#he just shuts that part of himself off and pretends to be normal and thinking he’s extremely good at it

[1425fivefive]

↻FLIP FLOP for Learned Behavior

Monaco afterparty toilets scene - Oscar's POV

would love to see a little sneak into what was going on in Oscar's head, the whole Charles thing, the sex, and especially after the kiss, poor guy has been dealing with Lando's mixed signals for months

Beloved anon, this took me ages. Have 2k of the Monaco toilets scene in Learned Behavior from Oscar's perspective:

Watching Lando from across the room—glaring at Charles, sucking angrily on the straw of his drink—Oscar can’t help but wonder about it. What Lando and Charles were to each other.

When Oscar had asked about it back in Miami, Lando had gotten all weird and cagey, done this awkward, forced laugh and insisted that Charles was straight. But Oscar’s seen the way Charles looks at men. Noticed the way Charles looks at Lando, sometimes, when Lando’s not looking. Something hungry in his gaze.

A part of Oscar doesn’t really want to know all the details. The thing with Lando feels delicate, breakable. Like if Oscar pushes too hard it might shatter, Lando looking at him with watery, hurt eyes, even as he’s telling Oscar to fuck off.

And, like—things are fine the way they are, probably. Good, even. Oscar reckons he’d put up with a lot of shit if it meant he could still have Lando fuck him every weekend, call him a good boy, get off on telling him not to come. Trace a thumb over his lip, pull his hair, tell him how pretty he looks getting fucked.

Oscar surreptitiously tries to adjust his shorts. It’s just—he hasn’t come since Imola and he’s fucking aching for it, keeps dreaming about how good Lando feels inside of him and waking up hard, dripping onto the sheets. Sometimes he thinks about taking a picture of himself, hard and swollen and wet, sending it to Lando, begging Lando to let him come, secretly hoping Lando will tell him no.

Watching Lando staring at Charles, still, Oscar wants to beg Lando to pay attention to him. To forget about whatever bullshit happened with Charles and drag Oscar back to his flat, take him apart until he’s crying, finally let him come. 

But Lando can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Charles and before Oscar can really think he’s walking across the room, sliding into the pocket of space beside Lando.

Lando glances over at him and Oscar sees the way his cheeks flush, eyes going dark. It’s gratifying, at least, to know Lando’s attracted to him. But Lando goes right back to staring at Charles and it stings, being dismissed so easily.

Oscar tries to keep the annoyance out of his voice as he asks, “What’s got you all pissed off?”

“Nothing,” Lando says, still openly glaring at Charles.

Oscar glances over at where Charles is standing in a crowd of people, eyes bright, laughing and smiling. “You could at least pretend to be happy for him,” Oscar says.

Lando’s brows unfurrow slightly and he finally manages to tear his gaze away from Charles, looking over at Oscar.

It feels like a win, however small. “There you go,” Oscar says softly.

He thinks, for a moment, about letting it go. Asking Lando to take him home. 

But Lando’s been ignoring him for most of the night, and Oscar can’t resist saying, “I’ve never understood why you two don’t get along. Charles is nice—”

Lando snorts. “Charles isn’t nice. He’s polite, yeah, but he’s not nice.”

Oscar wants to say, Of course you’d think that, you two have some weird, fucked-up psychosexual thing going on that’s honestly getting extremely fucking annoying.

Instead, Oscar tries to make a joke of it. “Dunno, mate, the whole adoption thing—”

“Yeah, we’ve heard,” Lando snaps, letting out a mean little laugh. “No one’s been able to shut up about it, honestly.”

Oscar can see the flash of regret on Lando’s face the moment he’s said it, the look Lando always gets when he knows he’s crossed a line. Normally Oscar forgives him. Knows Lando says shit without thinking and doesn’t mean most of it. Especially when it comes to Charles.

But Oscar’s sympathy can only go so far when Lando won’t fucking talk about any of it. Won’t even admit the basic fact that something happened between them.

“Right, well.” Oscar knocks back the rest of his drink, setting the empty glass on the bar. “I’m gonna leave you to it.”

Lando looks like he’s about to say something, but Oscar’s not really in the mood to hear it. He turns to go, accidentally catching Charles’s eye in the process.

“Oscar!” Charles calls, waving him over.

Oscar knows how it’ll look to Lando if he goes over to Charles, but he sort of wants to make Lando jealous. After Lando’s been, frankly, a bit of a cunt all weekend, even after Oscar finished P2. Lando hasn’t even congratulated him on the podium.

So Oscar goes over to Charles, lets Charles pull him into a hug, lets Charles crow about their father-son 1-2, lets Charles grip the back of his neck and smile at him. It’s nice to have someone care, but Oscar can’t help but wish it was Lando touching him like this, smiling at him and reliving the race.

But before Oscar can really say anything, he hears Lando’s voice saying, “Mind if I borrow Osc here for a sec?”

—

Lando drags him to a toilet and he’s on him as soon as the door’s locked, backing Oscar up against the sink, fingers digging into Oscar’s hips, mouth sucking at Oscar’s neck.

“Fuck, Lando,” Oscar moans, too loud by half for a bathroom in the middle of a club. But he can’t bring himself to care, too relieved at the feeling of Lando’s hands on him, Lando’s thigh slotting between his legs.

Oscar grinds down on the hard muscle of Lando’s thigh, whimpering at how good it feels to finally get some friction on his cock. 

It feels like he loses any capacity for rational thought the moment Lando gets his hands on him, the second Lando starts telling him how good he’s being, gripping his arse with his massive fucking hands. 

“You sound so fucking good,” Lando says, breath warm against Oscar’s neck, sending little sparks down Oscar’s spine. “So fucking hot, Osc.”

Oscar can’t help but whine, grinding harder against Lando.

“Fuck,” Lando groans. He slides a hand down, gripping Oscar through his trousers.

Oscar can feel his briefs get wetter, cock straining against the zipper, the friction unbearable as Lando rubs at Oscar through the fabric.

It’s insane how Lando’s hand practically covers him completely. How Lando barely has to move when he strokes Oscar’s cock, his hand so big it makes Oscar’s cock look tiny, only the flushed head peeking out of Lando’s fist. Lando calls it cute, sometimes, tells Oscar what a pretty cock he has, small and perfect. It makes Oscar feel insane, makes him want to come all over Lando’s fingers and lick it off, beg Lando to fuck him, ask Lando to never let him come again.

“Have you come since Imola?” Lando asks.

Oscar shakes his head, whimpers. “No, I—you didn’t say I could.”

“Jesus, Osc.” Lando tips his head against Oscar’s shoulder, still rubbing Oscar through his trousers.

At this rate, Oscar’s scared of coming in his clothes. But he wants it so bad, feels like he’ll lose his mind if Lando doesn’t get him off. He’d hold it, if Lando said he had to, but he feels tears pricking his eyes at the thought of not being allowed to come tonight. He just—he needs it so fucking bad. Needs Lando to make him come, needs Lando to look at him like Oscar’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, needs Lando murmuring praise while Oscar spills over his fingers.

Lando seems to be able to tell how desperate Oscar is, because he says, “You need to come, yeah?”

Oscar nods, frantic.

Lando’s already undoing the button of his trousers, tugging them and his briefs down his thighs, freeing his cock to the cold air of the toilet.

But Lando’s palm is warm when he wraps it around Oscar and Oscar can’t help the moan that escapes him, eyes sliding shut in relief, head tipping back against the mirror.

Fingers slide through Oscar’s hair, pulling, hard, and Oscar whines, eyes flying open.

“You have to look at me,” Lando breathes, stroking Oscar firm and fast. “You have to look at me if you want me to let you come.”

Oscar forces himself to look at Lando, forces himself to watch as Lando drags him closer and closer to the edge. Lando’s spouting nonsense and Oscar can’t help himself, whining and crying out as Lando rubs a thumb over the head of his cock, brings his hand up to Oscar’s mouth and tells Oscar to spit, before wrapping his hand around Oscar again, everything slick and hot and wet.

Oscar feels like he’s seconds away from coming, his abs aching from the efforts of holding back, thighs trembling.

But Lando looks like he’s enjoying it, like he likes seeing Oscar strung out and desperate. When Oscar meets Lando’s eyes, Lando’s pupils are so wide his eyes are practically black.

Oscar realizes, then, that he might never be able to walk away from this. That he’d let Lando behave as badly as he wants, treat him like shit, never talk about anything, as long as it meant Lando would touch him like this. Firm and confident and in control, looking like it’s a fucking privilege to get to see Oscar flushed and trembling with need.

It’s never—Oscar’s always felt fucking weird about how much it turns him on to be ordered around a bit, told not to come, fucked hard and rough. With his ex he just—shoved it to the back of his mind. Watched porn and otherwise tried to ignore it. There’d been a few blokes throughout the years, but—they all acted like they were doing him a favor. It wasn’t like Lando, who stares at him in awe, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing when Oscar begs for it, whimpers and whines and lets Lando tell him not to come.

Lando’s still stroking him steadily, asking Oscar all sorts of questions—whether he likes it, whether Charles would treat him like this. Oscar barely knows what he’s saying, just knows that he’ll do whatever Lando wants, say yes to anything, as long as Lando will make him come at the end of it.

“What’re you good for?” Lando breathes, eyes flitting over Oscar’s face, hand steadily stroking over Oscar’s cock.

Oscar takes a shaky breath, tries to figure out what the right answer is. He can’t work it out and, ultimately, he simply tells the truth. “Being used.”

Lando’s brain seems to short-circuit at that. He bites at Oscar’s shoulder, grip tightening around Oscar’s cock.

Lando’s hands are pulling at Oscar’s hair and his cock and he feels caught in Lando’s firm grip, laid out on display for him, here to be used however Lando wants. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

“By who, Osc?” Lando murmurs, staring at Oscar’s mouth like he’s thinking about kissing him.

Please, Oscar thinks. Please fucking kiss me, I’ll do anything you want.

And Oscar’s already telling the truth, so he says, “You.”

“Come,” Lando breathes, fingers pulling at Oscar’s hair, eyes locked on Oscar’s. “Come, baby, please.”

Oscar’s shaking as he comes, jerking forward as his cock spills messily over Lando’s fingers. It almost hurts, coming after being denied for so long but Oscar likes the edge of pain, likes how it feels almost sharp. Like he can’t do anything other than feel.

Oscar lets out a shocked gasp when Lando darts forward, pressing his lips to Oscar’s.

Lando’s lips feel incredible, warm and soft, swallowing Oscar’s desperate sounds. Oscar wants to fist his hands into Lando’s hair, pull him closer, keep him there. But his orgasm’s still rolling through him and he barely feels in control of his limbs, too overwhelmed by pleasure and the shock of being kissed to do anything other than moan into Lando’s mouth.

But Lando doesn’t seem to care, whining and licking into Oscar’s mouth, a shock of heat as their tongues slide against each other. 

Oscar doesn’t want to stop coming, wants to keep coming in Lando’s tight grip, whimpering against Lando’s mouth, surrounded by Lando’s heat and slightly-sweet scent.

But soon enough he’s slumping back against the mirror and Lando’s blinking at him with a dazed expression.

Oscar’s about to ask Lando to kiss him again when Lando’s stumbling back, grabbing paper towels and wiping Oscar’s come off his hand, tossing them in the bin and banging his way out the door.

Oscar lets out a shocked laugh, staring blankly at the closed door. “Cool,” Oscar mutters, grabbing a paper towel to clean himself up. “Really fucking cool.”

It’s classic fucking Lando. Acting like Oscar’s the hottest thing in the world, like Lando will die if he doesn’t get to fuck him, then going back to being weird and distant the moment it’s ended.

This would all be a whole lot fucking easier, Oscar thinks, if he could stop convincing himself that Lando actually feels something.

[wateruamelon]

doormans being chronic non sleepers and crossing paths at 4am

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. "Shut up, mom!" prank with JJK men.

➜ featuring: nanami kento, gojo satoru, geto suguru.

➜synopsis: your child(ren) has a death wish for sure.

➜note: wasn't able to pick a name for nanami's child. also sorry to the anon who sent this, i had a hard time understanding the request at first. anyway, part 2?

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

༉‧₊˚. NANAMI KENTO

“You need to start learning how to fold your clothes,” you mention casually to your daughter as you carry a basket of warm laundry to the couch.

“Why would I do that?” Nanami’s eyes look up from his book, but he doesn’t budge.

“When you move out, you will only have yourself to rely on,” you continue with the advice and your daughter rolls her eyes as she makes her way to the kitchen.

“Ugh moving out this, moving out that. Just say you want to get rid of me.”

“What–I would never, I’m just reminding you that one day you will become an adult and–”

“Oh just shut up, mom!” 

You truly gave birth to a mini you, a prankster. When you first saw the tiktok trend, you and your daughter had giggled to yourselves at the thought of getting a reaction out of her father. Though, you did warn her of the repercussions. Your husband did not play when it came to showing respect to you.

“I beg your pardon?” Nanami sits up from the couch so fast, it almost makes you jump out of your skin. You don’t have time to react, or hold him back before he is storming towards the kitchen where your teenage daughter was hiding. “What did you just say to your mother?”

“I said shut up, because she was bothering me.”

“And you think that’s one way to speak to my wife?” You see his eyebrows furrow, he even slams the book he was reading down on the kitchen counter so hard that his arm veins are about to pop out.

“Kento,” you walk up behind him, calling out his name softly.

“No, let me take this.”

“No baby listen–”

“I said I will take this.” It’s only when he repeats himself in a stern manner, that your daughter starts to giggle nervously.

“Daddy, it was a prank.”

“Yeah, baby it’s a prank.” You rub his shoulders and biceps reassuringly. Your daughter quickly wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest.

“I’d never be disrespectful like that.”

“Yeah well, it almost gave me a heart attack,” his voice is now much softer and warmer as he exhales, running his fingers through his daughter’s hair. He pulls you towards him and kisses your forehead before patting his daughter’s head.

“Now, whose idea was it?”

“Mommy’s.”

“Hey!” 

༉‧₊˚. GOJO SATORU

“Hey Ryuu, could you take out the trash please?” 

“No, I’m busy.” Satoru’s ears perk up at the sound of his son’s tone. But he doesn’t budge from where he’s standing in the kitchen.

“Baby, it’s been sitting there all day and it’s full. Could you please–”

“Shut up, mom. I said I’m busy.”

Normally, Satoru wasn’t easy to rile up. His relationship with his son was hilarious, one where he doted on his child whilst the latter pretended as though he couldn’t stand all the love and affection he received from his dad. But despite all the love that Satoru had for his son, you were number one. You come first, you are his wife and the mother of his child. When his son will leave, you will be the one he gets to spend the rest of his time with–and when he decided to marry you, a child wasn’t even in the picture.

So he will be damned if he was just going to stand there and let his son talk to you like that.

You freeze when you feel a sudden surge of cursed energy–you knew your husband when he got angry, it clouded over the rational part of his brain. So when you see him start to walk upstairs where his son is, you have to physically grab his arm to stop him. Thank god the infinity was off.

“Satoru– toru! Baby!”

“Who the fuck does he think he is, huh?” His eyes are glowing. You really shouldn’t have played this prank on him.

“It’s a prank baby.” 

“A prank?” It’s fascinating how this man can go from 0 to 100 back to 0 so quickly. He calms down so fast, glancing at the top of the stairs where he sees his son standing with his hands in his pockets.

“I told her it would be a bad idea.”

“I–hey! I didn’t think it was gonna be this bad,”

“I did,” Ryuu starts to walk down the stairs and past you two. “He’s said it before. He doesn’t play when it comes to people showing you respect, even if it’s his own son.” 

Satoru can only sigh at his son’s words before staring at you. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t…But I won’t lie, seeing you riled up like that–”

“I’m too old to have a sibling!”

༉‧₊˚. GETO SUGURU

Your girls were a giggly mess. You shush them before saying very loudly.

“In what world is this acceptable?” 

“Mom,” your daughter, Tsukimi, feigns an annoyed tone, refusing to look up from her phone. “I really don’t care.”

“But I do.” You stand over her bed, motioning for her twin sister to get into the role as well.

“Does it matter?” Asahi uses the same annoyed, bored tone. One that quickly catches Suguru’s attention. He walks into the main area from the garage before hearing the argument upstairs. 

Quickly wiping his hands with the dirty rag attached to his pants, he starts to make his way up to your twin daughters’ room to see what it was about. 

“Of course it does, I’m your mother.”

“You’re really just pushing it.”

“You sneaked out last night! Do you know how disappointed your father will be?” Suguru freezes up at the revelation. But he doesn’t let his disappointment or anger get the best of him, maybe the four of you can work this out–your girls were at a rebellious age, this was bound to happen and all he needs to do is figure out a way for all of you to get along without–

“Aren’t you supposed to be our best friend or something?” Tsukimi sits up on the bed, furrowing her eyebrows in a way that reminds you how similar her and her father’s features are. 

“Right now I’m your mother.” 

“Oh would you just shut up?”

A loud slam makes the three of you flinch, and you turn to find Suguru standing by the door looking as angry as a raging bull.

“Who said it.”

“Wha–”

“Who said it. Who was it?” He is so furious you could see steam coming out from the top of his head. “Have you lost your fucking minds to be talking to your mother like that? Did I fail at educating you or what?”

“Suguru–”

“No,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you out of the room. “I need to talk to them.”

“No wait, listen–”

“I don’t want to hear it.” When you see that he had a stern look on his face, you realize that you need to save your daughters from the prank.

“It was a prank. I promise you.” 

“It really was a prank,” your twin daughters are sitting on the same bed, looking as sheepish and as guilty as ever. 

“And it was my idea,” Tsukimi adds. 

“And I didn’t stop her.” Your thumbs trace his cheeks, smiling apologetically at him. “Sorry,” 

Suguru sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he shakes his head.

“Fucking prankters. That almost gave me a heart attack.”

“But admit it, we’re good actresses, right?” Asahi asks with a grin and Suguru chuckles before ruffling her hair.

“Yeah, you sure are.”

➜ ┊: COMMISSIONS | KOFI

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[imfinereallyy]

hummingbirds

Steve’s crying on the porch of his parents' house, with a duffel bag and baseball bat, when Eddie pulls into the driveway.

“Jesus, Steve, what happened?” Eddie crouches down to get eye level with Steve. Despite being dark out, the sun set long ago, and the outdoor lights weren’t on. Steve turns to look at his parents' car in the driveway and thinks back to when the lock had distinctly turned shut on the front door. They were around to switch the lights on; they just didn’t care anymore to do so.

Steve is grateful for the moonlight, as he can see the pretty lines on Eddie’s face. Even if they currently curve into a frown.

“Hey Eds.” Steve’s voice cracks.

“Stevie…what happened?” Eddie asks again, this time it’s gently. It cradles Steve and holds him softly. He wishes Eddie’s hands would do the same.

“Did you know hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward?” Steve sniffles.

Eddie’s face scrunches in confusion, “What? Birds? You lost me.”

Steve pushes past Eddie’s confused face. “They are the only birds to fly backward. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dustin to teach me that out of the munchkins. It was actually El. She’s apparently going through a bird phase. And I don’t think the others are very interested. So I try to pay attention when she talks about it. And she taught me about hummingbirds.”

Eddie settles on his knees, “That’s great, man and those little shits should listen to her more, but I’m not sure what that has to do with what’s wrong. You called me to come pick you up and hung up before I could even answer.”

Steve bites his lip, “Sorry, my dad clicked the phone off.” Eddie’s face shows surprise, but Steve keeps talking before he can interrupt. “And well, I guess hummingbirds have nothing to do with anything. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, no. It’s not stupid. Tell me about the birds, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand finally reaches out to Steve. He brushes the fallen hair out of his face, and something in Steve just sets him off.

“You see, they can fly backward. And well, no, I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, my cousin Tucker is here to visit. And let me tell you, he is the worst. Like Eddie, you would hate him. Conservative, capitalist enthusiast, real bootlicker kind of guy.”

“Sounds like the worst. Especially if he made you use the big words.” Eddie’s hand falls away, and Steve mourns the loss. Normally, when people make jokes about his intelligence, it stings. It makes him feel small. But when Eddie does it, it isn’t mean or a poke at how stupid Steve is. With Eddie, it’s almost like he’s reminding Steve that he is smart. That maybe Steve is the one making himself small.

He is.

“Anyway, he’s visiting, right? So my parents come home. And I haven’t seen them in months, since before spring break. It’s nearly October, and I haven’t seen them, and I can’t tell if I’m excited or dreading their arrival. It’s always a fight when they are around, how I’m not good enough, how I should be more. Their visits always end up being cut short, and me feeling like shit. But this stupid, stupid part of me was hoping it would be different this time. They haven’t seen me since the “earthquakes.” Surely they’ll be happy to see I’m okay, right?”

Eddie stays silent, his face revealing nothing.

“Of course, it’s not. They only came home because my cousin Tucker was in town. All the way from Indy cause it’s so far. And my mom ‘made’ dinner, as in she ordered it and pretended she made it. It wasn’t even that good, but we all pretended it was the best thing ever made. Cause that’s what they do, pretend. And the dinner is fine, boring. Most of it is just me staying silent while my dad and Tucker talk about the business. Tucker runs the Indy office while my dad is in New York. Ya see, Tucker has been gunning to take over for my dad when he retires, which is another word for dies—“ Steve let’s put a bitter laugh; he wonders if his parents are listening. He doubts it.

“—and they are going on for the whole meal, and I’m almost through the home stretch when my dad brings up me, coming to work for him.”

Eddie reacts finally, “You’re going to New York?” His voice is strained, like he is trying very hard not to yell, not at Steve, but at anyone who will listen. Steve is quick to correct.

“No, no, I’m not. This was news to me to Eds. I have no interest in my dad's business, and as far as I was concerned, he didn’t want me a part of it either. Guess that has changed. Has? Had? I don’t know…” Steve trails off.

“Harrington.”

“Don’t call me that. It makes me think you’re mad at me. Besides, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” Steve bites.

“Sorry, Steve. I’m not mad. I promise. Just, what do you mean?” Eddie’s head tilts to the side, his curls cascading down his shoulder. It reminds Steve of a river, dark water rippling in the moonlight.

“I was so shocked, Eds. When he said that. That I was quiet, I should have corrected him, maybe. Maybe I could have fixed it. But Tucker was so quick to act. He was pissed. He knows my working for my dad means me being set up to take over. And Tucker, he’s worked too hard to make sure he does get the business. But instead of yelling, he just gets this concerned look on his face. And he…”

“He what?”

Steve wrenches his eyes shut as he recalls the rest. As he recalls the way Tucker’s face faked worry as he struck. Like he has been waiting for the right moment to ruin Steve. He manages to open his eyes eventually, only to see Eddie’s face once again. The honest look on his face is enough to push Steve on.

“In the summer, Robin was feeling sad. This was before you guys knew about each other, and I was the only one who knew about her. And she was sad cause nothing had happened with Vicky and she felt so alone. And I hated seeing her like that. And so, so I took her to Indy. And, and—“ Steve starts to hyperventilate.

Eddie takes him by the shoulders. “Breathe for me, Steve. Come on, baby, match my breaths. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Steve matches Eddie’s breath. Ignores how the word baby calms him down instantly. “Tucker told my dad that he saw me in Indy. That he saw me come out of a gay club, Eddie. And he went on about how they should focus more on getting me help, than putting me in a power position, again Eds, which I don’t even want! And how I would be a bad look for the company. How would it look if a company whose whole image is family values, only successor, turned out to be gay.”

Eddie flinches a bit, but doesn’t let go of him. Steve feels instant regret. “That isn’t what I meant, Eddie.”

Eddie shushes him, “I know, sweetheart. You’re just upset. I know. Did you tell him that you weren’t there for you? Or maybe that Rick was mistaken; it was a regular club?”

Steve rubs a hand down his face, “And what? Tell him that my two best friends in the entire world are gay? So that I can be shipped off to New York and never see them again? Yeah right. I’d rather face the bats again than be removed from you two. And I’m not going to out you guys like that.”

Something warm crosses Eddie’s face, “So, you lied then?”

“Before I could say anything my dad reacted.”

Eddie freezes, a darkness swims in his eyes. “He put his hands on you?”

“No, no!” Steve panics, and he purposely leaves out the ‘not this time.’ Eddie isn’t necessarily a violent person. But he does have a protective streak. As admirable as it is, Steve doesn’t want him to get hurt.

Eddie relaxes but only slightly.

“He was actually pretty calm, which is even more terrifying. I expected him to yell, throw things. But instead he just turns and says, ‘Is this true, Steven?’. And what gets me is they didn’t even question why my cousin was anywhere near that club in the first place. Why did he see me there? Instead, he just asks me if it’s true. And it’s the first time in a long time, if ever, that my dad asks me this. He always just assumes I’ve fucked up. And this time, he really asked me about the truth. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t lie. I don’t know why, but it felt wrong to. So I didn’t. I just told him, ‘Yes. It’s true.’”

“Stevie…”

Steve throws out a bitter laugh, “And you know what? He still doesn’t freak out. He just tells me I have five minutes to get my shit and get out. That I needed to call a ride because the car was under the name Steve Harrington, and I was no longer a Harrington. And he was so calm. And my mom just sat there, and I just listened. I didn’t fight. I am so tired of fighting.”

“Steve, why not just tell them the truth? Tell them you were there for a friend?” Eddie’s tone isn’t scolding, only curious.

“See, that’s because I started thinking about hummingbirds, Eddie. I started thinking about how they fly forwards and backward and how they are the only ones that can do that. Isn’t that fascinating? These small birds are so strong and interesting, and can do something no one else can do. But no other birds understand; the rest of them just fly forwards Eds. And I—I feel like that sometimes. That I’m not flying in one direction, ya know?”

Steve feels like he isn’t making much sense, but then Eddie nods and looks at Steve. Like really looks at Steve, and sees him. And Steve feels raw, stripped of his skin, exposed, and it should hurt, but it feels so fucking good. And Eddie stares deep into Steve’s eyes and says, “Yea, I know.”

“I didn’t want to lie. Because even though Tucker was wrong, he was also right. I wasn’t there for me, but I think I needed to be there. To get it. And I think that I’m flying backward, Eds. And I’m worried it’s wrong of me, that it shouldn’t be allowed. And that there is no purpose to me flying backward if I can just go forwards. If I can just fly with the rest of them. But I don’t think, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken flight before. Not before I understood I could also go backward.”

It’s in this moment, where Steve is covered in tears and snot that Eddie finally takes his hands and cradles Steve’s face. Steve’s never felt safer.

“Listen to me, sweetheart; there is nothing wrong with you. Okay? Nothing wrong with you. Just because you can fly forwards doesn’t mean you have to, doesn’t mean you should. Sometimes you’re going to have to fly backward; you’re not going to have a choice. It’s just the direction you’re fast, huge, hummingbird heart takes you. And it might take you a bit to learn that. To understand that, but I will make sure that you do. Because you, Steve Harrington, are fucking fearless and fucking beautiful, and I am so goddamn proud of you.”

Steve finally reaches his breaking point and collapses in Eddie’s arms. Full body, ugly sobs wreck Steve. He is sure that he is soaking Eddie’s favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt to the bone, but he can’t find it himself to care. His fingers dig into Eddie’s back as he clutches tighter as his breathing picks up.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Remember that. I got you. I got you.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear.

Steve picks his head up when he finally calms down, and looks at Eddie. “You.”

“What’s that?” Eddie says softly, rubbing circles through Steve’s polo.

“I called you. Because, I think—no, I know, that I’ve been flying backward, to you. For a while now. And I knew that, even if you weren’t too, you’d still show up. And I just—just need you to know that. I am so grateful you showed up.”

Steve knows he should feel nervous telling Eddie all this, but he isn’t. He strangely feels like his dad at this moment, calm and unmoving. Steve doesn’t understand many things in this world, but he understands that even if Eddie doesn’t love him like that, Eddie still loves Steve in plenty of other ways.

It’s still nice, though, when Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve’s forehead. Steve closes his eyes and releases a breath.

Eddie slides his head down slightly so their foreheads are pushed together affectionately. “Stevie, I’ll always fly backward to you.”

Although it’s awful how they got here, Steve can’t help but feel happy at this moment. He also can’t help the silly giggle that comes out of him, “I think we have just lost all meaning to this metaphor at this point.”

Eddie snorts, “Oh, have we? And here I thought we were having a nice moment, a poetic one at that, telling each other ‘I love you.’”

Steve blinks at him, “You love me?”

Eddie frown lines finally turn upwards, “Yea baby, I love you.”

“I—“

Eddie cuts Steve off. “Tell me in the morning. When your tears have dried, and I’ve woken up with you in my arms. I want to hear it in the daylight. Okay? Let’s go home.” Eddie stands, offering a hand to Steve.

“Home?”

“Yea home, got to fly back to our nest.”

Steve can’t help the snort he releases, “Dork.”

Eddie just smiles, “Thought I told you to save the ‘I love you’ til the morning.”

Steve smiles back as he takes Eddie’s hand, “I didn’t…”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s fingers, “Yea, ya did.”

****

I’m back, not dead, and in my feelings. Thinking about expanding on this one. I hope you guys like it. 🧡🧡

[skeltnwrites]

Summary: You are there for Steve when he has to face his fear of needles. | 1.1k

TW: needles, medical anxiety, panic attacks, bf steve

A/N: this is based on true events 🥲 also you cannot convince me he doesn't have anxiety about this after rewatching that scene where he is literally stabbed in the neck with a needle

This is the first time Steve’s ever let you drive his car. Not because he doesn’t trust you with it but because he’s happy to be your chauffeur for as long as you let him. He’s always one to refuse when you offer, to grab the keys before you even think about it. He’s a gentleman at heart, even if part of him just likes to drive. But today is different. 

Steve’s practically buzzing in the passenger seat, snapping his foot against the floor mat like a rubberband and tapping his fingers where they are crossed over his arm. And he’s silent, which is weird because he’s always been the type of nervous to not be able to shut up. 

You wrap a hand around his knee, thumb caressing denim. He doesn’t acknowledge it like he normally would, gaze trained on the windshield. His eyes are glazed over like he’s somewhere else entirely. You have to call his name twice before he hums. 

“Wanna get ice cream after?” 

You barely catch his nod.

You’re grasping for anything to get him out of his head but he refuses to talk to you regardless of topic. He’s been more obliging during arguments. 

It’s not surprising that he’s anxious today, you expected it. He’s always been hesitant about doctors and only goes if he absolutely has to. But lately, this hesitation has transformed more into refusal, regardless of reason. This appointment specifically, a checkup and routine bloodwork, has been an ongoing battle with Steve for months. After his dad had a health scare, it was recommended Steve be seen to rule out anything preemptively. You’d given Steve every opportunity to schedule it himself like he claimed he would, but weeks turned into months of procrastination so you eventually phoned the doctor's office. 

Steve stalls in the parking lot. You’d turned the car off nearly ten minutes ago but he’s had to fix his hair twice, retie his shoes, and he even pretended to search for something in the glove box. You’ve been patient, but with only two minutes left until his appointment, you circle around to his side, gently guiding him out of the car. Before he can protest or claim he forgot something, you quickly lock the door behind him.

“Name?” The middle-aged woman at the front desk asks. 

“Steve,” his voice shakes so he clears his throat.  

She pops the wad of gum she was blowing, bemused at your boyfriend. “Steve…?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees.

You swipe a hand across his back, finishing, “Harrington. Steven Harrington.” 

She turns to her computer and begins typing lazily. 

“Oh,” he nods. 

She hands him a clipboard and pen, “Fill this out.”

You lean over the arm of his chair as he writes. His hands tremble around the pen and he stops to scribble out where he wrote his birthday incorrectly. You offer to do it for him but he declines. 

“Steven?” A nurse calls from the other side of the room where she’s propped a door open with her foot. You’re thankful for the short wait so Steve didn’t torture himself for long in the lobby. 

Steve doesn’t move so you squeeze the hand you’re holding, “Ready?”

He neglects to answer you but stands. You release his hand, collecting the clipboard and your things. Steve turns around, frowning and wide-eyed. “Are you coming?” 

“Yeah, baby. Do you want me to?”

He nods as you pass him his papers.

The nurse guides you down the hall, obtaining Steve’s height and weight before reaching a small room smelling of antiseptics. She takes his blood pressure, listens to his heartbeat, and jots down notes on the clipboard throughout. Steve’s breathing shallowly and staring at the floor as she works, focused on holding it together. 

When she leaves to grab the phlebotomist, Steve lets out a staggered exhale and whispers, “I really hate this.” His eyes join yours for the first time that morning, all warm and honeyed. 

You climb onto the paper sheet beside him, sealing his palm between both of yours. “I know, babe. You’re doing so good. Almost done.” 

He cranes over until his forehead meets your neck, eyelashes tickling your skin. You lean into him, planting a kiss on the nearest strip of skin. 

There’s a knock before the door swings open. A new face in the same scrubs. This one is all smiles, however, and chatting up a storm before she even sets her things down. 

Steve sprawls up slowly, eyeing the woman’s caddy as she rambles. 

She familiarizes herself with his chart before getting to work– washing her hands, ripping open the needle packaging, brushing a disinfectant wipe across his skin. It's all happening so fast. Steve’s breath picks up and his eyes dart away to the bland wall beside him. The nurse notices but doesn’t address his fear. She instead tries to distract him, asking him about how you guys met. 

A few words will find his tongue before he’s cut off by a series of gasps. He’s trying so hard to speak but his thoughts keep spilling out in a scrambled mess and that terrifies him even more. It terrifies you too– you’ve never seen him so scared. 

Steve gets a glimpse of the long needle near his arm and flinches away from her fingers. You’re pressing his face into the slope of your neck with your free hand because he keeps trying to watch what she’s doing.

“I need you to stay still, okay, hun? I’ll be so quick, I promise,” the nurse encourages. 

But as soon as her grip on his arm tightens, locking it against the table, he’s losing it. Fat tears are dribbling down his red cheeks and falling onto his lap where you’re clutching his hand. His chest convulses with shallow, uneven breaths, his muscles tensing under the strain of trying to keep his arm still. The needle slides in, and for a moment, his whole body stiffens, but she successfully finds the vein with a single poke and starts draining the blood into a vial.

Gradually, his breath starts to even out as he realizes the worst is behind him. Your fingers weave through his hairline and soothing words are whispered into his skin. A few final hiccups escape into your tear-stained collar.

“All done,” she’s patching him up with a cotton pad and tape and even you’re surprised at how quick it was. 

Steve tilts in your embrace to see the damage, unleashing a shuddered sigh. The nurse smiles at him and he offers a wobbly one back. 

Over a bowl of his favorite ice cream, he hesitantly opens up about his fear, recounting his traumatic experience with a Russian doctor. His words are thick with the weight of the painful memory and anxiety lingers through the tremble in his voice. No matter how many questions you have or how much you wish you could take away the experience, you know the best thing you can do is listen and praise him for his bravery.

[kaciidubs]

Walking in on Roommate! Chan

❣ Summary: Random hard thought of accidentally walking in on your roommate, Chris, while he's masturbating. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 928 ❣ Warnings: Non!Idol AU, Roommate! Chris, fluff, slice of life, slight humor, slight smut; masturbation and being caught, embarrassing moments turned funny ❣  ❣ Gender Neutral! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris and Channie, mention of Jisung, Felix, Jeongin, and Changbin, barely edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ Pt. 2

You should have knocked - you knew your manners, you knew the sanctity of privacy when living with a roommate, but in all honesty this wasn't your fault.

You'd heard him talking over the phone not too long ago, you could hear the sound of laughter and the mention of Jisung's name which meant it wasn't a serious call.

All you needed was the answer to a question; you just wanted to know if he wanted to host another game night at the apartment for your collective friends.

"Hey, Channie, can I ask-"

Pushing the door open, you were met with the sight of your roommate - your funny, silly, hot, attractive roommate - laid back on his bed with his joggers tugged to his knees and his dick in his fist.

Holy Shit.

His head was tossed back against the headboard of his bed, black hair beautifully messy and pretty lips parted with his tongue poking out between them.

Holy shit.

Emphasis lingered on was, as his head snapped up and the eyes that were once closed were now glued to you standing in the open doorway of his room watching him jack off.

Your name flew from his mouth with a shout, the embarrassed shock on his face was evident, but it all seemed to melt away when his breath caught - gaze faltering with fluttered blinks.

"Fuck- Wait- S-Shit-"

It didn't take you long to realize what was happening, and your hands flew to your face to preserve whatever privacy was left for you both.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Oh my god- I'm so sorry!"

Blinded by the almost painful way you squeezed your eyes shut, and the added weight of your hands, you did your best to block out his panted breaths while navigating your way out of the doorway; slamming your shoulder against the frame as you ran back down the hall.

The door was left open but the damage had already been done, shouting another apology as you swung yourself into your room.

"I'm sorry!"

Two hours.

Two hours of hiding away in your room before the incessant growling of your stomach forced you out into the open - if you could just grab a bag of chips, you would be fine, you could go back to pretending whatever you just saw was a trick of your mind.

However, life seemed to enjoy laughing in your face as you ventured into the kitchen to see Chris already standing there, fingers drumming against the countertop.

Noticing your presence, he stood straight, staring at you as if you were an easily frightened animal - worried that if he moved in the slightest way, he'd scare you off.

"Uh, hey."

Swallowing thickly, you nodded, "Hey."

Normal.

All you needed to do was act normal and push away the mental image of your best friend in the throws of pleasure, the way his face looked or the way his shivering breaths played on loop in the back of your mind.

"I ordered takeout-"

"I'm sorry I saw your dick."

Great.

You smacked your forehead with a loud groan, "I didn't mean to just blurt that out! Oh my fucking god, Chris, I'm so, so sorry - this whole thing is so embarrassing."

The burden of your anguish was curbed by the sound of his high squeaks of laughter, prompting you to peek between your fingers to see him leaning against the counter for support.

"I- It's-" Steadying himself with a deep breath, he looked at you with warm eyes, "It's okay, really - it's my fault for not locking the door, you know? Think of it as payback for me accidentally walking in on you in the shower that one time."

You couldn't help the burst of laughter that rose from the memory, "You were half asleep, that's not the same!"

"So what?! I still walked in - I didn't even think about the steam until you screamed, I almost had a heart attack!"

The mental replay of him jumping like a frightened cat made you laugh harder - to this day you were both still surprised that your neighbors didn't call the cops from how loud you screamed.

Soon the once tense atmosphere was warm and comfortable, familiar, and you found yourself settling back into your usual self.

"Really though," smiling softly, you stepped further into the kitchen and leaned against the opposite side of the island, "I'm sorry, I should've knocked, I heard you talking to Ji earlier and thought you were still free."

Chris waved his hand passively, giving you a dimpled smile, "Like i said, don't worry about it - I've experienced worse, trust me." Mirroring your slouched position, he cocked his head to the side, "Did you want to ask me something, though? I heard you say my name before the whole, you know, incident."

Your eyebrows furrowed for a moment before you gasped, "The game night! I wanted to know if we could do another game night with the guys! Felix and Jeongin asked me about it and I told them I'd ask you when you weren't busy."

"Of course, what?! I've been dying to get back at Changbin for his cheap win at Smash!" A knock at the door interrupted him before he could dive into his plan for revenge and he sprung up, "Let me pay for the food then we can set up a date for it, yeah?"

Nodding happily, you watched as he headed for the front door and let out a sigh of relief, happy that your dynamic remained unphased through the minor slip up.

...Right?

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[hyhkai]

subby brat!beomgyu who doesn't look in the mirror when you demand it from him. he swears he is no brat, but his demeanor and actions speak otherwise. he's all bark, no bite, and it's nothing new when he continues it when you gave him friction earlier than you'd usually do.

"just look at yourself for a bit, gyu" you say while laying on your stomach, between his legs — holding onto the bottom of his dick that he hopes you'll satisfy. he bats his eyelids open for a second when you stop licking the tip like lollipops — but to his demise, you went right back at it, causing his figure to wobble in his position and eyes to close. "pl-please, just.. take it, please. I've been waiting for so long—"

he threw his head back, Adam's apple bobbing up and down, even though his throat was dry for too long now because of you — his breathing grew move frantic because of how long you've been doing this torture on him. he'd finally gotten you to pull his dick out, but to no avail, apparently.

"waiting for so long? so long to cum out of your small fucking dick? hm?" you spat out, rubbing his tip against your lips and pretending to be disgusted when pre-cum sputtered out of it. "oh, just look at yourself!" you laughed out sadistically. "the guy is cumming out of his small dick, hm?" you mocked his vulnerable state, even though his cock is probably any size but a variation of small.

your eyes widen in amusement when he tries to push your head down on it as if you'll give in, as if you'd let him — slapping his hand away and letting go of his dick. "c'mon c'mon c'mon, just look up" you said, placing a hand on the back of his head, your elbows digging into the flesh of his thighs, and as though he's growing limp, it just bobbed down.

you roll your eyes. he's just a dog now, pushing his crotch up, hoping his cock will somehow end up down your throat.

he finally opened his eyes, looking at your sadistic yet oh-so-innocent face that is filled with nothing but dominant intents, and gives in to gradually lift his head up, eyes crawling at the reflection of your legs, thick thighs he loves stuffing his face between and licking at your panties, his own feet which are heated up because of fluster, his socks not helping it — your ass he could only cum on after pleads and requests, and finally to his own face.

his cheeks are flushed pink, lips you love to pepper with kisses are pursed shut, chest going up and down faster than a normal human's, his hair is covering his twinkling eyes. "please just touch me." he huffed out, mouth now parted open, curling his toes.

you groaned. typical beomgyu, he thinks he'll get what he wants just because he's pretty. it's like a spoiled child who's crying on the floor for some toy. his hands are to himself, because he's learnt better from when you would tie them up, and his face was appeased as he felt the warmth of your hands on majority of his dick.

"fuck, is everything on your mind about cumming?" you asked. "speak up, boy." you demanded, processing just how much worse of a brat he could ever be when you see a look of smugness wash over him. even though his mouth is wide open, breathing in and out which you can feel on the top of your head, his cock which is not being satisfied in his way, he's still got things to pride himself on.

you twisted your hand around him thrice, causing him to break. nothing new with that.

"yes— yes, that's all I think about — I can only think about fucking — just let me cum— jerk it off, please— t- touch—"

"oh, please, such a filthy mouth... now say please." you asked of him by stretching the word out.

"pleasepleaseplease. I'll look, I promise." a promise he'd obviously break later on, as he tried to place your hand on his cock again without even looking where your hands are.

his brain really is situated in his dick, huh.

"then open your eyes up, pretty boy."

hi how are you :3

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

MIDNIGHT TROUBLES

Pairing: Show!Luke Castellan x apollo!fem!reader!

warnings: swearing, fluff (i guess?) angst, mentions to the giggidy (nothing actually happens), derogatory terms/names used

A/N: i was sleep deprived and cluelesss when writing this so enjoy :)

part two: meet me at midnight | part three: its not midnight anymore

You've been friends with Luke Castellan since the day you showed up at camp drenched in water and he showed you around. You've been inseparable since then - y/n and Luke. Luke and y/n, you were a package deal, wherever one went the other followed.

On this particular day you had seated yourself down on a sunny patch of grass to sing. Luke had settled himself a few feet away from you pretending not to listen as your lips parted and sound sweeter than any strawberry escaped your mouth.

His eyes shut peacefully as your song washes over him. He's always loved your singing, everyone does, your song can seem to stop time for a few moments. But Luke likes to think he loves it the most - he's your best friend, of course he gets that right.

Once you finish singing you open your eyes and Luke is staring at you with pure amazement and... something else you can't quite place. Whatever it is, it's gone in a blink. "That was beautiful, y/n," he smiles.

"Like you," you tease standing up and reaching up to ruffle his hair. "You do know you don't have to sit with me and listen every time I sing don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. But I want to," Luke says, standing up with you and pulling you into a side hug. "You've got a really beautiful voice y/n."

You brush it off and wrap your arm around his waist walking along with him. "Oh but its not as beautiful as yours," you joke and Luke's laugh vibrates through you sending a jolt of tingles and a wave of repressed feelings.

You watch as Luke laughs and can't help but smile yourself. You and Luke have been deemed the camp's Mom and Dad. If anything was wrong and you didn't want to take it to Mr D or Chiron the campers would go to you two, Apollo and Hermes cabin counsellors. That's when the rumours started. Luke and y/n are dating. Although you've both denied it several times the campers never listened and you were dubbed Mom and Dad.

Even though you denied it, a small- a medium- okay a pretty huge part of you wants it to be true. I mean who wouldn't want Luke Castellan to be their boyfriend? He has offers piling up every day from girls. You're pretty sure you've even seen someone offer him a fucking apple with the words 'will you go out with me' carved into it. Luke said no of course - she was a frigging psycho - but even then he never said yes to any of the offers, the ones that you knew about anyway.

"I got patrol tonight after the campfire," you sigh and break away from Luke to give a younger boy from Aphrodite a hug when he showed you his result from arts and crafts. Not noticing how Luke tenses beside you until the boy runs off to tell his friends you hugged him.

"I'll come with you, there's bound to be some shit heads sneaking off to go hook up," he rolls his eyes looking directly at some Ares camper who you've both caught several times. "And besides, gods know you couldn't handle the dark without me."

You scowl at Luke smacking him. "Haha very funny, a daughter of the sun god is afraid of the dark, it's hilarious." Luke just grins and catches your hand against his chest, holding it there, when you go to hit him again. Your laughter fades and you both just stare at each other for a moment neither of you wanting to break it but also wanting to admit to the other that there was something happening.

Luke clears his throat and drops your hand gently. "Whatever loser, you're the one stuck with me," you tease and kiss his cheek. Walking away before you lose your nerve. Holy shit why'd you do that? you scream inside your head. What the fuck? Why? Why? You couldn't have walked away normally, but noooo you had to kiss his fucking cheek.

You press the palm of your hands into your eyes and accidentally slam into someone. "Shit sorry!" you cry out looking down to see the poor camper you practically ran over.

"It's okay! It's okay!" Percy says looking up at you and then over at Luke who hasn't moved since you walked away. "Did you break him or something?"

"Or something," you mutter, helping Percy up. "Sorry again, Percy." You force a smile onto your face and sigh as you look at Luke.

"Yeaaah, you messed him up damn." Percy drawls. "Like really messed him up. Damn what did you do? Did you like, kick him in the balls or something?"

"Percy!" you shout shutting him up. He doesn't even have the decency to look apologetic when he says sorry and then scurries off when Grover calls out to him.

Sighing, you shake your head and grumble to yourself about its going to be hella awkward tonight.

~~~

Something was wrong with Luke's heart. It hadn't stopped beating wildly since y/n had kissed him on the cheek and he was trying to control his erratic pulse when he rises up the steps to your cabin.

He knocks twice on the door and takes a deep breath when you open the door and look up at him. The deep breath is cut short when he notices you're wearing his hoodie. You smile up at him and ask, "you ready to go catch some horny teens?"

He nods and lets you lead the way. "Sure, yep, let's go Sunflower." You both walk in silence for the first two minutes before Luke works up the courage to say, "nice hoodie, there by the way, it matches your flashlight."

You twist around and grin ignoring his dig at your flashlight - it's white with a bunch of sunflowers hand painted on. "Yeah, some super, cool, really annoying guy gave it to me." Luke's eyebrow arches and you roll your eyes. "Fine, I stole it from the guy, cause it's soft and smells nice," you mumble that last part and Luke tilts his head at you in question.

"What was that last part?"

"It's soft?"

"No, the other part?"

You're quiet for a moment before mumbling, "it smells..... nice."

Luke practically stops breathing, but covers it up with a smirk. "You think I smell nice?"

You internally slap yourself. "Yes," you quietly answer. Well you know what? When you thought it was going to be awkward earlier? That's nothing compared to the tension right now.

A loud moan comes from up ahead behind the trees and you sigh tugging the hoodie closer before running up ahead to break up whatever situation is happening.

"Hey!" you yell out to the two campers whose clothes are dishevelled and hair all mussed up. "Get back to your cabins! And when I say cabins I mean your own cabin." The two kids scramble away back to their cabins swearing.

"Fuckers," Luke mutters from behind you. "I swear they always choose the same spot."

You spin around and smile, "they'll be back don't worry, you can bust them next time."

After you both make your rounds, catching three other couples, you end up in a secluded spot near the lake.

"So," you start looking out to the water, smiling softly. "What do you wanna talk about?" You shove the flashlight in the front pocket just soaking in the moonlight - and besides Luke's here, he protects you from the dark.

Luke looks over at you and steps closer wrapping a hand around each of your - well technically his - hoodie's drawstrings. "I don't really know..." he trails off and then looks down at you, your eyes shining in the moonlight. And then something must've possessed him because he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

You look up at him in surprise. "What was that for?" You ask, noticing how Luke's eyes shine with affection.

"Just paying you back for earlier."

You both freeze then - not tensing up but just not moving. Staying in the small bubble that you two have created for yourselves. The comfort of the silence that surrounds you both covers you like a blanket.

Your faces inch closer, your breaths mingling as your eyes meet and you swear you can hear your heartbeat. Can Luke hear how loud your heart is beating? Like seriously? It's so loud.

Everything seems perfect before a loud laugh erupts in the distance. You sigh and pull away from him and start walking over to where the noise came from. Were you going to kiss just then? Holy shit. Was that actually happening?

Luke's presence at your side sends you into a tailspin. Does he like you? Or was he only doing that out of pity. You reach into the hoodie to pull out your flashlight but a hand wraps around your own and you skid to a stop, looking down at Luke's hand intertwined with yours.

Luke doesn't stop though, he just keeps walking, hopefully not noticing how red your cheeks are right now.

You both round the path and find a girl sitting on a fallen log hidden in the trees, she's wrapped in nothing but a blanket she must've brought from her cabin. When the girl sees you - well more like see's Luke - her eyes brighten up.

"Oh Luke! You're finally here! I was waiting for you." A frown instantly replaces the soft smile you have on your face.

"What?" Your voice is quiet and confused.

The girl shoots you a smug look. "What? Did you actually think Luke wanted to spend time with you tonight?" She smirks. "He was only killing time to spend it with me."

What?

You know what the girl is saying is wrong but when you look at Luke you almost start crying. He's quiet at your side staring harshly at the girl. He's not denying it. He's not denying it!

"Lukey and I have plans now bitch-girl, leave." Your teeth clench so tightly you're afraid you're gonna break your jaw. Why isn't Luke SAYING ANYTHING??

You stare frigidly at the girl. "Look, I wanna say Gina..?" she asks purposely misnaming you.

"It's y/n."

"Right that's what I said," she smirks. "Now unless you want to watch me and Luke roll around on the ground here I suggest you leave."

You stay put fighting your ground. Why is Luke not saying anything??

"Ooh we've got a bit of a slut on our hands do we? Damn Gina, I didn't know you were into kinky shit."

"I don't-"

She cuts you off. "It's fine I don't mind you watching like the whore you are."

WHY ISN'T LUKE SAYING ANYTHING?

The girl turns her eyes on Luke again. "I'm waiting for you Luke. Tell her to piss off. Or better yet, tell her that we've been sleeping together."

Luke stays quiet, his eyes locked on the girl.

What. The. Fuck?

The girl opens her mouth to start again but you turn around before she can say anything else.

"Y'know what? I'll leave you two to it," you spit, forcing the tears that spring to your eyes to stop.

"Wait y/n!" Luke calls out suddenly, but you've already launched into a sprint not caring what he has to say now. He didn't deny it. He didn't deny it. He didn't deny it.

Tears blur your eyes and you struggle to pull out your flashlight, tripping over a tree root and stumbling to the ground. You face plant onto the ground and even though you're wearing long pants you can feel your skin being torn.

It's dark and cold

You have scratches along your face and arms - where the hoodie pushed up - everything burns your skin, your face, your eyes, your heart.

He didn't deny it.

You pat around looking for your flashlight. No, no, no, no, no. It can't be lost, no! Luke painted it for you, when you first came to camp and when he found out you were afraid of the dark.

Luke made that. Your Luke made tha-

Your face crumples.

Luke.

He didn't deny it. He didn't say anything. He didn't stop her.

Your heart heavy as you do so, you stand up, fighting the new wave of tears that threaten to overcome you.

A chill hits you and you pull the dirty hoodie closer. It still smells like Luke.

And...

And its dark...

Shit.

Anger pools deep in your gut. She called you a slut and a whore.

That bitch better watch it.....

©strawberries-and-summer-days

a/n: lemme know if you want a part two!!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Ej, Lj, Masky, Hoodie, Masky, Ticci Toby and Bloody Painter x reader who draws them

Prize 5/5 for @reivelmin !! I hope you've enjoyed all of your prizes WOOHOO!! I had a blast writing them, hardly ever get the excuse to write for some of these characters EHEHEHEHE

EYELESS JACK

I've always headcanoned that Jack was always a bit of an artist himself, although the most he does it sketch every now and then to keep his kind busy. He points out some techniques he recognizes and asks you about it. It.. actually takes him a moment to realize that all of the drawings are him. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head before he tries to move on. This opens the window for the two of you to draw together every now and then.. though jack is always a little embarrassed.. flustered.. with the knowledge that you have so much of him in your book

LAUGHING JACK

Very loud when saying he loves it. Hes flipping through the pages before pausing, looking you dead in the eye. He makes a comment about how you must be soooooo obsessed with him. Hes teasing you, of course! He offers to draw you in return.. though dont expect anything crazy, Jack's not.. the best artist- and hes okay with that! Loves looking through your art whenever you offer it. Would kick his feet in the air while looking through the pages. Sometimes you give him sketches to color, to keep him busy while you have to go do something

MASKY

He already knew what you were drawing him before you ever have the chance to show him. The man is silent and is constantly keeping an eye on you.. he does NOT know how to be a normal roommate!! You probably dont get the chance to show him yourself, because he points at a stray pencil marking that you forgot to erase. Worst jumpscare of your life, if you werent already aware of his presence in the room... he.. actually gives a thumbs up. Which doesnt seem like much but considering that he doesnt really emote, that's a huge thing... now does he think it's a little odd that you have a bunch of sketches where hes the reference? A little, but he does offer some good poses and lighting due to him tending to lurk in the shadows

HOODIE

Very similar to Masky but at least he pretends to not know. You walk up to him with your sketchbook and hes so obviously playing dumb but its.. sweet that hes pretending. He takes his time looking through all of the art, where some of the others get too excited and flip through it all. He doesnt talk, but he does communicate that he thinks it all looks great via sign.. oh he would definitely start leaving sticky notes with doodles around for you to find

TICCI TOBY

I think Toby would be a little overwhelmed, he didnt think anyone would be interested in him enough to want to fill an entire sketchbook with him. He tries to cover up his shock by lightly making fun of the situation. Though every tease he tries to draw out falls flat, as everytime he goes to poke fun of something about the art he trails off. Besides, he couldn't bring himself to actually make fun of the stuff you make.. if it's a gift, you offer to take it back but he quickly shuts that down. Its like the Bob's burger friendship bracelet audio, "no fuck off its mine"

BLOODY PAINTER

As an artist himself, he asks you about what materials you used as well as the techniques you used! Unlike EJ, Helen is more thorough in his questioning and knows a lot more fancy terms.. he points out the good parts of your pieces, and catches himself before giving his criticisms.. he at least makes sure that the criticism is wanted before just unloading (and even then hes constructive! Hes well aware that just dunking on someone does nothing to help them grow). It actually strikes his ego a lot that you would dedicate so much time and material to just him, and it inspires him to make something for you in return. If he didnt know you were an artist prior to this, he offers to paint with you.. whether as a collab or just simply working parallel to one another! Just please pay no mind to him staring at you more intently while hes at his canvas...!

[literaila]

midnight happenings (2)

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you wake up and look for satoru

warnings: unspecified angst (of course), fluff, and fluff

last part | next part

*

year five.

satoru can feel you coming down the hall before you're there, your presence a lurking, tasteful thing. 

he's just laying in bed when he feels it--the creeping, the warning signals bouncing around his brain like any of it matters. so he pauses, listening, and waits. 

when you knock on his door--so softly it should be inaudible--he isn't surprised. 

he seldom is, with you. every one of your moves is calculated, and satoru likes to think of himself as an expert on the subject. he's been studying for many years and he always excelled at arithmetic. 

still, he leans up, holding himself up with an arm as he looks at you in the dark. 

heres the thing about sensing cursed energy--it's very helpful in a social situation, however few and far between they are for satoru. he can tell when the person checking him out at the store is upset about something, or when the barista at the coffee shop is happy to see him. 

but you're not just an ordinary person. 

and jujutsu sorcerers--especially trained, strong ones like you--are constantly buzzing with a consistent output of cursed energy. 

your body is engulfed in it. if satoru was any less gifted, he wouldn't even be able to see you beyond any of it. 

but satoru has known you since you were sixteen.

so when you tip-toe into the room, he can already tell that this isn't your normal sneaking-into-his-room-in-the-middle-of-the-night-so-you-can-both-pretend-it-didn't-happen-in-the-morning thing. 

because, well, first of all, you usually don't knock. it's an unspoken thing. and also, you're slouching in the room, and even though satoru has stayed up (not waiting for you, if anyone asks) he doubts that you have. you're much better at falling asleep than he is.

and when you near him, he can see the tint in your eyes. the slightly glassy, avoiding his own, eyes. 

it's not a surprise to him, but something in his chest tugs. 

he likes you all of the time (in every single moment), but he doesn't like when you're six feet under, hiding away from the world like it's something you need to protect yourself from. 

satoru should really lock you up somewhere, happy and healthy, just so he can get over this ridiculous feeling. 

"hey," he whispers, smiling softly at you. "need something?" 

you don't say anything but practically fall into his lap. the wind is knocked out of him, but you ignore that. your arms are quick to fall around his neck, like it's routine, and your legs curl against him. 

you effectively trap him in your hold in less than a second. 

still, satoru doesn't complain. instead, he wraps his arms around the swell of your back, making sure that you won't fall off of the bed with the slightest movement. 

and then your face falls against his chest and satoru instinctively tightens his hold, already prepared to fight whatever's plaguing you. 

there's a reason he's the strongest, after all. 

"feeling lonely?" satoru asks, softly. it lacks his typical teasing tone, which he notes with disdain. still, there's nothing he can do to remedy it now. 

your fingertips graze along the nape of his neck, and satoru tries not to sigh at the feeling. it's a bit ticklish and slightly wicked. 

but you don't nod at his question. you don't shake your head, scowl at him, or tell satoru to shut up. 

the only response is the sound of your exhale, a harsh feeling against his chest, and then your body stilling once again. 

kind of like you're holding your breath. waiting for something to burst from the door and pull you from the moment. 

satoru frowns, hands beginning to trace circles against the skin of your back unconsciously. "what's going on?" 

he wouldn't ask, but this isn't a part of your routine with him. 

usually, you'll each put the kids to bed, taking turns tucking them in, megumi bullying satoru as a sleep aid and tsumiki wanting each of you to sit there and talk for a little bit. 

and then the two of you will clean up the shared spaces, if necessary--satoru typically dragging his feet because you made him--parting ways once you've finished, a lingering glance being shared as you close your doors, pretending to go to bed for the night. 

(that is, on the nights when you don't fall asleep cuddling on the couch first). 

but then, after an appropriate amount of time has passed (or one of you breaks), satoru will crawl into your bed, or you into his, and satoru will kiss you until he's dizzy and you'll cling to him like you'd be very willing to share your bed with him for eternity. 

it's become so familiar that no words need to be exchanged, no questions of if or when. it's simple, and easy, and sometimes satoru has to blink in the dark of his room (or yours) just to be sure that he didn't actually dream all of it up. 

but you're always there, and you're always waiting for him, just like he waits for you. even if it's late, even if it's dark. 

and you can say things when this happens. satoru can whisper that he missed you when he was gone, and you can echo back that you don't like it when he leaves. you'll tell him something about the kids, something that you're worried about, and he'll kiss the spot behind your ear that's sensitive. 

it's just how it is, at this point. and none of it really matters. 

eventually, the two of you will fall asleep just like that, tangled together like a useless ball of yarn. 

but tonight, you don't say anything. you don't try to get him to lay his head against your stomach so you can play with his hair, or attempt to tickle him until he falls against you in defense. there's just silence, now, the harsh beating of your heart. 

and you're holding on to him like you're desperate to keep him right there. 

"nothing," you answer, after almost a minute has passed, voice muffled against his shirt.

satoru swallows, waiting for something more that he knows won't come. he wants to get you to look at him, to pull you away from his body so he can observe you, for even a moment, but he knows that if he even tried you'd recoil. and you wouldn't come back. 

and satoru would rather sleep on the floor than have that. 

"you... okay?" 

you nod, but you're lying. 

satoru could sigh and tell you that he knows that, but he doesn't. this isn't all that unusual, really. not with you, and not to him. 

so he only continues to run his fingers down your back, tracing indiscernible shapes against your skin. he's still sitting up, bent over you as you cling. and he should probably lean back so that you fall asleep. he should probably start talking, or tell you that you shouldn't be up this late--any of the things he would do if he didn't feel trapped in your embrace, entraced in a moment he can't let go.

so he only licks his lips, thinking. 

you're completely still. you don't move when his hand dips to the curve of your hip, or when he breathes intentfully against your head. satoru can't tell if your eyes are closed or not, but he's sure that you're not even blinking. 

"did you have a bad dream?" he asks, eventually, leaning back so you'll stop doing that. gluing yourself to him and making him feel like he's missed something. 

really, if he even tried to do this to you, you'd be complaining. 

you shake your head, but your eyes don't meet his, and satoru can see the twitch of your lip, the flicker of your entire face. your movements are slow, your body only moving when he pokes and prods. 

if he avoids your eyes and scratches his neck when he's lying, then you stay quiet, like you'll break if you say one word. 

"are you sure?" he tilts his head at you, bringing his hands to cup your face. "it's okay if you missed me. it happens." 

your eyes flicker to his reluctantly, but you focus on him immediately. your pupils are small and your eyes are cold, almost empty, and satoru has to lean in to inspect them even closer. 

you shake your head stiffly in his hands but don't bother to argue. at least he got a little reaction from that. 

"oh," he says, after a moment, ignoring the chilling feeling in his chest. "i get it. did tsumiki kick you out?" 

"she was hogging all of the blankets." 

satoru nods, pouting at you. "so you're cold? need me to warm you up?" 

your hands wrap around both of his wrists, and one moment you're just sitting in his lap, and the next satoru is lying against the pillows and you've already shifted so your face hides against the crook of his neck. 

he could complain, but he really doesn't want to. he'll swallow his pride for you, just this once. 

you're a very dangerous person to be around, he realizes, suddenly, because as soon as you get him on his back he has to fight the instinct to fall asleep. he blinks idly at you, wishing you wouldn't try to conceal your face from him. "do you want to talk about it?" 

he can barely feel it when you shake your head against him. 

"i won't judge," he promises, scratching at your scalp. "much." 

you snort against his skin. 

"is there..." he starts, then stops. it's a blow to his ego to be here, to feel this much. but he relents. "can i do something? d'ya wanna make out?" 

you pinch his bicep, and even though he can't see it, satoru can practically feel the eye roll. 

it fills him with an unwarranted delight. he can feel it as you subtly shift into him, beginning to settle your body. at least now he only has to settle your mind. 

if that. 

"is that a no?" 

you sigh against his skin--satoru tries not to flinch at the horrible feeling--and shake your head again. "can you just--i don't know... tell me about your day?" 

he smirks, just barely. "oh, so you've got a voice thing?" 

"satoru," you whisper, but he can feel the clash of your teeth as you smile, and then the gentle bite that you give him--right on his sweet spot--to hide it. 

satoru can't help but flush--he never should've told you about that--but he nods anyway, refusing to let his body succumb to the urge to run far, far away. 

it's not his fault, really. 

it's instinct to want to disappear at your very whim. only natural for satoru to want to give you whatever you need, whenever you need it. 

if you asked him to give up his strength, he would do it in an instant. 

"just talk to me," you whisper, barely a request. more of a demand. unfortunately for satoru, it's late enough for him not to care. (and he likes you).

"okay..." he drawls, thinking for a moment. "so, i--" he pauses, frowning. "you know that we spent basically the whole day together, right? you probably remember more than i do." 

"tell me about yesterday, then." 

"same thing." 

you sigh, digging your nose into his skin. "make something up." 

"why would i--" 

"satoru." 

"okay, okay," he smiles at you, even though you can't see it. "so... i woke up to megumi pulling my hair, which i'm pretty sure you told him to do. and then i ate breakfast, brushed my teeth, and got dressed. and then we dropped off the kids at school. uhhh, then we went to the store, and we looked for those sugar packet things that tsumiki likes. and then--" 

"this is the worst story i've ever heard," you deadpan, mumbling into him. 

satoru scoffs. "you're the one who wanted to hear about my day." 

"say something more interesting." 

satoru rolls his eyes, tugging on your hair a little. then he sighs. "i could tell you about the curse in kawagoe? the one in the shopping district." 

he looks down at you, in question, just in time to see you scrunch your nose in distaste, you breathe into him again so satoru laughs. 

"okay, no curses." he thinks for another moment. "oh, i bought a couple of shirts the other day." 

"what's 'a couple?'" 

"just like, nine or ten." 

you shake your head against his neck but don't say anything. 

so satoru continues. "i just got some button-ups, the ones you like." 

"what color?" 

"blue and white, mostly. like my eyes," he flutters his eyelashes even though you're not looking. "one black shirt, and another sweater." 

"do you really need more clothes?" 

"um, of course." 

you giggle, teeth grazing against his skin once again. 

satoru swallows. "and, uh..." he blinks, trying to regain his train of thought. "do you think i should start getting dad patterns?" 

"dad patterns?" 

"cool shirts." 

"do you want megumi to bully you even more?" you ask, rhetorically, your voice entirely soft. 

satoru can tell that this is working. just the way you're nuzzling yourself even deeper into him, seeking his warmth is a good sign. 

it's also slightly irritating. how is he supposed to think when you're cuddling up to him like this?

he clears his throat. "tsumiki said that they're cool. some plaid, maybe a bird shirt..." 

"if you wear anything like that i'm not going anywhere with you." 

satoru pouts, looking down to see the curve of your lip as you hide a smile. "you don't think i'd look good in stripes?" 

you giggle once more, shaking your head. 

satoru kisses the top of your head, very satisfied with himself at the moment. he got you to crawl out of your cage a bit--if only to get you to crawl into him. 

and even though he knows that you're still upset, still hiding against him, at least you're there. 

he'd much rather you be in his room, with him, than all by yourself, rotting away. 

he'd much rather you be with him always, actually. 

still, satoru continues to bring up blithe topics until he can feel your breathing even out against him, and your body begin to accept his ministrations. 

he kisses the top of your head, and he stays up a little while longer. making sure that you're sound asleep before he even bothers to close his eyes. 

and he's out in an instant. 

*

tsumiki is sitting at the kitchen table, chewing on some cut-up fruit when megumi walks into the room. 

he rubs at his eyes, looking half asleep. still, tsumiki smiles at him. 

"where's mom?" he asks, looking around. 

you're usually up before either of them, even on weekends. tsumiki's used to waking up to the sound of you throwing things around in the kitchen. she'll walk down the hallway to breakfast already set out, you telling her to go get megumi. 

but this morning, all of the lights are off. and there are still a couple of bowls on the table from last night. 

tsumiki shrugs. "still sleeping, i think." 

"and gojo?" 

"what do you think?" she smiles at him, laughing when megumi groans, then shakes his head with a perturbed look on his face. 

"i'm not waking them up this time," he tells her. 

but megumi turns around and walks back down the hall anyway, going to do just that. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[tryingtofindava]

𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭*ೃ༄

tw: FEM READER!! And it talks about… well… smut.

: ̗̀➛Back to source

MORE UNDER THE CUT!!!

A = Aftercare

(what they’re like after sex…)

Because of his CIPA he probably won’t be able to feel the affects it had on his body, so if you yourself aren’t too tired out…

You’ll probably convince him the two of you can take a cold shower to get his body heat back to normal. (which may or may not result in a round 2…)

Other then that he’s making sure your comfy and cozy, and the two of you will probably just snuggle the rest of the night or day.

B = Body part

(their favourite body part of theirs and also their partners…)

He doesn’t like looking at himself that much, and tends to cover up as best as he could. (Which almost always leads to him nearly dying of heatstroke because he’ll refuse to take some layers off…)

His favourite part on you (other than your face) is your thighs, he likes smooshing his face against them.

C = Cum

(anything to do with cum…)

Depends…

If you’re on the pill he’s 100% giving you a creampie. He says he does it because it’s more intimate to him.

But if you’re not, he’s either doing it on your stomach, or tits. He ain’t wanting kids. (for more then one reason)

D = Dirty Secret

(its self explanatory…)

Not really a secret since you DEFINITELY know about it, but…

In his dresser drawer he’s has about 6 pairs of your panties. You discovered it when you remembered he had cough sweeties in his drawer and accidentally found them…

Best to just shut the drawer and pretend you never saw them in the first place. Or tease him about it. At least you know were your missing panties are now…

E = Experience

(how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

You’re his second girlfriend ever. The first being Natalie. And the furthest they got in their relationship was kissing and cuddling, so he’s got them down.

So you were his first time, though he’s not the most experienced out there… He’s a quick learner AND he definitely makes up for it with enthusiasm. But he’s so so very loser-y about it.

F = Favorite positions

(take a wild guess…)

Toby’s top 5 favourite positions not in order!!

1) leap frog

2) cow girl

3) face off

4) ballet dancer

5) missionary

Though he is up to try any position once (maybe more if he REALLY likes it), these are just his go to.

G = Goofy

(are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc…)

He tries to take it as seriously as possible, because you are willing to do something so intimate with him? Of all people??

Though he can’t help but be at least a little silly during the deed.

H = Hair

(how well groomed are they?)

He’s not shaven clean, but he hasn’t got a bush either. Too much hair makes him feel icky. But he doesn’t have to shave often, Toby isn’t an overly hairy guy like Tim.

He’s got a patch of hair on his chin, armpits, and legs and arms. And his happy trail is top tier ¬‿¬

I = Intimacy

(how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect…)

Depends on his mood tbh, if it’s been a good day he’ll be extra romantic and sweet, praising you and how good you are. But if it’s a bad day, he’ll be rough to get his frustrations out (and even if he is being rough he’s still so gentle about it if ykwim, like he doesn’t wanna hurt you, but like yeah<3).

J = Jack off

(masturbation headcanon…)

He doesn’t do it as often as ppl think, though he still acts like a horny teen. At least jerks off two times a week sometimes more if he’s had a rough day. And he’d be a liar if he said he hasn’t jerked off with your panties.

K = Kink

(one or more of their kinks…)

Praise is a big one for him, he’s more of a giver, but likes receiving it as well. Tell him how good he’s making you feel, he’ll cum 10x faster.

And although he’s likes to praise you, he likes to degrade you too. But only a little.

Mommy kink? Maybeeeeee… Depends if you’re topping or not.

Marking: He’s a total slut for giving you hickeys, he likes putting them in the most obvious places for people to see. Double points if you don’t bother covering them up.

Dry humping. Don’t be shy, hop on his thigh and get to work.

He accidentally discovered his Voyeurism kink when he walked in on you masturbating. He didn’t mean to just stand there and watch… it’s just… you were too pretty to look away.

Mans loves some bondage, tying up your hands and legs is like his equivalent to a Christmas present.

L = Location

(favorite places to do the deed…)

Up against the wall, the bed, in the woods… he’s fine with doing it anywhere. It gives him a certain thrill doing it places were you could easily get caught.

But he does prefer doing it in secluded places like the bedroom, or in the shower. Rather than in public. In his mind, getting caught in public = having to stop sooner.

M = Motivation

(what turns them on, gets them going…)

Baby can pop a boner easily… You could be doing the simplest thing, stretching? Boner. Cleaning? Boner. Just talk to him In general? BONER ALERT!!!

And when he’s deep in you, and you’re making just the cutest little whimpers and moans? He’s not gonna stop as long as you keep that up.

N = Nuh uh

(something they wouldn't do, turn offs…)

Pls do not call him daddy, it makes him feel weird. And he’s not into spanking. No matter how much you say it’s okay. He doesn’t see what’s so enticing and sexy about hitting or harming a loved one.

O = Oral

(preference in giving or receiving…)

It’s 50/50 with him.

On one hand, he likes going down on you. Eating away at your messy cunt. AND WHEN HE DOES…

God does it feel good, he’s got snake bites and a tongue piercing. Feeling the metal studs against your heat is just automatically orgasmic.

“F-fuuckk, I-I think s-she luh-likes me.”

If you cum fast on his face it deffo gives him an ego boost… FEED HIS EGO!!

But he also loves when you’re sucking him off. Your pretty lips wrapped around him… how couldn’t he love it?

“Y-you can t-take wayyy more t-then that.”

He’ll stroke your hair, as he tries his best to refrain from head pushing. He’d hate if he accidentally harmed his good girl…

Р = Расе

(are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

He’ll start off slow, letting you adjust. But as time goes on he’ll just work himself up and hammer into you at an unbelievable speed.

Q = Quickie

(their opinions on quickies, how often they may occur…)

He prefers longer sessions so he can please the both of you. But, if he’s desperate… and you guys got places to be… It wouldn’t hurt rutting into you, right?

R = Risk

(are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

Barebacking. Toby claims that wearing a condom is suffocating. Even though he can’t feel things like that… Good thing he doesn’t have a weak pull out game.

Public sex. He has a weird fantasy that he doesn’t stop, even when he hears someone coming. A part of him wants to make the poor person who stumbled upon you two watch as he fills you up.

S = Stamina

(how many rounds can they go for/how long do they last?)

He’s got a super high libido, and can last about 3 rounds in bed, and at least 2 rounds in the shower afterwards.

And that’s only if he isn’t putting in his best effort…

T = Toys

(do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or on themselves?)

He doesn’t have any for himself, but he has a small white vibrator he uses to tease your clit and nipples.

U = Unfair

(how much they like to tease? And can they handle teasing?)

He can only tease you for a little bit before he gets too desperate and has to take you the second it gets a little too much.

He himself can also be teased for so long… Before he takes matters into his own hands, and you teasing completely backfires on yourself.

V = Volume

(how vocal are they doing the deed...)

HE IS NOISY!!

As he’s snapping his hips to yours, he’s babbling some random shit.

“S-so t-tight!”

“God… y-you love i-it like th-this, don’t cha?”

“Shit! Y-you’re c-clenc-ching!”

Half the time you can’t even make out what he’s saying. Other than that he just grunts and groans. ALMOST growling.

And bro WILL be speaking German too, it slips out sometimes.

W = Waking up afterwards

(how they are after waking up)

Though he can’t feel it, his muscles are slightly sore from pushing himself a bit too hard.

Besides that he’s gonna make sure you’re okay after the whole thing. And if you don’t wake up, he’ll just opt to fall back asleep snuggling into your chest.

X = X-ray

(let's see what's going on under those clothes(¬‿¬))

A surprising 6 inch, though not that girthy. Makes up for it in hitting ALL the right places. The tip gets redder depending on how worked up he is, leaning slightly to the left. With a vain running up it’s right side.

Y = Yearning

(how high is their sex drive?)

Bro is ABUSING The Operator strength, he can last for god knows how long. Without any breaks. He can go at it with you like a rabbit in heat.

Z = Zzz

(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He won’t fall asleep until he knows you’re completely comfortable and content with what happened.

He doesn’t mean to be creepy, but he’ll watch you sleep for a while. In case something comes up afterwards.

But once he’s asleep, he’s knocked out cold for the next few hours…

[inmyheaddd]

walkin’ out the door with your bags — part 6

⤷ “i’m not the type to run, i know we’re having fun,”

summary: you and gigi are peacefully enjoying your day, when you find out, grayson’s… back? and he wants to talk. what could go wrong? wc: 3.0k masterlist || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5

14 years old… 

you found him hiding in the library.  

he was slumped in the corner, knees pulled to his chest, head buried in his arms. at first, you weren’t sure it was him—grayson hawthorne never looked so… small. 

his usually pristine shirt slightly wrinkled like he’d been tugging at the hem, and it wasn’t tucked in. he didn’t look straight at you when you stepped in, but he didn’t tell you to leave either.  

“what do you want?” his voice cracked, but he tried to sound cold.  

you didn’t answer. instead, you sat down beside him, legs crossed, like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

he blinked at you, waiting for an explanation, but you just shrugged. years of knowing each other, and it always went down like this. 

“company.” you picked a random book off the nearest shelf and flipped it open. “you can pretend i’m not here.”

he didn’t reply.

minutes passed. long enough that you thought maybe he really would ignore you. at one point, you began actually reading the book you were pretending to read, and nearly forgot about the boy beside you.

but then, out of nowhere, he spoke.

“i don’t know what to do.” he admitted slowly. “there’s this girl… emily,” he said, his voice low, and you felt your heart beat faster. “and… my brother. jameson.”

your chest tightened, though you weren’t sure why. your kept your gaze fixed on the pages of your book, but your hands had stopped turning the pages.

“what about them?” you asked carefully, glancing at him for a second.

he ran a hand through his hair. “she’s… complicated. and jameson—he doesn’t think. he just jumps into things, never stops to think what it might do to everyone else.”

you hesitated, breath hitching as you studied the way he wouldn’t look straight into your eyes. whatever this was, clearly meant a lot.

he continued, looking down at the floor. “it gets repetitive. jameson, emily—they don’t think about the damage until it’s too late. and then they leave me to clean it up. and stupidly, for some reason, i do. i always do.”

you’ve seen grayson sad before, but this was different. he looked… lost. and angry. and for someone like grayson, who always carried himself like he had the whole world in order, it was jarring.

“you’re allowed to be mad, you know,” you said.

that made him pause. “i’m not mad,” he said, but the words sounded like a blatant lie.

your shoulders were barely touching , but the act alone felt larger than anything else. 

you tilted your head, a soft smile growing on your face. “okay, then you’re… frustrated? dissapointed? annoyed? irritated? pick your adjective.”

that earned the tiniest flicker of a smile, and your chest felt a little lighter, but then it disappeared just as quickly. he looked at you then, and something about the way his eyes searched your face made your breath catch.

“sometimes, i think you’re the only person who actually sees me,” he said quietly.

your heart stuttered, and for a second, you couldn’t think of anything to say. 

but then you smiled, “of course i see you,” you rolled your eyes jokingly like he hadn’t just sincerely confirmed that he really did see you as a friend, after years of just feeling like you pestered him. 

your cheeks reddened, “i’m your friend, that’s what i’m here for.” 

“but, you know,” you continued, “you’re surrounded by people who care about you,” you said softly, taking the focus away from you, and back to being there for grayson. “just let yourself see it. don’t push them away.”

his head snapped up at that, his sharp eyes meeting yours. “but people never just… stay.” he mumbled. “they have their own lives, their own motives.”

you stayed. you always would. “that doesn’t mean you have to shut everyone out,” you said, your voice steadier now.

“not everyone’s going to hurt you, grayson. but you won’t know that if you keep closing the door before anyone gets close. i mean, i annoyed you for so many years straight even when you pushed me away.” you said. 

“not everyone has my extreme level of patience and willingness to accept moody brooding.” you joked to lighten the moment, but there was truth behind it, he couldn’t expect people to stick around if he pushed them away.

he stared at you for a long moment, and something in his expression cracked, like he wanted to believe you but didn’t quite know how yet. 

he looked back at the floor, “you never actually irritated me,” he admitted, “and i never hated you. perhaps you’re right, i don’t… i don’t like to let people in.” 

you shrugged casually, “i’m always right.” 

he looked at you with a newfound softness in his eyes. “you’re annoyingly persistent, you know that?” he said finally, your shoulders still brushing against each other. 

“oh, i know.” you grinned. “if i wasn’t, we wouldn’t be friends right now.” you said with a small smile. “someone’s gotta stick around to remind you you’re not as alone as you think.”

for a while, neither of you said anything. grayson leaned his head back against the wall, letting out a long, quiet breath. 

that was when you knew he was replaying your words, letting them sink in—even if he wouldn’t say it outloud. 

— 

present

after days of confusion and radio silence from grayson, you finally told yourself that you were done overthinking. gigi had dragged you to your favorite ice cream shop for a much-needed distraction. 

the two of you sat at your usual table near the front, the smell of waffle cones and the soft hum of background music lulling you back into some sense of normalcy. that was until gigi leaned closer, her voice a hushed whisper.

“don’t look now, but…” gigi trailed off, her eyes going behind you once again. “grayson is kind of, um, here. and sitting behind you.” 

considering gigi had made very careful effort to not even mention his name around you — even when you persisted you didn’t care— hearing graysons name come from her lips stunned you for a moment, then you realized what she had just said. 

“what?” you whispered in shock, and then you turned around before you could think it twice. 

there were quite a few people in the shop, so there was quiet chatter mixed with the background music, but it all seemed to silence. 

but there he was, grayson hawthorne, sitting in the back of the empty icecream shop, glasses on typing on his computer.

‘who did he think he was?’ you thought, ‘coming to our— my place? the one that i introduced him to?’ 

you focused on the anger so you wouldn’t feel anything else. 

what on earth was he doing here? who the hell comes to an ice cream shop and doesn’t even get anything? and does what, office work? and who—

he looked up through his glasses, and you realized to late that you were sort of… full blown staring. 

he met your eyes for the briefest of seconds as you turned your head back around. 

“holy cow…” gigi mumbled as she looked down at her icecream, “he’s giving you a major longing stare right now.”

“okay,” you hummed, raising your eyebrows momentarily in lieu of a shrug that he would he able to see, “i don’t care.”

“sure you don’t,” she replied knowingly, dragging her spoon through her melting sundae. you gave her a look that said you didn’t agree, and that you seriously did not care, but she didn’t say anything. 

a beat passed before gigi suddenly grinned. “okay. in five seconds, i’m giving him a major angry glare.” she mumbled under her breath. 

“gigi, do not.”

“three…

“seriously, don’t.”

“two… one. i’m doing it!”

“gigi!”

she tilted her head back up, and bless her heart, gave her best attempt at a seething glare at grayson. 

it was sort of impossible for her to look angry with her wide blue eyes, no matter how hard she furrowed her brows. 

and she didn’t let up at it for a few seconds, then raised her eyebrows — half surprised and half amused. “ha,” she grinned to herself and fisted the air. “he looked away first. loser.” 

he was probably just crazily confused, you reckoned. 

“okay,” you chuckled under your breath, your cheeks reddening by the second. “um, should we leave now?”

“no,” gigi whined, taking a bite of her icecream. “that’ll make it obvious we’re mad. besides, i haven’t finished my icecream.” 

“well, i think that look you gave him made it more obvious,” you told her, and she only laughed as she shook her head. “but alright.” 

it wasn’t long before you left. you didn’t even have an appetite any more, and you were too overly aware of a presence behind you to focus on anything else. gigi finished her icecream promptly. 

the drive home was quiet. gigi hummed along to the radio, her mood as bright as ever, but you couldn’t shake the tightness in your chest. 

your thoughts churned, questions you’d been trying to bury for a few days swirling all over again.

“you’re quiet,” gigi said after a while, her tone soft. she glanced at you, concerned, but you only shook your head, trying to force a small smile.

“just tired,” you mumbled.

gigi didn’t push, and you could tell she didn’t buy it.

you pulled into the driveway and sat there for a moment, the car engine ticking softly as it cooled. gigi patted your arm before grabbing her bag and heading inside.

you smiled and nodded, muttering something like ‘i’ll meet you inside,’ and you stayed behind for a moment, staring at the steering wheel.

your phone was put on silent, then you scrolled through your notifications. 

grayson 

— Hi, I believe I saw you and Gigi today

you

— yeah haha i think gigi told me she saw you  i thought you were gone for 8 days? — it’s nice to see you back

grayson 

— Likewise. — I think we should talk, It’s been long overdue. 

a scoff escaped before you could stop it. the audacity.

your fingers moved before your brain could catch up.

you

— ok — talk then 

grasyon

— Would you be alright with talking in person?

you 

— yeah sure whatever — where?

grayson

— I’ll come to you.

you

— maybe not — i don’t want to disturb gigi

grayson

— Our park spot, then?

you

— ok

your heart slammed in your chest. you sat there for a moment, staring at the screen wordlessly, trying to process what just happened. 

our? how could he even still use that word?

this was happening, you were going to talk to grayson for real this time. you anticipated it wouldn’t end good. things with him were rarely easy.

you put on your headphones to numb your thoughts, pulled on a hoodie, and made your way out the house. 

the playground was completely empty, which was usually how it was when you and grayson used to go. the sun was already beginning to set when you walked out of your house, and it was fully dark once you arrived, making your way toward your spot. the bench.

it wasn’t anything special—just a worn wooden bench tucked away at the edge of the playground. but it had been yours. you and grayson’s.

he was already there when you arrived, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the ground like it might have the answers he needed.

you sat down on the opposite end of the bench, keeping a deliberate distance. “okay,” you said, crossing your arms. “talk.” the park was eerily quiet, the air cooling rapidly as the sun finally disappeared behind the trees. the bench felt cold under your fingers as you sat down, the weight of the moment settling in.

his eyes flicked to yours, and for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of guilt there. 

you were both silent for a few seconds, before you looked away, down at the floor.

“fine, if you won’t talk, i will.” you muttered. 

“grayson,” you sighed, “you can’t just—” you started, your voice breaking slightly before you caught yourself. 

you cleared your throat, willing the tears to stay put. “you can’t just disappear and then show up like nothing happened. like i’m supposed to just... what? forget it?”

he inhaled, then hesitated. “you know, i never meant it to be like this. i didn’t mean for it to feel like that.” he said quietly, his tone so calm that it just made you more angry.

“feel like what, grayson?” you finally snapped your head towards his. “like you were ignoring me? like you couldn’t be bothered to let me know what was going on? because that’s exactly what it felt like.”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

“that’s it?” you scoffed, followed by a bitter laugh as you sat up straight. “you disappear, you come back, and all you’ve got is ‘i didn’t mean for it to feel like that?’”

he wielded silence like a weapon, just like he always had.

you continued, still. “what’s going on with you? you’re acting so— so different, i barely even recognize you.”

he let out a breath as he looked away, running a hand through his hair. “please, don’t make this harder than it already is,” he started, his voice calm but careful. “yes, we are good friends, but we’ve tarnished that too far for us to ever be simply friends again.”

“what? grayson,” you said through a forced laugh, “what are you even saying right now?” you knew precisely what he was saying. 

“you’re a good person.” he said, almost sounding like he was begging for you to see his point, “you’re a lovely person, the most caring and funniest person i’ve met. you deserve better, i’m not the person for you.” 

“grayson, what is wrong with you?” you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity at what you were hearing, but you were so frustrated at his… selfishness.

“i want you, you want me, right? it’s that simple! just let us be us.”

“it’s never that simple.” he shook his head, that one strand falling back into his face. his brows furrowed slightly like the words hurt him to say.

“it is that simple! you’re making no sense, just— just stop.” you stood up, and he followed, fear flashing in his eyes momentarily. 

you took a slow step away from him.

“you kissed me! you kissed me.” your voice crackled, and you swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to keep going. “if you knew from day one that you couldn’t do this, you should’ve just spared me the effort and left me alone.”

he looked at you like you’d shot a dagger through his heart, though his eyes were the only thing that showed it. were you being unfair? probably. but in your eyes, you had every right to be. 

as much as both of you hated to admit, his eyes were far too easy for you to read. they were like a language only you were fluent in, like you could have a whole conversation without even speaking.

now, all they said was pain. 

“you’re the only thing making things more difficult, gray.” you hated the way your voice trembled. 

low blow after low blow. but he deserved it. 

all those nights you’d spent together? he knew you inside and out, what hurts you, what doesn’t, and exactly how you love.

he knew all of that, and he still thought that leaving because things were difficult was going to be the right thing.

this couldn’t be real.

“look at us, don’t you see it?” he motioned between the two of you, like whatever was happening was a tangible thing he could see. “we’re fighting like this, and we’re not even together. we’re going to ruin each other.”

ruin each other? is that what he thought? god knows how many years of friendship, a pretty perfect friendship too, and he thought making something official would lead to you ruining each other? 

you weren’t fighting with him, you were trying to fight for him. for the chance of you actually being something more. 

“we can’t do this.” his voice felt so detached, but his eyes looked so hurt at the same time. he didn’t getto feel hurt, not when it was his fault. “we’ll just end up hurting eachother, and i don’t want to hurt you.”

you nodded silently, willing your tears back. every inch of you you wanted to scream in his face, “you already have! you coward.”

he was doing nothing but hurt you these past few days.

instead, you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the tears at bay.

“yeah,” you said, pressing your lips together as you nodded again. “alright. i get it. that’s it then?”

grayson’s eyes narrowed for a split second like he was confused. 

was he surprised? did he think you were going to hang on longer? because you weren’t. you’d spent far too much energy on him. you always saw him as someone worth spending you time on, someone worth trying to figure out, someone you wanted to know.

but you understood now: he didn’t want you to figure him out because he didn’t even know who he was himself. he was scared. but that wasn’t an excuse; you were terrified, and you still were. 

love had always been your fatal flaw, the one thing you were unsure of, but you were willing to dive in head first because it was grayson. 

he just didn’t feel as deeply though. 

you didn’t want to figure him out, and you didn’t want to know anything about him anymore. 

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he looked at you, and for a moment, his mask slipped. his eyes—those stupid, stupid eyes— almost made you want to feel sorry for him. he looked vulnerable, but you were too angry to let it affect you this time.

“i… yes.” grayson finally said, sounding unsure of himself for once in his life. “i suppose that’s it.”

“good,” you nodded as your crossed your arms, “because i don’t want to hear what you have to say ever again.“ 

he reached his hands out but quickly let his arms fall back, curling his fingers into a fist. 

he looked at you like he didn’t know what to say, his mouth opening and closing before he finally settled on just staying silent.

you still felt like there was a million unspoken words that needed to be said, but you turned and walked away. 

for once, you didn’t wait to see if he’d try again.

you willed your feet to move and not think about how he looked behind you, because if you did, even for a second, you had a feeling you’d turn right back. 

a/n: guys it gets better i swear they’ll be happier than ever soon 🙏 taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable

@anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07

 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear 

@clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams 

@hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 10: The Cabin: Day 5 (pt.1)

Summary: You and Soap both struggle to sleep. You have nightmares all night while Soap tries to rationalize his feelings and help you cope with the nightmares.

Word Count: 6,821

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, strong language, slight smut, nudity, graphic description of blood in nightmares

A/N: I had a few comments on Wattpad asking for a specific scene for this chapter, so I modified the chapter to include that. Please enjoy, like, comment, and reblog 🫶🏻

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Bitter Allies • Part 10

No matter what he does, Soap cannot get to sleep tonight. It not like he's too hot, and he wasn't horribly uncomfortable in his bed either. Yet, he's been tossing and turning for hours. While there was no way of telling time, he knows it has to be past midnight at this point.

He's not completely clueless as to what's keeping him up though. Any time he tries to quiet his mind, it always end up wandering back to the woman lying silently in her cot a few feet away from him. He can't stop thinking about you. About what happened today, or in this case, what happened yesterday. Within the last twenty-four hours.

It wasn't even the fact he faced off with a black bear. Hell that didn't really scared him much. He was a well traveled soldier was this point and had survived the wilds of Russia. He'd learned how to handle wild animals of all sorts. No, the thing bothering him was feeling like he almost lost you today.

Having sex with you just the day before had opened his eyes to new feelings he felt towards you. It was easy to push that down with time and put his walls back up. He could just call it a mistake and move on, pretend like it meant nothing. But something as drastic as hearing you scream in terror, begging for him to get to you, looking so frightened and small and vulnerable, shaking and sobbing as he held you... it was different than just having sex.

At least with sex, he could blame his new feelings on the fact you'd done something so intimate. He felt different towards you cause you made him feel good, because sex makes people feel closer to each other, because it was exciting and fun, because he normally didn't sleep around just for fun, so doing it as a one time thing was confusing for him. There were a million excuses to explain how he felt. But with what happened with the bear, he couldn't fully rationalize those feelings.

When he heard you scream, his blood ran ice cold. He'd never felt such panic at the thought that you might be in trouble. Even thinking about it now makes his heart beat a little faster. Then when he finally got to you, and you looked so scared, something in him just snapped. He wanted to protect you, but not in the same way he wanted to protect his brothers and sisters in arms. He couldn't explain it.

Once that bear had run off, all he wanted to do was get to you. Make sure you were ok. The thought of you being hurt filled him with dread. It wasn't like that with his other squad mates. If the 141 boys got hurt, he'd be worried and concerned, but with you he'd almost felt sick. He didn't think of himself as sexist, but maybe it was because you were a woman. But he'd worked with other women before and never felt that way about one he liked let alone you, who he couldn't stand.

Then when you started trembling, he could have died. He had to fight off the urge to wrap you up in his arms and hold you close to him. He probably would have had you not been naked. Even if he could brush or excuse everything else, this was one thing he couldn't explain. He had never felt such a stong urge to want to hold someone. The only other time he could think of having a feeling that strong would have been when his sisters got scared when they were kids. He'd certainly never wanted to hug Ghost or the others or any other female he'd worked with.

Then of course once you got inside, and you wouldn't shut up about how you almost died, that kept bringing up all those feelings tenfold. He couldn't stop thinking about himself not being fast enough. Not getting to you in time. Feeling panicked, filled with dread, wanting to hug you close to him and never let go.

He couldn't make sense of it. Had these feelings always been here, and they'd just been hidden behind layers and layers of hate and resentment? And when you'd finally cleared your minds, is that when it could finally come through. God... did he actually like you? And more than just another teammate.

Soap growls, slapping his hands over his hands and dragging them down. He was going insane. This cabin was making him absolutely insane. He wanted to go back so desperately to when it was simple, but there was no turning back now. Hell, he still had the rest of today with you and then two more days past that. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad. You had "started over" after all. You'd even done that stupid little bid of reintroducing yourselves to each other.

A huff leaves Soap as he thinks about that. Fuck it'd been so fucking cute. Your annoyingly adorable pout when he didn't shake your hand right away and even more adorable look when he had. He'd never thought of you as cute. Annoying fit, but not adorable. Something had changed, and he didn't like it, but he did.

He glances over to where you lay, fast asleep and breathing peacefully. You're on your side facing him, his liner pulled up right to your chin. It's so dark out he can't really make out your face. The wood stove between your cots, which normally did have a fire going during the night, was currently not being used. It was a warmer night, so he decided there was no point in starting a fire. The only light source was coming from the moon, but it was only a half moon. It barely illuminated the room.

Soap is about to give up on trying to sleep for the night and go to the kitchen and draw or maybe journal for a bit. Or as Gaz would say, write in his diary. Whatever you wanted to call it, writing things out helped get stuff off his mind.

He's about to get out of bed when he hears a faint whimper from your side of the tiny room. He stills for a moment, looking over at you when you do it again. Your cot makes the God awful creaking sounds it always makes whenever you move the slightest bit, and Soap watches you curl into a tight ball. You're starting to breathe heavy, taking very small gasps, and he knows you're having a nightmare.

You sound like you had right after the bear attack, only on a smaller scale. He frowns at he listens to you, only able to tolerate it for a few seconds before he's slipping out of bed and taking the two quick steps to your side.

He kneels down, able to see your face a little better now that he's closer. It's pinched up, your brows furrowed and lips turned downward in a frown. He feels the longing in his chest once again to hug you close to him and comfort you, but he won't let himself. Instead, he places a hand on your arm, giving you a very gentle shake to try and wake you up from whatever is plaguing you.

"Oi, lass." He whispers softly. "Hey, States. Wake up." He adds a little louder when you don't come out of sleep the first time.

You startle awake, taking in a big gasp of air and jumping. Your hand flies out to grab at his arm, and he lets you sit up. Your eyes are widened in fear, and he quickly tries to calm you down.

"Hey, easy." He tells you gently. "You were having a nightmare."

"O-oh.." He hears you weakly mutter. "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

Soap frowns at your question and shakes his head. "Nah, I was already up."

"Why are you still? Can't you fall sleep?" You ask, and he knows he can't tell you the real reason why he's awake. That he can't sleep because you were tormenting his mind.

"It's just a bit warm is all. I'm too hot to get comfortable." It wasn't a complete lie, just a half truth. "I'll be fine. Go back to sleep, aye?" He gets up, moving back over to his cot and setting down. He hears you mumble an "alright" before your cot starts squeaking again as you settle.

Soap stares up at the ceiling, you now in the forefront of his mind once again. All those odd unexplainable feelings from earlier had resurfaced, and he had to push them all back down once more. He just needed to sleep it off. Maybe his mind was just tired, and he wasn't thinking straight. That had to be it. He'd think more clearly in the morning.

He tries to sleep, but he still can't get himself to drift off. Cursing softly and kicking his blanket off in frustration, he fishes out his journal from under his pillow and gets up to go into the kitchen. It's not much brighter out there, but the small table sat by the window allowed for slightly more light to come in.

Opening his journal to a new page, he begins to scribble his feelings into the book. He writes about the argument from the morning, about the things he said to you. He writes about hearing your voice and how it made him panic. About the bear, how small you felt, about the moments right after and how he hates that you make him feel this way. He hated you long before this, and now he just had more reasons to add to that. More reasons to hate you.

But then why can't I hate you...

The last words he wants to write in his journal don't make it down onto the paper as his attention is torn away from the book. A sob is coming from the bedroom. Standing before his mind can catch up, he opens the bedroom and peaks inside. You're asleep again, he's pretty sure, back on your side and sobbing. Your breath has a panicked rhythm, more so than before.

And then, if it wasn't hard enough, he hears you call his name in a mumbled and slurred speech. Pleading with him, crying for him, and it's like his heart being ripped from his chest. Like he's reliving the encounter with you, and he can't stand it anymore.

In a few quick strides, he's back to your side, gently shaking you awake again.

***

Big black sharp claws, a horrible pain in your stomach, blood staining the clear water, guts floating up right before your eyes. Your guts. The pain is intense, feeling like a burning sensation. You scream, hands gripping onto black fur and pushing away the animal that is trying to bit at your throat. Your arms shake as you struggle to hold the beast back. You scream again, this time for the one man you know is here to help you.

Please, you don't want to die like this...

The bear's head turns and bites your arm, pain radiating where its teeth sink in. You let go, ripping your arm free, but also ripping the flesh from your arm and leaving the bones bare. You don't know how you haven't passed out yet.

As you look at your arm, screaming in horror at the all too real visual, the bear lunges, teeth sinking into your throat. Your head is pinned to the side as the pain sinks in, as breathing becomes harder.

Through your tears, you see him. Standing on the side of the lake shore, looking out towards you. His arms are crossed, his expression stern. You beg him to help you, the words coming out even despite the animal crushing your throat. You plead, reaching out your mangled arm to him, but he turns away. He disappears into the trees, leaving you behind.

You thought you could trust him... you remember starting over... why was this happening?

The bear forces you under water then, its large body pinning you to the bottom on the lake, head thrashing as it tears at your throat. You gasp, somehow able to breathe in the water, and when your eyes open it's pitch black.

The pressure is still on your chest, the burning in your stomach and neck, but you're able to move better. Maybe it let you go, but you can't see anything. You sit up, gasping and blindly grabbing at the air in front of you to grab the bear before it can get you again. You miss every time though until it grabs your arms again, and you cry out as you duck away, fearing it's going to get you again.

As you duck, your head sits something solid, and you pause. The pain starts to leave your body, besides your head, and you realize you're not in water anymore. You make out a window that has a tiny bit of moonlight shining through it and realize you'd hit your head right on the frame. Then your ears start to work and you hear someone saying your name.

"States please! You're having a nightmare! Lass, you're just dreaming, it's alright!"

You immediately recognize the Scottish accent, but you don't quite interpret the message he's giving. The freshest memory you have of him is of him walking away while you got mauled. You rip your arms away, trying to get away, but you can't. A hard wall blocks you in.

"No!! Get away! You left! You fucking left me to die!" You scream at him, still not in the right mind.

He puts his hands on your thighs by your knees, rubbing soothing shapes with this fingers. "Shhh, it's alright. You were having a nightmare. You're alright. Please, calm down. It's alright." He coos over and over again. "Just a nightmare. Deep breaths. Come back to me, hen."

Your breathing starts to slow slightly as your mind separates reality from dreamscape. Memories of what actually occurred flood your head, but now you're just left with the raw feeling of terror from what you made up. You cry, hands covering your face as you remember the fear, the pain, the feeling of teeth and ripping flesh.

You feel yourself move, being pulled into Soap's chest. His large arms wrap around your body and hold you firmly against him. He guides your head to lay on his shoulder, forehead tucked against his neck. You don't fight it, maybe because you're still kind of out of it, maybe because it feels nice. He's so warm, he's whispering gentle things to you in a deep voice, and his hands rub soft circles on your back as you sob.

"I've got ya... It's alright now. You were just dreaming. Just a nightmare." He repeats, one of his hands gently cradling the back of your head and bushing softly through your hair.

"I-I-t-it was-s hor-horri-ble..." You finally choke out, beginning to hyperventilate more than cry.

"I know... I know..." Soap says softly, holding you a bit tighter while you struggle for air. "It's ok though. Just breathe for me."

"It attacked me... I felt its teeth in my throat, and it cut me open, and you were th-there..." You're just making yourself upset all over again as you recall everything that happened. "You just watched. You wouldn't help, and then you left me..."

"Oh hell, lass..." Soap frowns as he listens to you somewhat explain your dream through broken words. "It wasn't real, hen. It wasn't real."

"But it felt real..." You whimper.

"Hey, look at me." Soap says gently, moving his hand to your chin and pulling you away from him just slightly. Your eyes meet his, and you can just barely make out the whites from his bright blue irises. "It was not real. I know it felt like it, but it wasn't. I know we fight a lot. I know we are a pain in each other's asses, but listen to me. You are still 141. I will always have your back. No bear is going to get you on my watch. You hear me? Don't you think for one second that I would just leave you. When I heard your scream, I never run so fast in my damn life to get to you."

You're left speechless when he's done. How do you respond to something like that? It was so sweet, so heartfelt, so not the Soap MacTavish you knew. You'd been seeing small glimpses of this softer side of his, but nothing like this. His words are a soothing balm to the terrors you dreamt of, and you've never been so grateful to have him here with you.

"Soap..." You whisper, holding his gaze and allowing your body to ease itself of tension. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do." He drops his hand from your chin, settling it on your hips instead. "I don't want you dead. I don't not like you that much."

You laugh softly, probably because you're exhausted. It was a long day, and to top it off, nightmares sort of took a lot out of you. At least he didn't hate you. He wouldn't be here holding you in his arms if he did.

"Thank you." You tell him softly. "For everything. For coming to save me, for giving me your shirt, for making me soup, and calming me down, and... I really appreciate it."

"Don't do that. You don't need to do that. My mum would have beheaded me if she knew I didn't help a lady in distress. Plus, I just couldn't stand the sound of your cot when you thrash around." He grumbles, but you know he doesn't mean that.

"Well, my parents wouldn't be happy if I didn't acknowledge it." You throw back at him. "Plus I don't want to hear you bitch about how I never even said thank you."

"Brat." Soap chuckles. "Go to sleep. Don't need you to be grouchy tomorrow."

You're smiling, but it quickly fades at the idea of going to sleep. Despite Soap making you feel better, the nightmares still tickles at the back of your mind. Just waiting for you to shut your eyes so it can take over once more.

"I... I might stay up for a little bit." You say slowly.

"I know you're exhausted. You had a stressful day. Get some sleep, lass." He tells you softly, trying to gently push you to lay down, but you don't let him.

"But what if I have another nightmare?"

Soap pauses for a moment when you say that. You can't make out his expression in the dark, but you feel like he's clenching his jaw. There's a beat of silence before he continues.

"Then I'll be right here." He assures you. "You'll be alright."

"Well, I don't want to keep waking you up."

"Eh, you haven't yet. Still hadn't been able to get to sleep. Don't worry about me though." Soap starts to gently nudge you to get you to lay done. You're a bit reluctant, but you let him. You sink back onto your cot, the springs creating a symphony of whiny metallic screeches as you do. "Fucking hell, I hate your bed so much." He grumbles.

You roll your eyes, sighing heavily. You would argue more with him about your squeaky cot, ask him how he thinks you felt having to sleep on it, but you're actually pretty tired. So you opt to just lay back and hope you won't dream at all.

"Alright. But if I wake you up though I'm not gonna feel bad." You yawn softly.

"Yeah whatever, you-" Soap pauses to yawn as well. "Probably wouldn't have regardless." He finishes.

You giggle a little bit. "Goodnight, Soap."

"Night, States."

***

You're not sure what time it is, but you wake up in a cold sweat, Soap gently shaking your arm. Your cheeks are damp, and it still takes you a second to figure out that you're not dreaming anymore. Although you are getting quicker at coming around with each time he wakes you up.

You still grab his wrist in a death grip, breathing heavily as you look in the dark at him. He's still shushing you softly like he had the other times, though he sounds a lot more tired now. You're definitely waking him up.

"Hell, States. You're fine. Just another nightmare." He says, rubbing his face with his free hand when you won't let go of his other hand immediately. "It's alright, lass. Can you let go of my arm?"

You blink a few times, coming back once again. His words take a few seconds to register, and you release him once they do. You're far past feeling guilty now. You've woken him up a few times now. The nightmares are not letting up or going away.

"Sorry... Fuck what the hell is wrong with me..." You sigh, drying your cheeks on your shirt as you sit up. This was probably the fifth time now. It had to be close to 0400 but it's too hard to tell. The room was still in total darkness, so you know it's not quite 0700 yet.

Soap sighs softly, stinking down to sit on the edge of your bed, making the springs make a horrid noise. "There's nothing wrong with you. You're just dealing with a lot. Processing stuff. You'll probably be fine tomorrow."

"I want to be fine now." You complain. You felt bad for keeping him awake. If it was just you, you wouldn't care, but this was exhausting for Soap too.

"Unfortunately it doesn't work that way. Only thing you can do is just go back to sleep."

You can tell he doesn't really want to stay up with you. He wants to sleep, and you can't blame him. He's been up all night essentially and any sleep he is getting is being interrupted. You're honestly surprised he hadn't snapped at you yet.

"The sun's gotta be rising soon. I think I'm just going to stay up." You say, pushing the liner down and pulling your legs free.

"You don't know that. Could be only 0200 for all we know." He counters, but he doesn't push it. "But if you wanna stay up for a bit though that's fine. I just wanna sleep. I'm fucking tired."

You frown, watching as he gets up and drags his feet as he walks over to his side of the room. "I know you are. I'm sorry."

"Eh," Soap waves a hand back towards you as he crawls back into his cot. "It's fine. You can't help it." He yawns, the sound a little obnoxious and dramatic. "Just don't stay up too long." He adds, already half asleep the second his head hits his pillow.

"Alright." You agree, not even sure he's heard you. After a few minutes, he's already softly snoring.

You carefully try to get off your cot, wincing as the squeaking from the springs echo in the quiet room. Soap's snoring continues on uninterrupted though. Normally, you moving even the slightest bit would make him wake up and gripe, so that was a testament to how out of it he truly was.

The rest of the walk to the bedroom door is silent in comparison once you're off your cot. Even the slight squeak of the door hinges is nothing. Once you're in the kitchen, you can breathe a sigh of relief, glad to finally give Soap a little time to actually get some sleep. Though now you're cursed with trying to find something to do to occupy your mind.

It's far too dark to do something like read. You could use the flashlight, but you don't want to waste the batteries on something like that. You'd rather have it for emergencies. Cooking was also out of the question. The pots and pans and the smell of food would probably just wake Soap up again. Plus it was dark still. It was a little hard to cook without being able to see what you're doing.

You can, however, make yourself a drink. It was just a mixture of purified water from your cantina and a cherry flavoring packet, but it was something to occupy your mind for a few seconds and gave you something somewhat tasty to drink.

You set about digging through the box for the flavor you want, finding what you hope is a red and not an orange packet. When you tear it open though, a strong scent of cherry confirms it was the right flavor. You mix it into some water, trying to stir your cup quietly. Every time the spoon hits the side of the metal cup, it sounds so loud in the quiet night air.

You're about done with your stirring and are about to go sit at the little table when you hear a stick snapping somewhere outside. You inhale sharply, your body going tense. You try to rationalize with yourself that it's nothing. Just a deer or something else. But of course your sleep deprived, stressed out, overactive, brain thinks it's the bear.

No matter how much you tell yourself it's nothing and to calm down, your heart rate just keeps getting higher and higher. You can't make yourself calm down. Even if your rational brain knew it wasn't in danger, that didn't keep all the sensors from firing off.

Then you hear another twig snap, this one closer to the cabin. A horrible shiver runs up your spine as you imagine it is the bear. Smelling you from outside, right outside the door. It could just bust down that door and get you. And it's dark out, its fur would blend in so well that you wouldn't even see it coming.

That's enough to set you off. Your hands shake as you try to place your cup down somewhere it won't spill. You just want to be back in your bed. Right by Soap. An extra door between you and whatever else is outside.

The cup doesn't quite make it though. What was most likely just a crab apple from a nearby tree falls and lands on the roof by the deck. It rolls from the roof and hits the deck, making a thumping sound, which makes you jolt. Your frazzled mind doesn't think it's a nut though. You imagine it's the sound of a bear knocking something over outside while it makes its way up onto the deck.

You are in full panic mode. Water spills over the rim of the cup as you jump, and you hurriedly set it down. Once your hands are free, you bolt back into the bedroom. You don't mean to, but you end up slamming the door in your hurry. It doesn't immediately occur to you how loud it was, but it was enough to wake Soap up.

The poor Scot jumps awake, the loud bang nearly giving him a heart attack. He's on high alert as his eyes search the darkness for what caused the loud sound. He's drawn instantly to your dark figure by the door, and he can hear you breathing heavily but quietly.

"States?" You hear him ask hesitantly. "What the hell? What's wrong?"

You flinch when you hear his voice. You'd managed to wake him up yet again. Though you feel an odd mix of guilt and relief. You hate to admit it, but there is a part of you that is happy he's awake.

"There.. there's something outside..." You say softly, as though the imagery thing out there would hear.

"What?" Soap asks. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"There was a noise! I heard something on the porch and-and-"

"Oh Christ." Soap sighs. "Lass, it's probably nothing." He tries to reassure you, but you don't budge. Your tense figure stays standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around yourself as you watch the door.

"But-"

Then you hear a loud bang, and your heart jumps to your throat. It definitely came from outside. There was no way something in the kitchen had fallen over. You quickly back up until you're at Soap's side, tears collecting at the rim of your vision. Your heart is pounding, and you're doing everything you can to not have a full panic attack.

"See! I told you! What if the bear is back!?" You cry out.

Soap up on his feet instantly. Seeing him so alert only makes you want to panic more though. If he is this ready to go, then it really could be that the bear was back.

"What are you doing?!" You ask him, unable to keep the panic from your voice.

"I'm just gonna go check it out. I'll be right back." He tells you rather calmly. You're anything but calm though.

"No! Don't do that! What if something happens?!" You grab his arm before he can leave, making him look back at you.

"I doubt the bear is back. That thing was scared shitless. Just stay here. I'll only be a minute." He gives your hand a little pat, and despite any further protesting from you, he leaves to go check the sound out.

You have an internal debate with yourself on if you should go with him or not. You are terrified to face off with that black bear again, but you also don't want Soap to be by himself if it is back. Sure, he scared it off the first time, but you wanted to have his back like he had yours. After a few seconds of going back and forth in your head, you finally give in and rush after him.

"Soap! Wait up!" You sigh, running to catch up with him in the kitchen.

By the time you get there, Soap has already grabbed the flashlight and is shining it out the windows on the side where the banging sound had come from. His hand is cupped by his eyes as he looks around.

"I don't see anything out there." He assures you as you stand close to him, too scared to look for yourself.

"Well the bear is black. Kinda blends in right now." You mutter, chewing on your lip.

Soap huffs softly, standing up straight again as he looks back over to you. "Most bears sleep during this time. I am pretty certain it's not out there.

"Then what was that loud sound? Huh?" You worry, frowning at him. Soap groans, and you watch in confusion and then panic as he goes the door. "Don't fucking go out there! Are you crazy?!"

He's already out the door though, shining the light outside and looking over the porch. You manage to make yourself go to the doorway, watching him helplessly as he scouts it out.

"There's a bucket out here that's been knocked over. It was pro- Jesus! Fucking!" Soap jumps suddenly, taking a quick step back towards the door, which makes you jump.

"What?? What?!?" You shout, bouncing on your heels slightly as you try to make yourself stay and not run. You feel like your heart is going to explode it's beating so hard.

Soap takes a deep breath, placing a hand over his chest to calm himself down. "Just a fucking raccoon. Scared the shit out of me. See, have a look." He motions for you to come look as he shines the light.

Your feet stay firmly planted, but you do strain to look outside, and you can see a raccoon in the middle of the yard, its eyes glowing due to the light shining on it. It's frozen in place, on its way back to the woods. Then it suddenly turns and runs the rest of the way back.

"It probably just knocked that bucket over. Looking for food or something." Soap pieces together, turning and heading back inside. He shuts the door and places the flashlight back on its shelf. "No bear though. Come on, let's get back to bed."

You still haven't left your spot, trembling as you still don't feel safe. You know it's irrational to think the bear is still out there, even though Soap just proved it was most likely just a raccoon you'd been hearing, but you can't help it. The only thing that makes you move is when Soap comes over and gently grabs hold of your hips, trying to pull you away from your frozen state.

You resisting at first, but it doesn't take much for Soap to get you walking back to the bedroom. Your arms are folded over your chest, shivering both from fear and because the opened door has let some of the chilly night air in.

"Fuck. You're shaking again." Soap sighs, his hand rubbing your back as he guides you through the bedroom door. "You need to relax and stop working yourself up."

"I can't help it!" You frown, your exhausted mind breaking down a bit. "I've had fucking I don't even know how many nightmares about it now. I'm so tired, but I'm scared to sleep. But if I stay awake, then every little sound makes me imagine the bear just stalking the outside of the cabin! I just want to sleep..." You let out a little sob.

"Oh, States... you're killing me." Soap sighs, giving your back a few pats. "Here, come give me a hand real quick." He leaves your side, and you watch him out over to your cot. You're confused at first and then wince as the railing of your bed make jarring sounds as he moves it.

"What are doing?" You ask him, plugging one ear to help mute the sound.

"I'm moving your cot next to mine for the night." He explains. "Come give us a hand." He walks around to the side and gives it a push, essentially doing all the work himself. The beds are already close to being next to each other.

"You really don't have to-" You try to protest, but with a final shove, the beds are now side by side, almost creating one mattress.

"There." Soap sighs, crawling over yours and settling onto his own. "Come on. I'm tired." He pats your mattress firmly. "Get your ass in this bed and go to sleep." He grumbles, readjusting his pillow and blanket while he speaks.

"Was that really necessary?" You question, though you really don't feel like arguing.

"Yes." Soap says firmly. "Now I don't have to keep getting up.  You have another nightmare, I'm just going to kick you. You start blabbering about a bear, and I can just slap you."

His explanation, though a little harsh sounding, makes you smile a bit. He was clearly doing this so you felt safer. Also probably cause he truly was sick of you waking him up, but the sediment was there. Slowly, you walk over to the bed and sink down onto the mattress, fidgeting until you get comfortable. It pulls a long groan from Soap.

"That sounds even worse up close..." He complains, making you smile again.

"We could trade cots you know." You offer, getting a dry laugh from him.

"Yeah, not a chance. Sleep tight, States."

"Sweet fucking dreams." You mumble back.

***

You're out in the middle of the lake, the sun is shining on your back as you scrub your front with a wash cloth. The water is warm for once, you notice. It feels like you're taking a regular bath back at your parent's home in the US, expect for the fact you're outside. You're completely unaware of your surroundings, not paying any mind to what's around you as you bathe. It's so peaceful out, you don't feel the need to.

A twig snapping somewhere off in the distance breaks the visage of peace. You gasp and quickly turn to scan the woods for any dangers. All you see is the lush greenery. The only movement is from the wind blowing through the leafs. You want to go back to bathing, but you just can't shake the feeling that something is with you.

Then a pair of red eyes can be seen in the middle of out of the bushes. The red is a stark contrast to the green leafs, and you find yourself freezing as you stare into them. Slowly, the eyes get closer, a nose and head appearing as a snarling bear shows itself. You gasp, feeling yourself shrink down. The fear that had been clawing at you starts up again, making your heart pound in your chest.

Then, you feel something behind you. Something sharp grabs onto your sides, teeth sink into the side of your neck. You scream, trying to get away, but the thing behind you pulls you back, not letting you escape so easily. Terror fills you, and you think the bear has somehow gotten behind you. But then the bear talks.

"Sorry, love. Didn't mean to frighten you."

A deep Scottish drawl fills your ears. You pause as the sharp, what you thought were claws, smooth out and turn into warm palms. The teeth biting down on your neck ease up, and the stinging feeling turns into the warm press of lips. You're confused for a long moment.

"S-Soap?" You question, trying to look behind you. It's hard to turn your head though when the person's head is pressed into the side of your neck, leaving delicate kisses over where teeth had once been. You know it's him though.

"Soap, th-there's a bear! We need to go!" You try to urge him, completely ignoring the fact that you're naked and he's kissing you. "It's over there! Please! It's going to get us if w-"

"Don't you worry about that. It's not gonna get you as long as I'm here." He promises, a hand sliding up your body and cupping one of your breasts. His thumb circles at your nipple, pulling a gasp from you.

"What the hell are you doing?" You question him, grabbing at his hands as they cup your breasts. You look down, the sight making you feel heavy all of a sudden. "We need to get in the cabin." You attempt to leave, but Soap tightens his grip, pulling you firmly against him. You feel his firm, definitely naked body, against your backside. Even more shocking, you can feel an even firmer something else pressing into your lower back.

"You're safe with me, lass. Nothing is gonna try to harm you as long as I'm here. So you can relax. I've got you, hen."

He starts to kiss at the side of your neck once more, hitting every spot that makes you weak in the knees. Your eyes remain on the tree line, scanning for that bear. There is no sign of it now though. There is no longer a feeling of fear. Just a warmth and a feeling of safety. You start to involuntarily relax, putting more weight back onto Soap and letting him hold you.

"There we are..." Soap whispers to you, his hands starting to dip lower now. It slides down your stomach, fingers teasing the sensitive skin just above your pelvis. "You're safe. Not gonna let anything get you, bonnie."

You sigh, eyes fluttering a little as you feel his hips begin to rub against your ass. His member is thick and firm against you and slippery from the water. He's starting to breathe in your ear, the puffs slow and steady, matching the intensity of his movements.

"You gonna let me take care of you? Let me make you feel good. Let me help you relax a little bit." He whispers to you softly, his kisses trailing up the side of your neck, sucking little hickies here and there.

You're finding it hard to focus on anything but him anymore. The lake, trees, cabin, bear. All seem to fade into the foreground. You want to talk, but it's like your tongue had gone numb. It feels heavy in your mouth, all senses dim. It only to heightens every touch, kiss, and movement of him. All you can manage in response to him is a soft hum.

Then wordlessly, you feel his slick member dragging down along your backside and settling between your legs. He feels so hot against your throbbing need. You feel yourself arching to try and move his cock head to your entrance. It nudges it softly, making your whimper. You can feel him probing, his swollen tip poking around, looking for its way in. And when he finds it, and starts to sink in, you vision gets blurry, and the dream starts to fade.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

Hey love ❤️ I love the way you do Zoro angst. I was thinking like Zoro and the reader get pretty drunk at a festival and some guy sweeps her off her feet. Like she's all giggly and blushy and he's miserable about it. I was thinking maybe his perspective. She ends up not going home with this guy cause she knows Zoro's tendency to get lost. He's pissed off but also wasted so he doesn't make much sense. Maybe they argue. Maybe he drunkenly confesses. I think you can pick whether it ends well or not. I like pain.

mwuhahah i thrive off of angst (but i suck at writing it). this also shall have little bit of miscommunication trope (I HATE IT AS MUCH AS THE NEXT PERSON BUT IT MAKES FOR BRILLIANT ANGST HELLO!), and this ends in like unresolved angst and tension (cause i thought that was super funny of me). also a bit of crack included (cause im a jester and a clown and i enjoy making everything a bit stupid).

drunken liabilities ft. roronoa zoro!

set up: check above! the strawhat crew are invited to a celebratory party after saving an island from merciless pirates and somewhere between the drinking and the dancing, zoro finds himself yearning for a certain someone. warnings: dumb people, even dumber plot by me. mentions of alcohol, a fight, random party shenanigans; zoro gets jealous and petty. mutual pining by two idiots. "We're just crewmates" stfu no you're not. nami is the best thing in the universe. yeah, thats about it. wc: 2.7k

zoro saw you.

he saw your smile, and your ability to turn every one of his jabs into a nice, little argument. he saw the way you smiled, all self-satisfactory when you finally shut him up in those arguments. he saw the way you took him on in drinking competitions and how you giggled when he pretended to lose. he saw how pretty you looked, eyes hazy and cheek flushed after each of those competitions.

roronoa zoro saw you, whether you knew it or not.

but now, he saw you swaying your hips with your hands wrapped around a man. a maN?? A MAN THAT WASN'T EVEN HIM?

nami cleared her throat, raising the bottle of beer to her painted lips. she wanted to laugh at zoro's grumpy face, the way his eyebrows were knitted together. but being a woman of honour and virtue, she held back.

"fuck is wrong with him?" zoro muttered under his breath, mentally slicing up that man that was swaying with you. "why is he eye-fucking her?"

"you good?" nami laughed, finally.

zoro begrudgingly shifted his vicious glare from you and that stranger you were dancing with to nami. he gave her a shrug, "whatcha laughin' at, woman?"

"nothing, you're just murdering a man in your head again."

zoro said nothing, finding his words too simple to convey whatever it was that he was feeling. he didn't need to defend himself, after all.

it wasn't jealousy. pfft, ofcourse not.

maybe protectiveness? yeah, thats the word. you were part of the crew. and so, as the first mate, it was his duty to ensure that you were safe and sound from any imminent threat. even if that imminent threat was a man who you were dancing with. now, ofc, the swordsman wasn't a complete idiot. he knew that maybe he had a teeny, tiny-miny crush on you. maybe.

"i don't think it should be this normal for a person to be this casual about murder, zoro." the navigator egged him on.

"we're pirates, who cares." his shoulders slumped downwards as if to showcase his nonchalance about the subject matter.

"we care, we're the good kind."

"yeah, yeah. good kind." the former pirate hunter dragged the bottle to his lips, drinking in the intoxicating liquid as a light thump thump thump built in his head. he closed his eyes and tried to find a second of peace. but the people were singing too loud, and the makeshift lighting too blinding and if zoro recalled correctly, the sake he was chugging on was cheap as fuck. and he had had one too many as always.

typical celebratory things.

"you do know that she's single, right?" nami quipped after a minute, nodding in your general direction, "like, she isn't doing something morally wrong by dancing with a random dude. it's your own fault you're a pussy and can't ask her out."

he cracked open one eye, glaring at the red-head, "yeah okay, do you get paid to be all up in other people's business?"

"no," nami grinned, "but it's fun."

"right." zoro closed his eyes again and ran a light hand through his hair. he tried to guess where the other members of the group were. it wasn't hard to come to a convincing conclusion. he was sure that somewhere in the party, luffy, chopper, and ussop were busy playing some sort of food-related game. sanji was probably busy trying to pick up women. and the others mingling with the townsfolk. but you— what were you upto?

the swordsman's thoughts grabbed him by the collar and shook him like a wet, rabid dog. what if— what if you were swaying along with that man? your head on the stranger's chest, your ass hard against that man. what if that man took you through the unknown alleyways and up to his house and fu—

zoro whipped his face to look to where you were previously dancing. relief washed over his face when he found you on the dancefloor, still intoxicatedly dancing with the stranger.

but now the scene was different.

that guy had lifted you up in his arms. and the people around you (who were drunk out of their pea-shaped minds) hollered and cheered as you burst into a fit of giggles.

"hey, hey easy now." nami gently withdrew the glass bottle from zoro's grasp before he shattered it into a million pieces. the action from the navigator made the green-haired man looked down at his reddened palms in surprise. just protectiveness, right?

when nami spoke up again, she offered her (annoying) crewmate a sympathetic smile, "just go talk to her," zoro ignored the next part of her sentence, "when you're sober, okay?"

and that is how a very drunk roronoa zoro ended up in front of you on the dance floor.

the guy was swiftly carrying you away from the dance floor, to one of the darkened alleyways as you blushed and giggled when zoro approached the both of you.

"hey, i need to talk to ya for a sec." zoro's voice was slightly sluggish while addressing you, but the man turned around and gave him a confused look, "you want something, zoro?"

the swordsman shrugged, dismissing the well-natured man, "wasn't talking to you, was i now?"

drawing out your gaze on zoro, you scrambled off from the man's grip, standing up before answering, "sorry. what is it, zo?"

but it seems like whatever had been on zoro's tongue died within a minute of approaching you and that bastard. he resigned himself to a soft sigh, looking away from you. "nothin'" he grumbled, "nami was sayin that once you're done dancing, meet up with her."

"oh? is that all?" you asked softly, hoping that the stoic man would say something else.

but he was a man of few words, that you knew.

"yeah, well, she says she wants to walk back to the sunny with you. it's unsafe alone." he shrugged, "also, im heading back to the sunny."

"so soon?" and he nodded curtly in response. he gave the man next to you a quick side-eye before attempting to walk away from you at lightning speed.

by now the stranger had almost faded to the background as all your focus fell upon the man your captain called his first mate. as he walked away, his green hair were tousled, his walk a bit jagged up from all the alcohol. the overhead lighting plays with the dips and creases of his kimono and you found yourself following after him.

"hey!! where are ya going?!" the stranger called out after you but his voice faded between the rhythms and thumps of the songs and dances.

"zo!" you called after him, long forgetting the stranger that was spinning you around a few minutes ago. you caught up with him, "you know what? i actually wanna go back too, mind if i walk with you?"

he nodded solemnly, and you didn't mention that it was because you knew he would get lost and get drunkenly passed out on these unknown streets. and you didn't mention that you were worried about him, just because he was your crewmate. that's it.

the both of you walked in uncomfortable silence, as if something sinister was lurking around, waiting to ruin whatever peace remained between the two of you.

"you know." the swordsman voiced as he followed you into a dimly lit street. you were now far away from the celebratory festival, trying to take a shortcut to head back to the ship.

"hm?"

"you shouldn't get that close to a stranger." his words were innocent enough; a cautionary advice from one crewmate to the other. but it was his tone — dashed with a tiny bit of accusation — that made your skin crawl.

"well," you glanced back over your shoulder, finding his drunken form trailing you, "i don't really need you to tell me what to do. i can take care of myself, i know how to fight."

he scoffed, "oh, do you?"

maybe it was his tone. oh no, it was definitely his tone that pissed you off. so, you turned around. crossing your arms over your chest, you stared him down, "what's the problem with you?"

both of you were drunk, and the tension between you two ran high. one slip of tongue, one wayward action and the swordsman didn't know how the night would end— with you in his arms or with your dagger in his chest.

so, he decided not to take his chances. it was too risky, too bold. and the swordsman was never the kind to take uncalculated risks. so, he stifled his words and brushed past you. walking ahead now, he declared into the night air, "nothing's the problem with me, was jus' offering advice. don't take it if ya don't want it."

you followed suit, voice growing agitated, "why do you have a problem if i'm dancing with somebody else. or even making out or fucking them. it's none of your business. we're friends."

now it was his turn to turn around and glare at you, "i know that."

he paused for a second. were you really that stupid? did you not notice that whatever was left of his wretched heart belonged to you? or did you notice and you liked to stomp over it, anyways?

he finally sucked in a breath, steadying his drunken thoughts, "as you said, we're friends. you're part of the crew. and i was just l-looking out for you—"

"—well, you don't fucking have to. i am grown adult, zoro."

and just like that, whatever argument he had died within him. and he looked at you, dumbfounded. then, his gaze hardened and he stepped forward. were you really that stupid? or was he just that good of an actor for you to not see him the way he saw you?

he highly doubted the second one. maybe you were just very dense.

your breath hitched as he walked forward. if you had forgotten how scary the former pirate hunter can be, you were reminded right this second as you backtracked slowly. the two of you moved in tandem till your back was pressed against a solid wall and zoro stood directly in front of you.

towering over you, the menacing first mate said nothing as his gaze bore down holes into you.

"zo—zoro?" your voice was a meek whisper, eyes drifting downwards to avoid looking at him.

and suddenly, he was hyperaware of the situation he had forced you into. the closed proximity of it all, as you looked away from him. for someone who was a swordsman, he was certainly losing his patience. so, he simply pulled back, giving you some space. he sighed, he had clearly drunk too much tonight.

all that alcohol with all that pining was messing with his brain, "you should stay back, i'm going to the ship."

"what are you talking about—"

"—just go, enjoy. you're right, it is none of my business who you see." and with that the swordsman walked away.

"huh?? zoro!" you yelled after him, an unyielding resolve in your voice, "whe- where ARE YOU EVEN GOIN' ALONE? YOU'RE GONNA LOSE YOUR WAY!"

but in his classic avoidant way, he ignored you. taking long steps through the dusty road to reach the ship.

"oh my god, are you GONNA MAKE ME RUN TO REACH YOU?"

but he dismissed you again, clenching his jaw and continuing to walk. and you decided to jog to catch up with him, much to your dismay. he scoffed over his shoulder, fingers dancing along the hilt of his swords, "no need. sorry i ruined your plans tonight."

and that halted you dead in your tracks. to fuck with any apologies you had, who was he to pass around judgement for what you do?

"what's that supposed to mean? fuck you." you spat out, "i'm going back to the crew."

"fine by me." he grumbled, turning around to face you, "have fun."

"will do." you seethed, trying to raise his hackles, "make sure you don't pass out on the streets like a drunkard."

"even if i do, i'd be fine." he was getting more and more irritated, trying to raise your hackles right back, "why do you care?"

"ugh." you stepped forward, jabbing his chest accusatorily, "i was so dumb to leave that super nice guy to come chase after you! all you care about are your swords and your dumb sake."

he pursed his lips. what were you both even arguing about anymore? it made no sense, any of it. he wasn't even sure why the two of you were yelling at each other anymore. the nightly winds were unforgiving and cold. and all he knew was that as you yelled at him, blood rushed to your cheeks and your eyes came ablaze. your brows furrowed and lips fell into a pout as you awaited him to answer you. the gentle caress of the winds washed your hair over your face and you pushed them back in annoyance.

dammit.

zoro never believed in gods, but right now he would curse whatever deity sat above for making you so goddamn pretty. and making him so goddamn stupid.

as if looking at you would lead to his demise, now, it was his turn to look away. slowly drawing in a breath, he muttered, "jus' go back, there's no point arguing."

"fine. i'm leaving."

and wow, there must be some sort of cruel deity above. one who especially had a vendetta against zoro.

because, as if on cue, the man who you had been dancing showed up. he was slightly out of breath, as if he had run to come catch up with you, "hey! uh," he stopped short as he saw the stare off between you and zoro. "sorry, am i interrupting something?"

you turned around to look at the man, "what? no. nothing." you paused, giving zoro a short glace, "what are you doing here?"

"i uh—" the stranger shifted on his feet, a nervous smile on his face, "i- well, my friends forced me to come after you. i— i just... i know you guys are leaving in two days, but i was wondering if you would maybe wanna spend some time with me tonight? i, uh, i would really like to get to know you."

zoro stared at the man in a strange mix of jealousy and awe. was it that easy to confess?

"—it's okay if you're tired!" the man spluttered on, "i mean, i just wanted to talk— only if you want to, of course."

clearly, it was. because you turned away from zoro, giving that stranger a genuine smile, "you're too sweet. and, i was heading back to the party anyways, so might as well—"

"—really?" the man beamed and you nodded, walking towards him, mirroring his smile.

roronoa zoro watched you walk away, not even sparing him a sliver of a glance. and all of a sudden, the night air was too chilly and his headache too annoying and his heart, it ached.

before you turned to next street and disappeared with the stranger, you looked back at him. something in your gaze that begged the first mate to stop you, to call you back to him instead.

but he didn't.

all zoro could do was stand there, stupefied. you turned the corner, taking your gaze off of him with mild disappointment. before you turned, he saw you laughing at something the stranger had said.

zoro had no idea how long he stood there, transfixed at the ghost of you that was once in front of him.

roronoa zoro always saw you, right? well, now, he just saw you leave.

"what are you doing here? lost your way, marimo?" sanji asked as he materialized out of thin air on that street.

"huh?" zoro broke out of his daze, "what are you doing here?"

"hah," sanji looked smug, ignoring his question and blowing out a puff of smoke, "what did i expect from the idiot with no sense of direction."

"oh, go fuck yourself, shitty cook."

now, why did sanji show up at the exact moment zoro got his heart (whatever of it was left, anyways) broken?

the gods above must be laughing at the swordsman.

credits: to @bucciniexe for the format of the header; @chachachannah for the divider above! a/n: i don't know if this was nearly angsty enough, but i really do picture zoro as an avoidant who runs from his feelings for quite a long time. sooo, i hope this was angsty enough. thankyou @screaming-crying-screamingagain for the prompt, hope you like it mwuah <3

[rinneverse]

࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞. — 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒐 𝒌𝒐𝒔𝒌𝒊 ˒ ⊹

series synopsis. your friend, your pal, your fuck buddy—sampo koski seems to be getting closer and closer with every heated exchange. you wonder, briefly, if there’s something more lurking under the surface of it all. you have a strict rule set in place, though: don’t catch feelings.

[ prev chapter. | don't you trust me masterlist | next chapter. ]

syn. you wake up and are left to ponder the repercussions of staying over at sampo’s. bad decisions are made. (5.6k)

cw. fem reader / alcohol + drinking / food mentions (he makes u breakfast!) / petname usage (doll/dollface, darling, pretty girl, baby, my girl) / oral (f!receiving) / v!fingering / allusions to piv intercourse / reader has bad coping mechanisms i fear / reader goes to the cluurbbb / we also get angsty up in the clurb :3

love, oak! ༉‧₊˚. i... did not mean for this chapter to take so long to come out. and to think i hard part of it written when chapter one dropped. i fear chapter three may take three to five business years. regardless; lots of plot development in this one. i hope this lives up to everynyan's expectations :p

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI. NSFW UNDER THE CUT.

You wake to the pale light of dawn filtering in through the curtained window. 

With a yawn, you clumsily push down your blanket, fingers curling over soft fabric. You begin to twist onto your other side when you realize that something is very wrong.

Very, very wrong, like the you are not in the safety of your home kind of wrong.

Your breath catches in your throat. You don’t dare open your eyes.

There’s a heavy weight slung across your waist and a warmth you’re curled up against that isn’t usually there. It takes you a few seconds of wracking your brain to remember that you never actually made it home last night—that it was Sampo’s bed that you had fallen asleep in, and that was Sampo himself you were currently entangled with. The tension that had seized you quickly dissipates—then it slams back into you with a ferocity as you realize that you and Sampo had fallen asleep curled up together.

That’s not normal. That is so very not normal, and it takes everything in you to not start freaking the fuck out.

Blinking the sleep from your eyes, the only movement you risk is tilting your head up a fraction. You find that Sampo is still sound asleep, chest rising and falling slowly against you with every breath he takes. The urge to run your fingers along the smooth skin of his cheek makes your fingers twitch once, twice. You hesitate.

Because for once, Sampo looked… at peace. No scheming, no stress, just… him. His face looked so gentle, so soft, that perhaps waking him up would be a heinous crime. Yet you hold your breath, inching a hand up, up, up, tracing the column of his neck, his strong jaw, the apple of his cheek—

Whatever was running through your head is swiftly cut off when Sampo starts to stir. You feel panic grip and squeeze your heart with clawed fingertips. Shutting your eyes and forcing yourself slow your breathing, you lower your hand to its original position. You didn’t want to be caught staring at him, let alone caught stroking your fingers along his face—the mere thought of that occurring alone was mortifying enough.

A heartbeat passes. Then two. You feel the blanket shifting around, hear how he sleepily mumbles and yawns, followed by the warmth of his body slowly slipping away. You suppress the shiver that wants to run down your spine at the cold that creeps in, resist the urge to pull the duvet tighter around yourself; instead continuing to pretend-sleep as you listen to Sampo move about.

You’re about to shed your façade when you feel the bed dip. There’s a warm breath that caresses your forehead—a forewarning before you feel his lips gently press against your forehead.

The world freezes entirely.

It takes a willpower of steel (and perhaps then some) to remain in place, to not even stir, to not snatch his wrist and ask him what the hell he’s doing when he slowly lifts his head. You wait for him to fully pull away but he lingers, his thumb coming up to sweep over the apple of your cheek, then lower to brush against your mouth, swiping gently at your lower lip before he’s truly moving out of your reach.

You’re nearly bursting with impatience when you finally hear the door creak open and click shut.

Shoving yourself up into a sitting position, your mouth drops open in shock as you touch where his lips had pressed against your skin. The feeling lingers, burning like a brand, a mark you felt you would carry with you until the end of time. The thought is enough to have you shaking your head violently.

Suddenly feeling very, very warm, you push the duvet to the side. You clutch your shirt in your hands, balling them into fists—or rather, it’s his shirt that you grasp tightly in fisted hands. His scent still curls around you, utterly maddening, only adding fuel to the fire that consumes you.

If you didn’t confirm it last night, you definitely confirm it then—you were perhaps in the deepest pit of shit known to mankind: having feelings for Sampo. Maybe the revelation of having feelings for the one person you’re not supposed to have feelings for has you imagining things. Maybe you were still asleep and this was just a dream.

You hiss quietly as you pinch yourself.

Nope. This was very much reality.

You sigh.

It takes you several minutes to really process what had just happened—and that you didn’t just make it up in your head. You needed to get the fuck home so you could process it some fucking more. It feels like your entire perception of reality has been shattered with one simple moment of secretive intimacy.

In the distance, a faucet creaks on and begins running, followed by the faint clink of silverware clattering against plates. Whistling. Your crisis is momentarily forgotten as you realize Sampo is whistling your favorite song—it snaps you back into the moment, makes you remember just exactly where you are. This revelation could wait. Just a little bit more, and then you can go home and freak out in peace.

It’s only a matter of moments to gather yourself together and change back into your own clothing thanks to the earlier interaction waking you up entirely. You silently slip out of the bedroom and into the main living area, greeted by a sight that warms your heart.

There Sampo is, in all of his shirtless glory, swaying his hips to the little tune he’s humming as he whisks something together. Food sizzles on the stovetop, adding a quiet backtrack to his song. You lean against the archway that leads into the kitchen area, silent as you take a second to admire him, the portrait of domesticity. Your lips pull into a small, serene smile.

An image flashes before your eyes—a glimpse into the future, maybe—where you could have this sight every day. Sleepy good mornings and quiet embraces, shared laughter and lips pressing together—

The squeak you let out finally alerts Sampo to your presence. He’s quick to turn, whisk in hand and bits of what you assume is flour dusted on his hands, his face—“Doll! How long have you been standing there?”

You stammer dumbly, trying to reel in your head from the outrageous daydream that had barged its way into your thoughts. The outrageous daydream that you know you will never attain. “Um, ah…”

Sampo sighs dramatically, pressing a hand to his forehead as he continues, “And here I was, hoping I could surprise you with a little breakfast—I didn’t think you’d wake up so soon!”

He’s quick to set down the bowl and utensils he held as he approaches you. You tilt your head questioningly at him but he doesn’t give you any indication of what he’s up to until he’s a step away from you.

The devious glint in his eyes being your only warning, he’s suddenly twirling you into his arms and dipping you, a firm hand on your lower back as he grips your wrist with a gentle hand. His eyes crinkle with the smile he gives you.

“Sampo!” You gasp out. You’re so startled by the suddenness of his movements that your free hand grips his shoulder for dear life as you inhale sharply with alarm. Sampo laughs, so unlike his other laughs—the ones where he’s charming his way into scamming a stranger, or when it takes on that darker tinge as his schemes unfold just the way he likes—that you’re blinking in confusion, mouth parting with a question you don’t quite know how to ask on your lips.

“I had to surprise you somehow,” he says by way of explanation. He twirls you again, pulling you flush to his body, and sways you to the cheery tune he hums.

The pair of you dance around the kitchen, laughing and giggling together like there’s nothing else in the world—like it’s just you and him in this pretty little bubble.

Sampo dips you again, forcing your gaze to his. When you meet his eyes, there’s something glimmering there—something that you’d perhaps call… adoration, as delusional as it makes you feel. You pause there, chests heaving in sync as you stare at each other.

You see his eyes flick down briefly to your lips. There’s a question that lies in his gaze—something you can’t possibly answer.

It’s enough to have you scrambling out of his grip.

“Don’t forget the uhm,”—you clear your throat hastily—”the food on the stove. It’ll burn if you’re not careful.”

Sampo blinks, looking at you as if he were snapped out of a trance. “Right.” He pauses—abruptly laughing nervously, clasping his hands together. “I need to be careful.”

He nods his head. After a few moments of tense silence, he glides over to the stove, quietly returning to his task of making breakfast.

Flustered, you take a seat on one of the stools nestled by the island countertop and fold your hands in your lap. You bite your lip as you watch Sampo work. His broad back is turned to you, faint red lines streaking down the hard muscles that ripple as he moves around the kitchen. Your face heats up as you remember just exactly how he received those marks.

The silence lingers in the air, heavy and oppressive, a tension that pulls all of your nerves taut. You’ve never been the type to stay after a one night stand, let alone stay after a night with Sampo. This was entirely uncharted territory you were currently in.

If you’re honest? You’re terrified. You’re not equipped to navigate the unfamiliar feeling that burns bright in your chest. Actually, to take your own mental confession just a little bit further, you want to flee. Really bad. But something—you’re not quite sure what—keeps you tethered here, perhaps like a string wrapped around your pinkie finger that tugs and tugs and pleads with you to stay, just this once. It wants you to see where this goes. It wants you to take a risk, blindly jump into the unknown with nothing to shield your heart but the precarious walls you’ve painstakingly built up over the years. Walls that are swiftly crumbling with every moment spent with Sampo Koski.

Your train of thought is interrupted by the clinking sound of porcelain making contact with the countertop before you register the plate sliding towards you. The sight is mouthwatering—eggs cooked exactly how you prefer (how did he know that?), accompanied by a stack of pancakes that feature a smiling face made with blueberries.

You stifle a giggle, earning you a funny look from Sampo.

“What’s so funny, doll? You’re not laughin’ at Sampo’s hard work, are ya?” He pouts dramatically.

You press your lips together, but there’s no hiding the laughter that glimmers in your eyes. “N-No, I would never! It’s just… it’s so…” Your voice wobbles with the effort it takes to stamp down your giggles.

“It’s so what?” He squints.

“The pancakes are just so…” You shrug one shoulder, searching for the right word. “Adorable? I never would’ve expected that from you, that’s all.”

“I’m full of surprises darling, don’t you worry,” Sampo says with a wink. He sits down next to you with a plate of his own and the two of you dig in. The silence between you evolves into something more.. comfortable. Something normal.

You’d beg to differ (eating breakfast after a night with Sampo felt anything but normal), but you can’t deny that you’re enjoying yourself next to him. And you can admit he’s not the worst cook in the world.

The moment passes in what feels like merely a blink and perhaps too soon you’re already scooping up your empty plate, walking over to the sink to take care of the dishes. The moment Sampo realizes what you intend on doing he rushes over to your side and places a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry about it doll, let me take care of it.”

You look up at him and shake your head. “No, no, let me do it. It’s the polite thing to do.”

Sampo’s eyebrows furrow. “I insist—you shouldn’t have to even lift a finger.”

He moves to take the plate from your hands but you pull it out of reach. His eyes narrow as they meet yours—a challenge gleaming there that you refuse to back down from.

He takes a step towards you. You step back. A step forward. A step back. You continue this little dance until there’s a countertop behind you and nowhere else for you to go. He cages you into the corner with one broad arm.

Sampo’s lips curl up in a wolfish grin as you both realize that you’re trapped. “The plate, sweetheart.”

“You’re a real prick, you know that?”

Sampo’s grin widens. “Only for you, dollface.”

Head hanging in defeat, you hold the dish out to him. He takes it, none too smugly, and sets it to the side. His attention immediately returns to you.

You look up at him and tilt your head.

“You going to let me go now, or..?”

Sampo shrugs. “Why should I? I like you right where you are here.”

He’s so big. He crowds your space, enveloping your senses, mingling with the lingering scent of breakfast. It’s something deep and musky. Mouthwatering, if you dare to admit it.

There’s a smug lilt to his voice as he continues speaking, “In fact, I’m still a little famished. Think you can help me out, sweetheart?”

Your lips part slightly, but the question you were about to ask dies on the tip of your tongue as Sampo’s large hands grasp your hips, fingers digging into the supple fat as he lifts you onto the countertop. His eyes are heavily lidded as he sinks to his knees, looking up at you with hunger glimmering in his gaze.

“May I?” Sampo’s voice is darkened with lust, a sort of purr that sends a shiver racing down your spine. A flash of pink between his lips—his tongue darting out to wet them, leaving a thin sheen of saliva in its wake. The grin he shoots you has heat quickly pooling in your core.

You weakly nod your head, too breathless to speak. Sampo’s smile widens.

He makes quick work of your jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them off of you in one smooth motion. Lithe fingers dip under the elastic of your panties, pulling it taut and snapping the band against your skin. You yelp softly as he snickers.

“So reactive,” Sampo murmurs, fingers dipping once again to slowly pull the fabric off of you. You lift your hips dutifully—you know where this is going. You feel your core tighten with desire.

He tucks your panties into the pocket of his sweats, shoulders rippling as he pulls you to the edge of the counter and slings your legs over them. He looks up at you through thick, dark lashes.

“Doin’ okay up there, pretty girl?” He asks, the deep baritone of his voice making your stomach flutter.

“Mhm,” you respond, biting your lip. You ball your hands up into fists, thighs twitching with the urge to press them together. Sampo seems to notice, because broad hands come up to grip your inner thighs, kneading at the supple flesh. He watches your expression for a moment longer before his eyes dip down to the prize in front of him.

“Thanks for dessert, dollface.”

Sampo’s words linger in the air, a promise of what was to come as he leans forward. His breath is hot as it fans across the apex of your thighs. He presses a kiss to your navel, then dips lower, tongue darting out to drag hotly along your weeping slit.

“Fuck,” you hiss at the contact. Your spine curves slightly, a silent plea for more. His chest rumbles with a dark chuckle as he makes another pass, letting his tongue linger at your clit, lazily lapping at it while your hips tremble.

God. He’s criminally good at this.

“Atta girl. Feeling good?” Sampo murmurs as he slips a finger into your tight heat. It draws a low moan from your lips, one that pulls his mouth into a smug smile before he wraps his lips around your clit. One of your hands grips the edge of the counter for dear life while the other entangles itself in Sampo’s hair as you tremble with just how good he’s making you feel. One tug has him groaning into you, a pleasant vibration that makes you throw your head back as you continue to card your fingers through soft blue locks.

“Feels great,” you murmur, exhaling shakily. Each drag of his finger is tortuously slow, the calloused pad crooking and prodding against your sensitive walls. You tug at his hair again, earning a pleasant moan from him.

You swallow thickly as he adds another finger. He takes it nice and slow with you, a teasing pace that makes you want to beg. You buck your hips slightly to urge him along, to give him the hint, but he’s relentless in his pursuit to drag this out as long as he possibly can.

“You want more, pretty girl?” Sampo purrs softly, pressing a chaste kiss to the apex of your thighs.

“Mhm,” you sigh. He makes a contemplative noise, and then…

He stops.

You let out a cry of outrage as he sits back on his haunches with a smug grin.

“Hey—!”

“You can use your words, can’t you?”

Your mouth drops open, and Sampo can’t help the chuckle that escapes him at your look of shock. He tilts his head as you lean back, chest heaving as you catch your breath.

Fuck, you were getting so close—for him to pull back like this…

“Please…” A quiet, desperate plea. He stares at you expectantly.

You gnaw on your lower lip as he watches you with sharp eyes, glimmering pools of emerald that track your every movement; the way your chest rises and falls with each labored breath, the way your hands press against the cool marble countertop beneath you, the way your eyes glimmer with wanton desire for him.

His grin widens.

“Sampo…” you start, your voice coming out in a shaky warble. You’re none too proud of it, but there’s no room for pride when he dangles your orgasm out in front of you so teasingly, so close and yet so far all at once.

Bait.

And you take it, because you know that Sampo can give you what you need with ease.

“Fuck—” your chin dips slightly as you look down at him, face heating with shame. “I need you, Sampo. Please.”

“Need me to what, baby?”

His voice has lowered an octave—and he crooks his fingers inside of you, giving you a preview of what you could have should you comply with his request.

That subtle nudge is enough to make your hips jump slightly. Your breath hitches in your throat.

You wanted it. You wanted him.

“Need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe. “Sampo, baby, fuck me.”

His resulting grin is feral, eyes glimmering with a wild desire that makes your core clench.

“Whatever my girl wants—”

He withdraws his fingers and stands to his full height. Your eyes rove over his figure, the various love bites littered across his fair skin. Marks you’ve left on him. It sends a sick sense of possession zipping through your veins, and paired with the way he says “my girl”, you wonder what it would be like if he truly was yours in that way. A dangerous train of thought.

You’re distracted, long enough for him to pull his leaking cock out from the confines of his sweats; you’re brought back to reality by his tip pressing to your slit, catching against your clit teasingly.

“—my girl gets, yeah?”

You find yourself in the bathroom again.

This time, you are in your own home.

The rush of water pouring from the faucet is near deafening as you stare at yourself in the mirror. The porcelain is cool against the tight grip you hold on your sink. You glance at the hickeys that litter the expanse of your neck, your shoulder, while you retrace your steps throughout the past week.

You had returned home a couple of hours ago. Only now have you brought yourself to start processing things. You’ve been dreading it, really: coming to terms with something you know will end. As things always do.

You can’t have him. It would never work out.

Sampo is sweet. Kind, even, despite the false benevolent demeanor he displays in order to con poor souls into giving him money. But he’s also as fleeting as a sweet nostalgic memory. The kind of person who comes and goes in your life as they please. You’ve quickly become accustomed to the way that Sampo will sometimes disappear for days, even weeks at a time, and then waltz right back into your life as if nothing happened.

And he does this without any qualms, because this is a casual thing to him. You constantly have to remind yourself that you had told him, “No strings attached. I don’t want feelings involved. This is purely physical.” And he had agreed without further thought, because you’re friends. Friends don’t fall in love with each other.

Friends also don’t eat you out until you’re seeing stars, or fuck you on the countertops so good that you’re babbling and crying, but that’s beside the point.

You think back to how easily the words “my girl” fell from his lips. It’s almost malicious, what that does to your psyche. The way it makes your head spin. The way your heart pounds against your ribs at the mere thought of it.

You frown deeply and shove your hands into the sink. The cold water shocks you momentarily, and the thought fades away, to be shoved in a box and locked away in the deepest recesses of your brain.

Then you scrub your face with the freezing water that pours from the tap. It’s refreshing against your balmy skin, not to mention it doubles as a wake up call for your lovestruck head. Whatever feelings you harbored for Sampo were doomed to die. You may as well just get over it now before it can do any real damage.

And the easiest way to get over things?

You give yourself an uneasy smile in the mirror after drying your face with a towel and shut off the faucet.

The bass thrums through your body as you enter the packed club.

You’ve decided on a rather obscenely short black dress for today—something flattering, something that makes you feel good. You would need some confidence with the goal you have in mind for today.

A goal that feels a little stupid, now that you’re physically here and you’ve sat with it for a little bit. It’s not like Sampo is aware of your inner turmoil; nor would he care that you’re planning on going home with someone that isn’t him. You never agreed on being exclusive when your little arrangement first started.

(Maybe there’s just some sick part of you that hopes that he would care—that it would make him jealous.)

You shake the thought from your head as you weave through sweaty bodies. Whatever kind of goal you set for yourself, it doesn’t matter. There’s truly only one thing that you absolutely need to make happen tonight:

You need to get over Sampo Koski.

And if that involves sleeping with some stranger, so be it. Or perhaps just getting so drunk you forget for a little while. Whatever works.

You steal a seat at the bar and order your usual. Your mind wanders as you wait patiently for your drink—gravitating towards how you felt almost… dramatic, childish even, for feeling so strongly about this.

You can’t help it. You’ve never truly let yourself indulge in romance before; you’re not even sure if this is what it was supposed to look like. If it was supposed to be this aggravating. If you’re supposed to feel as miserable as you do right now.

The clink of ice jostling around as a glass is set in front of you pulls you from your brooding. You swipe up the drink with a quiet “thank you”, turning in your seat to survey the room—and more importantly, the people—around you.

Your frequent spot is busy tonight—bodies upon bodies on the club floor, grinding and dancing salaciously to the bass heavy song that pounds through the speakers. The low lights that glimmer along the ceiling cast deep shadows across everything, making everything look much more dramatic than it really is.

You raise your glass to take a sip when suddenly there’s a hand clasping your shoulder.

“Wha—!” you jump, nearly spilling the liquid all over yourself. You turn to glare at whoever had the balls to just come up to you like that when you’re met with a none too pleasant surprise:

Sampo. Fucking. Koski.

“What are you doin’ here, doll? Especially without even inviting your dear old friend?”

His voice is a smug croon, hard to hear above the club music that envelops you in its embrace. You can hear the hint of surprise, though—and you spot the way his eyebrows are raised, eyes wide and shimmering with curiosity.

So much for escaping him tonight. You resign to your fate with a sigh, settling back into your seat and sipping on your drink properly. Sampo immediately takes to your side, invading your personal space with no regards for your feelings on the matter.

(Usually, you don’t mind. Tonight, it grates on your nerves.)

“I wanted to get out of the house n’ I didn’t wanna bother you. Simple as that.”

Your words are clipped, even if you know you don’t have any right to be upset with him. He hasn’t done anything wrong; you just happen to be in a sour mood.

That he caused.

Indirectly.

“You wound me, doll! I’d never say no to your pretty face, you know that.”

(You want to call him a liar.

You don’t. You smile, and you nod, and you clench your drink so tightly your hand starts to tremble.)

You shrug your shoulders, forcing your gaze back out to the dance floor. Your stomach feels heavy with a feeling you can’t quite put a name to.

All you know is that it does not feel good.

“Sorry, Sampo. I’ll invite you next time, ‘kay?”

Maybe he senses how off your energy is tonight, because typically he’d press the issue further. He doesn’t. Instead, he says, “Sounds good, pretty girl. Save me a seat, ‘kay? I’ll be right back.”

He pushes off the bar counter, making a direct beeline towards the restrooms. You let out a deep sigh, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in the first place.

You turn towards the bartender and move to flag him down, but—

You only get a few moments of peace until a presence returns to your side. You can’t help but scoff, turning to say, “Sampo, what the hell do you—huh?”

You pause as you turn to a person that is very much not Sampo Koski.

Your face blanches.

The stranger offers you a nervy smile, the portrait of bashfulness.

How fucking horrifying—you can feel your face heat up with shame as you stare dumbly at him.

“Sorry if I’m bothering you. I just thought you were really pretty, so I was hoping you’d maybe let me buy you a drink?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks are stained a pretty red and his big brown eyes are wide with an eagerness that makes you shake off your mortification and force yourself to smile gently.

“Oh! Uhm—yeah, that would be nice,” you gesture to the open seat next to you. “Sit?”

He tells you his name, something you’re sure you’ll forget later, as you paste a pretty smile on your face and lean forward in your seat. You can see the way his flush deepens, hear the way he stumbles over his words—it’s endearing. He’s like a puppy.

You exchange small talk over drinks, and he’s true to his word: he puts your drink on his tab, and even offers to put the next few on him, too. He’s a little bit odd, but he makes good conversation, so you entertain him, idly stirring the straw that came with your drink.

You’re about to answer his next question (a question that was rather.. strange, you note to yourself), but your reply dies on your lips as Sampo returns.

And he looks none too happy.

“Doll!” Sampo exclaims loudly, pressing into your side. He slings an arm around your waist as he casts his glare upon the stranger you were just chatting up. “Who’s this, baby?”

This might be the worst possible outcome. Mortified, your shoulders hunch slightly as you try to grow smaller, cringing at the venom that coats Sampo’s usually honeyed tone.

“Sorry, you are..?” The stranger asks, bewildered.

“Her boyfriend. Who are you?”

You cringe even further, turning your gaze. The words falling from Sampo’s lips feels like a lead ball dropping in your stomach. You think you might be sick. So sick, in fact, that you tune out their ensuing conversation as your head spins.

Abruptly you stand, chair clattering loudly with the motion. Both men stop and turn to look at you.

“I—” you pause, inhaling sharply through your nose, “am going to go now. Bye.”

You turn on your heel and all but scramble out of the situation, heels clacking against tile flooring. Your heart is about to burst from beneath your ribs. Your face is hot—you feel like you might melt and never recover.

You burst through the door and the cold air immediately hits you. It’s refreshing and miserable all at once, cooling down your heated veins and making your skin prickle with goosebumps.

You’re about a couple feet down the sidewalk when hurried footsteps sound behind you. Your head whips over your shoulder, eyes wide as you stare down who approaches you.

What a joke. You know fully well Sampo can mask the sound of his footsteps—he’s letting them ring out for you.

The weight in your stomach increases exponentially. You turn forward and pick up your pace. You think your vision is swimming.

“Doll!” Sampo pleads, reaching out to grab your shoulder. You jerk away and swivel on your heel to face him.

“What? What is it now?” Your voice is downright venomous. It comes out much harsher than you intend, but the words are out now and it’s too late to take them back.

“Pretty girl…” He starts, and then shakes his head. There’s a moment of hesitation, and then:

Your name. Said so softly, falling like a prayer from his lips, and yet it’s an explosion of color in your world. Your eyes widen.

“Sampo,” you respond with equal softness, your voice trembling as you ball your hands into fists. Chest heaving, you stare at him, meeting deep pools of emerald green that look at you with such desperation it makes you want to crumble into pieces.

“I’m sorry if that was too much,” Sampo frowns, a dusty pink blush settling high on his cheeks. There’s genuine remorse in his eyes, so you listen, inclining your head as you wait for him to continue. “You just.. you looked uncomfortable, and you’re my friend. I was just tryin’ to give you an out.”

You’re my friend.

Friend.

Nausea claims you again, hitting you with the force of a freight train. But you force yourself to smile, and nod, and again your hands tremble with the effort of keeping them at your side.

No matter how much you wanted to reach out to him.

To touch him, to hold him.

You can’t.

“It’s okay.” You can’t help the way your voice strains, so you keep as quiet as possible, voice coming out in a mere whisper. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It doesn’t seem okay—”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off, shaking your head.

Sampo’s eyes search your face as you stare at him. You need to steel your resolve. So you say:

“I think we should take a break from seeing each other.”

It’s like you’ve dropped a bomb.

The way his face falls makes your stomach twist itself into knots. But this is for the better. Until you can get your shit together.

But fuck, he looks so sad, it makes your heart ache.

“Oh,” is all he says.

You gnaw on your lower lip. You taste a hint of metal on your tongue—you’ve broken skin. You nod your head slowly. You need to steel your fucking resolve. The decision is out there, and you cannot take it back.

“Mhm. Just for a little bit.”

He inhales slowly, and on the exhale he manages to mask the desperation he let you get a flash of. It’s too late, though: the feelings are out there, and he cannot hide it.

“For a little bit,” he echoes. His eyes have lost their spark. Your heart withers in your chest.

The pair of you cannot hide your true feelings from the other. Not for long. Not like you hoped you could. You pray to some long-forgotten Aeon that the space can give you the willpower you need to maintain your walls, at least for a little bit longer.

“For a little bit.” You confirm. “I’ll… see you later, okay?”

He’s silent. Then, he dips his chin. A silent farewell.

This time, his footsteps don’t make a single sound as he walks away.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

[darkness-follows]

Wade x f!reader oneshot request?

This idea has been stewing in my mind for a bit and I would love to see your take on it!!!

A one-shot where he's nervous about the reader inviting him over her place.

Maybe she starts making a move but he is excited/nervous but wants his "first time" with a woman since his wife's passing to be savored and slow/sensual.

The reader then asks him to show what he likes ~ touching himself while telling the reader how he likes to be touched in bed, leading to a smuty good time for the reader?

Thank you so much!!!!

WHAT A COOL IDEA THANK YOU!

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Hope this does it justice:

[Hey Wade, lets say my place? 8pm?]

Wade stares at the phone in his hands, fuck!

He checks the time again, 6.15 pm. Fuck.

Of course it's enough time to get himself ready but it's not enough time to mentally prepare for that date. That kind of date. It's their..oh he lost count already, maybe 5th or 6th date?

"Wow you look like you've seen a ghost Wade" Forrest huffs. Wade doesn't answer he just shows him his phone.

"Oh Holy shit! Oh my god...it's a sex date!" Forrest slaps his hand over his mouth and does a little excited jump. He's happier about this than Wade is. "Oh is that bad? Are you not ready?" He worries.

"I uh, I.. I don't know man, I haven't really..I mean she's great! You know like great but I didn't think of..-" He frowns deeply, it's a part of dating it's normal. People date and have some casual Sex just to..to see if they match right?

Right.

"Wade you got this, our girls can hang, we keep an eye and you go and have.. fun!" Forrest smirks.

"Really?"

"Yes really. Promise" Forrest adds.

"Okay! I gotta get ready, i gotta..I gotta shave and shower and...- RAID my entire damn closet"

And then Wade is off.

"Shave? He doesn't have any facial..- oh!" Forrest shuts himself up after that.

Wade really scrubbed himself squeaky clean, hes also wearing a Brand New pair of jeans which probably wasn't the smartest move as they seem incredibly tight in all the wrong places. But he still sits in his car in front of his dates house, he managed to go, to go really out and do it.. and at exactly 8pm he rings the doorbell. Shifting from one leg to the other, god he's sweating! That's bad! He's so nervous he's even thinking about running away right now.

When the door opens his face lights up.

"Wade!" You smile wide, wrapping your arms around him, holding him tight 'god does he smell good' .

You missed him, you missed a lot. "You okay? You look a bit wound up" He looks like he ran here.

Wade hugs you back just as tightly, pretending not to breathe in deeply when his face is in your hair, that shampoo is such a known and comforting scent by now.

"I'm golden! I swear, just ran a bit hot in the car" He tries to play his nervousness down, a lot. Stepping inside and then you two carry on with the date idea you had, sort of watching the first Episode of a new Show you two have been dying to see with popcorn and cuddles... very nice and sensual cuddles. It feels really good, having your head against his shoulder. Feeling the weight of his hand on your thigh, thumb stroking a rhythm into your skin.

After the episode ends you move your head slowly closer to his, giving him a gentle kiss while both your lips still taste of that sweet and sugary popcorn. You wanted this from the day you two met, to just cuddle and makeout and more.. he's such a wonderful man, everything he does is a slight turn on. Even if it's just taking his glasses off so he's able to kiss you back deeper, or sucking his fingertips clean after his bowl of popcorn.

You shift slowly, feeling his hand on your hip.

Moving yourself onto his lap.

He pulls away from the kiss, standing up "You want some water?? I uh, I gotta im really...- dry throat!" He coughs a bit and shrugs running off to the kitchen.

Hm.

When he returns you eye him carefully, pulling him on his belt to sit back down next to you.

When you lean in for another kiss he takes a big sip of his water, once he puts it down you wipe your thumb over his wet lips. "You sure your okay? Your not getting sick are you?" He's really warm so you place your palm onto his head. But he isn't hot there at all, Interesting.

"I'm..-" He takes a deep breath. He meant to say he's fine but..he's not and it wouldn't be fair to pretend that he is.

"I'm really nervous, about..-" He makes a funny hand gesture between the two of you.

"Oh.." You sit back once you notice.

"It's just been a while and I haven't been with anyone since.. -" He stops talking.

"We don't have to Wade! God im so sorry, please don't feel pressured!" You should have thought of that but you were too busy thinking about how he's driving you crazy lately.

"No no! It's okay I...- I want to" He smiles softly. "God believe me I really do, im just so nervous about it, I know sex. I know how to have great sex ! I mean I've been having sex since i was 18. That's a long time! I just haven't had sex with you and you make me..- god you make me so incredibly nervous" He sighs.

Its a strange but nice compliment, that you make him that nervous and that he's honest how difficult it is to sleep with someone after his wife died. It helps you to approach this with a full heart and empathy, pushing the need you have for him down a bit.

"Slow and steady?" You smile.

"YES! Yes....slow." He nods, staring at your lips and then your hands. Taking your right hand into his and that gives you an idea.

"Why don't you Show me Wade? Show me exactly what you like. I want this to be perfect for you" You squeeze his big hand gently.

His face turns a whole different shade of Red, it spreads to his ears and his chest. It's insanely difficult to not lean in for a heated kiss again. "Show you how?" He asks even though you are pretty sure he knows the answer to that.

"Move your hands on yourself the way you like to be touched so I can do it later.." your voice got a bit deeper and lower, it's beautiful to watch him fight the nervousness in this throat and hands. He gives you a quick nod. Moving his hands to his thighs, slowly running them up and down.

"I'm..- I'm sensitive on my thighs. It's little squeezes or moving a hand up slowly that really gets me" He sighs softly under your gaze. You take in the way he runs his right hand up his inner thigh, stopping before he gets too close to his crotch and then he moves it back down.

"Your doing great, show me more" You sit next to him on your knees. Hands on your thighs.

"I gotta take this off I think to show you..." He tugs at his shirt.

"Take it off if you feel comfortable enough." You throw him another warm smile and he nods. Tugging at the neck of his shirt and then he pulls it over his head, folding it neatly instead of tossing it somewhere.

The heat spread over his chest is intoxicating and it takes everything in you not to lean in and kiss his grey chest hair.

You keep a note on how his hand is still running along his own thigh, it looks like a big self soothing kind of touch.

Wade moves his other hand flat onto his chest, spreading his fingers through his chest hair and running his palm over his sternum. "That's where I feel that anxious bubble up sometimes and just running a palm along here calms me down, a lot, it's also nice when that hand wanders and squeezes my chest or uhm" He runs his thumb over his own nipple, a Sound comes out of him that suprises you a bit.

"Or that yeah" He chuckles and it slowly feels like he's calming down some.

"You are really sensitive aren't you?" It's torture at this point to keep your hands to yourself.

"I'd call it responsive? Just really react to everything very intensely and that's great! I mean it can be amazing but when it's something I don't like I just..- I react heavily to that too" He frowns a bit.

"I understand that. I get why it's so difficult, thank you for telling me Wade, seriously. I only want you to feel good." You point out.

You can see how crazy nervous it would make someone, being with the same woman for 20 years, she knew exactly how to touch him.. and now that's gone and readjusting such a set in Stone routine seems impossibly difficult.

It would be difficult for yourself too. And maybe over time you can do small tiny little changes and he Blooms again and tries out more things again. You'd love to see that Version of him.

"Thank you for being so patient with me" Wade leans closer this time, this time he's the one pressing his lips onto yours and kissing you deeply. And it really does feel better this way.

He feels a lot more into it then he did before.

When he breaks off the kiss you don't chase it, you let him continue to show you.

"Of course.." You whisper. Watching his hands work on his belt and zipper, god now the room suddenly got really really hot. The moan that comes rumbling out of his throat when he moves his hand into his briefs is sinful.

"God Wade, you look so beautiful right now. I don't think you even know how insanely hot you are, everything you do gets me. Especially watching you getting more and more comfortable for me, can I please touch you? Like one of the ways you showed me?" You can't take this anymore..

"I've never felt this way before, never touched myself that way, so please do" Wade huffs. He doesn't even think of himself as that sexy.

You nod and place your hand onto his chest just like he showed you, pressing your palm into his sternum while his hand strokes his cock in his underwear. Christ.

Your other hand moves to his thigh, tracing the inside up and down. "Like that?" You ask.

"Yes..exactly like that sweetheart" He sighs deeply and leans in for another kiss. While you kiss you can feel his hand slowly reaching out to take yours, you didn't expect that at all but he replaces his hand with yours and suddenly you have a insanely warm, thick and hard as a Rock cock in your hand. You pull back from the kiss, and the expression on his face makes your thighs clench together.

"You want to give me some more notes here Wade?" A big smirk is on your lips while you carefully move your hand up and down his lenght.

But Wade shakes his head "I..uh, I got nothing to add you are doing it perfectly" and for a moment you can see something almost like disbelieve in his eyes. That he can't believe he found a woman who knows exactly how to touch him the way he really likes it. This whole dating and finding out thing must have been really hard.

"Tell me what you like, please, it's been so about me I don't want you to feel left out!" Wade holds his hand above your thighs not too sure if he can touch or not. "I don't feel that way at all, I really want to just please you Wade, I want you to feel great and im sure whatever way you have me I'd be fantastic" You smile again when he grabs your thigh and kisses your cheek and your bodies slowly shift on the couch.

Until you find yourself underneath him, spreading your legs for him while your hand still slowly strokes up and down his cock.

His hands run up your sides, it feels like he's really taking in everything, the way you look on your back and how your clothes fall, the way your legs are at his sides. He really is a pretty slow and sensual guy, this is going to be a wild time for sure.

Your hand carefully moves out of his pants, keeping your hands to yourself for now. You have a feeling this really is only about you right now. You watch his fingers open the buttons on your thin shirt, one by one, he's being so slow and careful with it. You wear a simple top underneath which frames your chest pretty nicely, which, following his eyes he noticed.

Then he looks into your eyes "You are beautiful, really, breathtaking" He whispers. Helping you out of your shirt and out of your top as well. It's a good thing you decided on the dark blue bra and dark blue pair of lace panties tonight. His fingers stroke over the Material of the cup around your breast. These slow exploring touches really set your body on fire.

Then Wade opens yours pants, drags them slowly down your thighs and leans back to pull them off your feet. Both of his hands trace your leg back up from your ankles to your hips. Nobody ever took this much time appreciating your body before.

"You still okay? You can tell me when you want to stop Wade.." You stroke a hand over his cheek and the look on his face is adoreable. "I'm perfect, I was so nervous about this whole thing and now? Now I want to touch every inch of you, kiss every inch of you.." He whispers, leaning down to press his lips onto yours again and you move your hands back to how he showed you he likes it.

During that slow and Intense kiss you can feel his hand wander over your body again. Cupping your still clothed breast and then he drags it over your stomach, and then between your legs. His fingers stroke over the Material of your underwear and you wish your weren't wearing it anymore. It's almost as if that's what he's exactly teasing at, his fingers softly press against the fabric and you start to feel some mild friction.

His lips wander from your mouth to your neck.

"You are driving me crazy" You whisper and his fingers dig a bit deeper into your underwear. The way his lips trace your skin is so steady, so warm, so comfortable. He really meant it, wanting to kiss every inch of you. Against your will your hips move up just a little to meet more friction and instead of making you behave Wade moves his hand into your underwear, doing the exact same thing but now his two fingers rub against skin! "Wade...-" You moan out.

His fingers stroke over your clit but so painfully slow that there is no way you could ever cum from that and you are starting to think that's the whole purpose of doing it all so slow. He's savoring the moment while driving you absolutely crazy at the same time. And that works perfectly for the both of you.

Your hand wanders back into his underwear as well, stroking your hand over his cock just like she showed you. And when he moans you squirm underneath him, god that was the hottest moan you ever heard.

Wade really forgot how great it felt to be touched just exactly right by someone, when that gear just flips and everything they do is an instant turn on.. he missed that feeling, he missed that feeling so very much. He doesn't feel guilty anymore about seeking what he desires and getting what he needs, he needs a new emotional connection to someone, he really needs to be intimate with someone again. He’s truly happy that he found you. And he will make damn sure to show you his appreciation as best as he possibly can.

“Take it to the next step when you feel ready Wade okay?” You need to make sure he's okay. You can't even imagine how much meaning this has for him, how he's scared of it and how much he craves it at the same time.

When he nods and pulls back you can hear your own heart pounding in your chest. It's really happening..- After all these dates and getting to know someone, you finally get to know Wade all the way.

When he takes off every last piece of your and his clothing and suddenly you both are just…naked, on the couch. Overcome by a small wave of shyness you hesitate with opening your legs again for him, it was a different thing while you still had your bra and underwear on. Now everything is so vulnerable.

His hands stroke up your thighs and the look in his eyes asks for silent permission. Despite the nervous throbbing in your body you open your legs slowly and his hands get a hold on your hips while his body moves between your thighs.

He places the sweetest and deepest kiss onto your lips while his hand guides himself to your heated, longing core.

“Wade..” You move your hands to his face. Kissing his lips.

“You mean the World to me, if at any point you change your mind about this please tell me, we’re gonna be okay. I promise” his face lights up into a pure smile, you can see the youth in him, his age not suiting him at the moment at all, he looks like a young man drowned in love and it causes you to melt right underneath him.

“We’re gonna be okay..-” He repeats before he places his tip against you, never has a man pushed himself into you this slowly. Everytime you think that's gonna be it another inch disappears inside of you, your legs slowly wrap around his waist and when he's all the way inside he stops moving his entire body.

He's so quiet it would worry if you wouldn't know that he's going to open up if anything ever bothers him.

He feels incredible. He feels so comfortable. He gives your body enough time to accept him, to adjust to him, it's a perfect fit and somehow you knew it would be.

You didn't expect him to lift his head and look at you, holding your gaze when he starts to move his hips so carefully and gently.

Drawing a deep and long moan out of you.

Not knowing he enjoys it that slow has you melting even further into the couch, what a cruel beauty it is, every movement gets dragged out and the body building up to some kind of grand release goes on and on and on…

Almost as if there is no end in sight. But it's heaven, feeling him so closely, feeling the steady weight and gentle drag of his cock deep inside of you while he kisses your skin and moans the occasional word into your ear is heaven. The time he's able to pull while he keeps this up, keeps this so slow.. it feels like you are dreaming, as if you are connected for hours.

You touch him the way he showed you again, hand pressing and stroking over his chest when you get surprised by a deep moan. His hips barely change pace but it's enough to have you clawing at his shoulders. You can't take the building up to it anymore, he's so easily moving in and almost out of you because it made you incredibly wet to have this feeling last this long. You worry about cleaning the couch pillows tomorrow… for now all you want is his release, you need to look into his eyes when he finally spills into your body and lets go of this weight on his shoulders. Of this guilt he's been carrying for simply being a human being with needs and desires.

Your hands move his head gently closer to yours. “You're okay Wade, you're fine..- let go for me Baby.. I promise we're gonna be just fine” You press a kiss onto his cheek and then onto his other. He nods and places his lips onto yours when he thrusts just the smallest bit harder, and that added speed makes you clench around him, makes your back arch slightly off the couch while you loudly moan out his name.. “Wade…oh, fuck! Wade…” Your body is shaking from that orgasm. That pleasure. Like an elastic Band that just suddenly snapped and right after you feel him, you feel his cum fill you up while his hands clutch your hips and his head falls onto your shoulder. The moans coming out of him as he thrusts his full release into you almost sound broken, his first time since his wife passed that he made love to a woman again. That's how these moans Sound like.

When his hips stop moving you pull him into a close hug.

“God…-” He sighs deeply. “Oh why did I wait this long!” He mumbles, placing kisses onto your shoulder and collarbone. “That was incredible. Wow.” He lifts his head to finally look at you again. The mood is easy, he seems so happy, so lit up by finally letting go of this. Getting it over with so to speak. Moving on..

“It was pretty good.” You tease softly.

“How uh, how good?” He bites his tongue with a huff “You know what? Nevermind. I don't think I wanna know!” He shrugs.

“Well we can do it again…and again..and-” He kisses you deeply, starved, as if the two of you didn't just finish. “You bet sweetheart, you better be ready for that fire you started” He smirks wide. “Oh easy now cowboy!” You laugh and he kisses your head. “How about some hot coco and another Episode of this show?” He suggests. “That sounds amazing, but..- Stay for a bit? With me? Like this?” You run your hands over his back and his sides.

“Anything for you love, thank you for being so patient and..- understanding. You made me very very happy” Wade places another kiss onto your cheek before you two hold each other tightly again. You could seriously fall asleep like this, it's the most comfortable you have felt in a while…a long while.

“It was my pleasure Wade” You smile.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Hey thank you for reading and I really hope I did this prompt justice, also my very first time writing as Wade Felton !!!! Ahhh.

I did not read this for any mistakes yet so don't point out my probably plenty mistakes! Haha.

Tags: @toogaytofunctiondangit