#i just feel like he feels so out of nowhere...

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Neighbour - Noncon

With your electricity out and your devices dead, you have no choice but to turn to your neighbour for help. He's more than willing to welcome you into his home. Really, you're lucky he's such a nice guy.

Tags: male yandere x gender neutral reader, noncon, somno, just the tip anal, daddy kink but only if you squint, 3.3k words

Living in the middle of nowhere had its perks. Privacy. Untouched nature. Peace and quiet.

But after the third day with no electricity, those perks were starting to look pretty damn weak. Your fridge was sitting in an ever expanding puddle. Almost all your devices were dead. And if you had to take one more cold shower you were going to cry.

It was when you were digging through your drawer looking for desperately needed batteries that you found your neighbour's number. He'd offered it to you a little while after you moved in, and while you two were on friendly terms, you'd never actually spoken for longer than a few minutes. You sighed, looked at the 10% left on your phone and decided that desperate times called for desperate measures.

You: hey, it's me. I still haven't got any power. Do you mind if I come over to charge some stuff?

He replied almost instantly.

Unknown: aww that sucks

Unknown: come on over. I've got hot stew and a generator

Unknown: and you can take a hot shower too if you want

Score. And to think you found him intimidating at first. Just goes to show that you can't judge on appearances. You packed a change of clothes, your devices and the last tub of ice cream that wasn't totally melted. You'd find some way to properly pay him back but a tub of chocolate fudge double cream wasn't a bad way to start.

He was waiting on his porch when you pulled up. A bear of a man in a flannel and blue jeans, a five o' clock shadow darkening his jaw.

"Howdy neighbour," he drawled, opening your door for you while you grabbed your stuff. "Regretting leaving the city yet?"

You huffed a laugh. "You do NOT want to know the answer to that."

His cabin was much larger than yours, a two storey behemoth with wide windows and exposed beams. It had a rustic charm - like some natural park Air BnB where they charged a weeks pay for just one night. A little too big for just one man. Didn't he get lonely?

"I brought some ice cream and chocolate to say thank you. And also because it miiight have been melting."

He opened the door for you and ushered you through with a hand on your lower back.

"Hell, I'll never say no to something sweet."

There was a fire burning in the fireplace and a stack of logs in a crate next to it. He was so much better suited to this life than you were. He locked the door behind you and slipped the keys into his pocket.

"Old habit," he explained with an easy grin.

"Why don't you get settled? I'll plug your stuff in."

You handed over your tech with a relieved sigh.

"Thank you. Really. I'm so behind on work already and I haven't heard anything back from the power company."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," he said. "Once ended up going a week straight with not even a light bulb flickering."

You winced. "It gets that bad?"

"Yep. Especially in winter. Gets dangerous then too."

He tilted his head at you, concerned. "You need to get yourself better sorted before it starts snowing. I hate to think of you stuck out there when the blizzards start rolling in."

God, could you be any more of a city slicker? You rubbed your neck, embarrassed.

"Thanks. I've been here a few months now and I guess I just didn't realise how serious things can get."

"It's all good. But if I'm honest, I get worried thinking about you out there all alone. Plenty of drifters end up passing through. Not a good place to be alone, not for a little thing like yourself."

Little? You wanted to feel indignant, but looking at his bulk, you reckoned that most folk probably seemed little to him.

He lead you to the fireplace and poured you a mug of coffee from the pot that was waiting for you. He jerked his head at the hunting rifle on display above the mantle.

"I can teach you to shoot, if you've got some free time."

You took a sip of the coffee, internally debating with yourself. You could see the sense in your offer but you weren't a big fan of guns. Hell, just being around them was nerve wrecking enough. Maybe -

You looked down at your mug in surprise.

"This is some really good stuff."

The coffee was strong, bitter in the best sort of way. You could catch a hint of chocolate in it too. Just sweet enough to make your toes curl.

" 'Course. Only the best for my guest. Help yourself to another cup. I'll just put your stuff on charge and be right back."

You finished your drink in a few sips and happily poured a second serving. Hot coffee... man, you didn't think three days without it would be so tough. Usually, you were pretty sensitive to caffeine. But by the time your neighbour came back, your head was tilted back and you were half asleep.

You tried to shake yourself out of it but he just laughed and pushed you back down.

"You probably haven't had a good sleep since the power went out. Just rest. We can talk once you wake up."

"I'm sorry..."

"It's fine." His hand was still on your shoulder, thumb rubbing small circles into your neck. "It's just fine with me."

You drifted off after that. Into a deep sleep without any dreams. Waking up was like slogging through molasses.

"Finally up sleepy head?"

It was dark outside and your neighbour was on one knee in front of the fire place, coaxing fresh wood to catch.

You sat up slowly. Your muscles ached and there was a strange, salty taste on your tongue.

"My heads killing me..."

He stood, poker still in his hand. "You must be starving then. I've already got some food on the stove. You'll feel better after you eat."

You didn't feel hungry at all. If anything, you felt almost hangover.

"Thanks," you managed. "I'm sorry to be such a bother."

He waved you away. "I don't mind a bit."

He came back with a bowl of steaming hot chow and stood with his arms crossed on the back of your couch while you ate.

"It's real late. I reckon you should stay over. I don't want you driving on dirt when it's so dark."

"Oh, it's fine. I've already put you out so much."

"Don't be silly. I insist."

You shivered without meaning to. That almost growl, low and bordering on menacing. It was so familiar, so...

"Just like that. Look at you, half asleep and still desperate for my cock."

"You like the taste? Yeah, I bet you fucking do."

"Ain't just gonna use your mouth next time."

You squeezed your eyes shut. Where the hell was this coming from? Were you remembering some sick dream from this afternoon?

"You okay there neighbour?"

You nodded. "Just my head."

Maybe he was right. Driving when you were so disorientated was just asking for trouble.

"If you really don't mind... I'll be happy to sleep over."

He laughed, a deep, rumbling thing. "I'll make the guest room up special, just for you."

"Could I use your shower too?"

"I offered didn't I? Come on, I'll show you where it is."

He took you to the master bedroom and jerked his thumb at the en-suite.

"Hot water is the most reliable in there. Door doesn't close that well though, so don't mind it. I'll be downstairs when you're done."

You brushed your teeth carefully. You lips felt sore, bruised in a way you couldn't explain.

You waited until you heard his footsteps going down the stairs before you stripped off your clothes. You stood under the hot water for a good few minutes, luxuriating in the feeling. The bathroom was thick with steam when you finally got to scrubbing yourself. The door was open just a crack and the bedroom beyond was dark. You forgot all about it until you heard the creak of the hinges.

You whirled to face the door, your hands coming up to cover yourself. The steam was too thick to see through. You called his name.

Nothing.

You stepped out with suds still on your thighs and pushed the door open. The room beyond was empty.

You sighed. God, you were being paranoid. Your neighbour was a great guy. It was unfair of you to treat him like a peeping tom when he'd gone out of his way to make you comfortable. It must have been just an errant draught.

You stepped back into the shower and rinsed yourself off. But no matter what you told yourself, you still kept an eye on the door.

When you went to change into your fresh clothes, you spent at least five minutes hunting for your underwear. Did you drop it somewhere? Oh, please say your undies weren't just sitting in the middle of his hallway. That would be beyond embarrassing.

Eventually you gave up and just decided to go without them. Not comfortable at all but still better than walking around in a towel to look for them. And much better than calling your neighbour in to help. Wouldn't that be fun? 'Hey neighbour that I don't know that well, you haven't seen my intimates lying around, have you?' Yeah, you'd never again get invited over after something like that.

When you were dressed, you found him already on his way up the hall. He was carrying a glass of water and some pills.

"Thought you might still have a headache, so I brought you some painkillers."

You paused, nervous but not sure why.

"Thanks." His hands dwarfed yours when he handed them over. You didn't recognise the name of on the pills, but they looked harmless. You tossed them back and gagged at the bitter aftertaste.

"They pack a punch, so tell me when you start to get drowsy."

"Aye aye captain."

You followed him to the guest room. It was at the very back on the second story, quieter than the rest of the house. A huge glass wall gave you a view of the forest disappearing into the darkness. You could see the ghost of your reflection in the glass, your neighbour a hulking, shapeless mass at your shoulder.

He took a seat in an armchair across form the bed and stretched out his legs. You perched on the edge of the mattress, still feeling a bit like an intruder.

"How long have you been staying out here?” you asked.

He smiled at you, teeth glinting almost wolf-like. "Got you curious?"

"A little. Folk in town say they hardly see you. I don't know... I'm just wondering if you ever get lonely."

He was quiet and you cursed yourself for being so nosy. You hurried to fill the silence.

"It's just that I get a bit lonely out here too. 'Specially when it's so quiet. And I guess I was wondering if it's the same for you."

He smiled at you, rueful. "At times. Used to be worse, but I've got a new interest to keep me occupied nowadays."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"Bird watching."

"Really? What do you look for?"

The way the room was lit up, you couldn't see his eyes. They fell into shadow and you only had his lips to read his emotions by. He smirked, slow and almost mocking.

"Just one bird I look out for. Flighty little thing. Tends to get caught by predators a lot. You’d probably recognise it."

The polite thing to do would be to ask what it was called. You didn't. Some part of whispered that you wouldn't like the answer.

You must have been quiet a little too long because he took it as his cue to leave. He stood, a mountain of muscle, his eyes not quite as nice as they seemed that afternoon. A trick of the light, surely. He wouldn't hurt a fly.

"You rest up. Got a busy day tomorrow."

"G'night."

He was gone before you thought to ask what he meant. And you were passed out on your pillows before you realised it. He was right. The pills sure did pack one hell of a punch.

You were aware of a shadow at the end of your bed. You weren't fully awake, and your limbs were slow and heavy with more than just sleep.

"Who..."

The shadow reached down and one warm paw circled your ankle.

"Just me little bird."

You knew that voice. It was the voice that brought you warm food and invited you in from the cold. You could trust it. Could go back to sleep and not worry about anything.

'No,' some part of you hissed, 'He's not as safe as you think.'

"Cold..."

The shadow laughed and it was the laugh of the fox finding the rabbit's den. Nasty. Hungry.

"Cold huh? Don't worry baby. I'll warm you right up."

He yanked your ankle towards him and your whole body slid down the bed. You were too drowsy to stop it.

"Knew you were gonna be mine the second I saw you," he cooed, hands running up your thighs.

His fingers slipped under your waistband, nails scraping your hip bones.

"Dumb little thing from the city. Doesn't even realise I've tripped all their breakers. That's why you don't have power baby. It's all me."

His fingers were as big as the rest of him. Thick, meaty. Skin rough from working outdoors. You whined when his fingertips scraped the edges of your hole.

"No underwear. You needy slut. That's practically a written and signed invitation to fuck you."

He pulled your pants down to your ankles and pushed your knees up to your stomach. And you were too out of it to stop him. Limp and pliable as a fuck doll.

Your tight ass was exposed to the cold air, entirely at the mercy of whatever he wanted to do.

"Cute." He circled his thumb around the rim, almost pushing in but not quite. "Wanted to be in this ass since you first showed up at my door all those months ago. Lookin' up at me all sweet. Fuck, it's enough to drive a man to desperation."

He lowered his head and you could feel his warm breath washing over your thighs.

He dragged his tongue across your hole. Some part of you must have been more awake than the rest, because your whole body jerked away from him.

"None of that," he cooed, hands digging into your thighs and dragging you back. "I haven't even gotten started yet."

He licked you again, deeper this time. The flexed tip of his tongue pushing at your entrance, and to your dull horror, actually slipping in. He moaned and you could feel the vibrations all through your crotch.

He pulled out and spat, rubbed it in with his fingers. One of them pushed in until the second joint, curling into your walls so rough that you gasped.

"Please..."

"Please what?" he mocked. "Please fuck my tight little ass? Please cum inside me? Use your words little bird."

"Please...stop..."

That made him laugh again, made him shove his finger in all the way to the knuckle. Twisting so cruelly as he pulled out and jerked back in.

"Stop? Stop? After all the work it took to get you here? No way baby. I'm not slowing down and I'm sure as fuck not stopping."

You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, followed by a sharp intake of breath when he nudged his leaking head against your hole.

"You’re not going to remember this. And I'm not going to leave any evidence."

He pushed your legs tighter against your chest.

"So as much as I want to fuck you rotten, you're gonna have to be happy with just the tip."

He'd done a good job loosening and lubing you, but it still burned like a hot poker when he forced his way in. He groaned, almost in pain.

"You're fucking choking me. God, do you want my cum so bad?"

You could feel when the tip was in. That tiny difference in thickness between his head and shaft was oh so noticeable when your ass was clenching and fluttering around it. It was the smallest mercy, but mercy nonetheless.

He was panting from the effort of getting it in, the effort of holding back. The size difference between you almost perverse. Like a draft stallion trying to mount a pony. In every way, he was just too fucking big.

He spat in his hand and brought it to his cock, ran his palm up and down his shaft with sickly wet strokes. The combination of his palm and your squeezing ass was fucking delicious.

He had great stamina but fuck if it didn't feel like you were milking him.

He let go long enough to smack your ass. It almost finished him. You clenched around him so hard it felt like his tip was getting fucking crushed.

"Shiiiit, you're the best hole I've ever had. Can't wait 'til I can go all the way."

You whined, pitiful as snared prey. There were words there, though they were too slurred to make out. Something about Daddy and please and stop. He ignored you.

He pushed in a little deeper and watched your face scrunching up. So helpless, so fucking caught. That was what did it. The knowledge that he could do this to you at any point and you'd be helpless to stop it.

He came inside you, snarling through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into your thigh hard enough to bruise. You'd notice the marks in the morning and chalk it up to just being clumsy. But he'd know. He'd see the bruises peeking out from the hem of your shorts and his cock would twitch just a little at the memory of leaving them.

His cock pulsed. Shot strings of spunk deep inside you. You could feel it. Hot, too hot. Gross. Make it stop. Get it out.

He pulled out with a wet pop. His cum drooled down and he took a minute to work it back into you with his finger. Your hole was gaping just a little and it made his balls pulse. If he had the time...

"A real fucking mess. And on my good sheets too. You're a terrible guest."

He mopped up whatever cum remained with a balled up piece of martial that he pulled from his pocket. Even in you stupor, you recognised it as your missing underwear.

"Terrible guest, but the perks of having you around are pretty fucking sweet."

He dropped your knees back to the mattress, pulled your pants back into place and roughly yanked the duvet over you. He grabbed your jaw and smiled at the lost, drowsy look in your half open eyes.

"Got a big day tomorrow. Gonna wake up and find your whole house was flooded. Ruined. Gonna have nowhere to stay but with me."

He sounded smug. It made your guts twist.

Outside, the night grew quiet. A predator was hunting and most prey knew better than to catch its attention.

"I made sure of it. All your family and friends in the city are away from home. There's no one around to help you out..."

He tightened his grip just enough to watch the fear start dancing in your eyes.

"No one...except me."

He let you go and smiled that same warm, comforting smile from that afternoon.

"Dumb little thing. Got no clue how your water mains work, do you? Got no idea how easy they are to sabotage."

He tutted. "Got me so damn busy. I'm gonna have to run to your place, fuck shit up and be back here before you wake up for real."

He traced his index finger over your lips and left behind a sticky coating of spunk. You'd wake up tasting salt again, with no memory of why.

"But it's fine. I forgive you. After today we'll have plenty of time together. Rest of our lives in fact. So just sleep tight and forget what you think you've dreamed."

There are perks to living in the middle nowhere. Privacy. Untouched nature. Peace and quiet.

There are perks, but unfortunately for you, your neighbour isn't one of them.

[lymtw]

Movie Night

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

Friday night is unofficially movie night for you and Toji. You always go back and forth on what you should do and options are tossed out, like a nice dinner or trying food from someplace new or going to a view and sitting in the trunk of his car with blankets and some snacks. Most of the time, all of those options are thrown out the window and you just end up sitting in your bed or his bed and watching movies together. It doesn't matter what you do, it's always good, and the sleep overs make it even better.

A knock on your door signals Toji's arrival. Though you haven't had any caffeine since the coffee you treated yourself to earlier in the afternoon, you feel jittery. You grab the surprise you have for him and walk over to answer the door. As soon as you pull the door open, there he is, looking handsome as always, even when he's donning a simple t-shirt and some sweatpants. He gives you that smirk of his—the one that makes your chest feel all warm and fuzzy, and wakes up the butterflies in your stomach. He has a bag in his hand, filled with the snacks he promised to bring.

"Aren't you gonna say hi? Did you even miss me?" He teases, loving the way you gently nod as he speaks, like you're ready to prove that you did in fact miss him.

"Hi, Toji," you say, a smile spreading on your lips when you become overly aware of his focus on you. "I missed you. Come in." You move aside and let him into your cozy home, a place he's all too familiar with. He steps out of his slides and leaves them behind next to a pair of your shoes, his gaze never leaving you as he waits for you to lock the door after you shut it.

"What's that, doll?" Toji asks, when you approach him with full hands. There's a soft smile on your lips and your eyes shine like the stars that speckle the sky, as you extend the neatly folded pair of pajamas towards him. You have the most precious look on your face, as if you're showing him one of your most prized possessions—something you're proud of.

"You don't have to wear them if you don't want to. I still have the receipt. I just thought it would be nice to wear matching pj's."

You're not asking for much. Toji knows this. This is nothing—you're not asking him for anything. All he can think as he takes in the adorable look on your face, is that it would be an absolutely disgusting, heinous crime, to deny you of something so simple, something that would make you so damn happy. He can't bring himself to destroy you like that. In doing that, he would be chipping his own heart.

"What are you talking about? Let me see them," he says, laying his hands out for you to place the clothes on. You carefully place them in his hands and watch as he unfolds the articles. You don't know what he's thinking as he inspects the shirt, but the hum he lets out is nerve wracking. The shirt's design is minimalistic. It's a black t-shirt with three little stars on the left side of the chest and a small crescent moon on the back, a few inches beneath the collar, and then the bottoms are in the same plaid style as yours, just dark green instead of red.

"Is this why you asked for my clothing sizes a couple days ago?" He asks, pulling down his pants out of nowhere. You can't even try to hold back your laugh as you look away after getting a glimpse of his boxers, the sound just slips out. "What are you laughing at? Nothing you haven't seen before," he says, grinning amusedly at your giggles.

He unfolds the comfy pair of pants and slides them on. Immediately after, his shirt comes off, and it's as if he wants you to notice—to ogle him—because he takes his sweet time getting the new shirt on. He catches your eyes trailing down his torso, and then, he hears it, the flustered giggle that tumbles off your lips, the sweet sound he was waiting on. He smirks as he puts the new shirt on, and once again waits for your reaction. The shirt is a thicker material and fits perfectly, so do the pants. You're now matching, just like you wanted.

"How do I look?" Toji asks, doing a simple hands in his pockets pose.

"Handsome and comfy," you respond, warmth reaching your face as you take in the sight.

"Yeah? You think so?" He asks as he picks up his previous outfit and drops it on the arm of your couch. He hears your affirmative hum and catches your little nod as he steps towards you.

"Hey, where's my kiss?" He asks, a sly little smirk curling his lips. His hands rest on your lower back, gently pulling you closer. "I've been waiting hours and hours," he murmurs, green eyes absorbing the pretty smile that begins to form on your lips. "I want my reward."

You know that it won't be just a quick kiss with Toji, but still, you stand on your tippy toes and tilt your head upwards, waiting for Toji to meet you. He leans down, holding eye contact with you, as his lips come closer and closer. Once his nose is right next to yours and you feel his lips ghosting yours, he stops. He just loves the way you can't hide your fluster and how whenever you can't take it anymore, you resort to something you should have some sort of award for, by now—giggling.

"You're precious, ma," he says, his voice low. Dark eyes scan and re-memorize, for the nth time, every inch of your joyful expression, before finally he leans in the rest of the way, closing the distance between you and him.

His hands grip the back of your shirt as he feeds off your soft lips. Kiss after kiss, each one gentle and patient, demonstrating how much he truly longed for you. You feel butterflies in your stomach when you focus on the warmth of his body pressed against you and the way his lips chase yours for another kiss when you think he's finally going to pull away. His hands dip beneath your shirt to feel the bare, soft, and warm skin of your back. The simple touch is enough to spread goosebumps all over you.

The final kiss is long. Your lips lock, but Toji stops there, not going with the usual synchronized flow of the previous kisses, and when you don't expect it, he lets out deep hum and releases your lips with a more audible smack. He gives you a dumb grin in response to the stars that returned to your eyes.

"Do the thing, baby," he says, rubbing your back while he waits for you to snap out of your minor daze. He stays in the same slightly leaned position and waits for the softness of your lips to meet his skin. You press a kiss onto the smooth scar on the corner of his lips for an equal amount of time as the long kiss you shared before and smile softly when you pull away, your feet flat on the ground, again.

His hands come out of your shirt and he grins at how bashful you've become, despite the amount of times you've done this. You wouldn't immediately know what "do the thing" means, if you weren't so accustomed to doing it.

"Got your favorites," he says, nodding towards the bag he set down on your couch. "Did you keep up with your end of the deal?" He jokes, expecting a proud nod from you, because you've never let him down.

"Lemon-lime or Cool Blue Gatorade, right?" You ask, walking towards the kitchen.

"That's right, doll," he confirms, following behind you.

After the wine incident, he chooses to stay sober with you. It's not that he doesn't want to experience drinking with you and see you be more laid back and playful, it's the fact that he knows that that version of you is altered by alcohol. Sober you isn't that way, and while he loves every version of you, your natural way of being is his favorite.

He could spend hours flustering and teasing you, watching the way you coil in on yourself when he stares at you for too long. Feeling the way your body melts against his when he holds you is one of his favorite things. He likes being able to coax you into voicing your thoughts, wants, and needs. Maybe you're a little more honest about deeper matters when you're inebriated, but Toji is smart enough to know that it's practically involuntary. It's like your secrets are being spilled without your permission and while he's glad to know these things in the moment, he would rather hear them from you when you aren't drunk.

"I got you both. I didn't know which you liked more, so I just got both of them," you say, grabbing them off one of the shelves in your fridge. You turn and hand the cold drinks to Toji before going back to grab the one you got for yourself. You step back and shut the fridge door, smiling at him when he just stares at you.

"What?" You question.

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. Just silently observes you standing in your small kitchen, in comfy, baggy pajamas that match his own. You're shifting on your feet, under his gaze, waiting for a response, but the response that he has in mind is a little too much for the lightness of the night. Something about wanting to spend the rest of his life with you, something about coming home to you every day, something about putting a shiny rock on your finger. Something big, because his feelings for you are big.

"Nothing, ma," he says, tucking both juice bottles between his forearm and his side, so that he can rest his hand on the back of your neck as you walk back out to the living room. You grab the bag of snacks off the couch and head to your bedroom together.

You set the bag of snacks on the bed and sit down on your side. Toji has a designated side on your bed, which is, of course, the other side.

"Light on or off?" Toji asks, shutting the door.

"Off?" You say, with a questioning tone, leaving room for him to object. Shortly after, the room goes dark. Only your TV, which sits idly on its home screen, creates light that illuminates the walls. Toji walks around your bed and settles into his side.

"What are we watching, this time?" He asks, reaching for the pack of sour gummy bears.

"It's your turn to choose," you say, offering the remote to him. "Last time we watched a bunch of Disney movies. I don't know if you wanna do that again," you say, smiling sheepishly.

"You doubt your taste in things too much, ma. Those Toy Story movies were pretty good. Show me another one of your favorites."

"Alright," you say, in compliance. You go to the Disney+ application and search for another favorite. Nothing too sing song-y, because you feel like you're on thin ice already in playing these animated movies for him. You got away with Jessie singing "When She Loved Me" in Toy Story 2, because even he thought the poor cowgirl got a rough deal when she was abandoned.

"Ratatouille?" He reads. "What's that about?"

"We're about to watch it," you say, briefly turning over and smiling.

He hums as he looks over the caption beneath the title that explains the synopsis of the movie.

"The rat's gonna cook? This should be interesting."

Lo and behold, he's hooked. Neither of you has made a peep and you're both mindlessly snacking on candy and chips, sipping on Gatorade, while watching the crazy things in this rat's life unfold. Him and his brother survived being struck by lightning and being shot at by an old lady with a shotgun. That part seemed to amuse Toji plenty.

Towards the end of the movie, Toji turns to you with sour sugar unknowingly speckled on his lips from the candy he's been feasting on, and leans in to press kisses to your temple and cheek.

"Watch," you say, smiling at the softness that meets your skin.

"I'm watching," he murmurs, continuing on with his sticky kisses.

"Look, they're stealing food from the kitchen," you explain, shocked despite already knowing what's going to happen.

"Mm," Toji hums, seemingly interested, but continuing on with his affectionate, sugary pecks.

"Look, you're gonna miss it," you say, giggling as you gently push his face away. It completely backfires on you, because he just grabs your wrist, and pulls your hand down to continue on with his kisses.

"Come here," he says, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you so that you're sitting right beside him, your thigh touching his and your shoulder pressed into his side. With a few more pecks to your cheek and a couple to the top of your head, he faces forward and continues watching the movie.

"Damn, they got shut down?" He says, in disbelief.

"Mhm," you hum in response, unable to answer verbally due to the chips in your mouth.

"Oh shit, they're back," Toji says, taking in the remainder of the movie. "And Remy cooks without controlling Spaghetti?"

"Linguini," you correct, with a laugh. "But yeah. Linguini's a waiter, now, and Remy's a chef."

The artistic end credits begin to appear and you turn to look at Toji.

"So... what did you think?" You ask.

"That had more action than The Terminator," he jokes. "The old lady with the shotgun was trying take out Remy and his brother and then she tried to hit the entire colony of rats with gas."

You giggle as he goes in depth of what he remembers, as if to prove to you that he was watching.

"I liked that one too," he says, with a smirk. "Would definitely watch it, again."

"Good," you chirp, internally proud that you were able to show him something good. "Your turn," you say, offering him the remote.

"You go again," he says, grabbing another sour gummy to dodge the remote.

"Toji," you mumble. "You should choose something you like. I wouldn't mind watching something new, too."

In truth, Toji doesn't want to watch explosive, gore infested, action movies when he's with you. It's the only genre he's thoroughly explored apart from some comedy, so he leaves you to do the choosing of the movies and shows you watch together. It's a great way for him to give new things a chance, because even though it seems like he's always the one showing you how and loosening the tight grip you have on the shell that obscures you, he's constantly learning from you, as well.

"How 'bout this, baby... If you choose the next one, i'll choose the next three," he offers, squeezing the plush of your thigh.

"You promise?" You say, eyes darting from where his enormous hand rests on your leg, to his face.

"'Course. I don't lie to you," he says.

"Okay, then," you say, moving onto a different platform to find another movie.

"While I wait..." he mumbles, a soft smile curling on his lips. His hand moves from your thigh to your waist as he wraps his arm around you. He goes back to kissing the side of your face, soft, wet little smooches planted along your cheek and your jaw.

"Gorgeous girl," he hums, his voice a soft breath against your skin. "I'm dying to kiss those pretty lips."

Your lips curl as you continue skimming through the section of recommended movies. You can feel his eyes on you, tracing over the features of your face.

"Just a quick one and then i'll stop bugging you," he requests. "Please? You're teasing me without even trying."

"But I'm not even doing anything," you argue, with a small laugh.

"That's what i'm saying," he says, in agreement. "You're not even trying. You're just pretty like that. Makes me wanna kiss you 'til you can't breathe."

"What? You said a quick one, just a few seconds ago," you remind, your smile widening at the way he changed his mind about wanting the minimum of your affection.

"Yeah, but you know how greedy I am about you, mama. I want more and more of you, all the time." His gaze flits between your coy smile and the softness that lingers in your eyes. You haven't paused your skimming of the movies, but he knows you're staring at the screen, mindlessly, feeling his attention. "You want me to beg?"

"No," you instantly respond. It's the one thing you never allow him to do. He's too good to you, for you to make him beg. "You don't have to do that."

"So, kiss me, sweetheart," he says, shifting positions so that he's lying down on his side. He pats the pillow that cushions your lower back, signaling for you to lie down. Like the obedient thing you are for him, you click play on the random movie you landed on and set the remote aside, before lying down on your side, facing Toji.

"What movie did you decide on?" He asks, dragging his knuckles tenderly over your cheek.

"I didn't look at the name," you answer, softly.

"We can skip the intro, right?" He murmurs, smirking when he feels the warmth that reaches your face beneath his palm. His thumb strokes the skin of your cheek, back and forth as he keeps up with your gaze, even when it derails from his due to the tension in the moment.

"Mhm," you hum.

"Come here," he instructs, his voice low, almost a whisper. His leg goes between your legs, just sitting there to achieve more physical contact with you. It doesn't go further than the desire to be innocently caught up in you and feel you pressed against him.

The first kisses—if they can even be called that—are tentative and teasing. Lips merely ghosting each other, barely grasping contact. It's enough to have your heart thudding rapidly in your chest. You hear a warm, rumbled chuckle coming from Toji.

"Closer," Toji hums, his hand splaying on your back and pushing you forward into him.

Finally, your lips connect. The feeling is warm, like you're being held, securely, without any intention of being released. The sound of the movie in the background is a mere whir, unheard through the imaginary force field created around you and Toji. It's just you and him, close as can be, living like nothing else matters as long as you have this love. Through gentle caresses, one unsteady heartbeat and an even unsteadier one, things are good.

Toji swears he will never feel this content and at peace anywhere else. You have a way of making him feel like he is everything. The way your eyes twinkle when you see him, the way you bare your soul to him every time you smile—it's love. It's pure, unadulterated love. He's your friend, your lover, your confidant, and he will never settle for being anything less than those things.

With one more brush of your lips, you both put the kissing on hold and lay there, just a little bit breathless. His hand rests on your lower back, playing with the hem of your shirt.

"I love you so fucking much, doll. You know that?" He murmurs, his attention bouncing between your lips that won't stop calling for him to kiss them and the warmth in your eyes. "Fridays aren't just another day, anymore. Same for every day I get to see you or even just talk to you on the phone if we can't be together." A soft sigh escapes his nose, followed by a very brief pause. "You just know how to make things better, and I wish you would believe it because you feel that way too, not just because i'm telling you."

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

"No. I don't want that, baby. Tell me something else."

"I love you, Toji," you say, ensuring that you speak clearly so that he gets the important words you need him to hear. "I like being around you. You'll never know just how safe you make me feel, but I do want you to know that it goes past the physical aspect."

He smiles, the expression soft, not telling of the giddiness that just spread throughout his body. A soft hum, followed by a somewhat frustrated sounding groan, precedes you being pulled into his tight embrace. You can't help the giggles that eventually evolve into laughter that just spills from you when he bombards your face with kisses. His lips press against your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the corners of your lips before he actually leaves a rapid barrage of pecks on your lips. Deep chuckles slip through his affectionate assault when you plant your hand on his chest, weakly pushing at him through the joyous sound of your laugh.

"T-Toji!" You squeal, your entire body shaking through your nonstop laughter. Despite it being nighttime, Toji feels like he's kissing and cuddling with the sun. His cheeks almost hurt from smiling so much.

With one final, elongated kiss to your forehead, he relents and lets you catch your breath. Soft giggles continue to flow past your lips as you work on composing yourself.

"You drive me crazy, doll," he says, grinning at how your chest still slightly heaves. He could do this every night with you, in a shared bed, that is in your shared bedroom, in your shared home.

"Alright, let's see what this movie's about," he mutters, flipping onto his back. "Come here." By now, the two words are a staple to Toji's conversations with you, because he always wants you attached to him. He outstretches his arm, and waits for you to scooch over and lay your head on his chest. Once you settle in, his arm wraps around you, tightly.

As you both try to catch up on what is going on in the movie, you realize none of it is making sense. You think it might be futile to try and understand what is happening when it may have been explained during the intro, but neither you nor Toji mind it, and just continue watching through the confusion, because the intro to this movie was never going to be as good as the moment you shared during it.

[pupyuj]

hi ena! long time no ask!!

with the recent miumiu wonyoung photos GOSHH MY MIND IS SPINNINGGF WITH THOUGHTSS😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

dubcon!!

what if…princess jang who comes from a wealthy noble family purchases you to be her pretty slave😁 the thing is you weren’t even being sold as one despite your family leaning towards the poorer class😱turns out she randomly spotted you at a market and ordered her people to do anything and everything just to have you in the palm of her hands! crazy!!!!! one day you were just taken away from your family! GOSH imagine the princess wonyoung herself carrying you to her room and gently laying you down on her bed🥺but, being the brat that you are you scratched and clawed at her, trying to resist her advances bc u were so so scared and confused :(( eventually, the remaining patience she had for you snaps and she just fucks you hard to remind you of your place!!!! u were nothing but her stupid little slut to use whenever she wanted :(

(she starts off really gentle with you but fucks you rough and hard for being so rude and disobedient to he princess☹️)

omg yk that video of her sliding off her gloves to sign for a fan?? IMAGINE IF SHE DOES THAT BEFORE FINGERING YOU UNTIL URE IN TEARS BEGGING HER TO STOPPP UGHH😫😩😩

- 🍒

MY FAVORITE CHERRY ANON!! i know, i know this ask took me forever to do again but we're all probably used to it to it to the point where i don't even have to address it 😭 since the photos are now not-so-recent, i'll attach them here so everybody can visualize it well hehehe 🤭

(@ CHERRY ANON IK YOU'RE WONDERING IF I AM ALSO WORKING ON THAT OTHER WONY ASK THAT YOU SENT AND I'M GONNA BE HONEST I THINK I DELETED IT?? which sucks bcs i was JUST thinking of answering it too just now until i realized it was nowhere to be found so IF UR STILL UP FOR IT AND IF YOU REMEMBER THE GIST, FEEL FREE TO SEND IT AGAIN! pretty sure it was about sororities?? 🤔)

p.s. you guys are crazy if you think i'm not gonna give this ask some meat (aka mini lore) so if this happens to be a long one that's why! 😭😭

[cw: extreme dubcon, (eventually) cnc, coercion, bondage, mild violence, obsessive-possessive princess!wony WOOO.]

you were happy as a commoner, okay!? even though your fate was sealed as a middle-class man's stay-at-home wife and child bearer in the future, you were going to make the most of your life despite it all! but that was before you encountered her highness jang wonyoung while you were out to shop for new formal robes. oh, sorry, you didn't 'encounter' her—she saw you animatedly chatting with the nice young clerk at the apparel shop and became obsessed fell in love at first sight 😍😍

your whole life took a whole other turn when a couple knights knocked on your door and took you from your family by force and with only a brief answer when asked: "her highness wills it so." 🥲 your family was then visited by the princess' retainer to give them a more detailed explanation of the whole situation but you didn't know that. you didn't have to. what only mattered from then on was whatever the fuck wonyoung wanted with you... and it was everything you anticipated it to be! almost.

nobles were all the same, after all. and the worst among them was the royalty. you half expected to have been stripped down in the carriage by the knights and dragged throughout the castle naked and bare before they throw you inside the princess' quarters where she would be more than ready to just... ravage you, but that didn't turn out to be true. not all the way! you made it to the doors of the castle with your clothes still on you and you weren't just haphazardly thrown inside the princess' room... the knights were given special instructions to treat you like glass! or else the princess would have their heads if they so much as scratched your beautiful, delicate skin.

wonyoung herself met you at the doors of the great hall, actually! she couldn’t contain her excitement because finally, she found someone that she knew was going to satisfy all her needs and make the perfect wife! never mind that you were some lowly commoner, you were beyond perfect in the princess’ eyes!

“do you know me… (y/n)?” you don’t even want to know how she just knew your name. you were confused, terrified, and furious all at the same time and wonyoung loved it. anybody else would have been scrambling to kiss her feet and beg for forgiveness even though they knew they did nothing wrong… but of course you’d be different. wonyoung was so happy.

nevertheless, you plucked up whatever courage you had left in yourself and answered her question, “the crown princess… jang wonyoung.” even the way you said her name was impeccable! ah, how wonyoung couldn’t wait to make you hers completely… and that’s exactly what she attempts to do once she took you to her room but of course, you fought back! 🥺

kicking and hitting wonyoung whenever she tried to get close to you on the bed, even shrieking and screaming for help just in case there was a servant who felt sorry enough to interrupt but who in their right mind would dare get in the way of the princess? 🤨 it was when you scratched her chin that she finally had enough of your shit and straight-up whacked you across the face... her highness has never had to use violence to gain control and advantage but goodness you really pushed all the wrong buttons!!

somehow it wasn't the painful sting on your cheek that made you settle down... bcs if you weren't directly staring at the small, bleeding cuts you've made on wonyoung's chin, you would've made an even bigger fuss when she roughly undressed you! sure, you feared the consequences of literally hurting the princess wonyoung but... she was still a beautiful woman!! what you did was like the equivalent of defacing a famed painter's greatest work—you definitely deserve whatever punishment was waiting for you 🫢🫢

wony won’t take your resistance seriously once she’s seen how drenched you are for her! she only takes that as a sign that she was welcome.. and that you did, in fact, want this! 🤭 she assumed that you can take her at whatever pace she decides to go with bcs you were a commoner that was gorgeous and deliciously naïve… surely you’ve been passed around before right?? but no… you were a virgin :(( but you were taking wonyoung’s fingers so well… meeting her thrusts halfway as if you’ve always known how to do it like that… moaning “your highness” so nicely against her ear that it gave her goosebumps… so ofc wony ignores your tears and your pleas to stop when you’ve already cum many times 🫠

but ah you were really testing her!! wony was bound to get some bruises with the way you’ve kicked and hit her so much… so she ties your hands up above your head and your legs spread apart with either ankle tied down at the edge of the bed! this way it would be much, much easier to punish you 🤭 she’s definitely relentless when using her mouth… esp since she just got a taste of her new food and oh, were you delectable…!

wonyoung couldn’t get enough… using her tongue on you over and over again throughout the night whilst talking to you about how perfect your life was going to be now that you were with her… and she very much liked how you didn’t even fight her words anymore! she knew that even though you cried gallons of tears and made your voice hoarse from wailing and moaning you wouldn’t dare look back on your past life anymore! 🤭

since then your daily activities as the crown princess’ future consort was to look pretty, study in both academics and noble etiquette, and most importantly, tending to wonyoung’s… needs 🫠🫠 you knew that every servant, knight, and nobles that frequented the castle talked badly about you. how a peasant managed to captivate the princess’ heart with ease. their words cut through you pretty badly but wonyoung was always there every night to mend your wounds… always.

you didn’t even care that wonyoung fucked you too hard anymore! bcs she has somehow led you to believe that she was the only one in this world that loved you and can stand to love someone like you 🫣 and you only believed her bcs you did feel her love with every thrust of her fingers, every disgusting thing that she whispers in your ears while she fucked you, every flick of her tongue as she ate you out, every bite on your lips when she kisses you. you were only right to love her back in spite of everything else bcs… like wonyoung always assured, this is what true love is, right?? 🤭

[sailoryuns]

INAMORATA ─── PSH

genre. idol!sunghoon x model!f!reader | established relationship

warnings. angst, fluff (moreso towards the end), smut, accusations of cheating, hoon being lowkey toxic, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, some mentions of crying, not proofread wc -> 1.5k

ps. the position i’m referring to is this (nsfw link), i usually hate vids but this was rly good imo.

“i think we should take a break...” you admit, voice growing shakier as you spoke. this was never something you wish to say in a million years, you wanted this relationship to work more than anything. but you were at your wits end with everything, talking to sunghoon was like conversing with the wall, never fully grasping any of your concerns.

you noticed the cracks beginning to seep in the midst of six months of being with him. he would often be dishonest of his whereabouts, saying he was out late due to “work” but was actually out drinking at some bar with jake or something. it made no sense for him to lie about such trivial things but he does it without even thinking. this was supposed to be a lovely vacation in paris together but lately you’ve grown tired of feeling like you’re unappreciated. a break from each other might be the best solution in getting his act together once and for all.

sunghoon felt his whole body turn limp as you uttered those words. not only was he blindsided by your decision, but you never indicated before to him that you were ready to propose such a drastic idea. “but why though? don’t you think this is a bit random? i mean this came out of nowhere y/n, i thought everything was good between us, why are you suddenly saying this now?” his thick, bushy brows furrowed in confusion, he wasn’t letting you off this easy and you know it.

“i just think it’s for the better right now hoon, we’re both so busy. we have a lot on our plate, especially you… and this relationship is just— it’s only putting more strain on everythi-”

“are you serious y/n? do you hear yourself? i knew what i was getting myself into the day i asked you to be my girlfriend. i’m well aware that i can’t be with you 24/7, and neither can you—however, i don’t expect that anyway. all i ever wanted was to have you by my side, i want to work through the hardships with you but if you’re so willing to give up like this then… i don’t know. i don’t even know what to say to this honestly..” sunghoon couldn’t help but cut you off, once his emotions take over, all sense of logic and reasoning is thrown out the window.

he was never one to question his worth in the eyes of his partner, but you were his longest relationship, he saw you as his first and only true love. it never occurred to him that he could lose you, the possibility of this break lasting long enough to make your love fade away was a scary revelation. there had to be a way he could fix this, he couldn’t bear to be without you.

“are you seeing someone else? maybe that’s why you’ve been so distant towards me lately…” he wanted to scream for saying that out loud but at least he got it off his chest. he knows how petty it sounds but he didn’t care, he wanted you to give him answers.

“no! i’m not seeing other people, i don’t have an interest in anyone but you sunghoon. i want to do this for the sake of us, we’re clearly not where we need to be and this break could help with getting us back on track and spending time apart could be beneficial.” you try your best to articulate your words properly but he remained unconvinced, he wasn’t on board with any bit of this.

how could you even be okay with something like this? spending time away from you drove him absolutely insane, he couldn’t fathom taking a break—not from someone as important as you in his life. he just needed to remind you that the love was still there, though it may be but a dull flame, he could ignite the spark again, with the little bit of hope he had left.

the foundation of your relationship was built from shared interests, since you both are part of professions that rely heavily on looks, you refused to see each other based solely off those superficial aspects. instead you got to know each other’s minds, your core values and beliefs, what mattered to you the most. you cherished every one of those deep conversations you shared together, it was a beautiful experience, an indescribable memory that shaped your bond forever.

so why is it now that you feel this way? was he really that oblivious to everything? he should’ve done more to prevent this but now he fears it’s too late. he’s faced with the conundrum of losing you and there wasn’t much time for him to stall or ask for a chance of redemption, he couldn’t waste another second.

“fuck that,” sunghoon angrily spat, his face contorting into a look of pure disgust. “you’re not going anywhere.” he reaches out to grab your waist before you could walk away, aggressively pulling you into his chest.

no matter how much you attempt to escape his hold, he’s not letting you go in the slightest. he’s much stronger than you, could easily lift you up without breaking a sweat. there was no use in fighting, you had no choice but to give in and let this conversation go. once his lips crashed into yours, everything faded to black. as if a simple kiss was the cure-all of mending this decrepit relationship.

sunghoon’s forehead pressed against yours as he pulled away, “shhh, lye down baby,” he hushes your quiet mewls, instructing you to do as he says. “gonna make you feel so good,” his hands slid under your skirt, gently rubbing over your clothed core “you’ll forget everything.”

* :.･ﾟﾟ･ ✿

“oh my- fuckk, sunghoon!” you cry out, almost on the verge of tears just from how skilled he is, rutting your hips upwards into his mouth as he devours you whole.

the pace of his tongue is relentless, roughly lapping up all your juices like he’s the most starved man alive. you’ve lost count at the amount of times he’s already made you come undone just from his mouth alone. your body’s buzzing with titillation, all you can do is scream and clench your pussy around nothing while he fiercely sucks on your clit.

you couldn’t stop twitching, feeling yet another orgasm approaching. your legs anchored over his shoulders, unable to think or speak coherent sentences as his face was fully buried into your sloppy cunt. he relaxes his jaw a bit more, going all the way from the bottom inching further up as he comes back in contact with your puffy clit. at any given moment it feels as if your heart’s about to stop.

“hoon-” your heads thrown back into the pillow, digging your nails into his shoulder blades from how overly sensitive you are. “n-need to cum.. can feel it. m’so close.” it surprises you when you’re able to even express such words.

a low grunt can be heard underneath, sunghoon loves hearing you— it’s arguably the best part about going down on you. the hand that wasn’t occupied went straight to gripping a fistful of his ebony hair, continuously moaning his name so loud that you genuinely feel bad for whomever the unlucky people that got to hear this.

just when you thought it couldn’t get anymore intense, he slips 2 of his slender fingers inside, making you gasp from the overwhelming sensation. flashes of white invade your vision, violently shaking as your lips form an “o” in the throes of ecstasy. sunghoon knows your body so well that this is nothing for him, he’s got it all down to a simple science. no one knows your body like he does, and especially no one can make you cum as hard as he can.

“go ahead, make a mess for me baby,” he strongly encourages, picking up his pace as his digits fuck into you faster. “just gonna clean it up with my tongue all over again.”

your eyes roll back to the depths of oblivion, feeling an out of body experience when reaching your climax. a string of curses leaves your shaky breath, limbs trembling and faint tears stain your flushed cheeks. sunghoon slows his movements, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently to make you even more sensitive. you love the way he calls you “good girl” and how proud the look on his face becomes while you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. he doesn’t stop showering you with compliments, only ramping up his affection as he plants fleeting kisses to your thighs, hips, and stomach.

once he’s finally come back up for air you grab his face to pull him into your lips again. moaning in his mouth while getting a taste of yourself was probably the hottest thing sunghoon’s ever witnessed.

“can’t believe this is all mine.” sunghoon whispers against you, gently massaging your aching thighs. “i love you so much, baby.”

“love you too hoon.” you instantly say back, feeling more at ease now that things are somewhat back to normal.

maybe a break isn’t necessary after all, how else would you be able to have such earth shattering orgasms?

- 完 ♡︎

[edward-munson]

three's a secret | E.M. x f!reader & S.H. x f!reader

Summary: You and Steve are friends with benefits. However, you've been wanting to try something way out of your comfort zone, and it brings Steve to a mission: find someone who agrees to your intentions. (Ps: your guest has a very peculiar piercing on his body)

Pairing: Love triangle! Eddie Munson x f!reader & Steve Harrington x f!reader

Warnings: DIRTY SMUT!! (18+ MDNI), threes*me, p in v (both unprotected), oral (f and m receiving), fingering, choking kink, c*mshot, praising, aftercare. (I swear to God there's a fine amount of smutiness in this fic)

Word count: 7k

𓆩❤️‍🔥𓆪

"I found your guy" Steve slides into the booth during the break of his gig at The Hideout.

You look at him, confused, and he looks from you to the curly-haired guy leaning against the bar counter. That's Eddie. He's the backing vocalist for Steve's band.

"Remember? You told me you wanted to have a threesome and I found ourselves a guy" He leans closer to you, his beer breath fanning over your face.

You and Steve have been friends with benefits for months. You've shared multiple intimate moments together, either at his or your house, or by the lake, or in his car. Even at skull rock. And your latest discovery was that you had the wish to try ménage à trois, but you had never done it before. You were too embarrassed to tell Steve, and also too reluctant to even find someone who would be willing to do it.

Although you're both exclusive, he made an exception for you. He was always considerate of your feelings and wishes, being kind and caring. This is the same guy who splits you open and utters dirty things to you in bed.

"You just deliberately told him I wanted to be fucked by two guys?" Your voice cracks at the realization that you might be doing such thing.

"We're good friends. In fact, we talk about a lot of stuff when we're together. And he would love to get along with you better"

Steve gives you a comforting smile, but you're staring at him like you're having second guesses. You've met Eddie before, exchanging only a few words with the metalhead. You got along with him right from the start, but you were never around them when they would hang out, and he was with your group of friends only a couple of times as well.

You were sitting in a booth, swirling your drink, when a random man sat down beside you. He reeked of whiskey, and his hand rested on your bicep, startling you. You shot your eyes up at him as you watched him attempt to hit on you.

"Haven't seen you around before. Let me buy you a–" Before he could finish, a sharp scrape echoed through the room as Eddie pushed the chair back and pulled him by the collar of his shirt.

The man was looking up in shock as Eddie leaned over him, eyes dark with something dangerous. "Yeah, no" His voice was low and edged with amusement "This table's taken"

Eddie plopped down in the seat beside you, stretching out like he hadn't just sent someone almost crashing to the floor. He smirked at you, tilting his head. "Now, where were we?"

You could only chuckle at his action and tilt your head just like he did "Very humble, but thank you for that"

"Nah" He shrugged "Couldn't just stand there and watch a perv get his way"

You and Eddie immediately kicked off a conversation, the minutes extending as you both got distracted with each other. Steve was nowhere to be seen, probably just resting in the backstage room as he always does with his bandmates. The man next to you smelled like something woody, a few necklaces hanging down his chest and a bandana was wrapped around his head.

You remember talking about him to your friend. Telling him how exotic he looked and how pretty he was. Steve, the obvious man that he is, didn't say it right away, but he noticed how attracted you were to his friend. That's why he tried to talk him into doing the thing. And then, the subject was brought up.

"So, you're in?" You ask him with concern, but he leans forward, his gaze locking with yours, his voice dropping just a little more serious.

"Oh, I'm definitely in. I mean, c'mon, I'm only in this because of you. And how about you?" He smirks again, eyes glinting with mischief "I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of a ride"

"You're not, like, worried about him seeing you naked or the other way around?"

He waves you off with a scoff "I couldn't care less about Harrington, I'm sure I'll have a peek of his dick just for fun. But for the rest of the thing, I won't even give him a single glance"

"Good. Because, well... the three of us? That's going to be a lot of fun"

Eddie chuckles, his fingers twitching as if ready to play with a few strands of your hair. Maybe that's the uphold you need to feel more intimate and comfortable around him.

"Yeah, I think Steve might end up regretting this. But, hell, I guess we'll just have to make sure he doesn't, huh?"

But it suddenly makes you feel too nervous and a little taken aback. The look on your face already gives it away and he rests one hand on top of your thigh, carefully.

"Why did you agree, by the way?" You ask.

He leans back, using his other hand to run his fingers through his hair. "Couple reasons. One, Steve seemed really into the idea because of you, and I trust the guy. Two–" His voice softens, he meets your eyes "I don't know, I just thought it could be fun. But only if you were actually into it. I don't wanna make things weird for you"

You shift a little bit in your seat, relaxing your tensed body "I appreciate that"

Eddie curls his lips upwards, squeezing your thigh softly, his fingertips grazing your smooth skin. You can definitely feel the callousness on them.

"Look, I know it can be… a lot. And I don't wanna make you uncomfortable. If this is too weird, if you're not into it, there's no harm in admitting it. I won't take it personally"

"You really mean that?" You study him, surprised at his genuineness.

He pulls his hand back, lifting both of them in a mocking surrender. "Swear on my Metallica records. No pressure. No expectations. Just making sure we're all on the same page before Steve starts planning some seduction act. And I'm definitely not interested in that"

Your laugh echoes through his ears and he swears he's more inclined to take you to his trailer and abduct you to himself, than rely on the idea of sharing you with Steve.

"That sounds exactly like something he'd do"

"Right? That's why I figured we should talk first. I want you to feel good about this, comfortable, before anything else. Because if you're not, then it's a no-go. Simple as that"

You find yourself sliding your hand to his firm bicep, down his forearm where his tattoo of bats peeks out from his shirt. Your eyes drift from your touch to his brown doe eyes. "Maybe I wanna test the waters first"

He looks from down your gentle, small hand, up to your expectant, glinting eyes. "Oh?"

Your heart pounds and hammers against your chest as you slightly lean in closer to him "Yeah. See what I'm getting myself into"

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

"By kissing you."

He freezes for a second, then lets out a slow chuckle "Well, well. Look at you, taking initiative" His voice drops slightly, more playful but still careful "You sure?"

You just nod, let yourself settle for your initiative. And your knees wobble when he leans in closer as well "Then by all means, sweetheart. Be my guest"

And then you finally attach your lips to his, soft at first, just testing. Eddie's lips are warm and taste like Negroni, and he kisses back easily, matching your pace. There's no rush, no pressure, just the slow, deliberate way his hand finds the side of your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. When you finally pull back, your lips hover over each other as a smug little smirk tugs at his lips.

He stares at you half-lidded through his lashes, a pink shade covering his cheeks. Eddie pulls you in for another kiss, using his tongue this time. It brushes against your lower lip first with a teasing motion before slipping past, slow and unhurried, tasting of beer. Your fingers tangle in the worn fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer without thinking. Eddie makes a low sound in his throat, half a chuckle, half a groan, and takes it as permission to kiss you harder, his other hand sliding to your waist. When you finally pull back, breathless, Eddie leans his forehead that's nearly touching yours, eyes dark and lidded with something smug and satisfied.

Steve watches from a distance how close you two sit next to each other. How you seem to feel unbothered by the way Eddie's hand rests over your thigh and how close you're leaning towards him, like you're groping him. His breath hitches and it feels like there's a tinge of jealousy there. He had never been a jealous guy, like ever. He tries to reason with himself, tell himself that this is only a one-time thing and that it's fine.

He walks to the table and sits across from you two, taking a swig of his beer, trying to act nonchalantly "So, how's the getting along going?"

"Very good. Just a little extra credit on our project" He winks at his friend.

He narrows his eyes slightly, trying to play it cool but failing a little when he catches the way you're still flushed, the way Eddie's looking at you like you just did something he didn't see  "Oh. Yeah?"

You clear your throat and try not to smirk "Yeah"

You watch as he leans back in the booth, taking a slow sip of his beer, acting nonchalant "Huh. That's… cool"

There's a hint of uneasiness when his fingers tap against the table incessantly.

Eddie grins wider, resting his chin on his hand as he watches Steve with amusement on his face "You sure, Harrington? You look a little… tense"

"Please. You think I'm shaken by this? I suggested this, remember?" He stifles a cough and waves his friend off.

"Uh-huh. And yet, you haven't stopped staring at my mouth since you sat down"

He blinks at you before covering it up with another sip of beer, voice slightly tighter "I have no idea what you're talking about"

The curly haired man nudges you under the table as he snickers "Oh, sweetheart. I think we might've broken him"

He tries to not look too bothered, but there's a hint of something else, something darker lingering in his gaze "Alright, you know what? If we're doing this, we're really doing this. So don't get cocky just yet, Munson"

"I cannot wait to see you naked, Harrington" He mocks in a playful tone, cackling at the sight of Steve almost choking on his beer from the comment.

You and Eddie are sprawled out on Steve's couch, as the low hum of music plays from the stereo, while some random movie plays on the TV. Steve is in the kitchen, grabbing beers for the three of you, giving you and Eddie just enough space for you two to get comfortable.

Eddie is leaning back against the couch, smirking at you as he twirls one of his rings between his fingers "So, how you feeling, sweetheart? Still good about this?" 

"Yeah. You?" Your heart rate picks up when you meet his eyes.

He stretches his legs out, looking at you with something unreadable in his dark eyes "Oh, I'm more than good"

Before you can respond, Steve reappears, carrying three beers, handing one to each of you before flopping down into the chair across from you both. He takes a slow sip, watching the way you and Eddie are sitting close, maybe a little too close for his liking. His jaw tenses just slightly, but the smirk playing at his lips gives him away.

"You guys look cozy" He tries to act casual, but deep inside he's feeling the nervousness. The idea of doing a threesome seemed less intense before.

Eddie extends an arm behind your back on the couch and chuckles "Just keeping your spot warm, Harrington. Didn't wanna start without you"

"How considerate of you" His eyes flick to you, a teasing edge in his voice "And what about you? You just letting Munson take over already?" 

You smirk through the rim of the bottle before taking a sip "Maybe I just like the attention" 

He chuckles, shaking his head, but there's something intriguing in his demeanor "Yeah? Then let's test that theory" 

He places his beer down and moves towards you, just enough to close the space between you, fingers grazing your knee before trailing up your thigh, slow and deliberate. Eddie watches with amusement, but there's something heated in his gaze too, like he's invested at the scene in front of him.

Eddie feigns a gasp "And here I thought you'd be shy about all this. Turns out you like being in the spotlight, huh?" 

You feel your breath hitching slightly as Steve's fingers press just a little firmer, his lips twitching at your reaction "Maybe" 

"Then let's give you a little more of it" 

Before you can react, he's kissing you. Slow at first, teasing, his lips warm and firm against yours. His hand slides to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to ground you. Then, just as you start to melt into it, there's movement beside you.

Eddie hums as he watches you kiss Steve, his fingers brushing against your arm before sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face towards him as Steve pulls away just slightly "Alright, alright. My turn" 

He kisses you without hesitation, deeper, rougher than Steve had, his tongue teasing against yours immediately, fingers still holding your face like he's savoring the moment. Steve doesn't pull away entirely, and if anything, he leans in closer, his warm breath against your neck, hands still gripping your waist. The tension starts bubbling inside your chest, it's a pressure that makes you feel fuzzy at first. He deepens the kiss, biting your inner lower lip, sucking on it for just a slight second before twirling his tongue around yours.

The weight of them on either side of you is dizzying, overwhelming in the best way. Steve's lips find your neck as Eddie kisses you deeper, hands roaming, heat building between all three of you. 

Steve hums beside you, clearly enjoying the show, his hand slipping higher up your thigh, fingers pressing just a little firmer, making you shift slightly under his touch. When Eddie finally pulls back, lips still ghosting over yours, Steve leans in, his voice is lower and rougher.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" His hot breath fans your ear shell, sending sparks through your veins. He knows you become submissive when it comes to him.

All the while, Eddie presses a kiss just under your jaw as he watches your reaction "Oh, she likes it. Look at her, already so needy and we've barely done anything." 

The man to your right laughs softly, his fingers finally sliding higher, brushing against your dripping pussy just enough to make your breath stutter "Damn. He might be right. You are needy, aren't you?" 

You bite your lip feeling heat flooding through you as Eddie kisses his way down your throat, Steve's fingers teasing in slow, torturous strokes over the fabric of your underwear "You two talk way too much" 

"Oh, sweetheart… you love it" Eddie rasps against your skin.

You feel Steve's touch become more determined, his long fingers circling your swollen nub "Let's see how much more you can take, then" 

The teasing, the touches, the kisses. It all blends together, overwhelming in the best way, pulling you under as you surrender completely to them. Eddie trails sloppy kisses down your chest until he reaches your nipple, latching onto it with his teeth, playing with it. His free hand gropes your other nipple, flicking your hardened skin through your crop top. Steve pulls your panties to the side and collects your wetness, using enough of your slick to slip his fingertips to your entrance. He glues his lips to yours before you can protest a whimper, barely keeping your eyes open. You slowly lift both hands and slide them over their thighs, fingers grazing their jeans, reaching their arousal. You are a dirty little slut tonight.

You love it. You feel their cock growing harder in your hand as you stroke them, while Steve slips two fingers and pumps them into your pussy. You can hear the squelch sound of it, his thumb pressing against your clit ever so gently in circles. Yes, you're a little whore who's getting off on the fact that these two men want to fuck you. You are getting wetter by the second. Your hips are thrusting up to meet his fingers, your body begging for more.

Eddie's mouth moves from your nipple to your ear, and he whispers "You're such a fucking slut"

You can only nod at the moment, sucking Steve's tongue, pressing your fingers into their tight jeans. They never leave you as they try to help themselves by removing their pants, their cocks straining against the boxers, dampening the material. You mewl between the kisses, Eddie's lips finally finds your exposed nipple and sucks on it, marking your skin with his teeth deliberately, flicking his tongue against it. He keeps one of his hands holding your leg up on his lap, pressing his fingertips on you firmly.

The other male curls his fingers and fucks you dumb, your hips meeting his hand while your hips roll against it. The immediate groan leaving their mouths is almost like a symphony when you finally grip both dicks in your hands, trying to focus on your coordination to stroke them in sync. You notice Eddie is thick, he has a piercing on his frenulum and it throws you off immediately. You use your thumb to play with the jewelry and he buckles his hips in response. His cock isn't longer than Steve's, while the latter is both thick and huge, but you don't care. You're having the time of your life.

Steve lowers his head, spreading kisses, leaving spit over your skin as he reaches to your other nipple. The action causes you to buckle upwards and moan, squeezing their cocks. Your fingers wrap around them and spread precum all over their shafts, pumping them as much as you can. They can't help but grunt against your tits, making you clench around Steve's fingers.

"God, you're such a fucking mess" He utters, sucking your nipple, pulling his head back bringing your skin along with his mouth, leaving you with a loud pop. You can't see it, but you can feel the sly grin washing over his face when you moan.

There's a fine line between shame and feeling lascivious. You're so wet, horny and eager for them. You feel your body yearning for them, even though they're both onto you right now.

Eddie slides his hand from your thigh, over Steve's hand, swatting his thumb away, using two fingers to stroke your clit. The touch is soft, but also antsy, and he circles your bundle of nerves as the other man finger fucks you mercilessly. You are three hungry people moaning and groaning almost to each other. You play with each frenulum using your thumbs, they both fuck your hands in clumsy motions, their hips stuttering as you twist your wrists.

You throw your head back, pumping them faster, Steve slowed his pace, ripping a sob out of you with a torturous stroke of his fingers while they curled. Eddie uses the other man's distraction for leverage and assaults your mouth again in a messy kiss. He laps at your tongue, sucking on it and you feel his ragged breath against your mouth the more you pump him. His ringed fingers pinch and stroke your clit, playing with your nub as you kiss feverishly.

Steve then halts his movements when you pull the skin of his shaft and squeeze his tip, jolting upwards in shock. "Fuck, I forgot how good you are with your hands"

He continues to fuck you nonchalantly, his fingers working on your throbbing pussy. You let out a hum against Eddie's lips, making him fasten his strokes. Maybe he made it a personal purpose of making you feel good as much as Steve does. This is no contest, whatsoever, but they're willing to give you a ride to the sky. You clench around Steve's fingers, your clit starts to pound and there's a building pressure growing uncontrollably inside of you. You're squeezing their cocks too hard with your hand, feeling the coil about to snap.

You keep your hips rolling, and they can feel your shuddering each passing second as you feel the pleasure approaching its apex. Eddie grins through the kiss, his fingertips now rapidly stroking your clit as Steve fucks your pussy, making you clench harder each time. Your hands are still holding them, but you feel your arms wobbly when it finally washes over you. Steve feels it first when your pussy cages his fingers, almost squeezing them. While the curly-haired man keeps his middle finger over your nub as you pulse and throb for them.

You're dripping wet when he pulls out of you, lustfully groaning at the sight, bringing his digits to his mouth, savoring your taste. He always does that to one of his fingers, offering the other one to you because he knows it brings you to the abyss of hysteria. Eddie watches with greedy eyes, dark blown pupils, and he does the same. Before even removing his hand from you, he collects your wetness, diving into your pussy and startling you with a whimper. He keeps them inside of you, he wants to have the same as his friend did. With a humbleness and eagerness, he circles his fingers around your spongy walls and makes your jaw go slack.

You can't help but whisper his name in a daze, and Steve just leans back against the couch as you try, but lacks strength, to still pump him and Eddie. The metalhead finally slips out of your pussy and immediately latches his fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking them, eyes trained at your swollen, still throbbing cunt and he twitches. You feel it in your hand and almost bring him to the edge when you pull the skin of his shaft and squeeze the head of his cock just like you did to Steve. You use his piercing for leverage, stroking his skin side to side, ripping groans out of his mouth. He grunts, using one of his hands to squeeze your thigh and leave fingerprints on your skin.

"You did good, sweetheart" Eddie beams at you, before drifting his eyes to Steve. He's definitely trying not to have a peek at his friend's cock. He just wanted to have a small glance, like he's curious to know what it looks like. But he avoids going there, and he knows he thinks the same. "Care to let me guide her to the next round?"

You look between them, hands still wrapped around their length. Steve doesn't seem to be bothered, because the idea of the threesome is for Eddie to also enjoy it. And mostly you, obviously. They help you undress, pulling your crop top off, sliding your skirt along with your underwear down to the ground. The latter isn't subtle when he pulls you forward, almost laying you down on the edge of the couch, holding your waist as he spreads your legs apart.

Your head rests against the soft material, and Steve stands on his feet next to you. Immediately, your eyes become hazy at the thought of blowing your friend while Eddie eats you out. He kneels on the carpet and hangs your legs above his shoulders, diving in without any hesitation. He latches onto your slit, licking a long stride up to find your clit, clinging to it with his teeth. The air leaves your lungs and you force your eyes shut with the sudden dizziness.

You have lost count of how many times Steve ate you out, but knowing there are two guys fucking you, it makes your senses raise violently. Your body is in a state of insatiability. You tilt your head to the side and meet Steve's cock, licking your lips before wrapping your mouth around him. He thrusts forward, one hand flying down to grab a fistful of your hair as you waste no time filling your throat with his shaft, making yourself gag on him. Your tongue glides against his skin, while your hand squeezes his balls and cups them.

Eddie sinks his face on your dripping cunt, pressing his tongue through your folds as he strokes them up and down. He manipulates your entrance with the tip of it, swirling it around your pussy just before pushing in. Your hand flies up to his hair, pulling his strands with a messy buckle of your hips and a moan leaving your mouth against the cock you're gagging on. He slips in and out of you, nudging his nose against your already swollen clit. He shakes his head, grazing his teeth against you, his fingers digging deeper into the skin of your thighs. You hear Steve groaning from above, slapping his pubic bone against your face as he fucks your mouth.

He pulls your hair harder when the tip of his cock reaches your throat and he gasps when you hollow your cheeks and engulf his shaft, making him pulse inside your mouth. Eddie starts pumping himself, but still makes sure to give all his attention to your clenching pussy. He flattens his tongue and keeps his hungry pace as it swirls around your folds. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks the skin, pulling it back before repeating the motion. He sucks on it, tasting every little bit of you, stroking himself, humming against your skin at the sound of your moans and whimpers.

Steve cradles your face with both hands and thrusts against your mouth gently, not pushing hard enough so he won't hurt you. You're a mess of spit, tears and sweat that's making your hair stick to your face. You're just glad you were using waterproof mascara at this point. Eddie flicks his tongue into your clit, watching as you roll your hips and jolt upwards when he takes notice of the patterns that make you most sensitive.

You suddenly pull back from Steve, looking down at the man eating you out. He doesn't budge when you're about to speak, he just presses his tongue harder against you, your head hangs back as he smirks against you. "Please fuck me, Eddie"

He freezes on his spot, leaving you just enough to carefully remove your legs from his shoulders, whirling you around. "Say no more, sweets. On your fours for me"

His tone is a little husky and demanding, and you lean on your elbows, bending your knees with your ass up for him. Steve looks astonished, feeling the heat of the moment wash over him as he goes back to fill your mouth with his cock. Eddie lines himself up from behind and spreads your folds with the tip of his cock, using your wetness for leverage before pushing inch by inch until you're used to him. He holds your waist, fingers pressing hard on your skin, as he distracts himself watching you blow his friend. He's cupping your face with both of his hands, ramming his hips forward as he fucks your mouth again. His cock twitches at the sight of you being a needy slut for them both.

Eddie sinks further into you, slamming his hips against your ass once. Your body lurches forward and you gag on Steve unexpectedly. He keeps his pace as he inches back and forth, hitting your spot viciously, feeling you clench around him. You're dripping wet, you can feel your arousal slipping down your thigh as he fills your pussy with hunger. He startles both you and Steve with the echo of his slap on your ass, bringing you to a turmoil. You push your ass against his hips, skin-on-skin slapping while you take in every inch of your friend's cock into your mouth.

"Such a busy little slut, aren't you?" Steve coos, thrusting harder and rather quickly. He brings your chin up so you can look better at him, swiping a tear away from your cheek "You like that, don't you? You love being fucked by two guys"

You blink at him, senseless. You bring yourself to push back and lick his length, your lips wrapping around his tip, sucking on it. He hisses looking down at you, pulling a few strands of hair out of your face. "So beautiful cockdrunk. You're taking Eddie so well"

Eddie, on the other hand, rolls his hips against your ass, watching as he slips in and out of you. He lets out a frazzled, breathy laugh, slapping your ass again. "You're taking me really, really well sweetheart. Your pussy is so good, fuck"

Both of them exchange a single, but pleasant glance before looking down at you. You're in your own little world, daydreaming about the fact that you're going to cum again if he keeps fucking you like that. Your heart rate is quickly rising, your belly is twisted as you feel your pussy throbbing again.

"She's going to cum for you, she's already a mess" Steve watches you from above, his eyes glinting with blissful pleasure. He didn't think he would also be able to feel so dissolute seeing you being fucked by his friend. But the sight of you crumbling apart for them is making him lightheaded.

"Fuck, cum for me. Let me fucking make you cum" Eddie is almost at the brink of an outburst. Your hips roll around his cock that splits you open. He almost slips out of your soaking pussy, pushing further into you, balls deep inside of you. He snaps his hips forward and moans your name, his eyes shut, brows creasing with anticipation. His jaw is locked and his head is thrown back.

You pull back from Steve rather quickly, your body begging for Eddie's release as he pounds on you firmly and quickly. His harder thrusts make you unbalanced, and your elbows give in. You look over your shoulder at him, whimpering his name, ripping him out of his own daze, making him stare back at you. He sees your lips caging between your teeth, brows furrowed when your stomach tightens and you clench around him bashfully. Your hand grips Steve's cock, and he feels himself twitching at you. You're already feeling limp, but you still fill your mouth with his cock and blow him majestically, hollowing your cheeks every once in a while because you know he likes the suction. He bites his inner cheek and fucks your mouth again, his breath becomes uneven and you feel his shaft become rigid before he cums in your mouth.

"Fuck, baby. Take all of it" He grunts, feeling his cock throb inside of your mouth as you swallow all of him. He gives you a lopsided, messy smile, and you try to smile back at him, even though your jaw hurts.

And it's only a matter of seconds until Eddie spurts inside of you, his hips stutter and he shudders against you. His fingertips are pressing on your skin, his nails digging into your waist as he jolts forward, filling you with his seed as well. He holds you in his grip and slams forward a couple of times, before slipping out of you with a painful yelp. He's exhilarated when he sees his cum dripping down your pussy, reaching your thigh. Eddie smirks at his own job, fascinated with the sight of your cunt still throbbing, pushing more of his fluids out of your entrance. He's quick to pick a few baby wipes and clean you up. The aftercare makes him look soft after he made you his own slut, after he made you scream his name.

"Harrington, do the honors" He motions to his friend, who's still holding your face, soothing you with soft strokes of his thumb against your skin. He's still hard.

Steve lifts you up, holding his gaze at you and kisses you gently. His tongue finds yours and he hums against your mouth, a low sound of approval, and his free hand moves to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your skin tingle. Your tongues sweep over one another, in a way that sends heat straight to your core. His grip tightens slightly, pulling you closer, his breath mixing with yours as the kiss turns messier, needier. His other hand slides down between your legs, his fingers once again stroking between your folds, slipping against your clit and you moan against his mouth. It sends a vibration down his stomach, reaching the tip of his cock again.

"You are the death of me, you know that?" He hovers his lips over yours, and you take this as an opportunity to grope him and pull him back to the couch as you lie under him.

You look to the side, glancing at Eddie, who's expectantly waiting for his turn to get a blowjob as well. Your eyes sparkle as you finally take in the piercing on his frenulum, a small piece of jewelry that shines under the light of the living room. He takes notice of your reaction and holds his cock up so you can have a better look. The smugness on his face and his bold demeanor make you clench around nothing, while Steve trails down his lips against your stomach, reaching your clit. He latches his teeth against your sensitive spot and you retract, shutting your eyes, biting your lip. You look back at Eddie half-lidded, blinking through your lashes as you watch him stroke himself at you.

"Like what you see?" His fingers graze around the head of his cock, playing with the piercing just for you.

You lift your head and lock eyes with him, nodding slightly before replacing his hand with yours. You start pumping him slowly, still glancing up at him, watching as he blinks and heaves a groan. Eddie bites his lip and slips one hand over your hair, pulling a strand of it. You take him in without a warning, your mouth and your tongue sliding over him until you reach the base of his cock. He tilts his head back and moans your name. Steve keeps you entertained as he laps his tongue over your slit, licking stripes and drinking your dripping wetness. He pulls back and holds his cock, slapping the tip against your clit, just how you like it.

He slides his length between your folds, collecting your slick before slipping inside of you entirely. He doesn't wait, he doesn't give you time to adjust. He's used to fucking you raw and senseless. Your hips buckle upwards and he rests one hand above your waist, while he uses the other to squeeze your throat. He thrusts into you at a quick pace, his balls slapping against your ass, his firm hand grips your throat scarcely, careful to not choke you to death.

But the tightening of your throat squeezes Eddie's cock and he pounds against your mouth too. You gag on him, you swallow him whole, you savor his salty taste and you lick his shaft, bringing him closer to a frenzy with you. You shift your eyes between him and Steve, the latter holding your waist down so he can fuck you without your hips rolling. He likes to play hard, he likes to torture you, make you squirm around him and beg for him to let you fuck him back. He likes it when you're submissive, even though he won't ever admit to anyone that he's on the bottom as well. He likes to play a fair game when it comes to this.

"You like my cock, sweetie? You like my cock fucking your dirty little mouth?" Eddie utters, his hips slamming against your mouth as he watches you struggle to answer him, but you nod "Yeah, are you going to let me fill you with my cum?"

You nod again and he makes you gag. You push yourself off him, your hand shoving his stomach as you grip his length with your hand, bringing your tongue to his frenulum again. You swirl it around his skin, flicking over the jewelry as you look up at him through hazy eyes. He's much more sensitive than Steve is, and he can't keep his gaze down at you because he forces his eyes shut from the pleasure that was still building up.

You speak up for the first time after several minutes "You wanna give me a cumshot, Eds?"

He's stunned at your words, at the way you spit on his cock and blow him gracefully, even though Steve is pounding on you so hard that his tip hits your cervix. You suck him, your teeth barely grazing his skin as you feel more of his precum filling your throat. You hum against him and it makes Steve twitch inside your pussy, his reaction making you clench around him as well. You're still watching Eddie, but your eyes trail over your friend, who's seemingly very entertained at the interaction. His brows are furrowed and he watches you get mouth-fucked by his friend. It all makes everything very vulgar, because way before you had this idea, you and Steve had only fucked like normal people. But the sight and the scene and all the reactions had switched something inside of him too.

"Fuck, baby" Eddie shakes his head, amused "Yes. Shit, of course!"

You don't usually touch yourself when you fuck with Steve. You like to feel his fingers on you, you like the sight of it. You love when his long fingers fuck you too. But tonight, you've made it a goal to go way out of your comfort zone to bring them to the edge with you. So you slip your hand down your stomach, reaching your clit and deliberately stroking your skin with your own fingers. Your hips are uncontrollably rolling against Steve, and he loses his shit when he sees you touching yourself. You're touching yourself and blowing Eddie. He couldn't be more aroused than that. The latter, on the other hand, feels the sweat coating his body, the long-gone twist in his stomach crawling back over him. He tries to brush off the urge to make you gag until he comes in your mouth, only willing to thrust into you so the tip of his cock reaches your squeezed throat.

"She's gonna lose it again, Munson" Steve pants, slamming his hips against you, watching you lose your balance to the way your pussy clenches around his cock "Look at this pretty thing falling apart"

"Fuc–" You barely have the time and energy to react to your apex. Your third orgasm of the day in a span of less than an hour. Your whole body goes limp again, and you stutter, crying out moans as your body shakes.

He removes your hand from your clit, lacing his fingers with yours with the one free hand. As he leans against your body and chokes you, he slams forward harshly, feeling the jolt of electricity wash over him. He watches your contorted expression, your lips quivering as you come down from your high, while he overstimulates you. Then again, there's something about you that makes them both cum all at the same time. Eddie tilts your head up to face him, pulling out of your mouth as he grips his cock and spills all over your face.

You stick your tongue out, trying to get a glimpse of his taste. You feel his warm cum coating your face, and when Steve digs his nails on your waist, he spills inside of you. His cock twitches and makes your walls flutter around him, his body is almost hovering over yours and his grip around your throat loosens. He breathes heavily above you, Eddie is also a panting mess and you're a mess of cum. Your friend slowly pulls out of you, his aching cock almost throbs again and you wheeze at the feeling.

You stay sprawled out on the couch, watching them put their boxers back on before cleaning you up. Steve is responsible for cleaning up your pussy, slightly pressing the baby wipe over your sensitive spot. While Eddie softly wipes his cum off your face, his gentle fingers holding your jaw up. It almost feels domestic, if it wasn't for the filthy conversation and the poundings filling the air in the living room. You stifle a laugh through a snort, clearly catching them off guard, making them pause their hands over you.

"What?" Steve asks with curious eyes, while you purse your lips.

"Just feels very domestic. The aftercare is funny, considering this meeting was one hell of a dirty ride"

Eddie gets you. He lets out a breathy laugh and resumes cleaning your face, and Steve can't help but grin at your comment. His expression immediately shifts as he looks at the white spot on his couch.

"Dude, not the fucking couch" He lets out a frustrated sigh and playfully tosses the used baby wipes at his friend, who doesn't quite gets to protect himself in time.

"Fuck off, Harrington! Keep your freaking jizz away from me" Eddie groans, tossing the baby wipes back at him and you laugh at the pestering "You never cum on your couch?"

You glance from him to Steve, who looks so astonished he can't even respond. If you didn't know better, you might think he was careless enough to stain the furniture, but he's always been too meticulous to let that happen. You're handed your underwear and Steve's t-shirt, and you dress yourself while witnessing both friends arguing over something comically weird. 

@kellyxo1 @sammybrrr @zafetycar @andvys @hellfire--cult @skeltnwrites @ghost-proofbaby @eddiesxangel

[kittysylus]

⋆˚࿔ I’ll spend forever convincing you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

-the LaDS men planning a special date after not seeing you for a long time

୨ৎ── . Sylus

The hum of the engine is the only sound filling the quiet night air as Sylus straddles his motorcycle. You’re still rubbing sleep from your eyes, standing on the pavement in mismatched shoes, your pajama shorts and his oversized hoodie, blinking at him in confusion.

"Get on," he says, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

You cross your arms, raising a skeptical brow. "Are you kidnapping me?"

Sylus chuckles, reaching out to tug you closer by your wrist. His grip is warm, calloused, familiar. "Haven't had much time together lately, so I figured we'd fix that. Midnight road trip. Just you, me, and the open road."

Your heart does an embarrassing little flip. He always had a way of making things sound effortlessly exciting. Still, you narrow your eyes at him. "And where exactly are we going?"

He pulls a folded map from his jacket pocket and hands it to you. "Wherever you want."

You glance between him and the map, before dramatically closing your eyes and jabbing your finger onto a random spot. Peeking at the location, you snort. "We're gonna end up in the middle of nowhere, you know."

"Even better," he says, already revving the engine. "Now get on before I throw you over my shoulder."

Rolling your eyes but smiling, you slip onto the bike behind him, arms automatically wrapping around his torso. The scent of his leather jacket and that faint mix of sandalwood and something unmistakably him fills your senses as he accelerates down the empty road. The world around you blurs, the streetlights turning into streaks of gold, the wind whipping through your hair.

At first, you rest your cheek against his back, just feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body beneath your hands. Then, as the city fades behind you, you lift your head, taking in the vast, open road stretching endlessly before you.

"Feeling alive yet?" Sylus shouts over the wind.

You grin, squeezing him tighter. "You wish. Try harder."

He laughs, deep and rich, before suddenly accelerating. You yelp, but it's drowned in laughter as the bike surges forward, the thrill of speed sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins.

As you ride through the night, he occasionally glances back at you, ruby eyes flickering with something softer, more content. And in those moments, you know—he’s not just enjoying the ride, he’s enjoying you, your presence, your laughter, the way you lean into him like you belong there.

After miles of roads and stolen kisses at red lights, you finally arrive at your random, nowhere destination—a quiet stretch of land with an open sky scattered with stars. Sylus kills the engine, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, breathing in the stillness of the night.

You slide off the bike, stretching your legs. "Well, this is... remote."

Sylus only smirks and pulls you into his chest. "Wasn't about the destination anyway," he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your temple.

You scoff but let yourself sink into his warmth. "So what now?"

He tilts your chin up with a teasing smirk. "Now? We enjoy the night. And maybe—just maybe—you admit this was a great idea."

You huff, but the fondness in your gaze betrays you. "Fine. But next time, I'm driving."

His laugh echoes under the starlit sky, deep and full of love. 

୨ৎ── . Zayne

The front door clicks open softly, and you barely stir under the warm blankets. You know it’s Zayne before you even open your eyes—the faint scent of antiseptic and the quiet, measured footsteps are enough to tell you he’s finally home.

He’s late again. Too many shifts, too little time together.

You hear him sigh as he kicks off his shoes, but before he can crawl into bed beside you, you turn over, blinking sleepily at him. “You look exhausted.”

Zayne freezes, caught in the act of peeling off his jacket. His sharp green eyes soften when they meet yours, and for a moment, he just stares. Then, he exhales a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “You always catch me.”

You smirk, stretching lazily. “Maybe because you’re terrible at sneaking in.”

He grins, but instead of climbing into bed, he tugs at your hand, coaxing you up. “Come on.”

You groan dramatically. “Zayne, it’s past midnight. Where are we going?”

“To the kitchen.” He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “We’re having breakfast.”

You blink at him. “Now?”

“Now.” He tugs you up more insistently. “We haven’t had time together lately. Let’s change that.”

Your lips part in surprise, but the way he’s looking at you—so hopeful, so needing you—makes it impossible to refuse. With a resigned sigh, you let him pull you out of bed, following him to the kitchen.

The kitchen is bathed in a warm, golden glow from the dim overhead lights. Zayne rolls up his sleeves and grabs ingredients while you sit on the counter, watching him with an amused smile.

“So, Doctor, what’s on the menu?” you tease.

He shoots you a playful glare as he sets down a carton of eggs. “You’re the one who wanted waffles the other day.”

“I didn’t say I wanted them at midnight.”

“Too late. You’re getting waffles.” He tosses you a whisk, and you barely catch it in time. “And pancakes.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but start mixing the batter anyway. Zayne may be tired, but right now, he looks more at peace than he has in days. His usual aloofness melts away as he works beside you, measuring, stirring, stealing kisses and little glances your way.

When the first pancake is ready, you grab a plate and start decorating it just for him. You drizzle syrup in the shape of a heart and add fresh berries around the edges. With a proud smirk, you slide the plate toward him. “For you. A masterpiece.”

Zayne leans on the counter, inspecting it with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Hmm… artistic. A bit crooked, though.”

“Oh, shut up. Yours better be good.”

He smirks before taking his time plating your waffle. When he finally slides it over to you, you nearly choke on laughter. He’s drizzled chocolate sauce in what’s supposed to be a smiley face, but it looks more like a deformed ghost.

“What—what is that?” you wheeze.

“It’s you,” he deadpans. “Beautiful.”

When everything is ready, you two sit down at the kitchen table. As you take your first bite, you hum in approval. “Okay, maybe midnight breakfast was a good idea.”

“Told you.”

You glance at him, finding him already looking at you. The tired lines around his eyes don’t look so heavy anymore. Instead, there’s something else—something warm, content.

You nudge his foot under the table. “You should sleep after this.”

Zayne sighs but doesn’t argue. Instead, he reaches over, his fingers brushing against yours. “I will.” Then, quieter, “Thank you for staying up with me.”

You squeeze his hand. “Always.”

And in the quiet of your little kitchen, under the glow of soft lights and the scent of fresh waffles, you both finally breathe.

୨ৎ── . Rafayel

The salty ocean breeze kisses your skin as you step onto the warm sand, the golden glow of the late afternoon sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore is soothing, but your mind is fixated on something else—the note in your hands.

"If you want to find me, follow the clues. I promise the treasure at the end is worth it."

You roll your eyes, though a small smile tugs at your lips. Rafayel—always the dramatic romantic. It had been a while since you two had spent proper time together, both of you caught up in your own worlds. But instead of simply asking for a date, your ridiculous, artistic boyfriend had decided to set up a full treasure hunt.

Shaking your head in amusement, you glance down at the sand near your feet, where a small arrow is drawn, pointing toward the rocky cove in the distance.

“Alright, Captain Rafayel,” you murmur to yourself, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You follow the arrow, the soft grains of sand shifting beneath your feet, until you reach a cluster of large rocks. Nestled between them, half-buried in the sand, is a small glass bottle with another note inside.

Unrolling it, you read:

"Remember where we watched the stars that night? I left something for you there."

Your heart stutters at the memory—the two of you lying on a blanket under the night sky, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your arm as he murmured about stars.

With a renewed sense of excitement, you make your way to that very spot, just beyond the dunes. And waiting there, tucked beneath a seashell, is a delicate silver bracelet with a tiny charm—a crescent moon. A quiet gasp leaves your lips as you pick it up, your fingers brushing over the cool metal.

Another note sits beneath it:

"A small piece of the night sky for my star. Keep going."

You swallow against the warmth blooming in your chest, slipping the bracelet onto your wrist before continuing.

The next clue leads you to a weathered wooden pier, where you find a small box of your favorite chocolates wrapped in twine. Then, to the tide pools, where another note is hidden inside a sketchbook, filled with unfinished doodles of you—your laughter, your scowls, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear.

By the time you reach the final clue, your heart is racing.

The last note simply says:

"Turn around."

You spin on your heel, and there he is. Rafayel, standing a few feet away, watching you with that familiar smirk—but there's something softer beneath it, something tender. The setting sun catches in his eyes, making them glow like embers, and his hair is tousled slightly by the wind.

“Well?” he drawls, spreading his arms lazily. “Did I impress you?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you march straight toward him and throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He stiffens in surprise for only a second before he melts into you, his arms wrapping securely around your waist.

“You absolute idiot,” you murmur against his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”

His chest rumbles with a quiet laugh as he presses a lingering kiss to your temple. “I wanted to.” He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. “We haven’t had enough time together lately. Thought I’d remind you how much I love you.”

Your breath catches at the quiet sincerity in his voice. For all his teasing and confidence, Rafayel loves deeply—intensely.

You lift your wrist, showing off the bracelet with a small smirk. “You’re just trying to bribe me with gifts.”

He huffs a laugh but tugs you even closer. “Maybe.” Then, lowering his voice, “Did it work?”

You pretend to think, tapping your chin. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe I need a little more convincing.”

His lips twitch before he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips, the taste of the ocean and him stealing the breath from your lungs.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his voice a whisper against your skin.

“I’ll spend forever convincing you.”

୨ৎ── . Caleb

The scent of summer grass and candle wax lingers in the air as you lie back on the soft blanket, gazing up at the endless stretch of stars above you. The night is quiet, except for the distant hum of crickets and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees. And beside you—so close that his warmth seeps into your skin—is Caleb.

Lately, your time together had been slipping through your fingers, stolen away by busy schedules and fleeting moments. But tonight, Caleb had shown up at your door, eyes burning with quiet determination, holding a basket in one hand and a thick blanket in the other.

"No excuses," he had said before you could even ask what was going on. "I’m taking you somewhere."

You had rolled your eyes, but your heart had betrayed you, skipping a beat at the sheer intensity in his gaze. And now, here you were—miles away from the city, surrounded by nothing but open fields and a sky so vast it made you feel weightless.

"You’re quiet," Caleb murmurs beside you, his deep voice laced with something softer than usual. He props himself up on one elbow, watching you instead of the stars.

You let out a small hum. "Just enjoying the view."

He smirks. "I hope you mean the sky and not me."

You turn your head to meet his gaze, the glow of the lantern casting flickering shadows across his sharp features. His purple eyes, always so intense, hold an unreadable expression.

"Who says I wasn’t talking about you?" you tease.

His smirk falters for a fraction of a second before he exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Careful, sweetheart. You keep saying things like that, and I might just have to keep you here forever."

"Is that supposed to be a threat or a promise?"

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his fingers tracing slow circles against your wrist. His possessiveness—the way he always needs to be touching you, keeping you close—would have annoyed you if it didn’t feel so achingly sincere.

"You work too hard," he murmurs against your skin. "I wanted to steal you away for a little while."

You sigh, letting your fingers tangle in his hair, feeling the way his body relaxes slightly under your touch. "You make it sound like I’m the only one who’s been busy."

He hums, conceding the point. "Maybe. But I miss you."

Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his voice. You shift onto your side, reaching up to brush your fingers against his jaw. "I’m right here, Caleb."

His gaze darkens slightly, and before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours—slow and deep, like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve been apart. When he finally pulls away, his breath is warm against your cheek.

"You taste like strawberries," he mutters, and you laugh softly, nudging the fruit bowl between you two. "Would’ve been weird if I didn’t."

Caleb rolls his eyes but tugs you closer, your body fitting against his like you belong there. With one arm draped around your waist, he tilts his head back toward the sky. "Alright, since we’re technically stargazing, tell me—what’s your favourite constellation?"

You smile, pointing at a cluster of stars. "That one. Because it looks like a cat."

He raises an eyebrow. "That is not a real constellation."

"Sure it is. I just discovered it."

Caleb huffs a laugh, shaking his head before tightening his grip around you. "Fine, then from now on that one is my favourite constellation too.”

୨ৎ── . Xavier

The soft hum of whispered conversations and the scent of old books fills the air as you step into the library, your fingers laced with Xavier’s. The warm lighting casts a golden glow over the endless rows of bookshelves, making everything feel timeless—quiet, intimate.

You glance up at him, finding his gaze already on you. His big blue eyes are unreadable, but you catch the slight quirk of his lips—the rare kind, the one that means he’s up to something.

“You’re staring,” you tease, nudging him playfully.

“You’re worth staring at,” he says simply, like it’s a fact, like it’s as natural as breathing.

You roll your eyes, but your stomach still flutters. Even after all this time, he gets to you so easily.

“So,” you clear your throat, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck, “why a library date?”

Xavier’s grip on your hand tightens slightly as he tugs you further inside, leading you between the towering bookshelves. “We haven’t spent much time together lately,” he says, voice calm but certain. “I figured this would be quiet. Just us.”

You soften at his words. He’s always like this—aloof on the surface, but his love sneaks up on you in quiet, thoughtful ways.

“Alright,” you hum, stopping in an aisle filled with well-worn classics. “How are we doing this?”

He tilts his head slightly, strands of hair falling over his forehead. “We pick books for each other,” he says, reaching for a worn, leather-bound book. “One that reminds us of the other.”

You raise a brow. “That’s dangerous territory, Xavier. What if I give you something ridiculous?”

His lips twitch. “Then I’ll read it. No complaints.”

Your smirk widens. “Even if it’s a trashy romance?”

His eyes flicker with amusement. “Especially then.”

You hum in approval before slipping away to find his book, scanning the shelves as he does the same. When you return, you place your choice in his hands: a poetry book filled with love letters written in secret.

Xavier glances at the title, then at you. “Subtle.”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “I just think you’d like it.”

His gaze lingers for a second too long before he hands you his choice: a novel about a sharp-tongued heroine who drives the stoic hero absolutely insane.

You snort, flipping through the pages. “Oh, this is on purpose.”

His smirk is barely there, but you see it. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Shaking your head, you both settle into a cozy corner of the library, sinking into the soft cushions. It’s comfortable—him next to you, the quiet rustling of pages, the occasional shared glance when one of you reads something interesting.

Then, after a few minutes, Xavier pulls something from his pocket—a small stack of sticky notes.

You raise a brow. “Planning to vandalize the library?”

“Not vandalizing,” he corrects smoothly, peeling one off and scribbling something down. “Leaving something behind.”

He sticks the note inside a random book before handing you the pad. “Your turn.”

You open the book he left his note in, curiosity getting the best of you.

“If you’re reading this, I hope you find what you’re looking for. -X”

You press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile. Typical Xavier—cool, distant, but just poetic enough to make your heart ache.

Shaking your head, you write your own note and tuck it into another book.

“Love is like a good book—you never know how much it’ll change you until you’re deep in it. -X’s annoyed girlfriend”

Xavier peeks at it, then exhales a quiet chuckle. “Annoyed?”

You smirk. “Obviously.”

His fingers brush against yours as he takes the sticky notes from your hand, his touch lingering longer than necessary. Then, in a single fluid movement, he leans in, lips ghosting against your ear.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, just for you.

You exhale, tilting your head slightly to meet his eyes. Even in the silence of the library, Xavier always finds a way to make you feel like you’re the only thing that matters.

You glance at the books surrounding you, the little notes left behind for strangers to find, the weight of his arm resting against yours.

“I think,” you say softly, “this might be my new favorite kind of date.”

Xavier just smiles, turning back to his book. But his fingers never let go of yours.

[witherby]

With Dick being so angry about Conner breaking in i could only imagine how chatic him actually meeting Conner would be, like having to keeo him in one of those kiddie keashes or he‘ll try to kill the guy 😭

A 17 year restrianing a whole adult man with one of those kid harnesses

Honestly? Yeah. Gimme some genuinely angry Nightwing every once in a while. Let that parentified man get some of that pent-up rage out!!!

The Littlest Wayne: Meet the Family

Masterlist is Here!

Conner opens his eyes and sits up when he hears you step into his room. He stares at you incredulously, then at the darkness and the way it seamlessly folds and bends to your will.

"You're invulnerable?" You ask him.

"Yes?" He responds, confused. It's just past eleven at night, and you've shown up out of nowhere to chat when the only other time you've spoken was when he came to your room three days ago. "A bullet bounces off me at point-blank range. Feels like somebody flicked me with their finger, at most."

"Okay," you say, looking nervous, "because my family found out you broke into the house to talk to me, and they're, like, super livid. I just came to give you fair warning because they might, uh, try to kill you."

Conner chuckles. Your face doesn't change. He stops chuckling.

"What, you're serious?"

"They're looking for their stashes of Kryptonite right now. I hid most of it, but they probably have more I don't know about. Just...be prepared. And don't kill any of them, or you'll have to hide from me, next."

The shadows in his room curl around you again. You step into them and allow darkness to envelop you completely.

"Bye, Conner."

"Um," he blurts, cheeks reddening, "same. I mean, bye. Goodbye to you, too."

He hears you snort in amusement before you're gone again. Conner is then left alone to process, 1, that you were concerned for his well-being enough to come warn him about your family, and 2, that he made you laugh.

He can't sleep the rest of the night, giddy with the swell of adoration he has for you.

--

The next time Luthor has him leave the facility to do his job as Superman, it's when the first Superman has to go off-world again over a month later. Conner stops a bank heist, saves some hostages, puts out a fire, and helps a child find her parents when she wanders too far off in the mall.

Then he meets your youngest sibling.

His moniker is Robin. The implanted information helps Conner identify him immediately, which helps him realize that Robin should not be in Metropolis, and especially not in full costume. Alarm bells are ringing in his head.

"I was warned you might show," Conner says, hovering in the air as he looks down at Robin.

"Then you know what you've done wrong," Robin calls back, unsheathing a sword from his back and pulling a batarang out of his pocket. "Come here and face the consequences."

"I'm fine where I'm at, thanks."

"It wasn't a request, Superboy."

"Superman," Conner frowns.

Robin sneers. "Not from what I see."

Conner feels a flare of anger surge within him. What was the big deal? He just needed to see you. He didn't hurt you — he would never dare — just stopped by your home to talk. And you did the same thing! Why some human with an eye mask and a sword feels like they can berate him for that, he doesn't know, but he's not going to take it lying down.

Faster than Robin can blink, Conner snatches the weapons from his hands and tosses them aside, then flips his cape over his head with a sneer.

"Go home, sidekick," Conner says. "I don't have time for this."

"I do."

Something hits Conner's back. It actually hurts, which is the surprising thing, and he yelps as a man in black and blue spandex descends upon him and starts beating him with a pair of escrima sticks. He falls to his knees, overwhelmed by a brand new sensory input he hasn't experienced before, then brings his arms up to shield his head and curls up further.

Nightwing, his brain registers between the blows. But according to his knowledge base, the man is usually not this violent. He always pulls back from an opponent when they duck down or hit the ground, and Conner is practically in fetal position. His sticks are glowing green, which is not a good sign. Conner feels sick.

"Oh, shit — hey, he's on the ground, pull it back!"

"This wasn't the plan, Nightwing, cool it —"

"I think he's doing great. Let him get a few more swings in."

"Robin you're not helping!"

"Seriously, get off him!"

Conner groans and gasps in pain. His whole body feels like it's on fire. There's sounds of a scuffle happening above him, but he picks up on someone else's shaky breathing a few yards away.

He cracks an eye open and spots a civilian half-hidden around the corner, filming everything happening.

The birds want to come to Metropolis and mess with him? Well, two can play at that game. They're about to be hated by the masses for touching the city's new golden boy.

Conner makes a panicked expression, lifts his arm and waves it in a sweeping motion, and starts shaking his head.

"R-run," he wheezes, "go, get away from here, get to safety!"

"What's he — shit! HEY, C'MERE!" Nightwing gasps, pointing at the civilian. The woman turns and darts into the building she was hiding by, fingers flying across her screen like lightning. "God dammit! Red Robin, can you —"

"I can't," the third figure standing by him says, sounding just as stressed. Conner recognizes both him and the Red Hood's silent figure, who had been physically holding Nightwing back from continuing to swing on him. Robin tsks and presses a few buttons on his gauntlet.

"We'll need to retreat and prepare to do damage control. The batmobile is coming, ETA 30 seconds. What do we do with him?" Robin kicks Conner's arm.

"We can't leave the kid. He's got Kryptonite poisoning and we dunno where his boss is to dump him for medical help," Red Robin says, crossing his arms and sighing. "We gotta take him with us and get the shards out."

"I say leave him anyway. It's just a couple pieces, and if he's as stupidly strong as the real Supes, he'll walk this off," Red Hood suggests.

"We wouldn't have to debate this if Nightwing had kept his cool," Robin grouches. Nightwing has the good graces to look chagrined and tucks his sticks away.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking about...I'm sorry. C'mon, B will skin is alive if he finds out we left him for dead. Get him in the car."

They're about to abduct him, now, too? Conner almost laughs at the absurdity. All of this, just for paying you a visit? It's madness. But then he imagines some other stranger breaking into your room to talk to you, to touch you, to hurt you, and has to focus his energy to not start burning everything with his laser vision. It's not really absurd anymore. If he could draw a full breath without feeling like white-hot knives are slicing his vary atoms apart, Conner would attempt to explain himself. But he can't, so he doesn't.

He doesn't resist when two of them lift him and start loading his body into the back of a sleek, black vehicle. Metropolis' threats have been neutralized for today, so he technically doesn't need to stay in town. Instead, he closes his eyes and allows himself to drift.

They're taking him to Gotham, which is where you live. He has no qualms with that.

[hivemuthur]

request where viktorxfemale reader and reader is very shy and hides her face/closes her eyes all the time during sex, maybe when she is not having sex she is more braty/confident. like when she is covering her face viktor forces her to look at him.

Hi Anon! Here's your request:

Mind Holds The Key

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! soft dom Viktor, from warnings we could throw in light orgasm denial and many of my recent works have praise kink, it snuck its way to here as well :v

word count: 4K

author’s note: Title from My Body Is A Cage song (like, it perfectly depicts what Reader might be feeling).

artist on X

—

It happens every time.

You release a breath when his head dips into the crook of your neck—what a blessing. A moment of reprieve, in which teeth meet skin, and you can slide your hand from his back to shield your eyes.

Before he knows it, you come undone, and Viktor follows, searching for your gaze that’s nowhere to be found. Instead of the two big eyes he longs to see, all he gets are your knuckles—five little peepers acting as a barrier between you. It makes him feel lonely.

At first, he doesn’t quite catch it. Could be that you’re so overtaken with pleasure that your body acts on instinct, independent of your mind. Could be that you’re shy—though that hardly aligns with the way you carry yourself day to day. Could be that his bedroom face is outright hideous, but he fucks you so well you don’t have the heart to tell him. Could be plenty of things, some of which he doesn’t dare to entertain.

At first, he tries peacefully—gentle handholding, nuzzling, foreheads touching. But as soon as he stops you from covering your face, you simply close your eyes instead. Or, if he noses at you, you nose him back, and though he can’t see, he knows by the tickle of your eyelashes against his cheek that your lids are squeezed shut.

Until today.

The setup is nearly perfect—you straddling him, arms caged in by his, no space left between you to hide. Yet, just as your face starts to wrinkle in that beautiful way he adores, you find a way out. You dip your head into the small gap between you, leaving only the parting of your hair in his view.

So he stops.

Moreover, he untangles his arms from you completely, making you whine at the loss of contact and, worse, the loss of your impending orgasm as his hands still your hips. And maybe it isn’t entirely worth it, but at least now you’re looking at him. Your lips part at the sight.

There’s something vulnerable in the way he stares at you—wounded, raw. A flicker of fear flashes across your chest.

You cup his cheeks, your voice quick and searching. “Are you in pain?”

He exhales sharply, eyes darting down. “Am I so horrendous to look at?” His fingers twitch at your sides, but his grip remains loose, as if he’s suddenly unsure whether to hold you at all.

Your brows pinch together in disbelief. “Viktor… you are gorgeous. What are you talking about?”

Some of the lead in his stomach melts away at that. So, it isn’t his face. “Then why won’t you ever look at me?”

“I…” Shit. That didn’t take long. “I am…” You try to wiggle your way out of it, avoiding the weight of his scrutiny, but ultimately, you give up with a small, quiet, “… shy.”

A breathy chuckle escapes him, his shoulders shaking. “Lásko, you are many things, and shy is not one of them.” His mind flickers back to all the times you’ve been anything but—bratty, teasing, unafraid to push him.

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I am a shy lover,” you whisper weakly, and at that, Viktor twitches inside you. His fingers flex against your wrists, his gaze heavy with thought.

Then, his eyebrows scrunch in curiosity, and he asks, almost stupidly, “Why?”

You open and close your mouth, unsure of what to say. He watches you, waiting for an answer, and his voice softens when he adds, “What makes you embarrassed?”

You groan in frustration, covering your eyes again as if to hide from him. “I don’t know... It’s like... oh, having an autopsy, for lack of better words. An autopsy of the soul. I can’t stand it.”

Viktor pauses, his expression thoughtful, before he leans in, his voice low and inviting. “Would you be willing to… experiment?” The edge of a smirk plays at his lips.

You narrow your eyes, scepticism rising. “Does your experiment include torture?”

He hums, tilting his head in playful consideration. “Eh… maybe a little.” His hand moves to rest gently on your cheek, a soft brush of his thumb has you blushing. “Hopefully,” he murmurs, his touch tender, “it will get the key from here.” A finger is pressed to your forehead. “To unlock this.” His finger then moves to point directly at your heart.

At the sight of your questioning eyes, excitement surges through him. Another thing to unravel about you—how thrilling. He almost doesn’t want to leave the warmth you’ve enveloped him in, but the urge to explore and understand is stronger. So, with a small nudge of his hips, he says, “Up, up.”

A groan escapes him when you slide off and shimmy up against the headboard. You hug your knees, awaiting instructions, and Viktor—oh, his eyes glint the same way they do when he’s on the brink of something, just this time, love and affection seep through the scientific interest.

He nestles beside you, smiling at the hungry glances you steal toward his thighs. He presses a kiss to your neck, a caress to your calves, before whispering, “Relax. Open your legs for me.”

Like a rusty hinge, you part your thighs—barely enough to accommodate his palm. He nudges your knees further apart until one rests against his leg, the other sinking into the covers. A warm, flat palm runs up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and already, you shudder and squeeze your eyes shut.

“No, none of that,” Viktor chides, and the fingers that had caressed you come to wrap around your throat—a gentle touch, guiding. “If you stop looking, I stop touching. Do you understand?”

You nod timidly, and Viktor tsks. “Words?”

“I understand,” you murmur.

“Very well.” One last soft kiss, before his hand slides down your torso, back between your legs.

His touch is gentle at first, fingers teasing along your seam, inquisitive and exact. He finds your clit easily and you gasp at the first press, coaxing a grateful smile to Viktor’s lips. He watches your expressions shifting from the tremble of your lips to your brows pulling together with a serious face, studying and memorizing you. Three thoughtful fingers rub your pussy around, nudging the spot you want him at the most with each movement, and your stomach begins to coil with heat. Your thighs shift from idle rest to being spread apart with intent, and your hand braces against his stomach. His eyes remain on you, darkening with each broken gasp that escapes your lips.

This is truly horrendous. Pleasure knots in your chest, tangled with a fear that comes from an unknown place. There’s no hiding from him like this, and for a moment, you don’t even try. Your body freezes—caught between fight and flight—and you force yourself not to blink. Your eyes glaze over, breaths come in shallow gasps, and you don’t know if it’s the fear of losing his touch or of being seen like this.

“There you are,” he murmurs, and he means your gaze. You realise you’ve been looking at him, truly looking, and the thought makes your stomach twist.

It’s too much.

The closer you get, the heavier the shame coils in your chest. Like a hand gripping your throat, squeezing until every reaction feels unbearably raw, exposed. Your body betrays you—hips rolling into his touch, thighs twitching under his hand, voice catching in soft, needy sounds. And Viktor, he drinks it in with dark, fascinated eyes, his other hand wrapped around the nape of your neck, squeezing affectionately.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

But you do.

Because the heat rising isn’t just pleasure—it’s mortification, vulnerability crackling over your skin. It builds and builds, cresting unbearably high, and just as the wave is about to break, your hand shoots up, shielding your face in a blind, instinctive act of self-preservation.

The loss is instant.

Viktor’s hand retreats from between your legs, leaving you aching and throbbing. Your breath stutters, body jolting at the sudden lack of touch. It takes you a moment to realise why—why the bliss has been so abruptly stolen from you. And when you do, your stomach drops.

You peek through your fingers to find him watching you, expression unreadable but firm. His hand hovers over your lower belly, waiting. Viktor doesn’t speak. He simply watches you, patient and ready.

It’s your choice.

Slowly, hesitantly, your fingers slip from your face, down to your chest, over your ribs, clutching at the sheets instead. You force yourself to look at him.

Viktor smiles, pleased. He brings a hand back to your thigh, thumb stroking the inside in a slow, grounding motion. He leans in, lips ghosting over your cheek.

"Good girl," he whispers before giving back what he took away—and more.

Oh, and his hand comes right where you need it, sliding between your thick lips with ease, gathering your wetness with a slick sound as he pushes a finger inside you. He moves in and out slowly, adds another, and drinks in the sight of your mouth falling open, your eyes locked onto his.

Viktor tells himself this is not about him, that this is about you—about him holding your hand as you battle something unnecessary within yourself. And yet, he cannot help the way his hips rut into your thigh, the heavy press of his cock against your flesh. It is so very hot, this soul-baring unravelling of yours, that he almost allows you to close your eyes for a second too long.

A gentle tsk of his tongue brings you back, and to keep your hands from twitching, you clasp one against his cheek while the other rests at his waist.

You focus on the feeling, on the rhythm. You rock your hips to meet him, the heel of his palm catching your clit with each slide of his fingers, and the familiar pressure returns. Your eyes itch to go shut, the skin of your hand tingles, and you wonder if it’s contagious—if Viktor’s skin will prickle in goosebumps because of you. A strangled sound escapes you, discomfort bleeding into pleasure, and Viktor is there to guide you through it.

"Stay with me, almost there," he coos, brushing his nose against yours.

You press your foreheads together, cross your eyes to keep them fixed on his, and he is so grateful. Pride softens his face as he murmurs lovingly, "You are doing so well."

It’s almost easy like this. Something shifts.

The tension in your chest doesn’t vanish, but  loosens, just enough for you to take a deeper breath. With Viktor’s forehead pressed to yours, his voice low and steady, his touch never faltering, the fear that once curled around being seen begins to unravel.

You blink up at him, chest rising and falling in quick succession, and when your lips part, your voice is barely there. “More.”

The word spills into his mouth, and Viktor drinks it all up. His breath hitches, a tremor runs through him, and for a brief moment, he closes his eyes, overcome by something he cannot name. When he looks at you again, it is with a hunger edged in devotion.

“Oh, lásko,” he breathes, and his fingers move with new purpose. His palm catches your clit just right, his rhythm unfaltering. “You are—ah—so good for me.”

Your body tightens in response. You can hear him now—not just his words, but the small, ruined sounds he makes when you clench around his fingers. He moans when you do, his hips pressing just a little harder into your thigh, like he cannot help himself.

“You feel—” He swallows a groan, his hand flexing at your waist. “So perfect like this. My girl.”

A fresh wave of pleasure crashes over you. You chase it without hesitation, without shame. Viktor sees it—feels it—the way you arch, the way your nails press into his skin. His praise comes unfiltered now, spoken through shaky breaths, his own pleasure evident in the rasp of his voice.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his fingers curling deep. “You are taking me so well. Stay with me, stay—”

You do. You do, because somehow, with him, it’s easier.

The tension coils tight, unbearably so, and your breath is gone from your lungs. He feels it—sees it—his free hand tightening around your neck, his forehead still pressed to yours. His lips part, his eyes burn into yours, and when you finally break, it is with him watching you, holding you, staring into your soul.

You shudder, a soft cry spilling from your lips, and Viktor groans—low and guttural—as he works you through it, whispering your name, a quiet thank you falling in between.

“And that’s a sight to behold,” he says finally, his voice rough with need. “Thank you, my love.”

You smile faintly, still feeling the aftershocks, but your playful side returns. “Sorry, did you think we are done now?” You curl your legs up, wrapping your arms around him, pressing a kiss just under his ear, feeling the heat of his skin against yours.

“Oh?” Viktor’s breath hitches as he feels the press of your lips on him. It seems that through being lost in your head, you missed all the pretty faces he makes. You run your finger up and down his length, watching how his body reacts to your touch, feeling the contrast between tenderness and the lingering ache of want.

You meet his gaze, your voice meant to be teasing but it’s a plea. “Would you be willing to experiment further?”

Viktor’s pulse quickens at your words, his body taut and ardent when he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, and then he rolls over, trapping you beneath him. His lips find yours in a kiss that is deep, desperate, and full of hunger.

“Yes, yes, please,” he breathes against your mouth, his voice longing. He kisses you again and again, his lips trailing across your face, worshipping the skin beneath them as he murmurs praises, each one an attempt to convey what he's feeling, almost successful.

To see and to be seen—what a feeling, you think. What a tremendous thing it is to have your heart unlocked with the key his fingers plucked from your mind. Crushing.

[callsignswan]

Distance

You, a pregnant Omega, miss your Alpha while he's racing

Tw: abo dynamics (alpha x omega), pregnancy, emotions

Grabbing your phone, you lifted the covers and climbed into bed. The duvet, thick and plush and comfortable, fell around you. It smelt entirely of your Alpha, a happy purr leaving your lips. 

Your hand settled over your swollen stomach as your finger tapped at your phone. You pulled up his contact and called. 

The bed was incredibly comfortable. Everything, including the frame, was high end and luxury. The covers were plush and your pillows were like clouds. It was the kind of bed every Alpha dreamed of providing for their Omega. 

You missed your Alpha, your husband. After being gone for three days, your bed was beginning to not smell like him. His scent was gone and you missed it so damn much. You were close to pulling everything from his wardrobe and laying it out on your bed, turning it into a nest. 

You could have gone with him. Travelling in style, flying on a private jet. You would have been comfortable, you knew, and the doctors hadn't told you to stop travelling, yet. 

But it would have been exhausting and your little one wouldn't have liked it. 

Every sound would have been too loud and every smell would have been too strong. It would have been too overwhelming for an Omega as pregnant as you were. So, you and Carlos decided it was best that you stay home. 

Your Alpha finally picked up the phone. 

It was the middle of the day for him, wherever he was. He looked so handsome in the shining sun that you wanted to reach through the phone and touch him. The blue was still taking some getting used to, though. 

“Good evening, mi vida,” he said softly as he stared down at you. 

Fuck, you had missed his voice. It had only been a few hours since you'd last heard from him, but you missed it. Your lip wobbled as tears threatened to spill. 

He'd be home in a few days. You didn't have to cry. But you couldn't help just how much you wanted to. 

You didn't know what the time was where he was. Early enough that the sun was shining with full force, painting him in an ethereal light. He was the Alpha other Omegas sang of wanting, but he was all yours.

“Carlos.” 

Out of seemingly nowhere, you were emotional. Your wobbling lip became full blown crying now. You sobbed out his name once more for good measure, as if getting him to understand how emotional you actually were. 

“Oh, Omega,” he cooed softly. It was unfair he couldn’t just reach through the phone and touch you. You wanted to feel his fingers against your cheek as he kissed your forehead. “I'll be home tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow. A whole day away. It felt like a lifetime away. 

Furiously, you wiped at your eyes. “Tomorrow,” you echoed. “I can't wait.”

By the way Carlos was looking at you,you knew he was going to worry for the rest of the day. He had no reason to worry about you when he had a race to focus on. “Good luck out there, smooth operator.” 

It would have been a miracle if he could understand you through the blubbering mess you had become. 

His smile was sympathetic. “How is my little pup doing?” He asked and you moved the phone back, revealing your stomach. 

“Say hi to daddy,” you mumbled. It would have been cinematic if your little one kicked then, a response to your words, but you got nothing. That was okay, your little one could sleep. 

“Not long until we meet you, my boy,” Carlos said softly, a voice that was reserved for you and your baby. 

“Girl,” you corrected. 

Truthfully, neither of you knew what gender your child was going to be. Neither of you cared. It didn't matter what colour the nursery got painted or what colour clothes they wore, just that it was your baby, your precious baby. 

It wasn't a real argument between the two of you, a little back and forth before Carlos gave up and used it as an excuse to kiss you. 

You talked to him until you ran out of time, until he had to go and prepare for his race. You couldn't bring yourself to watch, couldn't help the way the fear of seeing him in that car made you sick to your stomach. 

You started crying again as you said goodbye. Stupid hormones, that was how you would explain it. It was a perfectly normal reaction for an Omega missing their Alpha. Paired with the pregnancy hormones, you never stood a chance. 

***

Things were eerily quiet when Carlos unlocked the door of the apartment. Immediately, he was hit by your scent, overwhelming and intoxicating all at once.

He needed to get to you. 

It was the middle of the day. You could have been anywhere between napping in the room you shared or the bakery down the street. 

Please be napping, he thought as he dropped his bags by the front door and continued on. 

Just like he predicted, you were already asleep. On the sofa, a blanket thrown over your body, you slept. You were snoring, drooling slightly.

His beautiful Omega. 

It was getting harder and harder to leave you to go on race weekends. You needed him there, rubbing your feet and cooking whatever you and baby desired. Holding you through the night and keeping you surrounded by his scent. 

As carefully as he could, Carlos sat down beside you. “Wake up, Omega,” he said softly, his fingers dancing from your hand up to your wrist. 

Your eyes opened slightly. There was a moment before you fully woke up, before you were fully aware of your surroundings. 

But then you spotted him. “Carlos?” You whispered and he pulled you hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it. 

“I'm here, Omega.” 

“Alpha!” You cried and practically threw yourself at him. He caught you, fingers digging into your hips as you peppered kisses all over his face. “I missed you!” You cried, fingers gripping his shirt to hold him as close as possible. 

He kissed the top of your head and wiped away your tears. “I missed you,” he echoed and settled his hand over your stomach. “You too, Pepper.”

Pepper, your little one. The nickname Carlos had given them ever since your pregnancy test came back positive. 

“I never want to go on another race weekend without you,” he whispered and pressed his nose against your neck, scenting you.

Your fingers moved through his hair, nail scratching. Carlos released a happy sort of Alpha purr from his throat, eyes shutting. 

“Don't say that,” you mumbled. But you were smiling at him. “I miss you when you’re away but I can’t wait to watch you on the podium.”

Carlos released a dry laugh. “You’ll be waiting a long time, corazón,” he mused and kissed your hand. 

A hum left your lips. “Maybe by then I’ll be able to stomach watching you race again.”

He kissed you gently, hand on your stomach as your little one kicked. Your Alpha, home at last. You knew it wouldn’t be forever, but you’d savour the moments you did have with him.

hi angels! so i took a week off from writing because i couldn't handle the hate i was getting 😭 but i've decided that i love writing and i'm not gonna let anything hold me back! 💖 no hybrid au's for now, i want to let the dust settle for a little bit first.

[cvnt4him]

I think tobios the kind of guy to really REALLY be in love with his first love. I mean this guy would be obsessed with whoever took his virginity, I solely believe that.

He literally would be so in love with you without even noticing. He would love being close to you, he'd get all smiley with you and y'know his smile isn't all that but when he's genuine with it, it's the prettiest thing to see on him.

Holding his face and peppering kisses on him in front of the team, Hinata and tsukishima teasing him for it. He groans but ultimately loves it. He loves you.

When you met his sister she was kind of scary. She had this unapproachable look about her, there was so much stress and pressure to be good and great for his family. But she was actually really sweet, really interesting and a genuinely great sister for the most part.

His grandfather was absolutely hilarious and tobio wouldn't admit it to you or anyone else, but it meant a lot to him that his grandfather actually took a liking toward you. The way you unintentionally made his grandfather crack up at your occasional mishaps on your words and the weird little sounds you made when you realized you fucked up your sentence, or when you sounded so robotic to remember the interesting things you told yourself you were interested in for the sake of his grandfather.

I like to think kageyama is REALLY emotionally constipated to the point he knows NOTHING....about love or even being interested/attracted to someone. He gains such a genuine attraction towards you, it physically hurts him. He can't help but to groan in some sort of annoyance when he sees you because he knows his body betrays him. It always makes it clear that he's happy to have you around.

Whether he becomes a flushed mess, his stupid cheeks filling with blood and getting all warm and red. His ear become impossibly warm as well, he swears he can't even hear you speaking to him. Or whether it be his eyes wandering down to your lips, his thoughts thinking about how he loves it when you kiss him. He prefers those quick kisses you give, to him those are more than enough. His eyes began to trail all over your body, his mind thinking about every part of your body they stop on

His eyes move to your hands, goodness does he love holding them. He really does. When he holds your hand I think he would often squeeze them for a little, like you could just be hiding hands and a for the most part gentle squeeze comes out of nowhere. He holds it in a tight grasp like that for a while before the tightness retreats.

It's so sweet really. You call his name and his blue eyes shoot right back up to yours, kageyama doesn't shy away from anyone but damn why did you have to look at him like that with those stupid fucking eyes of yours..

You offered him a genuine warm smile, your eyes creasing a bit as your smile met them a small chuckle leaving you as you watch him fail to keep eye contact with you. He had a silly little pout on his face as his brows furrowed and his cheeks warmed.

You sigh at your silly boy and pull him into a hug, it was mostly you hugging him. Wrapping your arms around his body as he stiffly stood in your grasp, you give him a long squeeze and groan slightly. You pull away and grab his face pulling his down, with his face in your hands he takes a moment to really feel your hands the softness of them on his cheeks and how he could smell perfume on your wrists.

You give him a couple of kisses on his face causing him to squeeze his eyes shut and groan lightly. He slowly fluttered his eyes open to leer down at you. He's so tall even when you pull him down to level with you.

“ I love you, tobio..”

You whisper to him, clearly not quiet enough because you can hear people snickering behind you. You kiss his nose one final time, you can see the way he's mentally cursing you with his mind. He hates that you had to do this in front of them. He loves you, he swears he does. He may have a funny way of showing it but he genuinely loves you.

“ ...mmn... love...you too..”

Tobio made damn sure he said it quiet enough. He refused to let them hear him say that.

Trust after being with you for a long time he gets out of that. He doesn't care who hears him say he loves you. He's so happy that he's had you for this long.

[rafeyssugar]

baby girl

rafe treats y/n like she’s made of glass. like she’s something soft, delicate—something his.

and she lets him. because how could she not? when he’s always looking at her like that? when his touch is always so gentle?

like now—when she pouts at him from the passenger seat, arms crossed, lips pursed in that way that makes him weak.

“what?” he asks, fighting back a smirk, reaching over to squeeze her thigh.

“you didn’t let me carry the bags.”

rafe exhales, shaking his head. “because you don’t need to. what kind of boyfriend would i be if i let you carry heavy shit, huh?”

y/n huffs, turning to the window. “they weren’t even that heavy.”

and that’s when he knows—she’s just being a brat.

so he leans over at a red light, pressing a kiss to her temple. “my sweet girl,” he murmurs, lips dragging down to her jaw. “so spoiled, huh?”

she mumbles something under her breath, but he catches it—“not spoiled.”

he just grins. “nah, you are, angel. i made you that way.”

because he does spoil her. carries her bags, opens her doors, pulls her into his lap just because. worships her. and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

so when they get home, and she starts trying to grab the shopping bags again, he just tuts, plucking them right out of her hands.

“what did i say, baby?”

she pouts up at him. “but—”

rafe just shakes his head, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “no buts. let me take care of you.”

she lets out a dramatic sigh but doesn’t argue, instead watching as he carries all the bags inside like it’s nothing.

“you know,” she says, plopping onto the couch, stretching like a cat, “i could have helped.”

rafe raises a brow, setting the bags down before making his way over to her. “oh yeah?”

“yeah.”

he hums, settling beside her, pulling her into his lap with ease. “but you like when i baby you, huh?”

she rolls her eyes, but he sees the way her lips twitch, how she doesn’t move away when he starts pressing slow, lazy kisses to her neck.

“admit it,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “you like being my spoiled little baby girl.”

she exhales, tilting her head slightly as he keeps kissing, hands gripping at his shirt.

“maybe.”

rafe chuckles, pulling back to look at her. “yeah?”

she shrugs, playing with the collar of his shirt, but when she finally looks up, she’s got that look in her eyes—the one that makes him weak. the one that tells him she’s just as obsessed with him as he is with her.

so he kisses her—slow, deep, like he’s got all the time in the world.

when they finally pull apart, he brushes a thumb over her cheek, voice soft. “good girl.”

-

now she’s curled up in his lap, fingers lazily playing with the chain around his neck, lips slightly swollen from how he’d kissed her stupid just moments ago.

and he can’t help himself.

his hands roam—slow, lazy, like he’s got nowhere else to be. one hand resting on the small of her back, the other tracing patterns along her bare thigh, dipping beneath the hem of her shorts.

“you tired, baby?” he murmurs, voice soft, knowing.

y/n hums, blinking up at him, looking dazed, floaty. “a little.”

he smiles, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “you wanna nap?”

she makes a noise, nuzzling closer, pressing her face into his neck. “mmm. just wanna sit here.”

and his heart melts.

because she’s never really said it, but he knows—knows she feels safest when she’s with him, tucked against him like this, wrapped up in his warmth.

so he just hums, rubbing slow circles into her back. “yeah? my lap comfy, huh?”

she nods, sighing contentedly. “mhm. best seat in the house.”

rafe chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “yeah, ‘cause it’s your seat, angel.”

she doesn’t respond, but the way she sighs again, soft and sweet, is enough.

he keeps holding her, fingers tracing slow, absentminded shapes against her skin, lips pressing light, fleeting kisses to her temple, her forehead, her jaw.

and when he feels her breathing even out, feels her relax completely in his arms, he knows she’s drifted off.

he smiles to himself, tightening his hold just a little, letting his head rest against the couch.

yeah, he thinks, pressing one last kiss to her forehead. he could hold her like this forever.

-

rafe doesn’t move—not even an inch. not when his leg starts going numb, not when his arm starts to tingle. because y/n is asleep, all warm and tucked against him, and he’d rather die than wake her up.

his baby girl—soft, sweet, always pressed up against him like she belongs there. (she does.)

he’s careful as he shifts just slightly, just enough to cup the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair. she stirs a little, sighing in her sleep, pressing closer.

rafe just smiles, running a thumb over her cheek. she looks so peaceful like this, face smushed against his chest, lips parted, lashes fluttering faintly.

he has to kiss her.

so he does—just a light press of his lips to her forehead, lingering for a second before pulling away.

but she feels it.

she exhales softly, shifting in his lap, stretching like a cat before blinking up at him, still sleepy, still floaty.

“…how long was i out?” her voice is quiet, groggy.

rafe grins, brushing some hair from her face. “’bout an hour.”

her brows furrow slightly. “you let me sleep that long?”

“‘course i did, angel.” his fingers move down, tracing the side of her neck, his voice dropping slightly. “you looked too pretty to wake up.”

her lips part slightly, and rafe knows he’s got her.

he smirks, dragging his hand down her arm, slow, teasing. “feel good?”

y/n nods, still dazed, blinking at him like she’s not sure if she’s awake or still dreaming.

rafe hums, tilting his head. “yeah? what feels good, baby?”

she exhales. “you.”

and he’s done for.

he cups her face, tilting it up as he leans in, lips brushing hers—soft, teasing. “yeah?”

“mhm.” her hands slide up his chest, gripping his shirt weakly, like she’s trying to pull him closer, but he’s already as close as he can be.

“wanna kiss?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing.

she nods again, breath hitching slightly. “please.”

rafe grins before finally—finally—closing the distance, kissing her soft and slow, like he’s got all the time in the world.

because he does. because he’s not going anywhere.

when they finally pull apart, she exhales, nuzzling into him, hands still fisted in his shirt.

rafe just chuckles, running a hand down her back. his baby girl.

[luvvcho]

❅・WHISPER OF THE HEART

SYNOPSIS — The three times he tries to tell you, and the one time he actually does.

WC — (4k)

CONTENT: SFW, suggestiveness, angst , hurt/comfort, family issues/neglect, unrequited love (or so they think), alcohol/being drunk, self-worth issues/insecurity, mild jealousy, late-night drives & emotional talks, emotional repression, gojo deserves sleep but never gets it™, soft!gojo but he’s suffering in silence, gojo is really down bad.

a/n: highkey wrote this half asleep... but anyway i finished this faster than i thought! comment if you wanna be added to the taglist (just found out what this is lol) for this series :p m. list | < prev | next >

Somewhere near Tokyo, Japan 2009

Gojo lets the steering wheel glide through his fingers before tightening his grip on the expensive leather again. His palms are sweaty, his knuckles white, and the three hours of sleep he got the night before are finally catching up to him, creeping into the edges of his vision like static.

The plan for tonight had been simple: finish up paperwork at his father’s company, where he had been offered forced to start training straight out of high school. Then, he’d head home, maybe work out, maybe waste time bothering Suguru over the phone before eventually crashing. A mindless, predictable routine.

Instead, he finds himself almost an hour outside of Tokyo, in the middle of god knows where.

His foot eases off the gas slightly as he glances around, taking in the unfamiliar roads lined with trees and dim streetlights, their glow barely enough to cut through the darkness. The city was nowhere in sight. There were no high-rises, no neon billboards, no distant hum of traffic. Just the low rumble of his own engine and the occasional flicker of headlights from a passing car.

He exhales sharply, rubbing at his tired eyes with one hand while keeping the other steady on the wheel.

What the hell was he even doing out here?

The truth settles in his chest, heavy and uncomfortable. He didn’t want to drive this far. He didn’t want to end up here at all. But somehow, without thinking, he had ended up exactly where he always does when everything feels too much— wherever you are. Gojo got the call just as he was wrapping up work. You were drunk. Alone. Over an hour away from the city at some stupid college party in an abandoned warehouse.

He was exhausted. Three hours of sleep deep into a week where everything felt like too much. His head hurt from staring at contracts and numbers he didn’t care about, and honestly, the only thing getting him through the evening had been the promise of leftover Chinese food waiting for him in his fridge.

But when you called, he came. Right?

Even if his body screamed at him to go home. Even if he knew he shouldn’t always make it this easy for you. Even if the rational part of his brain told him that one day, this whole thing, his stupid highschool crush that never seemed to go away, was going to wreck him.

Still, he grabbed his keys, got in his car, and drove.

And now, almost an hour outside of Tokyo, in the middle of god-knows-where, he’s gripping the wheel with sweaty palms and trying not to let exhaustion drag him under.

He should be annoyed. Wants to be annoyed.

But all he can think about is you waiting, unsteady, needing him. And that, somehow, is enough to keep his foot pressed firm against the gas.

As he rounds the corner onto a dimly lit street, he hears it before he sees it. The deep bass of the music rattling the ground beneath his feet, the drunken laughter and shouts of students spilling out into the night.

His jaw tightens as he follows the noise, pulling up outside the warehouse. A mess of people lingers near the entrance, bodies swaying in a haze of alcohol and cigarette smoke. The place reeks of bad decisions and even worse company. And then he sees you.

You’re sitting on the curb, a little hunched over, your arms wrapped loosely around your knees. The party continues on behind you, people laughing, stumbling, yelling. But you’re separate from all of it.

For a second, relief washes over him. You’re safe. You’re not lost in that chaotic mess of bodies, not pressed against some guy who doesn’t know when to back off. You’re here. He exhales, tension leaving his shoulders. But then you look up.

Your tear-stained eyes meet his, mascara smudged at the corners, eyeliner streaking down your cheeks.

He steps out, shutting the door behind him, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he strolls over with a smirk. “Hey, gorgeous.”

You blink sluggishly at him before a slow, sleepy smile spreads across your lips. “Hi…” you mumble, then suddenly, as if remembering something, you groan and cover your face. “Don’t look at me. I’m not gorgeous right now.”

Gojo huffs out a laugh, crouching in front of you. “Bit late for that.”

You peek through your fingers, pout deepening. “Y’always see me like this.”

“Like what?” He tilts his head, playing dumb.

“Pathetic.”

Before he can respond, you push yourself to your feet. Not steadily, not gracefully, but you manage. Sort of? You take one step forward, then another, before your balance wavers.

Gojo moves to catch you, but you beat him to it, stumbling straight into him, arms wrapping lazily around his middle.

He stiffens for half a second.

Because shit.

Your dress clings to you, thin and weightless, like it was made to drive him insane. Not because he’s just noticing, but because he’s spent the last four years trying not to. But now, with you pressed up against him, with your warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, with the scent of whatever sweet perfume you’re wearing clouding his already exhausted brain.

God.

You sigh against his chest, voice muffled. “Can’t believe you actually came.”

Gojo blinks. Focuses. Ignores the way his hands instinctively settle at your waist. “Yeah, well,” he says, clearing his throat, “I am at your beck and call”

You lean back just enough to look up at him, blinking slowly like it takes effort.

“Alright, princess,” he says, “Think you can walk the rest of the way, or am I carrying you?”

You scoff, swaying slightly. “I can walk.”

“Right. Cuz that little show just now was real convincing.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then take one defiant step forward before immediately tripping over… nothing??

Gojo catches your wrist with ease, smirking.

And despite your protests, you let him guide you, his fingers firm and steady around yours. He opens the car door, steadying you as you lower yourself into the back seat. You move sluggishly, like even the smallest effort is too much, and he frowns as he reaches over to buckle you in. Your purse gets placed beside you before he shuts the door and circles around to his side, slipping into the driver’s seat with a sigh.

The engine hums to life, but for a second, he doesn’t move.

His gaze lingers on you through the rearview mirror. You’re curled up against the window, lashes heavy, lips slightly parted, your breath fogging up the glass. His fingers flex against the steering wheel, something unspoken settling in his chest before he shakes it off and shifts the car into reverse, backing away from the warehouse.

You’ve never been like this before.

Sure, he’s seen you tipsy; laughing a little louder, cheeks pink with warmth, words spilling out without a filter. But this? This is different. This is the first time you’ve ever let yourself fall this far.

The GPS screen glows softly as he punches in your address, the familiar route flashing across the screen. – ETA: 1:03

He exhales, rolling his shoulders as he glances at you again.

“Don’t throw up in my car, please.”

You hum in response, eyes barely cracking open. “M’not gonna,” you mumble, but your voice wobbles, breaking slightly at the end.

He sighs, shaking his head. “Just… if you do feel sick, tell me, alright?”

You mumble something incoherent, and he decides to take it as a yes.

The road stretches out ahead of him, empty and quiet. He tightens his grip on the wheel, keeping his eyes forward.

Because if he looks at you too long, if he lets himself really think about how easily you trust him, how you always call him when you need someone, he’s going to lose the battle he’s been fighting for years.

“So,” he says, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the car. “We gonna talk about why you’ve been crying?”

You shift against the seat, barely opening your eyes. “Can’t,” you mumble. “Too embarrassing.”

Gojo snorts. “C’mon. I’ve known you since we were fourteen. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you do worse.”

You hum, considering it, as the car smoothly merges onto the highway. The dim lights shrink behind you, fading into the distance, leaving only the soft glow of passing streetlights and the rhythmic sound of tires against pavement.

For a while, you don’t say anything, and Gojo doesn’t push. He just lets the silence stretch, waiting.

“Remember that guy I told you about?”

He gulps. “The one in your language seminar?”

“Yeah.” He already doesn’t like where this is going.

You continue, voice softer now, like saying it out loud makes it more real. “He was there tonight. He invited me, actually.”

Gojo’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles paling.

“I thought maybe… I dunno.” Your voice is slightly more steady now. “I thought something was there between us.”

His jaw clenches. His grip on the wheel tightens. He doesn’t want to ask, but he does anyway. “And?”

Your breath hitches slightly, and when you speak again, your voice is quieter. “And I tried to kiss him.”

Gojo freezes, his gaze flickering back to you in the mirror.

His heart stalls for half a second before it kicks back in, pounding hard against his ribs. He swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

You keep going, oblivious to the way his grip on the steering wheel turns bone-white.

“But he pulled away,” you admit. “Said he doesn’t… doesn’t like kissing.” You scoff, shaking your head. “And I believed him. I told him it was fine, that we could still be friends.”

Gojo exhales slowly through his nose, forcing his expression to stay neutral. Fucking idiot, he thinks.

He should say something. He wants to say something. But you’re still talking.

“He said he’d be back. Told me to wait.” Your voice wavers, and he knows what’s coming before you even say it.

“He never came back,” you slur. “So I went looking for him.”

He doesn’t realize how hard he’s pressing the gas pedal until the speedometer ticks a little higher than it should. He forces himself to ease off, fingers aching from how tight he’s gripping the wheel.

“And?” he asks, voice low, strained.

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Found him making out with some girl in the back.”

Silence.

Gojo breathes in slow, exhales through his nose. He should say something, anything. He should tell you that guy’s a fucking idiot, tell you that you deserve better, tell you that you should’ve never wasted your time on him.

Instead, what comes out is:

“What a dumbass.”

You hum in agreement, but it’s empty, hollow. “Guess I should’ve seen it coming.”

Gojo risks a glance in the rearview mirror. You’re staring out the window, fingers absently picking at the hem of your dress, your shoulders curled inward like you’re trying to disappear.

And fuck.

He hates this. Hates that he wasn’t there to stop it from happening, hates that he has to sit here and listen to you talk about someone else like this. Hates that you kissed him (or tried to). Hates that some guy got to have that moment, got to see the way you look just before a kiss, got to be the one you wanted tonight, even just for a second.

Most of all, he hates that you’re hurting, and he can’t do a damn thing about it.

His throat tightens, his chest burning, aching, twisting in ways he doesn’t know how to fix.

He should’ve been the one. “Toru.”

Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, sharp but fragile, like you’re barely holding yourself together.

His heart lurches at the sound. Because it’s you, because it’s the nickname only you call him.

But then you sigh, pressing your forehead against the cold window. “You’re a guy, right?”

Gojo snorts, the tension in his chest easing just enough for him to fall back into his usual teasing. “Last I checked.”

“Then tell me.” Your voice is quieter now, almost hesitant. You shift slightly, facing him from the back seat, eyes hazy but still searching. “What’s wrong with me?”

“What?”

You let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “Why has no one ever liked me?”

His throat goes dry.

“Not once,” you continue. “No guys in high school ever asked me out. The ones I liked never liked me back. And now this?” You gesture vaguely, frustration laced in your voice. “I just don’t get it. What is it about me that’s so… unloveable?”

Gojo’s entire body locks up.

Because.. are you serious?

You, who he has spent the last four years trying not to love too much, not to touch too long, not to stare at like you hung the damn moon— you actually think that?

His fingers tighten so hard around the wheel he thinks he might snap it in half.

“What kind of dumbass logic is that?” he mutters.

You frown, shoulders curling inward. “It’s not dumbass logic, Satoru, it’s just—”

“No,” he cuts you off, voice sharper than he intended. His jaw clenches as he forces himself to take a breath. “You don’t get to say that.”

Your lips press together, confused, vulnerable in a way that makes his chest ache.

Gojo doesn’t know how to do this. He doesn’t know how to tell you the truth without telling you. So he exhales, trying to steady himself, trying to be careful with the words he chooses next.

“You ever think,” he starts, voice quieter now, steadier, gentler, “that maybe it’s not you that’s the problem?”

You blink at him through the mirror. “Then what is it?”

Gojo grips the wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white.

It’s not that no one likes you, he wants to say. You just keep liking the wrong guy.

But instead, he exhales, rolling his shoulders like he can shake the weight off. Keeps his gaze fixed on the road. Forces a smirk.

“I dunno,” he lies, voice light, easy. “Maybe guys are just fucking stupid.”

You huff out a small laugh, but it’s tired, empty. “Guess so.”

And Gojo doesn’t say anything else. Because if he does, if he so much as breathes the wrong way, he’s afraid the words he’s been swallowing for four years might just slip out.

“It’s just…” You hesitate, fingers curling in your lap. “No, never mind.”

Gojo sighs, glancing at you through the mirror. “Nope. Not letting you do that. Tell me.”

You exhale, rolling your head against the window, staring out at the passing lights. “You wouldn’t get it,” you mumble. “You’ve had a girlfriend before. Everyone I know has been in a relationship at least once.”

He flinches at the reminder. The girl he dated in senior year (if you could even call it that). A little over a month, barely anything. He never liked her much, never felt the way he should have. Maybe because no matter how hard he tried, she wasn’t you.

“I just don’t know why I can’t get anyone to like me,” you admit, voice quieter now, like you’re talking more to yourself than to him. “Like, what am I doing wrong?”

Gojo exhales, staring at the road ahead. And before he can stop himself, before he can think better of it—

“You know I love you, right?”

Silence. Then, a small, sleepy smile tugs at your lips.

“I love you too,” you murmur. “You’re my best friend.”

He forces himself to chuckle, to keep his voice light. “Your bestest friend.”

You hum in agreement, stretching slightly before slumping deeper into the seat. A second passes, then another, and when Gojo glances at the mirror again, your eyes are drooping, lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

He waits for you to say something else, but instead, you sigh, shifting until your head rests against the window.

“…What were we talking about again?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep.

“Nothing important,” Gojo lets out a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Go to sleep, princess, I’ll wake you up when we’re home.”

You hum once more, barely conscious now, and within seconds, your breathing evens out.

It’s a little past one when Gojo pulls up in front of your apartment building. The streets are quiet now, the world settled into a lull, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional flicker of a passing car.

He shifts the car into park and exhales, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. You’re curled up against the window, lips slightly parted, face relaxed in the soft glow of the streetlights. Peaceful. Innocent. Completely unaware of the way he’s been drowning in his own thoughts for the past hour.

Gojo drums his fingers against the steering wheel before turning in his seat, reaching back to nudge your shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, voice softer than usual. “We’re here.” 

You stir slightly but don’t wake.

He tries again, fingers brushing against your cheek this time. “C’mon, I know you’re tired, but I’m not carrying you all the way upstairs.”

You groan, turning away from him, burrowing deeper into the seat.

He huffs, shaking his head with a smirk before unbuckling your seatbelt for you. “Alright, princess, up you go.”

Reluctantly, you blink your eyes open, slow and sluggish. “Wha’ time is it?” you mumble.

“Too late for you to still be passed out in my car,” he teases. “Let’s go.”

You manage to get out, swaying slightly the moment your feet hit the pavement. Without thinking, Gojo’s hand finds the small of your back, steadying you before you can tip over completely.

“Yeah, no,” he mutters, tightening his grip. “You’re gonna break something if I let you go up alone.”

You don’t argue, just let him guide you into the building, down the quiet hallway to your apartment. When you finally reach your door, you fumble for your keys, missing the lock twice before Gojo sighs and takes them from your hand, slotting the key in effortlessly.

You step inside, blinking sleepily, and Gojo lingers at the threshold.

“You got it from here?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

You pause, looking over your shoulder at him. “Wait for me?”

His brows lift slightly. “You sure you don’t just want to pass out in your dress?”

You glare at him, well, as much as you can in your drunken haze, before kicking off your shoes and stumbling toward your closet. “Give me five minutes,” you mumble, already pulling out a set of pajamas.

Gojo sighs but steps inside, leaning against the wall just outside your bedroom door as you disappear inside. He hears the soft rustling of fabric, the muffled sounds of you grumbling under your breath, the faint thud of something hitting the floor.

A few minutes later, you shuffle back out, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, eyes barely open.

He pushes off the wall, stepping toward you. “Alright, come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you to the edge of your mattress. You sit down, and before you can do much else, he’s tugging the blankets over you, tucking you in with practiced ease.

Just as he turns to leave, your fingers weakly grab at his sleeve.

“Toru,” you mumble, voice barely above a whisper.

He stills, glancing down at you. “Yeah?”

You blink up at him, cheeks slightly flushed, though he can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or exhaustion. “Forgot to take my makeup off.”

Gojo exhales a small laugh, shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

He leaves for a moment, disappearing into your bathroom before returning with a makeup wipe. He kneels beside your bed, pulling you up slightly to sit, and tilts your chin with a gentle touch.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.

You obey without question, too tired to protest. His fingers brush against your cheek as he wipes away the remnants of mascara and foundation, careful, steady. He’s never done this before, but somehow, he knows exactly how to be gentle with you.

He watches as the tension in your face fades, as your breathing evens out under his touch. He lingers, just for a second longer than necessary, before finally tossing the wipe aside.

“There,” he mutters. “All clean.”

Your eyes flutter open slightly, a lazy, sleepy smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Toru.”

He swallows, something warm and aching curling in his chest.

“…Yeah,” he says, voice quieter now. “Anytime.”

He stands to leave, but your fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Stay?” you ask softly. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Gojo exhales, rubbing a tired hand over his face. For a second, he hesitates, then, he drops onto the floor beside your bed. “Yeah, okay,” he murmurs. “Go to sleep.”

And for the first time all night, you listen to him.

The next morning, you wake up to a dull, throbbing headache and the faint taste of regret lingering on your tongue. The room is dim, soft morning light barely filtering through the curtains, and for a moment, everything feels disoriented. Until you shift slightly and feel the warmth of a blanket tucked snugly around you.

Blinking against the ache behind your eyes, you turn your head and freeze.

Gojo is asleep on the floor, his long limbs sprawled out awkwardly, his head resting at the foot of your bed. His white hair is tousled, one arm draped lazily over his face, and his breathing is slow, even, completely at peace.

Your heart clenches, but before you can process why, a particularly sharp pang of pain shoots through your skull, and you let out a quiet groan.

At the sound, Gojo stirs, blinking blearily up at you before stretching with a lazy yawn. “Morning, sunshine,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “How’s the hangover?”

“Terrible,” you croak, burying your face into your pillow. “Why are you on the floor?”

Gojo pushes himself up with a groan, rolling his shoulders. “Because someone wouldn’t let me leave,” he teases, ruffling his hair. “Which, by the way, you owe me for. My back is killing me.”

You groan again, rolling onto your side to look at him properly. “Ugh. Please tell me I didn’t do anything too embarrassing last night.”

Gojo pauses for half a second.

He remembers it all. The way you clung to him outside the party, the way you called yourself unloveable, the way you looked up at him through tired, glossy eyes and told him you loved him— as a friend.

But you don’t remember.

And for the first time in his life, Gojo is glad you don’t.

“Nah,” he lies smoothly, standing up and stretching. “You were a total angel.”

You squint at him. “You’re lying.”

He grins. “Guess you’ll never know.”

You groan, flopping dramatically back onto your pillows. “You’re the worst.”

Gojo snorts. “And yet, I’m the one getting you water and headache meds.”

That catches your attention. You peek up at him, skeptical. “You’re actually taking care of me?”

He places a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “What, like I wouldn’t?”

You narrow your eyes. “I feel like this is a trap.”

He laughs, already making his way to the kitchen. “Shut up and let me be a good friend for once.”

A few minutes later, he returns with a glass of water and a couple of pills, setting them down on your nightstand. You mumble a half-hearted thanks before sitting up, wincing as you swallow them down.

Gojo watches, hands on his hips, then huffs dramatically. “Alright, move over.”

You blink at him. “Huh?”

He gestures toward the bed. “Move. I spent the night on the floor like a peasant. I’m reclaiming my dignity.”

You laugh, groggy but amused, before shuffling over to make space. “Fine, but if you kick me in your sleep, I’m shoving you off.”

Gojo flops onto the mattress beside you with a relieved sigh, settling into your pillows like he belongs there. “Please, I am an excellent bedmate.”

You roll your eyes but don’t protest when he drapes an arm over his face, already half-asleep again.

And as your headache fades and sleep starts to pull you under again, you don’t think too much about how comfortable this feels.

But Gojo does. And he wonders how much longer he can pretend this is enough.

pls do not copy, repost, or claim my work as your own :) if you have any issues with what i wrote or noticed any mistakes, let me know privately. thank you for reading <3

[wlwsoccerfics]

LionessesXDeafReader)

Warning: deaf reader

A/N : when i Put something in ' ' it means it's signed

Summary: you get called up for your first England Camp and people are not taking it well. the fact that you are Keira Walsh's Baby sister doesn't make it any either. And you start doubting If you even should be there.

You sit on a bean bag in the gaming/TV room at England Camp. It was just the first day. The comments you have read so far were mostly great and supportive under the Team list of who made the cut. But then you read comments about yourself. Lots of mean ones including:

'how is she supposed to win us anything? she can't even hear instructions!'

'she is only on the team cause of Keira. she must have put a good word in for y/n.'

'her on the Team feels like a charity case!'

There were lots more of those comments. Which only made your self doubt become worse. Even though if it was just a first full day everyone had noticed that you were acting distant. Especially towards your sister & on top of that Grace. Your girlfriend. You just wanted to focus on football. Deep down you knew you were able to play at this level. You were one of the Star Players at Arsenal. Yes you and your sister played for two different teams. So did you and your girlfriend. But your best friend Alessia was playing for Arsenal with you. While your girlfriend Grace was playing with your other best friend Tooney. If you weren't any good Sarina wouldn't have called you up to play for the lionesses. But still theres a part of you hurt by people thinking just because you were deaf that you couldn't do your job. In the last five games for Arsenal you scored 7 Goals. That alone was saying alot. Yet there were still people wanting to bring you down.

'you are avoiding me!' you see your girlfriend sign, she showed up out of nowhere so you put your phone away.

'i am not!' you look at her and frown.

'you are! you are also avoiding Keira, Less & Tooney. And basically everyone!' she was clearly concerned.

'grace i am fine. just let it go.'

The fact that you didn't use a cute pet name for her was confirmation enough that something was totally not right.

Less and Tooney were also in the room, looking over at the two of you. they knew something was up as soon as you said you didn't want to play cards with them. And the discussion you had with Grace only confirmed that for them as well.

At the same time with Keira, Leah and Lucy...

"Keira, i think i know why your sister is keeping to herself." Lucy told her. Handing her Phone over to her. Showing the comments under the Squad post that are related to you.

"that's nasty!" Leah said, after Keira wordlessly showed them to her.

"i hope she knows that this Is crap. Nothing about this Is true!" Keira stated.

"well you should try and talk to her about that." Lucy replied.

'yeah either you do it or i will. If we wait for too long she is gonna Spiral!" Your England Captain and Arsenal teammate said.

"i will talk to her, don't worry about it." Keira let them know and then went to look for you.

She found you and Grace still arguing. Looking over at Less & Tooney.

"what is this about?" Keira asked your two best friends.

"y/n is claiming how fine things are and that she is not avoiding anyone! Even though we all know she is!" Tooney stated.

"they going back and forth now for almost 20 minutes!" Alessia explained.

"i want to know why she is avoiding us." Tooney stated and Keira grabbed her own Phone to show her and Lessi.

"Lucy thinks this might be the reason and honestly i think so too!" Keira let them know.

"oh my god. This Is terrible. And not true! She deserves to be here!" Alessia stated.

"which is why i will talk to her now." Your sister answered.

The Talk with Grace has gotten to a point where you both have gotten frustrated with one another that you stood up and wanted to race past your sister but Keira quickly grabbed your hand.

'stay. We need to Talk.'

'no we don't!'

'you do need to start letting us in on what's happening.' Alessia looked at you. Worry written across her face.

'fine. what do you want to know?'

'why you are acting this way. You avoiding us is not normal.'

'i don't belong here.'

'so it's about the comments!' Keira let out a soft sigh. Grace now standing next to you.

'what comments?' she wanted to know. Keira showing her the comments. Grace looked mad now.

'those comments are not true! you are amazing and you deserve this place in the Team!' Grace let you know.

'deep down i know. but those comments still hurt. i just want to show them how wrong they are!'

'then let's do that!' Tooney smiled at you.

The team put out a Statement that there is no place for bullying in any form. And that people who are disrespectful towards the players, especially the Younger ones Like you (you were only 22 years old) shouldn't watch the games.

You could Show them what you are made of during a Game against Portugal were you scored two Goals during your debut which sure did shut up the haters. Getting praised by your teammates and Sarina.

You couldn't hear but your eyes were working perfectly fine.

[vacate-et-scire]

༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹Baby Whats My Name◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ

There are moments Jason never thought he’d get. The quiet ones, the soft ones. The ones that don’t come with gunpowder in the air or sirens wailing in the distance.

But right now, it’s just the two of you, tangled together on the couch, your head resting against his chest, his fingers idly tracing shapes against your back. The TV hums in the background, some late-night show neither of you are really watching, but neither of you bothers turning it off.

And then, out of nowhere, you say, “So… what do you think of the name ‘Samuel’?”

Jason blinks. His fingers still against your back. “For what?”

“For a kid.”

His whole body tenses for half a second before he forces himself to relax. Not because the thought of kids scares him (okay, maybe a little), but because he wasn’t expecting this conversation at 11:42 PM on a Tuesday.

You shift, propping your chin on his chest so you can look at him properly. “I mean, we’ve talked about having kids before. Might as well get a head start on names, right?”

Jason squints at you. “Are you—?”

“No, I’m not pregnant.” You roll your eyes, amused. “I’d tell you if I was.”

He exhales, a little more relieved than he wants to admit. Not because he doesn’t want kids. But because if that day ever comes, he wants to be prepared. He wants to be ready.

Still, he hums, considering. “Samuel’s not bad. Sam. Sammy.” He shrugs. “Yeah, I could get behind that.”

You smile, clearly pleased with yourself. “Okay, your turn.”

Jason exhales, tilting his head back against the couch. “What about… Elliot?”

You raise a brow. “Elliot Todd?”

He nods. “Sounds solid. Smart. Plus, if the kid hates it, they can go by Eli or Lio or something.”

You tilt your head, considering. “I like it.” Then, after a pause, you add, “I was expecting something way more dramatic from you, though.”

Jason smirks. “Like what?”

You wave a hand. “I don’t know. Something ridiculous. Like Maximus.”

Jason’s grin widens. “Now that would be a badass name.”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “Our child is not going to be named after a gladiator.”

Jason snickers. “Fine, fine. No Maximus.” Then, after a beat, he says, “...What about a girl’s name?”

You perk up. “Okay. What about ‘Ivy’?”

Jason hums. “Pretty. Simple. Also, I know a certain someone in Gotham who might be very smug if we pick that.”

You snort. “True. She would take credit for it.”

Jason taps his fingers against your back, thinking. “What about ‘Rosa’?”

You blink. “Like… rose?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “It’s got an old-school feel to it. Plus, ‘Rosa Todd’ sounds cool.”

You test it out under your breath. “Rosa Todd.” Then, you nod. “I actually really like that.”

Jason grins. “See? I do have taste.”

You roll your eyes but kiss his jaw in silent agreement.

Another moment of silence passes, warm and easy, before you nudge him again. “Okay. What if we just went full Gotham legacy and named our kid something over-the-top?”

Jason smirks. “Like?”

You grin mischievously. “Richard..?”

Jason groans so loudly you can’t help but laugh. “Absolutely the hell not, hat's a horrible idea” he says.

“Is it, though?”

“Yes,” Jason insists. “He would gloat for eternity.”

You shake your head, still laughing. “Alright, fine. No Richard.”

Jason sighs dramatically. “Thank god.”

The two of you settle back into a comfortable quiet, your fingers tracing idle circles against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. It’s a silly conversation, maybe even premature, but the fact that you’re having it at all—that Jason’s letting himself have it—means something.

Maybe it won’t be tomorrow, or next year, but one day, this won’t just be a conversation. It’ll be real.

And somehow, that thought doesn’t terrify him. Not like it used to.

He glances down at you, lips brushing against your forehead. “Y’know,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure it out. When the time comes.”

You smile against his skin. “Yeah. We will.”

And for now, that’s enough.

[snowluvvie]

Wedding bells are ringing for Clark Kent and his valium-softened bride. ( based off this thought i had the other day )

MDNI 18+. warnings — implied/mentioned heavy drug use, dubcon due to extreme intoxication, objectification/bimbofication

The church is straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting—white wooden siding, a tall steeple, and a red-carpeted aisle leading to an altar adorned with lilies and roses. The air is thick with Chanel No. 5 and incense, mixing in strange, intoxicating waves, nearly enough to make the guests just as hopelessly loopy as you are. You arrive in a classic tea-length gown with layers of tulle—it’s all the rage this year—cinched at the waist so tightly that you sway a little bit as you walk. Your veil is long, trailing behind you like a vapor, your lips painted the precise shade of post-war optimism ( Revlon’s Fire & Ice, duh. )

Clark is hopelessly, irrevocably in love with his half-lucid bride. From the moment you step into the church, a confection of dreamy adoration in white tulle and a cloud of perfume, his entire world narrows to you alone. He watches as you glide toward him, your eyes just slightly unfocused, lips parted in a dazed, blissful smile—like a doll brought to life, like a dream drifting through the church. He grips the altar rail so hard his knuckles go white.

When you reach him, you let out a breathy giggle and murmur, “Hi, darling.” You’re not entirely sure how you got here, but you’re unwaveringly certain there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Clark swallows, utterly undone. “Hi, sweetheart.” He takes your hands carefully, his thumbs tracing gentle circles over the satin of your gloves. You sigh at the touch, leaning against him, a little too warm, a little too lost in the moment.

During the ceremony, you barely listen to the officiant, instead staring up at Clark with the sort of breathless, glassy-eyed adoration that makes his chest feel tight. When it’s your turn for the vows, you hesitate—not because you’re nervous, but because you keep forgetting what you’re supposed to say. You give a soft, confused little laugh, batting your lashes up at him.

“Oh, darling, what was I going to say? I had it in my head just a moment ago...”

Clark only smiles and squeezes your hands. “That you love me,” he murmurs, prompting you gently.

Your face lights up, relieved. “Oh! Yes! I love you, I love you, I love you.” But it truly doesn’t matter, Clark is already pressing the ring onto your finger, already bending to kiss you—long, lingering, chaste enough to be seen by your families but in that deep way that anchors you to him, something he always does.

The reception is held in the grand ballroom, plastered with gold and cream wallpaper, the kind of place where the women sip gin fizzes and the men loosen their ties after a few too many Old Fashioneds. The wedding cake is towering and ornate, white icing shaped into elaborate floral designs, managing to be extremely delicate and disgustingly excessive all at once.

Clark is approached by his work colleagues, all hearty backslaps and talk of mortgages and promotions. You drape yourself over his arm like an elegant, sentient fur stole, occasionally sighing contentedly as you play with the pearls around your neck, resting lightly against your collarbones. You’re adored by all, at least—not necessarily respected, but your beauty and devotion to your husband more than makes up for any… gaps… in your wit or lucidity.

When his work colleagues’ eyes find you in that hawklike fashion, tongue swiping over lips as they silently think between themselves what it must be like to fuck something so unwaveringly pliant and agreeable, Clark steers you away and back towards one of your families. That happens often, of course—people can’t seem to control themselves near a beauty like you, especially when they see the way you drift through your own life without opinion or complaint, content with whatever is going on. That’s what Clark is there for. Wrapped up safely in his warm embrace—if you can’t slip from his big arms for even a moment, no one can hurt you.

When you become quite distracted by the champagne bubbles in your glass, watching them rise like tiny golden stars, Clark gently turns your face back to him, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. He murmurs something to you, but you only hum in response, lost in the way he regards you with those pale crystal eyes. You find yourself leaned against his shoulder again—utterly content there

The band plays “Unchained Melody”, and when Clark takes you onto the dance floor, you cling to him as if he’s the only thing anchoring you to the ground. (He might be… his strong, supporting hand on the small of your back is the only thing keeping you from falling over.) You’re his doll, his pet, his soft little creature—adoring, glamorous, slightly vacant, but entirely his. And Clark, who’s nothing if not responsible and caretaking, holds you steady, a firm hand on the small of your back, guiding you as you whisper nonsense against his chest with your cheek pressed to the breast of his suit as you dance (mostly about the shape of his lips and whether or not it’s possible to get high off love alone, which he actually finds quite endearing.)

As the two of you drive away nestled into the backseat of a gleaming Cadillac, tin cans clattering behind you, you rest your head against his shoulder, sighing, your breath warm and sweet against his skin. “I love you so much I think I might die,” you murmur

Clark, ever steady, kisses the top of your head adoringly and replies, “Don’t be silly. You can’t die—you’re my wife now.”

Though the whole night Clark had been placating your lips, which sought his out, with chaste kisses so as not to disturb your friends and family—he indulges in you now when your mouth finds his. Humming into your mouth, giant hands easily guiding you backwards on the seat. Putty in his touch, you’re giggling airily into his mouth when he leans you back, and he moves his mouth to kiss along your jaw and your neck. He mouths at your collarbone, hands sliding up the front of your dress and feeling the way your corset is attached to you like skin.

Clark hums against your skin how much he loves the dress, how he earnestly hopes nothing bad happens to it tonight—he means it! He’s a sentimental guy, he wants your wedding dress to cherish in the attic for your own kids. But who knows… you can’t exactly navigate out of all the little buttons by yourself, with your clumsy hands, and who knows if he’ll be patient enough to painstakingly work through all of them himself.

You drive off into the night, into the 1950s dream—misery and responsibility and beauty, of steadfast devotion that leaves most people broken down and deflated. Though of course, your life will be one where Clark will work tirelessly, and you��ll wait for him, perfectly made-up, a cigarette perpetually nestled between your fingers. The bottles of valium nestled in the ceramic medicine cabinet will be more than enough to keep you this airy—floating in the throes of love with no troubles or concerns other than when he’ll be arriving home—for many years to come.

[pemiski]

tags elementary school teacher! sae x fem! reader, reader wears heels, workplace romance, fluff, spreading my ‘if sae wasn’t a football player he would’ve been good with kids’ agenda

author’s note if you’ve seen this before yes you have actually, i just figured a reblog wasn’t the best format so here’s a repost oopsie

“Ugh.” You rock the snack machine for what feels like the hundredth time, but the stubborn chocolate bar stays lodged behind the glass. Normally, you'd give it a few kicks but A) you're wearing brand new heels, and there’s no way you're sacrificing them for a sugar craving, and B) it’s nap time for your kids, and considering how hard it was to get them asleep in the first place, you’re not willing to deal with the aftermath of waking them up again, and especially not by whacking a huge metal box right outside of the classroom.

Out of nowhere, a hand reaches past you, giving the machine two rough, effortless knocks. The bar tumbles down like it was never stuck to begin with.

“Oh.” You blink, turning to thank your savior, but the words fizzle out the second your eyes meet the flurry of children behind him.

“Thanks,” you manage to mumble, your fingers frozen mid-air as you grip the candy, your eyes unable to sustain is stare.

“Don't mention it.” He straightens the lanyard around his neck, having gone askew due to the impact.

Without another word, he’s already turning back to the group of kids trailing behind him, stretching his arms behind the backs of the ones closest to him to gently push them forward.

“Alright, come on. Let’s go.”

“Hello, Miss L/N!” Leah, one of the little girls, chirps brightly from the line.

“Hi, Leah.” You smile automatically, but your gaze is still stuck on the back of Sae’s head, and the way he holds hands with one of the kids who reached for him, and calmly listens to the way another animatedly talks to him with a soft smile.

You blink, as if snapping yourself out of a haze.

Get a grip, you urge yourself.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him around, not even close. In fact, ever since he transferred to the school at the start of summer term, it’s been almost impossible not to notice Sae Itoshi. The whole faculty has been whispering about the new 3rd grade history teacher like he’s some rare species.

But for all the talk, you’ve hardly ever exchanged more than a few polite words with him. Good morning, thank you, have a nice day. That’s about the extent of your thrilling repertoire.

Honestly, you’re not the kind of girl who gets flustered by a little knight-in-shining-armor routine, especially not in front of students. And especially, especially not in front of the young, gossipy, nosy ones.

Still...

You steal one last glance down the hall, just in time to catch the broad line of his back disappearing around the corner.

His lanyard is still slightly askew.

God help you.

@pemiski 2025 - all rights reserved. I do not authorize any reposting translating or modifying of my content on any platform