#its been a hot minute since i used this AU

[ncvabcrn]

   @frozyn​ :  ❝ i have a plan. but you’re going to have to trust me. ❞

   “i trust you.” there wasn’t any dishonesty in his voice, or general vibe from what glimpses they were able to get from this stranger. it’s a long story- but these two had managed to both get lost in this area, surrounded by the undead. covering yourself in guts can only get you so far, & the exit was still blocked off by walkers.

   their mind is attempting to guess what his plan could be, but trying to predict people you just met is more exhausting than you’d think. while he couldn’t see their face due to the blood covered mask, there’s a small hint of confidence in their tone of voice.

   “as long as you have my back, i’ll have yours.”

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

Quick fic about Kenma and Fukunaga rooming together in college! 

Roughly 2300 words, Kenma POV, platonic, basically Fukunaga being odd and Kenma dealing with that. 

*Sidenote: i know roommate/dorm culture isn't the same in Japan as it is in the US but just suspend your disbelief lol

------

Kenma had no idea what to expect when he agreed to room with Fukunaga in their freshman year of university. Sure, the two had spent the better part of three years together— suffer through enough early-morning practices, grueling training camps, and endless bus rides with a guy and you come out the other side soul-bonded whether you like it or not. What truly solidified their bond was their third year. With Kuroo off to college and Hinata a whole prefecture away Kenma was practically forced to hang out with his fellow second-now-third years lest he fall back into the arms of his old hermit lifestyle, and as tempting as that was he promised Kuroo he’d leave the house more than once a month. Stupid childhood friends being concerned about your mental well-being. 

Although first-year Kenma would shudder at the thought of wasting all his free time on a weirdo like Fukunaga, much less Tora, it wasn’t nearly as miserable as he’d dreaded. The two were freaks— loud, obnoxious, guts-obsessed freaks in a certain ace’s case— but overtime he’d grown accustomed to their quirks. Those were his captains; they’d joined the club together, grown together, gone to nationals together. Laughed at Tora when he tangled himself in the net together (minus Tora, he was pissed). It’d be a lie to claim they didn't worm their way into his heart like the persistent little parasites they were. Those freaks were his friends, Kenma begrudgingly came to accept. Yes, even Tora. Besides, what other option did he have? Lev? He didn’t hate himself that much.

All that’s to say Kenma and Fukunaga were close. Tight, even. Enough for Fukunaga to know where the Kozume’s hid their spare key under a rock in the garden (though that was Kuroo’s fault for snitching). But three years of friendship and easy-access to one’s house doesn't instantly unlock all the mysteries of a person. Especially when that person is a complete and utter enigma like Shouhei Fukunga. 

This was proven not even a week into their first semester. Kenma had just finished a business class, which he’d spent pretending to take notes on his laptop while actually grinding away at some RPG from his steam library. He was expecting Fukunaga to be home since he didn't have class till the afternoon. 

He wasn’t expecting the unicycle. 

Where he got the thing was beyond Kenma, as was the way he effortlessly navigated their shoebox dorm without ramming into a single piece of furniture. It was honestly more impressive than surprising— Kenma wondered when he learned, how, why, before remembering who he was talking about. Fukunaga doing weird shit without explanation. Fork found in kitchen. Kenma had more important things to worry about, ignoring lectures on marketing management or whatever was a full-time job and he wanted to lie down. 

“I’m back.” He said with a yawn, kicking off his shoes as he shuffled over to his bed. 

“Hey.” Fukunaga replied. No acknowledgement of the situation, not that he expected any. 

Kenma got nice and cozy under the covers, then pulled out his computer to continue his game. He’d finished most of it while his professor was rambling on about how “this is going to be on the exam, blah blah blah” but he wanted to 100% it. Nothing better than an afternoon of achievement hunting. He spent a good 10 minutes combing through a dungeon in search of a secret boss, but for some reason he just couldn’t get into the zone. Probably had something to do with, oh you know, the whole-ass circus routine playing out not even five-feet away. He sighed and shut his laptop. Fine, he’ll bite. “What are you doing?” 

“Practicing.” A man of many words. 

He was tempted to ask “What for?” but knew that would only create more questions. Instead he called, “Know any tricks?” Without missing a beat Fukunaga reached into his hoodie pocket, whipped out three plastic balls, and started juggling. Figures.

Kenma sat there watching for god knows how long, long enough that Fukunaga had to hop down to get ready for class. He stuffed the unicycle under his bed, answering Kenma’s question of where he stored the thing, but creating the new question of what other garbage he had hidden down there. A secret for another day. With a classic “See ya later Alligator.” Fukunaga headed out, leaving Kenma alone with his thoughts. It was only then that it fully sunk-in— he’d just wasted the past few hours watching his roommate unicycle around their room like a clown-in-training and he didn’t even realize. Should he be pissed? Impressed that Fukunaga managed to hold his attention for so long? (some of those tricks were seriously complex). It wasn’t exactly the most productive use of an afternoon, but then again was he ever productive? Games, unicycling roommates, who’s to say what constitutes a good use of time? He figured a little change of pace wouldn’t kill him. 

---

The rest of the semester went on much like that, always something going on. One day Kenma came home to at least five kittens scampering around their dorm. All pets minus service animals were strictly off-limits so he wasn’t sure how Fuku,naga got them past security, nor how they vanished the next day without a trace. Another time he got super into chinese yoyo and nearly broke the overhead light with a misplaced throw. After that he got into regular yoyo and nearly broke a lamp.

A common Fukunaga-ism was for him to stop by random flea markets and buy whatever knick-knacks he could find. Because of that his side of the room was constantly cycling decor. Take, for instance, the inflatable tube man taped to the ceiling that always freaked Kenma out at night, or the kiddie pool in the corner full of ball pit balls from a kids’ center that’d shut down. Most of his purchases were bought purely based on their potential for puns, of which Fukunaga had plenty. Kenma always knew when he’d thought of a new one cause he’d silently giggle to himself in that way that makes him look like a chipmunk. Sometimes Kenma would ask to hear them, he’s always found Fukunaga funny. If he ever makes it as a big comedian Kenma’s taking credit for being the first person to tell him that. 

To put a long story short, rooming with Fukunaga was like living in a sitcom, except the writers ran out of normal scenarios six seasons ago and had resorted to throwing the most outlandish shit at the wall to see what stuck. The most surprising part?  Kenma didn’t even mind. It was a lot, yeah, but Fukunaga never dragged him into his shenanigans or invaded his space. Honestly the most annoying thing he did was invite Tora over, who was 10x more annoying than whatever new hobby Fukunaga had adopted for the week. Plus, it’s not like Kenma was the greatest roommate either. He was getting into streaming around this time so it wasn’t rare to find him shouting at his monitor past 4am or hogging 90% of the room’s outlets. Together they were the most dysfunctionally-functional duo in the building, and an infamous one at that.  

---

Kenma and Fukunaga were not popular among their floormates. They weren’t hated per say but if everyone else had to vote on a pair to banish from the building Kenma had a sneaking suspicion they’d be first in line. One reason for this was Kenma’s aforementioned streaming— Fukunaga didn’t mind the late-night noise but their neighbors weren’t too keen. The second reason was the unmistakeable stench that wafted from their room any time Fukunaga pulled out his little instant pot to make dinner. Kenma couldn't blame him, personally he’d rather knaw on uncooked blocks of ramen for every meal than step foot in their university’s dining hall. If it wasn’t for his streaming career taking off Kenma would be drowning in debt from all his food delivery fees. And to be fair the smell wasn’t always bad, Fukunaga was phenomenal at cooking after all. As a part-time chef he knew his stuff. The problem was his favorite foods. Octopus. Squid. Dousing everything in fish sauce. Their dorm might as well have been a seafood market. It didn’t help that Fukunaga always went way overboard— no hot pockets or box mac and cheese here, he had every prohibited appliance under the sun from a hot pot to a griddle to a waffle maker. Air fryer salmon doesn’t smell like roses. 

Kenma had never been the biggest eater. In highschool Kuroo always bothered him about that— skipping lunch isn’t healthy Kenma, you have to eat vegetables Kenma, three mints and a granola bar doesn’t count as dinner Kemna. It was annoying sometimes, especially at training camp when Bokuto got involved, but it was nice to know they cared. When Kuroo left for university the role of “Kenma’s feeder” was taken up by Tora (“OI KENMA, IF YOU DON’T EAT YOU’LL COLLAPSE ON COURT AND WE WON'T MAKE IT TO NATIONALS! THAT PLATE BETTER BE EMPTY WHEN I GET BACK”). Then graduation rolled around and for better or worse Kenma was free. He tried his best to eat decently as a promise to Kuroo but he often found himself forgetting to order food before restaurants closed. 

One night at some unholy hour Kenma was on his usual stream grind— he’d started in the afternoon and ended up getting so invested that he skipped class…and lunch…and dinner. It was a new game, ok? The cup noodles he planned on eating sat unopened at the edge of his desk. Noodles meant microwave, which meant getting up, which meant pausing his game, and that wasn’t an option at the moment. He was in for the long haul. Chat had been pestering him about eating for hours now but who cares about their opinion? They’d also been yapping about a ghost or some bullshit looming behind him all night so why should he trust them with anything? He didn’t even realize Fukunaga was still awake until he felt a light tap on his shoulder. With a yelp he spun around, spooked by the sudden touch. There he was holding out a bowl of curry, chat’s ghost. “Eat.” When Kenma didn’t take the bowl Fukunaga bopped him on the head with it. “Pretty sure starving on stream is against TOS.” Then he set the bowl down on his desk and disappeared. Every stream after that chat bothered Kenma about his “guardian angel” and asked for him to come say hi.

---

By their second year both Kenma and Fukunaga realized that university wasn’t for them. Kenma’s online career had skyrocketed and he was teaching himself more about business through the start of his own company than lectures and exams ever could. Fukunaga was gradually finding an audience at a nearby comedy club and had his own taste of internet fame when one of his sets got reposted online and went viral. It just wasn't worth staying enrolled for their future plans, thus the two were officially drop outs. With that said and done the time had come for them to part ways—there was no need to share an apartment, Kenma had enough cash to afford his own and Fukunaga made plans to move in with Tora. 

On the final day they stood outside next to the road, boxes stacked high as they waited for Kuroo and Tora to come pick them up. “Welp,” Fukunaga said, giving him a salute “It’s been an honor captain.”

“You were Nekoma's captain, not me.”

“First mate doesn’t have the same ring.” They laughed. Fukunaga went in for a hug, and for once Kenma let it happen. “Until we meet again boss.” 

Kenma snorted into his shoulder. “Please, our new places are only a few train stops away.” 

“How about until I ask Kuroo where your house key is hidden again.” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

In the passenger's seat of Kuroo’s sedan Kenma pressed against the window, watching as the world around him blurred into one big blob of city. Kuroo was saying something, idle chatter about classes or work or their friends, but Kenma was only half listening. On the one hand he was excited to have his own space for the first time in his life, the freedom to do anything he wanted any time he wanted without prying eyes. He could finally have a dedicated stream room, that was cool. On the other hand he had to admit, he was gonna miss the oddities that accompanied living with Fukunaga. The unpredictability, the jokes, the ever-changing decor, even the inflatable tube man hanging from the ceiling. And the home-cooked meals of course, going back to DoorDash was gonna be an adjustment. He figured if he missed his food that much he could drop by their apartment anytime. He’d have to deal with Tora now but maybe that wasn’t so bad. They were all adults now, more mature. Mellowed out (at least for Tora standards). He decided that he'd make a point to call his friends more often. 

“You ok?” a voice called, snapping Kenma out of his trance. Kuroo nudged his foot with his own. “You’ve been pretty quiet today, more than usual.” 

Kenma shot him a small smile. “Yeah, I'm good.” 

“Great, cause i'm gonna need you to listen to this next part-”  Years later when Fukunaga started appearing on tv interviews and variety shows Kenma was proud to say that they used to be roommates way back when, and that he was the first one to tell him his jokes were funny.

[furrysmp]

decided for giggles to see what dsmp has been up to in the. Two and a half years since I last looked

Anyways so canon is trashfire but the part of me that started sunbringer in dsmp is now stirring to make More stuff. Like a "the universe reset thing but dream is still in prison so it doesn't reach him" thing that I'm trying to remove from brain bc I actually didn't do the catching up via vods and instead looked at fandom reaction for instructions and uhm.

Yeah no I genuinely want to write this it's gonna be so interesting but also who even does dsmp anymore like is there an audience

[heechwe]

night changes | 𝐥𝐡𝐬

୨୧ pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 3k ୨୧ genre: smut, fluff, hint of comedy ୨୧ tags: roomates to lovers au, pet names (love, baby, etc.), dirty talk, size kink, face sitting, 69, unprotected sex, creampie. ୨୧ synopsis: Maybe a citywide power outage is what you need to finally confess your feelings. Well, that and a risque card game. ➸ Birthday fic for the beautiful boy!! Also, the card game is fictional and takes inspiration from other card games like Hot Seat!

“How many candles do we have left?” You ask in the form of a groan, trying to find a bar of reception in your apartment. With the power suddenly lost from the blistering rainstorm outside, it’s a wonder when it will calm down and you’ll have access to the outside world again.

“Relax. I bought more a couple days ago when I was tracking the path of the storm. No big deal.” Heeseung begins lighting them and placing them around your shared apartment. By the time he’s finished, the candlelight gives enough coverage of the living spaces for you both to walk around without issue.

Heesung has always been good at that. He can prepare for the worst and keep a cool head in the midst of chaos, including when your fiery temper rears its head. But your fire comes in handy sometimes. When he doesn’t want to deal with talking to your landlord or fixing errors with the management company, you take the reins. The balance you both established is why you work so well as friends and roommates. 

“I wonder how long we’ll be out of power,” you mumble, drumming your fingers across the arm of the couch and trying not to have a meltdown. The cool air from the open windows provides some relief, even if you’re running hot from your spiked nerves.

“Well, whether it’s a few hours or a dozen, we just gotta make the best of it.” Heeseung smiles. Suddenly, his eyes widen and he claps his hands together. “How about board games?”

You giggle. “When was the last time you played a board game, Hee?”

“It’s been a minute,” he confesses, a shy smile on his lips. “But, hey! Never a better time than now.”

The two of you open the spare living room closet to grab a handful of board games you’ve collected since living in the apartment together. You rifle through them, Candyland immediately catching your eye. But Heeseung has other ideas.

“Oh! Let’s do Hot Topics!” Heeseung holds up the box with a smirk, immediately opening it to rifle through its contents.

“But there’s only two of us!”

“So? We’ll make it work!” He sits down on the living room rug and pats the spot next to him.

You oblige his request. How couldn’t you when he smiles at you in that way? With his cute cheeks and Adam's apple bobbing in laughter—no. You’re not going to trudge up these old feelings again, especially during such an unfortunate situation.

You’re friends and roommates, end of. 

Heeseung shuffles the cards and pulls out the first one on the top of the deck. “Alright, first one. All Play: Would I marry someone twice my age if it meant I never had to work again?” He considers the question, but you immediately let out a noise similar to one you would make when vomiting.

“No fucking way! I don’t want my husband one foot out the door!”

“Well, if I didn’t have to work at the ramen shop anymore—” Heeseung wiggles his eyebrows and you shove him in the shoulder. He expels a hearty laugh. “I’m kidding! I agree with you.”

The game continues on, prompts and questions so ridiculous they make any lingering anxiety about the storm ebb away, too lost in the game and your friend to notice the ever-present storm outside your door.

You take a new card from the deck, flipping it upside to reveal the prompt. “Dare: Stare at the player next to you for thirty seconds. The first one to break eye contact has to skip their turn.” You throw the card in the discarded pile without a care. “That’s so easy.”

“Bring it on.” You move positions to face Heeseung, his eyes immediately lighting up with the challenge presented to you both.

“Three, two, one,” you count down. “Go!”

Heeseung tries to make you break immediately with a goofy face, but you stand resolute, eyebrows furrowed and mouth in a thin line. But then, he stares you down with his bright eyes and soft smile, making your entire body go cold. This could not be happening. You aren’t feeling your stupid, childlike crush come back at you in full force. Not tonight. Not like this.

You had been so stern in keeping it stamped down the past two years you’ve been roommates. It hadn’t been easy, but with enough practice and denial, it seemed pretty easy to keep it at bay. But now, the only two people in the darkness of this room, you wonder how much longer your resolve can hold.

You fake a heavy cough and turn away. Heeseung screeches in victory with his arms raised up high. “Weak! You’re so weak.”

You roll your eyes and turn back to face the deck. “Whatever, dumbass. Pick the next card.”

He reads his new card aloud. “Truth: How long was your longest crush?” He releases an anxious laugh, and then throws the card into the pile amongst the other used ones. “Longest one’s still going.”

You turn your head to face him, but he’s only staring at the deck. He grabs the next card and ignores how his confession has created a new, heavy fog of tension. If Heeseung has a crush, one that’s apparently been in the works for awhile, neither Jake nor anyone else gave you the head’s up about it.

Heeseung reads the next challenge aloud. “Dare: Excite one player just by kissing them for 10 seconds. You’re not limited to the player’s lips.” His eyes go wide as he holds the card tightly between his fingers. “If you don’t want me to, I—“”

You laugh it off, taking the card from him and setting it on the floor. “It’s fine. It’s just a game, right?”

“Right.” Heeseung inches closer, your faces barely a few inches apart. You were prepared for him to kiss you on the mouth and that would be the end of it, but you tremble in pleasure when you realize his lips are suddenly attached to your neck.

A moan escapes your lips when he begins to suck on the space of your neck near your collarbone. He doesn’t use his hands at all. All it takes is his mouth, its soft pressure creating a swirling eruption within your stomach, begging to be released. He licks at your bruising skin, pressing his mouth there once more before stepping back.

When he’s back in his normal position, the timer goes off. “So, uh,” he says, cutting through the sudden awkward silence, “are you excited?”

You blush and bite down on your bottom lip hard, no words coming out in response. You turn your attention back to the deck. “F-Finally, my turn again!”

You turn another card for the next prompt, reading it in your head and wanting to jump out the window before Heeseung can see it. “Dare: Kiss the player you would most likely go on a date with on the cheek.”

You tell yourself to just get it over with, in spite of your jumbling nerves. Excuse it after as a technicality, him being the only living person in existence in the apartment to kiss for the challenge. End it there and hope the past few dares do not destroy the sanctity of your friendship.

You crawl on your hands to get close to Heeseung’s cheek, but before you can land the kiss, he turns his head and catches your mouth with his. You’re unprepared for the act, but your lips quickly become accustomed once you spend a second or two in his embrace. His lips are gentle, teasing, eager for you, and it makes your knees feel like cotton. 

He pulls you up from your position to rest in his lap, still pressing his mouth to yours. Suddenly, his tongue is licking at the roof of your mouth, and your body feels like a live wire. How did he have the power to jumpstart your nerves and set them on fire all at once?

You separate from him, confusion clouding your sudden desire. “Why’d you do that?”

“I wanted to.” Heeseung moves stray hairs from your face, the baby hairs clinging to your skin from the sweat. “Did you not want me to?”

“No, I did!” You giggle nervously. “I just didn’t know how you’d react if I said so.”

“Why did you never say anything before?” Heeseung looks genuinely confused and concerned. He wonders how much more obvious he had to have been. Before this moment, had he missed chances to give you the signs? Clearly so, with your stammered words and nervous limbs. He had to get better at his communication.

“Do you know how awkward it would’ve been if you hadn’t felt the same?” You ask him the rhetorical question, your eyebrow quirked up. “Just tiptoeing around the both of us knowing I have this exhaustive crush on you?”

Heeseung chuckles into your neck. If you described your crush in that way, his had to have been all-consuming, even if you were oblivious to it. “Exhaustive?”

“I mean,” you whisper, “do you know how hard it is to look at you and not want to jump you all the time?”

You feel his bulge tighten against his sweatpants, the sensation against your body making you gasp. Heeseung smirks in response. “Well, clearly it’s a mutual thing.”

The two of you resume kissing, both lost in the relief of your feelings mirroring each others’. In spite of the current storm still whipping the trees against your apartment building, you were so at ease wrapped around Heeseung like a vine.

If anything, Mother Nature is mimicking all the sensations bubbling up inside of you, close to reaching their boiling point with the way Heeseung expertly touches and squeezes your skin while his mouth covers your face in kisses.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” He asks as he lays you down on the living room rug, hands in your hair and lips magnetized to the spot on your neck where he had kissed you previously. “How long I’ve thought about being in your bed? Touching you, tasting you, feeling you.”

“Heeseung, please.” You inch his shirt up and over his head, admiring the divots and ridges of his newly-revealed muscles.

It isn't the first time you’ve seen him shirtless, but it’s only the beginning of the night, and you’re certain you’ll see parts of him you haven’t seen yet. The thought alone makes your body tingle in all the right places. “Stop talking and touch me more.”

“So impatient.” Heeseing releases a devilish laugh into the column of your throat. “I want to savor this. Savor you.”

“We have all the time in the world until the power goes out. I want you,” you whine, bucking your hips up into nothing but his clothed legs and hips, his bulge barely brushing your clothed heat. 

Heeseing hisses and makes you both sit up, his expression blown from lust. “Sit on my face.”

You laugh, hesitant yet excited. “What?”

He places a kiss on your lips with every pause between his words. “I. Said. Sit. On. My. Face.”

You listen to his tone, playfully demanding but completely serious. This is a new side of Heeseung you had never seen. The same humorous guy you felt butterflies for since the day you met, but with an edge of vulgarity that leaves you in impure anticipation. 

You tug off both your cotton shorts and underwear. You may still be wearing your tank top, but you imagine that will come off soon too.

You settle your body down on Heeseung’s awaiting tongue. Your body trembles when he takes an eager lick along your folds, his mouth immediately enveloped in your heat. “Jesus, are you always this wet?” He asks, voice muffled but still clear enough for you to hear.

“Only when I think of you,” you confess. Many nights alone proved the only way to get off was with the image of Heeseung’s face and body between your legs in your brain. Even if he was seven feet away on another overnight session of League of Legends, you had to get your fix.

“Fuck.” He pulls you down further onto his mouth, practically suffocating him as he laps at your cunt mercilessly. Your mouth hangs open in ecstasy, all the fantasies you held incomparable to this.

Heeseung’s hips match yours in their rhythm against his face, and you feel guilty the poor man is receiving no pleasure while you have all of it. You reach over to the top of his sweatpants and pull them down, his cock springing free from the material. The tip leaks a hefty amount of precum, and you smear it down his girthy length with one hand.

Heeseung moans against your center, but he pulls himself back. “You don’t have to–”

“You’re taking care of me,” you pant, “let me take care of you.”

You wrap your lips around his tip, experimenting with the pressure and size of him on your tongue. When he groans and growls in between your legs, lapping at your essence with even more fervor, you take his entire length in your mouth.

“God, you’re too good at this,” Heeseung moans, rolling his hips into your awaiting mouth and cursing when he feels the back of your throat. “I could have your mouth on me all fucking day.”

You continue like that for a while, tasting each other and teasing the waters until both of you are a mess. It’s a mesmerizing dance you’re in with him, chasing your highs together. But you’re unsure who will ask to take the next step. Removing your mouth from his with a resounding pop, you plead, “Please Hee, I want you inside of me.”

“Anything for you.” He gently gets up from between your legs and positions himself against the couch. He signals for you to sit on his lap, a playful grin on his lips. You do so without a second thought, anticipating his body molding to yours perfectly. How did the night start with you both planning another ramen-filled movie night and end up here?

You sink down onto him, the sudden fullness making your eyelids shut from the sensation. “Damn, you’re so tight,” he growls, slowly rocking you onto him with his hands on your hips. “Feels fucking incredible.”

“Y-You’re so big, Hee. It’s amazing.” You find your own pace, languidly riding him as the wind still rages on outside. Besides the weather, the sounds of your skin against his crowd the space of your apartment.

Heeseung removes your tank top quickly, clutching one of your breasts to knead the skin. “You like it, don’t you?” Heeseung whispers. “Being filled up by me, stretched out and fucked hard?” He takes the other breast into his mouth, latching his lips onto your nipple and swirling his tongue wickedly.

“Yes, fuck yes. Only by you, Hee.”

He bucks his hips up into you, your body slamming down on him in fast increments to compensate for his new rhythm. “Yeah, baby, tell the entire floor who’s making you feel this good.”

“Heeseung, fuck,” you scream out his name. It doesn’t matter if the rain and wind can’t conceal your sounds. All you care about is this moment, right here with him in your living room, all your desires coming to fruition. “Fuck, it’s so good.”

After more kisses and curses of pleasure leaving both of your lips, you feel the end deep in your stomach, the release tightening and ready to snap. “I’m gonna come,” you say.

“Ride me harder, baby,” he responds, moving his hand in between your bodies to rub your clit in a frenzy. “Use me. Come all over me.”

You do, feeling your body use what’s left of its energy to reach your peak quickly. You cry out a final time as your orgasm floods your senses, your body alive yet limp from the endorphins circulating through your system.

“Ah, fuck.” Heeseung spills inside of you mere seconds after, your sounds coupled with the feeling of your pulsing walls around him enough for his body to climax as well. He milks it all, hips rocking up into you to exhaust himself in an effort to feel his entire release.

You both slow down, but you relish in the feeling of the sudden warmth of Heeseung’s orgasm inside of you. It trickles down between your legs and onto Heeseung himself as he begins to pull out of you, and the sight may just make him rock-hard again. But he’ll save the image for another night.

Heeseung gives you a final, tender kiss before he stands up from his spot on the floor. He runs to the bathroom for a washcloth, wetting it to clean the both of you up. When he’s done, he takes great care in snuffing out the candles around the house.

You tease him for it, but he reminds you about the serious fire hazard of leaving them burning overnight, to which you agree. “Always one step ahead, babe,” Heeseung jokes.

He brings a blanket with him to cover the both of you up, your body immediately warmed by his. Your head rests on his bicep, his muscle the perfect pillow. 

In that moment, you’re content with not just the power being out, the only sounds being the storm and the air leaving your lungs. You’re content to be here in the dark with Heeseung, the feelings you repressed for so long not only released but reciprocated.

Heeseung kisses your forehead and hums you to sleep, his voice the last sound you hold onto before you’re whisked away to dreamland.

You wake up nestled in Heeseung’s arms on the living room floor, the blanket he grabbed barely covering both of your bodies. You hear the sound of your Roomba trying to connect to the bluetooth and feel the blue morning sky on your skin, telltale signs the power’s back on and the storm has gone on its way.

You smile to yourself, snuggling further into Heeseung’s neck and kissing the skin there. Who knew a power outage could bring two people together like this?

He rustles awake a moment later, his eyelashes fluttering open so beautifully. A smile stretches across his face when he sees what you’re doing. In the light of day, his face is even more breathtaking, and you’re grateful its expressions are reserved solely for you now. “Good morning.”

You blush. “Very good morning.”As you kiss him, invigorating his energy and leftover desire from the night prior, you think you’ll have to send the manufacturers of Hot Topics a thank-you card.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[hyomaslut]

──★ ˙🍆 ̟ !! casual conversation between friends. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ᴀsᴋɪɴɢ ʙʟʟᴋ ʙᴏʏs ғᴏʀ ɴᴜᴅᴇs ᴘᴛ. 𝟷

✿ ─ characters: isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, chigiri hyoma, reo mikage ✿ ─ cw: smau!, extremely suggestive/borderline smut, aged-up!characters, college!AU, gn!reader, no pronouns, unestablished relationships/mutual pining, use of foul language, descriptions of genitalia, suggestive themes, you and chigiri are talking about npc college drama, proofread??? ✿ ─ notes: honestly the smau aspect was so hard cuz im a perfectionist and wanted read reciets and everything. all the apps for them suck. i managed :))) and i rlly hope you guys like it :)) feedback appreciated. i put chigiri's at the end cuz its so long. part 2 is here!!!!

ISAGI YOICHI...

your fingers fly across the keyboard to tell him that yes, you were very serious. isagi literally jumps out of bed to go shower and everything. he has been crushing on you since forever and god knows he’s not blowing this chance you’ve given him by sending a shitty picture. you get an image attachment 20 minutes later, yoichi standing in front of his foggy bathroom mirror, the phone in his hand covering half of his face. he’s barely out of the shower, hair dripping wet and towel hanging extremely loose around his hips. his other hand sits at the base of his dick, acting as both a size comparison and a way to draw your attention to it. it’s obviously of decent length as far as you could tell, but the girth. you cant even pretend your mouth doesn’t start watering at the sight.

ITOSHI RIN...

you don’t have time to feel all that bummed about it though, because within a few minutes you’re shocked to get a picture from rin, the camera facing downwards towards his legs. nothing would be all that out of the ordinary if it weren’t the obvious tent in his shorts. the fabric around his crotch looks stretched by his hard dick fighting against the confines of his soccer uniform. it’s not exactly what you asked for, but you can’t find it in you to complain, because it’s way more than you actually expected to get. your mind starts racing. he’s hard from just a few suggestive texts? that means one of two things. either he really is a virgin like you thought he’d be, and the littlest of acts gets him riled up. or he’s just that into you. both of those possibilities sounded like fun. and the idea of those possibilities made you greedy. enough to push your luck.

MIKAGE REO...

two pictures come in quickly and you laugh at the idea of him rushing to take these for you. he sends the first one, taken standing in front of the full length mirror in his boxers, dragging down the waist band of them so you can see the first few inches of his shaft, phone in front of his face. he’s perfectly clean shaven, zooming in closer, maybe he waxes it? you can’t help but be impressed by his attention to detail. it’s so reo that it makes you smile. second one is sitting down in some fancy looking suede armchair, underwear gone, cock in one hand while the other splays over the bottom half of his face, poorly covering the wide self-satisfied smirk. you assumed he set up his phone with a timer considering he wasn’t holding it. as you stare at it, the initial evaluating that everyone does when they receive a dick pic fades away, and you feel heat creep up your face. reo was really hot, and just this once you figured it wouldn’t hurt to tell him you thought so.

CHIGIRI HYOMA...

you get through the stressful minutes waiting for his response by chewing on your nails. maybe you really just fucked it all up. but then, to your surprise, a photo loads in. its hyoma sitting on his bed in front of his mirror, his fingers buried in his hair to push it out of his face in possibly the sexiest way you’ve ever seen. his other hand holds his phone, his pretty face in full view with his gaze locked on the screen. your eyes can’t help but travel down to the only part of your crush you haven’t seen. and boy was it worth the wait. his dick curves up towards his abs and its a lot bigger than you expected. long and a perfectly pink tip. you bite your lip at the thought of it stretching you out, and then feel slightly guilty for thinking of him that way, as if you haven’t done it plenty of times during your so-called dry spell. if the whole soccer thing doesn’t work out, you’re sure he could be a pin up model. or maybe a greek god.

hyoma's got long again ;-; mb,,, but can you blame me??? i want to do a part two with at least nagi and bachira, but idk who else i want to include. open to suggestions ♡

© 2023 hyomaslut. please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content onto any other sites.

[rotthepoet]

Wait let me correct myself enz and theo threesome but she's really shy 🫠🫠

POOKIE IM SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER I WANTED TO MAKE SURE IT WAS GOOD! MWAH, LOVE YOU!!!

Notes: I don’t think i’ve ever written a threesome before, and its been a long long time since I’ve written downright smut so bear with me🙏

Content: Hogwarts University AU, All characters are 18+, Drinking, drug use, threesome, porn without plot, piv, oral(both m and f), degradation and praising, leaving bruises, hair pulling, kinda choking?? , FEM READER, lmk if i missed anything my loves<3

It was all a blur really. One minute Slytherin was winning their last Quidditch match of the season, the next you were sitting in the corner of the common room deep below the castle as LED’s casted a layer of green over the clouds of smoke and vapor. You weren’t fond of parties. Not in the slightest. You liked keeping to yourself and your select group of friends. Alas, your select group of friends tended to be extroverts who simply… decided… they liked you, and these extroverts tended to like parties. They like you too. So why not combine the both?

So you sit quietly in the corner, laughing and smiling when one of your friends came to check on you, just so they didn’t worry. It’s not like you were completely bored, maybe a few drinks in you started taking candid pictures of your dancing friends, and as you became comfortable with the noise level and crowd, you joined in with them much to their excitement.

The night was a dream, really. Hands all over you, maybe your friends, maybe some strangers. It didn’t matter anymore. You felt good, distracted enough by the alcohol and second hand smoke in your system to let loose.

Theodore Nott and Lorenzo Berkshire were good acquaintances of yours. Maybe even friends if you squinted hard enough. Regardless, it wasn’t too much of a shock whenever you found their hands on yours.

“Never thought we’d see you at a party,” Enzo would say, his breath hot on your ear as he moved slowly behind you, his hands resting on your hips.

Theo would laugh and run his hands up to your waist, looking into your eyes with his bloodshot ones, “It’s a nice change… and you do look good.”

It’s really a blur after that. A drunken blur of groping and soft kisses along your shoulders. The heat just kept building in your lower stomach, and you didn’t argue whenever Theo asked you if you wanted to go to his room.

The idea didn’t even fully click in your head until you were topless on Theodore’s bed, letting Enzo graze his fingers over your perky tits. Stuck between the two men, feeling that pleasant buzz from the liquor and arousal, how could you ever say no?

They’re so gentle with you at first, letting you set the pace and curiously explore their bodies. Enzo’s between your legs long enough to have you seeing stars. His tongue swirls over your clit, his strong hands pressing your legs to your chest. He’s wet and messy, letting your combined slick and spit soak the sheets below you. He’s holding you so tight that it leaves bruises in the morning, and only grips tighter the more you squirm. During all this, Theo is leaving hickies all over your body. Your shoulders, your chest, your sides, hips, thighs, everywhere. He’s stroking his length slowly, teasingly, letting your watch as you whine and squirm as you’re marked. As he makes his way down your body, his deft fingers find your neglected and overly sensitive hole.

Theo is slow. Agonizingly slow. It feels like forever as he’s rubbing his fingers across your cunt, spreading you out for Enzo, laughing softly as you cry for him to finally fuck you. When he pushes his middle finger in, you let out the most delectable sound, and he barely pushes another into you before you cream all over him and Enzo. He fingers you through your orgasm, grinning at Enzo as your whines and cries quicken from the overstimulation.

Unfortunately for your well loved pussy, they’re not done. They’ve been so generous and helpful, the least you could do is take a little but more. Just for them, right sweetheart? And of course, like the little slut you are, you take it like a good girl.

It’s like a switch really. As soon as you nod your pretty little head, your breathing almost steady when they finally release you, you’re gripped by the hair and pulled up.

Enzo’s lips find yours in a messy, searing hot kiss as Theo manhandles you onto your knees. Whoever is gripping your hair doesn’t let up, even as Enzo finally leaves your bruised lips be.

It’s not for long though, not for long at all. As soon as Enzo pulls away, the tip of his cock kisses your lips, smearing his pre along the already wet skin. It’s daunting really, his size looking too big to fit in your tight cunt let alone your mouth. Your head is lifted, forced by a tug of your hair, and Lorenzo can only grin at the worried expression on your cute, fucked out face.

“Our girls a little worried, hm?”

And Theodore laughs behind you, a condescending sound that sends shivers up your spine. “She’ll be fine. Hasn’t broken yet, has she?”

It’s Theo’s tip pushing into you that makes you finally gasp, leaving Enzo to sheathe himself in your wet mouth. Count the seconds, because you only get a few before they’re using you like a fleshlight.

Theodore is ruthless, gripping your hips as he bucks into you like a man in heat, his heavy balls slapping against your clit in a frenzy while he grunts. Each thrust forces you deeper onto Enzo, his own hands gripping your hair to keep you steady.

“Such a pretty thing, isn’t she?”

“Oh yeah, especially like this. You’re having fun, aren’t you, pet?”

And you are having fun. So much fun as Theo reaches new depths inside of you, and Enzo’s cock hits the back of your throat. Tears stream down your cheeks and drool down your chin, dripping to the already drenched mattress. Their thrusts are synched, filling you up at the same time, making you see stars, or maybe it’s Enzo’s freckles. You aren’t sure at this point.

You finish without warning, your walls clenching and spasming around Theodore whose pace stutters at the sudden wave of pleasure, and his hand grips your bulging throat to steady himself.

You sob tears of pure pleasure as Enzo groans, releasing his seed deep down your throat, holding you down at his base while you choke and whine around him.

Theo doesn’t last much longer after that, his grip tightening as much as he could without hurting you, before he pulled out and let his tip spurt onto your back, coating you in sticky, warm release.

Coated in cum, and throughly fucked, you let the remainder of Enzo spill from your lips when he finally pulls away. Slender fingers collect the remnants from your chin, and push themselves into your sore mouth.

“Deep breath, darling. You can do it again, can’t you?”

Tags: @helendeath @lilyravennablack

[taesansbeloved]

Whispers Among the Trees.

| Han Taesan X Reader

| Genre: high school, field trip au, introverted x extroverted

| warnings: I don't think there are any except for a cheesy confession. The use of 'my girl'.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Han Taesan and Lee Y/n. Best friends ever since they were 10. Taesan being the shy introverted kid, and you being the sunshine, happy pill child. You both met on a school field trip. Even though you both were in the same grade, you never noticed each other. To put it better, you never noticed Taesan as he was always quiet, and you can barely ever feel his presence. Taesan though have always been watching from afar. Watching how easygoing you were and how people were always attracted to you. How could you make friends in a span of 5 minutes after meeting them. He was mesmerized but never had the courage to speak to you.

When on that field trip, you noticed a quiet kid sitting under a tree, away from all the chaos and shielded from the blazing hot sun. Being the extroverted 10 year old you are, skipped your way to him and plopped yourself down next to him. Startled and shocked, Taesan looked at you with wide eyes and a confused frown. Ever since then, you have been Taesan's only friend who made him feel content and at peace.

"Boo!" You exclaimed, sneaking your way behind Taesan, who was putting away his things in his plain, non decorated locker. Now, you both were seniors in high school and still as closer as ever.

"Ah." Taesan said sarcastically, acting as if he's scared. After putting away the last thing, he turned to you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk that made your stomach twist. "You don't scare me, Y/n." He said, still having that annoying, stomach twisting smirk.

"Eh, worth a try." You said, adjusting your bag. "Why are you putting your things away? We haven't even started first period." You asked as it just clicked in your mind that you literally just arrived to school, and he's already putting his things away.

"I have biology for first period, and you know how heavy the biology books are." He answered simply as he showed you the inside of his bag that contains one thick biology textbook and a 500-page practice book.

"Biology? I thought you always had history for the first periods on Wednesdays." You said with a frown as you both started doing your daily ritual of Taesan walking you to your first period, which for today is english.

"I got it changed. I now have history as the period after lunch." He answered nonchalantly.

"Really?! We finally have a class together!" You exclaimed excitedly as Taesan watched with a small smile.

"For real? Never knew." He said, unconvince-ly. Taesan did infact know that you had history after lunch. That's the only reason why he changed it. Now look, he's not obsessed... he just simply wants to spend more time with his best friend. Also, it's all worth it for that contagious smile of yours.

"Oh, did you hear about that senior trip the school is doing?" You asked as you eyed Taesan's perfect side profile.

"Senior trip already?" He said with a groan. Taesan isn't the type for field trips or trips in general. He would rather stay home reading a book or listening to music preferably with you. Just the thought of having to see people other than you makes him grimace.

"Mhm. They're saying it's in the forest, which is not ideal as it's November. You know, wild animals and stuff. But, I bet it's gonna be so much fun. We can share a tent, roast marshmallows, and stay up till sunrise as you play that calming playlist of yours. Omg! It's gonna be so much fun! You have to go, I already planned our activities together. Pleasee." You ramble, already having the entire trip planned out.

Taesan turned his head away from you as a wide smile started making its way on his face. He loved hearing you talk, even if it's nonsense. Your voice is like music to him he could listen to it without ever getting bored. You rambling about the trip and all the plans you've already decided are gonna come true with him makes his heart flutter.

"I'll think about it." He said, the sound of him smiling still clear in his voice.

"Nuh-uh! You're not 'thinking about it'. You're GONNA come with me, alright? I don't take no as an answer. I'll see you at lunch! Bye, Sannie. Good luck!" You said, escaping quickly to the door of your english class that you two have reached.

Taesan let's out a quiet chuckle as he turned away and left for his biology class with you on his mind.

__

A few weeks have passed, and you and Taesan are on the bus to go to the woods.

"Bug spray?" You asked with raised eyebrows as you were rummaging through Taesan's bag. "Taesan, it's winter." You said, looking at the boy who sacrificed the window seat for you.

"You never know. Bugs are everywhere in the forest. You should thank me." He said, taking the bug spray out of your hands and hugs it close to him.

You shake your head as you continue looking through his bag. You pulled out a CD player that was lying at the bottom of his bag with bubble wrap around it.

"You said you wanted to listen to 'that calming playlist of mine' a few weeks ago, so I turned into a CD so we can listen to it together." He said, noticing your confused frown.

"Really? Omg, it better have that one Nirvana song!" You exclaimed.

"Yes, Y/n. It has 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' by Nirvana." He said with a soft smile. Taesan introduced you to that song during your sophomore year. It was the first time Taesan had opened up about his love for music, and eversince it has been your guys' song.

You nodded in content as you continued your rummaging.

After a few minutes on the road, you noticed Taesan's eyes kept getting heavier by the second. Without muttering a word, you guide his head to your shoulder as his body stiffens. "Sleep. We still have a long way to go." You said as you fixed his hair softly, moving it away from his face. Taesan grins as he snuggles deeper to your side, falling asleep with butterflies swarming his stomach.

__

"Hey, emo kid. We're here. Wake up! Hurry. I wanna get out." You said impatiently as you poked the crown of his head. He groaned as he removed his head from your shoulder and rubbed his eyes sleepily. You jump in your seat as the forest comes in sight.

"You can't be that excited. It's literally the forest. We can die here." Taesan said, sleep still clear in his tone.

"Stop being a buzz kill. This is gonna be fun, just like the old days." You said, a wide smile etched on your face.

Taesan tries to stop his smile from stretching more as he sees that beautiful, beautiful smile of yours.

"Come on." You said as you see people filing out of the bus. You squeezed your way through Taesan's legs as you were too excited to wait.

Taesan sighs with a smile as he picks up your and his bag that you left behind. 'Gosh. Lee Y/n, what are you doing to me?' He sighs deeply as he follows your steps out of the bus.

"Taesan! Do you want the yellow tent or the red tent?" You asked as soon as you saw the figure of Taesan in sight.

"Wait, we're building them our selves?" He asked, finally reaching you as he put both your bags down. He sees two tents with the colors you mentioned lying on the ground, waiting for somebody to assemble them.

"Yes, you diva. Of course, we're assembling them. That's the whole point of camping. So, which one?" You asked again, that gorgeous smile that makes his stomach do flips, still plastered on your face.

"I guess we can do red." He says as you both get to work.

"That doesn't make any sense!" You say, frustrated at the paper of instructions in your hands. You were now assembling the tent together, and while Taesan is doing a great job doing his part, you're stuck on the third step.

"Okay, there. What's going on?" Taesan asked, circling the tent to the side you were working on seeing it half not done.

"The stupid instructions say that I have to tie that part to that part, but if i tie that part to that part, then this part is just gonna collapse!" You say with pure frustration.

"Oh, sweetie. You did it wrong." You didn't like what that word did to you.

Taesan began fixing the parts you did wrong and explaining while doing so. You couldn't hear a word he's saying as you were just admiring him the entire time. You don't know when you started feeling like that, but the more time you spent with Taesan, the more you felt something deeper about him. You started getting nervous every time you were near him. You began studying his features more than your physics book. You.. like... Taesan.

"Hey, shorty. Are you there?" His sweet honey voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You look at him only to see him standing up straight, already finished with your side.

"Why did you do my side?" You asked, voice quiet as thoughts about him kept roaming through your head.

"Y/n, you messed up on the third step, and I'm tired. It's a win-win." He said as both of you looked around to see that it's dark and everybody has assembled their tents.

"Okay, everyone. In their tents! Take a rest cause we've got a long day tomorrow." Your home room teacher yelled as everyone got inside their tents.

"Come on." Taesan said, ushering you inside.

"Are you really gonna sleep?" You ask with a smirk, knowing Taesan's sleeping time is 4 in the morning.

"Absolutely not. You're also staying up. I need some company." He said with a fake scowl.

You chuckle as you both sit on top of your sleeping bags. Quietness taking over. Unlike most nights where the silence was comfortable and serene. This one carries tension, something unsaid looming in the air.

You glance at Taesan seeing him fiddling with his fingers, a habit he has whenever he's nervous. You both can tell how different the other has been. How rather than comfortably lying in each other's bed, it's been tense.

The atmosphere surrounding the tent was uncomfortable, which is uncommon for both of you. You decide that you've had enough. You're gonna say everything.

"Hey, Taesan," you began, already regretting speaking, "Can I speak to you about something?" You said, whispering unconsciously because of the quietness surrounding you.

Taesan's head shot up at the sound of your voice, shifting his attention away from his fingers. He nodded, telling you to go on, afraid to speak and reveal his feelings on accident.

"Okay, umm. You see. So.. I wanted to say that.. How do I put this into words?" You mutter, nervousness taking over completely.

Taesan's eyes softened as he watched your nervous figure try to come up with words. He shifts closer to you and gently puts his hand over yours. "Tell me." He whispered as the sound of trees and bushes being pushed by the wind surrounding you two.

"Okay, um. You see, I've been feeling weird lately. Not weird, like, um, confused. It's.." You sigh im defeat as you look down at Taesan's hand on top of yours. "You know what? I like you, Taesan, okay? And, I don't know when it started and how and why, even. But, I like it, and you've been on my mind every single second of the day. I go to sleep thinking about you. I wake up thinking about you. You're all I think about lately. And, look, if you don't like me back, that's completely fine. Oh god, you probably think I'm weird now. Oh no, I've ruined our friendship, haven't I?" You pull your hands away from Taesan's and cover your face, embarrassed.

Taesan was shocked, to say the least. His crush, best friend.. liked him back? He stayed silent, taking in all your words, which really didn't help your situation. His posture still, trying to come up with words that will describe the immense feeling of love he has for you.

"Can you say something?" You say, desperately, voice muffled against your palms.

Pulling Taesan out of his head, he looks at you again. Your tiny figure curled up with your face hidden in your hands. He slowly and gently pulls your hands away from your face to see that gorgeous face of yours. The frown on your face as clear as ever, showing your distraught state. "I.. don't know what to say... I don't think words will ever describe how much I love you, Y/n." He whispered as the confession hung itself in the air.

Your head shot up in his direction, searching his eyes for the word 'sike!" But, no. All you can see is genuine emotion. His eyes bore into yours with an intense and loveable gaze.

"Say sike right now." You whisper back, not believing.

Taesan lets out a chuckle as he shakes his head and scoots closer to you. "How can I when all I'm saying is true?" He whispered as the sound of the whooshing trees hung around you.

"For real?" You ask with wide, hopeful eyes.

Taesan nods, not able to bring words out of his mouth from the feeling of relief and euphoria.

"So..like.. are we a thing now?" You whispered, your normal self coming back but even happier.

"If you want to." He says, taking hold of your hand again, interlocking it with his.

"Well, of course I want to." You say, tightening your hold on Taesan's hand.

"My pretty girl." Taesan whispers, mostly to himself as he can't believe he's finally yours, and you're finally his.

"Omg, stopp" You say as you jokingly push his shoulder.

Taesan chuckles as he looks at you with heart eyes. Finally, after 8 years of admiring you from afar, you're finally his girl, his pretty girl.

___________________________________________________________________

AHHHHHHHH! First post! Hope you guys like it :>

[zosin-ya]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5 - ʟᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜰᴜɴ

Summary: After your shared exam was finally over, Law invites you to the party, showing a more relaxed side of himself. As the night progresses, his boldness starts to emerge, especially after a few drinking games and making out session in the bathroom.

a.n.: Ikakku as the bartender, Shachi being drunk and Penguin somewhere drunk as well. Enjoy! (4,5k words whoops got a bit carried away)

tags: One Piece, Law x Reader, Modern AU, University AU, Penguin and Shachi as Laws flat mate, Law on a sick motorcycle cuz its hot

>>[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]<<

“You invited her?! Dude, nice!” Shachi exclaimed, holding up a hand for a high-five.

Law just stared at it, unimpressed, and ignored the gesture. He didn’t really feel like it was something to celebrate. Sure, he was glad you wanted to come to the party, but beyond that? Whatever. He was more relieved the exam was over and had gone well. The fact that you’d be there too? Casual excitement—nothing to make a big deal about.

"Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your party?" Law said, towel-drying his damp hair while still dressed in his sweatpants. He had a bit of time before he needed to pick you up. After giving you the address and realizing how far the nearest bus stop was from the party, he suggested giving you a ride.

“Boo, you’re such a buzzkill,” Shachi grinned, throwing on his jacket and grabbing his keys. “Better bring a better mood to the party.”

“Whatever.", Law scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Aigh, see ya later!” Shachi called over his shoulder, before heading out the door.

Law watched him leave, glad for the silence settling in the apartment. He took a deep breath, finishing up getting ready, and tried to shake off the exhaustion...or was he nervous?

While Law was casually getting ready, you were in a whirlwind of chaos. It wasn’t that you were nervous—okay, maybe just a little. Who were you kidding? You were a nervous wreck. It had been a while since you went out with someone, let alone to a party full of strangers. At least Law would be there, a familiar face in the crowd. But speaking of Law, you really had to hurry—he’d be there soon.

Minutes later, the doorbell rang, just as you managed to pull yourself together. Grabbing whatever you might need, you hurried to the door and opened it, greeted by Law, who looked pretty much the same as always. His hair was a little neater than usual, but what really caught your eye was the extra helmet he was holding.

"Hey, you ready?" he asked, his tone as casual as ever. You nodded, quickly closing your apartment door behind you, and followed him outside…while your keys were still on the kitchen counter.

"Thanks again for giving me a ride," you said with a smile, tugging your jacket tighter against the chilly night air. Law shrugged, as if to say it was no big deal, and handed you the extra helmet.

"You know how to backpack?" he asked suddenly, and you blinked, confused. Backpack? What?

Seeing your puzzled look, Law grinned and nodded toward his motorcycle. "Sitting behind someone on a motorcycle."

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "That’s kind of a cute term. But no, I haven’t done that before."

Law gave a small nod and stepped toward his bike. "No worries, it’s easy. I’ll show you."

He straddled the motorcycle first effortlessly, then waited as you climbed on behind him. He knew it took a little getting used to the first time, but thankfully, the ride wasn’t too long. “You can put your feet here,” he instructed, pointing to the foot pegs. “Hold on tight to me, and lean with me when we hit the curves. That’s all there is to it.”

You gave a quick nod and pulled on your helmet as Law did the same. Before you could adjust it, he turned around and snapped your visor shut, then clicked his own into place. You watched, before he fired the engine to life with a throaty roar.

Feeling a bit unsure, you leaned forward slightly, gripping the sides of his jacket with a tentative hold. Law noticed and stopped for a moment, then without warning, he reached for your hands and pulled them tighter around his waist, making you grip his chest and fall against his back. The sudden closeness made your heart race.

“I said tight,” he teased, his voice laced with amusement. “Don’t want you falling off.”

A light, embarrassed chuckle escaped you as you adjusted your grip, hugging him more securely. “Right, got it,” you murmured.

With a grin you could almost hear, Law revved the engine, and moments later, you were off.

 “Come, this way,” Law said, nodding toward the faint sound of music already seeping into the air. You followed him while you two left the bike at a parking spot, feeling the buzz of anticipation as you approached the building. The party was tucked away in the basement, and as you descended the steps, the volume of the music grew louder.

The moment you stepped inside, you were hit by the heavy, stuffy air mixed with the distinct smells of alcohol and something you couldn’t quite place. The crowd was already thick, bodies swaying to the rhythm in the dark colorful lights, and despite the chaotic energy, there was something about the atmosphere that started to get you in the mood.

Law seemed familiar with the place, confidently navigating through the room. “Want to take off your jacket?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied, handing it over to him. When he pulled off his own leather jacket, though, something caught your eye. For the first time, you noticed the tattoos that stretched beyond his knuckles, trailing up his forearms. The black ink swirled in intricate patterns, with just a hint of it peeking from beneath the sleeve of his black T-shirt.

Suddenly, you felt a rush of heat. Was the room always this warm, or was it just you?

Law turned to you and gestured toward the bar, silently suggesting to get a drink. You nodded with a suddenly shy smile and followed him through the crowd. You had to admit, the party was surprisingly well-organized. The lighting, the music, the setup—everything looked pretty impressive, especially the bar. Apparently, the engineering students knew how to throw a party.

When you reached the bar, a young woman with dark, curly hair held back by a bright yellow headband greeted you with a warm smile. Her eyes landed on you first, then shifted to Law.

“Hey, Law! Glad you could make it!” she said cheerfully.

“Pleasure's mine, Ikkaku,” Law replied, giving her a friendly smile. It was clear they knew each other. You stood there, a little shy, but smiled politely.

“Oh, hi! I’m Ikkaku! I don’t think we’ve met before,” the woman said, extending a hand toward you. You shook it and introduced yourself, instantly being taking in by her radiating smile.

“Y/N, nice to meet you.”

Law watched the exchange, a small smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t too worried about you meeting Ikkaku. Unlike Shachi and Penguin, who could be a bit much at times, Ikkaku was a breath of fresh air. She radiated confidence and had a feisty side that Law respected very much.

“So, what can I get you two?” Ikkaku asked, leaning forward with a grin. “First drink’s on the house.”

“You got the northern vodka by any chance?” Law asked, leaning slightly forward with a casual air. Ikkaku’s grin widened, clearly in on it. Of course she had it, especially since Shachi had specifically brought it for the party. He’d stashed it under the bar, trusting Ikkaku to keep an eye on it and only serve it to close friends. After all, it wasn’t cheap or easy to come by.

“Sure do. With soda?” she asked.

“Yes, please, but for the love of god, mix the drink like a human this time,” Law said, causing Ikkaku to laugh along.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she teased, shaking her head with a playful grin as she turned toward you. “And for you, Y/N?”

You placed your order, and she got to work, carefully mixing both drinks. As promised, she kept it reasonable, not trying to drown either of you in alcohol. Law kept an eye on her as she poured, just to be sure she didn’t pull any tricks. The memory of getting absolutely trashed on the first he came here flashed in his mind—along with the unpleasant experience of throwing up into his helmet. He was careful not to repeat that disaster tonight.

With your drinks, you both decided to move to a quieter table, away from the crowd. Setting your glasses down, you slipped into an easy rhythm of conversation.

“So, you said your friends were here too?” you asked, leaning in a bit closer.

Law hummed in response, casually leaning back as his eyes scanned the crowd. His long legs stretched out below the table, brushing your knee ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” he said, finally nodding towards a corner of the room. “See the guy over there trying—and failing—to juggle the beer pong balls? That’s Shachi. He’s studying engineering, good friends with Ikkaku, the bartender.” His gaze shifted to another spot. “And that’s Penguin, the guy in the beanie. You’ve met him before, right? We live together.”

You chuckled at the sight of Shachi fumbling with the beer pong balls. “Penguin seemed pretty nice when I met him. Shachi, though… definitely can’t juggle.”

“Nope,” Law said, grinning as he took a sip of his drink. His eyes drifted back to you, and for a moment, he found himself quietly studying your face. It suddenly hit him how stunning you looked tonight, the soft light from the party casting a warm glow over your features. The way your eyes sparkled when you laughed, or even just how you looked at him—it was captivating. He found himself lingering in the moment longer than usual.

How has he never noticed how pretty you were?

You broke his trance suddenly by asking, “Kind of in a mood of beer pong, are you good at it?”

It caught him off guard a bit as he came back to reality, but only for a second. A playful grin spread across his face when he heard your suggestion. Was that a challenge?

“Maybe. Wanna find out and lose?” His voice had that teasing, competitive edge. Law could get fiercely competitive with games like these, a trait he knew well enough to admit. He didn’t just want to win—he needed to.

“Oh, I don’t plan on losing,” you said boldly, ready for a challenge.

Law raised an eyebrow, the spark of competition fully lit and enjoying your bold anticipation. “Alright, game on,” he said, pushing his chair back and standing up, already mentally preparing to take the win—or go down swinging.

You and Law made your way to the beer pong table tucked away in the corner, where Shachi was struggling to pick up the ping pong balls. He kept fumbling, his coordination long gone thanks to the alcohol he’d consumed. Law, amused by the scene, stood back with a lazy smile and simply watched his friend, leaving you to step in.

“Here, let me help,” you said, handing the ball directly to Shachi. He blinked up at you in surprise, clearly thrown off by your pretty face. For a second, he just stared, caught by how good you looked. But when he spotted Law next to you, the gears in his foggy mind slowly turned. As much as his drunken state allowed, he pieced things together. You must the girl he had the study date with.

"Law! There you are!" Shachi greeted, pulling him into a sloppy, brotherly hug, clapping him on the shoulder. As he did, he leaned in closer to Law and grinned, whispering into his ear, “You didn’t tell me she was hot.”

Law rolled his eyes at Shachi’s comment, a flicker of both annoyance and amusement crossing his face, but he didn’t bother to respond. Shachi, still riding the high of his drunken state, flashed you a wide playful grin.

"You guys wanna play?" he asked, already grabbing the cups with a clumsy enthusiasm.

You shared a glance with Law, and something unspoken passed between you, before you stepped closer to the table.

The game kicked off. You helped arrange the plastic cups, filling them with something light, cautious not to overdo it too soon. Law handed you the first ball with a subtle smirk, one that made your pulse quicken. He was watching you intently, his gaze lingering just a bit longer than necessary as you lined up your shot.

With a flick of your wrist, the ball sailed effortlessly into the cup. You grinned, teasing him with a playful look. “Try to keep up,” you taunted lightly, savoring the first little victory.

Law raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into that faint, knowing smile. “Alright,” he said smoothly, before taking his first cup in one clean motion, his eyes never leaving yours.

For a moment your mind went blank, those stormy eyes locking with yours so intensely completely threw you off guard. You had a feeling Law knew what he was doing.

Shachi, playing the part of an overly enthusiastic referee, was more of a distraction for Law than anything else. He cheered only you on and did his best to throw Law off, witch loud coughs and "Look over there"s.

Every time Law stepped up to take his shot, there was an obvious tension in the air. He wasn’t just throwing the ball; he was challenging you with each toss, silently daring you to keep pace. And while you landed a few solid shots, Law’s precision was undeniable. Even when he had to hold on on the table, the alcohol clearly starting to catch up with him, he still managed to sink the ball into your cups with impressive accuracy.

By the time your side was completely wiped out, Law still had three cups standing. You huffed in mock frustration, but deep down, the competitiveness had only made things more fun.

Shachi clapped his hands together, grinning like an idiot. “Rules say you’ve gotta finish the winner’s cups!” he teased.

You sighed defeated, “Fine, Law. You win.”

As you reached for one of his cups, though, Law’s hand shot out, stopping you. His fingers brushed against yours, sending a small jolt of electricity through you. He held your gaze for a moment, before he spoke up. “Let’s share it. I’d rather not have to carry you home wasted.”

The teasing edge in his voice made your stomach flip, but the offer itself was unexpected. Law was competitive by nature, and Shachi knew he usually liked to rub his victories in. This time, though, he was...different.

You accepted his offer with a small smile, taking one of the cups while Shachi gleefully grabbed the last. Shachi, clearly impressed, raised an eyebrow at Law. “Wow, Law. Didn’t expect you to go soft on her.”

Law just shrugged, his eyes flicking to you briefly before he downed the rest of his drink. “She made it a decent game,” he said with a casual smirk, though the look he gave you was anything but casual.

“Another round?” Shachi asked, grinning as he set down his cup, already eager for more.

You shook your head with a soft laugh, feeling the alcohol making your head spin just a little. Even Law seemed to be feeling it, though his cool demeanor didn’t falter. He looked at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slight, teasing smile. “Maybe next time.”

As the night continued, Shachi separated from you two, wanting to go on a dance battle with Penguin. You watched him stumble away with an amused grin, and leaned against the beer pong table. "He's pretty fun."

Law leaned beside you, arms crossed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, he’s chaotic, but he’s great." It was something Law probably wouldn’t admit when sober. He valued his friends more than anything, but he wasn’t the type to be openly affectionate.

“How did you guys meet?” you asked, seizing the moment. Law seemed more relaxed than usual, probably thanks to the alcohol and the lively party atmosphere. His eyes remained fixed on his friends, who were currently tearing up the dance floor, before he turned back to you.

“We’re childhood friends,” he replied, rather casually.

Your eyes widened slightly, a warm feeling spreading through you. There was something undeniably sweet about hearing that. Law, already sensing where this was heading, scrunched up his face and quickly looked away.

“Don’t say it—” he began, but it was too late.

“Aw, that’s adorable.”

“God, here we go,” Law groaned, rubbing his eyes in mock exasperation. But despite his feigned annoyance, a grin tugged at his lips.

"Sorry, I had to," you said with a grin. "Hey, how about we play a question game? Taking turns?"

The suggestion piqued Law's interest. It was a good idea, and honestly, he was relieved that you came up with activities instead of him. He wasn't the type to take the lead with things like this.

"Like 'Never Have I Ever'?" Law asked, thinking of the drinking game. You hesitated for a moment before nodding, even though you knew it would probably loosen you up more than you intended.

After returning to the bar and ordering some diluted shots from Ikkaku—not wanting to black out too soon—you both sat back down at the table. Law took the first turn, thoughtfully considering his question. He didn’t want to embarrass you; it was just a fun opportunity to get to know you better.

"Never have I ever… cheated on an exam," he said with a smirk.

As you lifted your glass to your lips, Law shot you a mock judgmental look, causing you to laugh.

"What? The professor left the damn room for twenty minutes."

"You don't have to justify it," he chuckled. "I didn't say anything." He watched you down your drink, still amused.

"Alright, my turn," you said, thinking for a moment. "Never have I ever… slept with my ex."

Law lifted his glass, and this time, you gave him a playful judgmental look. He shrugged before he downed his shot.

"What? I'm not proud of it," he admitted with a wry smile.

"Why did you do it, then?" you teased, leaning in closer with a grin.

Law scrunched his eyebrows and sighed, rubbing his face as if the memory itself drained him. "No clue. It was a bad decision, and I’m definitely not making that mistake again. Not with her."

His tone made you even more curious, and you mentally noted that his relationship with his ex hadn’t been the best. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened between them—and what kind of girl Law had dated in the first place. He was so guarded when sober, often keeping his walls up. Yet here he was, relaxed and open, at least for the moment. It made you wonder who had managed to break through those walls and actually get into a relationship with him.

"Okay, my turn again… never have I ever… stalked someone online before a date." Law asked, and leaned back in his seat.

You acted without thinking, your hand already lifting the glass. But as realization hit, you froze mid-motion and looked at Law with wide eyes. He raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer, clearly intrigued by your reaction.

You remembered how you’d stalked Law’s Instagram before your first study session together at the café, and the embarrassment started creeping in. But it was too late now—you downed the drink and set the glass back on the table.

"Why did you hesitate?" Law asked, narrowing his eyes at you suspiciously.

"What? I don’t know what you mean," you replied, laughing nervously.

"Cut the crap, tell me," he said with a grin, clearly enjoying this.

The alcohol made your tongue loose, and you couldn’t help but admit the truth. "Fine... I may have, possibly, looked you up online before we met for the first time. Maybe. Just... a little."

Law leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Being a private person, he let the silence stretch between you two, deliberately creating a sense of pressure. It felt like an interrogation.

You shifted uncomfortably. "I just... Look, you were a random delivery guy. I didn’t trust that you were actually a med student. You even know where I live, and remember how you picked up my uni ID?"

Law listened, nodding slowly, his expression unreadable.

"I kind of panicked," you continued, running a hand through your hair. "I thought maybe you were just pretending to be in med school to... I don’t know, lure me in. Since you knew I was studying medicine." You sighed, feeling a bit ridiculous now. "Sorry, I was just anxious."

You braced yourself, half expecting Law to lecture you—or, worst-case scenario, leave the table and leave you sitting there alone at the party. But what you didn’t expect was for him to give you an amused smile, followed by a low chuckle.

"Smart girl," he said, surprising you. "Makes sense. Anyway, your turn."

"Wait, you don’t mind?" you asked, blinking in confusion.

Law shrugged casually. "Probably would have done the same if i was a chick living alone and inviting a random stranger to meet up."

"Wow you make me look like a loser." You laughed an rolled your eyes, to which Law shook his head with a grin. "Just laying out the facts, now go on, your turn."

You continued your game with Law, enjoying the lighthearted fun, until eventually, nature called. All that liquid had to leave your system, and you asked Law where the bathroom was. He motioned for you to follow him, leading you to a small unisex bathroom. He waited outside while you quickly headed in.

As you finished up, you suddenly became aware of how dizzy you felt from the alcohol. You were still able to walk and talk without slurring, but your head was spinning badly. Gripping the sink, you took a moment to steady yourself, trying to calm the whirlwind in your mind. The dim bass from the party music in the background only seemed to make the dizziness worse.

Meanwhile, outside the bathroom, Law leaned against the wall, checking his phone. You’d been inside for a while, and he was starting to get concerned. He debated whether to check on you, but worry quickly got the better of him. Knocking gently on the door, he called out, “Y/N, hey, you okay in there?”

He listened closely but didn’t hear a response. Anxiety bubbled up inside him, and he knocked again, louder this time. “Y/N?”

Finally, the doorknob turned, and you opened the door, holding your head. "My head is spinning. Give me a sec," you mumbled, stumbling slightly as you leaned back against the wall for support, slowly sliding down against it.

Law was quick to react. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him for privacy, and crouched down next to you. "You need some water?" he asked, his voice calm but filled with concern.

You shook your head slightly, the dizziness still overpowering your senses. Maybe the drinking game after beer pong hadn’t been the brightest idea.

He watched you for a moment, taking in the way you sat there, trying to compose yourself. Silence fell between you two, but this time it was comfortable. You leaned your head back against the wall, Law sitting next to you, mimicking the gesture.

Your gaze drifted back to him, and as if by fate, your eyes met. The dim lighting softened everything, but his grey eyes still seemed to cut through the shadows, intense and focused. He really was something, you thought, as your gaze unconsciously dropped to his lips.

Without realizing it, you began to inch closer, noticing how Law didn’t pull back. In fact, he seemed to lean in as well, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. Your heart raced, the moment stretching longer, making it almost unbearable.

Law swallowed, hesitant for a split second before his hand lifted, gently cupping your chin. His touch was careful, as if he was afraid of breaking you.

The space between the two of you disappeared, you could feel his breath on your skin as he tilted his head slightly, bringing your lips closer to his. Unsure of what to do, but not wanting to stop, you let the moment happen.

The second your lips touched, your eyes fluttered shut.

At first, the kiss was light, almost tentative—neither of you rushing it. But then, you moved your lips softly against his, and Law followed, matching your pace. The hesitation faded, and the connection deepened as you both let yourselves get lost in the moment.

Laws hand traveled from you chin to the back of your head, suddenly grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you in closer. You grabbed his T-shirt instinctively and let the kiss get more heated. Your breath was going heavy, desperate for air, yet neither of your two wanted to break the kiss.

Without pulling apart, you managed to somewhat clumsily get on your feet. Law walked you back against the sink, his lips still attached to yours, as he grabbed your thighs and effortlessly lifted you up. Sitting at the sink was pretty uncomfortable, but your mind was busy with other things. Your hands traveled down from his chest, to his belt, blindly trying to loosen it impatiently.

And Law seemed to be on the same page, he let his inked hands disappear under your top, fumbling with the clip your bra. The air was thick with tension as you two made out and tried to rip each others clothes off.

Laws zipper was already open and his belt hung lose on his jeans, while he was kissing your neck sloppily and pushed your top upwards, trying to get more of your sweet flesh.

While you two were in the heat of the moment, you completely forgot that you occupied the only existing bathroom at the party. The impatient knock of someone at the door reminded you what you were doing.

"Hey, I gotta piss, hurry up!"

Suddenly both of you froze, feeling like being caught in the act.

Law sighed in frustrating and let his head hang low, while you pinched the bridge of your nose. Great, getting cock blocked by a random stranger.

"In a fucking minute!" Law shouted back, and slowly let go of you, letting you hop of the sink. Both of you adjusted your clothes quickly and gave each other a disappointed look. It was great while it lasted.

Law walked ahead, swinging the door open with a bit more force than necessary, revealing the unfortunate person who had been banging on the door. The guy stood there, confused, clearly piecing together what had been happening inside. Law gave him a cold glare, making it obvious that he was pissed off and didn't really care the guy probably knew that you two were making out in the bathroom. You, on the other hand, followed Law out, feeling too embarrassed to meet the guy’s eyes.

As you walked away, still flustered, you spoke up quietly, "Hey, I’m still feeling a bit dizzy... I think I might call it a night." You rubbed your arm shyly, not wanting to seem like you were bailing, but the dizziness was still lingering mixed with exhaustion.

Law nodded in understanding, brushing a hand through his hair as he sighed. "Yeah, let’s leave," he agreed, his tone softer now. He placed a hand on your back gently, guiding you away from the noise of the party, and the two of you headed for the exit, leaving the chaotic atmosphere behind.

tag list: @mars-mizuko @tadomikiku (Comment to be added 🖤)

[sinnamongirls]

ALL NATURAL, CHAPTER ONE: drop the game.

a 2016 college au patrick zweig x f!reader fic

you’re a reporter for the stanford daily forced to cover a speech and debate tournament. lucky for you, there’s a really hot nerd there.

author notes: this is literally the first time I’ve published fanfic since middle school eek! but im really proud of this one heheh even though it is incredibly long (the next chapter will be shorter I swear)

contains: mentions of alcohol, suggestive language, dual pov’s (patrick and reader), reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, but no physical traits are described.

“Speech and debate? Seriously? Kendall, come on.”

Kendall just rolled their eyes at you. It was 10 am, and you, the Stanford Daily’s head general coverage reporter, were already pissed.

It was Kendall’s fault, really.

If they’d given you the co-executive editor position, they wouldn't be dealing with your smart ass complaining about assignments every time you got one.

Last year, you were quiet as a church mouse, never complaining with the previous editor about your assignments.

But the last editor wasn’t your childhood best friend, turned roommate and coworker. The last editor was a bitch, frankly. And you both were a year closer to graduating. So you really cared about what you were writing.

And you weren’t a sports person, or an editorial person. You liked campus, the hustle and bustle of it all. And that meant covering it all, even the lame ass stuff like speech and debate.

“Don’t complain. I won’t give you anything if you keep it up.” It was a lie. You both knew it.

“But.. speech and debate? Seriously?”

“It needs coverage, and it’s too far off campus for me or the advisors to feel comfortable sending an underclassman. You have that much of an issue, take it up with Nadine or Lucas.”

You huffed.

“Fine.” Walking out of the editor’s office of the Stanford Daily, letting the door slam behind you, you sighed. First issue of junior year, and your article’s on fucking speech and debate. At least it wasn’t Model UN.

You looked at your phone. Class was in 20 minutes, and the building you needed to be in was 10 minutes away. Time to hustle.

“Okay, remember: first exam next Monday, you all are gonna crush it if you study!” Dr. Abernathy’s voice was so high, most times she sounded like a chipmunk, especially when you were walking out of the lecture hall after hearing her voice for almost two hours twice a week. But, she was the only one who taught media psychology, so there wasn’t much of a choice. The midterm, however, had you worried. There was a saying in the Stanford journalism program: pass any of Phoebe Abernathy’s exams, buy a Powerball ticket immediately.

That mantra had found its home on a sticky note on your bedroom mirror for the whole summer. Preparing you. Kendall thought it was stupid, but Kendall also considered themselves president of the Dr. Phoebe Abernathy fan club. It was a stupid club, with one member: Kendall Jefferson-Mcall.

Walking back to your car, you checked your texts. There were about 10 from Kendall. Your assignment for tonight: where it was, what needed to be photographed, and who needed to be interviewed. You skimmed it while walking, making sure not to walk straight into traffic.

One of the interviewees' names rang a bell in your head. It was a distant one, though, because you couldn’t tell where you knew it from:

Patrick Zweig, co-captain. Junior. Pre-law. You’ll know him when you see him.

“Really helpful, Kendall.” Muttering as you climb into the car, you stare at the text for a while. Then you see the time. The tournament was at Berkeley, so you needed to hustle back to your apartment and get ready.

Berkeley was full of cunts.

Grade A, top tier, cunts.

Patrick would rather die than debate them. They’d been shit since Patrick had joined the speech and debate team. His freshman year was the year Berkeley won the national championship, and they had never let it go. And it got to Stanford pretty bad— they’d lost every time they’d competed against Berkeley since Patrick was a freshman.

It was annoying as hell, and every time they had to travel to Berkeley for a debate, Patrick wanted to die.

Seriously, he’d considered faking sick, or taking a whole bottle of Benadryl before.

But, he’d finally convinced Tashi and Art to make the hour journey to Berkeley to watch him. They supported him when they had tournaments at Stanford, sure, but any tournament that required driving more than 30 minutes? Forget it.

Patrick Zweig was more than Stanford’s men’s tennis star. A whole lot more. Co-captain of the speech and debate team, vice president of his fraternity, Phi Iota Chi, member of the Pre-Law Society, and one of the best students in his class.

But deep down, a part of him hated people knowing that he was smart. He liked being the hot athlete in the top frat on campus. High school was his time to be smart- he was valedictorian, student body president.

College was his time to be the best at tennis, get shit faced, and generally, have fun.

His dad did it, and that’s how he became one of the best real estate lawyers in Upstate New York.

But he still found himself pacing the green room in Wheeler Auditorium, wondering if he should stop dumbing himself down in front of normal people, be more proud of his intelligence, and accomplishments.

But day drinking on the weekends was way more fun, and didn’t require thinking, for the most part.

“Pssst, Zweig,” It was his teammate, Samira. She’d cracked the door open, peeking her head in. Patrick turned to look at her— she had a new hijab on- cardinal red. Samira was Stanford, as far as Patrick was concerned. That girl bled school spirit. She was ready to kick Berkeley’s ass. “We’re on in 5 minutes, you wanna prep with me, or are you good?”

Patrick shook his head. “I’m fine, I think.” He wasn’t, but he couldn’t let Samira know, or she’d flip out, and Samira being emotional would fuck up their entire strategy against Berkeley.

“Good, good, I’m glad. See you in five.” She smiled, and shut the door. Patrick let out a long, exasperated sigh once the door was shut.

“Fuck.” Patrick really, really needed a win. Not just a speech and debate one, but a win in general.

Wheeler auditorium was massive. The biggest auditorium on UC Berkeley’s campus, it was also the oldest, and it was a national historic landmark.

That made up for the hour-long drive across the bay.

You studied the people in the room, trying to spot the best places to get pictures of the action. Good thing you had a press pass, because there were a lot of ugly looks. Surprisingly, the auditorium was pretty full on both sides, and you could’ve sworn you saw Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson sitting on Stanford’s side. But you put that aside, as the action was starting.

4 people took the stage: two from each school- you could tell who was who- the girl and guy from Berkeley both wore outfits with blue and gold. And then Stanford’s team came out: a woman, about 5’5” in a modest black dress with a cardinal red hijab, and a tall, toned man with curly black hair, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. He stood at the right podium, closer to the back of the stage. The woman stood closer to the stage's edge. You could read her name clearly from where you were crouched on the floor: Samira Hadi.

You couldn’t quite tell what his name tag said, though.

The debate was interesting, all things considered. You resisted the urge to scroll on your phone in the middle of it when it got boring.

But at the very least, Stanford won. So it wasn’t a total waste of your Monday night.

Patrick was pretty sure he blacked out when he heard the words “First place, Stanford University!” Come out of the announcer's mouth.

He snapped out of it when he felt Samira bear hug him, the weight of her body (he was pretty sure she did powerlifting or something, she was jacked) and the smell of her vanilla musk perfume brought him down to earth. If Samira drank, Patrick would buy her as many drinks as she wanted tonight.

But as Samira hugged him, jumping up and down from excitement, he noticed someone in the front row. Well, in front of the front row.

Dressed in business casual, she was out of place— usually Patrick saw the same 20 people in the crowd for his tournaments. But then he saw the reason for this, incredibly attractive, outlier: a shiny Stanford Daily press badge dangling from your neck.

Aha. It made sense. He figured you were either a poor freshman forced to trek to Berkeley for their first assignment, or an overworked upperclassman fed up with the paper.

But just as quickly as Patrick saw you, you were gone.

And Samira had drug him back to the green room, where Tashi and Art were waiting, with flowers no less.

“Guys, really?” Patrick feigned being upset at them. He could never. They were good friends. He didn’t mind being their third wheel. Honestly, he didn’t have a choice: Tashi was Phi Chi’s sweetheart, and Art was the vice president of membership education, so the world of Phi Chi and Patrick’s friend group got a little incestuous. In a good way, though. Tashi sat the flowers down on a table behind her, and hugged Patrick. Tashi was wearing her favorite green satin dress, and like always, it fit her perfectly. Art wore a basic black suit, but it looked good on him, too. That was the thing- Patrick may have been a legacy of Phi Iota Chi, but he used it for good, like making sure every single member has at least one perfectly tailored suit.

Because Patrick, and Patrick’s father, hated a sloppy suit.

“We had to, hell, Tashi was gonna give them to you even if you lost.” Art smiled as he handed Patrick the flowers. They were the high-dollar grocery store ones- a sign it really was Tashi’s idea- she worked part time in the flower department at the Whole Foods by campus. Patrick looked at Tashi.

“You made this bouquet, didn’t you?” Tashi gave him a sly smile in response.

Samira lingered by the door, but a knock, and the muttering of one of their coaches caused her to leave, leaving the green room to just be Patrick, Art, and Tashi.

The dim lighting of the hallway was honestly kind of eerie, but the main auditorium area was filled with loud, butt-hurt Berkeley fans, and that’s no place for an interview.

“Can you say and spell your full name, your class, and your position on the team for me?” The recorder rested in your hand at about chest level for you and Samira.

“Samira, S-A-M-I-R-A, Hadi, H-A-D-I. Senior, Captain of Stanford’s Speech and Debate Team.”

“Thank you. So, this win against Berkeley, I know it’s been a long time coming, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, it has. They won at Nationals back in 2014, and they haven’t let us, or anyone really, live it down. So it’s very fulfilling for the entire team.”

You looked behind Samira’s shoulder at the green room door. You know the guy on Stanford’s team was in there. But when Samira was pulled out of the room by the team’s faculty advisor, you could hear some other voices in there- another male voice, and maybe a female one, too.

She could tell you were looking back there, but didn’t say anything. You continued the interview, and after the recorder clicked off, Samira spoke.

“You need to interview him?” Even though you knew it was coming, the question caught you off guard.

“Huh?” You replied.

“If you need a quote from him, I can go grab him.” She never said his name, which you found odd. But maybe Kendall was right, maybe you’d know ‘him’ when you saw him.

“N-no, I think I’m okay. I got 2 quotes from you and from your faculty advisor. I think I’m good.”

“Okay. If you don’t need anything else, I’m gonna head out before it gets too dark.” Samira smiled, and walked off. You were standing in the hallway, alone.

You looked at your watch. It was around 8:30 now. You needed to head back too. If you didn’t, Kendall would think you’d died.

By the time you got back across the bay and back to your apartment, it was 9:30. You opened the door to your apartment, and there Kendall was, sitting on the couch.

“Hey, how’d it go?” They were sprawled out on the couch in their PJs, a bowl of guacamole on the coffee table and a bag of chips by their side. Some shitty Lifetime movie was playing softly on the TV.

You dropped your keys on the entryway table, bending down to take your kitten heels off. “It was okay.”

“Get good quotes? Good pictures?”

“Yeah, I got good material. You can look at it tomorrow.”

“Okay, good. Did you see him?”

“Who?” You cocked your head to the side, sighing as you stood flat footed on the cold hardwood floor.

“Patrick, dipshit. I figured you’d drool all over him.”

So he was Patrick. That name sounded familiar to you, but you couldn’t place it.

“I mean, I saw him. I got pictures of him, b-but he had friends visiting him after the competition, I think. He was in the green room, I couldn’t get a quote. But I got a quote from Samira and the faculty advisors.”

Kendall nodded, popping a guac covered chip in their mouth. “Good enough, thanks, babe.” The two of you had called each other babe since junior year of high school. It was a great way to piss off anyone who thought the two of you were dating.

“Yeah. What are you watching?” You studied the TV screen. The volume was turned down, but you could see women yelling passionately, and a very scared, blood-covered man behind them.

“Some Lifetime true crime movie, I dunno. I watched Miss Congeniality, and Pretty Woman, then settled on… This. It’s honestly trash.”

“Why not watch Housewives?”

“Didn’t wanna watch it without you. Plus, it was a rerun of DC, so.”

“Oh, ew.”

You walked over to the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water out, and then headed towards the couch, sitting next to Kendall. They switched the channel to Bravo, where you were both greeted by another scene of two women screaming at each other. It was the glorious world of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and the two of you watched at least 2 hours worth of toxic, shitty reality TV, until you checked the time and noticed it was almost midnight.

“I have class at 9 in the morning, I need to head to bed.” You yawned, standing up. Kendall turned the TV off. They looked up at you, their green eyes twinkling in the warm lighting of your shared living room.

“Okay, grandma. You have fun with that.” Kendall turned their phone on, typing rapidly. You envied them, in a way. They didn’t have class until 3pm tomorrow, but they still spent most of the day working on the paper. Busy busy bee.

“Goodnight, Kendall,” you called out as you walked into your bedroom.

“Night, bitch.” They replied from the couch. You shut your bedroom door, sighing.

You resisted the urge to stalk Patrick on instagram. He definitely had a girlfriend. He was good looking.

But why did you know his name?

Your phone lit up with a notification. A reminder of an assignment due tomorrow. It was your sign to go to bed.

You could stalk Patrick tomorrow. Consider it research while you write your article tomorrow.

Tonight, you needed to rest.

So you changed into your pajamas, crawled into bed, and fell asleep. And dreamt of him.

When Samira left the green room, Tashi broke her silence.

“Wanna go out?”

“Fuck yes.” Art and Patrick replied.

So the three musketeers drove back across the bay, went to some bar on the edge of Stanford’s campus, and got royally shitfaced, resulting in Art getting a pledge to drive the three back to the Phi Chi house.

Being a fraternity executive team member had it's perks. Living in the house was one of them.

Patrick told Tashi and Art goodnight, and headed down the hall to his room.

The whole time they were out, he couldn’t shake the face of the reporter from the Daily out of his head.

And to make matters worse, he didn’t have a name to go with a face.

Shit.

His head started throbbing, and he took that as his sign to go to bed.

He wondered if Tashi knew her.

Tashi knew everyone.

But he fell asleep before he could think about asking Tashi about you.

He may or may not have woken up the next morning, dealing with the aftermath of a wet dream and a next-level hangover. You woke up perfectly fine, ready to face the day.

Some would say that’s a match made in heaven. But we’re not there yet.

[earl-grey-teacake]

Awww I love your baby loscar au so much!

I can't stop thinking about how you said Logan is a more nervous baby and gets over stimulated at the races and I've just got the image of his first GP and George and Alex are kinda optimistic because he's been quite an easy baby so far but they barely make it an hour into media day before Logan has the worst meltdown ever! There's too many people around, its noisy and he gets too warm in his onsie and is just screaming! Poor George and Alex get flustered which obviously only makes Logan worse

Thank you so much! I'm so happy you love it! Sorry it took so long to reply! 😅

If anyone has ever taken or seen a baby at their first crowded event, it's a lot. It's like taken a newborn on their first flight. They're in pain and uncomfortable and the parents are so panicked that it scares the baby even more. I have all the sympathy in the world for them.

Logan is taken to his first GP 1.5 months after they adopted him. They wanted him to get situated and comfortable with them and the teams in Grove and Brackley before attending a GP. When asking team members, they were given a variety of advice. Some said their child slept the whole time and was unaware/uncaring about the crowds while other's said they couldn't bring their kids since it would be too much for them.

Logan was also nervous with the teams but he quickly got used to them. However, the caveat for Logan was that his parents were in eyesight. So going into media day, it was Logan, Alex, and George. They had also hired a nanny in case. The cameras and reporters crowded them, obviously all curious about the newest little addition to the paddock. Logan just hid his face in George's arms as they walked through.

It was a hot day and babies don't have the greatest temperature regulation so he is slowly heating up. however, they get into the hospitality before Logan can get too fussy. Logan is left at Williams and the nanny takes over. At first it was going fine, the baby was fed, changed and nap and Alex is back and forth watching him.

It isn't until an hour before media commitment that Logan has the mother-of-all meltdowns. Alex, George and Logan were having lunch outside when the noise, and heat, and just the presence of other people sent Logan into a fit of crying.

Screaming, wailing, refusing to be soothed. It was all there at the two, who thought they had been doing so well were unable to comfort their child. At some point, Logan's cries would die down into a coughing fit before starting again. Alex is starting to panic and George genuinely thinks there might be something wrong and they have to go to the medic tent immediately.

There's about 15 minutes left before both of them have to make it to media commitment when the nanny takes over and sends them to wash up. Alex needs to splash cold water on his face from how red and puffy his eyes are and George needed that and a change of clothes.

The pair spent the next 2 hours of media duties the most anxious they have ever been. Alex isn't as talkative and George is fumbling over words, both concerned with the baby they left behind. By the time they get back, Logan is in new clothes and had been put down for a nap.

After this, Logan spends most of his time in the drivers room or just with the Williams team. They limit the amount of time he is outside and tend to eat lunch in their own driver rooms or motor homes. It was mainly through practice and Jenson Button's kidnapping attempts that helped Logan be more comfortable around people. They also pair him up with Oscar in hopes of making certain places easier for both babies to get used to.

Thank you for sending the ask🥰

[trashmouth-richie]

ᴴᴱᴬᵀᴱᴰ

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE DOSED

HEATED

≛ modern!eddie x female reader x modern! steve

≛ summary: a week after being stranded on the side of the road with eddie and steve, you finally figure out what you’re going to do. Can the boys agree to what you have planned?

≛ THIS CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE FIC

≛ chapter warnings: MODERN AU, 18+ only I can’t be anymore clear about that, fuckgirl! reader vibes, Steve’s kind of a dickhead, oral m & f receiving and giving, mentions of birth control, reader gets eaten out by a girl, drug use, mention of alcohol, modern themes including texting, snapchat, iced coffee, crumbl cookie lmao etc, no y/n used, readers nickname is taff or taffy (bruh I hate using y/n catch me using any dumb nickname) Eddie picks reader up in a hug, real simpy Eddie behavior.

“I just don’t know Robin,” you explain, pulling literally at your hair from the root, “what should I do?” 

Ever since that day in the back of Wayne’s truck, you hadn’t had a single night of peace. Both Eddie and Steve were blowing up your phone. Begging for your attention. It was flattering at first. Two of Hawkins hottest at your beck and call. Each vying for your undivided, not knowing that they were competing for it. 

“Quit squirming,” Robin says in a huff between your legs, her mouth blossomed red and slick with spit, “I’ve been down here for thirty minutes and you aren’t any closer to coming than when I started.” 

Her apartment was hot and sticky, the oscillating fan on its last leg, and you were both stripped down to nothing to keep cool on your planned girls day in. A day to forget about the boys stressing you out and for Robin to get away from her annoying ex. And just like how it usually happened with her, you ended up snorting lines and making eachother buzz with orgasms. 

“Ugh, sorry,” you say annoyed, leaning up on your elbows to see her pretty face, “I just can’t relax.” 

“Tell me about it,” she says around your puffy clit, the tip of her tongue flicking it like a snake. 

You had made the boys swear to secrecy that they wouldn’t tell a soul about what had happened. But you didn’t promise anything. 

And the moment you had gotten home, you sent a text to Robin explaining every single detail, down to girth and length. 

“I think, you should date them both, try em out, what’s the worst thing that could happen?” 

“You think so?”

“Yeah, now please shut up, you’re taking forever and I’m bored.”

-

The next morning you woke with a smile on your lips. Any turmoil left in your mind on your decision had gone with Robin’s idea. 

The alarm clock on your bedside table illuminated 9:15AM and before even slipping your toes into some slippers, you sent two text messages to two recipients. 

The normal routine of your morning commenced without fail, washing your face, scrubbing your body in the shower, putting on light makeup before making a pot of coffee. 

Eddie arrived first, his motorcycle echoed loud off the parking lot as he backed it into a spot against the sidewalk. His dark curls were honeyed by the sun, a bag of Chinese takeout in one arm and a dozen roses in another. The prettiest dimples displayed on his stupid gorgeous face. 

“Hey beautiful,” he smirked, wrapping you in a hug and kissing your cheek. He smelled like muted cigarettes and bourbon cologne. The creak of his leather jacket echoed in your ears as he lifted you off the ground into a bone crushing hug, making you squeal.

“Sleep well?”

Before you could answer his smile had faded into a scowl when the door swung open and Steve stood at the threshold.  Wielding a pink box of gourmet cookies and two iced coffees, his wire framed Ray Bans pushed into his hair. 

“Munson,” he greeted, nodding to his friend in that jock head jerk. Stepping around him, Steve sets the coffees on the counter and gathers you into a hug, kissing your neck and whispering that he had missed you. 

His golden retriever vibe of tanned skin and forest colored eyes bore through you when he licked his lips. 

You pull away and smile at them. They both look so good but in completely different ways. 

Eddie’s tattoos were peeking out from under the tight white shirt he was wearing, as was a silver chain necklace. 

You were practically drooling to get your lips on his skin again. 

Steve was in light colored shorts and a casual button up, exposing the dusting of chest hair that your fingers ached to be wrapped in. If you had your way you’d take them both right here right now but that’s not what today was about. 

“Why are we both here, baby?” Eddie asks, setting the bouquet and the Chinese food on the counter, pushing away the pink box of treats from his competitor.

“It’s obvious.” Steve says with a smirk pulling on his lips, “she’s gonna let you down easy and go out with me.”  

“Always so cocky,” you tsk, trying not to look at the way his shorts are cinched at the zipper. 

You look between them, big doe whiskey colored eyes stare at you in longing, while the mossy floor ones squinted with a smirk. 

 “We need to talk, and rather me having this conversation twice- I figured we are grown ass adults and can talk about what happened.” 

Eddie nods and crosses his arms, leaning forward to not miss anything you were about to say. Meanwhile Steve leaned a hip into the wall, checking his phone. 

“Before I stroke your egos, you both know you’re hot, so I’m not going to tell you how fucking great that day was.”

“fuck yeah it was,” Steve chimed in, adjusting his length in his shorts. 

Eddie blushed a pretty salmon and shot you a wink. 

“But— I’m not choosing between the two of you, I can’t, ask Robin, I about gave her a brain aneurysm yesterday trying to figure it out.” 

You were the one on the verge of an aneurysm when you came allover her lips but that’s another story. 

“So, we’re gonna do this with no strings, no feelings, just friends hooking up and playing around. Cool?”

Eddie’s eyes fall to the tops of his boots.

“So let me get this straight,” Steve gaped, eyebrows pulled in, “you’re going to go out with the two of us... at the same time?” 

“Yeah, kinda what you do with every hussy in town Harrington.”

Steve’s gears are grinding but Eddie hasn’t said a word. 

“What the fuck Taff?” Steve huffs in annoyance. 

you banter back talking to him like he’s a child, “what’s the matter Harrington, don’t like sharing?”

“Rich boys are used to having their way.” Eddie gloats. 

“Oh fuck off,” he pours, “what about sex? Or is this like a PG thing, eating pizza at Chucke fuckin’ Cheese?” 

You cross your arms, and lick your lips, “oh we’ll be fucking, but not until you’re clean, both of you.” 

Eddie’s eyes finally perk up, he hasn’t been with anyone since last year and he was checked three months ago. 

“Oh come on!” Steve whines, “MaKenna is a virgin, and Blair and  Nicole have only blown Tommy since being with me— no need to fuck anyone else catch my drift?” 

“Sorry Harrington, I’m not risking catching anything and giving it to Eddie because you fundipped your way across campus. Show me you’re clean and it’s game on.” 

He pouts, “Jesus Christ… I’ll even wear a condom, c’mon.. I swear I’m clean.” 

“What the fuck is this 1990? I have an IUD, just get clean and we can do whatever you want.” 

Eddie feels like he has the upper hand for the first time since arriving at your apartment, “W-when does this start, sweetheart?” 

“Right now,” you shrug, “ I know you had to take off work today so I’m yours, see ya tomorrow Stevie.” 

“Such bullshit.” 

“Don’t worry buddy, I’ll take care of her while you’re off swabbing your pee hole,” Eddie says with a wave to his friend,  cockiness in his stance. 

“Be nice, boys.” 

You don’t expect what happens next but Steve grabbed your wrist and twisted you into him, kissing you square on the mouth just as firm as he did in the bed of Wayne’s truck. Rough and giving no grace he leaves you spinning even after he’s left. 

“Text me if you get bored with this one,” he says, licking his bottom lip to get one more taste of you as he walks through the door, “bye.” 

You cross the kitchen to the counter, lips still buzzing from Steve’s kiss. You pull out two forks from the proper drawer and rip some paper towels from the roll. 

Pulling out the white cardboard containers of Chinese food from the plastic sack, you plate them with shaky fingers. The fork in your hand slipping every once in a while and clanging loudly into the ceramic plate. 

“Hungry?” you ask over your shoulder.

“Starving actually,” Eddie says, “but there’s something I wanna do first.” 

You tear open a foil packet of soy sauce between your teeth and squeeze it all over the fried rice, “yeah, and what’s that?” 

Not noticing how close he was to you, his hands rest hotly on either of your hips, fingernails grazing the cotton of your shorts.

In a quick spin, you’re suddenly facing him, fork in one hand, soy sauce packet in the other. His eyes are impossibly dark, and a twist of a smirk lays on his pretty lips. 

“I wanna kiss you.” 

His lips ghost over yours and your tongue reaches for his lips but is met by nothing.

His breath fans across your lips, the sweetest of pouts escapes you, and his adam's apple bobs in his throat, swallowing your annoyance, “not here.” 

His fingers tease the waistband of your shorts, cold steel of his rings icing into your skin, dipping into it with a tentative touch. 

The zipper of his leather jacket bites into your palms as you pull him closer into you, and just like that day on the side of the road, it felt easy with Eddie.

You share the same bated breath as his fingers plunge deeper and push your underwear out of the way.  Between your slick folds he teases at your clit with his middle finger, swallowing the pretty noise you emit. 

“Wanna kiss you here,” he said with a thick fingered flick against your clit making you moan through your teeth but lips,  “need to taste you, again.” 

You moan his name and he helps you wiggle out of your shorts in a hurry. Feeling like you’re possessed at the sight of him dropping to his knees on the cold linoleum of your kitchen floor, like a sinner praying for mercy in a cathedral—you’re practically begging for his tongue where you need it most. 

Two weeks ago you and Eddie were just friends, and now he’s pulling the prettiest noises from you that would make the angels sick with worry,  

His lips kiss your thighs feverishly in his travels. Dark curls tickling against the spit from his sloppy mouth. Every sensation in your body was screaming, and you cursed out loud when he hooked your leg over his shoulder like a guitar strap. 

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he pushed this tongue into your slick, flicking against the hood of your clit, “so fuckin pretty baby, been seeing her in my dream for a week.” 

Nerves wrecked already you’re practically a puddle at his simping words, trying like hell to balance on one foot and carving your nails into the underside of the counter. But Eddie’s face could have held you up alone. 

He’s buried in your pussy. The happiest of graves. Nose, mouth chin- gone. All you can see of him down the plain of your own body are his curls. But you can feel him everywhere. 

Devil's tongue stuffed between your legs, thrashing and lapping up like a mad man starved. His groans vibrate around you and your legs quake. His fingers are pushed deep in the well of your velvet walls, another circling your ass and putting the tiniest bit of pressure there making you cry out. 

His name falls from your lips like a chant, faster and faster until your orgasm peaks and blinds you, your body losing all control from his tongue, your knuckles go white when you grab his hair, holding him right where you need him. 

“Fuck,” he groans, wrapping his lips around your sensitive clit once more before he adjusts your panties back into place. Your fingers ache from the grip you had on the counter and in his locks. 

Kissing the delicate fabric around the apex of your thighs, he whispers softly, “I could do that everyday.” 

He helps you step back into your shorts, that glorious tongue poking out in concentration, and he looks up at you with a shy smile, standing and holding your hands.

“With a tongue like that, I might let you.” 

“Don’t tease me Taffy, I’m still hard.” 

And now it was your turn to be needy. You pull the lapels of his leather jacket into you and you kiss his slick coated lips, he tastes like you and the salty soy sauce that was still on your lip. 

Kissing Eddie was different than Steve, he painted your mouth the same way he lapped at your folds. If you never caught your breath— that would be fine with you. Your head spun around his web and you were tangled in it. 

His hands wrap around your back and one holds your face. It was deeply passionate, and your heart was bursting, your lips move to his neck and you suck and bite a mark into him, and he whimpers when your kisses go small. 

“This is gonna get cold Eddie,” you say against the column of his throat. 

“Let it, I’ll buy more.” 

You grin into his skin and he laughs when you tickle his sides, “c’mon,” you urge. 

And Eddie gets in one last kiss before breaking away, pulling your lip down with his thumb, and you shudder at the way he looks at you as if you’re the only girl on the planet, “if you say so.” 

-

The Chinese needed to be s microwaved but it was still good., The hunan pork was tender and juicy, and the lo mein noodles were to die for. You and Eddie sat side by side on the barstools and talked like you always had. He had a gig this weekend and when he asked if you were coming you said of course you were, a quirk to your brow. 

“Alright,” he said, putting alot of effort and concentration into twirling a noodle with his fork, “just wasn’t sure.” 

You leaned forward and kissed sauce from the corner of his mouth, and your core ached and pulsed at the sight of his boyish grin and blushing cheeks. 

“Wouldn’t miss it, even if it is Steve’s night.” 

He accepted a bite from your fork of fried rice, and almost melted when you held pinched fingers up to his mouth of a ripped piece of crab rangoon. 

“We’re still cool, right?” he asks after crushing the bite between his teeth, his eyes watching you put your fingers in your mouth and nodding. 

“So c-can I ask you something as a friend?” 

His brows are pinched in a furrow and you know he’s uneasy about something. 

You slurp a noodle into your mouth and talk with a mouthful, a hand in front of your face, “spit it out, Munson.” 

His fork clanks on the plate as he sets it down and gives the plate away. He runs a hand through his hair, and leans on his elbows and picks at his rings. 

“So, why— I mean, why the both of us. You and Harrington can’t even stand each other.” 

He was right, before last week you and Steve could barely be in the same room together, and now you were agreeing to fuck with no strings attached. 

“It’s physical with Steve, like pure animalistic instinct. There’s no thoughts, and I think us hating each other just makes it that much better.” 

Eddie’s weight shifts on the stool and his eyes never leave his rings, spinning them in a nervous habit. 

“So you don’t like him like that?” 

And the truth of his question falls through but you refuse to answer it, you have your own questions to ask, you toss the paper napkin onto your plate and mimic his actions, pushing it ahead on the counter. 

“Eddie.. are you jealous?” 

You leaned into him, the pads of your fingers daintily walking up his thigh, your eyes blink slow in a lazy seduction and fuck he’s practically putty in your hands. 

He licks his lips feverishly, suddenly hot around the collar and his heart hammered a rhythm loud enough to make a tune out of it. 

“N-no,” pppft he stammers, “I’m not jealous,” he tries his best not to catch your eye but once he does those hersheys bars give him away and a bubble gum blush tickles his cheeks. He clears his throat with an ahem, and raps his knuckles on the counter. 

You stand and wiggle between his legs, pressing one hand further into his crotch and the other on his chest, toying with his necklace, your finger skating the pick left and right the chain making a zippered like noise. 

“Tell me what you want, baby.” 

Eddie is floored, wilting like a flower— all the oxygen and water ran out from the                                                            √≈petals. His mouth was almost glued shut, it’s so dry, Sahara would be jealous. 

Your lips pucker behind his ear and the filth you’re whispering to him sends shivers down his spine. It’s lust  licked and heavy, want me to touch you, or do you wanna touch me? 

He answers with a dry groan and a swallow, and his hands find your hips spinning you around,his lips ghost over your neck and you throw your head back into him, pushing your ass into him to feel the swell of his bulge in his jeans. 

He’s rutting into your doughy ass, his fat cock loving the friction you’re bouncing against him, you move your hips and grind further into him. 

“Fuck baby,” he moans hot against the shell of your ear, catching in his throat. 

His hands creep under the hem of your shirt and skate against your skin, the smooth of his nails electrifying each touch. They work along your curves, his big thick hands touching every inch of your skin, rubbing along the lacy edge of your maroon bralette. 

The pads of his thumbs graze against your peaked nipples and you exhale. You're surrounded by the sharp spice of his cologne, the muted cigarettes clinging to his jacket, it encompassed you, held you like a hug and had your eyes rolling in the back of your head. 

It felt too good. His lips hummed against your neck, vibrating hot and sending goosebumps along your skin, and you wanted more. Needed more. 

You followed his hands, tracing the veins on the tops of them with your fingers, pushing your palm flat against them, making him squeeze at your tits, and you purred out his name, a shade away from whining. 

Fuck you wanted him so bad. And judging by the firmness of his cock beneath your asscheeks, he wanted you just as badly. 

You spun quickly, grabbing his hands and leading him to the couch, his lips were red from sucking on your neck, bangs were pushed up awkwardly from the position his head was buried into your shoulder. He looked drunk, enamored with something you didn’t recognize.

The leather of his belt was heavy in your fingers as you unraveled it through the buckle and the first loop on his jeans. His eyes never left yours as your fingers flipped the button and pushed his jeans down his hips. 

He shuddered a breath when your hand cupped him in his boxers, the velvet of his skin soft and warm in your soft grip. He was bigger than you remembered, thick like a stout of beer.

“Christ Taff,” he breathed when you stroked him fully, the pad of your finger running over the vein that ran along his cock. 

You looked at him through your lashes as you lowered yourself to the ground, dragging his jeans and boxers with you, “this what you wanted big boy? Wanted me on my knees for you?”

He hums and holds your chin, brushing his thumb across your lips. 

Licking the tip of his thumb, you hold his heavy cock in your hands, stroking his shaft slow then fast, “you’re so big, Eddie.”

He swallows his next words when your tongue circles his head, collecting the precum with each devilish swipe. You stick out your tongue to show him the pearl in your mouth, and he almost combusts when you swallow it with a hum. 

“Yummy.”

He’s certain he’s going to die right here in your living room, looking at you with your pink tongue swirling around his cock, the way your lips suction around him, fuck, you haven’t even put him fully in your mouth yet and he’s a goddamn mess. 

The teasing is too much but he’ll take whatever you give him, if you were to stop now he’d be completely satisfied, he’d have to pump his cock furiously when he got home to make the ache go away but, he’d do it. 

But you don’t stop, fuck no. You’re just getting started. You like him like this, flushed in his cheeks and waiting patiently for your mouth. His mouth opening as yours does. Waiting, pleading, hoping that you would finally let your wet warmth surround him. 

And then you do. 

He stretched your mouth cheek to cheek, a literal mouthful. And he hums. Is he thanking God? You hide your giggle, deciding to take him further into your throat as you hollow your cheeks and slide him deeper with the help of his canting hips. 

You hum around him and it tickles him, but he’s so drunk on your mouth he’s muttering sentences that don’t even make sense. 

Pumping your hands along his shaft you dribble spit from your throat to the head of his dick, a slimy string connecting you mouth, one that you slurp back up and take him in deeper. His knees are bent and he pulled his shirt under his chin, wanting to see you fully with his cock stuffed in your mouth, your pretty eyes are teary and he can feel you gag around him before he pulls out and you come back for more. 

He’s not sure how long you’ve been at this, and he’s trying to keep his mind averted to anything other than your slippery throat and the cute way your eyes are looking up at him. 

This was better than the way you sucked him off in the bed of Wayne’s truck. You were solely focused on him here. No other distractions, just you and him. 

“Look so fucking pretty, baby,” he moaned, reaching down to hold your cheek, his thumb wipes away some of your smudged make up from your eye, “ do you know that?”

You nod with him in your throat, and he breathes more nonsense as he looks to the ceiling and runs his fingers through his hair, trying not to convulse, but he can’t take it any more, you're working his dick like you’re short on rent. 

“Fuck, sweet girl, fuck,” Eddie whines, scrubbing his hands down his face, his stomach burning to give in to you,  I— shit shit shit, ‘m gonna come.”

He works his hips away from you but you wrap your arms around the back of his knees, holding him with his dick still in your mouth, waiting like a kitten for milk.

He cums hard, biting through his bottom lip to keep himself from yelling out loud. You don’t stop bobbing your throat, swirling your tongue, around his length and puckering your lips around him. 

With his load in your mouth you paint his cock with it, moving it around and around with your excess spit, a hurricane against your tornado tongue, you finally swallow, sucking in your cheeks once more, and cleaning Eddie off in one swoop. His cries fill the room and you finally release him with a pop. 

“Jesus, fuck.” He exhales, sleepy eyed. His reddened swollen cock hanging between you both, “c’mere.” 

He helps you to your feet, and you tuck him back into his boxers gently. He mutters an embarrassed thanks, you’re smiling up at him with a cocky little smirk. Completely ready for him to pull up his jeans, maybe get himself a beer from your fridge, but he doesn’t. 

Eddie holds you to him, his forehead leaning on yours, big hands wrapped around the small of your back. His erratic breath plumed through his nose and his chest was beating fast. You’ve never seen him like this, “Eddie?” 

He doesn’t let go, doesn’t say anything, he just moves back to press the lightest of  kisses to the tip of your nose. “You, “ he finally says, licking his lips and rolling his eyes into the back of his head, finally focusing back on you, he pulls you closer, enough that his eyes are all you can see.

But whatever he was going to say is stuck in his throat, he never finishes what he was going to say. Just pulls you into him and holds you there, his lips on your neck, kissing you softly. It was a perfect day. You should have known it wouldn’t have been weird between you and Eddie, falling back into sync as best friends and laughing while snacking on m&m’s and smoking from his dab pen. 

You end up falling asleep on your bed together, tired from exerting so much energy and bellies full of Chinese. Netflix asks, are you still watching YOU? on the tv on your dresser. Eddie’s tossing and turning wakes you and you grab your phone to check the time. 5 o’clock. Taking an almost four  hour nap, but in reality it felt like four days straight. 

But that's not the only surprising thing on your phone. 

A litter of texts. From the same occupant. The other half of this agreement. 

hope you enjoyed, seems like Steve isn’t too thrilled right?

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[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4861

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

11. Palmiers

Bucky

Because he’s on the far end of the spectrum, Bucky’s sex drive is affected by his condition. He wakes up hard almost every morning of his life, and Steve doesn’t need much encouragement to get himself worked up into the same state very quickly. Mutual morning jerk offs were always bound to become part of their routine.

They take a shower and stand toe to toe, hands sliding and groping all over each others’ slick bodies, pulling on their cocks until both of them are shooting off against each other’s bellies. The water washes it away, and Steve gives him a deep, happy kiss. “Mmm. Mornin’.”

“Blegch. Go brush your teeth, you heathen.”

Steve laughs and gets out of the shower. Bucky stays in for a few minutes longer, adjusting the spray to its hardest setting and letting the hot water beat down on his back and shoulders. He sighs and stretches his neck this way and that, trying to get his vertebrae to pop, but his muscles are all too tight, and the stretching just seems to make it worse. Bucky drops his head in defeat. In all honesty, his shoulders and neck and back are all pretty fucked after months of near-constant use of his prosthetic.

Steve’s right: he doesn’t usually wear it this much. And he’s also right that Bucky’s been wearing it all day every day because he wants to feel powerful and able bodied in front of Mary. As per usual, Steve is the first one to have noticed what maladaptive behavior pattern he’s doing and why, and pointed it out to him. It really is for the best, Bucky knows. Because he can’t sustain wearing the arm all the time anymore. The thing is just too damn heavy.

The engineers who designed it have made tweaks and adjustments over the years. They’ve done all they can to lighten the load as much as possible, but the thing still weighs over twenty pounds. Twenty pounds doesn’t sound like much, but when it’s pulling on the same muscle groups day in and day out, everything in Bucky’s body winds up getting strained and unbalanced. He understands better now, how women fuck up their necks so badly from shouldering their purses (or their tits) around. A little bit of weight makes a big difference.

As a Dom, Bucky may have a tiny problem admitting when he needs help. He has to be in quite a bit of pain, trouble, or both, before he’ll ever speak up and allow himself to be vulnerable like that. It’s an inherent behavior that shrinks have been trying to therapize and medicate out of him since he was a kid, but nothing ever changed it much. Falling in love with Steve helped; Bucky can let himself be more vulnerable around him. But even still, it’s no small thing that he regularly approaches his husband to ask for help in getting his arm back on correctly (Bucky can do it, but it’s a pain in the ass, getting the mechanism lined up just right before it’ll take). 

He gets out of the shower and dries off, then approaches Steve with the prosthesis. “Gimme a hand?” 

Steve makes a cheerful noise of acknowledgement around his mouthful of toothpaste, spits and rinses, then takes the arm from Bucky. He lines it up just so, and then Bucky feels the deep shudder of the arm’s inner workings coming to life as they recognize their mate. The arm attaches and Steve lets go. 

“Thanks babe.”

“Uh huh.” 

It’s as Bucky’s bending over and pulling up his underwear and joggers that a spasm runs through his back and he cries out in a pained, “Ah!”

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

Gritting his teeth, Bucky slowly stands back up. He’s able to get his pants up, but when he tests the movement of his neck and shoulders, the pain flares again. It feels like everything between the base of his skull and his mid back is seizing up. “Fuck,” he hisses, frustrated. It’s his day off. He’d been planning to go to the gym for his long workout. 

Steve steps up and puts a worried hand on his left shoulder. “Babe? Do you need it off?” 

“No. I need some painkillers and a magnesium tablet,” he grunts, already turning around (full body, because turning his head is a bad idea right now). “Fuck.” He starts off for the kitchen. 

Steve follows along with worried protests, telling him to lay his “stubborn ass” down and he’ll get it for him. Bucky ignores him and goes to the kitchen cabinet where they keep their supplement stuff. He winds up yelling again when he tries to reach up and grab the ibuprofen. “Fuck!” he says angrily.

“Babe, I said to let me do it,” Steve scolds, his hand back on Bucky’s shoulder. “And let me take this off. It’s hurting you.”

“Steve, back off,” he snaps, angry and waspish from being in pain, and from being frustrated with his own goddamn body. 

“What’s going on?” 

Bucky turns his head without thinking, hisses in pain, and then turns himself full-body to face in Mary’s direction. She’s standing there looking at the two of them in concern, one hand holding one of those swirly, flaky, crack-cookies that she makes, and the other holding a cup of tea. Her eyes widen at the sight of Bucky’s arm and body, reminding him that this is the first time she’s seen him without a shirt on. “Nothin’,” Bucky grunts.

“Shit,” she says. “Are you guys fighting? Is this a couples’ fight? I’ll just …” She turns to leave back towards her room.

“We’re not fighting,” Steve says. “Buck’s just being an ass. He gets that way when he’s in pain.”

Bucky would turn his head to glare at him, but it isn’t worth another flair of agony in his shoulder. “I’m fine,” he says, when Mary comes back over. “It’s fine,” he stresses. He opens the pill bottle and dumps three capsules into his palm. “Jeez, will everybody stop babying me? I just need a glass of water.” 

“I’ll get it,” Steve says, causing Bucky to huff once again. “Don’t be a jerk, babe.”

“Why are you in pain?” Mary asks, her eyes tracing all over the left side of Bucky’s scarred up body. “Is it … does your arm hurt?” 

“No. It just fucks up my muscles, sometimes.”

“Your muscles?”

Bucky sighs impatiently. “Steve, do you know where the heating pad is?”

“I’ll have to look.” Steve has returned with a glass of water, and Bucky tosses back the handful of pills, wincing at how even the slight motion of raising his arm up makes his trap twinge in protest. “Ugh.” 

“You should get a massage,” Mary suggests, and Bucky fights not to lash out at her. She doesn’t know that one of his biggest pet peeves in life is having other people tell him what he “should” do.

“My PT maxed out back in October,” he tells her. “Doesn’t renew again till January.”

Steve takes the water glass from him once he’s done. “Go lie face down on the bed,” he murmurs. “I’ll find the heating pad.”

“Well I could do it,” Mary blurts out. Both Bucky and Steve pause and look at her. She looks surprised, too, as though she hadn’t been planning to say the words until they were out of her mouth, and now doesn’t know how to continue  “Um, that is ..." she gestures weakly with her cookie. “I just meant I know how to, if you wanted.” Eventually her cheeks color and she looks away. “Erm, Nevermind.”

“Wait,” Steve says. When Mary turns back, he’s looking at her earnestly, and Bucky thinks, Oh no. “You know how to give a back massage? Like a real one?”

“Yeah. My, ah, my ex always had neck problems, so.” She shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I took a class at the community college, learned the basics.”

Bucky blinks. That’s the subbiest fucking thing he’s ever heard. “You did this for the husband that beat you?” he drawls, immediately regretting it because it comes out sounding way more derogatory than he intends it to. “Sorry. I just … actually would pay good money for a massage right now. If you know how to do it.” 

Mary bites her lip, looking deliciously shy and sweet. Bucky’s mood sours as he realizes that she doesn’t really want to. He’s about to let her off the hook, but then some unconscious movement he makes without meaning to has him flinching in pain again. “Sheezus,” he complains. 

“It’s not usually this bad,” Steve worries.

“I must’a slept on it wrong.”

Mary nods, as if this settles it. “Okay. Well, go in the bedroom and tie your hair up so it's out of the way.” She turns to Steve, all but dismissing Bucky now that she’s got a task to complete. Bucky fights back an amused smirk as he heads towards the bedroom, and he hears Mary bossing Steve around, telling him she needs dry oil, the heating pad, towels, and all the seat cushions off the couch. 

The fuck does she need those for? Bucky thinks as he pads back into his and Steve’s room.

He finds out a moment later, when Mary and Steve come in with a couch cushion each, and Steve goes back out to get another. They lay them in a line on the bed, and Mary directs Bucky to lie on top of them, with his body placed just so and his face down just there, and … Oh. He gets it.

She’s left space between the cushion under Bucky’s chest, and the next cushion up, which supports his forehead. The gap creates a drop through for his face—like a massage table. And when she shapes the towel into a donut shape and sticks it there, it's pretty much perfect.

“Oh,” Bucky says, as he’s settling into place. “Oh, that’s actually really smart.” He can’t see Mary from his position, but somehow he senses her preening over the praise anyway. Steve returns from the bathroom with the heating pad and oil. “Found this stuffed in the back of the linen closet. I don’t know what ‘jojoba’ is, but, um … it’s either that or the virgin olive out in the pantry.”

“Do not use that,” Bucky grumbles. “Shit’s expensive, and I don’t wanna smell like garlic truffle for the next three days.”

“That’ll work fine.” Mary is totally task focused, ignoring Bucky’s surliness and telling Steve to apply the heating pad across Bucky’s shoulders and neck for thirty minutes before they get started.

“Thirty minutes?!” Bucky complains, unable to see anything but the top of the bedcovers as the two of them go out into the hallway. 

“Just relax, Babe,” Steve says (and if Bucky isn’t mistaken, he sounds amused). “Take a nap.”

“I just woke up!” He scoffs at the bedspread when the door quietly ‘snicks’ shut and he realizes that he’s been abandoned. “Well okay then,” he mutters petulantly. Steve is right: he does turn into an ass when he’s in pain. Hmm. Maybe he should work on that.

Steve

Steve turns the tv onto a low volume so they can talk without Bucky hearing. “Sorry about him,” he says. “He’s a humongous jerk whenever he’s feeling crummy.”

“You mean it’s not just all the time?” Mary drawls.

“He’s … just one of those people you have to learn to love before you like them.” Mary raises an eyebrow, and Steve winces. “Er, that sounded harsh. Don’t tell him I said that.”

She twists her lips and looks down. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“Thanks, Hon. You want more tea?” 

“Yes please. There’s more of the palmiers in a baggie next to the coffee pot, if you want any.” 

“Heck yeah, I love those things.” Steve had thought the prepackaged ones at Starbucks were good, hadn’t even realized that they weren’t supposed to be all stale and hard like that. Just another commercialized pastry that Mary’s gone and ruined him for. He goes into the kitchen and makes himself coffee and Mary tea, knowing by now how she takes it.

She thanks him silently as he returns and joins her on the couch, both of them sitting close to one another on the chaise, since it’s the only part of the couch that still has its cushion.

"Palmier is French. Know what else they call these?" Mary asks.

Steve's lips quirk. Mary's always got these little facts she knows about the origins of this pastry or that. It's cute. Endearing. "No," he plays along. "What?"

"Elephant ears, because of the shape, see?"

"Oh yeah. Huh. That's neat."

She goes back to eating and sipping at her teacup, and after a moment of unrequited, affectionate staring, Steve looks away. "Elephant ears," he murmurs, trying not to be mopey. "That's funny."

They split the palmiers between them, and aside from the sounds of them munching cookies and sipping their drinks, it’s quiet for a long time. Steve made both the tea and the coffee very hot, so they at least have the excuse of cradling and blowing on their steaming mugs to keep the silence from being too awkward. Mary keeps her eyes trained forward, but Steve gets the sense that she isn’t really paying attention to the home renovation program that’s playing on the tv. His suspicions are confirmed when she eventually asks,

“So: His arm.”

Steve inhales slowly. “Yeah. His arm.”

“What happened?”

Steve frowns. He can tell by her inflection that she’s asking not just about the arm, but about the state of Bucky’s entire left side from shoulder to hip. “We were in the army,” he confides. “Deployed overseas. I made captain young, but he was a specialist in the field: a sniper. So I wasn’t put into the same types of situations as he was. His convoy got blown up by an IED. And when the dust settled …” He shrugs. “No more arm.”

“Oh.” Mary sits there and absorbs that information. “I guess I kind of figured it was something like that. I mean what else is there, besides like, a shark attack or something?”

Steve’s mouth twitches. Shark attack, ha. He’ll have to suggest that one to Buck. Might be fun to lie about, the next time a stranger asks. “Naw, just a boring old bomb. And afterwards, well. It was a long road for him, after. He didn’t have the arm when I met him.”

Mary turns her head, surprised. “Oh. You two didn’t meet in the army?”

“No, after. I met him at the V.A., when he was already angry, hurt, and didn’t want to be where he was.” Steve looks over and gives her a meaningful look. “Kind of like when I first met you.” 

Her eyes widen, and then her face colors and she looks away again, pulling her knees up and hunkering over her mug. “Was I really that bad?” she mumbles.

“... You were pretty bad, Honey.”

She frowns and doesn’t say anything, and Steve decides to leave it alone. “So yeah, his arm. He got into a program for experimental cybernetics. It was a big gamble. Back then, he still had his arm down to nearly the elbow, which meant he could use a lot of the different types of prostheses they had on the market. The less arm you have, the less they can do for you. The surgeries for the implant required removal all the way up to and including his left shoulder blade. So if he went through with it and the procedures didn’t work out, he’d be left with less function than he started with.”

“Jeez.”

“Hm, yeah. It was a risk.” Steve stares across the living room as he remembers all of the hospital stays and surgeries and revisions and therapy appointments. “Luckily it worked out. They replaced some bones with metal supports, some of his natural muscle with enhanced synthetic tissue. His body didn’t reject any of the junk they were putting in him, which was the biggest worry. All in all, it took five surgeries over the course of three years, and then a shit ton of physiotherapy. Buck says it was worth it, now, but it wasn’t a walk in the park when it was happening, I’ll tell you that.”

Beside him, Mary makes a sad little noise in her throat. “But … all that and it still gives him pain?”

“Yeah. He gets PT for it, but like he said; it never winds up lasting the full year. I force him to my veterans' support group when I can, but he’s gotta be in a really charitable mood for that.” Steve snorts humorlessly. “He’s always hated being disabled. It doesn’t jive with his DPD. You know that stereotype about men: never wanting to stop and ask for directions?” 

“Yeah.”

"Well it's true. And then you take a guy who’s as far on the spectrum as Bucky is, and it’s ten times worse.” He widens his eyes in emphasis and gets a little giggle out of Mary for it, which makes him warm with pride. He pulls his feet up onto the couch next to Mary’s and nudges her knee with his. “Just fair warning: He’s the worst patient I’ve ever seen. So don’t take it personally if he’s grumpy at you in there.”

Mary frowns and looks away. “Well, I mean I don’t have to do this. If he doesn’t want to.”

“Pretty sure he wants to. And he needs help with it, whether his stubborn ass wants to admit it or not.”

She nods, though she still doesn’t look confident. “It’s been over a year since I worked on anybody …”

“Well then this’ll be good practice for you, won’t it?” Steve nudges her again in encouragement and tells her to finish up her tea: He doesn’t expect Bucky’ll lie around patiently for much longer.

(“Oh, and Hon, maybe don’t tell him we were out here talking about him this whole time.”)

(“Duh.”)

In the bedroom, Mary climbs onto the bed next to where Bucky is laid out on the couch cushions. She takes the heating pad off his neck and puts it aside, looking nervously over the broad expanse of his back. “Um …” She reaches for the oil bottle and pumps some into her hands. She spends a long, long time just spreading it between her hands and staring at Bucky, until finally he snaps,

“What’s the holdup?” 

“Babe, be nice,” Steve warns. “Mary? You need anything?”

“Um, no. It’s just … usually I'd ..." She makes an aborted move, like she's thinking about repositioning herself, but winds up staying where she is. "Right," she mutters to herself. "This'll work fine." She reaches forward like she’ll start rubbing Bucky’s back, hesitates, shuffles closer to his side, then sets her hands on his shoulders.

Bucky doesn’t so much as twitch, but he’s not used to new people touching him, and Steve would bet money that his eyes are clenched shut right now.

“Okay,” Mary warns. “I haven’t done this in awhile, so don’t get your hopes up for a miracle or anything.”

“Anything’ll be better than what I can do myself,” Bucky says gruffly, voice somewhat muffled by the cushions. “Just go to town. You can’t hurt me any worse.”

Steve can see Mary’s face, and he knows by now what she looks like when she’s flustered. Awkwardly, he steps to the side, heading for the door. “I’ll just go watch some—”

“No!” Mary squeaks, and when Steve turns back around she’s looking at him with wide eyes. “Don’t leave,” she says, like being left alone touching Bucky is the worst possible thing that could happen. Steve doesn’t miss how the muscles in Bucky’s arms do tense at hearing her plead for Steve to stay. 

“Uhm, okay. I’ll just … be over here.” He leans back against the dresser, feeling almost painfully awkward. Once again, he’s reminded how Mary has shown absolutely no desire to engage in sexual contact with them. He hopes she doesn’t think this is a ploy to force physical contact. She was the one who suggested it, after all.

She starts at the base of Bucky’s skull, rubbing her thumbs in small circles. “As I go along, try to tell me which areas feel the worst,” she murmurs, and Bucky hums in acknowledgement. Steve watches as she pushes and circles and kneads Bucky’s neck, working down on into his shoulders. He’s struck by how feminine and tiny her hands look against Bucky’s body … and then has to steer his mind away from the thought of how tiny they might look in other places.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky gasps, when she reaches a certain spot on the left side of his neck.

She freezes. “Bad?” 

“Nngh. Good,” he slurs. “That whole area from there goin’ down into my back ‘n all around my shoulder blade is where it’s worst.”

“Okay.” She tentatively presses around in and around the left side of his neck and shoulder. “Oh, yeah. It starts right here and goes down.” She slides her hand down the muscle and hums. “Oh, I can feel it.”

(Steve tries really hard not to think sexual thoughts.)

“Riiight here? and … here?"

Between the cushions, Bucky’s voice comes out in a series of garbled moans.

“That’d be a yes,” Steve interprets, and Mary actually shoots him a grin at that. Glad to have cut the tension a bit, he dares to take a few steps closer to the bed. He peers down at what Mary’s doing, the way her fingers dig in at sharp, focused points in some places and rub more gently in others. “It’s your trap that’s the worst,” she mutters distractedly, feeling around with her hands and staring off into space with the tip of her tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth. It’s cute. “Mmm, but probably your levator scapulae, too. Those tend to get fucked up hand in hand.”

“Mmrr.”

“And here: your rhomboid.”

“Ooh!”

“Tender?” 

“Shuyeahhh,” Bucky grunts, then his breath hitches when she digs into another spot. “Oh, yep yep right there. Was’that?”

Steve can’t help but grin. Bucky sounds like he’s drooling at this point.

“Your trapezius muscle. It's big. Does a lot of work, covers a large area. Probably the main offender.” Mary hums and feels around a little more. “Oof, yeah. You’ve got a whole bunch of tension right here.”

“You can feel it?” Steve asks, fascinated. He can't see anything.

“Yeah. Here, gimme your hand.” Steve is taken aback when she grabs his hand and guides his fingers into place, her own smaller hand pressing down. “Riiight there. You feel it?”

Steve swallows thickly. “Ah, yeah.” His eyes flick from her hand on his hand on Bucky’s back, up to her face, and back again before she can catch him looking. “Y-yeah it’s hard.” He grimaces at his choice of words (If he's not careful, "it" soon will be).

“I’m gonna focus on this one for a few minutes,” Mary tells Bucky. Then you can guide me around to the other bad spots.”

“Sounds good,” he slurs. Steve is about to take a step back again, but then Bucky calls out, “Hey Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Pay attention to what she’s doin’. It feels really fuckin’ good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mmhm. You can learn n' do it next time,” he says dreamily. On his back, Mary’s hands still for the briefest of seconds. “S’goood.”

Steve nods and comes back to sit on the bed. “Okay,” he agrees, scooting in close and glancing at Mary. Her face looks pinched all of a sudden, her expression stiffened as if in annoyance. “I promise I’m not as dumb as I look,” he jokes, and watches as her face smooths out and she smiles a little.

“Oh! Oh no it’s … it’s okay, I don’t mind. I’ll teach you how.”

“Don’t mind me, m’just a teaching tool,” Bucky drawls, and Steve laughs and pats his shoulder. 

“Yeah you are. So shut up and let her teach.”

Bucky grunts and shuts up. Steve looks to Mary for instruction. He can tell she’s uncomfortable, but she manages to hide it well and keep herself on track. The more he pays attention, the sooner she can get herself out of this and never have to do it again. “Ready to learn,” he tells her.

“Now when you’re doing this, you can get more leverage if you straddle his waist.” She says this like it’s a foregone assumption that she would never dare to sit on Bucky’s waist, and Steve is sure she doesn’t notice the grumpy huff of breath Bucky gives.

“Right,” Steve says, pained. “Okay, so where are the bad spots again?”

“Put your hand here.” She takes his hand again and places it just to the left of Bucky’s spine at the level of his shoulder blade. “Slide your fingers out. There. Feel that difference? Feel how it changes when you move out to just … there?” She guides his fingers, and Steve nods. 

“Y-yeah.” Mostly, he’s just thinking about how nice Mary’s warm, oiled, tiny hand feels guiding his hand around. “Yeah.”

“The trap’s on top, but there are other muscles underneath of this one, and that differentiation you feel is where the rhomboid is ending and the—”

She keeps talking, and Steve tries to pay attention and learn, he really does. But his mind is a veritable sieve, for how well he retains the information. It’s all in one ear and out the other, ninety percent of his attention stuck on Mary’s hands on him, guiding him, pressing on his fingers and gliding his touch over Bucky’s skin. Fuck, how did they wind up here? 

Eventually, having taught Steve the basics, Mary lets him go and works on Bucky’s shoulders for a little while more. For the most part it’s quiet, with Bucky making soft grunts of pain whenever she finds a new cluster of knotted muscle, and sighs of relief once she works them out. 

Her hands linger on Bucky’s mid back when she’s done. She doesn’t seem to know what to do. “Erm. Okay. I think … I think that’s it.”

When neither Bucky nor Steve says anything, she retreats on her own, getting off the bed and looking between Bucky’s prone form and Steve’s sorrowful expression. “So, kay. You can get up, if you want. Just move slowly.”

Bucky’s right hand gives her the thumbs up symbol, but the entire rest of his body doesn’t move. “Thanks Mare. Just give us a second. That was really good. Thank you. Thanks for teaching Steve.”

It’s the “Thanks for teaching Steve” that seems to do it. Mary’s expression firms up and she nods curtly, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. Steve stays sitting on the bed next to Bucky in silence for a long minute, then says knowingly, “Got a boner?”

“Yep.”

*To anyone who's only ever had store bought, pre-packaged palmiers: I'm so sorry. Along with Madeleines, those should never be eaten more than a few hours max after they've been baked.

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🧡💜First annual RazLili week💜🧡

Alright trying to give this a shot, so here goes nothing!

Similar to many other art challenges, there's going to be a daily prompt that you can make a drawing, fanfic, etc. With that involves a certain type of theme. This theme is Raz/Lili!

The prompts will be listed under the read more down below, but allow me to lay some stuff out that you may have questions about.

💜 First things first: You can join in whenever you want!

🧡 The event will last from September 1st-7th

💜 There will be prizes! Since I'm the only one hosting, I'll be giving people who makes something for every day, a free sketch request of a PN character/AU/OC!

🧡 Back on the topic of prizes, if you want a sketch you have to make something for EVERY DAY.

💜 If there's a chance, say, you miss a day, but decide to draw the prompt from yesterday along with today's prompt, that works too!

🧡 The tag used will be raziliweek2024! Be sure to use it so I can see your stuff! You can also use character and fandom tags so people can see it too

💜 I'm going to try and reblog every post in the tag, so there's a chance its going to take me a hot minute to get to yours. If it's been a while though and I still haven't interacted with your post, it's okay to tag me!

🧡 You can use AUs!

💜Remember, these characters are children canonicaly. Anything too far/outright NSFW will not be accepted. (NSFW also includes any extreme violence/gore)

🧡 Dont feel pressured to draw everyday, esp if you're only doing it for fun. If there's a prompt you aren't interested in/don't know what to do with, you can just skip it until the next day

If you have anymore questions feel free to send me an ask! Jsyk, I'll be participating myself this year to try and help give it more attention. As promised, here's the prompt list! (Shout out to @loudlychoppedbread @iamblue15 @feral-witch-hat for helping with some of the prompts )

👇👇👇

💜 Animals

🧡 Argue

💜 Shopping

🧡 Parallel

💜 Kiss

🧡 Radio

💜 Comfort

[rotthepoet]

In love with your writing, specially bsf!theo. I’m in such an angst mood. Everyone knows we’re in love with Theo and he’s in love with us besides the two of us. Longing with fwb to lovers? Maybe some more smut if you’re feeling spicy?

IN LOVE WITH YOU, POOKIE!!! If theres one thing I know how to do its YEARN and LONG so lets hope that translates into writing 🙏 it’s been a hot minute since I wrote an actual fic, and i took a few liberties with your rq, so please let me know how you feel about it!

Notes: i typically write for a gn!reader, but I really hope everyone can forgive me for writing in a FEM perspective today. It just makes writing smut a tad bit easier on me(an afab person)

Content warnings: As always, Hogwarts University AU, Characters are all 18+, Draco Malfoy calls Nott a fat ass(degrading eating habits, commenting on working out), Theo’s mom is dead, mutual pining but being too stupid to figure it out, crying during sex but not in a hot way(no safe word used/tech needed), angstyish to comfort, use of drugs(weed), SMUT, oral(fem receiving), kinda proofread? Please let me know if I miss anything major.

Things only got more intense as the… situation went on. Hooking up had become significantly more common, almost a daily occurrence. You found your mind drifting to Theodore more often than not, thinking about how disheveled his hair looked in the morning, or how the first words he mumbled when he saw you today were “Hello, beautiful”.

Your thoughts never strayed too far from Theodore, and to be honest, it felt like he never strayed too far from you.

In the most recent months, it felt like you two had become inseparable. That’s not to say it was a bad thing at all, oh no in fact, it made you quite happy to know he was around. He was your friend after all. The sex-thing, as you opted to call it, was just a benefit you both indulged in time to time.

Of course, neither of you dared to openly admit your scandalous behavior together. It wasn’t anyone’s business, even as Theodore had started seeing less women and spending less nights out partying. It wasn’t anyone’s business when Theo wrapped an arm around your shoulder while walking around Hogsmeade, or when he smiled at you when you weren’t looking. It wasn’t anyone’s business whenever Theo stopped sleeping around completely, and it certainly wasn’t their business when he beat the shit out of one of the Weasley twins for accidentally catching you in the crossfire of a loose prank.

It wasn’t anyone’s business besides the two of yours, and for the most part people had began to ignore it, except for a select group of close friends.

A day didn’t go by where you weren’t pestered by one of Theodore’s friends. They collectively figured that you were more likely to break under pressure than Theo was. It was ruthless.

Draco Malfoy stands at the front of your desk, glaring down at you. “You know you’re just another one of his phases. He does this. Falls helplessly in love with a girl, dedicates his entire time to her, only to remember he isn’t built for that life. It’s about time you save yourself the trouble. I’m only trying to help.”

Not everyone was as terrible as Draco, thankfully.

Mattheo Riddle would approach you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist, putting on his most convincing Theodore impression. “Ciao, Bella,” even his most convincing impression wasn’t very good, “My room or yours?”

Sometimes you play along, running your hands over Mattheo’s in a way that makes his skin prick with goosebumps. “I was thinking we could do it on Matt’s bed again.”

That usually get’s you a hard shove away if Theodore hadn’t already spotted the situation.

Lorenzo Berkshire isn’t as insistent, just staring at the two of you, raising a brow whenever he finds you hand in hand. He draws a huge smirk on his face every time he sees you alone.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

“You mean your boyfriend? I see the way you look at him, don’t play dumb Enzo.”

He doesn’t like that game as much. Usually scoffs and ignores you.

Then there was Blaise Zabini.

Blaise Zabini.

He knows more than he should. Far more than he should. He watches. He listens. He knows. He perceives.

The first time Blaise found you asleep in Theo’s arms, it was early in the morning. Their little clique never missed breakfast together unless something drastic had happened. So, whenever Theodore didn’t show up for breakfast, Blaise volunteered to check on him. Only Draco questioned it when Blaise grabbed a plate and two muffins(“Those are practically cakes, Nott’s fat ass doesn’t need one to begin with, let alone two! Doesn’t even show up to quidditch practice anymore.”). Draco was ignored.

“You’re going to lose her if you keep acting like this, you know that right?”

Theodore tries to ignore Blaise as best he can, he really does. He traces his fingers over your hair softly, watching you dream.

“Just tell her, Theo. What are you so scared of?”

“Drop it, Blaise.”

“No. You obviously love her, you’re obviously in love with her!”

“Lower your voice-“

“Why are you so scared? Is it your father, Theo? Is it your-”

“I mean it Zabini, drop it.”

The room goes eerily quiet as you shift slightly in Theodores arms. It lasts for only a moment before your breathing returns to the deep, rhythmic patterns.

“Get out.”

Blaise didn’t brother bringing it up after that. He knew what was going to happen, and he was going to let it play out. It wasn’t his business, after all.

Your friends weren’t much different. You stopped hanging out with them as much, not on purpose at all, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Maybe one or two of your friends resented Nott for it, “He’s a playboy, everyone knows that. I don’t like how close he’s getting to you.” Or “You aren’t… sleeping with him right? Please tell me you aren’t.”

Both you and Theodore laughed endlessly about every comment. It was silly. I mean yeah, you two fuck, but you’re just friends. You’re just friends, and friends can totally cuddle each other to sleep, and friends can totally kiss without sex. Its not a big deal! Its not a big deal as Theo almost pukes every time he says, “You’re my friend, I’d tell you if anything changed.” And it’s not a big deal when your chest aches as you say “Same here. It’s not that weird when you think about it.”

It wasn’t a big deal the first time you cried during sex. It wasn’t a big deal when he pulled out immediately and held your face, asking what he can do for you to make it better. It wasn’t a big deal when you sobbed in his arms for hours, chest hurting because you loved him so much and you knew you could never say anything. It wasn’t a big deal when Theodore kissed your mouth shut when you tried to apologize. It was a big deal though. It was a really big deal.

It was a big deal when you wrote your name next to Nott like a child. It was a big deal when you kicked your feet in bed thinking about how he called you pretty. It was a big deal when he kissed your cheek so absentmindedly that it felt natural. It felt right.

It was a big deal, and it hurt so bad.

But you could manage. Look at how strong you are. Look at how composed you are. You knew that one day all of this would come to an end, and you were okay with that! It was something you knew you could one day stomach, so for now, you didn't let yourself worry about it.

What you worried about instead, was how fine the object of your affection looked tonight.

Theodore was dressed to the nines. Black slacks, a loose button-up shirt, and those eyes that undressed you no matter where you were. He was gorgeous, and he knew it. You looked wonderful too, showing just enough skin to keep Theo on his toes.

Slytherin winning the house cup was a moment to be celebrated, the common room decorated and loud music playing from every corner of the room. You and Theodore spent every moment together, laughing whenever someone dared approach either of you for a dance.

Smoke curled out of Theodore's lips as he snuffed out the filter of a joint you had shared. He grinned at you, and you smiled at him, and everything else faded away.

Time slowed down, and Theodore's smile fell.

"I want to be with you, this summer."

And you laughed and smiled, nudging his arm slightly. "Well, all you need to do is invite me to your summer home in Italy, and I promise I'll spend every day with you."

"No. I want to be with you."

And for a moment, it felt like everything was still. Theodore looked so scared, and you looked so scared, and your mind was fighting the high to fully understand and process his words.

"With me?"

"With you."

You bit the inside of your cheek, almost not realizing whenever Theodore groaned and stood up.

"Theo."

"Fuck. I knew this was a bad idea."

"Theodore."

"I'm sorry. I knew we shouldn't have."

"Theodore Nott, look at me right now."

And he did. He looked at you so sadly. It made your heart ache.

"I want to be with you, too."

It felt like a brick that sat on your heart had finally been lifted. You laughed at the smile that spread across his face. You laughed as he pressed sloppy kisses against your lips. You laughed as he picked you up, kissing you stupid as he carried you to your room.

The weed still made your mind and body buzz with a high, and fuck, every touch felt better than ever before.

Your back hit the mattress, and Theo climbed over you. He looked so handsome, and you felt so pretty the way he looked at you. His hands worked at your dress, pulling you into a deep kiss as he found the zipper in the back.

Your hands gracelessly unbuttoned his shirt, whining into the kiss as you struggled. Finally, with a small chuckle, Theo offered to help you. His hands worked smoothly, pulling his shirt off his shoulders.

"You're stunning."

"Take a look at yourself, cara mia."

Theodore pushed you back down, gripping your hips as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. You laugh, resting your hands over his, feeling just how wet you are between your thighs. You lean your head back, sighing softly as Theo drops to his knees.

Nothing else mattered when Theodore's tongue found your clothed pussy. His strong and veiny hands pushed your thighs further apart, and pathetic mewls spilled from your lips as he licked you.

Theodore continued to tease you, a grin plastered to his face at every moan and whine you let slip out. He licks over the lace of your panties, daring to suck on your clit through the soaked fabric. Pleas spill from your lips, and Theo can't bite back his groan as you tug on his curls.

Dead eyes look up at you from between your legs, and Theo pulled away just enough to remove the lace hiding your heat from him. He blows on your wet folds, pulling your thighs to his shoulders.

"I think I could stay like this forever, right here."

You roll your eyes and sit up, pulling Theo up just enough to admire his wet face. "I think I'd miss your face too much," you laugh, leaning in and kissing his lips, shivering as you taste yourself on him.

"I have a few other positions that I wouldn't mind staying in."

You push away his smirking face with a laugh, gasping for air suddenly as his mouth finds your clit. Gasps turn into soft whines as his tongue moves across your pearl, your hips jerking and shifting at each motion. You can feel his smirk as he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, collecting your arousal on his tongue.

"Theo," You whine out, but he silences you with a long finger prodding at your entrance. He shushes you, planting wet kisses along your thigh. "I know, bella, just take a deep breath. 'Gotta stretch you out all the way."

A needy moan slipped from your lips as a finger slipped inside of you. You could hear how wet you were, and Theo pulled back just enough to watch the digit disappear inside of you. He pressed a second finger in, carefully spreading them inside of you.

"So soft. So pliant."

His whispers made your legs shake as he stretched you out thoroughly. The knot in your stomach grew tighter, and it became almost unbearable as his lips found your clit again. He was slow, savoring the feeling of your legs shaking beside his head, and the feeling of your walls clenching around him.

Ecstasy flooded your mind before you had a moment to think about it. Theo groaned into your cunt, committing the taste to memory. He continued working his fingers in and out of your cunt until you were shaking in overstimulation, only then finally freeing himself from between your legs.

"You have one more in you, right? Can't get enough of you, cara mia. Will never have enough of you."

[mitsuyeaah]

TRAIL OF BROKEN HEARTS

TŌRU OIKAWA x f! reader

“cause i’ve made some real big mistakes but you made the worst one look fine. i should’ve known it was strange.”

cw: college au, older brother’s best friend!oikawa (older brother is iwaizumi ofc), mutual pining (but oikawa is dumb and doesn’t know how to handle his feelings), nsfw (mdni), slight angst, smut, drunk sex, creampie, mentions of alcohol use (brief), pet names (baby, pretty girl)

word count: 5.9k

a/n: for my pookie tōru!!! hehe of course i’m posting something for him, i’ve been having severe tōru brainrot and i just HAD to write. © divider: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

“Say it..” Oikawa panted, umber eyes staring intently at your own, clouded with lust.

Loud music that penetrated the thin walls of the frat house slowly turned mellow—the sharp beats, and bass that had vibrations coursing through your veins were drowned out as every minute passed. Occasional cheers of many intoxicated college students that littered the house were watered down into a muffled mess as your ears rang from the sheer tension slowly building inside the walls of this very room you were in. That’s right, it was only the two of you—you and Oikawa, all alone with the door locked behind him.

Your cheeks warmed under his intense stare, moonlight that seeped from the window casting a faint glow on the side of his handsome face, accentuating his features and bringing out its sharpness that you’ve grown to love—pools of endless hazel glimmering from the silvery light. You swallowed thickly, his hot breath fanning over your face as he waited for your response. Your skin burned under Oikawa’s touch, his hand rested on your hip, and the other planted on the pillow, just beside your head to brace his torso.

He needed you to say that you wanted him—all of him—before doing anything further with you. Yes, his head spun from the mix of lust and alcohol but he was still in the right mind to ask you whether you wanted this or not because after all, you were his best friend’s younger sister. God, there were so many things wrong with this but neither of you cared; not when you’ve already exchanged a passionate kiss before entering the room, moaning his name into his mouth as his lips desperately collided against your own.

Fuck, Oikawa had been waiting, waiting, and waiting for this. There wasn’t a day where his mind didn’t wander to you, sometimes wandering a bit too deep for his liking which usually ended up with his hand wrapped around his hard cock, desperately fisting it as your name escapes his parted lips. He’s been waiting long enough, and tonight was the night he decided to do something about whatever he felt deep inside. Oikawa knew he’d be dead if he ever told Hajime about any of this, which is why he kept it all to himself but it didn’t help how his fantasies drove him up the wall—his body yearning for you to the extent where he swore it was almost painful.

Everything that led up to this moment was a blur, kind of. All you knew was that Oikawa was all over you as soon as you stepped foot in the house. His hand wrapped loosely around your waist, him pulling you onto his lap, his lingering stares; normally, you wouldn’t even bat an eye at him since he effortlessly made you nervous in his presence but you blamed the alcohol in your system. Oikawa mentally cursed himself for being so mean by slightly rejoicing at the fact that his best friend—your brother—couldn’t make it to tonight’s party due to being rostered for a shift.

This was all new to you because Oikawa had never given you this much attention for the entirety that you’ve known him—the two of you weren’t even close. Your older brother, Hajime, being the middle ground for both you and Oikawa. There were small exchanges of formalities here and there but that was just about it but tonight was different, he followed you everywhere and you let him—like two celestial bodies locked in an endless orbit around each other, bound by gravity. But what exactly was this gravity for both of you?

There was this voice at the back of your mind that told you this was wrong. That this would end it a messy disaster, given his reputation—not only loved and adored by many women but also surrounded. A ladies’ man, if you must, all thanks to his popular history with volleyball. You’ve always known deep down that Oikawa would never reciprocate your feelings because he merely saw you as Hajime’s younger sister, and acted like nothing but an older brother to you. But up until now, everything you believed didn’t seem so believable anymore; not when Oikawa had you underneath him, eyes blown with pure lust.

Maybe this time, this time you’ll shut out that pesky little voice in your head because you wanted nothing more than him—the man that’s got you trapped between his body and the mattress in a stranger’s bedroom, your brother’s best friend. Whatever comes after this, you’ll face head on but you trusted Oikawa to handle your heart gently despite the trails of broken hearts he’s left behind—something in you knew he wasn’t going to let you down. Nonetheless, you prayed to the stars above that you were right about this. About him.

Pleasure now, consequences later.

“I want you..” You breathed out, chest heaving up and down as your breaths became shallower with every passing minute.

Oikawa cursed under his breath before dipping his head down to kiss you. This time, his kisses weren’t as eager as earlier, they were slow and sensual; cherishing every second the way your pillowy lips moved against his own, and how it felt. The desperation behind Oikawa’s kisses were long gone, like he was rest assured that you weren’t going anywhere else, that you chose to be here with him. You reached your hands out, shakily grabbing the collar of his shirt as he shoved his tongue past your lips.

He placed a knee between your legs, situating it under your skirt, right at the apex where you needed him the most but he didn’t dare move it; it drove you absolutely crazy, the pressure on your cunt was there but it wasn’t enough to elicit some kind of pleasure—it also didn’t help how there was no friction at all. Whining into his mouth, you moved your hips up and down, grinding your clothed cunt against his knee. Oikawa pulled away from the heated kiss, the corners of his lips tugging into a smirk as he watched you desperately rut your hips into his knee. “How eager..” His tone was saccharine, sweeter than what he usually uses around other women.

If Oikawa was being honest right now, he was completely shitting himself. Not because it was his first time, no, but because it was you. You weren’t some other woman who would fall to his feet from mere flirtatious expressions which were often not genuine—hell, he’s pretty sure you never even saw him as a man but instead just another older brother figure. Oikawa knows this was wrong, completely wrong; he won’t blame you if you were confused out of your mind right now, given how he’s been acting neutral towards you for the past years you’ve known each other, and now suddenly he was all over you.

It was like he was put in a trance as his eyes wandered across your features. Fuck, you looked so pretty and it was all for him. Oikawa hastily grabbed the hem of your blouse and yanked it above your head, exposing the white lacy bra you donned underneath—his eyes traced your front, from the valley of your breasts down to your stomach. You were only half naked and yet you already left him speechless.

Oikawa didn’t hesitate to strip down to his underwear, he also didn’t give your eyes enough time to wander down his torso by flipping your skirt up and parting your legs further. At this point, the alcohol coursing through his body made him hornier and more impatient. He planted your feet on the bed, bringing your knees up before peppering your inner thighs with sloppy, wet kisses that earned small whimpers from you—Oikawa held your gaze as he kissed your clothed cunt.

You sucked in a sharp breath as you stared at his lustful gaze, your hands gripping the hem of your skirt at his lewdness. It wasn’t your first time having sex with someone but Oikawa was just so different from the ones you’ve slept with—so lewd, so dirty, and not as adventurous as the other’s you’ve had. “O-Oikawa.. Haah..” A moan slipped past your lips as he licked the wet spot on your underwear, the tip of his tongue stiffening to apply pressure at your sopping entrance.

“Hmm? So wet f’me already..” You threw your head back at the friction from his fingers that were rubbing up and down your clothed cunt. Oikawa’s smug smile widened as the wet spot on your panties grew from his ministrations, earning another moan from you as you clenched around nothing. “Oikawa, please. I want you in me..” You whined, the warmth from your cheeks spreading to your ears as you held his gaze. You didn’t miss the way his hazel eyes glimmered at your pathetic plea.

He tilted his head to the side, fingers still rubbing at your clothed cunt, “Oh? It looks like you don’t want me at all, baby. Your begging sounds pathetic.” The drunken words he slurred earned a slight whimper from you. You felt defeated that he was making you beg more for him when you were already as impatient as you could get. “Mhm.. Please, Tōru..? Fuck. I want your cock inside me.”

Oikawa would’ve asked you to beg for him more if you didn’t use his first name. Fuck, something about the way his name rolled off your tongue made his cock twitch. He used to fantasise about you moaning his name underneath him, and now that it’s right in front of him, he won’t let it go any time soon.

“Let’s get these off first, hm? Show me yourself, pretty girl.” Oikawa skilfully snaked his hands behind your back to unclasp the lacy restriction on your chest. Before you could even compose yourself, he eagerly pulled your bra from your chest—goosebumps immediately forming from the cool night air. “Oikawa, h-hold on..!” Your arms defensively crossed over your chest, hiding your breasts from his view. “Mmm, there’s no reason to hide from me is there? After all, I’m going to be fucking that sweet cunt soon.” Oikawa circled his hands around your wrists, gently tugging them out of the way and pinning them on either side of your head to expose your breasts.

He bit his lip at the view. Fuck, it was just like how he imagined when he fisted his cock to the thought of you. Your heart pounded against your chest, getting extremely shy from the way Oikawa was eyeing your breasts a little too long for your liking. He let out a breathless laugh, not missing the way you turned your head to the side from embarrassment. He slowly let go of your wrists to cup at each mound, his large palms perfectly covering the entirety of each breast.

Your lips parted to let out a soft moan, face contorting in pleasure as Oikawa massaged your breasts—he switched between squeezing the supple skin and lightly pinching at your hardened buds, earning a small yelp from you. “Baby, as much as I’d love to spend more time playing with your tits, I’m sure we both have one thing in mind.” He gave you a saccharine smile before placing a chaste kiss on the valley of your breasts.

Oikawa pulled back to remove the last article of clothing he had on, your keen eyes watched as he slowly pulled down the fabric, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen as he fully exposed himself. You bit your lip at his cock, your gaze tracing every ridge along his shaft. Not only was it pretty but fuck, was it long. Pride swelled upon Oikawa’s chest as he saw the way you keenly eyed his cock. You watched as he wrapped a hand around the shaft and languidly stroked it, throwing his head back in pleasure.

As if on instinct, you sat up from the mattress with your hands jutted, wanting to grab his pretty cock—your head spun a bit from the swift movement. “Ah, ah, ah. There’s another time for that, my pretty. I want to be inside you right now.” Oikawa grabbed your shoulder and gently pushed your torso back down on the mattress before climbing over your body once again.

Another time? Was that a sincere promise or an empty one? You couldn’t help but think.

With your skirt flipped up, he pushed aside your soaked panties to tease his tip at your wet entrance. You threw your head back at the raw skin contact, allowing Oikawa to dip his head down to pepper your collarbone with open-mouthed kisses.

“Fuck.. P-Please just put it in, ‘Kawa..” “Mhm, that’s Tōru for you.”

Oikawa breathlessly chuckled against your skin, and before you could retort, he pushed the blunt tip of his cock past your wet folds, earning a whine from both of you. Your hands flew to wrap around his torso, nails gently scratching at his back as he pushed his cock in inch by inch—tracing every dip and curve of his back muscles. Oikawa’s eyes rolled back at the sensation of your nails running down his back, sending a shiver up his spine as the pleasure within him grew.

“S-shit..! You’re so fucking tight, huh? This pussy is taking me so well—aah!” He let out a heated gasp as you clenched around him, his arms trembling and almost giving up from it. “Ngh! Just put it all in, Tōru.. I can take you.” Oikawa almost moaned out loud, not only did you use his first name again but you also reassured him that you could take his length just fine. That there was no need to hold back with you. His arms wobbled as he pushed the rest of his length in.

With his cock fully sheathed inside you, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, letting out a long loud whine. Oikawa stayed that way for a while, heavy pants leaving his lips as he pulled himself together. Fuck, you were squeezing him so good. His nails dug deep into his palms as you scratched his back once again from the way the blunt tip of his cock kissed your cervix, he was about to lose his mind and he hadn't even started thrusting yet. “What? Best pussy you’ve had?” You panted, one hand snaking up to play with his chestnut strands.

Normally, Oikawa would’ve retorted with something cockier but what you said was true. He’d been fantasising long enough about your sweet cunt but he didn’t know it was going to be this good. Too good. “Of course.. And it’s all mine, yeah? Fuck, this pussy is all mine and no one else’s.” He lifted his head from your neck to meet your gaze—his cheeks were now a shade of crimson, lids heavy from lust.

“Yes, Tōru. All yours. I’m all yours.”

You didn’t miss the way Oikawa sucked in a sharp breath as he held your gaze. Both of you knew there was weight to your words—it had meaning behind them, and not spurred like a drunken, meaningless confession at the heat of the moment. But that was reserved for the morning, at least.

He pulled his hips back and started thrusting while giving you a passionate kiss, earning a loud muffled moan from you. Oikawa couldn’t believe this was actually happening and fuck, it was definitely much better than having a hand around his cock while imagining it was your cunt. The sound of skin slapping, squelching, and heated moans bounced around the thin walls of the room as he picked up his pace. Fortunately, these erotic sounds coming from the two of you were enough to be drowned out by the loud music originating from the living room.

Normally, Oikawa would’ve had you in a ‘face down, ass up’ position just like with the other girls he’s had—mainly because it was his favourite position but something about being in missionary with you was different, despite how boring he thought the position to be; Oikawa wanted to see the entirety of you, how you reacted to the pleasure he gave you, your breasts bouncing with every sharp thrust of his hips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. All of it. Not to mention how intimate the position was, being able to look into your pretty eyes as he pounded into you, and whisper sweet praises that only you can hear.

“F-fuck..! So tight for me—ngh! Just like how I ima—aah! ..How I imagined.” Oikawa rested his forehead against your own, his hot breath fanning over your face as he angled his hips to drive his cock deeper. You let out a broken moan at the feeling of his heavy balls slapping your ass over and over again which each thrust; the slapping was so harsh that it felt like your skin was burning but fuck it burned so good. “Ha—aah! Tōru..! So so good—ngh!” Oikawa breathlessly chuckled at your broken moans before grabbing your leg to prop over his shoulder, driving his cock deeper into you.

You arched your back at the new angle, a heated gasp leaving your lips in the form of his name as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Oikawa held onto the headboard with one arm, the other one planted beside your head before moving his hips harder and faster, causing the bed to squeak loudly. His lips were parted, endless desperate whines escaping as his pretty face contorted in pure bliss—his sounds definitely did not disappoint, they were breathy and higher in pitch, so desperate and needy. His moans and whines went straight to your cunt, making you wetter with each erotic sound that came from the man above you.

“Mhm—aah! Yeah? Better than any dick you’ve had, right? Haah! Of course it is..” You clenched around him, earning a loud heated gasp, and his head bowing in pleasure. “So perfect f’me, my pretty girl..” Oikawa whined, bringing his lips closer to yours—he had a hard time chasing them due to your body jolting from his quick, rough thrusts; his own lips were parted, sloppily kissing you with desperation.

Your moans increased in pitch as the familiar knot in your stomach was slowly starting to thin, and ready to snap any time soon. “Ah..! Haah..! T-Tōru—ngh! I’m cu—ah! I’m cumming!” You tugged at his hazel strands, back arching off the mattress as your limbs started to tingle with pleasure. Oikawa moaned against your sweaty skin at the feeling of his hair being pulled, he had his face buried on your neck, his whines and whimpers loud against your ear. “Y-Yeah? Mhm—ah! Fuck! That’s right, cum for me, my pretty.” He trailed wet kisses along the side of your neck and up your jaw, leading to your lips.

“Look at me. Look at me when you fucking cum so you know who’s cock is making you feel this good—haah!” He pulled away from the heated kiss, grabbing your chin to keep his gaze on him by using the hand that was previously on the headboard, while the other rubbed tight circles on your clit. You looked up at Oikawa, his umber hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, no longer swept in a neat hairstyle. His lips were red, and swollen, parted to let out heavy pants while staring into your eyes. Fuck, he was beautiful. You couldn’t help but think that all the other women he’s had have seen this view before as well.

Oikawa looked down at you, eyelids threatening to close from immense pleasure but he didn’t dare give in, he wanted to see your face while you came around his cock—the face he’d been fantasising about since the day he realised he had feelings for you. Your face contorted in pleasure as the knot deep in your stomach finally snapped, mouth forming an ‘o’ as you screamed in silence, orgasm washing over your entire body as you came around him. Oikawa cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your face while breathlessly whispering sweet nothings as you two locked gazes. Your body trembled with a cry of his name, pleasure shooting up your spine, “Tōru..!” “F-Fuck! I’m here, baby.. Ngh!—So so good for me..” He whined desperately as you clenched around his cock, his hips stuttering.

“I—aah! Inside..” You moaned, head lolling to the side as you came down from your high. Oikawa didn’t know if he heard that right or he was just drunk, “Wha— Huh..?” Your words definitely sobered him up a bit but it made his head spin. “Cum inside me. Please, Tōru.. I want all of you.” He cursed under his breath, giving you a few more hard thrusts before letting go. Oikawa sheathed his cock deep inside you and held your torso against him, his arms securely wrapped around your trembling body as he lifted your back off the mattress.

With your chests pressed against each other, he gave you quick shallow thrusts as he came, fucking his cum deeper into you while moaning you name close to your ear. The leg that was propped on his shoulder burned from the stretch but you didn’t care, not when he was fucking you this good. “A-aah! Fuck..! That’s it—ngh! God, I love you so much.” Oikawa whined as he pressed his fingers against your back, the last bit of his hot cum spurting inside you. The two of you plopped down on the mattress with a soft thud, his head buried in the junction of your neck, letting out heavy pants as he tried collecting himself.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, your hands gently playing with his messy hair as you stared up at the ceiling, realisation slowly washing over you as you sobered up more than ever. Instead of catching your breath, it turned into panicked ones, realising that you’ve had sex with your older brother’s best friend. Oikawa noticed this and looked up at you, holding your panicked gaze as you were already looking down at him.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I love you? Did he really mean that or was it just from the heat of the moment? You definitely heard him say it, so you knew you weren’t just making it up, not when his lips were that close to your ear.

How foolish, you thought. What happens now? Worry settled in as you remembered the trail of broken hearts he had behind him. You knew it was wrong to judge a person this way but everyone—your brother included—was aware of the relationships Oikawa had. Yes, no one is perfect but yet most—if not all—his past relationships weren’t ideal, and some didn’t even last more than a month long while some clearly were just a one night stand. Was that where you stood with him? Just a one night stand? You let out a shaky exhale, “Tōru—” Oikawa cut you off with a sensual kiss, his lips eagerly moving against your own as if he had an idea of what was about to come next.

This didn’t make you feel better. You didn’t know why but there was something in your mind telling you that he wasn’t going to leave you hanging like this; your mind suddenly went back to earlier tonight, where Oikawa basically gravitated towards you, following you wherever you went. You felt something back there, like he wasn’t holding himself back anymore—not selling himself short like what he’s been doing for all the years you’ve known each other. Like he wore his heart on his sleeve.

He broke away from the kiss, umber eyes tracing your features as his thumb gently swiped your bottom lip. “D-did you really mean that..?” You stared into his eyes but he didn’t return your gaze nor answered the question, “Shhh.. Let’s just stay like this for a while.” Oikawa rolled over to the side, wrapping his arm around you from behind and resting his chin atop your head. You stared at the wall in front of you, unmoving and mind racing with unwanted thoughts. No matter how much his hand massaged your hip, it didn’t put you at ease because now you didn’t know where you stood with Oikawa after sleeping with him. Fuck, how were you even going to face your brother? What would he think of you?

Shit. You wouldn’t even know how to face Oikawa the next time you see him after this, that is, if you do see him. Not only did unwanted thoughts plague your mind but you also felt disgusting. For doing something like this with your brother’s best friend; yes, you’ve had feelings for him for as long as you could remember but did he even reciprocate them? Or did Oikawa just stick beside you tonight because you both had alcohol and he wanted to get in your pants? No. He asked you earlier if you really wanted this with him and you said yes.

Maybe you weren’t so foolish after all. Or so you thought.

It had been a few days since that night and you were fucking restless. Every single time your phone chimed from a notification, you’d be quick to grab it, hoping it's from the man you’ve been wanting to hear about but disappointment washes over you when his name doesn’t pop up. Panic builds up as the days pass without hearing anything from Oikawa. You didn’t even know why you were waiting, it wasn’t like he owed you anything but you just thought that maybe it would be different for you. It also wasn’t like he was obligated to contact you, maybe you really were just a one night stand for him, and that attraction you felt was one sided. Were you just really imagining it all? Were you just waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen?

“Iwa-chan!” You were pulled back from your trance as you heard a familiar voice coming from the living room, where Hajime was. Closing your notebook, you stood up from your desk and took a few steps before peeking through the slight crack of your door to see Oikawa happily chatting with your older brother. Your heart skipped a beat upon seeing his face, legs tingling with eagerness to go to him but what would you even say? It’s not like he promised you a relationship that night nor did he confess his feelings. You couldn’t help but remember those three words he told you but at this point, it looked like it was just from the heat of the moment. Those three words probably didn’t have any weight to it like it did when you stated that you were all his.

You stiffened as your brother called out your name, instinctively ducking down as if he caught you peeking. Making your way out of your room, you tried to act as normal as possible. “We’re going to head out for a bit. Do you want anything?” “Mmm, any food is fine. Thanks..” You replied before shifting your gaze to Oikawa who stared off to the side, not even acknowledging your presence. Normally, he would smile at you whenever he came over or even give you a pat on the head while he greets you. Hajime nodded before ushering his best friend out the door, Oikawa didn’t even look back. Not even once.

The door slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the whole apartment, and you were left with your mess of feelings. Ah, so he’s ignoring me, you thought. You didn’t even know why you were feeling this way. Was it because you hoped for something more given the feelings you’ve held for Oikawa for the past years? You sat on the couch, not knowing what to do—your mind kept replaying the words he said to you that night. How he told you he loved you; how he said he’s been imagining you in ways you didn’t even know. What was the meaning of that? You knew better than to believe these words given how his personality is but you couldn’t help hoping that there was at least some kind of feeling behind them.

You buried your face in your palms, letting out a deep sigh. You couldn’t even get angry at Oikawa because he never led you on in any way. For him, what happened that night was just plain sex but for you, you thought he was finally seeing you in a different light and not just his best friend's younger sister. And now you’re left with nothing but confusion. Another statistic to the trail of broken hearts that he wore like a cape, dragging behind him. You were frustrated at yourself for letting your feelings completely overtake your common sense.

A few days turned into a week but nothing changed for you. Oikawa was still on your mind but he never reached out to you—not that he was obligated to but you figured it was necessary, given his deep-rooted friendship with Hajime. At least a little discussion about that night would’ve helped you with your thoughts a bit but no, your mind was still a swirling mess. You cursed yourself every time you remembered your foolish mistake, you knew what you were getting yourself into and yet you bit onto the bait without thinking about the dire consequences to not only your feelings but also your relationship with Oikawa.

Maybe after all, you were just imagining it. That was the easiest fact there was—being delusional because you had feelings for him, so you instantly misread what he told you that night. You looked into words that never had a meaning behind them. Baseless sentences that held no feelings.

Deciding to study at a nearby café on a whim, you enter the cosy shop, the distinct aroma of roasted coffee beans and warm atmosphere of the café immediately putting your mind at ease. The café was filled with the soft chatter of customers, and the sounds of the coffee machine. Before taking a few steps to the counter where the cashier stood behind, you noticed a familiar brown-haired man sitting at one of the tables, and he wasn’t alone. Your heart skipped a beat as Oikawa already had his hazel gaze on you, his expression somewhere between surprised and panicked. He noticed your gaze drift to the person who sat in front of him—a woman—who happily talked about something you couldn’t exactly hear.

Seeing Oikawa with other women wasn’t new to you. After all, you’ve known him long enough for you to become accustomed to this sight despite your heart breaking a little. Throughout the years, you’ve managed to patch up the little cracks in your heart whenever you saw him with someone else—whether it be the flavour of the week or a relationship that lasts for a month but today, seeing him with a woman after being intimate with him was enough to break your heart into pieces. What you did next was purely out of instinct, your feet moved on their own, hasty steps out of the café just to get away from Oikawa; you didn’t know where you were going but you wanted him out of sight.

You knew you were being a complete idiot for acting this way. Hell, why were you even running away from him? Stupid. Foolish. Why am I acting like this?! You thought. You let out a shaky sigh, your nails digging into your palms as you swiftly walked down the footpath, trying to forget the way Oikawa’s face looked when he saw you.

The sound of shoes loudly hitting the concrete footpath behind you suddenly filled your ears, you stopped in your tracks as he called out your name—you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Oikawa knew exactly why he chased after you, it was almost like a reflex for him given how fast he stood up from his seat to run to you. He’s aware he’s been ignoring you for the past week, and he also knows it’s probably shitty of him to suddenly chase after you like this but Oikawa’s got a sinking feeling that if he didn’t chase after you, you’d slip away from his grasp. Forever.

Turning around, you crossed your arms over your chest as if to shield your naked heart. “What do you want, Oikawa?” He winced not only at your tone—sharp, and cold—but as well as the use of his last name. He didn’t know what to say if he was being honest; you watched as he opened his mouth but no words came out, gears turning in his head to find the right thing to say to you. “I meant it.” Oikawa held your gaze, brows knitted together. You knew what he meant by that, it was the answer to the question you asked him that night. You sucked in a sharp breath, heart pounding against your chest as if it was ready to leap out and jump straight into his hands like it belonged there—to be cherished, and loved.

As much as you wanted to jump with joy that he did, in fact reciprocate your feelings, it was anticlimactic. The overwhelming hurt and confusion you’ve felt for the past week was just consuming you. “I-I don’t..” You trailed off, not knowing what to say to him, especially when his umber eyes stared at you with such desperation. You’ve never seen Oikawa like this; he was usually a man of many expressions—mostly full of cunning, and ingenuine smiles but this one you haven’t seen.

“Look. I know I fucked up. I really do love you. I don’t know why I ran away—no I do know. I was scared because I’ve never been so serious about a woman, let alone my best friend’s younger sister.” He scratched his nape, taking a step closer to you. You watched him in silence, a wordless invitation for him to keep going.

Oikawa let out a shaky sigh. “I know saying sorry and this half assed explanation isn’t enough but.. these feelings I’ve had for you.. they’ve been here for as long as I could remember, and it fucking sucks that you had to find out through this mess. That night.. I don’t regret anything but I did wish it could have happened without any of these consequences. I know I’m asking for a lot but.. can we start again?” It was your turn to sigh, “It’s not that easy, Tōru.. but it really isn’t your fault as well.” Oikawa’s face softened at the use of his first name. “I mean, I knew what I was getting myself into. I admit that maybe I was just being a bit dramatic about this whole thing because I had feelings for you but looking back at it, there’s really no reason for you to be apologising..”

You took a step closer before wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest. Oikawa blinked, taken aback by your sudden action, nonetheless, he wrapped his arms around you—still trying to process the fact that you actually like him back. “T-That woman back there, we were meeting up for a project..” You chuckled at his reply before looking up at him to meet his hazel gaze, “There’s no need to explain to me, you know?”

Before he could reply, you smiled at him,

“I want to start again, Tōru. This time, no running away from our feelings?” “No running away.”

© mitsuyeaah

[peapodsinspace]

sorry for not posting art for a minute, but I’ve been working on an au! here’s

Mob Sailor 100

aka mob psycho x sailor moon

[Image ID in alt text]

I just started watching sailor moon so I doubt this is very accurate, but it’s not really supposed to be!

In this au psychic powers still exist, but they just aren’t as strong on their own! But these gems basically can make them stronger and easier to use!

And you get the gems from a spirit usually, but I imagine you may be able to just stumble across them if you’re lucky

Not all ESPers can use their powers without transforming, but some can! Either way the gems do strengthen powers

Now, I’m gonna do a lil explanation / extra thing/ for all of them under the cut! Just thoughts while designing + story bits (if there’s even a story)

First up: Mob!

I imagine that when mob was very young, he came across / was given one of those gem thingies so he has been able to transform for a very long time!

From what I understand, in sailor moon the girls are destined to be? Anyway, for this au there are people that are basically predisposed to becoming sailors, just like how ESPers are. You just need one of the gems to actually be able to transform.

The plot is basically the same as the normal mob psycho plot, so mob goes to Reigen looking for someone to talk to & becomes his student!

Ritsu

Now, since mob has been able to transform basically all of his life and only certain people can actually become sailors, it makes sense that Ritsu would be one, too! And he gets the gem from dimple. It’s just like when he awakened his powers in canon! Also, Dimple is basically like Luna in this au.

On a design note, I wanted to make him look similar to mob but still contrast him well. Partially because they’re brothers, but also cus they wear the same uniform, so their designs would be similar anyway.

Teru

Like mob, Teru also got a gem from a young age! His story is basically the same as his canon one too.

Fun fact: he likes his outfit much more than everyone else likes theirs! Most of them feel at least a little silly after doing a cutesy transformation, but Teru thinks it fits his energy

As far as design notes go, I don’t have much to say other than I just noticed a coloring error on his coat, and his pants are supposed to have pinstripes

Shou

Now, this is where it starts getting a little different from canon stories! Shou’s father found several gems, so he took one for himself and saved the others for later. He gave one to shou and some of the other ESPers under his control!

Shou is “sailor cinnamon”, because all of the villains are named sweet things instead of savory/ spicy things! It’s one of the reasons Shou calls himself “sailor hot cinnamon” instead! It’s to try and distance himself from his father / his father’s plot, and also because being called cinnamon makes him feel silly.

Design notes: the lace came to me in a vision so I just had to add it /joking

Serizawa

WAWA!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, so when serizawa was young his powers were very strong, like in canon. So when he met Shou’s dad he got the umbrella to help him feel safe outside of his room, but he was also given a gem!

He’s named “sailor allspice” to match with the sweet theme, but allspice isn’t sweet on its own, it’s just paired with sweet flavors! Sorta like how Shou is just “cinnamon” and not “cinnamon sugar”

Design note would be that there was a period in his designing process where he looked like a cowboy

Reigen

Last but not least, our favorite “sailor”! Like in canon, Reigen doesn’t have any powers. He fakes a transformation by wearing that outfit under his coat! He ties up the coattails under it to keep them hidden, and keeps his (non magical) gem in his coat pocket.

He does most of his jobs against fake villains! A lot of criminals will try and make it seem like they have powers just to intimidate people! So that’s what Reigen usually deals with!

Dimple

Here’s a bonus section for dimple! The only thing that I’ve changed about him is that one of his cheek blushes looks like a crescent moon, so he resembles Luna!

Alright!! If you got this far, then thanks so much!!

As always, feel free to send asks about this au! I don’t exactly have a plot going for it, especially since I don’t know much about the actual plot of sailor moon… but still!!

Enjoy!