#i just want him to talk to me while he touches me

[nanaslutt]

roommates!gojo & geto jerking each other off while thinking abt their cute neighbor they both want soooo bad

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

“do it harder.” geto groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he laid back against satoru’s pillows. said man currently had his hand wrapped around his cock, albeit poorly. his hand was soft as fuck, but he was touching him like he had never touched a dick before. “jerk me off how you jerk yourself off.”

gojo snorted, his words breathy as he spoke, “what if i like it soft?” geto shook his head and curled his toes when gojo wrapped his hand around him tighter. “these walls are thin, i’ve heard you having sex and i know you don’t like it soft. those poor girls.”

gojo laughed, “they love it, i think she would love it too.” he said. geto licked his lips, starting to paint an image in his head. “what would you do to her?” he asked tentatively, his eyebrows furrowing together when gojo focused on his cock head like the bastard he was.

“mmm i think id start with fingering her.” gojo said. “i’ve seen her a couple times in the laundry room bend over in those tiny shorts—you know the ones. and her-“ he stopped talking to groan when geto stroked over a particularly sensitive vein. “they don’t cover much.”

geto nodded, seeing you bent over in his head. “you think she’s sensitive?” geto asked, cracking his eyes open to peek at gojo. his eyes were lidded and focused on the hand around his cock. geto tried not to shy away when he felt his pre cum drip into his hand. he’d never jerked anyone off before—besides himself.

“oh yeah,” gojo responded, biting his plush lip. for some reason it made geto’s mouth water. “i think… fuck, i think i could make her squirt with just my fingers.” gojo’s face was getting flushed now. it made geto want to tease him. “yeah?” he asked, squeezing his hand tighter around his shaft and relishing in his reaction when he sucked in a breath through his teeth and arched his back. “would you make her squirt all over our couch?”

gojo moaned at his filthy words and nodded, his head tipping back against the headboard. “yeah.” geto nodded, looking at his roommate even though his eyes were closed. “what would you do if i walked in when you were making her cum?” he asked, paying attention to the head of his cock.

“i-id let you suck my fingers clean.” he groaned, making geto’s balls throb at the visual. “god, she’d probably get so hot… trying to press her thighs together watching me suck your fingers.” gojo nodded, his mouth falling open in a small O.

“would you want her pussy or her ass?” geto asked, his breath coming more quickly. “ass, i know it’s so tight and warm. god. would you want her at the same time?” geto nodded despite him being unable to see. “yeah, just think about how good she would look with tears down her face trying to take us both.”

suddenly, a hand way being wrapped around his wrist. geto opened his eyes fully and watched with rapt attention as gojo cursed before his back arched. he continued stroking him, despite knowing what was gonna happen. he cringed when hot ropes of cum spilled from his dick, coating his hand and his cock and making a lewd sound from the stroking.

gojo gripped geto’s wrist to stop him, and geto pulled it away and made a face at the mess on his hand. gojo also had stopped jerking him off, just weakly holding his throbbing cock. “that did it for you huh?” he teased. gojo laughed before removing his hand from geto’s cock.

gojo crawled off the edge of the bed and bent down to grab a towel to wipe his cock clean with. geto gripped his cock and languidly started stroking, waiting for gojo to help him get off. “your turn, one minute man. come keep this fantasy going so i can blow all over your hand and pretend it’s hers.”

a cruel smile twisted on gojo’s face before he dropped the towel and zipped his pants back up. “i’m sure you can finish yourself off.” getos mouth opened in disbelief. “if you need some help, i have porn from last night still up on my laptop, feel free to check it out. it’s really good stuff.” with a wink, he left geto gaping and alone in HIS room with his stiff cock in his hand.

fucking biiiitch.

[reshinless]

hi!!! i hope ur doing well>< can u do kinich with a shy s/o but get reaaally freaky in bed?

art creds: @ sumi_noth on x

warnings: p in v sex, anal penetration, afab!reader (no specified gender), consent king kinich, freaky ass reader, handcuff usage, blindfold usage, dirty talk kind of, but mostly praise, oral(?, eating you out),

he didn't expect your interests to be... different from your actions, or at least in public. your shy grasps on his arm if ever you were anxious, or the habit of standing in front of you to intimidate

or the flushed expression that danced across your cheeks when he complimented you. it could be the arm that grasped your waist when he knew you were uncomfortable.

well, whatever it was, it was cute in its own way.

but looking at you and comparing to then—are you really the same person...? maybe you have a secret twin!

"n- nngh! kin— pleasef- I wan' it s'bad!" you whined, feeling him strike your insides for the umpteenth time. he really didn't mind but he could see how shaky your legs were.

"y'sure? you're trembling, baby." "mmn, need more, please?"

he simply tilted his head, you looked tired. he doesn't care too much about himself since his stamina sustains for very long. but yours didn't.

he swore this little thing of yours lasted a week each month. always telling him how bad you needed him with those pleading eyes. he couldn't say no, that'd be mean!

"whatever you want, sweetheart."

he'd give you the world if possible, but he cares for your safety, so he does end up not going through with your feralness in bed. no matter how cute your whining and begging might be- he doesn't want to take advantage of the fact that you want all of him more than just seven rounds.

one time you asked him to cuff you to the bed, and he asked more than just five times. you.. want him to use his elemental skill to tie you to the bed post? is that really safe?

well, he wouldn't complain too much, pulling on the vine line like a leash if he just decided on cuffing them behind you, or grasping your hair while you take him from behind.

as long as you're okay with it ('till he notices you're visibly tired). he learns to know your limits as well, no more how freaky you are. cause he isn't with you for the sake of sex, but for you yourself.

these moments with you were just a bonus. and in which he very much treasured. oh well, back to the blurb of him slamming you from behind.

he likes positions where he sees your face better. the one he usually sees hiding in the strands of your hair, or in the softness of your palms. he promises he doesn't have a corruption kink or whatever but damn he loved the way your expression would distort to something so naughty. fuck, he needed this as much as you did.

the sounds he long sought after for back when you both weren't even together yet, he didn't want to admit- but he did fantasize this. how the lewd mewls would spill like a river from the beauty and softness of your mouth.

he couldn't help but groan right into the shell of your ear. instinctively his mouth moves, to praise you of course.

"doin' s'fuckin well for me sweetheart, just keep taking me in like that yeah?"

you could feel yourself clench at the very end of his sentence. fuck you didn't know praise could feel this good, his movements matched with the quick, lusty grunts he let out.

even when he placed the blindfold onto your pretty head. he missed your pretty eyes, the way they'd look at him with a pleading look. he could barely see how your eyebrows furrowed.

that's alright, he liked how you seemed so vulnerable, not knowing where to place your hands, and you can't predict what he'd do, or where his touch would land next (which was your entrance)

placing his lips onto the soft folds, licking you up and down with tease. hearing you moan and sob, asking him to stop edging and get to the point, but he doesn't really like when you're being a little bratty.

"take what i give you, or i'll leave you like this, 'kay?"

and you couldn't do anything but nod. his cold words sent shivers down your spine, combined with the kitty licks to your clit, the coldness of his ungloved palms that spread your legs apart, squeezing them every now and then.

really loves the way you taste though, loves how addicting it can get. you're the only drug he'd ever take.

once he's done "punishing" you, he goes right back to being the sloppy eater he is. his mouth basically attached itself to your soppy entrance.

doesn't matter if you're cumming or not—he laps everything up like a homeless man who's got food for the first time in forever.

he doesn't know what it is- maybe it's the scent, or is it truly the taste? maybe it could be the way it looks? or maybe how it feels? he doesn't get why he wants your essence so bad, but whatever magic it has he hopes it'll last him lifetimes (or at least last you a good orgasm)

overall is just "whatever you want, my love" and makes sure you get the best out of it! :)

[moonstruckme]

I don’t know if you currently accept requests but if you do could you write something with Spence where reader isn’t really a touchy kind of person and the team goes out for drinks, r gets drunk and is super touchy with Spencer and he is so flustered but secretly loves it?

If not don’t worry about it<3

Thank you for requesting angel <3

cw: alcohol

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 759 words

“Dave,” Prentiss says firmly, “I’ve got it.” 

“No, you got it last time.” Rossi’s trying to put his credit card down on the tab the waiter left, but Prentiss blocks him with a hand. “Let me take this one.” 

“I don’t care which of them gets it,” you say near Spencer’s ear. “Just glad it’s not me.” He laughs. 

Luckily, you’re not loud enough for anyone to hear but him. You’ve become surprisingly mumbly after a few drinks, imparting your observations and witticisms to Spencer alone, your cheek on his shoulder. Surprisingly tactile, too. 

“What are you doing?” he asks as you trace the creases spanning the insides of his fingers. He doesn’t think you’re doing anything really, drunk enough to be susceptible to whims and mindless fiddling, but Spencer likes to hear you talk. 

You make a muted humming sound. “Reading your finger lines.”

“You mean my palm lines?” 

“No, I mean your finger ones. I’m inventing a new science.” 

Spencer smiles. The tip of your nose is touching the knit of his cardigan, he wonders if it itches. You might not notice, though, with the way you’re so concentrated on his hand. Your lashes shadow your eyes like heavy clouds. 

“You know,” says Spencer, “there’s been some disagreement among biologists about palm lines. They’re called palmar flexion creases, and while it’s largely agreed upon that they form before birth to allow freedom of movement without stretching the skin on our hands, some also think that certain lines can indicate certain medical conditions.” 

“Huh.” You trace your finger down to his palm. “So, sort of like telling the future.” 

“Well, modern medical practitioners can usually identify those conditions early after birth anyway—but sure, if you want to think about it that way.” 

“That’s okay, I’m not that invested in palm line science anyway.” 

You say it placidly, even though you’re not moving away, like nothing is really all that important so long as you’re touching him. The dim, orange bulbs of the lamps in the bar cast shadows under your lashes and in the dip of your cupid’s bow.

Your finger keeps moving absently, past Spencer’s wrist until you’re nudging up his shirtsleeve. “You have really nice forearms,” you murmur. 

Spencer’s skin prickles with a blush. He takes your hand away in an effort to deter you, but you only go along with the deviation, linking your fingers through his. He glances at Garcia, relieved when she’s not looking. Just last week, she’d asked Spencer and Morgan if you secretly didn’t like her. 

I tried to give her a hug, she’d said, pouting confusedly, and she went as stiff as a board. It was the worst rejection I’ve had since high school.

Morgan had laughed. Not everyone is as warm and fuzzy as you are, babygirl. Don’t take it personal. She’s just not the touchy type.

You feel for Spencer’s other hand under the table, seeking to add it to your collection. He gives it over to avoid a fuss. 

On the other end of the table, Rossi seems to have successfully paid the bill. 

“Okay.” He gets up with a sigh, grabbing his coat. “I will see you kids tomorrow.” 

“Bright and early,” JJ agrees with joking weariness. 

As your team starts to get up, say goodbye, and (in Garcia’s case) hurriedly slurp up the remainders of their drinks, Spencer gives your fingers a tentative squeeze. 

“Time to go,” he tells you. 

You sigh heavily, warm breath permeating his cardigan. “Okay. I guess.” 

Spencer’s not entirely sure where your reluctance is coming from—if he were you, he’d be eager for his bed—but you stand without complaint, immediately looping your arm through Spencer’s and leaning comfortably against his side. 

Morgan raises his eyebrows. “Need some help there, pretty boy?” 

“That’s okay.” It’s out before Spencer can think it through, and heat comes to his face when Morgan’s lips lift with a knowing grin. 

Thankfully, Hotch spares him any elaboration. “I can take her home.” He’s watching you severely, the way a strict parent looks at their teenager before reluctantly getting them ibuprofen and a glass of water for the next morning. “She can’t drive.” 

“That’s okay,” Spencer says again. “I can drive her.” 

Hotch’s face is impassive, but Spencer can tell he’s not overly surprised. “Are you sure? I live closer than you do.” 

“I’m sure.” Again, his face heats at what he knows his answer is revealing. But Spencer looks down at you, contented and half asleep against his side, and it’s worth it. “I don’t mind.”

[whimsyvixen]

Ooh would you ever do a piece on like a riot cop/riot suppression officer? Just a big burly guy with a face covering helmet that wants nothing more than to pound some law and order into the mc

Men in uniform always have clutching my pearls. Abuse of authority kink makes me one sick woman but I can't help my desires. I want to be held down by a strong man, especially by one that is hellbent on putting me in my place~~⛓️😩

You have a very peculiar head on those shoulders, darling. I absolutely love it~ 🖤♥️. You actually gave me a bit of motivation to doodle something for this idea of yours. I can't offer you a story so this drabble is the best I can give you. I hope you like it ✌️💋💋💋!!

~

Red Velvet

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Riot police officer x female reader

⚠️ WARNINGS/TAGS⚠️: explicit content, yandere, dark smut, rape/non-con elements, forced orgasm, unprotected sex, mating press, forced breeding, slapping, dacryphilia, degradation, dirty talk.

You're shrieking and sobbing from the exquisite fucking being forced on you. It was too much! I couldn't do this anymore. You're trying to shove him away and pleading for him to be more gentle, your squirming doing little to disrupt the tempo of his pistoning hips.

Desperately, you threw your hand forward with all your might and your fist connected with his face. He let out a grunt of pain, holding his nose with one hand while he held you down with the other hand to pin you to the floor. Seeing him gingerly touch his nose to determine the damage, your struggles renewed to get away from him. Suddenly, a vicious backhand twisted your head to the side, your stunned face breaking out in more tears from the sting on your cheek.

"The hard way it is then," there is a vacant look in his eyes as he stares down at you, making you dread what he had in store for you. He is quick to grab the back of your knees, pushing them to your chest to fold you into a more obscene position.

He doesn't give you time to formulate a protest before your high pitched cries echo across the room once more as he jackhammers into your poor abused pussy, the filthy squelch of cock piercing the walls of your womanhood audible over the repeated slap of wet flesh clashing against one another. Tears blur the image of the riot police officer above you, his black attire pristine if not for the blood smeared across it.

Those poor people. They didn't deserve it and here you were, allowing the monster responsible for their deaths pound away at your insides like a common whore.

"I'm almost there, you rebellious little bitch," he hissed over you, his serpentine eyes fixated on his cock plundering the heated depths of your pussy. His brows scrunched in near pain as your cunt strangles his dick, your walls gripping the rod of flesh so tightly that it was almost hard to pull out of you when he shifted his hips back.

"I'm cumming inside this tight little pussy." He chuckled at your horrified expression, bringing one gloved hand down to rub your swollen clit tenderly before pinching it between his fingers. The action had your hips thrusting up, a mortifying moan escaping your lips as you shook from the painful pleasure. Your eyes rolled back as he continued applying pressure to your sensitive nub, your mind no longer coherent as your body became a slave to his touch. Your hips started grinding shyly into his thrusts, unable to resist the decadent pleasure of a dick stretching your cunt and kissing your womb with every deep thrust.

"Good girl, let's end this, yeah?" He murmured sweetly, his harsh breathing muffled behind his mask. "I can feel my balls tightening up. Get ready for my load, bitch. You'll be drowning in it soon enough."

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for anon

Request: something with an orc and a female human? Something fantasy-based, maybe human owns a tavern? I'd be fine with whatever you thought worked though!

A/N: Sorry this is kind of late, life is hectic. Enjoy!

Kissing an orc

Orc x fem!reader || accidental exhibitionism, oral sex, groping

You are kneading the bread for the next day when the knock on the door startles you. “Your favorite orc is hereeeee,” your annoying naga helper sing-songs to you. You shush them in your way to the door, signaling them to stop or you’ll kill them. They chuckle and disappear to the front, a broom already on their hands. Good, at least they would stop being a little shit while they do the tavern cleaning.

You open the door and have to swallow a gasp. It doesn’t matter how many times you look at him, it always amazes you how fucking beautiful he is. All giant, towering over you, with his beautiful olive skin and big tusks framing his appetizing mouth. Good goddess you’d give all your gold to be able to kiss him at least once to know how that mouth would feel against yours.

“Hi- hi,” you stutter. You chastise yourself, trying to act composed, but suddenly your skin feels too hot and your breathing is pushing your boobs a bit too forward.

“What was all that about? Am I your favorite orc? Do you know more orcs?” He looks so confused and adorable you want to pinch his cheek, but also kiss him senseless.

You look at him completely dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

“Yes?” You aren’t sure if it’s a question or an affirmative.

You take a deep breath, thinking about all the possible possibilities of what you are about to do, but you are so fucking tired. You want to know, and if it goes wrong, you can always change hunters and find a new person or monster to bring you fresh meat for your tavern every day, right? Yeah. You can probably find somebody else, but you can’t wait more time to know how do his lips taste.

You stare into his beautiful dark eyes and answer truthfully: “Of course you are my favorite orc, I’ve been trying to ask you out for months.”

“What?” He looks so surprised you want to laugh, but the nervousness in your stomach prevents you to do anything. “But, but… I asked and you didn’t… you didn’t…” He takes a deep breath and starts again. “I asked you to meet me for breakfast and you said you had to work. I asked you if you wanted coffee and said you had to work.” As soon as he says that, you can remember a few other times he asked you for coffee or lunch or some snack and you always refused because you thought he did it just because he was nice, not because he was interested. Were you really that obvious?

You look at him, your face mirroring his surprise. “Oh.”

“You are just too cute for your own good, damn it.” He doesn’t wait for your answer before his hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you breathless. “We could have been doing this for a long time if you just said so,” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you again.

Kissing an orc is even better than you imagined. His tusks frame your mouth perfectly and his lips are way softer than expected. He is perfect and you can’t even comprehend what he’s doing when he crouches and grabs your ass, pulling you up and walking inside, the deer he caught today left there, forgotten.

He moves around the kitchen like he owns it, and before you know it your ass is over a table and he’s kissing your neck, making goosebumps erupt on your skin. His hands are everywhere, tracing the edge of your corset, caressing your back and groping your ass over the skirt of your dress. His hands fit under the skirt and he goes up and up until his hand is over your center and you are panting, his mouth hot against your pulse point as he touches your vulnerable place.

He caresses your legs over your underpants and asks: “Can I?” His lips move against your neck when he talks and you have to suppress a tremor.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant, already pulling the skirt of your dress up to your waist as he pulls down your underpants, kissing your leg along the way.

“Have somebody ever…?” He doesn’t have to say it, you know what he means. You aren’t a blushing virgin, but you never had enough trust in anyone to let them… kiss you there.

“I never… Nobody ever… Not there,” you try to explain.

He gets it instantly, kissing your mouth until your brain is far away from your worries and his dexterous fingers find your pearl, flickering it and making you bite down on his lip. He groans and you giggle against his lips, he kneels on the floor in front of you and goes for it.

You moan very loudly as inexplicably pleasure breaks through your body, making you throw your head back and arch your back in an arch that leaves your boobs about to spill over your corset. You are sure it looks sinful from his position, but when you open your eyes the only thing you see is his face still buried between your legs, your thighs pressing against the sides of his head so strongly you are worried you are going to hurt him, but his pleased sounds are good enough to make you groan again.

You cover your mouth to avoid screaming his name as his tongue does wonders around your lucky pearl, his tusks framing your pussy in a way that leaves you breathless and ready for more at the same time. It’s wonderful and marvelous and all the adjectives you can’t even comprehend as he sucks and licks your hot center, dragging all kinds of sounds out of you.

You’ve never felt that kind of pleasure, and as it starts to peak, you don’t know what to do with all of it. You grab his hair and pull, making him grunt as his fingers dig into your hips where he’s holding you still. You are messing up his braid, but you can’t care about it as he keeps licking and fucking you with his tongue. It’s the most intense experience of your life and when the pleasure hits its peak, you have to bite down on your hand to avoid the cry that was about to leave your mouth.

He licks you through it, until your legs are trembling around his head and your pussy is pulsating in time with your heartbeat. He doesn’t stop there, he keeps milking all the pleasure out of you with such frantic need that you can’t do anything but match it. When your second orgasm hits you, the first one was still there, joining in the middle in the biggest wave of pleasure you’ve ever felt.

He kisses your pussy and your highs, not trying to make you untie your legs from around his head. His tender caresses are a contrast with the frantic devouring he just did, but it’s the best kind of contrast. You are still breathing hard and he’s still on the floor in front of you licking you clean when the door to the tavern opens with a screech.

“Dude! That’s where I make the bread!” The annoying naga screams as he opens the door just in time to see him kissing your pussy one last time.

[puck-luck]

luke x older reader anon again! congrats on 1k! submitting the same request, with hearts and prompt 25 🫶🏻

warnings: unprotected p in v, age gap (not major.), religious themes & motifs, pining, childhood friends to lovers vibes, best friend's brother ofc, jealousy, occasionally insecure statements from luke, really just the sweetest sex you can imagine. i LOVED writing this. hence... the length.

WC: 4,351

You’ve been friends with the Hughes boys as long as you can remember. The first time you met Quinn, it was during your first pee-wee skate. 

Your dad was a big hockey fan, so he wanted to teach you how to skate. The debate had been between figure skating and hockey– your mom loved gymnastics, dance, and figure skating, having been an artistic athlete herself. Your dad wanted you to skate regardless, but hockey felt more suited for your talents. You were a competitive child– and territorial over your toys– so your dad thought it would translate well into a hockey environment. 

He took you to the Olympics in Salt Lake when you were three years old. You went to see figure skating and two of the United States hockey games– one for the men and one for the women. To your dad, it wasn’t a surprise how your eyes grew into saucers when you watched your first live hockey game.

He’d enrolled you in peewee skate the following week. There were no girls-only leagues, so you were put into a coed league. Quinn was in the same league. You became very fast friends– you liked to talk, your new little buddy liked to listen, and then you finally got him out of his shell midway through the season and your friendship was fully cemented. Actually, the second you learned his last name was Hughes– like Sarah Hughes, who won the Olympic Gold in single’s figure skating when you were in Utah– he was stuck with you. Just because you’d preferred hockey didn’t mean you didn’t love ice skating, too. It just wasn’t your passion.

You and Quinn stayed in touch after that peewee hockey season, enrolling in the same league and requesting to be on the same team until you both graduated into the boys- and girls-only leagues. You still remained friends, staying in contact as best you could when he moved to Toronto. You’d send letters back and forth and you became a pro at interpreting Quinn’s boyishly terrible handwriting. He’d tell you about his brothers, his parents, his school, and his hockey teams. You’d keep him updated on home, but then it stopped being home to Quinn. Soon enough, you were only talking about hockey and family. ‘Did you see that Crosby won the Hart Trophy?’ ‘Yeah! Ovi got the Calder though, so we’re still on even playing field. Canadian boy.’ ‘Hey, Ovi is Russian. Choose a real American and get back to me.’

It wasn’t long until you secured an invitation to visit the Hughes during the summer. You and your family went up to Toronto to visit them and you got to play with the Hughes boys for a whole week. It was so much fun, so the next summer, you begged to invite them to your place for a week.

The tradition continued for years, alternating houses and hometowns. You and Quinn both applied to Michigan– he played hockey, you did not. You were a good player, but you’re more of a beer league girl. You weren’t recruited to play college hockey– which, for a while, you thought was weird, because there are so few female hockey players in America. You’re hoping that your lack of recruitment means that there are hundreds of amazing women who are better than you at the sport, and that helped you accept your fate. After all, Quinn would sometimes bring you to the rink when it was empty. You’d get to play for a little while– and it was nice, in college, to have someone who knew you so well.

A lot of people assumed that you and Quinn were together, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Quinn was like your brother. There was that weird month when you were thirteen and you’d gone to visit him over the summer and you’d thought, maybe… but it turned out that you were just thirteen and confused because of your rampant hormones and puberty. Quinn is just your friend, your best friend. 

All of the brothers were pretty off-limits. You’d seen the way girls had started flirting with Jack as he’d entered his teens. You’re able to admit that he’s a cute boy. Luke was an absolute sweetheart, always trying to play with Quinn (and, by extension, you) as you’d grown up. You felt so fond of Luke in a ‘look at how precious he is, I need to protect him’ sort of way.

And then, last night at the lake house, he’d helped you line up a shot in pool and kept his hand on the small of your back when you bent over the table, and your mind had been spinning ever since. 

You can’t tell Quinn, obviously. That’s his baby brother. You’re not even sure how you feel about it– Luke’s always been your little buddy. Now, he’s over half a foot taller than you, so he’s not so little anymore. Still– he’s four years younger than you and Quinn. It’s the equivalent of a freshman hooking up with a senior and you feel icky. 

Regardless, you can’t keep your eyes off of him. He likes to twirl his fork between his fingers when he’s done eating dinner. He’ll spread his legs and sit forward when he’s playing video games with his brothers. An absent-minded, crooked smile falls on his mouth every time he’s only half-listening to you or the other boys. It’s paired with a look in his eyes that you can only describe as warm and content. In twenty-four hours, you’ve noticed more things about Luke than you’ve ever seen before. 

He’s grown up. It’s still a little weird to you, but he’s 21. You’re still 24, even though your 25th birthday is slowly creeping forward. You find yourself justifying the three year age gap, persuading yourself that it’s fine to look at Luke like that, but then you catch yourself and look away. You’re pushing the idea out of your brain.

But he’s goofy, and cute, and so sweet. He’s the same Luke as always, but you’re seeing him in a brand new way.

You’re able to keep yourself at bay for over a week. The boys throw a party and invite some girls over. Normally, you’re not jealous. You’re calm. You don’t care. 

Across the room, there’s a girl flirting with Luke. She’s got a hand on his arm and you’re nursing a drink, seeing red. You’re using Jack as a shield, but you’re still able to look over his shoulder. You think you’re being slick, but it turns out… you’re not.

“What are you looking at?” Jack laughs, tilting his head at you exaggeratedly before turning.

Unfortunately, you know you’ve been found out. There’s only one thing that would have you glowering in such a way. Nothing else in sight is nearly as interesting as Luke and the girl beside him. Jack clocks it right away.

He turns back to you with a tight, knowing smile, like he’s trying to hold back laughter. He pushes his tongue into his cheek and quirks his eyebrows at you. 

“Interesting,” Jack says, swirling his drink in his solo cup and then bringing the rim to his mouth. He maintains eye contact as he sips. 

You pop the bottom of the cup, making the drink splash into Jack’s face. “Fuck off.”

He wipes his mouth and crosses his arms, cradling the drink in the pocket of his elbow. “You and little Lukey?”

You grind your teeth and glare at him in the most menacing way you can. Jack has known you for too long to be intimidated by your glares. He also never really cared that much in the first place– he’s too shit-eating to be concerned about the repercussions of his words.

Jack smirks some more. “Don’t worry,” he says, popping his jaw like he’s turning a piece of gum over in his mouth. “Your secret is safe with me.”

You clench your teeth and continue glaring. You suck your cheeks in and bite down on the inside of your mouth, lips curling with annoyance. 

“You know, he wouldn’t mind if you went over there and staked your claim,” Jack says with a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t think he’d be upset at all.”

“Fuck off,” you repeat again. 

“C’mon, Y/N.” Jack pushes your shoulder lightly, jokingly. “You’re being obvious.”

“Quinn’ll kill me. And– it’s Luke, Jack.”

“So what? It’s not weird. We all grew up together. We’re all around the same age. It’s not a big deal. He’s had a crush on you forever.”

“It’s different,” you sing-song. “He’s younger than me.”

“Let’s go, Cougar,” Jack teases, reaching up to high-five you. 

You don’t take it, instead deciding to punch his stomach. 

Jack doubles over like you actually wounded him, but straightens up smiling. “You oughta go make him jealous.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“Dude, I’m serious. Let’s go flirt with Trevor or something. Someone who Luke thinks you’re better than– I guarantee he’ll be over here in a second.”

Jack actually tugs you toward Trevor and explains the plan before you can even get a word in. So much for keeping your secret. Trevor, to his credit, is a very willing subject. He keeps a hand on your waist during the whole conversation and you do your best to ignore the niggling desire to look over your shoulder at Luke. 

Turns out, you should’ve been worried about Quinn.

“Get your hands off her, Zegras,” Quinn snaps, pushing Trevor’s hand off of your waist and stepping between you. “You’re not allowed to fuck my friend.”

If that’s how he feels about one of his friends touching you, then you feel a bit faint at the idea of Quinn’s reaction to Luke getting together with you. That might seal the deal– you really can’t fuck Luke.

“I’m not fucking her,” Trevor says. “We’re working an angle here, Quinn.”

Quinn scoffs. “Yeah? What angle is that, Trevor?”

“We’re trying to make Luke jealous, hello?” Trevor says like it’s obvious. 

“Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face in your hands. “Trevor, you fucking moron.”

“What?” Quinn demands, but his look turns into sheer bewilderment. “You’re doing this for Luke?”

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, stomping away. 

Trevor, somehow, is free to follow after you. Quinn hasn’t stepped in to stop him. You wish he would. He’s probably too confused. “This is good,” he says. “He’s definitely going to see us going upstairs together. Hold my hand.”

“No.”

“Dude, it was working. Luke was looking over at us the whole time.”

“I don’t care, Trevor.”

“Don’t you want him?”

“Not like that,” you hiss between your teeth. “I don’t want to make Luke jealous. I want him to come to me because he wants to, okay? Go downstairs. I don’t want to be with you right now.”

Trevor holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright. I’ll go. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You disappear into your bedroom, changing into pajamas and climbing into bed. It’s nice to have your own bedroom in the lake house that Jack and Quinn bought with their NHL salaries, but tonight it’s bittersweet to be able to hear the party going on as you lay in bed. It’s not at all like when you fall asleep during a holiday party and your parents put you to bed, and you can still hear the laughter of the guests in your dreams. Now each bout of laughter reminds you of her, the girl whose hand was on Luke like she already owned him, and you wonder if he’s making her giggle with his stupid corny jokes.

God, last week you didn’t even like Luke. Now you’re burning with jealousy– or maybe it’s the fires from Hell, because you’ve got a completely inappropriate crush on your best friend’s little brother. You can never come back to the lake house like this, at least not until you’ve gotten over this shit. Why are you so affected? It’s Luke, for fuck’s sake.

It’s Luke again when someone comes knocking at your door. You thought it would be Quinn, ready to chew you out or question you extensively about this crush. To your surprise, the problem himself appears. 

“You okay?” Luke asks, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. His silhouette is burly and big and you have to close your eyes to shake the pang of emotion that penetrates your chest.

“Just tired,” you reply quietly. “Couldn’t stomach the party anymore.”

“Did Trevor say something to upset you?”

Quieter: “No, Luke.”

He hovers silently. You can hear the cogs in his brain turning. His pitch matches yours when he speaks next, although his tone is much more melancholic than despondent. “Are you mad at me?”

You hesitate for a second too long. You’re not mad, but you’re certainly taken aback by the uncertainty in his words. “No, Luke,” you say again, but this time the pang that goes through your chest is more familiar. You don’t want to upset him. You’ve always wanted to protect Luke from the world, but now you’ve made him unsure and insecure. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Luke asks, and you have to take a shaky breath. He sounds so small. It’s like the time that you didn’t let him ride bikes with you and Quinn to the store, even though he begged, and then he cried and ran to his mom. After seeing Luke’s puffy red eyes and resolute determination to ignore you for the rest of the night, your soda and candy bar didn’t taste as good. In fact, they tasted a bit like cardboard. You ended up throwing half of the bar away and going home early. You swore you’d never make sweet little Luke feel that way again.

“You wouldn’t get it, I don’t think,” you tell him quietly, pushing yourself up in bed and resting on your elbows. You take a deep breath and look at him, sure that he can see the way your chest rises and falls. 

Your eyes have adjusted enough that you can see the way Luke’s mouth opens, as if to say something, then closes with a shake of his head. You notice his eyes fluttering towards the corner of your room, removing you from his line of vision. “Okay. You don’t have to tell me,” Luke says, biting his lower lip in a dejected and heartbreaking way. “I get it. I’ll go.”

“Luke,” you sigh. “Don’t be like that.”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t wanna talk to me,” he says with a shrug. “We’re not friends like that. I’m not Quinn.”

“Luke.” You push yourself up further, pushing the covers down and criss-crossing your legs. “It’s not that.”

“It’s always that. And if it’s not that, then it’s that I’m not Jack. I just– I don’t want to hear that from you.” Luke shrugs again, always defaulting to that motion when he’s deflecting because he’s big and awkward and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. As if he’s thinking the same thing, you watch him shove his fists in his pockets and keep his shoulders tense.

“Come here,” you request, head tilted and mouth turned down with sadness. You shift your position so that both of your knees are under you and you’re sitting back on your heels. “Luke, please.”

You hold your arms out for a hug, not for the first time in your life, and Luke shuffles over. He takes his time and he refuses to meet your eyes, just stooping down so that he can wrap his arms around your middle. It’s a weird position, given that you’re kneeling on the bed and he’s half-bent over. You can feel the pout and doubt all over Luke’s face, so you reach a hand up to his curls and run your thumb over one of his more perfect spirals. He’s letting it grow out a bit and you like how messy it looks.

“Jack told me something,” you reveal softly, still petting through his hair. Luke stiffens in your arms, but doesn’t pull away. “He said you like me.”

Luke groans and struggles in your grip, even sinking to his knees to try and get out of your grasp. He’s kneeling beside the bed, and you bring your legs around so that he’s situated between them. You keep a hand on his shoulder, the other still playing with his hair. He’s evading your eyes again, looking stoutly at the floor.

“I have feelings for you, too,” you whisper, the admission feeling heavy and wrong and like a knife to the gut. Admittance is the first step, but you just feel silly. “And I don’t really know how to deal with those. You’re– I’ve known you since we were so little, Luke.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Luke says bluntly, a hint of a complaint in his sentence. “You’ve been acting weird because you like me, too?”

“I was upset that there was a pretty girl talking to you,” you say sheepishly. “And I just didn’t want to go along with Jack’s plan. He wanted to make you jealous. Thought that would work.”

“I’m always jealous when you talk to another guy,” Luke tells you like it’s obvious. “I just, kind of, gave up. I didn’t think you’d ever feel that way about me. I thought I’d get over it. Stupid childhood crush, you know.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding that you yourself just experienced a similar line of thinking. You said you’d get over it, but you don’t really want to. Not right now, at least, when Luke’s sitting in front of you and he’s got a tentative hand on your calf, rubbing his thumb over the muscle and staring up at you with big eyes. You bite your lip, trying to think logically about this, but all you can do is examine Luke’s features like you’ll never get to see them again. Maybe you won’t– not like this. Not in this liminal space between something and nothing. This is one of those moments that you know won’t last– because the next one will change everything. So, for a moment longer, you just reach out and run your thumb along Luke’s cheekbone, eyes flickering between his cheek, his lips, and his eyes. 

“What do we–” Luke loses his words and presses his lips together, looking up at you, expression completely tortured. He turns his head and kisses the side of your knee, which makes your heart split a bit more.

“I don’t know,” you admit. You wish you had a better answer for him. You truly aren’t sure what you can do from here. There are too many things to consider– so you won’t consider them at all.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Luke asks. 

A fond burst of laughter escapes from your chest. “Lukey, this is a twin bed. We can’t both fit.”

A pout comes over Luke’s face again. “We can too,” he insists, furrowing his brow a bit. “I’ll prove it. Move over.”

He’s climbing into your bed before you can tell him no. His long and spindly limbs are coaxing you to lay back, then warming you as he holds you tight. It’s a tight squeeze, but that just means that you’re touching him everywhere. It’s nice and you suddenly wish you were facing him, so you roll awkwardly in his arms until you’re face to face. Your noses are nearly touching and Luke is staring at you, really taking you in. 

Your eyes find his lips… and then he’s leaning in.

It’s charged with tension and electricity, but it’s soft and hesitant. Neither of you want to test the boundaries and you don’t think this feels quite real. Your stomach is swooping with bats, not butterflies, and it’s exactly what you wanted. This is what you expected when you found yourself imagining kissing Luke this past week, even if you shook yourself out of it because it felt inappropriate. Here, it feels so right that you swear you could start crying from relief. You’ve never felt that way before from just a kiss. Your chest could burst.

When he pulls away, you feel frozen in time. Your eyes are closed and his lips are right there, a hair’s breadth away. You swallow, touching his chest, palm flat. 

“Was that okay?” Luke asks.

You nod, then slide your lips over his again. 

You come together in a way that can’t be described as anything other than desperate. Your hands touch him in any way they can and Luke’s do the same. You move in tandem like you’ve got a language of your own– an indignant hum from you followed by a sweet “I know” from Luke before he touches you exactly the way you want.

Kissing the whole time, Luke gets you on your back. Your lips only part to remove your shirt, then his. Luke’s big hand cradles your jaw and neck, keeping your head and mouth exactly where he wants them. He guides you with a surprising amount of experience and sureness, although maybe he’s fueled by the same feeling of rightness as you are.

He opens you on his other hand, snaking his hand into your pajamas shorts because he can’t be bothered to remove them. His hips roll against your thigh, his long torso displacing your pelvis from his as he kisses you. He’s big– you knew it height-wise, but now you can feel him against your leg, and you want him to fill you. You want him to claim you, to take you– you want to give all of yourself to Luke. It’s madness and though you’re sure you’ve lost your mind, the crack in your chest that pours out love for Luke has taken control of your body.

After three fingers and a lot of whimpering from you, clutches at Luke’s hair and bruising kisses working in tandem with your noises, Luke works your shorts down. He breaks from your lips so that he can take you in beneath him. He touches your waist and the curve of your stomach, the one that you cringed at for so many years as a teen but finally accepted in your grown age. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says reverently, eyes portraying nothing but sincerity.

You can’t say anything to that, nothing that can match his utterly genuine sentiment or portray how grateful you are that he took the time to say those words, so you kiss him again. You muster up an embarrassingly wanton ‘please,’ which you draw across his lips like a paintbrush. 

You can’t get enough of saying his name as he presses into you, his heavy body blanketing yours. You can feel his every muscle move as he works into you and you’ve never felt more like a masterpiece. There were times when you made fun of the phrase ‘making love,’ but sex with Luke feels intensely like you’re creating something tangible by coming together in this way. 

The moans and cries that you’re trying to stifle so that no one comes barging in should be enough to convince Luke that this is everything to you. Sweet, sweet Luke– he seems choked up when he says, “They can’t fuck you like I can.” He says the sentence like he has to prove it to you, like you’re not falling apart under his touch. He pleads with you between the words, in the spaces where you can see his breath hitch in his throat.

You’re still not sure where this night will leave you tomorrow morning. Everything, everything has turned on its head. Somehow, you feel a bit like you’ve been leading up to this for a while, not just in the past week. Luke knew it before you did.

“No,” you agree, touching his cheeks and keeping his eyes on yours. “They can’t.” You kiss him briefly, feeling his tongue swipe into your mouth before you pull away. “I’m yours.”

Luke actually keens at that, his arms straining as he shifts his weight to fuck into you harder. Because you’re so close, the bed isn’t moving enough to bang against the walls or creak on its boxsprings, and you’re glad. This is a moment for just you and Luke– you don’t want anyone hearing. You don’t want anyone to be around. You hope that they’ve all miraculously disappeared and you and Luke are the last people in the house, maybe even on Earth.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” Luke repeats, his forehead meeting yours. You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale, his breath automatically syncing with yours. You’re overwhelmed, but deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice reminding you about an ancient tradition in Polynesian culture where forehead-to-forehead contact and breathing together is sacred, like you’re sharing the breath of life– like there’s some power in the universe, a god or many, clicking things into place.

He unravels first, fucking you through his release with urgence akin to the sentence he said before. Always trying to prove himself– but Luke has always been enough for you. Maybe not always in this way, but now, there’s nothing he can do to shake your favor. All of the feelings in your heart have been poured out, shared and mixed with his own, and it’s created a puddle– or a bubble– around the pair of you. 

It’s been written that sex is when two people come together as one. You finally understand what they mean, joining Luke in the seas of ecstasy.

Sweet nothings and touches like worship follow. Your hands can’t get enough of Luke’s strong figure. He runs his fingertips along your body like he’s in awe of your figure, like he gets to touch a statue so lifelike and beautiful that he can’t believe it was ever a block of marble at all. 

The concerns about what will happen tomorrow don’t exist here, in your dark bedroom with Luke stuck to you like glue. For now, it’s just you. Together, breathing, touching, loving– there’s nothing else that could matter. This is it.

note: i have to work on my grad school app in the coming days, so this will probably be the last blurb/oneshot until i finish the application. but, i might get bored of writing that and could pop in to do another smut piece here and there ;) hopefully i'll chat with y'all soon! but i don't want to rush this grad school app LOL

[samgirl98]

Dammit Clockwork! A Little Warning Next Time?

Wrote this while bored at work and on my iPhone so its not my best

“Come in,” a voice said at the other side of the door. Danny took a deep breath to calm his nerves. It was just his new boss. What's the worst that could happen? He'd get fired and have to find a new job.

Of course, being in Gotham, finding a job that wasn't Wayne Enterprise would be hard, especially one that offered such a sweet deal, like the scholarship and health benefits he would receive. So, no, Danny couldn't screw this up.

Danny didn't know why the CEO wanted to meet the scholarship recipients/ new employees one-on-one, but who was he to question it? After all, rich people were weird.

Danny took one last deep breath and swallowed his nerves. Everything would be fine.

He entered and came face-to-face with Tim Drake, CEO of WE.

They stared at each other for all of five seconds before Mr. Drake jumped over his desk.

Danny gave an embarrassing shriek as he fell to the ground hard. Ow, that hurt! To be fair, though, what else was he supposed to do when tackled by someone who could be his twin? Or a clone.

Well, maybe biting him hadn't been a good idea.

Danny heard a hiss above him as he bit down harder. There was no way in the Infinite Realms he would let go anytime soon. If this was a clone sent to kill him, Danny had to protect himself. Then he could worry about deprogramming him.

The look-alike tried to shake off Danny, causing him to bite down even harder.

And things had just started calming down, too.

His parents had kicked him out after they found out he was Phantom. He had been homeless on his eighteenth birthday, but honestly, being homeless and not vivisected was better than what he thought was going to happen.

Thankfully, the trio and Jazz had made a plan in case Danny had to run away from his parents. Sam had opened a bank account for Danny with a little over twenty thousand dollars. He was lucky he didn't have to use the fake IDs Tucker had set up. His parents had let him take his papers.

Which was how he found out he was adopted.

Danny had talked to the air in the little motel room he had ended up that night, begging for help from Clockwork. Danny didn't know if Clockwork had pitied him, but the Ancient had appeared. Clockwork had given Danny a vague clue about family in Gotham—Oh, the guy he was wrestling was probably the family he was hinted at.

Dammit, Clockwork, couldn't he have warned Danny?

Danny let go of Tim Drake.

Who was Drake to him? A sibling, a twin?

Danny didn't know yet.

Tim Drake was about to attack again when Danny put his hands up in surrender.

“Wait, wait!”

The other teenager stopped. Tim was breathing hard from the little impromptu fight they had been in.

Danny was glad that his half-dead status made it hard for him to have to catch his breath. It was impossible to run out of breath when one didn't have to breathe technically.

“Who are you,” the other boy asked.

“Fenton! Danny Fenton. I’m the new hire?”

Danny hated that the last sentence came out as a question.

“You bit me!”

“And you tackled me! Now that we have that out of the way, you're not a clone, are you,” Danny asked warily. After all, that wasn't out of the realm of possibilities for him.

“What? No! I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Why would a rich CEO be afraid of cloning,” Danny asked.

“Why would a small-town guy from the middle of nowhere America be afraid of cloning,” Tim fired back.

“Touche,” Danny said.

Neither of them said anything. They stared at each other until Danny broke the awkward silence.

“So, what now?”

“Now we take a DNA test and try to figure out what the hell is going on.”

“Ahh, I'm adopted and was told by mystical means that I have family in Gotham and was going to find them ‘when the time was right.’ I'm guessing now is that time.”

“That explains nothing,” Tim said in a hysteric voice. “What do you mean mystic means, and could you be more vague?”

Danny shrugged again, “Welcome to my world.”

A few hours later, through rich guys' means, Danny Fenton and Tim Drake had a piece of paper confirming they were twins.

Well, Danny’s afterlife just got interesting.

Later, Tim is going to feel pissed that Damian respects Danny but still treats Tim like crap.

They both try to hide their heroic tendencies from each other and fail miserably. Jason bonds with Danny over dying and death jokes. Danny also has to fight off Bruce with a broom. No, he doesn't want to get adopted again.

Sam and Tucker are laughing at Danny’s predicament and Jazz gives Tim the equivalent of a shovel talk not to hurt her baby brother or else.

DPXDC Prompt #131

Danny started his new job at Wayne industries today and he was a little nervous about messing up. His adopted family the Fentons kicked him out after finding out he was Phantom. Danny was a little disappointed but it was better than how he thought they’d react. He knew he had other family and from what little cryptic Clockwork told him they lived in Gotham.

He gets to his new bosses office and knocks on his door. When he’s told to come in Danny does so but then comes face to face by what he can only assume is his twin and the CEO of the company, Tim Drake. Danny had about 5 seconds before he found himself pinned to the floor.

[taesansbeloved]

I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU. (엔하이펜)

synopsis: doing skincare/cozy stuff with bf!enhypen warnings 🚨 tooth rotting fluff, skinship, petnames, and kissing.

(Hyung line)

Nova notes: HIHI ❣️ this was based on this request. I will probably do a whole one for Ni-ki later, and also probably Heeseung because I cannot resist writing fluff for this man. Maknae line here.

Heeseung (희승)

You were sat on the bathroom counter with Heeseung in between your legs, hands on your thigh, rubbing up and down gently, watching you with heart eyes while you apply moisturiser on his face. "Stop looking at me like that." You said shyly, his gaze making your face heat up. "Why? You're pretty." He stated, his gaze not wavering from your ethereal face. Your smile widens as you feel Heesueng leaning closer to your touch. "Everyday I'm shocked that you're my girlfriend, because omg, you're fucking gorgeous." He whispered, relishing in the feeling of your warm hand. You roll eyes, trying to hide your flustered face, but that's impossible when he is looking at you like THAT. He chuckles slightly and turns his head, kissing your palm lovingly.

Jay (정성)

You were having a tough week as it was midterms season. Constant studying, endless stressing, and a ruined sleep schedule that had Jay ruining his aswell. Jay knew that one of the ways to help you ease the stress, besides his cooking, is simply taking care of you. "Baby, I'm fine really. I just need to sleep." You said as Jay placed you on the bathroom counter and stood in between your legs, having your entire night care routine out beside you. "Yeah, and you also need some me love. So I'm giving you some." He said softly as he picked up the cleanser. He gently wet your face with a damp towel and began rubbing the cleanser all over your. You can feel your eyes getting heavier with every warm touch against your skin. Jay chuckled as he took in your drowsy figure, feeling his heart warm up with an overwhelming amount of love. "I hate seeing you this stressed, baby, you know that?" He said softly as he was caressing your face tenderly. "Blame the school system." You said, voice low with sleep and exhaustion. Jay sighed as he walked you to the he'd and completed your skincare while your sleeping soundly on the bed. "Sleep well, princess."

Jake (재윤)

You and him were sat opposite to eachother on your shared bed with a variety of different colors of nail polish. "Okay, so, what color do you want, baby?" Jake asked, assessing each color individually. "I don't really know. You choose for me." You said with a cheeky smile. Jake smiled, looking up at you with eyes full of stars. "Oh, I've been waiting for this day. Okay, I will not disappoint you." He paused then gasped again, "Should I make you a design?" He asked with huge puppy eyes. You nodded, sharing the same enthusiasm. He picked up the baby pink and the pearly white nail polish and began painting your nails while talking with you about everything and nothing. After an hour or so, Jake finished with an excited clap. "Okay, I put my heart, sweat, and tears into this. I hope you like it." He said as you brought your hands up to see his masterpiece. Eyes lighting up with adoration, "omg, jake I love this! I will never take it off." You said, throwing your arms around him and peppering kisses all over his face. His and your giggles filled the room, love swirling in the dim room.

Sunghoon (성훈)

"What's that for?" That was the question Sunghoon has been asking everytime you put a different product on his face. Now you were doing face masks. "This is a hydration face mask." You said simply, standing on your tip-toes to place the sheet mask over his flawless face. His hands unconsciously finding its way to your waist, holding you gently yet protectively. "And what's the one you have on your face?" He asked, mumbling from the face mask, afraid of disturbing you while you're patting it down. "It's the same thing just a different color." You explained, pushing his soft bangs away to smooth the mask down on his forehead. He hummed as he began rubbing your waist up and down, filling your stomach with butterflies. "Now we wait 20 minutes." You said, standing back at your original height. "I have some ideas that can fill those 20 minutes." He smirked down at you as you rolled your eyes, pecking his lips slightly that eventually led to a 20 minute make out session.

Do not copy this post. Spam likes = blocked. Spaming and plagiarism are not tolerated. Respectfully follow these rules :)

[kamiversee]

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

11 | what this is

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, heavy sexual tension, teasing, taunting, possessiveness, jealous men, drama, toxicity, alcohol, tw; spitting, dirty talk, dry humping, tw: mean cliffhanger (sorry not sorry lol), etc...

❧ Word Count | 6.1k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Whispering near your lips, Choso had taken a step even closer to you and placed his gloved hand upon the right side of your waist. 

Then he tugged you closer as if to emphasize his words, “Cat got your tongue, princess? Or, what, are you replaying our moments together?” You were. “Am I finally occupying your mind again?” Choso utters even lower than before as he takes your chin into his other hand and tips your head up—causing your lips to actually brush against his. “C’mon, talk to me, argue with me, say something-, anything.”

Your voice comes out airy and you hate the way he seems to have you all wrapped around his finger. “Y-You’re insufferable.” With tense brows and a body that unfortunately won’t move against his hold, you gape at him with this burning feeling on your skin at his every touch.

Choso smiles, “Was I insufferable while I was riiight…” The hand on your waist slides over to your stomach and his thumb presses just below your belly button, “Here? Hm?” He applies a bit more pressure there and you gasp. “Or, again, do you only ever think of me when Gojo denies you of sex?”

“No, Choso. It’s not like that,” You huff out, despite the flashbacks replaying in your mind and the tingle that just ran up your spine. “You just… Every conversation with you now revolves around one thing; sex. It’s all you ever bring up with me and I am tired of it, okay? I’ve told you no and yet you keep trying—“

“You keep letting me try,” He cuts off rudely, sliding his thumb up to your bottom lip. “Even right now, you’ve yet to smack my hands away or even tell me to stop touching you. I wonder why that is.”

Well, shit. You can’t even explain it yourself. Maybe it’s because deep down inside you know that you and Choso’s relationship has always been like this. You’ve always let him tease and taunt you to degrees that know no end. From the day you first met to now, you still can’t find it in you to pull yourself away from his touch.

You prove his point instantly with the way you let him slip his thumb in between your glossed lips, watching the way he smiles slightly at the sight. “I know you don’t have any feelings for me but,” Choso pressed his thumb down on your bottom row of teeth just a bit, allowing your lips to part open and for your breaths to mingle with one another. “Your body damn sure does.”

Ever so softly, you whine. “You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

“‘Course I did, baby. I get it, I bring the sex up all the time but can you really blame me?” Yes. “You ‘n I have almost gotten to that point how many times before it actually happened?” He asks rhetorically, “And then, the only reason it finally happened is because of this lil’ crush you have on Gojo?? Hah, why would I stop trying when I know you don’t want me to?”

The daggers you're shooting him via gaze seem not to phase him in the slightest. Maybe, just maybe, he had a point here. You hated the way he was reading through you right now, knowing you couldn’t really argue with him. No matter what you say, your body language will always be your truth. Even now as he allows his eyes to glide down to your lips that are practically on his, you can hardly even form a thought to tell yourself to pull away.

Tell him to stop. Tell him to go away. Tell him to let go of you and leave you the hell alone. That’s what you want, isn’t it?? 

…So why are you letting him slide his thumb out your mouth and gently force your lips into a pout? Why do you let him move both of his hands to your waist and hold you like he’s your boyfriend or something? And why, just why, do you let him press his lips against yours so faintly that it’s almost as though he didn’t just kiss you??

“You're not dating him,” Choso reminds you—which stings because you wish you were. Maybe then you’d find it in you to tell Choso to back off. “So like, if you simply don’t want me at all, jus’ say that.”

You can’t. Physically, mentally, whatever-the-fuck-lly, you cannot find it anywhere in yourself to tell Choso Kamo that you don’t want him in any way. Perhaps it was because of the crush you had on him years ago. Maybe those teenage feelings never really died off like you thought they did and now they’ve returned in the worst way possible. 

It sucks because you know in your head you don’t want to date Choso. You know you want to go be with Gojo. But there’s just this little void space in between all of that in which you’re conflicted. Call you Hannah Montana with the way you want the best of both worlds.

You want the affection you receive from both men simultaneously. 

But, at the same time, you don’t. At the same time, all you can do is replay Gojo’s smile in your head, his voice, his touches, his tenderness, and then it all just feels right. With Choso there’s just this constant battle you’re fighting where it feels so wrong but so damn good at the same time.

“I can’t,” You eventually mutter, finally turning your head off to the side. “It’s not that I don’t want you, Cho. I just… I told you before I’m—“

“Woahhhhh,” Another, terrifyingly familiar voice comes bursting into the kitchen. At the sound of it, your body is motionless and you’re lucky Choso swiftly slides his hands off of you to shove them into his pockets. “What’s goin’ on in heree?” Gojo’s slightly slurred tone hits your ear and your eyes are wafting away from Choso in search.

You end up tipping your body to the side to spot Gojo stumbling his way deeper into the kitchen. The button-up shirt he's got on beneath the vest he’s wearing is unbuttoned significantly lower than before and you note how his cheeks are reddened more. 

Choso looks back at the guy from over his shoulder, not making an effort to remove the distance between your body and his whatsoever. Your eyes rake over your crush's staggering frame and you quickly note that he’s drunk.

Or at least, you thought he was until his eyes were setting on you peeking around Choso’s body and how close you were to the guy. From Gojo’s angle of view, he could tell your body was practically pressed up against Choso’s. The two of you didn’t have any hands on one another by the time he gathered the sight but the proximity alone was enough to sober him up for a moment.

The lazy smile Gojo had on his face flickered slightly as he took long strides over to the two of you. His next actions are smooth. Gojo brushes past Choso but hooks an arm around your waist in the process, soon finding himself standing on your right side and pulling you up close to him. Choso lets his eyes trail Gojo and his possessive little movements, cocking an irritated grin at the sight.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Gojo asks Choso, sizing him up and down. Suddenly, there’s less of a slur to his words in comparison to moments before.

Choso has to clench his jaw a bit to bite back every snarky response that nearly rolled off of his tongue just now. Desperately does he want to tell Gojo about how this isn’t the first time he’s interrupted something intimate with you. Last time you and Choso were about to have sex again before he came knocking on the apartment door and now he had interrupted you in explaining your feelings to Choso.

So, to hold himself back, Choso scoffs in Gojo’s face and looks off to the side. “Nah man, you’re fine.” He replies dryly. The next thing that leaves his lips is a bit of an accident but he just can’t help himself, “Me ‘n her live together so I’m sure we can continue our talk later, right?” Choso asks with a glance at you.

You can feel Gojo’s fingers gripping onto your waist a little tighter as if to silently tell you something. Whatever it is though, you’re unsure of. “Right,” You murmur softly.

Gojo’s brows rise in interest. “You two were pretty close to each other just now for a convo that’s bein’ saved for later…” He points out.

“We’ve been closer,” Choso regrettably snaps back. Fuck, you even see the recoil on his face as his eyes squeeze shut for a second, clearly regretting the words that just left him.

Drunk or not, the gears in Gojo’s head begin to grind. He’s not stupid, far from it, so he can infer the implications behind such a statement. Lucky for you, the alcohol in his system does interfere with him jumping to the right assumptions. “Yeah? I’m sure you guys have,” Gojo says, looking down at you, “You two have been friends for uh,” He clicks his tongue, “Eight years, no?”

“Just about,” Choso replies for you, both of their eyes set on you.

You gulp and try to play off how nervous you are with a slight chuckle. Then you turn more into Gojo and distract him with a hug. Placing your chin on his chest, you angle your head up to look at him, “What’re you doin’ in here anyways? I thought you went to go sit down?”

Just the sight of you hugging Gojo and staring up at him is enough to piss Choso off albeit clearly unintentional.

Gojo, who oddly adores Choso's audience at the moment, places his hands on your sides, exactly where Choso’s touch was just a few seconds before he came into the kitchen. “I did but then Suguru found me and wanted me to take some shots with him. Right after that, I started missin’ you sooo, I came to find ya’.” He explains with this doting look in his eyes.

You smile, “Aw, you really do get clingy when drunk, huh?”

“I tried to warn you,” Gojo snickers softly before leaning down.

He was moving to kiss you. You don’t know why but you panic. 

Choso’s still standing there quietly waiting for you two to remember his presence, watching the whole thing and… seeing things you don’t.

Now, if you pulled away from Gojo, he would have known something was up so, you don’t. Because of that and the way your eyes shut to allow him to kiss you, you miss the way Gojo keeps his eyes open just to glare at Choso while his lips slot onto yours.

Choso meets said glare and his heart aches in his chest. Every thought of his is screaming to blurt out the fact that he’s done exactly what Gojo’s doing now, years before Gojo even knew who you were. Choso wants to throw it in Gojo’s face how he’s seen the expressions you make when you’re making the filthiest lil’ mess around his cock. He wants to explain how Gojo’s likely temporary for you and how you’ll always end up coming right back into his arms the moment the guy fucks up.

To make matters worse, Gojo smiles against your lips. While your best friend didn’t exactly say anything, his face was doing all the talking right now. Which was enough to lead Gojo into bringing a hand down to your ass and squeezing before he finally shuts his eyes and kisses you properly.

You hum at the sudden push of his lips against you and then jump against his hold the moment his hand smacks your ass. “Satoru,” You utter between his kisses, earning a low grunt from his throat before his lips detach from yours.

Gojo takes one long look at your face, feeling Choso’s eyes still on him, and then he smirks. His free hand moves to your lips, exactly like how your best friend did, and spreads your lips apart. “Hold on, stick out your tongue f’me,” Gojo instructs. You’re confused but, you do it anyway.

Gojo huffs a small scoff through his nose, glances at Choso one more time, and then looks at you. “You came in here for somethin’ to drink right?” He’s not about to do what you think he is, is he? “Lemme give you a taste of what I’ve been sippin’ on, yeah?”

You’re not sure what’s worse. The way your tongue rolls out a bit further in anticipation, the fact that Choso’s watching this, or the fact that Gojo actually lets a filthy glob of spit waft down onto your tongue… And then to top it all off, you swallow it down with no hesitation.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Gojo whispers, leaning in to kiss you again.

This time you pull back and turn your head, “Enough Satoru. Choso’s standing right—“

“Nah, pretend I’m not even here, honestly,” Choso comments finally, his hands balled into fists within the confines of his pockets. “That’s what you’ve been doin’ all night anyway,” He mutters beneath his breath whilst his feet swivel against the ground. “I’ll just uh, go ahead ‘nd see my way out.” Is the last thing said before you turn your head back and see him snatching up his drink from the counter.

“Wait,” You huff, breaking away from Gojo’s touches entirely. You hurry over to Choso and whisper, “We’ll talk more tonight, okay? I promise.”

Choso’s gaze flickers in sincerity at your words. “You promise?” He whispers back.

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Alright.” He says to you before doing one last thing as if to get back at Gojo’s recent display of affection. Choso takes hold of one of your hands and carefully yanks your body toward him. He wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you—appearing as though he were embracing you just to say bye. 

But, because of a certain pair of blue eyes watching his every move, Choso smirks and moves his lips to press against your ear with a soft-spoken voice. “I’ll see you later tonight then.” He tells you.

After which, Choso looks at something (more like someone) behind you and then smiles fully. Whatever he was just trying to accomplish has certainly worked. And with that, he pulls away from you and leaves the kitchen with a slight wave of his hand.

You found that… weird. Why did he hug you and whisper in your ear like that all of a sudden? It’s not like he said anything incriminating. You shrug Choso’s oddness off and turn back around.

Coming face first with the man, Gojo’s now standing a lot closer than where you’d left him. For the nth time of the day, you flinch out of surprise. “Satoru, shit. I thought you were—“

“You done?” Gojo breathes out all of a sudden.

Your brows pinch up and you hum. “What? Done with what?”

“This party,” He clarifies, his expression unreadable. “I’m ready to go.”

“We’ve only been here for like thirty minutes,” You tell him with a weary smile on your face. “What’s wrong?”

Gojo stares at you as if you should be able to read his mind or something but, the truth is, his expression tells you nothing. He looks like he’s pissed off? But, he also looks like he’s fine? You’re unsure of what to make of his face right now.

“I just,” He pauses, clearly deciding his words carefully before he sighs. “I wanna be alone with you for a sec'.”

You glance around the kitchen, “We’re alone right now?”

Gojo shakes his head, “I mean, somewhere more private.”

“Ah,” You nod. “Do you wanna go find a room?”

“There’s a couple fucking in almost every one,” He tells you, cringing at the flashback. “I stumbled into a few while lookin’ for the bathroom. But uhm, what about my car?”

“That seems private enough... Are you sure everything’s okay?” You ask with a concerned tilt of your head.

Gojo’s eyes look almost tired, the emotion in them unrecognizable to you. With another sigh, he shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so. I… I don’t know, jus’ want you to myself for a second, alright?” There’s this sudden attitude that pops off in his words and it makes your heart twinge funnily. Then he’s stepping past you and walking away as if he wants you to follow him.

You’re wildly confused but, you do anyway.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

The walk to Gojo’s car is almost awkward for you. With no idea what’s gotten into him so suddenly, he just seems grumpy the whole way there. Even as Shoko bumps into you two on the way out, dressed as a doctor, she doesn’t even get a cheerful response from him like normal.

There are some other now familiar faces you pass but every time you stop to wave or to see what they're trying to say to you, Gojo ends up grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

By the time you reach his car, he has the two of you shuffling into the back seat instead of the front for reasons you’re unsure of.

Again, it’s awkward as a moment of silence passed with just you and him sitting inside. The distant sounds of the party can still be heard but it’s weird for you to be out here with Gojo instead of in there partying when he’s the one who invited you out to this whole thing. Why was he acting like this—

Gojo says your name suddenly and your head turns to him. He’s already looking at you but what surprises you is how he leans closer. “Can I kiss you?” He requests, throwing you all the way off.

Did he… Did he really just pull you out of the party just to kiss you in private?? Had you misinterpreted his past few public kisses and touches for something else? What the hell is going on? Why did he—

“Please,” Gojo’s face is now right in front of yours and his lips are hardly an inch away. “Jus’ one,” When is it ever just one with this man… and why does that questioning thought give you this sense of deja vu?

Despite the raging questions and confusion swirling in your head, you nod.

Gojo presses his lips to yours and you feel weird for a second. Maybe it was the lack of understanding that really turned you off or maybe it was the alcohol resting on his lips that you hadn’t noticed earlier but either way, you feel odd.

He pulls away when he notices you’re not kissing back like normal and his eyes soften, “What’s wrong?” Gojo asks.

You fold your arms, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“I mean, yeah but—“

“No, Satoru. No buts, what the hell is wrong with you?” You snap all of a sudden. Half of you doesn’t even know where this sudden irritation is coming from. “You do all of that weird shit in front of Choso and then drag me out the party just to kiss me? I don’t understand. Why show off whatever it is we have in front of Choso but not anyone else? A-Are you trying to keep us as some sort of secret..?”

Gojo mistakenly scoffs at your words. Right in front of your face too. “What?” He breathes. “What ‘weird shit’ did I do in front of him? And what do you mean ‘keep us as some sorta’ secret’? We’re not together.”

That stung. Again. Just like when Choso reminded you earlier except it hurt significantly worse coming from Gojo himself.

“I-I’m talking about the touching, the kissing, the…” You hate it but there’s a shake in your voice now. Stuttered over a few words and your emotions conflicting inside you. “T-The spitting into my mouth. I obviously don’t mind it but it’s confusing when you do that and then drag me all the way out here because you don’t want anyone else seeing us do those things.”

He shifts, sliding back into his seat and weighing his head to the side. Gojo’s eyes narrow, “Who said I didn’t want anyone else seeing us do those things?”

“Your actions did,” You explain, just barely keeping your gaze on him.

He smirks but you can tell he’s frustrated. “You think I brought you out here to hide the stuff we do together??”

“That’s what it seems and feels like, yes—“

“No, I brought you out here because I needed a moment to just be with you,” Gojo interrupts, rolling his eyes away from you and slumping back against the seat. “Alone. I was irritated about something and being alone with you always calms me down.”

You slide a bit closer to him and lean your head to the side a bit to gain the eye contact back, “Irritated about what?”

He’s quiet for a while. Doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at you—just lets his aggravation fester inside him. At some point, his leg starts bobbing up and down and he glances to his left to look out the window. 

Gojo’s met with the view of the neighboring house to the one the party’s taking place at. There’s no one over there at the moment, the lights are all off, and the entire vibe is different from the house just across the street. It’s a nice contrast to the chaos elsewhere.

It’s slow but, Gojo finally responds to you in monotone, “Seein’ Choso’s grimy hands all over your fuckin’ body.”

You had a feeling that's what it was but, you could never be too sure.

“So…” You scoff, “You got jealous.”

Gojo’s face twists up and he swivels his head to look at you, flinching slightly at how close you’ve gotten to him. “The fuck? Jealous? Me?” He spits out to you, trying to play off his initial surprise at seeing the lessened space between you two.

“Yeah you, who the hell else?” You bite back, sizing him up and down and scrunching your face up.

Gojo almost finds the mirrored expression cute. “I wasn’t jealous.” He tells you.

“So why did it bother you that he touched me the way he did?” Your question makes him swallow thickly but you don’t stop there, “Especially if uh, ‘we’re not together’?”

You don’t know it but those words burn him in the same way they burned you. It’s an irritating reminder because he has no business feeling the way he does considering that.

Gojo’s upper lip twitches a bit, “Cause I just didn’t like it.” 

“That’s called jealousy.”

“I wasn’t fuckin’ jealous!” He huffs.

To which you smile. Then you’re moving over some more and he’s following every shift of your body until you throw a leg over his and straddle him. Gojo’s looking up at you now but the tension in both the car and your faces has yet to fade. 

Although, there is this sudden softness to your tone that makes him gulp again. “There’s nothing wrong with it, y’know. It’s okay to be jealous.” As you explain, your hands go to his shoulders and you hear him sigh.

“Is it?” Gojo questions in an equally softened tone.

“Yeah,” You hum, “It would help me understand you if you admit that’s what this whole thing is about.”

He shakes his head, his hands sliding up to relax on your thighs. “No, because when I get jealous over stuff, I think about doing stupid shit.”

With your brows shooting up in a mix of curiosity and concern, “Like what?” You ask him.

“Like fuckin’ you in front of Choso,” Gojo replies almost immediately. 

You blink. “So, you’re admitting it?”

His eyelids lowered, “That I was jealous?”

The tension in the car has… shifted.

“Yeah,” You utter gently, not yet sitting on top of him but just barely hovering over him.

“I guess so, I dunno.” Gojo huffs. His hands travel up to your hips and he squeezes, “I just… Maybe it’s the alcohol but I can’t fuckin’ think straight.”

You frown and lean forward, looping your arms around his neck, “So talk to me then.”

“I can’t. My head’s all over the place,” He admits to you. Truth be told, Gojo doesn’t know how to handle what he’s feeling right now. This is.. unusual for him. “Part of me wants to ignore whatever the fuck I’m feelin’ and just go back inside with you and the other part of me wants to…”

You tilt your head, a small act he finds so intoxicatingly attractive at the moment. “Wants to what?” You inquire.

“Fuck you to prove a point I don’t have to,” He admits begrudgingly.

His admission only makes you chuckle. You can’t say you woke up expecting to encounter a jealous Gojo today but, here you are straddling him. You’re not seated on top of him fully just yet, it’s more like your thighs are resting over his but there’s this small sliver of space between your crotch and his.

The heated tension from earlier has shifted into a very apparent sexual tension. You can feel it in his touch as he slips his fingertips upward to hold your exposed waist before sliding them back down to your hips.

Technically speaking, Gojo’s been itching to get like this with you since the two of you were dancing earlier. That’s part of why he came to the kitchen to look for you. He has no trouble controlling himself but drinking never really helps him balance his hormones properly. That, and he didn’t want both of you to be drunk the first time you have sex.

And yes, that does say that he intended to have sex with you today. Not that he planned it from the day prior or anything like that but, sometime throughout that party, Gojo told himself he’d rather die than go home without having you in some way shape, or form.

He’d never force you into anything, of course. But, you let him give you head before so, surely you’d let him do that again?

Though, that’s not what he wants now. Not when you’re seated on top of him, not when your skin is reacting to every slip of his fingers, and certainly not when he wants to fuck every thought of Choso out of that pretty lil’ head of yours.

“What kinda point are you trying to prove?” You soon ask with a breathy laugh leaving your supple lips that Gojo keeps glancing at.

He shrugs, “Told you I can’t think straight so, I don’t even know.” Oh but he does know. He wants to prove that the relationship he has with you currently trumps whatever the fuck you and Choso have. Who cares if you and that dickhead have been friends for eight years? The way you’re looking at Gojo right now alone outweighs that tenfold. Right?

Maybe he’s just in his head too much right now—unsure how to juggle this feeling in his chest. So, Gojo just tugs your upper half closer, causing your tits to press against his chest before he buries his face into your neck. The tip of his nose runs against your skin and he inhales, his breath hitching midway through due to the smell of another guy on you.

Annoyed, Gojo quickly presses wet kisses into your neck and you jump in surprise.

“S-Satoru,” You stammer, finding the sudden kissing ticklish and trying not to laugh. “Hey, woah, what are you d-doing,” You snort and a smile spreads across your face, “That tickles-, hey.”

He pauses himself just below your jawline, having heard the sudden breathiness of your tone. “You smell like him too,” Gojo tells you before latching his lips onto the area he’d previously stopped at, suckling your skin into his mouth. Your head tips back like it’s natural for you to do so and he grins into your skin. “I hate it.”

Chuckling again, “Just come out ‘n say you're jealous already—“

“I’m jealous,” Gojo states hotly into your neck. Angling himself downwards, he licks you, “Soo fuckin’ jealous, sweetheart.”

You hate the way his words make you feel so stupidly happy. Gojo Satoru, jealous because of you? Oh you’re in heaven right now considering your feelings for him. “Satoru.” You end up gasping as he nips you.

“More of that,” He breathes.

You sigh and a faint whine exits your throat, “M-More of what?”

Gojo’s sucking and tugging at your neck with his lips, leaving mark after mark on you as if they’re rightfully supposed to be there. “My name on your tongue.” He soon hums lowly, having moved to the center of your throat.

Just as he says that his hands force you to sit on him fully. The sudden contact of his hard cock pressing up against your clothed cunt makes you gasp louder than before, “Oh fuck…” You murmur, surprised you can even feel how painfully erect he is through all the thick layers of leather and the fabric of his pants. “‘Toru,” Whining now, he can only smile.

He’s trying so hard not to grind himself up against you but the sounds you’re letting out really aren't making things any easier for him. “Mh? Feel that?” He asks with a tip of his head and a messy slide of his lips over your neck.

“Mhm,” You hum sexually, testing the waters a bit with a small roll of your hips forward.

Gojo pries away from your throat with a wet pop, admiring his work for a second. Then, he flicks his eyes up to your awfully needy face, “You want it or what?”

“Here?” You squeak in surprise, “I-In your car?”

Gojo pulls back a bit and smiles knowingly, “Would you rather us do it outside and against the car..?”

God, you hate how much of a tease he is. “No! I just…” Even the way your lashes bat ever so softly has Gojo’s cock twitching. “What if someone sees—“

“Girl,” He scoffs sassily, rolling his eyes at you for the nth time. “I have tint on my windows, the hell do you take me for? Hm?” He asks, expecting no sort of answer as his hands tighten on your hips and he looks down. “Pluuus, look at you. Your body wants it.”

You’ve been almost unconsciously grinding against him ever since he pressed you down against himself. His eyes watch in a daze as you skillfully rock yourself back and forth and back and forth over his throbbing cock. He’s so turned on that it’s starting to hurt not being inside you right now.

Then your voice hits his ears in that softer aroused tone he recognizes and fuck is his tip leaking in pre against his boxers. “How long have you been hard?” You ask.

He doesn’t need even a second to think about it, “I told you I was earlier.”

“I didn’t think you were serious!” You puff out.

Gojo runs his hands up along your body, his touch smoother than ever as he leans back some more, glides his hands up to your waist, and spreads his legs a bit further. “Doesn’t take much for you to turn me on, pretty girl.” He comments, voice growing raspier.

Just that simple statement makes you so insanely wet. He was very specific with his words just now. It doesn’t take much for you to turn him on. Your hormones are starting to make you dizzy at this point and all you can do is bite back a moan, “Shut up—“

“Ride me,” Gojo commands abruptly.

“H-Huh?” You gape, hips jerking against him.

He smirks, “I didn’t stutter. Ride me, baby.” Gojo repeats casually. Then he tips his head back and the angle of his annoyingly attractive features just does it for you. Especially as the next set of lewd words come rolling off his tongue, “Put that pretty pussy on me, c’mon.”

You slap a hand over his mouth. “How did we even get here…” Are you seriously trying to backtrack this conversation? Yes. You two were bickering just a few moments ago… “Weren’t we arguing?”

He shrugs, “We can continue that while my cock’s inside you if you want.”

“Satoru.” You say sternly.

“If you don’t want to, just say that.”

“But…”

A beat of silence passes, the air only consisting of the messy friction occurring between your crotch and his. That, and your syncing breathing as the two of you stare intimately into each other's eyes. All you can do is replay the time he was in between your legs and…

“…You want it, don’t you?” Gojo points out.

Suddenly too shy to speak, you carefully nod your head with a soft hum of agreement.

Gojo bites his lower lip and then scoffs eagerly. “So take it,” He tells you, slumping back against his seat again and rolling his hips up against you. “It’s allll yours. Every fuckin’ inch.”

With a frustrated little puff of air leaving your lips, you lean forward and connect your mouth with his—both of you groaning into one another. Searing against him, your hands start moving to undress him. “You’re annoying, y’know that?” You huff into his mouth.

Gojo only chuckles and his hands are working your clothes off just as well as you are for him. “Yet you still got on top of me, right?” He teases, kissing you back messily as you snag his shirt off and fling it elsewhere. “Still wanna fuck me,” Gojo snickers.

Your hands move down to the thick buckle of his pants and he’s pulling the knot of your top loose. “Yeah, to get you to shut up for a second.”

“Oh really?” His smirk widens, “Sure it’s not so I can prove that point of mine?” As he asks that, you’re tugging his belt off and tossing it while he’s taking his hands off of you for a second just to watch you undress him.

You have to hover over him again as you continue this semi-heated conversation with him. Whether or not the discussion is heated with sexual tension or aggravated tension, you’re unsure. “You never told me what that point was so, no.” You quip.

Gojo feels his breath catch in his throat when your fingers begin working his pants off. “Wanna prove I’m better.” He tells you hoarsely.

Once his slacks are tugged down his thighs, he’s helping you by kicking them off. Now he’s only clad in his boxers—how strange considering you’re still dressed. Kinda reminds him of the last time you two did something sexual except the roles were reversed. “Who’s to say you haven’t already?” You soon ask him as you lean back and begin to work your shorts off.

Gojo’s hands move like magnets with the way they find your hips again, assisting you in removing those teasing shorts of yours, “The way he looks at you.”

“I don’t understand,” You’re shuffling your legs around, working clothes off within the space of his car, and yet the conversation is still carried out seamlessly.

“He looks at you the same way I do but…” Gojo unintentionally flings your shorts elsewhere the very second they’re off of you and then he quickly maneuvers you back on top of him. “More fuckin’ smug. Can’t stand it.”

Teasingly, you chuckle. “Yeah?”

“Oh don’t tease me about this shit, I’m not joking,” He argues, taking a second to stare at the sexy black fabric of your panties. Gojo thinks he drools for a second but you can’t tell with the way the rest of his sentence comes flying out, “It pisses me the fuck off.”

“So, what,” You scoff. “Are you gonna take it out on me then?” Your voice leaves in a seductive whisper that prompts the man to look up at you, feeling your arms wrap around his neck again.

“Nahh, ‘course not,” Gojo whispers back.

Your brows meet, “Then what—“

“I’m gonna fuck it into you.” He cuts off, feeling you plop yourself back onto him fully. Both of you moan in unison given the two flimsy layers of fabric in between you.

“F-Fuck what into me?” You ask confusedly. Your eyes soften and Gojo’s fighting every cell in his body not to flip you over, pin you down, and fuck you til’ his balls run dry.

He’s losing it, truly.

“A kid if you keep lookin’ at me like that,” He says playfully.

Your eyes go all wide but your cunt throbs at the idea (?), “Satoru!”

“I’m joking,” He laughs. “But my name will be the only thing this pussy remembers in a few minutes…”

And that’s… Well, that’s not far off from the truth whatsoever.

mlist | last chapter | next chapter |

Tags 1/2; @siriusblackswankourtzeyy @eternaltpaoe @moonsgravee @sooshisweet @looking4hina

@blognicole @designerpvssy @andyfasia @shytragedybluefox @papigotwap

@senseifupa @gojoslefttoenail @juliiizh @gojos-cumslutt @lovergirl65

@sydlunamoon-blog @gojstrulxvezx @gigiipeaches @kivrumi @urunclesbottomlip

@iseeyouuu @annieleonhardtsbitch @lwkykiyo @itsbellablue-blog @gorouenjoyer

@mua-for-now @bee3l0v3r @scarletteyuno @lilablogsblog @lolznoelle

@madaqueue @keriaonmarz @parakisssss @aniniyah @trx-xrt

@sxnkuna @chocolatecheer @unibrow-yzz @lovely-lady-tits @woofzz2

@pineapplepan7 @janrcrosssing @hauntedchoso @linksylove @lemonninq

@littlemug00 @namjoonie17717 @notjustagirlinthisworld @moonneversleeps @k4rma1sntd3ad

[curtins]

CHERI CHERI LADY — choso kamo minors dni

prologue. → its hard not to be endlessly fond of your sweet boyfriend. he's quiet, unassuming but sweet, oddly so for a half-curse. but god, you want to jump his bones so bad.

pairing. boyfriend!choso kamo x afab!reader

warnings+. nothing really wild, just soft and sweet sèx with choso. first times, kissing and making out, heaps of touching, mild awkwardness but its sincere, creàmpiè...? choso is lowkey a súb, but there's switch in him too. choso calls reader 'my lady' near the start. established but new relationship.

word count. 2.7k song inspiration. cheri cheri lady — modern talking (1985)

a/n. gifs look so ugly on mobile im maddddd i promise its hd on desktop 😓 choso is suchhh a cutie. but this is lowkey mid but im too tired 😭

mp3. cheri, cheri lady, living in devotion, it's always like the first time. let me take a part...

you've been running your fingers gently through choso's hair, the soft strands slipping between your fingers as his head rests on your lap. his feathery black locks fall loosely around his face, and he's quite a vision, sharp and sorrowful features framed with a rare and private softness.

but now choso shifts a bit, drawing in a slow breath and you catch a glimpse of those haunting hazel eyes ringed by dark shadows, and clearly something is on his mind. it's sweet, you think, how shy he is — how his gaze flickers away before he speaks.

its a soft murmur of your name, low and husky; clearly satisfised like a large cat curled up on your lap and it makes you laugh, pressing a breathy kiss to his warm temple.

"my lady..." and it is said so softly that you don't almost hear it, but the reverence in his tone makes your heart shake, and it bewilders you at how he's so capable of the gentlest violence that unravels you in such a tender way.

you pause, surprised by the sudden tenderness of his words. he’s usually reserved, even guarded while fond, but now, calling you his lady, there’s a vulnerability in his expression that feels like he’s handing you something precious. you smile gently, watching him with a quiet love that makes his face flush, the faintest hint of colour blooming under that dark mark across his nose.

"choso…" you say his name softly, running a hand through his hair once more.

he looks away, smiling a bit sheepishly, his rough, calloused hand reaching for yours and intertwining your fingers, though his grip remains gentle. he hesitates, as though choosing his words carefully, and then his thumb brushes over your knuckles, slow and deliberate.

"i just never thought…" he trails off, swallowing as he looks up at you, “that someone like you would…" choso stops, embarrassed, but his gaze is so earnest it makes your heart skip a beat.

"i think you should get used to it," you say softly, squeezing his hand back.

his pink lips turn up slightly in a rare, almost boyish smile, and he leans a little closer, letting his guard fall just enough for you to see a warmth and devotion behind those tired, haunted eyes.

he’s such an old soul, carrying with him the age of over a century. but still, being locked as a death painting isn't quite the right step for emotional development and romance is something new and vulnerable for him, something he’s still learning to give and accept.

the thought brings a smile to your lips as you gaze at him, his eyes closed in a rare moment of peace. gently, you lean forward, brushing a soft, feather-light kiss against his lips, but the moment your lips touch, his hand finds your jaw, his fingers rough but tender as they cradle your face.

you quietly gasp as choso deepens the kiss, pulling you closer, his lips warm and firm against yours. he often has this effect on you, this feeling of intolerable longing and devotion and you part your lips slightly. his other thick arm wraps around you, holding you securely, his grip strong but his movements are careful, so utterly mindful of you.

the kiss lingers, and when you finally pull away, his hazel eyes meet yours, slightly dazed but filled with a depth of emotion that leaves you breathless. and aching.

intimacy is something that is...new to choso. when you first pressed your lips to cheeks, you thought that every blood cell in his body would explode, so flushed was he. and to your great amusement, he had mildly jumped. and so, you've never broached the topic of anything closer.

but god, you want him so bad.

"cho -," and your breathy purr of the nickname has the half-curse shifting up so he's no longer in your lap, but now chasing after your lips, leaning down so you're caged in his arms, and you run your hands up choso's arms, feeling solid and defined muscle beneath your clenched fingertips.

there's a slight roughness to his skin, and as your hands trail upwards, you notice how his muscles shift beneath your touch, taut yet responsive.

choso pulls away reluctantly from you, even half-curses need air, of course. but his lips are glossed, and slightly parted, in a deeper shade of blood-red. and a faint flush colours his pallid features, tousled and so beautifully undone that you bite your lips, hands fisted in the soft, woven fabric of his robes.

but now your boyfriend's large hands are moving with surprising gentleness as they fiddle with the hem of your own top, the roughness of his fingers curling into thin cotton, and each electric brush of his fingers against the light hair dusting your stomach sends bolts curling lower between your thighs.

"may i?" his voice is soft, laced with a quiet shyness but the rasp gives away the want that he must feel. and so, you nod and hope that he can't perceive how you tremble, hoping that he can't sense the way his hazel gaze pulls at you.

but he looks at you as if everything has fallen away, and you are no longer of this realm, but rather hanging the stars in the night sky for him.

and choso is now peeling the top away from your skin, and his eyes come to rest on your chest. at the sight of your perked nipples, his mouth parts slowly and softly, and you giggle at his awe. and so, you reach for his large hand and pull it closer to you, letting one hand cup your breast, "it's okay, baby. you can touch."

he releases a breathy "thank you," pressing his rose-bud lips gently to the tender skin of your chest. his kisses are insistent, and you sigh as he dips his mouth in between the shadow of your chest, "you're doing so well, choso." you don't miss at how your boyfriend's brows furrow in concentration, a tremor in his broad figure.

"hmmph," and choso separates his mouth from your sensitive breasts to speak clearer, "you're so beautiful." there is no pretense in his tone, no hesitation, "more than i could ever have imagined."

you curl your fingers in choppy mahogany hair, pulling him closer as he continues his ministrations, "yeah, have you imagined this?" and your tone is teasing, letting him release a wet laugh into your torso.

"do i have to say?" and choso looks up at you with hazy eyes, sharp canines peeking out from the corners of his mouth.

"mhmm, fuck!" turns out he's quite the biter.

hes leaving small bite marks on your neck and his teeth are surprisingly honed in on letting small bruises bloom on thin skin, marking you. small indentations and pressure on your chest and stomach leaving behind petals and flowers of stinging pink and cherry red.

"i have thought about it," and he's now soothing his tongue over the offended marks, "thought about you so much." and now his eyes are wider as he meets your gaze again, "is that wrong?"

you laugh, and a foggy burn and ache is settling between the apex of your thighs by now. but you want him to feel good first, to show him what it feels like to be pleasured. you press a single finger to his lips, watching as his disheveled gape reels in the surprise of being interrupted, "lean back, cho."

and he does, giving you the perfect opportunity to flip positions once more, switching so you are no longer caged by his arms, but rather straddling thick thighs that tense under his soft robes. his arms hover at his sides for a moment, and you can tell he's aching to run his hands over your topless torso once more, but they settle instead on your waist, fingers digging into the flesh above the crux of your spine.

he's fidgeting, shifting and you don't miss the quiet "please," that falls from his mouth in that low, gravel-hewn tone.

you poke a single fingernail into his neck, right above his bobbing adam's apple, letting the nail prick mildly and gently into his skin, "be patient."

your hands are in the waistband of his wide, loose pants and your hand moves past the soft brush of dark curls over his groin. for a while, you probe around his muscled thighs, running and flicking your fingertips over sensitive skin as he whines into your kisses.

"oh my god - i don't think i can...it feels so good -," and you think your boyfriend has never looked more tempting. choso's tearing down on his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth, and soon he's pulling on your lips, harshly kissing you.

you laugh, "you can, we've barely just begun." your hands find his cock, and you duck your face into his veined neck to hide your expression of surprise.

frankly putting it, it's massive. it's thick and girthy, and its practically throbbing in your fist. and choso's stuttering, jolting in your hold, "my love," and he draws out the name with such a shallow cry that you take pity on him, pulling on the silky, damp skin until its out of his pants, and hitting the cold air of the night.

"mhm," you lean down, ignoring the twinge in your back from the awkward position, "what do you want me to do, cho?" and you run your thumb over the fat head, "do you want me to do this?"

you press a soft, innocent kiss to the pulsing tip, before parting your lips ever so slightly to take the first inch into your mouth, drawing your lips back with a smack.

"haah - i...i didn't know you could do that, ah!" choso huffs, and you marvel at how he looks like a deity carved out of stone, one of perfection.

"i can do many things. like this," and you press the flat of your tongue in broad strokes to his cock, taking pride in how he's practically shuddering from your work.

truth be told, you just wanted to jump his bones and have him in you, like right now. but one look at the size, at the several girthy inches had you reeling. and you ignore the coiling tension, lifting your mouth away from his cock and he whimpers, a question dancing on his tongue.

you shift your weight back, leaning further against his bent knees as your boyfriend's gaze is...shaky. like he isn't sure where to look. how to take and drink you in. whether his eyes need to rest on your jostling chest, or....lower.

lower to where you've parted your legs, spreading your thighs while you straddle him. moving the laced edges of your underwear to the side, and you watch as choso's mouth falls open ever so slightly with a soft "oh!" like the air has been punched out of him.

"wan' you cho. want you so bad," and your right hands finds its way in between your thighs, brushing over hot slick, "but you're too big, you're gonna have to do something for me first," and you wonder, when did you start begging?

choso swallows thickly, eyes not moving from your drooling slit that glimmered with a faint sheen in the dim light, his tone dulcet, "what do you want me to do?"

you giggle again, pressing a kiss to his forehead briefly, "you're so helpful, baby. and here -," you take your index finger, tapping it briefly, once or twice on your clit, jolting from the stimulation, before running it through your sticky folds, "you just gotta do this for a while, just gotta keep this up, and then!"

you cut off your own sentence with a gasp, making sure choso's eyes are trained on you, as you dip your finger right past your walls, curling it upwards. not enough to hit that spongy patch, but enough to have you clenching down, "you just gotta do this too, cho. can add more fingers if you - hnngh, like!"

you need not say more, for the minute you retract your hand, his fingertips have already replaced yours, and you're suddenly twisting on him from the sudden contact. choso's good, fuck, he's good.

his touch is searing, as he explores the translucent gloss of your cunt, rolling his fingers through your folds and pressing his thumb down on your clit that makes you squeal, "ngh, cho. right there, fuck, that feels so good," and you're rolling your hips into him, at a steady pace.

"am i doing this right, pretty?" and choso's tone is petulant, achy, "is this right, is this, ohh, this good enough for you?" and how could you ever claim it wasn't? not when a thick finger is breaching your gummy walls, and then another — and his digits are pressing right into your pussy. if you were already this full, how would you take his cock?

"cho - cho!" you shake him out of his reverie, pulling his fingers out and away and he glowers up at you, apparently offended that you were the one depriving him of such bliss.

"you didn't finish. did i do something wrong?"

"felt so fuckin' good, baby. but i think i'll die if you're not in me, like right now," and you cock your own hips back and run your slick, weeping cunt over the hot skin of his cock as choso suddenly throws his head back, and he mutters something that you don't catch, a curse in an older dialect.

each inch, each press of his veiny cock working through your pussy has the two of you keening, and you're suddenly letting his arms wrap around you, hold you stable as you let him sheathe himself in to the hilt.

choso's hands bruise at your hips once more, and you're not quite sure what has shifted in your sweet, shy boyfriend, but now he's suddenly cockier, and a cunt-struck twisted grin is plastered on his face, as he bucks his hips up, giving you little time to adjust to his sheer size, "if i had known it was this good, hnngh, ah! would have - would have done this ages ago. so long ago..."

you hiccup, tittering as you run your hands through dark strands, "yeah, that good, huh cho? got you pussy whipped like this?"

"so much," choso nods, and his pink mouth is parted as he whines out, right after you squeeze down on his length, letting him knock and jostle around in your pussy, as his swollen tip kisses your cervix, "maybe i just am, hahh, whipped," and his fingers are still running obedient taps and swirls around your clit, big hands squirming to fit in between the space of your mound and his groin, "cherish you, you know? love you, love you so much."

you kiss him, deeply, letting his mouth ghost upwards trying to catch the faint trail of spit as you separate, "love you too, cho."

he's now set a more desparate rhythm that leaves you quaking in his hold, and the feeling of his cock massaging your inner walls has you seeing stars.

and it hits you like a knife, the sharp feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, milking the thick, white seed right out of him. you marvel at how choso's eyes roll back into his head and the most delicious groan is ripped out of him, one that you go to capture with your mouth, swallowing it up.

your own back arches as a wave of pleasure overtakes you, and leaves you shaking as you're pushed over the edge, and your heart is pounding so loudly, you can hear it in your eyes.

but choso makes no moves to shift you away from his cock, and instead he's letting out a rare laugh, one of joy, as you feel the sticky strings of his pearly cum coat the skin that presses into you.

"you're cute, cho."

his fingers are trailing faint little shapes on your chest, and you realise they're small hearts, and you bite back a grin at how your aged, half-curse, beautiful boyfriend finds romantic gestures with such ease.

"i think you're the most beautiful person in the entire world."

you mock-huff, smashing your lips against his once more, "wanna be on top this time?" surely, he can go another round?

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Red

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: sexual assault (not quite rape), angst, feeling uncomfortable by a man touching you, minor fluff at the end

Summary: A mission calls for you to find your inner vixen to get information from a man who is known to be a womanizer. Things don’t go according to plan, so Sam has to step up and take matters into his own hands. When Bucky hears about it, he turns to you knowing you need comfort in the safest way possible.

Want A Commission?

Author’s Note: this is a commission fic for the lovely @elegantauthor! go give her a follow! if you'd like a commission, use the link above for more information!

x

The short black dress stares back at you in your closet with a knowing look. You don’t want to wear this. you don’t want to go on this mission. You’d rather spend the night cuddled up next to your boyfriend and watch movies. Instead, you’re going on a mission to essentially be a vixen, not in the literal sense where you have sex with someone but in the sense where you have to seduce the target to get what you want.

It's not ideal but this is the job.

The man in question is a womanizer and is high in the weapons world. He’s one of the most well-known weapons dealers across the country. He mostly deals out of his club but whenever authorities raid his club, they can’t find anything to nail him with. That’s when they called your team to do what they clearly can’t.

You yank the dress off the hanger and quickly put it on. You haven’t worn this since before you started going out with Bucky. You can remember wearing this to the club with your friends.  The material is a bit tighter than you remember but it’ll help you get what you want. You shift your boobs to make them pop more without having them completely spill out the top. You walk to your vanity and sift through your makeup.

Someone knocks on your door before walking in. You smile when you see it’s your boyfriend.

“Hey, baby.” He has a frown etched onto his face, deeper than usual. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like this plan.” You’re the only one who can get close to Mezzi. Anyone else would just tip him off. “Not that I don’t want you flirting with another man, but Mezzi is bad news. He treats women like shit. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You set down your makeup brush and walk over to him. You wrap your arms around his neck and his hands automatically settle on your waist.

“I’m a professional, baby, and a really skilled spy. I’ve gotten bigger, more tougher men to talk for less. I’ve done this before. Plus, Sam and John will be there if anything goes wrong.”

The mention of the blonde man makes his frown deeper.

“I don’t like that John is going.”

“You don’t like anything he does.”

“There’s something dirty about him. He’s not a good man.”

You pull Bucky down toward you and kiss him, keeping the kiss short and sweet.

“You have nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine. It’s just another mission.”

Bucky slides one of his hands into your hair and kisses you for longer this time.

“Okay, I trust you,” he whispers against your lips.

“Good,” you grin and peck his lips once more.

You finish getting ready and leave with Sam and John to the car. Bucky leads his own team of soldiers who will wait outside until the cue is given. He would have gone in with you but Mezzi knows Bucky’s face. He would have ruined the entire mission before it could begin.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” you say. “I’ll go in first and distract him while you two go to the bar and pretend to be just like any other customer. Once I’m close, I’ll casually ask how my friend heard about his weapons and would like to buy some. Hopefully, he’ll be drunk enough to say where he keeps them which we would call in Bucky’s team.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam shrugs.

“We need a safe word,” you say.

“Why?” John asks.

“Because I’m a woman going in to seduce a womanizer who looks like he doesn’t like the word no. So, I need a safe word or I’m not going in.”

“Seems fair,” Sam says.

“Fine, what is it?”

“Red. I’ll work it into the conversation but if you hear me say that, move in immediately.”

John doesn’t say anything but nods in agreement. When you get to the club, you go in first. The place is already crowded with a bunch of people but you push past them all to get to the far end of the club. There is a section separated by curtains and guards which can only mean it’s the VIP section. Through the large slit in the curtains, you see Mezzi sitting back with both arms on the back of the couch.

Bingo.

You walk closer to the VIP section and start to move your body to the music. Sam and John walk in and head to the bar like they’re supposed to while keeping a close eye on you. You look up and meet Mezzi’s eyes through the slit and smirk at him. You’ve got his attention. You run your hands down your body and move sensually to the music. He leans forward and licks his bottom lip, already entranced by you.

He calls for one of his guards and whispers something to him while maintaining eye contact with you. The guard leaves and heads over to you, and you pull your eyes from Mezzi to look at the guard.

“Boss wants to see you.”

“Lead the way,” you grin.

He allows you to pass into the VIP section, and Mezzi leans back with a lazy smirk on his face.

“Up close, you’re even more beautiful,” he grins. “Drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He gets up and walks over to the mini bar to make your drink. You watch him carefully to make sure he doesn’t put anything in your drink, and you relax when he doesn’t. This place is so secluded from the rest of the club due to the curtains so anything can happen in here and no one would know about it. Luckily, you have Sam and John in your ear so you’ll be able to call for them if things get out of hand.

“Thank you,” you smile and accept the drink. He takes a seat next to you, a little bit closer than your liking. It’s okay. Pretend he’s Bucky. “I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so handsome before.”

“Oh, baby, there is no one else like me. You’ve come to the right section. I can blow your mind without even touching you.”

“Oh, really? Lucky me,” you giggle.

Mezzi reaches out and runs his hands over your exposed thighs, and you picture Bucky’s hands touching you. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to do this for a mission, but it is the first time since you’ve been with Bucky. You respect him too much to do things like this, but there was no other way to get close to Mezzi.

“God, you’re so sexy. Best looking girl here.”

“You’re just saying that.”

His hands briefly slide up your dress before he moves it back down. “No, I’m not. When I see something I like, I make sure she knows about it.”

“Here’s to new opportunities,” you grin and hold your drink out to him. He raises his own drink and clinks it with yours, but he only takes a sip. He’s careful not to intake too much alcohol, especially when he’s involved in so much illegal shit. “I was hoping to talk to you tonight.”

“Yeah? About what?”

“I have this friend who was asking about you.”

“What friend?”

“Oh, just a friend.” You reach over and dance your fingers across his chest, slightly sliding them through the buttons of his shirt. “He says you have a certain shipment he’d like to buy from you. He wouldn’t tell me more. He says you’d know what I was talking about.”

Mezzi’s attitude switches but it’s very subtle. You can see it in his eyes. He does not like that question. He slides his hand up your body and rests his palm over the hollowness of your throat. Not hurting you but letting you know he can hurt you if you piss him off.

“Well, you tell your friend if he wants something I have, then he should be the one asking for it, not sending his whore after me.”

“Now, that’s not very nice.”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, baby, it was a compliment.”

He pulls you in closer so that you’re practically in his lap, and you suddenly grow uncomfortable. He has one thing on his mind and it’s not talking.

“Out of curiosity, what’s the shipment?” you ask, trying to get his mind somewhere else.

“Enough talking. You clearly came here for one thing and one thing only. I deliver on all of my promises, and I promise to make your time here worthwhile.”

He slides his hand up your dress and rests it very close to the one place you only ever want one man to go: Bucky. He leans in and presses kisses to your neck so lightly, and that’s when you panic. No mission is worth feeling like this. You don’t want to be here anymore.

“Red,” you blurt out.

“What?” he asks and pulls away.

“I like your red shirt. It’s very silky.”

“It looks better on the ground.”

Sam’s earpiece has been bothering him since he got here, so he’s trying to fix it. He should have gotten a new one when he had the chance since it’s not the first time this has acted up. John’s earpiece, however, works just fine. He hears your cry for help yet he does… nothing. He looks toward the VIP section and sips his drink casually.

“My favorite color is red,” you say with slight panic.

John can’t give away their position because Mezzi hasn’t given the location of his weapons yet. If they raid now, they might not have anything. Sam tweaks a few parts before putting it back in his ear. He smiles when it works but it’s lost when he hears your panicked voice.

“Has she been saying this? Why are you just sitting there?” Sam asks.

He gets up to rescue you but John grabs his arm.

“He hasn’t told her where the shipment is.”

“I don’t fucking care. Get your hand off me.”

Sam yanks his arm away and leaves to come to your rescue. John, on the other hand, finishes his drink leisurely.

Mezzi has you pinned to the couch with your dress bunched up at your hips. The only thing separating him from rape is a flimsy piece of cotton. You wish Bucky was here.

“Please stop,” you say, close to tears. “Red!”

He is about to silence you with a hand to your throat when he freezes. Sam places a gun to the back of his head.

“Let go of her.” Mezzi does and you scramble as far as you can get from him. You shake slightly and pull your dress down as much as it can go. “If you don’t want to get your head blown off, I’d suggest you tell us where your shipment is right now.”

“You’re bluffing,” he chuckles.

Sam moves the gun away from his head and aims it at his leg. He shoots once, and Mezzi jerks back in pain. The gun has a silencer on it so no one can hear how much Mezzi is in pain. The music drowns out his shouts of pain, and Sam moves the gun back to his head.

“Am I bluffing now?”

“In the basement, man. In the tunnels.”

“Come in, Buck. You’re up. It’s in the tunnels below,” Sam says into the earpiece.

“Copy that.”

“Are you okay?” Sam asks you while keeping the gun on Mezzi.

“I think so,” you whisper.

“Go. We’ve got it handled from here.”

You don’t think twice about leaving. All you want is to go home, shower, and cry.

“Shame,” Mezzi groans in pain. “She looks like her pussy would be tight.”

Sam rears his fist back and punches Mezzi hard in the jaw. So hard that Mezzi passes out right there and then. Bucky and his men found the shipment and were able to arrest Mezzi and his men on the spot. With that much evidence, no judge would ever think about letting them go. The adrenaline has worn off and the shakes have replaced it. You were almost raped. You were sexually assaulted. You might be a trained spy but that all went out the window the second Mezzi forced you on your back.

The second Bucky heard about what happened, pissed doesn’t even cover what he’s feeling. Sam had to tell Bucky what John did because it was wrong of him to hear your safe word and do nothing about it. Bucky storms into home base and makes a beeline for John. He grabs his collar and yanks him violently toward him.

“You heard her safe word and did nothing about it?”

“I knew she had it handled! He didn’t tell her where the shipment was.”

“I oughta kill you,” Bucky growls. He grabs John’s throat with his metal hand and squeezes. “She’s my girlfriend, you bastard.”

John is no match for Bucky so he doesn’t even try to fight back. Bucky is about to do more damage when Sam walks into the room.

“She’s asking for you, Buck.”

Bucky lets John go, and the latter coughs violently. “Get him the hell out. He better be gone when I get back.” He leaves the room and walks into your bedroom. The shower is going in your bathroom, and he looks inside to see you sitting on the shower floor with your knees to your chest. “Y/N?” You don’t reply. He knows how scared you must be. “He can’t hurt you anymore, baby.”

Again, you don’t respond to him. He steps inside the running shower and turns off the water, not caring if he has water on his clothes. He wraps you in your fluffy towel and scoops you into his arms. He brings you to the bed and sits you down before going into your closet. He grabs one of his big hoodies and dresses you in it.

The second he has you in his arms, you bury your head in his chest and cry.

“Shh, I’m right here. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I was so scared,” you whimper. “I thought… I just wanted you.”

“I’m here now. I won’t let him touch you again. You’re safe now.”

Bucky smooths down your hair and allows you to cry as much as you need to. He won’t tell you what John did because that would only make you feel worse.

“Please stay with me,” you whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere. You can rest knowing you’re protected. You’re safe now.”

“I love you,” you say and snuggle closer to him.

“I love you. Get some rest. I’ll be here the whole time.”

That’s all the comfort you need. He makes you feel safe, and that’s all you can ever ask for.

x

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

[bbokicidal]

"What Happens When..." | [SKZ] OT8 | [Changbin]

Changbin allows the others to see just what you can do with your mouth.

Genre: Smut [18+ MDNI] Pairing: Changbin x Fem!Reader Warnings: Oral sex, deep throating, one of the others kissing you after you give Changbin head, the members helping you go down on Changbin, Chris,, jerks it,,

Notes: This IS a short fic and isn't anything really long. There's no plot - it's purely smut for your viewing pleasure and my mental peace, lol.

Word Count: 906

Divider by @enchanthings

"I've never seen someone so eager before."

"She's always excited to have my cock in her throat. Acts like it's some type of dessert or something." Changbin couldn't help his slightly cocky nature at the mention of you being eager to please. Though the comment was made a bit late; You were already taking him into your throat, tongue lathing over the underside as if he were a special lollipop just for you to have.

Hyunjin chuckles from where he sits off to the side in one of their lounge chairs, legs crossed to hide his excitement while he watched. His fingertips prodded at where they touched his cheek, head tipped into his hand and eyes dark as they followed every movement. He'd been completely enamored with the sight of his roommate getting sucked off - a little too much, almost. He let his free hand ghost down his thigh, almost as if teasing himself while refusing to touch anywhere near the tent forming in his pants. "I was talking about you."

A soft hushing sound comes from somewhere else. Jisung had shushed Hyunjin's peeping, eyes wide and body leaned forward as if it would give him a better view. The poor man had never looked so pink in his life, and maybe it was just because he was finally seeing one of his favorite hyungs get worshipped the way Jisung always knew he deserved. Or maybe he wanted to join.. -

His hand laid on Seungmin's knee beside him, who was lounged back on the sofa and trying hard to hold in any laughter that escaped his throat. With one hand previously palming himself through his shorts, it laid still now in his lap as he lets his eyes travel to Jisung beside him. While he was now far less horny than he had been thirty seconds ago, he thought the sight of Jisung so wide-eyed and ogling your form was a bit silly; But truly, he understood why he was so.. infatuated.

The swell of your throat seemed to catch all of their eyes; The way Changbin's cock bulged beneath your skin, proving that the silly small-cock-binnie rumors were just that - rumors.

"Fuck.."

Felix's eyes travel to the man sitting beside him. Perched on the floor and leaning back against the couch just near Seungmin's legs was Chris, veiny hand plastered over his mouth as the other had settled long ago in his lap. The rapid movements of his fist jerking back and forth seemed to give away what he was doing under the fabric of his shorts, even if he'd pulled his legs up to his chest and tried to hide the motion. His eyes darted to Felix who had already looked away, a bit shameful in being caught getting off to Changbin filling your throat.

But Felix was less.. shy. He'd even crawled closer from his previous spot on the floor, kneeling beside you and blushing hard at the sound of your lewd noises up close. He could hear the way Changbin's cock made you gag, spit dripping from your lips and eyes teary as you peered up at your boyfriend. With a hand wrapping into your hair, Felix pushed forward gently and nearly gasped at the sight of your throat filling further.

"Give me a moment, baby." Changbin breathes out so suddenly, gently pressing your shoulder back to pull you off of him. You sit back, willing and happy to oblige, and Jeongin can't help but notice how puffy your lips are. Swollen, wet, dripping.

He's happy to crouch down from where he'd been standing nearby, one hand guiding your head to look at him in your daze. With glazed eyes and parted lips, your head tips so willingly to the youngest that he understands in one fluid moment just why Changbin was so adoring towards you. You were so happy to please; So obedient. "You're doing wonderful," he whispers under his breath, leaning in and letting his lips press to yours. It's brief, shy almost, but he's sure to let his tongue travel over your lower lip and gather the spit that dripped - taking it into his own mouth; Greedy.

Letting his hand fall from your face and allowing you to sit up properly, looking back to your boyfriend, you're met with the sight of not one but two men peering down at you. Changbin's all cheeky smiles, plump cheeks squishing with dimples and even a little giggle as he watches your eyes dart back and forth between the two curiously.

Minho looked.. all too good hovering above you; Just a tad taller than Changbin, eyes dark and hungry, hair falling in his face and head tipped down almost condescendingly without any words needed. His hands remained tucked in his sweats, the watch secured around his wrist displaying a line that seemed to pulse multiple times each second; Letting him (and everyone around him) know that his heart rate was skyrocketing just by you staring up at him on your knees.

Changbin wrings his hands out in front of his chest, his demeanor becoming a bit bashful as he prepared himself to ask. He'd known Minho was lurking there most of the time - watching, in awe at the sight of your lips around his cock - and just how well you seemed to take him for how much of a rod he's got attached to his hips.

"Think you can take two, baby?"

Tag List : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie @inlovewithstraykids @seungminsbest @edit-me-prettyplease @butterflydemons @satosugu4l

[7ndipity]

“Just Breathe”

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You're nervous about meeting Yoongi's parents for the first time

Warnings: angst/comfort, brief mentions of toxic family life, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to @vicky-chaos for this request! I hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The late afternoon sun warmed your back as you walked down the street hand in hand with Yoongi, the familiar hum of street noise around you a welcome soundtrack that you hoped would distract from the anxious thoughts that had been filtering through your mind all day.

Normally you loved going on errand runs like these with Yoongi, finding comfort in the mundane routine, but today you had found yourself unable to relax fully and enjoy yourself, even now fidgeting with the handles of the shopping bags in your free hand.

Yoongi’s parents were coming to visit for the weekend, and he had asked if you wanted to help him cook dinner on the first night so that you could meet them. You had been touched that he wanted to introduce you to them at all and had agreed to the plan eagerly enough at first, but inside, there had been a growing tinge of “what if?”.

If this evening didn’t go well, you worried how it would affect you and Yoongi’s relationship going forward.

Yoongi had noticed your growing nerves and had tried to reassure you that things would be fine, even giving you a crash course on his parents' personalities and interests to help make you feel more confident and give you something to talk to them about.

“-And Dad likes reading, so just keep conversation focused around that if you can’t think of anything else.” He finished as you were headed back towards where he had parked the car.

“Right…” You replied distantly, chewing on your lip.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry.” He assured you, squeezing your hand gently.

You nodded, but you couldn’t stop your heart still anxiously skittering around your ribcage, seeking out escape.

“Hey,” His tone was much softer now, drawing your attention back to him with a gentle touch on your cheek, letting his fingers just brush over your skin in the same way that he did as you fell asleep at night. “Just breathe, okay? Everything will be fine. They’re gonna love you.”

You hesitated for the briefest moment.

“What if they don’t?” Your asked quietly, breaking his heart at how small you sounded.

He knew his parents weren’t the easiest to get along with, especially his father, but he had faith that they would see what a beautiful and remarkable person you were. He couldn’t imagine anyone meeting you and not immediately falling for your warm heart and infectious personality.

But no matter how many times Yoongi tried to encourage and reassure you, your anxieties over what could possibly go wrong persisted.

He knew your fears weren’t entirely unfounded; it was no secret to him that the relationship between you and your own parents was difficult to say the least, leaving you with more than a few emotional scars that you were slowly trying to heal. But he was not so secretly hoping that this might be the start of a better relationship with parental figures for you, that you might start to view his family as your own. He just needed you to believe.

“If they don’t like you, then that’s their problem and they’ll have to get over it.” He told you matter-of-factly.

“Yoongi-” You started, but he stopped you.

“I mean it, if they know me and care about me at all, then they’ll make the effort to get along with the person I love.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his in shock, making him realize his accidental admission.

“You love me?” You asked.

“Yeah, of course I do.” He said, trying to ignore the creeping redness that he could feel coloring his face.

“It’s just-, you’ve never said that before.” You pointed out, still staring at him.

“I’ve felt it for a while, I’d just been trying to find the right time to say something.” He replied quietly, suddenly finding the pavement very interesting as he scratched at the back of his neck self-consciously. “And it’s no big deal, you don’t have to say anything ba-”

“I love you too.” You cut him off.

His head snapped back up, his dark eyes filled with cautious hope.

“Really?” 

You nodded. “I always have.”

Before you could blink, Yoongi closed the gap between you, crushing you to his chest in a hug that nearly knocked the wind out of you.

“I love you.” He mumbled into your hair. “I love you so fucking much, and nothing anyone says can ever change that. Not my parents, not anyone.”

Your eyes stung at his words, trying to fight back the sudden wave of emotions that threatened to overtake you.

“I love you too.” You managed, blinking away the wetness in your eyes.

It was moments like this that reminded you of just how thankful you were to have Yoongi in your life, always willing to make room for you, to protect you, to fight for you.

After a long moment, he pulled away enough to meet your eye again.

“We got this, yeah?” He asked. “We’ll be okay.”

You nodded, a small, genuine smile creeping across your face for the first time today.

“Lets go home.” He said, catching your hand in his again and giving it a slight squeeze.

The two of you walked on together in comfortable silence, savoring the feel of the shared warmth of your joined hands, keeping away the autumn chill that tried to chill your fingers.

Everything would be okay. So long as you had each other to hold onto, you could face anything.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @universal-travel-er @k4ngelz

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

LIKE A LOVE SONG- JOSH WASHINGTON

pairing: best friend!josh x fem!reader

word count- noo idea yet... writing this rn

summary: you and josh have been best friends for years, and the crush youve had on him hasnt subsided. things are all fine and dandy, until one night, the cat is pulled out of the bag...

warnings: implied SMUT, hella dirty talk, voygerism, dry humping, josh being a huge tease, pet names, some mocking, reader and josh are intoxicated, biting, etc etc

notes: hey so i need this man sexually! thats it thats all, im gonna open my account up to write for more fandoms and hop around:) just testing out the waters with this one

"josh we are sooo gonna get caught.." you slurred, hiccuping with a giggle as he tugged your arm, pulling you down the empty hallway, leaving your scattered friendgroup behind in the abyss.

a glint was in his eye as he looked back at you, full of mischief and hunger, and you couldn't help but bat your eyelashes at him. he was so dreamy it was making you swoon.

you had always thought he was beautiful- like a dream come alive. ever since he had accidently bumped into you during freshman year of college, you had be under his trance.

"shit, shit i'm so sorry, i shouldve watched where i was going. are you okay?" he had asked as he quickly bent down to help you gather your spilled papers. it was straight out of a chick flick, and you had finally felt like the main character instead of the extra.

he made you feel so special, always making flirty comments (though he did that with everyone), and giving you looks that had your head spinning.

tonight was no different.

the booze in your system made you extra giddy, and you felt his grip tighten as the two of you neared an empty bedroom down the hall.

not a doubt had passed through your mind when josh asked if you wanted to escape from the group for a while- clearly a bit intoxicated, but still stable enough to make a coherent decision. not in a million years would you pass up a chance to be alone with him.

"isn't that what makes it so much more fun?" he cooed, tugging you into the empty room, slamming the door behind you with a whoosh. without a second to gather your breath he had pinned you back against the door, hand darting out to turn the lock.

"do you actually-" you hiccuped nervously. "-wanna do something with me? do you wanna have sex?" you giggled, your bluntness making him laugh.

"yes, i wanna have sex with you. i have for years. is that okay?"

your eyes widened. did this man just say for years?

"oh."

he bit his lip, eyes roaming down your body, stopping to admire every trance from under your fitted clothes. "you gonna let me fuck you? or are you too scared chris is gonna wanna join in?"

"oh shut up."

he smirked, breath hot and heavy on your skin as he placed a soft kiss on your collarbone, nipping it with his teeth enough to make you hiss in shock.

"he does, cause you're so sexy. like a porn star. you have such a tight bod. wonder if your pussy is just as tight."

his dirty talk had your face heating, brain turning to mush as you moaned, leaning into his touch.

"you know how much i've wrapped my hands around my cock wishinng it was you? too many times." you squealed as he bit down on your neck, hard, hard enough to make a mark for anyone with a set of eyes to see, but you didnt care.

"j-josh fuck i-"

"whats up baby? need some cock to make you think straight? you've been giving me those pretty googly eyes all night, thinking i haven't noticed. so naive." he cooed as you ran your fingers through his hair, back arching into his touch as his large hands traveled down to your thighs before swooping you up so you clung wrapped around his torso.

"you're so fuckin hot. makes me so hard just thinking of you."

you rutted against him, sighing at the friction it caused, sending shocks down your spine stright to your core. his lips found yours, teeth and tounge clashing, nothing nice about the kiss. it was rough and hard and full of need.

"fuckin pathetic, humping me like some bitch in heat." he growled, his mocking turning you on even more. you reached down, struggling to tug at his belt, needing it off.

the less layers between you two- the better.

you gasped as your wooden support was removed, as he took you over and tossed you down on the bed with ease- as if you were a doll. you barely had a second to look at him before he was on top of you, smirk coy as he rutted his denim clothed cock on your cunt, already soaked through your shorts and tights.

he was toying with you.

"im gonna fuck you so hard you're not gonna be able to walk for days." he murmred, lifting your hips up as he tugged at your bottoms, nearly ripping them in half.

"then how are you gonna explain to the group why you're limping around like some fawn hm? cause joshey fucked you so good and so deep and your tight little cunt couldnt take it."

[morikosa]

May I request some feral yandere Gojo? Just of any kind, maybe some head cannons?

By the way, I love your writing! 🩵

Yandere Gojo Satoru

Gojo's obsession with you goes beyond just wanting to be close to you—he feels an overwhelming need to possess you completely. He can't stand the thought of anyone else getting too close, and any potential threat (even if it's just a harmless friend) becomes a target for his unyielding "protection."

He is incredibly clever, and he’s not above using his charm to manipulate situations in his favor. If he suspects someone is interested in you, he’ll find ways to make that person look bad, whether it's revealing a secret or using his powers to make their life more difficult.

While Gojo may not outright lock you away, he’ll subtly control your schedule, where you go, and who you talk to. He'll make it seem like everything is "for your own good," ensuring you're only ever in his presence or at places he deems "safe." You won’t even realize how isolated you're becoming, as he’ll smooth everything over with his perfect smile and easygoing demeanor.

As you know, his love language is obsessive physical affection. He touches you constantly—holding your small hand, putting his arm around your thin waist, or pulling you into his lap when no one is around. He says things like, "You're mine, right?" or "Don't forget who keeps you safe, baby," and it’s clear he’s staking his claim on you in subtle but undeniable ways.

His calm exterior cracks when he sees you talking to someone else for too long, especially if that person is another man or someone who's too close to you. His jealousy manifests as a coldness in his eyes, and if he doesn't directly confront the person, he'll find ways to make sure you know that you belong to him and him alone. Anyone who dares to challenge his position will regret it.

While Gojo will never admit it, his love for you are an obsession—he is unable to separate his feelings of love from his need for control. In his mind, no one could ever love you the way he does, and no one could ever keep you safe like he can. Anyone who tries to get too close will quickly see the darker, possessive side of Gojo.

He loves playing mind games with you, testing you in different ways that seem harmless at first but grow more intense over time. He’ll say things like, "Do you ever think about leaving me?" or "You know you’ll never be happy without me, right?" He enjoys watching your cute reactions and feeding his ego, all while tightening his grip on your emotions.

He genuinely believes that you are the only person who could truly understand him. He convinces himself that no one else could ever love him as much as you do—or as much as he loves you. This leads to an almost delusional sense of entitlement where he views you as his personal salvation, the only person who see him as a human, not a tool.

After a while, he will definitely kidnap you.

His attitude towards you won't change after you've been kidnapped. He will not take any security measures in case you run away because he thinks you are too weak to run away from him.

But let's say you ran away from him; will be severely punished. Why are you running away from him? He loves you, he protects you, so why? As a punishment he can break your legs or throw you into a dark room and leave you there alone for hours.

Until you realize you're nothing without him.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 5

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, smoking cigars, violence, angst

series masterlist │my masterlist

your relationship with logan is strained, breaking apart at the seams.

ever since your conversation the dynamic has shifted. you don’t want to lose logan, and so in the light of day you kiss and cuddle and he watches you complete your chores. he makes dry comments as you cook together and you talk and laugh over dinner. he carries you into the bedroom and kisses the insides of your thighs until you’re begging for him, clutching at his hair as he eats you out.

but in the dark, when night falls, so does the facade of your relationship. he still sleeps in the guest room, but you no longer go join him when he has nightmares. if he wants to pretend like everything is fine and doesn’t want to talk to you, you won’t pressure him to do so. you’re following his lead, and it’s making you both obviously miserable.

he hardly ever actually sleeps, and you know that - sometimes you still wake up to his screams of pain and horror. he spends most of his nights drinking, sitting outside on the porch with a bottle or two. you often find him there in the mornings, watching the sunrise, face pale and eyes lined with thick, dark bags.

he asks you to buy him cigars when you go into town and you do. he smokes them on the porch while you bring him coffee, grabbing the empty bottles of liquor to throw out. he mutters a “thanks” but says nothing else, and you return to the kitchen to eat your own breakfast alone, without him.

it always takes a few hours before he can shake off the lingering tensions and horrors that follow him at night, before he can really be a version of himself again.

he’s angry too, all the time. that feral, violent edge to logan that you’d noticed through his animal behaviours seems heightened now. his claws come out more, becoming a familiar sight. he never takes it out on you, he’ll walk away before he ever gets close to doing that, but he becomes destructive in his anger.

he punches the walls, claws piercing through the drywall along with his fist. but he always fixes it after, and he seems less tense when he’s using his hands like that. to fix and patch-up rather than destroy.

he takes to fixing things around the house, changing the shower head so it has better water pressure, repairing the old hinges on the doors to the cupboards that always creak. he builds you a new bookshelf as an apology - or at least you think it is, though he never says the words outright - after getting shitfaced and yelling at you one night.

and yet you feel so distant from him. there’s a painful ache in your chest every time you see his handsome face, a longing to touch him and kiss him and crawl into his skin. the physical proximity does nothing to alleviate your loneliness. you miss him, so much.

he’s laying under the kitchen sink, shirt off and tossed on the floor beside him, and you take a moment to admire him, the thin sheen of sweat covering his chest, the dark hair that you want to bury your face into.

you shake your head, snapping yourself out of your daze and proceed outside. you have things to do, and there’s no use getting distracted by logan when you know it won’t amount to any changes, won’t make this thing between you better.

honestly, you’re counting down the days until he tells you he wants to leave, find his own place, start his own life. or restart, you suppose. you expect it to happen any day now, when he runs out of things to fix around your house and can no longer keep himself busy and distracted.

and then one night he returns home drunk. he’d gone out without telling you, skipping dinner together to go to some bar or another. you ate alone, hardly picking at your plate, appetite gone. 

you’ve never seen him like this and you wonder how much he must have drunk to get to this point, slurring his words and stumbling, a heavy weight that you struggle to hold onto, keeping him upright so he won’t collapse into nearby furniture. he has a half empty bottle in hand and you gently pry it out of his grip, placing it down on the nearest surface you can find, just to get it away from him.

he’s muttering words you can’t quite understand, talking to himself more than he’s talking to you, but it’s more words than you’ve heard him say in a while. you blink back the tears that threaten to rise on your waterline as he holds you against him, close your eyes to focus on the scent of him that surrounds you, the sharp tangy smell of alcohol lingering on him, cutting through his usual musk, cigar smoke and wood and him.

“i’m gonna put you to bed,” you say gently, because as angry as you are with him right now, as much as you’re trying to put distance between you, he’s still logan, and your heart beats for him regardless.

you lead him to the guest room, but he shakes his head and wrenches his hand out of your hold, stumbling towards the door to your room, to what was once yours and logans before he’d started fading away. breathless, you follow him, watching him collapse onto your bed, face buried in your pillow. he lets out a deep groan, wiggling around in your spot until he’s comfortable.

you’ve missed the sight of him in your room, missed falling asleep to his face and waking up in the warmth of his arms, the sound of his steady breathing surrounding you with a sense of peace, his hands tracing your face as if you were a work of art. you don’t even notice you’re crying until you feel warm tears rolling down your cheeks.

“don’t cry - hate when you cry,” logan slurs as he reaches out his arms towards you, beckoning you to come closer to him.

it makes you cry harder, and within moments he’s holding you. you’re straddling him, legs bent against the comforter at an odd angle but you don’t care. he presses his hot mouth to the top of your head, a barely-there brush of his lips that has you warming up from within.

“shh,” he tries to shush you, rocking the two of you back and forth in a horribly uncoordinated rhythm, “don’t cry. i love you.”

it’s the first time he’s said those three words to you, and you wish you could have heard them under any other circumstance. not when he’s drunk out of his mind, not when you’re barely holding yourself together, not after weeks of hardly speaking. it’s not the right time - hell, it’s probably the worst moment he could have picked.

“don’t say that,” you tell him, voice raw, “if you don’t want me to cry, please don’t say that.”

“but-” he protests, “do you love me?”

it’s bittersweet, this moment you’re sharing. you can’t remember the last time he’s been so honest with you, so forthright with his feelings, and yet you can’t be certain he’ll even remember this conversation in the morning. you can’t be certain this will change anything at all.

you sigh, and hope that logan’s mutation doesn’t involve him remembering everything that happens even when he’s shitfaced drunk. you don’t want your first admission of love to be a sad one, but he’s looking at you with the biggest puppy-dog eyes, your logan, and you can’t leave him hanging, can’t just not answer. and you can’t lie either, he’d be able to smell it in your scent, to read it in the way your heartbeat quickens.

“yes, logan, i do.” you whisper, pressing a hand against his cheek, the scruff of his beard.

“why are you mad at me?” he slurs, and you scoff.

“because you’re pretending everything’s fine and you’re pushing me away,” you reply, “you don’t talk to me anymore, and i can’t read you like i used to. you barely show any emotions, you just close everything away. i’m mad because yes, logan, i love you, and that means i want to know what’s going on with you.”

“but ‘s better now,” logan protests.

you frown. he sounds so sure of himself, and you wonder how he could possibly see the state of your current relationship and think of it as better. maybe you were right, maybe this is all ending.

“how?” you whisper, “how are things in any way better?”

he buries his face in your neck, warm breath forming condensation on your skin. when he speaks you can feel the words more than you hear them, muffled as they are. “i was an animal before. a monster with no control. ‘s better that i act human.”

you laugh but it’s unhappy, “it’s not better at all. i want the real you, whoever that is, more human or animal, i don’t care. but i want the version of you that spends time with me instead of a bottle, the version of you where we can talk through our issues. because i get that things are different logan, i hear your nightmares and i don’t expect you to be the same now that you remember all those awful things. you’re traumatised, i understand that. but i wish you could try to open up, let me love you. don’t push me away. and i want you to love me in the ways that are natural to you, that make you the happiest, whatever that means.”

you wake up to an empty bed, the spot beside you still warm but steadily growing colder. you blink open your eyes, blearily, making out the dent in the mattress where logan had slept, the smell of cinnamon and sugar invading your senses with each new breath you took.

you find logan in the kitchen, wearing one of your little aprons, far too small for him, the strings barely long enough to meet at the back. the sight makes you giggle, silly and domestic as it is. he’s pulling fresh cinnamon buns out of the oven, and you fight the urge to look around as if someone is about to pop out at you. 

“want one?” logan asks. in your daze you hardly noticed him turning around to face you. “they’re uh- an apology. i used your recipe and i’m good at following the instructions so they should be okay.”

he refuses to meet your eyes, shifting on his feet, restless energy thrumming through him like he’s expecting to have to run away at any moment. before, you would have said that he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to run and hide when things get hard, always fight and never flight. it seems right for him, with his gruff demeanour and the violent edge to him. but you’ve lived through him avoiding you, running from his problems. you refuse to let it happen again.

he’s skittish, nervous even, and you take a moment to appreciate the sight. it’s lovely, gorgeous even, compared to the anger and depression and irritation that you’ve gotten accustomed to from him. but you don’t let him linger in silence for too long.

“an apology?” you repeat his words, placing your chin in your hands, “for what?”

“pushing you away.”

so he remembers. you wonder if he recalls every word you spoke to him under the cover of darkness, made brave by the thought that he likely wouldn’t remember, that none of this would come back to you in any way, or if it’s more of a vague image that floats around in his mind, edges blurred and sections of the night skipping through.

does he remember the way you told him you loved him, the words tinged with sadness and desperation? you weren’t expecting the sudden change of heart, the way he so easily said the very thing he’s been avoiding admitting for so long.

“you don’t have to apologise for that,” you say, though you appreciate it, “you were going through something. you still are.”

“i still need to apologise,” he argues, and you smile at the determination in his voice, “it’s- fuck- i’m not good with words. i messed up. i know that. but i’m almost two hundred years old, you know that? and i remember every single, shitty day of it. i haven’t had a good life, princess. i hurt and kill everyone that gets close to me. and i don’t wanna hurt you.”

you stride right up to him and he looks terrified when you raise your arms, but all you do is wrap them around his neck, standing on your tip-toes so you can press a kiss to his cheek, feeling his scratchy beard against your lips. his hands find a place on either side of your waist, the position so natural, so comfortable.

this is how you’re meant to be, in each other’s arms, not fighting or hiding away from one another.

“you did hurt me,” you say, watching the way his jaw tenses at the reminder, “but i’m tougher than i look. and i don’t believe that your past defines you. who you are right now, how you treat me, that’s what decides my opinion of you. although right now you’ve got some grovelling to do.”

he grunts in agreement, “i’ll make it up to you, darlin’. however you want.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(