to his body, his hands gripping your waist tight digging his nails into the slightly, you make figure 8 motions which you know drives him insane his head jolts back as you don't let him come up for air, his toes curl signalling he's close. He decides to resist the urge and pushes you off him, pinning you down as he hovers over the top of you "for the record, I like this context of insane" he smirks, wasting no time as he abruptly throws into you sending your head backwards "fuck" you gasp gripping the sheets, his hand locks around your neck like a veiny necklace pushing a hard grip on your soft spots restricting your air ever so slightly, you bite your lip in satisfaction as he trails his thumb down to your entrance making the same figure 8 motions you did whilst still thrusting into you. You mind goes into overdrive as your legs start to quiver, the anger seeping out of you "you look so good underneath me" he says in a husky tone picking up the paste making you a little sore, his hand still gripped round your throat, you feel your climax approaching as you start to tighten around him "cum for me pretty girl" he says with a grin plastered on his face, his pet names for you send you insane. "Oh fuck George!" You exclaim as you reach your climax, you start panting as George pulls out. You legs weak as he looks at you "on your knees" he says with a devilish tone, you do as he says and place your self on your knees on the floor as he pumps himself into his hand, you stick your tongue out waiting for George to hit his climax "fuck" he grunts as he releases in your mouth, some going rouge and ending up on yoir cheeks. His head jolts back as he lets out a loud sigh of relief. You swallow as you wipe the rest off with your thumb. Sitting up from your knees you feel your neck throb as you walk into the bathroom to reveal the bright red marks and purple spots developing on them, you laugh as you go back into the bedroom to see George under your bedsheets awaiting you, patting the bed you slid into the quilt and lay on his chest.

"You're right, we should go official" he says pushing a strand behind your ear, still panting. You look up at him "really?" You say "yeah I think everyone already knows anyway, Chris and Arthur said something before I came to see you" he laughs, you giggle as you both slowly drop to sleep together.

-

🫶🏻 (sorry for the brutality of this one I got too deep into it)

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Epilogue

Masterpost Read on AO3

AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is heading to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Author's Note: We made it. Thank you a million times over to every single one of you who has engaged with this story. It means a lot to have you along for the ride.

---

Something funny happens when you fly faster than the speed of sound, nothing but a hunk of metal separating you from the sky. Time doesn’t seem to work right anymore; everything can move slow and fast all at once. You take a breath. It feels peaceful, somehow. Sacred. 

Even when you pull so many Gs that it presses a stone to your chest and strangles your lungs until they burn, as long as you can push through the tunnel vision and the dizziness, suddenly everything becomes clearer. Perspective, some might say. Others just call it exhilaration. Freedom. The feeling of being alive.

Bucky Egan is seriously addicted to that feeling. For months now, he’s gone without it. He spends more time than he should standing out at JSC’s Ellington Field, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as other astronauts perform flight tests and training exercises overhead. He listens to the rumbling sounds of the jets, wondering if he’ll ever be up there again. Free.

A jet, a prop plane, a space capsule. He’d take any one of them, really, if he can’t have all of them anymore. 

Some things are written in stone. Bucky knew seemingly out of the womb that he wanted to fly. He wouldn’t settle for anything else, wouldn’t settle at all. He was going to become an Air Force pilot, and then – once he learned that there were real people flying aboard something called the Space Station, orbiting around the planet 16 times per day – he was going to become an astronaut. From the very second he even knew it was an option, he wanted his feet to be off of this Earth. He wanted to feel what it felt like. He wanted to see what it looked like. He wanted to hear what it sounded like. 

He wanted all of it, and he never much minded the risk. Flight, after all, was his first love, and Bucky Egan will do just about anything for what he loves. A part of him always figured, if he had to die, he wanted it to be in the sky. If he had to die, it would be worth it, as long as flight was what claimed his life. Commit his soul to the stars, a supernova in the dark.

But then, of course, there was Gale. 

The night they met, two young boys standing awkwardly in a college dorm, Gale told Bucky that he didn’t intend to be an astronaut. He had Bucky wrapped around his finger from that very first smile, but he wanted to become an engineer for the Air Force. Maybe, if he got lucky, work his way into NASA’s space program. Someone back home to keep his feet on the ground may have done John Egan some good. But, in the end, it was him that looked at Gale and told him that all of that was bull. It was Bucky that pulled him along with strings tied to their hearts, convinced him to just give it all a shot – what’d he have to lose? And here he is, nearly two decades later, an everyday flyboy.

This life they’ve built, orbiting one another like a binary star system, is greater than any adventure Bucky ever could have imagined. The way he’s lived it, he figures he’s lucky he’s made it as far as he has. He’s lucky to be alive after that little stunt on the moon. He’s lucky to have the most amazing husband this side of the universe. He’s damn lucky for all of it. Maybe he’s a fool to ask for more.

But he’s not ready to keep his feet on the ground.

Not yet.

—

July 17, 2026 Houston, TX

Admittedly, this was maybe not Bucky’s brightest plan, taking a video call in the dimly lit Orion cabin, where he has to lay on his back, legs elevated, staring up at a brightly lit screen. He can feel a bit of a headache coming on, and he isn’t sure if the vague throbbing in his leg is real or just a figment of his haywire imagination. He might be losing feeling in his feet; he isn’t really sure. Is he setting himself up for failure? Maybe. This afternoon he needs to be in top form, or at least as close to it as he can get. But he’s committed now, and he’s too stubborn to move.

So here he is in the mock-up, like any other mission sim, tucked into his commander’s seat. Or, really, he supposes it’s Gale’s now. The Artemis 4 crew has been doing their fair share of sims in recent months, and Gale has been pulling longer and longer hours as they get closer to launch, as Bucky needs him at his side less and less.

Maybe that’s exactly why Bucky’s sitting here now. To feel close to his husband during a time when their careers, as usual, tend to pull them apart. Or maybe he’s sitting here because he needs the reminder, a silent dedication to who he is, what he’s meant to be doing, what he so badly needs to keep striving for.

Or maybe, he’s only sitting here because the seat of a cockpit is always where he’s felt the safest.

Safe isn’t the right word. 

In control, maybe. Most like himself. A cockpit is always where he’s best understood the world around him: sky above, Earth below, his heart strangled with a love for the unknown. The Orion capsule is another home to him. Things might go wrong – sometimes horribly, horribly wrong – but everything about it was constructed and tested with the singular goal of helping Bucky and his crew break boundaries, make history. Every single thing about it is so specific, so familiar, so carefully planned and crafted. John Egan knows this spacecraft better than he knows himself. In the chaos that is his life, it’s the capsule that carried him away from this planet that best keeps him grounded.

So he sits, laying on his back in the commander’s seat that once was his and is now Gale’s. He doesn’t really remember the process of getting here, but he remembers the intense need to be here, like he didn’t have a single other choice. When he first answered Gale’s video call, his husband stared at him for a long moment, then laughed and said something about “only John Egan has an emotional support spacecraft.” He didn’t say anything about how strange it is, considering Bucky almost died in this spacecraft. Maybe, in some weird, fucked up, convoluted way that he’ll have to talk to his therapist about later, that’s one reason he finds being in this tiny space so reassuring.

He’s not a psychologist. He’s hardly even an astronaut.

In any case, fully convinced that this was exactly where he needed to be to call his husband today – a day that has his nerves all shaken up like a can of soda – he duct taped his phone to the console above his head so that he can look at Gale without having to hold it up above his face the whole time. It fell and smacked him squarely on the nose once at the beginning of the call, but it’s been holding well enough since then. 

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been talking. Surely it’s been longer than they’d scheduled for, and someone’s gotta be looking for him by now, grabbing onto unassuming JSC employees and asking in a mild panic “Have you seen Major Egan?” Gale’s crew is no doubt waiting for him, too, perhaps just out of view of the camera, reminding him that they have to get started on some task or another. A part of Bucky feels guilty for holding Gale up for so long, but the rest of him needs this desperately.

This is the first time since Bucky splashed down in the Pacific last November that they’ve been apart for more than even a day. Scratch that, for more than 12 hours. Gale has stayed at his side, for better or worse, since the night he first laid eyes on Bucky again in the hospital. It feels like forever ago, and yet it feels like yesterday. Sometimes Bucky still wakes up convinced he’s dying, convinced that his hands don’t work, phantom pain burning through his leg, unable to speak. 

It was a long winter, and a long spring. Bucky has gaps admittedly, times when the brain fog whisked him away from reality, made it hard to stay in the moment, hard to figure out what was real. It all but disappeared with time, thankfully. He still has a moment here and there, especially when he first wakes up or if he’s stressed or nervous (not that he’ll admit to anyone but Gale that he’s even capable of being nervous), but they’re becoming less and less common.

Getting that leg to heal was a complete bitch. Turns out micro- and zero-gravity aren’t very kind to broken bones. Eventually the cast came off, and he progressed to a brace, walking with a cane, slowly, slowly working toward walking on his own again.

Gale was there the whole time. Holding him up, steadying him, cheering him on, taking the brunt of Bucky’s frustration and fear. No matter how many times Bucky lost his temper or wanted to give up or refused to get out of bed or go to PT or OT or his CT scans, Gale stayed. Gale didn’t give up on him. Gale loved him through it all.

It’s July now. Almost eight whole months since Bucky fell to this Earth, broken and barely breathing under a bright Pacific sky. It’s the dog days of summer, long and hot and busy as ever here at JSC. Gale has been gone for six whole days, training in Iceland with the Artemis 4 crew. Weirdly enough, the volcanic, rocky landscape of Iceland’s arctic desert is a perfect training ground for astronauts headed to the moon, and it has acted as such since the Apollo days. With Artemis in full swing, NASA has started sending the lunar crews out there again to conduct simulated missions that mimic what they’ll be faced with on the lunar surface.

Bucky misses those days, training and bonding with his crew – his best friends – as they bounded across the dark, eerie Icelandic rock in fake moon gear, out of their minds with excitement for what they were training to do. He’s spent much of this video call asking Gale about Iceland and their simulated missions, half wanting to relive it and half hoping maybe Gale would forget why Bucky wanted to call so bad in the first place. He can see on Gale’s face that he’s failing.

Sure enough, after indulging him for longer than Bucky honestly expected, Gale sighs and tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “How do you feel?”

Bucky doesn’t quite know what Gale means when he asks this. The implications have changed so much over the years. 

In college, he’d ask Bucky How do you feel? when he woke up with a hangover after a night of drinking too much with their friends. Or that time he got terribly sick in the middle of midterm season and shoved through a Statics exam with a fever. When he pulled an all-nighter trying to finish a class project. When he passed Thermo by the skin of his teeth. From the first day of classes to the day they graduated.

How do you feel?

As young adults in the Air Force, or at NASA, he’d ask Bucky how he felt before going up for a mission or a training exercise. Or after survival training in the desert, wandering to the finish line dehydrated and sunburnt but alive and ahead of the rest of their astronaut class. He’d ask him after long training days or messy flights or after they’d been apart for days, weeks, months. He asked him when they both sat, shell-shocked, after losing a friend in the flames of a crash landing. How do you feel?

Before their wedding day, when Bucky was terrified of their future but knew without a doubt this was everything he ever wanted, Gale asked him, How do you feel?

During quarantine. Before the launch. On the pad. How do you feel?

Every day over CAPCOM or video call. Even when Bucky couldn’t hear him, couldn’t say anything back. How do you feel?

When Bucky came home, Gale would ask him that question several times a day. It was tough; there’s no use lying. There were times Bucky wanted to give up, couldn’t bring himself to leave the house or do much of anything. It was painful and it was confusing and it was messy, and sometimes all Bucky could do was stew in silence or, once or twice, tell Gale to fuck off. But every time his awareness drifted or he had to be moved with his bum leg, every time he woke up in pain or had to be left alone for any period of time, Gale, his voice gentle and concerned and so full of love, would ask him, How do you feel?

So what does he mean now?

Bucky doesn’t know how he feels. He should feel good. Excited. It’s about damn time this day came around. He’s John fucking Egan, not afraid of anything, born for the sky. He should feel as sure of himself as the day he climbed aboard the SLS.

So why doesn’t he?

He is excited. Don’t get him wrong. He’s been waiting for this since he woke up in a Houston hospital. But there’s a pit in his stomach and a weird, fluttery feeling in his chest and a weight settling over his shoulders that he can’t seem to shake.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel. He wants it to be the same as it was before. But it isn’t. It can’t be. 

Not anymore. 

“I’m fine.”

Gale frowns in that concerned, knowing way that he does. He looks so soft now, comfy in Bucky’s Yankees sweatshirt with his hair messy, no doubt fresh from debriefing after a ‘mission’ or about ready to get prepped for another. But Bucky squirms and looks away from his gaze; it sees right through him. It always has. 

“Try again,” Gale insists.

“I’m…” Bucky feels a weird phantom twinge in his leg. Blinks and it goes away. He rolls his eyes. At the question? At himself? Get it together. “I’m fuckin’ nervous,” he admits uncomfortably. “Of course I’m fuckin’ nervous, Buck. What if I get out there and…”

What if I get out there and I can’t do it anymore? What if I can’t handle it? Physically. Mentally. What if today just proves what we were all so worried about months ago: Bucky Egan is grounded. For good. 

“Fuck.” He can’t say any of it, can’t risk speaking the death of his career into existence. The melodramatic part of him thinks the bugler might as well start playing Taps right damn now if today doesn’t go his way. Fold up a flag and present it to Gale as the jets fly overhead.

He can only imagine the way Gale would frown and grit his teeth if Bucky said such a thing out loud.

His husband full well knows what Bucky means, though, and he’s quiet, thinking it over. Bucky can see half formed placations tumbling through his head like desperate dreams running on fumes. But eventually, he says, “it’s gonna be okay, John.” His voice is careful and easy, and he doesn’t even sound like he’s faking it. 

It makes Bucky’s heart clench.

“Gale,” he whispers, and he hates how vulnerable his voice sounds. It rings in his ears, echoing back and forth and back and forth as he roughly scrubs a hand over his eyes, squeezing them shut tight. 

He’s always felt most in control inside of a cockpit. He knows the way an aircraft moves better than he knows anything or anyone on this Earth, except maybe his husband. Flight makes him know who he is, gives him his metaphorical wings. And yet he’s also never felt more out of control than he has in a cockpit. 

If he goes up there, he has no idea what’ll happen. He has no idea what his body will do when it gets crushed into the seat by several times the force of gravity. He has no idea if the thing that used to lift him up will carry him again, or if it’ll spit him onto the ground in a pathetic heap of has-been.

So how is he supposed to feel right now?

Starbursts of pain color Bucky’s vision. Skull-splitting. All-consuming. It’s burning him alive from the inside out like a physical force trying to rip him apart. He thinks falling into a black hole would hurt less.

He feels sick. The G forces are too much.

He can’t think a coherent thought that isn’t something along the lines of ‘please make it stop.’ Somewhere, deep in his brain that won’t work, he hates himself for that. Knows he should be better.

And out of all of that – this crushing, crunching, nausea-inducing pain that has Curt yelling at him not to throw up in his suit – the words that pop up into his head like a cartoon thought bubble are “the Big Crunch.” 

It’s Gale’s favorite theory for how the universe might end. Because Gale is a space physics nerd that has a favorite theory for how the universe might end.

It’s like the opposite of the Big Bang – an exploding outward from an infinitesimal point, 0 to 73.3 kilometers per second per megaparsec in about a trillionth of a second flat. The Big Crunch would be an imploding inward, a collapsing into a single infinitesimal point at a similarly impossible to comprehend rate. Theoretically, this point could be anywhere in the universe.

John wonders if that would feel something like how he feels – crunching, disconnecting, reconnecting, blinding, unbearable. He sort of wishes it would just happen right now, with that point somewhere in this spacecraft. He’ll take the whole universe down with him. He doesn’t really mind, if it’ll make this stop.

“Gale?” He finds himself crying out the only word he can get past his lips. The only word that matters. The only word that can come remotely close to making any of this better. 

“Gale?”

Why won’t it work? Why won’t Gale save him?

He’s getting more desperate. Please. 

“Gale?”

“John? You with me?”

Bucky blinks. He looks back at his phone, sees Gale’s face, all worried and shit. It makes his heart sink, because Gale’s been looking at him like that a lot in recent months. Today is a big day, and Bucky knows Gale is worrying he won’t be able to handle it. He also knows that Gale feels guilty for worrying he can’t handle it. 

But Bucky’s worried, too.

“I wish you were here.” He says these words so quietly he isn’t sure Gale will hear them. He isn’t sure he wants Gale to hear them. He looks away from the phone as he says it, feeling too vulnerable and too raw on this day when he’s supposed to be Major John Egan: cool, cocky, composed. 

He can pretend for everyone else. Everyone besides Gale. He’ll tell them that he’s ready, even if he isn’t.

He won’t ever be ready until he does it anyway.

The lights are dim around him. In the glow of the console in front of his face, he strokes his fingers gently over the tactile buttons beside the screen. They feel so familiar; he thinks he could press one with his eyes closed and know exactly what it would do.

“I wish I was, too.” Gale’s voice comes back soft and real, bringing Bucky’s attention back to his phone screen. The way Gale’s face is so open and genuine – so unlike what the rest of the world gets to see of him, with a crooked half-smile half-frown accentuating the mix of emotions in his eyes, wide and searching Bucky’s for some answer he doesn’t have – makes Bucky want to pull him through the screen and hug him tight.

He wants Gale to hug him tight. He wants Gale to pull his feet back down to this planet and tell him he’s safe and protect him from everything that has hurt him so badly. He wants Gale to make sure the stars keep burning at night and the world keeps turning and the darkness doesn’t swallow them whole. He wants Gale to quiet the buzzing in his brain and the ringing in his ears. The little voice that’s telling him he can’t do it, can’t do any of it. He wants Gale to come home right damn now and make all of it go away.

But Gale won’t do that. Because he knows that, right this very moment, Bucky needs to climb the rest of the way up this mountain. He needs to stand at the top himself in order to understand that he can do it, he can make it. Gale can’t do anything but stand beside him.

“Do you think I’m ready?” Bucky asks. He says it with a mindless air, looking away as he traces his thumb over the bottom of the console, but there’s a jagged edge to his voice that gives him away. He doesn’t know if he wants Gale’s reply. There was a time when it didn’t matter what anyone else thought – even Buck. Bucky Egan would do what Bucky Egan wanted to do, whatever he convinced himself he was capable of doing.

Some things change. Sometimes forever, and sometimes only for a moment.

He makes tentative eye contact with his husband through the screen. Gale nods – a curt, somewhat hesitant little thing. “Maybe,” he says honestly. “You’re ready to at least try. But if it doesn’t go the way you want it to, you just keep workin’, and you’ll try again. You’re Bucky Egan. Nothing can keep your feet on the ground forever.”

Bucky is about to say something snarky and maybe self-deprecating back, but before he can, there’s a voice in the background of Gale’s side of the call. His eyes widen and he looks off screen, putting a hand up to whoever was trying to get his attention. He looks back at Bucky and sighs. “I gotta go, darlin’. You’ll be alright, hear me?”

Bucky forces a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, obviously.”

“I love you,” Gale says, shoving every bit of adoration he has into those words, and Bucky wants to bottle it up somehow, hold onto it for when he needs a reminder. 

“I love you, too,” he says. 

The corner of Gale’s mouth lifts into a shy smile. “Ad lunam, ad astra,” he says, and then he’s gone.

Alone again, Bucky reaches up to turn off his phone, and he lets his hand fall down to rest over his chest. He rubs his thumb over his wedding band, twists it around and around his finger. “Ad lunam, ad astra,” he whispers to himself. 

When the master alarm starts blaring through the cabin seconds later, red lights flashing in Bucky’s eyes, his heart rate shoots up as he instinctively starts thinking through every single thing that could possibly be wrong. His eyes scan the console in front of him, searching for system statuses that aren’t there, and he blinks in confusion before he shakes his head, remembering that he isn’t in a training exercise. Someone’s tracked him down. 

He turns off the alarm and lets silence fill the cabin again. 

“You know, when you said you were gonna find somewhere quiet to flirt with your husband, we thought you meant your office or a shady tree or somethin’.” 

Bucky turns his head awkwardly to see Rosie outside, his head ducked down to peek through the hatch at him.  

“It was quiet before you came and scared me half to death,” Bucky retorts. He reaches up and rips his duct taped phone off the console, picking the tape off and rolling it into a ball. 

“If that scares you, you’re in the wrong place,” Rosie quips. He freezes, just for a second, his eyes going that little bit wider, and Bucky sees the moment he realizes what he said. A harmless joke. A truth, if nothing else. Something that would’ve made Bucky throw a meaningless little insult right back at him a year ago. 

Everyone’s been walking on eggshells for a while now. No one would dare even insinuate that John Egan doesn’t belong here, especially not while he’s working so hard to claw his way back. 

But he takes Rosie’s words for what they are, rolls his eyes, and brushes a hand back through his hair. “If you ain’t a little scared you’re doin’ it wrong. Or you’re crazy.”

Rosie lets himself smile, shaking his head, and he crawls in through the hatch. He pulls himself into the seat beside Bucky, where Curt would usually sit. Bucky sticks the tape ball to his shoulder, and Rosie grabs it, shoves it into his pocket before Bucky can bug him with it any more. 

“Man, can you believe we spent weeks cramped up in this thing?” he muses, his eyes skimming over the industrial walls of the tapered conical cabin. He’s talking about the real Orion capsule, not to mention the hundreds of hours logged in this very simulator. 

Bucky glances around. This glorified minivan of a spacecraft is the stuff of his childhood dreams, like something straight from science fiction. “We’re astronauts, Rosie,” he points out, as if he doesn’t wonder every day how he managed to make it this far. “I can’t believe we left the planet at all.” Rosie scoffs, and they share a look, like neither of them are certain anything that’s happened in the last year was real. 

Bucky shakes his head, adding, “not like we ain’t used to it.”

“At least on the station we got more than one cramped space.”

Bucky doesn’t ask the question that surges through his brain at the mention of the station: Do you think I’ll ever go back? He isn’t ready for the answer. And he doesn’t want to hear ‘I don’t know’ or ‘Of course you will’ or ‘You’re John Egan, you can do anything.’

John Egan couldn’t sign his own name with a pen a few months ago.

Instead he looks over at the fake window on the side of the fake capsule, assessing the distance from it to him. It’s so close. “Felt like that window was a world away during the return trip.” He remembers being led over to it. The feeling of Beary Egan’s fur between his fingers. The throbbing in his head. The unbearable burning in his leg. The nausea in his stomach. Everything spinning around him.

But out the window, stars. So many stars. And he was going to get to them one way or another.

Rosie looks at the window, then back at Bucky. The crew physician remembers all of it, all too well. Part of him wishes he could forget the worst parts, but another part of him feels a need to be the keeper of those memories. He thanks the universe everyday for guiding all of them home. “Everything seems further away when your body doesn’t know if it’ll make it to tomorrow.”

They’re quiet for a long time, just two crew members in a capsule mock-up. It has snapshot memories flashing through Bucky’s mind, and he rubs his thumb over his wedding ring again to ground himself. He thinks about Rosie’s words. “I made it,” he whispers. 

“Yeah,” Rosie agrees. “Yes you fuckin’ did.”

It’s a truth that John has been trying to remind himself of every single day for months. He made it; he’s alive. 

But is that enough?

What do you do when the best experience of your life was also your worst? What do you do when the thing you love nearly killed you? What do you do when all is said and done, when there’s nothing left to do but forgive, even though you will never, ever be able to forget?

What do you do when the universe tries to strip away your identity, leaving nothing but a trembling shell, the pieces strewn about for you to pick up one by one?

You rebuild yourself, step by step. And what do you do when the edges don’t fit anymore, rough corners scrubbing at wounds that won’t heal, nothing but sheer grit and determination gluing you together?

Is it enough? Do the pieces fit well enough for you to be whole again? Will time sand away the jagged edges, sew together the messy seams? Pieces lost and pieces gained, and all you can do is search in the dark for who you were and who you thought you were and who you still can be. 

And you wonder, is it enough?

Bucky holds his hand up in front of his face. Out in zero G, there’s no up or down. You’re weightless, every part of you. Holding your hand up in the air takes no more effort than holding it out to the side or down or back or forward. On Earth, though, there’s good old gravity. 9.8 meters per second squared. 32 feet per second per second. A reliable force keeping your heels on the ground so you don’t just float away. With the way Orion’s seats are oriented, Bucky and Rosie lay on their backs, staring up at the tapered ceiling of the capsule and the screens set up in front of their faces.

Here on Earth, holding his hand up in front of his face takes effort. He’s not weightless down here, and as he experimentally pinches his fingers together, he watches the way they shake.

He bites his lip, takes a breath, closes his eyes. He doesn’t open them.

Gale once told him about the conversations he had with Dr. Huston – the fear that even if Bucky even made it home, he may never be the same. Now he wonders if that fear came true. Is he the same? Will he be the same? He doesn’t know.

He wonders if Gale does. He wonders what Gale sees now, when he looks at him.

He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter.

Ad lunam. Ad astra.

“You’re gonna be fine, John.” Rosie’s voice cuts through the ringing in Bucky’s ears, quieting it. “This is what you’re meant to do.”

Bucky swallows thickly, willing his voice not to come out a strangled mess. “What if… what if I’m not anymore? What if it doesn’t come back like it’s s’posed to?”

“You’ve been training.”

“What if I never...”

“Take a breath.”

Bucky does. There’s no room for panic. No room for doubt. Just him and the sky. 

“Open your eyes.”

When Bucky releases himself from the darkness, his hand is perfectly still in front of him. He straightens his fingers, bends them again, straightens them. They don’t shake.

“You’re ready, John.”

—

The sun is bright over Ellington Field late that afternoon, and Bucky pushes his aviators up the bridge of his nose. He tugs at the collar of his flight suit as he strides down the runway, adjusting it beneath the straps of his parachute pack, and he squares his shoulders, lifting his chin. He feels the hard pavement beneath his boots, hears the beat of his footsteps. The ground crew waits for him.

When he stops in front of the Northrop T-38 Talon, he squints against the light reflecting off its sleek white side, and he feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight of this beautifully engineered machine that will launch him into the blue. He curls his fingers into a fist, spreads them out wide, and slowly, steadily, he presses his hand to the nose of the jet standing in front of him, just waiting to come to life. The T-38 jet trainers are used by NASA for training exercises and keeping the astronaut corps’ flying skills up to par. He knows this aircraft as well as he knows Orion, but he hasn’t flown it since last July, a whole year ago now. 

“Hey there,” he whispers, letting his eyes roam over it – the fuselage, the engines, the wings, the tail, the wheels. A beautiful bird. It was designed long before Bucky was even born, but it doesn’t look it. “Long time no see.”

“Worried she won’t remember you?”

As Bucky’s eyes stay trained on the ground, studying the wheels, his hand still pressed to the nose, he feels someone else’s presence at his side. He looks up, pulling his hand away. Curt’s there, watching him with a teasing smile on his face. He’s wearing the same gear as Bucky: blue NASA flight suit, G-suit, parachute pack, a helmet tucked under his arm. His other hand grips the shoulder strap of his harness.

“Not one bit,” Bucky replies.

Curt chuckles and pulls Bucky into a tight one-armed hug, as if they haven’t seen each other in months even though Curt makes a point out of bugging him every day. “You ready?” he asks when he pulls away.

Bucky nods and grins in that wild, daring way, as if he hasn’t had a single doubt this whole time. As if he wasn’t just freaking out to Gale and Rosie over what he’s about to do. He brushes his hair back and gazes at the jet again. “Let’s see how well I remember her.”

After passing his sunglasses off to a ground crew member, he climbs the ladder leading to the Talon’s second seat, behind Curt’s. They each stow their procedure documents in the cockpit and hang their helmets on the rail before hopping back down for a walkaround inspection. This thing’s been checked at least twice over by ground crew already, but Curt and John don’t fly without giving their own seal of approval.

When Bucky climbs the ladder again and, at long last, settles into the tight cockpit of a real, flight-ready jet, adrenaline rises in his chest at the same time that a sense of belonging presses him into the seat. He sits back, and staring at the instrument panel just beyond his fingertips feels something like coming home. He can’t stop the grin that spreads over his face. The crew chief helps Curt and Bucky strap in and connect their G-suits, and then Bucky slides his helmet over his head so he can hook up to the oxygen supply and comms. He sighs deeply; for the duration of this test flight, this jet is a part of him, or he’s a part of it.

Ladders stowed and systems checks complete, Curt gives the signal for air, and the ground crewmen oblige, pumping life into the Talon’s engines. Once they’ve completed the last of their pre-flight checks, Bucky hears Curt’s voice buzzing in his ear. It crackles over the comms, a sound Bucky hasn’t heard coherently since he was bounding along the side of Shackleton crater.

“It feels damn good to fly with you again, Major.”

“Cut the crap, Biddick,” Bucky teases. “Without me around, you’re officially NASA’s best pilot.”

Curt scoffs at that, and Bucky imagines him rolling his eyes as he double checks the takeoff and landing data. “Should’ve left your ass on the moon… astrofag.”

Bucky rolls his eyes right back, but he can’t help but laugh. Whether he’ll admit it or not, the name is growing on him. He shrugs, reviewing the same numbers. “Only one way to get back there.”

Chick’s voice cuts in from the tower, and it makes Bucky feel something like relief to know Harding is here for this, rooting for him. “One step at a time, boys.”

As Curt starts taxiing, Bucky looks out over the side of the aircraft. The wings of the Talon and the still-open canopies shake as the tarmac rolls by beneath the wheels, bumping them along. He and Gale have taken their prop plane out a few times this month and last; Bucky even took over the controls for a while one time. But this, today, is his first time back in a supersonic jet trainer. He’s only flying second seat, leaving most of the piloting to Curt, but today is a major stepping stone toward feeling whole again: today he finds out if he can handle supersonic flight.

Since his neurologists cleared him for it a couple months ago, he’s been training for this day in earth-bound simulators. At first, the Gs were too much for him, leaving him feeling weak, pathetic, and discouraged as he passed out or started feeling sick at embarrassingly low G forces. But it’s been coming back to him in recent weeks. 

The Talon – capable of flying at Mach 1.3 and climbing 30,000 feet in just one minute – can easily pull 7 Gs. Bucky thinks he’s ready. He wants so badly to be ready. He wouldn’t be flying today if anyone thought he wasn’t ready.

They’re at the end of the runway, staring down the length of it as Curt pivots the Talon so its nose points straight ahead. When Chick clears them, they lower their canopies, and Bucky feels the cabin pressurize. He blinks in surprise as they lurch forward, and then they’re barrelling ahead, faster, faster, faster, until they lift up off the ground, ascending into the clear sky.

He breathes deeply as they climb, picking up speed as they shoot up into their airspace, approaching 16,000 feet. They coast there for a minute, making sure everything is still in order up at altitude. 

“Doin’ alright back there?” Curt asks as they both check their systems again.

“We’re go back here,” Bucky affirms. “Let’s fuckin’ do it.”

“Your wish is my command, Major,” Curt says. He lowers the nose of the jet, and they pick up speed as they drop again, getting up to about 500 knots, three-quarters of the speed of sound. Curt brings the stick back then, sharply pulling the Talon’s nose up, and Bucky watches the G-meter gradually kick up to 5 as they shoot upwards. The force presses him back into his seat, making it hard to breathe, and he clenches his muscles as he feels his G-suit get to work trying to keep the blood from draining away from his head. The needle creeps toward 6, goes a little over it. He grits his teeth hard, feeling his heart start to beat harder, faster as his vision starts to tunnel. His head feels funnier than he wishes it would, but he forces himself to focus, strains to breathe, determined to keep going. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, tensing his lower body as he and his suit fight to prevent G-LOC.

Chick’s voice crackles in Bucky’s ears. “You’re doin’ fine, son.”

Curt keeps pulling back until they’re up around 20,000 feet and the nose passes vertical; they’re now flying inverted. The nose of the Talon is like an arrow, going wherever you point it, and currently it’s looping them over backward at Curt’s command, with the ground through the canopy where the sky should be. The G-meter starts to chill out, dropping again as they lose speed. Bucky’s vision clears as the blood returns to his head, and he breathes in deeply.

Through the canopy, he catches a glimpse of two lonely, fluffy clouds in the distant sky, and below, little buildings and invisible people and dark, sparkling bodies of water spread out across the Earth. Stardust, he thinks, smiling just a little bit as he watches the world around him, trying to see it through Gale’s eyes. Bucky’s always found it beautiful, but more than anything, he’s always cared about the flight, the adrenaline, the excitement. Gale cares about the beauty, the wonder, the imperfect perfection.

“You still with me, Bucky?”

“Yeah,” Bucky assures Curt. “I’m here.”

Curt expertly flips them around and levels back out, upright once again and coasting along at a smooth 400 knot clip. “You ready?” he asks after giving Bucky some time to recover.

“I didn’t come all this way not to be.”

“I don’t need the sass,” Curt shoots back, but it’s light, like normal. “You have the controls.” Bucky’s pretty sure he hears the word ‘asshole’ muttered at the end of that sentence, and it makes him smile.

He shakes the stick in confirmation, and suddenly he has all the power of the Talon right there in his hands. His eyes flick down to where his fingers grip the stick, his heart skipping a beat, but his hand is perfectly still. “I have the aircraft,” he says, and he hopes Chick is still listening.

He sends them into a roll, feeling giddy as his head gets snapped to the side and his body seems to remember exactly what it’s supposed to do. Flying this thing is ingrained within him, like riding a bike – a bike that’s 46 feet long with a 25 foot wingspan, 3,000 pounds of thrust, a 55,000 foot altitude ceiling, and a top speed of 858 miles per hour. 

He asks the plane for a little more, a little more, pushing them higher, faster, forward. He hears Curt whoop loudly into the comms: “Come on baby! We’re fuckin’ back!” And Bucky hasn’t felt this alive since he was on the moon.

After a few minutes of unfiltered glee at the helm of his long-lost ship, feeling pieces of his soul sink back into him, he banks them around and hands the controls back over to Curt for the grand finale, their final test of the day. At about 32,000 feet, they enter a shallow dive, using it to increase their speed again. Bucky feels himself being pressed back, but with a more comfortable amount of force this time as the sky blurs by. He watches the airspeed indicator. Mach 0.92… 0.96… 0.98… 0.99. The indicator jumps, out of sync, as the bow shock passes.

Bucky nearly gasps as they hit Mach 1… 1.02… 1.06… 1.11. 

A strange feeling of calm descends on him. They’re flying faster than the speed of sound; they’re flying faster than anything else on Earth. There’s a certain beauty to it that Bucky’s missed in the last eight months, and he blinks away stubborn tears as the world starts to make sense again. He looks out the window, sees nothing but blue skies, and he lets oxygen fill his lungs as he grins beneath his mask. He laughs, and he hears Curt laugh with him.

—

Back on the ground, once the canopies are up and Curt’s parked them squarely in the Talon’s hangar, the crew chief secures the ladders to the side of the aircraft, giving the pilots their exit. He asks Bucky if he feels alright, and Bucky nods once his helmet is off, leaving dark, sweaty hair sticking up in all directions. “Never better,” he says.

In his head is a steady mantra: I am an astronaut. I am an Air Force officer. I am a pilot.

He just proved it to himself, even if he still has more work to do. He is a pilot. He is all of those things. Not was… he is. 

He climbs down slowly, gripping tight to the sides of the ladder in a way that has him second guessing how much brain power he needs to dedicate to his grip strength. Just a few months ago, his fingers wouldn’t listen well enough to do even this. But he studies his hands for just a split second, one foot on the rungs of the ladder and the other hanging mid-air, and he realizes that his fingers are working just fine right now. His legs feel a little weak as he steps down, down, down, and he holds his breath as he lowers himself the last big step to solid ground. His head goes just a little fuzzy, and for a nerve-wracking half second, he worries his knee might give out and send him crashing to the pavement, but his toes find contact, and he lets himself hop down. His head clears. He takes another deep breath.

His heart is beating fast; he still feels the adrenaline thrumming in his chest, and it makes him feel so goddamn alive. The world around him feels so unreal, the feeling of Curt clapping him on the shoulder so far away that it makes Bucky stumble to the side. He laughs and shakes his head before turning to press his hand to the jet one more time. 

“Next stop, flyin’ her yourself,” Curt says.

For the first time in months, Bucky actually believes it might happen. It’s not even a half-truth said to the media, a manifesto spoken to shove him through PT, a dream to get him out of bed in the morning. It’s right here in front of him, just inches away, and he’s so close. 

He doesn’t say any of it out loud, but he knows Curt can see it, too. They all can see it. Someday soon, John Egan won’t be grounded anymore.

He tucks his helmet under his arm and takes his aviators from the crew chief with a nod of thanks before putting them on. With a glance over at his best co-pilot as they walk away from the aircraft, out of the hangar, he ruffles Curt’s sweaty hair. “What the fuck?” Curt says, but he’s looking somewhere out ahead of them when he says it.

Bucky squints into the early evening summer sun at a small silhouette running fast toward them. After a second of confusion, he laughs and sinks down to his knees just in time for a wriggly husky to crash into his chest. “Pep!” A second one runs up to his side, licking at his ear before going after Curt. “And Meatball,” Bucky laughs. Pepper shoves her nose into his face, making him lean his head back, pushing her away even as he curls his fingers into her thick coat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Flyin’ looks good on you major,” a voice calls out. Bucky’s heart skips a beat, and his head shoots up, his hands freezing in the middle of scratching Pepper’s ears. Meatball trots away, toward the group of people approaching them. 

There’s Benny and Marge – here for support and for media updates respectively – as Bucky expected. Then there’s Chick, fresh from the tower and looking something like a proud father, or maybe just a relieved boss.

And then there’s Gale.

Bucky’s husband – the same one that Bucky was supposedly video calling in Iceland just hours ago – is now also in a NASA flight suit with his hair gelled back. He’s walking across the tarmac to him, illuminated by the sun. 

“Holy shit, man!” Benny exclaims, giving Bucky a firm, excited side hug before slapping Curt on the shoulder. “Bucky Egan is back.”

“That’s right, you can’t get rid of me,” Bucky jokes as Marge comes forward to hug him. He knows she’ll want some pictures of him and Curt by the Talon in a minute, but for now she just whispers in his ear that she’s proud of him, and she squeezes him tight.

Chick pulls him into a rare hug, patting him on the back. “You did damn good,” he says. “Damn good.”

And then there’s Gale. He stands in front of Bucky, looking a little sheepish but tall and proud and beautiful. He raises an eyebrow, and Bucky can’t do anything but stare at him for a long moment. He stares, and stares some more, before finally he blinks and surges forward. Gale grunts at the force of Bucky’s body hitting his, but he firmly plants his feet and wraps his arms around him. “Hello to you, too.”

“Hey, angel,” Bucky whispers. He presses his nose into Gale’s hair, inhales the scent of his shampoo and product. He smells like Houston, like the gulf, like waking up to sunlight shining through the windows, like all the things Bucky loves. He smells like home. “All that about what you were doin’ in Iceland today was bullshit, huh?” 

Gale shrugs. “Surprise?”

Bucky grips the fabric of Gale’s flight suit, twisting it in his fingers. “Were you… did you see?”

Gale nods. “I saw all of it.”

Bucky bites back a grin, hiding it against the side of Gale’s head. He hears Marge take their picture. It’ll be framed and on his desk within the week.

—

By the time the sun’s gone down, the Talon tucked away in its hangar and the ground crew gone for the day, Bucky is back at Ellington Field, sitting on the hard pavement of the runway. There’s the lightest breeze drifting around him, carried in off the bay to relieve Houston from the oppressive heat of the daylight. Major Egan is still in his flight suit, adorned with patches – his name, John Egan, written in neat script beneath a set of wings; the NASA logo; the U.S. flag; his ISS mission patch; and finally, Artemis III.

There’s a crescent moon peeking out of the darkness, set against a backdrop of dark blue-black sky pockmarked with the stars that have guided Bucky his entire life. He stares up at them, the moon and the stars, his mind jumping from one thing to the next. Running through his flight today, everything good and bad about it; thinking through how much further he still has to go until his body is 100% ready to fly alone again; wondering if Gale is looking for him, if he knows Bucky well enough to know where to find him. He’s remembering walking on that moon – every day he works to reconcile it all in his brain, what went wrong and what went right. He’s thinking about what it will be like when Gale goes up there in just a short four or so months.

He can hear footsteps walking over the pavement, and he breathes out in a huff. His husband knows him like the back of his own hand after all.

He spares a glance over as Gale settles on the ground beside him, pulling his knees to his chest in a way that Bucky thinks can’t possibly be comfortable anymore at their age. They sit, close enough that their arms brush, and they look up at the sky that has laid the path for their entire existence.

“Everyone’s headin’ to the Hundred Proof,” Gale says. “Thought you’d wanna drink to being back in the cockpit.”

Bucky hums. “Guess that’s somethin’ I oughta do.” Since he was released from the hospital last December, the Hundred Proof has become a place of celebration and camaraderie again, rather than one of collective grief and worry. His Artemis portrait went up on the walls of the bar just before the new year, along with Curt’s, Rosie’s, and Alex’s. Soon enough, Gale’s ISS portrait will be switched out for his Artemis 4 one, too. Buck and Bucky; one is never far behind the other. 

Bucky crosses his legs and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, still looking up as if he can see the entire universe if he only squints hard enough. “We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?”

“Have we?”

Bucky looks over at Gale again, scoffing in disbelief, but he finds Gale hiding a smirk as he presses his cheek to his knee, watching Bucky. His hair is messy again from running his hand through it, the gel never holding for long, and Bucky rolls his eyes, reaching a hand out to ruffle it some more. 

“It’s worth it,” he says matter of factly, letting his eyes drift back to the stars.

Gale scoots closer and lets his head fall against Bucky’s shoulder. “It’s our life,” he agrees. He doesn’t need to emphasize the our; it’s as if there was never any doubt in this universe that his life would be John’s and John’s would be his.

“Sometimes I can’t really believe I made it here.”

“You were never gonna take no for an answer.” Gale doesn’t know exactly which part of Bucky’s life they’re talking about. He wasn’t going to settle for less than the astronaut corps. And he wasn’t going to settle for less than Gale either. 

“I said sometimes,” Bucky mutters, but there comes a point, no matter how badly you’ve always wanted something, where it doesn’t feel real anyways. He doesn’t quite know what he did right to make it to this very spot, even if he can trace his exact path, every single step and crossroads and difficult decision. Sometimes, all he feels is fucking lucky.

Gale scoffs and turns his head, pressing his nose against Bucky’s neck, above the collar of his flight suit. He kisses the delicate skin there. “I never had a doubt,” he whispers. “I’m proud of you.”

Bucky leans back, pulling Gale with him until they’re both laying on the hard ground. It’s uncomfortable as hell, but Gale curls against Bucky’s body anyway, shifting so his head lays right over his heart. Bucky’s fingers curl into his hair. They don’t shake. They don’t even hesitate.

“It’s a damn good life,” Bucky breathes out, the words floating up to the heavens and wrapping around them both. He means it with everything he has. 

Gale hums in agreement. With his ear pressed to Bucky’s chest, he can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong. It’s a sound that he took for granted before, but he never, ever gets tired of it now. He squeezes his eyes shut and silently counts along. One. Two. Three. Four.

“You’ll come home, right?” Bucky asks. Few people in this world would be able to distinguish the slight tremble to his voice, the way it jumps almost imperceptibly, nerves twining through it. But Gale hears it loud and clear. With his cheek pressed to Bucky’s chest, he feels the rise and fall start to slow, feels the way Bucky is nearly holding his breath.

Gale closes his eyes, bites at his lower lip. He knows that Bucky knows better than to ask that question. Both of them know that their line of work has never, not once, come with guarantees. They know better than anyone that promises like that are as good as empty. And yet, without promises, what is there to keep them moving forward?

So Gale buries his face in Bucky’s chest and says the only thing he can say. “When have you ever known me not to come home?”

Bucky scoffs quietly at that, but Gale knows that’s all he wanted to hear. They both know that, technically, the odds of him making it home are high; the opposite outcome, statistically, has little to no standing. Bucky takes Gale’s hand, and he mindlessly fiddles with Gale’s fingers in a way that feels normal and domestic, like they’re just any other married couple in this funny little world. Like they’re just them – awkward teenagers and reckless young adults and newlyweds all at once.

Gale could count the days until he launches out of this planet’s orbit. The hours. The minutes. He could mentally tally them as they tick by, pulling them closer and closer to the next adventure, the next mission, the next dream. The clock is running.

But, despite it looming over them, with all of the excitement and adrenaline and worry that it entails, at this exact moment, beneath a sky full of stars, it feels far away. He could count down the seconds. He could feel the anticipation of it winding through his body with every beat of his heart. 

But instead, he focuses on Bucky. He counts his husband’s heartbeats, the purest sign that they are both alive, that they are both exactly where they need to be. One. Two. Three. Four.

“Ad lunam, ad astra,” Bucky whispers into the night.

Gale hides a smile against the fabric of Bucky’s flight suit. It smells like flight – fuel and sweat. He focuses on that, on the rise and fall of Bucky’s chest, on the feeling of warmth between them, the sticky summer air drifting through their hair. 

“To the moon, to the stars,” he repeats back. And with a soft smile, he lets himself breathe.

[beautifulhigh]

I’m here because I just read your comments on time, curious time and I seriously wanted to cry. I’ll write a proper response there, but also one response isn’t good enough. You have the ability to make me fall back in love with my own writing with the way you take passages and analyze them and draw conclusions and make everything feel so profound in a way that makes me think, “damn… I wrote that??” And at a time when writing isn’t coming very naturally to me, I owe you the world’s biggest thank you ❤️

Jen, the honour is absolutely mine and I’m only sorry it took me so long to get around to reading it in full! Although it was very much worth the wait and the time (heh) I neglected other things to focus on that.

You absolutely should love your writing - I certainly do. Whether it’s intentional or not, the layers and the crafting and the echoes and the callbacks are all there. And that is, at heart, what “death of the writer” means. Once you have written something and put it out there then it’s the property of the reader, of the person engaging with it. So if they say that you wrote something that made her heart feral and made her want to lie on the floor weeping and to cry at how beautifully all the threads and the moments lead up to that last one? Well then that’s what the story is.

Other readers’ milage may vary, but that’s mine.

I will always look to make time for your writing, no matter how long it takes me. I just hope that it’s worth the wait.

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[cassmouse]

I cannot get over Mary Elizabeth Winstead as Ramona Flowers. Just. Oh my god. Oh my god. Her. Oh my god

[scientologisabethmoss]

god if you’re gonna choose a musical based on a chick flick to adapt into a movie of that musical that’s based on a chick flick… why did it have to be mean girls. legally blonde is right there!

[goxjo]

! 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐟𝐭. 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

ALPHA! GOJO x F OMEGA! READER

+ synopsis. you live in a world where omega and alpha qualities are medically treated at birth to become dormant later in life. present day, only betas & pseudo-betas exist, pheromones & its effects are left in the distant past, and heats & ruts are reduced to monthly cycles of being slightly hornier than normal, nothing more.

so, what happens when a curse you encounter induces a heat in you far worse than anything recorded in modern times?

+ alternatively. in which even a special grade sorcerer isn’t immune to the curse-induced heat of an omega — you, the partner he's pined for over the course of your entire friendship — forcing you and him to go back to your primal roots.

+ cw. forced A/B/O dynamics, lovesick! gojo, slight! geto x reader, sorcerer! reader, dubcon (technically sex pollen), reader is born an omega, gojo and geto are born alphas, gojo's infinity can't block scent for fic purposes, geto doesn’t turn au, use of restraints, mating call, mutual pining, it gets playful / lighthearted in the middle, implied 'medical' use of sex toys, dirty thoughts, lordosis, petnames (angel, love), pussy job, constant pov switches towards the end, cunnilingus, ass fingering, piv, cervix kisses, confessions, shared orgasm, creampie, knotting, no beta bye, 3.5k+ words, MDNI

+ masterlists. general ┆ jujutsu kaisen ┆ collab

♥︎ aki’s note. big thank you to raven (@raven-cincaide) for sprinting with me ♡ ++ this very late fic is part of my into the omegaverse collab ♡ please show some love to everybody’s amazing works when you can!

He came as soon as he heard. Plagued by his racing thoughts, Satoru stands still, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watches you from behind the glass window. Though he appears to be calm, seeing you like this is torture.

“How long has she been in there?” Suguru puts his hands in his pockets, taking the spot next to Satoru.

“Too long,” he breathes. And it’s only been half a day. His 6 eyes have been agonizingly locked on your form the entire time, piercing blue eyes peering through the glass and into your poor disturbed soul. You’ve been crying non stop ever since they found you. Eyes glossy, pupils blasted, spewing incoherent words, skin damp and hot.

They needed to restrain your arms and legs to be able to perform tests on you, but that didn’t stop you from crossing your knees, relying on friction to rub your pussy as best as you can. All this, as your body wriggles beneath the harsh clinic lights. You’ve gone absolutely feral. Your cries are pitched an octave higher than what Satoru’s used to. And as much as he doesn’t want to believe it, it’s as if… “It’s as if she’s calling out to someone.”

“To you, you mean?” Suguru scoffs.

Paper seals secure the walls of your room. Remnants of the curse linger around your body and because of that, they’ve deemed it safer to assume only born-betas are allowed direct contact. For now, at least. Shoko says they don’t know if there are aftereffects — meaning, if exposure to a victim could also trigger a rut in an alpha. And now they’re dealing with pheromones, not just cursed energy, so infinity is out of the question. That means Shoko gets to stay with you, and the two born-alphas are to stay on this side until further notice. 

Satoru hates it – being separated from you by a wall like this. Not like you weren’t already normally separated by one, considering your room in the dorms is right next to his. But he particularly hates how this renders him unable to barge in on you any time he wants.

Right now, he wants to annoy you. He wants to poke fun at you. He wants to pull your strings because he likes it when you get fake-mad. You’re cute when you do that. Plus, he uses it to his advantage knowing you can never actually stay mad at him for too long — a weakness the two of you share.

“Heard the report got it all wrong.” Suguru pats Satoru’s back. “Special grade 1, was it? Quite the leap from semi-grade 1.” Suguru shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief. He’s never seen his best friend so distraught. But Suguru reassures him, telling him not to worry and reminding him of the fact that, at the very least, “She’s alive and kicking. Well, kicking too hard for that matter. Those knots are gonna bruise.”

“She should’ve called me. Fucking idiot.” Satoru clicks his tongue.

They have brought in experts — historians, even. They have tried every omega medicine known to man. Emergency suppressants that were once obsolete are concocted that same day. Everything should’ve shown immediate effects. And yet, it’s almost laughable how it all seemed like they were only giving you placebo meds, forcing you to down so many in so little time. Since nothing has worked, Shoko sent them away.

What’s worse is, the curse is exorcised. And in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, killing a curse usually takes all its enchantments with it. So, if the curse is dead and you’re still experiencing the worst heat known to man, they could damn well consider your revert permanent if they don’t do something about it quickly.

The two men jolt back upon smelling a very pronounced aroma of burnt cinnamon on Shoko who’s left the room for the first time in the last 6 hours. Her hair is slightly disheveled, slightly damp from sweat. And the circles around her eyes have grown visibly darker and heavier.

“Can’t imagine our forefathers going nuts over that stench.” Suguru lightens the mood, fanning his hand in front of his face. He blinks his tears dry as a result of inhaling a whiff of the strong odor.

“It’s not that bad.” Satoru scrunches his nose as he’s suddenly taken aback, though he’s not particularly repulsed by the scent. If anything, he’s immediately convinced it’s something he doesn’t mind living with. “Plus, I heard it’s slightly different for every omega.”

“Finally, some fresh fucking air,” Shoko murmurs as she leans on the glass, head thrown back as she lights up a cigarette. Apparently, she hasn’t had one since they brought you in. “Welp, tried everything. Even left her alone with toys to do—”

“Herself?” Suguru teases.

Satoru scratches his throat. “Did it- uhm… did it help?”

“Not one bit.”

“Maybe you… didn’t give her enough time?” Satoru nonchalantly suggests, pouting as he subconsciously takes notes for himself if he ever gets presented with the opportunity.

“I let her at it for an hour.” Shoko huffs out smoke in the direction opposite to the two men. “I even gave her… options, you know.”

Satoru mentally kicks himself as his thoughts run wild. He can still see the tip of the pink silicone popping out of one of the trays, girth not so different from his. He hates Shoko for doing a shitty job at concealing it because blood rushes to his cock just by looking at that thing, knowing it had gone inside you. He thinks about what other toys Shoko had you use — thinks about which one was able to make you cum the fastest, which one was your favorite?

Fuck. Now, he has to keep adjusting his stance, marching in place like a damn soldier till he manages to get his half-hard cock into a better position in his pants. Using his hands then and there is not an option for obvious reasons.

“Satoru.” Shoko’s tone becomes more serious. “You can drag this longer than it needs to be. But you know there’s only one surefire tried-and-tested-literally-by-millions-way to cure a heat.” She takes a long puff, blowing smoke in between words, embers flickering on the end of her half-done stick. “You up for it?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Of course he is.

Suguru and Shoko shoot each other knowing glances, the former raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘watch this’. “Satoru, If you’re not gonna do it, I wi—”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Satoru spits, not letting his best friend finish his sentence. The two quickly exchange low fives, chuckling at the expense of their lovesick friend. Satoru turns to Shoko, paying no mind to his friends so blatantly enjoying themselves in the middle of a crisis. “You’re sure you’ve done everything you can?”

“Everything I can, yes. You’ve exhausted all the favors you can ask of me, it’s high time you deal with your own problems.” Shoko prods two fingers onto Satoru’s chest.

“Want her to want it,” Satoru speaks softly.

“Are you blind? Did your fucking 6 eyes stop working?” Shoko looks at Satoru, puzzled, as if she wonders why Satoru isn’t seeing what she’s seeing. “Oh, I’m pretty sure she wants it bad.”

“Want her to want me.”

Shoko rolls her eyes and disposes of her cigarette though it’s a couple more puffs away from when she usually stops. She’s at her limit. “Wait here.”

Trying to prove a point, she goes to the supply room and comes back with two handkerchiefs — a white one and a blue one. She then pats the white one with the sweat off of Satoru’s nape, and the other with Suguru’s. “Pray with me, boys. One of you’s gonna have to return to their roots.” She cracks her neck, preparing to head back in.

The sound of your cries increase and decrease in volume when Shoko opens and closes the door behind her.

“Shoko, Shoko, please! Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it—”

Shoko waves the blue handkerchief above your head, grabbing your attention for only a few seconds till you’re back to screaming in agony. She can almost hear Suguru scoffing on the other side. She then takes out the white cloth with Satoru’s scent, and like a moth to a flame, you’re instantly drawn to it. Your breaths have finally steadied. You take quick bouts of whiffs, head craning every which way she drags the piece of cloth.

She leaves you with the handkerchief after letting your arms and legs loose, allowing you to curl up in a ball as you desperately inhale Satoru’s scent. It’s the first thing that has calmed you in hours. Nonetheless, this relief is temporary. Pretty soon you’ll be needing something stronger. Something more potent. Something in its rawest form.

“S-satoru,” you breathe through the handkerchief, staring at the two-way mirror like a faint prayer to the god you know is there. “Shoko, please get me Satoru.” Your words are clear as day, and that’s the first coherent thing you’ve said all day.

Shoko’s eyes dart to where she’s sure Satoru stands. “Do you see it now?” she mouths.

Satoru’s jaw stiffens, stomach now a mangled mess of anticipation and guilt. On the one hand, he’s relieved. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if you’d reacted the same way to Suguru’s scent. On the other hand, he knows what’s going to happen now. Not like he didn’t see this coming.

…

Though she didn’t have to, Shoko chose to make a nest of Satoru’s clothes for you in his own bed. “Thought I’d at least make the effort to help make it romantic, no?”

Except nothing about this is romantic. Jujutsu dorm walls thankfully aren’t thin, but thin enough for him to hear your cries from behind his door.

Satoru takes a second to collect himself, getting square with the fact that this isn’t how he wanted your first time to go. He can smell you from where he stands, forcibly reminding him for every second he delays that you’re in there, waiting for him.

He’s played your first time over and over in his head as he fucked his fist — almost every morning in the shower, once or twice in your room when you were out on a mission, and many, many times in the very bed you’re nestled now. Out of the hundreds of scenarios he’s made up of him making love to you in his head, he’s never once pictured this.

His friends have pestered him about this for so long, urging him to take the first step or else Suguru — and on some occasions, Shoko — won’t hesitate to whisk you off your feet. But he tells them he has his reasons for constantly holding off. He says it’s because you’re perfect for him, and so he wanted your first to be perfect — plain and simple. He says it so matter-of-factly, too. But now, to hell with the perfect scenario because as it turns out, it’s mother nature herself who decides to give him one crazy hell of a push to make a move.

Satoru enters his room. Greeted with the raw and unbound fragrance of your heat, his heart pounds in his chest. He coos upon seeing you hugging his pillow, all plump and ready for him. Suddenly, it registers in his head that he’s seeing you naked for the first time, lying in his bed. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says more to himself, trying to convince himself that this is real — that you’re real.

“‘M sorry, it hurts— hurts so bad, Satoru. ‘M sorry!” He’s sorry it has to be like this, too. But he’s not so sorry that you’d asked for him.

With dried up tears along your cheeks, and fresh ones in your eyes, your cried out voice croaks, “Satoru, help me please. I need you.” You roll on your belly, propping your forearms as you bury your face in his scent, whining into his pillow, back arching + ass perked up, as you shamelessly stroke your pussy to his face. “N-need you now, please, please, please?”

Fuck.

Even now, it melts his heart seeing you so full of want.

“Shh, shh, shh. I’m here aren’t I?”

Satoru doesn’t miss the way your hand grips the sheets as you watch him discard his clothes. He sees the absolute delight in your face, the flexing of your belly, the further bend of your back, the quicker strokes of your fingers around your clit. But it’s the sight of your nectar dripping out of you that finally makes him break.

With how hard he is and how much he wants to devour you like crazy, he could easily be mistaken for an alpha in a rut. He swears his chemical makeup has nothing to do with it. He just wants you that bad.

Suddenly, the space between you and him doesn’t exist. You moan out loud just by being touched by him. He engulfs you in his arms forcing you to sit up, hot skin against even hotter skin, your back pressed flush against his torso as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And your slick — god, your honeyed slick — begins to coat his hard cock speared between your legs and along your puffy folds.

Fuck.

“Sweet angel.” His eyes roll back as he takes in all of your scent.

His cock twitches between your legs, pre-cum starting to drip off his tip. He feels a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach as soon as he gets into contact with your slick. Your touch is so fucking electric. One hand wraps around your stomach while the other reaches for your breast, cupping and kneading the soft flesh, feeling your thuds of a heartbeat beneath his palm. You smell so fucking good upclose, your scent keeps hooking and hooking him in, and taking care of you is all he cares about. That's all that matters. He’s holding you now and yet he’s unable to satiate this mad need to be closer to you. He needs to be closer. He needs to make love to you. Needs to be in you—

“S-Satoru.” You guide the hand on your breast, intertwining with his fingers, pressing harder, rougher, against your skin. “You feel so good, Satoru. Please move. N-need more.”

Satoru releases a deep groan in your ear when you bring your knees together, locking his cock between your legs as you begin to grind your pussy on his erection, nectar lubing your every sway.

“E-easy, eaaasy,” Satoru’s voice is low and breathy. He hisses with every roll of your hips, breath hitching as your pussy drags his foreskin back and forth, balls kissing the back of your thighs. Mind hazy with want, he presses his cheek on yours, planting open mouthed and sloppy kisses on the side of your face.

“Not so fast!” Satoru holds your hips in place when you start to pick up the pace, making you whine, “Wha–”

“Too fast, I’m sorry.” Satoru trails apologetic kisses along your jaw. “Not there- don’t want to cum there.”

He apologizes as a tinge of guilt prickles his throat seeing you so utterly vulnerable. Your eyes plead for him to fill you then and there but he needs this moment to last as long as possible, even if it means prolonging your agony.

“S-Satoru, can’t wait any longer!” You try to move your hips but they’re locked in place. 

“No.” He says, firmly, and it hurts to tell you that. “Not yet.” Tears well up in your eyes as your chest heaved at the height of your confusion. Your mouth opens, trying to find words, but before you get to complain, he gives you a soft, chaste kiss — your very first one, he realizes — and tells you, “Get down for me.”

And with tears in your eyes, you oblige. He supposes this is the work of the reemergence of your makeup and raging hormones, making you so pliant and submissive, you’re willing to do his bidding even when you’re on the verge of insanity — when, before this, you always had a stubbornness in you he’d always been fond of. But then again, at this very moment, you’re desperate. And you’re desperate for him.

“Satoru, I don’t know what you’re up to b-but please, don’t take long- oh!” Your protests are quickly replaced with cries as you feel a soft, wet muscle slide across your folds. He’s always had that habit of not letting you finish. To think it’s something he takes to bed with him makes your stomach coil. “Fuck!”

Hot breath fans your folds as he splits your slit open with his tongue, and all you can do is shudder in place, wallowing in the extreme pleasure that dozens of toys weren’t able to give you. You’re practically leaking on his face, honey dripping down his chin, the tip of his nose pressing into your ass.

His tongue squelches with every lick, twisting your core in knots with every line drawn. And then it’s as if Satoru’s lips are sealed around your clit, puckering and sucking on the sensitive bud.

“Satoru, oh god. ‘Toru, so good, ‘s so fucking good~” Your eyebrows furrow, lips pursing as he relentlessly flicks his tongue on your clit.

“Oh!” You scream when a honeyed digit enters your ass, thumb hooking and pressing hard against your g-spot, all while his tongue remains fixated on your clit. “Fuck- mmm!”

You can’t help but mewl and cuss into your first orgasm — the first one he granted you, that is — wave of pleasure washing across your body as he eats out your high. And while it’s a sensation that gives you a sense of satisfaction, you’re left wanting more. You’re left needing more.

“Please fill me- can’t wait any longer- please, alpha~”

Oh, now you’ve done it.

“Sorry, love.” Satoru pulls you back into his chest and cups your cheek, making you look over your shoulder and into his face. “Neither can I.”

“Sato- Oh!” Gagged by the feeling of friction in your aching walls, the very first one you had welcomed since your heat, you’re at a loss for words when his cock enters you, bottoming out straight away. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and he instinctively closes the gap, savoring your mouth, and with every click and swirl of your tongues, he thinks you are probably the softest, most delicate thing he’s ever tasted.

He knows he’s screwed, tasting you for the first time, knowing he’ll never want anything other than you, your lips, your pussy, this feeling ever again.

You feel as if every pump of his cock scratches that stubborn itch that’s spread across your pussy since your heat. And every satisfying ram of his hips kisses your cervix, bringing you closer and closer to your high, as if this — his cock, and the feeling of his body rocking your own — has been what’s missing in your life.

“Scream for me, angel,” Satoru grumbles against your ear as he feels himself nearing his own climax. Suddenly, his mouth is back on yours, kissing you, with you purring against his lips as he fucks you through your shared high.

“I–” When his pace comes to a full stop, you know what’s about to come. And he doesn’t know what to say. Shoko’s already briefed him on what’ll happen to an alpha who cums in an omega in heat, not that he doesn’t know what a knot is. He just doesn’t know what to expect. Still, he wants you to take it. Even now, he wants you to want it. But he studies that curious look on your face, and as he scrambles for words, it seems it’s your turn to finally shut him up.

“I love you, Satoru.”

Satoru chuckles. More to himself.

“I love you, too.” Satoru, with breaths uneven, relaxes his forehead against yours. Satoru steadies himself, and pretty soon, you collapse in his arms as his knot locks in your core.

...

"Hey," Satoru breaks the silence. "You know... taking my knot like that means you practically asked me to marry you."

"Shut up."

—

Shoko alternates between looking at you and flipping the pages of the report in her clipboard. It seems that you’re technically back to normal but she’s got that look in her face as if a couple of words are stuck behind her throat.

“It’s fine. Hit me with it,” you prompt. “What is it?”

“Well, you’re now a full-blown omega is what it is,” Shoko says without an ounce of concern in her voice. “But seeing as you’ve got… help now,” Shoko’s eyes dart to Satoru who’s standing in the corner, “there’s really not much to do about it.”

“Is that so?” You chuckle at the playful tension between Satoru and Shoko.

“You’re ‘help’, by the way,” Shoko addresses Satoru.

“A big one, too,” he adds.

“Keep it in your pants.” Shoko puts her clipboard aside and scratches her temple. “Still, it’s insane that this is what finally brought you two together.”

Shoko’s words put a longing, knowing smile to your face. "This silly guy waited too long."

“Hey, if that’s what it took. Who am I to complain?” Satoru shrugs, ego fluffed by the thought that you’re finally his. And the fact that he and you are the only active alpha and omega in the world? How special is that?

pspsps. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♥︎

[paarksunghoon]

Sunghoon trying to stay sane and respectful but your love for mini skirts and barely there tops are testing his patience day by day. He's not a horn dog but God when you press against him, so soft, so pretty and oh so naive..do you not notice your entire cleavage hanging out for his eyes to drink in, or the skirt riding up your luscious thighs as you rant about your day?

as someone who wears mini skirts all the time…nbgngngn. i’m also pretty high but reading this really put a number on me so sorry for typos lol

***

Sunghoon is a skirt chaser.

He’s always loved seeing girls wearing them since it made their legs look longer. It didn’t matter much to him—short girls or tall girls—he loved seeing ass peeking out from under the skirt and how they’d always tug at the hem to pull it down. Sunghoon doesn’t date much either (although that definitely wasn’t because nobody wanted him like that either; he wasn’t looking for that type of commitment).

He loved the kind of skirts that paired well for going out. Sure, the solid color staples pieces were cute. But the way silk touches the skin and how hips sway in these fabrics was enough to make his mouth salivate.

When you started wearing them, Sunghoon became perplexed.

You, his best friend since twelve, seemed to have ditched jeans and long dresses for short skirts and baby tees. In the past few months, he’s seen you switch up your wardrobe to the point where he was sure you had more than enough mini skirts to last you a lifetime. They came in all colors and styles, one for every color underneath the rainbow and then some. His friends all noticed this too, eyes following your ass every time you walked in front of them. That made him mad.

The thing is, you have an amazing ass and your tits always sit so pretty. He tries not to stare and gawk at you every time you wear these kinds of clothes. You keep it fairly tame when you’re in broad daylight and push the boundaries on a night out. You don’t seem to care that his friends stare at you every time you try to cover yourself up from a gust of wind or when you bend down. Sunghoon has probably seen your panties too many times.

He really doesn’t understand why all of these feelings are bubbling up. He’s seen you in bikinis and didn’t react like this. Sunghoon is confused but that doesn’t stop his dick from getting hard every time he pictures your outfits when he’s in the safety of his bedroom.

His favorite way to get off is by pushing his back against the bed frame and spreading his legs, holding his fist in a circle and he pumps himself up and down. Sunghoon pictures you riding him in one of your infamous mini skirts, looking up at the ceiling and imagining what you’d look like on top of him. He thinks about how he’d look down and the dirty affair would be covered by the fabric, as if thinking about fucking your best friend wasn’t weird.

Sunghoon is pulled back to reality when you squeeze his bicep in lieu of a greeting.

“Do you have our tickets?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin. “Jesus, Y/N. You need to warn a guy before you creep up on them.”

“All I did was touch your arm!” His cheeks feel hot as you laugh. “Were you in deep thought, or something?”

His eyes flicker to the shortest skirt he’s ever seen you wear but scoffs, playing it off. “Nah. You’re as quiet as a mouse.”

“Well this mouse wants to go inside.”

You don’t wait for him to answer you. Sunghoon feels you tug him by the hand towards the security line in front of the concert venue. You’ve been a bit more physical with him lately, tugging on his arm and sifting your fingers through his hair whenever he’d lay his head on top of yours. He only ever means to for a brief second in the way friends do, but he hesitates to pull away once you tug at his roots.

The artist is a band you two discovered a few years back and he was in charge of buying the concert tickets for the both of you. Sunghoon sees the fruit of his labor pay off when you’re both standing inside after you both pass through security. The venue is crowded and small, but you’re sure everybody is too high out of their minds to notice people bumping into them anyway.

As the two of you walk closer towards the middle, it starts to get tighter. Sunghoon moves you in front of him and puts his hands on your waist to guide you and doesn’t mind that your arms are resting on top of his.

You don’t move away from him once you’ve joined others either. He noticed that you’re a bit shorter than everyone else around you. “Do you want to get on my shoulders during your favorite songs?”

“No, that’s okay. I want to dance.”

He looks down at your skirt. “Mhm, let me know if you change your mind.

The two of you wait until the show begins and you’re talking to him about how excited you are for tonight but all he can think about is how he could cop a feel if he really wanted to. The skirt you’re wearing provides him easy access to touch you but he refuses to act on his urges, often flexing his fingers to calm himself down.

Halfway through the show and everyone is having a great time. You’ve danced for an hour straight and feel your legs wobbling after jumping and screaming the lyrics to Sunghoon. He’s a bit taken aback when you rest your back against his chest but tries not to think too much into it.

But you stay like that for a while and he can feel the fabric of your skirt. He toys with it absentmindedly as he nods his head to the melody until he feels your legs tensing against him. When he looks down, your thighs are squished together.

Fuck. He wonders if you’re horny.

Sunghoon hooks his chin over your shoulder and peeks down below to where his hands graze the hem of your mini skirts. When you don’t motion for him to move away, he grunts when his hands start to disappear and moans directly in your ear when his fingers touch your panties. It’s only then does he realize how wet you are.

His other arm is secured over your waist and you grip onto him at the sudden contact across your blooming core. He swipes his index and middle fingers back and forth to gauge just how wet you’ve become, smearing it all over your panties. It brings a gasp out of you and he pushes his lap against your ass.

It’s too much and he’s too hard. Neither of you are paying much attention to the show anymore, too wrapped up in your own little world to focus on anything else. Sunghoon nearly moans out loud when he realizes you’re allowing him to hump you from behind.

“Are you trying to ruin this friendship?”

Sunghoon feels you nod against him and the two of you head out of the venue and into his car. He tries to keep it in his pants on the ten minute drive back to his apartment. You don’t fuss when Sunghoon shoves his hand between your legs and keeps rubbing over your pussy as he drives, one hand on the wheel while he plays with you. Your best friend bites his lip and tenses when arousal gushes out of you.

“Recline and open your legs wider, baby.” You do as he says and he pats your clit twice. “Good girl, listening to me like that.” He switches his ministrations and brings his thumb to rub over your clit in back and forth motions. “Need to make sure you stay wet.”

And stay wet you do. You’re wet all the way home where he locks the two of you in his place until he’s dropping to his knees and pushing your chest against the wall. Sunghoon puts his face between your legs and licks up the arousal clinging to your panties while spreading your cheeks apart with his big hands, squeezing when you yelp.

He pulls the pathetic fabric aside and sticks his tongue into you, prying yourself open for his viewing. His warmth breath fans over your core and it has you pushing back against his face until his tongue licks you up in repeated motions.

Sunghoon doesn’t really care that he’s too horny for foreplay and neither do you, apparently, because when you hear sunghoon unzip his pants and take them off, you’re taking your panties off and taking your shoes off too. He grabs himself and aligns his tip with your hole before pushing all of himself inside.

You’re so wet. It’s so hot. He fucks you like he’s got enough stamina to last a lifetime and your tits bounce against the walls at the pace he’s set. He pulls back far enough that he nearly slips out every time but without fail, Sunghoon will make sure his dick stays wet the entire time you’re with him.

He pulls you back onto the couch with his cock still lodged inside of you, manhandling your body until he’s got you on his lap and your feet are placed by his knees. Sunghoon pushes his hips upwards and fucks you like this, balls slapping your clit with every thrust. He moans when you moan, the emptiness of his apartment filled up by erotic noises that only spur on his orgasm.

Your release triggers his. When he feels your cum seeping down onto the base, Sunghoon shoots his thick ropes into you but doesn’t stop thrusting. Albeit lazier and more random, he keeps his frantic pace and lets you dig your fingers into him while you wonder how your best friend made you cum so fast.

“Fuck!” you moan when Sunghoon pulls out just to push himself back in once he’s made your body lay in front of him.

“You’re so fucking sexy in these things.” He acknowledges the skirt by flipping the fabric with his fingers. Sunghoon doesn’t give you enough time to reply but you’re too busy moaning to care about the consequences anyway. “Wear them more often and I’ll fuck you like this every time.”

Since when is your best friend so good at dirty talk?!

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! xx

[sectumsempraaa]

Flames on Thin Ice

Pairing: jealous!Theo Nott x fem!Ravenclaw!reader

Word count: 2.9k

TW: cursing, jealousy, ridiculous amounts of yearning and fluff

Based on this request! Thank you :)

Summary: You and Theo Nott are something much more than friends, but just less than lovers. He would very much like to change that, as he’s no longer able to control his rapidly intensifying feelings for you. But when Slughorn’s exclusive Christmas party approaches and Draco Malfoy asks you to be his date, the limits of Theo’s jealousy are tested like never before.

“Come here, bella,” Theo smiles and gestures towards you as he strides over to where you stand, surrounded by holiday decor. He approaches you from the side, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you gently. A blush spreads across your cheeks as you hook an arm around his shoulders, placing the star on top of the Slytherin common room holiday tree.

Decorating the common room tree is one of your favorite parts of winter at Hogwarts. This year, the Slytherins asked for your help after hearing how amazing you did with the Ravenclaw tree for your own house.

Theo can’t say the same, but he’d do just about anything at this point to spend time with you. His crush on you has blossomed the last couple of months, your pull on him amplifying each day. Any opportunity he sees to touch you, help you, or make you laugh, he takes. No question.

“Grazie, cara mio.” You respond, looking down into his heavy, perfect blue eyes. You always try to speak to him in Italian whenever you can, picking up on his more common phrases. You’re the only one that goes to that kind of effort for him and he notices it. God, does it notice it.

He spins you around, earning a series of giggles from you before he lets you back down on your feet. Your hand lingers on his for a few seconds, which feels like an eternity to him. If only he could kiss you right here, right now. But the graze of your fingertips on his palm is enough for him, for now. He’ll take what he can get.

You step back, turning towards the fully decorated tree, ready to show off your hard work. He wants to watch with you but he can’t bear to when you’re looking this beautiful, this stunning. His eyes obsess over your every perfect feature, his eyes drinking in your essence. 

This might be my favorite outfit of hers. The plaid skirt, the knee-high socks, the cream colored sweater. No- the one from my birthday, when she wore my necklace…

Oblivious to his longing stare, you take out your wand, tucked into the waistline of your skirt.

“Lumos,” you say, a look of wonder and awe blossoming on your face as the tree lights up. The warm glow makes you gasp, the sudden joy jolting through you.

Your hands quickly grab his bicep, pulling yourself towards him. A squeal of happiness escapes you, prompting a laugh from Theo. His smile, your favorite smile, triggers your heart to flutter. The way you’re looking at him sends his mind spiraling.

Gods, she is perfect.

It takes him a second to recover from the profound effect your touch has on him. His skin burns like fire, his heart aching for you. 

I’ll win her. I’ll win her so she can spin around in my arms again next year.

Your soft voice brings him out of his thoughts. “What do you think? Is it good enough?” you ask, your eyes contemplating your creation.

He reluctantly removes his arm from your hands, wrapping it around your shoulders and pulling you close to his side, your head resting gently on his shoulder. In a moment of risk, he drops it to your waist, his fingers fiddling with your sweater. Your face quickly turns to his in surprise. 

His pulse stops, his breath with it as your hand slowly makes its way to his chest, resting above his heart. Your head tilts up to meet his dark stare, your eyes locking in on each other.

“It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper. It is glaringly apparent he isn’t talking about the tree anymore. 

You swore his head leaned down, his lips parted slightly, his hand pressed your whole chest against his, before-

“Y/L/N! Where is that pretty little Ravenclaw?” You hear a familiar, yet obnoxious, distant voice crawling its way into the common room from the dungeon corridor. A disgruntled Theo shuts his eyes in defeat.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

He notices the look of disappointment etched in your features, it’s enough to send a pang of longing and frustration slamming into him. His heart drops as your body detaches from his, putting a space between you. His side feels colder without your warmth against it.

I had her.

Draco rounds the corner, a skip in his step as he confidently strides over to you. His eyes light up with glee as Theo’s darken, seeing red. Draco takes your hands in his, kissing each one before speaking.

“My lovely little Y/L/N, just the girl I was looking for. I’ve got something to ask you,” he starts, your eyes widen as he gets down on one knee, keeping your hands clasped with his. A quick glance at Theo shows you the tension in his jaw, the dagger-like stare he casts on Draco.

Why’s she looking at him like that? That look was for me not even a minute ago.

“I have been personally invited to Slughorn’s holiday party and I couldn’t think of a more perfect date to bring. Will you be my plus one?”

The look of hesitancy on your face prompts him to continue. “Consider it the best Christmas present you could give me.”

Normally, Draco wouldn’t even entertain the idea of taking anyone outside his own house. But the Slytherin crew has a soft spot for you, so much so that the common room door doesn’t argue when you say their password anymore.

You giggle, taking a step closer to Draco. “Well, I do love a Christmas party.”

His bright, smug smile draws you in as he stands up and pulls you in for a hug, resting his head on top of yours. “I know you do.” He smirks.

He shares the time and dress code details with you before heading off to meet up with Blaise for dinner. You look around, only to find you’re alone in the common room. Theo left, admittedly, before he blew a fuse.

—

The next couple of weeks are interesting to say the least. Theo has been pining for your attention, trying to distract you from the other boys as much as he can. But mostly, he’s been keeping an eye on Malfoy.

In one instance, Draco came to Theo’s dorm, where he knew you were hanging out, to ask what you were going to wear to the party. “Hmm, we should match, I think.” He suggested. 

Nope. Not today, mate. And certainly not in my fucking bedroom.

Theo suddenly picked you up off his bed bridal style, physically removing you from Draco’s presence before either of you could agree on an accent color.

“Theo!” You yelp, wrapping your arms around his neck and peeking back at Draco. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere that prat isn’t.” He responds with haste.

In another instance, Draco sat across from you in the Great Hall during breakfast and gifted you a pair of earrings for the event. “They sparkle almost as much as you, love.”

The gesture brought a heat to your cheeks that had Theo making fists under the table. He can’t stand to see you flustered over Draco’s pathetic attempts to buy your affection.

Thin ice, Malfoy. Thin. Fucking. Ice.

Draco continues. “My mother picked them out special. She was beside herself when I told her I was taking you.”

At this, Theo happened to “accidently” spill his tea directly into Draco’s lap, earning him a public scolding. But the words go through one ear and out the other. He remains unscathed, because Draco left, and you’re all his again. And really, that’s all he cares about.

—

The day of the party arrives, one Theo has been absolutely dreading. No amount of self-soothing could keep his mind from imagining the shit Malfoy would pull without him there to interfere.

In your dorm, Theo watches as you fix your hair and apply your makeup. He observes your every move, trying to etch each one into his memory, noting all the things you do that drive him crazy.

The way she bites her lip while putting on mascara.

How she hums Christmas carols while pinning up her hair.

When she asks me what shade of eyeshadow she should wear.

When you finish dolling yourself up, you change into your dress in the bathroom. A pout of frustration escapes you as you realize your hands can’t reach the zipper. You decide to ask for Theo’s assistance.

When you walk back into your dorm, you’re met with a completely awe-struck Theo, his tired eyes grow wider than you thought they could even go. The boy is seemingly paralyzed by you. 

Holy bloody hell.

His trance-like gaze runs over the lace neckline, down the curves of your bodice, and over the shimmering gown. He’s never seen you dressed up before, and you have him wondering why it took so long to.

“Spin.” He demands, begs. “Please.”

You slowly turn for him, a small smile adorning your face. The gown flows like water, splaying out as it twirls around you. You have to admit, both the dress and his reaction are feeding your confidence.

Nothing matters in the whole world except for her.

He stands, having noticed the undone zipper in the back. He saunters towards you, jumping at the opportunity, his eyes unwavering from your body. He places his hands on your hips, turning your back towards him.

Can I just marry her now? Can she wear this to our wedding? 

You feel his soft breath grace your neck, a whisper of affection envelopes you. “Mia bella ragazza,” he says, each word dripping with pure adoration. He zips you up with the utmost delicacy and care.

He wraps his left arm around you, pulling your back to his chest. He sways you both back and forth, imitating a slow dance.

“Y/N.” Theo says, ready to pour his heart out for you. Right here, right now. As your eyes meet his, you share a moment of yearning, his lips dead set on meeting yours…

Until an abrasive knock that could only belong to Draco breaks your stare from his.

Please don’t take her away from me now.

He, of course, opens the door without being granted entry. You slide away from Theo’s embrace, slipping on your heels and grabbing your cover-up. Draco beckons you to him, grabbing a hand and twirling you around.

The sound of your laughter plagues Theo. You link an arm with Draco, tucking into his side. Theo’s mind silently explodes with jealousy, trying to identify everything wrong with the sight in front of him.

He looks like dirt compared to her.

Draco reaches to fix one of the earrings he gave you, setting it just right. Heat begins to course through Theo’s very being.

I’d rather eat slugs than see my Y/N on his arm.

Draco leads them out, nodding a silent goodbye to Theo on the way towards the door. “I think we look rather dashing together, don’t you agree?” he asks, his ego caking each word.

Theo takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure as he’s left in silence. He vowed to himself that he would behave for you, for this one night. For your sake. 

But just before you leave his line of sight, you steal one last, desperate glance at Theo. And that’s enough to break his vow.

—

I can’t believe she makes me this stupid.

Theo thinks as he peers into Slughorn’s party from a tiny window. His feet perched on the ledge, several feet above the ground. His knuckles go white as his fingers grip the wall tightly. 

He spots you next to Draco at the table, noticing his hand covering yours. The students engage in lively conversation, mostly Malfoy telling boring stories about his father.

Though Theo tries hard to keep his focus on Malfoy, he can’t help but obsess over your breathtaking beauty.

His ears recognize the first few notes of the song you were humming earlier coming over the speakers. 

You gasp and whip your head towards Draco, your eyes lit up with excitement, your hands tugging his suit jacket. “This is my favorite song!! Can we dance?” You ask him.

He stands and offers you his hand, which you take immediately. “All night, if you’d like, love.” 

He doesn’t deserve this. He can barely carry a tune, let alone dance. 

Theo hops down from the window, using the moving picture frames as leverage. Once he lands, he finds the back entrance to the party, peering through the sheer curtains.

Good luck pulling this off, Malfoy. I hope she laughs in your face.

But that’s not what happens. In fact, it is hard to deny how absolutely gorgeous you two look together, each step perfectly placed, each twirl calculated. Everyone watches you both sweep across the dance floor with ease, like you’ve rehearsed this a thousand times. 

And even worse, it looks like you’re enjoying it. Theo’s hand drags down his face in agony.

Fuck… he’s killing it.

Theo’s inner fire intensifies as Draco’s hand moves to rest on your lower back. Too low for his liking. And the way you’re eating it up drives him mad. Draco leans in near your ear, sharing smirks and whispers with you. 

The bloody fool is talking during her favorite song instead of letting her sing.

An idea sparks in Theo’s head, one that would probably disappoint you. But he doesn’t care anymore. Especially as he watches Draco cross the final line by dipping you backwards, his eyes obviously lingering on your chest. When he lifts you back up to him, you hear a faint, boyish voice call from behind you.

“Confundus.”

Suddenly, Draco stumbles over, tripping over his own feet and falling on the floor, bringing you down with him. Slughorn swiftly strides over and accuses Draco of drinking too much champagne, despite your efforts to defend him. When he’s asked to leave, you follow him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, patting down the front of his suit jacket and fixing his hair. He rolls his eyes, shrugging you off and mumbling something to himself about how “Slughorn will pay for this.”

As he sulks away, you find yourself alone in the corridor, sighing and stepping out of your heels. A humming sound emanates from behind you, the familiar tone easily identifiable to your ears. You can’t help but smile as the pieces fall into place.

“Really? Confundus?” You joke, turning your head to the side with a smirk. Theo’s arm wraps itself around your front once again, swaying you in his slow-dance way. What you didn’t expect was the feeling of his lips on your cheek, kissing you ever so softly.

“Si, bella.” He responds, switching to kiss your other cheek. “With the way he drooled on you all night, he’s lucky it wasn’t a Crucio.”

You remove his hand, letting yourself turn to face him. He kicks your heels to the side, allowing you to step closer. Your hand reaches up to caress his cheek, your finger tracing the edge of his jaw.

“Mio bel ragazzo,” you say, lifting yourself up on your tippy toes. He pulls away, catching you off guard, grounding yourself to the floor again.

“I’ve waited forever to kiss you, Y/N. Dreamed of it, even.” He pauses for a moment, gathering his words, his finger twirling around one of your stray curls. “Let me.”

The blush on your face hits a crimson peak, nodding a silent grant of permission. Your heart races as both his hands firmly cup your face, pulling you gently until you feel his lips join yours, melding into each other.

The kiss is long and earned, his lips moving against yours with intention. When he finally breaks for a breath, you tug on his collar, quickly crashing your lips back onto his. A low moan travels its way from his mouth to yours, his hands now wrapped securely around your waist. Good luck getting this boy to let go.

You pull away, letting Theo rest his forehead on yours, a stupid smile adorning his face as he processes the moment.

“For what it’s worth, I told Narcissa I wanted those earrings. I think she almost felt bad that I had to go with him.” You laughed, playing with the jewelry on your ears.

“He’s not allowed near you- no, he’s not even allowed in the same room as you from now on,” Theo says, a shadow of the tension in his jaw lingers. “Or it’s lights out for him.”

You both break into a fit of laughter at the threat, leaning on each other for balance.

You pause for a second, his eyes brimming with unspeakable joy. Your hand finds the back of his neck, grazing it with your fingertips, feeling the resulting chills it sparks on his skin.

“There’s only one room I want to be in right now, and I’d like you to take me to it.” You whisper, Theo’s expression becoming eager as he immediately lifts you up, swiftly carrying out your order. You could tell him to burn down a city and he’d do it for you.

“Am I dreaming this, bella? Am I really taking the most extraordinary person who’s ever lived back to my dorm?” He asks, relishing the feel of your arms around his neck and the scent of your vanilla perfume encompassing him.

“Wow, the most extraordinary person? Ever?!” You giggle, your voice coated with exaggeration. “What does that make you?” You ask him.

“The luckiest.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[that-fic-girl]

HAZBIN HOTEL X READER HC #1

Head canon: what it would be like to date them.

characters: Alastor, angel dust, husk, vox

disclaimer: everything i write about these characters might not be accurate to the actual story, please take everything in the fic with a grain of salt, none of this is canon!!

Alastor

he hasnt been in an actual relationship in a while so being close and vulnerable with someone is quite hard for him, especially as someone who associates emotions with weakness.

First off, its safe to say he adores the ground you walk on. He's in love with everything about you, your clothes, the smell of your hair, your sickly sweet voice. his loves it all.

If there was ever a problem you needed fixing, a person you needed taken care of or even a errand you needed to run he would tend to it himself. he would not let you lift a finger.

PDA is a iffy thing for him, he wouldnt do grand big gestures but maybe a hand on the hip or a few words of affirmation.

everyone in the pride ring quickly learned of yours and radio demon's relationship. And no one dared to mess with you, ofcourse there was people who wanted to test their luck but they would have to pay the price later.

his love language is definitely words of affirmation, he will sweet talk the shit out of you. At night when it's just you two in bed, he will have his hands stroking through your hair whilst you rant to him about your day and he'll reply with sweet nothings

"oh darling, i've missed you all evening"

"you looked ravishing today my dear.."

"mm your hair smells amazing, my love"

Angel Dust

Angel is one of, if not, the horniest mother fuckers out there but somehow, he manages to somewhat make a healthy relationship with someone.

you two are seen as "the bad bitch" couple. you're always out together, always getting into dumb shit together. You'll get yelled at by vaggie at early hours in the morning because the two of you where playing a childish game of tag in the hotel halls.

his love language is definitely physical touch, he'll have his arms slung around your waist almost all the time. Kisses are a MUST every 5 minutes, like this boy will NOT part from you. especially in the mornings when you have to leave for work;

"mmnnnnoooooooo...stayyy for five minutes pleasseeeee"

"but sweets..you're soooo warm"

"sweetheart please, you feel so comfy"

yeah good luck with that.

nights with him are VERY eventful, if it wasn't obvious. You two would usually be at it late hours into the night but sometimes, when you two where too exhausted to fuck like rabbits, he would be sprawled across your lap whilst you stroked his fur.

Husk

Despite his harsh tone and uncompromising demeanor, you understood that Husk wasn't trying to be malicious towards you. It was simply his way of communicating, and you knew that his behavior wasn't personal. Even though he could be abrasive at times, you loved him for his rough edges and authentic personality

You and Husk's time together was mostly spent at the bar. You didn't like to drink much, but you loved seeing him work and make cocktails like a pro. You didn't mind that it wasn't considered a typical date, because you liked spending time with him in whatever way he felt most comfortable.

Husk is not used to receiving compliments, as he didn't often receive them in his past life. When you complimented him, it caught him off guard and he was surprised. But he eventually learned to appreciate it, and it even made him feel a little sentimental.

Despite the difficulty, you were able to help Husk realize that you genuinely cared about him. He had been used to being surrounded by dishonesty and hypocrisy, but you were always sincere and real. He held you in high regard, as you were the only source of light in his life, and he didn't want to lose you.

vox

You were known as a strong and independent person who didn't need assistance from others. You knew how to stand up for yourself, despite being harsh and tough at times. Despite your exterior, no one was aware of the soft spot in your heart that Vox's affection and touch alone could melt away your severity.

He appreciated seeing your affectionate side, as it felt special and intimate, like a shared secret between the two of you. He knew you valued your privacy, and he respected it by never sharing photos or other details on social media. He didn't want to betray your trust.

You were often feared and respected when you were with Vox. People found it hard to believe that someone as intimidating as yourself could have a tender, caring side that was kept hidden from most. Vox was glad that he was the only one who got to see that side of you. He didn't want to share something so special and personal with anyone else.

Quite often, he would call you on the phone, knowing that sweet words could be just as effective as a kiss. He enjoyed hearing how your voice softened from its usual seriousness to a more affectionate tone. He was aware that when he said loving phrases to you, you would blush and smile shyly, and sometimes he even regretted not being able to witness it in person.

"i've missed you today babe.."

"mhm look at my pretty girl/boy!"

[lev1hei1chou]

A What?

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: You ask for a baby out of nowhere Masterlist Requests open!

"Hey, Satoru, I want a baby."

The man choked on his cereal. Milk splattered across the table, and he coughed, looking at you with wide, incredulous eyes. "You what?"

You grinned, loving his reaction. "I want a baby."

Gojo blinked, processing your words. "Like...a human baby? With diapers and all?"

You laughed. "Yes, Satoru, a human baby. Not a cursed spirit baby or a baby goat. A tiny human."

He leaned back in his chair, still stunned. "You can't just drop a bomb like that while I'm eating my Froot Loops, babe. Give a guy some warning."

You shrugged, leaning over to wipe a speck of milk off his cheek. "I thought you could handle anything."

"Yeah, curses and evil sorcerers, sure. But this...this is a whole new level of scary." He ran a hand through his white hair, making it stand up in more directions than usual. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious." You sat down across from him, your expression softening. "I think we'd make great parents."

He looked at you, eyes softening. "Of course we would. I mean, look at us. We're awesome."

You snorted. "Modest, as always."

"Hey, it's not arrogance if it's true." He grinned, then grew serious again. "But...a baby? That's a big deal."

"I know. But I want to start a family with you, Satoru."

He was silent for a moment, then his lips curved into a smile. "Okay. Let's do it."

You blinked. "Really? Just like that?"

He shrugged. "Why not? I've always wanted kids. Didn't think about it too much because, you know, job hazards and all. But if you want a baby, then I want a baby. Simple as that."

You laughed, feeling a wave of relief and excitement. "Simple as that, huh?"

"Yep." He stood up, suddenly energized. "Alright, let's make a baby right now."

Your eyes widened. "Satoru, we can't just...it's the middle of the day!"

"Details, details." He waved a hand dismissively. "I'm the strongest sorcerer in the world. I can make time for baby-making."

You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "How romantic."

He waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, I can be romantic. Just you wait."

The next few days were filled with Gojo's attempts at being "romantic." You came home to rose petals scattered all over the living room (which the cat was now batting around), a candlelit dinner (where he nearly set the kitchen on fire), and a bubble bath for two (where he splashed so much water that the bathroom flooded).

"You're really trying, aren't you?" you said, toweling off your hair after the bath fiasco.

He pouted. "I'm trying to set the mood."

You kissed his cheek. "I appreciate it, Satoru. But we don't need all this. Just you and me, together. That's enough."

He smiled, pulling you into his arms. "You're right. As always."

That night, lying in bed, he turned to you with a mischievous look in his eye. "So, about that baby..."

You laughed, swatting his chest. "Okay, okay. Let's do this."

A few weeks later, you found yourself holding a pregnancy test in your hand, heart pounding. Gojo was pacing back and forth in the bathroom, looking more nervous than you'd ever seen him.

"Okay, okay, okay," he muttered. "It's fine. Whatever it says, it's fine."

You glanced at the test, then at him. "Satoru, you need to calm down."

He stopped pacing and looked at you, taking a deep breath. "Right. Calm. I can do calm."

You held up the test, a smile spreading across your face. "We're having a baby."

For a moment, he just stared at you, then he whooped, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. "We're having a baby! I'm gonna be a dad!"

You laughed, holding onto him. "Yes, you are. And you're going to be amazing."

He set you down, his eyes shining. "We're going to be amazing."

Months passed in a whirlwind of doctor's appointments, baby shopping, and Gojo's over-the-top preparations. He baby-proofed the house, even the ceiling, "just in case the baby is super strong and starts climbing walls."

"Satoru, that's ridiculous," you said, watching as he padded the corners of the coffee table with foam.

He looked up at you, serious. "Safety first, babe."

When the day finally came, Gojo was more nervous than you. He held your hand in the delivery room, eyes wide as he watched the process.

"You're doing great," he whispered, though it seemed like he was saying it more to himself than to you.

Hours later, when the baby finally arrived, Gojo stared at the tiny bundle in his arms, tears in his eyes. "Hi there, little one. I'm your dad."

You smiled, exhausted but happy. "And I'm your mom."

He looked at you, his expression full of love and awe. "We did it."

You nodded, feeling a surge of emotion. "Yeah, we did."

[cheriladycl01]

They do be comfy tho! - Lando Norris x Pregnant! Reader

Plot: You try hide your pregnancy through Lando's large array of hoodies.

You sat in the bathroom crying your eyes out. You'd been feeling sick recently and didn't think the plane journey all the way to Las Vegas would be a good idea.

So you stayed behind while Lando went racing, you were now looking at the positive test in your hand.

You knew exactly when it was, it was. It was after his first race win in Brazil... you guys weren't as careful as you should have been.

"Fuck" you cried leaning your head against the wall of the bathroom, tears streaming down your face. It wasn't that you didn't want kids, or that you didn't want them with Lando it's just that you both agreed now wasn't the best time where he was in the height of his career.

You didn't know what to do, the only person you could think to call was Oscar's girlfriend Lily who you'd become best friends with ever since you met her at her first race appearance.

You waited while the phone rung, and rung until the line opened.

"Lily?" you sob into the phone but it's silent.

"Lily please, i need you!" you cry a little more.

"Y/N?" a male voice you knew too well answered. It was Oscar.

"Oscar?" you ask.

"Yeah, it's me Lily's just in the bathroom i didn't want it to go to a missed call!" he says before you here Lily ask who it is.

"Please Oscar, just hand me over to her" you say, Oscar could tell you were crying and he wanted to know what was wrong more than anything. He handed over the phone to his girlfriend with a worried look who answers right away.

"Y/N?" she asks with concern in your voice.

"Can you be alone right now, like without Oscar?" you say with labored breaths.

"Yeah, he's just leaving to get ready for FP3, weren't you babe!" she smiles giving him a look that tells him to leave.

Oscar, stops outside the door with a small panic.

What does he tell Lando?

Does he tell Lando?

He really had no idea what to say. Did he tell Lando that his girlfriend just got a call from Lando's girlfriend and he answered and she wa sobbing.

Would this make Lando spiral and have a bad race.

"Y/N please tell me what's happened!" Lily says back in Oscar's driver room.

"I'm pregnant" you sob and Lily's eyes widen.

"Congrats?" Lily says awkwardly and you just sob harder.

"Okay okay I'm sorry! I don't know what to say. How can i help!" she asks.

"I don't know, I think i just needed to tell someone!" you sniffle.

You continue to talk to Lily until she needs to leave to go watch Oscar and you agree you should probably watch Lando.

You walk past your shared room with Lando in your Monaco flat seeing one of his hoodies laying over the chair. You grab it and pull it over.

You spend the rest of the weekends watching shitty romcom's until you get a text from Lando.

Lando: I'm coming home, now

And that sent you into a full on spiral. Did Oscar or Lily talk and tell him, was hen angry at you...

Until he got home you were a nervous wreck having a ball of anxiety in your stomach.

"Baby?" Lando calls as he goes through the front door looking around for you. You were sat on the sofa, curled up in his lavender hoodie from his Quadrant range.

He walks in seeing you sat there, tears in your eyes as your trying not to look at him.

"Baby, look at me tell me why Oscar told me you called Lily in floods of tears... what's happened!" he asks, kneeling down in front of you trying to catch your gaze but you refused to look.

"Baby come on" he sighs. You take his hand, before standing up and walking him to the bathroom and showing him the test.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asks looking between the stick and you. You just nod, no words coming to your mouth.

"Baby, this is amazing! I know timing isn't great but i'll be here for you and them! I promise!" he says pulling you into a tight hug. He spent the whole evening talking to you about everything.

"You aren't leaving me?" you asked with a small sniffle.

"Baby, of course not... is that why you called Lily crying?" he asks with a frown and you nod.

"I was just worried, I know Mclaren have a really good car this year and that you and Oscar are a good team and we are still really young!" you admit and he nods.

"We are, but it's not anything we can't handle together..." he says pulling you in for a kiss, holding your hips before they snake up your body to get to the back of your neck.

"I love you so so much" he sighs leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes open watching you eyes.

"I love you too!" you sigh, all that built up anxiety just leaving and releasing from you.

"I don't think we should tell anyone but family" you say looking down and he frowns, not sure what you mean.

"Your going to stop coming to my races?" he asked, obviously he knew towards the end of your pregnancy you wouldn't be able to do the flight but right now you'd be safe and healthy to fly.

"No of course not! As long as we are on a jet I should be fine, why wouldn't I ?" you ask tilting your head in confusion.

"Well, baby ..." he gulps and you nearly start to laugh wondering where he's going with this.

"In a pregnancy you are growing a whole other human inside of you, so you'll ... you know get bigger?" he says as if its more of a question to you than anything.

"Yes, I'll have a bump" you giggle, placing his hand on your currently flat stomach.

"But you don't want to tell anyone? People will start to find out when they see it honey!" he laughs, rubbing your hips and stomach.

“I’ll just cover up with your hoodies” you say showing Jake how you look now.

“Mmmm my hoodies can only go so far” he laughs.

And that was the truth, you struggled in the heat in the hotter countries and ended up getting too big for even Lando’s hoodies.

Someone on twitter had got a picture of you, at an angle where Landos hand gripping your made the loose hoodie grab around your growing stomach and people started to go wild.

So you guys went to Instagram of course.

landonorris

landonorris: Yes Y/N is pregnant! We are both very happy and she’s currently 7 months along and we are expecting in July and cannot wait to meet our little girl!

Tagged 1 Person

View all 476 comments

y/user: I love you so much. I wouldn’t want to experience this journey with anyone else! 🧡🫶🏼

mclaren: Papaya Baby incoming 🧡🦁 Congrats Lando!

oscarpiastri: congrats man!

lilyzniemer: she’s such a pretty mumma

-> y/user: stop it!!!! 🫶🏼🧡

Taglist:

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[echoofadream]

Your favorite patient...

Part 1

Summary: You are a hardworking doctor and you save a man's life. Wait, why is he coming back with all sorts of conditions? What do you mean he followed you home? He's begging to be your...what?

Contains: Obsessive behavior(yandere), stalking, mentions of masturbation, slight smut, dom!reader(gender is not specified), sub!male!yandere.

Imagine you work in a hospital. You're a workaholic doctor who simply loves treating people and helping them get healthier and better. You greet everyone with a smile and try to cheer up every person who comes in, despite their state. 

One day a young man is brought into the ER and you find out he had been in a horrible car accident. You don't waste any more time and treat his wounds and the next day he's already conscious and aware of everything happening around him. Yours is the first face he sees once awake.

The following days you visit him in his hospital room and ask him how he's feeling, the same honest and benevolent smile on your face. You can tell that he's exaggerating most of the time and that the pain he tells you he's experiencing is not as severe as he claims. So you do the only rational thing and discharge him.

Next week, he's back with another issue and he requests you specifically. An ear infection. It wasn't your area of expertise but you took a look and recommended him a qualified doctor. He left displeased.

One week later you saw him again. A stomach ache. It wasn't bad but he wouldn't have it. "You don't get it, doctor! It hurts!" he'd say and grab your wrist, putting it on his lower stomach. He wanted a set of tests. He was even willing to pay any sum of money! You actually ran the tests and he spent one night in the hospital. You should've paid more attention to the smile he had on his face when you came with his results. He wasn't pleased seeing a green line next to every word on the file, yet he understood the situation and left. "Thank you so much, doctor!" he said with a huge smile on his face. "I was so scared! What would I do without you?"

The following week he was in the ER again. Ibuprofen overdose. "I had a headache and didn't know what to do! Help me, doctor!" A part of you was starting to see a pattern, yet your overworked mind couldn't quite put the finger on the issue at hand. You treated him like any other patient. The same friendly smile on your face, the same soft tone of voice, the same tired eyes. You were busy saving lives everyday. This was your duty and you had to do it right. "Such a big heart you have, doctor!" the same adoration in his eyes when he says this as always. "You're amazing!" and you could've sworn you saw tiny hearts forming inside his dark pupils. You should drink less caffeine, really.

After a couple of days the man doesn't come into the ER. Yet you don't even notice his absence. You were so overworked, so tired! Poor you!

One random Thursday(a thoroughly planned day) you freeze when you step into your living room. A familiar person was sitting on your couch. You knew him from somewhere, but why was it so hard for you to remember?

"Hello, doctor!" he greets. The same smile, the same excited voice. And you recognized him. "Don't tell me you don't know who I am..." he started, a bit of disappointment making its way into his facial expression.

You were standing there, unable to move. What was your patient doing inside your house? How did he know where you lived? How did he get inside? Why did he get inside? Was he dange-

"You don't look too pleased to see me, doctor..." he says, a small frown on his face. He approaches you and you instinctively take a step back. "Don't be afraid. I'd never hurt you." his words were either as honest as they could be or he was one hell of a liar. The former sounded better. "You're good and kind and gentle. I'd never hurt you" he chuckled. That makes you make another step back.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, breathlessly.

"I'm here for you, isn't that obvious?"

It was very obvious but you were hoping he'd elaborate.

"You work so hard, doctor" he starts talking in a pitiful, saddened voice. "You work overtime almost everyday. You always come back home late. You don't even have time to cook and you always order takeaway. Then you sit in front of the TV with a glass of wine in your hand, drifting off with god knows what series in the background." He chuckles. "Well, I know actually.".

He takes another step towards you and you flinch. "I wanna make you feel good, doctor" he tells you, almost whimpering. "You work so hard...it's a pity you don't have a slave at home to take care of each and every one of your needs"

Did he just say slave?

"I've been following you ever since you saved my life, doctor. I owe you!". He puts a hand over his heart, trying to show you just how much he loves you. "I know everything you do. I know you barely have a social life, or a sleep schedule or time for yourself except for the moments when you lay on your back on the bed, your glass on the bedside table and you...touch yourself." He blushed at his own words. Meanwhile, you were going through the five stages of fear. If they didn't exist until now, well now they did.

"You don't have any time to clean this place either. I know, since I try not to cough when I lay under your bed and listen to your moans every night." A huge smile spreads across his face. "God, you're amazing..." .

Your hand goes to the pocket of your coat and, as soon as he sees you, his face darkens.

"Doctor...I told you I'm not here to hurt you" His tone held some sort of threat and that made you the more afraid. Your fingers wrap around your phone and you pull it out. He grabs your wrist, stopping you. "You're not gonna do that!" he screams. "You're gonna make me yours! You're gonna do it!".

The sound of your palm making contact with his cheek echoed in the room. He bends forward a little, covering his red cheek and whining softly. He looks at you with fear in his eyes, but you needed to be blind not to see the arousal that fear created. He drops to his knees, hands on his thighs, head lowered.

"I'm sorry, doctor!" he whines. "I shouldn't have yelled at you! Please forgive me! Please! Forgive me for being such a bad boy..." .

You look at him with a shocked expression. It was crystal clear that he was living inside his own world of make-believe in which you were the master and he was the slave. It was obvious he'd wanted it ever since he first saw you. And that he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

You smirk, all the previously felt fear having already vanished. After all, everything he said was right. You were exhausted and you needed someone to serve you. You deserved it, didn't you? Weren't you that god sent person who saved this poor boy's life? Why not give him what he wants? Why not...give yourself what you want?

"You followed me home" you start, your tone as assertive as you could make it. You could see his body shiver and that only made you keep going. "You broke into my house multiple times. You stalked me!"

A soft whimper escapes the man in front of you. He tries to lift his head, to look at you with those big pleading puppy eyes of his, to show you how very sorry he felt(not in the slightest) for doing all that. But when you snap at him he lowers his head again.

"You gave yourself medical conditions so that I could treat you! What kind of sick fuck does that?"

He moaned when he heard your degrading words, lifting his head and looking you straight in the eyes, a big smile on his face.

"I'm sick, doctor. I'm very sick..."

You laughed at his wordplay. "I think you've been a bad boy. A bad sick naughty boy. You know what bad boys get?" You smirk, waiting for his answer.

"Punishment!" he yells, his eagerness immeasurable. "They get punishment. Please, doctor..."

"Please, what?"

"Please....punish me"

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

If this goes well I'll write the second part(smut ofc).

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Wrapped Around Your Finger

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: fluff, arm wrestling

Summary: Tony instigates an arm wrestling contest with Bucky, and no one can beat him until you step up to the plate. The thing is, he’s a superhuman and you’re just a regular person. Something isn’t adding up here.

Squares Filled: thor (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Tony never fails to throw a legendary party. You’ve never been invited to one until you were drafted into the team. You’re not a superhuman, you don’t have powers, and you can easily be killed in a fight. However, you do have amazing hacking skills that have been useful for the team over the past year. You can remotely get into any account, jump over any firewall, and hack into any system with your equipment from your office.

You don’t even have to leave the compound to help.

To be surrounded by such powerful people is a bit overwhelming, but you try not to show how much it’s affecting you. Alcohol always calms you down so you immediately head to the bar. Sam laughs from the right of you, and you see he’s talking to Steve and Bucky over by the pool table. Ah, Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. The hottest man at the party. The hottest man in any room. To look more casual, Bucky sports a backward hat and a thin t-shirt that accentuates his muscles. No one here is scared of him so he’s not shy about hiding his metal arm.

You often fantasize about what his arm could really do to someone like you.

“You should go over and talk to him.” You jump at Natasha’s voice, and you look to see her and Wanda standing next to you. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not staring at him.”

“We never said you were,” Wanda smirks.

“You definitely were, though.”

“Oh, yeah, totally.”

“Okay, stop. I’m not crushing on Bucky.”

“It’s okay if you are. He’s hot.”

“Why don’t you talk to him if you think he’s so hot?” you grumble.

“Not my type,” Nat answers. “I’m already a deadly assassin. I don’t need another one in my life.”

“Why don’t I go over to him and tell him how much you love him?” Wanda suggests with a smirk.

“Don’t you dare, Maximoff.”

Both women laugh, and Natasha slaps a hand on your shoulder.

“Lighten up. Have another drink.” Natasha orders you another drink and you take it gratefully. “Seriously, though, you should go for it. You clearly don’t see the looks he gives you when you’re not paying attention. He’s whipped for you. You could ask him for anything and he’d give it to you.”

“I’m nothing compared to him. He’s a super soldier. I’m just a weak human. He’s not into me.”

Nat and Wanda look at each other, and both of them shrug. “You’ll get there eventually.”

With alcohol in your system, you’re more social with everyone but Bucky. You’d have to get seriously fucked up to talk to Bucky. He makes you so nervous and you don’t want to do anything to embarrass yourself.

By the time ten rolls around, most of the people have left the party so only the Avengers are left. This group is more chilled than the previous one because no one is trying to impress someone. Only the elite have been invited to the party, and they were starstruck in the eyes of the Avengers. Everyone here knows what everyone can do so it’s more laid back and chill.

“Be honest with me,” Tony says to Bucky. “How much can you bench with that thing?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky chuckles. “I never tested it.”

“I bet I could take you.”

“Excuse me?”

“In an arm wrestling contest. Get your mind out of the gutter. I don’t run that way.”

Tony is drunk otherwise he wouldn’t be saying this, but Bucky finds amusement in it. Tony is persistent which is how you got here. Everyone wants a piece of Bucky’s metal arm to see if they can beat him. Knowing he can’t do it by himself, Tony grabs one of his Iron Man suit arms to give him that extra boost.

Tony fails, and Bucky doesn’t even look like he broke out in a sweat.

Rhodey tries and fails. Natasha and Clint know better than to take on a vibranium arm without powers. Bruce is scared he’ll turn into the Hulk if he strains himself too much. Wanda doesn’t compete because she’ll probably win with her magic, and she’s curious as to how this is going to end. Steve steps up to the plate and grabs Bucky’s metal hand confidently. The only person who thinks he might actually have a shot. Both men start the match, and Steve looks like he is going to win when Bucky gets a second wind and slams Steve’s hand on the desk.

The only person who can beat Bucky without any issue is Thor, but he’s on Asgard right now so he’s out of the running.

“Who’s next?” Bucky asks confidently.

“You’re so sure he’s whipped for me?” you whisper to Nat and Wanda. “There’s a way to tell if he is or not.”

“How?”

“He’ll let me win.” You step up to the table and take off your jacket. “I can do it.”

“You’re not doing it, Doll,” Bucky chuckles. “You’re going to get hurt.”

“What, are you chicken?” You look at everyone. “Hear that everyone? Bucky’s scared to go up against a girl.”

“Fine.” You turn to Bucky. “It’s your health. I won’t be the one who will end up with a broken arm.”

Bucky changes hands and grabs your hand with his flesh one.

“Why not your other hand?”

“I’m not using my metal arm on someone who doesn’t have any powers. It won’t be a fair fight.”

He has a point. You position yourself and look at Steve who taps the desk. You and Bucky immediately start to wrestle, and you’re using every bit of strength you have. Bucky has to admit, you’re strong for a woman of your stature but it’s not enough to beat him. However, the look of concentration and determination you have is too cute to diminish.

He pulls his strength back and lets you slam his hand to the desk.

You jump back and cheer for your victory, and he can’t help but smile. Everyone knows he let you win but you don’t care. You’re the only one who has been able to beat him whether or not it was a pity win. You join Nat and Wanda’s side with a huge smile on your face, and Steve and Sam approach Bucky with knowing looks on theirs.

“You let her win,” Steve says.

“You’re whipped, man,” Sam laughs.

“Yeah, I did, but look how happy she is.”

“You know he let you win, right?” Natasha whispers to you.

“Yeah, but that proves one thing. I have that man wrapped around my finger. He’s into me,” you beam.

“Finally, you see it,” Wanda laughs.

You look back at Bucky to see him already looking at you, and you smile right back.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[kamiversee]

Sharing Is Caring ꨄ (part 1/3)

[ { Synopsis } ] ➤ Sure, your boyfriend Choso gets jealous from time to time but that doesn’t mean you have the right to put him on sex-ban. Hence why he’ll show you he actually has no issues with sharing you (with a certain person).

[ { Need to know } ] ➤This is a What-If scenario that stems from my fic; The F*ck List— A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt.

[ { Content & Warning } ] ➤ f!reader, lots of teasing and taunting, language, heavy sexual tension, buildup to a threesome, & two guys who are completely infatuated with you ^.^

[ { Parings } ] ➤ Choso x f!reader & Gojo x f!reader.

[ { Word Count } ] ➤ 6.7k

“Oh my god Choso, shut up,” You whined, brows tense and eyes narrowed at your boyfriend who you’ve been arguing with for the past twenty minutes.

Choso scoffs, “Excuse me?” He tests, trying to see if he really heard what you just said to him, “Wanna repeat that f’me?”

With an annoyed roll of your eyes, “I said shut up. You just got home and you’re already starting up with this shit again. Choso, I’m not taking you off of sex-ban.”

Dating Choso is… an experience, to say the least. Sure, he’s a wonderful boyfriend and overall the perfect man for you but, that doesn’t mean you two don’t have your arguments or periods of being upset with one another.

Again, he’s amazing and all but there are times like now where you and him really get into it. He’s stressed out and you’re frustrated— both of which don’t make the best combination.

You’re standing by his living room couch watching him tug off his jacket. Choso’s face is ticked off but he won’t stop looking at you. As for you, your eyes are everywhere else except for his.

“Baby, it’s been three weeks. Three,” He emphasizes, “I can go without sex perfectly fine but you barely even touch me now.”

“Well this is what you get for being an overly jealous boyfriend,” You say with a scoff.

Choso cocks his head to the side and his eyes narrow, “What was I supposed to do that day, huh? Just sit there and watch some guy openly flirt with you like I’m not standing right next to you?”

“You’re being dramatic,” You tell him bluntly, arms crossing over one another, “I told you numerous times before, that if you kept up the jealous act I’d put you on sex-ban, and now; here we are and you’re complaining about it.”

“It’s not the sex-ban, baby. Did you even hear what I just said?” Choso asks. He then takes a single step closer to where you are, “You don’t touch me, hug me, or even kiss me as much anymore and it’s been three weeks.”

A nonchalant little shrug is given to him, “Maybe if you didn’t scold your girlfriend for someone else’s actions, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now-“

“I already apologized for that so I don’t understand why I’m not receiving any sort of affection from you,” Choso cuts off. As he nears you, his hand goes down to his belt and he starts to unbuckle it, clearly unwinding after his long day of work.

Your eyes just barely glance over to him and down at his hands fumbling with his belt. Then, you scan your boyfriend up and down and mentally curse yourself for being upset with him right now because fuck is he too attractive for his own good.

You swallow thickly and lift your gaze to his face, only to meet his eyes already on yours. For a moment, you maintain eye contact but then, you glance off to the side again, “Because all sorts of affection always lead to something more and I banned you from sex for a reason,” You explain with a sigh.

“Yeah well, how long do I have to go through this hell, huh?” He asks, tone stern and aggravated with you.

“Hell?” You scoff, “Choso you know there are other things to our relationship outside of sex-“

“Clearly you’re not hearin’ me,” He cuts off yet again, shaking his head at you as he tugs his belt off and walks even closer to you.

Unconsciously, you take a step back and Choso kisses his teeth as you do so before he tosses his belt on the couch along with the jacket he recently took off.

With a long sigh, Choso brings a hand up to his face and wipes it, as if that’ll help him focus his thoughts. Then, he voices out your name and you tense up a little, “It’s not about the sex,” He says yet again, slowly turning his head to you, “You don’t touch me anymore. Do you know how depriving that is?”

You shrug again, “It’s not the first time you’ve gone without my touch Choso, get over it-“

“Baby you practically live with me now,” He interrupts, “I wake up in the same bed as you almost every morning and when I try to hug you, you’re pulling away from me.”

“Again, every touch leads to something else,” You repeat, frustrated with your boyfriend and how he’s making such a big deal out of this.

Choso’s eyes narrow and a vein pops out in his forehead, “Do you think I lack that much self-control? If you put me on sex-ban then you put me on sex-ban. I have enough restraint to respect that, princess.”

You release a huff, “Okay, well-“

“Well what?” He cuts off impatiently.

Your face twists up, “Well if you’d let me—,” You blink and notice how close he’s gotten to you, your head angling up just a bit to make eye contact with him as he stands hardly an inch away from you. God, he smells good, “F-Finish…” You gulp, “I-I’m not an idiot Choso, you and I both know that self-control or no, when you’re pent up, you get more needy and I always let you have your way.”

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying to you?” Choso asks, head tipping to the side for a moment before he’s leaning down to you, “No seriously, are you rendering the words coming out of my mouth, love?” He asks almost in a way that makes you feel small.

A scowl washes over your expression as your eyes meet his once more, “Yes I’m rendering the words coming out of your mouth, Choso. Are you comprehending anything I’m saying to you?”

“I am.” He hums.

“Okay then why are we still having this conversation?” You ask in a dull tone, voice a bit softer now that he’s all close to you.

Choso cracks a little smirk but he still sounds annoyed, “Because you haven’t laid a finger on me in five days.”

“Choso-“

“That’s a hundred and twenty hours without a single touch from you,” He explains, eyes boring into yours.

Your brows raise and you snicker, “You can’t be serious-“

“It’s been seven days since I last felt your arms around me,” He continues, his body inching closer to your own.

You don’t move away this time and simply keep your eyes directly on his, “Why are you keeping track?”

“Sixteen days since you last kissed me,” Choso recalls, his voice getting lower.

“Oh come on-“

His hand is suddenly placed on your waist and he tugs your body up against his, “And three weeks since we’ve had sex.”

Your breath hitches a bit as your chest clashes with his and you keep your arms and hands everywhere except on him, pretty much proving all the points he just made.

Were you really trying not to touch Choso for the past three weeks? Yes. Is that because you’re worried about him getting carried away? No, you’re worried about you getting carried away. You know Choso has self-control but, it’s you who lacks it sometimes.

Swallowing hard, “Choso…” You murmur carefully.

“Baby I’m starved,” He nearly groans out, both his arms wrapping around your waist while his face inclines toward your own, “I need something from you-, anything.”

You bite down on your lower lip and stare at your boyfriend’s face. He’s so close to you, so desperate for you— it was cute how needy he was.

Purposefully, you lean closer to him and his eyes sink to your lips immediately as they nearly press into his own. Then, you stop a hair away from him, teasing him-, torturing him, “Not until you fix your jealousy issue,” You whisper to the man.

Oh Choso’s losing his mind right now. The urge he has to just press his lips into your plush ones is simply killing him. The arms around your waist tighten and his eyes are pleading with you.

“Baby please?” Choso begs, voice laced with the faintest whine.

You nearly folded at the sound of his begging. Hell, your eyelids began to lower and you wanted to kiss him just as badly as he wanted a kiss from you. You know just one won’t hurt but the fact that it’s been three weeks worries you.

He’s not the only one all pent up and starved, nor does he have any idea how horny you’ve been the past few weeks.

There was a day he came home from the gym and you watched him snatch his sweaty shirt off his body. You swore you were drooling for your boyfriend at the time because he’d been working out excessively just for you.

That was the last day you ended up kissing Choso because as soon as he went and showered, you were all over him. It was hard to control yourself when he smelled so good and his hair was all loose and damp with water— soft groans leaving his throat every time you pressed your lips to his jaw.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t considering eating him up that day. But, you managed to get ahold of yourself at the time and just barely pried your body away from his.

As of right now on the other hand… Your hands are carefully lifting to his arms, gently feeling his muscles through his clothes as your faces remain close to one another.

You wanted to kiss him so badly. It won’t hurt, right?

Slowly, your arms lift up even more and soon wrap around his neck— to which Choso’s breathing picks up and his heart rate increases. The smallest touches from you were already driving him crazy and his hands began to explore your back a little.

“Just one,” You whisper to the man, “One kiss, okay?”

Choso’s nodding eagerly, “Okay.”

The two of you are leaning in, anticipation bubbling in the pits of both of your stomachs as your lips gaze his and he gets the faintest touch of your skin— only to be interrupted by the sudden buzzing of your phone in your pocket.

You pull away and glance down and Choso swears his eye twitches. He was so close, he almost felt your lips again, your pretty soft and heaven-sent lips almost touched his, and yet someone had the nerve to interrupt.

Choso groans and you try to reach in your pocket for your phone but he suddenly smacks your hand away and reaches in your pocket himself.

You frown, “Choso-“

“Who’s callin’ us?” He cuts off. He sounds more pissed off than he was earlier.

The second his eyes lay on the contact written across your screen, he scoffs. The timing couldn’t have been better.

You move to try and see what he’s looking at but Choso shifts his hand on you and pushes your body away.

“Choso what the hell? Who’s calling-“

“You said I’ve been too jealous of a boyfriend, right?” Choso interrupts, his lips curving into a faint smirk before he lifts his gaze to you.

You nod slowly and wearily, “Y-Yeah, but what does that have to do with whoever’s calling m-“

“I’ll answer it for you, baby,” Choso says sweetly before flashing you a smile.

Your brows pinch together and you blink, “Who is it-“

He ignores your question and lifts the phone to his ear, “Hello?”

Someone speaks back to him but you’ve got no idea who.

“Ohhh, you called on accident? Yeah, no, I get that, happens to the best of us,” Choso hums with a shrug.

He seems all too calm and casual about this so you’re mentally trying to figure out who the hell could’ve called you to where your boyfriend is talking so calmly.

You just stand and watch in confusion for a minute as he continues his conversation.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Choso chuckles a bit but there’s a slight vein peeping against his jawline, “Nah man you’re fine. Actually, since I’ve got you on the phone, can I ask you somethin’?”

Your eyes widen and your heart is beating all over the damn place. Slowly, you try to get closer to your boyfriend, “Choso, who-“

He cuts you off by placing a single finger to your lips, quite literally shushing you. You’re taken back by his action and ticked off by his rude gesture.

“You used to fuck my girlfriend, right?” The man questions bluntly. Your entire face gets hot and you’re not sure if that’s because you’re pissed off or because you’re flustered.

Who the hell could he be talking to? Suguru? No, Choso doesn’t get along with him that well… Who else has your number that you’ve-

Gojo.

Your eyes go wide and you move to reach for your phone and snatch it from Choso’s hand but he swiftly and smoothly evades your attempt, mockingly scoffing at you.

“Choso what the hell is wrong with you? Give me my phone-“

Your boyfriend smiles at you. He finds entertainment in how ticked off you are and it only makes you angrier. Especially when he shakes his head no and moves away from you.

Then he has the nerve to laugh, “Yes, I do know the answer to that already. But my question still stands and I’d like to hear it from you since I have you on the phone,” Choso speaks.

You’re still following him around and trying to get your phone from him but he just moves and weaves all of your reaches.

“Yeahh see? There’s the confidence I was lookin’ for,” He says to the male over the phone, “So…” Choso makes eye contact with you and your heart sinks as his words come out, “Wanna do it again?”

The man on the call chokes on air so loudly that even you hear it despite not being near the phone. Then you hear a nervous chuckle, one that’s all too familiar to you.

You fold your arms at your boyfriend, who simply winks at you. “Choso, what are you-“

“Shut up,” He says to you sternly, “You said I’m too jealous of a boyfriend so now I’m trying to change that.”

“By being a fuckin’ asshole?” You spit out to him, both confused and annoyed by everything right now.

“No,” Choso negates, smiling sweetly at you again, “By calling someone over to please my pretty lil’ girlfriend since she won’t let me do it.”

You blink, “What? Choso-“

“Huh? What was that?” He interrupts, his attention back on the phone call, “Yes I was being serious. I-, oh…” His expression dips a little, “T-There’s a word for that kinda thing?”

You wish you could hear the entirety of this conversation because you’re so confused as to where this is going.

“Ohhh, then yeah,” Choso nods his head and looks at you with a smile, “I guess you could call me that—,” Something is said over the phone and he laughs, “What? No, she doesn’t know. Or, she didn’t know but, she’ll find out soon enough right?”

“Find out what soon enough-,” He starts walking away from you and you move to follow him, “Choso!”

You’re ignored as his conversation continues and eventually, Choso walks into his bedroom, shuts the door in your face, and locks it.

You stand there for a while staring at the door in disbelief of your boyfriend. What the hell just happened? What the actual fuck is going on??

You go to knock on the door, “Choso, open the door!” You shout.

The sound of him still chatting it up with Gojo over the phone is heard and you’re feeling all too many emotions at once. From annoyance to anger to confusion and even very faint arousal, you were completely baffled.

Another groan pours from your lips and after beating your hand against the door for maybe five minutes or so, awaiting some kind of response from your boyfriend, you just give up and stomp off.

Annoyed beyond belief, you make your way back into the living room, grab his things, and toss them onto the floor before plopping down on the couch.

You hastily grab the nearby remote and press play on the TV, bringing your thumb to your lip and chewing on your nail a bit as you try to distract yourself from whatever the fuck your lovely boyfriend is talking about with Gojo Satrou.

Somewhere deep down, you think you’re thankful Gojo called when he did because you almost kissed Choso again and you knew you’d let him take things further if he wanted to. If Choso thinks he’s deprived, he’s got another thing coming because you’ve been aching for it.

Doesn’t he know it’s just as difficult for you not to touch him as it is for him not to be touched? Does he not realize how much of a tease he can be? How in the middle of the night, he’d snuggle into your back and his crotch would press into your ass? Waking you up horny and frustrated?

You scoff. Choso doesn’t even realize how whenever he comes home from his job, he looks so stupidly handsome undressing himself— slight grunts and groans leaving those soft lips of his as he does so.

Then, even when you were hugging him, he’d bury his face into the crook of your neck and his every exhale and inhale made your heart skip a beat.

Oh and let’s not forget how simple phone calls and text messages were enough to get you worked up. It’d be so random too how Choso would text you as you’re in class. Something simple like Baby I miss you would have your heart throbbing and your smile unwavering.

There was one weekend where Choso left town to go visit his two younger brothers and he called you late that night. His voice was deep, husked even, and his breathing was a bit unsteady as he told you he was trying to go to sleep but he couldn’t because he started thinking about you…

Thus leading to him with a painful boner. Then, to make matters worse, not only did he end up sending you a video of what you do to him even when you’re not around but, he had the nerve to return home that week looking fucking perfect.

His face had seemed clearer, his skin was as smooth as ever, he smelled heavenly, and of course— of course Choso decided to come home and touch all over your body, claiming to have missed you terribly.

He was such a fucking tease. And he knows it too, Choso knows what he does to you. He sees it in your face all the time— hears it in your voice.

Which is all exactly why he couldn’t bear with you reducing your touches. That’s what caused the argument today as he came home.

Normally, if you were at Choso’s apartment when he got off of work, which you have been more-so in the past few months, you’d rush to him and greet him at his door. Before the sex-ban, you’d help him undress and smother his face in kiss after kiss, telling him how much you missed him, etc.

And of course he appreciated this more than anything. Hence why he’d constantly note that because you do little things like that, he swears to put a ring on your finger if you’d let him.

Even so, ever since you told Choso you weren’t gonna have sex with him for a while, you stopped doing so. Which is all why he’s upset and you’re frustrated. Maybe you should just drop the sex-ban…

Or maybe just touch him more like he wants and learn some self-control. But, it’s not like it’s your fault your boyfriend is so irresistible. How are you supposed to keep your hands off him-

There’s a sudden knock on the front door and you flinch out of your thoughts. You’d been so caught up with them that you hadn’t even realized thirty minutes had gone by and you still didn’t have your phone, nor did Choso come out of his room.

Instead of moving a muscle, you groan, “Cho, someone’s at the door!”

There’s no response for a minute and your groan deepens as you toss your head back against the couch and frown.

“Choso!” You shout, voice projecting throughout his apartment.

“What?!” He shouts back from his bedroom.

You turn your head toward the direction of his hallway, “There’s someone at the door!”

Neither of you has moved an inch and both of you are just shouting across his home, “You can’t answer it?” He asks.

“You’re closer!” You argue.

Choso chuckles and then his voice gets a bit louder as he cracks his door open to yell, “It’s for you anyway!”

“I-,” You blink and then let off a scoff as you spring up from the couch, “Tch, it’s for you anyway…” You say under your breath, mocking your boyfriend in an annoyed tone.

Everything he was doing was pissing you off and you had half a mind to head back to your apartment. Every step you took was heavy and you wanted Choso to hear how agitated you were.

“Can’t even answer the fuckin’ door…” You grumble to yourself as your hand reaches for the knob, unlocks the door, and goes to open it, “…Getting on my goddamn-,” You swing the door open and your eyes immediately widen, “…N-Nerves,” You whisper out to finish your statement.

In front of you stands Gojo Satoru. All six foot three of him, bright fluffy white hair, black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, angelically handsome face, and stupid rose-tinted lips pulled into a smug grin standing right in front of you.

You had to blink once, maybe twice-, perhaps three or four times to figure out if you were seeing things before you scoff, “Satoru?”

Cocking his head to the side, “Trouble in paradise?” Gojo comments in response, voice just as playful as you remember it.

“W-What the fuck are you doing here?” You breathe out, brows tensing and confusion taking over.

Gojo’s shoulders lift into a casual shrug, “I was invited, duh.”

You stare. Then, slowly and carefully, you start nodding as you move to shut the door on him. Maybe you were dreaming?

A hand is pressed to the edge of the door, an arm nearing your head as this hand comes from behind you, and the door is pulled open. You instantly jump as your boyfriend seemed to have simply appeared right behind you and you swear your heart was pounding out of your chest.

Lips near your ear and Choso’s voice is smooth as he speaks to you, “C’mon baby, don’t be rude to our guest,” He murmurs to you, deep voice caressing your eardrums and making you lose all your thoughts for a moment.

You quickly snap out of it and whirl your head around to look at the dark-haired man, “Choso, what the hell is going on-“

“Oh c’monnn,” Gojo suddenly speaks, “You heard your boyfriend,” He chuckles and you turn to him, eyes going wide as he leans down to you, “Don’t be rude to your guest,” Gojo murmurs.

He was so close that you could smell the faint mint coming from his mouth. His proximity worried you and you stepped back, only to run into Choso and your entire backside to bump into him. Your boyfriend places a hand on your waist and tugs you back a bit to give space for Gojo to walk in.

Never in your life have you been more confused than you are as you watch Gojo Satoru enter your boyfriend Choso’s apartment.

Then, Choso leans over just a little so that he can shut the door but he doesn’t move from behind you. Your eyes are all over Gojo’s face, asking him a million questions with your gaze alone.

Gojo starts snickering, “Sweets, if you have a question, just ask-“

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You blurt out, tone heated before you proceed to give him no time to respond. You’re then turning to Choso, “What the hell is going on?”

Your boyfriend stares at you innocently, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yeah, you’re a smart girl, you can figure it out,” Gojo chastises.

You swear you’re about two seconds away from popping a blood vessel. An arm of yours moves to shove Choso away from you and you scoff, “First off, fuck both of you. Start explaining yourselves, now.” You huff out sternly.

Choso flashes a sheepish grin, “I already explained everything to you, why are you confused-“

“You were being serious?!” You shout, “You seriously called Satoru over to fuck me?! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You said I was too jealous of a boyfriend so I invited him to prove to you that I’m not,” Choso tells you, the look on his face completely serious.

You couldn’t believe him right now. Not only were you feeling embarrassed having Gojo stand here and listen to you and Choso bicker like an old married couple but you were also fuming with your boyfriend.

“W-What?!” You huff out.

Choso gives you this blank stare he knows pisses you off, “I don’t understand why you’re confused.”

“You don’t understand why I’m-,” You cut yourself off with a sigh and move to pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, “Choso Kamo, this is the kinda thing you talk about with your girlfriend beforehand.”

“Are we not talking about it now?” He argues, moving to fold his arms across his chest and tilt his head.

You glare at him for a moment before glancing back to Gojo. Then, you chuckle in an annoyed manner, “We shouldn’t be talking about this in front of… him.”

“Him?” Gojo pouts, “Hey, I have a name y’know-“

“Satoru shut the hell up. You will be dealt with, just give me a moment,” You cut off warningly. Turning back to look at Choso, “As for you, I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you but we’re not doing this.”

Choso raises a brow, “Not doing what baby?”

“I’m not about to…” Your face twists up in disapproval, “…To cheat on you just so you can prove some stupid point-“

“Why not?” Your boyfriend asks nonchalantly.

“What do you mean why not? Choso what even possessed you to invite Satoru over?”

“I literally told you why already,” He says bluntly, “I wanna prove I’m not the jealous dickhead you keep making me out to be.”

Your brows raise, “And you wanna prove that by making me have sex with another man in front of you?”

“First off, I’m not gonna make you do anything,” Choso clarifies, “Secondly, yes, I do want you to have sex with another guy just to prove a point.”

“You’re crazy. I mean, Cho, you can’t be serious about this-,” You cut yourself off as you just barely glance down— spotting something that makes you eat your words. “Oh… Oh wow. You-, you’re…” You stammer as your lashes bat in disbelief.

Choso scoffs, “Yeahh… Still don’t believe me?”

“Why’re you…” Your brows furrow as you stare at the bulge in your boyfriend’s sweats, “D-Did just the thought of me and Satoru having sex in front of you get you like that?” You ask softly as you point.

Gojo suddenly pops his head over your shoulder and you flinch as he speaks, “Damnnnn, you seriously are a cuck,” He chuckles out.

Then his hands slither onto your waist and your entire body tenses up. Swallowing, you turn your head to Gojo and glare at him, “Don’t touch me.”

Blue eyes meet yours and he smirks, peeling his hands off your body but keeping his face close, “He wants me to.”

“Well, I don’t. I haven’t agreed to any of this yet-“

“Yet?” Both of the men point out in sync.

You swallow, “I-I mean, I… I wish you two would’ve given me some time to… t-to y’know, wrap my head around this,” You stammer out.

Having your stupidly attractive boyfriend and the annoyingly handsome Gojo Satoru in the same room, both taunting and teasing you was unbearably nerve-wracking.

Slowly, you look over to your boyfriend, “You really want me to-“

“Yes baby,” Choso cuts off.

“What’s even in this for you… aside from,” Your eyes narrow down at his boner, “A-Aside from getting off to this twisted fantasy of yours?”

He snickers, “Uh, I’ll be off of sex-ban after this.”

Your brows pinch together and you fold your arms, “Says who?”

“Baby, the point of the sex-ban was to teach me a lesson about bein’ jealous,” Choso explains, stepping closer to you. Your body was steadily heating up since Gojo was right behind you and Choso was nearing you, “Consider this my lesson learned.”

You scoff, “…Even if I did agree to this…” Slowly, you turn back to Gojo and his face is far closer than you anticipated it to be, his lips nearly on yours as your head turned, “A-Are you seriously okay with this, Cho?”

Gojo’s hands are placed onto your waist yet again but this time, you don’t push him off or tell him to move. You stare into those pretty blue eyes of his and watch as he smiles.

“He’s more okay with this than you think,” Gojo murmurs to you, tilting his head in a way that makes it seem like he was readying himself to kiss you.

You stare at Gojo for a second longer than you mean to before turning to look at your boyfriend once more and god damn his pupils are dilated and you swear his cock has doubled in size beneath his clothes.

Oh he was extremely serious about this.

Choso chuckles, “I can’t exactly fake my dick bein’ hard, can I? What more proof about this do you need to see I’m serious?”

“S-So… if I sleep with Gojo… you want the sex-ban to be over?” You ask for clarification as you glance back and forth between Choso’s left and right eyes.

“Mhm,” He nods at you, “And my point will be proved.”

“Right…” You look at Gojo again and his lips are a hair’s length away from yours at this point, “A-And you… you’re okay with this?”

“What kinda’ question is that?” The white-haired man laughs, “In what universe would I pass up the opportunity to fuck you again?”

You frown a little but, you’re no longer shying away from this, “Satoru… T-This is so wrong-“

“Is it any more wrong than the things I’ve had you do before?” He whispers lowly to you, low enough for Choso to miss what he uttered.

You swallow thickly at his words, “W-Well… yes, yes it is. I’m cheating on-“

“Is it really cheating if he wants you to do it?” Gojo argues.

You pout, “Yes-“

“No, no it’s not,” He interrupts while flashing a comforting smile at you.

“Satoru-“

“Can you two stop arguing and just make out already,” Choso groans, “I’m gonna blow my load before we even get to the good part…”

Gojo chuckles and lifts a careful hand to the side of your face, cupping your cheek in his palm as he pulls you close, “Well, sweetheart? Your boyfriend’s gettin’ needy.”

You shake your head slowly and your gaze falls to Gojo’s lips, “…This is so wrong.”

“Yeah,” Gojo murmurs back before pecking your lips, you sigh immediately and Gojo whispers against you, “But he likes it.”

There’s one last lingering look shared between you and Gojo before he gently presses his lips to yours again, feeling as you sigh against him and just barely ease into this. After all, it was different and weird to kiss someone who wasn’t your boyfriend after a wonderful ten months of dating him.

There are a lot of things you could’ve predicted in your future with Choso but this damn sure wasn’t a part of it. No, making out with Gojo Satoru as Choso just watches the two of you was not something you could’ve ever planned for.

Gojo’s taking things slow, melting into your mouth and steadily parting your lips to push his tongue inside as you hum against him. Choso was losing his mind. Yeah, from the second he saw the way Gojo looked at you, his cock sprung up.

Did he understand why? Not exactly, no. Hell, only about forty-five minutes ago did Choso learn of the word cuck and what it means to be one. He’s watching you and Gojo make out for a little bit before his feet move toward the two of you.

Choso nor Gojo miss the way you moan against Gojo’s lips as Choso presses his own into your neck. Oh. You were about to experience both of these men at the same time? Gojo and Choso. Gojo Satoru and Choso Kamo. To what being must you thank for such a heavenly experience? Your possessive boyfriend and your obsessive ex-lover (if you can even call him that).

Your boyfriend begins to suck on the side of your neck as you hum and squirm in between the two men. Gojo’s got his large hands firmly placed on your waist and you whine into his mouth as Choso moves to kiss under your jaw. With Gojo behind you and Choso now in front of you, you couldn’t possibly wrap your head around the fact that you were being sandwiched between these two men.

Handling either of them one at a time was already too much for you and yet here you were having to deal with both. You feel Gojo’s clothed cock press into your ass and he groans into your mouth before pulling away, both of you making low-lidded eye contact.

“Satoru,” You whisper.

He hums, “Shit-, this is hotter than I thought it’d be.”

Choso’s busy sucking at your neck before he pulls away with a loud pop, his breathing heavy against your skin as you grow hazy in lust. Then, he wipes his mouth off and takes a step back, “Baby…”

You turn your head to him with wide eyes, your lips prettily messy with saliva from Gojo’s tongue and fuck if Choso didn’t find you sexier than ever. Your brows raise innocently and he smirks at you.

“Can you do somethin’ f’me?” Choso hums out. You try moving toward him but Gojo tugs you back and Choso chuckles, “Don’t worry, I don’t want you to touch me yet,” Your boyfriend explains, “I want you to take care of our guest first, can you do that?”

Your eyes widen and you glance behind you and up at Gojo who flashes you a smile, “Yeah, can you take care of me, sweetheart?”

Gulping, you fein cluelessness, “T-Take care of you how…”

“Oh don’t act dumb,” Choso scoffs.

Gojo snickers, “Right, don’t act dumb…” He coos at you.

You pout and glance back over to your boyfriend, “I’m not actin’ dumb… I just want you guys to tell me what you want me to do…”

“Oh?” Choso raises a brow, “So you’re done actin’ like a brat now, huh?”

“I-I wasn’t acting like a brat earlier, you were just being an asshole,” You huff out before rolling your eyes and looking off to the side.

Gojo quirks a brow, “That’s no way to talk to your boyfriend, now is it?” He murmurs to you, causing a chill to slip down your spine.

“But…” Your lashes flutter, “He was being a fucking asshole-”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on ya’...” Gojo interrupts.

Choso suddenly nods, “Yeahh… She does, doesn’t she?” You swallow hard as your boyfriend voices his thoughts, “Why don’t you shut it up?” He suggests.

A hand is placed on your jaw and your face is tugged so that you’re looking at Gojo again, his fingers digging into your cheeks, “I should, shouldn’t I?” He teases, shifting to run his thumb over your lower lip, “She talks way too much anyway.”

“E-Excuse me-“

“She can’t talk when she’s got a mouth full of cock though,” Choso comments.

You swallow down whatever argument you were going to spit out to these two men.

Gojo smirks, “Good point…” He hums before slipping his thumb past your lips, “But, that’s probably what she wants anyway.”

“Think so?” Choso hums, smiling a little.

Gojo nods, “Know so.”

“Okay well, who are we to deny her of such a thing?” Your boyfriend shrugs casually.

“Exactly,” Gojo agrees before placing his attention back on you, “Is that what you want, love? Hm? S’that why you’ve been such a fuckin’ brat? Y’need someone to put you back in your place?”

Yet another pout pulls at your lips, “I wasn’t-“

“Aht, aht, none of that,” Gojo interjects, scoffing at you and finding your expression cute, “It’s yes or no, sweetheart.”

“Y-Yes,” You stammer in response.

He bites down on his lower lip, “Yeah?”

Before you can even nod, your boyfriend’s making your fluster state ten times worse, “Yes what, princess?”

“Yes please…” You whine.

“Be specific,” Choso demands, voice low, “C’mon, tell Satoru what you want.”

“I…” You gulp, “I want you to…”

“Aww don’t be shy, s’just me, sweets,” Gojo coos, his voice gentle.

You were losing your mind right now. Gojo being so careful with you while Choso forces you to voice your needs? Oh you’re not making it through the rest of this interaction, or at least, not in one piece and not mentally okay by the end of it.

“I want you to put me in my place ‘Toru,” You finally manage out.

Gojo hums deeply, “In front of your boyfriend? Seriously?” He teases as he moves the hands on your waist to spin you around. Then he tugs your body up against his, “You really are a lil’ slut, aren’t you?”

Your face twists up a little before you glance back to Choso who gives you a reassuring look— telling you through his eyes that this was okay.

After which, you look at Gojo again and nod, “Yeah.”

He chuckles before bending down a little and then lifting you into the air, your legs wrapped around him as he does so, “Well, if you insist. I guess I’ll have to start by punishing this mouth of yours for bein’ so mean to your boyfriend.”

You frown as you disagree with the claim of you being mean to Choso, “I-“

“Don’t act like that’s not what you’ve been wanting anyway,” Choso adds as he watches Gojo carry you past him. He trails behind the two of you, “I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at me lately, baby. You’ve been itchin’ to suck me off… Buuut since you put me on sex-ban, I guess that’ll have to do, right?”

You send the man a look and he smiles at you, completely obsessed with teasing you through this whole thing.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Choso hums as you, him, and Gojo enter the living room, “You said you’d take care of our guest first, remember?”

“Yeah, sweets,” Gojo chimes in— God the way they keep doing that is getting on your nerves-, “I can’t wait to put my cock down your throat.”

Okay, by this point, you were beyond pooling in your underwear and it doesn’t get any better as Gojo takes a seat on the couch with you sliding into his lap, his erection poking up against your cunt as you sit comfortably. Then there’s Choso who takes a seat not too far away from the two of you, his cock aching for some kind of attention.

One last time, you glance at your boyfriend, and then at Gojo, and then you sigh.

This was really about to happen-

There’s a soft tap to your ass by Gojo, “Don’t start zonin’ out now,” He hums.

Then Choso’s talking again, “Yeah baby, hurry up ‘nd get on your knees— I wanna see how well you suck another guy off.”

Yeah, this was about to be a long night…

part two

tags;

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