#it was so hot to have him twisting away from my bites. it made me feel a spike in predatory instincts and i kept grabbing him hard

[withmyloveasyourgarden]

TO BE DRUNK AND IN LOVE

EDDIE MUNSON X F!READER.

Nervous Eddie, protective reader, and a drunk love confession. Idiots who are too dumb to realise their feelings are reciprocated. 9.4K of tooth rotting friends to lovers fluff. [Re-uploaded from my old blog]

Even when it was Valentine's day it wasn’t all that surprising to open your door to a random knock and find Eddie Munson staring back at you.

He was your best friend after all.

What was surprising however, was to open your door at nearly midnight, bleary eyed and more than a little bit annoyed, to a sheepish looking Steve Harrington.

His usually perfect hair was in wild disarray from the winter winds still sweeping through Hawkins and there was a hesitant smile on his face, all boyish charm and sweetness, like he was already intent on persuading you to forgive him before you even knew why.

But then you had taken a closer look, letting the light from inside spill out onto the porch to reveal that Steve wasn’t alone. Appearing to be struggling with a rather drunk Eddie, arms straining, looped around the longer haired boy who instead of being on the ‘hot date’ he’d been rambling about having all week, was half asleep, swaying back and forth into his friend’s side.

"He called me to come get him but when I got there he wouldn’t stop asking for you.” Steve explained before you had the chance to ask, grumbling good naturedly. “Didn’t wanna drop him off home and risk him having the genius idea of trying to get here himself, s’that okay?”

You nodded in response, still a little confused but you couldn’t stop yourself from softening. Chest warming as you mumbled a quick ‘of course’ and tried to bite back the laugh that was threatening to bubble up at the way Eddie was trying to use Steve like some kind of pillow.

The wild mess of his curls spilling down to cover his face as his head fell to the other boy’s shoulder with a quiet groan, ringed fingers curling into the fabric of Steve’s jumper and voice rough as he grumbled your name again, again, again.

"Yeah, she's here, man." Steve chuckled, his tone surprisingly gentle, a fond type of exasperated as he nudged his shoulder into the rosy squish of Eddie's cheek. "You wanna wake up now so you can actually see her?"

To your surprise he actually listened.

His head snapping up quicker than you anticipated, curls bouncing with the movement and brown eyes a touch glazed over, just that little bit unfocused, before they locked on you and then his mouth split into a blinding grin. The kind that made his whole face light up and your heart flip all too wild behind your ribs.

"There’s my pretty girl." He cooed loudly and you heard Steve snort, something that sounded an awful lot like ‘very smooth Munson, jesus christ’ muttered under his breath whilst he fought to remain upright against the weight of Eddie leaning his entire body in your direction.

You did laugh then.

A bright, flustered thing that you were unable to resist any longer, along with the way your arms opened on reflex to wrap around the boy when he finally managed to break free of his friend’s hold. His hands batting furiously at Steve’s as he twisted away, and only stumbled slightly in his determination to swoop you up into hug that was all leather, cheap beer and the smoky bite of whiskey - weed and the spice of his shampoo where his hair tickled at your nose.

"Hey sweets.” He whispered, humming happily as he pushed a messy kiss to your hairline.

God, why did that make you want to melt.

“Hey Eddie, you okay?” You asked softly, one hand rubbing gentle circles on his back and the other reaching up to cradle the back of his head.

It made him snuggle into you further, ducking down so he could press his face into the warm crook of your neck as his arms tightened and you prayed he was too drunk to notice the way your pulse thrummed faster when he spoke, soft lips brushing against sensitive skin.

"‘Am now.”

Tou froze for just a second, lips parted, blinking once, twice, just to make sure you had really heard what you thought you had and when it did fully register you wondered if the heat radiating off your cheeks was as obvious as it felt.

A quick glance at Steve told you it was.

Your friend was looking at you and Eddie all huddled together with an endless amount of amusement and affection, eyes twinkling as he grinned, shining like there was something he knew that you didn’t.

"Okay then, that’s good I guess,” You croaked out, voice a little too affected for your liking, coughing slightly in attempt to cover the sudden shyness you felt before you told the other boy. “I better get him to bed before he falls asleep standing up.”

Steve chuckled at that. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” He added, snorting at the ‘hey, screw you Harrington, it was one time’ that sounded from the metalhead still needily curling himself around you. “You need a hand hauling his ass upstairs?”

You considered it but then the poor Steve was desperately trying to fight a vicious yawn and failing, his eyes tired despite the way they crinkled as he smiled when you gave him a mothering look and made a shooing motion with the hand that wasn’t still making gentle strokes down Eddie’s back.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him, go get some sleep, yeah? And thank you for bringing him.”

He hesitated but ultimately didn’t argue and you waved him goodbye as he drove away before shutting the door. Turning your full attention to your best friend who had slowly become suspiciously heavier, arms loosely folded around your waist and hands still, where only moments before they’d been trailing patterns along your spine.

"Eddie?”

Nothing.

“Eds?” You tried again and when there was no response a second time your eyes narrowed, suspicious.

The boy remained limp as your hands snuck past denim and leather, his breathing light and even whilst your fingers crept up his vest covered sides until you met torn fabric and then smooth, warm skin.

You let them rest there just a moment, waiting, and when he made no move to give up the pretence of sleep that you suspected, you dug them in a little firmer, tickling across his ribs until you heard a choked laugh and felt the stretch of his grin against your neck.

"Just let me sleep here, m’comfy.” He whined when you took to the task with more enthusiasm, snickering as he protested. But he was still laughing as he jerked and thrashed, dramatic as ever, and then threw himself out of your arms, cheeks flushed with it and dimples showing despite the glare he attempted to pin you with, snapping. “Fuckin’ devil woman, give me peace.”

There was no heat behind it and you smiled sweetly in return,reaching over to poke him in the cheek before pointing in the direction of the staircase. “I’ll give you peace Munson when you get your ass upstairs so we can go to bed.”

He raised his brows at the demand, dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Are you trying to seduce me sweetheart? Do I need to call Steve to come back and protect my virtue, save my poor innocent soul from being snatched by a temptress?” Eddie asked playfully, all faux horror and scandalised expression, a hand pressed to his heart as he choked down a bark of laughter at the way you stared at him, incredulous.

"Jesus christ.”

"No, I’m Eddie, remember? If you’re tryin’ to seduce a man at least get his name right, babe.”

You threw your arms up in the air, let out a long-suffering groan whilst the boy cackled and then you were marching towards him, fingers twisting in denim as you shoved him in front of you and walked him in the direction of the stairs and to your room.

"Shit, okay, I’m going.” He yelped, sniggering when he heard you grumbling behind him as he deliberately leaned his full weight back into the press of your hand and tsked, voice full of tease. “So fuckin’ pushy, you're lucky the whole bossy thing works on me.”

There was a familiar routine to the way you entered your bedroom, the kind that developed after countless nights of Eddie deciding it was too late to drive home despite the journey only being five minutes, of you both refusing to let the other take the couch that very first time until you eventually agreed, with shy smiles and faux nonchalant shrugs, that it was no big deal if you just shared the bed.

Friends totally did that, right?

It happened enough that he claimed a side and a drawer, that tapes and other trinkets of his littered the tops of your dressers, mixing with yours, and you’d even bought an ashtray and a spare lighter especially for the bedside table on his side.

And it happened enough for it to be second nature for Eddie to veer left and you right, clumsily kicking his shoes off before he fell into the bed with a contended groan and turning just time in to catch the old, faded sweats he left the last time he stayed that you threw before they could slap him in the face.

"You smell like a brewery Eds, don’t even think of getting in that bed until you’ve changed.”

"Mean.” He groaned but he hauled himself back up and did as you asked, shrugging off denim and leather in one go until all he was left in was tight, black jeans and a slashed up vest that showed more tattoos and bare skin than it possibly hid. His silver chain glinting prettily where it lay against his collarbones.

And oh fuck, you were staring.

Despite the fear that prickled at your skin at the thought of being caught, it felt impossible not to.

Because Eddie had always been far too pretty, a heartbreaking kind of gorgeous really, and if that wasn’t distracting enough, then the way his muscles moved as he yanked the vest over his head before dropping his hands to his belt certainly was.

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry when you realised your eyes had followed, fixed on the flex of his hands, and you couldn’t stop from wondering if they’d look just as perfect dragging up your bare waist, gripping at your thighs. Maybe circling your neck, cupping your chin, rings glittering in the low lamplight, before his lips descended on yours.

Jesus.

You wrenched your gaze away, fully intending it to land somewhere more decent. Somewhere that wasn’t your best friend and where it couldn’t ruin that easy bond you’d always had with the boy by giving all your secrets away.

But it felt like there was some kind of higher power at play, some hand of fate kind of bullshit that brought it straight back to Eddie, to his eyes that were already watching you, darker than usual and more than a little wild.

It made your breath catch in your chest. Cheeks flaming with heat, heart slamming against your ribs hard enough you thought your bones might shatter, and god, could he hear it?

You already knew by the look on his face that Eddie had seen every single second of your staring, that he’d been able to guess every little thought that swam through your mind and revealed themselves in the brief flash of want in your expression before you could shove it back down.

You just hadn’t noticed him doing the same.

Gaze lingering on his shirt that you were wrapped up in, the way the hem was as long as the length of your sleep shorts and made it seem like you were wearing nothing else, the way it made you look too soft, too enticing, too much like you were his and when his eyes flicked back up to yours he looked at you like you were something dangerous.

Like you were making him want something he shouldn’t ask for, or at least, didn’t think he could.

You licked your lips, a nervous sweep of your tongue as the air in the room seemed to thicken, and his gaze followed the movement hungrily as if he wished it was his mouth sliding over them instead.

But then the wind was howling, branches smacking and scraping at your window, the sound bringing reality crashing back in and making you both flinch.

Eddie’s cheeks were pink and his lips parted, a strangled noise slipping past them as he tried to speak and stumbled and suddenly you couldn’t look at him. Eyes snapping shut and mortification burning in your throat as you spun round before you could make an even bigger mistake than you already had, because what the hell were you doing?

What were you thinking?

This was Eddie.

Eddie, who you swore to never let your feelings for ruin your friendship.

Eddie, who you were convinced was still very much drunk and you very much weren’t.

It felt wrong.

It felt like you were begging to have your feelings hurt when the boy became clear headed enough to realise that the person he was looking at like he wanted to push them down onto the bed and devour, happened to be his best friend and inevitably freaked the fuck out.

He had just come back from a date with someone else after all, a date that he would have never thought to ask you on and despite the fact that you suspected it must not have gone well given his current state, it didn’t really make you feel any better or lessen the sting of jealousy that felt like barbed wire snaking through your ribs.

You continued to face the wall as he changed, cheeks still burning, stained with heat. But your gaze was unfocused as it flickered over lines of polaroids, fairy lights and old ticket stubs that you’d refused to throw away and used as decoration, your mind far too aware of the sound of his belt being unbuckled, the chains on his jeans clinking quietly before the denim hit the floor with a soft thud.

The silence that spread through the room after felt overwhelming, like it amplified every little movement either one of you made, the breaths you both took that made your chests fall a little too quick, a little uneven still, and when Eddie finally cleared his throat you tensed at the way it broke the quiet so harshly it felt like he’d made the noise directly in your ear.

"It’s okay - if you wanna turn around now, I mean.” He muttered softly.

It still felt like too much to look at him.

Maybe even more now because all you could see out of the corner of your eye before you walked towards the little lamp on your desk was messy hair and bare skin, sweats slung low on his hips. Big, brown eyes that seemed to be pleading with you to meet their stare and melt back into your usual softness with him like nothing had happened.

You couldn’t.

Not yet.

So you flicked the light off whilst the boy sighed and slipped beneath the covers, shoving his face into a pillow that smelled faintly like you as he squeezed his eyes shut before they flashed open again when he heard your approaching footsteps.

Eddie swallowed as you drifted close, throat bobbing when the air between you seemed to hum again once there was less of it as you reached above him to draw the curtains tighter, knowing how much the boy hated any hint of sunlight first thing in the morning.

There were nerves all lit up inside him that he hadn’t been able to shake all night, fondness fizzing in his chest when he heard the sound of the unopened bottle of water you’d brought up for yourself being set down next to the pile of his rings. The rattle of painkillers being plucked from the draw following before you moved around the bed and pulled back the sheets to climb in beside him.

He couldn’t help but hate what felt like an ocean of cool sheets that you deliberately left between you.

Hated that you didn’t push into his side and press your legs to his to steal his heat like you usually did, hated the way you lay stiff with tension in your own bed, facing the ceiling he had helped you paint one summer instead of facing him like you would when you would whisper with him, nose to nose, until the sun came up.

And when you did finally turn, a soft frown on your face as you wriggled to find a more comfortable position, he hated that your eyes widened slightly with panic when you finally noticed he was watching you.

It made his brows pull together in a distressed frown - his throat tight with guilt when you quickly glanced down at your hands that were knotting in the bed sheets.

An anxious habit he despised being the cause of because god, the last thing Eddie had ever wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable because he couldn’t keep his own feelings in check.

For the longest time he looked at you like he wanted to say something, working his jaw like he wanted to address what had happened and apologise but couldn’t find the right words, his eyes soft and sad in the pale slip of moonlight from the window.

And then he seemed to think better of it.

You were caught off guard when he smiled instead. A soft grin that was all easy warmth and a touch playful as he reached to poke a finger to your cheek and whispered, “thanks for taking care of me, sweets.”

You huffed out a laugh like you couldn't help yourself and the boy took it as small progress when you visibly relaxed. Taking the opportunity to get more and more dramatic with his prodding and tickling until he could feel the way your body vibrated with the giggles bubbling up from your chest and you’d allowed yourself to sink fully into the bed, rolling closer as you tried to fend him off.

"Someone has to make sure you’ll be alive enough to take us for breakfast in the morning.” You whispered back sternly when your face re-emerged from its hiding place in the mattress.

But your smile was matching Eddie’s, growing wider when he caught the hand you tried to bat his away with and gently pinched at your fingers.

"So you’re only being nice so you can use me.” He gasped theatrically and propped himself up on an elbow to stare down at you, all over the top stricken expression as he stifled a laugh when you shoved your face into the pillow and groaned. “How could my best friend betray me like this?”

You turned your head back to face him, rolling your eyes before levelling him with a thoughtful stare. “I wouldn’t call it using,” you mused, slipping your arm under your pillow and beneath your head as you yawned, “more like cashing in straight away on a debt, y’know, since you woke me up in the middle of the night. Which, as my best friend, you’ll remember makes me very grumpy in the morning.”

Eddie nodded, bangs falling into his eyes as he did so. He was serious for all of a second before he let himself fall back into the mused sheet with a guilty grin, hair spilling everywhere and the movement making your body lean into the dip he created, suddenly closer to the boy than before.

"Touche.”

The word came out in a small huff that you felt it against your cheek, a soft thing that made your lashes flutter and when you glanced up at him you found him looking at you with gentle eyes, all brown sugar sweet and lovely as he smiled, full of affection.

It made the last of the left-over tension fizzle away, turning the air softer, warmer, as Eddie drew lines along your fingers with his own before he slotted them together.

You hadn’t even realised he was still holding your hand.

"You win, babe,” He murmured, almost too quiet to hear, his thumb rubbing slow against your skin, touch worshipful as he traced the faint scar on your hand that was proof monsters were never simply just part of stories, and if he noticed the way you inhaled a little shakily, well, he did his best not to show it.

“I’ll do anything you want, maybe take you to that bakery you like and buy you coffee so you’ll stop hissing at me and then so many of those cinnamon things that like that you’ll go into a sugar coma and I’ll have to carry you out.”

You snorted and Eddie beamed like he’d hit the jackpot, encouraged by the sound as he arched a brow like he was begging you to argue.

"Idon’t hiss.” You muttered petulantly, full of false indignation whilst you scrunched your nose to hide your grin and knocked your knee against his.

His gaze shone at you, eyes bright and twinkling with mirth in the dark, and when he managed to fend off your attack by hooking a leg over yours to trap it between his own, he continued with a teasing scoff.

“You do. You’re like some kind of rabid raccoon when you wake up, I’m lucky I still have both eyes and all my fingers.” He wiggled the ones resting snug around yours for emphasis and you snorted. “Now shut up, I’m trying to impress you with my plan to get back in your good graces.”

You huffed, too amused to be offended, and gestured with your linked hands as if to say ‘well go on then’

Okay, so after I’ve carried you out of the bakery, we’d go to the bookstore,” the boy told you, gaze knowing and smile a little smug when he noticed that he’d caught your attention despite the way you tried to hide it from him.

"Always a pretty foolproof plan - which one though?”

“Not the fancy one where the housewives hog the couches pretending to talk about their weekly book club read,” Eddie assured you, his voice dropping to a scandalised hush, the fingers that weren’t holding yours tugging at his curls to hide a salacious grin as he whispered, “when instead they’re bitching about how their husbands don’t satisfy them anymore and how they’ve had to resort to fucking the pool boy so they can feel young again.”

"Of course,” You choked on a laugh, a startled, delighted sound that made Eddie’s heart stutter and his chest ache with warmth. “Can’t have them cheapening the wholesome moment when I’m overcome with the joy of being surrounded by books and finally forgive you.”

"Exactly.” He replied sagely. “So we’re gonna go to that one near Oak instead with the shit ton of stacks everywhere that threaten to fall and crush you if you breathe near them. Works better in my favour if I get to save you from a gruesome death.”

You nodded, only looking half as serious as Eddie thanks to the way you could barely stop the threat of giggles rising in your throat. “I get it, totally get extra brownie points for a hero moment.”

"Right? And then maybe I’ll get you one of the books you stare at all longingly everytime we go in 'cause for some reason you act like it’s a fuckin’ crime to treat yourself once in a while-”

"-I do not! I just have other things that kind of have to take priority, y’know like bills and stuff. ”

"Same thing.” Eddie dismissed, but his voice was softly teasing and his gaze understanding as he fingers tapped a random beat against your hand. “Anyway, after that we’ll rent some movies and get some snacks, maybe horrors so I can be all charming and let you hold my hand when it gets scary, we’ll get pizza for dinner and by the end of it you’ll have totally forgot that I crashed your romantic night with yourself and ruined your sleep.”

You stared at him. “And that’s all it’s gonna take, huh?”

"Don’t pretend you’re not impressed, sweetheart.” He grinned knowingly, looking too proud of himself as his hand slipped out of yours to prod a finger to where your cheeks were appled, aching from smiling far too long.

He wished he could kiss them instead, brush his lips over the pretty flush that bloomed after his touch made you realise you never really had stopped smiling from the moment he started speaking. “Look at you, just dyin’ to forgive me right now, I can tell.”

You hated that he was right.

Not about you dying to forgive him now, because the truth was Eddie hadn’t actually done anything to need forgiveness, no, it was the fact that if you were ever genuinely mad and the boy did all that for you, you knew in your bones you would fold in a pathetic, lovesick heartbeat.

It was the fact that Eddie knew it too, he just hadn’t figured out why.

Yet.

So you swatted at him once again and tried to discreetly shuffle back whilst he was distracted threatening to snap his teeth down on your fingers.

You were praying for some distance, needed it so you could breathe without the scent of him making you feel weak, so you could hide in the dark for the moment it would take to stop looking at him like he’d shoved his hand inside your chest, wrapped long fingers around your heart and slipped it out to put it where it belonged. With him.

But your legs were still tangled with Eddie’s and your body was against you when he clamped his legs down to stop you from slipping away. Turned traitor by the feel of soft fleece pressing to your bare calves, the muscles of his arms flexing when he threw one over your waist and pushed the other one beneath you to roll you on top of him.

His biceps were warm where you caught at him with your hands to steady yourself and as he shifted a little higher up the pillow, stretching until he found himself comfortable, you cursed the warmth it spread through your belly.

"See, you can’t even deny it can you?” Eddie prompted and you felt it rumble from his chest to your own, chin dipped to peer down at you and cheeks dimpling as his grin turned smug. Unbelievably delighted that you had yet to refute him.

You wrinkled your nose when he tapped a finger there, if only to hide the shock that lingered on your face, the way you felt flushed all over because there was no part of you that wasn’t touching him and jesus christ, it felt like his hands resting on your sides were burning through the thin material of your shirt, threatening to brand the skin beneath.

“What, no– I mean yes– I mean, shit, you know what I mean asshole” You finished with a scowl and prayed your rambling had sounded less frantic to Eddie than it had to your own ears, though judging by the way he arched a brow at you, gaze dancing with withheld laughter, you would guess you had failed there too.

'Uh huh, but feel free to keep tryin’ to enlighten me anyway.”

"I was just wondering,” you began, all false confidence just to hide the fact you were still unsure of where you were going with it. Stalling just a little because it was hard to remember what you had been wondering before he had decided to use you as a blanket, your chest now lying atop his abdomen, stomach resting against his hips and legs cradled between his own.

You let go of his arms to fold your hands at the centre of his chest, settling your chin there, and his eyes softened as they roamed your face, waiting for you to continue. “Okay, so how does it make sense that you can pull off something like that and yet you’re here with me, drunk, instead of on your date swooning the hell out of Sarah?”

"Sam.”

“Same thing.”

“Not even close, sweetheart.”

“At least I got the first two letters right, unlike you with the last guy I dated.” You shot back.

Eddie shrugged. “He looked like a Danny.” He defended mildly but his gaze was playful, bottom lip tucked between his teeth to hold back the laugh threatening to escape when you threw a death glare his way.

“His name was Matthew.” You deadpanned and the boy snorted, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture when it looked like you might rip the pillow from beneath his head and smother him with it.

But then you were shaking your head instead, an accusatory finger jabbed to his chest and you rolled your eyes when he frowned and muttered a petulant ‘ow’.

“Hang on, why are we even arguing this again? Answer the question Munson - did you try to take her to skull rock again? ‘Cause I don’t give a damn what Steve says, just because you take a fucking picnic it doesn’t suddenly make a make out spot romantic”

He made a disturbed noise and shook his head but you didn’t miss the way his face fell a little at you bringing up the date again, smile half-hearted at best, and even the dark couldn’t hide the way his eyes had dimmed. His thumbs that had been dragging small, steady circles over the sides of your ribs faltering as he dropped his gaze from yours.

It made you gentle - the sense of protectiveness that tightened your chest and urged you to shuffle your way up his body until you were seated in his lap, knees dragging the sheets askew. Fingers finding their way to his chin to bring his stare back to you and you were too focused on your worry to register the way it made his lashes flutter, eyes hooded and lips parted, breath hitching at the gesture.

"Hey - did something happen tonight? Is that why you came back in such a state?” You murmured, eyes flicking between his, searching, before your tone suddenly grew sharp and your hand fell flat against his chest. “Was she a dick to you - I swear to god if she was I’ll get dressed right now and–”

You were cut off by Eddie’s hand descending over yours, the other landing on the thigh that you had already raised to clamber off him, squeezing the flesh softly, drawing it back down, and the fight left you just as fast as it had appeared when he chuckled, his voice smudged with fondness, awe, a hint of pride.

“Okay, reign it in Rocky, nothin’ bad happened I promise, you don’t need to go runnin’ off into the night to defend my honour.”

But god, he wanted to kiss you for trying to.

He settled for watching you watch him instead, your frown of concern that he itched to smooth away with his thumb still present before you eventually nodded, only slightly pacified when you had found no sign of a lie in the way he met your gaze.

And Eddie knew it was foolish to hope that was the end of it, knew the expression on your face all too well despite the way it flickered sweet just for a moment, just for him, as he released your hand to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

So it came as no surprise to the boy when you seemed to be considering your next words as you tilted your head, whether to deliberately lean into his touch or just a habit whilst you thought he wasn’t sure.

Maybe it was coincidence or maybe it was both, either way when your hand followed his seconds after he had let it go to clasp gently at his wrist, his heart spasmed despite knowing what was coming.

"There was something though, wasn’t there? You stated but you were quiet in how you spoke, gentle, trying to make sure Eddie knew he wasn’t being pushed, that you were only concerned, and everything about it made him ache. His thoughts going a cotton-wool kind of hazy that he wasn’t convinced he could blame on the alcohol anymore.

He let his thumb brush the downturned corner of your lips, a brief second of indulgence before he pressed up, moulding your mouth into a smile until he spied it becoming a real one, the kind that would have had Eddie dropping to his knees if he’d been standing, as you knocked his hand away.

He tapped at your legs then, drumming lightly at the creases of your knees and up the backs of your thighs, making you twitch.

You got the hint though, rising off him just enough for him to push himself up and then back, leaning against the pillows before he held out his hands for you to take so you could climb back into his lap.

It felt like his first mistake.

Or was it his second, after coming here in the first place? Third, after losing his head and nearly kissing you?

He’d lost count.

All he knew was that it was suddenly a little harder to breathe, that being this close didn’t feel as innocent as it had five minutes ago.

As it had all the other times you’d been tucked tight against him, sleepily whispering secrets until dawn broke and your head fell heavy against his shoulder, leaving Eddie to have to carefully roll you back on to the mattress so you didn’t wake up stiff and sore.

Your hands were soft on his stomach, forcing the boy to fight off a shudder every time you traced the dark lines of another tattoo, jaw slack as he watched every little movement of your fingers with rapt attention, only realising he’d been repeating each one with his own touch on your thighs when he felt the brush of soft fabric against his fingertips.

It took Eddie a second to tear his eyes away from the sight, to meet your gaze with pink cheeks and lips almost bitten raw and find that you had swayed closer.

Close enough so that he could map each little freckle that made up constellations on your cheeks in the moonlight that slanted over your features, noses only inches apart and he swallowed down a choked curse when he remembered you were probably still expecting an answer.

He licked his lips, unsure of how much he could give away, and shrugged, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. "S’really nothin’ for you to worry about princess, the date was fine and she was… great - incredible actually - we just, uh, mutually decided there was a point in taking it past a one time thing.”

The silence stretched long enough that Eddie wondered if he was maybe more wasted than he'd thought. He must have been if the question of whether telling you the truth was really as bad as he'd feared was nudging at his brain, the consequences seeming a lot less daunting the longer allowed himself to consider it.

Because there you were, looking at him with the prettiest confused expression he'd ever seen and all of a sudden it felt like the worst crime in the world to lie to you. That you deserved more than the way he'd been continuously lying to you for years and if there was the slightest chance - which sometimes he thought there were signs there could be - that you wanted him to be the one who gave you more, then he had to take it, right?

"I don't understand,” you said slowly, face scrunched like you were trying to figure out if you missed something somewhere in his explanation, like you were trying to hide how the boy calling Sarah - Sam - whatever her name was - incredible in a dazed voice had made your stomach twist. "If she was so amazing and the date was a hit, why wouldn't you want to see her again?"

"Well turns out no matter how awesome a girl is, she doesn't really wanna waste time trying to date someone who's in love with someone else.”

"Makes sense-" you shrugged, and then it sunk in what he had said. "-no, wait, hang on - what?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, a little shaky, a little rough, and despite the easy grin he tried to offer, there was an undeniable bloom of nervousness unfurling in his eyes, “crazy right? I mean I expected her to leave when she figured it out but then she stayed and even tried giving me advice, which maybe me taking wasn't the best decision 'cause it involved some liquid courage and telling the girl how I feel but I kinda took the first part too far, which is how I ended up like this– ”

He gestured wildly to himself and when his hands dropped back to rest on your bare thighs it took all you had not to flinch. Your brain felt fuzzy, chest too tight, and suddenly every part of your body that was pressed to his felt like it was in agony. A new kind of torture.

Eddie was in love with someone else.

And he hadn't even told you.

"Eddie–” you murmured weakly, because christ , he was still talking and you just really needed him to stop .

"-she originally offered to help make her jealous, which was fuckin' insane , I thought that shit only happened in movies. I gave it a hard pass cause it seemed sleazy, like a total dick move, y'know. Didn’t seem right to mess with her like that and I don't think I even could if my life depended on it-”

Fuck, this hurt worse than you had ever imagined. A dagger shoved deep between your ribs with every word, twisting until you thought you’d be sick with it.

'Eddie.” You repeated, only a little stronger this time. but to your horror, you could hear the painful edge that made your voice shake.

You wanted to slam a hand over his mouth.

You wanted to crawl as far away from his touch as you possibly could.

And yet you were painfully still.

A statue in Eddie’s lap, turned to stone like those poor souls you’d read about in a mythology book when you were a kid except here there was no terrifying creature to blame, just your best friend who was breaking your heart without even realising.

Oblivious to a tear that welled and spilled over your lash line, dripping onto the shirt that you were suddenly wishing wasn’t his as he pressed on.

God, you felt pathetic.

"Felt wrong just thinking about it,” He rushed out and maybe if you weren’t so upset you would have put it together. The way he was rambling like he couldn’t speak quick enough, like he would lose his nerve if he didn't, lungs burning and eyes darting over your face, anxious, as if his heart would give out if he looked away for even a second. Fingers tapping too quick on your thighs. “Touching someone, kissing them, loving them, even if it’s pretend, shit I can’t even remember the last time I thought of doin’ those kind of things with anyone else that wasn’t-”

“Wasn’t her,” You interrupted, head ducked to hide your embarrassment when the words slipped out scathing, a little more heated than you intended. The burn behind your eyes grew stronger as you tried to climb off him, numb fingers clumsy, grappling for purchase on his stomach so you could push yourself away. “I get it Eddie, fuck-”

He stopped you with hesitant hands wrapping around your wrists, squeezing soft when you didn’t immediately try to yank yourself out of his hold, drawing them to his chest in a plea for you to look at him and listen.

"-you.”

You froze, head snapping up to stare at the boy in disbelief, utterly stunned. Your heart spasming before it began to pound so hard you thought it would splinter bones as you tried to figure out if you had heard him right, if he had said what you thought he had, if you dared to ask him to repeat himself just in case he had.

It felt like the world had slowed for a moment, like it was trying to give you a chance to push past the rush of blood in your ears that was drowning your ability to think straight, to decide whether Eddie had misspoken or not and if he hadn't, did that mean it was finally time for you to stop hiding.

Did you even know how?

The answer came when the winds outside grew into a storm. The patpatpat of rain on the roof coming slowly at first and then all at once and each knock of a branch at your window sounded like the tick of a clock as the silence between you rolled on too long. It felt like a countdown, a warning that if you weren’t going to be brave now, you wouldn’t get the chance again.

So you fought the urge to rip yourself away, lowered yourself gingerly back down onto his thighs whilst Eddie watched you with wide eyes, a little hopeful, a little terrified, a little too aware that any wrong move could make you run for real next time. “Did you– what did you just say?”

"Wasn’t you.” He whispered and neither of you could take your eyes off the other, your own breath trapped in your chest as he took a deep breath before he continued. Voice growing braver like it was an obvious truth he was telling you and not one that felt like a bomb being dropped on your head. “I haven’t thought about anyone else since I realised I was in love with you.”

You inhaled sharply, a small noise slipping from your throat that you couldn’t stop if you tried.

You wanted to ask him to say it again, you wanted to kiss the words from his mouth as he said them, you wanted to say it back, murmur it over and over into him until you were dizzy from lack of oxygen but you couldn’t. Because there were tears in your eyes and your throat, your lungs, were refusing to work, every part of your body suddenly paralysed whilst your heart tumbled wild behind your ribs.

Eddie licked his lips, parted and closed them again as tried to organise the mess of his thoughts into words.

He sat up and pulled you closer until your hips were flush, your thighs caged around his as he gently ran his thumbs up over the soft part of your wrists where your pulse hammered against the skin and you wondered if it was a gesture meant to soothe you or him.

If it was maybe for both of you.

A way to encourage you to touch him in whatever way you needed whilst he did the same, preparing himself to give a confession that he never thought he would get a chance to, that he hoped you would understand.

"I only asked Sam out because I thought you were never gonna feel the same and I just needed to get over it, ” He sighed, cheeks pink as he nervously analysed your expression from beneath his lashes. “Turns out she knew all along, figured out I was gonner that night at the hideout when you made me sing fuckin’ Bon Jovi.”

He said it teasingly, all false betrayal and shining eyes like you’d made him commit the worst kind of crime, like he was so in love with you that he’d sing that fucking song until his throat was raw if you asked again.

You let out a watery laugh and Eddie beamed at the sound.

His gaze lovely as it roamed your face, endlessly adoring when you swiped at a falling tear with the heel of your palm and melted because the boy had caught your hand in his before you could drop it, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss away the salt on your skin with a sweet tsk, voice like honey as he murmured, ‘c’mon, pretty girl, please don’t cry’.

"I couldn’t even deny it when she brought it up, y’know,” he chuckled, leaning in to rest his forehead to yours, noses grazing until you sighed happily for him. “She wasn’t mad either, just told me I needed to grow a pair and tell you how I felt before someone else did, but it was like she’d fuckin’ me in punched me in the face. All I could think was, ‘shit, she’s right, what the hell am I doing’ .”

And then his smile faltered. His stare flickering away from yours like he was ashamed, lips twisting into a grimace, voice strained as his hands slid down your arms and dropped to the hem of your shirt to twist the material in his fingers.

"Thing is, it sounded like the easiest thing in the world when she said it, but then I was about to leave and it suddenly felt terrifying and the idea of calming my nerves with a drink didn’t sound like the dumbest one I’ve ever had.” Eddie admitted, closing his eyes briefly and when he opened them again the disappointment in them made your heart ache.

“Not until I started hesitating the longer I was there anyway, overthinking and talking myself out of it, and then before I knew it I was wasted and I’d fucked up another chance to tell you. So I called Harrington instead, though I guess that kind of backfired too, huh?”

He was making it sound like it was all his fault that this had gone on so long but god, you knew what your own fear felt like. The things you told yourself daily to stop you from taking that plunge.

Had you both been using the same insecurities to hold yourselves back all this time?

"What were you so scared of? ” You coaxed softly, pressing a hand over the place where his heart thumped beneath the skin, fingertips toying with the chain that hung around his neck and when you’re other hand smoothed it’s way up to his jaw, thumb gliding along the edge of it, the boy leaned into your touch like he was starved for it. A ragged sigh slipping past his lips as his lashes fluttered.

"Messing everything up.” He explained quietly and the crack in his voice made you want to wrap your arms around him and smother him in affection. Refuse to let him go or ever doubt himself again. “Losing you. I didn’t know if you’d hate me for making things awkward if you didn’t feel the same and I couldn’t handle the thought of not having you in my life.”

"You could never do anything to make me not be in your life Eddie,” you told him, and if your words were soft then the look in your eyes was even softer. Lips pulling into a warm smile that he swore was pure light as your hand left his chest to tug teasingly at one of his curls. “Even if it’s something like turning up at my door, half gone, smelling like you’ve been dunked in whiskey, to tell me something that I’ve been waiting a hell of a long time to hear from you.”

Eddie melted for you then.

“Yeah?” He breathed, his own grin blinding as his hands nudged their way beneath your shirt to curve around your bare sides, seeking out the warmth of you to ground himself because he could have sworn he was dreaming.

"Yeah.”

“Well shit, sweetheart,” he huffed out a soft laugh, a little giddy with relief, more drunk on you than whatever alcohol was left in his system. “If I’d known that I would have made Stevie boy haul my drunk ass over here a lot sooner. You have any idea how long I’ve had to suffer mourning about my feelings to him after one of his house parties for him to just tell me to shut the fuck up and go to sleep?”

Probably the same amount of time you’d endured Robin telling you to get a grip.

"No, but I’m sure Steve would gladly tell me if I asked,” you answered cheekily instead, letting out a terrible shriek of a laugh when the boy tickled your ribs and muttered that you better not dare.

It made him grin all stupid and lovesick, even more so when you bumped your nose against his and looked at him a little shy, a little hopeful as you asked, “Though maybe you could try voicing some of those feelings without the alcohol, y’know, just so I know they’re not a result of your brain being fried and so that when I say them back, you actually have a chance of remembering it in the morning.”

Eddie was enthusiastically nodding before you could finish, a brightness unfurling in his chest like the flowers that had snaked around his ribs when he met you were now opening up, blooming with what he felt for you. What you felt for him back. “Yeah, fuck, I can do that,” he murmured. “Anything you want.”

You were beaming, and if he could bottle the way it made him feel he would. Gone for the way you melted for him when he slipped a hand from beneath your shirt, dragging it slow up your spine until his palm was fitting itself around the back of your neck, just so he could feel you this close. Just because he could.

"Anything?” You repeated coyly, smiling when he sighed real pretty as you brushed some of his curls back.

“Anything.”

"You gonna take me on a date Munson?”

As if he was going to say no to you. Like he ever could.

He’d bring you the damn moon if you wanted it. The stars too because he wouldn’t be able to help himself when it came to you.

He pressed his nose to your cheek to hide the dopey grin that tugged at his lips, humming. “Mhm, how does tomorrow sound? Maybe upgrade our plans from grovelling duty to first date?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you pondered, eyes fluttering shut with a smile, content to tease the boy by pretending to think about it as you tilted your head back for him when he pushed his face into your neck with an amused huff. “I kind of liked the idea of you grovelling all day and the plans you made were pretty tempting. What will the upgrade entail if I agree?”

“Same plans, I’d just get to keep touching you like this, hold you whenever I wanted, whenever you wanted me to.” He murmured, lips catching at your skin as he spoke, the hand that was clamped around your waist tightening when you shivered as he drew a line with his nose up to your jaw. “Maybe walk around with my hand in your back pocket the way I know you think is real cute. Use it to pull you in for a kiss when you’re looking far too pretty to be real, which is fuckin’ always, and I feel like m’gonna die if I don’t.”

Your chest hitched, lips parted and body feeling a touch too warm, because the thought of Eddie kissing you all greedy, a little too desperate to give a damn about where you were or who was around, was suddenly so consuming. Leaving you dizzy enough that you had to clutch at his shoulders, his neck, curling your fingers around his chain to keep yourself seated instead of falling back into the cushions and pulling him down with you. “Oh.” You breathed out.

He swallowed, hard.

And when he lifted his head his eyes were half-lidded, almost black beneath the heavy fan of his lashes, voice a low rasp that made you burn as his gaze flickered from your mouth to settle on yours. “Yeah, oh. ”

"How am I supposed to say no to that?”

His lips twitched. “Now you know how it feels when you ask me for anything.” He whispered hoarsely and you wondered if he could hear the chaotic hammering of your heart, if he could feel the vibration of it slamming into your ribs against his own.

The air between you was buzzing, electric, bloated with anticipation when the last couple of inches fell away as his face leaned closer to yours, mouth hovering over your own. his breath warm and smelling of smoke and whiskey, a hint of mint as he said your name, sticky sweet with heat and a longing kind of need.

He drew lazy circles under your ear with his thumb and it took everything you had not to let the pleading noise building in your throat escape.

"Yeah, Eddie?” You asked instead, so quiet that had he not been right there, you doubt he would have heard you at all.

You knew he had though when his tongue darted out to wet his lips, a nervous gesture just like the way your fingers couldn’t stop their movements, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck and making him shudder.

"Can I kiss you now?”

It already felt like he was.

His mouth brushing yours as he spoke, each word the ghost of a kiss, a brief taste of the real thing that you were sure would shatter you entirely because jesus christ, this alone was making you feel like there were fireworks beneath your skin. The way your bottom lip caught between his stole your breath, a cracked noise bubbling up in your throat that Eddie inhaled and echoed back with a groan when you tilted your head and pushed your lips to his.

It was a fleeting thing, ending after a second because your brain had caught up and was telling you this wasn’t right. Not that kissing Eddie wasn’t right, it felt like the most natural thing you’d ever done, like you’d found a piece of yourself you hadn’t realised you were missing.

It was just the timing.

“Wait…” You murmured and Eddie drew back immediately, the hand that had been clasped around your neck pulling back to tuck your hair behind your ear, cupping your jaw as his worried gaze flicked over your face, searching for any sign of discomfort he might have caused.

"Shit, I’m sorry.” He said gently, thick with guilt, full of concern. “Was it too soon? I swear I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything, fuck, sweetheart, I’d never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable y’know that right? And if I do by accident I want you to tell me or hell, punch me or something- ”

“-No, no, it’s okay Eds - Eddie listen, I’m not gonna hit you, jesus - I just,” You couldn’t get the words out fast enough for the way the look on his face was making your chest squeeze. Your hands flew to his face as you shook your head, stroking your thumbs over the arc of his cheekbones to quiet him whilst you gave him a reassuring smile. “I just don’t want our first real kiss to be when one of us is drunk, that's all. Is that okay?”

He blew out a breath, visibly softening, and then he was wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your nose, your cheeks, your forehead until you were both grinning, laughter still echoing above the sounds of the storm outside when he touched his forehead to yours. “Baby, of course it’s okay,” he murmured, “you just say the word, I’ll kiss you whenever you want me too.”

His words lit you up, warmth spreading through you until you were giddy with it. So full of affection for the boy that you thought you’d burst and it must have been contagious because Eddie was looking at you like he knew exactly what you were feeling.

"Kiss me tomorrow?” You whispered, unable to bite back your grin as you brushed your nose against his. “When I first wake up so I don’t think I’ve dreamed this whole thing?”

Eddie’s eyes shone and he squeezed you a little tighter, his smile becoming devastatingly lovely, stretching wide across his face as he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

And he did.

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 14: HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY*

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 13 | MASTERLIST | CH 15 [soon]

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: drama, angst, fluff, smut, language, short smau, [redacted] wc: ~10.9k (sry lol) song inspo: Sweetness x Elmiene ft. Leon Thomas (fav song rn! so underrated) 💌: heavens gates are closed for me full stop no comma

“You’re gonna bite right through the pen cap if you keep chewing on it” Trent teased, breaking through the silence in the car. He glanced at you from the driver’s seat with his eyes crinkling in the corners as he caught you with the pen cap clutched between your teeth. You quickly pulled the cap from your mouth and held it tightly in your hand instead.

“Sorry..” you muttered, embarrassed. “I just..ugh. This whole thing feels weird. I just wanna do the creative stuff, y’know?” You glanced down at the folder in your lap. “This other stuff is...just not for me.”

Trent quietly chuckled as the soft pops of his gum filled the space between his words. “You sound like me when I’ve got media duties. ‘I just wanna play football’” he mimicked in an imitated complaining tone.

You slumped back into the passenger seat with your eyes drifting back to the folder on your lap like it was a ticking time bomb. “I just hate that I have to do this..” you admitted quietly. “It’s not like I don’t trust them but..” you trailed off, staring at the window while the car moved through the passing streets. 

“Baby,” Trent spoke softly, cutting through your thoughts. He moved his hand from the gear shift to rest it above your knee. “You’re not doing this because you don’t trust them. It’s just to protect what’s yours, yeah? There’s a difference.”

You nodded, gnawing at the inside of your cheek. “NDAs just feel so corporate. Like.. ‘Hi, welcome back to work. Here’s some legally binding paperwork to remind you not to gossip and spill any of my secrets.’ It makes me look like a snob, right?”

Trent laughed and shook his head. “Nah, it doesn’t. It makes you look like someone who built something amazing from scratch and doesn’t want it wrecked by somebody running their mouth. If they have any sense then they’ll sign the paper without a fuss.”

“Maybe” you sighed, still staring at the folder that held the paperwork. The weight of it felt heavier than it should have for something that was light enough to blow away with the wind. “It’s not just about the store though... it’s everything. My life, my family...you. And if they’re leaking stuff…”

Trent gave your thigh a gentle squeeze, sensing your spiralling thoughts. “And that’s exactly why you’re doing this. If Ziggy didn’t catch them it could be way worse by now. First it’s believable rumours, then it’s ‘Trent’s secret baby mum spotted in Liverpool.’”

You snapped your neck at him, eyeing him with annoyance. “Out of all the things to come out of your mouth...why would you say that? That’s not even funny Trent..I’m sure there are girls lining up for that opportunity.”

“I’m just saying,” he added, laughing softly. “Better to nip it now than deal with stuff like that later. It’s not like you’re firing them or anything. You’re being smart about your business.”

Maybe he was right, but that didn’t stop the feeling of your stomach twisting from anxiety. You tilted your head back, staring at the roof of the car like it could give you some sort of divine intervention to avoid this whole mess. “This is going to be so awkward..” you groaned with your dread evident. 

Your thoughts drifted to your assistants who had become such a big part of daily life at Les Notes d’Amour. Tara always had an infectious energy that made the store feel a little brighter. She was bubbly, and sometimes way too chatty for her own good. It wasn’t hard to picture a LFC loving uni student spilling something to someone without realizing how far it could spiral, whether it was accidentally or not. Ember was the complete opposite of Tara, and was often sharp, calm, and systematic. Her precision was one of the reasons you hired her in the first place. It was always like she was two steps ahead of everyone else, and you liked that since you were an overthinker. You knew you could always count on her to get things done while you were away. She didn’t seem like the gossiping type, but you didn’t really know much about either of them outside of Les Notes.

“Maybe I should’ve done this when Camille mentioned it” you quietly acknowledged as the storefront came into view. “Or maybe I should’ve just let her dad handle the hiring process. That would’ve saved me from this headache.”

Trent steered into a parking spot in front of the shop and cut the engine. “Nah. It’s better coming from you. Your store, your rules.”

His optimism was appreciated, but your mind was already racing as you wondered how the conversation could go. Would Tara burst into tears and make it more awkward than it already was going to be? Would Ember cross her arms and roll her eyes over something so trivial? Or even worse, would one of them get offended enough to quit on the spot?

You chewed on your lip, staring at the folder as if it could detonate at any second. You didn’t know what to expect, despite trying to come up with every possibility in your head. The uncertainty was the worst part of it. They weren’t just assistants anymore; Tara and Ember were an essential part of your business now. The thought of finding someone else to fit into your carefully built world felt exhausting if they took this upcoming conversation the wrong way.

“I don’t know if they’re going to take it well…” you trailed off, not wanting to open the car door and go inside.

Trent leaned over and unbuckled your seatbelt for you. His fingers brushed against your arm as he spoke softly. “You’re overthinking it baby,” he said. “It’s just to protect yourself and what’s yours.”

You nodded, but the thought of Tara breaking into tears or Ember giving you the cold shoulder made the knot in your stomach tighten. You were supposed to be teaching them how to make batches of Rêveur today, but the little folder in your lap could completely derail your plans for the day. With a sigh, you stared at the Les Notes d’Amour gold lettered sign through the car’s window before stepping out of the car, gripping the folder tightly against your chest. Trent followed a few steps behind you, giving you the space you needed to handle things on your own. When you walked toward the store, you could hear the faint sound of humming coming from inside. The sound of Tara’s bubbly energy already made you feel like your heart was about to beat out of your chest. It really wasn’t that all that deep, but in your mind it felt like the world was about to crumble beneath you.

The door jingled as you stepped inside and Tara stood at the counter, arranging a set of fragrances into neat rows, her glasses slipped down her nose slightly from the concentration. She glanced up when she heard the door and her face lit up with her usual bouncy enthusiasm. 

“Oh! Hi, Y/N! Morning, Trent!” she chirped. “You’re early today!”

Ember was across the room, sorting through email requests for custom fragrances. She glanced over briefly, nodding in acknowledgement. “Morning” she said in her usual direct tone before returning back to her task.

Trent nudged your shoulder gently before wandering toward your workstation. He picked up a few of your scent vials and held them to the light, inspecting them like they were a puzzle he was trying to solve. He opened one and gave it a sniff, frowning curiously as if he was mentally cataloguing the notes of each vial. A boutique filled with delicate glass and the constant hum of creativity wasn’t his world, but somehow he fit in perfectly. It comforted you, even if the pressure of the conversation ahead felt heavier than ever.

“Tara. Ember..” you said, clearing your throat awkwardly as you gestured toward your office in the back. “Can we talk for a few minutes?”

Tara immediately froze with her hands hovering over a glass bottle. “Oh.. yeah, of course! Is everything okay?” Her voice was chipper, but you could sense the nervousness creeping into her tone. Ember pushed back her chair and stood up with her usual composure. “Sure,” she said simply, but her gaze flicked between you and the folder in your hands before she followed Tara to the back. You caught Trent’s eye as you passed him and he gave you an encouraging smile.

“You got this baby” he mouthed before turning his attention back to the vials.

The air felt suffocating as the three of you settled into your office. Tara sat down immediately and folded her hands nervously in her lap, while Ember leaned into her chair with her arms crossed. She had an unreadable, but not unfriendly expression. You set the folder down on the desk and took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say while both girls stared back at you.

“Sooo. Umm..” you began in a shaky voice. Your hands were clenched together in your lap as you tried to will yourself to stay calm. “First off..I just wanted to say how much I appreciate both of you and everything you do. Both of you are an important part of this place. I mean that.”

Tara smiled nervously and Ember tilted her head, studying you like she was waiting for you to get to the point. 

“But..” you continued in a hesitant voice. “Something happened recently. There’s been some information about me that’s been leaked online these last couple of months. Nothing huge..but enough to make me feel like I should probably set some boundaries..okay?”

Tara’s nervous smile disappeared as she fidgeted with the bottom hem of her top. “I– I swear I didn’t mean for anything to happen.” she stammered in a trembling voice. “I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time! I never wanted to hurt you or anything. I’m so sorry.”

Ember glanced at the folder in front of you, curiously. “What kind of boundaries are we talking about?” she asked in a calm but direct tone.

You opened the folder and slid two copies of the NDAs across the smooth surface of the desk. “It’s not about anything specific, really” you said, trying to sound as neutral as you could be, even if you were kind of lying.

“It’s more about making sure everything that happens here stays here. I just need to know we’re all on the same page and that anything you hear or see working here doesn’t leave these walls.”

Tara’s eyes darted to the papers in front of her and then back at you. “Oh my god. This is because you’re pregnant isn’t it?” she blurted out. “I only mentioned it in my group chat! One of my friends messaged SpillTheBeans after I said not to. I really didn’t mean for it to –”

“Tara I’m not pregnant” you cut her off with an awkward laugh, trying to diffuse the tension. “The only baby I have is this place. Which is why I need you to sign this paper.” You pulled out a pen, tapping the ballpoint against the signature line. “Just sign here and we’ll be good.”

Tara’s eyes went wide as she bolted upright in the chair. “Oh my god, I thought I was getting fired!” she blurted out, clutching her chest like the words were exhausting her. “I’ve been waiting for it to happen for days. I even texted my mum and asked her if I could move back in…she said no, by the way!”

Her rambling spilled out so fast you could hardly keep up. Even Ember gave her a side eye.

“What? I’m not…no. You’re not fired Tara” you reassured, trying to keep your tone calm despite her dramatics. “It’s not that serious. We can just move forward from it, okay? Just don’t let it happen again.”

Tara reached for the pen so fast she almost knocked it off the desk. “Yeah, sure! I’ll sign whatever you want girl!” she exclaimed while scribbling her name on the line. “You could tell me you’re actually secretly dating Jude Bellingham right now and I’d take it to my grave.”

“Um, no. That’s definitely not happening” you replied, trying not to laugh at the thought of you dating Jude in some twisted alternate reality. 

Ember leaned forward next when Tara handed her the pen but her movements were slower. She picked up the pen and twirled it between her fingers to read through the paperwork before signing her name. “Yup. Seems fair” she replied plainly, sliding the paper back toward you. When you reached to pick it up, Ember’s phone vibrated against the desk surface. She snatched the phone quickly, trying to silence the buzzing noise.

“Sorry. Just my boyfriend making dinner plans,” she muttered before placing her phone into her pocket.

“Okay...I’m not that strict, Ember. I don’t care if you use your phone.”

Ember shrugged and brushed her fingers against her pocket to make sure her phone was tucked away. “He’s just.. really big on planning. Always wants everything figured out ahead of time.”

You smiled to try and lighten the mood. “Oh! He’s like me then? I always need to plan for everything.”

“Yeah something like that.”

Tara leaned forward to chime in eagerly. “My boyfriend is the total opposite. He’ll text and ask to grab a drink and then suddenly it’s a whole night out. Spontaneous dates are the best though!”

Tara was a yapper. You didn’t know why she was suddenly oversharing. Maybe it was to compensate for leaking rumours about you, but either way, your eyes were glazing over from her talking so much.

“Oh! Since we’re all booed up, we should do a triple date sometime!” she added, looking between you and Ember with excitement evident.

You raised your eyebrow and gave her a deadpan look that made her backpedal immediately. “Okay..okay. Too soon. Got it!”

“Very” you replied while laughing and shaking your head. “But speaking of planning things out…Trent and I are going away for a bit so I need to make sure everything’s running smoothly while I’m gone.”

“Oohh, it’s giving holiday vibes” Tara chirped with a smile. “Where are you going? Somewhere boujee like Dubai I bet. Be careful though. I heard the girlies go there to–”

“Yeah, no. Dubai’s not on the list. Definitely somewhere sunny though” you smiled back, keeping it vague because the last thing you needed was people leaking your location, even if you did just make them sign an NDA. “We just need some time to recharge for our anniversary. That’s why I’m gonna teach you how to make Rêveur today.”

Tara clapped her hands together excitedly while Ember scribbled down things in her notebook. “Finally! I’ve been dying to learn. It’ll be so fun to say I helped make Rêveur. Iconic.”

“Uh, yeah...fun. We have to get everything exactly the same every single time though. No shortcuts. If one thing goes wrong the batch will be ruined and people will notice, trust.” 

Ember glanced up from her notebook with her pen mid air. “No pressure or anything, right?” she laughed. “Is there anything specific we should know?”

“Not trying to scare you,” you began with a reassuring smile. “But the oils can burn if you’re not careful so just keep an eye on them, okay? It’ll turn the whole batch rancid and you don’t want to smell that.”

Ember moved her pen across the paper, noting everything down with focus. “What’s the safe range?”

“Maybe 70 or 80 degrees” you recited, getting into your own element. “Anything higher and it’ll burn. Anything lower and it’ll separate. Just don’t turn the heat off completely unless it gets really out of hand.”

Tara was listening with wide eyes, but she looked confused as hell. “Wait..do we just..guess if it’s too hot or not? This is exactly why I switched my major to public relations. I’m more of a vibe person.”

“That...definitely explains a lot honestly” you joked. She cringed, catching your shade about the leaks. “Just follow Ember’s lead. She seems like she’ll be good at this.”

Just as you led them to the other room to start, Trent casually strolled in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips to which Tara let out a dramatic ‘aww’.

“So cute,” she cooed.

Trent leaned in close to your ear, whispering. “Fancy a train ride after this?” He pulled out his phone, showing the date at the top of his home screen, which featured a photo of your smiling face. 

“Maybe” you dragged the word out, trying to push him away from you because he was starting to distract you. “Go stand over there T. Every time you distract me I mess something up. Move.”

“Damn” Trent drawled, stepping back with a grin with his hands up in defeat. “Didn’t know I was a hazard.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back, refocusing your attention on the task before you. “Okay!” you said, clasping your hands together while looking at Tara and Ember, who were now watching you closely. “Starting with the base note blend…”

Both girls nodded as you continued to speak. Ember jotted something down in her notebook and Tara leaned in, determined to follow along closely and learn despite her initial confusion earlier. You grabbed the first vial and smiled to yourself.

After this, I can really relax. Seriously this time.

The lesson went a lot smoother than you expected. Ember was quick to learn and caught on easily. Tara was a little slower but seemed to be enjoying herself and asking questions to make sure she understood correctly. You had original apprehension, but everything felt like it was under control this time. Once everything was cleaned up and instructions were finalized, you dismissed your assistants for the day. Tara waved with enthusiasm and promised to remember everything she learned. Ember gave you a quick nod and smile before heading out as she typed away on her phone and disappeared through the door.

An hour later, you and Trent pulled up to an area that looked nothing like Lime Street.

“T…I thought you said we were going on the train?” you asked inquisitively. “This is just a building. I’m confused.”

Trent looked smug as he parked the car. “I said train ride, yeah? I didn’t say where or how.”

You gave him a side eye while unbuckling your seatbelt. “Nuh uh. This feels like a set up. What are you up to?”

Trent laughed as he got out of the car and jogged around to open the door on the passenger’s side. He extended his hand out to help you. “Baby relax. You’re gonna love it.”

You took his hand and creased your brows while narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not convinced. This looks like a place where someone would pull off a heist or something.”

“Nah. Nothing like that,” he reaffirmed while leading you to the building with your hands intertwined in his.

The moment you stepped inside, your skepticism turned into curiosity. The space was dimly lit and the faint sound of train wheels clicking on tracks played in the background. You adjusted your eyes and took in the sight of a perfectly crafted train interior that somewhat mimicked the train you took the day you ran into Trent for the first time.

Your jaw dropped. “No way…”

Trent squeezed your side, pleased with your reaction. “It’s an escape room.”

You spun your face at him, confused all over again. “An escape room? What does that have to do with–?”

“Look closer” he said, gesturing to a seat where a hoodie and a pair of sunglasses were carefully placed. “Ring any bells?”

The realization hit you like a freight train. “No. You didn’t…”

“I did,” his grin widened. “I figured it would be more fun than just taking the train again. Thought we could relive the day with a little twist, y’know?”

You looked around the room, your heart swelling with affection. “You had them recreate our meet cute? This is…”

“Romantic?” he finished your sentence smugly, proud of his accomplishment. 

“Cheesy as hell” you corrected him, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “But I love it.”

“Thought you might” he said, tugging you toward the seat with the hoodie. “Let’s see if we’re smart enough to get out of here.”

The first clue was tucked into the hoodie pocket. It looked like the same hoodie Trent wore the day you met him. A slip of paper read: 

What starts with the sun but ends with the moon?

You groaned, holding it up for him to see. “Okay..what does that even mean? The sky?”

Trent smirked and leaned against the seat like he knew the answer, but didn’t want to give it to you just yet. “Nah baby. Just think about it.”

You glanced back at the clue, still confused. “Um, I am thinking about it..I really don’t know. A sunset? Time?” You threw out ideas, suddenly remembering the cheeky comment you made about his hoodie and sunglasses that day. “Wait..is it an eclipse thing?”

“Close. Think simpler.”

Your mind churned before it finally clicked for you. “A day!” you blurted out. “Starts with the sun and ends with the moon.”

Trent nodded, grinning as he reached into a luggage rack to pull out an envelope. “I knew you would get it eventually.”

You snatched the envelope from his hand, rolling your eyes. The second clue had a small calendar drawn on it with a single number circled – 22. The day you first met. 

“Okay. Too predictable Trent..”

“Is it?” he asked. “Could just be the start of a combo…”

The two of you scanned the fake train car, piecing together the rest of the lock combination from the small details that were hidden throughout the room. There were train tickets tucked into a seat pocket, coordinates of London and Liverpool printed on a travel map, and a tiny key taped underneath a windowsill. After solving each clue, you ended up with 2206 as the final code.

“2206. What’s the 6 from?” you wondered out loud.

Trent smiled as he punched the code into the lock box near the door. “That’s the platform the train left from. London to Liverpool..platform six.”

Your jaw dropped again as the lock box opened. “How do you know that? You didn’t even get on at that stop.”

Trent shrugged and pulled you into a quick kiss. “That day is burned into my brain forever. Had to do my research.”

You shook your head and ran your fingers along his jawline lightly before opening the next compartment. “You really went all out for this. Kinda scared of what you have planned for our official anniversary.”

Inside the compartment was a miniature bottle of a fragrance. “Musk” you said, sniffing the vial thoughtfully. “This was in the escape room? T, did you take this from–”

“Nah, I had nothing to do with that one.” he interrupted, holding his hands up. “Just the universe messing with us again.” He took the bottle out of your hand and sniffed it. “Maybe we could add it as one of the last ingredients? And make it unisex so anyone can wear it..”

His suggestion made you smile while you watched him analyze the scent in a similar way he did with bergamot that fateful day on the train. “That’s...actually not a bad idea. But we need one more to balance it all out.” You didn’t have your notebook with you, so you quickly pulled out your phone to type it into your notes app. You reached for Trent’s hand to intertwine it with yours to pull him along to the next clue. “I can’t believe you had them do all of this for us..”

As you turned the corner, the scene shifted to a football themed section. There was a goalpost, a whiteboard, and lockers lining the wall. Trent’s eyes lit up instantly and you knew you lost him to his competitive side.

“Aight” he began, cracking his knuckles and stepping forward. “My time to shine.”

You stifled a laugh. “Baby you’re not on the pitch. It’s just an escape room.”

Trent smiled as he took in the sight of the room. “Doesn’t matter. I’m still gonna win.”

Amused by his determination, you egged him on. “Okay vice captain. Lead the way.”

The football themed section had Trent written all over it. The lockers were labelled with Liverpool legends like Gerrard and Dalglish. On the whiteboard, a series of Xs and Os formed a tactical setup with a question written above it:

What year did Liverpool win their first European Cup?

Trent snorted and crossed his arms, like the question was something ingrained in his memory. “Easy. 1977. Rome. Borussia Mönchengladbach.”

The board beeped as a hidden compartment clicked open and revealed a small key. You scoffed at him in disbelief. “How do you know that? You weren’t even born yet.”

“History baby,” he replied. “Can’t wear the badge without knowing where it came from.”

You handed him the small key, shaking your head. “Nerd.”

“Maybe. But I’m a nerd who just unlocked the next step.”

Trent slid the key into a lock on the side of a locker and the door swung open to reveal a small podium holding a mini golden football. Another note was propped up beside it that read:

Score a goal, but don’t forget to hit the crossbar first.

“Oh here we fucking go” you muttered. “They’re really feeding into your ego now.”

Trent grinned as he pulled you in for a kiss. “You could be supportive like a normal girlfriend…”

You laughed and cupped your hands around your mouth to slip into your best commentator impression, mocking him with your support. “The man with the golden touch..stepping up to the challenge of a lifetime.”

“Keep it up and I’ll miss on purpose.” he teased, setting up the ball.

“You won’t” you shot back. “I’ll boo you…”

Trent lined up his shot and took a few steps back. The ball sailed into the air and struck the crossbar with the only type of ease your boyfriend could accomplish.

“WOW WHAT A HIT!” you yelled, jumping up and down like you were in the Kop. “Alexander-Arnold with a stunning strike!”

Trent turned, grinning ear to ear as he pointed at you. “You’re not bad at that…but it’s not good either. Gotta work on the commentator voice.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and moved over to the makeshift goalpost. “Okay. Let’s try this then. I’m the keeper now.”

Trent gave you a curious look, wondering if you were serious, but when you didn’t move, his look turned into amusement. “You gonna try to stop me? Alright. No mercy baby.”

You clapped your hands and bounced on your toes like you saw keepers do on match days. “I’m channelling my inner Alisson Becker. You’re not getting past me T.”

Trent set the ball down again and shook his head at your antics, but he was enjoying every second judging by the smile that hadn't faltered from his face. He took a few steps back, focused and ready while you spread your arms dramatically across the goal.

“And it’s Y/N L/N in goal!” you yelled in your best – yet below average, commentator voice. “Can she keep Trent Alexander-Arnold from clinching the game?”

“Not a chance,” Trent whispered under his breath, smirking. You really thought he would take it easy on you but he didn’t. He didn’t have to try too hard and the ball flew into the net easily. You lunged for it, trying to make the save, but your foot did something weird, making you tumble to the floor and land on your side, groaning. Trent jogged over, trying and failing not to laugh as he crouched beside you.

“You okay baby?”

You rolled onto your back, squinting up at him while rubbing your hip. “Fuck. How does Ali do this? He makes it look so easy.”

Trent reached out a hand to lift you to your feet. “You have the heart for it..I’ll give you that.”

You took his hand to let him pull you up as you brushed yourself off. “Next time I’m saving it.”

“Next time, huh?” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close. “We’ll see. It’s game over for now, though.”

The final compartment snapped open with a thud, revealing a small envelope. Trent grabbed it, beaming as he opened it up. Inside was a handwritten note:

Congratulations on finding your way out! Here’s to your next adventure together.

Alongside the note were dinner reservations on the date of your official anniversary. You weren’t familiar with the restaurant, but the name sounded familiar – Lovebirds. Next to it, an itinerary to go to St. Barts, featuring photos of a private villa with direct beach access.

You blinked at the papers in Trent’s hand, struggling to process the details. “Wait..what is this?”

He turned the envelope toward you so that you could see it better. “Dinner plans for our anniversary. And St. Barts.” he confessed with a smile, still not faltering. “Private villa, just you and me. Direct beach access and no distractions.”

“You planned all of this?”

Trent laughed and folded the papers to tuck them back into the envelope. “Well I had some help, but yeah. Thought we deserved something special.”

You threw your arms around him and gave him a kiss. “I don't even know what to say. You’re too sweet.”

“Don’t say anything,” he murmured into your hair. “Just show up in your bikini.”

You laughed, pulling back to look at his face. “I love you..and I’m really glad you sat next to me on the train that day.”

Trent’s eyes softened as he played with the necklace around your neck. “Same here. I can’t imagine living life without you baby. I love you too.”

The two of you made your way back to the car, hand in hand as the sun started to set over the horizon to create a cotton candy sky. “What's next?” you asked.

“Let’s go eat and figure out where the night takes us?” He recommended. “Unless you wanna make another perfume note in the car..”

You burst out laughing and swatted at his chest. “You’re such a boy.”

---

The next few weeks passed by way too fast, but they were filled with happy milestones. When Ezzie and Ziggy’s 16th birthday rolled around, it was celebrated with Trent’s family instead of your parents. His mum and dad took over hosting duties and transformed their home into a comfortable space that was overflowing with kind heartedness and laughter. Celebrating with them felt more natural than it ever did in the cold confines of your parent’s picture perfect home. Trent’s parents took your siblings in without any hesitation, and treated them like they were their own children.

The day of their birthday kicked off with Ziggy’s signing day. He officially joined Liverpool’s U18 team. The dimpled grin on his face was infectious as he showed off his new kit. The back of his shirt proudly displayed “L/N” in bold lettering and the number he chose: 16. You assumed he chose it because he signed on the day of his birthday, but you really didn’t know for sure.

“Sixteen huh?” you mocked as he spun around in the room to make sure everyone could see. “Let me guess...some deep meaningful choice about this being your year or something?”

Ziggy was enjoying the attention and smirked. “Nah, not everything has to be deep. I just like the number.”

“He’s lying!” Ezzie interrupted. “It’s because Trent wears 66. He just changed one number.”

Ziggy glared at her and flung the kit to lay on his shoulder. “Damn. Just let me have this.”

“Bubby..” Ezzie said sweetly, tilting her head as she used a childhood nickname that always wound him up. “You can have it. Just not without me calling you out first.”

Before your brother could retort, Dianne’s voice floated in from the living room. “You two..let’s save the bickering for later. We’re celebrating, remember?”

Trent’s dad popped his head into the kitchen, tongs in hand. “Z, you think you have what it takes to make first team one day? Come outside, let’s see if you can get past me.”

“You? You’re too old.. I don’t wanna embarrass you at your own house.” Ziggy scoffed, heading toward the garden in disbelief. “You’re not even the best defender in this house right now.”

“That would be me,” Trent chimed in, leaning against the fridge while smiling.

“Nah, it’s me.” Tyler cut in, walking in the room with Marcel trailing behind him. “I’d be out there instead if I didn’t give it up for you.”

Marcel snorted. “Bro you haven’t defended anything since I was a baby.” 

You stood next to the counter, slicing a piece of cake. “A family full of stars here, huh? Football, fashion...and whatever Tyler is claiming these days.”

“Aye” Tyler interjected. “I’m a dad. And I work.”

“Do you? Because the girlies are saying PLG is a money laundering scheme” you raised your brow, genuinely asking and not trying to throw shade...or maybe you were throwing shade.

The whole house burst into laughter, Marcel’s being the loudest of all despite not doing much more than Tyler. You took a bite of the white chocolate raspberry birthday cake, savouring the sweet flavour while everyone scattered around the house to do their own thing. Your anxiety still existed, but seemingly melted away once you were surrounded by the people you cared about the most. You took another bite of cake, surveying the warmth and love filling the house.

I could get used to this. This is nice.

The days following the twins birthday were a blur of activity. Ezzie’s modelling career was in full swing, and her first campaign with Miu Miu took off. Your sister’s face now adorned billboards and screens in New York, Paris and London. She was kind of iconic for someone who had just turned 16, and you were living for it. Your mum had definitely ate her words, rightfully so. 

Meanwhile, Camille was splitting her time between Manchester, Paris, and Barcelona. Her relationship with Jules grew stronger with every passing day and the two of them were officially the most fashionable couple you knew. Camille’s voice hummed through the phone one day as you shuffled around your newly expanded wardrobe in you and Trent’s home. You were partially listening while you went through your clean laundry, trying to place everything in their new spot.

“I think Jules might be my soulmate” she gushed with her voice tinged with dreaminess that was very out of character for her. “I’ve been planning out outfits for the next month and he just gets it Y/N. He even coordinates with me sometimes. Who is this man?”

You froze mid fold, barely believing your ears. “Camille? Camille Saint-Clair??” you said slowly, dragging out her first name and surname for emphasis. “Is this my best friend? Soulmates and coordinating outfits with a man is crazy.”

She groaned but the dreaminess in her voice was still unmistakable, the girl was in love. “Shut up. I just– I may be falling for him a little. But I’m still me.”

“Anyway,” she added, trying to switch the subject back to you. “What about you and your lover boy? Where are you two going for your anniversary?”

You filled her in on Trent’s surprise escape room debacle and the upcoming trip to St. Barts, to which she simply responded:

“Don’t get pregnant. Use your butt..or mouth. Seriously. There’s an epidemic out here and the world doesn’t need anymore Aquariuses or Pisces.”

You giggled and shook your head. “Isn’t your dad a–” “Yeah, he is.. so trust me when I say that. Use your butt girl.”

Before you could fully recover from Camille’s out of pocket advice after ending the call, Trent walked into the bedroom shirtless with a towel slung over his shoulder from just getting out of the shower.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, stretching his arm behind his head as he sprawled out on the bed. 

You made your way to the bed and sat on top of him. “Camille,” you smirked, grazing your hands over his toned abdominal muscles. “She gave me some interesting advice for our anniversary.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Nooo” you sang, leaning over to kiss him. “I think we’ll have enough time for me to use all three holes.”

“Three holes? Huh??”

Before you could explain, Trent’s phone rang with a FaceTime call. You glanced at the screen to see Jude’s name flashing across the screen. You groaned and picked up the phone to answer, turning the phone toward Trent’s face, but Jude started talking before either of you could speak.

“Aye! What’s good bro? What are you up to?” Jude’s smile filled the screen.

“Just chilling,” Trent replied, sitting up slightly with his hand palming over your thigh, gently massaging your soft skin. “Why? What’s up?”

“Mate, I’m scheming. Me, Jobe, Toby – lad’s night out at the club. You down?” Jude waggled his eyebrows for emphasis, already sold on his own plan.

Trent shook his head. “Nah. Not tonight man.”

“Bro come on,” Jude groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance. “It’s been ages. Don’t do me like this. I’ll keep the girls away so Y/N won’t get mad.”

You cut in with a pointed tone. “Jude..he’s not going anywhere tonight.”

Jude squinted at the camera, trying to figure out where your voice was coming from, but he didn’t realize you were the one holding the phone until you turned the phone back to your face. “Y/N don’t tell me you’re one of those girls. He’s a grown man..let him have some fun.”

“Jude it’s the night before our anniversary” you noted firmly. “Fun doesn’t include babysitting you lot.”

“Babysitting? I’m not a child” Jude protested. “Well..maybe Jobe is but I’m capable of looking after myself.”

“The child in question can drive and cook..you can’t.” you quipped, turning the phone back to Trent. “Tell him, T.”

Trent laughed and shook his head. “Sorry man. Boss has spoken. You understand.”

Jude sighed dramatically, acting like somebody had just broken his heart into a thousand pieces. “Fine, ditch us for Y/N. But don’t come complaining when you realize what you’re missing. Proper memories being made without you, for sure!”

Trent smirked, raising his hands higher on your thigh which made you erupt into a fit of giggles. “I’m good with the memories I’m about to make. Next time though.”

“Ah, fair. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Happy anniversary by the way!”

At Les Notes d’Amour, things had fallen into a pleasant rhythm that you were comfortable with. Ember and Tara managed to keep the Rêveur production on track without any hiccups. There were no other unexpected leaks, no missed steps, and no drama – just the way you liked it. There were a couple of moments when Tara’s bubbly personality led her into long tangents about footballers or her latest obsession with matcha boba. You occasionally had to step in with a gentle “Tara.. focus,” but overall, the shop felt stable in their hands. 

With your anniversary creeping closer, you found yourself balancing preparations for your trip to St. Barts and figuring out how to celebrate with Trent before your flight. You hadn’t given him the watch yet, saving it for the perfect moment. 

But today was the day.

You stood in front of the mirror that night, adjusting your dress. As you zipped it up halfway, you heard Trent’s footsteps behind you.

“Need a hand?” he asked in a low voice.

You turned a little to look at him through the mirror. A flashback of him fucking you while you watched in the mirror flashed across your mind. “Are you offering to help or to undo it? Because last time you said you were going to help…”

“Both” he replied instantly, stepping behind you to slide the zipper the rest of the way up. His broad hands caressed your sides and he scanned your figure in the mirror. “We’ll just save the other part for later. Or we can have a quickie…”

The warmth from Trent’s breath tickled against your neck as his hands lingered on your waist to pull you flush against him. The smell of Rêveur and your perfume wrapped around you to create the most perfect, intoxicating scent that paired amazingly well together. His eyes met yours in the mirror and darkened, filled with a mixture of love and carnal desire.

“Don’t” you warned, swatting his hand playfully. “We have all night and next week for that.”

“I’m just appreciating the beautiful view” he said smoothly, running his hands up and down your sides. He leaned in closer to the crook of your neck, inhaling softly. “You smell so good. What did you decide to name this one?”

You smiled and adjusted the petaled drapes falling across your shoulders. “It’s called Vanille Étoilée.” You caught his gaze in the mirror and continued. “It means starry vanilla in French. Sweet like honeyed vanilla, warm like amber, but soft enough to stay on my skin for a long time like the stars in the sky. Thought it was fitting because it compliments Rêveur pretty well..”

“Vanille Étoilée” he repeated. Surprisingly the French words rolled off his tongue with ease despite his scouser accent. “I like it.” Trent dipped his head down to kiss the corner of your jaw and trailed the kisses down to your collarbone. “Smells…” He paused and placed another kiss on your skin while inhaling you again, “so fucking good.”

You turned around to press a hand to his chest and stepped back. “Okay..enough. You can’t just jump straight to dessert. Have some decorum.”

Stepping into Lovebirds felt like stepping into an ethereal fairytale. The outside world was replaced with an atmosphere that was enchanting. Golden lighting pranced off lush greenery that framed the private alcoves scattered throughout the room. Each one was designed to give diners a sense of secluded romance. There were ornamental branches stretched above with interwoven leaves and lights to give the ceiling a romantic glow. You could hear a subtle twine of acoustics playing a gentle tune to add to the ambiance.

Trent’s hand rested on the curve of your back and his fingers grazed the exposed skin. “This place is nice” he murmured in a whispered tone as his gaze shifted from one part of the room to another.

“Yeah, it is. The name is really fitting innit?” you replied, glancing up at him with a smile. The place truly did feel like it was designed with soulmates in mind. There were multiple details that echoed the love and connection shared between lifelong partners. You followed the host as they led you to a table nestled beside a trickling indoor fountain. 

The table may as well have been a piece of art itself. There was a delicate feather motif that ran along its edges and two menus were placed neatly on top of silky soft cloth. Both menus were embossed in gold lettering with your names, which caught you by surprise. Trent definitely had used up all his creativity with the escape room idea, so there was no way in hell he had any part in the decor for the table. But if it wasn’t him..who did?

The waiter approached minutes later with a carefully balanced tray of artfully crafted drinks.

“Good evening” he began with a warm smile. “To start, we have two cocktails inspired by our esteemed guests.” He set a golden hued drink in front of Trent first.

“This is the Golden Hour. It has a blend of whiskey, ginger beer, and a touch of citrus, topped with golden edible flakes. It’s got strength and finesse, much like Mr. Alexander-Arnold’s touch on the pitch.”

Trent tilted his head, amused and curious as he lifted the drink to inspect it. “Golden Hour?” he mused, swirling the drink slightly to watch the edible flakes diffuse across the liquid. “Can’t argue with that.”

“And for you” the waiter continued, placing a glass in front of you. “We have the Moonlit Muse. It’s a delicate mix of lychee, vanilla vodka, and champagne served with an iridescent shimmer. Sweet and complex, inspired by your work and artistry as a perfumer.”

You took a sip, feeling the sweetness of the lychee and fizziness of the champagne intertwine to create a perfect start to the evening. “This is incredible” you complimented with a smile. “Thank you!”

The food was just as impressive. Trent opted for a ribeye steak that was charred to perfection and served with truffle butter, garlic mashed potatoes, and seared shrimp. Your dish was a salmon fillet plated with saffron and champagne cream sauce that rested on a bed of wilted spinach and buttered baby carrots. There was a garnish of edible flowers on the plate, making it almost too pretty to eat. 

The chef approached your table shortly after you both finished eating. She was dressed in a cleanly pressed chef’s coat with her name embroidered elegantly on the chest. She clasped her hands in front of her.

“I hope the evening has been everything you hoped for lovebirds” she cheered in a joyful tone.

You blinked, staring at her for a minute before you realized she was the same chef from the private cooking class you had with Trent the day you made things official. “Wait..you’re the chef from the class we took last year!”

Her smile widened and she nodded. “Yes, that’s me. I didn’t think you would remember.”

“Of course I remember!” you exclaimed, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over you. “We nearly burned down your kitchen with our nonsense.”

“Best date we ever had so far. Hands down.” Trent added, smiling back at the chef.

“I can’t thank you two enough” The chef spoke proudly. “The night the video went viral I started getting all sorts of requests for catering, private events, cooking classes and it just snowballed from there. When this space became available.. I couldn't resist it.”

“Wow” you breathed, glancing around at the beautifully curated space with new appreciation. “That’s really amazing. This place is stunning.”

“Thank you” she responded sincerely. “I owe you two more than you know. That night wasn’t just a turning point professionally. It reminded me of why I love what I do. Seeing the joy on your faces that night..even covered in flour, was a reminder of what food can bring to people. I just wanted to say thank you..for everything.”

The waiter appeared again, carrying two perfectly risen soufflés. The delicate tops were dusted with powdered sugar and you could smell the faint aroma of chocolate wafting through the air. The chef grinned as she set the desserts in front of you. After taking a quick photo with the chef, you could finally dig into your soufflés.

“Enjoy lovebirds! Happy anniversary!” the chef cheered, holding a hand over her heart dramatically as she walked away to head back to the kitchen.

You scooped your spoon into the airy dessert. “Mmm, finally! This was so worth it. Best soufflé ever.”

Trent nodded in agreement, savouring his first bite. “Third time’s the charm, huh?”

After finishing dessert, you turned to Trent with a sly smile and reached into your clutch to pull out a carefully wrapped box. You slid the box across the table toward him. “This is for you..”

Trent’s curiosity piqued as he grabbed the box and unopened it with care to reveal the watch with the midnight blue dial and moon phase indicator. “Damn. This is nice!” he excitedly yelled out while clasping the watch onto his wrist. “What’s this thing on here?”

“It’s a moon phase indicator. So you don’t have to google when the full moons are anymore.”

Trent looked up at you, his brown eyes filled with adoration. “Not gonna lie. This might be the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

You rolled your eyes, assuming he was doing too much over a silly little watch, even if it was expensive. “T..it’s just a watch. I don’t think–”

“Nah. Not just a watch” he corrected you, calibrating the moon phase indicator with his hand. “I feel like I’m always buying gifts for everyone else..so this is nice. I love it. I love you.”

You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile and stop the happy tears that were threatening to spill over your lash line. “Aww baby. Don’t make me cry in public. I love you too.”

Trent leaned over to give you a tender, soft kiss on your lips before pulling back, both of you smiling like idiots at each other. You giggled awkwardly and looked around.

“Sooo..um..where’s my gift?” you questioned him jokingly. “Not that this dinner wasn’t amazing but..”

Trent smirked and leaned back in his chair. “It’s at home. It’s being set up as we speak.”

After another hour of conversation, you finally headed back home to see what Trent had planned. When you made it back to the house, you hopped out of the car before Trent could even put it in park mode.

“Close your eyes,” Trent instructed you as you made your way into the house. You closed your eyelids while he led you up the stairs. “Don’t look yet.”

“I’m not looking!” you yelled, but you were willing your pupils to see through the thin skin of your eyelids.

“Alright, ready?” Trent spoke softly into your ear and positioned you in front of the bedroom door.

“Yes..” you replied impatiently, itching to open the door yourself. “Can I look?”

Trent nodded but he forgot your eyes were still closed, so you both stood there awkwardly for a minute before you spoke up again. “Umm..Trent??”

“Oh shit! I forgot.” He laughed, opening the door. “Yeah, open your eyes baby.”

When you opened your eyes, your breath caught. The bedroom was decorated with balloons that hovered near the elevated ceiling. Illuminated candles softly flickered and danced across the wall to cast shadows that felt alive, like they were celebrating along with you. The bedside table had a rose bouquet that was so large it was almost falling over. On the bed, a collection of gifts were neatly arranged in wrapping paper of your favorite colors, topped with curled and tied ribbons.

Your hand flew to your mouth and your eyes filled with tears. “Trent…”

He leaned into you to kiss you on your cheek. “Happy anniversary baby.”

As the scene washed over you, you traced your fingers over the silk ribbons on the gifts. “I only got you a watch and you did all of this? T this is way too much..”

“Nah, it’s not. Just showing how much I appreciate you.”

Smiling, you sat down on the edge of the bed and grazed your fingers over a smaller box that was tucked behind the others. “What’s this one?” you asked, reaching for it.

Before you could lift the lid, Trent’s hand shot out and snatched the box away from you with a quickness that caught you off guard and made you frown. “Nah! Not that one. You can’t open that yet.”

This box in particular was the engagement ring he was keeping hidden away for another year or two. Whoever was responsible for the setup must’ve accidentally mistaken it for an anniversary gift, nearly ruining the night all together.

You creased your brow and stood on your tippy toes to reach it. “Why not? What’s in it? Let me see!”

“Nope” he laughed as he moved it further out of your reach and nestled it into a drawer. “You’ll ruin the surprise.”

“What surprise?” you questioned him, trying to reach toward the drawer without him realizing, but he was faster than you. He gripped your hand mid air and pulled you into him. You instinctively put your arms around his shoulders and his lips found yours to silence anymore of your protests. You pulled away from him, grinning as you bit your bottom lip. “You’re trying to distract me from that box…”

His face nestled into the crook of your neck and he nibbled on the skin above your collarbone. “Is it working?” 

Your hum of approval melted into a soft sigh as Trent’s lips continued to brush against the delicate curve of your neck. With each kiss, he trailed down slower to map out coordinates of love. His hands trailed up from your hips to the bare curve of your back under the silky fabric of your dress. He thumbs padded massaging circles on your skin that made it hard to think about anything other than the feeling of him against you.

“Maybe…” you mumbled in a quiet voice.

“Good” Trent continued peppering you with kisses. “Let me finish distracting you then.”

Trent’s hands traced over the zipper of your dress, slowly unzipping it until the silky fabric was tossed to the floor. “You’re so fucking beautiful” he muffled against your skin, brushing over the laced trim on your panties.

“You’re talking too much” you whined, arching into him to silently beg for more than what he was giving you at the moment.

“Yeah?” His fingers hooked under the lace trim, pulling them down to reveal your slick core. “You want more?”

You nodded, “Please.”

Trent kissed his way down your stomach, nibbling on your skin with his hungry lips. When he finally reached your pussy, he paused, glancing up at you with a cocky look while licking his lips. 

“Trent” you panted, gripping the sheets as his breath fanned over where you really wanted him. “Don’t tease me. I need you..”

“Ah..so impatient” he smirked, kissing your inner thigh. He flicked his tongue out, licking a stripe between your pussy that made your back arch off the bed. “Let me hear you baby.”

“Shit” you gasped, gripping his head with your hands as his tongue started working against your clit in a slow, intentional pace that had you squirming and arching underneath him.

“Stay still” he commanded, gripping your thighs to pin you in place. You tried to comply, but you couldn’t stop trying to push your hips against him to chase your high. 

The flicks of his tongue and pressure from him lightly suctioning your clit made you moan his name loudly and buck into him. Just as you were about to reach the point of no return, Trent’s phone rang loudly on the bedside table, cutting through your bliss immediately.

“Fuck me” you groaned, pulling a pillow against your face in frustration.

“We’re getting to that part…” he joked, already pulling back from your core to glance at the screen. “It’s Jude.”

“I really don’t care who it is,” you snapped, pulling at his arm to bring his attention back to you and the orgasm you desperately needed. “Do. Not. Answer.”

He pondered for a second like he was torn, but then the phone started ringing again and you could see the gears turning in his head. “I’ll just tell him I’m busy real quick.”

“Trent,” you warned in a dangerously low voice. “I swear if you answer that fucking phone right now…”

“Alright! I’m not answering it” He declined the call, tossing the phone aside. “Happy now?”

“Ask me again after you make me c– oh my god, yesss” your words quickly turned into moans of pleasure as he dove back in, tongue on your clit and fingers curling and thrusting inside of you.

“You taste so fucking good” he whispered, still lapping against your clit with vigor. “Cum for me baby.”

You whimpered his name when his tongue danced against your clit faster. You felt the pressure build and snap all at once before you could warn him, but he didn’t remove himself from your clit and kept licking until you were squirming from overstimulation.

“Mmh, T..I can’t” you begged, pushing against his shoulders. When he finally rose from your core, he licked his lips and trailed kisses back up to your lips.

“You good?” he asked, kissing your neck. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me” you replied, pulling at one of his belt loops so that he would get the hint to take his clothes off. His clothing quickly joined your dress on the floor and he stroked his dick a few times before pushing into your slick folds, slow and steady so that you could adjust to the girth before he started moving.

“Goddamn” he muttered through tight teeth. “You’re so fucking tight. Relax baby.”

“I can’t” you moaned back, gasping for air in between thrusts. “F-fuck. I’m gonna cum again.”

The desperation you had for him made him laugh, stroking his ego as he stroked into you, but it quickly turned into a groan when you rolled your hips to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep doing that.” he stuttered, gripping your hips to guide you. “Fuck, baby. Just like that....good girl.”

The wet, slick sounds of your bodies moving in tandem filled up the room, dramatized by your breathless moans of pleasure. The tightness in your core threatened to snap and Trent’s movements became more frenzied as his fingers gripped deep into your skin.

“I love you. I love the way you fuck me” you needily moaned, trying to push him over the horizon. “Cum in me. Please Trent? Fill me up.”

“Shit” he hissed, faltering his hips for a split second to force himself to slow down. “I can’t baby. We said–”

You rocked up against him so more of his cock filled you. The way his jaw clenched in concentration and the way his body shook let you know he was fighting against the inevitable. “Pleaseee. I want it.”

“Fuckkkk” he groaned, holding you in place as he tried to gain control. He moved his hips more slow and shallow. “You’re squeezing me.”

You whimpered and raked your nails down his back as your pussy began to flutter and milk him. “Oh my god, I love you” you moaned over and over again as you came undone around his dick. He filled you up shortly after, his control shattering like glass with one last groan.

“I love you too” he muttered between a kiss attack on your lips. “You’re my everything..my forever.”

“Is that so?” you cooed, wrapping your arms around him to cherish the moment.

While you were enjoying your alone time with Trent, both of your phones were being bombarded with calls and notifications. The internet was set ablaze once again. A little too literally this time around:

SpillTheBeansUK 🚨 Y/N L/N, girlfriend of Liverpool star Trent Alexander-Arnold, is at the center of chaos tonight after her boutique Les Notes d’Amour burned to the ground in suspected arson. Arrested? None other than her assistant Ember F, and her EX-BOYFRIEND Aaron C – a shady ex-businessman who’s now dating Ember. 😳🔥 Coincidence? We’re not so sure… 👀

astrologychica99: omg remember when that tarot reader mentioned the tower card in the comments? THEY WERE RIGHT!!

PerfumeObsessed32: does this mean my bottle of rêveur isn’t coming?? i’ve been waiting!!!

BaddieFromBrum: not y’all worried about your rêveur order when her shop just literally burned down.. you’re so unserious

ELovesChaos: whoever’s writing her life needs to chill. give her a break i beg!

EauDeGossip: imagine finding out your ex and your assistant are plotting against you? i’d be in jail!

FragranceFanatic89: does anyone know if she’s okay? is she safe?

MadMadness: so ember went from assistant to arsonist?? girl.. seek help!!

DidUCatchIt: can we talk about the name ember? the signs were there people! 

scousergirl4lyfe: if I was Y/N i’d never trust a single soul again..like ever. not even trent

IconicAndTired: not STB becoming the BBC of mess 😭 i live for this page

WriterPlsChill: WTF?!?!

4AMTHOUGHT: end of an era 💔😭

-

What was supposed to be a peaceful and quiet night before a romantic holiday, was cut short by frantic banging on the door. Trent froze and looked around, not expecting anyone at this hour. “What the fuck?”

“Who is that?” you asked, startled by the sudden noise.

“No fucking clue. Did you order something?” he asked back, taking a quick glance over his shoulder.

“No...”

Both of you quickly sat up to get dressed in more comfortable clothing but the banging didn’t stop. While descending the stairs, muffled voices became clearer – more familiar to the ear. Trent unlocked the door cautiously, only for it to fly open with Camille and Jude barrelling in.

“Are you okay?!” Camille’s voice cracked as she reached for you, wrapping you into her arms tightly.

“Huh? I’m fine! Why are you acting so weird?” you asked with a pounding heart.

Jude’s usual playful personality wasn’t there and was replaced by a serious expression instead, like he took pity on you. “Mate..she needs to sit down” he whispered to Trent, who was looking increasingly tense.

“For what? What’s going on?”

Before Jude could answer, headlights and blue flashes from a police car flooded through the windows in an ominous pattern. 

When the uniformed officer arrived at the door, he stood solemnly in the doorway. “Is Y/N L/N here?”

Your mouth went dry. “Um..yeah. That’s me” you said softly, stepping forward despite Trent’s attempt to hold you back.

“Sorry to inform you Miss L/N..but your store was destroyed in a fire tonight. It’s been ruled as suspected arson.”

The words hit you like a bus. You weren’t able to process the sentence the officer just delivered. “My store?” you whispered, repeating as if that would make the truth hurt any less. Your knees wobbled and Trent’s arm shot out to steady you. “No…” you added, voice trembling. “That’s not possible. I was literally just there the other day.”

The officer glanced at Trent, hesitating before continuing. “I’m sorry Miss L/N. There’s no saving it. The building is completely gone.”

The moment he ended his sentence the air was knocked out from your lungs. You felt nothing. Suddenly your legs couldn’t support you anymore. You collapsed into Trent’s chest and a broken cry tore from your throat. You felt your heart shatter into sharp shards that could never be repaired or mended. “No, no, no” you repeated, clinging onto Trent to keep you tethered to reality, but his presence didn’t do much to stop the slurry of cruel, twisted dark thoughts emitting from your brain.

“Baby breathe” Trent coached in a low, shaky voice. “I got you.”

You couldn’t do that. Every breath suddenly felt like you were inhaling smoke, suffocating under the weight of words that just kept getting worse the more the officer spoke. Les Notes d’Amour ��� the place you poured your entire heart and soul into – was reduced to nothing more than a pile of smoky, pulverized ash. All thanks to a series of carefully crafted events that was supposed to be your ‘serendipity’.

It didn’t seem like that anymore after the officer said the names. 

“Aaron Caldwell was arrested at the scene, along with Ember Flanagan. Your other assistant, Tara, was found safe at home.”

Your body immediately went rigid. “Aaron?” you croaked, pulling away from Trent.

The officer nodded with a grim expression. “Yes ma’am. It appears he and Miss Flanagan conspired on this together.”

He wasn’t supposed to be able to get to you again, or so you thought. Camille told you she made sure of it. His name carried so much pain that you vowed to never say it again, but this whole situation caught you off guard.

“He wasn’t supposed to..” you whispered in a broken voice. “He wasn’t supposed to be able to get to me again.” You turned to Camille who was now frozen with tears in her own eyes. “Camille you promised me!”

Her face looked guilty, but she had nothing to be guilty for; it honestly wasn’t her fault.

“I didn’t know about Ember,” she stammered. “I didn’t know they were together. I’m so sorry.”

Her apology didn’t register in your ears. Nothing did. Your chest heaved up and down as the panic finally set in fully. Every bad memory, every moment of manipulation and betrayal crushing you all at once. You couldn’t see nor could you hear. All you felt were the walls of life encasing you in misery now that your dream had erupted in flames. You heard distorted voices of Jude, Camille, and Trent trying to comfort you, but their voices barely registered over the one screaming at you in your mind.

Camille crouched in front of you with tears streaming down her face. “Y/N..you’re not alone, okay? We’re here.”

Of course her words were meant to be comforting, but it only made things worse as the ache in your chest grew tighter. “I don’t care!” you screamed, yanking your hands away from hers. “None of this matters anymore! He ruined everything! This would’ve never happened if I never–”

“Baby stop” Trent’s voice was breaking now too. He pulled you into him again, whispering against your ear. “He can’t hurt you anymore. He’s arrested.”

You pulled away, tears streaming down your anguished face as you stared at Trent with a broken, jaded expression. “I’m not talking about Aaron” you choked out, raw and heavy.

“I’m talking about you.”

thank you for reading! please leave thoughts in my inbox 💋🤍

song inspo:

[nanaslutt]

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

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fucking biiiitch.

[magnusbae]

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you 🖤

🖤 What a wicked thing to do, 🐇 🐇 to make me dream of you 🖤

🖤 What a wicked thing to say, 🐇

🐇 you never felt this way 🖤

[dickliquidizer]

..

[yikes-aemond]

I love you. It's ruining my life.

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader (no descriptions of reader except that she wears a dress and has "flowing hair")

warnings: canon typical violence, cursing 

summary: You meet Benjicot Blackwood in the woods and continue to pine after him for years. 

word count: 2.9k

part II can be found here. part III can be found here. part iv can be found here.

You were bleeding the first time you saw Benjicot Blackwood. 

At the age of three and ten you had thought yourself invincible. So careless in your disregard for your father’s rules about minding the boundary stones that you crossed into Blackwood territory. So careless that you sought to climb a ravine that was nearly impassable. So careless that you lost your footing, scrambled to find purchase, cutting your hands and tearing your dress. So careless that you twisted your ankle and cried out in pain, alerting all those in the surrounding area to your presence. 

Face down in the dirt and sobbing, you did not hear him approach. But when you felt his touch at your shoulder, you jerked in response and tried to roll away. 

Through your tears, you saw a figure crouching before you. His face was almost entirely blank except for the furrow of his brow. Dark, messy hair that had likely never seen a comb. Stormy eyes that flitted across your person, assessing and calculating. A slight tremble to his fingers, fidgeting with the dagger at his waist. A black and red cloak, with a raven sigil pinned at the shoulder. No mistaking a Blackwood. And not just any Blackwood—Benjicot Blackwood, heir to Raventree Hall. 

You screamed, whether from the pain or fright, you could not be sure. You tried to push yourself up to flee, but your ankle would not bear any weight. 

You fell back to the dirt, spitting a curse that you had heard your cousin Aeron use when he thought you were not around. 

Benjicot raised to his feet. “I would not recommend that, my lady.”  

You were sure that he knew who you were. Your gold dress might have been torn and dirty, but the red stallion detail was clear as day. You sat up and tried to brush the tears from your face, but there was no hiding your fear. You were trapped on Blackwood land, in violation of the assize and without any way to escape. 

Benjicot’s gaze had not left your face. From your Septa’s lessons, you knew that he was not much older than you. Maybe only a year or two. But even at five and ten his presence was imposing. He walked with a confidence of someone years older, so clearly comfortable in his own skin. 

Panting, you managed to gulp down enough air to make out, “If you’re going to kill me, then get on with it.”

Benjicot’s expression did not change, except for the almost unpercetable raise of his eyebrows. Unsheathing his dagger, Benjicot slowly circled your form before lowering and stopping right in front of you. He was so close that you could feel his hot breath. Smell his leathers and the soap he had likely used to wash that morning. Bringing his dagger to just under your chin, he forced your head to raise and meet his eyes. 

The cold sting of the blade made your breath hitch. Your body trembled, but you dared not look away. 

Leaning further into your personal space and pressing the dagger into your skin, Benjicot asked, “Are you so eager for death, my lady?” 

You pressed yourself into the dagger, feeling the bite of the blade cut into your skin. Warm blood trickled down your neck and soaked into the front of your gown. You watched Benjicot trace the path of the blood. Saw his breath catch ever so slightly at your actions. 

But he did not withdraw the blade and you did not move away. “There are fates worse than death, my lord.” 

An emotion flashed across Benjicot’s face, but it was gone before you could place it. Removing the blade from your neck, he leaned away from you and sat back on the ground. “One could say that a quick death is too good for a Bracken.”

You could hear the smile and jest in his voice. For the first time since falling in the ravine, you felt like you could breathe. Whatever had just passed between you and Benjicot, you were now sure that he wasn’t going to harm you. 

“And one could also say that being killed by a Blackwood is likely to bring shame upon my entire family.” You flopped onto your back, giving up on any attempt to stand. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Benjicot twirl the dagger between his fingers. When his hand stilled, you shifted your gaze fully back onto him. “What do you plan on doing with me, my lord?” Your voice did not come out as strong as you would like, but you felt a shift in Benjicot’s disposition. You could tell that he had reached some kind of decision. 

Benjicot leaned back into your space, his face directly above yours. Your heart started beating faster. Your stomach clenched and dipped. And for one fleeting moment, you thought that he might kiss you. 

His face drew closer and closer, but instead of your lips, he sought your ear. “Remember this well, my lady. This land is not for Brackens.” You tried to keep your breathing even, but with his body so close and his voice so raspy, you felt bewitched. You, the helpless prey to his predator. 

“Should you wander into these woods again, I cannot guarantee that you will meet the same fate.” His lips brushed the side of your face, whether intentionally or not, you did not know. “Sleep well, my lady.” And before you could react, Benjicot brought the hilt of his dagger against your temple, sending you into darkness. 

Six years had passed since that fateful day. You will never forget waking on Bracken soil, cold and alone and in pain. But other than the injuries you sustained because of your own stupidity, you were unharmed. Benjicot had knocked you unconscious and carried you home. 

You lied through your teeth when your father and Aeron questioned you about what happened. You claimed to have suffered a hit to the head (not untrue) and could not recall how you made it home. When your story did not change, they eventually gave up asking. 

You had seen Benjicot sparingly over the years and only ever in passing or from across a crowded room. But you watched him—oh, how you watched him. 

Each year you begged your father to allow you to attend the Riverrun assize just for the chance to see him. From afar, you watched him grow taller and more handsome. A lean build and broad shoulders developed from years of sparring and training. His reputation for violence and ruthlessness made all Bracken guards nervous. Bloody Ben, indeed.

And at the last assize you knew he was watching you, too. Each time you entered a room, you felt his eyes track you and linger. Felt his gaze sweep across you; your skin flushing and hot at the thought he might find you as desirable as you found him. 

On the last night of the assize, Lord Tully held a feast to celebrate a successful negotiation of the boundary stones. You were passing tables upon tables of lords, knights, and squires, trying to make it to your seat without being crushed. 

But then you saw Benjicot. Walking in your direction. 

Your eyes caught, and what you would have given to be anywhere else in that moment. Alone with him. 

To outsiders, Benjicot’s face was indifferent, blank. But you knew his eyes were mirrors of your own—an intoxicating mix of intrigue and longing. As you passed each other, you felt the hairs breath of space between your hands. You had not touched, but your hand flinched as if burned. Propriety demanded that you keep your gaze forward, so you fought the urge to watch Benjicot walk away, but only just barely. 

That was almost a year ago. No matter how many times you walked the tree line separating the Bracken and Blackwood lands, you never saw him. You thought of writing him a letter but feared interception and rejection. And what could you possibly say? Thank you, Lord Blackwood, for saving me six years ago. In case you were curious, I have been infatuated with you ever since. Surely not.

So, imagine your surprise that on an otherwise unremarkable day, when you were merely walking the pastures with Aeron, that you were finally granted the opportunity to see him. 

Aeron and the other young men walking with you had stopped just short of the boundary stones. The day was relatively cool, and the fields were still damp from last night’s rain. You stood a short distance away from the others, preferring to settle against a rock formation and wait for the men to finish their work.

“Can you even get that thing up?” 

You heard Aeron unsheathe his sword. “Well enough for killing Blackwoods.” The others laughed at Aeron’s joke while you rolled your eyes at their arrogance. 

“Bracken!” A voice rang out from across the field. 

Your heart leapt to your throat as you swung your head around to see Benjicot approach with a host of Blackwood men. You heard a roaring in your ears as your focus narrowed on the scene before you. 

Aeron and the others had turned toward the direction of the Blackwood lands. From where you stood, you could see the tension line their bodies. Their laughter dying in the wind. 

Walking with purpose and determination, Benjicot demand, “Put the boundary stones back.”

Aeron hesitated briefly before approaching, “We didn’t move them—”

“Oh, so they just moved themselves, then?” Benjicot cut off. “Just rolled their way over so Bracken cows could fill their bellies on Blackwood grass.”

Aeron tried to argue, “The assize at Riverrun—”

But Benjicot wasn’t having it. “Fuck the assize,” he paused before adding, “and fuck you. This is our land.”

You were paralyzed. You did not know if Benjicot had spotted you yet, but even if he had, you were not sure your presence would matter. Blackwoods and Brackens never needed an excuse to shed each other’s blood. 

You watched unease flicker across Aeron’s face before resolving into determination. “It’s Bracken land.”

Benjicot’s face clouded over. And when Aeron mumbled “Babe-killer,” you saw rage and anger bubble to the surface.

“What did you say?”

Aeron turned back toward the Blackwoods, disgust marring his features. “Your false Queen Rhaenyra is a kinslayer,” Aeron accused.  

Never mind that Aemond Targaryen drew first blood in this conflict by killing Rhaenyra’s son. Not that Aeron bothered listening to you when you pointed this out. 

Benjicot grimaced before asking, “Your uncle declared for Aegon, did he?” But he knew the answer. No matter that your father had sworn fealty to Queen Rhaenyra nearly two decades ago. No matter that rumors spread wild about Aegon’s drunken, lecherous ways. No matter that this conflict was sure to result in war and death and famine and fire. 

Benjicot had reached his limit. “Well then, let me tell you. Aegon Targaryen is no true king,” he paused before continuing, “just as you are no true knight.” 

With each word, Benjicot advanced until he stood chest to chest Aeron. “You’re both craven”—shove—“little”—another shove—“cunts!” With a final shove, Benjicot pushed Aeron into another Bracken man, sending him to the ground. 

But Aeron had reached his limit too. Unsheathing his sword, Aeron pointed the blade at Benjicot’s chest. 

And Benjicot could not have been more delighted. A crazed look came over this face—Bloody Ben rising to the surface to meet battle. Smirking and laughing, he advanced toward Aeron’s sword and said, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Stop!” You shrieked, finally finding your voice and your legs. You sprinted to the both of them, shoving the Bracken men out of the way when they tried to hold you back. 

You stood between the two of them, wrenching Aeron’s sword away from Benjicot’s chest so that it pointed at your own. You faced toward Aeron, eyes pleading to back down from this challenge. “That is enough.”

You missed the look of panic on Benjicot’s face as you stepped in front of the sword. Missed the way he nearly lunged for you to pull you out of the way. Missed how his eyes settled and softened at the edges when taking in the sight of you. Your golden dress and flowing hair. Gods, how he wanted you.

And if Aeron did not move that fucking sword away from you in five seconds, Benjicot was going to kill him. Consequences be damned. 

Your interference seemed to strike Aeron dumb. He did not know what to do, but when he finally realized that his sword was directed toward you, he sheathed the blade. He made to grab you but you resisted, flinging your hands out to both sides in a bid to stop the two of them. 

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, betraying your panic and fear. But when you spoke, your voice was strong. “There is no need for violence.” 

Turning toward Benjicot, your breath caught in your throat. His attention was on you. His eyes glued to your form. You were not even sure he was blinking. You fought the heat that threatened to crawl across your cheeks and expose your feelings. 

For the first time in six years, you spoke to Benjicot. “We will move the boundary stones back.” Out of all the things you had imagined saying to him, boundary stones had never once crossed your mind. But such is your luck in this life. 

Aeron stiffened and started, “We will do no such—”

You did not see Benjicot move, but suddenly he was in front of Aeron again. “Are you going to defy an order from your lady, you craven cunt?” 

You did not bother pointing out as your father’s heir, Aeron ranked higher than you in House Bracken. 

No, instead you watched Aeron pull back his arm to swing at Benjicot. You were not sure what possessed you—love, most likely—but you found yourself shoving Benjicot aside and stepping into the line of Aeron’s fist. By the time Aeron and Benjicot realized what happened, Aeron had already struck you across the face. 

Your face whipped to the side from the force of Aeron’s punch, causing you to lose your balance and fall to the ground. You were stunned from the hit. And when you gingerly touched the side of your mouth, your hand revealed blood. 

When you looked up to Benjicot and Aeron, you were not sure who was more shocked. Aeron looked sick with himself, but Benjicot—oh, Benjicot was enraged. How dare anyone strike you?  How dare anyone make you bleed? 

Benjicot unleashed his fury. You could hear bone snap from the force of Benjicot’s punches and strikes. Aeron tried to block, but Benjicot was too fast and too angry to be slowed. 

“You call yourself a knight?” Benjicot spat at Aeron. “Hiding behind your lady and letting her fight your battles? You fucking worthless excuse for a man. I should cut off your godsdamn balls and hang you with them.”

When Benjicot drew his dagger, you knew you had to put an end to this. Picking yourself up off the ground, you approached the fight. Of all the foolish and ill-thought plans you had ever had in your life, interrupting a fight between a Blackwood and Bracken may have been the stupidest. 

Just as Benjicot was about to strike, you placed your hand on his back. He was hot and hard and you felt a shock surge up your arm where the two of you connected. Instantly, Benjicot lowered his weapon and turned toward you. 

He was breathing heavily, but the crazed look in his eye faded when he beheld you. He could see the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. See the shallow cut on your mouth. See the fear and hurt and longing in your gaze. His knees threatened to buckle. 

Keeping your hand on his back, you whispered, “Please, stop.” 

You forgot about the men surrounding you. Forgot about propriety. Forgot about the boundary stones. Forgot about your feuding families. Forgot about everything except for the man in front of you. The man you loved.

Quick as lightening, Benjicot sheathed his dagger. He longed to grab your hand and pull you into his arms and assess your injuries. But unlike you, Benjicot did not forget himself. Not when there were those here who could still harm you, whether by word or deed. 

So he simply said, “As you wish, my lady.”

My lady. Oh, your heart squeezed at the sound of that. 

Holding your gaze, Benjicot returned to his men. In the distance, you heard the Bracken men help Aeron stand, hurling insults to the Blackwoods as if Benjicot had not just thoroughly bested their lord. 

Clearing your throat, you repeated, “We will return the boundary stones. Let that be the end of this matter.” 

As you turned away from Benjicot and crossed back onto Bracken land, you let a sob escape. Hoping that the others would blame it on your injuries, you avoided their looks of concern and confusion. You ignored Aeron’s apologies. You wanted to get as far away as possible. But with each step you took, you felt your heart break just a little bit more, realizing that your love was an impossible dream. 

--I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if I should do a part two.

[ervotica]

hehe dark!rafe fucking jj's ex bc she spiraling after the break up and using hella drugs so he's just degrading & using her however bc she's beneath him and he can't help but record it and send it to the male pouge's

warnings; DARK, smut (18+ only), drug use, dub-con (r is HEAVILY under the influence and not very aware), throat fucking, fingering, slight daddy kink, breathplay, degradation (I may have gone insane with this one I fear)

A cruel hand is splayed against the top of your spine where the base of your neck begins, subduing you enough to keep you from thrashing as Rafe curls his fingers against the spongy walls of your cunt. You're alight with pleasure, the lick of a flame igniting your every muscle as you gargle into the sheets below you; you're not entirely sure how you got here but your drug addled brain is too hazy with the white-hot euphoria he is so kindly granting you.

He groans at your blank eyes, breath hot on your skin as he licks a long line against the column of your throat and bites down, taking great enjoyment in the way you wriggle and whine.

"Please," you gasp out, that coil in your belly drawing tighter the longer he keeps his fingers nestled against that spot deep in your pussy that makes you scream.

"Please, what?"

"Please, daddy. Lemme cum."

"Attagirl." His grin is wolfish, teeth pointed and bared like a predator. "Little fuckin' whore, aren'tcha, kid? Bet Maybank never made you feel this good."

You shake your head vehemently, almost incomprehensible where you're drooling into the pillow beneath your balmy face.

He tweaks his fingers once more and suddenly the dull flame of bliss has roared to life, squeezing every one of your muscles like tendrils as you gush and your hole clenches around his thick digits.

The muted roar of white noise is all you can hear for a good while; eyes rolling, lashes fluttering, limp and spent from just one orgasm.

You don't see him next but rather you feel him. A thick mushroom head prodding against your swollen lips, the taste of bitter precum on your tongue as he feeds his cock down your spasming throat. A gag rips through you but he pushes past it, unfazed by your own discomfort as he chases the feeling of your tender gullet tightening around him.

"Yeahhh, that's good," he unabashedly moans, deep and gravelly. His cock pushes at the thin skin of your neck, flesh bulging as he settles your nose in the thatch of hair at his pubic bone, heavy sack pressing lewdly atop your gurgling mouth with every rut of his hips.

Bubbles of spit ooze from the corners of your stretched lips and then you're suddenly blinded by white light. The flash of a phone camera crowds your vision and Rafe doubles down, hips pistoning against your slack face as he groans and grunts, degrading insults pouring from his mouth.

"Dirty slut, all you're good for 's takin' dick, right? Just a filthy little hole for me to use when 'm bored."

You purl and choke around him in an effort to voice your complaints, but all it seems to do is spur him on further.

"G'na have this throat trained in no time, kid. You're my personal cocksleeve from now on."

He wrenches himself away despite being seemingly on the precipice of blowing his load; you gasp and whimper as he turns to prop the still recording phone on the dresser behind him, twisting a large handful of your mussed hair around his hand and dragging you across the expanse of the king sized bed. Your neck contorts in an odd sort of manner as he positions you with your head hanging upside-down from the side of the plush mattress. It gives him ample leverage to use you without care; he's not bothered if you pass out, he'll use you either way.

It's rough, borderline abusive, how he fucks your throat. Hard and fast and unrelenting despite your almost continuous retching and slapping feebly at his thick thighs. The bulge in the divot of the soft flesh only becomes more prominent, his spongy head pushing from the inside as though it's trying to rip through you.

His hand reaches between his own legs to plug your nostrils and a menacing chuckle hits your ears as your vision blurs and your eyes lose focus and roll to the back of your skull.

He lets up just as you're on the cusp of unconsciousness, dick never leaving your warm cavern as he reaches blindly behind him for the phone. Forearms dig cruelly into your ribcage as he props himself up and zooms the camera in on your sopping, swollen cunt, parting your petal soft lips and slipping two fingers inside to bully another orgasm from you.

"If I were you, Maybank, I'd have never given up this tight cunt," Rafe rasps. "Fucked the poor thing dumb, already. 'M keeping her."

He presses send before you can protest- not that you'll ever be able to. You'll be too cockdrunk to ever notice what he's done.

[pasukiyo]

HANDLE IT

mike schmidt x f!teacher!reader word count; 2,417 warnings; once again, no plot, just porn <3 summary; mike has a look. that's never a good sign.

 “Follow Mrs Davis and her class for lunch!”

 Mike watched from his seat behind the teacher’s desk as his girlfriend saw her class out the door, hand on the handle and pulling it closed behind them, making sure to twist the lock while she did. The corners of his mouth twitched as she sighed and fell back against the door, blowing a strand of loose hair out of her face. 

 “Long day?” Mike asked and she narrowed her eyes over at him, her lips quirked in a tired grin. “Don’t even get me started,” she grumbled as she pushed herself off of the door, heels clicking against the tile as she made her way back to her desk. 

 “Abby hasn’t been a problem, I hope?” Mike cocked an eyebrow to his hairline as she leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, settling herself down in her chair. She rolled her eyes at this, “you always make it seem like she should be causing trouble,” she tittered. “No, Abby’s always great.”

 She watched as Mike reached for the floor beside him, a plastic takeout bag in his hand and she grinned, wiggling in her seat as he began to unravel the knot in the handles. “Sooo… what did you bring me?” She asked, letting the smell of what she swore was tomato sauce waft through her nostrils.

 “New Italian place opened in the mall. Figured we could try it out,” he replied as he handed her one of the takeout boxes in which she ripped the lid off of, grinning over at Mike. “Spaghetti with meatballs. You know me so well.”

 She leaned forward as he handed her the plastic fork to press a kiss against his lips and Mike smiled, practically chasing after her mouth again when she pulled away. He watched as she spun the spaghetti around her fork, as she took a bite and moaned at the taste. 

 Suddenly, Mike’s jeans felt very tight. 

 “What is this place called? It’s amazing,” she moaned, chewing behind her fingers as she turned to glance over at Mike. “Ten out of ten. This might even be better than your spaghetti and meatballs.”

 Mike, although distracted by something else entirely, furrowed his brows at this, tossing his hands up. “Hey,” he said. “Thought you loved my spaghetti and meatballs.”

 She shrugged, “they’re alright.” Mike playfully shoved her shoulder and she tried to bite back a chuckle, glancing back over to him. “Hey, I don’t see you eating spaghetti and meatballs, why don’t you try and find out?” She laughed, taking a bite from a meatball as Mike pressed his lips together, curved into a grin as he shook his head. “Nah, I’m not that hungry right now.”

 She raised a brow and tilted her head to eye the other takeout box in the plastic bag. “Mike, you haven’t even touched your food,” she tittered, eyeing him incredulously. She narrowed her lids, “you have a look.”

 The corner of Mike’s mouth twitched— she was catching on. “I don’t have a look.”

 Her face fell and she dropped her fork in the to-go box, eyebrow cocked. “Yes, you do.”

 Mike leaned back in his seat and locked his fingers together on his lap, shrugging as he turned his head to face her. “Enlighten me, what look do you think I have?”

 For a fleeting moment, her gaze lowered to the very evident tent in his jeans, her thighs subconsciously clenching together at the sight, cheeks growing warm when he chuckled. She looked away, soothing her palms up and down the length of her skirt and Mike watched, teeth sunken into the inside of his cheek. A scenario played in the forefront of his mind, fantasizing about ripping the skirt clean off her legs and taking her right there on top of her desk had him balling a fist, squeezing his thumb so tight, it almost felt like it’d pop. 

 “Mike…”

 “What?” He murmured, leaning in closer, brushing away the hair curtaining away the side of her face back behind her ear. She melted like wax at his touch, as if her fingertips were flames. Her skin burned so hot now, she feared she actually would melt into a pool of magma on the floor below. 

 “Here?” She whispered as he rolled his chair closer, his breath a phantom looming over her flesh, sending shivers slithering down the coil of her spine. Mike peered up into the sides of her irises, “why not?”

 His lips pressed against the delicate skin just below her ear and she trembled, panicking eyes darting to the door she had thankfully locked. “I’ll give you a million reasons why not,” she murmured as his kisses trailed down to the curve of her shoulder, the scruff on his chin and just above his lips deliciously burning her skin. 

 “I can be sneaky,” he whispered against the valley between her neck and shoulder, his lips a crescent against her skin when he playfully nipped her flesh between his teeth there. She jolted and hissed, clenching her thighs together once more as the familiar slick of warmth burned the pit of her belly. “If somebody walks in, we’re both dead,” she murmured as his palm gripped and soothed down the length of her thigh, kneading at her knee, teasing her, taunting her. 

 “Relax, babe,” he breathed a chuckle against the crook of her neck. “I just want a taste, that’s all. Wouldn’t want you to get all fucked out before the day is over.”

 His low, raspy words had her reeling, her head in a frenzy and teetering on the edge of a mindset she knew she was at risk of falling down into. “Screw you, Mike,” she muttered through gritted teeth as he grinned, placing one last kiss against the breadth of her shoulder before sinking down to his knees on the floor, hanging his head so that he could fit beneath the desk. 

 Her heart drummed against her chest as he slithered his way between her legs, hands on her knees as slowly he parted them, as if he were unwrapping a present on Christmas Day. Through heavy eyelids, she peered down at him just as a silent curse fell from his mouth, teeth burrowed into the plush of his bottom lip as the pads of his thumbs rubbed circles into the inside of her knees. 

 “You’re soaked clean through your panties,” he chuckled and she burned brighter, sweat already beginning to bead at her hairline and her chest heaving to the unsteady beat of her heart. His name fell from her lips in a whispered sigh as he reached forward with his right thumb, pressing the fat of it straight onto her clothed clit, her back arching up off of her chair as he traced an agonizingly slow and painful circle against it, sighing at the way her slick showed through the thin fabric of her underwear. 

 “Fffuck,” he grumbled beneath his breath, hiking the skirt that hugged her curves until they pooled at her hips, pushing her knees further apart until he had full access to everything. His gaze was like a laser, burning through the damp fabric of her panties straight through to her pussy. He eyed her like he was starved, like he’d go hungry if he didn't get himself a taste. 

 Mike hooked his middle and forefinger around the hem of her underwear and tugged, although with some resistance with how wet she was. She gasped when the fabric unstuck itself from her arousal, Mike’s lips falling agape as he tugged her panties all the way down her legs until they hooked around one single ankle. He pressed himself closer, wrapping his arms around her hips and with his palms to her ass, drawing her in even closer until she sat on the edge of her seat. 

 “So fuckin’ pretty,” he marveled at the sight before him, admiring every single inch of her as if she were an artifact. She shuddered beneath his stare. “Mike,” she mewled through a shaky breath, “please.”

 With those deep, rich chocolate brown eyes, he glimpsed up at her and she gazed back, wondering when his pupils ended and his irises started. His eyes glimmered with longing, with desire, with lust. She thought she’d come from just his stare alone. 

 “Have to stay quiet, hm?” He nodded up at her, maintaining eye contact as he pressed a kiss just above her clit, feeling it throb against his chin as she writhed, trying to suppress her mewl. She nodded, pressing her lips together as she briefly glanced up at the door then to the windows— she was so grateful she’d drawn the blinds earlier. 

 Their gazes never leaving one another, Mike carefully leaned down to press a tender kiss on top of her aching bud, her toes curling in, back arching off the back of her chair. One of her hands flung to the mess of dark tendrils atop his head, the other gripping the armrest of her desk chair. Mike pulled away again, the makings of a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Think you can handle it?” He asked and she whimpered, nodding, every ounce of dignity in her body long gone, thrown somewhere far away from right there.

 “Just… please, Mike,” she whined, trying to keep her voice on the low as she gripped the roots of his hair tighter, inviting him back into her warmth, his arousal like a gloss on his lips. The crescent shape of his lips fell back against her clit as he pressed another kiss to it, electricity flowing through her body and making her jolt once more. 

 Mike eyed her through hooded lids as he licked a stripe all the way from her entrance back up the underside of her clit, relishing in the way she’d tremble and press her lips together in a desperate attempt to silence her whimpers. The delectable taste of her arousal coated his tongue and simmered on his taste buds as if she were his ambrosia, and he hummed as he licked another line up her slit. 

 “Taste so damn good,” he practically growled against her cunt as he plunged his face back in, his lips around her clit and tongue swirling against the sensitive nub. Tears were streaming down the sides of her face now as she threw her head back, using every last ounce of strength inside her body to will her moans to stay at a minimum. All she could do was pray that nobody would come knocking on her classroom door now. 

 A string of curses, his name among the mix, tumbled from her lips as he sucked her clit, every swirl of his tongue coaxing her closer and closer to the edge. She was balancing on a tightrope now, teetering on bliss as his tongue trailed down to her entrance, slow but firm as it pushed its way in. Her fingers tightened in the mess of hair on his head, pulling harder, making him surge into her. 

 She could feel every inch of his tongue inside of her and he was so close, the bridge of his nose pressed deliciously down on her clit, sending her down into a spiral of pleasure. She squeezed her eyelids together so tight, she was seeing stars, a shimmering backdrop of glitter as he swirled his muscle inside of her, humming into her at her taste. 

 “Sh… shi… shit, Mike!” She gasped as he nodded his head, tongue swirling inside of her, the bridge of his nose rubbing up and down against her clit. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her hand, every move his tongue made and every bit of pressure his nose applied to her clit added more rubber bands to the ball pressing down against the pit of her belly, dangerously close to erupting. “I’m… I’m gonna come if you don’t… if you don’t stop.”

 Mike blinked up at her and pulled away for breath, every inch of his face from the bridge of his nose down slick and shiny with her arousal. She felt herself clench at the mere sight as his chest heaved, chasing air back into his lungs, a smug smirk on his face. “I’m betting on it, babe,” he chuckled before diving back in, her pussy empty one moment and nearly full of his tongue the next. 

 His eagerness almost had her screaming, her nails scraping so hard against his scalp, somewhere in the back of her mind, she feared she’d draw blood. Mike hummed against her— he didn’t seem to mind so much. 

 Oh, how could he when he could sense she was so close? He could practically smell her orgasm, using every ounce of skill in his body to push her even closer to the edge, to knock her unsteady on top of that tightrope until it snapped below her altogether. 

 With her hand not tangled in his hair, she sank her teeth into the side of her hand to muffle the scream that ripped through her body, squeezing her eyelids shut even tighter as her body spasms, bones rattling in her release’s wake. Her orgasm thundered and cracked through her body like an earthquake, the sheer power of her release like a tempest. Her thighs squeezed around Mike’s head and he palmed at the sides of them as he swirled his tongue inside of her again and again, making sure not a drop of her went to waste. 

 He was practically drinking her, slurping every last drop until there was none left to be had. And only when that moment came did he pull away, breathless as he sat back on his heels below her desk, swiping at the slick dripping down his face with the back of his hand. 

 Mike gazed up at her curiously, her head still thrown back over the back of the chair, chest heaving up and down as she struggled to catch her breath. He chuckled as he pushed himself out from underneath her desk and up so that he could stand beside her, a palm cupping her cheek, the other aiding her head to sit normally on her shoulders. The pad of his thumb soothed over against her cheek, coaxing her out of her bleary state, her vision slowly beginning to clear again. 

 Mike tried to bite back his smile, “doing alright there?”

 She huffed as her cheeks burned, “shut up, Mike.”

a/n; i ended up writing up this one in like 45 minutes while sitting in the bathtub LMAO y'all went absolutely crazy with the last mike fic, you literally broke my tumblr notifications 😭 glad to see so many others horny for josh in this movie too

TAGLIST !!

@bxbyyyjocelyn

[neos127]

hot things jake does

pairing. boyfriend!jake x fem!reader (use of pet name ‘pretty girl’) genre. hcs, fluff, established relationship notes. kinda messy bc i’m just dumping my thoughts

i. biting his lip ALL THE DAMN TIME

more specifically when he’s checking you out. it sends your mind into a frenzy and you always have to tell him ‘stop looking at me like that!’ he doesn’t care, finding it cute how flustered you get from a simple action. ‘like what?’ he teases, biting his lip again. you can’t help but groan, feeling your face heat up again.

ii. playing with the rings on his fingers

jake’s hands are very attractive so watching him mindlessly twist his rings around his long fingers makes you (figuratively) drool. whenever you can, you’re holding onto his hands or kissing them. he gets all giggly when you do that, finding it cute how you have such a fascination with his hands.

iii. raking his hand through his hair

you aren’t exactly sure why you find this so attractive, but it’s jake and anything he does is enticing. he’s just so damn pretty and you can’t help but stare at him whenever he does this. you often like to run your own hands through his hair, the sound of him sighing in satisfaction makes your stomach flip.

iv. keeping a hand on your back in crowded places

jake is always glued to your side and he becomes very protective when the two of you are in a crowded space. sometimes he holds onto your hand, or grabs onto your clothing. usually he keeps a hand on your lower back, basically guiding you through the crowd. the action is very simple, but it makes you smile. even when you’ve both made it out of the crowd, jake doesn’t move his hand, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb.

v. eye contact

once jake gets out of the shy boyfriend phase, he loves to tease you. before, prolonged eye contact with you was nerve wrecking. but now, he looks to see the reaction that you have under his unwavering gaze. your face starts to heat up and you can never look at him for more than two seconds. jake will move his face closer to yours, forcing eye contact with you with a small smirk on his face. ‘why are you looking away from me, pretty girl?’

vi. wears glasses

every time jake puts on those clear glasses, an angel is born. you can’t help but squeal when you see pictures of him wearing the glasses so seeing him in person— you need a minute to take a breather. he has to know he’s hot in them, he just has to. the way jake smirks at you when he catches you staring too long, he definitely picks up on the kind of effect he has on you. ‘watchu lookin at, pretty?’ he asks, looking at you with a slight tilt to his head. you don’t say anything, reaching over kiss him. it ended up getting so intense that jake moved to take off the glasses, but you slapped his hand away. ‘keep them on, please.’

[puck-luck]

have your cake | quinn hughes

warnings: overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, coming on reader's body, subspace (not directly called that but gf is DEEP in SOME headspace) pairing: birthday boy!quinn hughes x fem!reader summary: it's quinn's 25th birthday, so fem!reader gives him the chance to do his favorite thing in bed for as long as he would like. wc: 2992

“Thank you for dinner, sweetheart,” Quinn says, bringing his napkin to his face and wiping his mouth. “And thanks for not making my birthday such a big deal.”

He had asked for such, so you were just trying to follow his wishes. The Canucks hadn’t had a game today, so Quinn had gone to practice like normal. He had grabbed a drink with Petey, Garly, and J.T. afterward as a special treat for his birthday. You know that Tocchet had asked catering to make Quinn a singular birthday cupcake, since he isn’t the biggest fan of sweets during the season.

With you, though, he just wanted to spend his time. You made him a steak, his favorite. On the side, you baked a potato and heaped a healthy pile of green beans onto his plate. For fun, you made some cheesy garlic bread, and although he doesn’t normally eat gluten during the season, he’s never been able to deny your fluttering eyelashes and doe eyes. 

He cleared his plate. He always does, but you feel especially proud of your cooking today.

“You’re welcome,” you respond. “I’m glad you liked it. Has your birthday been good?”

Quinn nods. “It was a good day. Very calm. It’s still weird without Jack and Luke, but I talked to them earlier. They called me before practice, right after they got out of the gym.” He pauses, reaching out with his palm up so you take his hand. “This dinner is the cherry on top.”

“You haven’t even had dessert yet,” you tell him. “Since it’s your birthday, you get to have your cake and eat it, too.” You’d been thinking about the pun for hours. It might not make the most sense, given the dessert that you’re going to offer him in just a few minutes, but you think you’re funny. You’re on the last few bites of your own dinner, so you want to clear your plate and load the dishwasher before you offer him anything.

“Baby, I don’t need anything sweet,” Quinn says. “I already had something today.”

You take the final bite of potatoes, then swallow. You stand, collecting his plate and stacking it atop your own. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

“What is it?” Quinn asks.

“A surprise,” you tease, winking at him as you rinse the debris off of the plates with hot water. Then, you load the dishwasher and wash your hands, drying them with the towel that hangs near the sink.

“You’re such a tease,” Quinn laughs, pretending to chide you for withholding. He stands from the table and washes his own hands, but as soon as he’s done, he takes the opportunity to get handsy with you. He dries his hands on your clothes, leaving wet handprints over your ass and waist, plus one over one of your tits for good measure.

You twist away from him like you hate the antics, but it’s just the precursor to his dessert, which he doesn’t know yet. Sure, he’s probably hoping to get laid tonight– and it is his birthday, after all– but you had other plans.

Quinn rarely gets to do his favorite thing in bed. Part of that is because you’re both busy and when you fuck, you want to fuck. You like getting to the point where Quinn’s ample cock is buried inside you, filling you with his come, all while he murmurs little nothings about “you’re mine,” “gonna put a baby in you,” or the like. 

His favorite thing is to lay between your legs and eat you out until your thighs are squeezing his head and covering his ears and suffocating him. Like you said– you’re normally greedy for his cock, even impatient (which is how he often describes your attitude in bed), but today is Quinn’s birthday.

So, if he wants to, and he will want to, he’ll eat your pussy for dessert. He’ll eat you out until he’s had his fill, no matter how many orgasms it takes. You already set two full bottles of water on the bedside table in your shared room, plus you bought some fruit at the store so that you can recharge when he’s done with you. You’re expecting overstimulation, a fuzzy brain, and maybe even tears as a result of the pleasure.

You’re prepared for anything, because you’re at the mercy of the birthday boy today.

“Go to our room,” you tell Quinn. “I’m going to bring you dessert in bed, okay? I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just let me get everything ready.”

“Good idea,” Quinn says. “Then we won’t have to leave bed afterward.”

You playfully roll your eyes at him and shoo him away, but he’s absolutely correct. That’s the whole point.

Quinn goes, blowing you a kiss just before he walks out of sight because he can’t help himself from being silly when you share a domestic evening together. 

Once he’s gone, you pretend to prepare a dish. You open and close the fridge a couple of times, you click the lighter like you’re lighting candles, you remove plates and cups from the cupboard so that he hears the clatter and suspects nothing. As you move around the kitchen, shuffling along inconspicuously, you remove your clothes. 

Underneath your normal leggings, t-shirt, and one of Quinn’s Canucks sweatshirts lies your favorite part of the outfit. You’d been planning to do this since the end of September, so you’d had plenty of time to go to Victoria’s Secret and buy yourself a black, lace crotchless teddy. Quinn will get to look up at you in the (not-so cheap) fabric and admire how it fits you without sacrificing his ability to eat you out. There’s no barrier between your cunt and his tongue, despite the fact that you’ll still be clothed.

You have planned everything out to the final detail, to the final possibility, and you might be just as eager as Quinn will be when he sees you.

So that you’ll have something to snack on when he’s done, you actually wash the fruit you bought earlier and put it in a bowl. Holding the bowl in one hand, you politely knock on the bedroom door before entering.

Quinn is already in the process of removing his shirt and getting ready for bed. When you walk in, he turns to meet you. When he sees what you’re wearing, he freezes and his lips part in surprise.

In a second, you watch his expression melt into his typical “my brain has turned off and now the only thing that I can think about is getting my girlfriend in bed” look. 

“Happy birthday, baby,” you say, biting your lip as you take in his reaction. You put a hand on your hip and pop it to the side, showing off your outfit. 

“Are you my present?” He asks, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“I’m your dessert,” you correct.

“Even better,” Quinn decides, crossing the room and getting his hands on you. 

“Wait,” You tell him.

Quinn pouts, but drops his hands to his sides. 

You give him a little twirl, revealing the way that your behind is only partially covered by the lace of the lingerie. You move slowly, giving him plenty of time to stare at all of the parts of your body, thoroughly taking you in. 

He gives you a low whistle as you turn. You touch his jaw when you’re done, then you turn to the bed. You actually crawl from the foot of the bed, giving him a show.

When you collapse against the pillows, making yourself comfortable. Quinn stares at you, walking to the bed and touching your ankle. He draws a star on your skin, surveying the view.

“What can I– what do you want me to do?” Quinn asks, eyes still raking your figure.

“Whatever you want,” you reply. “It’s your birthday.”

“Whatever I want?” Quinn repeats.

You hum in affirmation. “Your fingers, your cock,” you list. You raise your eyebrows, bringing one of your legs up into a bent position. His eyes are drawn to your core. “Your mouth.”

Quinn’s attention snaps to your face.

“Whatever you want,” you confirm again. “For however long you want. All night, even. Birthday boy.”

“I love you,” Quinn says, climbing up onto the bed and settling between your legs. “You’re perfect.”

“I expect the same kind of treatment on my birthday,” you banter back, moving with his touch. He nudges your knee, so you spread your legs for him.

Quinn doesn’t reply, running his fingers over the fabric that lies on either side of your pussy. He pushes his thumb against your clit, applying pressure but not giving pleasure, not yet.

You take it as a sign that you’re in for a long night. So, you shift and make yourself more comfortable. You look down, watching Quinn.

He’s gentle to start. He presses sweet kiss after sweet kiss to your folds, to your clit which is still hidden. He takes his time.

You’re not sure which is true: if you’re wet of your own accord, or if Quinn’s gentle licks and smeared kisses make you that way.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. You’re wet and Quinn’s getting to do what he loves. You’re comfortable, he’s making satisfied noises as he grows more eager, and everything feels good.

You touch his hair, smoothing it off of his forehead. You tilt your head, admiring him with slow blinks and a serene smile on your face. 

Quinn has a one-track mind at the moment. Until he’s drawn an orgasm out of you, he won’t look up and check in. 

His tongue teases you, traipsing along your slit and circling your clit leisurely. He’ll run his bottom lip over the skin, letting it drag along your core and create unexpectedly satisfying friction. He’ll nose at your clit, bumping his features along your most sensitive points, just because he can. Quinn’s eyes are closed, fully immersing himself in the moment.

He works his tongue into you over time, at first teasing you with flicks and short dips, but it doesn’t take long for him to grow greedy for more– greedy for your release all over the muscle. It’s then that he licks into you as best he can, using his thumb to stimulate your bundle of nerves. He repeats the same motion over and over– prodding his tongue into you, drawing it out… again and again, all the while he’s pressing against your clit.

Your first orgasm builds slowly. Slow and steady wins the race, they always say, and Quinn is drawing the orgasm out of you like the tortoise in this race. You’re starting to feel a bit jumpy, like the rabbit, your hips aching to move beneath him and grind against his face.

But, this is his birthday present. You restrain yourself because it’s his gift. He gets to set the pace. If Quinn wants to make this the most built-up, desperate orgasm of your life, he’s allowed to do so.

It takes minutes. Minutes of Quinn humming and licking and touching you with the pad of his thumb until you feel yourself start to crest over the wave of your climax. 

“Close,” you breathe out.

Quinn pays you no mind, just continuing his ministrations until you’re clenching down on his tongue with a whimper. Your hand clutches his hair, trying not to seize up beneath him as you come, riding out the waves with his tongue still poking around inside of you.

He moves more slowly as you come down from your first, withdrawing his tongue from your cunt and licking over the slick that accumulated after your orgasm. 

“Again,” Quinn murmurs. He doesn’t allow you to take a breath before he finds your clit with his tongue and latches on. 

He seems committed to making your subsequent releases quick. His mouth feels like the tube of a vacuum against your clit, unrelenting and merciless. He’s sucking, and sucking, and sucking. 

Quinn is starting to get sloppy. He’s got slick all over his lips, all over his chin. He stares up at you now, nothing behind his hooded eyes. He’s just taking you in, looking at you from his favorite angle. 

His hands are resting on the insides of your thighs, laying securely to keep your legs spread for him. His pupils are dilated, massive and dark. His jaw works– you can see the bones in his face shifting as he tastes you. His face is scruffy as he nuzzles against you.

It isn’t long until you come again, just as strong as the first one. This climax seems to hit you harder, just because it came more quickly.

“Another,” he says into your skin, shifting one of his hands to push a finger into your heat. He doesn’t move his mouth from your clit, only intensifying his suction. 

“Fuck,” you reply, halfway between a moan and a cry for… something. A break? For more?

You’re not sure. Things are starting to blur together and turn fuzzy. You’ve come twice without a moment of reprise, because that’s what Quinn wants. You’ll give him as many as he desires, until you physically cannot give any more.

You close your eyes and lose track of time, seeing stars the next time Quinn makes you come. He’s worked up to a second finger now, scissoring them and removing his tongue from your clit to shove it between his fingers. All three are inside of you, bringing you over the crest again.

Then, a third finger and his tongue on your nipple. 

Then, again, with his tongue on your other nipple. 

Another with his mouth pressing insistent kiss after insistent kiss to your cheeks, lips, and neck. 

Your vision is black, then reeling with colors like that scene in Ratatouille when Remy mixes all of those different flavors, then like television static on an old TV. 

“One more,” Quinn’s voice comes out of the darkness.

You whine, high in the back of your throat. 

“I know, sweetheart,” Quinn murmurs. He’s touching your face, wiping underneath your eyes. “I know. You’re doing so well. You’re being so good for me. I love you so much– give me one more on my cock, okay? Then we’ll be done.”

“Quinn,” you keen, opening your eyes and finding it hard to look at him through the wetness there. You hadn’t realized that the overstimulation had gotten to you so much– but that’s what multiple orgasms will do to you. That’s how you react when your body is experiencing so much pleasure that it’s painful.

“That’s right, baby, I’m right here,” Quinn assures you. You can feel his cock nudging against your entrance, which feels like it’s gaping. You’re certain that your clit is swollen from the stimulation, the excessive stimulation. He sinks into you, inch by inch, cooing quietly to keep you grounded. “You’re so close already, I can feel it in the way you’re squeezing me. It’ll be quick, baby, I promise.”

He continues to talk while he fucks you, telling you how good you’ve been. He tells you how sexy you are, how perfect. He tells you how hard he’s been since you walked into the bedroom in your dirty, pretty lingerie and how he honestly thought he was going to come in his pants when you clenched down on his fingers for the third time and a weak dribble of your cum had dripped down his wrist. 

You’re far gone. Sure, you’re there– you can feel him inside, pumping into you and throbbing against your walls. You can feel the way Quinn’s lips move over your own when he kisses you and when he speaks, feeding the words directly into your mouth. His fingers are toying with your puffy clit, and you’re sure it feels nice, but all you can feel is heat and friction.

“Quinn,” you say again.

“Let go,” he instructs under his breath. “Let go for me. Come around my cock, baby.”

You nod, agreeing to a seemingly-impossible task. 

Quinn is always able to make the impossible happen. Your final climax manifests in shaking legs and bolts of lightning in your stomach, churning and folding in on itself. Your eyes are squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners, which Quinn kisses away.

He doesn’t come inside you. After you reach your final peak, he pulls out. He jerks himself above you, continuing to kiss your face and praise you for being so good to him. He comes all over your stomach and you’re glad– if he had come inside you, or somewhere equally as sensitive like your tits, it would be far too much when the time came to clean you up. With his cum on your stomach, he’s able to wipe you down without causing you any discomfort.

When it’s all over, he helps you sit up and drink your water. He kisses your temples and your forehead, your cheeks and your jawline. He surrounds you with one of his big t-shirts, like a massive hug, and he pulls you onto his lap so that you can collapse into the crook of his neck. Quinn rubs your back and convinces you to eat some of the berries you brought into the room earlier.

You’re tired when you’re able to verbalize a full sentence again. You’re exhausted, really. Quinn pushed you to your absolute limit, although you’re not dissatisfied with the way things went. You sought a night where he could do whatever he wanted, which he did, and now you want to sleep.

“Happy birthday,” you muster.

Quinn breathes out a chuckle, cradling your jawline as you stain his neck with a splotchy kiss. “Thank you again for being so perfect,” he says. “You made my birthday so special, baby. Let’s sleep, okay? I’ll cuddle you all night long.”

Within minutes, you’re drifting off to the lullaby of his breath.

[obssessivethorn]

Yuu Makes Constant References No One Else Gets

Since I started playing Twst Wonderland, I can’t help but imagine Yuu starting out by constantly making references to pop culture and memes from their world only to realize midway through that no one else around them will understand it 

[Masterlist]

Just imagine: 

In the early stages of the game, Yuu starts to gradually feel more comfortable around their friends, mainly Ace, Deuce, and Grim

At first, they slowly start to feel at home again 

They’d begin loosening up and speaking more like how they would in their home world 

In this case, that means more references and obscure humor 

Especially if we’re basing Yuu’s home world on our current day world

There are so many intricate inside jokes on the internet that wouldn’t make an ounce of sense to anyone who has never been exposed to that kind of environment like we have 

So, when Yuu first made an obscure reference in a conversation with the Single Braincell Gang™, they fall back into their closed off space

Because they’re not from here 

They have a whole other world to get back to 

If they can even get back to it 

And while Ace and Deuce may not be the brightest, the two had gotten to know Yuu enough to know that something was off with them. They just couldn’t place what

After the first few slip ups, Yuu had started talking less and less

They started letting Grim speak for the both of them more often, only speaking when others addressed them or when it was about a topic concerning Twisted Wonderland

From an outside point of view, nothing seemed to have changed. They still hung out with the other first years, laughed and teased their friends, and regularly asked or answered questions in class

But those closer to the Ramshackle prefect could sense the hesitation whenever they were about to say something 

“You should have seen Crewel’s face when Deucey asked that question!” Ace recounted the event between fits of laughter.  Yuu sat with the other first years at their (unspokenly claimed) lunch table, happily chuckling at their boys’ antics. They held Grim in their lap, being used as his personal high-chair like usual, subconsciously running one of their hands through the monster’s soft fur and munching on their own sandwich with the other.  “I wouldn’t have asked such a stupid question if I wasn’t so tired from you keeping me up all night with your complaining about that test we have today!” Deuce retorted, grumpily taking another bite of his egg noodles. Though he looked away from his friends, the flustered blush on his cheeks was still easily seen by the group.  The prefect let out another giggle, “I swear, Crewel looked exactly like that one meme with the lady surrounded by all those different equations-!”  “Huh? Is that a new one I haven’t seen?” Epel asked, his head cocked to the side in question. Had it been any other situation, Yuu might have found it cute. But their embarrassment was too strong for any thought like that to surface.  “Ah-! Nevermind, sorry. It’s an old meme from my home world.” They let out an awkward laugh before looking down and stuffing another bite of their sandwich into their mouth. Their face felt hot and they wished for nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow them, never to be seen in Twisted Wonderland again.  “Y-yeah, and then Crewel assigned Juice like, a hundred more pages of homework to make sure he understood the topic!” Quickly, Ace diverted the others’ attention back to him, no doubt after sending a look of pity to the prefect.  “Hundre-! It was only ten!” Deuce exclaimed, mouth full of pasta.  Yuu could only mentally thank Ace for saving them from the piteous stares from the others. It was no secret that home was a sore subject for the prefect. Any time they spoke about it, their eyes would glaze over with nostalgic longing. Ace and Deuce would often ask them about traditions or cultures back in their world, both out of interest and because the two knew Yuu loved telling them about it. 

Other times, however, aren’t grim reminders of how Crowley isn’t actually looking for a way home

Instead, they have these little moments with themself where they make references to things from their home world as an inside joke

Even if they don’t understand, Yuu’s friends still notice the tiny smirks or held laughs on occasion

But they’d never say anything about it, because it’s obvious how the small joke grounds Yuu and comforts them with the familiarity 

“C’mon! We’re all in this together!” Yuu hastily spouted, trying to stop Ace from running away from his cleaning duties, again. Before Ace could even respond, the prefect immediately let out a bout of laughter and grabbed the boy’s arm, yanking him down the hall while humming a song he’d never heard before between occasional giggles.

Yuu starts recording Grim who is knocked out on their bed. Light snores come from the fluffball. Yuu is heard sniffling behind the camera. “Oh meow meow get up,” they croak. Their hand comes up to lightly shake Grim, stirring him awake and now very confused. “Oh shit meow meow, I thought you was dead-,” Yuu giggles out, further confusing a very dazed Grim

“C’mon, Yuu, the question’s not that bad!” Epel said in between laughs.  “Yeah, Yuu! It’s just three more of these!” Ace could barely get the words out as he slowly collapsed in silent laughter. He slid further down in the library chair he occupied, hand clasping his chest in an effort to breathe yet still remain quiet.  “No, I’ve had it! I am disgusted!” Yuu continued to furiously pack their materials. “I am revolted!” They fumble in closing their notebook and quickly give up, letting the papers crumple up as they shove it into their bag. “I dedicate my entire life to our lord and savior Jesus Christ, and this is the thanks I get?”  The rest of the first years watch as Yuu slings their bag over their shoulder and promptly makes their way out of the library. Ace practically gasps for air. Epel finds himself in a giggle fit, unable to stop. Deuce is a mixture of confusion, amusement, and horror while he very obviously is still processing what just happened. Sebek can only look surprised, unsure of how to proceed. And finally, Jack is just as surprised but is holding back his own chuckles that threaten to spill. 

“Ace, you idiot! There’s a ‘b’ in ‘subtle’.” Deuce scolded. “What?! Where’s the ‘b’?”  “There’s a bee?” Yuu’s quivering voice quietly broke the tension. “Yuu!”

“Whoa, Yuu, I honestly didn’t know you could do that!” Yuu looked at him with a deadpan expression bordering on offended. ”Do you think I fuck around?”  (definitely more obscure but if you understand this i love you) ((Hint: Brennen Lee Mulligan in a Game Changer episode))

Any g-note plays and Yuu’s eyes widen in recognition

“Floyd, Jamil, Ace. You guys gotta get your head in the game.” 

Whether you wish to view it as romantic or platonic, the fact in undeniable that the cast is weak to hearing and seeing Yuu ramble on about things back from their world, specifically the first years or Heartslabyul boys

I personally really like the headcannon that only really the Heartslabyul boys, and maybe the rest of the first years, are in on Yuu being from a different world. It makes certain moments hurt just a bit more with the idea of little to no one knowing that Yuu is meant to inevitably leave. But i digress

Yuu could just be reminded of their favorite dish back home or a song they were obsessed with when they were younger, but the way they talk about it is mesmerizing to the boys. Their eyes light up with an aching mixture of nostalgia, longing, and joy. Recounting old stories or stupid trends they participated in never fails to crack just the slightest bit of a smile on their lips. 

For some odd reason, the way they describe their home world feels like taking a sip of a warm drink on a cold winter day. Comforting in all the right ways. Warming you from the inside despite the harsh environment surrounding. 

Not only does Yuu make it all sound like a fantasy at times, which is technically true given it’s a different world/dimension, but they somehow give the boy a strange glimmer of hope too. Like they too will have a chance to visit and experience the same joys. Only, there’s no chance of that happening. Right? 

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Hi hi! Can I request a Toji x fem! Reader who’s really quiet in bed, because of an ex (like, maybe he tells her that the sounds she makes aren’t pleasant and things like that??)

OH MY GOD??!?!? HELLOOO!!! I'M FEELING SO SPOILED TODAY 🤭🤭 yes yes yes yes yes THANK YOU ANON 💗 it's a little angsty AGAIN (don't know what's up with me tbh) but very sweet

Don't Be Shy ★

Everything feels fragile. New feelings, new headspace, new man. Thinking about it made your stomach twist and turn in complicated bows... He's so handsome. So strong. So dreamy. God, what if I fuck it all up?

It was all new... the feeling of his hips grinding up into yours as you grip onto his strong, wide shoulders, biting down into your bottom lip to stop your sounds in their tracks.

"Mm fuck baby, you feeling good?" Toji's grunts and light tap on your hip pulls you from your flurry of worries.

"Uh yeah, yeah, it's really good, Toji." You mumble, feeling your breath hitch in your chest, attempting to hold back you gasps as the pressure of Toji's bulge crashes perfectly with your clit.

"Gotta tell me bubs... I don't know this pretty body yet. Gotta help me learn." He huffs out as your hands travel under his fitted black shirt.

You simply nod, feeling your cheeks warm up as you and Toji exchange the same warm air between quick breaths.

You feel yourself loosen up the wetter you get, biting onto the back of your hand and clenching your stomach, subtly compressing your moans.

Taking a deep breath, you work up the courage to at least talk.

"Okay, fuck okay, I want you inside please." Missing the way Toji smirks, you quickly get your sentence out as fast as possible before a moan can slip out, concentrating hard on keeping your voice as steady as possible.

"Alright, princess, c'mere." Toji flips you onto your back, gently tugging down your pants along with your soaked panties.

You cover your mouth as you feel Toji's hot breath on your quivering pussy, looking up at the ceiling.

Toji's good. Really good. You can tell simply by the way he operates that he's skilled. Experienced.

He's been with other girls. Seen other girls. Heard other girls. And all of a sudden, it all comes back to you.

"Uhm, you don't... you don't have to prep me or anything. We can just do it, I'll be okay." Pushing away his head when you realize he's about to taste you, you situate yourself, sitting up on your elbows.

Toji is shocked as he hovers above you, glaring in confusion.

"Are you sure? I really don't think that's a good idea bubba." Softly, he glides his middle and pointer finger along your slit, assessing if you were even close to being wet enough.

"No, no I'm sure. I'll be alright." Sitting up slightly, you paw at the waist band of his gray sweatpants, watching in delight as his cock strains against the fabric. Pulling them down, you distract him by grazing his tip with your delicate finger, making him shudder.

"Fuck~ alright babygirl..." He mumbles, laying you back down as your legs automatically spread, humping his veiny cock against your heat, getting it as wet as possible.

His sharp, commanding eyes focus on your face as he slowly pushes himself in, attempting to gage any type of reaction from you.

It burned. Really bad, it burned as he slowly stretched you out, feeling like you were being split in half at your core. You laid there quietly, softly breathing out as the pain subsided and pleasure picked up.

The physical and emotional intensity inside your chest suffocated you as Toji began thrusting into you, shallow and slow. It felt so good. He felt so good.

But you couldn't make a noise. You couldn't be ugly. You'd embarrass yourself, you'd turn him off. You'd ruin it.

"You always this quiet, doll? Makin' me nervous." Toji quirked his head to the side, less than pleased as he slid in and out of you and you just laid there, only sign of life being your blinking eyes.

"Yeah, I guess so." You mumble, praying he'd drop it. It's so humiliating. What's worse than being an ugly moaner? Your signs of pleasure are grating and unattractive... at least, that's what he said.

The last man you laid yourself out for, being totally vulnerable with, someone you thought was utterly attracted to you, no matter what. The sex was good... so good that you were moaning and whimpering under him.

God, he was so harsh. You never thought you would be so politely degraded after sex, all over the way you sound.

Tears well up in your distant eyes, and before you even feel it, Toji sees it.

"Shit! Shit, fuck are you okay? Are you hurt? What's wrong bub?" He pulls out of you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into his shoulder.

"No, nothing, nothing it's so stupid." You shake your head, wiping your tears as Toji cradles you.

"I should've known sweets, I'm sorry. You've been off. What's on your mind, pretty girl?" You feel the stress building up around you, a warm all-encompassing feeling breaking you down from the inside out.

"Don't want you to think I'm ugly." You whisper into his shoulder.

"Huh? Baby, I'm lookin' at you right now. You're beautiful, you know that." His dark eyebrows furrow as he looks you over.

"No, no. My voice. My sounds. I don't want you to think I sound bad... My ex... he said- he um said that ummm... God this is so embarrassing. Um he said that I sound bad... that I turned him off. So I don't want to um, I don't want you to be less attracted to me, 's all." You sob out, explaining yourself as shame overtakes you, dignity leaving your body through salted tears.

"Oh. What a dumb prick. Don't think about that ass. I want to hear you, you kidding me? Let me hear you... okay?"

Slowly, you nod, detaching yourself from Toji's shoulder, laying back down.

"Okay, bub?" Toji repeats, drawing sloppy circles on your clit with his bulbous head, coaxing a genuine, surprised gasp from your throat.

"Okay... okayy." You gently speak out, a long, staggered breath freeing itself from your system.

"Therrree we go, sweetheart. Just let it out. Such a pretty little girl." Keeping his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, he slides himself back in, basking in pride as he hears the smallest moan slip from your pretty parted lips. Gotta start somewhere.

"Give it to me, baby," Was the only warning you got before Toji began hammering into your puffy little cunt, forcing gasps and moans from you. Quickly you move your hand up to your mouth to cover your embarrassment, but Toji grabs your wrist, pining it beside your ear.

"Fuck, fucckkk sounds so good baby. Pretty little moans." He praises as he kisses along your jaw, forcing himself deeper into you. He knows he hit your sweet spot when your most blissed-out noise filled the room, signaling to his brain the beginning of his orgasm, bubbling in the pit of his toned stomach.

"Keep moaning like that and I'm gonna fill you up. Fuck, gonna make me cum... you close, bubba? Come on, talk to me." His encouragement works you up even more, making you feel brave.

"Mhm yeah, 'm really close Toji. Wanna cum with you." You moan out as his thrusts increase, then completely still all at once.

Your voice. God, your voice. Just hearing it had Toji gripping onto your hips and cumming on the spot. His orgasm triggers yours, your confident moans almost making him hard again.

"So good. So beautiful. Pretty moans for a pretty girl." Toji grins, breaking the peaceful ambience of the room.

"Wanna hear you for the rest of my life, pretty."

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

Thank you so so much anon!! Kisses! 💕

[charliemwrites]

Okay so the poll results were for an OC captain, though it was close enough that I still hesitate to name him in the canon of the fic.

I’m also going to be taking my time fleshing out his character because it’s been a while since I made an OC. So please be patient while I add tidbits here and there to build his character.

Content: safe/sane/consensual sex, descriptions of scars, mentions of past torture

Nikto beats you and Nova twice out of three rounds — but that’s no surprise. The man moves like a machine. Even against two opponents he controls the battlefield like a chess master. Neither you nor Nova take it to heart, especially since he always gives you both advice at the end, helping you to improve.

He’s a great partner, a great teammate; you’re sure to show him your appreciation after sparring with a kiss to his nose-plate. His hands spasm on yours as he helps you unwind your wraps, gloved thumb sweeping over your bare palm.

“You did good today,” he says, voice rough and accent thick. He must be pissed about earlier still, when Ghost and Soap threw your matches with them.

“So did you,” you reply, squeezing his hand in return.

“Stay with me tonight?” He asks.

You damn near melt. Nikto has an open invitation to your room, but his is a sacred place, only for him unless otherwise specified. That he’s asking you to come to his tonight…

“Absolutely,” you reply, squeezing his hand. “I just need to see the captain first. Okay?”

He grunts in understanding, eyes flicking to the door the 141 left through earlier. He mutters something in Russian — some insult about goats and mothers you think.

“Yeah, exactly,” you reply, voice dropping with simmering irritation.

A good spar with him and Nova has helped ground you a bit, but it hasn’t helped the anger. You don’t spar any of your team with anger; they don’t deserve.

Luckily, you and your captain worked something out a while ago when you’re feeling a bit… aggressive.

“Cap?” You call, still holding Nikto’s hand. “Could I stop by for a nightcap later?”

His eyes flash, a sinful twist to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, babygirl. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Over his shoulder, you see Nova arch her eyebrows and Keegan grin wicked into his water bottle. Gossip fiends.

“Showers. Now,” the cap says, slapping them both on the ass. “Double time. I need to have a word with Price still.”

—

Long after the sun has gone down, you’re standing outside your captain’s door. Take a breath. Remind yourself of your mantra. He wants you, always will, and he’s going to take care of you.

Then loosen your shoulders, unboxing all the frustration and aggression you set aside earlier. Feel it burn through you, make your hands twitch in and out of fists.

One more inhale, and then you shove the door open.

“There you are,” he rumbles. “C’mere.”

You flash your teeth, “No.”

He tilts head back and forth, cracking his neck. “Alright then.”

There’s no real fight. You’re not looking to get away or actually hurt him. And he’s not looking to actually make you submit. That’s not the point of this game.

He strides across the room and shoves you back, pins your shoulder to the wall. You grip at his forearm, nails scraping, and squirming as the hot, hard length of his body squishes you flat.

“Settle,” he orders.

“Fuck you,” you snarl back, nipping his lip.

He growls, tangling a hand in your hair and tipping your head back. Leaves a searing trail of kisses down your throat, bites a bruise into your collarbone. You wriggle and fuss all the while, safely held still and supported by his hands and body.

“Brat,” he rasps in your ear.

“I’m not,” you snap.

“Oh, yes you are, babygirl,” he replies, a mean smirk on his flushed face. “But that’s alright, I like you bad.”

He pulls you from the wall, bullies you onto the bed. You try to grab at him, get him under you. He doesn’t indulge like he normally would. Pins you on your back so that you can keep fighting, yanking at your wrists in his firm grip, pushing your hips up to grind into his as if trying to flip you both.

He slots his hips between your thighs, positions just his knees under your ass so that your back is arched, shoulders on the mattress. Limits your mobility, but that doesn’t stop you from kicking at air, making half-angry, half-desperate noises in the back of your throat.

“Gonna say please like a good girl?” He teases.

“No,” you hiss back.

He has the audacity to chuckle, which just riles you up more. (It’s supposed to). You curse as he works a hand beneath your shirt, palms at your bare breasts and pinches your nipples until they ache. You gasp like a pornstar, surprised and turned on.

“Pretty noise,” he coos. “Do it again.”

When he twists, you mewl, face immediately burning up as you renew your “efforts” to get away. All it does is make the treatment rougher than if you just laid still and took it, but that’s what you want, what feels good. A little edge to the pleasure as adrenaline and energy electrify you from head to toe.

He grinds against you, cotton of your loose shorts sticking against your soaked cunt. Christ you were turned on before you even barged in. Now you’re fucking throbbing for it.

“Gimme,” you grit out, rocking against him. Gears successfully shifted from physically taking control to just ordering him around.

“Give you what, brat?” He goads, slapping your pussy. The thin fabric muffles the sting, but it sends a white-hot ache through you that makes your eyes roll. “My cock? You think you deserve it?”

Another slap. You cry out, notice the sly look on his face when he notices that you’ve soaked through your shorts.

“Yes,” you reply, all confidence and reckless arrogance.

He yanks his underwear down to mid thigh, thick cock springing up to smack lewdly against his toned stomach. Precum smears over the pale scars there, sticks in the trail of groomed hair there.

“Yeah?” He growls. “Alright then.”

He yanks the crotch of your shorts aside (you hear stitches pop) and then he’s plunging into you. It’s too much all at once and you cry as much, knees squeezing around his tattooed ribs.

“Fuck.” His voice is shredded, so rough and low you feel it more than hear it. He lets your wrists go to grip at your ass, grinding deeper. Can feel the fat head of his cock bullying at your cervix, his favorite passtime while you adjust to the thick base of him.

“How does that feel, babygirl?” He murmurs in your ear. “You needed daddy’s cock, huh? Needed it to set you right again?”

You whimper out a curse at him, gripping at his biceps. He croons mockingly, thumb slipping between your bodies to press at your clit. Not rubbing or grinding, but just pressing. Just the right amount to make you sweat and pant, start trying to squirm to get any friction at all.

He lets you — could stop you if he wanted, or pull away entirely — but he likes winding you up like this. Likes seeing all that vicious energy turned to seeking pleasure from him.

“Fucking move,” you try to snarl, but your voice breaks midway through and comes out more pleading than you’d like.

“What was that, babydoll? Are you talking to me?” He teases, rolling his hips.

Your mouth falls open, a moan ripping from your chest, deep and needy.

“Daddy, move,” you cry, voice going up in pitch.

“There’s my brat.”

He pushes one of your knees up against your chest and slams into you. You scream and he doesn’t even try to cover your mouth, whispering filth as he tilts your hips for the best angle with his other hand. Fucks into you deep and rough, grinning at the obscenely wet noises every time he plunges into you.

Can practically feel him fucking your cervix open to get just that little bit deeper. Licks his lips when he sees the little bump in your stomach. You give as good as you get, squeezing down tight, bouncing to meet him, nails scoring lines down his back and shoulders.

“Gonna ask daddy to make you cum?” He goads.

“Earn it,” you reply.

He laughs and pulls out, flips you onto your stomach while you’re still dizzy with emptiness. Hikes your hips up and sinks into you like coming home. Your knees almost give out but that’s fine by him, he’s plenty strong enough to hold you up all on his own, using you like a noisy little toy for his own benefit.

“Fuuuuck,” you whine, feeling overwhelmed, pleasured tears gathering in your eyes. Then, in a whisper, “Daddy…”

“Feel like being good yet?” He asks. A large, rough hand circles that back of your neck and pins you face down to the mattress.

“N-no,” you whine, fight gone out of you now that you’re getting exactly what you want.

Fuck it feels so, so good. Every inch bullying you wide open and loose, so wet you’re dripping down your own thighs, wetting his ball as they slap against you. You feel split open and pinned, unable to do anything but take it, tortured stupid on ecstasy. He licks a stripe up your back before pressing you down prone, ankles locked around yours to keep you open and accessible.

“S’alright, doll, don’t need to be good to be mine.”

He’s barely pulling out halfway before ramming home now. You can barely get a breath in, the weight of him pressing whatever resistance was left right out of you.

“Daddy, daddy,” you sob. “Fuck, I wan’ it.”

“Want it, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you moan, pressing your face into your arms. Cant your hips just that little bit to get him abusing that bundle of nerves.

“Oh, right there, huh?” He coos. “Did daddy find your little sweet spot?”

A series of short, ruthless thrusts right there, making incoherent, desperate noises fall from your mouth. Before you realize it, he’s wedged a hand beneath your hips and has two fingers toying with your poor, neglected clit.

“‘M gonna… f-fuck, fuck,” you whine, writhing (or at least trying to) against him. Not sure if you’re trying to urge him on or get away. Doesn’t matter, he’s in charge, has been since the beginning. “Daddy, I wanna…”

“Whenever you want, babygirl,” he replies, voice going all warm and gooey. Your chest hitches. “Squeeze around me nice and tight. Let me feel you cum on my cock.”

Didn’t realize that was what you needed, but you fucking scream as you clench down around him, stars bursting behind your closed eyes. He fucks you through it, tapping against your g-spot again and again until you dissolve into a weak, wet whimpers.

“Daddyyyy,” you whine.

And that sets him off, flooding you with heat. He loses control for a second as his hips jerk, pounding brutally into your oversensitive, swollen pussy. Makes a few tears finally slip down, soaking into the sheets along with your drool. The sound of him groaning as he cums makes you spasm around him again, a little aftershock that milks the last of his release.

“That’s it, easy,” he groans, brushing kisses over your trembling shoulders. “Easy, doll.”

He lies over you for a few minutes, letting you feel him there. Right there with you. Breathing and recovering, holding you through the endorphin rush. When you squirm a bit, he eases off you, cock slipping out. You shiver at the feeling of his cum trickling out of you, glassy eyes fluttering.

“C’mere,” he soothes, tugging you in. Lying on his side, he hitches one of your thighs up over his hip, tucks your arms between your chests and rests his stubbly chin on your temple. You splay your fingers over his peck, over the bold, dark symbol for SpecGru. Feel his heart settling back into rhythm and sigh, snuggling in.

The hormone drop is a monster on your emotions, often leaves you shivery and lonely, a little sick in your own body. First time you did this with him ended in tears, expecting him to get up and leave. He didn’t, never has, but you both learned that as much physical contact as possible in the aftermath eases the comedown away from a total crash.

“You did so well, babygirl,” he whispers, leaving kisses everywhere he can reach without dislodging you. “Such a good girl. Even if you think you’re being bad.”

You flush, hide your face against his neck. He chuckles, honeybalm on your soul. Can feel his hand start to move, then pause as he remembers that you can’t handle that stimulation right after sex. So he just squeezes, slow and gentle, helps get you back in your body.

“I still want you,” he assures, echoing your mantra back at you. “Always will. You’re mine.”

You outline a heart shape onto his forearm, not quite able to speak yet. He recognize the feeling though and gently guides your face up to place a slow, gentle kiss to your lips.

“Love you, too, babygirl. Ready to clean up?”

You nod. He eases you up, lets you cling onto his hand as he walks you to the en suite. Fills you a glass of cool water to sip on while he gets the shower running. Turns his back while you use the restroom and wash your hands, then guides you into the hot water.

You lean into him, near boneless, as he washes you, calloused palms with soap instead of a cloth. Then sits still, hands on your hips, while you return the favor. This part is one of the most important for you, getting to freely return touch.

(Simon hardly ever let you touch, especially in the aftermath. Sure, you could scratch and grip at him during sex, but during foreplay it was all part of his dom persona that you couldn’t just touch at will. And afterwards… well. It’s not like he didn’t do aftercare. He did! But the almost formulaic warm cloth wipe down, glass of water, doze for a bit before he left was not… not ideal. Not like this.)

Your captain hums, eyes half-lidded but trained on you, while you smooth your palms over the firms planes of his muscles. Fingers tracing over tattoos and scars. Squishing and patting at the healthy layer of tissue over his stomach and thighs. Lets you nuzzle and kiss his soft cock, even though it makes his fingers twitch with oversensitivity.

Squeezes when you lace fingers together to stretch his arm out, inspecting the lines your nails carved into him.

“M’okay, baby,” he says before you can ask. “Feels good.”

You similarly assure him over the bruises on your wrists and hips, smiling and leaning up to kiss his jaw.

When the shower is over, he dries you off, playfully ruffling your hair just to kiss the pout off your lips. He dresses you in one of his shirts and a spare pair of your own joggers, found in his duffel.

You sit with him for a while longer still, enjoying how he lets himself relax once he knows you’re taken care of. He lies with his head on your chest, your fingers fluffing his hair, while the two of you watch an episode of some stupid show Keegan got the rest of the team into.

Only when it’s over does he ask if you’re ready to go to Nikto’s. If you wanted to stay, you could. Nikto would understand. But you’re looking forward to a night with your quiet Russian while the other three have a little movie night.

At the door, you kiss your captain goodnight. Hug and kiss Keegan and Nova as you pass them in the hall headed to his room. Nova makes a point of kissing one of the bruises on your wrist, while Keegan whispers that he loves you.

You pad to the first door in the hall, where Nikto has stationed himself as the team guard dog. You tap gently at the door, a pre-determined pattern to let him know who it is.

The door cracks open, one startling blue eye peering from the darkness.

“Evening, Nik,” you coo.

A hand reaches out and gently yanks you inside. And then next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in thick arms devoid of any usual covering. You feel smothered, in a good way.

“Love,” he rasps in Russian into your hair.

You hum in return. Place your palms flat on his abdomen. The muscles clench, you pause as you realize his abs, impressive as they are, feel too defined. He needs water. Taking mental note, you draw your hands carefully around, feeling the raised bumps of wicked scars. Make sure he can track exactly where and how you’re touching until your arms are wrapped around him in a return hug.

“Smell good,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” You giggle. “Showered just for you.”

He snorts, then scoops you up. You make a delighted noise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you across the room. Of course his navigation is impeccable, even in pitch black. He lays you down on the bed, but before he can crawl up with you, you place a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re dehydrated.”

He makes an annoyed noise, sounds like he’s about to protest. You shush him with a quick peck to his chest.

“Get a glass please? I could use some water myself.”

Which has him instantly moving. You politely turn away as the bathroom light flicks on, the water runs. Can hear him chug two entire glasses before he fills it one final time. The light turns off again. The bed dips as he returns, presses the cool edge gently to your cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmur, sipping about a quarter of it to appease him before he sets aside for you on a bedside table.

And then he gets what he really wants, stripping you down and tucking you in like a nesting bird. Practically on top of you while you’re still reeling from how much skin you can feel. Even during intimacy, he tends to stay clothed or mostly clothed. But right now all you can feel is a pair of underwear against your bare ass. Everywhere else it’s miles of warm skin, uncovered muscle and texture of scars.

“This is nice,” you coo. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

You wiggle around until you’re chest to chest. Start with his hands. Kiss each smooth fingertip, prints flayed off. Then his palms, the divots from nails driving through. Flip them over to kiss his scarred knuckles, smile at the way he twitches, flexing them outward like he’s trying not to close his hand.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Yes.”

You kiss his wrists, his forearms, to his collarbone. You’ve peeked a blue-black tattoo there before. Stars and the start of something that might be religious. Spend a little extra time there, tongue peeking out. He shifts; you take it as a sign of discomfort and move on.

“Here next,” he says when you dip to go to his chest.

He guides your face up his neck, where you press long (but chaste) kisses until you bump his jaw. And realize that’s all skin too.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Can I…?”

“Yes.”

You feather your lips along his fresh-shaved jaw, the nicked scars on his chin. Then up, ignoring the wicked scar along his cheek. Breathe against his temple, feeling dizzy with the trust he’s showing you.

“I love you,” you whisper, continuing along to his nose, twice broken and poorly set each time. A line over one nostril where a piercing was ripped out. He makes a noise in his throat, think he might be having trouble speaking again. Don’t mind.

He lets you get down to his mouth, where a particularly twisted scar warps part of his upper lip away from his teeth. You think that if you saw it in the light, his canine would be visible. His lower lip is uneven too, like a misaligned seam.

You don’t pay any special attention to any of it, focused more on reacquainting yourself with how your mouth fits with his. He doesn’t lead, doesn’t rush or pull or press. But there’s tension all along his body, everywhere you touch. You don’t ask for more than a chaste kiss, and when you pull away, you tilt your forehead gently against his.

“Still okay?” You ask.

“Still okay.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[worldume]

…..WHAT DO YOU MEAN PHONE SEX?!

˖┊ spotlight: sakura haruka.

˖┊ synopsis: sakura would have never thought this new life would bring him everything that it did: friends, new found family, a sense of belonging— a girlfriend he’s in love with. a hot girlfriend who he jerks his cock to nearly every night, fantasizing about the day he finally has the courage to sink his cock in her. but that takes baby steps, right?

˖┊ content: masturbation, phone sex, assigned female at birth reader, reader also has she/her pronouns, love bites and hickeys, reader has the wonyoung effect, all characters are 18 and over.

˖┊ word count: 4.5k.

sakura laid on his back, pretty mismatched eyes gazing up at the ceiling— unfocused. his chest heaved with each heavy breath, sweat glistening on his forehead and dampening his tousled hair. he felt the adrenaline slowly ebb away, replaced by a sense of weariness as he lazily shifted his gaze downward, staring at his hand. he couldn’t be bothered to scoff at himself this time, he’s too fucked out right now. sakura’s cum is whitish clear as it dripped from his hand, sliding slowly between his slender fingers. the droplets formed rivulets that traced down his skin, stretching into thin threads.

sakura was still a guy at the end of the day really. he’s had his hand wrapped around his cock milking himself countless times but instead of the naughty magazines he would use before, you’re now his favorite.. inspiration. no, seriously. just the thought of that precious little face of yours is enough to get sakura hard as a fucking pole. he’s surprised actually— not for any other reason than his thoughts alone are enough for him. there’s no need for porn, magazines, or a fleeting touch from a woman that smelled good earlier in the day… yeah, times were rough.

sakura’s post nut clarity was abruptly interrupted by the sudden shrill ring of his phone. the sound pierced the heavy silence, startling him. “ah— shit.”

with a groan he pushed himself up from the bed, feeling the thin sheets shift under his movements. he reaches for the phone and glanced at the caller ID before sighing, sandwiching the device between his shoulder and ear— the cool screen pressing against his flushed cheek.

“yeah.” he answers as he fumbles to wipe his hand off with the kleenex beside his bed, feeling it smear slightly. the motion was hurried and somewhat clumsy. his voice still thick with breathlessness, sounding rough and low when he finally answered. the word came out almost as a sigh.

“hi, baby! you’re coming out tonight, right?” god— your voice was so sweet it made him feel a severe case of cute aggression. which often led to frustration because he didn’t know what exactly to do with himself.

“where?”

“the beach party? choji and togame extended an invitation to bof—”

“hell no.” as sakura continued the call, he got up and made his way to the kitchen. his hand scratched his toned belly, the phone still sandwiched between his shoulder and ear.

“those pricks are still lame to me..” he opened the fridge door, the cool air hitting his warm skin as he peered inside. with one hand he started rummaging through the contents, pushing aside half-empty containers and expired leftovers. “and you shouldn’t be goin’ neither, way too many freaks gonna be ooglin’ at you in a bikini..” of course you didn’t see but there was a faint blush on his cheeks. the faint hum of the refrigerator filled the background, mingling with the muffled voice on the other end of the line. it took sakura a long time to express his feelings but expressing his jealousy and possessiveness over you seemed to be the easiest.

he reached for a bottle of water, the condensation slick under his fingers as he twisted the cap off.

“then who’s supposed to be my date?” you asked through a pout. you were on the other end painting your toenails, looking down at them with a tilted head as if you weren’t sure about the color.

“—wh—!” sakura nearly spits out his water. “you— you don’t need a date.. it’s a party.”

“yeah but it would be nice, haru.” you say, finding yourself getting a little bit frustrated with him. you twist the cap closed on the polish. “but, if you really don’t wanna go it’s okay— i’ll probably ask kiryu to be my date for the night.”

“he’s going?” his expression was a mix of reluctance and resignation, eyes narrowed slightly in thought.

“of course, mostly everyone from bofurin is— umeee, tsubakiii, hiragi, suo, nirei, even kaji! but i suspect choji told him there would be sweets..”

“suo and nirei..? i didn’t think those fuckers were serious about going to a pool party.” he thought to himself.

see, sakura is actually pretty cute because he takes dates very seriously. you’re his first girlfriend— his first big boy relationship and the thought of someone else being your plus one at the party made his blood boil. a low growl of frustration almost escaped his lips as he clenched his jaw, his possessiveness surfacing.

“alright.. what time should I pick you up?” he asked.

5:45 PM

as the sun began its descent, it casted a wild golden glow across the sand and sea. the sky was painted in fiery hues of orange, pink, and purple, the colors blending as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. the sound of crashing waves was drowned out by the rowdy laughter and shouts of the partygoers.

a massive bonfire roared nearby— flames leaping high and casting flickering shadows on the faces gathered around it. makeshift torches and string lights rigged between palm trees, colorful beach towels and blankets were spread out haphazardly and tables groaned under the weight of a spread of various food and drinks. the scent of grilled meat mixed with the unmistakable tang of alcohol.

people were scattered across the beach in various activities. a heated volleyball game was underway, with players diving and shouting with abandon. others were plunging into the cool water while other groups lounged on the sand. some smoking, others downing beers as music blasted from a portable speaker.

you and sakura stepped onto the sand, your fingers interlaced with his in a warm grip. you looked cheerful and happy, eyes sparkling as you greeted everyone with genuine smile. each person you passed greeted you with wide grins and waves— but your popularity wasn’t something new. you were known to be a very sweet and extremely beautiful girl, so much so that the crushes many harbored for you were still full in effect.

sakura on the other hand wore his signature scowl, his eyes scanning the crowd with wariness and annoyance. his jaw was set and his posture was tense— he wasn’t the party kind of guy so he said but this is sakura we’re talking about. emotionally constipated and stubborn. he didn’t like anything if we’re being honest.

as you scanned the crowd, you spotted two of your closest friends and called out excitedly, “nirei! suo!”

they turned towards you, their faces lighting up. “hi, (name)..!” nirei called back, grinning widely.

“it’s nice to see you, (name),” suo added with a smile.

you approached them and placed both of your hands on each of their jaws, giving them both quick kisses on the cheek. nirei blushed slightly his eyes darting away shyly, though he couldn’t hide his smile. suo on the other hand, closed his eyes and leaned into the gesture, clearly enjoying the affectionate greeting.

“you got the grump outside, good job,” suo remarked, glancing at sakura with a smirk.

“watch it.”

“hey?” you squeezed sakura’s cheeks gently and gave him a teasing look. “be sweet. you promised no fussing or fights tonight.”

he sighed, his expression softening slightly. “yeah, yeah,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

you and sakura walked hand in hand through the party while the atmosphere buzzed with laughter and music. nirei and suo followed closely chatting animatedly as you searched for a spot to settle down. on the way you all ran into some familiar faces, chatting with them until eventually, you found a cozy area near the bonfire, away from the thickest crowds but still within earshot of the music.

sakura spread out a large beach towel while nirei and suo laid down blankets and set their bags beside them. the four of you arranged yourselves comfortably, the bonfire casting a warm glow around you all as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

you were starting to feel the evening’s warmth settling around you and the fabric of your swimsuit cover up was feeling stifling against your skin. you glanced at sakura, who was focused on setting up the towels, giving him a little smile. “he’s not doing so bad”— you think suo and nirei being there is helping him feel a little bit more comfortable. you stood and absentmindedly began to peel off your cover-up, revealing the sleek lines of your swimsuit underneath. the movement was natural to you, but little did you realize the effect it had on sakura.

his eyes widened slightly as he glanced up, catching you in the act. his breath caught in his throat, the sight of you subtly revealing yourself was stirring something within him. you continued to undress, folding the cover up with this casual grace that was almost infuriating, unaware of the sensual energy you exuded.

sakura’s gaze followed your movements, admiring the curve of your back and the play of light on your skin. his heart raced, his thoughts momentarily lost in the allure of your presence. he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, but couldn’t help but feel a rush of desire. shit, this was bad— at this rate he’d be hard.

you turned to him with a smile, completely oblivious as you settled down on the towel beside him. kind pisses him off.

“what’s the matter cutie pie?” you asked sweetly as you reached over to cup his cheeks with your soft hand. He gives you a haphazard scoff as you giggle, leaning over to place a kiss on his lips.

“what’d i tell ya about callin’ me that stuff in front of the guys..” he mumbles under his breath, hoping that the two beside them wouldn’t hear but unfortunately they’re trying their hardest to not blow a lung from holding in their laughter. a small “pfft” is what ultimately set sakura off— making him lung for whoever he could grab first. poor thing.

7:23 PM

by now the moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the beach. laughter and music filled the air, but for you and sakura the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. you guys waded into the gentle waves, the cool water lapping at your ankles before rising to your waists until you were both completely submerged into the water.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, arms encircling his neck in a koala hug. the warmth of his skin against yours was a nice contrast to the cool and salty ocean. droplets of seawater clung to both of your skin, glistening in the moonlight like tiny little diamonds. each time you two moved, the water would ripple and splash, sending cool beads sliding down their bodies. sakura's hands were firm on your back, fingers tracing the delicate curve of your spine, sending shivers through you despite how warm his touch always seemed to feel. sakura always had a boyish charm to him because of his temperament but.. it was moments like this where he gave you butterflies, made you feel like a blushing schoolgirl again.

you both could feel each other's heartbeats, steady and synchronized, creating a rhythm that seemed to match the rise and fall of the waves. you nuzzled into the crook of sakura's neck, breathing in the salty scent of the sea mixed with his familiar, comforting scent. your cheeks brushed and could feel the firmness of his jawline, something in you growing a bit primal. maybe it was the alcohol talking but you wanted him to feel something.

your breath quickened and you could feel the heat rising within yourself. you pulled back slightly, just enough to look into sakura's eyes. they were dark but inviting, filled with the same unspoken longing that you felt too. you wondered if sakura knew the effect he had on you— you wondered if he also stayed up late hours of the night touching himself to the thought of being inside of you. you weren’t a virgin, you hadn’t been for a while but you knew that sakura was. he didn’t have to explicitly state it, you could see it in the way he carried himself. the way he blushes at every little act of affection, the way he fumbles his words when you do things that are just mildly suggestive— it made you feel like a pervert but you knew he had so much cum to give you wrapped in a little bow.

without thinking you leaned in, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck. you could feel the pulse of his heartbeat beneath your lips, strong and steady. he tensed against you and you couldn’t see it but his brows were forming into a furrow as your teeth grazed his skin lightly at first, testing, teasing. 

“w—what’re you doin’?” sakura's hands tightened on your back, a silent encouragement was all you needed— the primal urge in you grew stronger, an almost overwhelming need to claim him, to leave a mark that would signify sakura is yours.

you didn’t know if it was possessiveness, greediness? it didn’t matter— biting down gently on his neck, just enough to leave a small, distinct mark. the taste of salt and the faint metallic tang of his skin mingled on your tongue as you felt him shudder beneath you, a low groan escaping his lips. “that— fuck.”

you pulled back slightly to admire your handiwork, a small, reddish imprint on his neck. sakura's eyes met hers again, dark with desire and yearning.

“keep going.” sakura said— it sounded like an order, but there was a.. desperation hidden somewhere in there. just beneath his surface. almost as if he was scared you were going to stop.

you pressed your lips back to his neck but this time you found a new spot just below his ear. you began to suck gently, using your tongue to tease the sensitive skin. your tongue lapped in a delicious way— lips wrapping around his skin as you applied more pressure— sucking him, as blood rushed to the surface, creating a deep, purplish hue. you shifted slightly to get a better angle, teeth grazing his skin just enough to make him bite down on his lip. you could feel the rise and fall of his chest, his breath hitching with each swipe of your tongue, each pull of your teeth.

sakura was hard. you could feel it but he was hoping you couldn’t. he’s never felt quite like this before— even this sensation right now was admittedly better than anything his hand could ever provide. he knew why guys liked girls; they were soft, pretty and smelled like flowers or sweets but this.. was he really missing out on this for so long? 

2:56 PM

the aroma of simmering broth filled the air as sakura, suo, nirei, kiryu, tsugue, and sugishita— sat around a hot pot table, eagerly tossing in vegetables, meats, and noodles. the clatter of chopsticks and the hum of conversation created the typical sunday night vibe they were usually always going for, but sakura found himself drifting in and out of the chatter, lost in thought.  

he stared into the bubbling pot, the events of last night replaying in his mind— his cheeks flushing slightly as he remembered the feel of your lips and the marks you had left on his skin. his friends’ laughter and banter seemed distant, a background noise to his thoughts.

suddenly, without thinking, he blurted out, “are you guys virgins?”

the table fell silent. all five of them froze, chopsticks hovering in mid-air, their expressions shifting from surprise to shock, then to barely suppressed laughter. nirei was the first to break the silence, nearly choking on a piece of tofu with a furious blush on his cheeks— he wasn’t good at that kind of stuff either. all his knowledge came from sex education books and his incognito tab so he was pretty much useless to the conversation. “where did that come from so suddenly?!”

tsugue laughed so hard he almost knocked over his drink, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “you're seriously asking us that? right now?”

suo raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, a grin playing on his lips. “this is a first. you’ve really outdone yourself, sakura. what is it? you and (name) are getting pretty serious, huh?”

kiryu leaned forward, grinning. “ah~ ♡ alright, alright. calm down, everyone. our saku-chan is finally growing up.” he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “i’ll bite. why the sudden interest? something happen last night~?”

sakura’s blush deepened, and he stammered, “no! i-i was just thinking about.. things. you know, with (name). i just wanted to know!” he caught a glimpse of sugishita giving him a weird look he wasn’t too fond of. “don’t give me that look, asshole!”

suo crossed his arms, a warm closed eyed smile on his face. “well, for what it’s worth, experience isn’t everything. it’s about connection, trust, and being comfortable with each other. that’s what really matters.”

kiryu nodded in agreement. “yeah, and take it slow.. don’t rush things because you feel like you have to reach some milestone. if you care about each other, everything else will fall into place.”

tsugue chimed in, “and if you need tips on how to not ruin the moment, just remember this conversation. we’ll remind you of it, man.”

“shut up! i was only curious!”

“well, since yer askin’, i'll give ya some real advice.” tsugue leaned over the table with his elbow propping up his weight. “start out with some phone sex.”

so nodded in agreement. “hm, that isn’t a bad way to ease into it— it's a good way to build up intimacy without the pressure of being physically together. plus, it can be quite attractive.”

kiryu was still grinning when he added, “yeah, knucklehead is actually right this time, saku-chan. t's a good way to explore what you both like.. aaaannd~ it sounds like you’re already halfway there, if your random question is anything to go by.” he chuckled.

“and the two big mosquito bites on your neck..” sugishita mumbled with an eye roll.

sakura blinked, taken aback. “p-phone sex..?”

kiryu nodded. “yeah.. it's.. less intimidating and it can help you get comfortable with each other’s boundaries.. just let it happen. and maybe don’t overthink it too much— like you have the tendency to do.”

“i do not!” sakura barked, crossing his arms with a heavy blush on his face. “just drop it— nothing’s goin’ on, i was just—”

“curious?” suo tilted his head and offered sakura a smile. “its okay, we’re not here to judge you. but you make it so hard not to poke a little bit of fun.”

“yeah, yeah.. lets eat.”

out of the five at the table, 3/5 had their cherry picked. can you guess which three?

11:11

sakura lay on his bed, the cool breeze from the open window rustling the curtains. his phone was pressed to his ear, and on the other end, your voice warmed his ear. you guys had been chatting about your days, sharing the small details. like how you went shopping that day and picked up a new perfume and got the refill on your nails you had been wanting for a few days now. sakura didn’t know what half of this stuff was until he started dating you and now he looks forward to picking your next nail set or seeing what the very slight change you made to your hair that makes a world of a difference for you.

“yeah, i’m sure it’ll look okay– a middle part won’t make you look ‘weird.’” he rolls his eyes— he doesn’t know why you worry over little things like that. he’s never seen you look bad a day in your life. 

“it can! that’s like your black hair where your white is and vice versa! i was too nervous to try it at the party so i did it how i usually do it.” you said through a small pout.

“yeah, speaking of— it’s been almost a week and those shitty marks you left are still dark. they’re teasing me about it,” he grumbled in his usual fussy tone, adjusting onto his pillow as he props his head up onto his forearm. He finds himself looking back up at the ceiling.

you giggled, your laughter like a melody to his ears. “you weren’t complaining when i was doing it.”

sakura huffed, his blush deepening. “that’s not the point! suo and kiryu have been relentless. they won’t let it go.”

“oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” you teased. “besides, they’re just jealous because i~ got to mark you first.”

“psh, whatever.”

there was a small pause.

“so,” your voice dropped to a softer, more intimate tone— but you almost sounded worried, “do you really mind the marks? you can be honest..”

sakura hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding a little faster. he panics a little actually, he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea “no!” he coughs before lowering his voice a bit. “i.. i don’t mind,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “liked it, actually.. made me feel.. close to you. or whatever.”

you smiled on the other end, your own heart swelling. “you reacted so cutely~”

sakura felt a warm flush spread from his cheeks down to his chest. that all too familiar feeling of his cock starting to jump. “..you’re really good at making me feel things, y’know that?"

“good things, i hope?” your voice was playful but still sincere.

“yeah,” he replied, his voice growing softer, more breathless as he felt more blood rushing from his head to his cock. “really good things.” the outline of his shaft was getting more and more prominent by the second.. he just can’t stop thinking about.. you. everything about you. it's all so alluring; your smell, how soft your skin is, how sweet your voice is— how your lips felt against his skin, sucking him. he can’t help but to reach down to palm himself— his chest starting to rise and fall visibly.

there was a brief pause, filled with the gentle sound of their breathing. you broke the silence, tone even more intimate. “sakura?”

“yeah?”

“are you touching yourself?” you ask, your voice is so soft— it makes sakura feel like it's okay to tell you the truth. but you almost sound amused.. it makes him wonder if it’s really that obvious.

his heart raced. “yeah,” he confessed. “i.. keep fuckin’ replaying it in my head.. you touchin’ me, felt good.”

“sakura,” your voice was a soft murmur, “i can almost feel you here with me..” he hears your voice crack.

sakura swallowed hard, his breath hitching slightly. “what’re you doin’?”

your breath was warm in his ear, even over the phone. “rubbing my clit..”

sakura’s hand grasps at his shaft through his boxers, almost like he’s telling it to stop. “fuck,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “that’s so hot. it feel good?”

“it feels really good.. but i wish to your cock instead..” you said. Sakura's almost taken back from how easily the filth leaves your mouth— that sweet voice.. it almost doesn’t fit. his breathing gets deeper, his hand trembling slightly as he reaches for the waistband of his boxers, hesitating for a moment.

“are you still with me?” you ask, voice was a soothing presence in his ear.

“yeah,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’m here.” sakura pushes down his boxers, feeling the soft fabric glide over his skin. he slides the boxers down to the thickest part of his thighs, the sensation cooling as the air finally hits the sensitive skin on this cock, specifically the leaky tip making him shiver.

he wrapped his fingers around his cock, feeling its warmth and hardness in his hand. his grip was firm, the sensation immediately sending a jolt of pleasure through him. he started with slow, deliberate strokes, his hand moving up and down the length of his shaft. each movement was accompanied by a soft gasp as he savored the feeling. When he does this by himself it never feels this good— he’s fucking shaking.

“mmgh—! sakura..” you lay on your bed, the phone pressed to your ear as you listen to Sakura’s ragged breaths— his voice alone was enough to make you ache, but knowing what he was doing on the other end of the line made your pulse quicken with need. you started with slow, gentle circles on your clit, your hips bucking slightly against your hand, seeking more friction.

your fingers dipped lower, sliding through your wetness before pushing inside, you moaned softly, the sensation of your fingers filling you a sweet relief but it didn’t feel like enough. you picked up the pace, pumping in and out of yourself as your breath came in shallow, needy gasps.

“keep talking,” he gasped, his voice strained with lust. “i wanna hear you.” sakura's strokes became more rhythmic, his grip tightening. he could feel every ridge and vein beneath his fingers, each tug eliciting a surge of raw, primal desire. his thumb brushed over the sensitive tip, spreading the moisture that had begun to gather there, adding a slickness that intensified the sensation.

your breath hitched again, fingers moving faster. “’m so close, thinking about you touching me.. want to feel your hands on me, your mouth.. i need you to make me come.” your words were punctuated by soft whimpers and moans, each sound pushing sakura closer to the edge. you could hear the intensity of his strokes increasing.

“‘m almost therealmosttherealmost there..!,” you panted, her voice a desperate plea. “please, sakura, need you to come with me..!” with a final breathless cry, you felt her climax wash over you, your body trembling with the intensity of your orgasm. “s–sa–kura!” you gasped, your voice a mix of pleasure and longing.

“fuck. yes.” he groaned, his voice filled with raw pleasure. his breathing grew heavier, each exhale a mix of need and pleasure. the muscles in his arm flexed with each motion, a steady rhythm that drove him closer to the edge. he could feel the tension building in his body, a tight coil of desire that demanded release.

his strokes quickened, his hand moving with a sense of urgency. the friction, the heat, the intensity of his own touch brought him to a fever pitch. he could feel the impending climax, a powerful surge of pleasure that built with every stroke. with a final pull sakura reached his peak. his body tensed, every nerve ending on fire as the orgasm tore through him. his hand continued to move, milking every last drop of pleasure until he was left breathless and spent.

he went limp back onto his bed, feeling the aftershocks of his release, his body tingling with the remnants of pleasure. his hand still loosely wrapped around himself, he lay there, breathing heavily.

“holy shit..” he said breathlessly. you giggle on the other line and he hears a shuffle.

“can i see it~? they’re cute when they’re all soft!”

Incoming facetime call from (Name).

“wha?!”

© all content belongs to worldume 2024. do not, translate, modify or repost to any other platforms.

tag: @eevees-hobbies <3

[riaki]

nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[doumadono]

✨ SINFUL SUNDAY BITCHES ✨

Can we get some villain Bakugo corrupting pro hero reader?

Warnings: smut w/o plot, non-con elements, rough smut, pussy fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, fem prohero!reader, villain!Bakugo, semi-public, a bit of humiliation and degradation?, Bakugo being sardonic, a little of power play, forced orgasm

A/N: this request got the second highest number of votes during another Sinful Sunday poll I held. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA

The night was cloaked in darkness, the moon a mere sliver in the sky, casting a faint glow over the bustling city below. Neon lights flickered, casting eerie glows on the wet pavement. The quiet murmur of the city was interrupted by distant sirens, a reminder of the ever-present danger lurking in the shadows.

You were a pro hero, dedicated and unwavering in your resolve to protect the citizens of Musutafu. You stood atop a high-rise building, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the streets for any sign of the notorious villain who had been wreaking havoc recently. Katsuki Bakugo, once a promising hero-in-training, had taken a dark turn, abandoning his dreams of heroism to embrace a path of destruction and chaos. 

Your mission tonight was clear: apprehend Bakugo and bring him to justice. But as you stood there, the cold wind biting at your skin through your costume, you couldn't shake the unease that settled in your stomach. Bakugo was known for his explosive temper and unparalleled strength, and you had a feeling this encounter would be anything but easy.

Suddenly, a deafening explosion echoed through the night, shaking the building beneath your feet. You spun around, your eyes wide as you spotted the source of the blast: a plume of smoke rising from a nearby warehouse. Without hesitation, you leapt from the rooftop, and  made your way towards the chaos.

As you approached the warehouse, you could see the flicker of flames licking at the sky, the acrid scent of burning metal and debris filling your nostrils. You landed gracefully, your boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. The warehouse was in ruins, chunks of concrete and twisted metal scattered around the area. And in the midst of the destruction, standing amidst the flames like a demon from the depths of hell, was no one else but Katsuki Bakugo.

He turned to face you, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he recognized you. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who decided to show up. A little late to the party, aren't we?"

You clenched your fists, your eyes narrowing as you met his gaze. "Bakugo," you spat, taking a defensive stance. "I won't let you continue this reign of terror. This ends tonight. I'm taking you in."

Bakugo laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that sent shivers down your spine. "You really think you can take me down, princess? You're welcome to try, but I promise you, it's not going to end the way you think."

With a sudden burst of speed, Bakugo closed the distance between you, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist. 

You reacted on instinct, twisting away and aiming a punch at his midsection, but he was faster. His grip tightened, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent you crashing to the ground, his body pinning yours.

"You're so predictable," he sneered, his breath hot against your ear. "Always playing by the rules, always so righteous. But you know what, sweetheart? That shit doesn't matter anymore. In this world, power is the only thing that counts."

You struggled beneath him, your heart racing as you tried to free yourself from his grasp. “Let. Me. Go.”��

But Bakugo's strength was overwhelming, his body a solid wall of muscle and raw power. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice a low, seductive whisper. "Tell me, little heroine," he murmured, his free hand trailing down your side, "Have you ever wondered what it's like to let go? To stop fighting and just give in?"

You gasped, your body reacting to his touch despite your determination to resist. "Stop," you pleaded, your voice trembling. "This isn't you. You're not a monster. Your mind is just clouded."

He chuckled darkly, his fingers sliding beneath the hem of your costume, teasing the sensitive skin of your tummy. "Oh, but it is me," he said, his eyes burning with a twisted kind of desire. "And deep down, I think you like it. I think you want it."

With a swift motion, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his dominance overwhelming. 

You fought against the pull, but the intensity of his touch, the raw passion he exuded, was intoxicating. 

His hands roamed your body, setting your nerves alight with every touch. "Feel that?" he murmured against your lips. "That's the real you, begging to be unleashed."

Your resolve wavered, the lines between right and wrong blurring in the heat of the moment. "Bakugo, stop," you pleaded, though your voice lacked conviction.

"Stop?" he taunted, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. "You don't want me to stop, princess. You want to see just how far this can go."

You knew you should resist, should fight with everything you had, but you simply couldn’t.

Bakugo's lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he continued to speak, his voice a low, hypnotic growl. "Give in, heroine," he urged, his hand moving lower, tracing the curve of your hip. "Let me show you what real power feels like."

You bit your lip, an unwanted moan escaping your lips as his hand found its way between your legs, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against the fabric of your costume on your crotch. 

The sensation was overwhelming, a heady mix of pleasure and resistance that made your head spin. "Bakugo," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Don’t touch me."

He smiled against your skin, his fingers gently slapping your crotch. "Stop it," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck to your collarbone. "Don’t be such a prude. We both know you like being used. You whores all do.”

And in that moment, as your body responded to his touch, you realized that you were powerless to resist him. Katsuki Bakugo, the villain you had sworn to stop, was slowly and resolutely tearing down all of your defenses, pulling you into his dark, dangerous world.

"You think you can resist me?" he taunted, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. "I know you feel it too. That darkness inside you, begging to be set free."

"Bakugo, this isn't right," you protested, shaking your head abruptly.

His smirk widened, a feral glint in his eyes. "Right or wrong doesn't matter now. All that matters is what you want. And I know you want this."

Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours again, the kiss possessive. 

You tried to fight it once again, but failed. "Bakugo," you gasped when he broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Say my name again," he demanded, his voice rough with need. "I want to hear you beg for it."

The command in his tone sent a jolt of primal desire through you, your body betraying your resolve. "Katsuki," you whispered, the name a plea on your lips.

He growled in approval, his hands sliding under your uniform again, fingers tracing the curves of your body. "That's it. Don’t be shy, princess."

In one swift motion, he tore at your clothes, the fabric yielding to his strength. 

The cool night air kissed your exposed skin, but the heat radiating from Bakugo's body kept you warm. 

His touch was relentless, every caress igniting a fire that burned through you. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "So eager, so willing. I knew you had it in you. Haha, you just can’t wait to have a villain cock in your cunt."

You gasped as his hands found their way to your panties, his touch both demanding and expertly skilled. 

He captured your lips again, the kiss deep and consuming, stealing the breath from your lungs.

"Bakugo, please," you whimpered after breaking the kiss, the need in your voice undeniable.

He chuckled darkly, his eyes flashing with triumph. "That's what I wanted to hear." With a swift, practiced motion, he lifted you like you weighed nothing, like you were nothing but a rag doll, pressing you against the rough brick wall of the warehouse. 

The sensation of the cool brick against your exposed skin made you whimper. Your breath hitched, your resolve wavering under his piercing stare. "Bakugo, this isn't —"

"Oh, shut the fuck up finally," he interrupted, his lips crashing down on yours to silence you. He smirked against your lips, his fingers tracing teasing circles over the middle of your panties. "You're already so fucking wet for me," he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I knew you wanted this, little one."

He quickly tugged your panties down your legs, and without thinking much, you helped him take them off completely. A gasp escaped your lips as he pushed a finger inside you, the intrusion both shocking and exhilarating. He finger fucked you while licking the pulse point on your neck with the tip of his tongue, wet trail of his saliva painting your throat. He soon added another digit.

"Bakugo," you moaned, the sound of his name a plea on your lips.

"That's right," he growled, his fingers moving faster, deeper, each thrust stroking all the right places deep within you. "Let me hear you beg for it."

"Bakugo, please," you whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate for more. Even though it all felt wrong and he was only humiliating you.

His smirk widened, a feral gleam in his eyes. "Good little heroine," he murmured, adding another finger, the sensation overwhelming. "Feel that? That's me owning you." His fingers moved with relentless precision, hitting all of the sweet, spongy spots. His calloused thumb brushed over your clit at the same time.

Bakugo cupped your face with his other hand in a mockery of intimacy, his rough digits surprisingly gentle against your skin. His eyelids fluttered closed as he leaned in, the warmth of his breath hitting your cheek as he sniffed you. "Fuck," he murmured, almost to himself, "I could get used to this." 

You smelled so good, sweet and soft and clean — a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded him daily. It had been so long since he had been this close to a woman, and never one who was willing. The scent of you, the feel of your skin against his, it was intoxicating, a drug he hadn't realized he craved.

Bakugo kissed you again while fingering your tight pussy, the sloppy, wet noises so lewd that, involuntarily, you became wetter than before. 

You hated how your body reacted. 

His tongue swept over the inside of your mouth, invasive and brutal. He gripped you forcefully, his face pushing you deeper into the strained hold. 

You had never been kissed like this before.

Bakugo finally pulled his fingers out of you and dropped to his knees, hitching one of your legs up over his shoulder. The velvety skin of your inner thigh looked so delicious that he nuzzled against the bare area and latched onto it, sucking until he was sure you'd have a mark in a few minutes. The rich, feminine scent of your pussy was inches away from him, intoxicating and irresistible. Bakugo's eyes darkened with desire as he inhaled deeply, dying to make you cum in his needy mouth. Without hesitation, he leaned in, his hot breath ghosting over your slick folds before his tongue darted out, tasting you for the first time. The sensation was electric, his mouth working expertly, eager to draw out every moan, every shiver of pleasure from you. He latched onto your clit, sucking and flicking with a fervor that made your knees weak, his grip on your leg tightening to keep you steady. "Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against you, the vibration of his voice sending jolts of pleasure through your body. He was relentless, devouring you with a hunger that left you breathless.

“B-Bakugo…”

A sound you’d never heard yourself make before forced its way out of your mouth as Bakugo ate you out in earnest, his tongue rubbing against your clit in a stuttering rhythm that gave you no time to catch your breath. You wanted him to stop. And at the same time, you never wanted him to stop. Your hands twitched as you fought the impulse to fist them in the villain’s hair and pin him down between your trembling thighs. His tongue felt so, so good against your pussy. You had never been with a man who was that skilled in pleasuring a woman.

Bakugo curled one arm around your thigh, pulling his face away from your cunny just long enough to push his fingers back into your drenched hole, angling his palm to grind the heel of his hand roughly over your clit. The harsh, rough texture after the warm, wet softness of his tongue was enough to push you over the edge. You cried out your orgasm, your pussy clenching onto Bakugo's fingers as he worked them in and out of you.

"Fuck, that’s it, you little, pathetic whore, cum for me now or I'll have to blow your fucking useless head out," he growled, his voice vibrating through you as he rubbed the bulge tenting in his pants roughly with his free hand. His eyes were dark with desire, watching you come undone. Bakugo groaned, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh, before attaching his mouth to your pussy again. He drank in all of your juices, his tongue lapping up every drop of your essence as if he couldn’t get enough.  

You just came on the tongue of a villain. 

Bakugo looked up at you, a smirk playing on his lips, his chin glistening with your release. "You taste even better than I imagined," he said, his voice low and rough. 

Your legs felt weak, barely able to support you as the reality of what had just happened sank in. You felt oh so humiliated, but a part of you couldn't ignore the raw, undeniable pleasure that Bakugo had drawn from you.

He got back to his feet, and whispered against your ear. "Admit that you want me to fuck you right here, right now."

"Yes," you breathed, the word a desperate plea.

He didn't need any more encouragement. With a growl, he freed himself from his fitted combat pants, his cock sprung up free, resting proudly against his toned abdomen; the aggressive, red tip leaking precum from its slit. He positioned himself at your slimy entrance, the anticipation almost too much to bear. "You're mine," he declared, his voice thick with possessive hunger. “You’re nothing but a tiny hole I’m going to use however I please. You’re fucking nothing but a piece of meat.”

With a powerful thrust, he entered you, the sensation tearing a gasp from your lips. The feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, was intoxicating. He moved with a fierce rhythm, his heavy balls slapping against your pussy with every rough thrust he delivered. He yanked one of your legs up, wrapping it around his hips to find the better angle.

He could hardly think of anything aside from the soft, hot, wet cunt wrapped so tightly around his dick. It consumed his every thought, his every desire. He wanted to live inside your pussy, to fuck your warmth every day, every minute. The feeling of fucking you raw was the best he had felt in months, a primal satisfaction that eclipsed everything else.

"Bakugo," you moaned, your hands clinging to his shoulders for support.

"That's right," he growled, his pace relentless as he hardly squeezed your boob through your sports bra. "Scream my name. Let everyone know who you belong to."

“K-Katsuki!”

The world around you dissolved into a haze of pleasure and desire, the only reality was the feeling of Bakugo claiming you, possessing you completely. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you to meet his thrusts, his breath hot against your skin.

The warehouse was a chaos of fire and smoke, the heat from the flames slowly licking at your skin, but the inferno around you was nothing compared to the blaze between you and Bakugo. The firelight cast an eerie glow over his face, highlighting the intense, almost feral desire in his eyes.

“Such a good whore, taking my cock in her tight little pussy so fucking well,” Bakugo praised, licking a stripe of your neck, growling lowly into your ear.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pounded into you, each thrust pushing you harder against the wall. The rough brick scraped your back.

Every nerve ending was on fire, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming. 

"That's it," he growled, his pace increasing, the friction of his body against yours driving you wild. “That’s it, whore.”

You gasped at the insult, your leg tightening around his hips, pulling him deeper.

He angled his hips, hitting the sweetest spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes with the tip of his massive cock. "Right there," he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. "I can feel you clenching around me. That’s a good, little heroic whore.”

You nodded frantically, your breath coming in ragged gasps whenever the tip of his cock kissed your cervix. 

"Bakugo!" you screamed, raking your nails along his shoulders even though they were still covered by the upper part of his gear.

He swirled two fingers against your clit after slipping the hand that had cupped your boob earlier down to your slick pussy. 

You mewled like a kitten at the unexpected stimulation, and he laughed rudely.

"Fuck, that's it," he groaned, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself as deep inside you as possible, his cock pulsing and swelling as he came, filling you with his hot, thick release. “Fuck, take it, take it all, bitch.”

Your climax built rapidly as well. Your body tensed, the coil of pleasure tightening until it finally snapped when he came inside of you. With a cry of his name, you shattered, the pleasure overwhelming, consuming you utterly for the second time this evening. Your body convulsed around him, your pussy clenching and milking his veiny cock as he continued to pound into you. “Bakugo!”

“That’s it, little one, that’s it,” Bakugo cooed, his thrust sloppy until he stopped moving. He held you there for a moment. The slurping sound that reverberated in the air as his cock partially left your drenched pussy was obscene. Equally obscene was the cloudy trail of mixed white and clear fluid that connected your pussy and the head of his cock until he pulled away fully. His rough hands were still gripping your hips as he watched with a wry grin how his cum dribbled out of your abused pussy.

"You're fucking mine," he whispered, his voice a rough promise. "There's no place you could possibly hide from me," he whispered. "I'll find you anywhere, little heroine. You are mine, and no one else, nor any other thing, will ever change that."

When clouds of primal lust faded away, clearing your mind a little, the humiliation hit you like a heavy hammer, threatening to crush you under its weight. You fought the urge to cry, the stress and fear coursing through you like a tidal wave. You couldn't tear up like a baby in front of him, couldn't show any sign of weakness. Even though you already did.

Frantically, you looked around for your panties, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to improve the upper part of your hero costume that was practically torn in half. But before you could find them, his low, mocking laugh reached your ears. You raised your head slowly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, as you saw him toying with them in his hand, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You looking for these?" he taunted, holding them just out of reach. "You should know better by now. Everything that touches you belongs to me too." He sniffed your panties, and then theatrically licked the damp spot in the middle with his tongue, making you shudder involuntarily. His grin widened at your reaction, a cruel satisfaction evident in his eyes. After wiping his cock with your panties, he tucked them into the pocket of his pants, adjusting his trousers shortly after with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. "I'll keep these as a little souvenir," he announced.

Bakugo took a step closer to you, his presence overwhelming as he helped you adjust your own pants. "Now, go," he whispered, his voice low and commanding. "Run to them and tell them that not only did you fail to stop and capture the infamous villain, but also moaned like a cheap whore when his cock was buried to the hilt in your wet pussy. I'm super curious about their reaction."

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you nodded numbly, unable to form a proper sentence after you pulled up what was left of your hero pants. You turned around and walked away with a shaky step as you prepared to face the consequences of your failure.