#it also didn’t fit my middle finger even though i was measured before it was made

[obitohno]

so, the ring that i had smudge’s ashes set into arrived today ♡

[underthetree845]

chuuya taking his hat off to hide when he kisses his partner 🤭

Hello saturn lovely! Sorry this took me so long to finish TwT I love the prompt, but as you know writer's block hit me kinda hard the second semester of school so over the summer I've been trying to get back into the swing of posting once in a while!

Hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the request! _

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader (oneshot request)

cws: fem! reader, established relationship, bungou stray dogs s5 spoilers, meursault arc spoilers, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda? there was a little hurt, reuniting, airport reunion, ada dazai, reader cries about 2.5k words summary: Chuuya disappeared on a business trip for three whole days with no explanation- and no one would tell you why. Now he's returned to japan and back in your arms. a/n: This is my last fic for the summer before school starts aaa qwq I'm glad I was able to finish it before the semester starts though! *sigh* am I really incapable of writing something like this without accidentally creating so much plot? Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3 divider credit: (x) (x) ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ Chuuya had never considered himself to be a very possessive man; or a possessive boyfriend, for that matter. Protective, sure, but how could anyone expect him not to be? He understood, probably better than most, the risks that came with even so much as associating with a person in his position. It made Chuuya’s stomach churn unpleasantly to even imagine putting you in any sort of danger, so he used his position (along with the power and assets that came with it) to take certain preventative measures. The penthouse you shared was equipped with state of the art security, a technological system truly fit for an executive of the Port Mafia. Additionally, in case you ever needed to travel long distances without him, Chuuya often kept a trusted chauffeur on call. This individual also happened to be a professionally trained underground bodyguard of his personal selection. Even so, Chuuya knew you had a good head on your shoulders. He trusted that you would try to keep yourself out of trouble, or call for him at the first sign of it. It didn’t matter if he was on the road, halfway through a private meeting, or in the middle of pummeling down an enemy organization. Chuuya had always been a man with his priorities set straight. Not even Mori’s notifications were set to come through on silent mode. Coming home to you at the end of the day, allowing you to soothe away the crease between his brows, your voice uttering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. You had become his lifeline, irreversibly carved your name into every cell of his body. He’d do anything to erase your pain, and it was making his heart break more than anything to know that he was the cause of the salty tears now streaming over your lash line. Chuuya did his best to hold back an ‘oof’ when you threw your frame into his own, burying your sobs in the crook of his neck. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of your perfume, the familiar feeling of your body against his own, the softness of the sweater you wore, and the glimmer that never seemed to escape your eyes. The red colored contacts from earlier had given Chuuya one hell of a headache, which only added to the pressure from taking off and being stuck in one of the mafia’s smallest private jets with the most insufferable jackass he’d ever met and some hair dye obsessed casino manager passed out on one of the couches. Chuuya’s gloved fingers almost trembled as they gripped the fabric of your shirt. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other remained planted firmly on your lower back.

Sakaguchi Ango, if Chuuya remembered correctly, stood a few yards away. He simply observed the situation from afar, as if he dared not insert himself into the scene. A government agent whom Dazai used to maintain his connection with the outside world. Ango stood with one hand folded neatly over the other behind his back, the faint ghost of a smile residing behind his glasses as he watched Dazai reunite with his fellow agency members. The brunette walked on a crutch, but the uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he was swarmed by his coworkers. Chuuya continued to hold you close, patiently waiting for your sobs to die down enough for you to be able to speak coherently. He loosened his grip slightly, removing one of his leather gloves behind your back and bringing that same hand up to cup your face. A whisper of your name left his lips, and your teary eyes finally refocused to meet the warmth of his own. “Chuuya… how could you just leave?” your voice cracked; he could see the hurt in your eyes. Guilt crept into his chest, eyebrows knitting together as you subconsciously leaned into his palm. This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya promised himself he’d never do. You were the absolute number one priority in his life. There was no doubt in his mind; he didn’t want there to be any doubt in yours either. “I know, Doll, ‘m sorry, it was never my intention…” he muttered, allowing you to rest your hands on his chest. “I know that’s a shit excuse, but I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” A beat of silence passed, the indistinct chatter of the agency fell on deaf ears as you zoned in on the man in front of you. His breath, the way his eyes searched your expression, how you could once again feel the warmth of his skin against your own. “You’re not hurt, are you?” your voice was pricked with concern, hands gentle as you cupped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. Chuuya let out a breath, fondness flickering in his irises at your concern. “Barely a scratch,” he murmured, and you seemed to accept his answer. “Chuuya,” you started, and his gaze locked onto yours. He voiced your name in response. “I need you to promise me something, please?” “Anything.” 

You bit your lip. Your mind told you it was a selfish request. You understood, probably better than most, how unpredictable your boyfriend’s line of work could be. But you had accepted it as an adequate price to pay for his love when the two of you started seeing each other, even more so when you moved in together. He was yours, you believed it with every fiber of your being. Chuuya had told enough stories of his old work partner for you to gather that the two had never exactly been the chummiest of pals. So the fact that they cooperated for this mission must’ve meant that it couldn’t have been a minor dilemma. You understood why Chuuya made the decision he did, and that it was probably just as difficult on him. Albeit, that didn’t make your feelings any less real. Your heart reminded you of the unconditional love and comfort that Chuuya always offered you. You knew he’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, especially not without talking it out and making up for it in some way afterward. “Doll…?” he barely breathed, giving you all the space you needed to voice what was on your mind. You took a deep breath. “Don’t… please don’t scare me like that again,” your voice wavered as you spoke, “Everything on the news is scary. And every time I watch it all I can think about is the fact that you’re out there.” You took a moment to glance at the group of Armed Detective Agency members on the airport runway to your left. One of the so-called terrorists you heard about on the news stood amongst the group about ten feet away from where you watched. The world was confusing, and scary, but there was a certain security in your heart that told you as long as you had Chuuya by your side, everything would be okay. “First you’re leaving before sunrise and staying out late on special missions, and I get it, I really do…” you felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, threatening to make you choke over your words, “but then you just leave on a business trip to Europe without so much as a ‘goodbye, I’ll be home soon’? And I have to find out from a call from your boss? I didn’t- I still don’t understand what’s happening. Do you know how scared I was? That I might not ever see you again?” Chuuya’s thumb swiped away the teardrop that ran down your cheek, his eyes trailing over your expression. “You’re right, it’s not fair… I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he began, his hold on you tightening slightly, “All that I can ask is for you to understand. I can explain everything to you when we get home. And I promise, I’ll do my best to not leave you in the dark so suddenly. It was an urgent mission, but it must have been scary. You’ll never have to feel like that again, not if I can help it.” Chuuya’s face softened, the corners of your lips curving up slightly at his sincerity as he cupped your cheek. “Shit… you deserve so much better.” You stood there for a moment, just breathing. Soaking in each other’s presence as your heartbeat gradually fell back to its usual pace.

“My my, Slug, is this the lovely lady you were so eager to get back to?” a voice chimed from your left, and you turned your head to face the man at the same time Chuuya snapped his head in that direction. Your boyfriend clicked his teeth, pressing your body closer to his own. “What’s it to you, huh, Dazai?” Chuuya was clearly trying to suppress his irritation. He was doing especially well, considering the fact that he had been holed up next to Dazai on an airplane for the past fourteen hours. “I’m just trying to acquaint myself,” the man went on, a grin playing on his lips despite Chuuya’s glare, “As a responsible owner, I should at least make sure my dog is in good hands.” You tilted your head slightly, and Chuuya sucked in a breath. “You’re treading on some pretty thin ice, Mackerel,” he growled through gritted teeth, “Watch what you say around my girl.” The taller man only took a step forward, his eyes glittering in amusement, a sharp contrast to the hollowed out, almost dead look he carried earlier. “Oh? Holding back your more vulgar language around the lady?” Dazai hummed with mild intrigue, “Perhaps my dog is being well taken care of.” You simply stood and watched with intrigue, the interaction clearly more complex than distinguishable at first glance. Despite their constant verbal jabs and ostentatious insults toward each other, there was a sense of familiarity between the two that was almost palpable to you. They bounced off each other, knowing exactly which buttons to press and which ones to avoid. It was probably a welcome change of tone in contrast to what they had just been through. Your gaze flickered between the two once more, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in Chuuya’s shoulders had been released. “Dazai-san?” your voice was level, and both of the men fell silent to give you their attention. You looked at your beloved, then to his ex-partner, then Chuuya, then Dazai again. Mirth swam in your eyes. “I want to thank you for making sure Chuuya was able to return home safely today. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.” You gave a slight bow of your head, and Chuuya looked like he wanted to protest. For once, Dazai didn’t immediately produce a response; he fell silent at your sentiment. This time, a gentler smile curved onto his lips. “Please spare me, Miss,” Dazai began, “Truth be told, I don’t believe I could have made it out without Chuuya’s help either.” The redhead raised his eyebrows. "I'm passing him into your capable hands now. I trust you’ll take good care of him?” Dazai seemed satisfied with the chuckle that slipped from your throat. “You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, “And I trust that your detective agency will treat you well?” “They always have.” Chuuya let out a breath, sharing a look with his partner before turning to face a black passenger vehicle that had pulled up a short distance away. Tinted windows that prevented anyone outside from peeking in; glass, body, and tires that were all bulletproof. It was one of the mafia’s. 

“C’mon Dollface, we should get going. Don’t wanna be here when the press shows up, and the boss is probably dying for me to give him a call,” Chuuya nodded his head in the direction of the car; you brought your hand up to give a small wave to Dazai and the handful of agency members further away who glanced in your direction. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, allowing your head to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder as you made your way to the car. You felt like you could finally breathe properly again. The door unlocked with a quiet click. Chuuya swung open the door of the vehicle with his non gloved hand and stepped aside to allow you to enter first. “...Chuu?” you started quietly, taking a step closer to where he stood. “Hm?” he raised an eyebrow. You placed your hands loosely on the back of his neck, fingers intertwined; Chuuya responded by resting his hands on your hips, listening intently.  You could have held more of a grudge. He disappeared overnight without a word, and no one would tell you why. You’d been on edge for three days straight. Hardly even sleeping through the night as you kept up with the news almost obsessively, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To be able to hold Chuuya close again so easily felt almost surreal. A soft smile creeped into your expression, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tilted your head to the side. Chuuya’s breath stilled. “I’m just…” you paused for a moment, your voice pouring with sincerity, “I’m really glad you’re back, and that you’re safe.” Chuuya paused for another moment, studying you carefully as an equally tender look came to his face. He glanced to the side for a moment, and let out a disgruntled huff upon discovering that Dazai’s head was still tilted in your direction; he kept a curious eye on the situation from several meters away. Your boyfriend pursed his lips for a moment before snaking one of his hands further around your waist. He plucked his pork pie hat off the crown of his head, and before you had the chance to realize what was going on, you were already being gracefully tilted backwards, forcing your hands to grip onto the lapel of Chuuya’s jacket for support. Everything seemed to still the moment he slotted his lips into yours, holding his hat up to act as a shield from certain prying eyes. You didn’t hesitate to pull him in closer, your lashes fluttering shut as you savored what you felt like you had been missing for an eternity. Chuuya’s eyes were shut in concentration, his heart thrumming with delight at the familiar sensation of your lips molded against his own. Chuuya didn’t pull away until you were both light-headed from the lack of air. Cheeks flooded with warmth, looking at each other as if you were the only two people in the entire world. “I missed you so fucking much, you know that?” Chuuya’s voice was low as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. The two of you stood straight, lingering in each other’s embrace for a moment longer. Chuuya lightly tossed his hat inside the car and once more gestured with his arm out for you to enter first. The satisfied smile on his lips morphed into one of slight perplexion when you didn’t show a reaction, raising your fingertips to brush over your lips. “Chuuya?” you questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He replied with your name, all the more puzzled when you let out an incredulous chuckle. “Since when are your teeth so sharp?” 

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Have a day/night/morning/evening as lovely as yourself. tagging: @judasgot-it (I noticed that I wrote down that I agreed to tag you for chuuya fics but I can't seem to remember why?? TwT please tell me if this is incorrect! Thank you <3)

[smbhax]

So far I’m liking the DualSense, which I got for use exclusively on PC after I felt a bit of wrist pain after a long Sonic session with my ol’ DS4–and once I finally realized that DualSenses DO come in black, instead of just that default white/black PS5 Storm Trooper look, or various bright colors.

I’d also been kept away by Googled online discussions seeming to concur that the DualSense’s d-pad wasn’t as good as the PS4’s, but I haven’t really felt a difference, other than it was a little stiff initially before I broke it in. Haven’t done a long Sonic session with it yet; seems at least as good as the PS4’s d-pad for driving games so far.

The DualSense’s beefier girth around the top part of the grips feels easier to hold than the DS4, even in my sort of smallish hands (measuring 6.5 inches from heel of thumb to top of index finger). The way the surface of the grips are flush with the d-pad and face buttons up there now is suspiciously similar to the current Xbox pad, but it feels a bit beefier up there than the Xbox pad, if memory serves–but not as superdense-space-meteorite heavy; it is a bit heavier than a DS4; and it doesn’t make cheap plastic creaking sounds like the DS4, which is a nice–but it still feels unmistakably plastic, unlike the Xbox pad which feels carved out of iron somehow; I don’t know which I prefer for that but the Xbox pad did feel a TAD outrageously heavy for its compact size.

The new motorized or whatever triggers feel fancy but I haven’t really used them; and I’m using it wireless so I can’t comment on the new fancy force feedback blah-de-blah, which I’ve read only works wired; vibration I was getting from driving games in PCSX2 did stand out to me more, so I turned it off in those games. : P And I haven’t used the analog sticks much so I can’t say much about those, other than that they feel about the same as the DS4’s.

The redesigned, jagged PS-symbol PS button is silly and uncomfortable.

The regular buttons seem fine. The less obtrusive light is an improvement, it hasn’t even bothered me enough to bother turning it down or off in Steam or DS4Windows or whatever. It’s easier to plug in for charging than the DS4 since USB-C plugs it uses (charging cable not included! ; P) can go in rotated either way, whereas micro USB cables like the DS4 needs only plug in when rotated one particular way; the DualSense also has copper or whatever charging contacts on the bottom for sitting on a charging station I guess (not included!), which the DS4 doesn’t have, but I don’t think I want to fit a charging station on my desk.

Battery life doesn’t seem to be any better than the DS4’s. ; P

DS4Windows does support the DualSense just fine but if you didn’t check the box for DualSense support when you first ran DS4W, you gotta go to its Settings tab and click the Device Options button on the middle right to get to the weirdly hidden menu screen where the checkbox to enable support for the DualSense and other things in DS4W hides.

The improved Steam support is a boon: it doesn’t have to pretend it’s an Xbox controller in most of the games I’ve been playing–unlike the DS4–so they’ll actually show you PS-style button names instead of Xbox ones.

On the first day, on-screen messages told me the DualSense dropped out momentarily when playing two different Steam games, one time each; never had that happen with the DS4; so far it hasn’t happened again on the DualSense since that first day, though.

[hanazuma-inactive]

Hello! This is kind of a long request and well- Hopefully you’re fine with doing temporary Body Swap. :>

So basically Bakugou and his Male S/O are pro heroes and when out on a mission, they both get hit by a villain who has a swap quirk. Basically, they just swapped bodies. (Y/n is in Bakugou’s body and Bakugou is in Y/n’s body, they basically just switched minds.) They are told by the other pro heroes that the two should go home and take the day off. Unfortunately, nobody knows how long the quirk effect will stay, but they were convinced it was only temporary. So the two go back to their shared apartment and the day goes on pretty normal- besides the fact that, you know, they’ve swapped bodies. Though later Y/n gets a bit of an idea. What if he were to f*ck Bakugou in this body? The thought seemed kinda strange at first since he would literally be f*cking his own body, but he couldn’t deny that the thought was turning him on. Especially wanting to see Bakugou’s reaction. So, he basically handcuffs Bakugou to prevent him from struggling and.. while in the middle of doing it, something happens.. Shit! Why did it have to happen now?? Y/n panics in his head as he realizes they just swapped bodies again, and he is now at the mercy of Bakugou Katsuki himself..

I actually sent a request kinda similar to this to someone else but it was a while ago and they haven’t responded so they may not have liked it, or it just didn’t arrive. And sorry for choosing Bakugou again, you just may be able to figure out who my favorite character is.. Sorry for my rambling.

If you don’t wanna do it, that’s fine. Anyways, have a good day/night, man!

in his shoes (nsfw) bakugou x reader

pronouns: he/him

warnings: body swapping during sex, bottom and top reader+bakugou, selfcest (?), degrading, bratty behavior, claimming and possesive themes, bondage (handcuffs)

a/n: i really like this concept and i will write it don't worry 😎👍 i usually write all of my requests anyways. im also sorry this took literally 5 years.

_____

katsuki bakugou and y/n bakugou. the two of you have been married for 2 years now after you guys started working as heroes. you both went to UA and graduated at the top of the class. neither of you had time for love or romance resulting in neither of you confessing you feelings for each other. gladly, things managed to work out in the end.

"he's on it again, i need the bakugous here right now."

hearing the police force requesting your assistance, you and your husband show up on the case. it turned out to be the villain that the two of you couldn't capture the last time during patrol. 

"HEH?! look y/n, it's this motherfucker again. what's up with this loser, coming back every time it's annoying." 

"play nice now katsuki, let's just go and restrain him and let the police take care of the rest."

the two of you move quickly to match the villain's rapid movements. katsuki flew around using his quirk to attempt to catch him but failed. the villain was surprisingly agile and you guys had a tough time trying to chase him down. 

after around half an hour of chasing you finally cornered the villain on top of a tall building in the middle of the city that was still in construction. the ground was hard to walk on and somewhat unstable but you managed to find your balance. 

"alright, give it up, you've got nowhere to run now. 

"what he said, stop resisting and i won't blow your face off."

the villain's expression turned to fear as you started to close up on him. out of panic, he used his quirk. it was a small beam that didn't hurt at all. however, after a few seconds your body started to heat up, you looked over to katsuki and you could tell he was feeling the same. what was happening?

seeing the two of you struggling, the villain quickly left the scene but he had trouble moving around due to his surroundings. his movements were also somewhat impaired due to fatigue. it was most likely the aftereffect of his quirk which was why he was pretty reluctant in using it. 

the strange feeling in your chest wouldn't go away and your vision started to blur. next thing you know you woke up on top of the same building to see yourself lying next to you. was his quirk duplication? no it couldn't have been. you tried to stand up but felt the weight of some heavy armor dragging you down. you look down to see yourself wearing katsuki's hero costume and his gauntlet. still in awe, you heard a groan in your own voice next to you. 

"shit… wtf happened, y/n where are you where-" 

it didn't take long for your husband to find out what happened. 

the two of you have switched bodies.

you both tried to explain to the police who's who but it only ended in confusion. you went home with your husband after they put the two of you on break for "damaged mental" from the villain because the majority of the police thought you guys were crazy. 

there weren't any cases similar to body switching between heros before so the doctor said there's nothing that can be done other than attempting to wait off the effect. so there you were, in your husband's body, cooking dinner for the man while you saw your own body lazily sitting on the couch with your legs spread open watching the tv. 

life went as normal for the next two days, since you two were both males there weren't any problems whatsoever. however, one day a thought flew into your mind while taking a nap with katsuki. since he was the one who would usually top, now that you're in his body wouldn't it technically mean you get to top? 

physically you would be using your boyfriend's body to fuck yourself. but the thought of the all mighty bakugou katsuki taking his own dick, his bratty attitude, and lastly breaking him and making him fall apart by your touch aroused you in an indescribable way. you knew katsuki wouldn't agree to this due to his prideful personality so you had to take other measures to carry out your plan. 

you and kastuki had all sorts of toys laying around and you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine with them. while he wasn't looking you grabbed the vibrator, handcuffs, and blindfolds and put them all on the nightstand. now that everything is in place, all you have to do is wait to catch katsuki off guard tonight when he gets tired.

later tonight, after finishing dinner, katsuki was yet again sitting casually again on the couch watching tv, not giving a single care to the world. 

"heyy katsuki!"

"hm? yah?" 

"come with me for a second? i want to show you something!" you said with a sly grin on your face

katsuki didn't care enough to talk back, neither did he think this could lead to the ill intentions you had with him tonight. following you into the bedroom, you gestured katsuki to sit down on the bed. he obeyed although he began to have a suspicion of what you're about to do. using your new body, you abused katsuki's strong muscle and speed to restrain your own body with the handcuffs you prepare. there was no way for katuski to fight back in this situation because your body was simply not built enough to resist his. 

"h-huh? what are you doing dumbass…if you're joking s-stop it now, it's not funny." 

"oh i am very serious katsuki, now that i'm inside your body. i am going to fuck your brains out. i'm gonna thrust that bratty attitude of yours right out the window." 

hearing you say that, your husband looked away to avert his eyes while you heard a small gulp coming from his throat. you could tell he was nervous and that's exactly what you wanted. katsuki has never bottomed in his life before and he does plan on doing so either. 

finally having katsuki in your grasp, you decided to carry on with your plan. you put on the blindfold for him as he jolted in surprise. katsuki tried to get out of the handcuffs but later found his attempt futile. these were the toys he used for you too and he out of everyone should know it's impossible to get out of them. once your husband stopped moving you gentlt took off his pants, leaving him exposed wearing only your boxers with an erection under it.

"aww katsuki~ already hard and i haven't even done anything yet, maybe you're better off being the bottom hm?" you teased 

"s-shut up you shit head, just get on with it, whatever evil plan you have in store for tonight…"

"no need to rush katsuki" you said as you entered his asshole with 2 of your fingers, loosening him up for the vibrator. 

"we have the entire night."

you heard your own voice whimper as you explored more with your fingers. soon enough it was time to put the other toy in. your fingers left for a bit preparing the vibrator, leaving bakugou panting from the pleasure and clenching his hole around well, nothing. you turned on the vibrator and katsuki immediately noticed the familiar sound of what's in your hands. 

"o-oi y/n, don't put it in here, i-i won't be able to take it." 

"oh i'm sure you can~ you made me do it plenty of times, why can't the big and strong bakugou katsuki do it?"

without mercy, you put in the vibrator quickly and let the show play out. katsuki was moaning and groaning while you stroked your own cock enjoying the view. katuski's cock was bigger than yours and you weren't used to jacking off such a big dick but it was a nice first.

seeing a wet spot forming on katsuki's underwear, you knew he was ready to go. you took off katsuki's underwear to see the precum leaking from it, so much it looked like he was about to cum any second now. next, you took out the vibrator and started to spread some lube on your cock. you positioned yourself on top of the katsuki and teased his pink hole with your huge cock. 

"what do good boys say katsuki~?" 

"tch! i'm not saying it, y-you sadistic fuck."

you slapped katsuki's ass so loud that the neighbors probably could've heard you.

"i'm the one in control right now, you listen to what i say, understood?"

"f-fine, jesus christ! p-please y/n, put it inside me…" 

"that's a good boy…" 

after you fit ¾ of your cock in katsuki was already panting heavily trying to catch his breath. it reached his prostate you leaned down on his chest to bite on his nipples to make him feel even better. his hole clenched on your hole so tight you were barely able to move your cock around. you continued to make thrusts and sped them up each time. 

during your thrusts you suddenly felt the weird feeling when fighting the villain again. both you and bakugou's body started to burn up but it wasn't as painful as it was last time. next thing you know everything was pitch black. you felt a piece of black cloth on top of your eyes and a familiar size inside your ass. it didn't take you long to realize that you and bakugou finally switched back. 

you were glad to be back in your own body but why did it have to happen now?! out of all the times it could've happened this was no doubt the worst possible timing. you just teased the crap out of bakugou and now that he's in control again he can take his revenge right here, right now.

"oh? would you look at that…our bodies switched back…" you couldn't see katsuki say this but you could already tell the evil smile on his face. 

"k-katsuki i'm sorry, i didn't mean to tease you that hard i was just trying to have some fun y-y'know." you desperately tried to explain. 

"too late now baby boy… bad boys get punished for what they did. now… get ready, for the night of your fucking life." 

regret, nothing but regret. bakugou was already an aggressive person when it comes to sex, now that you pissed him off even more you weren't prepared for what he was about to do to you. 

without warning, katsuki pulled back his hips and thrusted into you harder than ever. you took his entire length right away and the full feeling in your ass was too overwhelming for you to handle. you started to blabber nonsense, unable to form words due to the pleasure. 

"c'mon baby… gotta speak up if you want me to understand you." bakugou said knowing damn well you can't talk back. 

incoherent moans and groans escaped from your mouth as you felt dry orgasms again and again from katsuki reaching your prostate. you were on the verge of passing out till you saw your husband's panting just as hard as you. you could tell he was very close as well. you tried your best to stay conscious and cum with your husbands. 

katsuki let out a loud moan as he cummed inside you. you reached your orgasm too cumming all over yourself. katsuki licked up the cum on your stomach as you slipped into sweet unconsciousness. he gave you a warm smile and patted your head as he took you into his arms and fell asleep with you. 

[honeypiehotchner]

kiss me on the mouth and set me free (Damon Salvatore x fem!Reader) -- one shot

Hi my lovelies! I know this is not my usual content whatsoever, but I’ve been watching TVD with my best friend (@treat-winchesterswith-kindness​) and she was begging for a Damon smut, so this is the result. And I have to say...I enjoyed the hell out of writing this one xx.

Beta’d by @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​ and @a-radical-notion <3

Warnings: (Birthday) SMUT! (Slight) virginity kink, Daddy kink, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), biting (of course), size kink

Damon’s fingers touch gently underneath your chin, tilting your head, forcing your eyes to meet his. Not for compliance, he’d never do that to you. But for attention, for focus, for sincerity. He wants you to know his true intentions, the kind that only you can see when you’re looking into his eyes.

The usual mischief isn’t there. Instead, swirling in his eyes, are the softest emotions you’ve ever seen. The most genuine. The warmest.

Slowly, you nod. Your silent, willing compliance. Your silent, please.

As he leans forward to connect your lips--

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

Your dream is ripped right out from under you by the smirking vampire standing in your bedroom. “Damon, what the hell?” You sit up in bed, rubbing your forehead. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Yikes, what’s with the attitude? My feelings are fragile, you know.” He grabs a pillow off your floor and hugs it to his chest as he quite literally falls onto the reading chair you have by your window.

Your only response is a glare.

“Come on, do you not know what day it is?”

“No,” you mutter, dropping your hands onto the bed in defeat. “What day is it?”

His expression is surprise, sadness, and unamused all at once. “Your birthday.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. You guess that is today. You’ve been so busy lately. You knew it was coming up, but you weren’t aware it was coming up this quickly. And now it’s here, and you have no plans.

Or at least you thought you didn’t have plans.

“Up, up, up,” Damon orders, waving his hands at you as he stands. “We’re celebrating, you’re not allowed to say no. Up.”

One thing you’ve learned about being friends with Damon Salvatore is that once he’s set in his ways, he isn’t budging. So, despite feeling like lead has been injected into your bones, you let him drag you out of bed -- literally. He reaches both hands out and you accept, wrapping your fingers around his and allowing him to tug you to your feet.

You and Damon have always been close. More than close, actually. You’ve never kissed or anything, at least not on the lips. He kissed your forehead once when you were sobbing over something. You kissed his cheek once in public when a guy wouldn’t stop hitting on you. And the two of you have held hands before, but more as an “I don’t want to lose you” measure in large crowds. You love concerts, and Damon does too (especially rock) but he hates the crowds because he hates losing sight of you.

You wouldn’t be surprised if everyone just assumed you and Damon are dating. You know the two of you aren’t -- because he’s definitely had sex with other women while you’ve been friends with him -- but you also know his behavior might lead others to believe otherwise. You also know that’s kind of his whole intention.

He’s protective. It’s what he does best. When you’re next to him, no one who isn’t your friend will look at you. And when you’re not with him, you’ve noticed the number of people who approach you with ill intentions has considerably decreased.

Once you’re known indirectly (or directly, you guess) as Damon Salvatore’s girl, no one comes near you. Exactly how Damon likes.

You don’t mind it. You hate being bothered. You’re surprised you let Damon bother you for as long as you did before you caved. You can’t lie, you liked it. You liked him. You still do.

But Damon isn’t the settling down type. He’s not the type to be monogamous, at least not from your experience. You do wonder at times what his goal was whenever he’d tell you about his sexual encounters. It wasn’t like he was bragging, but you couldn’t help but feel like he was trying to get a reaction out of you.

So, obviously, you didn’t give him one.

Damon doesn’t always get what he wants. He just thinks he does. And you like to make him believe that.

“Are you ready yet? I’m starving,” Damon calls from the hallway.

You roll your eyes. “No. And you can’t be starving, you’re dead.”

“I know,” he smirks, sauntering into your room. “Look at you.”

“Look at me?” You scoff. “I wore this outfit last week.”

“Yeah, but you look...hotter, I don’t know. Maybe it’s your birthday.”

You roll your eyes again, a habit you do most often when you’re with Damon. “Whatever. Where are you taking me?”

“Oh, just, all your favorite places.”

“You’re full of shit, Damon.”

+++

After a full day of doing all of your favorite things, most of which Damon hates, by the way. You have no idea why he’s been entertaining you all day, but you’re assuming it’s only because today is your birthday. He’ll go back to his usual self tomorrow and hang out with you only when it doesn’t involve things he hates doing.

“Which one of your comfort movies are we watching to end the day?”

You eye Damon skeptically from the kitchen. He’s currently on the couch, flicking through Netflix lazily.

You don’t want to question any of this until tomorrow, so you tell him which movie to queue up, and you hear him muffle a groan.

You return to the living room with a giant bowl of popcorn, plopping it in the middle of you and Damon. He presses play on the movie, and you eat your popcorn with a smile.

Of course, you should’ve known it was too good to be true for Damon to keep his mouth shut all day because about halfway through the movie, he drops the bomb you had been waiting on.

“So...you’ve really never had sex?”

You roll your eyes, but don’t respond.

Earlier today when the two of you were walking around, Damon kept pointing out cute guys. And they were cute, you’ll give him that, but you had no idea what his deal was. After five or six guys are pointed out, Damon asks you, “Come on, you’ve never had birthday sex? A one-night stand on your special day?”

You had laughed and shoved his arm, and confessed, “I’ve never had any sex, period. So no thank you. Can we please go?”

You knew it was way too good to be true when Damon dropped the subject immediately and moved on, letting you drag him away to your other favorite spot.

Of course, you should’ve known he was only waiting for the right time. You did know. Which is why you haven’t answered him right now.

But he keeps going.

“What about held hands? Kissed anyone on the lips?”

“First of all, you’ve held my hand, and second of all, of course I’ve kissed someone on the lips, I’m not a nun!” You lie.

He looks skeptical. “When was it?”

“I was…” He gives you the look harder, not compelling you, but might as well have been. “Fine. I’ve never had sex, and I’ve never had my first kiss. Are you happy now?”

“Of course I’m not happy!” He gives you another look, this one like you’ve gone batshit crazy. “You’re missing out on one of life’s greatest experiences!”

“And this is exactly why I never told you,” you toss a popcorn kernel at him, watching it bounce off his forehead. He looks up at it, but he doesn’t blink. “Not everyone thinks sex is all there is to life, Damon.”

“Okay, that’s not what I meant--”

“That’s exactly what you meant.”

“I just mean if...you’re waiting…”

“Please, stop. Talking.”

“You don’t need to wait.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Because I’m right here.”

You stare at him blankly. “What?”

He shrugs nonchalantly like he’s not the biggest manwhore around. “I’m here.”

“You’re joking. Quit fucking with me.”

“I’m not fucking with you-- Well, at least not yet--”

“Oh my God, shut up!” You laugh, swatting at his arm, hating the way you’ve gone hot all over.

Damon Salvatore is attractive. Scratch that-- He’s more than attractive. He’s the kind of attractive everyone says they want in a guy, but obviously, it’s too much to ask for, so they settle for a little less. You can’t ask everyone to look like a God, but Damon does -- though you’ll never let him hear those words leave your lips. Never.

The prospect of having sex with Damon has crossed your mind more than once. Probably a thousand times, if you’re honest, but you always knew it would never happen. He’s Damon Salvatore. First of all, he doesn’t do anything besides casual sex, and second of all, you’re pretty sure his sex only includes experienced partners. You don’t exactly fit either of those criteria.

You never even thought he looked at you that way. You figured if he had, he would’ve made more jokes or insinuated things. But he never has with you.

“I’m being serious, you know.”

At this point, fifteen more minutes of the movie have gone by. But you haven’t been paying attention.

“Can I ask why?” You say, keeping your eyes focused on the TV screen.

“Why what?”

“Why now? Why are you suddenly interested? Because if it’s just to get your dick wet, I will kick you out.”

“What do you mean suddenly interested?” He counters.

“What do you mean?” You fire back, finally looking at him. “The whole time we’ve been friends, you’ve had more one-night stands than I can count. You never flirt with me. And just today you were trying to find someone for me to have birthday sex with. Are you serious?”

“Okay, yes, I have had a lot of one-night stands, and yes, I was being...obnoxious today, but I have flirted with you.”

“Since when?”

“Since every day I’ve known you!” He cries. “Did you not notice?”

You slump back into the couch cushions. “Well, I guess not.”

More minutes pass. The movie plays and you try to pay attention, silently wishing the couch would swallow you whole right now. This shouldn’t be embarrassing, but it is.

“I’m not saying you have to have sex tonight, but whenever you’re ready...I’m here.”

“Of course you’ll always be there for that.”

“You know I didn’t mean it that way,” he says, and you would’ve brushed him off again if he wasn’t looking into your eyes so deeply, and reaching for your hand. Not in a way that insinuates anything, but for comfort.

Silently, you turn your hand over and let him hold it. “What if...What if I’m not ready for sex yet, but…”

“But?”

“But…” You sigh, averting your eyes back to the movie. “What if I want you to kiss me?”

“I can do that.”

You nod, but you don’t move. Your hand stays gently held in his, your eyes glued to the movie. You suggested it yourself, yet you’re nervous.

Distantly, you hear the bowl of popcorn moving to the coffee table. You feel the cushion beside you dip slightly as Damon scoots over. And then…

“You’re going to have to look at me if you want me to kiss you.”

You feel his fingers gently lifting your chin, turning your gaze toward him.

“Are you sure?”

You roll your eyes, not as harsh this time because you’re too busy buzzing with the fact that his fingers are still on your chin. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

“Okay, okay,” he teases, his thumb stroking your jaw.

He moves slow, not wanting to rush you, but he moves so slow that you wish he’d use his speed. Before you can make a comment about it, though, his lips are finally on yours.

Kissing isn’t what you expected. But since it’s with Damon, it’s amazing.

He still moves as slow as possible, his hand moving from your chin to your jaw, cupping your face, pulling you closer. You have no idea what to do with your hands, so you leave them in your lap, curled into fists.

Damon pulls back, pecking your lips once, then twice, before finally pulling away.

“How’s that for a first kiss?”

You don’t bother responding. Instead, you grip his shirt in both hands and pull him back to you, kissing him harder. A growl releases itself from the back of Damon’s throat, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip in retaliation.

You open up for him instantly, fists releasing his shirt when his tongue strokes into your mouth gently. His hands find your waist and squeeze, massaging your skin, tugging you closer until there’s practically not even a centimeter of space between the two of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, a small whine leaving your lips when he pulls back.

“Damon…” You whisper, your vision hazy, but in the best way.

“Look at me,” he says softly, his lips ghosting over yours.

You blink slowly, looking back into his eyes. “Hm?”

“Do you want more?”

You nod pathetically, still annoyed with him for stopping.

“Words, little one,” he taps your nose with his index finger. “What do you want?”

“More,” you say almost instantly. “I need more, Damon.”

“More it is,” he smirks, giving you what you need.

You inhale deeply when he kisses you, and when you exhale, your breath fills Damon’s lungs. Your fingers thread through his hair at the base of his skull, your arms keeping you steady around his neck. His lips devour you in every form of the word, claiming you, coaxing you to open up to him. His hands tug on your hips, pulling you into his lap, straddling his legs.

Your comfort movie plays on the TV in the background, the volume turned down, but still there. Somehow, it makes more of your nerves melt away. Damon’s touch makes the rest of them disappear.

Damon pushes your hair back from your face as he holds you captive with his kiss. Another nip to your skin and he pulls back.

“I want more,” you blurt, “but I’m not a one night stand.”

“You are most definitely not a one night stand,” he replies softly, pecking your lips. “If you want more, I’ll give you more.”

“Give me more,” you all but demand, rocking your hips. “Now.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tightens his grip on your hips, stopping your movement. “Just because it’s your first time doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want.”

You fully stop your movement out of surprise and annoyance. “Why not?”

“Because…” He thumbs the pout from your lips. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Damon,” you groan. “Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I haven’t fingered myself.”

He chuckles lowly, grabbing one of your hands and lifting it up into view. “I am a lot bigger than your fingers, princess.”

You shudder at the nickname and fail to hide it.

His usual mischievous smirk stretches across his lips. “You like that?”

You nod. No use in trying to hide it.

“Princess,” he murmurs. “What do you want?”

“Fuck me,” you say proudly, already tired of the teasing.

He smooths his hands down your arms. “That’s not asking nicely.”

“Please, will you please just fuck me already?”

“Nice of you to say please,” Damon replies, pressing a kiss to your lips. “But I need to get you ready first. Don’t pout, kitten. Come on.”

He shifts his weight to lift you up, laying you back on the couch. Slowly, your pants are dragged down your legs. You wait for him to take your panties, too, but he doesn’t.

You lift your head, but Damon stops you before the comment leaves your mouth. “Patience, princess.”

You throw your head back into the pillow with a groan, one that quickly morphs into a moan when he mouths your clit over your panties. His tongue darts out to tease your hole through the fabric, smirking into your pussy as you squirm. He thumbs your clit before massaging your lips.

“There we go,” he murmurs. “I can feel you getting wet, and that’s what we need, Princess, I don’t want to hurt you...not unless you ask.”

A flash of a wet dream you had a few nights ago, where Damon’s mouth was in your neck, his teeth breaking skin only barely, but enough to taste.

“Did you just get wetter? Oh, Princess…”

The sound of ripping fabric fills your ears when Damon’s teeth tear your panties away. The sudden cool air on your wet pussy causes your hips to buck, and Damon’s hands promptly push them back down.

He crawls up your body, briefly paying attention to your collarbones and neck, daring to nip there, but not breaking the skin, and leaving as quick as he came.

His entire body covers yours as he leans down, pressing sweet kisses to your lips, smirking when he finds your lips already parting for him. And when your hands find the buttons on his shirt, he chuckles, but keeps kissing you, fiercer now as you unbutton every last one, leaving his shirt hanging wide open.

“You feeling good?”

“Do you really need to ask?”

“Just checking, baby,” he coos, kissing both of your cheeks, then your nose.

He slides back down your body, settling over your hips. Now, without the barrier of your panties, you can feel his breath on your pussy. Before you have time to process that feeling, though, Damon is diving in headfirst -- literally.

Damon is not a stranger to going down on a woman, and it’s actually his favorite thing in the world to do.

He doesn’t even try holding you down. One arm is stretched across your hips, while his other hand is busy massaging your lips, coating his fingers in your wetness. You expect him to thrust his fingers into you then, but a loud moan has you looking down to see Damon’s fingers in his mouth, tasting you.

He opens his eyes and catches yours, smirking around his fingers as he pulls them out of his mouth. “You taste good.”

You scrunch up your nose, earning a laugh from him.

“I’ll make you taste one day, kitten, you might like it.”

“Hmph.”

“Don’t start pouting now,” he says, keeping his eyes locked with yours as his fingers trail down to your entrance. “Just one for now, Princess,” he whispers, spreading your lips and pressing in.

One isn’t much, so all that you feel is pleasure and heat in your core.

“More,” you whine, lying back down, breathless. “Please.”

“There’s my good girl,” he coos, kissing your hip bone. “Asking so nicely. I’ll make you feel good, don’t worry.”

Another finger enters you and it is a bit of a stretch, but still not much. He was right, his fingers are bigger than yours -- and you’re sure his cock is bigger, too -- but it’s still not enough.

“More,” you cry, the word breaking into a choked moan when he scissors his fingers, opening you up.

“There it is,” he smiles, leaning down to flick your clit with his tongue before sucking gently on the bundle of nerves. He continues scissoring his fingers until he hears your moans growing quieter, and that’s when he adds a third finger.

Now you feel the stretch, but it isn’t painful. Your moan is louder than you expect, your back arching off the couch, and Damon swears for a second he might’ve stumbled upon an angel.

A small whimper leaves your lips when he curls his fingers, pressing into your g-spot ever so slightly. Not hard enough for immense pleasure because he doesn’t want to wear you out immediately, and he knows you aren’t used to that level of pleasure -- not yet at least.

He pauses his assault on your hip bone, never biting hard enough to leave a mark, to return to your clit. He’s not sure if you know it, but you’re close. He can feel your walls fluttering and squeezing his fingers, the tell-tale signs.

Once you feel his mouth back on your clit, sucking and nibbling gently, you’re blinded by the pleasure that crashes into you. It’s as if the skies opened up and struck you with lightning straight from the sun.

When Damon moans into your pussy, the vibrations send waves of pleasure through your every fiber, and you have no choice but to cum all over his fingers.

Something you do when you’re pleasuring yourself is you stop almost immediately, but Damon continues, milking every last bit of your orgasm until you’ve calmed down. He leans his head on your hip while he continues massaging your walls until he can pull his fingers out without hurting you or startling you.

The emptiness you feel when his fingers leave you is a little startling, but only so much so that you need something else inside of you. Which is why while he’s busy sucking on his fingers again, making a complete mess, you’re sitting up and tossing your shirt over your head.

“Woah,” Damon says around his fingers, his eyes widening when your bra comes off, too. “Hello.”

You almost glare at him. “I need you inside of me.”

Damon raises an eyebrow, licking his lips. “Pardon me?”

“Please,” you groan. “Please, I need more, I…”

“Shhh,” he shushes you, his fingers massaging soft circles into your thigh. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

He nods. “Lay back, Princess. I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

You obey, mostly out of exhaustion than compliance, and Damon knows that. You’ve always been a bit of a brat, but he’s seeing even more of it tonight.

He makes a show of shrugging off his shirt, watching you watching him, your arm bent underneath your head to prop you up. One leg is up and the other is down, and you look like Heaven.

Damon undoes his belt and tosses it away, taking note of the way your eyes follow it all the way to the floor. You don’t even look back to him until his pants are hitting the floor, and him stepping out of them catches your attention again. Black boxer briefs are all that is left, and they’re barely containing him.

He loves how intently you’re watching him. The genuine curiosity sparks in his eyes when he pulls his underwear down, kicking them aside. You blink slowly, marveling at the sight of him. He’s...pretty.

“Like what you’re seeing, baby?”

You nod slowly. “Mhm. Taste?”

“Next time,” he promises, kneeling on the couch, pushing your legs apart. “Tonight is all about you, Princess.” He presses a kiss to your lips to seal the deal, and you accept it, reminded of how empty you feel now that your legs are spread again.

You go quiet when you feel his cock nudging your entrance. He stretched you, but he feels so big.

“Is it...Is it gonna fit?” You ask, your arms wrapping around his neck again for support.

“I’ll go slow,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin. “You tell me when to stop, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kisses you again, sweeter and softer this time, but it’s only a distraction for when he initially enters you. He could tell you needed the distraction, and he was correct.

When you begin to feel him, your nails scratch his skin and he stops, staying there, waiting for your word.

He goes slow as promised every time you ask for more, and stops whenever you say so, or when your whimper is louder than expected.

Soon, though, he’s fully seated inside of you, and you feel sufficiently full. At peace. And ready for him to fucking move.

“Move, please, Damon, I need you to--”

He pulls out slightly and snaps his hips, knocking the breath out of you. He watches your face, but there are no traces of pain, only pleasure.

A rhythm slowly forms, one that you enjoy, until you need more and when you ask for more this time, Damon doesn’t hold back.

So much so that it forces a new name from your lips.

You didn’t mean to say it, but when he stops moving out of surprise, you can’t help but whine it once more. “Daddy, please.”

“God,” Damon groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. The rhythm this time is slow and dizzying. “Say it again.”

“Daddy,” you whimper instantly, bucking your hips, pulling him in deeper.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your vein. “You have no idea how hard it is not to just…” He pauses, letting his teeth graze over the sensitive skin there. “And when you call me that…”

“Daddy…” You cry out, feeling him nudging against your cervix.

“My sweet little girl,” he breathes. “Letting me take her virginity. That’s my Princess, my baby…” His teeth graze your skin again, teasing you, and then…

“Please,” you mumble, closing your eyes. “Do it.”

He freezes, and you feel it, but you’re tired of him freezing, so you wrap your hand around the back of his head, pressing his mouth into your neck.

“Do it,” you repeat, even more breathless. “Please.”

Damon can’t resist, not when you feel this good wrapped around him, when you’re begging, when you’re pushing him closer, yearning for it.

He speeds up his rhythm, chasing his high. He doesn’t trust himself to cum with his teeth in your neck, but he can cum right before, and sink them in while you’re cumming. The pain won’t be as intense while you’re mid-orgasm.

Almost as soon as you feel Damon’s seed spilling inside of you, your back is arching, your own waves of pleasure shooting through your body, your second orgasm of the night capturing you. And when you least expect it, because you assumed he had decided against you, Damon’s teeth sink into your neck.

It’s a feeling you’ve never felt before, but it’s one you’ll be asking for more often.

Your body relaxes, Damon’s now half-hard cock sitting snugly inside of you while he drinks from you, and when he finally is done, you’re floating blissfully.

You catch only a glimpse of his face before it returns to normal, and he kisses you gently to get your attention.

“How was your first time?”

“Amazing,” you murmur, scratching gently at the base of his skull. “Really...amazing.”

“Do you want me to move?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Stay.”

“Okay, well I need to pull out of you, but then we can cuddle.”

“Fine,” you huff, dropping your arms from his neck.

Slowly, he pulls out of you, leaving you empty once more, despite the pleasure still thrumming through your body. “You can warm my cock another time, okay Princess?”

“Hmph.”

He stands and shakes his head. “Alright, it’s nap time for you.”

You look up hopefully. “Bed?”

“Yeah, come on.” He slides his arms underneath your legs and back, lifting you up bridal style.

You’re asleep in his arms before he even makes it to your room.

[tfwlawyers]

Not me singlehandedly going through your entire parent trap au I’m so invested even though like half of the posts are from 2015 💀

THESE THINGS HAPPEN I get such a kick out of knowing this au is still making its rounds though 😭😭

and yk what just because I know I’m never going to do anything else with this, have a 3.5k attempted scramble of fic for this au I tried writing back also in 2015. i was even less of a writer back then than I am now so it’s absolutely terrible but have at thee

“Oh, wait...” Trucy winced and tapped her earring. Apollo’s eyes widened in realization. “Looks like we have one more thing to do tonight - it’ll be super quick, I promise.”

“Oh no,” Apollo said, visibly paling, “there’s no way you’re doing that to me-”

“Then cutting my hair was a total waste,” Trucy huffed, tugging at a newly shorn lock, “because there’s no way I can go to camp with pierced ears and come home without. Come on, Polly, where’s your sense of adventure? It’s just one little pinch!”

“Just one?” he asked hesitantly, eyes now trained on the sharp needle laying on the table.

Trucy paused. “Well... I guess it’s technically two. I really only wear the one earring, but both my ears are pierced.”

Apollo sighed. “Great.”

“Nah, I got this,” Trucy said, grinning toothily. “I went with Aunt Maya when she wanted to get hers pierced, even though she chickened out at the last second.” She picked up the needle and a book of matches from the table, eyes glinting. “I had to get mine repierced because of infection the first time too. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

-

“Put that apple slice back,” Apollo said, narrowing his eyes at the piece of fruit in Trucy’s hands. “They’re acidic, I don’t need that anywhere near me and oh God you’re really going to shove a piece of metal into my ear, aren’t you-”

-

“You sure I look okay?” he asked, patting down the skirt. He squinted down at the stark white boots he’d thankfully fit into. “I’m terrified to walk in these, they look like death traps -”

“Which is why we’re practicing,” Trucy said primly, wiping her hands on a gel-stained rag. She still didn’t quite have a grasp on the correct ratio of product to actual hair, but she was much better than when they had started five weeks ago. “Now, walk towards me.”

-

“One last thing, I guess,” Apollo said, removing his bracelet and handing it to Trucy, watching as she carefully slid it on. He rubbed his now bare wrist absentmindedly, feeling strangely naked without it.

“So... this is really it. We’re really doing this.”

“We’re really doing this,” Trucy confirmed, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. For all her apparent enthusiasm, she looked as nervous as he felt. The studs in her ears reflected the morning light.

“Give papa a hug for me,” he said, smiling weakly.

“Give daddy one for me too,” she said.

They hesitated a moment more before Trucy threw her arms around her brother’s shoulders. Apollo’s arms immediately snaked around her waist, drawing her in tight. They clung to each other, silently willing and praying this was somehow going to all work out - that they wouldn’t just to get to meet their other parent, that they wouldn’t only get a few short weeks with the other father they hadn’t even known had existed, but that they could find some way to reconcile the two, that they wouldn’t have to lose anyone across the wide expanse of the Atlantic ever again.

-

“You’ve had your ears pierced,” he said almost absently, cradling her head between his hands and gently turning her neck back and forth to better view the studs. He clicked his tongue. Trucy felt her heart sink.

“Do you... hate them?” she asked tentatively.

Edgeworth’s eyes snapped to hers. They were the same soft gray color as the paint Daddy always kept too much of around the house. “On the contrary - I find they suit you incredibly well. Please tell me you didn’t get an infection.”

Her face split into a wide smile.

-

Apollo thumbed through a stack of canvases that had been shoved into a corner. There was a thin layer of dust of them; if he had to guess, he’d say they hadn’t been disturbed for at least three months - not a particularly long stretch of time, all things considered. They were clearly less polished works, lacking the technical skill and attention to detail that made Phoenix Wright a name to be reckoned with in the art community, but they were still beautiful in their own way. Paintings of vineyards and what looked like London, towering skyscrapers and calm seas and -

His father.

Apollo blinked.

The portrait of Miles Edgeworth drawn in rich oils did not blink back. Nor did the three that followed.

-

“There were a lot of paintings of the same person in daddy’s works. Some guy with grey hair,” Apollo said, struggling for nonchalance.

Maya’s grip on the mixing bowl faltered. “Is that so,” she said carefully.

“Was he one of daddy’s favorite models or something he just never told me about?”

Maya pursed her lips and continued stirring with a newfound vigor. “You could say that.”

-

“You’re not Apollo?” he asked, voice thick. “You’re Trucy?”

She smiled weakly. “That would be correct.” One strand of hair fell lank across her forehead - how did I not notice, Apollo hasn’t used nearly that much gel in years - and he absentmindedly tucked it behind her ear. He felt her press into the warmth of his hand, as if she were afraid he might suddenly vanish across the Atlantic again.

“I hope you don’t - I hope you don’t hate me,” she said, voice beginning to waver, “it’s just that Polly and I met at the camp and the whole thing sort of just spilled out. I’ve wanted to see you for so long, and Polly felt exactly the same way about Daddy, so we sort of just - just switched lives and hoped it wouldn’t take you so soon to notice. I really hope you don’t hate me, because I’ve wanted to meet you basically my whole life and I hope that maybe one day you can love me for me and not Polly and -” (this is ALL from movie tho so mix this up)

Edgeworth’s left hand came to cradle the rest of Trucy’s face, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Oh, my dear,” he said, cautiously tugging her forward. She came willingly, all but sprawling across his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin and wrapping her arms around his middle. “I’ve loved you since the day you came to me,” he whispered into her hair, blinking away the beginnings of tears he felt gathering at the corner of his eyes. He felt her tighten her hold and he did the same.

-

He poured himself a thumbnail of scotch, perfectly content to pretend he didn’t have tickets to a plane back to a state he had vowed never to set foot in again departing in less than four hours. “He was rather handsome,” he found himself admitting, absentmindedly swirling the glass and taking a sip. He paused, staring at nothing and mumbling to himself, “...had the most crooked smile. Always made me weak at the knees.”

“What was that, sir?”

Edgeworth snapped his attention back to the other man; he’d nearly forgotten Gumshoe was even in the room. “Nothing, nothing, never mind, have you seen the tickets?”

Gumshoe shrugged. That was Trucy’s cue.

“Almost ready, papa?” she asked, stepping smoothly into the room from her hiding place behind the thick wooden door. Edgeworth looked just as wild-eyed as she’d been hoping.

“Yes, of course, I’m almost finished packing -”

She didn’t even have to look at his still mostly bare suitcase to know he was lying.

“ -and you did tell your father we were coming, didn’t you?” he finished, placing his drink on a nearby dresser and running his fingers shakily through his hair.

“Absolutely,” Trucy promised.

“Ah,” Edgeworth said, fiddling with his waistcoat buttons. They looked like they’d been polished recently.

“Liar,” Gumshoe leaned down to whisper. She shushed him.

-

“Might I suggest we continue this little gathering inside,” Maya said, already beginning to shepherd the twins - the twins, she was going to need another vacation just to process the fact that they were together again - into the room. She twisted back around to look at Edgeworth, still shoving Apollo (that was Apollo, right?) forward. “Hi,” she began again, offering a free hand, “you probably don’t remember me -”

“Maya!” he interrupted, smiling warmly and bending to kiss her chastely on the cheek. His breath was sour with vodka and his glasses clunked awkwardly against her face. As he turned and stepped fully into the room, Maya’s cheeks(rp) began to hurt from smiling so fiercely.

“I knew I always liked him,” she said to no one as she closed the door.

-

This was ridiculous. This resort was full of entirely too many people who favored the same sort of eccentric clothing that man had even fourteen years ago, a disproportionate amount of them with the same slate grey hair. He almost would have written that (awkward*) expression seen from across Dahlia’s shoulder/a hotel lobby as a figment of his overtaxed imagination had it not been so much realer than the stacks of canvases in his studio. Which meant Miles was here, but he’d swept the first level of the hotel twice already after begging Dahlia to take to her room for a bit, the pool area was as depressingly empty as the inside was, and -

There he was.

Across the pool, descending the steps carefully from the inside lounge area and walking on the balls of his feet like he always did when he’d had a bit too much to drink (and why did he still remember that) was, without a doubt, Miles Edgeworth.

Phoenix suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

Edgeworth was halfway down the opposite path before Phoenix realized he should probably do something.

“Excuse me,” he said, shouldering his way through the crowd. It would be rude and more than a little intrusive to just call out his ex-husband’s name in the middle of a resort, right? Perhaps not as rude as nearly shoving the poor bellboy into the shrubbery, but, well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

He didn’t immediately notice the odd assortment of friends and family and a lumbering man in striped green swimming trunks perched on pool chairs as he stepped past, but they certainly noticed him.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Trucy asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said vaguely, refusing to take his eyes off Edgeworth. He was abruptly terrified he might vanish again if he did.

He

“Nick, watch out -”

“Hey, pal -”

“Daddy -”

With that, Phoenix collided into a passing service boy, arms pinwheeling wildly as he fell directly into the pool behind him.

-

“Hello Miles,” he said, smiling sheepishly and wringing out his tie. He fought the urge to rub the back of his neck and settled for clenching his hands into tight fists instead. “Or do you people call you Edgeworth now?”

“Miles is - Miles is fine,” Edgeworth said weakly, trying to look anywhere but Phoenix, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation they should be having for the first time after fifteen years. “My father still calls me Miles.”

-

Something warm coiled in his chest. It felt infinitely more dangerous than it had fifteen years ago.

“You always had a smart mouth,” he murmured, rubbing a swathe of cleaning ointment along the cut on Phoenix’s forehead. Phoenix hissed.

“So glad you remembered,” he bit through gritted teeth.

“Hush.”

Phoenix hmmed but stayed silent for a few more seconds, staring at Edgeworth as he dug back into the first aid kit. Edgeworth tried not to flush under the scrutiny.

-

Phoenix held his wrist in a loose grip. He should have felt clammy from the pool and the rapidly descending night, but he blazed oddly hot against Edgeworth’s skin.

“Miles, I-”

“Feenie? Who is this?”

“Dollie!” Phoenix said, shooting upright and wincing at the sudden dizziness.

-

Edgeworth’s burgundy coat was hung carefully over his arm, too thick for the warm California night. The buttons on his waistcoat glinted from a nearby streetlamp’s glow.

Phoenix swallowed.

-

“Do you have any idea where they’re taking us?” Edgeworth asked, leaning in slightly. Phoenix’s (nose twitched? something about scent memory?) and he refused to let himself acknowledge that Miles’s choice of aftershave hadn’t changed since the day they’d met. He abruptly remembered the taste of cheap wine and overly sweet cake on his tongue, felt the ghost weight of a ring fifteen years gone.

He hastily turned away.

“No idea.”

-

“Grandfather chipped in a bit -”

“Apollo,” Edgeworth warned.

“Alright, so Grandfather chipped in a lot, whatever, we’re poor teenagers, the point is,” he said, emphasizing the final word by pulling the ship’s impressive doors open with a firm tug, “it’s ours for the night.”

Phoenix whistled shrilly in appreciation, instinctively reaching out to ruffle Apollo’s hair. It was a testament to how important the night was that Apollo merely batted Phoenix’s hand away. “Seriously, dad,” he mumbled. His scowl was clearly forced, however; he felt oddly warm that he was able to finally use that word at all.

-

“Subtle,” Phoenix remarked.

“Mm,” Edgeworth agreed. “I don’t suppose we should let their efforts, however misguided they may be, go to waste, should we?”

“You just want to know who else they roped into this ridiculous scheme of theirs.”

“Oh, because you don’t.”

“I,” Phoenix said, moving to the chilled champagne propped by the windowsill and popping its cork, “have a perfectly healthy level of curiosity. It does not involve wondering what’s going on in my kid’s head. Trucy is a teenager. That’s terrifying.” He carefully poured the sparkling drink into two glasses and offered one to Edgeworth.

“I find that somewhat difficult to believe,” Edgeworth said, striding forward and taking the  proffered glass. He made certain their fingers did not brush. “Thank you.”

-

They waited until she had hastily bowed out of the room before turning their focus back to each other. “Miles, that’s why we came up with this arrangement in the first place,” Phoenix continued, nonplussed.

“Really?” Edgeworth carefully picked up his glass flute, trying to ignore the tremor he felt running through his hands. “I thought it was because we’d agreed to never see each other again.”

Phoenix’s heart clenched. “Not ‘we’, Miles,” he said slowly, spreading his hands on the tablecloth and feeling like if he missed a step here, he would risk something he couldn’t afford to lose again.

Edgeworth took a shaky draw of wine. “You know,” he said slowly, seemingly forcing himself to meet Phoenix’s eyes, “that part is unclear to me as well.”

“Oh, you don’t remember the day you packed?” Phoenix asked.

“No, I remember that day perfectly. Did I hurt you when I threw that - oh God, what was it -”

“It was Kamisar’s Modern Criminal Procedure. It left a dent in the wall from where it rebounded off my head.”

“Oh,” Edgeworth said, at least having the grace to look properly abashed. “Right. Sorry.”

Phoenix shrugged. “It’s not like I was making it that easy on you.

-

And....” Edgeworth trailed off, twisting a napkin between his fingers. “You didn’t chase after me.”

Phoenix felt (something) shift. “I didn’t know that you wanted me to.”

-

“A toast to -”

“Our children,” Edgeworth cut in. He ignored the tightening in his chest at the our.

“Our children,” Phoenix repeated slowly, as if the words didn’t quite match with what his mouth had wanted to say.

“We both got where we actually wanted to go.”

Phoenix’s eyes never wavered from his. “We did,” he said, voice strange.

They toasted again and finished their meal in silence.

-

“Apollo, what are you doing in those clothes? We’ve got a plane to catch.”

“We’re getting totally ripped off,” maybe-Trucy said. “Daddy said we’d get our camping trip and we want to go.”

“Wait, hang on,” Phoenix interrupted, “what camping trip?”

“The one Aunt Maya and I make you take us on every year before school starts,” almost-definitely-Trucy said. Phoenix began to lift his finger in triumph, sure he’d found his kid -

“ -the one behind the house that runs all the way up to Gourd Lake, remember when you fell in that one year,” I’m-not-too-sure-if-this-one-is-still-in-fact-Apollo finished.

Phoenix’s arm fell listlessly to his side. Edgeworth snorted.

Phoenix shot Edgeworth a look. Thanks for helping, one of these is yours. “This is entirely unfunny, you’re going to make your father miss his flight,” he said, shifting his attention back to the twins. Honestly, he was an Ivy University graduate and Miles was a world renowned defense attorney, how were they being duped by their own kids -

“Apollo -” Edgeworth began.

“Yes?” they both said in unison.

Edgeworth groaned. “They get this from you, I’m sure,” he said.

“It’s not my fault you’ve apparently been raising a devilishly deceptive teenager,” Phoenix quipped back, never taking his eyes off the twins. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine pound at the base of his neck. “He’s probably rubbed off on Trucy.”

The twins grinned.

Phoenix rubbed a hand over his eyes before stooping to their height once again. He stared hard at each of them, looking back and forth between their faces. “This one’s Trucy,” he said slowly, pointing a finger to the sibling in orange. “I’m positive.”

“You know, I hope you’re right, Daddy. You wouldn’t want to send the wrong kid all the way back to Germany - ”

“ - would you?”

How was any of this fair?

“Here’s our proposition. We go back to Daddy’s house, pack our stuff, and the four of us leave on the camping trip.”

“The four of us?” Edgeworth interjected. They ignored him.

“And when you bring us back,” maybe-Trucy-maybe-Apollo continued, “we’ll tell you who’s Trucy and who’s Apollo.”

“Or,” Edgeworth said, carefully stepping around and in front of Phoenix and crossing his arms firmly across his chest, tapping his finger rhythmically against his arm, “new plan. I take one of you back to Germany with me whether you like it or not.”

Two identical sets of eyes twinkled back at him.

(He felt a migraine beginning to pound in his left temple.)

-

“You can cook now?” Edgeworth asked.

“Oh yeah,” Phoenix said. “I can make pasta. And pasta. Probably more pasta, if you ask really nicely.”

“Hm,” Edgeworth said, eyebrows scrunched in mock thought, “pasta sounds good.”

Phoenix grinned, bumping Edgeworth’s shoulder. He was warm through the cotton. “Pasta it is.”

-

Edgeworth looked across the seat at Apollo. His glassy eyes reflected the flickering street lamps as the taxi sped down the empty street.

“Apollo, I -” he began, deflating as Apollo turned further away. It’s entirely justified, he thought despondently. I’d hate myself as well.

-

“Grandfather?” Apollo called, shrugging out of his heavy jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. The house was silent.

“I’ll check the study,” Edgeworth said, tugging his jabot loose. Apollo nodded and headed towards the direction of the kitchen, toeing off his shoes on the way. Pushing open the wide doors that led to the study, Edgeworth saw someone reading a paper at the desk. He cocked his hip against the door and crossed his arms. “Hello, father. We’re back.”

The newspaper lowered. It wasn’t Gregory.

“Hiya, papa,” Trucy said. The corners of her mouth were quirked despite her obvious attempts to reign in her expression. “Did you know the Concord gets you here in half the time?”

Edgeworth slipped against the doorframe. He felt the knob dig into his hip. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”

(Edgeworth was acutely aware of the doorknob digging into his hip from when he pressed against it. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”)

Apollo walked into the room, drawn to the sound of voices. When he saw Trucy his face split into a blinding grin. “What are you doing here?”

Trucy neatly folded the newspaper on the desk and clasped her hands in front of her. “It took us about thirty seconds after you left that we decided we didn’t want to lose you two again,” she said, eyes crinkling.

Edgeworth swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “We?” he said, voice cracking.

“We,” a new voice agreed.

From the corner of his eye, Edgeworth noted Trucy moving to stand by the far wall of the study, giving the vaguest attempt of privacy. It didn’t matter. His eyes were trained on Phoenix, tracking his movement as he crossed the room.

-

Phoenix peppered his face in light kisses, smiling into the curve of his throat and pressing his lips to the thrumming heartbeat beneath his skin.

They eventually pulled back, desperate for air. Phoenix’s eyes crinkled - crow’s feet, Edgeworth thought wildly through his haze, he’s got crow’s feet now, I haven’t seen him this close up since - and he rested his forehead against Edgeworth’s.

“God, I’m never letting you go again,” he whispered, hands snaking around the other man’s back to pull him even closer.

-

“You want to toast with this? I’d have thought you might want to upgrade to something with a little more class.”

Phoenix smiled sloppily, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. “You’re the only one I said I’d drink it with, remember?”

Edgeworth smiled back. He took the proffered bottle warmed by the weather and tugged his husband into a proper kiss, matching rings glinting in the dying sunlight.

[shoutogepi]

Midnight Masquerade

Todoroki Shouto & Shinsou Hitoshi

word count : 8.6k

[  ✘ (nsfw 18+) ] 

themes : DUBCON, YANDERE. MFM threesome, vampire!todoroki, vampire!shinsou, spanking, praise kink??... double penetration, blood play (hello they’re vampires)

bio : You attend a masquerade ball in hopes of finding a bachelor on Halloween night… only to get much more than you originally bargained for. 

author’s note : This fic was inspired by one of my fav movies when I was younger! Van Helsing with Hugh Jackman (2004), in which Dracula hosts an exquisite masquerade ball, full of masked vampires.  

side note : Happy Halloween!! I didn’t have time to edit/beta this fic, so it may be a little choppy/rough.. but I’m about to leave for my Halloween party and I wanted to get this out on time so!! please try to enjoy, and I apologize if this is not up to my usual standards. <3

 ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅈ou received an invitation to a Halloween party… and that was about all the information you had to go off of. What awaited you at this gathering, you had absolutely no idea. The envelope had simply arrived on your doorstep at the beginning of the month, no messenger in sight.

This invitation, scrawled in perfect calligraphy and sealed with the kiss of a stamp upon wax, proved to be even more puzzling when you attempted to uncover its origin. And while you had asked around to anyone you could possibly think of— your friends, family, neighbors, hell, even your mailman— you found no one who could give you any answers. It seemed that you, for some reason, had been issued this invitation, when no one in your primary social network else had.

What was even more peculiar, was that a gown and a pair of heels had arrived two weeks later, in all senses more luxurious than you had ever seen, and tailored to your exact size and measurements. Just from lifting it out of the box, you could tell it was expensive. And as if that hadn’t been enough of a gift, a necklace and earrings that dazzled nearly enough to blind you arrived just a few days following the dress. Finally a last package arrived a few days before the party, containing an intricately-painted mask that tied the whole outfit together. Each of the gifts had a card laid across the top of the tissue-enfolded contents, signed off from your inviter and now confirmed “secret admirer, S.H.”

The enigma of it all perplexed you. You liked to tell yourself that a smart girl like you would never go to such an event, considering you had no clue who had sent you the invitation, let alone such extravagant gifts. You told yourself that you had no obligation to go, that it would be ill-advised to show up without any further information than the address, date, and time.

But someone had clearly gone to great lengths to impress you, and you couldn’t just ignore that. Curiosity burned bright inside you when raked your brain for potential inviters, and as you came to more and more dead ends, your intrigue grew with every second the event stayed on your mind.

You spent every day leading up to the party thinking about it, flipping back and forth as to if you were going to attend or not. Even on the night of, you spent a ridiculous amount of time switching between deciding on going or staying home, taking short bursts of either frantically getting yourself ready, or sitting down and scrutinizing the situation.

You ended up arriving at the address scrawled at the bottom of the mysterious invitation an hour late.

Although you had planned to just hail a cab thanks to your indecision, you were surprised to find a sleek, black Rolls Royce waiting for you at the entrance to your building. The driver, donned in a crisp black and white tux, sported an elegant mask across his face, and wordlessly opened the door for you, bowing and gesturing for you to enter. After a moment of hesitance, you decided it would probably be best to just get into the car— whoever had requested your presence had already gone to such lengths as to cloth and bejewel you— it only made sense for you to arrive in a vehicle that screamed as much wealth as did your outfit.

What you had not expected was to find the location of the event to be a rather estately manor at the border of the city. The driveway twisted through an ominous wood to reach the massive home, and rather nastily-spiked wrought-iron fences guarded the border of the property, looming metal casting eerie shadows against the overcast evening sky. You found yourself wondering briefly what exact purpose the metal lattice served— both sides adorned with rough silver spikes. Traditionally gates were meant to keep things from getting in… it was peculiar to you that they were double-sided.

It was certainly curious, but your eyes were quickly torn from the gates as the car ventured closer to the maleficent abode, your heartbeat beginning to pick up as you came nearer to the grand entrance. There was a gorgeous fountain laid between two sets of curved stone staircases, both leading up to the tall, mahogany doors at the dead center of the manor. The car came to a stop just before the fountain, and you spent the small moment your driver took crossing over to your side and opening your door in breathless anticipation.

The cool, dry October air felt heavenly against your exposed shoulders, the tops of your breasts just peeking out of the neck of the beautiful, sleek gown you’d been sent. The autumn chill did wonders to calm the thumping of your nervous heart, and as you climbed the stairs, your fingers trailing along the cold balustrade, you took a deep breath. When you chanced a look back toward the car, you found it had already disappeared, and a pang of uncertainty rang through you once more. Yes, this was definitely uncharastically brash of you— you still had no idea who could possibly be the one to invite you to such a prestigious soiree— and yet, you found your nerves crackling with excitement, barely able to contain your jittery disposition.

Two more men, also hidden beneath tuxedos and blank masks, bowed as they pulled the heavy wooden doors apart, revealing the bustling affair that lay inside. You were shocked to find so many bodies within just the first glance of the interior— it was a magnificent foyer that was ten times larger than the tiny apartment you had become so accustomed to, a sea of masked party-goers that ebbed and flowed with the live, string-quartet on the stage in the far corner of the room. Countless couples waltzed and spun across the middle of the room underneath humongous crystal chandeliers, all glittering and shining with the low lighting of a thousand candles, by far more fire hazards than you’d ever seen. It was quite a culture shock to you— you had never before been invited into the fruits of such luxury, this level of wealth as mysterious to you as the cryptic sender of your invitation, S.H.

And though this was your first time indulging in the pleasures of such extravagance, you looked like you belonged. You were sure that the outfit this mystery persona had given you to wear tonight was worth far more than the rent you constantly worried about making, and so you fit in quite seamlessly with the crowd of silk-enveloped, gem-encrusted faces, perhaps even going so far as to stand out. The soft silk of your pashmina tickled against your arms as it sat snug around your lower back, curled around your elbows and seams brushing against your hips. The thick necklace— more of a collar, really— sat heavy against your chest, each diamond shining brightly, leading to a large teardrop-shaped pendant of brilliant amethyst that hung perfectly in the middle of your chest. The ornate mask you’d been given concealed the top half of your face, bright ruby gems adorning along your eyes and matching your dress’ deep rouge to an impossibly perfect degree. Initially upon receiving such gifts you were suspicious of their authenticity, but standing now before such a display of affluence, you were certain they were real. The jewels and fine linens gave you a false sense of confidence, and after a moment of absorbing your astounding surroundings, you tentatively began to make your way into the party.

For a while you wandered around by your lonesome, but you didn’t really mind the solitude. It was a refreshing change of pace, and you admired each symbol of wealth you came across. The grand room was decorated with no expenses in mind— rich velvet curtains hung across the walls, tied back with gold corded tassels to allow the cold moon’s luminescence to shine down into the hall. Massive oil portraits lined the walls, each frame depicting a different person of undoubtable esteem, each in their own respect poised yet handsome as the last.

Your eyes wandered to the last two photos on the wall, both of them shockingly attractive in their own ways. One had wild, violet locks and a sultry smirk, the others’ hair split down the middle with tousled red and white, mouth set in an indifferent line. What stood out most to you was the emotion conveyed in both their eyes— it was cold and callous, sending shivers down your spine.

As you turned away from the portraits, you were met with a server, who offered you the silver platter he was carrying as he bowed. Tiny steak tartares, garnished with a red wine sauce and a sprig of herbs; the sight made your mouth water and you thanked him as you took one with the classy little fork he handed to you. Just as you turned your attention back to the portraits before you, you jumped at the discovery of a figure standing beside you.

He was tall, your head coming just above his shoulder, even in your four inch heels. He donned a crisp tuxedo of his own, but his bowtie was left undone, strips of fabric hanging loosely around his neck. Though there was a mask covering his face as well, you instantly recognized the purple flumes of hair, your surprise evident as you let out a small gasp. He didn’t seem to notice you, his eyes set on the frames above your line of sight, but he then began to speak, his deliciously deep voice taking you again by surprise. “Rather rare,” he spoke, quiet yet clear, eyes still scrutinizing the art before the pair of you.

“E-Excuse me?” you asked for clarity, wondering when exactly this man had appeared, and why you had not noticed such a captivating presence by your side.

At the sound of your voice, he turned his gaze to you, lazy violet eyes inspecting your figure without much attempt at concealing his blatant inspection. You bristled at his audacity, but soon found yourself relaxing as your own eyes wandered the length of his lithe, cut figure. It wasn’t your fault, you reasoned— you had just been admiring this man in his photo and now he appeared before you, looking even more delectable in person.

“The hors d'oeuvres,” he explained, eyes dropping to the forgotten disc of tender meat perched at the end of your fork. He let his gaze wander across your chest before he met your stare again, that same smirk coming to rest on his supple lips. “And such beauty as yours, of course. It’s unparalleled, Miss…?” he trailed off, angling his head to the side as he awaited your response.

You thanked him and told him your name, watching as his smirk only seemed to grow, something mischievous shimmering in those enticing amethyst orbs of his. He leaned forward and ducked into a slight bow, long fingers taking your free hand hostage as he brushed his lips against your knuckles.

“Shinsou will do, for now. Delighted to be acquainted,” he murmured as he pulled back, letting your hand drop and a brief silence fall on the pair of you.

Your eyes wandered to the portrait, then back to your new acquaintance. “That’s you, right?” You inquired, looking up at him through your mask. His bored eyes pierced yours as you met his gaze, and you felt heat accumulate in your cheeks. “What incredible artwork, I don’t think I’ve met anyone that’s posed for an oil painting— was it hard to sit still while it was being made?”

“Not at all,” he replied, taking a sip of the hammered-metal chalice in his large, gloved hand. “The fruits of life sweeten with patience, anyway.”

You wondered briefly if it was his first time posing for this kind of painting. Never had you met anyone who would want— or could afford, really— to commission such a painstakingly realistic portrait of themselves. How much it cost, you could not fathom, and did not care to discover. “So this is your party, then?” You continued after he made no further attempt at conversation.

He nodded, that smirk curling the corner of his mouth again. “You’re an observant little thing, aren’t you?” He remarked, sipping again from his cup. His words were rather rude, and you frowned before you shrugged them off, dismissing them in an instant. You weren’t really surprised by his smug comment, though your displeasure must have been visible because he immediately steered the conversation in another direction. “Are you enjoying yourself? May I get you a drink, my honored guest?”

It was a little off to you how his demeanor changed just like that, a flip of the switch, really— but you were thirsty, and you were curious to see what kind of expensive refreshments were available, so you found yourself nodding with a small smile of gratitude on your lips. He mirrored your smile before he mumbled something about returning soon, his figure swallowed up in the sea of masked faces.

Finding yourself alone once again, you went back to inspecting the portraits, happily humming to yourself as you enjoyed your hors d'oeuvre. You looked around the party, searching for that same waiter, wanting to grab a few more of those delicious bites while you had the chance.

It was then that you met a distinct set of eyes across the room, a white mask with delicate swirls decorating his handsome face. However much the mask concealed his face, there was no doubting that he was the other man from the portrait behind you— his hair was a stark giveaway— half of it scarlet and hanging loosely atop his brow, the other half a shocking shade of white, pushed back to give him a devilishly intimidating aura. Your throat tightened up as he began to make his way toward you, slowly but surely closing the distance between the two of you.

You couldn’t help but wonder if either of these men were the one who sent you your invitation— if one of them was to thank for showering you with such extravagance, for allowing you to dip your toes in the enticing pool of luxury. But you were not allowed to ponder the thought, for in no time at all the man in question stepped before you.

Without even a single thought, your body automatically shifted into a curtsey, and you blinked in surprise as he bowed his greeting in return. He didn’t give you a second to question it, lithe, gloved fingers taking hold of your hand and bringing it to his mouth. His lips were cold to the touch, and your hand trembled slightly as he let go.

“Todoroki Shouto,” he introduced himself, his smooth, deep voice resonating through your body. Something about him made you feel incredibly hot, yet you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. It was strange how much he seemed to affect you— almost supernatural. At your stunned silence, he smirked ever so slightly, shifting his head to look down at your shorter figure. “Your name, love? It would be rude of me to refer to you as the most alluring woman in the room the whole night, no?”

Flustered you were caught off guard, you quickly told him your name, adding on it was a pleasure to meet him.

“Y/N, hm? A beautiful name. It suits a woman as breathtaking as you.” He continued, and you could see how satisfied he was by your bashful reaction. “I can assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

You smiled hesitantly at the man before you, unsure how to respond to his blatant flirting. With the momentary lull in your conversation, you looked over your shoulder to eye the painting once again. Todoroki watched your curious gaze like a hawk, unbeknownst to you. When you looked back to him, you smiled as you pointed your thumb over your shoulder. “Is that—”

“Would you like to dance?” He interrupted, folding your smaller hand in his and taking a step backwards into the dancefloor.

Panic coursed through you— you didn’t know how to dance, or at least, you didn’t think your ballroom skills would be nearly as good as his and everyone else’s here. Yet somehow when you opened your mouth to politely decline, instead came out, “I would be honored.”

With wide eyes you were guided into the center of the room, his other gloved hand coming to rest at the curve of your waist. Your hands found their own way into position, one on his shoulder, and the other wrapped tight around his as he began to steer you around the room. You were shocked to find yourself matching each of his steps, your feet moving in perfect harmony with his. But when you looked into his eyes, a trickle of horror ran down your spine.

He was looking directly at you, two-toned eyes boring into yours with unbridled desire, and some other emotion mixing in to create a frightful end result that could only be described as hunger. Yes, there was no mistaking it— that was hunger in his eyes— for what, you did not know, but somehow your body was aware that whatever it was, you were in for quite the night.

“The dress looks simply appetizing on you, love,” he whispered in your ear, chilling the blood in your veins just like that. “Were you surprised to find it fit like a glove? You look so angelic when you sleep… I hated to disturb you, but it was gratifying to know how much you enjoyed my touch...” His lips brushed against your dangling earrings, and a shiver ran through your body as he inhaled across the skin of your neck.

“Y-You—” you stuttered, eyes widening with realization. Had he— had he taken your measurements? He’d snuck into your bedroom? When? Why? You didn’t even know this man— why would he have taken such an interest in you, how did he know where you lived,  and why— why was your heart beating out of your chest at the thought of him seeing you in your sluttly little pyjamas? You knew there was something off about this, but never could you imagine this would be the turn of events tonight. You were terrified, and yet ashamedly, a small part of you was pleased to know a handsome and powerful man as himself had gone to such lengths to woo you. There was no denying it… even though your stomach was tied into knots and fear sat like a stone in your belly, a white-hot, irrefutable desire had sparked to life between your legs.

“Not just me...” he murmured, the tip of his nose dragging against your temple before he dipped you down towards the tiled floor right in tune with the crescendo of the music, your back bending in his grip. Now upside-down, your heart skipped a beat as you recognized Shinsou staring the pair of you down from across the room, that same smirk on his lips as he raised his chalice in contempt. “You’ve met Hitoshi, correct?”

You were only spared a moment to piece it all together, that tight feeling in your stomach only twisting further. S.H… it wasn’t the name of one suitor, but two— Shouto and Hitoshi. Two rich and powerful men that both tricked you into coming to their home, and you had fallen for it— practically serving yourself to them on a silver platter. You were no better than a damn steak tartare! You wanted to face-palm, to smack yourself for being so naive, but you found that your body was not your own; you couldn’t control yourself, couldn’t even speak, and all you could do was continue to dance with the horribly attractive man whose trap you had strolled right into.

Had they drugged you? Was it that accursed steak tartare? But then, wouldn’t you have passed out, or your limbs stopped working? How were you not missing a single step with Todoroki right now, spinning when he led you to spin, and willingly stepping into him when he pulled you back into his embrace.

“What… What are you going to do to me?” Your voice was shaking, even though your body moved more confidently than ever as the pair of you strode across the marble floor. “How is this happening?” You added, feeling quite small as the target of not one, but two predatory gazes.

Todoroki took his time to answer you, wordlessly twirling you in his arms as the music then came to a stop, a new melody beginning just as the previous one faded out. “Whatever we want, I suppose,” he answered, his gloved fingers traveling up your back to grasp your chin, forcing you to look into his chilling gaze. “But don’t worry, love… I don’t think you’re going to hate it all that much.”

— - — - — - — - — - — - — - —

It was only an hour later that you were being led to the other side of the mansion— away from the music and festivities, and away from the false sense of protection the crowd provided. Todoroki walked in front of you, and Shinsou’s hand rested casually on your hip as he walked beside you. Your palms were lined in a thin coating of sweat, your growing fear causing your pulse to skyrocket. You knew that you were about to understand why they had fooled you into coming here, and though you had pondered what terrible fate they had chosen for you for the past hour, your mind was completely blank. You could only watch as your feet moved one in front of the other, your body once again under their spell.

Whatever it was that they were doing, they somehow had complete control over you, and they had forced your body to dance with the both of them for the entire time you’d been there so far. It had created some fake relief as whatever it was they had planned was pushed off for the time being, but you couldn’t indulge such relief, and your nerves were more heightened than ever. You reached your breaking point when you entered a dimly-lit bedroom, and the door closed behind you, lock clicking into place.

“Please,” you pleaded, your body moving to stand in the middle of the room, right before the four-poster, canopy-laden bed. “Just tell me what’s happening, I can’t move a single muscle…”

Shinsou frowned, gloved hand coming up to discard his mask. Your breath caught in your throat— God, even if he was your captor, you couldn’t deny he was handsome. He slowly approached you, fingertips tracing along your jaw before removing your mask as well. He sucked in a small breath of air, violet eyes dark with a foreign sentiment. “Relax, baby… We’re just gonna make you feel good. We’ve wanted to make you feel good for so long now…” His eyes dropped to analyze your lips, entranced by their color and plushness.

“But… Why can’t I move?” you reiterated, and your eyes widened as Todoroki’s presence noticeably pressed up against your behind. The feeling of his body against yours sent your heart hammering, and you swallowed as you considered your options here— there was really only one means of escape and that had to start with you tricking them into freeing you from their spell. Licking your dry lips, you meekly added, “What if I… wanted to make you feel good, too?”

“Fucking Christ,” said Shinsou, who took a step backward, his palm coming to run across his face momentarily. He seemed on edge, anticipation distinctly painted across his rugged features.

Meanwhile Todoroki took his time to answer, considering your choice of words thoughtfully. “We have a lot planned for you… but we need to re-energize before we can do anything, love,” he replied simply, his voice low in your ear. He pulled off his gloves, cold fingers catching on your jaw as he turned your face to meet his. You whimpered as he leaned into you, and before you could make a single word, his lips claimed yours, cutting off any chance at a rebuttal.

You didn’t want to admit how good his mouth felt on yours, but you couldn’t ignore the butterflies that burst into your stomach as he kissed you— they were not the result of any foreign spell. Shinsou groaned as he watched Todoroki’s tongue slip into your mouth, actions getting more fervent as the dual-colored man’s fingers slipped around your head, cradling your face against his. His lips attacked yours, slotting against them and tongue wandering between the gaps. You gasped when something sharp pricked your bottom lip, automatically pulling back, your hand coming up to touch your lip.

Bright red stained your fingertip, and you looked between the evidence of your injury and the cause of the wound, eyes widening as you took in how dark Todoroki’s eyes had become, canines elongating into sharp fangs. Bewildered, you stayed frozen to the spot, unable to do anything yet again as his hand swiftly wrapped around your wrist, yanking your hand to his mouth and wrapping his lips around your finger. The feeling of his tongue swirling around the digit made heat flare in your core, even as terror began to pump through your veins. His other hand gripped your hip roughly, pulling your body flush unto his.

The desire to scream out in fear came quickly, but you found no sound came out of you when your mouth opened. Your head still turned to Todoroki, you didn’t anticipate Shinsou coming up in front of you, only noticing the other man when his tongue stroked across the tender skin on your neck. Your body stiffened as the wet muscle slid along your throat, your eyes wide and petrified.

“There you go, just relax...” Todoroki groaned, leaning in to suck on your broken lip, his tongue petting over the fresh wound gently. It stung, but at the same time it felt very intimate— something you had never done before that had that heat building in the pit of your stomach.

A set of fangs pricked your neck, Shinsou’s lips fluttering up toward your jaw. You loathed how soft they felt, a distinct contrast to the sharpened enamels that suddenly descended into your flesh. You cried out, unprepared for the searing pain that shot through your body. Your skin felt like it was throbbing, sizzling from the unwelcome heat and pain mixing together.

“Shhh, love,” Todoroki cooed, laying a gentle kiss on your open mouth. “It won’t hurt for long…” He continued to suckle on your lip, beautiful eyes staring deeply into yours as he cradled your face. The thin ring of iris around his blown pupils shone brightly in the low light of the flickering candles, brilliant aqua and stormy gray contrasting, mesmerizing you and momentarily taking you away from the pain of the fangs lodged in your throat.

Shinsou was moaning against your neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he took his fill from your bloodstream. His hands were gripping your waist tightly, fingers wandering up your back to curl your body closer to his embrace. You were so out of it, so lost in the taller man’s gaze, that you almost didn’t register the growing hardness pressing into your inner thigh. Shinsou was gently rutting against your leg, pressing his crotch onto you as he held your limp body with surprising care.

The sharp pain of his fangs in your neck had transformed into a dull throb, your body slowly numbing to his bite. It wasn’t long before Shinsou drew back, tongue roving over the flesh puncture marks that laid on your throat. His tongue hurt at first, but the second and third swipe of the strong, wet muscle felt increasingly good, and you hated how your thighs twitched together at the feeling. Apparently the two of them knew you would be experiencing this effect, for they both started to move you backwards, wandering closer to the bed.

You could hear Todoroki get onto the mattress before the pair of them maneuvered your body to join his, lifting you up and setting you down onto the plush comforter before him. His hands slid to your front, down your stomach and perched on your hips, pushing them back so your ass met his crotch. Your eyes went wide as you felt Todoroki’s erection poke into your ass, and Shinsou chuckled darkly as he, too, crawled onto the bed.

Although you opened your mouth to speak, no words came out, and the purple-haired vampire before you winked as the smirk on his lips only grew. There was still a trickle of your blood tainting the skin on his chin, and his fangs poked out as he grinned at you.

“You missed some,” Todoroki stated, voice a bit rougher than it had been downstairs. Your head turned to look at him, but you found his gaze was not focused on you— he was looking straight at Shinsou, eyes darkening and teeth elongating into points.

“Saved it for you, have a taste,” Shinsou replied nonchalantly, scooting closer to you. The space between the two men’s mouths closed and you gasped as you watched their lips collide, a moan tumbling out of the man supporting your back. That horrible heat burst between your legs, your mouth watering as you saw Todoroki’s tongue slips into Shinsou’s mouth, their fangs clicking as they brushed together.

Shinsou chuckled as he pulled back, Todoroki’s tongue wandering down to trace the line of your blood that streaked down his chin. Shinsou looked at you as he grinned, clearly happy that their kiss had such an effect on you. “You taste so good, baby,” he complimented, and you whimpered as heat burst in your cheeks.

It was shameful how much this was turning you on— a monster straight out of a fairytale was here in front of you, feeding off of you, able to end your life he re really wanted to in probably just one swift bite— and yet your pussy was drooling all over your panties for him, an uncomfortable dampness collecting between your thighs. You couldn’t stop your hips from wiggling, but as you moved back from Shinsou, you pressed up against Todoroki, who let out a throaty groan. The swell of your backside pushed against his hard cock just right, and you gasped as his hands suddenly jumped to the hem of your dress, pulling it to rest at the tops of your thighs. Your pussy twitched as the cool air rushed across your sticky panties, and you mewled as one hand drifted up to squeeze your breast, the other slapping gently over your panty-covered clit.

Shinsou’s hands glided down your waist, large palms running over your hips before he grabbed your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the mattress as he fell to his knees. Kneeling between your legs, he chucked again as he inspected the wet patch on darkening the front of your underwear. His thumb met your slit and he traced it up and down a few times, grin splitting his smirk as you unintentionally let out a moan.

It was then that Todoroki’s fangs sliced into the unmarked flesh on the other side of your neck. You cried out, the pain just as stringing and intense as Shinsou’s bite had delivered. But you weren’t left to focus on it long— Shinsou pulled your underwear to the side and dipped a thumb into your soaking folds, rubbing up the length of your slit once again. The direct contact made your toes curl, your slick folds parting with ease as the ample evidence of your arousal allowed his finger to glide through without catch. He hummed as he rubbed his thumb against your clit a few times, violet eyes flicking up to see your eyelashes fluttering across your cheeks, Todoroki’s lips latched to your throat as he took his fill from your sweet bloodstream.

Todoroki’s fingers curled into the top of your dress, and he pulled it down to reveal your tits to the cool air, your nipples instantly perking up and standing at attention. The red and white haired man moaned as he sucked on your throat, his forefinger and thumbs capturing each nipple and twisting the sensitive buds.

“Fuck!” you whined, immediately embarrassed that you hadn’t been able to hold the expletive in. But neither of the men seemed to share your sentiment, the pair of them moaning softly in response to your noise of pleasure as if encouraging you to let out even more.

Shinsou smiled as he pinched the sides of your panties, yanking the material down your thighs and off your ankles before separating your legs and inserting himself between them. He gave you no warning as his tongue suddenly licked a flat stripe up your slit, rolling around your clit perfectly at the end of his journey. Your legs tensed as they closed around his head, a hot puff of air escaping you as Todoroki finally pulled off of your neck with a broken gasp. His breathing was ragged as his tongue lashed over the fresh marks, the repeated action having the same, dizzying sensation that Shinsou had elicited. Then Shinsou’s tongue was wiggling across your clit, alternating between sucking on the sensitive pearl and lavishing it in vicious swipes of his strong, wet tongue.

Meanwhile Todoroki was ripping off his clothes, revealing his broad, sturdy chest in all its glory before he yanked at the zipper on your spine, sliding your dress over your shoulders and tossing it onto the floor. Your bra was next, leaving you in just your sparkly heels and your glimmering gems.

You could feel both pairs of eyes inspecting your naked body, Todorki’s hands returning to tweak at your nipples while Shinsou thrusted his tongue inside your quivering hole. He moaned as his tongue probed at your insides, sending vibrations through your core and causing your legs to tighten around his head. Pleasure was coursing through you, overwhelming the urge to scream and run that had been all you could focus on just minutes ago. But your pussy was dripping for the both of them, and Shinsou was savoring every drop as he animatedly lapped at you— never before had anyone so enthusiastically eaten your cunt like this, and his zeal only made you leak onto his mouth even more.

You had been so focused on the man in between your legs that you only recognized Todoroki had fully unclothed himself when he moved backward, easing your head back so you lay flat on the mattress. Your pussy twitched violently on Shinsou’s tongue when you caught sight of Todoroki’s cock standing long and thick, tall against his carved abdomen, his expression dark as he shuffled forward.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he instructed and you obeyed immediately, as if you couldn’t follow his instruction any faster. Your eagerness made him smirk, and you made sure to keep eye contact as he rubbed the tip of his heavy cock against your sealed lips. But suddenly Shinsou started to attack your clit with new fervor, tongue flicking across the bundle of nerves repeatedly.

You couldn’t stop the moan that flew out of you, and as soon as your mouth was open, Todoroki pushed forward, shoving his cock deep into your mouth. You choked at the sudden intrusion, but he only grabbed your throat with one hand and thrust into your mouth even rougher than before. He didn’t seem to care much about your comfort, your heartbeat skyrocketing as the need for oxygen started burning in your lungs.

Todoroki pulled his cock out just in time for you to gasp in a few breaths before he rammed his cock back inside, powerful thighs pinning your head to the mattress as he leaned forward with hands on either side of your waist and head hung while he uttered a quiet moan. “That’s right, love. Go ahead and suck my cock… I want to hear you choke on me, naughty little thing.”

A wanton moan slipped out of you, his cock filling your throat to the max, and his rough, determined thrusts causing your pussy to flood even more. Shinsou was still licking at your cunt purposefully, tongue sliding around your folds and over your clit as he sucked and flicked it to your liking. You started to become more vocal as pressure began to build in your stomach, your hips writhing wildly underneath his pinning grip as Todoroki used your mouth to his liking. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your high approaching, unaware of Shinsou slowly but steadily undressing himself while he suckled at your puffy folds.

Todoroki’s thrusts became slower but deeper suddenly, and you swirled your tongue around his swollen tip when his hips receded. You were caught off guard when Shinsou’s lips left your cunt and instead his teeth sunk into the soft skin on your thigh, taking another sampling from your veins. This time, the initial pain was much duller, and it quickly faded into something concerningly pleasurable. There must have been some higher-level effect at play here— there was no way that such gleaming fangs stabbing into you and feeding from you should feel that good. Yet it undoubtedly made your toes curl, bliss spreading through your body like wildfire through dry grass. It only increased when a long finger slipped inside of you, a second entering with ease as they began rubbing inside of you gently. You could feel Shinsou moan into your pillowy thigh, the noise only making your cunt itch for his attention again.

You let out a desolate whine when both of the men suddenly pulled away from you, your pussy hotter and wetter than ever, and your cheeks dribbling with your saliva as a result of Todoroki’s face-fucking. It was then that you realized Shinsou was naked, too, your mouth watering at his visage; his cock stood thicker and shorter than Todoroki’s, but both of them were punching well above average, muc to your delight.

Todoroki slipped off the mattress and Shinsou walked around the edge of the bed, the pair switching and settling in reverse positions. Shinsou stroked your cheek sweetly, capturing your attention as he smiled down at you. You craned your neck to press a kiss to the leaking tip of him, your tongue poking out to swipe the salty bead of pre-cum that lay there. Your eyes went wide when you felt the telltale smoothness of Todoroki’s cock splitting your slick-drenched folds, his hands settling on your hips before he grabbed them, rutting his own forward and causing his cock to push halfway into your tight hole. The stretch made the both of you gasp, your wet, little hole hugging his large cock snug as he began to move his hips.

Shinsou had enjoyed the intimate moment but found himself getting impatient, slapping his thick, oozing cockhead over your lips to grab your attention once again. You looked up at him with wide, starry eyes, your mouth opening for him to glide his cock into your mouth. “Good girl,” he murmured, eyes fixating on the way your lips wrapped around his girth, the way his thick veins looked rolling against your tongue. Your cheeks hollowed in attempt to satiate him, but you instantly cried out when Todoroki’s hips slapped flush against yours, shoving his cock inside of your cunt entirely.

The impossible fullness that bloomed in your stomach was delectable, and Todoroki began to thrust into your slippery cunt at a reliable, hard pace. He let out a guttural groan as he watched his cock disappear into your slick folds, the heat of your pussy overwhelming him. He lifted both your legs over his shoulders, making sure to grab one of your ankles and pulling it upright so your leg was fully extended. Then, his fangs broke the smooth skin on your calf and you whimpered at the feeling. It felt so good to have him suck on your skin— to feel your blood flowing out of your body and into his eager mouth. It was sick, but you couldn’t think about it at the moment— couldn’t find any fault with the two monsters that were taking you to cloud nine.

“Fuck, just like that,” Shinsou mumbled, eyes flicking up to watch a rivulet of your blood strike down your outstretched leg. When he looked back down towards you, your eyes were closed and your brow scrunched, an indication of the pleasure that was ebbing through your body thanks to the cadenced swing of Todoroki’s hips. “You’re such a good fucking girl,” Shinsou praised as he threw back his head, his fingers carding through your hair and tugging gently at your roots.

Just as the three of you seemed to find a rhythm, Todoroki pulled out abruptly, making your mouth part in a whine, Shinsou’s thick member springing out of your wet cavern and into the cool, still air. The purple-haired man hissed in annoyance, gritting his teeth as he looked to the other man to scold him, but quickly his irritation melted as he watched Todoroki flip you so your stomach lay flat on the sheets. Then, he hiked your ass into the air, your body moving along with him with such cooperation that the pair of them shared a look, haughty smirks stretching on both their lips. It was their secret that they had stopped using their mind control on you, and it seemed you were the only one that continued, blissfully unaware. Perhaps you didn’t even realize… perhaps you didn’t care.

It didn’t matter, really— Todoroki lined himself up with your dripping cunt, taking no pause this time as his cock speared inside you once again. You moaned as you reeled forward, your fingers gripping into the duvet harshly as your body tightened up from the delicious intrusion. His long, thick cock felt like magic inside of you, each thrust brushing a soft spot nestled deep inside of you and stimulating you further.

Shinsou jerked himself off lazily as he watched your facial expressions, trapping his bottom lip between his sharp teeth as he registered the erotic ecstasy painted across your beautiful features. After a minute of allowing you to focus his accomplice’s hard cock, he pressed the tip of his own to your lips. You immediately opened your mouth, taking the flushed member between your lips with restless reception, tongue rolling around the swollen head. Shinsou sighed, half-lidded lavender irises watching you begin to eagerly bob up and down his length. He thumbed over a drop of blood that had rolled down your throat, catching Todoroki’s eye and offering his finger to the other man, who happily took the digit into his mouth and sucked, tongue soaking up your life essence as his hand wrapped around Shinsou’s wrist to steady himself. They both chuckled as you moaned loudly, Todoroki’s free hand clapping across your ass cheek and causing your cunt to clench down on his cock.

“You like that?” he teased, grabbing your flesh and shaking it, watching your ass jiggle before striking you again, a few smacks in succession. You could only gag and moan in reply, Shinsou’s cock thrusting into the back of your throat. The purple-eyed vampire gripped your chin with his calloused, cold hand, keeping your head in place as he began to fuck your face. Suddenly Todoroki spat onto your behind, his saliva wetting your puckered hole before he shoved his thumb inside of your ass, the unexpected stretch sending fresh bliss through your body as his cock dragged against it through your walls. Tears were beading on your lashes, the combination of the lack of oxygen, the attack of your g-spot from Todoroki’s cock, and the sharp pain of his hand across your ass all sending you hurtling towards your high.

With a shriek you came on his cock, your cunt wringing snug around the heavy member that just kept pistoning into you, angling your hips so the head pounding into that sensitive, spongy spot again and again. Todoroki groaned, taking his finger out and both his hands now squeezing at your hips as he continued to fuck you, offering a few more slaps to your ass as you trembled in ecstasy. While your head was still filled with the euphoric fog of your climax, Shinsou pulled out of your mouth, nodding to Todoroki, who wordlessly understood. The mismatched vampire hooked his arms around your knees, heaving you up against his chest and spreading your legs far apart enough for Shinsou to slide between them.

You were still catching your breath as Shinsou reached for Todoroki’s cock, slotting his thighs between the other man’s and positioning his length so that his slick-covered head rested right at your asshole. You gasped, your arm bending to dig your nails into Todoroki’s shoulder as you looked behind at him, catching his lustful gaze down at you. Shinsou then began to sloppily kiss your throat, his cock rubbing against your glazed, ravaged opening as his hands ran across the curve of your ass, landing on Todoroki’s waist behind your hips. The both of them entered you at the same time, your vision dotting with white spots as the stretch from both sides took your breath away. They both managed to slip inside, fully seating you onto their laps as you trembled, your stiff nipples brushing against Shinsou’s toned chest.

Todoroki nibbled at your ear as he began to pump his cock inside of you, filling your ass with each thrust and stimulating you as he rubbed himself against Shinsou’s cock through your walls. “So tight, love…,” he murmured in your ear, the prick of his sharp fangs on your cartilage sending shivers down your spine. His tongue wandered out and he traced the tip of it against the column of your throat, brushing over the leaking puncture wounds that laid there. “So sweet… can’t help myself,” his words turned into a savage moan as he sunk his fangs into your skin, the pain washing away abruptly as Shinsou, too, started to push his hips into yours.

Shinsou groaned, one hand coming to caress your chin as he claimed your lips with his own. His tongue entered your mouth and wrestled with yours as his tempo began to pick up, his cock stretching your cunt wide and sending waves of pleasure through your core. When he pulled back, you were both panting, your breasts heaving with the rapid rise and fall of your chest. It was then that Todoroki pulled away from your neck, gasping in a breath of air as his fangs glistened scarlet. Shinsou took one look at him and crushed his mouth to his, your holes clenching around their lengths as you watched your blood be exchanged between their ravenous tongues. The pair of them were moaning, and so were you— unable to keep the noises of pure pleasure inside as you watched them make out.

Your blood was dripping down Todoroki’s chin, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over and grabbing his jaw, ripping his lips away from Shinsou’s and instead placing your mouth on his. He growled in approval against your lips, his tongue battling yours as he sought to dominate you, the distinct flavor of iron filling your mouth as you tasted your own blood. Shinsou took the opportunity to sink his cuspids into the other side of your throat again, and your jaw fell in response, Todoroki’s tongue seizing control of yours immediately as he grasped the upper hand. Both of them were full-on fucking you now, your holes warm and wet, quivering around their thick cocks as the brought you closer and closer to your high yet again.

Only the sound of your heavy breathing and the slapping of your skins filled the air in the room, the music of the party drowned and far away as the three of you were otherwise occupied. Before you knew it, you were clenching on them again, your body seizing as your orgasm ripped through you, all the air in your lungs vacuumed out of you and your toes curling into the air. Your fingers fisted Shinsou’s wild violet locks, your nails digging into Todoroki’s jaw as you tumbled through the throes of your climax, euphoria rushing through your bloodstream and straight into Shinsou’s awaiting mouth.

The sweet taste of your oxytocin, your drug-like ecstasy, sent him straight into his own orgasm, his hips pushing flush against yours as he roared and his cock spurted thick white ribbons deep into your womb, his seed pouring into you and filling you to the brim. His chiseled body trembled as he emptied himself inside of you, his fingers bruising your skin while he gasped and moaned. Your holes clenched as you milked his cock, and suddenly Todoroki, too, groaned loudly behind you. His hands squeezed your flesh as his cock spurted hot cum inside of you, his abdomen flush against your ass as he crushed your body to his front.

The three of you sat there on the bed, your bodies covered in sweat and remnants of your blood, breathless and still as you came back down to earth. Shinsou’s lips trailed along your neck, Todoroki’s fingertips sliding across your skin with gentle care as they pulled out of you. Their seed dribbled down your thighs as they maneuvered your boneless body back onto the pillows, your eyes fluttering closed from the pure exhaustion and the lack of blood in your veins. Each of them laid back on either side of you, their cold hands wandering over your skin and causing goosebumps to rise, their eyes roaming your body in pure adoration.

“You did so well, baby,” Shinsou murmured into your hair, pressing his face close to yours as he sighed and inhaled the sweet scent lingering from the blood on your skin.

“So well-behaved for us,” Todoroki added, wrapping an arm around your middle as he, too, nestled closer to your limp body. “Go to sleep, love… you deserve some rest.”

You hummed at their praise, tired butterflies flapping their wings in the pit of your stomach. Your head was fuzzier than ever, bliss weighing heavy in your bones as your breathing steadied. Filled with post-orgasmic content, the idea of fleeing that seemed so wonderful just an hour ago now sounded distasteful, your body comfortable lying on the silken sheets, pressed between your two lovers. As you faded into a blissful sleep, you could hear the pair talking lowly, making plans to keep you here with them in hushed voices.

 ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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so sorry if that was rushed at the end!! hope you enjoyed, and Happy Halloween!! be safe out there <3

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

27, 7 and 8! Andriel or Kandriel my love❤️

kandreil my love because it just freaking works

7. “I’m not jealous.”

8. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

27. “What’s going on here?”

Kevin wasn’t stupid. He could tell when Andrew and Neil were at odds; it was clear when put in contrast to how in-sync they usually were. They made it obvious, with Andrew going on his drives alone and Neil not following him up to the roof, neither of them wriggling their way into the other’s bed the instant they thought Kevin was asleep. It was clear in the way Neil latched onto Kevin instead. He threw himself into their night practices while Andrew sat silently in the stands, but he also tailed Kevin throughout the day, seeking him out instead of Andrew in any pockets of free time.

He wasn’t stupid, so he could also tell that Andrew was ignoring him, and he knew this must have been why.

But he also wasn’t very brave when it came to them. Which meant he took longer than he should have to do anything about it.

Cornering Andrew wasn’t a smart move—anyone who knew him knew this. Kevin might have been upset with him, and a little bit pissed off, but he didn’t have a death wish. No, he knew Andrew was avoiding Neil more than Kevin. So he’d wait until Neil went off somewhere and simply left him and Andrew in the dorm alone.

It came about much quicker than expected, but that was fine. It was manageable. Kevin was still prepared. He would approach this calmly. He’d be straightforward, and fairly blunt, as was his usual, but he wouldn’t let Andrew rile him, wouldn’t let anything under his skin, as was his usual. He’d be perfectly calm, and perfectly civil.

He sat himself down on the couch, looked at where Andrew was smoking on the desk by the window, and blurted, “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” in a manner too harsh to be civil and too nervous to be demanding.

Andrew looked over at him slowly, brow already arched. “What?”

Kevin took a deep breath. He’d have to run with it now. “You’re jealous, and that’s why you’re mad at me as well.”

“Who’s mad?” Andrew retorted.

“No, you’re not getting away with that. I know when you’re ignoring me, and I know the difference in you having a bad week and you being an ass.”

He clamped his mouth shut as it grew too snappy, but Andrew simply stared at him. It could have passed as bored, if that eyebrow wasn’t arched even higher than before. Kevin swallowed and tried to get onto the track he’d set before his mouth ran away from him. He’d get this out, and he wouldn’t let Andrew ignore him or bully him into thinking he was overreacting. They might have got off on telling him he was a drama queen even more now that he had the tattoo to match, but he was one of few who knew Andrew was worse, and that was enough to remind him he was just in calling the blond out.

“I don’t know why you’re fighting with Neil, but you don’t get to take it out on me,” he said firmly. “Neil’s im—my friend. I won’t apologise for spending time with him because you’re having some sort of hissy fit.”

Andrew’s mouth twitched, but he swiped a hand over it and his expression was blank once more. “You think I’m jealous—” he said slowly, “—because Neil is spending time with you?”

“Yes,” Kevin insisted.

Andrew flicked ash of the side of his cigarette and cocked his head, sweeping his eyes over Kevin in a way that suggested he was amused. “Why?”

Kevin opened his mouth, closed it again. Why what? “Huh?”

“Why would I be jealous—“ oh yes, definitely amused now, “—of your lovely friendship?”

“Because…” Kevin blew out a breath. “I don’t know, Andrew. You’re dramatic. Stop trying to brush me off when I know you’re ignoring me, and it must be because Neil’s coming to me while you two are fighting.”

Andrew considered him. He stubbed out his cigarette on the windowsill and tossed it carelessly over the edge, then pulled the window closed and twisted to face Kevin. His examination made Kevin feel twitchy, but he valiantly kept himself still, and eventually Andrew hummed.

“Not because of your ridiculous crush on him, then?” Andrew said flatly.

Kevin blanched. “My—what?”

Andrew tsked, rolling himself off the desk and strolling over. He planted himself in front of Kevin with an unimpressed look. “You didn’t want me to treat you like an idiot. Return the favour.”

“Andrew, I—“ Kevin trailed off. What could he say? I don’t know what you’re talking about? Andrew would probably pull a knife on him.

Because of course he wasn’t an idiot. Of course he knew. He’d probably known all along.

Kevin was blushing, for heaven’s sake. There was no point in even attempting to lie. The last time he’d lied by omission to Andrew, he was rewarded with hands around his throat.

The reminder made him flinch, and Andrew caught it. He took a step back, eyes flashing as he noticed Kevin’s trembling. “Don’t be ridiculous, Kevin,” he said, a little too sharp for a comment Kevin thought was meant to be comforting.

“I wouldn’t,” Kevin stammered. “I mean, I know that it’s not—I’d never—“

“Christ, stop,” Andrew sighed, flicking a hand in the air as if he could bat Kevin’s nonsense away. “You’re hopeless.”

Kevin, indeed, continued to be hopeless. He was gaping like a fish, nothing but air going in or out. “Andrew,” he simply managed. It sounded pleading.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “I’m not jealous.” Before Kevin could fumble for something to respond with, he added, “And I’m not mad, you imbecile. Clearly I knew. I would have already disposed of you in your sleep if I was going to.”

Kevin made a strangled noise, and Andrew added, “But I’m not,” so Kevin nodded.

“And you won’t…” Kevin’s eyes widened. “Does Neil already—?”

“Neil is less than hopeless,” Andrew said. “If you don’t tell him he’ll never get it. You really should help him along.”

This was too much. Maybe it wasn’t anything at all. Maybe Kevin was dreaming, and this wasn’t happening, and Andrew was plotting his sleepy death right now in the real world. That seemed more likely. There was no way it was possible for Andrew to not only be accepting of Kevin’s affection for his boyfriend, but encouraging.

Then again, Andrew was nothing if not a contrary, defiant little creature.

He seemed amused again in the face of Kevin’s disbelief. “Maybe you are just as bad. If you want me to treat you like you’re smart, you’re going to have to do better than that. Tell me, why do you think Neil and I are ‘fighting’?” he air-quoted.

That made Kevin frown. “He stormed off a moment ago. He has been all week. And you’ve been grumpier than usual, and you aren’t doing any of the usual things together.”

“Pay a lot of attention to that, do you?” Andrew mused, still absolutely toneless. Before Kevin had a chance to defend himself, he continued. “You think it’s my fault.”

This was not a question, which was good, because Kevin would rather not answer. Which, of course, was answer enough.

“You don’t think,” Andrew prodded, “that Josten is having his own little crisis and blaming me, and clinging to you for any specific reason?”

Kevin was gaping again.

Andrew wouldn’t let him have a break. He tacked on, “You haven’t considered that I am not jealous because I also know your pathetic crush extends?” Kevin choked again; Andrew rolled his eyes again. “I am not blind, Kevin.”

“But you don’t…” Kevin couldn’t get the words out. It was ridiculous, because all he had to do was stand up, and he would tower over the other man. But for once, he didn’t feel small and meek because he felt he was in danger. After the work the Baltimore incident had made them put in, Kevin almost felt safer around Andrew than he had before. It very well might have been his affection tainting his opinion, but he didn’t much care. He knew what he was in for—who he was in for, and he knew that they were not safe in any conventional way, but that he was best off with them.

He’d given them his back all over again, and he hadn’t worried about it. His heart was an altogether different matter.

Andrew stepped closer to him again, gazing down at him with the same look he often gave Neil, when he thought the redhead was being particularly dense. “Oh, but I do.”

No. It didn’t count. Kevin hadn’t even finished the thought, so Andrew wasn’t confirming anything. He couldn’t even know what he meant. They were likely on completely different wavelengths.

But Andrew was leaning over Kevin now, bracing a hand on the back of the couch, and all of Kevin’s rational arguments fled as he short-circuited.

“Andrew,” he breathed, going for warning and ending up wavering.

Andrew, predictably, ignored him and leaned closer, his breath brushing Kevin’s face, until the door burst open.

The clatter of Neil’s shoes, and then his keys, was unmistakable, and Kevin felt panic rise in him as the steps drew closer and Andrew still didn’t move. He simply looked over Kevin’s head as the footsteps stopped abruptly.

Kevin squeezed his eyes shut.

“What’s going on here?” Neil asked. Then, harder, “Leave him alone, Drew.”

It was utterly backwards. Kevin was at fault here, even if Andrew was the one still leaning in. Neil should have been throttling him, like Andrew should have done already. Instead he was defending Kevin against Andrew, but still using the man’s shortened name as an endearment, measuring the middle ground effortlessly. Even if he was incredibly off target.

Andrew simply rolled his eyes at him. “I’m not threatening him, idiot.”

A beat of silence. “Then what are you doing?”

“Not sure yet.” Andrew’s gaze flickered down to Kevin again, and he seemed much closer than before. Kevin swallowed; Andrew smirked. “Kevin seems to like it, though.”

“Andrew,” Neil bit, a warning and a question.

Andrew gripped Kevin’s chin between thumb and finger, and dragged his head around to face Neil. “Look.” Andrew’s thumb tapped his bottom lip, and his breath hitched. Andrew raised a brow. “What does it look like to you?”

Kevin looked at Neil for the first time in this dream (nightmare? Who knew where it was leading) and found himself breathless for another reason.

It was a recent development, and it wasn’t. Kevin had always known Andrew was attractive, had always appreciated Andrew’s talent, had always confusingly, blindly desired Andrew’s presence. He had always admired Neil’s fire, had always known he was capable of great things, had always held him in a place in his heart he hadn’t realised had been occupied since they were children. He hadn’t thought about kissing them until recently. Or at least, he hadn’t realised he wanted to.

Now, seeing that exact fire in Neil’s eyes at Kevin’s defense, as well as his horrendously worn t-shirt and disgustingly bright shorts crinkled and sweaty from his run, Kevin knew he wanted to kiss him, and he knew it wasn’t a surface thing.

And Andrew knew it just as well, smug bastard that he was.

Neil only needed a moment of looking at him to say, very eloquently, “Oh.”

Andrew snorted. “Finally come to terms with it, have you?”

Neil glared at him, but Kevin couldn’t have been mistaking the blush creeping into his cheeks. Neil’s smile was slow as he looked back at him, and somewhat shy, and Andrew heaved another sigh and moved away to plop himself down on a beanbag. It meant Neil was watching him instead, and the odd, crazy crevice of hope that had been opening in Kevin started to cave, and then Andrew was waving Neil at him impatiently.

“Well?” he prompted.

Looking between them, Neil hesitated. He settled on Andrew long enough to ask, “Did you…?”

Andrew wordlessly shook his head.

“But, I can?”

Andrew raised a brow. “Ask him.”

Kevin was lost. But Neil was turning to him, and Kevin would always pay attention to Neil, no matter how begrudgingly. So he was listening very intently when Neil simply asked, “Kev, do you want me to kiss you?”

This elicited a noise that may have seemed tortured, and Neil took a step back, eyes widening. He shot Andrew a betrayed look, and the silent communication that passed between them was lost on Kevin, who was sure this had gone beyond a dream into a blackout-induced fantasy. He must have fallen dramatically off the wagon, and now he was completely out of it and his brain was running away on its own as a misplaced attempt at comfort.

Then Neil corrected himself. “Wait. Can I kiss you? Because—I think I’d like to.”

Andrew was right. Kevin was blind, and an imbecile, and worse than hopeless, and he could do nothing but give a jerky nod.

Neil’s face lit up, and then determination was mingling with his apprehension and his face was an inch away from Kevin’s and Kevin was demanding, “You think you’d like to?”

Neil jerked back.

“Fucking idiots,” Andrew grumbled. “Yes or no, Kevin.”

“Well, yes—“

Neil kissed him, and Kevin could not have dreamt this. No matter how much alcohol-aided imagination he had, the soft touch of Neil’s lips compared to the rough texture of his hand against Kevin’s cheek was too heavenly to be magicked-up. It was heart-wrenchingly real. Andrew’s eyes on them was just as heavy of a weight.

Kevin was only beginning to get the hang of himself and reciprocate whole-heartedly when Neil pulled back. His blue eyes were dark as he roamed them appreciatively over Kevin’s stricken face, and then he glanced at Andrew.

Looking for approval, Kevin realised, and followed suit.

All amusement was wiped from Andrew’s face. His eyes were just as dark as Neil’s and even more intense as he watched them, and in combination with Neil’s touch it stirred something low in Kevin’s gut. He pinched his own thigh discreetly and his blood thrummed at the nip of pain.

“I might,” Andrew said, dragging his gaze slowly to Kevin’s face, “be a bit jealous.” He used a foot to nudge Neil, who simply huffed, out of the way, and then he hooked that same foot around Kevin’s ankle and gave a deliberate tug.

Kevin descended into gleeful laughter, and felt only more elated when it meant Andrew was forced to come to him for his kiss.

Prompt List

[fathertaurus]

A Nate Jacobs Blurb part 2

A/N: Here it is! The long awaited part 2 I’ve had so many of you ask for lol. I want to mention before reading that the opening scene takes place after an hour or two into the party scene and kinda just opens up on a random scene. I didn’t feel like there was any real need to make this super long as I only wrote the most definitive moment for these characters to carry the storyline along.

I hope to continue this story as I do have many ideas but anything I post will probably just continue to be written as installments such as this and the one previous to it, as I don’t want it to be my main line of work. I’m always coming up with new ideas and I don’t like simply having one on the forefront as it places to much pressure on writing.

Regardless I hope you enjoy!

a disclaimer: If you have seen the show Euphoria you know what the character Nate Jacobs is like and what he’s done. This is not me condoning the actions of this character--in fact, I urge you to view him as the bad guy he is when reading this. That’s how I wrote it, that’s what I wanted to portray because I’ve yet to write a character as such. Though his actions may not come off as terrible when reading this remember who he is written as and try and read it in that way. 

WARNINGS: alluded sexual assault, foul language 

The crystalize haze taking over her entire perception of reality right now was almost near blinding to what was happening. The alcohol and whatever that asshole had slipped into her drink had truly and officially taken its toll on her physical being, her vision and balance being hit the worst. Her body laid skewed across the pile of blankets and sheets, having little to no strength to even shuffle through them and find her way up. 

She couldn’t determine though if that was solely for the obvious roofie or also from the shock of watching Nate barge into the room—practically snapping the door off it’s hinges, and ripping Chris from atop of her before (with a speed she had never witnessed in her life) wrestling him out the door and down the hallway. 

Through it all though and the now busted open door she was able to make out the figures of everyone still filling the living room from her placement on the guest bed, the energy to move no longer permitted in her body but simply her eyes which watched with as much intent as they could muster up.

There was yelling, screaming, and a series of other loud noises, all echoing back to her a million times louder than they probably actually were. Figures moved in flashes and the lights burned into her skull as they danced across the catastrophe spilling all over Elias’ parents’ living room wood. Her hands were on her temples before she could even feel them, body making the intent of covering her ears to attempt to silence all the overstimulation.

Bleary eyed she breathed a deep sigh and tried to find herself, but that moment being ripped away as another set of yelling broke out, the shrills emitted from Nate himself. 

He was in the dead center of it all, hands (from what she could tell) wrapped around the throat of Chris Daniel’s as he looked to be throwing him to the floor. Followed by more commotion, a body hitting the floor—it looked to give the tall brunette new access to whomever’s torso, as he barreled his foot into it repeatedly. 

If only she wasn’t swimming her own vision, her own thoughts, maybe then she could truly make it all out. But the way that pill made her skin ripple over her bones and her own brain pound its way out of her skull was too much, focus was lost on her. 

Before she even had a choice to say or do otherwise her eyes slipped closed and she sunk into the abyss of her body again.

Though she was nearing unconsciousness her ears pricked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. They were distinctively heavy and almost mismatched—like the person was stumbling over their own two feet. 

Crossing the carpet until they were near her own body she could hear mumbling above her.

“God dammit.” 

Even in her current state she could recognize that voice, the one that belonged to the person who was just moments ago beating the life out of someone. Nate.

“Look at you.” He whispered. 

The feelings of hands along the sides of her hips heightened her senses for a split second, a whine rolling from the back of her lips as to protest. 

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay it’s okay.” The fingertips grasped at the length of her dress and slowly they pulled it back down-- the whole movement now familiar to a piece of her memory somewhere in the back of her mind, “You’re okay I promise.”

There was a brush of her hair out of her face, the touch cascading down her face to her shoulders where she could make little notice of her sleeves being pulled back up. 

Within seconds the same arms were now wrapped around her form and she was being lifted from the bed. The rocking of her motionless figure was the only distinctive thing she was able to recognize before sleep finally took her under in one vast swoop of both of her eyes shutting close. —————————

(POV SWITCH)

Swaying gently back and forth on his feet Nate turned the hall into her bedroom, careful to watch her head as he shuffled through the door. 

The memories of their infamous night flooded back to him instantly, but now as he carried her unconscious body to her bed, he was able to take in the details surrounding them. Her room was a light shade of blue, decorated with huge posters starring various artists and movie stars. 

It triggered a memory from a month or so ago. Sat around a lunch table only one over from her own he could vividly remember overhearing her and April Denavive discussing that Timothée Chalamet kid and how Y/N had such an affinity for him. 

”He was so incredible in Little Women, I swear I’d give anything to just hold his hand or something.” Nate from his seat could see that her rambles caused April to snort into her fruit cup, the red head shaking her head at her friend.

”God Y/N you’re such a virgin.” 

She made sure to swat at April’s arm, poking her finger into her side for sure measure, ”Oh fuck off.” 

April laughed aloud once more as she pushed back before managing to maneuver her arms around her friend, squeezing her in a tight embrace before pressing kisses to her cheeks. 

”No no no, it’s cute!” She gushed, “It’s cute how much you want to fuck that French boy but can’t work up the nerve to say it.”

”April! God--He’s American his dad is just French--oh you know what never mind I hate you.” “N-Nate?”

Returning back to reality Nate was almost startled at the sound of another voice, completely forgetting where he was for a moment. Drawing his eyes downward he found himself back in Y/N’s room, still hovering over her side.

“Shh,” he cooed, fingers tangling in the ends of her hair as he brushed them off of her forehead, admiring the array of glitter from her eyeshadow decorating her skin. It made her shine even brighter than how he always saw her. “You’re safe now..sleep.”

She rustled amongst her blankets, nose curling and eyebrows furrowing as she struggled, a huff following.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, instantly taking notice of her discomfort. She whined innocently, sitting herself up with her eyes still wired shut and began to tug at the sleeves of her dress. 

“Itchy,” She breathed another huff as she tore at the seems, “Need it...off.”

Nate’s entire demeanor shifted. He watched her meticulously as she pulled at the material until it was up and over her chest—but the poor drunk girl seemed to lose all momentum as her arms suddenly dropped, the dress now a mess sagging off of her neck. 

Another shrill moan echoed from Y/N, not having the energy to pull the rest of the dress off and expressing her frustrations. Nate waved her off.

“Shush, I’ve got it.” Reaching forward he pulled the rest of the dress up and off of her figure, careful to not get her earrings or hair caught, before tossing it to the side just shy of her hamper he noticed upon entrance into her room.

A deep, noticeable breath expelled from her lungs before she fell back amongst the pillows, body now severely bare to Nate—the only thing keeping her covered being her bra with a pair of matching panties around her hips. 

It was pink, the bra, lace yet exuded softness with its subtle tone of color and petite bow in the middle to add a touch of innocence. Her underwear resonated in the same way; they were different than Nate had pictured when his fingers grasped at them earlier that night. He was expecting something more revealing as was common with most girls at parties like that, or in high school in general. But they weren’t—they were form fitting, far from raunchy and bore a soft pink hue like her bra, which was different than the deep red he once imagined.

And it all looked so right on her.

Y/N had seemed to finally settle in her sheets, sleep overtaking her whole figure as she noticeably sank deeper into the mattress. Nate took that as his moment to breathe in, truly, the sight before him. 

His eyes nearly followed her every move with adamancy, in an effort to note every singular detail possibly manufactured by her sleeping frame that he could then later remember at his pleasing. 

“You are so,” his fingers traced down the length of her arm, watching as the touch triggered a wave of goosebumps even as she was unconscious; He smiled, “Perfect.” 

Drawing back he grasped at the blanket before tugging it up and over her body, covering her up to her chest. Tucking in the sides of the cover to her skin he rustled them until he deemed her absolutely comfortable and then took his place  at the flank of her bed once more. 

“And you are all mine.” -------------------------

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, send requests for more if you liked!

[grumpyhedgehogs]

and the world tilts upon its axis

Summary: “You never told us.” Anakin’s words pierce directly into Ahsoka’s heart; she can’t imagine what they do to his master. That stricken feeling flits through the Force again before Obi-Wan can wrangle it again. At least it gets Anakin to look up. He looks torn, agonized, pained, but repeats, unsteady, “You never told us.”

“The past is not an easy thing for me to speak of.”

Notes: (Obligatory ‘everyone finds out about Obi-Wan’s shitty childhood’ fic.) Past Abuse/Violence, Slavery. 

“It really isn’t a problem anymore,” Obi-Wan tells them all very reasonably. “I haven’t had a vision in years--not a clear one, anyway. Feelings, things like that, but nothing so concrete as they used to be. Master Qui-Gon taught me how to see past the feelings years ago.”

“You used to get Force visions,” Ahsoka says, tone rather shrill, “and you never told us?”

Anakin makes a loud choking noise deep in his throat. Cody, sitting on a crate of supplies near where Ahsoka and her master collapsed half an hour after their latest battle, shakes his head. Ahsoka pulls herself up to sit beside him, feeling rather as if something very important has been ripped away from her before she even knew it existed. He looks up at Obi-Wan, the only one standing out of all of them, and says, “I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

“There isn’t one,” Rex supplies. Skyguy tries to swat at him without taking his arm from over his eyes, but Rex moves out of the way and leans back against a wall of the Resolute. He shrugs. “Jedi are just dramatic like that.”

“Much as I dislike the generalization,” Obi-Wan interjects, “I have to agree in this case. Force visions can be upsetting and helpful in equal measure, and they faded from my mind a long time ago. I’m surprised my medical files even contain a record of those after all these years."

“What if they come back!” Anakin sits up, glaring. “You never even said anything. I’ve heard Master Windu talking about how forceful they can be--you cold pass out if a vision comes at the wrong time! I’ve heard some younglings are prone to seizures!”

The thought makes Ahsoka shudder. She wraps her arms around herself surreptitiously. Cody sends her a sympathetic look.

The next words out of Master Kenobi’s mouth make her blood go cold. “Well, yes, I know that, Anakin. I was the youngling Mace was speaking of.”

“What.”

Obi-Wan waves his commander off, though, and shakes his head. “Honestly, it’s fine now. We wouldn’t even need to have this useless conversation if you hadn’t sliced into my medical files, Anakin--”

Rex is already across the room and peering over Anakin’s shoulder as her master rifles through his datapad, so Ahsoka chalks Obi-Wan’s efforts up as a lost cause. She pulls her own datapad out and shuffles closer to Cody instead; Skyguy sent her a copy of her grandmaster's file as soon as he could manage. Something about not being able to trust Obi-Wan when he said he didn’t need to go to medical.

Ahsoka thinks that is the pot calling the kettle black, but--

“You have nerve damage?”

At Rex’s incredulous exclamation, Obi-Wan closes his eyes for a long, long moment. Then he opens them, runs a hand over his beard, and looks around for a place to sit. “This is going to be a long conversation, I see. Is everyone sure they wouldn’t like to move to, I don’t know, anywhere but the cargo hold, before we begin?”

“Shinies are everywhere else,” Rex points out briskly, “but the cargo hold is too cold for most of us. We run too warm to be comfortable here.”

“That isn’t good. You should’ve told us sooner--I’ll have to talk to Master Shaak Ti about what we can do for you.”

“Deflecting.” Anakin intones. In any other setting, his stern tone would make her laugh. Obi-Wan sighs again, and settles down into a meditation pose across from his former padawan, fixing them all with a half-exasperated, half-doting look.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. “I have nerve damage. I’m sure you’ve all seen how many layers I wear? It’s to help my blood circulation. I can’t keep myself warm enough otherwise, because I can’t feel how cold my surface skin is until it’s too late. So, extra clothing all the time, just in case. I can deal with a little sweat if the outcome is less chance of frostbite.”

“ Why do you have nerve damage?”

“Have you seen how many times I’ve been electrocuted?” Obi-Wan answers. He’s too serene for Ahsoka’s liking.

“I’ve been electrocuted twice as much as you have,” Anakin points out. At his shoulder, Rex nods, but stops when Anakin snaps his gaze to his captain. He turns back to his former master. “And I don’t have nerve damage.”

“You’ve been electrocuted twice as much as I have been recently.” Her grandmaster normally looks a little tired, but this conversation seems to be getting to him more than most; he rubs at his face again, and, with his hand still over his eyes, says, “Electro-whips and prods were the weapon of choice in the mines.”

The words are quiet, like Obi-Wan really meant for them to be under his breath, but it makes every spine in the room go rigid.

Very slowly, Anakin sits forward on his knees. His datapad slips from his lap. Rex only just catches it before it clatters to the floor. Ahsoka has never seen her master’s eyes look as sharp as they are now. “Which mines, Master? And what were you doing there?”

Obi-Wan’s lips thin. “You do realize I’ve had an entire life without you? Twenty years or so, in fact. Things did happen to me before you came along.”

It’s always been a fact that Obi-Wan is older than herself and her master. It’s never bothered Ahsoka before--until now. To know he’s been alone--without them, at least--for so long? The clones are all artificially aged to be around Obi-Wan’s age, maybe a little younger. It’s easy for Ahsoka to forget they haven’t been around forever, that Cody hasn’t been one step behind his general every day of both their lives. It turns her stomach.

“Answer the question!” Anakin all but demands.

Obi-Wan’s hand falls from his face and for a second Ahsoka can detect something stricken in the Force before his expression smooths over into an artificial calm. “It’s really not--”

“No.” Cody says. It’s all he can seem to get out. Ahsoka tries not to flinch at the darkening mood in the Force and reaches out to loosely grip Cody’s wrist. After a moment, he turns his hand over and offers her his palm as Obi-Wan begins, reluctantly, to speak. Ahsoka takes it.

Obi-Wan bites his lip when he tells them about being sent away from the temple.

It rocks Ahsoka to her core when he speaks about the situation on Bandomeer, even more so with the revelation that he nearly wasn’t a Jedi. A Jedi Order without Obi-Wan Kenobi? A Council without his guidance? A GAR without the Negotiator?

Her lineage without his support?

“You had to fight a Hutt without anyone to help you.” Anakin sounds more choked than he did before. Ahsoka wishes she could reach out and soothe him in the Force, but she’s doing her best to keep her shields up. The Force knows how Master Obi-Wan is feeling right now.

“Master Qui-Gon helped me when he could,” Obi-Wan assures. His voice isn't as steady as she’s used to, but he carries on admirably. It makes Ahsoka wonder how long it took him to perfect his sabacc face. Her heart twists in her chest. “He’s also the reason I only spent a few weeks in the mines--I was fitted with a Force-inhibiting collar, you see, so I had to have help navigating my way out with the rest of the--” He cuts himself off. It takes a minute for the gears to turn in her head, for Ahsoka to realize he doesn’t intend to continue.

“The?” Rex prompts, face and tone bleak. “The miners?”

Obi-Wan actually does wince now. “The slaves.”

“It was a bomb collar,” Anakin says. "You were fitted with a bomb collar." His face is blank until Obi-Wan nods, at which point his expression seems to crumple in on itself. Anakin puts his head between his knees and breathes loudly through his mouth. Obi-Wan pauses and refuses to go on until Anakin raises his head and glares her grandmaster into submission. In the back of her mind, in the only small corner not screaming in horror, Ahsoka hopes one day she’ll be able to cow her own master like that.

She regrets the thought as soon as Obi-Wan speaks, quiet and too soft into the dead silence of the air around them, about Melida/Daan. “They were just children,” Obi-Wan whispers. His hands clench and unclench on his thighs and it is all Ahsoka can do not to let go of Cody’s fingers and throw her arms around him. “I couldn’t leave them behind, even if it cost me my place among the Jedi. They had no one else to turn to. You must understand?”

It explains so much of his file--parts of it are redacted, too early in his apprenticeship to signal anything but disaster, and he’s reported too many times to the Halls of Healing--too many times he’s had to be carried in. If Ahsoka had the same medical record her grandmaster does, she’d have to get herself grievously injured on every other mission, and she’s grown up in a Force forsaken warzone.

She’s positive she doesn’t want to hear the rest.

Ahsoka isn’t sure how long it has been when Obi-Wan’s voice peters out soon after his explanation of Cerasi’s sacrifice on his behalf (and Force, did everyone Obi-Wan ever loved have to keep dying in his arms, it’s so disgusting, it’s awful, how could this happen so much to just one person, to someone she loves--). After a long moment of quiet, Ahsoka finds the strength, herculean as it is, to lift her gaze from where it has been fixed on her knees. Her grandmaster stares into middle space just the same as her, and his face is as she has never seen it before--stone cold, closed off and unwelcoming. It’s sort of like when Skyguy gets into one of his moods.

Speaking of Skyguy, he doesn’t seem to be faring much better; his head is between his knees again but his hands, like Rex’s beside him, are clenched into fists. He’s shaking so hard she can see it from across the room. Ahsoka realizes that at some point Cody let go of her own hand, and glances around to see him clenching his bucket on his knees fit to crush it between his very human palms.

Then her grandmaster draws himself up into a proper sitting position and sighs, a light puff of air that Ahsoka has come to learn is his way of reorienting himself. “It worked out in the end. Qui-Gon came back for me when I called and was able to help bring balance to the planet--something I couldn’t have done alone. I was admitted back into the Order as his apprentice and then--” Obi-Wan’s lips twitch into a sardonic smile. “Well, nothing much happened until we went to Mandalore, but you know just about as much as I am willing to tell you about that experience.”

The attempt at humor falls a little too flat.

“You never told us.” Anakin’s words pierce directly into Ahsoka’s heart; she can’t imagine what they do to his master. That stricken feeling flits through the Force again before Obi-Wan can wrangle it again. At least it gets Anakin to look up. He looks torn, agonized, pained, but repeats, unsteady, “You never told us.”

“The past is not an easy thing for me to speak of.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

Anakin’s eyes spark with heat. She can’t see much of Obi-Wan’s face from here when he turns his head, just enough to know they’re having one of their silent conversations. Those have become few and far between, of late. It’s almost a comfort to see.

“You were my padawan.” Obi-Wan says slowly, like he’s formulating his words as he thinks of them. Ahsoka herself feels drained, empty, a husk--she can’t imagine how he must feel right now. “Ahsoka is my grandpadawan. Rex and Cody are my subordinates. It’s incredibly inappropriate, not to mention irresponsible and near abusive, to unload such traumatic, personal stories upon those who cannot legally or knowingly consent--”

“Sir, permission to speak freely?” Cody doesn’t wait for more than a surprised, dry laugh, before he says, “That is absolutely the biggest crock of bantha fodder I’ve ever heard.”

“Perhaps. That does not mean it is not true. I should not have even told you now--I just don’t want you to find out from some clinical diagnosis instead. You all deserve better.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you believe everything you just said, even that kark you just spewed. It’s just horrifying to know you think it.” Cody’s grip relaxes on his helmet with no little effort. He breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth once, and then opens his eyes and nods decisively first to Rex, who nods back, and then to Obi-Wan, who looks puzzled. “But we’re here to help, Sir. No matter what.”

Obi-Wan’s smile pulls a little wider. “Even if I don’t want it, hm?”

“Especially then,” Rex agrees. “Right, General? Commander?”

“Of course.” Ahsoka says, the words struggling so much to stampede out of her mouth that they trip over themselves.

“Always.” Anakin croaks. He’s the first to scramble to his feet as his master rises. He’s the first to throw himself at Obi-Wan. He’s the first to wrap him in an embrace that lasts maybe a bit longer than Master Kenobi’s sense of decorum would prefer. (Not that she sees her grandmaster complaining, of course.)

Anakin is not the last.

Rex settles for a nod and a clap on the shoulder. It’s only his position closer to Skyguy and Obi-Wan that gets her captain there before his commander; Ahsoka shoves him bodily out of the way and wraps her arms as tight as she can around Obi-Wan’s middle. Her skin itches and her muscles flex with the need to squeeze the sadness, the pain, the terrible past right out of him, even if she knows that’s silly. She tries anyway. Subtly, of course. Obi-Wan holds her back, just as he held Anakin before her, warm and all-encompassing and so safe. (Now she knows why. Now she knows he needs to feel that she and her master before her and every youngling after them is safe, that they are protected against a world that threatened to swallow him up and spit out his bones.)

Cody is last, stepping up to his general as Ahsoka pulls away reluctantly. He holds out a hand and Obi-Wan, without missing a beat (although his eyes are a little misty, but so are Ahsoka’s, and Anakin's, and Rex’s), grips his commander’s forearm. He goes very still when Cody pulls him into a keldabe. Ahsoka turns her eyes away when he lets out a trembling breath. Cody speaks, but his rumbling tone is too low for Ahsoka to pick out words. It’s alright, though; they aren’t for her.

“Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.” Cody murmurs, slightly louder. Obi-Wan scoffs quietly and Ahsoka turns her head just in time to see Cody smirk back, pull away, and shake Obi-Wan’s arm, just a little, friendly, familiar. It makes the clawing, cloying thing in her chest that has grown throughout the evening finally ease. Skyguy wraps an arm around her, guiding them both out of the cargo hold and back to their quarters. He’s got the right idea--she’s very tired now.

Before the door closes behind Rex as they step outside, she hears Cody’s last words to Obi-Wan and wonders what they mean.

“ Aliit ori'shya tal'din.”

The Force is noticeably lighter when Ahsoka wakes in the morning.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Just in Time

doing this thing | day 7 - hanahaki

I wish I had so much more time for this one because I had so many thoughts. One day I’ll have to write a full fic, but for now:

Jaskier has imagined his death in many ways - at the hands of an angry spouse; quiet, in his bed as an old man; a stray downer - but never like this. Never sneaking off and choking up flower petals where Geralt can't see (or, hopefully, hear) him. The last thing he needs is for Geralt to try and help and to look further into what this is.

Jaskier knows, of course. He's knowledgeable in all aspects of love and up until his recent affliction had, like most poets, romanticized hanahaki disease. But knowing the only person who can cure your impending death is also the reason for it seems less romantic than the stories he'd been told as a child.

The worst part is that in all the years and all the stories, there is only one cure for the disease: requited love.

Jaskier sighs to himself as he plucks one last petal from between his lips. At the rate he's going, he'll have as much luck getting Yen to fall in love with him as Geralt.

He resigns himself to it. The petals took some getting used to, but the most difficult part now is keeping it from Geralt. He knows Geralt suspects something, and after months of this, there's no way he couldn't. The only reason he hasn't brought it up, Jaskier suspects, is for Jaskier's sake or for the sake of peace. It's not like it's getting any worse.

It gets worse.

Jaskier wakes up in the middle of the night, choking on petals. When he catches his breath, he takes a quick look around to ensure Geralt is still sleeping and, finding him still asleep, gathers up the petals and slips away from camp. He buries them at the edge of the forest, as he usually does, but this time when he drops the broken petals into the hole, he finds a bud. Just one. But his heart starts to beat a little quicker nonetheless. For months he's been holding steady with the petals, but a bud means the disease is progressing.

Still, he can't let Geralt know. Geralt would only worry and demand to know what's wrong and, if Jaskier didn't tell him, likely take him to a healer and get it figured out himself. And once he knew, gods, Jaskier can't even imagine what that would mean for him. If Geralt knew he was in love would he want to know who with? Would he press if it meant making Jaskier better? He doesn't want to think about it at all.

As with all things in his life, this eventually blows up in his face.

He's performing at a banquet. A tavern would have been too casual, an inn too practical. No, it has to be a manor house surrounded by the wealthy and powerful - and worst of all, Geralt. He's halfway through a jig when he feels the tickling begin. He makes it through the end of the song by some miracle, before coughing and spluttering. He slaps a hand over his mouth but a few petals slip through his fingers as he makes a quick escape to the garden.

Jaskier's hunched over a railing, coughing flowers into the flowerbeds below. For something so soft and delicate, they burn in his throat as though fighting their way out. A gentle hand presses against his back and Geralt slips up close.

"Jaskier," he says and he sounds worried, a tone reserved for... well, not him.

"'M fine," he mumbles, but as soon as he opens his mouth another handful of petals spill from his lips.

"Fuck. Jaskier." The hand on his back fists in his doublet, the other coming around to cover Jaskier's hand. "We have to get you to a healer."

"No," he insists. "Geralt-" he splutters and chokes on a loose petal and hangs his head. How does he explain there's no helping him? None at least that are worth the sacrifice.

"Then Yennefer."

Jaskier turns, wiping his mouth as he lifts his head to look at him. Yen is the last person he wants to see in this state, but Geralt looks scared in a way Jaskier has never seen him before.

"If it gets worse," he suggests.

"No," Geralt says, "before it gets worse."

They argue about it on and off for a few weeks. It's an argument Jaskier doesn't win.

Yennefer is none too pleased to see him, especially when she realizes he is the cause for their visit. She looks him over, clearly realizing something is up when Jaskier holds back a cough.

"He's coughing up flowers," Geralt says, "I've never seen anything like it."

"Hanahaki," Yen sighs, crossing her arms across her chest. "Your bard is in love. Unrequited." Yen looks like she's about to say something more, but Jaskier looks up at her, pleading. He knows she knows what’s happening to him, but Geralt can't know. Don't tell him, he begs silently. Yen gives him an odd look but she doesn't say anything.

"Geralt," she says, "I need a moment with the bard." She keeps her eyes on Jaskier and the intensity of it is a little terrifying, but the alternative is much, much worse. As soon as Geralt is out of earshot, she sits across from him, crossing her legs and leaning on them.

"You know," she says accusingly.

"Yes."

"So why are you here? I can't imagine you came to enjoy my company?"

"I don't want him to worry."

Yen laughs at him. "Too late."

"Don't tell him."

"That you'll die?"

"Yes."

"Why not try to cure it?" Yen's eyes narrow skeptically and Jaskier sighs.

"My beloved will never return my feelings, nor would I expect them to."

"There's another option," she insists though Jaskier can't fathom why.

"I will never fall out of love, not this time." He looks down, focusing too hard on his boots and Yen scoffs.

"Then you're a fool," Yen snaps, rising to her feet.

"Then I suppose I shall die a fool, but please don't tell him."

"If he asks, I won't lie." She leaves the room and Jaskier sighs, dropping his chin against his chest.

"Wouldn't expect anything less," he mumbles. For a few minutes, he sits in silence before realizing Yen isn't coming back. He gathers himself up and leaves the little hut, making his way back to where Geralt is waiting.

"What did she say?" he asks and Jaskier only shrugs.

"Nothing to be done, I'm afraid. We'll have to wait for it to go away on its own."

It doesn't go away, nor does Jaskier ever expect it to. If anything, he's resigned himself to a slow death so long as he can spend his remaining days with Geralt. And he does.

Geralt takes care of him now that he's not hiding it any longer, ensuring he's always warm and well-fed. They'll stop early for the night when Jaskier has a bad fit and Geralt will take care of the rest of the duties around camp. Jaskier is torn. He feels guilty for letting Geralt do so much for him when he's not doing anything to try and make himself better. But a part of him relishes the attention, wishes that it was the way they always were - or at least some of the time. At the same time, he realizes the only reason Geralt is acting like this at all is because Jaskier is sick.

He does everything he can to help and Jaskier just gets worse. He sees the toll it takes on Geralt, how every moment he's not hunting becomes dedicated to Jaskier. And Jaskier tries not to let him, but Geralt is having none of it. And Jaskier gets worse.

It's a cold autumn night when Geralt realizes his efforts are doing no good. They're at an inn, in a single bed because Geralt won't let him get very far away anymore. Jaskier is facing the wall, his back to Geralt's chest when he finally hears the words he's been dreading.

"It's not going to get better, is it?" Geralt's voice is soft but seems like thunder in his ears and Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut.

"No, darling, it's not."

Geralt's arm tightens a little around him, though Jaskier suspects it's a reflex. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't want to worry you. I was hoping you'd be gone for the winter before it got this bad."

"I won't leave you like this," Geralt rumbles, "there must be something I can do."

Jaskier could cry at the injustice of it all. He wants to tell Geralt the truth, but he can't put that on him, can't put his death on Geralt's hands. Already, he's sure Geralt will blame himself for it.

"There's nothing, my dear. It's enough to have you here."

Geralt curls around him nose pressed into his hair. Jaskier has to fight back tears, curling around himself as he struggles to catch his breath. His throat is raw from hacking up blooms and he hasn't told Geralt, but they've been more frequent recently and complete with stems and leaves. More than one at a time.

He shuts his eyes and presses into Geralt's warmth, taking care to pay attention to every little detail of Geralt's body against his own. It's so unfair that this is all he has ever wanted and he knows now that he won't live to see the morning. This isn't the way he thought he'd go, but he can't think of a much better way, really. Geralt is soft and warm around him and he listens to the sound of his breath as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

In the morning he's... still alive. He's not sure how because he was so sure of the end, more than he'd been sure of anything. He takes a deep breath to measure the strain and there... nothing. He breathes easily for the first time in months and his heart starts pounding because he still loves Geralt. He can feel the warmth of his body around him, entangled with him and it seeps into his bones. Which means...

His eyes snap open, immediately focusing on Geralt's eyes before him. He can't breathe, but oddly this seems more familiar.

"It was me," Geralt mumbles and Jaskier can feel his lips twitch just slightly. "You almost died, Jaskier, why didn't you tell me?"

Jaskier reaches up, winding both arms around Geralt's neck and drawing him closer. "I didn't want you to blame yourself, darling." Geralt looks conflicted, like he wants to say something, but doesn't know what, so Jaskier interrupts. "Geralt?" he whispers, "tell me you mean it."

"I mean it. I'm sorry it took so long." He tips forward, pressing his lips to Jaskier's. When he draws back, he's smiling and Jaskier will never forget the way he looks now with the morning sun shining in on his face.

"Darling, you were just in time."

[donutloverxo]

Strong woman

Authors note- This was written for a very sweet anon. I hope you like it. Happy reading💕

Please do not steal or repost my work. Reblogs are more than welcome.

Summary- You have always secretly wanted to be dominated. Steve fulfills your wish.

Warnings- smut, spanking, dom Steve, sub reader, mentions of pornography, sexist workplace.

Word count-2k

Masterlist

It was another mission. Another day where little boys with big egos - who were much younger and inexperienced than you questioned your authority.

Being a female shield agent was tough. If you had a dollar for every time your authority was questioned or someone had called you bitch or cunt, you’d probably be richer than Tony Stark.

Here you were getting yelled at by Director Fury for your teammates mistakes.

Still you took it like a champ. Not being fazed by him one bit.

You had learned years ago, if you have to survive in this field you have to be stone cold. At work you adapted somewhat of a resting bitch-face and a don’t fuck with me attitude. It was the only way to get people to actually listen to you.

Though in the process you had lost yourself. Being someone else for most of the time wasn’t easy, it felt very isolating. You often wondered if it was worth it.

You could never talk about your love for makeup or baking. Or crack a smile just because you felt like it or even wear a pretty pink dress.

You had never been able to hold a stable relationship. No one could understand why you loved and somewhat hated your job at the same time. Being taller than most men didn’t help either.

In other words, men were scared of you. You were well aware of that and had accepted nunhood for the rest of your life.

That was until you met him.

At six foot two he was one of the few men taller than you. You felt so precious and womanly whenever he hugged you or bent down to kiss you. His muscles were so hard and tender at the same time. He also had one of the most beautiful smiles which matched perfectly with his sparking blue eyes.

All your life, you never would’ve guessed a man from the forties, a man out of time, would be able to understand you. To support your career but at the same time call you out whenever you overdid it.

You didn’t have to pretend with him. You could stop in your tracks and gush over how cute a small puppy is or watch chessy romcoms and let your feminine side breathe.

You hadn’t been dating for long before you two became intimate. He was quite nervous, so you had to take the lead.

While you didn’t mind guiding him or telling him what to do, sometimes you just wished he’d tie you to your bed and just do whatever the hell he wants with you.

Own you and dominate you and push you.

There was an easy solution to this problem. You could just ask him to be more dominant but you weren’t willing to risk it. You had finally found ' one'. Besides, who cares if he isn’t into fucking you till you passed out?

After an hour long lecture from Fury you took a long shower in the locker room and called Steve to let him know you were headed to your place. He offered to go there first to cook you some dinner. As much as you didn’t want to be a bother you couldn’t refuse. After all he did make delicious chilli.

You wiggled the keys in your apartment door and closed it behind you. You smelled the delicious food and smiled to yourself. Not coming home to an empty house surely was something else. Maybe someday you could make this a permanent arrangement.

“Steve?”, you called out for him and went inside the living room to see him sitting on your sofa staring at the screen of your laptop. “What are you doing?”

“Oh... I”, he looked at you as you were staggered, “I needed to check my emails. But this was already on”, he tilted the laptop so you could see the screen and you felt as if you could die right there.

You had left your pretty hardcore bdsm porn on.

“Look! That’s probably an ad!” How were you a spy but such a terrible liar at the same time?

“Doesn’t look like it,” he replied and went back to looking at the screen. His jaw clenched and eyes squinted. “You like this stuff?”

You cringed and shut your eyes hard as if doing that would get you out of this situation. “I... yes, it’s mine. But you were gone for like a week! I had to make do with something. I have needs!” you screamed at the end and covered your mouth to stop embarrassing yourself further.

“Believe me I know that,” he smirked “what’s that?” he asked pointing at the screen.

You were surprised at how calm he was. Shouldn’t he be out the door by now?

“That’s a... uh.. flogger”

You noticed his adams apple bob as he swallowed. “Looks interesting. Do you want to try it?” he looked at you expectantly.

You suddenly felt put on spot. Was this a trap, a test? What were you supposed to say? You decided to just go with the truth. You can’t dig yourself out of this hole no matter how hard you tried.

“Well...yeah..”

He stared into your eyes as if he was looking through your soul. “Then we should. Where do you want to start?”

“I... well I’ve always wanted to be spanked. Not by a whip! But you know.. because I’ve been a bad girl”

“You have been a bad girl. Watching such things while I was gone. What should we do with you” he closed the laptop and put it on the coffee table in front of him.

You looked at his buldging cock straining against his jeans. He spread his legs and rubbed his jean clad thighs smirking down at them. He looked up at you willing you to speak. “I asked you a question”

“Whatever you see fit, " you replied, trying to sound sultry. “Sir,” you added for good measure.

“Get over my lap,” he ordered.

You felt your body moving before your mind could register what he had said. You bent over his lap and rested your weight on it as he stroked and groped your clothed ass.

“I think five slaps should be enough," he hummed, "Did you touch yourself?” he stopped stroking waiting for your answer.

“Yes, I did," you bit your lip already feeling aroused and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Well then... how about ten slaps?” he asked giving your ass a squeeze.

You moaned and frantically nodded your head. “Yes, sir”

“Do you think I’m going to spank you over your leggings?” he asked, his tone on the verge of annoyance.

You pulled your leggings and panties down as fast as you could and gripped the arm of the sofa dripping in anticipation.

“Good girl,” he praised you and stroked your ass in circular motions. “You will count for me?” he asked though it was more of an order than a question.

“Yes, sir."

He bent over to kiss the hair behind your ear. “Tell me if it hurts, okay?” he whispered in your ear. His voice tender and loving, a stark contrast to how he was speaking before. You nodded yes.

He slapped your right cheek hard. The noise echoing through your living room.

You gasped feeling him stroke your burning cheek. “One," you sighed.

He took a few moments to admire your ass, entranced by it. He had always loved it. He loved looking at it when you wore tight pants or bent down to pick something up. He loved grabbing it when you bounced on his cock. He most definitely loved how you would grind against his crotch while dancing.

But this was something else. Looking at his handprint on your asscheck he felt a surge of possesiveness build inside him. No one had done this to you before. You were trusting him and being completely vulnerable in front of him.

He raised his hand, this time aiming for your left cheek. You cried and jumped in his lap.

“Two.”

He felt a wet spot on his jeans right between your legs. He couldn’t resist dipping his fingers in and tracing your lips, staying away from your clit. You had been a bad girl after all. He played with your pussy for a while before returning to the task at hand.

You were a shaking, moaning and crying mess for the next few slaps. His thigh drenched completely by your juices. You had tried to play with your tits in the middle of it but Steve swatted your hands away threatening to not give you your reward. So you were doing your best to take your punishment like a good girl.

“Come on, doll, just two more,” he tried to sooth you as spanked you again.

“Nine!” you screamed holding onto a throw pillow.

He stared at your swollen ass. You would have trouble sitting for the next few days. He looked at your glistening pussy. It looked so tempting.

Fuck it. You had been a good girl so far. Maybe he’d give you a teaser of your reward.

He dipped two fingers in your pussy and heard you sigh. He pumped his fingers a few times before bringing them to his lips and sucking on them. Making sure to be loud so you could hear him. You looked over your shoulder curiously and whimpered.

“Have patience. Just one more left, princess,” he cooed at you and stroked your ass getting it ready for the last blow.

Your mind was foggy but you felt your insides tingle at his nickname. No one had ever called you that unless it was an insult. You never thought you’d melt hearing it from a man’s mouth.

You felt his last hard slap on your ass and cried out loud enough for the whole building to hear.

“Ten," you said and smiled, your mind hazily.

He stroked your ass for some time before pulling you off of him and placing you on the sofa. He grabbed a pillow situating it under your hips to raise your ass. You probably didn’t have enough energy to keep up on your own. But there was no way he could wait now.

“You ready for your reward, princess?, he asked lining his cock upto your pussy.

You hummed and nodded. He lightly slapped your ass and you gasped, not expecting it. It felt absolutely lovely on your raw sensitive ass.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes, yes, sir I am,” you replied, your voice faltering.

You felt him slowly push into you and groan as he bottomed out. He stayed in there for a few minutes to let you get use to it. But you will never really get used to how big his cock is or just how amazingly he used it to fuck you.

He started moving in slow torturous strokes. His pelvis rubbing against your ass deliciously.

“Stev... sir, harder please," you begged and stuck your ass up to get him even deeper in you.

“As you wish, doll," he groaned and picked up his pace, slamming into your pussy brutally.

You moaned and groaned and thrashed on the sofa. You didn’t know how long he fucked you, you lost all concept of time. You felt the all too familiar knot tightening in your belly and clenched around him.

“You gonna cum?” he asked, his brooklyn accent even more evident now. “Go ahead cum.”

You yelled and released all over him, falling onto the couch, completely fucked out.

His thrusts became erratic and unsteady he groaned and released in you until there was nothing left. You felt sleep come over you before you could say or do anything.

You jolted awake when you felt a cool liquid on you ass. You looked over and saw Steve massaging something on your ass.

He looked up at you and smiled. “Did I wake you?”

You hummed and laid your head on your pillow still feeling weak. “What is that?”

“It’s aloe vera I found it in your bathroom,” it was something that was part of your seven step beauty routine. “I read it will help with the swelling.”

You hummed again already half asleep.

“I read some other things too”, he said while massaging, “things we could try together”

“Oh?” you exclaimed and looked at him. He smiled and winked at you. You quickly turned around and buried your head in the pillow.

You had created a monster.

[therenlover]

Welcome Home (Part One of Till Forever Falls Apart, A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Synopsis: As if getting thrown through the multiverse, trapped in an attic (albeit a cool one), mind-controlled to manipulate his grieving sister, and subsequently dragged out of Westview “for his own safety” by the FBI wasn’t enough, Peter Maximoff has now been shipped off to New York to live with a glorified baby sitter like some tragic orphan in a comic book until they find a way to get him back home. Things are not always as they seem, though, and this change might just be for the better.

Tags: Pre-Relationship, First Meetings, Slow Burn, Post-Wandavision

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild Language, References to Ralph Bohner

Word Count: 2400~

This fic has already been posted to my AO3, along with the next two parts! I’ll be continuing it on both platforms.

-------

“So… Ralph Bohner?”

Peter looked up from his mug, the tea inside having gone cold long before. His eyes had been fixed on the floor, his leg bouncing far quicker than what should have been humanly possible. It had been a little over 24 hours since the Hex had disappeared, and Peter was firmly of the mindset that he was taking it all very well.

Even to himself, he was a terrible liar.

“Ralph?” His new keeper spoke again, voice soft in the quaint kitchen of the brownstone that Peter would be calling home for the foreseeable future.

It had all been so strange. In one moment he was reorganizing his new attic and trying to figure out how to work the damn DVD player, and somehow in the next, he was a prisoner in his own mind, backseat driving as a witch used his face and voice to torment Wanda. Not his Wanda, though; a new, strange, grieving Wanda with unfathomable power at her fingertips. Thankfully, that didn’t last very long.

After just 2 weeks in this strange new reality, Peter missed the X-Men. He missed his dad, no matter how absent and strange he was. He missed his friends, and his sisters, and the strange normalcy that came with being a part of the team when the world wasn’t in danger. Peter found himself wishing that things would just slow down enough for him to catch up and figure out what the hell was going on. That was a new one for him.

At least he still had his speed. If he had lost his powers in the freak accident that sent him into another universe… well he didn’t want to think about that.

Despite this, the FBI guy who had dragged him out of Westview and across the river to New York had given him an explicit warning not to use his powers while civilians were present. Peter didn’t mind Agent Woo, he seemed like a good guy and treated him with more decency than most government lackeys would have back home, but it was gonna be completely impossible for Peter to avoid using his speed in public. It wasn’t like Agent Woo would even be around to stop him anyway. The only person who could possibly protest was the poor sap that the F.B.I. called in to babysit him, and they would never be able to keep up even if they tried.

“Peter? Are you okay?”

Fuck.

His eyes shot up to meet hers, “You aren’t supposed to know that name,”

“I’m not supposed to know a lot of things,” she replied almost nonchalantly, “but neither of us is known for doing the things we’re supposed to do, are we?”

Peter chuckled, and for the first time in a while, he cracked a genuine smile. “I guess not,”

The smile seemed to please the woman across the counter. Smiling back, she wrapped her hands around her own mug and sat down on a tall stool, leaning towards Peter. “Now, first things first! I want you to ignore whatever rules the FBI gave you while you’re here. My house, my rules, and despite the fact that you’re in witness protection I doubt anyone unwanted will come knocking at the door to snatch you up,”

As she spoke, Peter really took her in for the first time. She was a small thing, in shape and stature, but soft, all rounded edges and gentle touches. Despite her young face, there was an age to her, too. Looking deep into his memories, he realized she had the same haunted look in her eyes that he had seen all too often in the older members of his team. It was the look of someone who has seen unspeakable loss and survived to tell the tale. He decided at that moment that maybe staying with her wouldn’t be so bad.

“So about that rules thing,” Peter tapped his fingers against his half-full mug, doing his best not to speed up and break it, “I don’t exactly do well with rules. They aren’t my thing. I can’t promise that the cops won’t show up at the door, and I especially can’t promise that they won’t be there because of something I did that I knew was against the rules,”

When Peter met the woman’s eyes again she was still smiling, not a hint of displeasure on her face.

“If I had a problem with you being you, Peter, I wouldn’t have offered to take you in. Besides, as long as the cops that show up are human there won’t be a problem,”

Peter paused. “What?”

“That’s a question for another time,” The woman took a sharp turn then, hopping off of her stool and walking her mug to the sink where she proceeded to rinse it out. “Next, even in public, I refuse to call you Mr. Bohner. Ralph I can do if you care about staying anonymous, but I won’t be acknowledging any part of your… chosen last name,” Even as she shuddered, there was humor lacing her voice, “Bohner, though? Really?”

“It’s funny!”

She turned back to Peter with her face scrunched up in faux disgust. “Maybe to a middle schooler,”

“I had just been pulled out of my room, sucked through a portal, and thrown onto the steps of goddamn Quantico, so excuse me for not being on top of my game. Besides, Bohner wasn’t even my first choice. They wouldn’t let me go with Jack Ingoff,”

That was enough to send them both into a fit of giggles.

“Jack Ingoff?” She wheezed, “You tried to get the F.B.I. to give you the legal name Jack fucking Ingoff? That’s just so you,”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re both an idiot and the funniest person I have ever met,”

“I’d better be,”

As they continued to laugh, Peter found himself completely enthralled by this strange woman’s face and it occurred to him that she was incredibly beautiful.

It wasn’t as if she was a supermodel, though in Peter’s eyes it wouldn’t have taken much to make her one. Every part of her just seemed to glow as she gripped her stomach and stifled laughter. She was pretty in quiet ways, in soft glances and gentle touches and unrestrained joy. In the way that everything around her felt like it was full of life. In the kindness that had never wavered while Peter had sat at her kitchen counter, even when he had come through the door swearing at Agent Woo and demanding that he didn’t need a babysitter.

The longer he looked, the more beautiful she became, in actions and words and features combined, and Peter suddenly became aware that if he hadn’t taken the time to really see her, he never would have realized. He was glad he had slowed down for once.

Somewhere down the line, her laughter quieted.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “what’s your deal?” The cold mug in his hands was suddenly extremely interesting.

Across the counter she stilled, frozen in place for a moment. When she spoke, her voice held an edge of… fear? “What do you mean?”

Peter did his best to backpedal.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I was just wondering what you did to get stuck with me, that’s all. I doubt they would stick my annoying ass with just anybody, especially after… well everything that went down in Westview. Plus, I’m not just a normal dude. What average New York socialite would take in a kleptomaniac who just so happens to also be inhumanly fast out of the goodness of their heart?”

As he spoke, her shoulders relaxed and she loosened her grip on the edge of the marble countertop. “Oh, my deal,”

“Yeah. There’s more to you than what meets the eye, I can tell,” Something in the way her face flushed at his words made Peter’s heart fill with pride.

“I… well I had a unique upbringing,” she responded, voice careful and measured while she watched the floor, “I’m not a mutant, not like you, but I have a little bit of power at my disposal that makes me useful to heroes and hero adjacent agencies. I’m not a part of the team, my skills aren’t usually helpful when it comes to fighting, but they keep tabs on me just in case I’m needed. This was one of those times,”

Peter snorted. “Sounds like a pretty shitty deal,”

“Trust me, if I didn’t have to have the government breathing down my back, I wouldn’t, but after I worked with the Avengers they pulled up my file and found out I shouldn’t exist, so they’ve been keeping a pretty close eye on me ever since,”

“Ah… well, next time just don’t get caught,”

“Not all of us have the luxury of being able to dodge bullets and outrun law enforcement, Peter. Besides, I like this house and I’m not quite in the mood to have to abandon it just yet.”

He shrugged. “To each their own. Now how the hell did you get stuck with me? Were you just the closest or did everybody else refuse,”

“Well, actually I offered to take you in,”

Peter choked on the air. “Why the hell would you do that?”

She was quick to defend herself, and in a way him too.

“Because Jimmy is my friend, and when a friend needs a favor I try to help them out. It’s more than that, though. I won’t lie. I’m fascinated by you, Peter Maximoff. I find you wonderful exactly how you are and I couldn’t stand to let any of the other assholes in New York try to stomp out your personality. Here with me, you can just be you, and knowing that you’re able to be comfortable until we find you a way home was more than enough of a reason for me to volunteer to take you in. Besides, if you weren’t with me you’d probably be in the tower’s holding cell, and believe me, that wouldn’t be any fun,”

It took Peter a minute to fully digest what he was hearing.

He wasn’t going to be a burden. There would be no curfews or screaming matches or long lectures about his chosen pastimes. She wanted every single part of him there and had already gone out of her way to assure him that even the worst of him was welcome under her roof. Even during his time at X-Mansion, he had never been treated like this.

Sure, he had been himself there. People would yell or try to stop him from doing what he wanted but their efforts were futile. He couldn’t be tamed. At best the other members of the team had just tried to ignore him until his powers came in handy. He was an annoyance at worst and the household funny guy at best, and yet now a total stranger wanted him around. It took all of Peter’s small reserve of restraint to not take a victory lap around the block there and then.

Being wanted was the best feeling in the world.

When his head cleared, he smiled again. “You know, when Agent Woo brought me in here I was fully prepared to wait for him to leave then make a run for it, but I’ve decided to save you from the F.B.I.’s wrath and stay for a while instead. You’re welcome,”

He expected a snappy retort, but instead, her words came out strangely genuine, almost a whisper.  “Thank you for saving me, Peter. I appreciate it,”

“Any time,”

Slowly the flush from before crept back onto her face.

“I know you’re not the type who likes to be tied down, so I won’t keep you here much longer,” she said, before taking Peter’s mug to the sink, “but there are just a few more things I need to tell you before you go off to do whatever it is you do on a Thursday morning.”

He would never admit it but Peter felt anything but tied down. Instead, he just nodded.

“Go for it,”

She washed the mug as she spoke. “Alright, well first of all what’s mine is yours. Unless I specifically ask you not to use something you have free reign over whatever you need. You can come and go as you please, I keep odd hours and don’t mind a little noise even when I’m sleeping. The house is pretty simple layout-wise, you can explore whenever you want, but the room at the end of the hallway to your right is my bedroom and I’d prefer if you didn’t go in there unless you need to. Your room is the first door at the left of the stairs on the second floor and… well, I think that’s all,”

There was a sort of sorrow in the woman’s eyes when she stopped, placing the now clean mug on a drying rack before turning to face Peter again. A yearning. It made Peter want to… well, he didn’t quite know what it made him feel. He just wanted to do whatever would ease the strange pain that resided in his new friend.

He went to speak but nothing came out.

“Is everything okay Peter?”

It was Peter’s turn to flush, face red with shame. “I...uh, well, I wasn’t quite paying attention when the agent introduced us. I’m gonna need to know your name if I’m living with you,”

It came as no surprise when she laughed gently, making her way across the kitchen towards the living room, passing Peter at the counter on her way. “My name is Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you, Peter,” The strange sorrow was still present, reflected in her words, but it seemed lighter than before, more manageable.

“Nice to meet you too Y/N,”

“I’m heading to work,” she pulled on a light jacket as she spoke, “so feel free to explore at your own leisure while I’m gone. I’ll hopefully be back by 5, but sometimes things run late. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

Peter shook his head no. “If I can’t find something I need I’ll just run out and grab it myself.

Y/N laughed again. “Just don’t get caught, you won’t know the number to call from jail yet,”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,”

She paused, halfway out the door. “Oh, and Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Welcome home,”

----

a/n: Thank you so much for reading! I have 3 1/2-ish parts of this series written, but the plan is for it to be a long haul where each part is a connecting oneshot. I hope you’re excited! 

Please don’t post my work to other sites, thanks!

[satoruvt]

sink your teeth in (give me what i want)

pairing → yoon jeonghan x reader

word count → 1633

genre → like. suggestive? not fluff, not angst ↳ tags: ummmmm lol hitman au.... enemies with benefits..... i have a love/hate relationship with jeonghan and this is me projecting......

song inspo → taking off by one ok rock!!!!!!!

warnings → a few swears here and there, i mention murder but theres no detail about anything its all very vague, also suggestive!! but again vague

a/n → suddenly very aware that none of my banners are the same dimensions. upset. anyways i hate jeonghan but would do anything for him unforunately

You’ve had a problem with Yoon Jeonghan since your first day on the job.

It starts normal - your first client, your first target, fresh out of training. Your mentor gives you tips and tricks and you purposefully take an easier job, one where your client has a majority of the information you need to know. Their competitor - your target - is at a high-end hotel and will be there all night… all you have to do is find out which room.

And, well, kill them, but after the years you’ve spent training and working, you’re pretty confident.

So after some tracking you finally find out the room number your target’s staying at and gather your things - weapons, restraints, anything you could possibly need (and things you’ll eventually know to leave out) to get the job done. You plan it out as well as you can, you want no messes or trails, and when you finally get to the hotel room, ready to make a move…

Your target’s already dead. Sprawled across the floor, puddle of blood under them, gone. You drop your duffel bag in shock, barely take note of the open window, and instead focus on a little note propped up on the table by the body that has your name on it. The police are on their way, it reads when you turn it over. Don’t be here when they are.

It’s signed with multiple x’s and a name you learn to hate.

And since that job - years ago, when you were still a rookie - you and Jeonghan have always ended up on opposite sides. Sometimes you think that if fate had given the two of you a chance to work together on a job you wouldn’t hate him half as much, if at all. It’s a dangerous job, and hard - you take what you’re given, what you’re offered. Even if you were commissioned to work with Jeonghan of all people… you think maybe you wouldn’t be so offended by the simple thought of him.

That thought always leads you to think about why you hate him - you’ve met other hitmen, worked with them. Minghao was the most pleasant experience (as pleasant as it can be, killing others) and you still meet with him from time to time, get a drink or a bite to eat. And even Soonyoung, who you’ve simply talked to a few times, isn’t someone you’re at all close to hating, even when he’s a little too energetic.

You sigh, leaning back away from the telescope on your rifle. Your neck is starting to hurt from the position you’ve kept for what feels like hours, and you roll your head around in circles in hopes to ease the ache - quickly, though, you’re still waiting for your target to leave a building across the street from the empty parking garage you’ve stationed yourself at. When you look through the scope again you see the doors haven’t opened and let yourself drift in thought again: you’ve got along well with almost every other hitman you’ve come in contact with, so why -

“I was wondering where you were hiding out.”

Speak of the devil, you think dully, feeling the added ache of aggravation crawl up your spine. You don’t even spare a glance in his direction, instead trying to stop yourself from making Jeonghan your own personal target, client be damned.

“Yeah? Why is that?” you ask him, voice laced with a level of resentment even you’re not prepared for.

“Oh, to see my favorite person, of course!” Jeonghan replies, and it’s then you decide to turn and look at him. The moonlight from the other openings in the walls only illuminates the bottom half of his face, leaving his smug smirk in perfect view. He’s leaning against a pillar like he owns it. You’re extremely tempted to punch him.

“I’m trying to do my job, Jeonghan,” you settle on instead. God knows your client offered a charitable reward for your services, and you need the money. You can’t afford to risk this.

You hear the grin in his voice when he speaks. “Me too, honey.”

And you should have known, whenever he shows up he always brings some sort of fucking trouble, and you barely think when you’re standing up from your rifle and turning to fully look at him. “Who hired you?” You demand, because of course he has to do this, of course -

“You know we can’t disclose that sort of information,” Jeonghan says, voice teasing in nature but you know he’s serious. You don’t care. You stomp up to him, reach for his collar to pull him to you, chest-to-chest.

“Who the hell hired you?”

Your question doesn’t even receive an answer the second time, instead you’re only faced with a look that’s all too arrogant. You can’t help but roll your eyes, push him off of you with force until he stumbles back a few steps.

“Tell me who hired you,” you say lowly, looking him in the eye. “I’m tired of dancing around you all the time, playing these stupid games -”

“Really?” Jeonghan asks, sounding genuinely surprised. He takes a step closer to you and in a fit of pride, you stay where you are, leaving both of you dressed in low moonlight. His eyes are full of mirth, playful knowledge. “Because the last time we met, you seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.”

Memories of his skin flash in your mind like quick pictures, and you glare as hard as you possibly can at him. Your resolve has been crumbling since the first time you looked at him tonight and both of you know it and you hate it. “Leave me alone.”

“Are you sure you want that?” Jeonghan asks. You don’t answer him. You - you have a job to do, a target who is going to be walking out of the building across the street at any moment, if they haven’t already and you’ve been too preoccupied. Your client didn’t give you any date to have it done by, but this is by far the easiest time to get it done, everything lines up perfectly.

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow at you, steps another few inches forward until the tips of his shoes touch yours. His pointer finger comes under your chin and pushes it up, gentle but in control, so your eye line meets his perfectly. 

“What do you want?”

Something in you breaks (like it always does) and you throw all caution to the wind as you simultaneously push Jeonghan back against the pillar and pull him closer to you to mash your lips to him. It’s an angry kiss, seething and rough, sweetly bruising. Your hands are in his hair - longer than last time, your brain tells you without permission - and his are everywhere, all over you, any place he can reach without breaking away from you. You don’t know how long you spend letting his lips trace the shape of your own until he murmurs something along the lines of “I have a hotel room” and you’re grabbing your things in a rush and leaving with him.

It always crosses your mind at one point, when it happens, how stupid this whole thing is. The two of you doing this together, knowing you always crash and burn. It never stops you from going through with it, though. You figure if he’s taking you down, he might as well drag you all the way to hell.

You get to his hotel room (high-end, you note, which makes everything worse because you know he doesn’t even need this job anymore - not if he’s spending his reward money on things like this) and the heat kicks up again, leaves you stripping clothes and kissing skin. You think you mumble an “I hate you” against his lips at one point - for good measure - and he only grins, grins, kisses you harder to shut you up. It works.

When you finally feel each other, pressed into sheets and skin, listening to the way Jeonghan gasps again and again, you can’t help but think. You know everything you do is killing me.

The morning comes quick, makes you feel the bruises of Jeonghan’s hands more than the night before. You stretch and sigh and try to prepare yourself for an empty bed (it always is) but when you try to turn you realize an arm is still stretched across your stomach, heavy with the weight of sleep. Oh, you think first, and then, I need to leave right now.

So, slowly, you push Jeonghan’s arm off of you and then rush quietly to get dressed and gather your things. You’re sat on the edge of the bed, in the middle of tying your shoes, when he wakes up.

“Leaving already?” He asks, teasing as always. You don’t look at him.

“You’re usually the one gone by this point anyways.”

Your words contain no bite - surprisingly - only a simple observation. For some reason you think it’s worse that there’s no contempt in your tone, that you’d rather keep that up then go through… whatever this is. Neither of you speak.

When you stand up from the bed you’re forced to look at him, and there’s something in his eyes. Yearning, maybe. Longing. Your heart throbs and you pretend you don’t see it, pretend you can’t label the feeling.

You get to the door but stop, then give yourself a moment to take a breath of air in as you look back at Jeonghan. “I’m never letting this go,” you tell him, voice stern. You don’t know what you’re referencing - this grudge? Him?

Jeonghan only grins at you, knowing, and you leave the room before you can no longer stop yourself from grinning back.

[modecaisnow]

The Immobile Man

**18 Years or Older: The following includes themes of: immobility, XSSBHM, unrealistic situations, and homoerotic self-pleasure. REMEMBER: The relationship portrayed in this story is an unrealistic caretaker-client relationship – it is okay to read and enjoy these works of fiction, but what is essentially a “boss-worker” relationship should not take place in the real world. ENJOY!!**

Sam is a new Home-Care nurse. He is excited and anxious about meeting his first ever client! However, he quickly realized he may have bitten off more than he could chew...

It was my first day as a home-care nurse. I was excited to get out in the world and help people, but I didn’t know what was in store for me. My professors and Clinical Instructors always said that “your first patient will be one you never forget.” The thought of that was just as exciting as it was worrying. This must be the place, I thought to myself as I stood outside of a single-floor home. The outside of the house was not well-kept. The yard was a mess, and the siding was covered in green moss. I double-checked the address on my patient files and then triple-checked just to be sure. After a deep breath, I approached the house and walked up the two, small cement steps. On the door, was a sign saying: “All packages: Please go around to side window and drop it in window. Thanks.” I didn’t think much of it – in fact, things like this were expected for clients like this one. According to the file, the patient was Mr. Mike Jacobs. He had “limited mobility” and required a “high level of assistance with all activities of daily living” and “activity monitoring.” I was not told much more than that – I was only told the information I needed to know. How he got hurt, or whatever rendered him with limited mobility, was not part of the information I needed. I knocked on the door. -Silence- I knocked a second time. -Silence- I knocked a third time. “Yeah… who’s there?” Called a thick, deep voice from inside. I slowly opened the door, after the baritone voice called from deep within the house. “My name is Sam, and I’m a Home Health Nurse. I’m here to help Mr. Jacobs…” “That’s…me!” The man coughed. “Come in! I’m in… the bedroom here!” I slowly opened the front door. Immediately, I was met with a musky, damp smell. I covered my nose at first, but then stopped as I felt it was unprofessional. After regaining my composure, I slowly walked through the house and toward the bedroom. The carpet itself was torn and stained, small wheel treads were indented into the carpet, all leading from the couch to the kitchen. The entire house looked like it was on the TV Show “Hoarders.” Old boxes and bags cluttered the rooms in large heaps. The furniture was snapped and broken. Everything was covered in dust – even the appliances in the kitchen. The heaps of trash managed to pile almost as tall as me, but at 5’6” (167cm) I was not terribly tall anyway. Inside the kitchen, was a broken-down mobility scooter. The wheels had all burst, and the seat was crushed and flattened like a pancake. “I’m in here… come in, boy!” The man wheezed. I slowly opened the door and my jaw dropped. In the middle of the room were two, full-sized beds resting side-by-side, connected by a plank of wood in the front that was nailed into the bed frames. The legs of the bed frames were reinforced and wooden blocks, as well as books, were shoved up under the sagging frame to help add extra support. The mattresses on the frames were both flattened until they were no thicker than a pillow, both overwhelmed by the mound of blob-like lard on the bed. Next to the blob was a rolling cart with one pizza box on top – a plethora of empty boxes was scattered along the floor. “I’m Mr. Jacobs… you can call me… by that… or by ‘Sir’… either is fine.” The man was immense. I was surprised he even managed to muster the energy to speak between mouthfuls. This man was not human – his size was not physically possible. In fact, I had to rub my eyes just to be sure, and I looked around for hidden cameras to see if I was on a prank show or if this were a test. This man was easily over 1000 pounds, or maybe even 1400 or more pounds. Either way, it was a sight to see – he must have been the fattest man around, or even alive. Wobbling dangerously close to the end of the bed was the blob’s belly. Flabby, doughy piles of flesh spilled outward and sagged down from his front. The looming mass of blubber covered most of the mattresses beneath the tub of lard. At the front of Mr. Jacobs’ belly was a deep belly button, which must have been out of his reach for a long time. The cavernous belly button marked the division between two vast, distended folds of pure fat that sat atop each other. The bottom fold, which forced the mattress to sink downward, spilled all around the fat man’s frame, where it rounded his sides and became a series of substantial love-handles that oozed over his gelatinous, mammoth thighs. I could not distinguish the different segments of the obese glutton’s legs. It was just a series of rolls and folds piled against each other. Every roll sagged down towards his fat feet, where the lard oozed around his long-lost ankles. The fat from his thighs blended in with his massive rear, which spilled out far behind him. Two gigantic globes of ass fat smothered multiple pillows that were placed at the head of the bed. Even while standing in front of the blob, I could make out his wide load of a rear. My eyes were drawn back to his belly button. It looked deep and was starting to become hidden away by the looming roll of flesh that swelled over it. At the crest of the blob’s belly, were two massive moobs. These moobs splayed off to the sides of the man’s belly with two nipples that were easily the circumference of my hands. The bottom half of his fattened areolas had started to become hidden as his own expanding chest fat forced them to point downward. Neck, shoulder, and upper arm fat all blended into what seemed like one massive, sagging mound of dough. The only distinction was the pillow-sized forearms that emerged from his flab-engulfed upper arm. Due to the daunting magnitude of the fat mounds that sagged off of his side, Mr. Jacobs’ arms were stuck almost parallel to the ground. However, it just seemed to make it easier for him to eat since he only needed to grab another slice of pizza and bend his elbow. Everything about this man was fat. Similarly to how he did not have a discernable neck or ankle, this man’s wrist was also engulfed in lard by his own gluttony. The seemingly most mobile part of him was his fingers. The cheeks on both sides of his face were swollen to the point where they started to impinge on his field of view. “I-I-I’m…um…” I stuttered as I continued to ogle the blob. “Surprised?” The man interjected as he swallowed the last slice. “You’re surprised to see me… ain’t ya?” He grabbed the empty pizza box and shoved it off the rolling cart. It fell to the ground with the rest of the empty garbage that fell victim to his ravenous feeding. “Um.. no… well… I meant to say, I’m Sam. I’m your new nurse.” “Fuckin’ finally!” The man wheezed and panted. His massive moobs heaved up and down with each labored breath. “I have a ton... of shit for… you to do… I’m too big to… do things on my own…” “Yes, sir! That’s why I’m here.” Mr. Jacobs quickly got me to work. He rattled off a long list of things, but before I could do anything though, I had to take a baseline of his vitals. When I took out the blood pressure cuff, Mr. Jacobs laughed at me. He pointed to his arm and laughed some more. There was no way that the cuff could fit around his arm. I then approached him and asked for his wrist, so I could measure his pulse. That did not work either. The gluttonous blob relaxed, and the immense heaviness of his arm alone was too heavy for me to hold. I tried to dig my fingers into the fat that engulfed his wrist, but I could not find a pulse. As I dove my fingers deeper and deeper into his fat arm, I was met with only more lard. I then attempted to maneuver to his neck, but I couldn’t find it. I leaned against the side of his belly, and slid my fingers between his chins and tried to find a pulse in his neck, but like his wrist – there was way too much blubber. “So… what are…my vitals, boy?” “I-I- um…” The fat man laughed, “Couldn’t do it… could ya? Don’t worry… it ain't the first time... The other nurses… failed too… You’re lucky ya cute… I gave… other nurses a harder time… How bout you… get to doing… what I ask ya?” Mr. Jacobs had me running around the entire house doing work for hours. I first needed to remove all the garbage from his room. I picked up dozens and dozens of empty pizza boxes, heaps of fast food bags, and even threw away old, torn clothing that fit him a few hundred pounds ago. Afterward, I did the same through the rest of the house. Once finished, he then asked me to add some extra support to his bedframes. I grabbed bricks from outside of the house and piled them beneath the buckling frame. I even grabbed extra wooden planks and hammered them into the sides of the bed frame, which was starting to crack and snap. Once a few more boards of plywood were added to the sides, as well as underneath, the frame seemed a lot sturdier. Mr. Jacobs scoffed at my work without even saying a thank you. He then asked for me to rub his belly for him – he was far too full and tired. Besides, the lack of mobility combined with his impinged range of motion stopped the obese man from even being able to reach his belly button. The man had eaten until he was beached under all his lard and stuck on his own bed in a reclined position. “Sir, I’m not sure if that’s part of my job-“ “-I don’t… give a fuck… I’ll pay extra… just rub me, boy!” I pulled over a chair, one of the few that were not broken, and set it down near his side. I leaned over his fat thigh and started to caress his weighty love-handle. Despite being in a haze from his belly-bursting fullness, Mr. Jacobs reached lazily under his moob and took out his phone. He quickly started typing away, with his mouth hung open as he moaned from my rubbing him. I rubbed in clockwise circles – this was the best way to help with digesting food. The immobile, beached whale of a blob continued to type and type on his phone. He then reached back under his doughy moob and pulled out his wallet. His fat fingers lazily fumbled for his credit card, which he eventually managed to pull out. He rested his credit card on top of his chest as if it were a desk. “What are you doing, Sir?” “What... do you think? I’m buying… more food… It’s almost dinner time… you want… anything from… Chan’s, boy?” “Sir, I don’t think you should be eating. I’m here to get you active again. You should be ordering something light, with low calories-“ “I’mma stop you there,” The looming mountain range of lard lazily reached his fat hand down and grabbed the collar of my shirt. He pulled me in close, nearly forcing me onto my feet and pulling me in against his love handles. My face was centimeters from his fat nipple. “You are here… to feed me… to do as I say… to rub me… You ain’t changing… anything about me… Those other nurses… tried and failed… I’m meant to be like this… I’m a real fuckin’ man… Back in the day… weight was a sign… of power and wealth… Hate to break it to ya, boy… but you’ll never stop me… from eating…” With each lethargic wheeze and every baritone murmur, the sea of lard that I was being pulled up to rippled and wobbled. The bed groaned and popped loudly. I could hear some of the wooden planks start to splinter as I was now leaning against the already weakening bed frame. I just looked up at the swollen fat face that glared down at me. Mr. Jacobs let go of my shirt, and I peeled away from his gelatinous flesh. After the incident, I decided to just keep rubbing his belly. Mr. Jacobs huffed and puffed angrily as he completed his order. He commented that I would only be able to eat the left-over scraps if I behaved. I did not want him to contact my supervisor – this was my first real client and something was interesting about him – this huge, mountainous tub of lard. Under my fingers and palms was a sea of soft lard. The blubber only seemed to wobble and slosh as my hands gently caressed its canvas. My eyes gazed across the landscape of fleshy tones in front of me. The size. The vastness. The weight of it all. It started to feel…hot. I could feel my mouth water as I continued to gawk at the obese glutton – the man who ate himself into immobility. The man who beached himself on his bed after years of stuffing himself until his belly was about to burst. -DING-DONG- The ringing doorbell knocked me from my euphoria. I looked up at Mr. Jacobs and he took his fat hand and shoved me away. He wheezed and demanded I answer the door, and I did as he asked. At the door were three delivery boys, each carrying about 5 bags of Chinese food in each hand. I had them put the bags on the ground, and I brought them in for Mr. Jacobs. He had me empty the bags and place the cartons and boxes of food on the rolling cart next to him. There was more than enough food to feed over 20 adults. I pulled out dozens of boxes of white rice, several trays of lo mein, a large container packed with sauce packets, and over a dozen containers of sauce drenched General Tsao’s Chicken. This was only from the first few bags. As fast as I was pulling them out, Mr. Jacobs was ripping into them. He tossed the silverware and chopsticks aside. All he did was bring the containers up to his face and dump the contents into his fat mouth. I watched in awe as the gluttonous beast ate and ate. It was as if he had never eaten before in his life. “Jack me off… while I eat…” The obese glutton commanded. “What? I really don’t think I can-“ “-You’re job boy… is to…mmmfff… help me… with my… needs, right?” “…yes, sir…” “Don’t keep… me waiting!” He immediately returned to stuffing himself. I walked over to the front of his vast belly. Bits of rice and chicken fell down from his mouth and rolled down the large sloping gut. I started to slide my hand under the front of his stomach, reaching deeper and deeper inside. The warmth of his soft, ravenous belly smothered my hand under its vast weight. Next, my wrist slid underneath. Then my forearm. Then my elbow. Finally, my upper arm slipped under his gut, and still, I did not feel any signs of a fat pad nor dick. Mr. Jacobs leaned forward. The weight of his belly felt increasingly heavy and pinned my arm against the bed. Mounds of looming belly fat rolled forward, spilling against the side of my head as I was stuck in place. He looked down at me from atop his mountain range of blubber and scoffed. With a mouth filled with fattening, greasy slop, he commented, “Ya never… jacked off… a man like me have ya?” I shook my head. “Well… ya can’t… reach it… like that… gotta go in… from the side… less fat in… the way…” He leaned back and panted heavily. I felt his heavy gut ease off of my arm. I slid it out and walked back over to his side. I leaned over his fat, immobile leg. My tight torso sinking into his blubbery thigh. I reached my hand deep underneath his love handle. This time, I was able to trace my fingers along the mounds of fat of his thigh right up to where it met his fat pad. My boney fingers felt the hairs on his fupa. I walked my fingers down, feeling a crevasse form in the supple, warm sack of lard. I slid my hand inside the cleft. My entire arm was submerged under the landscape of pure blubber. Mr. Jacobs moaned softly and continued to stuff his face. The hole was not tight by any means, but it was warm and soft. My fingers alone caused tiny ripples throughout the fat pad. Once I was wrist-deep in his fupa, my hands felt something hard and wet. I wrapped my fingers around it and started to gently play with it. I looked up at the obese glutton and he laughed. That was not his dick. I pulled my arm out, and inside my hand was a small vibrator. It was covered in partially dried cum and covered in hairs. Mr. Jacobs chuckled and mentioned that right before he got too fat to touch himself, he stuffed a vibrator in his fat pad. That way he could wirelessly turn it on to use it, but it had run out of batteries. He finished by saying he completely forgot it was there, a few hundred pounds later. I left the device aside and reached back in. My head was pressing into his love handle as I was shoulder deep under his fat. The heavy lard sloshed and rippled against me. I could feel his fat churning and his fupa trembling as his cock and balls prepared for my fingers. As my fingers snaked into the warm, hairy cave, whose walls were drenched in some viscous cream, I felt the tip of a fat-engulfed cock. Mr. Jacobs trembled and moaned loudly with a mouthful of food. His tip nearly surged with life as I touched and played with it. I clutched onto whatever I could. The mounds of fat consumed my hand as I adjusted inside the cavernous fat pad. Mr. Jacobs continued to eat and grunt loudly. I could hear the slurping and squelching of the moist fupa as I started to jack off the obese glutton. -SCHLURP-SCHLURP-SCHLURP-SCHLURP- The moans came out louder and louder as I continued to play with the fat man’s dick. Mr. Jacobs even stopped stuffing his face to tilt his head back and moan with pleasure. The bed began to groan, and the legs started to snap as the immobile ocean of fat started to use all of his energy to hump my closed fist. I held my hand still, with my fingers tightly holding his dick, and let him rock his hips back and forth as much as he physically could. Beads of sweat started to trickle down his love handles and land on the back of my head. His tiny, fat-engulfed dick slid in and out of my fingers as I continued to clench tightly. With one last, powerful thrust, I felt his entire body surge and the tip of his meat twitch. A final smack from the side of his immense landscape of fat hit the back of my head. -SNAP-SNAP-TTTHHHUUUDDDD- The bedframe snapped to pieces. We collapsed to the ground. The back of my head was struck by a tsunami of lard and blubber. Mr. Jacobs just moaned loudly as his balls emptied into his fupa, lubricating my fingers. I slowly pulled out my fingers and they were covered in seed. I walked into the bathroom to clean off my hand, then returned with a towel to begin cleaning him off. Mr. Jacobs started to eat again, stuffing his face with more and more Chinese food. He dumped containers of rice and tilted platters of chicken towards his open mouth. I barely even noticed him chewing – as if he just swallowed it all whole. The obese man, immobilized by an ocean of flab, spent the rest of the night either eating food or commanding me to cook for him. Before it was time for me to leave, I did one last clean up around his house and dragged the broken-down mobility chair into his room. “Would you like me to try and get you a new chair, Sir?” He lazily looked up from stuffing himself, “Hmm… no… don’t bother… Too puny… I’m too heavy…” “I can try to find a larger one…” “No… better off… putting wheels on… a bed, boy…” I shrugged my shoulders and turned around. Before I could take a step, I heard an ominous creak from the floorboards and Mr. Jacob grunting loudly. Soon after, I felt a fat hand cup my rear-end and squeeze firmly. The obese glutton moaned softly and licked his lips. He leaned over as much as he could as if trying to whisper in my ear. My crotch lept in my pants. “Don’t go… too far… boy… Daddy’s gonna… need ya… again…” He huffed between breaths. I smiled. He was quickly starting to grow on me – something about his confidence. Over the next few days, I continued to assist him in all his daily activities. He would just eat away all day and watch me work, and I would periodically try to get him moving. I managed to set up a pulley system above his bed which he could grab and hoist himself up if he laid down, and it doubled as a way to lift his belly. I would hook a tarp up to the pulley and slide it under his gut. The device would lift up his belly, and I would be able to clean underneath it, among other things. At the end of my first week with him, Mr. Jacobs asked me to move in permanently. He would pay for my living expenses and continue to pay me for my services. I didn’t even need to think – I already knew I wanted to. Thus, began a truly great first-client experience.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

7/8 for vbs👀😘

@leoniejulie asked: 8 and VDS? 🥺🥺

7. “I’m not jealous.”

8. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Jens doesn’t expect to get along so well with Kes.

It’s not like he doesn’t know anything about him going in—Lucas has chattered about the boy enough that Jens feels like he already knows him. He’s also been teased plenty of times by the same boy for being so similar to this mysterious friend. Lucas will laugh at him at the most random of moments only to shake his head and explain whatever Jens had done had reminded him so fully of Kes that it was funny.

This just meant Lucas spent a lot of his time with Jens talking about—and therefore probably even more time thinking about—his best friend from back home. Which meant that, most likely, Kes was still Lucas’s overall best friend, and his overall favourite, above Jens.

Which was completely fine. Sensible. Lucas had known Kes his whole life, after all, and had only known Jens since he moved to Antwerp a few months ago. There was no reason for him to favour Jens, and of course he missed Kes and Jens should be happy Lucas felt comfortable enough with him to be so open about all these aspects of his life. It’s fine, and good, and it should not bother Jens at all.

But it does. It bothers him a lot. He spends months harboring this inexplicable resentment for this Kes, resisting the urge to roll his eyes or cry any time Lucas says his name.

Then they actually meet.

It’s Lucas’s idea to take Jens home with him for the weekend, and Jens is so ecstatic over this that he doesn’t think about anything else. He’s practically floating with all the butterflies in his stomach and the quick flutter of his heart and he can’t wipe the smile off his face, even when they finally head out to meet Lucas’s friends and Kes is holding his hand out for Jens to shake.

Jens is a little more dubious as he does so. He can feel Kes sizing him up, which doesn’t help, and he feels jittery for a new reason as tension fills his shoulders. He eyes Kes in return, ignoring the other boy’s—Jayden, he reminds himself—exuberant energy as he pratters on about everything they have to do and how much they’ve missed Lucas. Even though Lucas had been back only two weeks before.

“Nice to meet you,” Kes finally says, releasing his slightly-too-tight grip on Jens’s hand. He gives a sideways glance to Lucas before turning back with a slight smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Jens does his best to mimic the expression, but he thinks his might be more of a grimace. “Likewise.”

“You’ve brought your board, right?” Jayden asks him. He claps when Jens nods. “Great, then let’s fucking go. I’m excited to watch Lucas have double the amount of people to impress. It’s going to be doubly funny when he wipes out.”

“Fuck you,” Lucas says.

Kes holds a hand up between them all, shaking his head. His eyes haven’t left Jens. “No, no. It’s this one that needs to impress us.”

Jens knows a challenge when he hears one. His smile-grimace widens as he tilts his head. “What are we waiting for, then?”

He expects to be judged critically, and he is, but he isn’t expecting to be accepted so easily afterwards. It’s ridiculous, how quickly the atmosphere and dynamic changes once Kes has clasped his hand and beamed at him. There’s a hint of pride in Lucas’s expression, as well, that might help lift Jens’s mood. He’s smiling as he watches Kes break into sudden conversation with Jens, the test apparently passed as Kes asks Jens all the random first-meeting questions he can think of. There is, of course, some teasing of Lucas thrown in for good measure.

All of his hard feelings are suddenly forgotten, as he grudgingly admits that Kes is probably worth all the fuss. He understands why Lucas likes him, and Kes is so unbearably fond of Lucas that Jens has to soften a little. They are, also, surprisingly similar in a number of ways. Once the barrier is broken, they’re stuck to each other, whispering and giggling like schoolboys as they trade stories about Lucas and try to one-up each other with kicks and tricks.

It’s when Jens is laughing so hard he has to lean on Kes for support that he first notices Lucas’s sullen look.

Then he remembers his resentment and the reason for it, a little.

Kes and Jayden accompany them back to Lucas’s house, where his mother has vacated, slipping out to meet someone before returning to have dinner with her son and his ‘handsome new friend’. Jens finds himself navigating back to Lucas, feeling odd in the personal space that the other boys occupy so easily. Lucas still seems quiet. He hasn’t spoken much to Jens in the past hour or so, but he doesn’t seem to mind that Jens has planted himself at his side again, so Jens clings onto the proximity now and resolves to figure out the problem when they’re alone.

The opportunity arises when Kes and Jayden are in the middle of a video game and Lucas quietly mumbles that he’s going to get a drink. Jens watches him go, then glances back at the screen for a moment before getting up to follow.

He finds Lucas at the counter in the kitchen, stood silently with a finger running around the rim of his half-filled glass. He glances up as Jens comes in, straightening up and looking away entirely again as Jens leans next to him, side by side but facing opposite directions.

Jens crosses his arms over his chest and tries to figure out how to go about this. “Your friends are nice,” he says. “I like them more than I expected. Not that I thought I wouldn’t, but, you know what I mean.”

Lucas hums, staring down at the sink. He takes a sip of his water before mumbling, “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Jens cocks his head, pursing his lips. It’s a more sullen response than he prepared for. He assumed Lucas would brush him off, but this feels like an opening. He should just get to the point. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Lucas whips his gaze up to look at him, then quickly away again. A flush creeps up his neck and spreads through his cheeks. “No.”

“Convincing,” Jens snorts.

“I’m not jealous,” Lucas says adamantly. “What would I be jealous of?”

Jens shrugs. This time he’s the one to look away, staring down at his socked feet as he rubs them against the tiles. “I was probably stealing your time with Kes. I know you’re always excited to see him, and you didn’t think I’d be in the way so much. I’m sorry.”

The room is utterly silent.

It must be a full minute before Lucas says, incredulous, “What?”

Jens feels his own face heat up, and he doesn’t bother with an answer. He’s said sorry. Lucas can choose whether to accept it or not, and he has a free opening now if he wants to tell Jens to fuck off back home.

He doesn’t really think Lucas would do that, but well, he knows how much the boy likes Kes. He’s been pretty sure for a while that Lucas likes him, in fact.

Lucas feet enter his sight as well as the boy comes to stand in front of him. “Jens, seriously. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Kes,” Jens sighs, exasperated, finally looking up at him. He falters for a moment, because he hadn’t expected Lucas to be so close, but him and his eyes and his lips are all just right there. It makes Jens feel even sillier, but he steels himself. “I know you’d rather spend more time with him and I’m sorry, okay?”

Lucas stares at him. Jens can’t decipher his expression at all. “Hang on. You think I’m pissed, because you’re stealing Kes?” He almost sounds amused.

Jens furrows his brow. “Yeah?” It’s the only thing that makes sense. Jens knows he would have been moping, if he’d come just to hang around and watch Lucas give Kes all his attention for the weekend. Lucas wants to be with Kes—to spend time with him, or more, Jens really doesn’t want to know—so of course he’s upset that he’s not getting as much time—

A laugh bubbles out of Lucas. “Uhm, Jens. It’s the other way around.”

Jens blinks. The words don’t immediately compute at all, but then once they reach his brain and he takes them apart, it doesn’t make sense. The other way around would be Kes stealing Jens, and if Lucas is upset because of that, then it would mean that Jens is the one...

“Wait,” he breathes. “Seriously?”

“Oh my god,” Lucas laughs.

“Lucas, seriously?”

“Jesus, you’re so stupid. Have you been jealous this whole time? Oh my god.”

“Stop,” Jens whines, but there’s a smile growing on his lips that he couldn’t dream of stopping. “That’s a lie. I’m not jealous. I have never been jealous, ever, in my life.”

Lucas is definitely very amused. “Well, that’s definitely a lie.”

Jens lets his smile settle in a wide grin. He doesn’t even care about arguing because, for one, Lucas is right, and because he’s too bewildered but happy at the moment to form words.

“I brought you this weekend hoping I could tell you, dumbass. Or at least have you mostly to myself,” Lucas admits. “But then, I actually wasn’t expecting...”

Jens rocks away from the counter into his space, ecstatic. “You thought they were stealing me away.” Lucas rolls his eyes, but he can’t hold Jens’s gaze, so Jens know he’s right. “Okay, well that’s easy now. You don’t have to worry. I’m all yours, Luc.”

Lucas looks up at him hesitantly, appearing to be fighting a smile of his own. “Yeah?”

Jens nods. “And I was very excited about it, too. Sneaky, you know, planning to get my into your room right off the bat and everything.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lucas scoffs, shoving his shoulder.

Jens laughs, and bounces right back, leaning even closer to Lucas now. It’s okay, when he can actually admire the boy’s face; when Lucas is the one glancing down at his lips and Jens can hear his breath hitch. Jens is floating all over again, and he’s pretty sure why, this time. “Can I kiss you?” he asks anyway, voice at a murmur.

Lucas answers by leaning in and pressing their lips together, lightly, but surely, hand immediately lifting to settle on Jens’s shoulder. Jens fits his hands over Lucas’s hips and kisses back, trying to muffle his smile enough that it doesn’t hinder their movements. It doesn’t help that Lucas is having the same problem. After the first few touches, though, their mouths get with the program and settle into an easy rhythm.

It’s complete and utter bliss.

It only lasts all of about thirty seconds.

“Hey, Luc—”

Kes cuts himself off as the boys quickly part and look at where he’s stood in the doorway. He’s staring at them with pursed lips, repressing a smile, only halfway into the room with his hand on the frame.

Jens curls his hands in the hem of Lucas’s shirt, feeling suddenly nervous, but Kes settles his attention on Lucas.

“If you just wanted us to piss off so you could make out with your boyfriend, you could’ve just said something instead of giving me all the death glares.”

He raises his brows, and Lucas flushes right up to the tips of his ears, and Jens decides he probably really does like Kes after all.

Still, Lucas tells him, “Piss off so I can make out with my boyfriend, then.”

Kes doesn’t argue, only tapping the doorframe before he disappears again with a grin, so Jens isn’t going to argue, either.

Lucas rolls his eyes at his smug look, but he does follow through and kisses him again.

Dialogue Prompts