#its just the fact its mentioned by one guy in such a way while the actual siblings call each other siblings

[maskedcrawford]

Green Eyed Monster

G-Dragon x Reader x platonic! Jackson Wang

Summary: You and Jackson Wang get close through work and your ex isn't too keen on the fact that it looks like you've moved on.

Warnings: Some angst, fluff at the end.

A/N: Thank you to anon who requested, I got to try my hand at writing for Jackson Wang and I'm going to OPEN requests for him if you guys want something. Leave a like and/or a reblog if you enjoy! Much love <3

Requests are OPEN

You’re sitting in the makeup chair when you feel a pair of hands delicately touch your shoulders. You look up from your phone in the mirror and you see his big dark eyes and light brown hair in the mirror.

“Well, it took ya long enough, J,” you say with a teasing smile as you get up and hug him. You and Jackson Wang had been working together for the last 4 months on a song for your album and today you were shooting the video.

“Always a pleasure,” he says genuinely and returns your hug. Were you and Jackson together? No. Were there rumors about such things? Absolutely. The song being about love didn’t help matters. You guys had known each other briefly through mutual friends but when you had the idea for the song, you knew his vocals would take it to the next level.

“Jackson, Y/N!” the director shouts and you two spring into action with the video. The video itself was pretty intimate; the two of you on a bed tangled together in the sheets, touching, be all close and having no sense of personal space whatsoever. But, Jackson is a professional.

“So if I put my hand here,” he’s talking to the director and looks at you and you give him a nod before he touches your hip.

“And then I can slide it up like this,” he does the motion and pulls you closer to him.

“Yeah, that’ll work perfectly,” your director says and you roll with it.

“Let’s move on to the kiss,” the director announces after that scene. You blush as the time comes for the practical make out session that’s needed for the scene. Jackson was obviously cute, and him so being so respectful and kind? That only made it worse.

You can’t help the nervous laugh as you two are placed together and he starts smiling at you.

“You ok?” he asks genuinely, “We can figure something else out if we need to, find another way to,” you put your hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’m fine, seriously. Just don’t eat my face,” you wink at him with a chuckle. He gives you a gorgeous smile while shaking his head.

“Might be hard, you’re lookin extra good in that outfit,” he subtly looks you up and down. You two had a flirty relationship, but both of you knew it wouldn’t really go anywhere. The scene commences and you lock lips passionately and for a brief moment you forget its for a music video, that is until you hear the director call cut and you both slowly separate, a slight blush on both of your cheeks.

“That was great, guys. We’ll pick it up tomorrow!”

The video is done after a few days and the album dropped four months later. Your adventures continue with a world tour together, but tonight you were performing at the infamous MAMA awards. Since you two were doing a love song it was known that you would have to kiss for the sake of the performance.

“Look, people love us together,” you smile as you show him a picture you posted with a bunch of likes. He smiles as he clicks on the comments.

“This isn’t helping the dating rumors ya know,” he winks at you playfully and you roll your eyes.

“Us kissing every night doesn’t either, not to mention neither one of us have confirmed or denied anything. Besides, who we go out with really isn’t their business.”

“Ever since you made headlines with G-Dragon though, they think it is,” he corrects you.  You raise your eyebrows with a sigh that confirms he isn’t wrong.

You and Jiyong had been together 4 years, until the beginning of this year. Schedules got in the way, and Ji had admitted to kissing another woman at a party when he was drunk. It was a one-time thing and for a while you were able to move past it, but eventually, everything came crashing down.

“How could you still not trust me?” he shouted. You were in tears, your nerves were shot and honestly you didn’t want to have the argument.

“You were all over her, Ji. Tell me I’m lying! You kissed another woman before, it’s not like you couldn’t do that and more,” your voice was bitter and weak from tears.

“Oh my god, are you ever going to let it go?” he looked annoyed, he looked weak and desperate to escape the mistake that played through your mind more than you cared to admit. You loved him more than anything, more than life itself practically. But who was he to tell you how long it took to heal? Who was he to say that he atoned for what he did just because of a few ways he tried to make it up to you. Girls were constantly all over him so it wasn’t like he was in short supply. It had caused you to feel insecure, regardless of whether or not he was drunk.

The two of you stayed silent, deafeningly silent, until Ji finally sighs and rubs his temple with his fingers.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he mumbles, “I can’t keep paying for this when I think I’ve proven I’m not that person,” his eyes are cold, depleted of life. It broke him to do this, but he didn’t see any other way.

“We’re done,” he said before walking out of your house with nothing more than a kiss to the forehead.

“Earth to Y/N,” Jackson calls out and you shake your head pulling yourself out of the intense flashback.

“Huh, oh, sorry,” you sheepishly rub the back of your neck.

“Let’s practice one more time,” he takes your hand helping you stand up.

“Ji, have you seen this?” Taeyang was over at his house and pulled up the love song you and Jackson put out.

“Hmm?” he glances away from his phone and furrows his brows at the video. He see’s the two of you kiss on screen and he feels, that pang of jealousy. He’s seen the video before, he seen it the day it came out, actually. But he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t want to think of it.

He hadn’t seen you since that night, not in person anyway. On TV shows and award ceremonies, he would watch, quietly support you and your career, even liking the first picture or two you posted of you and Jackson.

“They are performing tonight at the MAMA awards, so you’ll probably get to see her,” Taeyang calls out as he heads to the kitchen.

“She’s going to be there?” His voice is rushed, excited almost.

“Yup, we better go too, we’ll be late.”

You and Jackson are at the venue preparing for the show, hitting the choreography perfectly multiple times.

“OK, we gotta get dressed,” you say as you two come out of each other’s embrace

“We got this in the bag,” you both high five and he brings you in for a hug.

“You should really layer a little more deodorant,” you say with a giggle. He sniffs his shirt and makes a twisted face.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he laughs as he jogs off stage. As you walk off to go to the dressing room you stop as your breath hitches in your throat.

Ji-yong laughs as he feels someone stop and stare, he looks away from his manager and he spots you. His smile fades as he takes in your shocked face.

It’s still as beautiful as the first day he met you. He gives you a small wave and smile and you can’t move. His gaze is friendly and lingers for a moment. He starts to walk towards you, until he see’s Jackson come up behind you with his hand resting on your back. You look up at him directly and he can see the smile on your face when you look at him.

He feels the aching jealousy well up inside him but he pushes it down. You nod your head at something he says, and Jackson flits his gaze to Ji before giving a pursed lip smile and dragging you off with him in another direction.

“What could she possibly see in him?” Ji yong asks out loud not really expecting an answer.

“Hyung, did you really think she wouldn’t,” Ji-yong shoots Taeyang a glare, “Move on?” he finishes carefully.

“It’s been 8 months,” he tries to be gentle with Ji’s feelings, but the sting is too much. Jackson Wang was in a place he was supposed to be in. One he’d still be in most likely if he hadn’t of screwed up.

“Still fucking stings,” he grumbles. Taeyang sighs and gives his friend a hug.

“You both,” he pulls back and looks his friend in the face, “Need to move on. It’s time.” He tries to encourage him, tries to show him it’s healthy to move on, but the way Ji-yong loved you, despite his mistake, he was sure he’d never love anyone the same way.

“It’s not that easy, hyung.” He sighs as he sits down for the stylist to do his hair.

“She was everything, my muse, my rock, my reason for breathing. There were days I only got out of bed because I knew I would see her and that it would help make my day better,” he remembers fond memories as he talks to Taeyang about you. One of you and him riding the ferries wheel and getting stuck on top, that’s where your fist kiss was. When you accidently spilled ice cream on your top and he gave you jacket to cover it. When you’d both grow bored at parties after a little while and want to leave to just spend quiet time at home. He missed the way your touch made him feel like everything would work out, the way you made him feel like he was enough for exactly who he was. He sighs as he finishes getting ready for the show.

“Ok, are you ready for this?” Jackson asks you with anticipation.

“Absolutely, just don’t kiss me with tongue tonight,” you swat his arm and he laughs.

“No promises,” he winks and kisses your temple. You both get into position and the song starts as the lights go up. You follow the normal dance routine, spinning and swaying your hips to the beat, and kissing at the end of the song.

As the song is performed Ji can’t help but watch from the side of the stage, the way your body moves so gracefully and how it fits to Jackson’s so well when he had to wrap his arms around you, but it wasn’t the perfect way it fit Ji-yong’s. No, your body wouldn’t fit to anyone else’s the way it did his. He noticed the happy smile on your face, only noticing it falter when your eyes locked as you look his way.

The song ends and the lights go back down. You and him rush off stage and as soon as you are out of view you jump into his arms, adrenaline running high. He catches you with a huge smile on his face and he kisses your cheek sweetly. Ji-yong watches just off to the side and he rolls his eyes. He walks past you and you catch him out of the corner of your eye, his face deadpan.

You stay to the side of the stage to watch him perform. As he looks off to the side, he catches you watching, swaying your body to the music and nodding your head. He gives a half smile your way and you return one. His performance ends and he runs off stage he takes his mic off and before he can run to you, Jackson once again is in the place he wants to be, by your side.

“So, I was thinking, we could go down to the club and celebrate,” Jackson’s excited nature was infectious.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you glance at Ji-yong who’s giving you a glare again and you furrow your brows at him.

“We’ll leave in a few, get changed!” He runs off to get his stuff together and you go to walk off, but before you can you feel a hand around your wrist pulling you back. You look back and see it’s Ji-yong who has an unreadable expression on his face. You look at each other for a moment.

“I really need to talk to you,” he pleads.

“I,” you look in the direction Jackson went and back at Ji who looks slightly hopeful you’ll stay.

“I can’t,” you say tearing your arm away. He lets you go and for a moment lets you walk away before following you.

“Y/n,” he catches the door to your room. You look over at him, he still takes your breath away, the way his hair clings to his forehead from the sweat, the way he looks at you with his dark eyes, the way his clothes somewhat soaked with sweat cling to his body.

“What, Ji? I have somewhere to be, Jackson isn’t going to wait on me forever,” he scoffs and looks off to the side, mumbling something to himself.

“You want to share with the rest of the class,” you sass him.

“Not really,” he sasses back. You roll your eyes.

“I’m changing so at least shut the door. He walks in and shuts it.

“I meant with you on the other side of it,” you shoot him a glare of annoyance.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen, held or tasted before,” he smirks and you roll your eyes with a sharp exhale.

“Whatever,” you pull your top off your head and his eyes go directly to your body, not in a sensual, sexual way, but in a way that he’s curious. He notices you’ve put on a just little weight in the last 8 months and you instinctively wrap your arms around your torso.

“Can you not, stare,” you pause looking away from him, “at me,” you hear his footsteps come closer and he lifts your chin with his thumb and index finger.

“You’re beautiful,” he slowly reaches for your arms to pull them away and he’s inches from your face.

“Ji-yong,” you put a hand on his chest pushing him back slightly. His eyes flash with hurt before he recovers.

“Be honest with me,” he says standing back further as you find a different shirt. While you’re slipping it over your head you hear him ask, “Does he touch you better than I did?”

“What? Who?!” You all but shriek.

“Your little fling,” he motions his hand as you pull the shirt over your head you take off your pants next and put on some comfortable leggings.

“What ‘fling’,” you ask bewildered by his audacity. He rolls his eyes, saying his name makes him feel ill.

“Your little affair with Jackson Wang, y/n, I know about it, and so does the rest of the world, besides with the way you were sucking face out there, you don’t try to hide it.” You can see his jealousy and you quirk a brow at him. You decide to have a little fun at his expense. After all if he’s going to be nosy and a jerk at the same time, why not have a little fun.

“What Jackson and I are, or aren’t,” you pause and stare at him directly into his eyes, “doing is none of your concern. You left me, Ji, who I’m with now is none of your business.” You strap on a pair of sandals and walk out the door leaving him standing there.

“Jackson,” you call out and race to him. You can feel Ji-yong watching you so you slip your hand in Jackson’s as you walk off.

At the club the music is loud and the drinks are good, but you start to let your mind wonder back to your ex-boyfriend.

“What are you thinking about,” Jackson yells over the music as he see’s you staring into space.

“Ji-yong,” you huff.

“He nods his head understandably. He heard about all of it, multiple times, and he knew you still loved him.

“You wanna dance?” His offer is intriguing and you decide it’s better than sitting there thinking of the guy who broke up with you. As you and Jackson dance you happen to look over your shoulder and see that face that makes your knees weak.

“Holy shit,” you yell and Jackson notices your body tense as he looks at you concerned.

“What?” you point to Ji-yong as the answer to his question.

“Go talk to him.” He tries to push you forward.

“No, he was a dick.” You pout. He nods and walks over to Ji-yong for you. You watch as he gets closer, and even buys your ex a drink.

“Listen, man, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but me and your girl,” you see him gesture to you, “We ain’t together.” He throws back a shot and so does Ji.

“She isn’t ‘my girl’,” he corrects solemnly.

“Could’ve fooled me. She talks about you constantly,” he chuckles and Ji-yong quirks his brow. Jackson knew you’d either thank him or kill him for this, but he wasn’t worried about that right now.

“She does?” he looks over to you, seeing you dance alone.

“Oh yeah, how bad she misses you, wishes things would’ve been different.” He nods his head and looks down at the bar.

“So what’s with the rumors and the kiss and,” Jackson nods interrupting him.

“We did the song together and just became close friends. As far as the kiss, management thought it’d be good for the song if we kissed like in the video. We’re completely platonic though.” He downs another shot, Ji-yong decides not to, he wants his head clear when talks to you.

“Go get her, man,” he encourages and Ji-yong nods his head as he makes his way to you. He slides in behind you while you dance and the intimate smell of cologne and cigarettes wafts to your nostrils. You feel his hand on your hips as he moves with you.

“Can we talk,” he asks in your ear and you just keep dancing, ignoring his words but not his touch, you bring his hands around your torso so he encapsulates you.

“Jagiya,” his voice is soft, sultry even, and once the music ends you sigh and turn to face him.

“Can I please talk to you,” you see Jackson at the bar smirking at you. You give him a half smile as you find an area in the club away from all the people.

“What is it,” you don’t know how else to ask.

“I miss you,” he’s straight to the point and you didn’t expect that.

“Ji,” you sigh.

“Look, I wasn’t planning on telling you, but I seen you with him tonight and I hated it. He had you the way I should, the way I did.” He steps closer to you; you back up hitting the wall. He closes the space, your mouths just inches apart. He’s intoxicating, the way he looks at you, smells, and just the feeling of his body near yours is electric.

“He kissed you the way I did, the way I still want to,” he mumbles as he caresses your cheek.

“Not really,” you utter barely above a whisper.

“Hmm,” he asks like he doesn’t understand.

“He didn’t,” you look into his dark, beautiful eyes, “kiss me the way you did. It wasn’t the same passion or love. It wasn’t the same feeling I got with you.” You feel your cheeks blush as you confess to him.

“His touch,” you runs your hands over his arms that are locked onto your hips now,“Isn’t the same. Its not as electrifying.” You look at him through your lashes.

He looks relieved.

“So, you really aren’t with him?” you shake your head no.

You bring your forehead to his and whisper to him, “I’m not with anyone, I’m yours Ji-yong, I always have been,” and before any other words can be said his lips are on yours, smoothly moving in sync and he pulls your impossibly closer as you fist his shirt.

“Aegiya,” he practically whimpers when you separate.

“I need you to come home.” You smile at his confession.

“Promise me something,” you say cautiously.

“Anything,” his desperate eyes search yours.

“You’ll give us time to rebuild trust and be patient with me,” you’re asking more than telling.

“As long as you want to trust me again, I’ll prove you can.” He smiles.

“Then lets get out of here,” you grin as he takes your hand and leads you out of the club.

If you enjoyed consider buying me a coffee

[slushiepizza]

Ugh the fact that it's implied that Honey often is the big spoon to Guy's little spoon when they're cuddling...they're so cute. ("I know you like being the little spoon sometimes, don't act like you haven't asked for it before" - Your Mess of a Boyfriend Tries to Make You Fall Asleep)

[nanamiskentos]

SHE TOLD YOU THAT SHE CELIBATE, SHE TOLD ME I COULD NAIL HER SH*T — gojo satoru minors dni

PART I. of the new years letters, a series of fics dedicated to some of my lovely mutuals! 🎁

prologue. → you wish gojo satoru would stop trying to ask you out. not that you don't like him, but dating the one guy that you're smacked silly about would mean that he could break your heart and leave you in ruins. so it's best to keep some distance right?

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. college au, reader wears a skirt, reader is choso's twin and yuuji's older sister, but no appearance detailed. kissing, making out, óral (f) receiving, general bitchiness and fuckups 😚 ensemble cast of poor bystanders (geto, shoko, sukuna, yuki etc)

word count. 10k! song inspiration. gang baby — nle choppa

a/n. it's because of that one edit by satorupedia that's going around rn. yall know which one 😭 art by touno_stupa on twt!

dedication. yayyy decided to start my little gift series for new years with this fic inspired and dedicated to @fushitoru who was one of the first blogs i followed on here before i was super familiar with jujutsu kaisen. aashi writes thee most wonderful gojo fics that are so well characterised and heart-stoppingly adorable and HAWT. 😁 🤭 and i easily associate her with physics/college au gojo now, ever since her spiderman gojo fic that lives in my head!!!!

gojo in this fic:

ACT I. don't puck around and find out!

"i ran into gojo today," choso says, his voice as unbothered and monotone as ever, scraping the gravel lazily with the heel of his scuffed combat boots, "or he ran into me."

"gojo satoru?"

"how many gojos do we know?" your twin brother huffs, giving you a dry side-eye. but before you can retort something equally acrid, he's yanking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, halting you midstep, "wait. car."

you blink out of your tired daze just in time to see a battered camry putter past, its engine groaning like it's on its last legs. just how you feel after a long day of seminars and lectures. the car rattles down the street with the grace of a tin can tied to a string.

"thanks," you mutter, half-heartedly as you shift your laptop case from one tired arm to the other, "could have been the end of my genius academic career."

"would have been a short one either way," choso quietly quips, earning himself a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"so?" you press on.

"so, what?"

"what did gojo say?"

"ohhh," choso drawls, in that irritating way of his that indicates he has no idea how to deliver good gossip, news or any form of tea, "he asked if i wanted to play hockey for his team tomorrow. they're down a player ever since kento went on exchange."

"hockey?" your eyebrow arches, and skepticism curls your lips for choso is hardly known for his athleticism. you mean, you're sure he has the physical ability in him somewhere but you (and the rest of the world) are yet to see it, "are you gonna join the team, then?"

not that you care about gojo's stupid, state-tournament winning team. of course not. you're just curious. and curiosity is harmless.

it has nothing to do with the fact that you woke up last night wanting to jump gojo satoru's bones. just like you did the night before, and before. and the week before that. yeah, suffice to say that this has been going on for a while.

"nah," choso says, shaking dull, greasy strands of dark hair out of his eyes, "got placements tomorrow."

right. placements. choso's all about pathology and lab medicine and test tubes, while you get queasy at the mere mention of haemoglobin. and it unsettles you mildly at how your twin brother's eyes light up at the mere mention of a blood test.

"and?" you prod when he starts to drift off again, his attention wandering like it always does.

choso is often like a calm river. slow, broad and lazy.

this time, you pull at his one of his headphone cords to reel him back, "did gojo say anything else?"

choso gives you that dull look, quiet but loaded. like he's already solved a puzzle that you didn't know you were trying to hide. it just makes your stomach twist, "why do you care what gojo satoru says?"

"i don't," you snap, far too fast, like your tongue is racing your brain to a crash site. the lie sits heavy in your throat, thick and obvious.

choso's pale and dry lips twitch, and you wondered what happened to the lip balm you threw into his christmas stocking last year, "should i have told him you could sub in for his team instead?"

"no-one likes a smartass, cho," you grumble, speeding up your steps as your twin leisurely rummages through his fraying backpack for his house keys. you roll your eyes and push ahead, jamming your own keys into the lock before you die of boredom waiting for him to dig through the trash heap that lies at the bottom of his bag, "anyway, i was just asking. you brought gojo up."

choso trails behind you, his tone infuriatingly casual, "you always get weird when someone mentions him. i thought you guys were friends."

"we are friends. and i don't get weird."

"you get so weird. even yuki said so."

"i love yuki, i do. but she has no idea what she's talking about —"

the door swings open, cutting off your false deflection. standing there is yuuji, with half a sandwich dangling from his mouth like he's some kind of feral creature. there's a smear of mayonnaise clinging to his cheek as he yanks a red, track hoodie over his tank top.

"mmph! hey, you guys!" he muffles through a mouthful of bread, waving at you with the enthusiasm that only a teenage boy could muster after inhaling half the fridge.

"where are you off to?" you peer at your younger brother, your eyes zeroing in on his mutilated sandwich. a sandwich that you're certain you made for yourself this morning, leaving it for a study session upon your return.

"track practice," yuuji says, swallowing the last bite whole, "then dinner with fushiguro and kugisaki." he's already halfway down the driveway, sneakers untied and laces flopping on the pavement behind him.

choso narrows his eyes, "got money? or a water bottle? a hat? did you wear sunscreen?"

"i'm good!" yuuji calls back without breaking stride, waving a quick hand at the two of you.

"why don't you hold his hand and walk him to school, mother?"

"shut up," choso grumbles as he brushes past you into the house, throwing you an exaggerated scowl of wounded, elder-brother pride over his shoulder, "why don't you hold gojo's hand to hockey practice?"

your bookbag swings through the air, connecting to the back of choso's oversized head and a loud thud follows.

ACT II. long overdue and lacking a spine

you had been in this library for hours, eyes blurring as the words in your textbook stubbornly refused to make sense. it was all a gross blur of terms and diagrams, and your $8.00 coffee had gone lukewarm an hour ago.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that was the plan, no distractions.

your phone, however, had other ideas as it sat innocently next to your stack of notes. you tapped the screen quickly under the guise of a 'quick break' but before long, you were deep into instagram stories. someone's dog, a flyer for a rave that you definitely weren't going to, and then, of course, him.

gojo satoru. on someone's reposted story with a classic, grainy photo of one of the campus's most darling boys. long arm draped casually over some girl. both of them lit in the neon glow of what looked like a party bus. he wasn't even looking at the camera, just flashing that effortless grin that you had seen your entire life growing up. and the girl was gorgeous, obviously. not that you cared about that.

but speak of the devil and he hath appear. a long shadow fell over the table, and you felt the chill in your bones, trying not to shift in your seat.

"go away, gojo," you muttered, not even deigning to look up.

"how'd you know it was me?" his voice is teasing, all light and airy as he's pulling out the chair next to you.

"what can i say? lucky guess," you reply dryly, keeping your eyes glued to the suspiciously-stained textbook. worried that you'll look up and your iron resolve will disappear from one glance at big, blue eyes.

but out of the corner of his eye, you try not to twitch at the sight of the soft, pale blue hoodie that swallows his broad frame whole. thick, white strands of hair that fall gently over his face. and that cloying scent of mint and something faintly sweet that leaves your ears hot and your heart sitting in your throat.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that's what you tell yourself in a now failing mantra.

"are you following me today?" you ask, flipping a page with exaggerated nonchalance, like you're not about to tear up pathetically from a stupid crush.

"caught me," gojo says, the grin audible even in his voice, "i just couldn't resist finding you. is that what you want me to say?"

you finally look up, swallowing at unfairly fine features, "saw you were at some party yesterday. i didn't think you'd be on campus today."

gojo just laughs, the sound soft and infuriating, "keeping tabs on me now?" and he's rifling through his bag for something, "or you don't think the library's a good look for me? i'm broadening my horizons. testing the waters."

you narrow your eyes, willing the heat rising in your face to stay put and not crawl into your voice, "i think you're testing my patience. i have a test tomorrow, so if you're here to waste my time..."

"maybe i just wanted to hang out with my friend," gojo says, tearing open a kitkat wrapper in an obnoxious way that echoes through the silent hall, and the crinkle of plastic grates against your nerves, "we haven't seen each other in ages."

"don't you have a lot of other people to hang out with nowadays?" you're mentally beating yourself with a bat at your question, wincing at how it sounds like you keep count of who he hangs out with, and you're pathetically down bad for him. like a 90s singer begging on his knees for a kiss.

"i mean, i could hang out with them," gojo says, breaking his kitkat horizontally like a monster, "but they're not you."

his sunglasses are gone, revealing eyes so blue they look otherworldly, and he's throwing you that smiling, lopsided grin that makes your heart run around a room and bang into the walls. but no. you were not going to let gojo satoru get to you. he probably made every girl feel like this, like they were the centre of his fast-paced universe. until the next shiny thing came along.

besides, gojo satoru dated models. or stunning cheerleaders. the kind of people who looked good under strobe lights, and in the glow of his party bus digital camera pics.

and hey, it's not like you were self-depreciating or awfully insecure. you liked who you were and you would never change it for anyone. quiet and ambitious. reserved, but down for some fun. you'd like to think you were the type of person who saw the world in a beautiful, cinematic light. but it was maddening how gojo satoru seemed to bring out the most juvenile issues in you that had your stomach turning itself into ugly knots.

"gojo," you try to sound as nonchalant as possible, "are you even here to study?"

as in why are you really here? please ask me out.

gojo looks unbothered, unshaken, "coffee. cake. maybe even some flirting, if you're up to it."

the universe hates you. it has a way of delivering what you want right into your hands, when...you don't exactly want it.

you blink at the white-haired man, disbelief bubbling under your skin, "you're not serious."

"why wouldn't i be?"

"c'mon, satoru. everyone knows you're not the actual dating type. you ever been in a relationship that wasn't pr and lasted for more than two weeks?"

absolutely bonkers at how your heart and your tongue are not on the same wavelength at all. it's like your mouth missed the memo and is just firing bullets that have gojo's grin faltering a bit, as a flicker of heated annoyance flashes in his eyes. even hurt, but it's gone too quickly for you to read into it.

"didn't realise that you thought i was that much of a joke," and you're not fond of how gojo's voice is quieter now, and a pretty sneer is dancing across his lips. you're biting your lip before you lose your stupid, petty resolve to not get involved with someone who could truly break your heart.

"if you didn't make everything a joke, it wouldn't be," you snap at him, and you're not even sure what you're angry at. there's no reason to be annoyed, or frustrated or even hurt and snippy with a friend who came and sat with you to catch up.

but you don't want to untangle whatever you're projecting onto gojo satoru, so you let bitter words spill over, "some of us don't have time for your games, gojo. we have real lives to deal with."

gojo's expression shifts completely, and that playful spark in his eyes is replaced with something colder as he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets, "right." and his tone is clipped, pissed, "got it. no time for games."

you watch as gojo walks away, already tapping away on his phone, but his footsteps are quieter than you expect. part of you wants to call after him, to take back the teeth and claws that painted your words.

but instead, you just look away from him and grimace. you must have pulled an awful, twisted face — for the man sitting across from you leans in and asks if you need to take an aspirin, or if you're low on fibre.

ACT III. between the covers

the bookstore smells faintly of old paper and new ink. a sharp contrast to the chill lingering outside, so the warmth hits you like a welcome blanket. the air buzzes with the muted chatter of customers, and the occasional beep of a cash register.

you're winding your way through the aisles, set on two missions. find that jacket-cover book that you had been wanting for weeks, and to hunt down the manga that yuuji had begged you to pick up for him.

you dart past a couple lingering in front of a 'booktube' bestseller display, narrowing avoiding a child wielding a stuffed dragon that you can only assume is smaug the magnificent from the hobbit. straight into the quieter section of the store, tucked in the back and smack-bang right into —

thud!

your shoulder collides hard with someone else, sending you stumbling back a step.

"fuck's sake. watch it," the person snaps, his tone sharp.

"maybe you should —" you start to retort, before the words die and patter out on your tongue as your mouth goes dry.

gojo satoru, ladies and gentlemen.

he's scowling at you, with sunglasses pushed up onto his head that expose those ridiculously pale eyelashes under the glow of the overhead lights. he's layered on a crisp varsity jacket, over a thick hoodie, all shades of soft blue and grey. and he looks irritated, with thick brows furrowed at you. but you don't miss the faint surprise that flutters across his face when he takes you in.

"seriously?" gojo murmurs, though more to himself, and his voice still holds an edge that has you wilting, "out of all the aisles in this store..."

you blink, caught somewhere between an apology that dances on the edge of your lips, and a bewildered laugh at how the divine powers deliver the worst luck on you. instead, you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your aviator jacket, "sorry. didn't see you."

gojo's shoulders relax, but just barely. as though he's still caught in the heavy fog of tension from your last words to him. but to your mild credit, he doesn't quite look ready to storm out either. progress?

"so. what are you doing here?" you ask, trying to break the ice and pretend that you're not doing internal pirouettes.

"just had to pick up a textbook," gojo mutters, holding up a thin and over-priced looking book on something like...quantum mechanics, "exams are coming up. gotta keep the top spot, you know."

you blink, "you're actually studying?"

gojo raises his eyebrow, lips twitching into the faintest smile, "what? you think i roll into my classes and ace everything through sheer willpower? or i spend all day being a joke and annoying everyone, right?"

you sigh, feeling the frosty, ice-gaze settle once more over you, paralysing you from head to toe, "look, gojo. i don't know what came over me that day," and now you're being sincere, looking away from his narrowed stare, "it's like some crazy, evil monster came over me and it possessed me. i think i incarnated some demon king in me and i said all that mean shit."

he shifts slightly beside you, and you don't miss at how gojo's lower lip juts out at your apology, or how close he is to you right now. "and i was jus' being stupid. swear i don't think you're a joke." you try to pick up some random book, pretending you're very busy as you speak.

but it's very hard to look genuine when you've just picked up a glossy copy of 'stand and deliver: a hard look at fixing male erection problems.'

it earns you a small laugh, light and quick, that has you almost falling to your knees, and you can hear choso's voice in your head. muttering out a dulcet 'i told you so. you want him so bad.' but it's worth it as gojo leans against the nearest shelf, the annoyance from earlier starting to ebb.

and for a moment, gojo studies you and his expression is unreadable. for your part, you're pretending to read the back cover of 'stand and deliver' and some blurb about how this award-winning author managed to help her husband 'get it up' after twenty years of marriage.

but the tension in his posture dissolves, relaxing further and gojo hums, "noted." that's all he says, and an awkward silence hovers. it hovers so uncomfortably, leaving you floundering for a new topic until gojo's voice breaks the silence.

"choso's doing good, yeah? i heard he got a girlfriend."

you smile, "yeah. yuki, she's like really cool. i don't know how he did it."

gojo snickers, "i asked if he wanted to play hockey and i think he's been avoiding me all week."

you try to pretend its not because of how you re-enacted your little spat with gojo, demonstrating the entire thing for your twin brother. who had just called you stupid afterwards. among other not-so-flattering terms, with little consideration for your crushing, beating heart.

"you going to suguru's party next weekend?"

ah, now that's a curveball.

because, again, you are your own brand of cool. or so you'd like to think, so this isn't really a matter of pitying comparison. but geto suguru is like on another level of effortlessly vogue. at least in your eyes. you know that he's gojo's best friend and he delivered a (controversial) and killer project on gene editing last semester. you know that geto's involved with gig photography as a hobby, and thus, has personal access to some of the coolest bands in the city.

and you also know that he occasionally waves a hand to you, but it's not like you actually know the man. it's just mutual association.

"i wasn't planning on it," you hesitate, for you really had been planning to cram through a mid-term session, "but someone asked me to go as their date."

gojo's smile evaporates, "who?"

"naoya zenin," you say cautiously, watching as gojo's face twists. like he's resisting the urge to gag and tear his hair out.

"naoya? he's like a walking billboard for being an entitled cunt," gojo groans, running a hand through glossy hair that has you trailing your gaze over slender, sculpted hands.

you narrow your eyes, "he seemed...okay. smart, i think."

"oh, he's smart. i'm not questioning that," gojo crabs, "he's so arrogant though. i grew up seeing that guy everywhere. our families were like, half friends."

you cross your arms, suddenly defensive, "are you warning me? or just mad that he asked me out?"

gojo seems to flounder for half a second, quick enough that you could miss it and he could deny it, "jealous of naoya? please," and he scoffs as he leans back against the shelf, "i have taste. unlike some people."

"you can't be the one giving me a lecture on dating etiquette. i mean, how many dates do you have lined up for geto's party? two, three?"

gojo gives you a sly grin, "more than that, hah. gotta keep my options open."

"tacky," you wrinkle your nose, trying to pretend that you don't feel like you just guzzled a gallon of curdled milk, "and classless."

"yes," gojo sighs sadly, "and endlessly charming. it's so hard being me," shooting you back a quizzical look as he pulls up to the register, paying for his textbook.

as he paid, you linger near the shelves, pretending to browse while stealing glances at gojo satoru. there was something different about him today, something quieter that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

and on gojo's way out, he pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at you. his expression is still entirely unreadable, his gaze lingering for just a second longer than usual. and then he was gone.

ACT IV. blush confidential

there's a soft hum of pop music wafting from someone's phone, blending in with the rustle of fabric and the hiss of a straightener. your bedroom is a whirlwind of motion and chaos, with clothes thrown over chairs, and pre-game drinks piled up over your vanity.

"i can't believe you're not coming with us," you gripe to yuki, watching as she lounged up on your bed, denim crinkling as she shifted to adjust herself.

"tch, you know i love a good party," yuki grins with sparkling ideas, "but choso and i have a date tonight. he's been texting me about it all day."

you snicke at the thought of your hapless twin, "yeah. he was practically glued to your dm's. ran into the kitchen table twice this morning."

shoko snorts from her spot at the vanity, from where she's running a brush through cropped, chestnut hair, "choso nervous? i need to see that," she catches your eye in the mirror, "do you still have that lip gloss?"

"on it," you're digging into the vast depths of your purse, grazing your wallet and a hal-featen granola bar. stubbing your finger on an opened gel pen, before clutching a small shiny tube that you toss to shoko.

"so," shoko smacks her lips, "how's it going with naoya?"

you blink, pausing in the middle of capping all your drying pens, "what do you mean how's it going? nothing's going."

your friend swivels on her stool, raising a thin eyebrow, "he's your date at this party, right? and why him, of all people?"

"seriously. that guy's got a reputation. and not a good kind, for a very good reason," utahime chimes in from her corner, where she's yanking on a ribbon woven through her hair.

you shrug, suddenly feeling defensive under their collective scrutiny, "hey. he asked, i said yes. it's not that deep."

shoko exchanges a pointed glance with utahime, and both of them looking equally skeptical in a way that has you flushing.

"he's just annoying, you know," shoko points out, "he thinks he's better than everyone else, and half the time? it's just hot air."

"and the other half?"

"still hot air," shoko flatlines, "you can do better."

"anyone's better than gojo," utahime mutters, "you don't want to be stuck with him."

yuki's snickering, and you're doing your utter best to pretend that the mention of gojo satoru doesn't have you crawling up and down the walls like a termite on crack.

"speaking of gojo," yuki drawls, running a comb through a golden sheaf of thick hair, "is he going with anyone to this party?"

you freeze for half a second, before busying yourself with some new body mist that you picked up from a sale, all vanilla and coconut and macademia, "i ran into gojo the other day," and you keep your tone as neutral as possible, "and he said he had a few dates."

"ugh," shoko groans, wrinkling her nose, "of course he does," and utahime mutters an affirmative, exasperated sigh, echoed only by yuki, who pauses mid-brush to look at you sympathetically.

"what?" you snap, defensive, "why are you all looking at me like that?"

shoko tucks a thin strand of hair behind her ear, "well, i mean. you like gojo, right? like really like him?"

"huh?" the question catches you so off guard that you're left sputtering, as the perfume leaves a sharp and awful taste on your tongue, accidentally leaving a fresh spritz into your mouth, and not the curve of your neck.

"oh, blech. absolutely not," you say vehemently, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, "i don't like him like that. not that i think he's awful or anything —"

utahime crosses her arms, white sleeves brushing against each other, "he is awful."

"yes, thank you for that, utahime. but he's just not my type," you finish firmly, "he's loud. he's disruptive. he can't take anything seriously. i can't date that."

yuki gives you a long and knowing look, "oh, he likes you," she says lightly, as though she's telling you a casual piece of news, and not something that has you biting your tongue till iron spills, "he's been crushing on you for so long."

you feel your stomach twist uncomfortable, like little, evil goblins are dancing in your gut, "that's ridiculous," you mutter, fiddling with the clasp of your purse, "if he liked me, he would ask me out properly. and not date half the student population."

"he probably thinks it's fair, because you keep turning him down," shoko says matter-of-factly, standing up to grab her bag.

"i just don't think he's good for you. or anyone," utahime mutters, earning a pinch from you.

ACT V. stereo love

normally, gojo thrived at these parties. suguru was always able to pull a crowd that straddled the line between chic and cool, with just enough alcohol to keep things interesting. the thrum of the bass-heavy music should have been the perfect escape after a gruelling day spent staring at equations, leaving him half-convinced that his course coordinator was plotting against him and wanted him dead.

but now gojo satoru was just jittery, restless. and he hated that.

so for now, he leaned against the kitchen counter with a full cup in hand, watching people spill out of the living room and into the backyard. it seemed that other students had been aching for a party, something to take them off mid-terms and yet here he was, scowling like a storm cloud. he took another swig of his drink, ignoring how his own stomach was doing unexplained cartwheels.

"you good?"

suguru's low voice cuts through the noise, startling gojo enough that he has to tighten his fingers around his cup so sticky beer doesn't spill over pristine tiles.

gojo waves his closest friend and confidante off, "i'm fine. obviously."

suguru's frown deepens, though it's obscured by his loose, choppy dark hair. and there's skepticism painted all over his face, "you're never this quiet at any party. i thought that by now, i would have had to convince you not to jump off the roof."

"you think too little of me."

"you think too much of yourself," suguru drawls, but he's leaning against the counter beside gojo, as leather and cool metal rustle against each other, "so where's your date? or dates, i should say?"

gojo freezes, his cup halfway to his lip, "come again? what are you talkin' about?"

suguru arches a thin brow, "it's practically all over campus, man. apparently, you had several dates with lovely, young ladies lined up tonight. and i tried to defend your fragile honour, said it was too ambitious even for you. but..."

this revelation hits gojo like a punchline that he wasn't in on, and then it clicks for him. oh, he had started that rumour a few days ago. in the bookstore, to you. his brain replays the scene like a cruel, little highlight reel: the way your expression had wavered minutely, just for a moment, when he had straight up lied and claimed that he had a few dates.

truth be told, gojo had only said it to make you jealous, to see if he could ruffle you and play your game even better.

but now the joke was so clearly on him.

because gojo satoru had no dates. and you? you were here with someone who wasn't him.

suguru's following his gaze across the room, and gojo doesn't even bother to hide his petulant interest. he can see you standing near the back walls, laughing at something that naoya zenin, mayor of all things putrid, had said. naoya, with his stupid green roots and louis vuitton jacket, standing just a little bit too close to you for gojo's liking.

but before he can stew in it any linger, suguru's reaching out and pinching his ear. hard.

"ow! fuck was that for?" gojo's yelping, jerking away from his clearly evil, traitrous best friend.

"that," suguru says evenly, "was for looking like a lovesick idiot. pull yourself together, man."

"i'm not lovesick," gojo weakly protests, rubbing his bruised, throbbing ear and moving further away from suguru geto.

"you're not exactly screaming cool and collected," suguru dryly comments, "sulking like a sore loser while your crush laughs at another guy's jokes."

gojo feels his face heat up, just a little bit, because he knows that suguru's hitting close to home, "i don't sulk and do all that whiny shit. second of all, it's not my fault she went with zenin of all people. it's up to her if she wants to be stuck with someone who talks about his family's real estate portfolio as foreplay."

suguru snorts, and it's clear that he's not playing the role of sympathetic best man for life, "you know what's more obnoxious? watching you fuck around like this. you need to figure out how to ask her properly."

"i did all that!" gojo shoots back, throwing his arms up so his drink dances over the edge of the cup, "she said no. each time. you know what they call a guy who can't take a hint? she thinks i'm a loser!"

"and are you?"

gojo narrows his eyes, "am i what?"

"a loser."

"is it easier for me if i just say yes?" gojo half-heartedly gripes, "is that what you want me to say?"

"or," suguru says calmly, "you're a guy who hasn't proven he's worth saying yes to."

gojo groans, tipping his head back so he can block out the vision of his irritatingly wise best friend, "you sound like my grandmother."

"that's not even an insult. your grandmother is on some metal shit," suguru counters, unbothered, "and you sound like a twelve-year old. you can't flirt and sleaze your way through this. if you want her to take you seriously, i don't know how else to say this, you have to stop being...you."

"excuse me?"

"no. stop, don't make that face," suguru scowls, "you know what i mean. stop being a stupid flirt, and be a genuinely better person. otherwise, you're just spinning and burning out your wheels."

"did you pick up a self help book?"

suguru elbows him, sneering, "i'm trying to help you. if you don't want my help, i'm telling her you have an std."

"maybe you should just do that. end my misery," gojo downs the rest of his drink in one go, the burn of cheap beer doing nothing to ease the olympics in his alimentary canal. what's worse is that suguru is right, the bastard always is.

suguru claps him on the shoulder, "relax, satoru. you've got charm in spades. just use it...wisely."

"yeah, yeah. thanks, man," gojo mutters, brushing him off as suguru wanders away, probably to mediate some dumb argument between that big oaf, toji fushiguro and the even bigger oaf, ryomen sukuna. honestly, why were they even invited?

but gojo stays where he is, eyes flicking back to you. away from the distracting curve of your thighs in that skirt, and rather on how interested you look in naoya's stupid, animated gestures. and you look so at ease, but there's something hot and sharp twisting inside his gut.

suguru's soft, measured voice echoes in his head, "prove yourself as a person first."

oh, yeah. gojo could do that. he would absolutely do that. for you, he'd do just about anything, short of donating his vital organs (but he would definitely be considering it). but how hard could it be to be better? more mature? more grounded?

gojo satoru can handle all that. all he had to do was be a dignified, charming man. you know, someone who puts his best foot forward into the world. someone that you might actually consider taking seriously. someone calm and respectful.

if you were happy with naoya zenin, then who was he to interfere? who was he to ruin that for you? even if the guy looked like wile e. coyote when he smiled. even if naoya zenin was the most smug bastard to walk the earth.

gojo scowled at nothing in particular. but the point was that it wasn't his place to meddle. not if it meant risking your happiness. all he could do was be the best version of himself. polite, kind and above reproach. a good and respectful friend.

ACT VI. a shot of love, on the rocks.

"please, i want you so fuckin' bad."

gojo satoru is on his knees. at a party, in the middle of the living room. for you.

you feel like your mind isn't able to process all this fast enough, like your brain is on some pause. the music is still thumping in your head, but not as fast as your poor cardiac muscles as you're rendered frozen from pathetic, piercing blue eyes blinking up at you.

"please," gojo satoru repeats, and his voice vaguely warbles out like he's kinda lost his marbles and —

let's rewind.

five minutes ago, you had been standing with naoya zenin. and despite your initial reservations, you had been entertained. he's sorta witty, and definitely loaded with snarky remarks that cut through the noise of the party. it's hard not to laugh at his biting commentary, although half the time he's skewering people for fun, and the other half? just out of pure spite.

his golden eyes gleam with that edge, the kind of sharpness that makes you think of a hyena circling around its next meal. naoya is definitely full of himself, but it doesn't help that he's also ridiculously good-looking. and he knows how stunning he is, but its bothering him that you're not showering him in enough compliments for it.

still, he's here with you. he's your date. and you're doing your best to remind yourself of that. naoya is the only option you have at the moment, and he's definitely offering you more attention than anyone else tonight.

from across the room, utahime gives you an exaggerated, pained thumbs-up — while shoko shrugs in her usual blithe manner, but she gestures for you to smile more. you plaster on a wider grin, a little too obvious but naoya doesn't seem to notice.

"you know, if you're getting bored of all this, we could always find another room," naoya's low hiss slices right through the bass-thrum of the pulsing room, "do a little more than just talk."

for a moment, it's easy to imagine slipping away with him. but the sharpness in his killer-smile makes something in you bristle, like he's already envisioned you saying 'oh yes, naoya! please take me to bed!' and you shake your head, and give him an amused look.

"maybe later," you say lightly, "not now."

naoya zenin doesn't seem quite offended, but his smile grows wider as he stands up straight again, from where he had curved his tall frame into you, "i'm a patient man. fine by me, 'm gonna get some more drinks."

and you watch as his golden head of hair disappears into the crowd, leaving you all alone while the music blares around you, like a suffocating fog. you rub your temples, wondering if you should just go after naoya and tell him to go to town, something for the night's enjoyment. but before you can go any further, you hear a shout cut through the noise.

"hey!"

you whip around, blinking in surprise at gojo satoru.

but also not quite the gojo that you're used to. the one that you grew up with, and held hands with in kindergarten, one who smiled easy and laughed too loud. it seems he's ditched the oversized hoodies and varsity jackets tonight, opting for a black tee that fits him a little too well and dark cargo pants that only highlight...

you're getting distracted. but it's hard to remain focused, when he's walking towards with you. seemingly determined, as his white hair falls forward over thunderstorm-eyes. for a moment, you're not sure if you’re hearing him over the pounding music, or if it's just your own pulse making everything seem louder.

"i hate that you're here with naoya," gojo says suddenly, and his voice is low and serious, something that you've never really heard from him before.

your brow furrows, "what?"

"i lied about the dates," he continues, as words just jumble out his candy-pink mouth, "i don't have a bunch of dates. fuck, i don't even have one date. i only want to date you."

you blink, and then you blink once more, because again what?

the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you think you might have misheard the man. his blue eyes are wide and earnest, and they're staring right at you.

and before you know, he's on his knees. muscular thighs bending so his knees hit the cool tiles with a heavy thud, hands splayed out for you.

"please," he implores, "you gotta understand. i need you to feel what i feel, because it's not even a passin' thought, i swear. it's not even a stupid crush. this is like —" and he's gesturing wildly with one hand, still kneeling like a knight about to beg for his lady's favour, "this is destiny."

"gojo," you manage, "are you on drugs?"

the white-haired man, bless his sassy heart, rolls his eyes, "no. i'm on beer and vodka. will you please let me finish?"

"yes, but what are you doing?" you hiss, exasperated and sibilant, as more eyes turn to the most ravishing man on campus, who's absolutely off his rocker. and there are phones being pulled out, god help you.

"what am i doing?" gojo smiles, and it's unnervingly wide, "i'm like laying it out all here for you. my love. because that's what you are, to me. like you're everything. and i swear everyone knows this already. should i call you my sun, my moon, my entire universe? it's like time stops when i see you, a-and trust me, i do physics. i know time shit," and he must have caught at how your mouth is flapping open because he suddenly wags a finger, "no! i'm not done. i haven't even told you how the world fades, and all that's left is you glowing. like a star that i can't reach."

he's placing a hand on his broad chest, digging into the tight top clinging to his pectorals, like he's being dramatically wounded, "i have to reach you. i have to be with you."

you're not sure what parts you've processed, or what part of this slow train-wreck has settled in your head, "are you, like, actually begging right now?"

gojo's eyes flash with the intensity of a thousand suns (well, fuck — gojo's awful poeticism is rubbing off on you already). you can hear the low snickers of two men that had been beating the living daylights out of each other half an hour ago, those fuckwits that go by toji and sukuna. you can hear sukuna's deep mutters about how no-one ever would like toji enough to do this for him. and yep, you can hear them scuffle again.

"yes!" gojo booms, and more than a few heads have turned now. you wonder if naoya zenin is watching in the background, and realising that this isn't a battle he wants to pick, "i will kneel for you. like i'd do this shit for eternity, even if my knees hurt so bad right now. but as long as you give me a chance to prove my worth. and my devotion, d-don't forget that! deep as the ocean, endless and vast. and the stars align...oh, how they align for us."

"ah, satoru," you cut in, and you realise that you're now smiling. embarrassment and mild humiliation be damned, there's a quirk tugging at your lips, "you can get up now. this is a bit dramatic."

gojo blinks, not missing a beat, "i'm dramatic because i'm in love, okay? and —" he swivels his head to the crowd, grumbling, "shut up, sukuna! i heard that, i'll beat your wonky ass. you don' know shit about love."

he's turning back to you, all sticky and soothing sugar once more, "where was i? eh, my confession. well, it's all for you. and it's me, givin' you every part of me. beggin' you to see that you're the only one who can break the walls around my heart."

you think that you've completed a full speed-run on every stage of grief that there is to experience, and if the small plink! coming from someone's phone is any indication, gojo's monologue has already made it's way onto someone's private story. and so naturally, everyone will have seen it by tomorrow.

"can you get off your knees? you look ridiculous."

gojo's grin falters for a split second before he straights up, all with a hefty groan as he runs a hand through snowy strands, "ridiculous? i'm being vulnerable as hell, and you think i look stupid?"

"a little," you admit, but you're reaching a hand out to push a strand of thick hair out of his eyes. and it's maddening at how gojo seems to tremble mildly under your touch, at the brush of your fingers against his temple, "kneeling at a frat party is crazy work."

gojo sinks his teeth into a plush lower lip, "that was me trying to show how much i care, and all that sweet shit. you make me lose all my cool, and this isn't even a joke."

"you never had cool, and now you've lost your dignity too," but you're blushing, and it's a giddy feeling at how he's now close enough that you can feel his body heat.

gojo satoru's eyes twinkle, "maybe. but i'd do all that again if it won you over."

"with your future oscar nomination?"

the man shrugs, broad muscles rippling, "he who be a fool for love is far better than he who doth never dare to try at all."

"fair point," you murmur, feeling dizzy in that familiar scent of lemon candies and mint, like the world is swirling around in a heady haze, "do you wanna kiss me to seal the deal?"

"yes please. i think i'm gonna pass out and — mmph!"

you've pulled yourself up, and thrown your arms around his warm neck, drawing gojo into you. crashing your lips into his before either of you can say anything else. it's an urgent, reckless kiss. like a dam has burst and all the pent-up emotions that you've been carrying have finally exploded.

gojo's lips are soft, but demanding, taking more and more air from you. they fit against you with an ease that feels almost too natural. and his broad arms come around your waist with a force that leaves the air punched out of you. he's holding you tightly, as though he's afraid that you'll just disappear if he doesn't keep you close enough.

you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the muscles in his arms that flex as he pulls you in, deepening the kiss. all while his mouth moves against yours with a slow and deliberate intensity, as his tongue parts your lips. all so messy.

when gojo finally pulls away, the last brush of his lips catches your quiet whimper. just as his breath goes ragged, and you're left standing there, dazed, with your forehead resting against his. you can still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that electricity that's crackling and buzzing through your veins as you giggle.

gojo, however, doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. he tugs your wrist with a sharp, swift motion. but his grip is firm, not harsh as you pulls you away from the living room, "c'mon. let's get outta here."

shoko's eyes are wide, her jaw practically locked in disbelief, "what the hell just happened?"

utahime's lips curl, "someone took gojo's brain out and replaced it with a clone. ah! geto, what did you do?"

suguru has been standing near the kitchen counter, absolutely floored, and he's shaking his head so hard that he feels a headache forming, "hand on my heart, ladies. i told him not to pull any stunts. swear on destiny's child that i didn't tell him to do all that."

ACT VII. i bet we'd have really good bed chem!

gojo satoru has absolutely lost his mind. but you wish that he had lost it a bit earlier, because you're practically pawing at his top now. critically working to make quick work of the tight fabric, letting your fingers run over hard planes of muscles and lower.

right until you're reaching a trail of soft white hairs that disappear into the band of his pants.

"seems like you're just as desparate as me, hah," gojo snickers, and his broad hand is trailing further up your thighs, letting your skirt bunch and crinkle under his ministrations. thick fingers brush over dewy cotton, and you moan.

"s-satoru!"

"you don't even know how long i've w-wanted this," and his hand clenches at the fabric, gripping it so tightly that you fear it may just be on the verge of tearing, but you can only buck your hips into him further.

no longer even mindful of how you must be already dripping onto the palm of his hand, "and i thought you knew. i r-really thought you knew how much i wanted you."

his middle finger is gliding through your damp and searing slit, with clinging strands latching onto his skin as you muffle a whine into his chasing, teasing lips.

it's sending deep, low curls of arousal in thick waves, settling low in your groin and you don't even care what room of the house you're now in, someone's bedroom with a dark, stylish bedspread and vinyls up on the walls.

the force of his large hands drives you down onto the bed, pressing your back onto the soft mattress.

and gojo looks so pleased, at how you're splayed and sprawled out underneath his torso, his hands tugging at your now bare thighs to spread your legs even further. pulling them far enough so they come to rest on either side of his face.

"fuck, she's so pretty. even better than i imagined," and gojo's voice is husky and low, almost strained, "and believe me. imagined her plenty." the sound of drenched cotton being torn rips through the air, slippery and resistant from your arousal.

it's even stubborn as the fabric refuses to budge, until it gives way under the force of gojo's tug, soft and tearing. leaving your pussy open to the cool, cold air. bare for gojo's eyes to rest upon and widen.

his lips brush against your thigh with an uncharacteristic gentleness, one that makes your entrance clench and wink.

but gojo is nothing if not teasing, and he feels light-headed. pressing featherlight kisses to the crevice of your thigh, and then closer to your aching mound. but even he cannot hold off for much longer, and he's pressing a flat, lazy print of his tongue against your cunt.

that first munch sends a burst of tangy sweetness dancing across gojo's tongue, and he thinks he might just bust a load right then and there. the heat of your clenching cunt is almost overwhelming, but hey.

gojo's never been a quitter, and he doesn't care if he creams his pants at this very moment, he needs to hear that sweet whimper of his name from your lips again.

his lips part, blowing a quick breath on your aching clit, right as his fingers begin to press and meld into your syrupy folds. it's got you practically jumping further into him, so wet strands are clinging to the very tip of his nose. and gojo knows that this is heaven. that he's unlocked true paradise.

"satoru, c-can't you...?"

he's too busy running his tongue over your clit, drawing small circles with the very tip of the hot muscle, "can't i what, pretty? don' want me eating you out?"

and you are so adorable, pushing your head up to scowl down at him with furrowed brows, but the flush in your cheeks paints you the most beautiful shade of cherry red. and gojo vows to spend the rest of his life ensuring that this shade never leaves your cheeks.

"can't you get to the eating part? thought that you were gonna — f-fuck! hnngh, 'toru!"

he's pulling your thighs tighter around his head, and he doesn't give a fuck if this is how he goes. suffocated in this tantalising heat, with your fingers lacing themselves into woven patterns in his white hair.

he's lowering his tongue once more into your throbbing pussy, making sure that his pleased vibrations send pleasurable rumbles right through your core.

grinning and slurring his tongue further into you, right as you buck desparate hips over and over. dragging yourself against his chin, so he's sure that the lower half of his face must be glistening with your sweetness.

gojo absolutely thinks he can get used to being like this, at having you angle and force his head further into your cunt. letting you angle and toy at him and use him for your pleasure. he snaps his teeth around glossy strands of arousal, once and then twice, before delving back in.

making sure that his spare hand finds your clit to draw quick flicks and shapes over it, pushing a finger right up against the throbbing hood.

"satoru, ah, satoru! 'toru!" it's all you can even manage right now, just chants and groans of his names, as he's practically sunken your hips into the mattress, while he's on his knees for the second time this night.

"hey, none of that, yeah?" and gojo's gently tugging at your arm. trying to get you to stop muffling your whimpers and cries, because he just needs to hear your adorable sounds. and he needs to hear your bird-like cries when you come undone.

what a joy it is for gojo. to be able to dive between your legs and run his tongue between your folds. he's losing his mind at how your body trembles under his touch, and how he makes the mistake of peering up at you. your lips are parted, open and glossy. and your brows are furrowed, as lashes flutter against your cheek. you have to cum, gojo satoru needs you to cum right now.

and so, he exerts all his effort ten fold into having you finish. it's so sloppy, and so messy. gojo lets his own eyes dip shut, letting himself feel your glossy, glistening cunt pulse around his tongue. and let there be no doubt that gojo satoru is a munch, for he's eating you out in such an ardent manner, and it basically sends you barrelling towards a heart-stopping orgasm, where tears spring to the corners of your eyes.

you needn't have even tried to warn him of your impending climax, for gojo knows in the way that your legs quiver and get sloppier over his face. stars fall over your vision as you heave and toss your head back, muscles rippling as "satoru, satoru!" falls from your lips, long and drawn out as the rest of the world goes dark around you.

you gasp, struggling to inhale as the syrupy air is stolen from your lungs, all while gojo runs his tongue through your folds, head spinning with the dizzying rush of sensation. it's as if you've been swept away, hurtling towards space, weightless and disorientated.

only to crash back into reality as gojo seemingly hasn't stopped letting himself taste all of you, with not a drop of arousal wasted. your back is further pressed into the soft mattress beneath you, and the surge of overstimulated numbness follows, all pleasurable pins and needles and ferocious need.

"look at that, 'm already addicted," gojo coos, almost to himself, scooping a finger through the translucent gloss that leaks from your cunt. bringing it up to his mouth to wrap his tongue around, "think you can handle giving me another one?"

you let out a weak, breathless laugh. your gaze lingering on gojo's face, the soft moonlight that casts an ethereal glow on his features. his chin still faintly gleams, coated in your mirror-sheen and his lips are a plump, rosy red. you part your lips, propping yourself onto your elbows, but before you can form the words, the door slams open with a force that makes your ears rattle.

"i've looked in every fuckin' room in this house, and i swear to everything holy, satoru. if you chose my bedroom, i'm gonna —"

geto suguru's voice cuts off mid-rant, his words dissolving into a strangled, pained gasp as he takes in the sight before him. gojo, kneeling between your legs, wearing a ridiculously pleased grin. just like the cat who got the cream. you let out a squeak, hastily tugging your skirt over you, but it's hard to look innocent when gojo is still unabashedly pawing at your thighs.

geto pales, his jaw going slack, and he looks like he's about to collapse, "god help me. satoru, i'll kill you tomorrow," and then he shoots you both a nasty look, "and you're both paying for new sheets."

"so you and gojo are...dating now?" choso pries, with a tone that is entirely too casual but his eyes are keen. your twin is nursing a cup of coffee while he absolutely demolishes a plate of fried eggs. he had been quiet so far, but it's clear that curiosity gave out and now he's peering at you like a big owl.

you try, or do your very best not to smile too hard. to not look giddy and ridiculously pleased, "yeah, i guess we are," you admit, keeping your voice as level as possible.

choso blinks once, before setting his fork down and shaking his head, "i knew it. it was only a matter of time," he mutters, and without further ado, he resumes shovelling eggs into his mouth, utterly unfazed.

before you can respond, sukuna appears in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame, his tattooed arms crossed and his expression dripping with disdainful amusement, "oh, i was there," he drawls, sharp fangs flashing in a wicked grin, "that loser pulled the dumbest, most dramatic stunt of all time. got on his knees and everything."

choso freezes mid-chew, raising a thick brow as he glances at the older man with mild interest, "wish i'd seen that," he mumbles through a mouthful of toast.

to your utter astonishment, sukuna nods gravely, his face taking on an uncharacteristically serious look, "yeah. i've got a video if you wanna watch."

your jaw drops as you glance between them, "this is officially the first time that i've ever seen you two agree on anything," setting your mug down with a thud, "if i had known that dating gojo would bring about world peace, i would have done it ages ago and —"

yuuji bounds into the kitchen like an overeager puppy, his blush-pink hair still a mess from interrupted sleep. but he's clapping his hands together like he's just won the lottery, "finally! look at that! everyone's getting along for once."

sukuna doesn't even bother to hide his irritation, shooting yuuji a withering glare. but it's hard to take him seriously when his own pink hair rivals yuuji's in sheer disarray, "don't push it," sukuna warns darkly, grabbing a glass of orange juice and downing it in one morose gulp. he slams the empty, cold glass on the counter before stalking off towards the door, "i'm seriously gonna move out at this rate."

"promise?" choso quips, without missing a bit, "wish you'd stop getting our hopes up and actually do it."

yuuji is undeterred, and he elbows you with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, "you have to invite gojo over all the time now. i like him a lot. he's like super cool."

"of course," you grin, sliding a plate towards him as he eagerly digs in.

and your younger brother beams like the sun itself. right as a mocking, high-pitched voice floats from the other room, "and then we're all gonna be lovesick, and skip around town while holding hands!" right before falling back into sukuna's usual gruff tone that echoes through the kitchen, "god, you're all so insufferable."

your phone buzzes on the table, and you glance down. gojo's contact photo lights up the screen. it's a snapshot from a year or two ago, taken the summer that you both graduated high school. he's standing at the edge of the beach, with the sun dipping low enough behind to catch his white hair. turning it into a halo of glowing light. it's a photo that you never had the heart to change.

satoru 🪐

good morning princess!! my one and only!!!! my sugar plum (too much? i can tone it down but you just can't put a lid on love) hope you dreamed of me 🙂‍↔️ so what are you doing today because i've got abt eight possible things we can cover today starting with [read more.]

"ugh, gross."

sukuna's disdainful drawl cuts through behind you, as an icy finger prods at your phone, trying to scroll up and snoop through your messages. you freeze and slam your phone down on the table. whirling around to come face to face with the world's most judgemental gargoyle sneers at you, "i think i'm gonna throw up."

"get a life, holy fuck."

[squiddy-god]

HSR men and manhandling

Manhandling HCS pt one?

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Ok so this is actually just because i have lust in my heart lmao- this came to me in a dream so buckle up, i am definitely willing to do more characters because i have thoughts- reminder that i often write smut from an afab perspective but that its gn! Because i am a trans man so ftm reader you guys are my faves <3 this is for everyone tho. These are lowkey long-

♥︎REQUEST ARE OPEN ♥︎

ARGENTI, BOOTHILL, DR RATIO, JING YUAN 

Cw: smut, suggestive content to just straight smut, man handling,dom!/top characters. Established relationship, biting, no pronouns (afab anatomy), implied chubby/bigger reader, PDA, slight exhibitionism, mentions of bath sex,mentions of oral (m & f receiving)  Description of touching hair (no texture described), aftercare is given even if not fully described  i have so many thoughts 

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Argenti 

Ok hear me out-

He doesn't do it on purpose, argenti to his core is a gentle lover

But he's a knight of beauty and quite strong, throwing around a huge spear as if it was nothing, effortlessly defeating monsters in his pursuit of beauty

And until you, he traveled alone, you are truly a blessing from Idrila and who is he to refuse such a blessing. 

Argenti naturally just waxes poetry to everyone and everything, it ramps up with you, it's more tender and loving. The other thing is that he's more physical, kissing a lock of your hair, the back of your hands, embracing you, dancing with you etc. this is where the problems is (its not a problem i NEED this man)

Argenti doesn't often show physical affection with anyone besides his beloved (you) so he sometimes forgets his strength, and while he could NEVER dream of handling you in any way except with tender care and the touch of a gentleman 

He ends up manhandling you. 

Argenti also loves you with everything, sex is special, its connection, it is devotion 

And he is DEVOTED 

Gently grasping your hand and waist to pull you into his embrace simply so he can admire you? The force is enough to (literally) almost sweep you off your feet

Drawing your body close to his, the music drowning out the noise you make as he moves you to dance with him. 

It's like you weigh nothing to him, he can simply move you however he wants.

Often sweeps you off your feet because he forgets that most can't just sweep you into one arm while the other cradles your face. 

What's hot about it is that he is literally manhandling you with such a tender expression you almost forget the way his hands grip your hips as if argenti is trying to commit the feeling of your plush body to his memory (he is) 

Argenti is a giver in the bedroom, but the manhandling continues 

Asks before he does literally anything- can he move your hips up? Can he kiss you? What do you need from him? 

But once he has your consent on permission THIS MAN FOLD YOU IN HALF

If he's giving you head/eating you out? Consider your legs PINNED DOWN, once you tell him that he can finally have a taste he is dragging you across the soft sheets of his bed and DIVORCING your legs. 

His favorite position for eating you out is him sitting on the bed with your legs slung over his shoulders and a bruising grip on your hips and thighs holding you up like its nothing, he likes it because it makes it so easy for you to look up at him while he maintains the most loving eye contact you have ever received. 

Back to Argenti folding you in half- he will be balls deep in you panting and huffing while he's practically slamming into you, his hands grabbing at any part of you he can reach, tummy, thighs, love handles- anything. He let out a breathy moan asking to move you “just a bit” and when you nod your head with a whine he's dragging you closer and throwing one leg over shoulder before leaning down to ask for a kiss, practically pressing your knee to your shoulder. 

Always is so shocked at how sore you are despite the fact he was bending and folding you like origami- he truly doesn't realize just how much he throws you around.  

Boothill

It wasn't intentional…at first

Once he realizes just how much he man handles you (and how hot and bothered it gets you) it is 100% intentional 

He is a menace and is unashamed of anything

His metal body is a lot stronger than a human body is so there is a lot more that he can do

Boothill is unashamed, he dosn’t give a fuge who sees, in fact- a more possessive side of him is very happy to see the the stares he garners with his hands around your waist practically dragging you along with his long strides

Boothill’s two favorite activities include pulling you towards him by the waist, and holding you there when you try to squirm away as he bites and nibbles your cheeks

Traveling with boothill is dangerous so shootouts with ipc and any other bounties he's hunting aren't uncommon, neither are hasty escapes where he hoists you up and slings you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes

Honestly him throwing you over his shoulder isn't uncommon even if it's not for a hasty escape

Oh the cyborg sees you talking to someone he thinks is getting a little too friendly? He doesn't care how much you protest he is dragging you away 

Back to the shootouts, if he sees your gonna get punched, shot or otherwise harmed he is pulling and pushing you all over the place like a ragdoll after all his reflexes are a lot quicker than yours so 

Another one who likes to dance (did you see those moves) and he’s not even sorry as he pulls you against him to dance, laughing as he moves you. 

The more boothill knows you like being manhandled the more he does it- sometimes it's really just to tease you

Pinning you down in your cair before letting you get up, all while hes laughing at how flustered you get

Boothill’s manhandling isn't so much about folding you in half but more so keeping you there- 

He loves to throw you onto the bed- after he's hauled you off from a far to friendly chap, or a gunfight he will throw you onto the bed as you bounce slightly 

This mostly happens once you are both safe from a bounty or gunfight- artificial adrenaline pumping through the tubes he calls veins and it has him itching to have you 

Pinning your hands above your head and kissing you with a little too much teeth

Dirty lip biter

He bites his lips when he's pissed off (often) and when he kisses you (also often) so you should both invest in chapstick because your lips are bit to high hell by the time boothill pulls away

Big big fan of fucking you against a wall- might as well put this metal bod to work in his opinion, and what a better way to use it than to grab fistfulls of thigh and ass while your legs rest on his cold hips? 

Its perfect because he only needs one arm to hold you up, the other free to roam and pinch where he wants 

Chronic ass slapper

If he sees an opportunity to smack your ass he. Is. taking. It. 

You alway know because you hear the clink of his boots and the accessories against him and the loud wolf whistle he lets out.

Dr.ratio 

The good doctor is somewhat oblivious 

He acknowledges that sometimes he dose move you in a way that would be considered manhandling but is mostly unaware of the effect it has on you

The difference with ratio is that so much of  his manhandling is in a domestic way, 

Oh he needs a mug for his tea and you are doing something in front of the counter where the cabinet is? Prepare for a stong hand on you waist and he moves you to the side like you are little to no obstacle

Oh you are getting swept up in the crowd? Fear not for veritas places a hand on the small of your back to guide you with him as he practically cuts through the crowds. Really its more of pushing you but really whos complaining?

Personally i am a fan of men who are closet/secret FREAKS and veritas ratio is a freak

I think hes rather possessive in the sense that while he is wholly confident and secure in himself and you- afterall why would you leave him for some idiot 

It is a small irrational feeling that plays into the fact he is quick to annoyance and anger 

The temper of the dr is well know tho very rarely directed at you 

It is moment like this that hes more hands, his hand a death grip on your shoulder or the plush softness of your waist as his words cut harshly to the person getting to friendly 

You are HIS idiot (affectionate) 

One of the best (read: hottest) things to watch him do is sculpt. I hc that beyond stone and marble ratio also dables in clay and pottery (im bias)

Watching this man wedge clay is an ✨experience ✨, his thick toned arms that flex with earth movement, the way his back is pulled taught and his palms press the clay against the surface.

Hes practically leaning over it and grunting (wedging clay is an arm workout) . I mean how could you not watch that slack jawed wondering when it's your turn? (i'm gonna write suggestive ration on the wheel) 

IN THe BATH?? Not enough ratio bath sex in my life tbh but this man is aughhhhhh

Ratio likes his baths, warm relaxing water and a good book? Perfect 100 points. Having you with your back pressed against his chest? Extra credit 

Dr ratios love languages are info dumping and acts of service change my mind. He likes to be useful, a deep seeded need to help people, and especially you. He likes to wash you in the bath, from washing your hair to scrubbing you clean he wants to help so just relax into putty in his arms 

He doesn't hesitate to turn and maneuver you however he needs to scrub and clean you and he manhandles you because you're a bit slippery. His grip is more firm (when is it not?) 

One thing he does slightly unintentionally is turning your face/head to face him/look him in the eyes. His hands grab your jaw or squish your cheeks as he turns you to look at him making sure you are paying 100% attention 

Same with kisses, a firm hand at the nape of the neck pressing you further into him. 

Guess what? Its your turn because this touch starved man is grabby it isnt a want he needs to be grabign at anything he can rach his hands practically kneading your soft flesh while you get flipped and folded. 

This man is a dr…he knows all the angles that make you writhe and he intends to exploit them even if he has to pull out and fold you in half before pushing himself back in 

Big fan of pressing down while kneading your stomach right where he knows his cock is so deep inside you 

Jing yuan 

The lazy general 100% dose it on purpose, hiding behind that warm grin despite his actions 

Most of the time he is very gentle, but there are times when his work becomes rather taxing and he needs a small break 

The small break being waiting for you to walk close enough only for his strong arms to wrap around you and pull you down into his lap where you will NOT be leaving 

This is his main form of man handling, pulling you into his lap and holding you in his iron grip

Big fan of naps and he will often pull you into the optimal sleeping/cuddle position whenever he gets the chance to

Oh your arm is falling asleep? Don't worry he just picks you up and maneuvers you to basically lay on top of him

He lights the weight of your body, his very own weighted and heated blanket 

He plays the fool but there is a distinct twinkle in his golden eyes when he sees the way you grow flustered whining about how your in his office and-

But it doesn't matter to him because he needs this- so just stay in his lap a little longer 

He's even worse in bed- his work keeps him busy so he feel that he needs to compensate by absolutely rocking your world

Really it depends on the time of day- ironically you get manhandled more in the mornings when he wakes up hard and absolutely aching for you

In the mornings when you are both still sleepy he drags you closer to him, kissing up your shoulder and neck until he has you begging for him in that morning voice he finds so irresistible, 

Wastes no time spooning you, letting out a groan as he slides inside you and rocks you against him- his hands have a firm bruising grip on your hips as he rocks you against him with force 

One hand remains on your hip to keep up the punishing pace while the other holds your jaw so you twist to kiss him- and he cant get enough, he slams you back against him rougher and rougher until you are both satisfied and he is all but forced out of your shared bed. 

The second is at night when he has you on top of him, riding him while his hands grab your ass and thighs, throwing your weight around while he looks up at you with the same lazy grin he always has

As if he isn't bouncing you along his length just waiting for you to stutter from the burn in your legs- all an excuse to pick you up and pin you back against the bed under him- 

All an excuse to be able to leave open mouth kisses against your skin while he has his fill of your pillowy softness 

In summary he knows exactly what he's doing and he knows exactly how riled up you get when he uses just a little of his strength on you. 

Don't let the drowsy grin on his face fool you. Menace through and though 

[inkedbybarnes]

blind date

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: convinced that bucky will never like you back, you agree to a blind date arranged for you to forget about him.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: fluff. two idiots pining over each other (i know, i know. i love the trope). blind dates (they honestly scare me). boundaries being crossed. not so gentleman of a blind date. protective & grumpy bucky (yes, that's a warning!). pet names such as doll. lowercase writing. not proofread.

notes: happy 500 followers to us! hehe. sorry it took long, i waited until i reached that milestone and we finally did! we're growing in our small delulu home, and i love it. <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“come on! tell me more about this mystery guy.”

natasha plopped down the couch beside you while she held a pint of ice cream in her hand and a spoonful on its way to her mouth. you were talking about the blind date that sam arranged for you, and she hasn't stopped asking questions since you mentioned it.

“there's really nothing to tell besides that he's a guy looking for a date and that he's friends with sam. i'm actually surprised that sam set this all up, but i trust him, you know? maybe it'll be nice,” you answered, ignoring the fact that sam suggested this to help you get over your not-so-little crush on a super soldier.

your phone beeped, showing a message sent to you by your teammate. “speaking of the devil, sam just sent me the details but i'm really not sure if i should go. it doesn't feel right.”

“and leave the poor guy waiting? not happening." natasha stuck her spoon into her pint and set it down on the coffee table. “you feel that way because you like someone already, but nothing's going to happen if we'll sit here waiting. you're either giving this date a chance or ask bucky out. it's time you finally go out there and see someone. aren't you sick of us yet?"

“i'm quite sick of you, that's for sure.” you joked, having natasha as your room neighbour and basically your best friend. if you weren't spending your time sleeping in your room, you'd be spending it with her. “i just don't think i should be going on dates when i know i'm technically not emotionally available for others yet.”

“oh, you can't be sick of me. i'm great company." natasha replied confidently. “then why did you agree? we all know, besides barnes, that you've liked him for so long. plus, he's never been with anyone for ages. the two of you makes sense.”

you gnawed on your lower lip, hesitant to tell nat the reason why you agreed to this stupid date, but she was your best friend and also one hell of a spy to even try and hide it. “he told me that he found someone similar to bucky and that i might want to meet him. we agreed to let it be a blind date to avoid the mess of telling them that they're meeting an avenger.”

“i knew it. you're going on a rebound date!” she jumped on her seat, as if she'd solved the winning numbers to the lottery. “there was no way you'd suddenly go on a blind date without a catch. you're too hung up on bucky!”

“keep it down!” you pulled her back into the couch, nervously looking around the room to see if anyone was close by. “i'm pretty sure rebounds only apply to people i've dated. bucky's hardly a candidate for that list.”

“you've liked him for way too long that it basically feels like you had a relationship, and i'm pretty sure he likes you too,” natasha said. “trust me, my guts? golden.”

you winced at the thought. there had been zero signs that bucky liked you back. as much as you trusted natasha and her instincts, this was something you couldn't just assume.

“i don't think so, nat. i've given him enough hints. it's either he's too dense about it or he's just not interested. maybe it's just how it's supposed to be, and i can't keep myself stuck with maybes forever.” you sighed, deciding to finally go to the blind date. “help me pick an outfit?”

“like you even have to ask?” she smiled, dragging you to your room while you were still left with uncertainty in your heart.

the restaurant was one of those hole-in-the-wall places in downtown new york. it had a lot people dining inside, their noise easily heard from the outside, yet the ambiance already felt warm and welcoming. you wondered if sam suggested the place or the guy you were about to meet.

you sighed, giving your chest one last tap since it wouldn't stop beating so fast. it was a wonder how your heartbeat remained stable during a risky mission, while a harmless date had you this nervous. although with that, you felt human.

“okay, let's see where this goes,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your watch that had a tracking device in it, as requested (or ordered) by your best friend.

natasha initially opted to come with you and seat somewhere far, but you told her that you didn't need it. so, she settled with a tracking device, as if you weren't an avenger who could defend yourself. you couldn't find it in you to complain, since this was natasha's own way of showing that she cared.

you entered the restaurant, eyes wandering around the room despite not knowing exactly what to look for. the only details you were allowed to know was that “joseph” knew where to take you, so you assumed that person was one of the staff that you had to look for.

once you found a waitress that didn't look too occupied, you approached her with a smile. “excuse me, may i know where joseph is?”

the lady looked up at you, recognition evident on her face. you were slightly worried that she knew your identity, but she gave you a warm smile and held your arm gently. “oh, he's right there by the counter. let me take you to him!”

she escorted you towards the man handling the counter that seemed to be where the orders were taken. he was shouting various orders behind him while arranging the food on the counter. by the looks of it, he could be the manager or the owner of the place.

“she's here!” the lady beside you exclaimed, catching the full attention of joseph.

“ah, there's our special guest for tonight!” joseph walked around the counter to hug you, as if you knew each other for a long time. “come, come! we have the best spot reserved for you. it's right outside where you can enjoy the view while also having some privacy, eh? your date already arrived, but no worries. he wasn't waiting for too long.”

you were rendered speechless as he took you to the patio, not expecting your date to arrive first, and most importantly not expecting to see him right away. you thought you were early enough, but it seems that your date was an earlier bird than you were.

once outside, all you could see was an empty patio with one man sitting not so far from where you were standing. you hated how you could only see his back and not his face, since he was facing the opposite direction. although, you immediately noticed how he was dressed similarly to bucky.

similar haircut, black boots, and a black jacket. while you weren't sure if they actually looked alike, sam wasn't kidding about them having some similarities.

“how come it's empty out here?” you asked with genuine curiosity. the restaurant was oozing with customers tonight, and they could surely use the extra space outdoors.

“well, uh...” joseph scratched his head, smiling awkwardly as he looked for an answer. “oh, well, stop worrying about that! you're here to go on a date and nothing more! let us worry about that ourselves, hm? come, let's not make your date wait for too long.”

you both walked towards the only table occupied, taking a deep breath before joseph announced, “your date has arrived!”

the man turned around, eyes widened at the sudden noise, but he eventually smiled once he looked at you.

“hey, nice to finally meet you.” he stood up, extending his hand. “i'm martin.”

one look at him and you knew that your heart stubbornly stayed with someone you shouldn't be thinking about.

“i still can't believe that i'm on a date with an avenger.”

you were barely done with your meal despite being here for more than an hour, and martin hasn't been able to stop gushing about your whole avenger sideline. while you understood his excitement, this wasn't the type of date that you hoped for.

“you think i could tell my friends?” he asked, suddenly nudging his chair closer to you that he was basically sitting beside you. “they probably won't believe me, so will it be okay if we took a picture?”

oh, so that's why he moved closer.

“sure.” you forced a smile. “but don't get too close, maybe? i'm.. i'm not that comfortable yet.”

as if you said nothing, he placed an arm over your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. you've been through worse situations than this, but you were highly uncomfortable having your boundaries crossed.

bucky wouldn't do something like this. how did sam think that any of his behaviour was similar to him?

martin already had his phone out, capturing pictures and squeezing your arm, when you decided that this isn't what you wanted, but before you could open your mouth, you felt someone pulling his arm off of you, causing martin to scream.

“what is wrong with you!?” martin shouted, standing up and stepping away while he held his aching arm. when you turned around, you felt your heart stop to find the person you least expected to be here, but wanted the most to be with.

“bucky?”

he did not look at you, his eyes still fixated on martin, nostrils flaring as he took a step closer, standing in front of you as if he was shielding you, while martin took the same amount of steps backwards. “she clearly said no. what the fuck was so hard about understanding that?”

“look, man, i don't know what you're doing here, but i think this is between me and her,” he said, his eyes showing fear as he watched the ex-assassin approach him, hearing the gears of his metal arm whirring.

“give me your phone.” bucky ordered. “now.”

martin immediately fished for his phone, nearly dropping it, and gave it to bucky. “w-what are you going to do?”

“no, this is what you're gonna do,” bucky started, crashing martin's phone with ease and carelessly throwing it to the side. “this date never happened, your friends will hear nothing about tonight, and you will get out of here before i finish counting to three. one...”

in a snap, martin was already out of your sight. if you hadn't known martin before this, you would think he idolised pietro with the way he ran so fast.

“are you okay?”

forgetting about bucky for a split second, his voice jolted you out of your thoughts. you looked up, your heart racing, to find him right in front you.

“what are you doing here?”

“that doesn't really answer my question, doll. answer mine first, will ya? then i'll answer yours.”

“i'm okay, but i can take care of myself. you didn't have to scare the guy.” you sighed, trying your best to look displeased when in fact this has been the happiest you've been tonight. “so? why are you here?”

“well, it's really hard to explain...”

“you better try, barnes, because i am very confused right now,” you said. “one moment i'm on a date with someone, then suddenly my teammate, who i told nothing about said date, appears and crushes the phone of the guy i'm with?”

“natasha told me about it.”

you frowned, not surprised with natasha's gossipy nature, but confused about what she could've said that made him go all the way here.

“i was looking for you since you're always with us during dinner, and nat told me that you were on a date. i couldn't help but ask where and with whom, but she said that she had no idea, that it was a blind date. she was more than glad to tell me where you were, so i came here looking for you.”

“why?” you asked, confused and suddenly hopeful at the same time. although, you tried to keep your hopes down, not wanting to set yourself up for a heartbreak.

“what do you mean why? that's it. i was just worried, and now you're okay. can we go home?”

he turned his back on you and walked away, you were quick enough follow him, still unsatisfied with his answer.

once you've reached a dark alley where he had his motorcycle parked, you sighed and decided to ask one more time.

“what are you actually doing here, barnes?” you asked. “i want an actual answer or i'm walking home.”

“it doesn't matter,” bucky answered shortly, frustration. written on his face. “why did you agree to this anyway? doesn't feel like something you'd do.”

“you have no idea about what i feel and what i want to do,” you answered. “and you still haven't answered my question.”

“i don't know, okay? i don't know. i just..” he sighed. “i heard the word date and everything didn't make sense. all i knew was that i wanted to follow you here and stop whatever you were doing. i didn't like it.”

“what gives you the right to stop me from going on a date?” you asked, your head jerked back in disbelief. “and why would it even bother you? this is the first time someone went on a date in the team. so what makes mine so different?”

“what do you think?” he asked, his gaze challenging and curious, waiting for your response.

you stood in silence, his question causing a sudden drift in the conversation. you could feel the tension in the air.

“sam made me go to a blind date as well,” he spoke again. “i just remembered that he was asking me where i'd take someone on a date. days after that, he said he found a girl that i might like, and that i should go on a date with her, he suggested that it should be a blind date, knowing that i'm an avenger and all.”

“why didn't you go?”

“i couldn't. i wasn't interested. i knew it wouldn't work.”

“why?”

“because i already like someone.”

your heart sank, a lump forming in your throat as the reality set in that the person you've been pining for was already interested in someone else.

so much for going on a date to forget about him.

“what about you?” he asked. “why did you go?”

because of you, you idiot.

“trying to get over someone,” you simply answered.

“you were seeing someone?” he asked, completely clueless, but suddenly looking uneasy. “i never knew you were in a relationship. i guess, we're not that close, but i thought i'd at least know abou—”

“what? no!” you replied, voice rising as you spoke. "god, i agreed to this date because i wanted to get over you!"

the words slipped out of your mouth, your eyes widening in surprise as you accidentally reveal the feelings you had kept hidden.

bucky blinked, silence hanging in the air. the confession felt heavy between you as you waited for his response.

“i didn't agree to going on a blind date because i have feelings you,” bucky finally spoke, taking a deep breath before continuing, “because i knew i wouldn't enjoy it knowing i'd be thinking of you anyway, because as convinced as i was that you had no interest in me, i'd rather keep my eyes on you than on anybody else.”

“wait, wait, what? you like me?” you repeated in a slightly disbelieving tone, searching his face for confirmation.

“why would i follow you all the way here if i didn't?”

“because you care? and it might be dangerous to go on a date with someone i've never met?” you guessed. “i mean, i think you'd also do it for everybody else, as grumpy as you look like on the outside, you can be a softie sometimes.”

“if i had no feelings for you, i wouldn't be here. you're an avenger for christ's sake. some random guy would be like a training dummy for you,” he answered. “and no, i wouldn't be doing this for anybody else. if the situation's that dangerous, maybe, but a date? you're all adults. you know what you're doing.”

you couldn't help but giggle at his answer, which earned you a glare from him. “what?”

“nothing.” you shook your head. “you sound like an old man lecturing the younger generation.”

“are we completely ignoring the fact that we like each other?”

“that's the only thing on my mind right now.” you admitted. “are you sure about what you just said? it could be the hunger talking.”

instead of answering, bucky took his phone out of his pocket, swiping and tapping on it a few times before taking your hand and placing it on your palm.

“what am i supposed to—”

“just read it.”

choosing not to argue with him, you grabbed the phone with a frown. his messages with natasha were on the screen, starting from their messages from nearly four months ago. you scrolled through their messages, and while they lasted for months, they were all short and straightforward.

three months ago

bucky:

did you arrive safely?

romanoff:

since when did you start asking?

bucky:

?

romanoff:

yes, we arrived safely.

bucky:

👍🏻

romanoff:

really???

two months ago

bucky:

is she okay?

romanoff:

ohhh, that's why you keep texting.

bucky:

answer

romanoff:

geez, barnes.

yeah, she's okay.

bucky:

ok

one month ago

bucky:

she's sick?

romanoff:

yeah, wanna visit her?

you're basically immune.

bucky:

i have a mission

romanoff:

oh yeah

oops

bucky:

are you busy?

romanoff:

nope

why?

bucky:

take my place

romanoff:

no thanks, barnes.

bucky:

i'll take your next task

and the next one as well

romanoff:

why can't you just take this one?

bucky:

nothing

romanoff:

a reason or i'm not doing it.

bucky:

she's sick

i want to stay

romanoff:

oh my god

you're such a sap

fine i'll talk to steve

bucky:

ty

romanoff:

you're using abbreviations now???

bucky:

👍🏻

one week ago

romanoff:

movie night later, don't ditch us again

bucky:

busy

romanoff:

she planned this one

she's worried you won't come

bucky:

i'll bring snacks

romanoff:

i love knowing your weakness

bring popcorn!

bucky:

she prefers pizza over popcorn

does she like popcorn?

romanoff:

nope, but some of us do.

bucky:

ok

romanoff:

so you're bringing popcorn?

bucky:

no

once you were done reading, you returned his phone back to his hand. “you do like me,” you said, the confession finally sinking in.

bucky nodded. “and you like me too.”

“where does that leave us?” you asked, hoping. “are we.. dating now?”

“no,” he answered quickly.

you felt that ache returning in your chest, but before you could say something, bucky already sensed your worries and he wasn't letting you slip away that easily.

“no because i want to do this right. i want to take you out on a date first, bring you flowers, play music and ask you for a dance, all that stuff that you deserve,” he explained, bringing his warm hand to your cheek. “but trust me that it won't take long before i call you mine. i don't think i have the patience for it at this point.”

“you promise?” you rose to your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around him. “i don't want to wait that long either.”

“you won't,” he replied, leaning into you, his lips brushing against your nose before pulling you in a kiss. “i promise.”

this was supposed to have a lil bonus when they got back to the tower, revealing the team's true involvement with the blind date, buttt i might just do it some other time as a snippet/part 2 instead. i still have a few to write anyway, woops.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[wtfsteveharrington]

don’t you want me | boyfriend!steve x reader x eddie

content & context: you and steve are tasked with checking in on eddie while he’s hiding out at reefer rick’s. 

mentions of drugs & all parties smoke, virgin!eddie, eddie gets caught masturbating by reader and steve, oral (all receiving and giving), steve accidentally initiates oral with eddie (makes sense i promise), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, steve!breeding kink, cum play, cum swapping. everyone’s a lil fruity! reader is kinda just passed around!! **emphasizing that there are sexual interactions between steve and eddie!**

she/her pronouns used for reader!

author’s note: ... i can't believe this is finally getting posted but here we are! its been ages in the making and i'm so glad to finally have it out there. if i missed something during editing pls let me know! <3

word count: 8.4k - i added plot to this one!

If you thought Steve complained about being the babysitter, you should hear the way he complains about being Eddie’s caretaker. 

In all honesty, he still wasn’t quite sure that Eddie was completely innocent in all this mess. Was he a killer? Probably not. That doesn’t mean he wants to hang around the guy, let alone have you hang around him. 

He’s protective, that’s all. 

The grocery sacks hit the floor of the kitchen while Steve shoves the case of beer into an empty spot on the counter. He’s pensively looking around the house, a grimace on his features as he takes in your... Questionable surroundings. Empty cans of food, question sticky spots on the floor, a disgusting bong on the table sat next to McDonalds wrappers. 

“Now how the hell did Munson get his hands on a Big Mac but we’re still stuck doing supply drops?” Steve’s scoffing to himself, finally looking around the room to realize - “Wait a minute. Where the hell is he?”

It’s instinct. Within seconds of acknowledging that there might be a problem here, you’re back to back with Steve while the two of you scan the room. Looking for any signs of life or, well, death. You both hone in on a sound coming from behind the door at the end of the hallway. Exchanging a quick glance before he’s looking for a weapon - Grabbing a hold of the bong to use as a weapon. You however? Decide to settle for one of the knifes on the table which Steve thinks makes much more sense but he’s already committed to this damn bong now. 

The door’s barely cracked open and as the two of you get closer you can begin to hear Heaven’s On Fire by KISS playing faintly on the radio. Considering how tense Eddie’s been lately, you’re surprised he’s being this... Sloppy? 

you drive me crazy when you start to tease

You’re peeking over Steve’s shoulder, hand instantly coming to clamp over your mouth at the sight in front of you two.

you could bring the devil to his knees

Eddie Munson’s laying back on the bed, boots planted firmly on the ground, his jeans and briefs shimmied just far enough down his thighs to free his length. He’s hard, untouched, and you’re salivating at the sight. You and Steve stand there for a second longer than you should, both of you shocked at the sight. It’s not until Eddie wraps his fist around himself, lifting his hips off the bed at his own touch and letting out a quiet moan that Steve finally breaks -

“Holy shit.”

No one knows who reacts first but within seconds Eddie’s trying to cover himself up at the same time you’re reaching past Steve to pull the bedroom door closed. You’re trying to process what you just saw, mind only able to hyper focus on the fact that he looked... No, stop. You can’t let your mind wonder like this.

“Jesus Christ! Don’t you people knock!” Eddie shrieks on the other side. 

You look over at your flabbergasted boyfriend who’s punching the air and cursing Dustin Henderson for getting involved with this Freak. If you look close enough, you can see the flush to his cheeks. “C’mon, Man. Maybe consider not jacking off while you’re on the run for murder, huh? Especially when you have people running around getting you shitty Pabst and Doritos!”

The door’s being jerked open and Eddie looks so frazzled. A far cry from the man who was just sprawled out in bed touching himself. 

He has a finger pointed in Steve’s face, “A murder I did not commit! So excuse me for trying to blow off some steam while I thought I was alone. If you’re so concerned then I’ll be sure to clear it with you next time, Harrington.” His hair is a crazy mess, shirt haphazardly tucked into his pants, and his belt unbuckled. You can’t help but spare a thought towards how pretty he looks. If Eddie would meet your eye, you’d have to look away considering just how embarrassing your thoughts were getting about him. But, in fact, the boy refuses to glance in your direction.

You turn on your heels, dragging Steve behind you in an attempt to avoid them getting into even more of a fight. Storing the fact that Eddie Munson has a pretty dick away for later. “C’mon, Idiots. I’ll cook dinner if you two can play nice for a few hours. Eddie wash your hands and zip up your fly before you come in here.”

The song continues as you walk down the hallway. Giggling to yourself and sneaking looks over at your still flabbergasted boyfriend. 

feel my heat takin' you higher. 

burn with me, heaven's on fire. 

paint the sky with desire.

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

Eddie watches as you two navigate cleaning up the kitchen in almost perfect sync. His hand on your lower back when he brings the rest of the dishes to you, the way he takes notice of your sleeve falling down your arm and rolls it up for you, then you have the audacity to sing along to Steve’s favorite lyrics as the songs shuffle through on the radio. 

He’s taken to sitting on the couch during clean up, citing his “impending doom” as the reason why he can’t help. Really, Eddie’s not sure how much more of the love birds act he can take before his carefully curated facade finally breaks. It wasn’t that you two were being over the top with the displays of affection, quite the opposite actually. If anything, it was toned down from the normal levels you showed around everyone else. 

It’s just the fact that it’s real that’s driving him crazy. Cursing every day he spent without someone who loved him that deeply.

Once the kitchen is cleaner than it likely has ever been, you and Steve wonder out of the room and finally join Eddie. Steve’s grabbing the packed bowl left on the coffee table along with the lighter, sitting back in the recliner while you perch yourself on the arm of the chair. Trying to balance yourself carefully. You watch as Steve takes a long hit, holding the smoke before holding the bowl towards you. Glancing from him to the slouched figure on the couch, “Can we spend the night with you?” 

Eddie’s shrugging, grumbling out “’Ight with me but there’s not many blankets around this place that ain’t filled with holes.”

Nodding, more towards yourself than him, you lean forward to trap the piece between your lips and Steve brings the lighter up to the bowl. 

You’re coughing. 

Like, way more than normal. 

Steve’s quickly pushing out of the chair, grabbing one of the last wine coolers for you and popping it’s top with ease before bringing it back to you. There’s a reassuring hand rubbing over your back as you work your way through your coughing fit. Cheeks burning hot with embarrassment that one little hit nearly took you out in front of Eddie Munson. 

“S’good shit, Honey. No surprise you can barely take it.” You’re giving Steve an appreciative smile as Eddie teases you, leaning into his touch for a bit of comfort. “Should be this good considering it’s been the talk of Hawkin’s that you’re raising your prices on us, Munson.” 

Eddie’s got his hands up in the air, his bright laughter filling up the room before he’s reaching out for the bowl Steve’s offering. “Hey, a man had to eat, y’know? Now a man’s gotta pay bail... Prices are gonna triple after this.” 

When Steve’s assured you’re not going to pass out, he’s going back to the table and grabbing two cans of out the lukewarm Pabst case. One’s being slid over to Eddie while Steve grabs his keys out of his pocket to begin the base of the can to chug. 

It’s some weird power play you’re pretty sure. Asserting dominance with who can chug the fastest. Eddie’s quick to follow suit, using his pocket knife to carve out his own hole..

Now you just need to figure out why it’s kind of.. Hot?

You watch as Steve and Eddie cheers their punctured cans against one another, both of them giving the other a small nod then they’re throwing their heads back, popping the tab, and chugging the beer out of the can. It’s entertaining, this dumb grin plastered on your face. The weed in your system is probably making this feel like a much more endearing sight than it actually is. They both drop the cans once they finish, an argument ensuing as they try to decide who finished first. 

“I’ve never shotgunned a beer.” 

Suddenly there’s a lot of attention on you. Steve’s confused, Eddie’s entertained. 

“King Steve Harrington’s girlfriend has never chugged a beer? Surprised he hasn’t corrupted you already.” Steve’s hitting his arm, giving the other boy a playful shove before grabbing a can out of the case and tossing it your way. 

“You wanna learn, Honey? I’ll teach you.” Spoken so sweetly. Steve’s voice always laced with this delicate tone reserved just for you.

He’s standing behind you now, chest firm against your back and holding the can properly in your hands. Steve’s digging a hole with his keys into the side of your can, his chin on your shoulder as he concentrates on making it a clean cut. “All you gotta do is tilt your head back, okay? I’ll pop the tab. Don’t feel like you gotta finish it.” 

You nod obediently, freeing one of your fingers from it’s death grip on the can to flip Eddie off. He’s laughing, grabbing the forgotten bowl from the table and getting to work repacking it. Part of you wonders what Rick would think of Eddie using so much of his stash. Then again, it’s not like it’s going to be much use to Rick for the next few years.

The can’s brought up to your mouth, tilting your head back against Steve as he keeps his promise and opens the tab once your lips wrap over the hole. There’s beer dripping from the corner of your mouth, down your chin and neck, and you’re quickly reminded that you hate the taste of beer. Especially cheap beer. But you’re putting on a show so you’re committed to finishing it. 

Steve grabs a hold of your chin as the now empty can clatters to the ground, your lips colliding quickly and he wastes no time licking into your mouth. He tasted like a mixture of weed, more cheap beer, and underlying hints of his spearmint gum. You’re giving an appreciative moan as his hand slips from your chin to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

Now, Eddie knows he should look away. He’s intruding on a personal moment, right? But there’s just something about the way that you and Steve interact that’s so addicting to him. It’s clear you’ve spent hours memorizing one another, learning what makes the other tick. There’s a sad thought that passes through his mind registering that there’s no way he’ll ever get to have a connection that intense. Even before the, you know, murderer from another dimension ruined his life. Eddie was a lot. He liked being a lot. He never found a girl who liked him being a lot and for a long time he was fine with pretending it didn’t bother him.

Then the picture of true love showed up to this damn house hours ago and he’s begun aching to feel even a tenth of that amount of passion.

He’s lighting up the bowl, finally forcing himself to look away while taking another long hit.

Your hands are firm on Steve’s chest, fisting around the soft material of his shirt and gently shoving him back. “Enough. Eddie doesn’t want to just sit around watching you devour me all night” He’s giving you a dopey grin, the hand not on the back of your neck coming up so he can use his thumb to swipe away the saliva shining on your lips.

“Munson gets it. Sometimes you just can’t help yourself, right?”

Steve’s looking over to Eddie for approval but he won’t look at either of you. Exhaling a stream of smoke from his last hit before responding.

“Nah, man. The Freak title excludes any and all sexual connotations. Made out with Elizabeth Hertz last year but that was just because she wanted free weed. Gareth kissed me after a show because he was drunk off adrenaline. Don’t really count him on the list of conquests though.” He’s blaming the high inching it’s way through his body, but for some reason he wanted to make it known that he’ll happily kiss boys too. In fact, Eddie Munson will pretty much kiss anyone who wants to kiss him.

“Huh.”

It comes out so quickly and you can stop yourself, both boys now looking your way. You give a little shrug, leaning into Steve as you respond. “Just surprised, that’s all. You’re pretty, figured someone would have thrown themselves at you by now.”

Eddie’s blushing at your compliment. Honest to God, cheeks turning pink blushing. He’s throwing a wink your way while trying to downplay how much the compliment got to him.

“Wish everyone felt that way, Sweetheart.”

You’re looking up at Steve now who just knows what’s coming next. 

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

The two of you had talked before about including someone else. You both liked girls, that came up pretty quick. Robin asked you to play fuck, marry, kill one night while you sat around at Family Video during your shift. The way you drooled over Faye Dunaway gave you away pretty quickly.

Then, late one night, Steve was a little drunk and half asleep when he asked you what it felt like to kiss a boy. You said it was firmer, that their lips were rougher. But that kissing him made you feel safe and loved, though that wasn’t the norm.

“Kinda wanna kiss a boy the same way you wanna kiss girls. Quickly followed by, “Happy if I spend the rest of my life only kissing you though. Just something I wouldn’t mind happening.”

You just laugh while pulling his sweaty party clothes off of his body, tossing them across the room to deal with tomorrow. 

“You wanna kiss a boy, huh? Well, I’m sure we can make that happen.”

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

“So - Is that like a thing then? Making out with you in exchange for free weed? Because in that case, you’ve been smoking me and Steve out all night. Pretty sure that means we’ve got a great debt to pay.”

Eddie can strike the idea down. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Mere hours ago you weren’t fully sure if Eddie was a killer and you weren’t fully sure that Steve wouldn’t kill Eddie. He’s toying with the rip in his jeans over his knee, looking over the two of you as if he’s trying to decide if this is real or not.

“You and Steve…” He’s dragging out your names, almost as though he were testing out how they taste on his tongue. You and Steve.

You’re looking back to get confirmation from Steve who’s nothing more than entertained. You’re stepping towards Eddie now, slow enough where anyone can stop you yet not surprised neither of them do. He’s not taking his eyes off of you and you can see his breathing pick up as you get closer. Your knees are sinking into the couch beside him, kneeling into the cushions and reaching over to rest your hand on his upper thigh. Giving him a small squeeze and his muscle twitches in response to the touch. 

“Do you wanna kiss me, Eddie? Kiss us?” 

His breathing cuts off completely, and if you weren’t paying such close attention to his face you would have caught the way his hand goes from playing with the rip to actually pinching himself on his thigh. There’s no way this is real. Eddie’s nodding a little too eagerly, his cool guy facade falling apart. You lean forward, the smell of your perfume ever so faint but taking over his brain, to grab his hand. Dragging it up your own chest, along the curve of your breast, bringing his hand around the front of your throat, finally directing him to cup the back of your throat instead. 

“Then kiss me.”

Eddie’s risking a glance over to Steve as he tightens his grip on your neck, half expecting to see the other boy with his fist cocked back, ready to swing and fight for you.

He’s not though. 

Just giving a small shrug of his shoulders, trying to bite down his entertained grin. You always got what you wanted, Steve’s just surprised it’s Eddie you want. He can’t blame you. Maybe it’s the mood set by the two year old Christmas lights that Rick never takes down illuminating the room, the buzz vibrating throughout your bodies, or the way Eddie keeps looking between you with those wide brown eyes... Something about the situation has Steve understanding the way you feel. 

Your hands are on Eddie’s chest now, fisting around the material as you lean in to ghost your lips against his. “Are you gonna make me ask again?” His fingers are twitching on the back of your neck, tightening his grip before finally connecting your lips together. The kiss is timid at first, you can feel the nerves practically rolling off of his body, so you take it upon yourself to take the lead. 

Eddie’s moaning into your mouth when he feels your tongue swipe along his bottom lip. He’s licking over his own lip, savoring the taste of Pabst, weed, and the sickly sweet taste of wine coolers you’d been sipping on all night. Somewhere buried under all that, there’s the taste of just you. His tongue slips between your parted lips, licking into your mouth and giving an appreciative moan once again. You delight in just how vocal he’s being.

The couch’s dipping beside you, Steve settling back into the cushions to get a better view. His hand is low on your back, sliding down to knead at the flesh of your ass as you and Eddie settle into a rhythm. You can tell he’s inexperience and it’s endearing to say the least. 

Your hand cups over the bulge in Eddie’s lap, rubbing along his growing length as he moans into your mouth. “Wanna see you, Baby. Is that okay?” His jaw goes slack, risking a glance over to Steve for approval. He’s just shrugging it off, his own hand coming to palm over his jeans as he mimics your motions on Eddie. “Whatever my girl wants, she gets.” 

Eddie’s trying to process everything going on and it takes a moment for him to respond. Finally giving an unsteady nod to the room before looking back to you and God you can tell he’s nervous. His hands are on the back of your arms now as he mindlessly rubs up and down them, trying to keep himself grounded in the moment. “Then, uh, yeah. Yeah, that’ll be.... Good.” 

Without much more convincing you get to work undoing his belt buckle. Unlatching the cold metal before giving it a firm tug, Eddie arching his hips up in order to help you remove it from his body. You pitch it under his arm and you feel his body jerk at the sudden sound. If you weren’t careful the mood could go sour quick due to the reminder of why you’re all here in the first place. 

“So no one has ever touched you before? Just me?” Eddie nods enthusiastically as you unbutton his jeans, his breath hitching when he hears the sound of his zipper being pulled down. “Just you, Princess. Kinda scared, fuck, that I’m not gonna last that long if we’re being honest.” You’re giggling at the admission and Eddie’s thanking every star in the galaxy that he took the time to actually shower and change into clean clothes when you guys showed up. 

The room fills with the sounds of both of you moaning when you finally slip your hand into Eddie’s boxers and feel his length against your hand. He’s gripping the back of your arms now, the circuit he’s been running this whole time, as he whimpers and rocks up to your touch. You make quick work of tugging his jeans and boxes down just enough to free him from his clothes. Marveling at the sight of him erect and desperate. 

You wrap your hand around the base, giving him an experiment dry tug. Eddie’s head falls back against the wall as he moans out a string of profanities. His mind has to drift off to focus on anything but your touch or he’s going to finish from just one brush of your hand. You’re proud of yourself, giving him another flick of your wrist before letting him go. You start to push off the couch, standing up and pulling your shirt off of your overheated frame. Making quick work of your bra before tossing the both of them into the corner.

Eddie’s thankful for the break but he’s so hard that it fucking hurts. The sight of you topless in front of them is not helping his cause.

Steve’s eyes are on you as you reach over to him. He’s entertained and you can tell he’s hard in his tight jeans. You hold your hand out under his mouth, “Can you spit in my hand, Baby?” Steve grabs a hold of your wrist and does as he is told. Licking a strip down your fingers before spitting into your hand. He’s giving your wrist a squeeze before pushing your hand back towards Eddie. 

You fall to your knees in between Eddie's legs and go right back to wrapping your wrist around him, lazily dragging your fist around him. Eddie’s clinging to you as you take your time exploring him, smiling down at the boy. “You’re longer than Steve. Not as thick but you’re long. Such a pretty cock, Eddie. Thank you for letting me take care of you tonight.” 

He can barely even get his thoughts together fast enough to respond before you start shuffling off of his lap. Hand still firmly around his length as you settle on your knees between his legs. Eddie finally looks down at you and there could be angel wings coming from your back as far as he's concerned considering what a heavenly sight you make.

"Can I taste you, Eddie?" You're hamming it up for him. Batting your eyelashes and pouting. Something straight out of a porno, all for him.

It's odd - Steve feels almost... Proud? Maybe that's not the best word for describing watching your girlfriend suck someone else's dick but it's the best one he can find. You gorgeous in this lighting, you're being playful, and hell it's practically charity work. Taking this poor guy's virginity as a treat while his world is falling apart. It's admirable, really.

Eddie's frantically nodding while he twitches under your touch. Reaching down to try and shimmy his pants further down his legs so you have a better angle. "Darlin', you can do fucking anything to me. Don't have to ask anymore, okay? I appreciate but whatever you want is fine by me."

You grin up at him and lean closer, sticking your tongue out and keeping eye contact while tapping the head of his cock against your tongue. There's saliva dripping off your tongue and onto him, running down the sides of your length until it meets your fist. You're leaning in to wrap your lips around the head of him. Giving an appreciative hum before sinking down further around him.

Steve's taught you well. He's laid back and let you 'practice' sucking him off for hours at this point. His fingers laced behind his head while you get your throat used to taking him further and further. Sometimes he feels bad taking up all the attention and has you straddle his face to return the favor while you suck him off.

All that training and Eddie gets to reap the rewards.

It's easy for you to build up a stead pace. Tongue swirling his tip and using your hand to jack off his exposed length before you take him back into his mouth. Your other hand comes up to cup the weight his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze as you work.

Eddie’s bucking up his length deeper into your throat, causing you to gag around the sudden intrusion. “Gotta chill out, Munson.” He’s storing away the fact that Steve Harrington chastising him makes his cock twitch in your mouth. Something about a pretty boy being firm gets under his skin. 

“Shit, my bad, Sweetheart. Just felt too fucking good.” 

Steve's scooting closer to you both while the old, thrifted and worn couch makes creaking sounds under him. He's taking your hand that isn't currently occupied with Eddie and putting it on the front of his too tight jeans. You give a hum of appreciation at the familiar feeling of your boyfriend under your touch, pulling back from Eddie's cock with a string of spit attached to your lip. You're using the same motion on the both of them while grinning up at Eddie.

"Can you get him out for me? Unless you want me to stop touching you?"

Eddie gasps involuntarily and shakes his head, pumping his cock through your fisted hand. It's slick and obscene and he's twitching in your grasp. He looks between the two of you nervously but when Steve doesn't object he decides to lean forward to move your hand out of the way, shaky fingers touching the metal of his belt. "You guys are-..." He's cutting himself off with a broken laugh as your lips press a kiss to the head of his cock, a reward for doing as he's told, "You're fuckin' insane."

Steve's beaming. He's eating this up.

His hips arch under Eddie's touch and you keep your eyes trained on the boys while lazily jacking off Eddie. Steve helps the two of you and pushes his jeans down his thighs, the head of his cock threatening to slide out of the slit in his briefs. Eddie's watching his face for a moment before hooking his fingers under Steve's boxers and pulling them down.

Steve's cock is thick and hard, dripping at the tip. You whimper at the sight of him, rubbing your thighs together as your clit starts to throb. Steve snatches up your free hand once again, spitting into your palm before bringing your hand to his cock. You wrap your fingers around the base and are back to repeating the same motions on the two boys.

You wrap your lips around Eddie's cock once again, his length sliding down your throat as he fucks into your warm mouth. You notice his fingers still linger on Steve's thigh, he's short circuiting at the combination of the both of you. "You are uh.... Fuck, she wasn't lying." Steve's chest puffs up with pride as the two of you both admire how thick his cock is.

There's a giggle coming out of you that you just can't help though the sound gets muffled by Eddie's cock.

This is crazy.

Eddie whines as you pull off of his cock once again but God are you a vision. Spit dribbling down your chin, eyes wide and dark with lust. You look over and pout at your boyfriend as your wrist starts to slow its pace on both of them. He knows exactly what that look means - You're needy. Rightfully so too.

It takes mere seconds from the moment your attentive boyfriend picks up on your queue for the situation to completely change. He's pushing back against the couch and kicking his jeans fully off before ushering Eddie away from you. Eddie who's almost skittish, desperately wanting to make sure he doesn't overstep and doing as he's told.

He watches as Steve pulls you up from the ground, a hand instantly going to the back of your neck as he pulls you into a feverish kiss. You instantly melt against his chest, a mess of parted lips and breathy moans and whimpers that are going right through him. There's a hand slipping into your pants, Steve's nimble fingers making quick work of cupping over your heat.

Steve moans into your mouth while his cock twitches against your thigh, "Baby, you let yourself get this wet without letting me know?" You pathetically nod, desperately gripping onto Steve's arms as he drags a finger between your folds. "Bet this pussy wants to be fucked so bad, huh?" That finger presses into you now without warning and Steve bucks his hips at the same time you clenched around his digit. "Fuck, can feel how needy you are."

Eddie's going to fucking combust.

Your boyfriend doesn't even look away from you as he pats his hand against your pussy, kissing you once more before just talking into the abyss. "We need a bed."

And that's how you end up down the hallway with Steve pushing you back against this shitty bed, the springs whining under you as you bounce against the thin padding. Eddie can't help but think how much better you deserve but they're working with what they've got for now. Your pants and underwear are being ripped off by Steve and Eddie nearly creams himself at the sight of your bare pussy exposed to them both.

Your feet are planted far apart, legs falling open to give them both a good look. Their gazes are intense and empowering as you reach a hand down to toy with your clit, giving them a dramatic moan as you do. Someone needs to check Eddie's pulse because he's half convinced he died the other night and this is just some weird section of Heaven.

Steve steps over to Eddie, clapping a hand against his shoulder before reaching down to tug his shirt off of his slender frame. "I'll let you go first since you've never fucked before but you better treat her, Muson. I know my girl, I'll know if you don't do a good job, yeah?"

He's stumbling over to you, jaw slack and all he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears as he watches you slide two fingers into yourself. "Jesus Christ...." You do your best to look like every man's dream porno at that moment - Pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy, fluttering your eyelashes, whining while you use your free hand to play with one of your nipples. "Need you to fuck me so bad, Eddie."

Eddie’s looking around the room on the hunt for what you can only assume is a condom. Panic playing across his face much to both you and Steve’s entertainment. Your boyfriend’s laughing besides him, “She’s on the pill.” To which you nod eagerly, “Knew from the first time Stevie and I hooked up I had to be.”

The sound of a sharp smack fills the room as Steve playfully spanks his hand against Eddie's ass before moving to stand next to the two of you at the foot of the bed. He's leaning in to press a kiss against your lips, roughly grabbing at the breast you weren't teasing while Eddie moves to kneel on the bed between your legs. "He's gonna take good care of you, Baby."

Your brain is fuzzy. Your body is needy. Something needs to give.

Eddie’s hovering over you now, his hair hanging down and tickling your face. “Here, m’gonna take care of you.” You’re pushing your fingers back through his hair, gathering it up in your fist before sliding the elastic from your wrist and giving him a haphazard ponytail. It’s the best you can do given the circumstances.

Remember how Eddie was afraid he’d never feel affection like he wanted to? That moment threw his fears out the window. You were so gentle with him, so caring. It’s making his heart have this painful flutter and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to convey to you how much this night means to him.

You’re leaning up, brushing your lips along his which brings Eddie out of his train of thought. “You sure you wanna do this? No pressure, Honey. We can all go to bed and act like none of this happened.” None of this happened? There’s no way he could ever forget tonight. He’s shaking his head, catching your lips in another kiss while lowering his hips so your bodies are flush together. Eddie’s moaning into your mouth at the feeling of your core along his length, instinctively rutting himself against you. You snake your arms around his chest, holding him close to you while he balances himself with one elbow digging into the bed, his other hand reaching down to fist around himself. 

There’s a choked out moan coming from the boy as the head of his cock pushes into you. Eddie has to pause his motions and regroup himself before starting to sink in further. This is a life altering experience for him... He refuses to be nothing more than a virgin who can only last thirty seconds in your mind. 

You arch your hips up to meet him halfway, both of you adjusting to the sensation. Eddie’s staring down at you as though he’d lasso the moon and bring it down to Earth if it would do so much as make you smile... Maybe he needs to remind himself that you’re taken and this is only happening due to the oddest set of circumstances ever experienced. 

Hey, sue him, but maybe he doesn’t remind himself at all. 

Maybe as his hips rock into you, with a motion that isn’t exactly coordinated but it’s still driving you wild, he allows himself to savor the affection you give. The way you’re trying to fight the urge to close your eyes because you don���t want to miss a second of his expression. The way his name falls from your lips. 

Like Steve said earlier, sometimes you just can’t help yourself. 

“How does she feel, Munson?”

“Like fuckin’ heaven.”

Eddie’s rutting himself up into you, trying to decide between just staying buried so deep or using every last breath he has begging you to move with him. His body is short circuiting and he just knows for a fact that this probably isn’t the best fuck you’ve ever had but as far as he’s concerned? Sex has never felt better for anyone in the world than how he feels right now. You’re warm and wet, practically soaking everything that touches where the two of you are connected.

He’s letting out a pathetic little whimper as he fucks into your sloppy pussy and Steve finds himself entertained as he watches Eddie take on the role he normally gets you in. Babbling and begging. Steve’s laughing to himself before coming to stand behind Eddie. He’s holding his hands higher on Eddie’s hips, silently directing the boy on how to fuck you better.

To his credit - Eddie is a quick learner.

He’s capturing your lips in a gentle kiss - you can tell he’s been getting better at kissing over the course of the night. Your arms wrap tight around his neck, slowly beginning to drag your hips a few inches up and almost lazily fucking yourself on Eddie.

Eddie who can’t see straight anymore and isn’t sure his heart has stopped beating.

“Holy shit, holy fuck, holy fucking shit.”

You can tell by his frantic words that he’s getting closer. You’re not sure how much longer he has left in him so you make a show of arching your back into him, grabbing ahold of his hair and his bicep with the other hand. Fluttering yourself around his length before giving a dramatic gasp and letting your ‘orgasm’ wash over you. This part of the night was about letting Eddie use you for his pleasure, you didn’t want him to look back and think you didn’t enjoy yourself.

Steve knows you, knows your body. He knows what you’re up to and will make sure you’re well taken care of.

And it does work. Eddie’s hips start sputtering while he mutters out, “Holy shit that was so hot.” He’s barely got time to fuck another few strokes into you before he’s finishing without warning. Chasing the feeling by rocking himself through his orgasm, finishing deep inside of you. Partly kicking himself in the ass because he doesn’t want this experience to be over already. 

It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts, leaning in to kiss you and mutter out praises and thank you’s in between every kiss. In that moment he’s no longer on the run, there’s no longer his life imploding around him. He gets to just be Eddie and there’s not enough words in the English language to convey how much that means to him. Eddie gives you one final kiss before he's whining and pulling out, the cool air against his wet and sensitive cock causing him to hiss. 

You only have but seconds to recover before you feel your boyfriend’s touch.

Steve grabs a hold of your ankles, throwing them both over his shoulders before he leans in for his turn to kiss you. It's sloppy and messy and you haven't had a coherent thought since you laid down on this bed so you can only imagine what kissing you is like but he's not complaining. He pulls back to get a good look at you, giving himself confirmation that you were still doing okay. Fucked out and blissful, he knows you're thriving probably more than you should be but you didn't feel any shame.

He pulls even further back to continue his examination, stopping at the sight of you spread open for him, marveling at the way Eddie’s cum drips out of you. He’s used to seeing his own, used to scooping it up and pushing it back inside of you, but something about seeing you filled up by another man… It’s bringing out a weird, feral part of Steve that he doesn’t quite comprehend.

You're whining and grabbing a hold of his waist as you feel the thick head of Steve's cock press against your sensitive hole, your puffy pussy throbbing even harder than you thought possible. "Getting fucked twice in one night... Just know you're happy, aren't you? Mhm, fuck, this greedy little cunt was made to be wrapped around my cock. Might share it every now and then but you know where you belong, don't you?" Your nails dig into Steve's shoulders and he chuckles as you arch your hips up, desperate to get him inside of you.

"Stevie, please. Need to feel you." And he doesn't make you ask twice. You're gasping and thrashing against the bed as Steve stretches you out. Even after Eddie fucked you it still took a second for you to adjust to how girthy he was. There's a mixture of your wetness and Eddie's cum being pushed out around his cock as he buries himself into you, the sensation driving him wild.

He’s slowly dragging himself back out of you, much to your protest. Taking the head of his cock through the cum that’s leaked out, collecting it on himself before lining up and pushing into you with one firm thrust. The sinful sound of Steve stretching out your wet pussy filling the room. He’s letting you relax under him while those strong arms hold you close to him, body going lax.

“So fucking full. Can’t think straight. Two pretty boys in me… S’good.”

Every word and sound you could make is caught in your throat, effectively rendering you dead silent. You don’t know who noticed your fingers working your clit first but Eddie’s tight grip on your wrist is keeping you from continuing. “Absolutely not.”

Eddie’s watching Steve’s expression for any hint of disgust or disapproval. There’s none. Instead he’s giving Eddie a small nod of encouragement. There’s a shift in the energy in the air.

You feel Eddie shuffle on the bed, his warm breath on your stomach, and all of a sudden you see the lights of Heaven when you feel Eddie’s tongue lapping at your clit while Steve picks up the pace of fucking into you.

Even in your turned on bliss, you’re not missing the fact that Eddie’s tongue is accidentally brushing over Steve’s cock. By the look on Steve’s face, he doesn’t quite mind the extra attention either.

“You’re both such pretty boys. Thank you for taking care of me so fucking good. No one else can treat this pussy like you two.”

Your words make Steve’s hips lose their pace, pulling out a little too far which causes him to slip between your folds and up towards your clit. Towards Eddie’s open mouth. His tongue already out for your clit when suddenly he has the firm weight of Steve fuckin’ Harrington’s cock in his mouth.

And they’re both moaning.

Neither pulling away.

Steve’s pumping himself further into Eddie’s mouth before he truly realizes what he’s doing, his balls tightening up for a second at the new sensation. You want to cry out, your pussy desperately clenching around nothing after being so deliciously filled. But you know better. You don’t want to disrupt the sight.

It’s Steve who jerks his hips back first, pulling out of Eddie’s mouth. “Fuck, bro. Sorry.” But he wasn’t sorry, not really. The only thing Eddie wants him to be sorry about is pulling out of his throat. You’re dripping wet. Like, wet spot in the bed because of your pussy wet. Steve’s losing a bit of that friction feeling and he doesn’t want you to be missing it too. That’s what he tells himself at least.

Tells himself that you need to be cleaned up so this night feels better for you.

Right?

So he’s taking a hold of his cock, fist wrapping around the base. “You uh, -… You wanna clean her up for me, Munson?” An offering to Eddie. He can either go right for your pussy and pretend that Steve wasn’t asking to suck him off.

And you’re not even offended when he picks Steve. Because the sight of Eddie Munson sucking you off of Steve’s dick?

Steve’s moaning as Eddie wraps his lips around his cock. Swirling his tongue around the tip before working on taking more length. Your fingers are back on your pussy and fuck you really did need to be cleaned up. You’ve got two fingers pushed into yourself, and while it doesn’t match how full you just felt, the view makes up for it. 

The sight doesn’t last long, Steve pulling himself out of Eddie’s mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’. “Not gonna last much longer if we keep this up.” And to his credit, Eddie’s pouting. His fingers touching his lips as he remembers the feeling but he’s nodding nonetheless. 

Your nails are digging into Steve’s back, clinging to him as if he were a lifeboat while you're drowning in all these sensations. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes and Steve’s cupping your face to wipe them away while Eddie adjusts himself until the three of you are as comfortable as possible. There’s Eddie’s lips at the back of your shoulder pressing a tender kiss as Steve speaks, “Words. How are you doing? Too much?”

It takes you a moment to collect yourself but you’re finally able to muster up a lopsided smile for him, nodding with your head bumping against Eddie’s. “Good, so good. Thank you for checking on me.” You slide a hand through the hair on the nape of Eddie’s neck, giving him a kiss as Steve pushes back into you.

You only get a few more kisses before Eddie has to pull back - He’s starting to get hard again and it hurts. He decides he has to try even harder to make sure he gets out of this alive just on the off chance you two ever invite him in again. 

Steve takes this as his chance to lean in, pressing his chest flat against yours as he bends you in half. There’s a warm hand cupping your jaw and you wait until he gets closer, your lips finally touching so you’re able to keep your voice low. “Always so good to me, Stevie. Treat me so well… Treat this pussy so good. Love belonging to you.”

He’s groaning into your mouth, savoring every word you give him. “Gonna make my pretty girl cum…. Can feel how bad you need me. Fuck, squeezing me so tight.” Steve starts to pick up the pace and jackhammers himself into you. Relentless, claiming. All you can do is lay there and take your boyfriend. He knows how bad you need to finish, how badly you need him. The coarse pubes at the base of his cock keep brushing against your overstimulated clit and you cry out, arching your back up into him as you start to black out from this level of pleasure. Spots in your vision, no thoughts in your head. Just pure pleasure taking over your body.

There’s not much warning when your orgasm finally hits your body. Your back arching off of the bed and legs starting to shake as it vibrates through every inch of your being. The loud, lewd sounds coming out of you making everyone thankful they’re so far into the woods. Steve’s slowing his pace while he fucks you through the sensation, warm arms wrapping around your body after he drops your legs to let them fall to the side of you two. He’s shushing you, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck. “That’s it, Baby. Let go, I’ve got you. Such a good girl for me.” 

Steve's orgasm comes quickly after yours, the spasms of your core milking it out of him. You know he's going to be scratched and bruised tomorrow morning from the way you're desperately clinging to him at the feeling of being so, so full. You wanna offer him the same reassurance but there’s nothing able to come out of you except a mess of ‘Love you. Love you so much’ which makes his heart tug.

He’s pulling back after the two of you have a moment to collect yourselves, looking at you all blissed out and your body fully relaxed after having been used as much as one could probably withstand. Your head is still tilted back against the pillow, his fingers pushing through your hair as it keeps sticking to your damp forehead each time you adjust. It’s kind of endearing how gentle he’s being with you considering how filthy the three of you have been. 

Your whines fill the room as Steve pulls out of you, falling flat against the bed next to you. His fingers tangle together with yours as he still craves your touch. 

Eddie had left the room towards the end of your intercourse - The moment so intimate that he felt as though he was intruding. He’s sneaking back in, giving the sight of you two sprawled out on the bed a fond little smile as he sits down cups of water on the side table. The least he could do was attempt to take care of the both of you the best he could.

He’s stepping over to stand between the two of you, a warm hand cupping your knees to give them a gentle squeeze. That’s when this sneaky little idea comes to Eddie. Your eyes are closed, giving an appreciative hum at the affection felt between Steve’s touch and Eddie rubbing his hand higher along your thighs. 

It’s quiet for a moment as Steve lays on his back next to you. One hand behind his head, the other grabbing you still the only warning you get is a shuffling on the bed before - 

“Holy fuck, Eddie.” 

His head is between your thighs, tongue dragging right between your folds. Your back is arching while your hands come down to lace in his hair. Steve’s slacked jaw, watching as Eddie begins licking you out. His cock is giving a painful twitch, still sensitive but it’s a damn fine sight.

Eddie’s dipping his tongue into you, curling it just right to collect whatever he can get. Your hips are starting to rock up against his face but the sensation is just too much. He takes your choked out whimpers as a sign. Pulling away from you with this practically pornographic pop of his lips as his suction is lost against you. His lips are shiny, eyes trained on Steve. 

You watch as Eddie shuffles forward, reaching out to cup Steve’s chin. The sight above you? It’s addicting. Eddie’s thumb drags across Steve’s lips and he’s quickly letting his jaw fall open under the touch. 

Eddie’s leaning forward and you gasp as he spits into Steve’s mouth. A mixture of you, Eddie, and Steve being shared between the two. Steve’s groaning and your eyes are trained on his neck as you watch him swallow. 

Next there’s Eddie’s warm hand around your throat. His eyes are so playful, so cocky as he looks down at you. You know what’s expected of you and open your mouth before you’re asked. The reward? Eddie’s hand tightening around your throat. You’re reaching out to grab his hip, nails digging into his flesh while he leans over you a bit more to get the angle right. Like he said earlier, he doesn’t want anything going to waste. 

Eddie’s spitting the rest of what he has into your mouth, his hand coming up from your throat so his thumb can come between your lips. You close your mouth around it, Eddie feeling as you swallow what was given to you.“Uh -“ Eddie’s cheeks go this pretty shade of pink and he refuses to look at either of you, “Not to make this all weird and shit, but thank you guys for doing that with me. Never fuckin’ expected to lose my virginity to Steve Harrington and his hot ass girlfriend. But it was good.”

[deconstructthesoup]

One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

[noemilivv]

What the…

HAZBIN HOTEL CAST are like as …

PARTNERS !! (and before that!)

Includes: Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Alastor, Sir Pentious, Husker, Niffty, Lucifer Morningstar, Adam, Lute

Warnings: Swearing, S1 spoilers, sexual references, mentions of abuse, mentions of Valentino, messy, barely proofread

Also side note, if this is highly enjoyed, I will do a Part 2 with more characters!

Charlie Morningstar

Crush!Charlie is a bit obvious. Not TOO obvious, but maybe if you squint hard enough…

Crush!Charlie has a tendency to show extra attention to you, especially if you’re a resident at the Hotel who’s trying to go up to Heaven.

Example: You’re the first person she asks if they need help, invite for a group activity, etc

Despite the fact that Crush!Charlie is really eager to confess her feelings, she truly does find value in getting to know you as a friend first.

She believes that it has its perks, which it does.

Crush!Charlie enjoys getting to know your hobbies, interests, past, strengths, all of it.

But as you are going off on your usual yap sesh about your face topic …

Crush!Charlie can’t help but peck you on the cheek, you’re cheeks just look so squishy and cute!

You’re stunned… You would’ve never thought that.. Charlie? Likes you? Pffff… Ain’t no way!

Crush!Charlie scrambles to explain to you her genuine feelings, and how she’s wanted to be with you for a long time, and scrambles again to ask you if you feel the same.

Now it’s your turn to shut someone up with a kiss.

You give her a drawn out peck on the lips, not too short, but not too long. Just enough to satisfy.

And yes, you do feel the same.

Now GF!Charlie is totally stoked! But she’s also a bit scared of the shoes she has to fill.

GF!Charlie decides to give you a little candy bouquet (that she made!)! Honestly it’s the cutest frickin thing, it has little chocolates and lollipops like AAA get me a Charlie!

GF!Charlie decides to introduce you to her dad, sure you guys have crossed paths a few times, but like, formally this time.

At first Lucifer is intimidated by you (not that he’d admit that), similar to the rivalry he had with Alastor.

But after awhile, he warms up to you, at the end of the day he loves his daughter, and he sees that you do to. So long as you treat Charlie good and you like rubber ducks, he’s chill with you :)

GF!Charlie’s love language is gift giving and physical touch!

On one hand, she loves giving gifts, it’s very soothing for her to go out and find something to give you, or coming up with an idea to make something for you, it takes her mind off of things

But at the other end of the scale, she loves receiving physical touch, she kinda freezes when she does because it’s so much to her but at the same time she enjoys it dearly! Even something as simple as rubbing her hand with your thumb while handling hands, long hugs, or hand kisses send her into a spiral haha

At the end of the day, GF!Charlie loves you a ton and honestly is just happy to be there loving you lol

Vaggie

When Crush!Vaggie realizes she has a crush on you, it’s a bit of an ‘Oh Shit’ moment, y’know?

Due to her secret, and the fact that she has a bit of trust issues, they just don’t go hand-in-hand with love.

Crush!Vaggie is a bit dependent on you to make the first move, but that doesn’t mean she won’t, but she needs you to throw a few jabs first.

The more her crush on you stays and the more she doesn’t do about it, the more it starts to bug her

Crush!Vaggie decides one day she doesn’t know how much more of the subtle flirting and eye contact from across the room she can take, cause deep down, she has a gut feeling you like her too.

So, Crush!Vaggie decides she’s going to confess.

When it comes down to it, obviously you feel the same, and she really wants to make an impact right away!

Now GF!Vaggie decides to plan a little surprise for you, a date!

GF!Vaggie decides to just take you out to the back of the hotel and you two lay down and look at the night sky (as I’m not sure if there’s stars in Hell tbh.)

You two sit there and talk, it gets vulnerable for a bit, slowly but surely starting to break down eachothers walls… But not for too long before one of you is like “NOPE, too much emotions for one day!” haha

At the end of the day, GF!Vaggie, isn’t perfect at this whole girlfriend thing, but for you? She’ll sure as hell try.

Angel Dust

Like Vaggie, Crush!Angel is tempted to “NOPE” out, after falling into Val’s trap, he’s hesitant to try again.

But soon enough Charlie shows him that opening up got her an amazing girlfriend, so he decides, hey, might as well right?

Crush!Angel goes out of his way to obnoxiously flirt with you, but you thought this was normal behavior, as he does it with basically everyone at the hotel.

Crush!Angel thinks it’ll take time, but you’ll catch on, and well… not exactly…

One day, Crush!Angel comes back from a long shoot, and he pulls a good, classic flirt on you, and poof! Right over your head!

And he doesn’t know what got in him, maybe the alcohol, maybe Valentino, maybe the buildup stress, who’s knows, but he snaps…

Crush!Angel proceeds to go off about how he’s always flirting with you and how he just doesn’t get how you’re so blind that you just can’t see it!?

And you start to laugh, which at first makes him more mad.

“Well how was I supposed to know if you flirt with everyone here? I thought it was normal!”

And with that, you walk away, leaving him bamboozled.

The night goes on as normal, you head up to your hotel room, and just as you’re about to turn lights out you hear a knock on your door and a voice from the outside.

“So do you wanna fuck me too, or no?”

The next day, you and Crush!Angel have a talk over a drink or two, and decide, not only do you two wanna fuck, you also want to date!

Now BF!Angel is a bit nervous, but don’t fret! He has that feeling in his stomach that makes him want to grin like he’s never grinned before.

BF!Angel’s love languages are quality time and words of affirmations, considering all that Val can do to him in a day, he doesn’t love being touched without consent, but that doesn’t mean touch is off limits by any means! Just ask and he’ll give it to you!

And for quality time, you and BF!Angel don’t really go out for dates, considering how fans (and Val) are, also considering the fact that he just wants a break from life.

Instead, you two usually just spend time in eachothers hotel rooms, binge shows, give eachother makeovers, play dress up, just being the kids you never got the opportunity to be.

And once he sees that Fat Nuggets likes you, he knows you’re the one.

Alastor

When Crush!Alastor first realizes he has feelings for you, he makes a mental note and goes on with his day.

He doesn’t really understand the point in fussing about it like most do, but then again, he’s not most people.

Crush!Alastor does thoroughly enjoy spending time with you though, he likes to just sorta keep you around.

He sticks up for you, if somebody gives you a problem, it will be handled, even if it’s a bit sadistic, he will do it everytime.

Crush!Alastor doesn’t feel the need to confess directly, but if you ask him how he feels about it, he won’t deny his feelings towards you!

So whenever Crush!Alastor becomes BF!Alastor, he does lay down some ground rules, as a relationship with him, will not be the same as a relationship with others.

BF!Alastor is a gentleman, no doubt. He opens any door that you may come across (car, building, whatever), he asks for consent before doing anything — however intimate it may be, and he does buy you flowers.

But, that does not mean BF!Alastor is perfect, he’s not the most physically affectionate, unless he initiates it himself, and he’s not great with feelings.

If you’re upset, he tries to stay away, not because he doesn’t care, but because most of the time he’ll keep his upbeat energy and act like nothings wrong in attempts to cheer you up — but sometimes that’s just not what you need.

But, BF!Alastor kicks in eventually, and turns on some calming music, turns his radio affect down in volume so the sound doesn’t overwhelm you, and give you a nice, long hug as you two sway around the room.

By far, BF!Alastor’s love language is acts of service and quality time.

BF!Alastor honestly adores spending time with you, you’ve made him feel more alive than he has in years, and he follows you around like a puppy, but he makes it look like you following him around rather than the other way.

And he’ll always do things for you, even if he doesn’t understand them. If they make you happy, he might as well get started on doing them, because he can’t go awhile without seeing your darling face and your beautiful smile.

Sir Pentious

Crush!Pentious is… very… obvious.

But you don’t say anything, cause he’s adorkable.

You watch day after day out of pure adoration as Crush!Pentious tumbled over his words and changes his mind as he tried to make a move, and you loved every second of it.

This went on for awhile, and you started to notice his little quirks, which only made you fall for him more.

Eventually, one day after Crush!Pentious had tried to subtly say that he liked you, you decided to do him a favor.

“Pen.”

“I like you too.”

“I- UHM- WELL- YOU’RE- I- UHM-”

Yeah maybe that didn’t go how you thought it would…

Well in more ways than one, cause Crush!Pentious became BF!Pentious that day!

BF!Pentious was really nervous, he finally had you! But he didn’t wanna lose you cause he did something stupid either… He had to make the perfect move!

So he ended up asking Charlie to ask you a bunch of relationship related questions, and ending up deciding on your dream date with your favorite flowers. Basic, but gets the job done right?

BF!Pentious’ love languages are gift giving and physical touch. Like please cuddle him. He’ll get pouty if you don’t notice. So just notice already!!

BF!Pentious, like Charlie, loves making you gifts! He uses his knowledge from war machines to make something homemade and honestly it’s just the sweetest thing!

Is he perfect? Yes. But for this let’s say no. Does he try? Also yes!

Husker

Crush!Husk can’t even remember the last time he had a crush, but he’s chill with it.

Crush!Husk never planned on officially confessing to you, he just was going with the flow, ya know?

You start talking to him and realize maybe you like him too, but it wasn’t thought about much more than that.

It’s not until Angel asks you, “So are ya fucking or no..?”

And it makes you think, no, but you wouldn’t mind if that were arranged.

So one night, while you’re drunk and talking to Crush!Husk, you say… “Y-Ya knOW! We- We should HAHAH get together! HEHEHEH!” “Talk to me when you’re sober, you’re not making a stupid decision, I won’t let ya.”

And somehow, someway, you remembered that in the morning. So with a headache from your hangover, you go up to Husk’s bar and sit down, “What are we?” “Whatever you want us to be.”

From then on, Crush!Husk became BF!Husk!!

BF!Husk always made sure to look out for you. He’s the ‘defend you in public, correct you in private’ kinda guy.

BF!Husk is big on words of affirmation and acts of service.

He won’t hesitate to tell you how much he loves and cares for you whenever you need it, he’s a very honest guy, but he also loves doing little things to show that he cares.

‘Oh, I did the dishes for you.’ or ‘I cleaned your room.’ or ‘I folded your laundry.’ are things you hear daily.

Niffty

Crush!Niffty is another one that’s very obvious, and quite frankly, she doesn’t care.

Crush!Niffty has been open to you about her feelings since day one, and you make sure she knows you feel the same way.

So basically instantly, she becomes GF!Niffty.

GF!Niffty loves physical touch and acts of service.

She loves cleaning for you, and showing you all her accomplishments. But she also loves hugging you, kissing you, just being next to you is enough.

Life isn’t much different versus life with Crush!Niffty but you love it regardless, and you wouldn’t trade either life for anything.

Lucifer Morningstar

Crush!Lucifer doesn’t really have that shock of realizing he likes you, cause he always has and has always known.

You were the one person who was there after Lilith, even if it was only platonic back then, you were still there.

Crush!Lucifer REALLY likes you and considering how long he’s liked you (literal years) he decides to just man up and say it.

Unsurprisingly, you feel the same way and you two start dating.

BF!Lucifer doesn’t want to lose you like how he lost Charlie and Lilith, so he’s very certain that he gives you everything he thinks you derserve.

BF!Lucifer is a big jumble of all the love languages at once because of this. But I think he leans towards physical touch and words of affirmation.

BF!Lucifer is constantly in need of reassurance as he feels like he’s not enough due to his depression, and also hugs, because y’know, hugs help.

If you have a good relationship with Charlie, which you should, like cmon, he’s ecstatic! And sometimes he needs your help with parenting cause he really wants to try his best for you, and her.

Adam

Adam and you started off just fucking for fun, and fucking for fun turned into, friends, friends turned into- woah… it turned into a crush…

Crush!Adam is fucking clueless, he’s not good with this stuff, just guitar solos (FUCK YEAAHH).

During Charlie’s meeting with Heaven, he slips you a note…

Hey hot babe,

wanna do more than just fuck? (date)

And my God, you better accept because THAT is ART.

BF!Adam is far from perfect, but damn close. He really cares. But his main love languages are quality time and physical touch.

I mean cmon, he’s not great with his words, he can’t do much other than fight, he’s ass at giving gifts (he tried to give you a dildo once). So it’s really the only thing he’s good at, he can sit there, and touch you. That’s about all he knows how to do!

At the end of the day, BF!Adam really tries his best, he loves you, after all :)

Lute

Considering the fact you’re Lute’s boss, she spends a lot of time with you.

And because of that, she starts to develop feelings.

Crush!Lute realizes she has a crush on you almost immediately, although she hesitates to tell you, due to how much you guys are together and her job.

But after awhile, she has a bit of a ‘screw it’ moment.

And boom! She turns into GF!Lute.

GF!Lute is a whole new version of the person you had gotten to know. Her wild side comes out, unlike her normal stoic side. (Example: “RIP VAGGIES CUNT MOUTH OUT ‘ER ASS!!!”)

Also side note, GF!Lute is committed as fuckkk. Once she’s there, she’s there for good, cause she loves you!

— END.

Hello! This is my first Hazbin post! I haven’t written for these characters in a solid year so I hope it’s alright! As I said up top, if this gets a lot of love, then I’ll do a part two (Which will include Cherri and the Vees to name a few~) ! Also don’t mind my Lute bias lmao, she’s my fav, she’s so hatable but idgaf and I love her vibe lmao! I’m hyperfixating on Hazbin since the first season just came out lmao! So please send requests! Love ya :)

[uluvjay]

Transfer proof- L. Norris

Lando Norris x Influencer reader!

In which a makeup brand sends you a lipstick that claims to be 100% transfer proof and you need your boyfriends help to put it to the test

Warnings?; making out, hints to sex/oral, can’t think of anymore

Part of my 1k celly :)

“Hi guys! Today we are trying this liquid lipstick from the Brand Lynn’s beauty! This liquid lip claims to be one hundred percent transfer proof, vegan, and cruelty free!” You started smiling at your phone that was being held up by your tripod.

“I am going to be wearing this throughout the day and putting it up to multiple different test.” You explained.

Opening up the lipstick you gave it the basic smell tests, before applying.

“There’s no fragrance which I like, and it’s a beautiful red color so I’m very interested to see if it’ll actually hold up to its high claims! You smiled.

“I’m going to be putting it up to a few test! One will be how it lasts while eating, the second will be with drinks, the third will be how pigmented it stays through the day, and the last is to see how it lasts with kissing.”

You give a small goodbye and stopped the recording for the clip to be later added into a whole video, and set off the find Lando for his help.

“Lan baby?” You called to the man as you entered the living room.

“Yeah?” He smiled at the sound of your voice.

“I need your help with a video” you asked giving your best puppy eyes.

“Nope, not again. You’re not staining my face with whatever crap you have this time” he denied at the flashbacks of the last time you had brought him in for help.

“But I promise you’ll like this one!” You tried but all he did was shoot you a pointed look.

“Don’t look at me like that! I’m being serious, it includes one of your favorite things” you smiled as you sat next to him.

“What is it?” He groaned dramatically.

“I need you to make out with me” you spoke

“You need me to make out with you?” He laughed gently.

“Yeah! And it’s not funny, I’m trying to test out a lipstick and I need to find out if it’s kiss proof.” You explained

“Oh baby, you should’ve just said that in the first place. I’ll never turn down getting to kiss you” he smiled as he sat all the way up and pulled you onto his lap.

His hands immediately slipping under his shirt you sported as you made yourself comfortable on top of him.

“Thank you” you smiled.

“Anytime baby” he softly replied before dipping down and pressing his lips against yours.

You two sat like that for a while, lips attacking each others while his hands ran from your hair down your body and yours ran through and tugged on his soft curls.

All was well until you could feel him beginning to grind his hips up and his hands move up your back in attempt to unclasp your bra.

“Lando!” You scolded as you pulled away from him.

“What?!” The boy laughed

“I asked you to kiss me, not fuck me” you depended.

“You’re literally on top of me kissing me like your life depends on it! What did you expect from me?” He whined as you once again smacked his hands away.

“To not be a horny little shit for once” you laughed as you got off of him, not caring to mention the lipstick that had in fact transferred and now covered his lips.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To make lunch and test this lipstick out other ways” you called out behind you.

“But babyyy, I have plenty of other ways for you to try it out” he whined, getting up and following you to the kitchen.

“I’m not giving you head Lando!”

-

[hanasnx]

PANTY-STEALING, PART TWO — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: part one. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ what it says on the tin, panty stealing ノ voyeurism ノ inappropriate thoughts about reader ノ sexual content.

It’s been several days since CLARK KENT’s stunt in his bedroom, narrowly escaping your discovery of him finding and pocketing your used panties. He’s been beating himself up over it ever since, his guilt distracting him from devising a sound plan to replace them naturally. You’d already asked if he’d seen any of your “missing clothes” avoiding mentioning your undergarments directly, but he could tell what you were hinting at. Coolly he had shrugged knowing your dirty panties sat in the top drawer of the nightstand in the loft of his barn.

He nearly punched a hole through his forehead with the impact his fist when he realized he should’ve just washed it with the rest of his laundry, playing it off like he simply didn’t know it was in his hamper. It’s past the point of no return, if he did it now after you questioning him it would look suspicious! His thoughts run away with him.

Lying awake for yet another night about it, he swallows hard staring up at the ceiling. Cramped on this little couch, he’d taken it as a courtesy and you’ve been sleeping in his room. You’ve been sleeping in his… bed. Memories of that little silk robe you wore invade his otherwise purer mind: the glimpse of your ass under the impossibly short hem, how perky your tits were cold and fresh from the shower, how you must’ve been wearing nothing under it—

Clark digs the heels of his hand into his eyes to symbolically avert them, growling softly in frustration. The crest of his watch digs into the tendon on the top of his hand, and he throws his arms down at his sides, a little squished because of his width compared to the sofa.

He wonders if you’re wearing anything in his bed. You’re a type hard to pin down, somewhat unpredictable in what you say versus what you do. If you’re in his bed, you might say you’re in pajamas, but you’re hiding the fact you’re naked in a guy’s bed you aren’t dating. He’s seen the room since you’ve taken it over—you didn’t even change the sheets. It smells like him, he’s sure, and he hopes it’s a good thing. His fingers twiddle with the stringy crochet of the blanket over his stomach at the thought that you might like the way he smells. You might’ve kept the bedding because you think he smells nice. You might rub your nose into his pillow and take a deep breath while your bare body shimmies against his sheets. That perfect silhouette imprinting into his mattress is enough to twitch his dick. It’s the kind filling out like it’s looking for something: standing in the direction of the nearest hole.

His palms fly to cup it comfortingly, trying his best to sooth its ache while he squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to ponder anything else—anything that’s not completely objectifying to a house guest. The confines of his grip only anger it, spiting him by pridefully hardening to a painful degree that makes him grit his teeth. The kind of feeling that drives him to trudge out to his barn in the dead of night and open that nightstand drawer just for a peek—just for a touch—just for a—

The next day he avoids you like the plague. If you loftily call his name, “Cla-a-r-rk!” singing it like a song, he has to ignore the melody to make himself scarce. The last thing he needs is to be caught in a close space with you and give himself away. As soon as he even hears you come around, his entire body erupts into some kind of bizarre full-figure blush, heart leaping out of his chest to spring into action.

He can’t look you in the eyes when the night before his cum joined yours, staining the delicate part of your panties—since dried. Having wrapped his big hand around it, and jacked off until his balls didn’t hurt anymore, he couldn’t even look himself in the eye. There’s no way he can return them to you, but he can’t seem to get rid of them either. The fragile fabric crumpled up and back in that drawer.

[sammakesart]

Castles in the Fade, or What Was the Point of the Veil Anyway

Something that will now haunt me until the end of time is why was the concept of the Veil ever introduced into this series.

We’ve been hearing about it since the very first game. There’s a codex entry about tears in the Veil in Origins. Tamlen mentions a thin spot in the Veil if you play a Dalish elf. Sandal has a prophecy in Dragon Age 2: “One day the magic will come back—all of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.” Admittedly, this is just one line said by a character who often says odd things, but it hinted to the fact they were planning to do something with the Veil from the very beginning. The state of the Veil is repeatedly brought up. It all had to mean something! Or so I thought. 

When I saw “The Dread Wolf Rises” quest in Veilguard, I said, “Oh, here we go!” The Veil is coming down, magic is coming back, and it’s going to set up such an interesting story for the next game. 

Alas, no. 

I hadn’t really enjoyed my time playing Veilguard up until this point. It felt like the game was ducking and dodging every bit of world building and lore that could possibly bring nuance or complexity to the story. Every returning character or faction was a cardboard cutout of themself. They shoved Solas is a time-out box and gave him nothing to do. They refused to let him have any impact or influence on the story when he had been set up to be our main antagonist back in Trespasser. This game used to be called Dreadwolf! And while we learn about his past… we never talk to him about it. In the present, he’s in stasis.

Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are our villains. And they are your typical evil for evil’s sake villains. They are mad, bad, and only as dangerous as the narrative will allow as to not give Rook and co too much trouble. They are surprisingly patient while Rook fixes all their companions’ problems… until Elgar’nan moves the moon to cause an eclipse. A vital component in making his own lyrium dagger. For some reason. This guy can move a satellite!? And he just let Rook walk away in previous encounters… twice. Ok. Sure.

The Evil Duo need their own dagger ostensibly to tear down the Veil, because they want to unleash the full force of the Blight onto the world. Because they are evil. And they were thwarted last time they tried to Blight the entire world. Why do they think Blighting the world is a good idea? What’s the point of ruling a world if everyone is dead? I guess they haven’t thought that through, because of the madness and the evilness.

Ok, I thought. Perhaps the gods will be the one to tear down the Veil. Or maybe we’ll have a choice to let Solas do it his way before they can, which will be less chaotic and less full of Blight. Because the Veil has to be coming down one way or another? Why introduce the concept of the Veil, especially a Veil that has been thinning and failing since the series began, if it’s just going to… stay.

There is a principle in storytelling called Chekov’s gun. If something is mentioned in a story, it must have a purpose. If you keeping mentioning that gun hanging on the wall over the fireplace, it’s because at some point in the story, someone is going to take it down and use it. The Veil felt like Chekov’s gun to me. Chekov’s Veil, if you will. It’s been here from the beginning of our tale, the spectre hanging over our protagonists’ heads for multiple games.

The Veil has been a character unto itself. It was the central focus of the third game, and its dissolution was set up to be the core conflict of the fourth game. We learn everything we thought we knew about the Veil was a lie. It was not created by the Maker to separate the Fade from this world because of jealous spirits, it was created by a guy named Solas to trap the elven gods and the Blight from destroying the world. Also, the elven gods were never gods, and they are also evil.

This reveal will surely throw the Andrastian religion into chaos! This puts the very existence of the Maker into question! The Evanuris are a lie; it’s only fair Catholicism—oh, I mean—the Chantry is a lie too. We briefly touch on that in Veilguard… then it is quietly discarded. Religious crisis averted.

But I digress.

When the title of the fourth game was changed from Dreadwolf to Veilguard, I started to see the writing on the wall. Still, I held out hope the Veil would have some greater purpose in the story. That its introduction as a concept was for a reason. That something in this world would change.

Instead, from the get-go, the question of the Veil is no question at all. We only get Solas and Varric making oblique or catastrophizing statements about it. Solas says little beyond he has a plan. If I ever wanted to hear a villain monologue about their plan, it was now! Varric, on the other hand, decries Solas’s plan. He warns that should the Veil fall, it will destroy the world and drown it in demons. And that’s that.

We never really learn why Solas wants to tear the Veil down, or why he thinks it will help anyone. “The Veil is a wound inflicted upon this world. It must be healed,” he says. And that’s basically all he says about it in Veilguard. In Inquisition and Trespasser, we learn it took the immortality from the elves. It cut most of magic off from the world. Spirits are trapped and are being corrupted into demons, and most of what we know about spirits and demons is wrong. There are ancient elves possibly asleep? That part is left vague, but ancient elves are still about. We meet some in Mythal’s temple. There seems to have been some merit in bringing it down, because elves were flocking to Solas’s cause at the end of Trespasser. He had agents working for him already. What do they know that we don’t know?

Apparently nothing, because by the time Veilguard rolls around, there are no mention of agents. He is working alone. His only motivation now seems to be he’s too deep in his sunk-cost fallacy. The Veil is unnatural, so it must be removed—consequences be damned. We are never given any reason to think Solas has a leg to stand on in his pursuit of tearing down the Veil. We never hear any kind of counter argument from anyone, not even Solas, as to why the Veil should come down. We are only told it will destroy the world. It will drown the world in demons. This is all Solas’s fault.

There is no nuance. No complexity. No moral quandary to mull over. The game gives us vague warnings with no explanation as to what exactly is so world-annihilating about the Veil coming down. We must take Varric’s word at face value. We’re the heroes; Solas is the villain. Stop him.

It makes me wonder why Solas was ever a companion in Inquisition, let alone a romance option. Solas was presented to us as a complicated character in Inquisition. We had the potential throughout the game to make him see the value of this world, to help him realize he was wrong about it. “We aren’t even people to you,” the Inquisitor says in Trespasser. Solas replies, “Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong...again.” He began the third game viewing the world as tranquil, seeing the people in it as nothing more than figments in a nightmare, just as we saw our companions in the In Hushed Whispers quest. He ends the game having made friends, having recognized he was mistaken. He might have even fallen in love. (Or he may still seen no merit in this world if the Inquisitor antagonized him the entirety of their time together.) But something makes him continue with his plan to tear down the Veil, despite recognizing this world is real. He must know something we don’t. Something we’ll learn about in the next game.

We’ve been hearing about the Veil for three games now. We’ve set up our complex antivillain for the next installment, and he’s going to tear the Veil down. We swear to stop him or save him. But it has to be more complex than that. It can’t be so straightforward. Uncomplicated. Simple. Boring. Right? Right?

Nope. He really is just the villain, mustache-twirling and all. He apparently had no greater motivation, no as of yet unrevealed knowledge that would put this whole Veil thing into a new context. It was really as simple as the Veil falling will destroy the world, so Solas must be stopped. There is no new information that is revealed which makes us question what we are doing. Solas is never given any nuance or complexity to his actions. Nuance and complexity have actively been taken away. Both him and the Veil are looking like they are the worst things to be in a story: pointless. Why introduce the Veil if it’s just going to remain unchanged? Why introduce a character like Solas, bother humanizing him (for lack of a better term), giving us his backstory, setting him up as a cunning antagonist, only to make him look stupid, then put him on a shelf until the last ten minutes of your game?

Solas was the trickster archetype of this tale. He was our version of Loki from Norse mythology. What is the role of the trickster archetype? To challenge the status quo. To bring about events of extreme change, like say, the tearing down of a Veil that holds back all of magic. Loki is a huge contributing factor in Ragnarök. Through his manipulation, he causes the death of the beloved god, Baldr. This ushers in a long winter, which signifies the beginning of the end. Loki is imprisoned for this crime. When the final battle between gods and giants begins, the sun and moon are swallowed, plunging the earth into darkness. The earth shakes and Loki is freed to fight on the side of the giants. The world burns in raw chaos, falls beneath the sea, and is reborn. The world is remade, and a new realm of the gods and a new, better earth is formed.

It really felt like this was the setup they were going for. Solas causes the death of Mythal, and this is his catalyst for creating the Veil, which ushers in a world without magic. This could be seen as equivalent to the long winter. Solas falls asleep, trapped in dreams. He wakes and sets in motion bringing about the apocalypse. It’s not a perfect one to one, but it’s there if you squint. We have a war against the gods in Veilguard. I was expecting a few remaining Titans to wake and join the fight. But we don’t get any of that. There is a final battle, but it does not end in the end of the world. Or a better world. It just ends, and everything is the same.

It seems our trickster god caused his apocalypse thousands of years before our story started, when he created the Veil. His role in this tale was over before ours began, and he really is just some relic from a long-past age. He has no role, no purpose in this story. He is here to be thwarted. He is no Loki at all.

If you can’t tell, I wanted the Veil to come down. Did I think the Veil coming down would be painless? Have no negative consequences? No. Of course not. But keeping it up has negative consequences too. And it made for an interesting story. Or at least it could have. But we never explore that. The game presents no counter argument to having the Veil stay up, which, again, begs the question: what was the point of introducing the concept of the Veil at all?

Did I think the Veil coming down was actually the best solution to help Thedas become a better place? I don’t know, and I never will, because the game never argues for it one way or another. It just tells you to want it in place and to stop asking questions. In real life, a catastrophic event is not the best way to solve any of the world’s problems. But this is the realm of fiction. We have gods and monsters, magic and myth. We have introduced the status quo of Thedas, recognized it needs to change, then our trickster god appears ready to fulfill his role in the narrative. 

Instead, it all comes to nothing.

I got to the end of Veilguard… and everything was more or less the same as it was at the start of Origins. Veilguard actually tries its hardest to pretend any previously mentioned problems don’t exist, so of course the Veil coming down has no merit. There are no problems to solve in this world, apparently. Solas is just stuck in the past and can’t get with the times. Silly Solas.

The Veil isn’t even a permanent solution. It wasn’t to begin with. It was some duct tape wrapped around a broken pipe, and we’ve just slapped an extra piece of tape on it. It’s still leaking. It is still unnatural, and will fall eventually one way or another. Large amounts of bloodshed weaken it, so I guess Thedas better achieve world peace real quick to avoid any battles. There were seven super-powered mages holding it together… now there is just one. Ironically, the Veil was going to fall after two more Blights anyway. The Wardens were doing Solas’s work for him! It would also have released the full force of the Blight at that time… which Solas was trying to avoid, I presume.

It feels like keeping the Veil up just pushed a big problem onto Thedas’ future generations. We’ll keep slapping bandaids on it until it all falls apart. Someone else can deal with the fallout, but we’ll be dead by then, so who cares.

Primarily, I wanted the Veil to come down from a storytelling perspective. The Veil was an interesting concept and I wanted the story to do something interesting with it. Conflict is what makes stories stories and the Veil coming down could create so much compelling and complex conflict. And the Fade is weird, and I like weird. Stories are also about change, and I wanted to see Thedas change. Yet, Veilguard is over, and barely anything has changed. Instead of magic coming back being a conflict for the next game, they went with Fantasy Illuminati. Oh.

The Veil turned out to be a nothing-burger, and no problems in this world are even close to being solved. Slavery is still rampant in Tevinter. The elven people are still oppressed everywhere. Mages have no more rights in the South than they did in Origins. Spirits are still trapped and being corrupted. The Calling still exists, though might be different somehow now? They don’t really get into that. The Chantry’s validity is still not allowed to be questioned. The Blight still exists in some form, but again it’s vague. Oh, and we learn the dwarves have been gravely wronged, and the Titans are still tranquil. At least if you redeem Solas and a romanced Lavellan joins him, they can work together on healing the Blight and helping the Titans. Oh, good. One problem is being acknowledged and some action will be taken. Offscreen. Hurray? Solas doesn’t have a really great track record of fixing problems, so Lavellan is definitely going to need to be there to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up.

For some reason, this game seemed terrified of letting us think about anything for more than two seconds. It shied away from complexity or nuance at every turn. The game is called The Veilguard—ironically, that word is never uttered in the game—but we are given no real motive for guarding the Veil. We’re unquestionably the hero. The villains are uncomplicatedly evil. Save the world… never wonder what you are doing or why.

I wanted the game to make me question if the Veil staying up or coming down was the right choice. I needed to be given a real counter argument. Convince me the alternative would actually be better or worse, because as I mentioned… things suck quite a bit in Thedas already for a lot of people right now. Let the Veil’s fate be a difficult choice to make. If the conflict cannot be what to do about the Veil, it should be am I doing the right thing about the Veil. If the heart of your game is so thin on motive, everything else falls apart around it.

I hoped they were setting up a complex, Thedas-sized existential conflict for this game in Trespasser, but no. I wanted something to happen, but nothing did. 

I want to feel challenged and changed by a story, not left feeling empty. I’m tired of superficial entertainment. I want to sink my teeth into a narrative that doesn’t paint the world in broad strokes of black and white, good and evil, heroes and villains.

Ultimately, I think my issue is why even introduce a concept like The Veil if you’re not going to do anything interesting with it. Or anything at all. What I thought was Chekov’s Veil turned out to just be a MacGuffin. And that’s disappointing.

[fanzou]

It’s a Match!

✗ Pairing: Zoro Roronoa x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: Lost in an annoying town full of annoying good-for-nothing people, Zoro seeks refuge in an odd looking tent, only to find that it belongs to the towns famous match-maker!

✗ Total WC: 7.0K

✗ CW: SMUT! Zoro is in fact an eater, Zoro in disguise? (Not really), Cunnilingus, P in V sex, Soft Zoro (just a lil bit), Most of this is just smut, ZORO UNMATCHED LIBIDO

✗ A/C: This was such a random thought in my head but I feel like I did so well executing it. I’m hoping you guys like it just as much as I liked writing it!

It’s so nice; The Sunny is really living up to its name right now. The fire-y orb in the sky makes his skin impossibly warmer and it feels wonderful. He rests his hands behind his head and his eyes are closed—both eyes.

Even the waters below don’t crash against the boat so harshly. It doesn’t rock the floating chunk of wood so much to the point that it’s unbearable to even rest as he is, like he wants to.

He doesn’t hear any bombarding voices or obnoxiously loud steps or bangs, not that he isn’t used to it, he’ll sleep right through it because he knows it’s just the ruckus and havoc caused by the usual three idiots doing constant idiotic stuff. But there isn’t any alarming or annoying commotion right now and it makes the peace all the more peaceful, if that was possible.

It’s almost too good to be true, he grunts before he has to involuntarily peel his one eye open and scope the scenery out so that he wasn’t missing any secret attack.

Okay…

Fine. Everything’s fine. And he slowly shuts his eye once more.

It’s not like this everyday and Zoro is eternally grateful for this peaceful afternoon.

And rest he does, in pure bliss with the sun shining off of his defined skin with no havoc to be wreaked and no cook to engage in annoying banter with.

For like… 5 minutes.

-

“Zoro! Get up!” Luffy calls, jumping up and down unavoidably disturbing what he yearned for most, “We’re here!”

Welp, all good things must come to an end right?

Even for the time it was, and he knew for a fact that it was still noon, the lights of the town that inhabited the land still somehow illuminated very brightly. A headache. He gets up finally to wake himself up just a little bit more and he looks around to see almost everyone gathered and ready for the next stop. “Zoro! You finally up?”

He stretches his muscles a bit and fixes his yukata as he does so, “Yeah…m’up.” He says, there’s a little tiredness in his voice.

And now as they near the inescapable flashy lights and overly-decorated scene, he feels even less willing to jump off board and continue his travels with the crew. They’ve talked about this place for the past two days, and none of it seemed intriguing in the way they had described it to be.

Nothing intriguing, and nothing worth mentioning the second they make their way back to the ship.

Which is why he’s more than willing to keep watch of it while they do their own little thing.

“You guys can take this one. M’just gonna stay on board for the time being.” He makes an attempt to walk away before Luffy’s already starting his complaints.

“But you can’t! You have to come, it’ll be fuuuuun! Zoroooooooo!” He yells, because when is Luffy ever not yelling, and grabs hold of his muscles from across the ship with his gum-gum powers.

It’s comedic, laughable. Luffy really is persistent, and it’ll surprise many to believe that his persistence is enough to persuade the big, bad swordsman.

“Usopp said that the food here is amazing! Please, you can’t miss out on this one, c’mon!”

It really is Luffy���s word over everything.

Which is why, unfortunately, he has to join them.

-

So much for his long-gone peace. He got lost somewhere along the way.

Straying away from the group after a liquor store caught his eye, the congested area stirred him far from everyone, and now he was here—just roaming. Sure he could’ve started his search back, but he wasn’t necessarily confident in his ability to do it given the many other circumstances he had… unfortunately, put himself through. So he put his faith in fate.

Don’t even get him started on how much livelier the place is too, how is this even a town? It’s small sure, but it’s so bright, it feels like he’s getting flash-banged anytime his eyes look anywhere but the floor. If he didn’t know any better he’d think this was some sort of grand city. But Zoro would be lying if he said that it wasn’t decent-looking at the very least, the streets littered with decorations from top to bottom with lanterns and glitter shining so brightly.

It wasn’t completely an eyesore, just maybe the people that inhabited the space, and the overdone style to it.

And in the grand scheme of things, there were perks to the obnoxiously crowded area, it did well to shield his public appearance so many would not recognize him. Nor would they care with the way they practically fixated on everything but.

Arrows pointing here, lights pointing there, it only gets worse when it starts getting dark, his exhaust long fades, replaced with an indescribable frustration. He feels his eye twitch every 2.5 seconds, brows furrowed while he clenches his teeth at the bombarding and invasive illuminating advertisements for shops and restaurants that are literally right there. In front of the store.

“Hey, handsome, need a massage? Ya look pretty tense!”

No thanks.

“Hot dogs! Hot dogs for only 100 berries!”

No thanks.

“Fun for him and her! Come to our store so you and your lady can have a great night together!”

No. Fuckin’. Thank you.

He shakes off the growing frustration that brews within him, his patience runs thin and everyone and everything around him is doing little to compensate. He’s mad that he decided to tag along, because it proved worthless in the end, he got lost and now he has to reap the consequences of this stupid fiasco that Luffy so eagerly dragged him along on.

He sighs, defeat evident in his breath. He tries relaxing his shoulders a bit and without the risk of losing his other eye from how blinding every single thing in his vision is right now; he scans the area to find at least somewhere he can ease his mind.

Something, anything. At this point.

And in little time he spots that something. Between two stores, the left store labeled “WAX-IT-OFF!”, and the right being “Grand Line Finance”. He snorts. The complete irony and comedy within the two differing stores humors him but it quickly subsides once he sees what confuses him; it’s an almost igloo-shaped tent. Hm, he says to himself. He naturally gravitates towards it, or unnaturally almost. It’s quite unlike him to let his curiosity get the better of him.

The tent is covered by a velvet fabric and there’s a purple-ish pink light coming from the inside, and for a tent—it’s quite large—fit to house at least 10 people at a time. He doesn’t notice it then but there’s a line that’s already formed, and he waltz’ right on ahead almost as if he owned the huge sphere covered in blankets itself, ignoring the complaints of the crowded line that had been apparently waiting there for quite a while, they express their verbal insults and trash-talk alike towards Zoro.

They don’t do much to hold him back, though.

When he reveals the other side of the curtain, eager to see just what had been waiting, it was far more relaxed, an almost seductive energy that welcomed him. One thing he did realize, was how much more quiet it had become. His once tense muscles immediately unclench at the tranquil setting around him. His hear pears left and right to find that it was just as predictable as the outside was, but that wasn’t to say he was disappointed, quite the opposite.

“Sir, are you next up?” He looks around to see where the voice comes from, and he’s a little confused. “Down here, ya big oaf!” His returned peacefulness is quickly disturbed.

He looks down and it’s a man half his size, he had a weird looking hat and glasses that didn’t let him see behind them. He has a badge that reads “RIO” in bold letters, what Zoro assumes to be his name.

“Are you here to see Lady match-maker or not? She doesn’t have much time to wait!” The man half his size grabs hold of his muscular hand and he just follows. He doesn’t know why. Doesn’t understand how. Typically if it were anything or any other circumstance he’d probably just get the hell out of there, but he doesn’t sense any kind of danger. Not when his only opponent is a 3-foot man and the inside of this new found tent was so comfy.

And—what did he say about a match-maker?

The odd looking fellow practically has to drag him full force across the room and to expose to Zoro another curtain.

Presumably what Zoro thinks might be, “the match-maker”.

He’s got a bad feeling about this, not the sort of enemy territory feeling but a cringy uncomfortable and dumb feeling.

The shorty speaks, “You have ten minutes.” He unveils the curtain and pushes Zoro, or, tries to push Zoro in, but he doesn’t actually step in unless it’s under his own volition because he’s so heavy. When he does; he drinks in the entire scene in front of him, somehow even more glittery fabrics and silky blankets draped across and on top of one another, a table smack dab in the center with someone behind it.

Lo and behold, you—the uh… the match… making—maker. Yeah.

The small guy leaves Zoro’s sight and leaves him under your supervision.

And God, are you beautiful. A lot like your enclosed environment you wore a seemingly large robe that covers a lot of the floor almost acting as a sheet itself. It’s nicely coated around your body, the only skin on you that isn’t modestly covered is your neck and cleavage area and he doesn’t necessarily make his roaming eyes a secret.

And when you speak, “Hello, you can take a seat anywhere.” Your voice is smooth, and the more he takes you in is the more he falls into a sort of hypnosis. You giggle at the tension so prominently visible in his figure, “No need to be shy. Take a seat anywhere.

He snaps out of the trance you didn’t even know you put him in, or maybe you did. Who knows, he sits across from you with his legs crossed into each other and his hands laid onto his lap with a posture that you almost envy, you appreciate his formality.

And he’s just thinking about how amazing it would probably be to fall asleep in here, possibly with you.

It’s at this point that Zoro realizes that he hasn’t talked the whole time, but he makes little effort for his lack of speech until it’s you who breaks the silence.

“First, your name?”

He prepares his voice with a clearing of his throat, “Zo—” Oh wait, shit. He mentally face palms, but is quick to recollect himself. He quickly comes up with a name as a means to cover-up his true identity.

“Zorayo.”

Your brows furrow like you don’t buy it and his heart stops for the slightest second. “Zorayo?”

He feels so awkward right now. “Yeah… Zorayo.”

“Mmm, that sounds a lot like that infamous pirate-hunter… what was his name? Rorono… Roroyoa?” You think long and hard, “Roronoa Zoro!”

He clears his throat with an eye anywhere but yours. “Uh, yeah. I get that. A lot.” With a slight nod.

You scribble something down in your notes, he assumes to be his half-ass attempt at a name. He really hopes he’s not red, because everything about this is just plain embarrassing. If what he assumes about you being a “match-maker” is true and if anyone on the crew saw him coming out of this place, he doesn’t think he’d hear the end of it.

“You don’t happen to be a pirate yourself, do you?” At this, he tenses once again, “You’ve got the look.” He’s a bit taken aback, but as he scans your face for some sort of discomfort or distress, he’s even more surprised at how okay you are with the fact.

You’re not looking at him, instead you’re scribbling something down. You have been this whole time, hardly looking at him.

Yet somehow, the next words to come out of your mouth are, “I find it difficult to believe that you’re really here for match-making, Zorayo.” You drop your pen and rest your chin on both your hands, “What really brings you?”

He grunts, closes his eyes, and inhales. He’s trying to formulate up a lie, but it’s hard when you’re so beautiful. Your eyes are staring into his soul, he’s never seen anything like it. “No, I am. My friends… said that I needed to find a woman. B-But really I just wanna get laid.” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say his answer disappointed you a bit. “Y’know, if that’s an option.” Your hands come down and grip the pen once more to write down a few notes, and he can’t help from tapping on his knee a little bit now. His answer was shallow, desperate, and far from him, and he doesn’t understand why it bothered him to care about how you perceived it.

You let a silence linger for a bit as you bring the pen to your lips and tap it a few times, “What’s your ideal type?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “S’what I’m trying to figure out, woman.” He snorts, and your face returns with an almost bothered look.

You roll your eyes and rest the metal pen down harshly, “Do you actually wanna get ‘laid’?” You ask him almost rhetorically and using his vulgarities against him, “Then don’t be a smart ass.” You mumble under your breath, God, you pirates.

Once again, he’s taken aback by the sheer bluntness in your claim, and he’s almost offended. He gulps, he’s not nervous. Can’t be.

“Why do you assume I’m a pirate?” He exclaims in genuine confusion. “Look at you!” To emphasize your claim you extend your hand in reference to the big muscular and scarred man, “And besides, you’re not the only one who’s ever come to me for my assistance.”

He almost wants to mirror your previous eye roll, assistance?

Almost sounds like he’s having trouble getting his dick wet.

And, well—It looks that way, and he wants to crawl in a hole, anyone other than the one he was kinda already in, because of how utterly shameful this is to him.

Thankfully or not-so-thankfully you break the silence, “You have 6 minutes on the clock, mister. Better make it worth while.”

If he were being honest, all he wanted to do was just rest across the shiny blankets that littered the entire place, even if it meant he had to threaten everyone outside in line in order to get it. And he curses himself for getting into this predicament.

Speaking of outside, he did not want to go back anytime soon. The disgusting, flashy and flamboyant, utterly obnoxious, did he mention disgusting?—Outside.

Well, here goes nothing.

Zoro thinks on his response for you, he wants to make it so that it gives you at least something to work with, but not so much that it sounds tender or anything like that.

“I like women who know what they’re about. Not the shy type. I like ‘em when they can fend for themselves.” He nods in confirmation, satisfied with his own proclamation.

And you seem to be as well. There it is. Now we’re talkin’.

You scribble down on your notes once again, more impressed and relaxed by his revelation, it’s not much but it’s progress. “Anything… physical?”

“Mmm… physical?” He pans his vision from the soft scenery to you, “not… not necessarily.” He’s back to ogling you again.

You scribble, “Okay, Zorayo… You don’t like short hair? Long hair?”

You’re not met with a response, and when you look up, Zoro is still there, just with his unwavering gaze set on you, or more accurately—gaze fixed on your body, like he’s checking you out.

“Zorayo?”

He shakes his head as if to shake away unwanted thoughts. “Oh— Um. No. Yes. I mean, listen, S’long as she’s not ugly.”

Ugh, where have I heard that a gazillion times before.

Men.

“How am I supposed to identify that if you won’t tell me what you find physically attractive?!” The tip of your fingers are white from your grip.

Clients are difficult, clients are stubborn, and it’s not like you haven’t come across a guy like this once in a while, but you’d be damned if you didn’t admit that it was annoying as hell every. Single. Time.

You breathe, “Zorayo, full transparency.” You place your fingers on your chest to mark sincerity, your tone is softer. “I think you are attractive, I believe you’ll find no trouble in getting a girl in that department. I sense that you don’t often make the first move, and because of your naturally intimidating nature, it’s like a double-edged sword. Women won’t approach you.” You empathetically state. He just listens.

You ponder on your next word-choice as to not offend him if you had already, “it’s only difficult because you make it difficult. I assure you, you would have girls falling at your feet if you were just a little more… giving?” You finish with hope that he understands your meaning.

You can tell he absorbs your words a bit, and it’s definitely progress from where you started. You rest your shoulders in a bit of relief to find that he finally might seek that inner peace and comprehension, understanding maybe why he might be feeling so defeated in the romance department. You weren’t a match-maker for nothing, right?

He puts his finger on his chin, and the smallest tiniest smile graces his face.

“Well f’thats the case, why don’t you just sleep with me?”

“That’s great, Zo—Huh?” Your eyes are shot wide open, and you look at him in pure disbelief. What the hell is wrong with this guy? “How could you even suggest something so inconsiderate and vulgar? I have clients that are patiently waiting outside!”

He snorts, “They can always wait.” His smirk gets wider, his eyes a little darker. You gasp, or scoff—you don’t know what it is. You’re so blown away by the fact that he’d request something so dirty and scandalous. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m not one for the taking, idiot! I am the match-maker, not the matched.”

He becomes more relaxed in his posture, his hands are grounded to the floor behind him to act as balance, “Is it against the rules or somethin’? Like ya can’t get fucked?”

Oh, he’s getting so much more vulgar, and… for some reason, it’s… turning you on a bit. And he looks unbothered, almost bored at your fit. You’re red, you’re red all over. It’s bad. This is bad for you. Usually you’re not the flustered one, and sure clients will come in with their occasional flirting and advances. But this?

This is too advance.

“Zo… Zorayo—I can’t possibly…” you close your eyes as you look away from him and shamefully pull your face away from his direction. But he’s not hearing a no, which is something he’d assume you would have verbally expressed by now. And… sure. He was attractive, very visibly, audibly… verbally so. It’s not something you lied about with clients, which is why you were not sold on the fact that he needed any help finding the perfect woman for he in fact, was sculpted by the Gods themselves.

He takes it upon himself to get up, walk over to your side while you wallow in your state of shamefulness and whatever it is that you’re so worked up about. He’s slow in his movement, calculated to see how you’d react if he got anymore closer to you to ensure that what he was about to do wasn’t one-sided and you weren’t actually against the concept.

He kneels at your side and his hand finds its way to your lap, you yelp a bit at the sudden contact. You’re so ashamed right now, so red.

Then it dawns on him, you poor thing. He smiles sadistically. It hits so quickly by the way you react at his physical advance, that you yourself are not being taken care of. The woman who has set up many couples for life? The woman who has brought people to fate and great happiness? But herself? The smile on his face grows a little bit wider, and his hand snakes to your chin, an attempt that you almost melt into too easily. He gets closer to your face. You’re finally looking at him, and he waits for the green light.

“I’ll… I’ll tell Rio to close up for the n-night.”

He’s satisfied, “Good girl.”

You drag your knees across the covered floor as you make your way to the covers, your hands are shaking—with excitement or anxiety, maybe both. You don’t know. You fix yourself, pull the covers in hopes of only revealing your own flushed face and there he was, patiently waiting for your signature cue.

“Rio, there’s a bit of an issue.”

The short man immediately responds, “What is it, my lady?” He sounds a little alarmed so you assure, “I’ll have to reject my services for the rest of the night…”

“T-This one’s… a special case.” You feign a soft smile.

He seems confused a tad, because there’s never an instance where you’ve felt the desire to put such an abrupt stop to your services. A special case? That makes him visibly more confused, but he’s confident in your skill and trusts that you understand what you’re doing. “Understood, Miss. I’ll leave you to it while I fight off those desperate dogs outside.” He laughs at his joke and turns his back to you. You manage a small thank you.

You were confident in his ability in doing so, though he be small he was quite fierce. When the coast was clear and you hear your assistants muffled yells to the stubborn customers, you slowly cover back the space leaving you to the muscled beast, alone once again.

You turn to him, “I’m just letting you know that I haven’t had sex in a while, so you’re gonna need to prep me.” You make work of the robe that’s snug tightly around your waist.

He scoffs, as if offended by your request, “‘Thout question.”

You furrow your brows, “Don’t get cocky on me now, it’s you who needs to get laid.” And you instantly regret the words that come out of your mouth, because now he’s giving you daggers for eyes. He gestures you over nonetheless, and you crawl over to him with no question, now it’s as if you’re entranced by the green-haired man, he’s handsome—beautiful almost, it doesn’t take much will-power to follow his fingers that beckon you over.

“A-And, you can’t be too rough.”

“That’s fine.”

“—And we stop when I say so.” He nods in respect, huh, easier than you thought.

After the knot of your robe was undone, and it feels like it was forever til you got it, you reveal a loose and simple dress underneath and he doesn’t exactly make his appeal towards you discreet.

But it dawns on you, because you haven’t done this in what feels like an eternity that you literally don’t know what to do, let alone with someone so… large?

“How do you wanna…” you gulp and pick at your nails in nervousness.

“Jeez, woman. You a virgin or somethin’?” Well, right now you might as well be. He gets up from his seated position and stands on his knees, “Lay down on the table.”

It’s probably for the better that he’s in control of everything you both do, you’ve already laid out the ground rules of what he can or can’t do, and it’s only really up from here. You do as he instructs, not too eagerly, not too anxiously and you can say that you were satisfied with the way you carried yourself thus far. You just really really hope he can’t tell that you need this as much as he might.

You sit on your little table, and he’s kneeling in front of you.

He’s impossibly bigger.

He grabs ahold of your thighs, almost letting his fingers dip underneath the fabric of your short dress and you shiver in immediate reaction. His hands are so warm, and you can’t help but put your smaller one on top of his.

He takes it as a sign to let his face come closer to yours, and you could almost call him a romantic; the way he tilts his head and his eye is half-shut, he leans in almost too slow for your liking, but his lips meet yours anyways. He almost made you feel like you had to earn it.

When your lips touched, it takes you by surprise to learn that they’re much softer than they look, and he’s skilled—he comes closer, his fingers glide up to your hips and underneath your last piece of large coverage, he grips a little tighter but not uncomfortably so, and his tongue swipes across your lip almost as if to ask for permission to enter.

—And enter it does, you whimper pathetically into his attack and it’s getting very hot. Be it his body temperature or how much you’ve moved within the past 5 minutes within such a tight space, it’s inevitably warmer in your familiar environment. You wonder, is he this good at everything?

Only one way to find out.

“Lie down on your back.” He commands as he pulls away, and you oblige. On your back you get a better look at his figure that looks like it’s about to eat you alive. It’s technically what you want right now, anyway. He hooks his thick finger into your panties and pulls them down. For the first time you hear a satisfied grunt leave his mouth, he’s been damn near non-verbal this entire time so it feels like a little prize when he does.

He throws your undergarment to the side but never strips his stare away from you, “This all for me?” That smirk returns, he takes his middle finger and starts pressing it up and down your cunt that draws another whimper out of you. You think he’s referencing the wetness, and it’s kind of embarrassing.

He laughs at your sudden inability to talk back.

“J-Just get it over with.” You say, you don’t realize it until then but you’re gripping the edge of the table almost like you’re bracing for some sort of impact, perhaps you were just that nervous, would he really be gentle like he promised? He looks down at you, and your body immediately softens, he doesn’t look so mean or aggressive at this moment.

He glides his hands up to the back of your knees and presses them impossibly up to your chest and it confuses you for a split second. He dips down immediately and flattens his tongue almost down from your asshole and all the way up to your clit. Your body flinches a bit and you seethe.

Just when you thought he might have been setting the pace nice and sensually slow, he immediately goes to town, sucking and licking at your pussy like a man starved. You whimper his fake name.

He cringes at the name a little bit, but it instantly subsides when he realizes just how good your cunt tastes. He makes quick work of adding a finger inside whilst his tongue continues a nice attack on your clit. You’re in another dimension at this point. This position was so vulnerable, so open and you now understand why he decided that it was best to start like this.

Another finger joins in, and the way your pussy sounds is pornographic—his bulge grows impossibly bigger and he catches himself from moaning as a blanket softly touches his sensitive area. He’s enjoying this way more than he thought he would. As a matter of fact, Zoro forgets why he was even here in the first place, not that he cares but—wow, what a prize you were. If getting lost meant this was what welcomed him on the other side every time, he’d have to try it a lot more.

You’re gone, understandably so. “It’s—soooo goood, mmmm…” you curse and whine at his fast pace, “‘Think m’gonna—!”

And like manifestation you cum, it hits so much harder than you think it will and the come-down is so much slower than you anticipated.

His fingers and tongue fuck you through it but not unbearably, he pulls his fingers out and glides them up and down your slit as he watches your face contort into a feeling of indescribable satisfaction. He lets you come down from your amazing high before he’s bringing your body closer to him by a latch of your hips, “That feel good baby?” He says in a husky voice, kissing up and down your neck and all you can manage is a whiny mhm! before he’s pulling off his yukata and leaving you speechless.

You softly moan at his bare physique, the little window of his chest doesn’t do it any justice—it’s much better than you expected it to be, much larger too and his cock is damn near screaming to come out just by the looks of it stretching the material out.

You pick yourself up with all the strength from your arms and try to get your dress off, and he watches you struggle for a moment before, “Here, let me—” and in little effort, he pulls it over your head.

He looks you up and down, and it goes straight to your throbbing cunt once again. “Fuck, you’re gonna drive me crazy.” You lay down again but this time pushing yourself up just a little bit by your elbows, just to get a glance at the action.

“You want me to take care of you, doll? Huh?” Zoro pulls his own undergarments down, revealing what you’ve been aching for this entire time. “A shame, no one thought to ever take your feelings into consideration.” He gives himself a few strokes as he lines himself up, then slowly pushes into you. He sighs at the stretch, and the way it slowly and surely disappears into you. “Takin’ it so fuckin’ well. Just like you should.”

Your eyebrows instantly smash together with your mouth hanging open, eyes squinted just the perfect amount. Zoro groans, “You’re so fuckin’ tight, hm? You want me to keep going?”

“Y-es, yes please! Need it bad!”

And since you asked so nicely, he gives a little push in and out, it makes you moan so desperately that one of your hands clenches within itself from how shameful the nature of it truly was.

And you’re so sure that even with the unnecessary amount of coverage the tent has, someone’s probably heard you if they were close enough. You should be ashamed of yourself; getting slutted out like you were some sort of cock-sleeve. No man has ever made you feel this full, so anyone curious enough to get up close was just gonna have to put up with how much of a whore you sounded like right now.

He picks up his pace and it’s not relentlessly fast or painfully slow, it was just right and you think you might be on Cloud 9 with the way the thing glides in and out of your once neglected cunt.

“Tell me how much you like it, doll.” His head is tilted and his gaze is marked with nothing but lust.

“It feels s-so… so good. Feels like nothing I ever felt before— fuck!” You grab hold of the edge of the table and any loose blanket in close proximity. “More, please! More Zorayo!” And he was so lost in his own pleasure that he’s long forgotten about that dumb name he decided to give you.

“J…Just call me Zoro.” He says breathlessly, pace never faltering.

Well, must’ve been as good a time as any to have told you that, because you really didn’t seem to care, maybe too cock-drunk to even think about it enough. And honestly Zoro himself doesn’t either, with the way your tits bounce with every time he pounds into you, you look like you’re in another world and he’s soon to join you.

You’re moaning, then it turns into soft little cries and whimpers and that’s when Zoro knows that you’re on close approach.

“Let it out, baby. Like that.” His own thrusts are a little sloppy and he’s watching your every expression with close examination. “Juuust like that, s-shit.” The way he talks you through it, his grip on your skin and the skin-ship itself—it’s so much, it pushes you over the edge. With a cry of his actual name this time, which sounds so much better and allows him to relish in his own bliss fully, you cum, and it’s even better than the last.

Your body shakes with every thrust that goes in and out, in and out while Zoro chases his own high, his body shivers a little bit and he finally pulls out when he knows the exact moment he might accidentally fuck his release into you. He pushes your legs coated with slick tightly together, then starts to thrust into your thighs, the scene is disgustingly lewd; he’s using you to get off with your own body but oh well, he’s not pushing his seed inside of you and that’s what counts.

He paints your stomach with all different kinds of strokes and you’re a living breathing mess, there’s so many fluids coating your body that you can hardly tell which is which aside from the one on your stomach, you’re tired to say the least. But you’re still aching.

You’re aching for him, in specific. It’s not enough, and after tonight you don’t think it’ll ever be enough, he’s too good. Too skilled for his own good and you can’t stop wanting him. “Zoro, *breath* n-need *breath* more.” You manage to say as you try leveling yourself. “Need more of your cock, ple—ase!”

And all you had to do was ask.

He picks you up a little and off the table with your assistance, grounding your body on the floor next to it, that way Zoro can get in a more intimate position he’d hoped for all along. His body on yours, in whatever way you’ll allow him to take you. It sounds like a dream.

You claw at his bicep while he hovers over you, and it feels like he hasn’t kissed you in forever. He comes down to meet your lips once again, shaft in hand and again, lining himself up. Only this time as a warning Zoro rubs himself up and down before entering you with a slow push. You manage a “Mmmfffhh!” At the intrusion, but you welcome it anyways. He starts his pace like the last.

There’s something different about it though, it might be the intimacy and just how close you guys seem to be this time around, you’re wrapping yourself around him like he was your life-line. You have your hands tight around his shoulders with your legs hanging off his hips for support while they rock into you with much force to accompany it.

He’s just as gone as you are, his cock is hitting you in the deepest places he couldn’t have imagined. “You’re… so good for me, s’like you’re mine. Letting me fuck you like th—is.” He says with a groan following suit, “You like getting spoiled like this, baby?”

Your eyes are shut tight and you’re dizzy, “Mhm! O—Only by you! J-Just by you Zoro!”

Now it might’ve been the heat of the room, but you feel so impossibly wet, all over. And it’s proven in the way that the blankets surrounding you are slowly getting drenched with your sweat amongst many other things, you’re a bit ashamed for a second, you wonder how you’ll clean it up.

That thought gets thrown out the window the faster it comes in through it, Zoro hits a spot you were all too familiar with and you cry out. “Oooooooh… fuck… yesyesyesyesyes—” You chant his name like your life depended on it, and he feels like he could just explode right then. He’s so enamored by you, the way your sweat accentuated every beautiful thing about you and it sends him into overdrive, he promised not to get rough but it’s impossible. His hips are automatic in that sense, he just wants to ruin you.

You don’t seem to mind the change in pace, how rough he fucks you, though. “Y-Yes, like that, don’t. Fucking. Stop.” You welcome it if anything.

He laughs at your change of heart, “M…not planning to, doll.”

And almost as if you’re trying to choke around him, it’s dangerously tight, and with every thrust it feels almost impossible going back in—it’s like he can’t imagine that this feels good for you but your face truly begs to differ. You stare at him with so much desire in your eyes and your body naturally pleads for more, bucking hips and arms like you never wanna let go. Zoro doesn’t even remember what drove him to come here in the first place, but he can’t imagine a better outcome—a doll like you, sweet and willing to let him fuck you in any position he wished. God, he almost wants to steal you away from this loser town and have you all to himself.

He feels himself dangerously closer this time, all the more sensitive. And without your audible declarations, he thinks he might cum before you.

He brings his thumb to your clit and starts his circular motion before coming down to kiss you gently, muffling your sweet sounds while you wrap your hands around his neck. Everything about this screams intimate, if it wasn’t for how rough he’d have been going you would have thought he was making love to you.

You gasp for air as your orgasm quickly reigns down on you for the third time, his strokes are a little bit sloppier and he’s instantly pulling out to once again; cumming on your stomach.

It’s quiet for a while save for the sighs and heavy breaths that leave both your throats, he’s leaning back off of his heel to get a good look at you after damn near ravaging you. He’s content, but he genuinely believes he could go for another couple more rounds. Your laid on your side, eyes closed and relaxed.

Zoro turns you back onto your position before and takes a nearby piece of cloth that is to no surprise nearby, to wipe off your stomach, “Bailin’ on me already?” He says, it’s playful but he’s as a serious as you’ll let him be. He’s still half hard and he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop anytime soon.

“How many rounds can you go, you beast?” You ask trying to sit up off of your elbows once again.

“Bout as many as you can take.”

-

And take you do, the brute man fucks you through all the rest of the continuous rounds. Slow, hard, soft—just when you think you might not be able to withstand the next one, all it takes is a glance at his hungry eyes and you’re back under his wrath, it’s pathetic almost and you should be ashamed, but it feels euphoric.

You realize about half-way through it all that you’re not fucking just anyone, but the Roronoa Zoro. The man with a billion dollar bounty on his head. It should make you stop. Shouldn’t it? You should put an end to this scandal before someone finds you out, the second it dawns on you.

And you’ll take it to the grave; the truth is that it made you so much more hungrier for him. You, a mere civilian amongst a no-name town that many along the Grand Line used as a means to kick their feet up and relax, so small and irrelevant… are fucking one of the most dangerous men across the 4 seas?

Why, it was nothing but fuel to you. To go harder, faster, just for him. Just to impress him and make him feel like you were the only one for him.

The last round is when he ruthlessly suggests that you ride his dick, you could tell that he was getting off on the idea of you being so desperate for his cock and trying to muster up any will-power to drag yourself up and down. It was comedic really, you were crying, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop even though your thighs were so painfully sore. It almost felt like a drug.

Along the way he decides that he’s bored with the theatrics and pulls you down just to fuck up into you. And the way you came just felt as good as the last. You pulled off of him and rubbed your slit onto his shaft while he came as well.

Now with him sprawled against the bedded floor with him on top of you, it’s boiling in the room now, you might even slide off of him because of how wet you both are. Lewd, dirty, disgusting. But if no one’s outside with pitchforks and fire the way you chanted his unmistakable name, you’d say you weren’t too loud. Maybe.

“So, d’you think I found my match?” He says, and you can’t help the laugh that erupts from you.

“Not yet.” You lay your head against his wet chest, “You’re gonna have to keep looking. Plenty of fish in the sea.”

His chest vibrates against your head with a big hum, “Not worth my while, not as good a fish as you.”

[halsteadlover]

𝐀 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐧

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female!Reader.

• Requested by anon: Could you please write a derek Morgan x reader smut where the reader and derek and the team obvi are on a case and while interviewing neighbors in the apartments the reader makes a stupid bet like "I bet whoever lives here is a hot single bachelor in his 20s" and then it's the opposite and when they are back in the car derek makes the reader pay up but with her panties and when she goes to get them back at the end of the day it leads to smut.

• Warnings: a really brief mention of a murder case (it’s just a sentence), dirty talk, cuss words, making out, semi-public foreplay (f. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up you guyssss!!)

• Word count: 5.5K

• A/N: my first Derek fic 😭 I hope you like it guys, please let me know what do you think about it and also comment, like and reblog, it’d mean the world. Sending lots of love to everyone ❤️

What part of your brain thought it was a good idea to make a bet with Derek Morgan?

You didn’t even know why you did it, it must’ve been the pleasure of losing because there was no way on earth you would’ve won.

You and Morgan were about to go interview a witness for a case you were working on: a serial killer who was killing his victims by setting fires. You were walking next to each other while you thought of some way to make what was going to be a long and boring afternoon, interesting.

You and Derek had a, well… Particular relationship, to say the least.

Months prior you and him had started to have sex. It started out as a purely physical thing as you had always been very attracted to each other, but as time went on you found yourselves spending time together and enjoying each other’s company even outside of a sexual sphere.

Your relationship, both from a working and private point of view, had always been characterized by a playful banter, mischievous jokes, by the constant flirting so it wasn’t strange you both often found yourselves making bets aimed to make lose the other’s mind.

In fact, it was at that moment that you came up with an idea for a bet, however forgetting he took them so seriously it seemed like his life depended on it, especially since most of the time he won, and the penances were of a sexual nature. Of course you didn’t mind losing one bit.

“I bet whoever lives here is a hot single bachelor in his twenties,” you said, pointing to the apartment where you were heading, ready to question the witness. He grinned and glanced at you, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Oh baby girl, you still don’t understand it’s a losing battle?”

“What’s the matter Agent Morgan, you afraid of losing?” You challenged him with the deliberate pleasure of teasing him and in fact he immediately gave in to your provocation.

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly in amusement. You arrived in front of the apartment door that had the number ‘23’ on its sign. You were standing facing each other while he thought about the penance, he would’ve make you do if you – most likely – lost.

Another evil, mocking grin appeared on his lips, and you immediately knew you were in trouble. “You’ll give me your panties when you lose.”

“If I lose.”

“When. But you can still back out.”

“Never.”

He held out a hand towards you but you didn’t miss the way his eyes roamed over your body from head to toe, checking you out without shame. Over time you had learned to understand what he was thinking, what was hidden behind his look and you almost caught fire because you immediately recognized that look, it was the one he gave you when he was imagining you naked in every possible and imaginable position.

And in fact, you weren’t wrong.

Just the thought of having your panties in his pocket, walking around and smelling you, was enough to make his dick stir in his pants.

You knew the odds of you winning the bet were slim, but your competitive nature made you shake Morgan’s hand, and he gave you another one of his panty-ripping smiles.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, don’t take the victory for granted.”

He raised his hands in surrender, chuckling. “I would never dare but be realistic darling. Do you know how low the odds are?”.

“What if I win?”.

“You won’t.”

“What if I win?” You repeated, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shrugged, very sure he’d win. “You’ll choose the penance.”

You thought about it for a moment and a mischievous smile appeared on your lips this time. “I’ll do a strip tease and a lap dance.”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “How is that a penance? Baby I’d drop on my knees right now to make this happen...”

“…But you’ll be handcuffed, you won’t be able to touch me and I won’t make you come.”

He opened his mouth wide, feeling his dick twitch just at the thought. He had to force himself to think of something else since he didn’t want to question a witness with a raging hard on but it was awfully difficult when all he could do was imagine you strip teasing and grinding on his lap. “Fuck I don’t know if I should win or lose.”

“If you want to end up with blue balls then you have to hope to lose.”

You knocked on the apartment door, still maintaining eye contact with Derek and trying to hold back your laughter since you knew exactly what he was thinking. You took your eyes away from him only to let them travel down his body and to the crotch of his pants which was clearly prominent at that moment. You bit your lip as you looked back at his face and he glared at you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered, feeling the situation getting even worse. Damn it, he felt like a damn horny teenager.

Before you could respond to his comment the door opened, revealing a person who couldn’t be more different from the object of your bet. He in fact was a she, a lady who couldn’t have been less than sixty years old.

Your smile dropped as the one on Derek’s face grew even more and, as you had already said, you wondered what part of your brain had thought it was a good idea to make that bet.

“Good morning. Can I help you?” she looked skeptically at both of you.

“Oh yes ma’am, you just made my day so much better,” he replied softly but glancing at you. “We’re FBI agents, may we ask you few questions?”

Over the next hour and a half you interviewed other witnesses near the fire scene and on your way to the car, Derek wouldn’t stop trying to get close to you and touch you.

“Derek stop it! We’re in public! God you’re so unprofessional,” you slapped one of his hands away that had been squeezing your ass for the last couple of minutes, trying not to laugh.

“There’s nothing professional about what we do, baby girl,” he replied with mock annoyance, “Plus I can’t help it, I can’t wait to rip your panties off.”

“Nuh uh mister, the deal was that I have to give you my panties not you taking them off me.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes as you approached the car but before you could get in he grabbed your hand and turned you towards him. He placed his hands on your face and as he pushed your back against the car door he crushed his lips on yours.

He didn’t care about passers-by in any way, in people’s eyes you might have looked like a couple who was passionately making out.

After the first few seconds of surprise, you immediately kissed him back, parting your lips and letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. You knew it was totally unprofessional to kiss your colleague in broad daylight while you were doing your job but all it took was for him to get close for you to lose your mind, no longer able to think clearly.

Your hands moved down his chest to encircle his waist, trying to pull him closer to you than his body already was. Your mouths moved in sync while he seemed to want to suck his soul out of you and although you were now used to kissing him, every time it was as if it was the first.

You almost moaned into the kiss, your body already on fire, wanting more. You wanted him so badly, you wanted his hands, his fingers, his mouth and his tongue all over you.

“Derek please…” you sighed when you broke away, his face still dangerously close to yours.

“Get in the car princess,” he ordered and his voice was so low and seductive that if he had asked you to give him a blowjob right there on the sidewalk you would’ve dropped on your knees without the slightest hesitation.

He opened the door for you and you giggled like a teenager before getting in, thanking him as you watched him walk around the car before getting in too.

“I would’ve fucked you in the car here and now if we weren’t in public. You’re so fucking hot baby,” he whispered against your lips after moving closer to you and taking your chin between his fingers. “But I’ll settle taking your panties off for now.”

He placed a hand on your breast and groped it before sliding it across your stomach to your jeans-covered pussy. You moaned as he began to touch you, making you squirm under his expert fingers.

“I bet you’re already wet, aren’t you honey?” He continued to tease you.

“Fuck Derek… They’ll see us…”

“You’re right,” he replied, stopping touching you, causing you to moan and grunt at the same time. “No one should look at what is mine.”

God Derek Morgan and the things he made you feel. You were starting to really hate him.

“You’re having so much fun aren’t you?”

He started the car but not before throwing you one last mocking and sexy as hell grin. “You have no idea how much.”

You squeezed your legs together in anticipation feeling the urge and desire grow more and more. You continued to look at him as he drove, observing every feature of his perfect profile with your hungry eyes.

How could someone be so perfect?

And it didn’t help he had one hand resting on your inner thigh as his thumb was stroking dangerously close to your intimate area. You didn’t know whether to hate him, to beg him to go higher or both but certainly the smug expression on his face made you want to punch him.

Derek drove to a hidden, dead end road, not caring the rest of the team was probably waiting to hear from both you and him.

He kissed you breathless again, threading a hand into your hair. But he didn’t stay there for long as he moved down your chest again, wasting no time in groping your breasts again, until he reached your pussy again.

“God Derek you’re driving me crazy,” you hissed as you struggled to keep control. He kissed you again and unbuttoned your pants and you lifted your hips before your brain could even process the movement, allowing him to slide them down your thighs. You took off your shoes, slipping your pants off.

He slipped his hands into your underwear and a loud moan escaped your lips that Derek felt right in his dick. “As I imagined… So fucking wet.”

“Fuck yes just like that,” you sighed as his fingers drew circles on your clit. You gripped the sides of the seat as if searching for a leverage, pleasure flowing through your veins.

He knew where to touch you, he knew HOW to touch you, what to do to make you lose your mind and control.

“I'm dying to taste this pussy, look at you soaking up my fingers,” he whispered in your ear, pressing his lips to your neck and sucking on your skin but being careful not to leave any marks. The team already didn’t give you any respite suspecting there was something between you, he certainly didn’t want to give them clear proof.

Two of his fingers slipped easily inside your wet pussy, curling inside you and touching that spongy spot that made you moan and thinking you were about to ascend to heaven.

“Yes, yes, oh god yes,” you kissed him, spreading your legs even more to give him more access.

“You like that don’t you? My pretty girl loves being so dirty, letting me finger this pussy in public.”

You dipped your head back in pleasure, feeling the orgasm already building inside you.

He pulled his fingers out and you grunted at the loss and took off your panties, bringing them to his nose and deeply inhaling the scent that drove him so crazy: you and sex. “Now I really don’t know how I’m going to go through the whole day without being hard knowing I have your panties here,” he spoke up as he stuffed them into his pocket. “But we should go back.”

What?

“Derek you can’t leave me like this!”.

“Oh I can and I will, we shouldn’t let the others think we might be doing something shouldn’t we?”

“You fucking piece of shit.”

He burst out laughing and you nearly punched him in his handsome face.

You were furious. Irritated.

You were furious, irritated but above all horny.

After that little stunt he had done in the car Derek had really left you like that, without an orgasm and with a mad desire to fuck.

The rest of the day was torture, especially having to work with other people while pretending you didn’t feel like you were on the edge the whole time. You didn’t spare Morgan some dirty looks after which he had to force himself not to laugh but he didn’t spare you those languid looks full of lust either.

It wasn’t easy for you but it wasn’t easy for him either since, unlike you, couldn’t hide his excitement so easily. Knowing he had your panties in his pocket and the memory of your wet pussy were giving him no respite.

In reality, you both loved that little game, teasing and torturing each other until the other lost his mind, even if… To be honest, wearing jeans without underwear was complete torture.

At the end of the day, when you were finally all in your own room, you took the opportunity to take a shower and put on a dress and the sexy lingerie you had put in your bag before leaving for the new case.

You giggled just thinking about Derek’s reaction.

You went to his room, knocking twice before he opened the door making your jaw drop and almost fall to the floor when you realized he was naked and only had a towel around his waist.

His body was still wet, sign he had just gotten out of the shower, the drops running down his sculpted chest that you wanted to lick off one by one.

“Oh man…” He sighed. “You’re breathtaking baby,” he began, shamelessly scanning your body from head to toe, a smirk on his lips. “I was wondering when you were coming.”

“You always opening the door like this, Agent Morgan?” You asked ironically before entering his room without even waiting for him to invite you.

“Woah woah woah, where do you think you’re going baby girl? Where is my kiss?” He scolded you, almost truly offended after closing the door behind him.

You giggled, but unable to take your eyes off his body and stop them from wandering hungrily over his figure.

“No, dry yourself first and then I’ll kiss you,” you replied before going to sit on the edge of the bed, placing your hands behind you on the mattress and tilting your head slightly as you looked at him.

He didn’t answer but came closer to you and placed two fingers on your chin, forcing you to lift your head and pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss that took the air out of your lungs.

“Jealous Agent Y/Ln?” He whispered an inch from your lips, referring to your initial question after making you get up from the bed.

“Not even a little bit, it was just an innocent question agent Morgan.”

Absolutely. You were 100% jealous.

But you knew from the way the corner of his mouth lifted in a twisted, mischievous smile he didn’t believe it one bit. “You know, being a profiler I thought you were better at hiding emotions. Lies don’t look good on you pretty girl.”

“That would be true if I had told a lie but that’s not the case, I’m not jealous at all,” you said with a confident tone as your gaze alternated between his eyes and his lips. He was so close and so tempting you felt like you were already losing patience.

“To answer the question, no, I don’t answer to anyone. Just you.”

“You? Derek Morgan?”.

He chuckled. “Strange right? But it seems like you’ve done some weird witchcraft on me because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You already got in my pants, no need to be cheesy,” you retorted, biting your lip to keep from smiling.

He sighed, slightly shaking his head. “Always so cynical. What should I do with you?”

“Give me back my panties?”.

He raised an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten what the word ‘lose’ means?”.

“If I had known you liked them so much I would’ve bought you a new pair to wear you know.”

“You think you’re so funny don’t you?”. He grabbed your face with one hand, his mouth dangerously close to yours but never touching it.

You nodded with a smirk as you watched as his eyes were fixed on your lips. “Maybe you might like what I have now better.”

You took a step back and the look of pure confusion on his face was replaced by astonishment when he saw your hands lower the thick straps of your dress down your arms, then lowering the side zip and letting the dress fall around your feet.

The look of shock on his face was something you’d never forget.

Derek widened his mouth and eyes, letting his hungry gaze travel along your body wrapped in lace lingerie, studying every curve and inch of your skin. A warm feeling spread in your lower abdomen and it was amazing how just the way he looked at you was enough to turn you on.

“Holy shit…” he breathed out, “You… Are… You… Holy fuck…” he continued stuttering, unable to form a single meaningful sentence.

“Wow did I really manage to surprise Agent Morgan?” You giggled, your cheeks flushed and stomach filled with fluttering butterflies, knowing you had such an effect on him. Derek Morgan – the man who with a single smile and a look could’ve make rows and rows of women fall at his feet – was drooling over you, looking at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world.

“I’ll answer you when some blood returns to my brain.”

Your gaze trailed down his body and your insides clenched at the sight of his prominent erection beneath the towel around his waist. Your mouth watered just thinking about what was underneath that single fabric, imagining his dick in your mouth, in every hole in your body as he filled you completely.

“You look spectacular Y/n, my god” he murmured, his chocolate brown eyes still on your body and never on your face. You could see him struggling in not knowing what to pay more attention to, your breasts which were perfectly highlighted by the lace that gave that see-through effect while it showed the shadow of your nipples, if the hold-ups that surrounded your thighs that Derek wanted nothing more than to mark and bite or your pussy also covered in matching lace in which he wanted to dive and feed on it until he drown himself to death.

Derek moved closer to you, closing the small distance between the two of you. “Turn around. Show me this beautiful ass that torments me in my sleep.”

The tone of his voice alone made you almost beg him to do anything he wanted. You didn’t have to be told twice and you turned around, your skin on fire as you felt his penetrating gaze on you as he observed and studied every millimeter of your body.

You heard Derek exhale a deep breath behind you. “A fucking goddess. You’re absolutely mesmerizing.”

A rush of shivers gave you goosebumps as he placed his rough hands on your arms, stroking them slowly before moving up and moving your hair from your shoulders and letting it fall along your shoulder blades, leaving your neck exposed. His lips began to plant kisses on your skin and the mere contact made you sigh and tilt your head to the side, giving him more access.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you drive me?” he whispered in your ear and you clenched your hands into fists, pressing your nails into your palms in an attempt to release the frustration you felt. Every second that passed while he didn’t touch you as you wanted there was a shred of your sanity that was shattered.

You shook your head, realizing you hadn’t answered yet.

His hands went down your arms again, then moving up your hips until they reached your ass. You let out a gasp when his fingers tightened around the flesh of your ass, squeezing it, groping it with the sole purpose of torturing you and leaving you eager for more.

“God the things I want do to you baby, you can’t even imagine.”

“Do it Derek, do whatever you want to me… I need you.”

“I love feeling you so desperate for me.”

An empty feeling came over you as his fingers let go of your ass, moving to your hips. However, you moaned when he pushed his body against yours, pressing his erection against the curves of your ass and grinding against you without shame or restraint.

“Fuck Derek,” you murmured, now on the verge of losing your mind.

One of his hands ended up around your throat, forcing you to bend your head and rest it on his shoulder while the other cupped one of your breasts, palpating it over the top of your bra. You sighed, rubbing your ass against his hard dick as you couldn’t wait for it to stretch your pussy.

“That’s what you do to me, you make me so hard I can’t even think straight anymore.” He pinched your hard nipple from above the fabric. “You have no idea how much I want to rip this off of you but I know you’d kill me,” he chuckled in your ear.

“I don’t give a shit.” You blurted out, not evens embarrassed about how fast you said it.

“What do you want baby? Talk to me.”

God it was so damn hard talking when you were so horny you couldn’t even remember your name, the denied orgasm making things worse.

“You. Fuck me, please. I need you so badly Derek.”

He tightened his hand lightly around your neck, cupping your chin then turning your head towards him and before you knew it he slammed his lips onto yours, sucking the breath from your body as his tongue explored your mouth in a sloppy, deep kiss.

He slowly slid the fingers of his other hand – that until a few seconds before were on your breast – along your chest, your lower abdomen, touching your needy and drenched pussy with his fingertips. You whined during the kiss, spontaneously lifting your hips to try and meet his fingers.

God you were hating him at that moment.

“I can smell your wetness from here, is my baby horny for me?” he whispered on your lips swollen and red from the impetuous kiss.

“I’ll fucking kill you right now Morgan I swear to god.”

He laughed and your stomach clenched in on itself. “Don’t worry baby, I’m here. I’m going to fuck your brains out, so good you won’t even be able to get up when I’m done with you.” This time it was your pussy that clenched when you squeezed your legs together for some friction. Derek let go of your throat and began to play with your panties. Your breath hitched as he slowly began to lower them, trailing them down your legs.

“I think I’ll keep these too,” he whispered even as his voice came loud and clear to your ears. You turned your head to the side so you could look at him and let out a ragged sigh when you saw him kneeling behind you. His eyes shone under the light of the hotel room as they looked at you with so much intensity that they alone would’ve been enough to set you on fire.

He left a kiss on your ass, making you gasp to the point of embarrassment as he bit your skin and groped your now bare ass. “One day I’ll fuck this pretty little ass too and you’ll love every second of it.”

“You can start by fucking my pussy now.”

He chuckled again as he stood up. He placed a hand on your heated back, inviting you to lean on the bed in front of you and you obeyed, resting your hands on the bed and giving him a perfect view of your ass.

“I can see from here how wet you are baby girl,” he moved closer to you, his bare thighs touching yours and then you realized he had removed the towel from his waist.

God have mercy on me.

“I’ll eat this beautiful pussy later but now all I can think about is fucking her so good,” he said as his fingers brushed against you and this little contact, combined with his dirty words, made you squirm with anticipation. “After all, you deserve it after being such a good girl all day.”

You felt him place his tip near your entrance and you both moaned as he slid his dick against your folds, wetting it with your fluids. He provoked you, tortured you with every motion, it was what he was best at, he knew which points to touch to drive you crazy and leave you painfully longing.

“Derek please, I want you so much,” you whined in a pathetic tone full of lust and desire as he continued to penetrate you with just the tip and then pull out. You hated him and wanted him at the same time, so much it hurt.

“What do you want, princess?” His hands gripped your hips and he leaned over you, pressing his lips to your skin before leaving damp, wet kisses all over your back.

“Fuck me.”

“Fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth before lining his dick up with your entrance and finally filling you.

“Oh God yes, you feel so god Derek.” You panted vigorously, your heart beating so hard it almost stopped as you felt his soft and especially bare skin touching every corner of you.

He remained still for a few moments, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to maintain control of his body. You were so wet and it felt so good being inside you, Derek feared that with just one push he would’ve come on the spot.

“Baby please… Move…”

Baby.

Fuck.

That simple little word had no business making his insides twist like he had. You were used to calling each other nicknames, it wasn’t new, but there was something in that ‘baby’ you said: perhaps it was the vulnerability with which you pronounced it, breathless and as if he was the only one who could save you, the way your voice was so full of desire.

Derek pulled out before thrusting into you again with a strong thrust so deep if it hadn’t been for his hands firmly gripping your hips you would’ve probably fallen forward.

“You have no idea what you do to me, fucking hell you drive me crazy,” he breathed out, head tilted back and eyes closed as his dick pounded into you like he was angry.

You tried to formulate a meaningful sentence but as you opened your lips only gasps and moans came out. He was fucking you so deeply that with each thrust you felt a piece of your brain coming out of your head and your soul out of your body.

Exactly like he promised.

All the hidden frustration made its way and exploded like a time bomb, not much time passing until even the orgasm began to build inside you.

Your face was pressed into the sheets of the bed, your breathing heavy and quickening as your hands clenched the fabric into a fist. “Derek…” you whimpered in pleasure as you pushed your pelvis towards him with each thrust. It didn’t seem to be enough though, you wanted more and more.

One of his hands continued to hold your hips firmly while he slid the other along your back, until he reached your hair which he tightened in a fist forcing you to lift your head. His moans and groans sounded like music to your ears and you couldn’t contain the joy of knowing it was you who made him feel this way, it was you who made him lose control.

“Fuck I could stay inside you forever, you take me so well. This pussy was made for me,” he groaned as the tip of his dick hit your G-spot, making you see stars. You wanted to answer but when you opened your mouth all that came out were moans and sighs. “Just for me… You understand?”

“Just you baby, only you,” you babbled while loudly moaning, not caring one bit if someone could hear you having sex.

His lips kissed your shoulder, his tongue traced every inch of skin he could reach. “That’s right pretty girl…” he groaned in your ear, his sentence interrupted by another moan. “Fuck yeah you’re mine.”

“Holy shit baby… I’m about to come…” You managed to say and the orgasm that hit you full on like a truck gave you no mercy, didn’t let you escape as it sucked away your ability to breath. If it wasn’t for Derek’s hand still in your hair you would’ve collapsed on the mattress.

His thrusts became unhinged, even more out of control than they were before and it didn’t take long for him to reach his climax too. How could he resist? There was no chance, not when your pussy was tightening around his dick in the throes of orgasmic spasms, leaving him no escape.

Derek exploded inside you, emptying himself into you until the last drop of his seed filled your pussy, then leaking from your entrance and sliding down your thighs as he pulled out.

“Shit,” he breathed as you felt the weight of the mattress dip as he collapsed next to you. “You destroy me baby, how do you manage to do this every single time?”

You mumbled something nonsensical in response, eyes closed and too tired to say anything. He chuckled and stroked your hair, brushing it away from your face so he could get a good look at you.

You were so beautiful, ethereal, so mesmerizing it hurt and seeing that happy and pleased look on your face almost sent him to his knees, internally promising himself he’d fight every single person on earth just to always see you so relaxed and happy.

“How many women do you tell this?” you managed to say, opening one eye and keeping the other closed and a flock of butterflies exploded in your stomach when you saw the breathtaking smile he was looking at you with.

“If you think there is someone capable of making me feel what you feel, you’re very wrong. Like I already said, I don’t know what strange witchcraft you did to me but you really hooked me baby.” He propped himself up on one elbow and leaned towards you, pressing small kisses across your face, neck, shoulders and all the way up to your lips. “There is no one else since you came in in my life, I’m so obsessed with you it’s not even funny.”

You opened your second eye too, suddenly not so tired anymore. “Really?”

“Why, isn’t the same for you?” he asked, his stomach clenched with jealousy at the thought of a man laying a finger on you. “Please tell me no or someone help me I will kill every man who even looked at you, I’m an FBI agent and I know how to hide dead bodies in such a way that not even the families will ever find them.”

You burst out laughing, and rolled onto your back before throwing your arms around his neck so you could bring him closer to you and press your lips to his. “Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?”

“Y/n. Don’t fucking test me.”

“I’m just kidding,” your lips brushed against his before planting another small kiss on them. “There couldn’t be another man even if they forced me, you’ve really messed up my life Agent Morgan and I’m pretty much obsessed with you too.”

“That better be. We’re exclusive since the day I kissed you in that elevator,” he grumbled. “God I love when you call me baby,” he then sighed happily and the way his mood shifted so quickly made. Your fingers caressed his soft, perfect skin and he mumbled with contentment. You noticed how his pupils were so dilated the chocolate surrounding them had almost disappeared. “Mine, only mine.”

“And you’re mine darling, I’m an FBI agent too and I know a thousand ways to make deaths look like accidents.” He pressed his lips to yours again, kissing you so deeply your heart almost stopped in your chest.

Derek Morgan would be the death of you, you were certain of that.

“Just give me five more minutes and I’ll show you how much we belong to each other princess, how much I look, think and breathe for you only.”

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[sanctuarymoonfan397]

Okay so, I've been sitting on if i should make this post or not for a while but with some of the tags I saw on a recent post mentioning the same thing, I decided to go ahead and say my piece: in my own words:

I've seen some posts in the main tags essentially saying something to the effect of "why do people always draw MB as masculine and not androgynous"

As someone who, like Murderbot, does not have a gender (rather, in my case, associate with one) this always rubs me the wrong way and makes me feel a bit bad about my own identity, which suck because to me, this fandom is a safe space to speak of gender, sexuality and a slew of other things. Like I said, I am gnc, afab in fact; but I look like a guy, I like looking like a guy, I actively try to look like a guy... but i am not a guy. I dont feel like a guy, i just like looking like one. That doesn't mean my identity as a nonbinary/gnc person is suddenly erased because I don't fall under your narrow minded idea that all nonbinary/gnc people need to be androgynous.

I don't owe you perfect androgyny, no one owes you any level of androgyny.

MB is a fictional character with next to no physical descriptions; its not hurting anyone if someone sees it/draws it as masculine or even feminine. You don't get to dictate how people see it, especially when they base it's appearance on themselves

[monzabee]

viva las vegas - mv1 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Max celebrate his win in a way you’ve never done before.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader 

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, having sex tipsy but there is consent?, manhandling, unprotected sex (are you even surprised at this point), oral (fem receiving), sex (duh), cursing, cockwarming (oops), minors dni!!

Request: “Hey babe! I’m obsessed with your last Charles piece, I’ve been wanting to read something like that for such a long time and you did it perfectly 😍🥹 I was wondering if I could request kind of the same concept with Max Verstappen? Like he always is pictured as a tough guy and stuff, but when you see him in videos he’s kind of a goof, so I imagine the first time he’s intimate with his gf they’d both laugh and have the sweetest time together” 

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! is this my best work? no but it is something i managed to get done for the first time in like a month so here it is!! finishing this fic was a journey within itself, but i can honestly say that it was also kind fun? also, i saw a picture of max in his suit from vegas and that just inspired this whole thing, so i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Max is buzzing with life, quite literally, you can feel him practically buzzing the whole time he’s trying to take you back to your hotel room as fast as possible. It’s most likely due to the amount of alcohol the two of you have consumed after the race. Honestly it is pure luck that you found your way back to your room, given your current state, but instead of joining you when you jump on the bed, revelling in its comfort, he chooses to stand at the end of the bed as he watches you with an entertained smile on his face.  

“What?” you ask, a laugh washing through you as you raise yourself on your elbows, “Why are you looking at me like that?”  

He lets his eyes wander over your figure, his smile becoming more boyish as he lets it widen on his face, “You look pretty,” he murmurs, bending down so he can lower himself over your body better, “have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?” 

“Um, yeah, Maxie,” you giggle as you point out, “you’ve been telling me that the entire night.” Using your hands as support while raising yourself more so that you could be face to face with him, “I think you look pretty too, you know?” 

“Yeah?” Max murmurs, cradling your jaw in one of his hands, his thumb quick to caress the apple of your cheek, which causes you to lean into his touch. “What if I wanted to kiss you, would that be okay?” 

The smile you offer him in return is sweet, the way your eyes seem to shine at the offer of feeling his lips against yours makes his heart beat faster in his chest. “Yes, please.” Your voice is softer, almost comes out as a whisper due to you suddenly feeling out of breath.  

And who is he to deprive his girl? 

He doesn’t waste any time pressing his lips against your awaiting ones, in fact, the movement of his lips are rushed, if not almost desperate. It's as if he can't get enough, as if he's afraid this moment might slip away like sand through his fingers. The taste of alcohol lingers on both your lips, and normally you would be weirded out about it, but you realise it only adds to the intensity of the kiss you’re sharing with Max. His fingers gently tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss, and you find yourself responding eagerly. You let him take control, mostly because it’s so easy for you to lose yourself in his kiss. He’s lost in it too, if you had to guess, because the way his tongue is fighting over yours for dominance is so different compared to the way Max usually kisses you. You whine at the loss of his lips when he reluctantly pulls away, and if he wasn’t already hard, the sound makes Max’s cock instantly harder. His head is thrown back, eyes closed as he lets out a groan, and he has to stop himself from pulling you in for another kiss. But you clearly have other plans as you drag your lips down towards his jawline, leaving kisses in a random pattern until you reach that one specific point on his neck that absolutely drives him crazy.  

And you know it’s only a matter of time until he stops you, again, as he has done for the past whatever months of your relationship. It’s not that you are not attracted to each other, because the attraction is as clear as day, and you have done stuff – not sex, but stuff. You’re not sure Max does that, but you also don’t want to be the one who pressures him into having sex with you if he doesn’t want to. Unbeknownst to you, the same goes for Max, who thinks you’re not ready to have sex with him and wants your first time together to be as special as possible.  

So no, you’re not surprised as he gently peals himself from you, causing you to whine again at the loss of him, but instead he gives you a small kiss on the forehead as he mumbles, “Why don’t you take a shower? We’ll go to bed after that.”  

“Is that your way of telling me I smell?” You ask in a playful tone, and he responds to you with a roll of his eyes. “What if I don’t want to go to sleep?”  

“No?” He asks, actively searching your expression for any sign of discomfort or reluctance. “We’ve had a long day, are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep?” The look you give him in return for his question is enough, and he knows this, but he also wants to actually hear the words, so he points, “Use your words, liefje.” 

A puff of breath leaves your lips in annoyance, but, nonetheless, you give him the best puppy dog eyes you can muster as you whine, “Please Maxie, you know what I want.”  

“Do I?” He muses, pulling you onto his lap as he ghosts his lips across your jaw. “I don’t know what you mean.”  

“Maxie,” you drag out his name, whining as your attempt at rolling your hips against his thighs don’t work. “You are being mean.”  

“Oh, baby,” he mockingly copies your pout, “I’m sorry. Can I apologise with a kiss?” To make his point, he presses a couple of soft kisses along your jawline.  

“Will you kiss me the way I like?” You ask, slightly out of breath, but his agreement that comes in the form of a hum makes you smile mischievously. His lips trail more kisses towards the neckline of your dress, and eventually through the valley between your breasts that is exposed by the lack of fabric. And you have every intention to let him have his way with you, you really do – after all, he won another great race. But a part of you also knows that making him suffer, even if just a little bit, in the process is so much more fun. So, just as he’s about to free of your breasts from the bustier of your dress, you quickly move away, slipping from his hands, trying your hardest not to laugh at the bewildered expression on his face. “On second thought, I think I’m going to take that shower after all.”  

“I—what?” Max mumbles, his slightly swollen lips pulled in a pout, and you can’t help but give him a small kiss.  

“I’ll see you after my shower, Max Emilian.” Sauntering over to the bathroom, you make sure to add an extra sway to your hips – and the sigh that Max leaves cause the smirk on your face to grow. 

It’s pure torture for Max to wait until you come out of the shower. Not that he doesn’t think about just joining you, especially after the show you just put on, but that would be giving into what you want – and though Max is a generous lover, he is also stubborn. He is more than happy to give you what you want, as long as it is on his terms. And so, he waits patiently, until you come out of the bathroom, a robe draped over your body, and he can’t help himself but let his eyes roam over your body.  

“How was your shower?” Max asks, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible, a wolfish grin curving up on his lips. He rests his hands behind his head, relaxing onto the pillows behind him. He watches you give him a shrug, the soft-looking material sliding of your shoulder slightly as you collect your hair onto your shoulder. “Are you giving me the silent treatment, pretty girl?” 

There’s a coy smile on your face as you shake your head, once, twice, as your teeth press down on your bottom lip. Max wants nothing more than to release your lip, pull you into his lap and have his way with you, but no. No, because Max is nothing if not disciplined. “Come here,” he asks, straightening up in his place. You, being the ever-loving girlfriend you are, oblige his request. “That is a nice robe,” he murmurs, tilting his head as he grabs the towelette belt with the tips of his finger, “is it as soft as it looks?” 

“Mhm-hm,” you nod, “do you want to feel it?” 

“Do I want to feel it?” Max muses, “Sure.” His arms wrap around your middle so quickly that you don’t realise he’s pulling you into his lap at first. But he positions you with your legs on the either side of his. “You’re right, liefje, it is very soft.” His hands roam on your body over the soft material, but soon enough, his hands dipping underneath it to feel your skin. His eyebrows shoot upwards, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips, “No underwear?” 

“Well, I just came out of the shower, Maxie.” You give him an innocent look, shrugging once against as you rest your hands against his shirt-clad chest. “The shower pressure was great, you should’ve joined me.”  

He lets out a noncommittal hum, his hands roaming on your bare skin, revelling in the softness. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” He’s methodical as he slightly shifts you in his lap, tearing a gasp from the back of your throat. That gets a satisfied smile from him, “Something wrong?” 

“N-no,” you mumble, shifting again to get the same feeling, but his hands still you in your place. “Maxie,” you whine, silently pleading with your eyes.  

“Am I being mean again?” He asks, attentive eyes fixed on you, “I would offer to make it up to you with a kiss, but you seem to find ways to evade me when I do.”  

“No,” you whine again, lips pouted in disagreement. “I promise I won’t this time.”  

His eyebrows shoot up again with amusement, “Oh, yeah? Shall we test that theory, pretty girl?” The smile you give him is shy, but the way you nod is nothing short of coy. With a satisfied sound leaving his lips, he quickly presses his lips against yours. You sigh into the kiss, immediately, when you feel him deepening the kiss, more than happy to surrender yourself to him and let Max take the lead. Though, that doesn’t necessarily stop you from attempting to relieve the pressure between your legs by rolling your hips against his thighs. Your efforts, however, prove to be useless as he stops the movement before you can actually relieve any of it. He slowly pulls away, pushes a stray piece of wet hair behind your ear and tuts – condescendingly, you might add – “Slow down, liefje, I think I’ve had enough speed for one day.”  

Groaning at his words, “But Maxie,” you whine, dragging out his name as you let your hands wander on his chest over his shirt and receive a warning look from him in return, “I promise I’ll be good, please just fuck me.”  

“Baby,” he coos, his fingers working quickly to unfasten the belt of your robe and push the offending clothing off your shoulders, “I literally just told you to be patient, no?” 

You ignore the raised eyebrow, the look of faux-disappointment, and even the way his fingers grab your waist because you’re too busy trying to get him out of his shirt, suddenly feeling too exposed as you sit on his lap naked. “Please,” you whisper against his skin, peppering kisses across the column of his throat as your hands make their way inside his shirt, “I’ll be patient next time.”  

“I’m suddenly realising that I spoil you very much,” Max mumbles, pulling his head back to get a look at you.  

Pulling back as well you give him a mischievous grin, “Maybe, but you’ll give me what I want this time as well.”  

“Yeah?” He asks, “Why?” 

“Because I think I’m getting your pants very messy right now.”  

Max can’t help the groan that escapes past his lips, his eyes quickly following yours as he takes in the ‘damage’ your wetness has caused on his jeans. He takes a moment to assess the damage, drags his eyes up to look at you when he notices the way your eyes stay fixed down, as your nervously bite down on your lower lip. He loses all the composure he managed to muster up, and he finally gives in, quickly pushing you off him onto the pillows on the bed. The squeal that leaves you is followed by a string of giggles that leave your lips, and when Max looks at you, he takes in the darker look in your widened eyes.  

“I was going to be patient; I can’t believe you’re making me not be patient.” He mumbles, taking off his shirt and the rest of his clothes before starting to leave kisses on your feverish skin as he slides down your body and places himself between your thighs.  

You open your legs wider to accommodate his body, a breathy laugh escaping past your lips. “You mean, impatient?” 

That earns you a nip on your upper thigh and a warning look, but instead of commenting on your quip, he lowers his face, keeps his eyes locked to yours and gets to work. And it’s not that you and Max haven’t done stuff – because it’s the opposite; although you haven’t had sex, it’s safe to say that the two you have explored every option bordering on sex. But how he’s acting right now is much different than the way how he is usually with you. His movements are almost rushed, and the way he drags his tongue through your folds is just enough for your eyes to roll back as your moans fill the room.  

Normally, he would be extra careful and make sure he is being gentle with you; but right now, he’s just trying to savour you before he loses all his composure. A choppy gasp leaves you as you feel his fingers enter you – two at first, and the way he pumps them in and out of you makes breathing harder. The speed of his fingers matches his tongue, and for a moment, you think you’re going to pass out. With his free hand, he blocks any type of movement you try with your hips; his palm sneakily presses down on your lower stomach to keep you in your place, but it’s jokes on him because if anything, it just makes you feel even better, and you’re not shy to let him know just how much he’s making you feel good with your moans.  

“Max,” you say his name in a breathy whimper, fingers threading through his hair to guide him, “fuck, I’m so close.” You can practically feel the way his lips curl up, and suddenly, everything about his actions gets faster. His fingers are pistoning in and out of you in an unforgiving pace, in sync with his tongue that works your clit just the same. So, it’s no surprise when you find yourself coming on his tongue as his name leaves your lips for the umpteenth time like a prayer.

The smirk he gives you when he pulls himself from between your legs is sinful – he looks absolutely debauched with the way his lips glisten with your release, and he wastes no time before coming up, and capturing your lips in yet another bruising kiss. But this time, you taste yourself on his tongue and this time it makes you lose the whatever little resolve you’ve had left. So, you hook your leg around his thigh to push him next to you on the bed as you practically throw him next to you on the bed.  

Though he has other plans.   Of course.  

So, as you’re trying to fight the seventy-kilogram-something driver into staying under you on the bed, he has no problem manhandling you into rolling on your side. And as you’re pressed flush against his chest, you turn your head backwards to breathlessly whisper, “You promised, Max.”  

“And I am a man of my word, aren’t I?” He retorts, his hand that is splayed on your thigh positions it so that it’s bent towards your stomach, “Just needed to get you ready.” You can’t help the guttural moan that escapes you when you feel him pressing the tip of his cock into your entrance. The pleading look you give him must’ve worked, because this time it’s his turn to let out a guttural moan as he pushes himself into you. There is no sign of his mood from mere moments ago as you feel his hands caress your bare hip, an entitled smirk on his lips as he asks, “Out of breath?” 

“Fuck you,” your response comes out as a breathy laugh as you’re pushing your hips closer to his to take him deeper.  

“Lifje, you are fucking me.” Max giggles into the crook of your neck as he pushes himself in fully. You would be furious with him if it didn’t make you laugh also, and although the laughing decrease, the smiles remain on both your faces as he starts slowly moving his hips. 

It’s sweet, unbelievably sweet, considering the sexual tension that was in the room an hour ago, but the way Max is fucking you can only be described as sweet. His hands caress every part of your body that he can reach – your thighs, to your hips, to your stomach, to your chest and then wraps one of his hands around your throat; not in a way that is rough, but in a way that he can still keep you still as he captures your lips for another kiss. The movement of his hips is languid, almost lazy as drive into you, but he still manages to hit all the spots along the way. Breathy chuckles are exchanged when he pulls away for you to organise your breathing, but your smiles still stay on, even when he raises your bent leg and rests his on his own leg. The new angle makes your moans get louder, your hips to move against his faster, and you can feel your orgasm approach speedily.  

But Max is so in tune with your body that he knows what’s coming (or rather who) before you get a chance to actually have to say anything. His hand slides down your body so that he can press his fingers to your clit and move them in tight circles, and as if it was possible, his you can suddenly feel him fucking you even deeper. “You are going to come for me pretty girl, I can feel it.” He murmurs into your skin, and all you can offer as an answer is a nod and an affirmative whimper as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Come on, give it to me, come on my cock.” And though he is not the most verbal person to ever exist, except for when he’s in the mood to be an absolute yapper, his words urge you to let go of the feeling that has been starting to brew in your stomach.  

Your hips start moving to meet his in choppy movements as you seek any and all kinds of pleasure to reach your high, and he meets your every move with increasing intensity of his own. “Max, yes!” Your exclamation hits his ears as he hits that one particular spot, making you instantly become lax in his arms as he guides you through your orgasm. His name spills out from your lips in constant repetition, “So good, so good,” you keep mumbling in breathless whimpers, trying to press yourself further into his body.  

With all things considered, it doesn’t take Max long to reach his own high following your own, since you insistently move your hips in a way that makes you take his cock even deeper when he’s helping you ride your orgasm. So, when you hear him groaning your name in the crook of your neck and feel him spilling himself into you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he croaks out, holding your hips in place with his hands splayed on your feverish skin. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” 

“How am I supposed to know, dummy?” You ask, throwing your head back to get a good look of his dishevelled state, “Why do you look so good after mind blowing sex?” 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, pulling you with him as he lets himself fall back on the bed, “genetics?” 

“Mhm,” you murmur, trying to find a comfortable position on his chest as he is still inside you, “remind me to send your mother a flower arrangement when we get back, or something.” 

A deep blush covers his cheeks, as if he hasn’t been fucking you for the past hour or so, as he stammers, “I– I mean, yeah.” This time, it’s your turn to give a non-committal hum, followed by a satisfied sigh as you snuggle him closer and close your eyes. “Just go to sleep, baby, we can deal with it in the morning.” 

“’Mkay,” you mumble, feeling his hand draw soothing circles on your back. “But you’re still gonna fuck me tomorrow, right?” 

This gets another loud laugh from the driver laying down under you, and both of you know that he’s going to do just that when you wake up in the morning. 

[jaggedamethyst]

golden boy (part 3) | jayce talis x f!reader

3.3k words

content: fawk it!! part three of jayce making reader a vibrator with hextech. everyone round of applause for golden boy!! (part one, part two)

notes/warnings: 18+ minors dni, angst, oral (female receiving), some sub!jayce, unprotected sex (dont be like them!), lmk if I missed anything as always

ps: while this is the end for now, I may consider adding some parts when inspiration strikes. its been fun writing for my best guy for a few weeks now...the arcane brain rot is real and I will never stop adding to the madness. thanks for reading in advance. - amethyst 💟

series masterlist

⭑·ﾟﾟ·*:༅。.。༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅。.。༅:*·ﾟﾟ·⭑

Being from the Undercity meant that from a young age you were particularly skilled at evasion. When Enforcers arrived, you were able to lie at the drop of a dime. At the mention of your now nonexistent family you could mask your emotions. Most importantly, you could get out of Piltover undetected. 

Slyly turning corners, you’d finally emerged on the outside. Regret filled you, then. 

You didn’t want to think of Jayce there—the fact that he would wake up alone. Truthfully you’d often reason that this was for the better, that you leaving would soften the blow of having to explain how fucked up you were. It was something you found yourself discussing often. 

“I have a particularly vested interest in this…seeing as though I also fell for a Piltie.” 

It was hard to be a Zaunite and not at least know of Vi. You’d actually met when you were younger. You swapped stories of lost families, hate for authority, and a penchant for being hardasses. 

“I didn’t fall for him, Vi. He was just there when I needed someone.” 

“Sure, but I was here, too. When that piece of shit lied to you…got married…I was here. You’re not all over me like you are with Jayce. So how do you explain that?” 

You knew it was more than just sex with him as much as you hated to admit it. But there’d been countless examples of the between-worlds love story simply not working. 

“Vi, you and the Kiramman girl didn’t even work. Again and again you two have tried and nothing…”

“Sometimes it’s just worth saying you tried. That despite everything, you opened up just that little bit.” 

You’d downed drink after drink that night—the sting barely masking the nagging at your mind to just go see him. But the sadness you’d feel was always overrun with hate. He proved you right. The cycle continued. A month had passed and he hadn’t even looked for you.

You and Vi proved similar, again. When she suggested you take up fighting to release your tension, you hadn’t even thought twice. It was yet another way to remind yourself that you deserved to feel this. Every stupid decision you’d made up until this point warranted the physical pain. 

It quickly got out of hand. 

Before Jayce became a member of the council, he didn’t make a habit of leaving Piltover. Now that he was in a position of power, he found himself in Zaun often. It was important to him that he didn’t see you, though. The twinge in the pit of his stomach had only subsided moderately at the thought of you. Until the embers in his body had completely burned out—he wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of giving in. Of being good. 

The opportunity to walk the Undercity afforded him time to observe things he’d later note in his proposition for a large-scale integration. He figured this was bigger than you somehow. If you ever did will yourself to feel even a modicum of what he felt for you, it’d be worth it to have made it safer for you. Regardless, he was still taken aback by how gritty Zaun was every time. He thought of his partner living here—hardly able to walk. 

You saw him, then. He was passing a corner, clearly in thought. Something that crossed his mind had upset him. You wondered if it was about you. What you would give to be able to smooth the creases in his face, to tell him that whatever it was would be okay, to make certain it was. 

But it wasn’t. You’d left. Again.

He should’ve expected to run into you. He’d never seen you look so disheveled; there was always an air of composure about you. But looking at you now, you’d been neglecting to take care of yourself. 

It happened so fast. As if you felt the magnetic pull of his eyes on you. In the second that you’d turned to examine him, a crack hit the side of your face. You wanted to swing back, finish the fight you started, but you figured you deserved this. You’d let the rage take over. So when the punches came down and you started to black out, you couldn’t help the smile on your face. 

_________

You jolted awake later, observing a man hobbling across the room. 

“Viktor?” 

He turned to you, “You know who I am?” 

You sat up a bit, “Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you, although I wish it was under better circumstances.” 

“You must be the Zaunite girl.” 

You interrupted, offended by the remark. “Excuse me-“

Viktor held up a hand to stop your incoming rant, he knew the feeling too well. 

“My partner…is nothing if not consistent.” He sat down next to you, “Taking two helpless Undercity residents beneath his wing seems quite…fitting for Jayce.” 

“You’re…from Zaun?”

He nodded. “I’m sure you understand the feeling of being around someone like Jayce.” 

You nodded in response. The feeling of unease not needing further explanation. 

“Jayce mentioned to me this plan he has. To consolidate Piltover and Zaun into one entity. Again, my partner fails to recognize the intricacies of having such an ambitious plan.”

“I…didn’t know about that. Makes sense that he would be so set on creating a utopia.” 

You both laughed at that, knowing the man all too well. 

You continued, “With Jayce, I feel like I’m always seeking something out. Like I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know?” You shifted in your seat, trying to explain. “If I get ahead of the bad I know is coming, I can avoid getting hurt. But that feels so…pessimistic?” 

After a while, Viktor stood again. “I would be remiss to call a person such as yourself a pessimist.” 

He slowly made his way over to a cabinet, pulling out an umbrella. 

“Despite my life's work here, I truly have nothing else to offer you except this…and time.” He pushed the umbrella into your hands, “It should rain soon. If you want to get away before he comes back, you should go now.”

You slid off of the bench that you were seated on. “But why?” 

He motioned toward the door, following behind you. “Jayce Talis is the most brilliant man I have ever known, and yet he fails to see the world with the nuance it demands.” 

There was an understanding between you again. That reconciliation was a lot to face. That although there was an inexplicable care for the man, it was hard for him to understand you both sometimes.

“Thank you.” 

——————

The umbrella did little for protecting your body as you ran through the storm, yet you’d left a mental note to thank Viktor at some point. 

Fury had bubbled in you in a split second, “Shit!” You kicked one of your chairs in frustration. The thought of Jayce going out of his way to make sure you were safe and arriving to you gone again was painful. You wanted to feel numb. The desire for nothing about Jayce Talis to ever harm you again was debilitating. 

A banging on the door made you freeze. It couldn’t…

A knock again, and the voice you longed to hear from. 

“It’s me.” 

Jayce called your name, his voice breaking with every repetition. 

You swung the door open. He looked so defeated—out of breath and covered in water. He’d clearly not thought to grab anything to shield him from the rain. 

With your usual feigned annoyance you broke the silence. “I told you to never come here.” 

There was an agreement made between you two, that you would always come to him. You weren’t embarrassed of your home, far from it. But you did hate the feeling of relinquishing control. When with Jayce, you always reserved that right to leave at your own discretion—with him here you instantly felt the restraints. 

He huffed at that, his usual apprehension replaced with exasperation. 

“Shut up.” 

He pulled you in by your neck, kissing you as if to punctuate the command. He moved you back into your house, closing the door behind you both. Every fear had evaporated from your mind. It was always so good with him. You knew he would take care of you in every way. 

Everything between you remained unspoken for now, your rain-soaked clothes finding their way to your floor. 

Jayce’s physique is one that you loved, but became rather daunting the more he’d taken control. 

He pushed you again, this time leaving you on display for him on your bed. He looked you up and down slowly. It made you nervous—the lack of readable expression on his face. When you’d finally made eye contact, he broke it quickly, reaching toward his clothes on the floor. He returned to you quickly, his body fully enveloping yours. 

He kissed your neck sweetly, a way only he could. He made note to suck down on your telltale spots—where you’d been the most sensitive. Making his way to your chest, he looked up at you with a mix of desire and hurt in his eyes. In his left hand he’d massaged your nipple between his fingers, his mouth finding the other. Your chest heaved. Your eyes fluttered shut. You were distracted. He knew the trick very well, seeing as you’d fooled him more than he could count. 

A sudden pulse and sucking sensation jolted you to attention. Jayce had a coy look on his face—and his free hand was on what you had to assume was a new prototype. 

You instinctively circled your hips toward him, craving more. He pressed you down, stopping your movement. The way he continued rubbing on your clit made you fight the urge to writhe against him. 

Your face was suddenly met with his and a peck was left on your lips. When he broke contact, he simultaneously turned the vibration up to the max. You were completely inconsolable. He watched your coherence leave your mind with a menacing smile—still refusing to utter a word. 

You wanted to say something, anything. You fought to question what this sudden change was about, why he was so adamant about tearing you apart right now. But part of you could tell that this was his way of keeping you silent. A sensation this good always left you speechless—your jaw slack and eyebrows pinched together. 

The max setting was a continued pulse and grip on your clit that you couldn’t even process. You weren’t sure where the pain and pleasure met but it was too damn good to stop. 

He kept looking at you. He knew you’d be done soon. All of the signs were there. It was sort of torturous for you to try and form words in your mind and have nothing come to fruition. 

Having him stare at you with a look of disdain in his eyes was even worse. The once yellow color that would wrap you up like the warmth of the Sun now pierced into you. 

He still coaxed you along, needing to prove a point—for you to finish. Within a few more seconds you jolted and froze against him, your legs tightening around his waist. 

He quickly brushed off your grip on his torso, moving to stand. He turned his back to you, discarding his prototype, and steadying himself with his hands on his hips. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He didn’t look at you. He didn’t have to; he knew you were confused by this entire thing. “Is this all you ever need from me? To show up, make you feel better for a while, and then watch you leave?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“What do you know? Because at this point I can’t tell.”

“Me either.”

Jayce finally turned to you, observing your head in your hands. “W-we can’t keep doing this. It’s not healthy.” 

“I know.” 

He moved a bit closer to you, surely angry now. 

“Are you going to say more than a few words to me or will this be the same as always?”

You spoke under your breath, barely audible over the sound of the rain. “What else do you want me to say, Jayce?” 

Words threatened to spill from you. The force with which you’d pushed them down had left you. A figurative steam had started to escape you, a bubbling on the verge of spilling over. Looking at Jayce was often the only catalyst you’d needed, that remained a constant today, it seemed. 

You peered over at him now, “What do you want me to say, hm? That I feel fucking stupid because I let myself feel something I swore I would never? That you’re the only person to make me feel something other than fear?” You dropped down from the bed, looking up at him. Tears that you’d held in finally met the brim of your eyes. “That,” you paused, “I care about you so much that the thought of it being more makes me want to die. That because I felt that before…with someone else…and was ruined entirely because of it that I can’t let myself be happy. Is that what you want?” You wiped your face swiftly, looking away, “Is it?” 

He surprised you when he carefully brought you into a hug. The grip of one hand on the back of your head, the other on your back was cathartic. You recounted every instance for which you’d felt safe with Jayce, there were too many to count. 

He inhaled slowly and let out an even deeper exhale. “What I want is for you to meet me where you can.” 

He pulled back a bit, his arms trailing your arms as he grasped both of your hands. He slowly sank to kneel in front of you, both knees planted to the carpet. Despite you both being completely bare, his grip around your body was far from sexual. He laid his head on you, his forehead relaxing into your lower abdomen. 

“For every night that you’re willing to stay, I promise to be with you the next day.” 

You stared ahead, the man’s head in your lower peripheral. The sheer magnitude of that kind of commitment already weighed on you. But you figured, who better to carry the load with than Jayce? You didn’t need to be strong enough to bear it alone; you knew the golden boy had enough fortitude to make the heaviest of burdens feel light. 

“Say something…please.”

You blinked, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” He leaned back, looking at your face. 

You nodded. 

The tough exterior the man had worn soon dissipated. A veil so uncomfortable for him that he didn’t recognize himself in the last few minutes. He nuzzled into you, grasping at your skin like you would disappear into thin air.

The whole ordeal had happened so quickly, you didn’t even get to comment on the way his appearance had changed. 

“I like the new hair. It really says tortured scientist to me.” 

He hadn’t actually noticed his lack of upkeep these last few weeks. He chuckled, knowing he’d pinpointed how you didn’t take care of yourself—and yet here he was. 

“Do you see what you’ve done to me? I didn’t even shave my face.” 

You brushed a piece of hair behind his ear. “I actually think the rough look is pretty sexy. Maybe we should stop talking for another month.” 

“Too soon.” 

“Is it?” You lifted a leg over his shoulder, “We shouldn’t talk about it then, right?”

He tilted his face, rubbing into the inner skin on your thigh. He nodded, but got distracted by the sight in front of him. You were already dripping, a mix of arousal from before and now. He looked up through his lashes, asking for your approval. 

“Go ahead.” 

You would think that Jayce was starving the way he started to devour you. His head between your thighs, his tongue pushing into you, and his hands kneading at your legs was a combination that always had you weak in front of him. If you somehow could stay this way forever, spread thin, you would. The added friction of the stubble on his face hurt so good. You were sure there’d be a burn on you later—but you would wear it with honor. 

In the way you admired his fingers you would give the utmost praise to Jayce’s mouth. You shivered, his tongue flattening over you, a long and final swipe collecting every drop of you. He tapped your leg on his shoulder twice before lowering it. He made a show of licking his lips while he laid back on the bed. 

“Come take what you need.” 

You’d been in this position before—the man beneath you dripping in precum. You straddled him, the muscle memory kicking in. You let your lips trail across his collarbone. You’d yet to let him in you, rubbing your wetness up and down him. You made certain he was rock hard as you slowly connected his shoulder blades in an assortment of bruises. Eventually you gripped him, circling your hole with the head of his dick. 

He rested his hands on your hips, pressing down a bit. “Please-“ 

You slowly sank onto him, letting out a puff of air at the stretch. 

Leaning toward his ear, you spoke again. “I think you’ve waited long enough.” 

Without missing a beat, you pushed up and down on him. He instinctively met you, slapping into you at a slow rhythm he knew you’d loved. You rolled your neck, the piercing in your stomach was worth the time apart. You’d wait for him, you thought. It was the least you could do after he’d been so understanding with you. A month…a year…any amount of time was worth seeing him splayed so pretty beneath you. 

The wet sounds of you two slowly working each other could have been considered lewd had it not been for Jayce’s whimpers. Suddenly, the sounds bouncing off your walls seemed rather sweet. 

“Mmm, f-fuck,” and he continued like that for a while. Resounding sounds of pleasure and pain vibrated in your ears—urging you to speed up. 

Your deliberate circlings into him had become less controlled bounces. You were close. It didn’t matter how much longer, Jayce always found a way to finish with you. 

“C-can I?” He looked between you, the way you molded together so well. He always asked before he came in you. You definitely should’ve cared more about the implications, but your fervent nods made him snap up into you even harder. 

He noticed your irregular movement, flipping you two over. He was above you now—a sight you were getting more familiar with these days. An inadvertent smile found your lips, then, as he scrambled beside you. He immediately started the vibration on your clit, pumping into you at the same time. You clawed at his back, your walls squeezing into him, coaxing the release out of him. 

“Need you to cum, baby. Let me feel you,” he uttered between moans. 

“Jayce, I-“ 

“Its okay…its all okay.” 

He always had a way with words. Even when the situation found you both entangled with one another—he found a way to reassure you that you were safe. The thought alone had your legs wrapped around his back, finally finishing with him. Your entire body pulsed as he worked you thoroughly. He slipped away from you with a groan, his hand swiping at you. Before you could protest, he sucked on a drenched finger, cleaning it completely. 

“Sweeter than I remember.” 

You both laid there, heaving for breath but not a word exchanged. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jayce fighting sleep. Without thinking, you reached to turn off the lights, draping yourself over his chest. He sighed and kissed your forehead—finally allowing himself rest. 

——————

Jayce woke in the morning, the Sun’s rays meeting his eyelids with a heat that forced him to relinquish sleep. He felt around for you but as he’d suspected…nothing. He craned his head to the side, eyebrows raising a bit. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” 

You were there. 

You scrambled a bit, “I’m sorry, I stepped out and went to the Lanes really quick. Vander’s not the best cook but I figured you might be hungry…I’m starving-“

He let out a breath he’d been holding, “It’s good to see you.” 

You smiled, “You too.”