#ignore the fact that his shirt is backwards that's on purpose

[penofwildfire]

Was supposed to just be a sketch but I got a little too into it

[itsohh]

Always Room For One More

A/N: Female reader, this fic is dedicated to @xintothewoodswegox​  who I can’t thank enough for you constant support. ✌ Still a huge thank you to everyone else! I do see you and appreciate you. (If your thinking, is that me? Yes is it)

Summary: Ghost returns to his room after a mission to find it already occupied by his lovers who encourage him to join them.

Word count: 3658

Warnings: Smut

AO3 Masterlist

Sometimes, missions went to plan. Sometimes they went better than the plan. Job done, good job and back to base. Ghost was used to it. When he arrived back at his room, however, he knew something was a little off. He always knew when someone had invaded his privacy and gone into his room. Of course, he wasn’t dumb enough to leave anything out for someone to waltz in and find. As his hand held on to the door knob he quietly listened- then heard it. Small muffled sounds through the doors. The walls and doors of the base were rather thick. Sound didn’t travel very well through them by design. Like the ghost he was, he silently opened the door to the dark room.

A hiss came from your lips as you groaned out. “Stop fucking moving prick, or are you going to give in so easily?” Ignorant of Ghost's arrival, you seemed completely absorbed in your little world with Soap.

“As if, besides I’m not the one that's bloody fucking cheating.”

“Oh and how am I cheating right now?” Adjusted to the dark, Ghost could make out the pair of you in his bed. Both in each other's arms he could make out the bare shoulders while your chests pressed together.

“Oh ho ho, don’t act like you're not purposely clenching down around me.”

“Says the one whos literally throbbing right now.”

“I can’t control that!” Ghost removed his jacket and sat down at his deck chair to remove his boots. Not that either of you noticed.

“And I can control my cunt?”

“You can, you told me one time.”

“Well yeah but sometimes it has a mind of its own-”

“-What are you two bickering about.” Ghost finally interrupted, both shoes on the ground and a fresh shirt on. You practically jumped at Ghost's voice.

“Jesus Christ- ngh.”

“Ugh.” Both you and Soap groaned a little at the movement before the pair of you gave each other accusatory looks.

“You said Simon wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.” You whispered to Soap and stuck your finger against his chest.

“That was the expected time, don’t look at me I don’t suddenly know why he's back early.”

“Job was done faster than expected. Why are you cock warming Johnny in my bed?” Ghost started to remove his pants and you kept eye contact with John.

“Well you see-”

“He-” The pair of you started to both speak at the same time and paused.

“Let me correct myself, why my bed?”

“Oh!” The pair of you nodded in unison and looked at each other before you turned back to face Ghost.

“We always sleep in your bed when you're away.” You spoke like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I mean we always sleep in your bed when your here eh.” Soap shrugged.

“Don’t you have your own beds?” Ghost sighed.

“Yours is bigger.” You gave Ghost a matter-of-fact look. Soap snickered next to you and you made sure to lightly slap his chest in response.

“Aw come on don’t be like that you set yourself up.” Soap protested and you turned to face him with a roll of your eyes. Ghost finally climbed onto the bed next to Soap. The bed dipped under the added weight and forced Soap to move slightly backwards towards Ghost. A movement that also happened to you, sliding further onto his dick.

“Oh fuck-”

“-John-ny” You punctured out his name as Soap groaned, pleasure stimulating the pair of you.

“Are the two of you going to do this all night?” Ghost asked while Soap lifted up the duvet slightly so Ghost could slide into the bed with ease.

“Dunno, Soap what's the schedule?” You managed to joke out, still trying to slightly recover from that small bit of pleasure in your wound-up state.

“Oh let me just get out the fucken diary then. Ah, bugga,r looks like we have booked this all the way to one then we have a shower booked in at one thirty.”

“We could totally change up the schedule though if you want to join. Saves me having to go get my stash.” You propped yourself up with one arm to look Simon in the eye.

“Yeah, you should join LT- wait stash? This is the first I’ve heard anything about a stash.” Soap turned to face you, his brows furrowed. Your head tilted in confusion back at the man.

“You… know about my stash right? I’m not crazy, am I? Ghost you know about my stash right.”

“Hard to forget.”

“Hard to forget? What the hell aren’t you two telling me about?” Trapped between the pair of you, Soap’s eyes darted back and forward between the two of you.

“You were out. She was rather lucky it was me who came to get her for a briefing and not Price.”

“Price would have knocked.”

“I did knock.” He growled and pressed his chest into Soap's back. “And you responded.”

“I didn’t say come in.”  You whined and he gave you a look, his eyes said it all.

“What did she say?” Soap asked.

“She moaned out my name like a bitch in heat.”

“Nhhh.” It was John who moaned out, his hand tightening around your waist.

“Yes, like that. Thank you for the example, Johnny.” Ghost huffed.

“Hey don’t blame me. She's the one that's milking the life out of me. Damn. Forgot how dirty talk gets her going.” John's voice was still rather strained while your cunt clenched around him. With a deep breath, he continued. “Still don’t know what this stache is.”

“It’s toys, she was making a joke about pegging you, Johnny.”

“Promise?”

“Joke?”

Soap and then you spoke at the same time. Soap turned to face you again. “I’m going to bring this up next time Ghosts out of town.” He gave you a serious look.

“Why when Ghosts on a mission?” You asked.

“‘Cause nothing can live up to him.” Soap leaned back and gave Ghost a grin. “Speaking of, you joining us?” Ghost didn’t reply, instead, he leaned away from Johnny for a moment and fished a bottle of lube out of the side table.

“You lost by the way.” You leaned in with a smug look on your face.

“Did not. This is- no- this is a draw." Before Soap could really get into the conversation, he paused, his breathed hitched and the hand on your thigh that was draped over him tightened. Ghost had lubricated two fingers and slowly started to circle Johnny's entrance.

"Wound up, aren't you? How long have the two of you been at this?"

"Um." You looked over to the clock on the bedside table. "About an hour, maybe two max?" You shrugged, unsure of when you really started.

"Two hours?" Soap choked out, his nails digging into you slightly. "Oh fuck." His eyes squeezed shut and his leg moved up ever so slightly to make it easier for Ghost to continue. Two fingers entered him and he buried his face into your shoulder.

"How are you doing there?" You whispered.

"Good, good." He choked as Ghost started to scissor him open.

"Think you can handle Simon's cock in you already?" You hummed out.

"I can handle anything."

"No, he needs more prep." Ghost overruled Soaps decision

"Mmm, if Simon says you need more prep then you need more prep. Try and relax more honey. Can you do that for us?" You cooed out and cupped his face with your hands.

"It's kind of hard to when you're warming my cock for two bloody hours. I'm sensitive."

"Come on McTavish. Where did that handle anything attitude go? If it's too much I can pull you-"

"-No, please. Just, fuck, I can relax. I can relax." True to his word, Soap took a deep breath and relaxed his body. His tense shoulders slacked and you could hear the slight wet sounds as Ghost started to finger fuck him.

"Mmm that's it, Johnny. Much better." Ghost's deep voice smiled in Soap's ear. Johnny's eyes were squeezed shut while his mouth gapped slightly ajar. Completely lost in the feeling of Ghost fingers.

"Ghost." Soap's moan was muffled by your shoulder while his dick twitched inside of you. Small movements that had you clenching down around him. "Fuck this is how I die." His groan had you laugh lightly, a smile beamed at Ghost.

"Too much darling?" Your voice was soft and had a slightly teasing tone to it but serious enough that if it was too much he knew to speak up.

"Don't even think about stopping." Over Johnny's shoulder, Ghost gave you a small nod and locked his eyes on you. Slowly you pulled Johnny's face up to meet your lips. A warm and passionate kiss which he groaned into as Ghost removed his fingers. A second later he ripped his lips away from yours, hands clawing into you as Simon pushed into him.

"That's it Johnny, slow and steady." Simon's voice was steady as his hand held onto Soap's leg, his knuckles occasionally brushing against your thigh which still rest there.

"Fuck, I've missed this." Johnny groaned as Ghost fully slotted himself inside of him. His hips pressed flush against Johnny's ass.

Seconds ticked by before Ghost pulled out almost the entire length only to snap his hips into the pair of you.

"Fuck!"

"Oh my god."

"That's it."

Simon let go of Johnny's thigh and found yours, an anchor point. He adjusted his body slightly and that was it. A kiss on John's shoulder was the only warning the pair of your received before he started to pull out and slam back into him. A steady and hard pace.  Every thrust had Johnny rocking his hips forward into you, fucking you.

"See there are benefits to us stealing your bed while you're gone." You moaned out, voice chopping as Simon continued to thrust forward.

"Yeah- oh fuck yes- like finding your best friend in bed with your girlfriend." Johnny smiled.

"Man that must be rough, in your own bed as well." You laughed.

"Christ." Ghost swore and slammed Johnny and by force, you, partially hard.

"You know-" You choked on your own words for a moment as the rounds of wet sounds mixed with the slapping of skin. "I think Ghost actually likes that idea?"

"Oh? Really? Maybe we should throw him a welcoming home party more often then eh?"

"Would you like that Simon? Whenever you come home to find the pair of us waiting for you?" Your voice managed to purr out as he fuck you hard, a brushing pace that had his fingers certainly leave marks on your thigh in the morning.

"Maybe I'll tie her up for you, edge her so she's all needy and pathetic when you get back."

"What- betrayal." You hissed at Soap whose laugh turned into a moan.

"You think you could handle her on your own Johnny boy?"

"For a while. At least until you get back. Nothing like having your cock against mine as we fuck that needy little cunt of hers."

"Always ready to stretch around us." Simon agreed and you choked out.

"Do I not get a say in this?"

"Come on love, don't act coy. We both know you love it." Soap grinned and you lightly slapped his chest. Your cunt squeezed down around him as you rolled your hips against him. Johnny's eyes closed in response and cut off any teasing.

"Fuck if you keep doing that I don't know how long I can keep going." He hissed.

"Your close?" Your voice had your smirk in it.

"Am now, fuck you have no idea how good the pair of you two feel."

"Yeah? Is Simon fucking you that good?"

"So good. I have no idea how you handle the pair of us 'cause he's got me so goddamn stuffed."

"What can I say? I do have a greedy little cunt don't I?" His eyes spanned open and his mouth gaped.

"Fuck Simon, right there." His head fell back against Ghost's shoulder while he both fucked himself back onto Ghost but forward into you. "Oh shit, oh fuck."

"Cum for us Johnny." Simon's slightly breathless voice whispered into his voice and he made sure to hit that sweet spot.

John pulled you as hard as he could against you. You could feel the way his cock pumped his seed into you. The way it twitched and throbbed.

"Fuck." His curse was long and drawn out as he came. Still, he continued to pump into you, emptying as much cum as he possibly could into you. Simon stopped his movements as John did, his hand losing from you as he melted into the bed.

"Damn." He breathed a slight laugh and pushed his hair back before he pulled himself from you. His seed was warm inside, slow to escape as he panted. Ghost allowed Soap a little more space to move about so that he was no longer on his side but on his back.

"Tapping out McTavish?"

"As much as I would love to continue I think I might die if my dick gets hard again." He laughed, wiping his face with his hand. "Wouldn't oppose to having someone's tits in my face though." He flashed the pair of you a grin which you rolled your eyes to.

"Would you like some of Johnny's famous tit worship?" You leaned over Soap's lap and batted your eyes at Ghost.

"Not tonight, he's all yours." Ghost slipped off the bed and started to move around to the end of the bed. With a shrug, you rolled over and pushed up. You mounted Soap and leaned over him. Quick to move, his hand found the middle of your back and pulled you forward so your chest was perfectly aligned with his face.

"God I love how hard these get." He pinched one causing a small whimper to leave your mouth. "Sorry, couldn't resist." He grinned before he buried his face into your breast. Lips latched onto your nipple, his hand started to grope and massage your free side.

The dip in the mattress was barely noticeable but you soon felt a rather large hand on your ass, giving it a good feel before the head of Ghost's cock poked at your entrance. Still partially filled with Johnny's seed and your own slick, Ghost was able to push in with ease.

A long rumble of his throat vibrated behind you. While Soap's dick was curved, perfect for hitting that sweet spot inside of you, Ghosts was impossibly large and thick. It filled your cunt to the very brim which caused the small amounts of cum to be pushed out.

Ghost's hand snaked around your front and wrapped it around your throat. Not squeezing it, just a grip. He pulled you back until your bare back met his now equal bare chest. He had removed his shirt. A small pop sound came when Soap let go of your breast, content to stare as Ghost started to fuck into you.

"That's fucking hot." Johnny hummed. He could see Ghost rather easily behind him and winked at the man. With his solid grip on you, Simon's pace was punishing. Desperate and unleashed.

"Gotta say the view is first class right here. Fuck look at those tits." Soaps eyes ran up and down your body and stopped at your cunt. He could just see the base of Simon's cock fuck up into you.

Your head rest back against Ghost and his arm wrapped around your midsection while he practically used you like a toy.

An idea popped into Soaps he'd and he placed his hand over your cunt. You managed to choke out his name a second before his thumb started to circle your clit.

"Johnny." Ghost groaned in your ear.

"Yeah, Ghost?"

"You're rubbing her clit aren't you?"

"Yes sir."

"Don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Clenching down around Ghost's cock, you couldn't help but feel slightly overwhelmed. Two layers of pleasure that had you practically shaking. Overwhelming sensations that had your body tight like a rubber band.

"Fuck I'm getting close." You mewled out, rocking your hips. You could feel Johnny press ever a bit harder, circling your clit so perfectly while Ghost kept up that perfect pace of his.

"Go ahead, let go for us." Simon pressed his lips on the side of your throat. Your moans were choked, whimpers of their names. Eyes shut, your voice broke off. Clenching down impossibly tight around Ghost he continued to fuck you through your high.

The grip on your throat loosened and Ghost gently helped you off Johnny and onto the bed. “Wasn’t too rough was I?” His voice was softer than usual, quiet but still as deep.

“Mmm, you're good. Just took it out of me, I’m good.” You rolled your head around on your neck. Cum and sweat covered not only your body but Simon's and Johnny's. “Feels weird to be empty.” You mumbled which caused John to let out a small chuckle while Simon disappeared.

“Come here, let me clean you up.” Something flashed across Soap's eyes as he spoke and you narrowed your brows at him. “Come sit.” He patted his checks with a grin and your brows raised. “Are you going to make me beg for it?” Soap shuffled a little and you rolled your eyes at him. However, you still obeyed his request. Crawling up over to him, you mounted his face and immediately he got to work.

Your oversensitive cunt had you gasp out and flinch away from his tongue. Not so quick to let you go, his hands immediately snapped to your thighs and found a solid grip. “Fuck you taste so good.” He moaned ad he licked away. Ghost's pre-cum mixed with your arousal danced on Soap's tongue.

“So sensitive.” You whimpered as you squirmed around.

“It's okay, I got you.” He paused only for a second and went back to town slurping at your juices.

“Shit, Soap, ahhh.” Your legs practically quivered.

“Oh fuck you're going to cum again aren’t you?” He smiled mischievously. “Do it for me.” You fell forward against the wall, one hand tangled in Soap's hair as you cried out. Johnny continued to lick at your clit as you sobbed, shaking and gasping out.

“Too. Much.” You managed to get out and he finally stopped, only doing small licks at the sides of your entrance.

“Couldn’t help myself.” A throat cleared behind you but you were too tired to acknowledge Ghost who had returned from his bathroom. You had no idea how long he had been behind you and frankly, you were too overstimulated and tired to care. Simon placed the glasses of water on the table with a couple of towels. A gasp left your lips in surprise when he leaned over and picked you up by the waist. John let go of your thighs and Simon put you down on the bed next to him.

You practically melted into Ghost’s touch. “Drink up.” He passed you a glass before he gave another to Johnny.

“What is this?” You blinked a few times at the liquid.

“Water.” The towel was warm when it touched your legs. Wet. Ghost kneeled next to the bed and slowly started to run it over you. Quiet settled over the three of you as Ghost cleaned you up and then did the same with Johnny. A yawn left your lips when Ghost finished, he put the towel over one arm and soon picked you up off the bed. A whine of displeasure left your now tired lips but you still latched onto the bathroom.

He carried you over to the bathroom and slowly put you onto your feet. “Do you want to wear something of mine or something of your own?” He asked and you let a small grunt as you steady yourself on the doorframe.

“Or nothing?”

“Nothing sounds good, go to bed. I can walk back.” You waved him off and grabbed the towel from his arm to toss in his hamper. Ghost gave you a nod and left you to your privacy.

When you finished up you slowly pushed open the bathroom door to see Ghost waiting there. His shirt was still missing but now had a pair of pyjama pants on. “Legs hurt.” You groaned and he was quick to pick you up and take you back to bed. He originally went to put you in the middle but you let out a small protest. “You go in the middle. We missed you.” Simeon didn’t reply but listened. He settles in between you and Soap. He pulled the covers up and the pair of you snuggled into the man.

“Hey Johnny?” You quietly spoke up.

“Yeah?” He looked at you over Ghost.

“Why the fuck does Ghost have such a better bed than us? Like, this thing is massive.” Ghost's chest deflated as he let out a big sigh.

“Probably cause of rank? Imagine how massive Price’s bed is.”

“Well, there's only one way to find out.” You paused at the end of your sentence. “Fuck Price.”

“Sneak into his room.” The pair of you spoke at the same time.

“It's because I was too tall to fit the default bed.” Ghost sighed but pulled the pair of you closer. “You're not going into Price’s room.” He looked over at Soap. “And your not fucking Price. Christ.”

“Aww, come on Ghost it was a joke. I don’t sleep with my COs.” You could practically feel Ghosts gaze on you. “I get fucked by them.”

“If you really want to know, you can ask Price tomorrow.” His lips blessed your forehead, he never could be annoyed at the pair of you. Even if he did act like he was. “For now, sleep.”

[marisferasiop]

Clearing out wips- I posted my vampire!reader/cryptid!Ezra last night. Enjoy!!

Ao3: link

Rating: mature/explicit- minors DNI

Summary: since being turned as a boy into- whatever liminal state of cryptid he is now- Ezra has walked this earth ageless and alone, never finding his place or a partner for long. He interrupts your meal in the city one evening, and brings you home to strike up a deal; feed from him, alone, and keep one another safe from discovery. The fact that he finds his purpose under the soft graze of your teeth and home between your thighs is a nice side effect.

Warnings: lots of blood, smut, soft yearning sweet boy Ezra, mapuche mythology and monsters, schmoop. Ezra is a subby little sap in this.

Word count: about 2.7k

________________

“Pleeeease, baby,” he begs, his chin tipping further up, neck curving back, pulse thundering under your slicked lips. His hand pulls at your hip, desperate to have you pressed all along his front. You oblige, your breasts sandwiched between your chest and his as you follow his backward tilt into the sofa backing.

His warmth bleeds into your skin, along with the sharp scent of moss, dirt, wood, life etching its way into the fibers of your soft cotton shirt. He tugs upward at the hem, wanting more skin, and you shift to accommodate.

You’ll always oblige him. You don't know how not to anymore. But he will still always ask.

“Ezra,” you sigh, letting his skin slide out of your wet mouth as he scrabbles for the buttons down your front. A line of that woodsy-scented blood crests over the swell of your full bottom lip, making you suck it between your teeth to swallow it. You can’t spill a drop of him. Even now, watching it pool slowly in the well of his collarbone feels like a sin. You lick over the pinpricks, sealing them, and lap away at the stains.

It would be a crime, wasting what he offers you freely.

He pushes the fabric off your shoulders and, finding you bare beneath, whines anew in his throat as you ease close again. He lets you so close. He wants you that close. Closer, even. Like it’s never enough unless you’re under his skin.

You tuck your nose against the hinge of his jaw, smelling the scent of him clinging to the scraggly beard that grows there. Moss hits the back of your tongue, makes you salivate. Your fangs drop again as you trace the sharp line of his jaw with the tip of your nose back to the bite already slowing on his skin. You lap at it, at the coagulating droplets there, twinned pinpricks.

“The other side, sweet thing. You haven’t had enough. Not yet.”

You hum in the back of your throat, dropping a kiss on his Adam's apple. It bobs under the press of your lips; tender. The pulse of him is still strong, the half cup you’ve taken barely noticed. He’s immortal as well- or as good as. Resilient. You can have much, much more.

“I have. I don’t need it.”

“You haven’t. Take your fill,” he says; pleads, really. You grin, quick and sharp, against his throat.

“Then fill me, Ezra.”

_______________

“Why are you following me?” You had slammed the moss-scented man into the bricks of an alley and pinned him with a hand on his shoulder. He held up his one hand and held your gaze easily.

“I’m not; not like that,” he explained. You wrinkled your nose at his scent again and suppressed a growl. “You’re ah – not human,” he hedged, blinking down the mouth of the alley. The street lamp at the end flickered and gave out. “Neither am I. Not anymore, anyway. Not really. Come somewhere quiet with me? I can explain.”

He had interrupted your meal. Your throat and chest burned and your skin prickled with how cold you were. “Fine.”

He had led you a few blocks away to a truck. Drove you outside of the city to a small farm edged in forest. You had spent the drive alternating between forcing yourself to ignore his pulse and body heat, and trying to pick out the notes of his heady scent.

He smelled like a dense, dark, old forest. Emphasis on the old. He smelled like everything from bright new leaf shoots to dense, herbal decay.

You learned that name was Ezra. He had a kid at home called Cee that isn't his but is now. He led you inside and called out up the staircase that he was home. A call returned, and he ushered you into the kitchen. You leaned against the counter, feeling every bit of how out of place the image was.

“Tell me about yourself. I’ve waited enough.”

“I will tell you anything you wish to know. But first, I interrupted your meal, sweet thing. I wonder if I can amend that?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Explain. And throw in why you smell like you bathe in Pine-Sol.”

Ezra smirks at you, his head tilted to the side, and nods. “Alright.” He slides onto a stool and props his elbow on the table.

“I am. Ah- approximately three- hundred and eighty- four years old. As a boy, I was playing in the woods with my brothers when a – a creature sought to chase us. We ran back for the village, to our family, but the creature caught up to me. It was- ah. A monster. We called them piwuchen. It hypnotized me, and very much intended to eat me, and steal my heart. I was helpless. My brothers ran and got the village’s medicine woman, a machi, and they came back and she killed it before it did more than bite me. The Machi touched me,” he touches the tuft of blonde at his temple and hums. “But the piwuchen had already bit me, and instead of staying under its spell, I was brought back by the Machi’s magic. My arm was amputated in an attempt to stem the spreading venom. And I aged slowly into adulthood, but no further. So I remain the same, and just… move around.”

You whistle low and make a mockingly impressed face at him. “Gonna have to Google that one. You gonna feed me, fae-boy, or am I hitchhiking back to town to drain some other asshole?”

Ezra grins at you and nods. “Fair enough. You’re welcome to try and feed from me. I admit I have never attempted to feed a vampire before.”

“How could you tell what I am?” You ask, watching him slip closer. He shrugs out of a zip-up hoodie, his right arm pinned, and is left in jeans and a tight gray tee shirt. You can smell his blood from here, washed over with the scent of damp earth and intricate root systems. He smells alive like nothing you’ve ever scented before.

“The ah- forest gift, whatever you want to call it, that was imbued upon me from the bite and the Machi’s magic, have left some side effects. My scent, as you have mentioned, is tinged with that of the forest creature’s. I am uncannily handy with direction and luring on a hunt. I can hypnotize, if I need to. And of course, the endless lifespan.”

He comes to stand right in front of you now, the tips of his boots framing your converse as you remain leaning against the counter. “So, I suppose, little bird... That like sees like.”

“Have you tried to die?” You ask, taking his wrist as he offers it up. His arm is toned but not bulky, the skin soft and supple, a beautiful golden- olive. The scent of dew on moss greets you as you bring your lips to his pulse in a kiss. He watches you test his skin, those dark eyes holding mostly curiosity. An odd sort of kinship, this.

One side of his face tics up in a knowing smile. “I have. Nothing takes.”

You hum in agreement, knowing well what the grip of ennui is like, as well as the disappointment when any action taken against it doesn't work.

“And what about the girl?”

“Another child lost in the woods, though fully human. She was fleeing a neglectful father, and got herself quite turned around. I am only ensuring she gets her education with a roof over her head and food in her belly. No nefarious intentions abound. You could no doubt scent it on me if there were.”

He’s not wrong. He smells too pure of intent. Evil sours the blood, and his is… Almost painfully clean.

Carefully, nearly afraid of what you’ll find, you pierce his wrist with one fang. He winces at the breaking skin but doesn't flinch.

His blood tastes– like blood. But gamey, almost. Old. Aged in jungle wood, with all manner of inclusions from the forest floor. You can pick out mushrooms, moss, fresh rain, bark. The drop you suckled out of the pinprick you made dissolves on your tongue. Nothing happens. The empty, aching burn in your chest grows from a single crackling log into a furnace, if anything.

He’s delicious.

Nothing negative seems to happen to you. Aside from the raging burn of your hunger, you feel fine. Your eyes flick up to his, and he nods, tipping his wrist back to your lips.

“Continue, sweet thing. Take your fill.”

_______________

Ezra has spent a long time alone. After his village aged on and he didn't; after the Spanish came and genocide sunk it's claws in. After the strange pox - sickness claimed those survivors. After he learned a new tongue and traveled across the mountains in search of anything- anywhere he could settle into, and only found more of the same. He kept trekking north, slowly and soundly. And never found anything that suited for long.

He has worn many hats. He has been a shaman, a translator, a guide. He has robbed graves and dug them, lived off the forest alone and killed countless Spanish conquistadores. He has been a cowboy, a stagecoach driver, a highwayman, a smuggler. Mostly a con artist. He has aided those he considered friends and killed those that he considered enemies.

And in all those endless lives, he has never felt wanted. Not since his chachay and papay and his brothers passed. He stayed with them, watched them age while he only made it to adulthood and never further. He cared for them, and comforted them when they went on. And every step since has been to find something he can feel in his blood but cannot find with his eyes.

He thinks, now- perhaps too poetically for his own foolish heart - that it has been you.

You like him. You will talk to him for hours, or curl into him on the sofa for a movie. Life has a painful domesticity now, with you and Cee. You don’t live with him, but you come by most days.

Cee likes you, talks to you amicably when you're there and asks after you when you’re not. Ezra likes that you two get along. His girls, and he always grins so wide when he says it.

Ezra wonders, if after a dozen lifetimes of being forgotten, questioned, reviled, exiled, othered– if he can finally have … This.

You, under him, your soft thighs parted around his shifting hips. His weight, on you; your breasts mashed on the rise of his pecs, your mouth, open and panting. He licks into you, thieving over your palate, making your fangs tingle. You pull back and drop them, nipping his lip and then soothing the sting with your wicked tongue. Without both arms to balance, he relies on you for some movement. You undulate against his hips, rising to meet each thrust, skimming your nails down his spine to dig at the meat of his narrow ass.

“Touch yourself, sweet thing. I would gladly bury my face down there for hours, strum that sweet little clit with my fingertips til you break apart if I could.”

“Roll us,” you pant against his mouth, and he is helpless but to comply.

You settle on his hips, his full weight and girth in the vice of your slick cunt. You squeeze him internally and he hisses, grappling with your waist to get you to move.

You have been coming to his little country house for months now. You and Cee still get along well; you often help her or talk to her about her studies, and then in the night, you take your fill of him, in whatever means you see fit.

He is happy to provide. To be of use.

To be wanted.

“You want it, sweet thing?” He pants, arching his neck up into your mouth, rutting his hips up in the tiny space you’ve left him. He’s quite effectively pinned. You have his one hand in your iron grip and the other closing around his throat.

“I want all of you, Ezra. You’re mine, yes?” your throat, lined with his blood, is claggy; your eyes glint like gems in the dark when they meet his.

His eyes dilate, and he goes still and pliant under your hands. Your teeth.

“I am, my sweet. You have me. All of me.”

He explodes moments later, with your hips snapping against his, his cock rooted deep in your core, and your hands still pinning him at wrist and throat. He fills you, at your sucking mouth and your clenching cunt, and you greedily take it all.

Later, when you’ve fed him and he rolls you over and makes you spread your tacky thighs for him, he licks the deep jungle- taste of his spend out of you, luring you steadily into a rolling orgasm that steals your breath.

He’s yours. And you’re his.

_______________

The sun does not kill you, but it is stifling and uncomfortable. You wear layers and hats if you have to go out. Working from home makes your life easier. Ezra often comes if you don't come to his for days. He wants to make sure you are fed, and well.

You catch him snoozing on your couch in a sun spot most of the time. Sometimes you curl against him, take a break from corporate bullshit to breathe in your own personal little forest clearing. Your job is a careful balance of keeping up appearances and giving yourself a task each day so you don’t let the ennui suffocate you again.

He bands his arm around your ribs in his sleep and hums, happy to have you close. It still strikes you at times, how close he allows you to rest. As if you’re not a threat to his very existence. As if you’re not a literal blood-sucking monster.

He has let you know, in brief spurts, how lonely he has been. You suppose that is part of why he has kept Cee. But she will be gone in a year, off to college and her own life. He has already ensured her success by way of a trust with his vast and quiet wealth. And when she is gone, he will only have… you.

You worry, sometimes, that you will be enough. That a few meals and fucks each week will satiate the gaping void in his chest left after eons of walking the earth alone.

But then he holds you tighter, and begs you to drink deeper, and take more from him, and softens into such languid peace when you declare him yours, with his blood on your lips and his cum dripping from you.

He is yours.

You have lived a few lifetimes to his dozens, and you have known him for the blink of an eye by comparison, but you would cheerfully prefer to starve to death, staked out in the sun, than taste anyone else’s blood again.

You are his. He found you, and lured you to his den. And fed you, filled you. He is under your skin, in your very veins, and you only want to crawl inside him and tear him to shreds with your affection. It’s an all-consuming thing, this untapped well of love you have for the first time in decades. You want to drown him in it.

You know he will sink willingly under your waters.

You tuck your nose under his scruffy chin and skirt your arm around the fading sun-spot, and allow sleep to draw you under.

[ballonleastadiumofficial]

@dragon-tailz 📸

The sound of Bede’s sneakers resounded through the stony tunnels of Galar Mine 1, echoing off of walls peppered with glittering gemstones and flickering lanterns. He brushed off his shirt -a light pink button-up patterned with white spots, just like his prized Hatenna’s antenna- before hooking a thumb in the pocket of his lavender jeans. A smug smile spread across his face. Today, he felt confident, refined, and full of potential. And why shouldn’t he? It was the day he would challenge his first gym, after all. With this endorsement came a chance to truly prove himself… prove himself to Grandmum Opal, to the people of Galar, to the world! This battle with Gym Leader Kabu would be the first of many on his mission to show everyone that he was deserving of a place among the elite. He knew it already, of course, but people had a dreadful habit of questioning his claims of high status… eheheh. Well, it couldn’t be helped. It only meant he’d have more than a few teasing “I told you so”s to dish out upon his inevitable coronation as champion~! 

Bede hummed a tune from deep in his chest and fantasized about cheers and confetti and flashing lights as he turned the corner into a wide open cavern. From there, he could see golden sunlight bursting in through the exit tunnel, and his pace quickened with sheer excitement despite himself. That is, until he was abruptly stopped by a sharp snap of manicured fingers right next to his ear. “You. I’m talking to you! Did that wool on your head make it between your ears, or are you ignoring me on purpose?”

Bede tensed and whipped around. Before him stood another trainer where there decidedly wasn't one before. She was about a head shorter than him, with her blue hair tied up in a tight ponytail and thick sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose. Just who was gallivanting around wearing sunglasses in a cave…? Her shirt was white and lacey, with thin straps and puffy cold shoulder sleeves, and she wore a bright magenta coat emblazoned with Macro Cosmos's logo tied around her waist. Bede did his best to smile pleasantly at her. "Oh, pardon me. Of course I'm not ignoring you on purpose. I suppose I simply found myself in a hurry to reach Turffield… after all, too much dawdling and I'd be depriving the crowd of my grand debut~"

"Sure you're not." venomous sarcasm dripped from this stranger's lips. “But… if you were, I couldn't really blame you, could I? Any trainer with a wishing star on their wrist and an ounce of reason in their skull should realize that they’d better be avoiding me.” She shifted her weight to one leg, absentmindedly twirling a strand of dark blue hair around one finger as she considered him above her sunglasses. Her raised eyebrows conveyed a sense that she was less than impressed. In fact, she was looking at him very much like one would look at a troublesome Blipbug they would like to grind under their heel.

Bede gave an awkward, breathy chuckle. "Oh, dear. You don't believe me. Fine, then." He adopted a wide, confident stance and ran a hand through his curls with no small amount of self satisfaction. "I'm Bede, the challenger endorsed by Gym Leader Opal herself. Consider my earlier transgression rectified and yourself thoroughly un-ignored." The fairy trainer turned to leave, taking a few more steps toward the light outside. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, really, but I'm in quite the hurry. Perhaps we can get more thoroughly acquainted another time?" 

The trainer grabbed Bede by the collar of his shirt. He lurched backward with a yelp and faltered as he was made to meet her gaze. "Don't run away now. Nobody likes a coward." She hissed. Despite being shorter than Bede, she seemed to be larger than him in that moment, like an Arbok that had widened its hood, or… or a Salamence that had spread its vast wings. 

"Excuse me?! Did you Trace a Tauros's Anger Point or something? You WILL let go of me this instant!"

"No way," the trainer's other hand slipped down to Bede's left arm, fiddling with the dynamax band around his wrist "I'll be taking your wishing star before I even consider letting you go."

The pent-up energy Bede had been holding boiled over at the uninvited touch. With a jolt, he gave his assailant a forceful shove, sending her stumbling a few paces back into the cave and forcing her to readjust her glasses on her face. Bede watched her with reproach as she haughtily smoothed out her clothing. “You must be joking. All of this trouble for a dynamax band? When you’ve already got one yourself? How excessive…”

The trainer scoffed. "Are you dumb? Wishing stars are incredibly valuable, and this one in your dynamax band here now belongs to Chairwoman Oleana." She stretched her arms out before casually cracking her knuckles and pulling an ultra ball from her pocket, holding it out to let its polished surface catch the light of the surrounding lamps. “And as the challenger chosen for her exclusive endorsement, I’m here to collect what’s hers. What, did you think touting that old hag's name was going to impress me? You're talking to Wyverlyn, you dolt, right-hand woman of the most important person in the region. If you haven't caught on yet, that makes me way more amazing than you. Now, I can do this nicely, or you can make things hard for me.”

Bede sneered and produced his own great ball, throwing it up with his right hand and catching it with his left in one fluid motion. “Is that so? Shame. I was hoping to spare my pokemon any bothersome scuffles until our gym battle, but I suppose it can’t be helped. Ruffians like you ought to be taught a lesson… and my elite class pokemon are perfect for the role!”

“Grrrrr, go, Silicobra!”

“Ralts, be done with her~!”

[unknownjpegs]

like the bird

The first time Lark notices her, it’s just a flash of red hair.

Something about that sticks out in his mind. Not a lot of redheads on base but Baby; just a rare breed, he supposes. At least, not the dark haired kind, like him and whoever this new stranger is.

Shadows have been onboarding a lot of contractors lately. Something about that wiggles at the reptilian part of his brain, the fear cortex that says, something is wrong here. But he ignores it. Always had, always will. Lark did not get where he was paying any mind to the smarter side of himself.

The house is on fire again, inside his head, warming winter cold skin. It’s curling up higher and higher, dancing little sparks up into the sky. His hand, stuck in the gate, unable to get free as the sirens pull closer and closer.

Never. Lark never saves himself.

The next few times he sees her and she’s still a slip of woman with the shock of dark red. Sometimes it’s artfully tied up. Little strands that fall to the sides of her face, or the pale nape of her neck. Other times, it’s down and it swings as she walks. Purposeful strides of importance, confidence, clarity. He doubts that somehow. No civilian actually knows what they’re doing here on base; lost up in a black sea, they’re dressed the part because Graves is single minded about that.

Uniform. Lark smooths his own black turtleneck down. Looks at himself and the way the material clings too much around his thin frame. Shrugs on a black jacket that engulfs him. Makes him bulkier. A little bit of a bug show, that. Insect wings flicked out to appear larger than life. Threat! It yells. I am big and threatening. Lark zips it, caustically frustrated by his own inner monologue and the fact that he’s missed an opportunity to approach her again.

She doesn’t look at Shadows. Not really. She seems to dance her vision around them, find a spot where they don’t linger.

Lark wants to ask her to look at him. Notice me, he thinks. Like I’m noticing you.

When he and Benson have to carry crates across base, she’s there and he’s feeling that sensation of heat spread up his chest.

“Switch crates with me.”

“What?”

“Dude, put yours down. Take this one. I get that one.”

“Why?” Benny is looking at him like he’s half way to insane and that’s really funny, considering, they’re all insane. They’re mercenaries. But Benson had picked up that crate because it was bigger, a little more cumbersome and he’s got long arms, even if they are rail thin. He carries it easier. Not nearly as tall as the Corporal, but more inches on him than Lark.

“Man, like you wanna fucking carry it anyway—Just give me it.”

The switch and Lark almost regrets it because it pulls him forward a little. He’s strong—not self conscious about that part of himself at all. He’s built more for sprinting, long distance running. He’s built for wiggling into vents, dropping into electrical rooms, cutting wires. Mbabazi had used him, more than once, to bring an entire building into Shadow darkness, out of commission. All because Lark could worm his way in through a grate in the side of the office building.

Still. It’s a very fucking awkwardly loaded crate.

Makes Lark’s biceps strain hard against his short sleeve, Shadow black shirt. He puffs out a little breath, glad the baseball cap is keeping his hair out his face, tucked backward as it is. One strand seems to poke through but, whatever. Can’t all be perfect.

She passes them then and for a very brief moment, Lark’s looking at her and she’s looking at him. It makes him a little dizzy that she tilts her head down slightly to observe him—and on her face, those pretty lips turn into—well. It looks like a smile. But she passes too quick for him to actually memorize it. And the second she’s out of the hallway, he drops the crate.

“Jesus. What is in this shit?”

Benny is looking at him. He’s chewing gum in that annoying Benny way, where he’s open mouthed and twisting it around his tongue. He’s smiling too, big, twitchy guy smile. His big, pale blue eyes make Lark feel far too seen.

“You tryin’ to be like Baby or something?”

Lark’s heart lurches a little.

“Girls like that, don’t look at guys like us, Lark.” Then he picks up the crate (that Lark is now, woefully looking at and wishing he’d kept) and begins the long trek across the base.

They call me Lark, is what he’d planned on working courage to say. Like the bird, you get it? But he picks up the crate, has to use his knee to knock it up further. The baseball hat nearly slips off and he ignores it, because, fuck it. Doesn’t matter anyway. Shit to do, places to be, things in motion on base. No time to worry about any of it.

[sukirichi]

Hello! Can you write one about Nanami where the reader is oblivious and they're really close to Gojo so he gets jealous often. Sometimes Gojo does things purposely to annoy him and one day he just lost his composure and accidentally admitted his feelings for you.

I hope u accept if you're not too busy. Thank you!!!

— a little push

— sometimes all nanami needs is a little push.

nanami kento x fem! reader

thank you for the request anon! i’m not sure if reader is oblivious enough but i hope you like it! there’s some thick pining here hur hur, i hope you like it! i never knew i needed an easily flustered and awkward nanami in my life also this is unedited as usual

check my bio for masterlist and my milestone event! (◕ᴗ◕✿)

“Do you mind?”

Nanami sighs, silently praying to the heavens you wouldn’t hear the way his heart is absolutely panicking and beating wildly right now. You’d randomly pushed him inside the teachers’ office the moment he got back to the institute at work, and now he’s doomed to hide his feelings while you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes, a shaky yet excited grin painted on your face.

“Sorry, sorry,” you wave your hands in front of you, although he can tell you’re not apologetic at all. Nanami clears his throat when you step backwards to give him space, unsure if he’s happy or sad about the distance. “I was just really excited to see you back.”

Your carefree, lighthearted voice, along with that little jump in your toes combined with your statement – you’re basically asking Nanami to shrivel up already.

The stoic man remains composed, though, only shifting to adjust his tie while he stares down at you. You’re still somewhat bouncing on your feet, teeth biting your lip – a habit you had when you want to say something but contemplating whether you should. Tilting away to hide the slight flush in his cheeks, Nanami sighs again, pretending to be tired.

The last thing he wants to admit that even though he is exhausted from work, is that you’d never bother him. In fact, having you bombard him like this makes him feel like he didn’t deal with special grade curse by himself all alone just an hour ago.

“If there’s something you want to say, I suggest you get it over with. I don’t want to stay overtime and wait until the blindfolded creep comes around.”

You giggle at his insult, hiding behind your cupped palms. Crap, Nanami looks away and focuses on the birds outside instead, suddenly finding them so interesting despite never paying attention to them before. Maybe that was the curse of crushes – it had people acting differently and in complete contrast with their behavior.

“About that,” you begin almost shyly now, and Nanami practically bursts when he sees you tapping both of your pointer fingers together, gaze tilted away from him.

It makes him wonder you’re nearly on the same skill to Gojo, yet still somehow look like a small, innocent being that makes him want to protect you from everything – even if you were more than capable of handling things yourself. Well, Nanami concludes to himself, maybe you’re really just that paradoxical that it makes sense why he can never think straight around you. Maybe he’s really not supposed to understand the complexity of his feelings when you were a phenomena to begin with already.

“You see…Satoru asked me out.”

Nanami stiffens at your statement for a split second before his head whips to you so fast. You’re observant – of course you are, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer – and you easily pick up in his sudden change of demeanor. Your brow raises at his abrupt reaction, to which Nanami conceals by flexing his neck and rolling his shoulders back.

“I am simply tired from work,” he haf-lies, “So, Satoru asked you out? Will you say yes?”

His words and tone are monotonous, almost bored even, but deep inside he’s so close to beating the crap out of his co-worker. Well, not really, Nanami isn’t a man of violence, but he’s jealous. Of course he is – he’s liked you ever since Principal Yaga hired you.

He’s never told Satoru about his little crush on you. He would be stupid to do such; Satoru would tease him to no end and maybe even be as childish to go as far as pushing him to you. Typical elementary shit, Nanami cringes to himself, watching as you look down at your feet with a pout. Now that confused him. He isn’t sure what your body language means at all, but patient as ever, Nanami only waits.

“Well,” you scratch your forehead, “I’m really flattered. I want to say yes because Satoru is a nice guy—”

“He is not. I do not respect him.”

You roll your eyes at the way his eyes darkens, “—but also I’m not sure if I should. I mean, Satoru doesn’t really date, you know? He’ll be with like one girl and be with another the next week. I just don’t want to…like, fall for that, I guess. Not that I won’t, because he’s totally not my type—”

“It’s just a yes or no,” Nanami cuts you off, his words coming out a lot harsher than he intends it to be. It’s not that he’s annoyed at your rambling, he actually finds it so adorable when you get so lost in your train of thoughts that your mind just travels from one place to another, and seeing how your eyes just leave farther from reality is something he’s always find such an attractive quirk, but not now – not when his infuriating co-worker is intending to mess with your feelings. “Do you want to go or not? Yes or no? It’s as simple as that.”

You blink back at him in surprise, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that Nanami was a no-bullshit man who hit things right on the head, a huge contrast to your happy-go-lucky self, but he’s right.

It is that simple – and you’re complicating things all over again.

When you give him an answer, Nanami has to muster all his energy to not deflate. He’s tired – but now his exhaustion and even the heartbreak comes crashing down all over him that he’s immediately weighed down and overwhelmed – so much so that all he wants is to go home.

“Yes, I want to go.”

It’s his day off.

Like everything else in his life, Nanami plans everything down to the last minute of his day. His day off consisted of him having the privilege to sleep in until 8am, then breakfast with coffee from that great café a five minute walk away from his apartment, then he’ll be reading books in his study for two hours. Comes after that is lunch, and he’ll brows through some TV shows, pick up his clothes from the dry cleaning, get that special limited edition dinner of his favorite sushi, read books again and call it a day.

Simple, peaceful, no hassle – it’s the perfect day to relax.

Except it isn’t.

Because it’s your day off too, and you’re out on a date with Satoru. He still remembers how happy you looked then upon accepting the white haired man’s invitation, your nimble fingers wrapped around his sleeve as you shyly asked him to come with you.

He doesn’t know why you had to bring him, but he doesn’t question it, nonetheless. Nanami wants to see how Satoru would react, if there could be any indication from the man behind his blindfold that he had ill intentions. Oddly enough, there didn’t seem to be any. Satoru only beamed and deflated into a chibi, enthusiastically nodding along with you while you planned your date together.

Nanami took it upon himself to leave.

With a silent scoff, Nanami placed his dinner down on the counter. Because it’s his day off – and mostly because he doesn’t feel like himself – Nanami went out to buy the limited edition sushi wearing a white shirt and some gray sweatpants, too forlorn and a little jealous to even bother dressing up.

It’s stupid, really. He’s been looking forward for this sushi for a long, long time, but now that he’s had it, he can’t even enjoy the taste. His mind keeps going back to you.

Were you having fun with Satoru? Were you enjoying your time? Was Satoru treating you well? What was Satoru’s intentions when it came with you? The last time Nanami checked, you and him got along really well and you’re mostly the one who whacks the taller man in the head upside down when he’s being stupid, almost like two peas in a pod, except you were the smarter one. He’d been so sure you’re nothing but friends and yet…it all lead to this.

Nanami pushes his sushi away. They no longer taste like anything, the texture like dried paper on his mouth. He wipes his lips with a napkin, staring longingly at well…nothing. His walls were plain and empty, and suddenly, Nanami can’t help but compare himself to Gojo.

You both planned to go to the local carnival. There’d be lots of foods and even parlor shops, ferris wheel rides and photo booths to create memories. Of course you and Satoru would go there; both of you enjoyed loud, bustling crowds, claiming there was something amazing about basking in the “lives of humans when ignorant of curses” while Nanami prefers his peace and silence.

Had you gone out on a date with him instead, Nanami can’t guarantee he’ll be any fun. He most definitely wouldn’t ask you to go to a carnival with him either. It was loud, cramped, crowded, and it’s too chaotic for him to ever enjoy your presence and enjoy it alone.

Nanami closes the sushi box, turns on the TV and lets is play on the background, a wet towel above his eyes to relax his tired eyes.

He hopes you’re having fun. He hopes Satoru is treating you well. Nanami just ignores the slight pain in his chest when he thinks of you, laughing and touching anyone but him, and he could picture it already. You’ve always been so open and welcoming to everyone, he knows you’ll have fun today, too.

That’s one of the things he finds most endearing about you – that your smile never fades and you never forget about the simple, little things in life to focus on to keep your sanity after facing curse after curse.

He’s fine, he tells himself. Satoru may be annoying, but he knows you could have fun with him, and you deserved to be happy more than anyone else.

Nanami is about to fall asleep on his couch when his phone vibrates on the coffee tables. Groaning, he flicks off the towel to his shoulders, grumbling about how Principal Yaga better be respecting his day off, but the last thing he expects to see is your contact name flashing on the screen. In the contact photo, you’re winking with a peace sign held above your head.

You look so utterly adorable Nanami just wants to kiss you. He remembers this photo was taken when Yuuji got bored and asked to play games on his phone. Upon finding that there was none – of course there was none – the strawberry-haired student opted for taking pictures of everyone instead. There’s one with Nobara growling, Megumi sipping his boba-tea with dead eyes as if he’s so done with the world, more than twenty pictures of Satoru flexing his muscles and posing like an idiot, and then there’s yours.

Nanami remembers staring at his phone for a solid minute, his gallery actually blessed with your face in it. The sun shines behind you on that photo and you’re absolutely shining. He thinks that’s when he truly fell in love.

And it just so happened the love of his life is calling, making his heart skip a beat because shouldn’t you be with Gojo? Why were you calling him? Did something wrong happen?

Nanami doesn’t waste another second before swiping the green icon, already standing up from the couch as he grabs his jacket. He had this weird inkling something is wrong, why else would you call him?

His theories are proven true when your voice comes out shaky. “H-hello?”

“Good evening,” he greets stiffly, brows furrowed as he listens in on the way you seem to be shuffling around. “Is there something wrong?”

“I, uhm,” he hears you sniffle through the other line, “Yeah, I guess there is…Satoru just texted he can’t come because Principal Yaga suddenly sent him to a mission overseas…and then I just realized that Satoru’s been summoned by the elders and he’s just refusing to show up, so now they cornered him, I guess… anyways, I’m talking too much and I don’t want to be a bother, but would you maybe…like to hang out with me?”

Nanami’s hand freezes on the doorknob. “Hang out…professionally?”

He immediately wants to smack himself in the forehead for that. Out of all things he could’ve said, he just had to utter something unintelligent. He hears you snicker in the background and Nanami’s ears redden. 

He quickly regains his composure with a clear of his throat, suddenly remembering that Satoru’s ditched you, so now you’re asking him instead. It kind of feels like he’s just a replacement, but Nanami buries this feeling down before it consumes him, wondering if he’s already regretting changing into better clothes because he actually agreed to go to a carnival with you.

Upon hearing your happy, “Okay! I’ll wait for you then!”, Nanami realizes that he doesn’t actually mind. Especially not with you.

The carnival is loud.

Nanami dreads the moment he steps out of his car, his body swallowed by the bustling crowd and defeaning music of banging drums and clashing instruments. There’s a hundred scents everywhere – smoke, fish, glazed apples – he doesn’t know where to begin or how to focus.

He nearly turns back to his hair, about to shoot you a text that maybe this is beyond him after all. His head begins to spin when he’s only pushed deeper into the crowd, people bumping into him with every single second and it’s so suffocating. It doesn’t make sense to him how anyone could possibly go on a date like this and enjoy it. He knows for sure this chaos won’t let him enjoy his date’s presence because he’s too busy trying to get away from it all.

Nanami staggers for a bit when a strong hand tugs him to the side. Soon, he finds himself pressed flush against you in a tight corner, your hips warm on his. “Hi,” you breathe out airily, lashes fanning and fluttering in that same manner that always made his heart do complete flips.

“Hello,” he greets back with a small bow out of faux respect, but really, he’s just keeping his head down because you look so beautiful in that moment he doesn’t even know where to look. You’re warm and soft next to his hard and stiff muscles, the scent of roses and vanilla mixing in with the street smoke and Nanami’s head grows dizzy, his hand around yours tightening for comfort. “Y/N…I do not prefer this crowd. Can I take you back home instead? You must be tired – I’ll prepare dinner for you.”

Nanami blinks back in surprise when he sees you nod, a slight grimace on your face, and you practically bury your face in his bicep as you groan, “It’s too noisy for me too. Let’s just hang out at your place.”

So you end up in his immaculately clean apartment, admiring and staring at the boring furniture. Nanami changes into more comfortable clothes and whips out something to cook, not wanting to feed you measly take out when you’re probably famished. He watches with side glances as you pick up a photo of him with his parents when he was younger, cooing and giggling at the baby version of him.

“Nanamin, you’re so cute!”

Nanami scoffs and turns back to the heated water in the bowl, arms hard as they cross against his chest covered with an apron. “Please do not call me cute. I am anything but.”

“No, you’re really cute,” you insist, but after seeing Nanami’s flustered frown, you eventually give up and give the poor man a break. Later, you wobble next to him, watching with curious eyes and a small smile as he adds the vegetables into the soup, moving expertly as he diced up the onions to the side. The sheer focus and attention on his daily tasks makes him falter, and he suddenly finds it so hard to function now.

“Why are you staring at me? Is there something so interesting about slicing up onions?”

“No, not really,” you say absentmindedly, the slight plop of the ingredients echoing. “It’s just – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way. Domestic, I mean, but it looks good on you,” you nod to yourself, and Nanami finds himself struggling to act as if your presence wasn’t making him go crazy while he proceeds to cook. “In fact, everything looks good on you, and I find you really interesting!”

“Y-you do?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, assisting him silently with mixing the bowl even when he didn’t ask you to. Unaware that he’s now focused on you, watching you cook with him with you pressed up against his side, almost as if it’s right where you belong, Nanami feels the same with you. You also look good being this domestic with him, and he suddenly blurts out, “Would you like to stay with me? Like this?”

Your eyes slide over his in a slow fashion, slow enough that his brain hotwires at the fear maybe he’s said something wrong. But Nanami immediately swallows it down, huffing and turning away from you with that stoic expression again. “Forgive me. That was weird—”

“Why would it be weird?” you laughed to yourself before bumping your hips with his, “You’re the one who invited me here. Of course I want to stay.”

That’s…that’s not what he means.

Nanami is left staring openly at you while you help him set the table and you proceed to talk about how you didn’t really want to go to the carnival but Satoru insisted you’d have fun, so you went anyway even if you’d much prefer to be somewhere else. He’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your lips move and how you swing the house slippers on your big toe, your legs crossed on top of another and your figure slightly hunched across from him.

You look so comfortable and welcomed in his home that it puts him at ease too, not worried that he has to impress you anything because it’s you, and Nanami could actually be vulnerable enough to laugh with you over a bowl of vegetable soup.

It’s fine, he lies to himself again, it’s fine that you don’t know he likes you even if he tends to slip and be obvious sometimes. Because at least you’re with him in that moment, and he lies to himself again that it’s fine, that maybe next time he’ll tell you, but he doesn’t worry about. How could he worry about it when you’re snorting so loud over a lame joke he said that rice nearly came out your nose, and he’s so drunk over the sound of your bubbly laughter that something flutters deep within his belly?

When you help him wash the dishes and bask in the silence instead, comfortable over the lack of words and nothing but the sound of his faucet running and the slight rubbing of towels against dishes heard in the background, Nanami is unsure whether he’s glad that Satoru ditched you on your first date.

It doesn’t stop there.

Nanami only keeps falling in love with you more. He’s been doing a good job of keeping his feelings to himself because the last thing he wants is to have you stay away from him, but Satoru was really getting on his nerves.

He’s just come back from exorcising a curse when he sees you and Satoru play-wrestling in the field with the other students. Megumi is grumbling to himself in the corner, Yuuji is laughing and cheering on you to tackle down his sensei who’s currently going down in high-pitched laughter, Toge pumping his fists and screaming, “Salmon, salmon!”

It’s a chaotic sight – one that he usually doesn’t mind – until you finally pin Satoru down on the ground, your ass above his crotch. Satoru’s hands then come up to squeeze your ass and hips under the false pretense he’s struggling to push you off him, but Nanami knows better.

“Give up already!” you tease the other sorcerer who’s still wriggling underneath you, and Nanami sees it before it happens.

Satoru’s legs bend beneath you and he tries to pin you under him in quick movements, but Nanami is faster, his reflexes taking over. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Nanami tugs you and pulls you forward until you collide on his chest. He’s breathing hard, eyes narrowed at the arrogant smirk painted on Satoru’s features. Meanwhile, you’ve softened in Nanami’s grip, hands fisting his shirt that has him hardening up out of sheer protectiveness.

“Oh, Nanamin!” Satoru beams while wiping the dirt on his hands across his uniform, “Glad to see you here. You wanna join training too?”

“This is hardly training,” he retorts with a clenched jaw, “You’re harassing and disrespecting your fellow sorcerer because you can never keep your dirty hands to yourself,” before Satoru could defend himself, he’s already all over you, his hand tilting your chin side to side to check for any injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere? Did this bastard do anything else?”

“No, not really—”

“Why do you care so much, Nanamin?” Satoru teases, and the students all huddle to watch the commotion. Everyone can feel the tension rising, and Nanami only stiffens up further when he feels you lean closer to his warmth almost absentmindedly. “She and I were just playing around, no hard feelings, no foul play. We’re just having fun, right, Y/N?”

“She is not someone you can just have fun with, Satoru. You’ve already crossed the line when you ditched her on your first date, and you didn’t even bother texting or calling back when I drove her home. It’s disrespectful, and she deserves better than that.”

“Nanami—”

“I was busy,” Satoru sighs dramatically, “And if she deserves better than me, then who would it be? I can take care her of her, you know, she and I have been besties for like what, a year now? I’ll be good to her,” he smirks, and Nanami wants nothing more than to punch him square in the jaw. “Besides, it’s not like she’s dating anyone else. She’s single and ready to mingle—”

“Maybe she is, but I’m not,” Nanami deadpans, his harsh tone shocking everyone.

“Wh-what do you mean?” you squeak under him, and Nanami falls silent. He’s never thought of confessing to you, especially not this way, and Nobara is biting Yuuji’s jacket behind them to muffle her squeals. Panda is clapping his hands and whispers oh, here we go, followed by Toge’s salmon salmon.

It dawns on him now that everyone knows he likes you after all, and now that he’s confronted with the situation, he can’t run away from it. Not that Nanami plans on running away, for he is a man and his pride doesn’t allow him to evade situations like this.

He just wishes it could’ve gone out better.

“Forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable,” Nanami releases his grip on you, loosening his tie that makes him feel like he’s choking both on air and his words. Through his cool stature, he’s actually sweating inside his clothes, and it doesn’t help you’re patient with him too, head tilted to the side curiously and so horribly cutely he might combust. “But I have always been, and I still am, utterly in love with you.”

Nobara and Yuuji no longer hold back as they scream to themselves, the former slapping the latter in his back while Megumi only shakes his head, muttering “about time,” under his breath. Maki snickers to herself and Satoru is stunned, but it’s nothing compared to the way you shrink under his gaze for a moment.

He believes you’re going to run away from him because of his blatant confession; it wasn’t romantic at all, and the kids are still screaming too loudly for him to form coherent thoughts.

Nanami begins to form a deep bow, ready to apologize wholeheartedly and to politely ask you to forget this if you wish – he would respect your decision. But just as his gaze met the ground, he’s thrown off balance as you jump on him, soft glossy lips crashing into his.

The screams and cheers of everyone are suddenly drowned out when he feels your lips molding onto his, and he can feel you smiling happily, giggling while his hands tentatively run down your hips to hold you close. It’s unprofessional, displeasing, and downright horrendous to be kissing someone during work hours while the students are watching, especially because his clothes are crumpled from your eager touch and you’re on top of his chest, but Nanami absolutely doesn’t give a single fuck because he’s kissing you back fervently.

It’s what he’s always wanted – you’re the one he’s always wanted, and now that he has you in his hold, he’s not easily letting you go.

“See? I told you guys,” Satoru proudly puffs his chest up in the background, “All Nanamin needs is a little push.”

[i-am-distressed]

JJK Boys getting accidentally flashed by their Girlfriend

Characters: Megumi, Itadori, Yuta, Noritoshi, Nanami, Toji, Naoya, Geto, Gojo, and Sukuna

Warnings: Implied 'nudity' cause, y'know, getting flashed. Naoya + Sukuna, Yuta’s turned out very detailed and warning for his cause curses are gross, mentions of injuries/implied blood, Noritoshi’s is eXTREMEly self-indulgent, allusion to sex in Toji’s and Sukuna’s but nothing explicit or suggestive (obviously), you guys are married in Toji’s, Naoya’s and Sukuna’s. Kids in Naoya’s, cursing in Sukuna's but I 'censored' it :)

**I write Naoya and Sukuna with some necessary changes, please hold your judgement☺ These are long but give it a chance-**

Fushiguro Megumi:

Due to his job as a student/Jujutsu Sorcerer, Megumi was usually pretty tired when you guys got to hang out.

So, the first thing you guys typically did when you met up after school was nap for a good hour or two.

Which worked out well for both of you since he finally got some rest and you got cuddles and a chance to play with his hair.

On this particular afternoon, Megumi had basically crashed the minute he hit the bed, you not far behind to lay on his chest while he zonked out on his back.

It had been just about 2 hours when he woke up, one hand going up to rub his eyes while his other arm wrapped around you to hold you tight.

You smiled when you felt him moving, turning ever so slightly to give him a small peck on his shoulder.

He smiled and turned to look at you, only to see that while he was sleeping you had changed into a loose tank top. A loose tank top that had...shifted, to give your boyfriend a view you had not intended to give him.

He was so flustered he didn’t realize how red the tips of his ears had gotten and how wide his eyes had gotten, not to mention the fact he hadn’t said a word.

Thinking he had fallen back asleep, you looked up only to see your boyfriend seemingly stuck in time as he looked at something.

Following his gaze you gasped, rushing to fix your shirt.

That seemed to snap Megumi out of his daze, that and your non-menacing ‘pervert’ you muttered, it’s not like you really cared (you were more embarrassed than anything) but the opportunity to tease was much too good to pass up.

“I- hEy! It wasn’t on purpose! You’re the one that flashed me…”

“I don’t know Megumi...you were awfully quiet for awhile there, didn’t even warn me😔”

You may or may not have gotten hit with a pillow following that remark.

Itadori Yuji:

You and your boyfriend Yuji were celebrating your two year anniversary, and this year you had both decided on going to an amusement park!

It was a pretty hot day, and you’d be walking a lot so you decided on a cute loose t-shirt and shorts and some walking shoes.

You guys had just gotten on this rollercoaster, and from the looks of it this one was going to be fast.

The ticking as you went up the first and very tall hill did nothing to quell the excitement/fear you were feeling, and it also did nothing to keep you from taking your boyfriends hand in yours.

After that first drop, it wasn’t too bad! But it was definitely on the faster side.

You guys were almost done, the end was in sight.

You turned to ask Yuji what ride you should do next when one sharp turn caught you off guard and flipped your shirt up into your face.

Right when Yuji had just so happened to have turned to talk to you.

Trying to ignore the utter shame you felt you tried to fix your shirt, your boyfriend then leaned over you to stop anyone from getting a peak as the car pulled back to the start.

You felt so embarrassed after it, but when you tried to apologize he just shook his head, gave you a kiss on your cheek and grabbed your hand to drag you off to the next ride.

Okkotsu Yuta:

**Unlike the others, this happened before the two of you started dating, you were still just really good friends**

You and Yuta had been sent out on a mission together.

You were a little nervous since it would be your first time going against a special grade, but you were confident you’d be able to do your part. Plus, having Yuta there was helpful in more ways than just his power.

The fight was a tough one, this curse you guys were fighting kept breaking the ground and shooting debris everywhere, it was easily blockable and it really wasn’t that dangerous.

But it did prove irritating.

Along with making tears everywhere in your jacket and skirt, you had been left with no choice but to kill the curse when it was up close and personal, so you were also covered in gross stuff.

To keep yourself from throwing up then and there, you unbuttoned your top and shrugged it off your shoulders, wincing at the cuts that had amassed during the fight.

You planned to quickly exchange it with the spare you kept in your bag, the debris had caused a bunch of dust which was acting like a curtain to shield your half-naked self from the eyes of the world.

But most importantly, from the eyes of your crush.

Unfortunately for you, your bag had gotten caught under a somewhat heavy piece of concrete.

Which would be no problem for you to lift if you hadn’t run through a fair amount of your cursed energy.

In your exhaustion, you must have made your struggle known with the grunts and obvious sounds of struggle you were making.

Yuta, who had a radar for you on anyway, heard this and started making his way over to you since he’s a considerate lad and you could be hurt!

You had just gotten it off the ground when it finally shifted enough for you to get your bag out, and you, being ever so coordinated, stumbled backwards.

Right into the open arms of Yuta, who immediately went red when he realized you were no longer wearing a shirt.

His jaw dropped as he tried to form a sentence, say something, anything to make sure you knew it was an accident.

Poor guy was so scared you thought he was a creep, he couldn’t look you in the eyes for almost 3 days.

That is until Maki locked you both in a room until one of you confessed💖

Kamo Noritoshi:

(This one may or may not be self-indulgent since I’m a clutz-)

You and Noritoshi had been sent to get something from the principal’s office by Utahime.

You were walking in front of him, paying little to no attention as to where you were walking as Noritoshi lost years off his life watching you stumble and almost trip.

So, okay, maybe you were a little bit clumsy, so what?

“Y/n, would you please be more careful? You’re going to fall.”

You turned your head to look at your boyfriend with an unimpressed look on your face, continuing to walk as he was even more on edge now that you definitely weren’t looking where you were going.

“Have a little faith in me, would you? I’m not that clumsy-” Just then, your foot caught a root perfectly, resulting in an untimely fall to the ground.

Which, thanks to years of falling face-first, you were more than prepared for.

Noritoshi, who felt his heart stop, quickly went to aid you, only to realize that your skirt had shifted with your fall, leaving you partly exposed to the world.

Partly exposed to him.

He quickly made his way to your side, helping you up as you laughed and dusted yourself off, noting the quietness of your boyfriend.

Usually when this happened, and he was quiet, you’d be in for a lecture.

But this time you noticed he was quiet...but he was also blushing.

You guys continued walking, you definitely weren’t complaining about not being told off, but you weren’t a fan of his silence. And...since when did Mr. Blood manipulation blush…?

“No lecture today?”

Noritoshi, who had been very deep in thought almost jumped at your voice, huffing as he tilted his head downward and picked up his pace a little.

“No tights today?”

You stopped at that because...he typically didn’t care what you wore, he was actually pretty laid-back except when it came to your safety.

“It’s August...so no?”

“Then i’d recommend you be a little more careful, had it been somebody else walking behind you, they would have seen something they shouldn’t have.” Your eyes narrowed at his words because...what was he talking about??

Sensing your confusion he turned towards you, eyes cracked open and a small smirk on his face. Leaning in close, he whispered.

“When you fell, your skirt lifted.”

And proceeded to walk ahead and into the principal’s office, leaving you in a whirlwind of emotions with no idea how to process them.

Nanami Kento:

You were over at Nanami’s place, in his kitchen cooking dinner with him.

You guys didn’t get to have dates often, but thankfully you guys both had tonight free. And seeing as you both have been busy, a home-date sounded nice to both of you.

Nanami was working on opening a bottle of wine while you were fiddling with the stove top.

Nanami had recently moved into this apartment, and it was really nice. But the oven was much different from yours, so it was taking awhile for you to get used to it.

You had finally gotten it on and you put the frying pan on the burner to heat up.

You turned your back to it and leaned against the nearby counter, appreciating the view you had of your boyfriend’s back and biceps.

It was safe to say you were distracted.

So distracted, that you didn’t notice that the shirt you were wearing had been just close enough to the burner that it had caught on fire.

You felt your hip getting a little warm, so you looked down and gasped when you saw that you were literally catching on fire.

You scrambled to rip the shirt off you, throwing it in the thankfully empty sink as you turned the water on, successfully avoiding a major problem and any serious injuries.

Shaking your head, you turned to your lover with an apology ready on your lips, only when you met his eyes, he quickly turned around.

Clearing his throat, he returned to his previous task of cutting the vegetables while he instead nodded his head towards his room.

“You can wear one of my shirts, they’re in the second drawer.” You nodded and made your way into his room, shaking your head to try and rid yourself from any further embarrassment and cool down your overheating face and neck.

Little did you know, Nanami was trying to cool down the burning red on his own face, as well as trying to focus on the vegetables.

Fushiguro Toji:

**In this you two are married and you’re Megumi’s momma**

You guys had recently adopted a cat from a nearby shelter, Toji didn’t want a cat, but between the puppy eyes of not only his young son but his wife, he was never walking out of the shelter without one.

Only, you didn’t walk out with one, since the cat Megumi chose was a female, and pregnant.

So now you guys have 4 cats.

Your kittens were older now, just about 4 months. So you and Megumi would let them out during the day (supervised and with their momma of course) and bring them back in at night. Toji didn’t really care what you did with them since they made you both happy (and it kept you both occupied-).

Toji had come home from a particularly grueling day at work, his shoulders were stiff and he had a small headache, and all he really wanted was to drag you to the bed so he could sleep on top of you while you ran your fingers through his hair and he could finally get some decent sleep.

Does he get that? No.

What he does get is you and Megumi yelling up the tree in front of your house for “Cat! Come down from the tree!” ‘Cat’ was the name of the kitten you and Megumi had forced Toji to name since ‘he had to have one too’, even though it was really just so he had no choice but to let you two keep them all.

Sighing he walked over to you both, ruffling Megumi’s hair and giving you a kiss before he stuck his hands in his pockets and asked the question he didn’t want, or need, the answer to.

“*sigh* what happened?”

Frowning, you looked back to the tree and pointed, revealing the small kitten who had managed to get herself, or himself he couldn’t remember, stuck on one of the lower branches.

“Well, he’ll come down eventually.”

You smacked his arm as Megumi’s eyebrows pinched together, little arms crossing in front of his chest, “It’s a she, daddy. And she’s just a baby! You have to get her down!”

Groaning he brought a hand up to rub his eyes, “There’s no way i’m getting up that tree, I’m way too big, and daddy’s tired”

Pouting, Megumi stood in front of his dad (Let’s say Megumi is 3~), little hands tugging on his pants leg, a little “please daddy?” coming from his trembling lips.

“No, daddy’s right, he’s too old to get in the tree,” You smirked at the glare you got from your husband, “But, if daddy helps me, I can get in the tree.”

So, that’s how you ended up in a tree, gently handing ‘Cat’ down to your husband, who quickly passed her down to Megumi, and found yourself struggling to get down.

You and Megumi had been out and about earlier, and you were wearing a comfortable dress that day, so being in a tree was less than ideal.

With the promise of Toji catching you, you jumped, not expecting the wind to carry your dress, and unintentionally giving your husband a show. Luckily, your son was much more interested in the kitten.

You felt your face heat up as you quickly fixed your dress, your husband just laughed with a ‘nothin’ I haven’t seen before babe’ which was quickly followed by an ‘ow!’ when you smacked him. </3

Zen'in Naoya:

You and Naoya were preparing to have dinner together.

He was sat at the table, finishing up some paperwork while you finished up the food.

Your 2 children, your 5 year old son and 3 year old daughter, were also sat at the table. Your children both telling their father about their days while he listened. (I know he’s literally awful, but if I can pretend Toji isn’t an awful father, I can pretend Naoya isn’t an awful person✌😌)

“And then, Momma told the guy off! It was awesome daddy!” Naoya raised his eyebrow with the smallest hint of a smile tugging the corner of his lip up. “Oh? Did he start crying too?” You gave your husband ‘a look’ while you walked to the table, setting the first dish down on the table before you turned to get another.

Your son giggled, “Like a baby!” Naoya chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip of water.

He couldn’t help but think back to your younger days, specifically the day the two of you met when you told him off, the day you changed him, and finally the day you made him cry as you walked towards him down the aisle.

“I bet, Your mother has a habit of making men cry.” You sternly called his name from the kitchen as he snickered, your kids breaking out into their own fits of giggles.

You walked back into the dining room carrying in the last dish, shaking your head as you lightly bumped him with your hip as you passed him, him lightly patting your butt as you walked by. “Stop feeding my kids lies.”

He just smirked as he lifted his glass to his lips, he was in the middle of taking a sip when you bent down to place the dish on the table, your shirt dipping low to the point your chest was on show, giving your husband an, albeit welcome, unintentional view.

Choking on his drink, he set the cup down in favor of beating his chest with his fist, you coming over to rub his back, your children looking over in confusion cause...what the heck dad, that was weird.

“What happened? Do I need to get you a sippy cup?” Glaring at you he was finally able to stop coughing, you patting his back as you went back to your seat and sat down.

You raised an eyebrow at him, since he had still yet to tell you why he had suddenly choked on his water. But it was then you noticed just how red his face was, and how low his gaze was.

Looking down and realizing your shirt had drifted down, you fixed it and smirked, struggling to hold in the laughs and snorts that were sure to explode out of you.

Even after almost a decade of marriage, it was good to know you could still make your husband blush like a teenage boy.

Geto Suguru:

You and Geto had gone out on a date!

It was a nicer place, so you were wearing a cute spaghetti strapped dress with some nice shoes, and he was wearing a button down with slacks (sleeves rolled up to his forearms of course🥵).

You had just finished dinner and were now on the walk home.

All night you had been paranoid about your dress, you had gotten it when you and a friend had gone thrift shopping. It was honestly in pretty good condition, the only problem was that the dress’ straps had a good amount of wear on them, so the straps weren’t really that great, and you could feel them loosening as the night went on.

BUT, you were going home now, so it really didn’t matter much anymore.

Geto was lightly swinging your hands between you both as you told him the recent drama you had learned at work.

You were holding your uncomfortable shoes in one hand, and obviously Geto’s hand in the other, so your hands were occupied.

“You would not believe how messy that got. In case you ever think about cheating on me, just remember that man’s gonna be finding glitter in his car for at least a few decades.” Geto laughed as he shook his head, nudging your shoulder with his, “Good thing we don’t have to worry about that, I’m not dumb enough to cheat on my crazy girlfriend.” You made a ‘hmph’ sound and nodded, “Crazy for you~” and laughed when he shook his head.

You guys kept walking, discussing whatever topics came up.

You were almost home, so close to freedom. You called Geto’s name, about to tell him something you had remembered, when you both heard a faint *snap*.

Guided by the rush of cold air you felt hit your chest, you looked down and gasped, you would’ve been quicker to cover yourself except for the fact that both of your hands were occupied.

Working quickly because...you both were still in public, Geto let go of your hand and shrugged his jacket off, draping it around you and grabbing ahold of your hand when you were covered.

You apologized for flashing him and he shook his head, obviously it wasn’t your fault and it’s not like he was complaining.

Gojo Satoru:

Due to a particularly bad run in with a cursed spirit, your usual uniform was trashed, so you had to wear your backup uniform, which also ran small.

All day, you had been fighting with your skirt. It was too tight and too short, and was providing you with a substantial amount of stress.

It was lunch, you were half way through the school day, half a day away from going home and getting to wear your sweatpants.

“Oh Y/n~” Half a day from getting rid of the walking headache you called your co-worker.

Sighing, you stopped from where you were walking in the hallway, turning to face him you raised an eyebrow. “Yes Satoru?”

So, yes, you were ‘co-workers’ and yes, you were technically just friends.

But there was also a painful amount of mutual pining and tension that hung between you two.

“Hey, hey, what’s with the attitude? You’ve been like this all day, it’s gonna start hurting my feelings.” You grimaced as you once again adjusted your skirt, “Yeah, well, you’d be a little irritated if you had to keep fixing your skirt every 2 seconds.”

Gojo hummed, “I can imagine, so, care to join me for lunch?” You replied with a ‘sure’, and the two of you made your way to the teacher’s lounge, side by side.

You walked to the fridge and pulled out your lunch, Gojo not far behind you and you both did the necessary prep you needed for your food.

Gojo finished just barely before you, and was already sitting on one of the couches, happily digging into his food.

Once the microwave stopped you pulled your food out and started walking over to the couch.

You sat down, carefully, and began to eat your lunch.

Despite causing you mass amounts of pain and most likely a gray hair or 2, you thoroughly enjoyed spending time with Gojo, I mean, you were kinda in love with him.

“Ah, Satoru, Y/n, just the two I needed to see.” Gojo’s (likely inaccurate) account of his latest mission came to a pause when Principal Yaga walked in.

He had some information about a mission the 2 of you would be going on in 3 days. Apparently this one would be an undercover mission, and a few days.

During the conversation, Gojo (who tries to always have one of his six eyes on you at all times), had noticed your skirt riding up, and seeing as he liked you, the last thing he wanted was for you to embarrass yourself in front of you guys’s boss.

Keep in mind, it’s not like Gojo was having a great time either, you were sitting right in front of him, but it’s not like he could interrupt the principal and loudly announce you were about to expose yourself.

Thankfully, Kusakabe walked in at that moment, stealing just enough of his time for Gojo to catch your attention (like he didn’t already have it🙄) to mouth ‘Your skirt’ while he made a subtle tugging motion with his hand, going back to like nothing happened and stealing the attention of the men while you fixed your skirt.

That mission may or may not have preceded your first date with him.

Sukuna Ryomen:

You and Sukuna would be going on a date tonight, and you had spent the last half hour or so getting ready.

Your hair and make up was done, you had showered earlier, and all you had left to do was get dressed.

You had gotten dressed in your underwear when your mom had called.

You didn’t get to speak to you often and it had been awhile since you had talked, so you spent a good amount of time catching up and filling each other in on the things you had missed.

It had been about 15 minutes, you were sitting down at your vanity, pants on but still no shirt (hey man, a distraction is a distraction, let me have this i’m tired-).

You were so caught up in your phone call you hadn’t noticed that Sukuna had walked into your shared apartment.

He called out to you, but you didn’t answer. He would’ve been more worried than irritated if he didn’t hear you talking on what he presumed to be the phone.

If he knew you weren’t ready yet, he would’ve knocked, but seeing as you were on the phone, the last thing he expected when he opened your bedroom door was to see you half-naked sitting on your vanity stool like this kind of thing was normal.

“Sh*t. Warn a guy, will you? I’m not complaining but you near gave me a heart attack.” You screeched as you almost threw your phone, apologizing to your mom, you glared at Sukuna as he gave you a look that tip-toed between amusement and bewilderment.

“What, it’s not like I haven’t seen your-” You threw your pillow at him before he could finish his sentence, with your mom of all people listening to your conversation.

You two might have been married, but the last thing you needed was your mom pestering you about grandchildren again.

In case you’re wondering, he was laughing the whole time as you beat him with said pillow for saying those kind of things to your mother.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

NSFW Content Warning

Word Count: 1.6k

Megumi watches closely as the curse disintegrates in the mouth of his divine dog. The last of the monsters are dispatched, and Megumi can finally relax as the heavy pressure around him slowly disappears. The veil opens up to an unrelenting sky—rain finally falling down on the town for the first time in months thanks to the curse’s destruction.

His sharp gaze glances down to find you kneeling next to him, your hand buried deep in the black fur of his shikigami. “Who’s a good boy? You are. I’ll make sure Megumi feeds you lots of treats,” you praise to a happily obedient demon dog, his tongue hanging out from a joyful smile while his fluffy tail wags back in forth in tempo to your pets. Megumi huffs, rolling his eyes lightly at your antics, which causes you to glance up at him with a smile.

With an innocent grin, you plop your hand right on top of his head. He groans softly as you begin to ruffle black hair into a further mess as if such a thing was possible given his questionable hairstyle. “You too, Megumi. Good boy.”

“Cut it out.” Megumi grunts, shaking your hand off of him.

“Aw, but it’s so soft,” you say with a childlike coo causing him to turn his head out your reach as you pout about him being no fun.

If there’s one thing Megumi hates more than missions with Gojo then it would be missions with you, his 3rd year senpai. You aren’t necessarily bossy or prying, and you are definitely skilled in your technique, and there’s the bonus that you’re the only third-year who didn’t get suspended, but he couldn’t stand the way you treated him like a child even if he is younger than you. You’d always baby him and coo over him. It’s innocent on your end so he can’t get too mad, but he still wishes you wouldn’t do it.

As the rainy weather begins to grow heavier and cause his clothes to cling coldly to his naked skin, Megumi sighs and releases his technique. “We should get moving before we end up stuck here.”

“Right behind you,” you state, following alongside him.

As you reach the town again, the rain had developed into a full-blown storm, where seeing ahead of yourself is near impossible as everything comes down sideways and lightning cracks over the sky.

“You might want to hold my hand, so you don’t blow away,” you jokingly sing, your voice getting lost in the gust of winds. Megumi ignores your comment until he sees you stumble backward with another strong blow.

“Here,” he says, grabbing onto your arm and pulling you along with him because he’s really afraid you might actually blow away if this weather continues. You walk until the two of you manage to make it to a bus stop.

The two of you manage to huddle together temporarily under a bus stop shelter as Megumi tries to get in contact with your ride. You eye him patiently as he talks on the phone with Ijichi. The area is much too dangerous for someone to pick you up right now, all the missing rain coming down at once. Luckily, Gojo managed to call in a room for you at a local hotel.

The two of you walk into the room, finding it comfortable and warm compared to the cold and rain outside even as the lights occasionally flash and the ceiling fan shakes.

The only thing that bothers Megumi is the fact that there is one singular king-size bed in the center of the room. “Of course, there is,” Megumi grumbles, already warming at the idea of having to share a bed with his cute senpai and also thinking of how he’s going to punch Gojo for messing up so bad. Megumi guesses he can ask the front desk for extra sheets so he can take the floor instead of risk waking up with a hard-on and embarrassing himself.

“I’m going to go request extra sheets. You want anything?”

“What do you mean? This bed is huge, we can share no problem,” you say, and Megumi notices that your voice sounds fairly distant. He turns to see you standing in front of the hotel’s dryer. You cross your arms at the edge of your shirt and stretch to pull it over your head, your breasts raising with your arms as you arch your back.

Megumi instantly blushes.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You blink once then twice before motioning to the wet shirt in your hands. “Drying my clothes?” you say, tossing the shirt in the dryer before going for your skirt but you pause when Megumi voices another complaint.

“Can’t you do that in the bathroom?” he asks.

“I want them dry when I get out the shower,” you answer, your lips poked out in an adorable pout as you look at him with innocent puppy eyes. “You should take yours off too before the wet dog smell sets in,” you recommend teasingly before closing the distance and grabbing his shirt.

Megumi shakes, his mind instantly dropping into the muck of the gutter as he hastily looks anywhere but directly at you, standing half-naked and alone in the room with him with your hands dangerously close to his body. You were so oblivious to the danger you put yourself in. If he was any other sort of man, he’d already tried to have his way with you.

“Your senpai will throw it in the dryer for you.”

Then, he remembers.

You’re being reckless because he’s your underclassman, unwary because you see him as a child to be taken cared of. It frustrates him but he’s too embarrassed to call you out on it. That is until you start to pull his shirt up to expose his smooth skin underneath, his pelvic lines and the thin line of stomach hair drawing to his crotch, and he prays for his dick not to rise with your hands so close to it.

”Senpai…you shouldn’t do that,” Megumi mumbles, a light blush on his cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, head cocked to the side.

“It’s just…” he pauses, unsure how to word the fact that you’re dangerously close to turning him on, “…I’m a man too.”

Megumi can feel himself grow more embarrassed as you blink at him. The wheels in your head are obviously turning to comprehend what he’s said, and Megumi instantly regrets saying anything.

Then, you smile, not the usual sweet girlish smile he comes to expect from his senpai. It’s crooked, wickedly amused but somehow seductive in a way that makes him gulp as you lean close towards him.

Megumi shudders as your breath blows on his ear, and you whisper, “Are you now? Then, show me.”

“I don’t—”

You repeat yourself more forcefully as your hand slowly slides down to press against his cock outlining, and you purposely press your breasts to his dampened chest. “Show your senpai how much of a man you are, my cute little underclassman.”

Megumi licks his lips, eyes focused on your cleavage pushing together against him. He releases a calming breath. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You can only smile.

Megumi whines, hands gripped tight into your plump thighs, sinking into your meaty flesh in attempts to hold back your aggressive grinding but to no avail. His cock is sunk into your center, the sound of your wet pussy sucking in his girthy length echoing in his ears along with your heady moans.

You don’t stop the rutting of your hips, no matter how much those beautifully deep moans of his break upon exit from his lips and his emerald eyes tear up from the overstimulation of coming one too many times. His balls are aching, drained empty, and the strain of them tensing as he closes in on another peak echoes each time you impale down to the hilt, smacking them with your ass.

The only thing distracting him more is the strong, desperate throbbing in your silken walls as you grip around him, making it impossible for him to pull out despite the way your wetness creams and lubes around his erection.

With another groan, his throat constricts while his feet begin to cramp with his desperate squirming underneath you as he tries to gain some semblance of control, but you weren’t even giving him time to breathe, let alone turn you over and pin you.

As for you, you look absolutely blissed out with your hazy gaze locked on his beautiful face coated with sweat as he fails to hide his pitiful whimpers by biting into his bruised lips. He already knows it’s no use trying to preserve his pride, as you’ve already gotten one warning about how loud he was being, but he still tries so he can at least say you didn’t completely overwhelm him.

Yet it’s with a broken gasp that he comes for the fourth time. This time he provides a dry orgasm, his body too sore and drained too quickly to give any more. You didn’t pause, refusing to let him catch up.

Smirking, you lift off him instead, his softened cock still connected to your pussy by a thin white string of leftover cum. Megumi grits his teeth, releasing a hiss as your hand wraps around him again despite the protest his body is giving as you work him back into a premature stiffness.

“Come on, Megumi, don’t tell me you’re tapping out already. You’re a man, aren’t you,” you tease in between soft giggling. Flushed, Megumi hesitantly meets your eyes, and you give him one of those trademark sweet and innocent smiles as your hand begins to twist.

It’s then he realizes that his innocent senpai is actually a demon.

[joonie-beanie]

The OM! Boys + first kisses (which you initiate!)

Masterlist

I didn’t explicitly mention it being the first kiss in each scenario, but please assume that it is! 🥰

Lucifer:

Your feelings for the Avatar of Pride are undeniable. In fact, recently, they’ve become very hard to keep in check.

He’s already on your mind when you walk past his study, and see him hunched over his desk--working hard, like always (and that worries you a bit). Your heart is so full of love for him, and it aches whenever you think of his long, exhausting days.

Even if it’s cheesy, you want to be a pick-me-up to him during those busy times.

“Shouldn’t you take a break?” you quip, silently making your way inside. Lucifer blinks, and his gaze softens when it falls on you.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he sighs, but doesn’t set his pen down. He frowns at the stack of papers in front of him, not paying you any mind as you slowly scoot your way around the side of the desk--stepping up behind him.

You watch him as he works, eyes trailing from his gloved hands, up his arms, and across his strong jaw line.

Lucifer never fails to enchant you. Even just being here, so close to him, has your heart racing.

...you want to kiss him.

“Y/N--”

And the minute Lucifer turns his head ever so slightly, moving to look at you, you do just that.

Without giving yourself much time to think on it, you reach your hands forward and cradle his face--closing your eyes as you press your lips against his own.

You feel Lucifer still in surprise, and you’re quick to try and pull back--but then a grin is spreading on his lips, and his gloved hand is curling against the back of your neck.

He kisses you for a few more moments, goosebumps rising on your skin. Then, he finally releases you--only allowing you a few inches to breathe as his thumb soothes through your hair. 

“I’m a bit upset you didn’t allow me the chance to kiss you first,” he says with a bit of a frown, but soon laughs. “However, as long as I get to keep kissing you, I certainly won’t complain.”

Mammon:

Despite your affections for the Avatar of Greed, they never seem to be enough.

Tonight, he’s pouting because you’d spent your afternoon with Asmo--having a shopping day together--and not him.

“I mean, ya could’ve invited me,” he says, pointedly ignoring you as he rolls onto his side and occupies himself on his DDD. You sigh.

“Mammon, Asmo wanted it to be just the two of us. I assumed you would be okay for just a few hours without me at your side.”

Somehow, he manages to pout even harder.

“I’m supposed’ta be your first...why are ya spending so much time with those guys?”

Your gaze softens as you regard him. He should know by now that he’s got a special place in your heart, and yet, that’s still not enough for him.

No, he’s the Avatar of Greed. He’ll only continue to crave more, right?

“Mammon.”

He grunts, not turning to face you. “What?”

“Mammon, look at me, please.”

You speak quietly, tenderly--letting any annoyance disappear from your tone. Then, finally, Mammon gives in, and rolls onto his back.

“What? Are you ready to apolo--mmph!”

He literally goes stiff as a board when you lean in and capture his lips. Your cheeks are hot--you’re embarrassed despite your sudden burst of confidence.

“There--,” you say, sitting back after a few seconds. “Is that enough to make it up to you?”

Mammon blinks at you, face getting redder by the second. Then, his gaze is darting away, brain catching up to what has just occurred. However, it’s clear that he’s far from unhappy.

“Uhhh...well, maybe if you give me a few more, I’ll think about forgiving you.”

 Levi:

It’s a spur of the moment type thing.

You’re hanging out with Levi, watching him play a video game, when things start to go wrong. He hops to his feet, cursing up a storm as he attempts to regain his footing in the match he’s suddenly now losing.

You decide to stay calm, to not worry, because surely Levi will calm down in a moment--but when his power starts to seep, an aura growing around him--you know you have to do something.

After all, he can’t summon Lotan again. 

“Levi, hey! Why don’t we calm down!” you try, smiling at him. You shift yourself into his field of vision, hoping to distract him from the game that’s only continuing to go south.

“There’s a special reward for beating this level!” he hisses, his amber eyes ghosting right over you. “I have to win!”

“You can try again once you’ve calmed down!” you argue, taking a step forward, with your hands held in front of you. Your fingers skim the fabric of his jacket, and you look up at him, but he’s too immersed to realize exactly how close you are. (After all, if he did, he would definitely be scrambling backwards right now).

“No, I--”

You sigh at his adamance, fingers curling into his shirt. You had been hoping your first kiss with him would at least be a little more romantic, but here goes nothing!

Gathering all of your courage, you press up and connect your lips with his. It takes him a few seconds to register what’s going on, but you feel the controller in his hands slowly drop. And then, he’s jolting back--arm raising to cover his tomato colored face.

“Y-Y-You!! You kissed me!”

“I’m sorry!” you immediately say, feeling hot as well. “You wouldn’t listen to what I was saying, and I didn’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself, or your games, or your brothers, so!” You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but it doesn’t work well.

“Listen...I’m sorry if you didn’t like it, I just--”

“W-Well...I never said that...,” he mumbles, interrupting you. His gaze darts between your face, and the wall nearby. “But I didn’t really...feel...it the first time, so...m-maybe we should do it again…”

Satan:

Satan is a pretty good cook, so you tend to hang around him when it’s his night to make dinner.

It's not uncommon that you try to steal bites whenever he’s not looking.

Today, however, he warns you just a second too late that he’s making spicy curry (like, really spicy curry), so you should steer clear of any taste-testing.

Of course, a beat later he turns and sees you over the stove with the wooden spoon shoved into your mouth.

Even before you start to sweat, and tears form in your eyes, Satan is at fridge--pulling out the carton of milk and pouring you a big glass. 

As you down the soothing liquid, Satan stays by your side--unable to help it when he chuckles. You send him a glare, letting him know you don’t appreciate him laughing at your pain, and he lifts a hand to pat your hair.

“Oi, Oi~ It’s your fault for not listening to me.”

He breaks into another fit of giggles, moving past you to return to the stove. Your eyes follow after him, heart beating surprisingly fast at the sound of his laughter, and the slightest bit of physical contact with him.

Setting the glass on the counter--your mouth now successfully not about to burst into flames--you steel yourself and make your way towards him.

Without warning, once at his side, you reach forward and grab two handfuls of his sweater vest. Satan’s eyes widen in surprise as you drag him into the impromptu kiss, but it doesn’t take him long to reciprocate.

With little thought, he matches the firmness of your lips--his cheeks dusted pink when he pulls back to smile at you.

“What was that for?”

“Just felt like it,” you mumble, glancing away. Your eyes fall to the bubbling pot of curry. “...will you make a separate batch that won’t kill me?”

He hums. “Maybe for the price of another kiss.”

Asmo:

Although Asmodeus teases you all the time about how much he wants to kiss you, and to shower you in even more intimate forms of affection--he never acts on them.

Sure, he’s  the Avatar of Lust, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t understand boundaries.

He loves you a lot, and doesn’t want to mess your relationship up by moving too quickly, and for that, you really appreciate him.

However...while his consideration is appreciated, you’re starting to go stir crazy at the fact that he won’t make the first move.

So, you decide to take it upon yourself.

You spend hours--days, even--building up your courage. And today, your courage meter is finally full.

Asmo and you already have plans to hang out, so it’s not strange when you knock at his door. It is out of character, however, when he pulls the door open to greet you, and you immediately lurch forward--wrapping your arms around him as your lips connect.

Even if it’s unexpected, Asmo is reciprocating without missing a beat. He hugs you tightly, kissing you back until you’re gently pushing him away--in need of some air.

“Oh, I loved that,” he says dreamily, taking a step back into his room. “You should do that more often!! I love seeing this confident side of you! It’s such a turn on!”

You cup your hot cheeks, stepping inside after him--still in shock that you’d actually kissed him.

“I don’t know, Asmo, it took me a while to work up to that.”

He giggles a little at your statement, and you blink when he reaches forward and grabs a strand of your hair--tugging you forward. His eyes sparkle.

“Well...even if you don’t have the courage to initiate right now, since the ice is broken…,” he gaze falls to your lips. “Is it okay if I kiss you instead? I promise it’ll be enjoyable~ After all, I’m good at this stuff.”

Beel:

Most of the time, you’re alright with giving Beel your food. You love him to the moon and back, and seeing him eating his favorite dishes with that happy look on his face makes your heart soar.

Today, however, you’d purposely stashed your desert to the side--intent on eating it yourself, for once, considering it was a limited time flavor from Madam Screams.

You’d hoped that putting it out of sight, and quite literally stashing in behind all the food in the fridge, would help keep it from the Avatar of Gluttony--but food never gets past him.

You’re in the middle of finishing up your turn on dish duty when you hear the fridge pop open. Immediately you’re whipping your head around--gasping in shock when you see Beel sticking his head into the appliance, sniffing around with a hungry look on his face.

“Beel no!” you abandon the dishes and rush over to him, trying to stop him from devouring your dessert in one bite. However, your efforts are futile, and soon your precious sweets are gone. The only remaining hint of them is the dusting of sugar on Beelzebub’s lips, and in a moment of foolish bravery, you grab him by the collar of his jacket and tug him down.

Your lips connect, and you can taste the dessert on him--sweet, and rich--everything you’d been hoping for. 

After a few seconds, you pull back for air, and find Beel staring at you with surprise written all over him. You feel your face begin to heat up--realization at what you’d just done hitting you--but before you can think to apologize, or run, Beel is dragging you back in.

His palms cup your cheeks--his lips meeting yours once more.

“I’m sorry for eating your dessert,” he mumbles, regret in his tone. “I’ll buy you another one. But.. until then, I want to keep tasting you.”

Belphie:

You’re struggling to fall asleep when Belphie stops by your room, and asks if you want to go for a walk with him. The offer sounds heavenly, so you say yes.

It’s a simple thing--walking side by side with the Avatar of Sloth, through the uncrowded streets of the Devildom--but it still makes you feel...smitten.

Over the last few weeks, your feelings for Belphie have only grown larger, and larger. And now, even simple gestures like this--that don’t have any special meaning--cause your mind to wander.

Seriously, he’s not even talking, but your gaze is zeroed in on his mouth. On his soft lips, which are parted ever so slightly as he sighs--his eyes trailing around the familiar scenery.

“Hey,” he speaks, turning to face you. He smiles, and the expression has your heart jumping into your throat.

Without thinking--acting solely on a split second of courage--you step towards him.

“Do you wanna get some--,” his voice cuts off abruptly as you press your lips to his. He makes a quiet sound of shock, and you can only imagine that he’s staring at you like you’re crazy. (Luckily, you can’t confirm if he is since your eyes are squeezed shut).

After a few seconds, you decide to pull back--feeling a little dejected since Belphie hasn’t made a move of his own. Then, just as you peel your eyelashes back open, Belphegor is grabbing you by your waist--dragging you against him as he captures your lips.

His kisses are much hotter than yours, and you whine at him, gently knocking your fist against his chest when you notice that the two of you are starting to draw looks from some nearby demons.

“What?” he asks cheekily, his grip loosening enough to allow you some room for air. “You’re the one that suddenly kissed me in the middle of the street. First kiss, too. How daring.”

Your face flushes, eyes darting away. “Y-Yeah, well…”

“Well,” he continues, reaching down to grab your hand. He intertwined his fingers with yours, tugging you farther down the street. “I say we get somewhere more private, and then continue.”

Diavolo:

It just...sort of...happens.

Diavolo invites you to have tea in his office during your free period, and things go so well, that for a moment, you have a lapse in sanity and actually forget that the goddamn Prince of Hell isn’t your boyfriend.

You’ve had feelings for him for a while, and sometimes--when he’s in front of you, looking so handsome, and being so charming--it’s easy to lose yourself in those feelings.

So when your tea time wraps up, and Diavolo escorts you to the door of his office, maybe you--without thinking--press to your tiptoes and plant a kiss right against his lips.

“Thank you for tea, I--,” your words die off as a sense of dread washes over you. You raise a hand to your lips, realizing what you’ve done. “Oh my god--”

Your eyes flit to Diavolo’s face, and you can tell that he’s at a loss for word--his golden eyes wide with surprise. 

Oh god, why are you like this??

Freaking out, you hurriedly reach for the door handle. “Lord Diavolo, I am so sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I--”

But before you can run into the hall and away from your current nightmare, Diavolo is grabbing your wrist and tugging you back into the room.

“No, no! No need to be sorry,” he beams, his free hand lifting to brush a few stray hairs from your face. “I was just caught off guard, that’s all.”

You flush, looking away and mumbling. “But I kissed you out of the blue like that…”

“True,” he chuckles, gaze tender as he regards you. “I was surprised, that’s for sure.” He leans down and looks you in the eyes--your faces just inches apart. 

“So, next time, maybe don’t jump at me. Simply asking me for a kiss will work just fine.”

Barbatos:

You’re helping Barbatos out in the kitchen of the Demon Lord’s Castle when the urge to kiss him suddenly overwhelms you.

Because honestly--how dare he look so kind, and handsome all the damn time. In everything that he does, he always manages to hold the same poise, and grace, and it drives you mad.

Even now, as he stands over the stove--watching dinner cook, with an apron tied around his waist--the energy he exudes draws you in, and makes you fall all over again.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly make your way around the kitchen island, and step up to his side.

Sensing your presence, he turns to face you with a gentle smile.

“Dinner is almost finished,” he says. “Thank you for your help. If you want, you can head to the dining room where the others are.”

You nod, but your feet don’t move. Barbatos blinks, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

Taking a deep breath, you gather all of your courage, and then reach forward. Barbatos pauses as your fingers brush against his cheeks--his eyes going wide when he feels your lips press against his--warm, and soft.

“I…,” you stutter when you finally pull back. “I just...I want to do that, so…”

Barbatos chuckles at your darkening face, his gloved hand moving to cup your cheek.

“It’s quite alright. I’m flattered to know that you wanted to kiss me.”

His thumb soothes over your hot skin, and he smiles a bit wider.

“If you ever feel like doing it again, then please, by all means, you have my permission.”

“Same to you,” you mumble, causing him to laugh a little more. Leaning in, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Duly noted.”

Solomon:

You choose to blame your actions on the atmosphere of the party, and the fact that the sorcerer is looking fine as ever--dressed in a dark button down shirt, with the first few buttons undone.

He’d dragged you to The Fall with him, wanting a companion for the night, and you’d agreed.

Now, it’s been hours since your arrival, and the entire time, Solomon has kept you close to his side--fingers curling around your waist when you accidentally begin to stray too far.

The contact has butterflies fluttering around inside your tummy, but you try your best to ignore the sensation--the way being so close to Solomon is making you feel.

Your feelings boil over, however, when Solomon makes a point of defending you from a pushy demon.

Following the encounter, he drags you to a more private area of the club to create some much needed space.

“Jeez, I know you’re a human, but that was pretty rude,” he mumbles, eyes straying to the dance floor as he adjusts his shirt cuffs. But your gaze is solely locked on him, a frenzy of different emotions running through you in response to him, and his actions. 

In the end, though, you can only think of one thing to do. One thing you really want to do.

Solomon makes a quiet sound of shock when you suddenly press up--pushing your lips against his for a few long beats. And when you inch back for air, you find Solomon grinning at you, looking quite satisfied.

“Oh? Giving a kiss to your prince charming? I like this type of payment.”

You scoff and push against his chest, but he’s already grasping your waist--keeping you near.

“I want that kiss back.”

“No refunds,” he laughs, his forehead knocking against yours, and the look in his eyes makes your melt a little. Then, he’s the one initiating kisses, and you swear your heart is beating in time with the bass of the club music. 

Simeon:

With a school dance right around the corner, the angel had kindly offered to help you learn how to...well...dance. Properly dance. Not club dancing, or anything of the like.

No, from what you had heard, the RAD school dances were much more formal than the dances you had experienced in school back in the human world, so you’d been searching for a dance teacher.

Simeon had been more than happy to offer his services.

“Look at you!” he says with a gentle laugh--your hand on his shoulder, and his fingers curled around your waist. There’s music playing from your DDD, abandoned on his dresser as the two of you waltz around his room.

“You’re really getting the hang of it!”

You smile as you glance at his bright face, heart fluttering against your ribs as you’re once again reminded of how pretty he is, and how close the two of you are at the moment.

Seriously, as much as you appreciate him for offering to teach you, you’re pretty sure you’ve already staved off half a dozen heart attacks during your lessons.

And today, as heart attack number seven looms, you reach your breaking point.

As the song comes to a close, you step forward--breaking your rhythm--and kiss him. You can feel his body still--his brain catching up with reality.

Just as you begin to pull away, Simeon is closing the gap--hugging you tightly as he reciprocates your affections.

“You won’t kiss the others like this when you’re dancing with them, will you?” he whispers with a smile, making you laugh. “Our first kiss should be special, I think.”

“Kisses while dancing will be reserved for you,” you reassure him, giggling more when he pulls back and pouts at you.

“All kisses should be reserved for me.”

[prettybuckybaby]

zero to sixty, in three-point-five

read on ao3 here

18+

“Wanna…wanna f-fuck you,” Steve mumbles into Bucky’s chest one evening. They’re basking in the post-coital bliss, tucked beneath the blankets, Steve’s damp hair tickling where his head rests on Bucky’s chest, muscular but impossibly soft.

“Yeah?” Bucky chuckles, bringing his metal hand up to thread through Steve’s hair. “You gon’ tell me about it? How you’re gonna fuck me?”

“Mmh,” Steve shifts slightly, nuzzling further into the broad expanse of Bucky’s torso. “Wanna…make you feel good,”

“Yeah? You wanna make Daddy feel good? Treat Daddy right?”

“Mmh,”

“Wanna use your body to make me feel good? Yeah?” Bucky snickers as he flips them over so he’s hovering over Steve’s body, crotches lined up and grinding against each other softly as Bucky gently rocks both of their bodies. “Gonna use your little clit to make me come? Make me come so hard and then use my body to make you come inside Daddy?”

“Nuh…no,” Steve whimpers, shaking his head. “Just…make you feel good,”

“Awe,” Bucky coos, ruffling Steve’s hair. He laughs at the way Steve scrunches his nose up. “Not even bothered about coming, Stevie? Just wanna keep going until your daddy has his fill?”

“Uh huh,” Steve nods, but he squeezes his eyes shut and covers as much of his red face as he can in the crook of his elbow. “Like…like a toy to make…make Daddy feel good,”

“Hmm,” Bucky presses a grin into Steve’s cheek, rolling his hips a little faster. “And good little toys don’t need to come, do they? Good little toys don’t need to be distracted by something as silly as an orgasm, right, sweetheart?”

“D-don’t need to come, just…just Daddy. Need Daddy’s come, please,”

“Hmm,” Bucky purrs into Steve’s neck. “You’d be such a good toy for Daddy, doll face.”

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

They don’t talk about it in bed the next morning like Steve thinks they would. He wakes up to the smell of pancakes drifting through the house, the sound of Bucky humming along to the music that is playing, the music that Peter introduced them too that Steve cannot stand but Buck seems to have taken a shine to. He groans as he rolls out of his bed, picking up one of Bucky’s hoodies off the floor and pulling it over his head. He stumbles as he tries to step into a pair of boxers. He’s only slightly disgusted that he doesn’t know whose they are.

He staggers into the kitchen, stifling a yawn, and plasters himself against Bucky’s back. The other man groans playfully at the added weight but doesn’t make any move to get Steve off him.

“Mornin’, Stevie,” Bucky chuckles, deep with sleep. Steve mewls as he tries to burrow himself into Bucky’s skin.

“Mmhm ‘addy,”

“Still sleepin’, bunny?” Steve hums softly. “That’s okay. You want some coffee?”

---

They don’t talk about what Steve said when he was half awake and half floating after they’ve eaten breakfast and have both woken up more. They don’t talk about it on their run, or in the shower after their run, or even while they’re making out on the couch in the early afternoon, ignoring the film they had started watching.

They don’t talk about it the day after, or the day after that, or even the day after that. He’s not worried that Bucky has forgotten about it, Buck never forgets anything that Steve says. He doesn’t think that Bucky has forgotten, but Bucky normally brings these things up, whether it’s in casual conversation or as a negotiation, but Bucky seems content to forget all about it. Or, at least, not talk about it.

Steve cannot forget all about it.

He’s not sure why it’s bothering him so much. It’s not like he’s never topped before. Fair enough, they don’t switch positions often, and they never switch their roles, but Steve has fucked Bucky on many occasions. So it’s not like it’s something he’s nervous about, there’s no reason for him to be so worked up, but there’s…something. Some sort of energy buzzing under his skin and he can’t get the thoughts out of his head.

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

It turns out Bucky has absolutely not forgotten about it. In fact, once they get started, it’s pretty clear he’s been thinking about it a lot.

It takes a few weeks for it to come up, and at first Steve isn’t even aware it’s happening. He comes back home from a late lunch with Sam and Bucky is sat on their couch, dressed in his workout gear, loose t-shirt and baggy shorts, beer in his hand. Steve frowns slightly at the sight, confused. He knows Bucky hasn’t been to the gym today and he knows Bucky’s showered within the past hour or so, can smell the hints of coconut from the fancy shampoo Bucky insists they buy. His hair is pulled into a low bun at the back of his head, a few strands falling loose and framing his face. But Bucky never really wears his gym stuff outside of the gym, only when they…oh. Only when they’re playing.

He’s already ready to go. Zero to sixty in three-point-five.

“You’re back,” Bucky murmurs, not taking his eyes off the hockey game that is playing on the television. He doesn’t look up, but he does frown. “You’re overdressed. Fix it,” Steve swallows down a whine that threatens to burst out of his throat, closes his eyes, takes a moment and breathes deeply. It’s the first order he’s been given and it’s far too early to embarrass himself. Bucky clears his throat, and that’s when Steve realises he hasn’t made a move yet, hasn’t even started to kick his shoes off. He swallows again as he begins to strip off, making sure to do it the way Bucky likes even though the other man isn’t watching him, has turned all his attention back to the game. He takes the time to fold each piece of his clothing how he knows Bucky expects him to, placing them neatly on the table by the door. Steve’s barely put the pile down before Bucky is snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor between his spread legs. He takes one step before Bucky clicks his tongue.

“S…sorry, Daddy,”

“Hmm,” Bucky hums, unconvinced, eyes still glued to the game. “Goin’ dumb already? Forgettin’ the rules so quickly?” His voice is laced in mock disappointment, a voice that serves only one purpose: fluster Steve. Steve whines softly as his cheeks heat up, body making a quiet thud against the carpet as he falls to his knees. He crawls over to Bucky slowly.

Bucky doesn’t even look down at him when he settles between Bucky’s legs, just puts his hand not holding the beer into Steve’s hair, tugging his hair back sharply. He snorts when Steve breathes in abruptly through his teeth.

“Get me out,” Bucky sighs, moving his hand down the back of Steve’s head and tugging on the lobe of his ear. “Ten minutes of the game left. Wanna come before it’s finished,”

“Yes, Daddy,” Steve murmurs, bringing his hands up to the waistband of Bucky’s shorts. He pulls them down swiftly, lets himself nuzzle against his daddy’s cock when it’s exposed. He feels Bucky twitch against his cheek, the only suggestion that Bucky isn’t as cool and calm as he pretends to be.

“Nine minutes,” Bucky’s voice sounds further away than it did before, clouded by the fog already settling in in Steve’s head. “Better hurry up, slut. Don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?”

“No,” He doesn’t need Bucky to verbalise any sort of threat, doesn’t have to hear what Buck will do if Steve doesn’t manage to obey. He whimpers suddenly when Bucky fists his hand through Steve’s hair again and tugs backwards harshly. Bucky’s eyes are hard when they meet Steve’s. Steve tries his hardest not to let his eyes close as he sobs. “Daddy! No, Daddy! ‘M sorry,”

“Good.” Bucky lets go of his hair again, turns back to the tv without sparing Steve another glance. “Eight minutes, thirty-seven,”

Steve’s not sure he’s even been so hard so quickly. It’s a mixture of the pain and the way Bucky is ignoring him, using him to get off but not giving him any attention. He doesn’t really know, isn’t sure, how he’s meant to get through the scene without coming until he’s giving permission.

He tries to distract himself as he sucks Bucky’s cock, but with the way his mind is getting foggier the longer he’s on his knees, he’s finding it difficult to focus on anything beyond the cock in his mouth. It’s heavy and hot and fills him up so nicely. He loves the way Bucky feels inside him, anyway at all, but if someone held a gun to his head and told him to choose, he’s probably say this is his favourite way. There’s just something so… nice about being on his knees in front of the man he loves, choking and spluttering and gagging on his cock, making Bucky feel good, not having to focus on anything except for pleasing his man.

It takes him off guard when Bucky spills down his throat, whatever grunts he makes muffled by the opening of the beer bottle in his mouth. Steve sighs happily when Bucky pulls him off his cock, making small, confused, pouty noises when Bucky pushes him back down, further. Steve mouths at the underside of his daddy’s cock, unsure what he’s expecting him to do. Bucky just laughs softly, keeps pushing Steve’s head, down the length of his cock and past his balls and oh.

Bucky’s laugh is breathy when he hears Steve’s broken whimper, feels Steve’s eyes fluttering against his thigh.

“You gonna get Daddy ready?” Bucky asks. He lifts one of his legs off the floor, stepping out of his shorts and setting his foot on the table next to where he’s set down his beer. Steve whimpers as the new position gives him more access to his daddy’s hole. “Yeah, that’s it,” Bucky encourages as Steve starts to lick, his laps growing more confident with Bucky’s low moans. “Such a good little toy,”

“Mmh,”

“Good,” Bucky shuffles slightly, bringing his hips forward. Steve moves with him, easy with the change of angle. “Give Daddy a finger, come on,”

Steve is…Steve is in heaven. He’s slow as he pushes a single finger into Bucky’s tight heat, moans even louder than Bucky does at the sensation. He’s slow, treats Bucky right, crooks his finger just right to rub over the bundle that he knows will drive his daddy wild and is rewarded with the most beautiful sound he thinks he’ll ever hear; a low groan of a noise, a deep rumble, a happy daddy sound and Steve ups his effort to make Bucky make more of those sounds. He takes his time but he still goes at Buck’s speed, adding another finger when he rumbles out “Another, Steve, c’mon,”.He laps around where Bucky’s rim is stretched around three of Steve’s fingers, not stopping even when he feels his spit drooling down his chin, dropping onto his own tits.

He lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched whine when Bucky pushes him back, bare foot pushing against his shoulder, not hard but firm enough that Steve can’t really push back against it, knows it won’t be well received. His face flushes when Bucky chuckles. He glances up, and it’s not fair how unaffected Bucky looks; his pupils are blown and there’s barely any blue in his eyes, but beyond that and the slight pink blush on his cheeks, barely noticeable if you’re not Steve, Bucky looks the same as he did when Steve stepped into their house. Even as he’s still got three of Steve’s fingers buried inside of him.

“You want somethin’, sugar?” Bucky asks, voice light with laughter. Steve’s own voice is barely above a whisper.

“Please,”

“Aw,” It’s almost effortless, the way Bucky changes from carefree and laughing to downright mocking Steve, cruel grin lighting up his face. “Stevie, you gotta problem down there?” He nods down to Steve’s cock, standing proud and deep red. Steve’s cheeks heat up to match the colour, and his eyes drop, trying to hide. Bucky purses his lips, clicks his tongue, and then makes Steve sob. “You think you’re gonna be able to last long enough to fuck Daddy?”

“Daddy!”

“Uh huh,” Bucky nods, frowning somewhat. He sighs, put on, when Steve peers back up at him. “I thought this might happen,” He smiles sympathetically, carding his fingers gently through Steve’s hair. “Got you a present to help you though, Stevie. What do we say?” He sounds so genuine, is the thing, like he was actually worried about Steve not managing and he actually wanted to help. Later, Steve will curse himself for falling for the act, falling into the trap Bucky set up so perfectly. For now, though, he smiles drowsily up at Bucky.

“Thank…thank you, Daddy,” It’s this moment that Bucky’s smirk comes back, big and cruel, and Steve realises his mistake. He swallows.

“You’re very welcome, baby,” Bucky pushes Steve back further, snickering at the look of Steve’s face when his fingers slide out with a wet sound. “Come on, come to the bedroom,” He helps Steve to his feet, steadying him when he stumbles slightly. Steve lets out a soft, happy moan when Bucky pulls him forwards, velvety lips meeting his own, moving together sweetly. He blinks heavily when Bucky pulls away, eyes clearing to see the amused look on Bucky’s face. “C’mon, doll. Don’t go dumb on me just yet. You’ve got a job to do,” He grins as he takes Steve’s hand in his own, tugging him up the stairs and towards their bedroom. Steve lets out a surprised gasp when Bucky suddenly pushes him backwards, big paw of a hand right in the middle of Steve’s chest, pressing him onto the bed. Bucky laughs and Steve swallows when Bucky kisses his cheek. He knows Bucky so well, better than anyone else in the world, and he knows what that kiss means. He’s not going to like what’s coming up. He’s going to love it, sure, but he’s not going to like it. Bucky’s clever like that. “Still w’ me, Stevie?” His head nods without him having to think, his voice horse.

“Gr’n, Daddy,”

“Good,” Bucky coos, patting his cheek just a little more than gently but not enough to sting. A love tap, in Bucky’s books. “You stay here, Daddy’s gonna go and get your gift, ‘kay?”

“Mmh’kay, Daddy,”

“Good boy,” He tracks Bucky’s movements until he’s deep inside their closet, hidden by the walls. Steve lets his eyes drift shut, trying to focus on the sound of Bucky pottering around, trying to calm himself down. He tries not to think about the gift that Bucky has gotten him, sure that it’s not going to be as nice as Bucky is making it out to be. He’s fairly certain that it will be some sort of ring, something to stop him coming as soon as he’s inside Bucky, something that can help him last. He understands, it’s entirely likely that as soon as he’s settled inside Bucky he won’t be able to help himself, but Bucky knows as well as Steve does that coming won’t stop him. They can both go six, seven, even eight times in one night at a push, barely going soft in between, so it’s not like coming too soon is going to prevent him from pleasing Bucky. But the thing with the cock ring, what he’s assuming Bucky is aiming for, is that Steve gets so impossibly sensitive with the ring on, unable to come but getting desperate to. It never fails to entertain Bucky when Steve gets like that. So, he assumes that’s what Bucky’s going to do.

He’s startled when Bucky clears his throat. His eyes fly open to meet Bucky’s, apology already on the tip of his tongue, but Bucky just smiles, cuts him off.

“Hi, baby,” His voice is sweet, more so than usual when the ring makes an appearance, and makes Steve second guess his assumptions. He still moans, though.

“Daddy…” Bucky chuckles as he makes his way over to the bed, crawling up Steve’s body until they’re face to face. He’s lost the rest of his clothes while he’s been gone, body beautifully bare and right up against Steve and Steve’s fairly sure this is an attempt on his life. It’s the only explanation. That’s Bucky’s aim for today’s play, and Steve is more than okay with anything Bucky wants. If Daddy wants it, Daddy can have it.

“You wanna see what I got you?”

“Please,” Steve whines, trying to stop his hips from humping up against Bucky’s solid thigh but it’s hard. Bucky’s thigh’s right there and Steve can feel it and it takes everything in him keep his hips down. Bucky grins, holding himself up with his metal arm, body hovering effortlessly. It’s not fair.

“I know you wanna make Daddy feel good, but ‘M just a lil worried that you won’t be able to last, doll,” He frowns mockingly as his right-hand slips between their bodies and flicks the head of Steve’s cock. He grins gleefully when Steve’s cock spurts a little. “See what I mean?” He laughs cruelly when Steve’s face glows red. “And I just wanna help you do what you want to do,” Steve’s fully expecting the ring. It’s the only thing in his head that makes any sense, so he’s a bit confused when Bucky just holds a dildo up. The confusion must be clear on his face, because Bucky’s grin turns into a sly smirk. Steve whimpers when Bucky turns the toy so the hollow base is visible. It suddenly clicks in Steve’s head. That’s going on his…yeah. This is definitely an attempt on his life. Bucky’s out to kill him. “Aren’t I the best Daddy, Stevie? Helping you like this?” Bucky laughs when Steve starts crying.

“Daddy!”

“You don’t sound very grateful, doll face,” Bucky frowns mockingly, lips pouting out slightly. “If you wanna make Daddy feel good, he deserves as long as he wants, right? You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you? Don’t wanna fill me up too soon so I can’t feel you?”

“Wanna…” Steve swallows as he shakes his head quickly. “Wanna make Daddy feel good,”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Bucky nods, huffing out a laugh. “You’ll be good and let me put this on you, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for Steve to respond, just lifts his hips up high enough that he can slip the straps of the harness around Steve’s waist. He pushes Steve hips back down when the straps are flat under his body, bringing them around the front and attaching one side to the ring at the end of the dildo. Steve doesn’t know where he found the time to reach for the lube, but when Bucky’s hand wraps around the length of his cock, it’s wet and warm and Steve’s in heaven. Or hell, judging by the sob that forces its way out of his throat.

Bucky’s hand moves up and down only twice before the toy is being lowered down over his cock. He whimpers when Bucky attaches the strap to the other side of the ring and tightens it, using his finger to make sure the material isn’t digging into Steve’s hips. Steve watches this time as Bucky reaches for the lube, putting more onto his hand and bringing his hand down to Steve’s cock.

He feels…disconnected. From his own body. He’s watching as Bucky’s hand moves up and down slowly, twisting just the way that Steve loves. He’s watching it happen, but he can’t feel it. Bucky snickers cruelly before he takes his hand away. He rolls over and settles against the pillows, shuffling back until he’s comfortable. He turns to Steve and raises his eyebrow.

“Come on then, toy,” Steve whimpers at the name, fighting to keep his eyes open. “Come and make me feel good. Do your job,” Steve’s slow as he makes his way over to Bucky, climbs up his body and holds himself up with one of his hands. He uses the other to steady the toy, line it up with Bucky’s hole. He knows Bucky can take it, has had Steve’s fingers in him for the better part of an hour, but he still goes slowly, lets Bucky feel every inch of the toy, of him, entering him. He wiggles only slightly as he bottoms out, snivelling at the sound of Bucky’s low groan as he gets used to the intrusion.

“Move,” He grunts out, tangling his hands in Steve’s hair and tightening them only slightly, enough to pull Steve’s head backwards to encourage him to move. “This is just what you wanted, right?” He groans out, grinning at the broken whimper that comes out of Steve’s mouth. “Just to be a toy for your Daddy’s pleasure, not distracted by that tiny clit between your legs?” Steve’s skin burns right down his body, his chest ablaze with the feeling Bucky is creating for him. “Maybe…maybe next time you can…you can be a pretty little flesh light for me. Nice and tight and-” He gasps sharply as Steve rocks forward sharply, right into his prostate. “-and hot, bouncing up an’ down on my cock like a lil bunny, pleasing me so well. Just like now,”

“Dad-ddy,” Steve whines, tears falling down his face and falling onto Bucky beneath him. Bucky frowns at the sound, pouting and widening his eyes.

“Oh, that’s not a happy noise,” He mocks, brushing Steve’s hair out of his face. He grips Steve’s chin, forces his face up, making his eyes meet his. “Doesn’t Daddy feel good, Stevie? You don’t sound like he feels good,”

“Daddy!” Steve sobs loudly, hips stuttering and face trying to fall into Bucky’s shoulder. The other man doesn’t let him hide, keeping his grip strong in the fringe of Steve’s hair and on his chin. Bucky is cruel, Steve realises, so terribly cruel. He knows what Bucky is doing, how he’s trying to make Steve feel and it’s working so well. Bucky keeps frowning.

“You’re making Daddy feel inadequate, baby. It’s my job to make you feel good. Is Daddy doing a bad job? Does Daddy not feel good?” It’s the most delicious mindfuck Steve has ever felt. He whines as Bucky looks at him expectantly, knowing what he wants him to say.

“Feel…” Steve gulps harshly, eyes closing and breathing going deep. His voice is quiet when he continues, breaking on each word. “Feels so good,” He opens his eyes again just in time to see Bucky’s smirk slowly grow.

“Good, baby,” He coos, letting go of Steve’s chin and instead patting him mockingly on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re feelin’ good. Makes me feel like a good Daddy, knowin’ that I’m pleasin’ you.” Steve groans, his hips stuttering again and resting flush against Bucky’s. The other man pinches the skin of Steve’s hip with a tut, causing him to yelp before continuing his movements. “Don’t ruin it, toy. You’ve been fuckin’ me so good, so well, make me feel so good, you better not stop now,”

“Won’t!” Steve gasps out, lifting himself back up and continuing his thrusts, harder and deeper than before, doing his best to please Bucky.

“Fuck,” The other man groans, fingers digging into Steve’s hips unintentionally with the pleasure. “Right there, toy, fuck,” Steve moans in tandem with Bucky, hips rolling forwards and slapping against Bucky’s skin, even if he can’t feel anything. He didn’t expect this to do it for him, not so much, but seeing the pleasure he’s giving Bucky without feeling anything? He’s feeling disconnected from his body in the best way.

The first time Bucky comes, Steve isn’t expecting it. He hasn’t noticed Bucky’s hand sneaking down in between them and starting to squeeze, to pull at himself. Bucky groans through it, not stopping his hand and not telling Steve to pause in his movements, milking the come out of himself.

“Keep going,” Bucky’s breathing is a little heavier than before, eyes still closed in pleasure. Steve imagines the way that Bucky would feel around him if he didn’t have this damn toy on, the way he would be clenching around him as he comes, the tight heat, the wet slide.

Steve’s so lost in his head he doesn’t notices that Bucky’s coming again, so soon after the last one. The noise he makes is more high pitched this time, the sensation of Steve still fucking into him quickly becoming too much when paired with the two successive orgasms.

“Wait,” He gasps, hands gripping Steve’s shoulders, stilling his movements. “Stop, toy,” His eyes are still closed, breathing heavily and voice mumbled. “Finished using you, finished playing,”

Bucky takes longer than he strictly needs to catch his breath, perfectly happy to watch at Steve squirms and whines and tries to get his attention. When he’s got his breath back, he rolls out from under Steve, manhandling him until he’s lying on his back with his hands gripping the bed frame, pressing down on them so Steve knows to keep them there. He himself lays on his side, facing his baby, letting his cheek rest on the palm of his hand. He’s slow as he undoes the straps of the harness, unclipping them and unthreading them from the base of the toy, but leaving the dildo over Steve’s cock. The other man chokes on a sob when Bucky slowly jacks the toy, eyes shining.

“Since you’re just a toy, you don’t need to come, right?” Bucky practically purrs, giddy in the afterglow of his orgasms, feasting off the whines Steve is producing. “That’s what you said to me, right? ‘Don’t need to come!’” He pitches his voice high, nasally, using it to taunt and embarrass Steve, grinning when he squeezes his eyes shut, turning his face away from Bucky to hide in his arms. Bucky just reaches out and grips his chin, hard, forcing his eyes open and to look at him. “’Just need Daddy’s come!’ That’s what you told me, yeah?”

“Don’t…don’t need to come,” Steve parrots, moans, low and broken, voice heavy with tears.

“But…” Steve perks up slightly when Bucky’s fingers leave his chin and reach down from the toy, lifting it slowly, so so slowlyoff Steve’s cock and letting it fall to the floor with a quiet thud. “That looks painful, Stevie,” Bucky coos as he nods at Steve’s cock, encouraging him to look down at it. Steve whimpers when he sees it, deep red and ever so stiff and leaking so much. “And ‘M not a cruel Daddy, am I, baby?”

“No, Nuh-uh,” Steve shakes his head as he answers quickly. “The…the best Daddy-”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky laughs, holding a finger over Steve’s lips to get him to be quiet. “I’m not cruel, not gonna make you sleep like that, all heavy and full, so I’ll give you a choice,”

“Wha…”

“Hush,” Bucky shushes him, but not harshly, a complete contrast to the next words that come out of his mouth. “A choice. I can go and get the ice, or you can have a ruin.”

“No!” Steve wails. He sobs as Bucky smirks down at him, raising an eyebrow. “Please, Daddy, I-”

“You are just a toy.” Bucky sneers, slapping his hand down harshly on the meat of Steve’s tit, scoffing at the shrieking noise that Steve fails to hold in. “You’re my toy. And I’m bein’ gracious enough to give you a choice, Steven. I’m being nice. I don’t haveta be,” He uses the same hand that he slapped Steve with to tug at his nipple instead. “You got three seconds to make a choice, or Daddy’ll make it for you. And Daddy’s startin’ to lose his patience,” Steve sobs at the sing-song tone in Bucky’s voice, the way his eyes are shining. He tries his best to think about which of the two options are the best, which one will hurt less but his mind doesn’t seem to want to work. He’s struggling to think beyond the pinch of Bucky’s metal fingers on his nipples and the ache in his cock, that’s heavy and purpling and weeping and-

“Wanna-” His voice breaks around the word, throat impossibly dry. “Wanna empty, please,”

“Good choice,” Bucky finally relents on Steve’s tits, rearranging himself so he’s on his back and leaning against the stack of pillows. He holds his right hand over Steve’s mouth. “Lick,” He tells him, voice sounding bored, while his attention focuses on turning the tv on and flicking through the channels. When he’s decided that his hand is wet enough, he clenches it into a loose fist and holds it above Steve’s cock, just high enough that Steve will have to struggle to fuck up into without the use of his hands. “Get on with it, then,” Bucky says, voice light like he’s not interested, like he’s paying attention to the dumb reality show that he’s landed on. Steve knows it’s just an act, but God is Bucky the star of the show, the best actor Steve has ever seen, playing a role that was literally written for him. It’s an act, but it works so well, spurs Steve on to do a good job, to please his daddy.

Steve whimpers almost continuously as he thrusts his hips up, having to plant his feet into the mattress to get any sort of stimulation from Bucky’s loose hand. He’s close embarrassingly quickly, despite not having had his cock touched for more than a few seconds at the start of their scene. He tries to tell Bucky this, but the words won’t come out of his mouth.

Bucky doesn’t need the words though. He never has, has always been able to read Steve like he’s his favourite book, cover well worn and pages becoming tattered with the amount of thumbing through that has happened. He doesn’t even look at Steve as he tightens his hand, starts jacking up and down quickly. Steve’s mouth drops open but no sound comes out. He tries, tries to warn Bucky, he’s right on the edge, is teetering over, is starting to-

Bucky takes his hand away.

Steve sobs, loud and uninhibited, tears pouring out of his eyes at the sudden loss of sensation. He’s vaguely aware of one of Bucky’s paws on his chest, holding him down and stopping him thrusting up in any capacity. He can’t focus on anything, there’s nothing to ground him, to take him away from this feeling of anguish he is feeling.

He stops coming at some point, can feel his dick twitch as it finishes, leaving him feeling empty but terribly unsatisfied, an achy buzz he can’t escape from.

He can’t focus on anything, mind floating somewhere a million miles from earth. He can feel the vibrations of someone, Daddy, talking, whispering into his skin as something warm glides over Steve’s body. He can’t make out the individual words his daddy is saying, but he can feel the smiles, the soft kisses being littered across his warm skin.

When he lands again, he’s not sure how much time has passed. He’s face down on the bed, still naked, but he can feel his hair is damp, can smell the coconut of the shampoo. There are fingers dancing up and down the expanse of his back. He lets out a hoarse giggle.

“You back w’ me, Stevie?” Bucky whispers, hands stilling for a moment before they continue their journey up and down Steve’s back. Steve can’t answer with more than a hum but does turn his face and blinks owlishly up at Bucky. “There he is, my gorgeous boy,”

“Daddy…”

“The most beautiful boy. The best boy, best I could ever ask for. You were so good for me, Stevie,” Bucky smiles into Steve’s hair as he presses kisses into the softness. Steve presses into the feeling, squirming and wriggling on the bed, trying to get closer to Bucky. The other man chuckles at him, using one of his legs to hook over Steve’s, pulling him until he’s lying right on top of Bucky’s body, hairs tickling Bucky’s nose.

“Mhmm,” Steve sighs, nuzzling his cheek into Bucky’s chest.

“You’re like a damn cat, Stevie.”

Steve purrs happily.

[sparxwrites]

the crushing weight of certainty

Vaguely a part of my Snapshots duet.

cw for domestic violence, slapping, verbal abuse

[ao3]

“Schlatt!” calls Quackity, stumbling after him down the halls of the White House. His face is pale, hands shaking. There’s blood on his starched white shirt. His jacket smells of gunpowder. He keeps seeing Tubbo’s face behind his eyelids every time he blinks, shocked, scared, childish, from the moment right before the fireworks hit. “Schlatt, what the fuck was–”

Schlatt ignores him. Doesn’t even so much as slow down. He’s walking with a confidence and clarity of purpose Quackity’s never seen him move with before. It’s a little frightening. It’s a little unnerving.

It’s a little like discovering that the lazy old mutt you’ve had living out in your back garden for months is, in fact, a purebred wolf.

When he finally catches up, he grabs Schlatt’s elbow, shakes it. “No, Schlatt, look at me, seriously, what the– what the fuck was that, because you just– that was murder, Schlatt! That was an execution! You just, we just, that was a citizen we just killed! He’s a kid! What–”

Schlatt backhands him.

The blow knocks Quackity to the floor, leaves him sat on his ass and staring up at Schlatt in shocked bewilderment. His lip has split, badly, dribbling wet crimson down his chin. His cheek throbs in time to his heartbeat, turning pink to red to almost-purple with a rising bruise. His brain can’t quite work out what’s just happened. Schlatt’s hit him before, of course, but– not like this. Not properly, not with actual power behind it. Not like he means it.

Schlatt starts advancing. He still looks like he means it.

Quackity starts doing his best to crawl away, one-handed, still on his back, not daring to take his eyes off Schlatt. “Schlatt–” he gasps, a hand pressed to his cheek, his forearm held awkwardly over his face.

“You fucking pussying out on me now?” snarls Schlatt, still advancing with a predator’s prowl, matching Quackity’s desperate scrabbling inch for inch. “Are you? Are you?” He raises a fist and grins when Quackity flinches, all big teeth and whiskey-breath. “Fucking answer me when I'm speaking to you, you little shit!”

“I, I, Schlatt, I–” Quackity stammers out– something, terrified, eyes wide. When words fail, he whimpers, more of a sob. He starts trying to cover his head rather than just his face as he scrambles backwards.

His efforts at self-defence are for nothing. Schlatt catches him, as easy as a dog with a rat, hauls him up by his collar to backhand him again.

Quackity's nose starts bleeding, profusely.

“You wanted this, sweetheart!” snarls Schlatt, face inches from Quackity’s bloody, bruised one. The grin is more of a snarl, now, bared-teeth and nasty and mad. “You agreed to be my fuckin' vice, you agreed to run this goddamn shithole of a country, and now you want to fucking pussy out on what it takes to be a leader? You got cold fucking feet?”

Another backhand. Quackity's face is a mess of red, his pupils blown huge with fear, his mouth half-open and his swollen lower lip trembling.

“Oh no, pumpkin, oh no. You do not fucking get to do that. You hear me? You don't get to do that. We're in this together, to the end of the fucking line, sugar plum, and if you- if you start trying to do whatever the fuck this is, then I'm gonna get real fucking mad. Okay?"

He shakes Quackity, hard enough Quackity’s teeth clack together. Hard enough his brain feels like it bruises against the inside of his skull.

“Sch– Schlatt. Schlatt.” Quackity’s hyperventilating, voice quiet, blood dribbling down from his nostrils over his lips and staining his teeth pink. He can taste it on his tongue, hot salt and copper, feel it dribble thickly down the back of his throat. “Schlatt. Please. You're hurting me."

“Do I look like I give a shit?”

Another shake. Quackity makes a high, terrified, hitching noise. His bloodied head lolls on his shoulders.

“Do I?! Answer me, you stupid little bitch!”

“N– no, Schlatt– no–”

“Good. Because I fucking don't.”

Schlatt pauses, something odd passing over his face. He raises the hand not around Quackity’s collar to stroke from one corner of Quackity's lower lip to the other, smearing blood across it like lipstick, obscene, copper-salt bitter.

Quackity's chest is heaving like there's not enough air in the room.

“Listen real fucking close now, sweetheart,” says Schlatt, eventually, and sticks his thumb in his mouth. Quackity watches as sucks the blood off of it, absent, thoughtless. “Because I’m only gonna ask this once. Are you with me, or not?”

Not trusting his voice, Quackity nods, jerky, frantic. There is no other answer here. Even he, stupid little bitch that he is, knows that much.

“Good.” Schlatt sets him back on his feet. His knees nearly buckle, breath leaving him in a wheeze as he locks them in a desperate attempt to stay standing. Schlatt does not try to help steady him. “Good boy. That's what I like to fucking hear

Quackity’s nose drips blood onto the marble floor of the White House in hot, wet spatters. His head rings, his cheek aches. He can’t get breathe properly. He can’t breathe.

It’s only when Schlatt walks away, steps into his bedroom and slams the door behind him, that he manages to drag in an unsteady inhale. When he brings a hand up to cover his mouth and nose, gasping, and is surprised to find tears mixed in with the blood that puddles in his palm.

He thinks, for the first time, that he might be in over his head.

[littlemissnoname13]

Wisps of Smoke (Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader) - Part three

Summary: Draco and Y/n find themselves drawn to an abandoned classroom every single night

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: excessive smoking, mature language and themes, smut, oral (male receiving ), 18+ content, reader discretion is advised.

A/n: two more parts to go and the story is done!!!

once again, thank you to everyone that read part one and two and asked to be tagged. I love you guys.

I’d like to stress that smoking is injurious to health. (*lights up another cigarette and types furiously*) This part is a bit lengthy so bare with me.

Word count: 4000

Part 1 & Part 2 (if you haven’t read them already)

Thursday (Continued)

Was he dreaming? 

No, he definitely was dreaming. 

How else could he explain this recurring dream, fantasy, vision—call it what you want. 

You, down on your knees in front of him, pushing his knees apart and palming him through his trousers. 

You, fumbling with his belt buckle and slowly unzipping him, letting him spring free. 

What had he done in this life to deserve this?—to deserve you and your full red lips slowly wrapped around his hardened cock. 

You kept your eyes fixed on his though. Shiny, playful eyes looking up at him as you hollowed out your cheeks taking him in even further. 

“Fuck—y/n.” He let out a groan and gripped firmly onto the windowsill as you sucked him off. 

This definitely wasn’t a dream—it was far too real to be a dream. 

The way you hummed while you bobbed your head up and down and the vibrations that he felt all over his length was a reminder that this was in fact, happening. 

“That’s it.” 

Draco dipped his head backwards and closed his eyes. His cold hand caressed your face before slowly making their way through your tousled locks. 

You gripped his thighs and went in deeper, making the tip touch the back of your throat as tears started to spill out of your eyes. 

“Such a good girl.” He praised holding your hair up into a makeshift ponytail. "You look so perfect with my cock in your pretty little mouth." 

It was surprising how his words only made you tighten your lips around his cock and jerk off the bit you couldn't fit in your mouth and this only made him groan and tighten his grip on your hair—fucking your face.  

Friday

“It’s been raining quite a bit these days.” Adrian commented as you both walked towards the dungeons. 

“It has.Hasn’t it?” You mumbled, turning to take a long look at him. There was no denying that he looked good in his Quidditch uniform—with his dark hair complimenting the Slytherin green. 

Both of you quietly entered the common room and sat down on a couch surrounded by an uncomfortable silence that was getting far too familiar at this point. 

Both of you spent time together just for the sake of both of your parents who’d carefully set up your relationship.

Sometimes, you went on dates and stuffed your mouth with food just to avoid having a conversation.

And then there were nights of efficient and routinely sex and ignoring each other’s presence afterwards. 

You picked on the ends of your hair and wondered why you were still with Adrian and vice versa. 

Sure you’d known him for years, sure he’d held your hand through every awkward dinner and other miscellaneous and pretentious strictly pure blood events but there was a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. 

Still, that didn’t justify your clandestine rendezvous with Draco and the guilt was slowly eating you up. 

“Everything alright with you y/n?” Adrian asked, placing his hand on top of yours. 

“Yes—I mean no. Yes.” 

Adrian raised his eyebrows, looking befuddled. 

“Adrian, there’s something I need to tell—”

“That won’t be necessary.” He said as he quickly cut you off. “I already know what you’re about to tell me—you are rubbish at glamour spells, you know.I can still see most of the bruises on your neck.” 

You touched your neck and drew in a sharp breath when your fingertips landed on a fresh one from last night.

“May I ask who?” Adrian cleared his throat, instantly making you retrieve your hands from your neck.

And as if on cue, the Slytherin seeker who’d marked your neck up walked into the common room still in his Quidditch fit.

His hair was ruffled up due to all the flying and there was a slight cut near his left brow. You wondered if he’d gotten that cut during practice or if he’d started a brawl with someone. 

When it came to Malfoy, you could never be too sure. 

Adrian’s eyes followed your own and he shook his head in disbelief when he got the answer to his question.

“Malfoy?” He asked while you stared at the ground below hoping it would swallow you whole.

“I’m sorry Adrian.”

“I don’t know what to tell you y/n.” Adrian whispered using his hand to lift your chin up. “You and I both knew this relationship was going nowhere didn’t we?”

You nodded and you slowly stretched out your arms and wrapped them around Adrian’s waist as he rested his head on top of yours. 

“I’ll see you around y/n.”

~~~~~~

“And there goes my peace and quiet.” Draco muttered, flicking the ashes away from the lit cigarette between his index and middle finger as you entered the classroom that night. 

The scent of soap and the water droplets at the ends of his hair indicated that he was fresh out of the shower. 

“Well, hello to you too.” You retorted as you got comfortable on the windowsill next to him. 

He simply scoffed and continued to smoke his ridiculously expensive cigarettes and instinctively, you drew in a long deep breath.

You tried to talk to him but all you got were clipped responses and curt nods. 

“What’s gotten you in such a mood today?” You asked firmly as you got down from the windowsill and took a step towards him with your arms crossed over your chest. “I can usually tolerate you but Merlin!”

“If you can’t tolerate me, why don’t you just run along to your dorm then?”

“Okay—You really don’t want me here do you?” You asked trying your hardest to ignore the sudden hurt you felt. 

“I never said that. I just don’t think it’s a smart idea on your end to be here when Pucey is probably waiting for you in your bed.” 

“I share my dorm with Pansy and Millicent.” You pointed out as you took another purposeful step towards him until you were standing in between his parted legs. “Not everyone here has their own room.” 

“Well, that is hardly my fault.” He shrugged, flicking the ash off of his cigarette with another swift motion of his hand before placing it between his lips again.

You pulled the cigarette out of his lips and pressed the lit end on the windowsill extinguishing it.

“You really are a frustrating little git you know.” 

He looked up with you, quizzically with his silvery eyes that looked like they were made of pure mercury as you cradled his face in the palm of your hands.

“You frustrate me Draco Malfoy and yet, I find myself in this classroom every single night.” 

He drew a sharp breath sliding both his hands on your hip before pulling you down towards him until you were straddling him.

Seeing you with Adrian had ignited this peculiar kind of stabbing sensation inside the pit of his stomach. 

“And I find everything you do rather infuriating.” He murmured cupping your face in his hands—his rings cold on your cheeks. “You talk too much, your potion making skills are abysmal and did I tell you that I had to refrain from pushing Pucey off his broom at practice today?” 

“In my defense, I like talking, I hate potions and Adrian broke up with me..” 

He blinked a couple times before pressing his forehead to yours. “Y/n, you can’t just spring out information like that so nonchala—”

“Kiss me Draco—take me. Make me shut up, make me yours.” You whispered, cutting him off, shocked at your confidence. 

And before he could utter another word, you slowly closed the gap between your lips. 

He felt like a man coming out of a fog when your lips touched—he adored your lips. They reminded him of ripened cherries and he wanted to bite them till they were bleeding with sweetness. 

It wasn’t long before his hands made their way to the hair along the nape of your neck and he deepened the kiss by grabbing a fist full of your hair and pushing your face closer to his.

And as much as you loved the way he kissed you, you were aching for something more. 

You broke the kiss to place greedy kisses along his sharp jawline causing a groan to escape his lips.

The way you gripped onto the collar of his shirt and bit onto his exposed flesh was a far cry from being ladylike. 

No. 

The way you started to grind your hips against the growing bulge in his pants, desperate for friction against your clothed core was enough to make any uptight pure blood girl with her “proper etiquettes” blush. 

You never really did care about all that rubbish anyway. 

The amount of self control Draco needed to grip your hips firmly in place so that you’d stop moving was astronomical. 

“Not here.” He whispered staring into your eyes.

~~~~~~

“Draco put me down! Filch is going to see us!” You protested as he lifted you up in his arms and started to walk towards his room. 

“Then stop it with the yelling.” 

“I’m not yelling.” You pointed out as Draco muttered the password to the Slytherin common room and before you knew it, you were in his room, spread out on his bed.

Your clothes were long gone—thrown away somewhere in his room and you could feel the softness of his sheets against your naked skin. 

“So fucking beautiful y/n.” He said, staring at you longingly. 

Draco was too awestruck to tell you but he’d wanted this for so long.

He’d stayed up late, lost sleep, and spent too many mornings invested in the thoughts of you on his bed—your cheeks flushed, your hair tousled and your legs pushed apart giving just the perfect view. 

The boy had fucked his fist in the thoughts of you, let’s be honest. 

Fuck. He wanted to destroy you—push himself inside of you till you were screaming his name.

There was a fervent kind of lust burning in his veins as he leaned down to crush his lips onto yours.

He didn’t want to hold back. 

He wasn’t capable of holding back anymore. 

Not with his lips when he parted your lips apart.

Not with his hands that roamed all over your bare skin—feeling every curve, every valley,  every mark, even the tiniest birthmark that made you so uniquely you. 

“Draco..” 

“Don’t say my name like that.” He said in a raspy voice as his tongue lapped against your taught nipple. “I won’t be able to restrain myself if you do.” 

You used your hands to grasp his hair and hold his face firmly in place as his tongue alternated between your nipples. 

“Then don’t...fuck yes..Draco..I want you—you know that I want you.”

“Oh?” He smirked looking up at you making your cheeks glow red.

He came back up and continued to kiss you as your hands started to work to get rid of his shirt. 

Both of you paused for a minuscule second as you stared at each other and the second your eyes met, something snapped and the rest of the world faded into a void. 

Lips against lips. 

Skin against skin. 

His hands grasping your hair and your nails digging into his biceps. 

His mouth attached themselves to your nipples again in an aggressive kind of way and all you could do was whimper out his as you writhed underneath him. 

He languidly ran his fingers up and down your slit, barely making enough contact with your clit. 

“So fucking wet..” 

You whimpered and arched your hips upward as he continued. 

“Tell me y/n, is this what you mean when you say you want me, hm?” He whispered softly against your skin and all you could do was let out a cry. 

“Draco...please..”

Two of his fingers pushed into your folds and you clutched hard into his shoulders.

And when he suddenly removed his fingers from you, you winced at the sudden feeling of emptiness. 

Draco stuck his fingers into your mouth and murmured into your ears. 

“Suck.” 

You closed your eyes and began to suck on his fingers while your hands hurriedly reached for his belt buckle. 

“So pretty.” He said in a low voice as he moved his tip up and down your slit not entering just yet. His eyes, clouded and saturated with desire met yours searchingly.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes—fuck me already.” You pleaded. “Please I want you so fucking—oh..fuck...mmmm…..”

He rammed himself inside of you as soon as the words fell out of your mouth. 

At first, he took his time with you—trying to commit himself to memorising just how you took him, how his cock felt inside your warm cunt.

He then thrusted hard and deep as he kept himself propped up on top of you, supported by his elbows.

The sight of you underneath him, with your soft hair flowing down his pillow in all directions, the warm flush on your cheeks and the way your face contorted in pleasure drove him wild. 

Each of his kisses were accompanied by hard thrusts and you fisted the sheets and clenched his cock inside of you making him cuss and groan. 

"Fuck, You take me so well y/n—so fucking tight..your cunt is fucking perfect...fuck.." 

He moaned, increasing the speed of his thrusts causing you to clench him even more. 

"Fucking do that again." He hissed thrusting deeper inside of you hitting just the right spot. 

“Oh...Fuck...Draco…”

“Fuck y/n...say my name” He demanded as he leaned down and his tongue lapped against your taught nipple. “Fucking scream my name—” 

“Draco...Oh..Draco...Draco!” You whimpered, gripping his hair while he sucked on your nipple. 

He most certainly didn’t not hold back with his skillful tongue when he cleverly suckled on your sensitive nipples, timing the movement of his thrusts pumping in and out of you perfectly with his licks. 

“That’s right..” he said with his thumb now pleasuring your clit. “Let the whole of Slytherin know who you belong to.”

It was strange how the possessiveness turned you on even more and a tight knot started to form inside of your stomach as the sound of skin slapping against skin started to get louder and louder in his room. 

"Oh my god...fuck..right there—Draco!" You cried out when he hit your sensitive spot over and over again with each thrust.

Draco's breathing soon got increasingly strained as he picked up the pace. "Fuck y/n. You’re gonna make me fucking cum if you keep screaming like that—fuck.” 

But to his absolute pleasure and dismay, you just couldn’t stop moaning. 

It was too much. 

You always thought people were exaggerating when they said they could see stars and celestial whatnots when they approached their highs but now you yourself we’re seeing them. 

Time and space became non-existent to you as he pounded into you. 

"Oh fuck..I’m gonna.." You bit your lower lip as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

"Cum for me." He groaned. "Cum all over my cock." He wrapped his ring clad fingers around the base of your throat and that did it for you really. 

"Draco!" You moaned in complete euphoria when your orgasm hit you, causing your legs to spasm as you clenched him. 

"Fuck—" he let his own orgasm wash all over him as he released is load inside of you.

He had never before seen a prettier sight than your cunt—fucked out and leaking with his cum.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday 

You sipped on your Butterbeer and glanced at the people seated with you at the three broomsticks.

Pansy was explaining something animatedly to Theo while Draco and Blaise were talking about the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. 

The tiniest of smiles crept up your lips when you observed your long time friends. 

You could still remember the excitement you all felt when you got your hands on your Hogwarts letter.

And the elated expressions all of you had exchanged at the great hall after being sorted into Slytherin was still fresh inside of your mind. 

As you looked around the table, Draco’s stormy grey eyes caught yours. 

You always did think he looked fucking attractive in his Quidditch jumper, especially with his icy blonde hair combed neatly to the side. 

The sight made you want to chew on your bottom lip and he smirked when he noticed how flustered you’d suddenly gotten. 

“Y/n. It’s your turn to fetch the Butterbeers.” Pansy’s voice interrupted your supposed eye fucking  staring contest with Draco and you quietly stood up and walked towards the counter. 

“Looks like Cormac Mclaggen has taken an interest in y/n.” Theo commented, making Draco’s head snap at your direction.

You were waiting for your Butterbeer, blissfully unaware of the way Cormac eyed you from head to toe. 

“Draco—Mate is everything alright?” Blaise asked looking at how white Draco’s knuckles had turned from gripping onto his glass. 

“Just perfect.” Draco said through gritted teeth. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunday

“We..mmmm..really can’t—oh fuck—do this here right now—oh yes Draco right there—” You whimpered trying your hardest to suppress a moan. 

It was way too early to be at the library, especially on a Sunday. 

You could have been at Draco’s room curled up under his sheets but Blaise insisted to meet up at the library to get a head start on your Potions essay. 

To your absolute delight, Blaise seemed to be running late and thus, you were pressed against a bookshelf in the far corner of the library—your palms and cheeks touching the book spines as he pushed in and out of you. 

“Okay y/n.” He half whispered and half nibbled on your earlobe as he slowed himself down. “I’ll stop If you say so.” 

“No.” You whined pushing your hips backwards.

“But you said we shouldn’t be doing this.” He chuckled.

“Please Draco..” you whined and Instantly made him pound right into you. The way you said please had destroyed any semblance of control he had over himself. 

“Sorry I overslept this mor—SALAZAR FUCKING SLYTHERIN!” Blaise’s hands Instantly flew over his eyes when he saw just what was happening. 

Oh Fuck.

Monday

“What is happening to this world?” Pansy asked bewildered—rubbing her eyes and trying to digest the sight in front of her while Theo opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to answer but the words seemed to have disappeared inside of him. 

Draco was seated on an armchair in the Slytherin common room with you on his lap. You had your arms wrapped firmly around his torso while your head rested on his chest. 

Both of you had fallen asleep in front of the Fireplace.

“Never thought I’d get to see this. Not in this life anyway.” Theo quipped, scratching his chin. 

“Oh, I’ve seen worse—way worse.” Blaise shuddered suddenly appearing in between Pansy and Theo. “I have seen things I cannot unsee. I have seen things that make me want to scourgify my eyes.”

“Should we wake them?” Blaise asked, looking at Theo and Pansy. 

“I say we act like we don’t know and fuck with their heads a little.” Pansy suggested. 

“Im in too. But for now, Let them be.” Theo put his arm around the other two as dragged them away. “The world seems so peaceful for once.” 

Tuesday 

After a long day of classes you changed into your silk night dress and headed towards the kitchen to sneak in some late afternoon snacks but you felt someone grab your wrist in the middle of the shadowy hallway. 

“Merlin Malfoy! You have to stop it with the lurking.” You complained as he started to kiss the base of your throat. 

“Oh please y/n.” He smirked. “You fucking love it.” 

You did. 

You loved it. 

So much that you ended up sullying the nearest classroom desk and he somehow ended up destroying your favorite slip dress.

Draco watched with fascination as you tried to slip back into the remains of your silk slip dress.

“I’m sorry about your dress.” 

“That’s okay.” You mumbled absently as you tried to get your dress to stay on your body. 

“Here.” He said hesitantly before handing you his blazer. “Wear this.”  

“Going back to my dorm with your blazer doesn’t seem like a good idea.” You chuckled as the fabric drowned you. “What am I going to tell Pansy?” 

His lips quirked into a faint smile.

“You aren’t going to your dorm y/l/n”

~~~

You were in the middle of picking up your clothes when there was a knock on Draco’s door. Thank Merlin you managed to get dressed in whatever you could find before the door unlocked. 

“Um hello Mr. Malfoy.” You squeaked at the figure standing outside Draco’s door.

You’d forever found Lucius Malfoy intimidating to say the least, his sneering expression and patronising attitude didn’t help much either. 

“Ah, Ms. Y/l/n.” Lucius responded. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” 

“I could say the same father.” Draco added, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“I was just on my way out.” You mumbled quickly summoning and collecting your things. 

You used your right leg to kick your brassiere under his bed praying you were discreet enough.

It was just one of the many things Draco’s father wouldn’t be hearing about. 

“I’ll see you around Draco.” You gave him a quick nod and turned towards Lucius. “It was good seeing you Mr.Malfoy.” 

“Likewise, y/n.” He responded. “I do believe Draco had told you about the New Years Ball.”

“Somewhat.” You lied after seeing Draco’s pale features turn as white as paper. 

Lucius hummed. 

“Please send my regards to Mrs.Malfoy.” You said before closing the door behind you. 

Safe to say, Draco didn’t show up to the classroom that night. 

Wednesday 

He cornered you into a wall before your first class for the day—kissed your lips in a “desperate measures” kind of way and vanished into class before you could say a word. 

Thursday 

You’d waited. 

Waited all alone in the classroom without him and his wisps of smoke to accompany you for the third night. 

Your thoughts ran rampant as the night faded away into morning. 

You knew he wasn’t obligated to come to the classroom but his absence bothered you nonetheless. 

Having waited for him for three whole nights, you weren’t even going to deny the idea that you had harboured feelings for him. 

Had he though? 

Would he meet you halfway even? 

What even were you two?

You shook your head and decided to head on back to your dorm and get ready for the day but the second you entered the dungeons, you realised that your feet had plans of their own. 

After a short sprint this door came into view and your heart beat started to accelerate.

"Draco!" You knocked, panting and out of breath. "Draco. Open the door!" 

You stood there knocking continuously before the door flung open. 

"Draco I need to talk to—"

A slender looking brunette girl stood on the other end wearing his Quidditch sweater that you loved so much—Sharp features, rosy cheeks and rosier lips. 

She wasn't in your year but you knew her. 

"Astoria?" You spluttered unable to get any other words out of your mouth.

"Hello. Can I help you?" 

To be continued...

__________________________________________

Part 4 Teaser:

“I could get used to waking up like this.” Draco smirked looking up at you. His platinum blonde hair was slightly wavy and kind of fluffy, falling on his forehead but not yet covering his stormy greys. 

“Like what?” you teased. 

“Don't play with me y/l/n.” He warned with a wicked gleam making the grey hues in his eyes brighten into a brilliant blue. It was almost like his eyes changed colors from blue to grey according to his moods. 

“I could get used to waking up like this too.” You said softly

Before Draco could reply, his door creaked open. 

“Malfoy, Astoria is waiting for you in the commonroo—fuck not this again.” Blaise groaned covering his eyes as you pulled the sheets over your body. 

Part four available here

___________________________________

Taglist: @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @lieswithoutfairytales @dracomalfoys-wh0re @hannahhobnob @sycathorn-slush @mxl-foyrecs @daringvixon @linetteyde @imbadwithunsernames @dracoswhore007 @myunngi @goawayimreadingbeach @loxbbg @icedlattewithalmondmilk @paulina1998 @fa-me @loganrwebb @nee-naw-nee-naw-beepbeep @leaveittobecca @dummythiccwitch

I absolutely adore each and every one of you guys! Thank you sm!

[sweettodo]

Animals ⟿ Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

Includes : cockwarming, smut, swearing, riding, slight praise.

Word count : 1,8k

An, ik this is short. But I’m down bad yall. I am so dick deprevied it is just sad. ANYWAYS. Also I couldn’t think of a good title bc this is just smut w no plot??

Levi was not the one for pda, quite the opposite- no surprise there; he hated kissy couples who laid all over each other like idiots. It was really disappointing when you were more or less ignored besides meal time throughout the day, where in the dining hall we would be able to have some conversation.

You sat across from him at dinner, the smoldering heat from the summer evening which kept you all from wearing your normal uniforms, you wore a white tank top with some random shorts while Levi looked incredibly sculpted, his pecs and abs filling out a tight-ish short sleeve shirt, sweat slightly sticking to his arms, restricting, that- that tight...

“Oi, staring much?” My gaze snaps back to his dark eyes, deadpan face and all. You smirk and roll your eyes, his eyes fell deep into yours; he bit his tongue in anticipation of what you were planning next.

“Sorry, Captain.” You drag, with that slight whiney undertone you purposely allowed to slip from your lips. he scowled at you, obviously irritated at your childish behavior, you playfully kick him under the table, Hange eyes you from the corner of her eyes, smile planted on her face. Everyone knew you rarely called Levi ‘Captain’ and the only time you did was- quite frankly- in the bedroom.

She turns to face Levi, her smile only growing when she sees how irritated he looked, “why the pout ‘Captain?’” She laughs teasingly, patting his shoulder. It was all fun and games until you don’t expect the sharp kick into your calf, you jerk backwards and wince, followed by a hiss and you stand, your legs hopping over the bench and as you pass Levi, you feel his eyes burn holes into your backside. Steering yourself across the halls and finally down to Levi’s office with the adjoining bedroom, sneaking into the office; making sure no one saw, you close the door behind you in excitement; your stomach giddy knowing you did a sufficient job planting a little bug in Levi’s ear; enough to get the ball rolling.

One thing no one knew, a surprising fact that left you baffled the first time you had heard it; Levi was a switch. At least when he felt like it. It came in handy when he didn’t want to do any work.

He liked to watch you get yourself off and use him like a toy.

Slowly walking around his perfectly neat desk, the infamous Levi walks in, slamming the door behind him. While he stood there, you continue strolling around the wooden desk, fingers lightly trailing across the smooth finish of his desk, “do you think you’re subtle? Practically moaning my title in front of our peers?” He grits, walking over to his bedroom door, opening it and standing there waiting for me, “get on the bed. Now. This is what you wanted right? To piss me off enough?” I slyly walk by him, ignoring his tantrum, my fingers once again trailing across his immediate tensed stomach. He shuts the door behind him and watches you sit on the bed, legs hanging off the side.

It didn’t take long for the air to quickly become thick in the moderalty large room. Your neglected pussy throbbing at the idea that it was about to be packed to the fucking brim.

He slips off his shirt whilst standing in between your legs, you gulp and look up at him. Suddenly grabbing your jaw, a tight grip which you quickly realized he wasn’t going to make this any easier for yourself, “I’m gonna get on this bed, and you’re gonna ride me.” You blink innocently, incapable of nodding from his freakish Ackerman strength. He shoves you off his hand, your back hitting the bed, your hand raising to your jaw and rubbing the tenderness.

Unbuttoning his pants, kicking them off his thighs and propping himself against the rustic wood headboard, you slip off your top, followed by your shorts, you approach him to straddle him, starting to throw a leg over his waist.

But before you can do that...

Grabbing ahold of your hips, he begins manhandling you, turning you around to reverse him, “that’s unfair.” You pout, his hands dragging up and down your thighs, applying a loud slap against your right ass cheek, your cunt clenching as he slaps you again with his hard calloused hand.

“What’s unfair? What’s there to look at if you’re facing me?” He chuckles, you crane your head back to look at him, a smug look on his stupid face.

You bring yourself up and deciding to give yourself a little pleasure. You find yourself bringing your clothed heat against his hard cock, grinding.

This. This, for certain Levi could not resist, he allows you to give a little friction, knowing he wouldn’t allow it to go on for too long regardless, “I wanted to look at your face.” You hum, whining your hips slightly against him, his mouth falling dry.

“Tch, show me what you can do, yeah?” His hands massaging the small of your back, gripping and kneeding tightly as you sit up only a little, leaning down so you can snake your hand between your legs and releasing his dick from his boxers with one hand, he uses his two fingers to move your underwear to the side, adjusting so you can ride him.

Your hands grip his thighs, the curve to your back which he looked at, your shoulder blades rolling, fitting him into your cunt, your head moving almost erratically as he stuffs you, “so fucking wet, how long have you been like this princess? I fucking love it.” He praises, his hands still helping you up and down still at a slow pace.

“All day Levi.” You admit, he lets out a little ‘hm’ in response, he was just so fixated on the way your hips and thighs moved while on top of his slightly sweaty body; the sound of skin sticking together was echoing throughout the bedroom.

His hand lingering up your spine, reaching for your hair, his fingers entangling into your roots, grabbing hard and yanking your light headed - head back, he sits up and brings his head right to the crook of your shoulder, you stop thrusting yourself up and down momentarily, “I love it when you sit pretty on my cock like this, mh’ could be like this all fucking night.”

You can only wimped in response, walls uncontrollably flexing and twitching around his cock which sat nested in you for what felt like forever, with his hand still in your hair, he used his free one to weave around to your front, slipping into your underwear, you gasped and cried out, panting like a fucking dog as he plants firm and pressurized circular motions around your clit.

You couldn’t move; body being help down on his dick, you couldn’t even squirm underneath him, “Such a feign for my cock aren’t you? Tell me what you want.” You could’ve cum right then and there.

“Bend me over.” You begged, he picks up the pace of his three fingers which spun crazily around your bud, his fingers becoming soaked. He completely ignored you, “fuck! Levi!” You wail, your pussy twitching, eyes rolling back, still restrained over his hard on. Thighs twitching as you feel the slick of your cum bathing Levi’s already drenched cock. His fingers had slowed tremendously, working you through your first orgasm, he releases his fist from your hair and your weak neck drops down and you breathe, you wanted him to fuck you now.

“You better not move. I’ll fuck you when I’m ready.” He growls, feeling you attempt to lift your hips back up for any type of thrust; which he stopped.

His hand leaves your slit, you groan in frustration, “Captain, please bend me over.” You whine and plead once again.

This time it works, he quickly pulls out and pushes you onto your elbows, he gets on his knees, lightly slapping your shoulder, motioning you to turn your face towards the head frame as he stood perched behind you; your head in the pillows as he kicks open your legs with his knee, pushing down against your hips so he could look at your throbbing pink pussy, screaming to be fucked.

“I shouldn’t even be touching you right now.” He grits, angling himself against your cunt, sliding back in, it truly stung, the time he spent sitting inside you only heightened those nerves, they exploded when they came into contact. “Annoying me like that? You think you deserve this?” He insults, contradicting his words with his slow thrusts, crying into the pillow, his tight grip which held your legs in place, he’s pulling your hips towards him; fucking you onto his dick.

“I-m sorry Levi.” You moan, he smacks your ass, the stinging sensation onto going straight to the most sensitive area. You were so close to releasing again; luckily for you Levi wasn’t they type to stop you. Loud moans being somewhat silenced by the pillows yet didn’t block all the sound. Levi, who is drilling your hips onto his, he stops and switches roles, him doing the pounding.

Levi’s hand grabs ahold of the headboard, watching you fall apart under him, arm and back flexing beautifully as your cum juiced down his cock. You were so fucking wet, wetting his thighs and your own from the skin to skin contact.

With one hand placed roughly on your back, the other on the headboard, he wastes no time gaining momentum and fucking you absolutely silly; fucking you till’ you were seeing stars when you closed your eyes.

Your weak hand reaches for his moving body and you keep it on top of your tail bone so you could touch his stomach as he thrusted back and forth into you, the tips of your fingers touching him was enough for you to orgasm.

Not to mention the headboard banging back into the wall as well- which neither of you paid any mind to-while he was assaulting the absolute fuck out of your cunt. Your tears and drool which have destroyed the pillow are no match for the amount of cum and sweat that both you and Levi had soaked the sheets with. You two fucked each other like animals, you two could be going all day and night if you didn’t need the sleep for the coming day.

Nor did he care about pulling out, not even warning you, or even himself for that matter- he’s catching himself unloading a thick load deep into your squeezing pussy. His grunts filling the room; followed by a repeated ramble of your name. You had lost count to how many times you had cum, which came to no shocker when it was Levi.

He stays inside you, his sputtering thrusts, he panted as he still kept you full and warm with his softening cock, not wanting to feel cold, stubborn about the fact he needed to stop fucking you at some point. People were bound to have heard the banging headboard and wailing, which you and Levi would be hearing about with the neighboring headroom and office... Hange’s room and office.

He finally slides out of you, entertained at the sight of his cock covered in slick. You lift your head up and throw yourself onto your back, whilst Levi is doing the same. He looked a mess, glistening with sweat, hair either sticking to his forehead or little pieces even clumped together; with his cheeks red, mouth slightly open with heavy breaths from his chest- he was a hot mess, but you didn’t even want to know what you looked like.

“Let me pee and we go again Captain Levi?” You tease, body perking up, he looks up at you and smirked, nodding and as you roll out of bed, he slaps you hard against your ass, you jump and scurry to the bathroom.

“We don’t have anything to do tomorrow anyways.” Levi mumbles as he stands up to follow you to the bathroom.

[zeroweeenies]

“Mine”

(My other account is entirely flagged so yeah)

Desc: you want Megumi all to yourself.

can be read as part two to this

Character(s): stepbro!megumi x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.1K

an: I tried but that didn’t work either 😔💔 ty for requesting tho ♡

WARNINGS: stepcest, cheating, jealousy, manipulation(?), masturbation, oral sex, vaginal sex, angst if you squint, aged up megumi, 18+ minors dni

When you asked him to come “play” with you he told you no, saying that “Nobara’s coming over today.”

It’s not that he ignored you on purpose, he’s only with her to keep up the ruse. At least that’s what he told you.

But if he had you, why did he need her? You needed only him and he only needed you, everyone else was just white noise.

It didn’t matter that he was your stepbrother, he was more of a lover to you than anything else, and nobody loved him the way you did.

Nobara was just a beard. Sure Megumi may kiss her, fuck her, go out in public with her, but it was you he always came back to.

It was you who he loved and cherished, whose bed he slipped into at night when your parents were sleeping and made love to. You had his heart, and that’s the one thing she could never have.

At least that’s what you keep telling yourself.

It pulls a string in your heart when he opens the door for her and leads her up to his room while you’re on the couch watching tv, her greeting you gingerly and Megumi sending you an apologetic look.

You feel a puncture in your heart as you hear his girlfriend’s desperate moans leak through the walls, as your rooms were right next to each other. You listen as Megumi struggles to contain his deep grunts as he continues to plow her into the mattress in his bedroom.

Your hands soon find their way under the waistband of your shorts, toying with your puffed out clit. Sliding a hand up your shirt, you tweak your nipple between your thumb and pointer finger, tugging gently.

You gather your slick on your other hand, spreading it around your entrance with two of your fingers before you push them inside your cunt. You pump your fingers vigorously trying to replicate the way your big brother does it, tears prodding your eyes and letting out broken sobs when you can’t reach as deep as he can, not being able to hit that spongy part inside of you that he always does.

You miss his fingers here. His mouth. His cock. He always knew how to make you feel good, better than anyone you had ever been with, you’d be lost without him. You’re so pathetic that you couldn’t even make yourself cum without his help.

You stop your movements when you hear the door to Megumi’s bedroom fly open, hearing his muffled words before his steps retreat past your bedroom and downstairs.

Pulling your fingers out of yourself you crawl out of your bed, creeping out of your bedroom to see what Megumi’s doing. When you reach downstairs you notice that the light to the kitchen is on.

You sauntered in the kitchen, resting your forearms on the island as Megumi struggled to meet your gaze. You watched as he made himself a snack to replenish himself of his previous activities.

“I miss you,” you spoke, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

He continued to avert his eyes, pretending you weren’t even there “ [ ___ ], I can’t do this with you right now.”

You walked over to where he was standing, invading his personal space. “You can’t? Or is it just because she’s here?” you pointed upstairs. “‘Gumi,” you palmed his cock through the sweatpants he wore, looking up at his eyes “I really need you right now”

“I said no [ ___ ]” He pushed you away from him, rejecting your advances.

Feeling tears well up in your eyes again, you spoke again.

“I hate you.” was all you said, turning to walk away before Megumi caught you in his grasp, roughly pressing his lips to yours.

He thought you were going to cry. He hated seeing you cry, and you used that to your advantage.

You deepen the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as he grabs your waist to bring you closer. You break the kiss, grinning up at him as you drop to your knees, hooking your fingers under the waistband of his sweats to pull them down.

You watch as his cock springs free, still hard even after fucking someone else. You take his length into your mouth all at once, earning a hiss from him. You squeeze your cheeks together, bobbing your forward and backward vigorously. You wanted him, even if you could still taste some of her left over.

You hear footsteps pattering down the stairs, and soon Nobara emerges in the kitchen, an irritable look on her face.

“Babe what's taking so long?” she complained

Megumi’s heart sped up. In fear of being discovered, he quickly came up with a lie.

“I’m making us breakfast babe,” he fibbed, struggling to keep his composure as you continued to suck his cock behind the island.

You didn’t care if Nobara caught you two. In fact, you wanted her to find out the things that had been going on behind her back because you wanted Megumi all to yourself. So when Megumi let out a suspicious grunt while he came as you took him deeper in your throat, Nobara raised an eyebrow.

“What was that?” she questions, trying to peer over the counter that hid you.

“N-nothing babe, I stubbed my toe” he frantically lied, his heart almost beating out of his chest.

Her face relaxed “‘Mkay, love you baby” she smiles warmly, turning around to return to Megumi’s bedroom.

“Love you more,” he ruses, waiting for her steps to dissipate before focusing his attention back on you.

You swallow the last bits of cum from his leaking tip, pulling his cock from your throat with a loud pop, smiling up at him through satisfied eyes before he pulls you up by your hair and bends you over the counter. You gasp from the sudden roughness as he tugs your shorts down, yanking your panties to the side.

“You’re gonna fucking get it,” he whispers darkly in your ear as he plunges his cock into your pussy, pounding you as you struggle to bottle up your strained cries.

Finally getting the attention you craved, you gushed around tightened around his dick, your cream beginning to form at the base of his cock.

Megumi continued to snap his hips into you wildly, expressing his frustration with you through his movements. You knew he would punish you later for being so needy, but you didn’t care because it was your cunt that his dick was buried deep inside right now, not his girlfriend’s.

You gushed around his cock, not minding if your big brother was a little bit rough with you.

He loved you and you loved him, and you loved that he was all yours.

Megumi reaches his limit as your walls flutter around him, shooting thick spurts of his cum inside of you, his tongue shoved down your throat as he rubbed circles on your clit, working on coaxing another orgasm from you.

All this going on under his girlfriend’s nose and she didn’t have a clue.

[siremasterlawrence]

Much Stranger Then Fiction

Based on a few moments in my life and a friend of mine.

Part 1 - 3

Tim Chins family are something else alright constantly staring at mine.

Giving me unprovoked evil stares when I am

going for a walk.

It’s literally annoying to me that fact that they do this in the building as well.

One day last year he walks in to my jobs top floor.

I roll my eyes seeing him knowing full well what is going on.

“What a uptight brick you are?” He says to me.

The glint in his eyes aggravating even more as he trips me on purpose.

The next day he walk over to my desk trying to oversee my work.

“How’s it going?” He questions me as if he is my boss.

“You should not take any bonuses” he goes on preaching to me.

He totally ignores me as I sign ignoring him completely.

Slamming his fist in to the desk he faces me lowering his eyes.

“You hate me” he states watching me walk

off in to the distance.

“Well you scare me” he continues following me once more.

“Screw you” I yell back at him angrily in total ignorance.

Part 4 - 6

He is sit in all black suit jacket, shirt and in pants.

“I hate people” I groan underneath my still breath in anger.

He walks in to the bathroom spending literal ten minutes staring at me.

“Want something?” I ask pushing past the fool.

He grabs my arm tightly yanking backwards in to the wall.

He slams his fist in to my shirt collar yanking it upward.

I have enough of his bullshit kicking him in the shin.

I crack up turning the light of my cellphone on and playing a bit.

“Stare at the shadow Motherfucker” I yell.

“Nnnnnnnnoooooo Ssssstttttoooooppppp!”

He can’t help himself staring in to the void of the never ending light.

The color begins to change glowing in to a

fast pace.

“Do me a favor? Get lost in the light”

“You are a long never ending road”

“In to the road”

Part 7 - 9

I crack up a bit letting my laughter rip in to the air hitting a crescendo.

“Oh poor baby “

“You have no idea, no idea”

“I should rip you a new one”

“I am better then that though”

“Begin scan and authenticity transitions”

“Beginning process”

The camera begins to scan him floating in mid air.

“You thought you are so much deserving of everything.”

“It’s time you learn a thing of two fuckwad.”

Scan finishes thrusting back in to my hand as I check the app.

“Well, well, everything seems in order”

I flip the switch sending a electrical charge through his body.

“Sorry, but unfortunately your descent has only just begun.”

“Get undress and show the world what a dirty bitch you are now.”

The end

[kuroopaisen]

10:31 pm || miya osamu

➵ osamu won’t stop making his damn onigiri. 

wc: 1400

warnings: gn!reader, the slightest bit suggestive  

a/n: @starrysamu i’ll be honest, it’s a while since i’ve written something and been happy with it. but i wanted to give you something on your birthday to say thank you for being so lovely to me :( (i know i’m technically late but shhh...) you’ve been so kind to me, and i can’t thank you enough for all the light you’ve brought into my life (both intentionally and inadvertently). and i know i’m not the only one -- you’ve brought life and laughter to so many people’s lives, and i just want you to know how loved and appreciated you are. this was originally planned as a fluffvember piece dedicated to you but Stuff Happened and it never got written and try as i might, this was the most i could drag together in celebration for remy day. i’m so sorry i couldn’t do more, but regardless i hope you had the best day possible :( i adore you

“Osamu,” you huff, butting his arm with your head.

He ignores you.

“Osamu,” you whine, a little louder this time.

He continues to ignore you, moulding a rice ball with both hands.

You duck down and pop back up between his arms.

Osamu bites back a smile this time, but once again – he ignores you.

You know he’s doing it on purpose. He’s not like his brother; he doesn’t get so lost in what he’s doing that he completely loses track of his surroundings. No, he’s doing this to wind you up. Because you’ve made it too obvious that you want his attention.

Although, you don’t usually have to fight for it.

He’s not the kind of guy to spend a lot of his free time ‘doing’ things. Time at home is time to relax. If he wants to play around with recipes, then he’ll just stay an extra hour at work. If he needs to work off some steam, he’ll go to the gym. Time at home is time to relax – or, more aptly put, time to annoy you.

But sometimes, Osamu’ll be consumed by a relentless urge to create. All he wants to do is make new combinations of ingredients, stuffing his onigiri full of stuff that you wouldn’t possibly think would go together. But Osamu seems to have a sixth sense for this sort of thing; even the strangest sounding combinations end up being surprisingly satisfying.

You’re not about to complain about this quirk of his. You’re his trusty taste-tester, the lab rat for all his new creations. That’s quite the honour – one of the benefits of being part of Osamu’s life. The whole ‘having a professional chef prepare you dinner every night’ is also pretty good.

(You joked, once, that the only reason you kept him around was because he was just so damn good at cooking.

He’d been so genuinely pouty about it that for a moment it felt like you were talking to his brother).

But tonight, that stroke of creativity had hit at nine in the evening. And honestly, you can only eat so much rice.

He’s been at it for the past hour or so, throwing together this and that while a gentle Spotify playlist provides ambient noise. It’s the sort of music you’d listen to in an attempt to wind down – something that’s certainly not doing much for your fatigue.

“I’m tired,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. He’s warm, like he always is. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to sleep as soundly as you do with him next to you. He’s too much of a fixture in your life now. Too much of a comfort.

Osamu chuckles, his thumbs smoothing languid circles over your waist. “It’s only ten at night.”

“I know,” you whine, lifting your head up to look at him.

Frankly, he should be glad you’re tired this early. Kita’s always chided you for your erratic sleep schedule, and Osamu’s been given a talk or two about how he should be looking after you better.

“Osamu,” you huff, pouring all your menace into that one word.

It’s not very effective.

“Hm?” He sounds amused more than anything.

“Please come to bed.”

A familiar grin crosses his face. “Want me that bad, huh?”

You butt his chest with enough force to knock him backwards. “Shut up.”

He’s not wrong, but it’s certainly not what’s on your mind right now. And he knows that.

“Ah, so you’re not denying it,” he grins. Stupid relentless Osamu.

You punch him in the stomach with what might just be the world’s weakest fist.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Osamu chuckles, shaking his head.

You pout up at him, doing your best to look as pitiful as possible.

“You can’t fool me,” he grins.

It’s true. Osamu knows you well; some would say too well. But that’s what you get, being romantically involved for so long. And while he may know you well enough to save himself the burden of feeling guilty in the face of your faux misery, you also have a carefully catalogued library of every lame and embarrassing thing he’s ever said.

It’s a fair enough trade.

One song ends and another begins.

It’s similar in style to the one before – a soft tune, an indistinct voice crooning over the music, a soothing yet bittersweet tone underlying the tune.

Osamu stills, a strange tenderness melting over his face. He slips one arm around your waist, making sure that his hand stays away from your shirt. It’s still covered in the gelatinous residue of the rice.

“Didn’t this play at your sister’s wedding?” He asks softly.

You nod. He remembers that? Hell, it’d taken you a moment to rifle through your (admittedly hazy) memories of that event to try and recall if this song had even been on the playlist.

Osamu reaches for one of your hands, lacing his sticky fingers with yours. You open your mouth to protest, but before you can his other hand slips round to hold your waist.

“But my shirt,” you whine, well-aware that you’re going to have to change it before going to bed. Unless you wanted gritty bits of dried rice to work its way onto your sheets, of course.

“Just borrow one of mine,” Osamu mumbles, leaning forward and kissing your forehead.

Your lips are free, but it feels like he’s sealed them shut.

Osamu isn’t a man of many words. But he is a man of gentle touches, quiet moments, little affections you might miss if you’re not watching closely enough.

He pulls you towards him, taking a step away from the kitchen countertop. You almost stumble as you let him lead you in the sway of the music. He’s a bit off beat, but he’s never been very good at keeping to one. You remember having to learn ballroom dancing in P.E.; for all his innate talent at volleyball, Osamu has none for dancing.

If he cares about that, he makes no indication. He just holds you close to him, fingers digging into your waist gently as he moves. You lean into him, resting your cheek against his chest.

The song ambles on, an offbeat soundtrack to this tiny tenderness.

You pull your head back and look up to him.

He’s smiling.

It’s not his usual smile, that lazy, sardonic half-smirk. It’s gentle, fond, loving. It’s a smile you don’t get to see often – and one you certainly don’t get to see in public. But it’s another tiny sign that he loves you; a sign that he trusts you with all his vulnerability, even if he can’t put it into words.

He leans in and you wonder if he’s going to kiss you.

“Let’s go to bed,” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear.

“What about the mess?” You ask, turning to look at the kitchen as if he hadn’t just made your heart race.

There’s rice everywhere, wrapped in seaweed and in bowls and in flecks all over the counter. You’re sure you’ve never seen this much rice before in your whole entire life – and you’ve cooked for Osamu’s high school volleyball team before.

“I’ll deal with it in the morning,” Osamu says, totally unbothered.

“But ants,” you pout, eyes anxiously scanning the wide variety of perishables strewn over the kitchen. Something’s going to go off by the morning. And that isn’t even accounting for the hoard of uneaten onigiri stacked up in a Tupperware container.

“It’ll be fine,” Osamu shrugs, tugging you out of the kitchen.

“No, it won’t!”

“We haven’t had ants yet.”

“You still shouldn’t leave food out overnight—”

Osamu chuckles, sealing your lips with a kiss. It’s not just any kiss, either; he kisses you exactly how you like to be kissed, in the way that always makes you tick. Unfortunately, it’s an effective way of shutting you up.

Stupid Osamu and his underhanded tricks. He knows just what makes you tick, just how to get under your skin.

But being known is a part of being loved. It means having every little thing about you tucked neatly in someone else’s memory, regardless of if you want it to be or not. Words barely matter. In most cases, they don’t.

It’s a fact you just have to come to terms with.

Osamu already has.