#just wanted to slide this out there tonight

[simplygojo]

Pussydrunk ⸺ Choso Kamo

author's note ⸺ Saw some crazy Choso art this morning and I know that the world can always use more Choso smut...so enjoy. Also yes-he does thank you for your pussy... pairing ⸺ Choso Kamo x reader teaser ⸺ '"You let out a breathy laugh and tilted your head slightly at him, “You’re thanking me? For letting you eat me out?” Choso gave you a goofy little grin, his face still buried in your legs as he responds with exaggerated sincerity. “Of course..."' content ⸺ 18+ SMUT, MDNI, pussydrunk choso, he is OBSESSED, cunnilingus, shy emo boy turned feral, oral sex (reader recv.), choso is such a nice boy he thanks u for ur pussy, he lovesss to eat you out but let a guy have hobbies!! overstimulation, reader has a vagina, reader uses female pronouns

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Choso is perfect. Too perfect—really. 

Your sweet, soft-spoken, emo boyfriend who always knows exactly what you need. The one who texts you to remind you to drink water, gets you your favourite snacks even when you don’t ask, and holds your hand like it’s the most sacred thing in the world. 

He’s calm, attentive, and gentle—everything anyone could want in a partner.

But there’s something about him—a hidden streak that surfaces only when you’re alone.

And only when he’s between your legs.

It’s almost comical how the man who blushes when you tease him in public—who can’t take compliments without fumbling for words, turns into someone so utterly unrestrained when he’s got his face buried in your cunt. 

Your shy, sweet Choso becomes something else entirely. Feral. Hungry. Completely pussydrunk.

It’s not just a casual thing for him—it’s a fixation, a need. 

The way his pupils blow wide whenever you start to undress or the way his hands unconsciously flex when you shift your legs apart? He’s thinking about it. How soft you’d feel, how warm and wet and impossibly sweet? Yep, he’s thinking about it…and he never tries to hide it.

It starts so innocently every time, just like it had tonight, his long fingers brushing your thighs as he kisses your inner knees. 

He whispers something tender, something like, “You’re so beautiful,” as his lips trace paths closer to where you’re desperate for him.

His words always make your cheeks flush, but before you can respond, he’s dipping his head lower, brushing his nose along the seam of your panties. 

You let out a quiet gasp, hips twitching when his tongue flicks out to trace the damp fabric.

“Already wet for me,” he says, and there’s something darker in his tone now—a hint of what’s to come. 

He hooks his fingers into the waistband, sliding your underwear down your legs with deliberate slowness, and his breath catches when you’re finally bare before him.

Then the first taste hits his tongue, and that’s it—Choso’s gone.

Your thighs barely get the chance to press around his head before his hands grip your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, so he can bury his face in your pretty cunt.

The first press of his tongue against your folds makes your back arch off the bed. 

Choso groaned like he’s the one being pleasured, and the sound vibrated against you, drawing a soft cry from your lips. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer, and he buries his face in you like a man starved.

He alternates between teasing your clit with quick flicks of his tongue and plunging it back inside you, each movement pulling a new, breathless whimper from your lips.

The soft squelch of his mouth working on you made your thighs twitch, but Choso didn’t stop. 

If anything, he groans louder, the sound reverberating through your core as his tongue dips back down to your entrance. He licks into you slowly, savouring the way you tighten around the soft, wet muscle.

You try to push him back once you’re trembling, overstimulated from his relentless attention, but Choso isn’t having it.

“Just once more,” he breathed against your skin, dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. They’re glassy, unfocused—completely drunk on you. “Please, baby. Can’t stop. You taste so good.”

And how could you say no to that? To the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters? He is just so damn pretty. I–

His hands roam your thighs, holding them open as he devours you, sucking your clit between his lips and humming with satisfaction every time you cry out. 

When your fingers thread into his hair, pulling hard enough to make him hiss, he only doubles down, tongue thrusting into your heat like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling back just enough to catch his breath. His lips and chin are coated in your arousal as he looks up at you with his dark hooded eyes—absolutely pussydrunk.

He looked wrecked—flushed cheeks, mussed hair, chest heaving like he’s the one who just came—and yet, he’s still leaning forward, nuzzled against your thigh, leaving lazy kisses like he can’t help himself.

“You okay?” You’d ask, voice shaky, and his lips curl into a sheepish smile as he rests his cheek on your leg.

“More than okay,” he murmured, pressing a kiss just above your knee. “You’re perfect. Thank you for letting me do this baby..”

You let out a breathy laugh and tilted your head slightly at him, “You’re thanking me? For letting you eat me out?” 

Choso gave you a goofy little grin, his face still buried in your legs as he responded with exaggerated sincerity. “Of course. You’re like... a goddess, and I’m just the humble servant here, living the dream.”

You snort at his attempt to be dramatic, your hands running through his messy, dark hair. “Well, I’m glad to know you’re really living right now.”

He peeks up at you, giving you a wink that’s way too cocky for his usual shy self. 

“Absolutely. You have no idea how much this means to me,” he says, and you can’t help but giggle at its ridiculousness.

“Choso, you’re so extra sometimes.” You roll your eyes, but it’s obvious you’re enjoying it.

His lips curl into a grin again as he presses another kiss against your inner thigh. “What can I say? I don’t hold back. I’m committed, you know?”

You gave him a raised eyebrow. “Committed, huh? To eating me out?”

Choso nods earnestly. “Yes, baby. To you. This is my true calling.” He lets out a dramatic sigh and presses his face against your leg again like he’s contemplating his life choices.

You laugh out loud at his melodramatic antics, but before you can make another joke, he dives back in, his tongue moving expertly against your clit with a series of teasing strokes. 

And that is how you and your cutie-emo-pussydrunk man spent the next few hours…

[deusfoundry]

18+ only mdni pls thank u!

also big BIIG thanks to ree @tbaluver for helping me w this ILY MWAAH!

zayne would never be opposed to letting you have your way with him.

one half-lidded gaze from you, one graze of your manicured nails at his clothed length, one drag of your wet tongue against the shell of his ear as you tell him how badly you want him inside you, and he's a goner. already, he's letting you drag him to the bedroom. sometimes neither of you even have the patience to go there, and zayne ends up pinning you against the wall just outside his office, his palms desperately clinging to the back of your thigh in a way that burns. sometimes he settles on having you bent over his desk, his chest pressed against your back, the same nails clawing at the heavy mahogany, papers hastily pushed to the side.

but this report is important. it's due first thing in the morning, and as much as he wants to be in bed with you, right now he has to finish this.

when you first approached him tonight with the pure and genuine intention of getting him to sleep early, he dismisses you apologetically. he places a hand on your cheek, swiping his thumb right below your eyes as if he's wiping your tears and tells you he's sorry. he'll be there soon, and you should go to sleep if you're feeling tired (which he knows you are, if the yawn you struggle to push down is anything to go by).

he watches your figure retreat from his office, shoulders hunched and footsteps unnervingly silent. the guilt starts to simmer within him, slowly, steadily eating at him until he's filled with thoughts of abandoning his work to put that smile he adores back on your face. he wills his focus back on the screen in front of him instead, dead set on making it up to you after his shift tomorrow. perhaps he can even afford to clock out a little earlier, just in time to pick up two boxes of the strawberry macarons you two love so much from a cafe at the other side of town right before they close.

except, you come back to his office a half hour later, and this time, zayne knows you're up to no good.

it's in the little things. you're sauntering towards him with a sway to your hips. the first two buttons of his shirt you're wearing is undone, one side of the collar pulled to the edge of your shoulder, exposing to him a dangerous amount of smooth skin. the cherry on top is the noticeable absence of the shorts you were wearing earlier.

zayne wonders if you'd forgo wearing your underwear as well.

"zayne..." it's there, too. in the way you say his name, drawled out and a little breathless. if he listens closely, he can hear the undertone of a whine.

he feels the all familiar strain in his pants.

zayne watches, a mix of amusement and intrigue, as you rub a palm up and down the length of his arm before nudging it away and sliding yourself onto his lap. you encase his neck between your arms, using it to anchor yourself closer until you're right on top of his increasingly aching cock.

you make no comment about the bulge in his pants poking your thighs, but he knows you're aware of the effect you have on him. a smug grin makes it way to your lips. just a flicker, a brief moment where you acknowledge what you're doing to him, and it's gone the next second.

"i'm not feeling too well, doctor. i think i need a check-up."

you begin feigning distress, making a show out of curling into yourself and leaning against his chest. the movement you make causes the fabric on your shoulder to slip off. slowly, like each added inch of skin baring itself to him is taunting him. it stops, resting right in the middle of your arm, low enough that he can see the better part of your left breast.

his face runs hot, but he decides to humor you. just for the few seconds he could afford to spare if he wanted to finish this report before midnight.

the back of zayne's hand finds your neck. he moves it around a little, shifting from one side to another as if he's checking for your temperature.

"there's nothing particularly off about your temperature." he hums, sliding you further down his lap, intent on pouring all his attention to his work. he'll just have to deal with his ... problem later.

zayne almost misses the way your face falls in disappointment once you realize what he's doing. there's that guilt again.

he plants a kiss on your temple, his lips lingering on the side of your head much longer than it should've had. he's hoping it's enough to convey his words unsaid.

"perhaps you're just missing a few hours of sleep. shall i accompany the patient back to her bedroom?"

you stay quiet, lips pursed in deep thought. the silence stretches on until zayne gathers it's time for him to speak.

only, you beat him to it, moving to straddle his thighs so quickly that zayne can only react by wrapping an arm around your waist to make sure you don't fall. you land right back over his cock with enough force that it pulls an involuntary groan out of his lips and a whimper from yours.

"i think-" you breathe in, a sharp inhale through your nose before you breathe out through your mouth. the searing heat of your breath on zayne's ear makes him shiver beneath you, low vibrations sending a jolt to your clit through the damp fabric of your panties.

"i think this requires a more..." you take his hand in yours, shakily drawing it closer to hover over your breast. "hands-on approach, doctor."

zayne's head is spinning. your cunt over his painfully hard cock. the odd warmth radiating from your chest, the faint shadow of your pert nipples through his shirt. this look you're giving him, eyes hazy and half-closed like you're already lost in the pleasure when you've barely gotten enough. it's too much.

it's all too much.

"dear-"

he's cut off by the drag of your hips, pressing down on him with enough pressure that his head is thrown back from the friction of the inner fabric of his pants rubbing against his length, but just shy of the speed you both need to chase your high.

zayne finally puts his foot down when your pace starts to get more frantic. he pries his hand off of yours, using the combined strength of his arm around your waist and his hand on your hips to steady you.

he hears a quiet whine slipping past your lips at the loss of pleasure.

"stop. t- that's enough." he means to add more conviction to his words, but he finds that his voice comes out as less polite pleading and more pathetic begging. "i'll make it up to you later, just- just let me finish this."

a mix of whimpers and whines fall off your lips. you try to move despite his restraints, rolling your hips with as much fervor as you can muster. and it works. zayne moans, his arms going limp over that momentary burst of pleasure. you take advantage of his weakened state to full on ride his clothed cock.

zayne begins to lose himself. the thought of his report sits there, idly in the back of his mind, but it's almost completely replaced by you. you, and the delicious roll of your hips into his, filling his vision with the sight of stars and the whole universe. you, and the blissed out look on your face as you use his body to chase your pleasure. you, your eyes shut in concentration, your messed up hair, your nails clawing at his shoulders.

you.

you.

you.

you've almost consumed him whole.

almost.

zayne regains his bearings just in time to stop you from going over the edge. your eyes are pried open, jaw slacking as his hand finds your waist once more. you're about to complain, beg him to allow you to keep going. but his fingers dig into your flesh. his grip, firm yet delicate, sends an odd blend of pain and pleasure through your senses.

"i said that's enough."

zayne says—no, commands with a certain finality in his voice that makes you think he wants to stop altogether. but you find his actions contradicting his words when he pushes his chair back, providing him enough space to turn you around with ease.

your mind is having trouble keeping up with him. you can make out the sound of his zipper being pulled, the rustling of his pants as he yanks it down just enough for his length to spring free, the light slapping of skin on skin when his cock makes brief contact with your back. but you only come face to face with what's happening when zayne hoists you up by the waist, dragging your panties to the side. your juices from earlier acts as a lubricant for him to sheathe his cock into you with little resistance.

you're so full so suddenly, gummy walls gripping him like a vice. the tip brushes against that spot inside you that zayne knows sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"zayne-!"

"shh, be quiet." he slides the chair back towards the desk, his arm unmoving around your waist. every slight twitch of his cock has you clenching down on him, but zayne makes no move to react. your only indication of how riled up he truly is are his hand latching on to your skin and the minute quiver of his voice, breath hot and shaky over your ear.

you're reminded of how it was him in this position a moment ago. how it was seemingly your victory.

"now, why don't you be a good girl and stay still."

something tells you you're in for a long night.

a/n: smut is surprisingly fun to write lmfao HKASHFD

dividers by @cafekitsune

[remlionheart]

MDNI. aged up characters. ✩࿐࿔

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁₊˚⋆

you're half-asleep, snuggled into the safety of megumi's comforter as the weight of the day slowly starts to disappear, your worries and stress lost to the feeling of his touch. it's rare that sleep takes you this easily, but tonight, it's holding your hand so tightly you can't stop your body from softly twitching against his as your mind slips further into its dreamy abyss.

a small smile cuts across his face when he notices the way you ease into him. his fingers are featherlight, drifting along your skin with all the delicacy in the world as they create hazy patterns across your collarbone and along the back of your neck, his nails just barely grazing your scalp the higher up he goes. he's warm, he's always so warm and perfect when he's holding you like this, making the rest of the outside world melt away with his presence alone.

your thoughts are scattered, comfortable but blurred by how relaxed your body is when you feel his breath start to fan across the nape of your neck, his hand carefully sliding between your thighs as he presses the sleepiest kisses into the side of your neck. you shift again, your eyes struggling to stay shut as he lulls dizzy little nothings into your neck, "relax, okay? just let me take care of you."

you give him a small nod, letting yourself settle into his touch, the palm of his hand firm but gentle as he coaxes your legs apart. "i know you had a long day." he whispers, electricity suddenly flickering across your skin as his fingers tentatively spread you.

his voice feels like silk, low and entrancing with the way it wraps around you so effortlessly. "i want you to let all of that go and focus on me–," your back arches as he continues to leave light kisses scattered across the top of your shoulder, his words only pulling you further and further into his orbit. "focus on your breathing. focus on my touch. focus on this, the way this feels–"

you can't help the heady noise that escapes you when his fingers dip into you, instantly finding that spot that you can never quite reach yourself.

"right there, yeah?" you can hear the faint smile in his voice as he presses into it again with adoring precision. "it's always right there, isn't it?"

you don't have to say anything for him to know the answer, your walls clenching around him gives him all the confirmation he needs. there's never been anyone else who's known you this entirely– who's known exactly how and where to touch you the way that he does. it's almost overwhelming sometimes, how much pride he takes in making you feel this good.

"you make the prettiest noises, y'know that?" his praises only draw more of them out of you, his thumb drawing blissful circles around your clit as his fingers continue on with the same tantalizing pace. pumping in and out of you in a way that makes the edges of your vision start to blur.

"there it is." he groans, his teeth just barely sinking into your neck. "doin' so good for me, keep going."

"m– megumi," you whimper, your body grinding against his as he holds you steady.

"i know, baby." he soothes, "i know. you don't have to say it, just let me feel it okay?"

your breath catches in your throat, your thighs suddenly locking his hand in place as little tremors begin to ripple through them. your walls comply with his command, squeezing his fingers so snug that you're not even sure how he manages to keep his rhythm, but he never breaks it.

his voice is the only thing keeping you tethered to the room, the rest of your mind succumbing to the hazy bliss he's lead you to as your core begins to desperately unravel around him.

"such a perfect girl, cummin' all over me like this. how'd i get so lucky, huh?" his freehand finds the side of your face, turning your head towards his as he hovers above over you.

your lips meet his eagerly, your tongue swirling against his with fervor as he holds you, continuing to spill out pretty little reassurances in between breaths. your hands wrap around the collar of his shirt, pulling him in as close as you can while he helps you ride out the last few waves of your orgasm.

there are stars in your eyes by the time he finally pulls out, your chest heaving as your surroundings slowly come back into view. none of it matters though– not the day you had or the rest of what exists outside of the room. the only thing that matters is the way he smiles as he kisses you, the tender warmth of his hand under your chin. the way his midnight gaze lights up in even in a dimly lit space just from looking at you.

the only thing that matters, is him.

"you know i think you've got it wrong," you whisper, "i'm the lucky one."

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁₊˚⋆

[aerospectrum]

OW!

That was all that ran through his head when her warm hand met the windburned skin of his cheek; hot and cold and sharp enough the split the skin if she’d been luckier. A soft groan from the force escaped him and shook the heavy, salty tears from their secure perch; splashing lightly against his face— even without the sting of her handprint leaving behind a red glow; the flush of blood to his face was enough to showcase his shock at being hit.

His jaw tensed and the muscle jumped and rippled beneath the skin, spitfire was beyond what Madison was and when she wound up to slap him again- Dean lowered one arm forcing her feet to meet the cold wet sidewalk, his arm shot forward with blinding speed and he caught her wrist in the air; two of his fingers sliding up along her palm, the others wrapped around the soft skin of her hand and wrist. “Stop hitting me.” He was direct and firm, even with the slight tremble in his voice. “And stop telling me what I think about you…” he blinked softly, trying to clear his head and eyes of emotional distress. He’d admit, comparing her to sharing a braincell with the guy wasn’t fair.. Cas actually listened. But he didn’t dare say that now.

“Madison. I didn’t stand you up for Cas; I mean.. it looks that way but it wasn’t. Will you just listen to me for five seconds, please?! You won’t let me explain anything you’re saying I’m hung up on him and I’m not, you think I want you to be him and I don’t! You think I’m going to hurt you and I’m not! You think I wanna be running down the street at 2am chasing after you while you scream and cry and beg me not to hurt you? You think I wanted any of this to happen tonight? All I wanted was to have a nice time out with you, a nice real date with you.” He questioned if even telling her Cas was in trouble was worth it at this point if anything she’d say Cas planned it to steal his affection away from her. “You think I’d introduce you as my…. Sweetheart to all of them if I was still hooked on Cas, do you think I’d be here right now if I didn’t want to be with you- just you?” His voice pleaded with her to hear him through her drunken stupor.

Running while intoxicated, definitely not recommended. She was breathing hard & the lack of oxygen was giving her head a bigger rush than before.

Dean caught her wrist again & pulled her, but this time he swooped her into his arms. For a split second, they made eye contact. Her eyes softened for a moment. She was shaking like a rattle, so hard you would think she was going into hypothermic shock.

He wasn’t going to hurt her? There was a moment of relief… but then he started insulting her. One brain cell! And she had to share it w/ cas ?!!! Her brows furrow, she pulled her hand back…

SLAP!!!

She slapped Dean across the face. “You stand me up for your ex, you insult me, then you compare me to him?” She pulled her hand back again, “IM NOT HIM & IM NEVER GOING TO BE HIM!” She huffed, “you think I’m stupid!” She swung her hand down to slap him again.

[zvdvdlvr]

Do I Look Scared? + Silco

Synopsis: You’re Silco’s bodyguard. Nothing more, nothing less. Until you heroically take a bullet for him.

You and Sevika had grown close during your time working for Silco. So close, in fact, she considered you blood: and having a bond so tight in a world so cruel meant everything. Tonight was one of the only slow-paced nights at the bar, which gave you the rate opportunity to snatch a bottle of bourbon and have a ‘gossiping session’ with Sevika about the scandals, murders, and secrets you’d encountered on the job.

“I’m not telling him anything,” you say with finality as you pass the bottle to the other woman. “Emotions only get into the way of the job.”

Sevika clucked after taking a swig of the alcohal. “Yeah, but have you considered that he reciprocates your affection?”

You scoffed. Tracing the edge of your bloodstained finger with your blade, you let your head thunk into the wall behind you vibrating with bass from the music below. “No. He does not. Besides, I do not care at all. I do my job and I get paid,” you explain. Sevika shoots you a glare over the rim of the bottle. “It is better this way. Everyone I get close to dies or leaves anyway,” you drawl, grasping the neck of the offered bottle.

From across you, the other woman sighed. “You meed to pull your head from your ass and see what’s right in front of you. If you don’t make a move now, there will be a day you can’t.”

“Sev,” you say. “I don’t care about anything except my money.”

Sevika lets you shove the bottle into her chest as you check your watch and stand up. You’re on your way to get paid, no doubt.

As you make the trek to Silco’s office, Sevika shakes her head. She knows you’re lying- you do care about Silco. But she also knows you want to remain as detatched from everything as possible so it’s easier for you to leave when you make that decision. Sevika just wishes you knew that Silco doesn’t let his eyes stay glued to just any bodyguard.

Oh well, she thinks, letting her eyes flutter shut.

“Good morning,” you greet.

Silco looks up and watches you slide into your designated spot on his couch. “Good morning, y/n. I imagine you are mentally prepared for the meeting later?”

A sly smile pulls at your lips that pulls at your one dimple. “I’m prepared for anything, Silco.”

The man told his head up and leans back in his chair. “I know,” he says. He can’t count how many times you had jumped into action to protect the Eye of Zaun. Too many times have you put yourself in front of bullets to prevent them from reaching their tatget and each time grew harder for Silco to tolerate as he grew more amd more fond of you.

Though he had the solace of knowing none of the bullets had ever buried themselves in your flesh, his fear was that one day you would be hit. Fatally.

“I understand you are aware of the repercussions of your actions,” Silco spoke to the three of trenchers in front of you.

You stood beside Silco, to the right of him with your hands at your side. The group in front of him had broken the deal Silco had offered- choosing to disregard his warnings of provoking the other dealers under Silco’s protection. An exhausting, stupid, and uninteresting experience overall, you conclude boredly. Until-

Click. Your left eye twitches as you focus your ears for the-

Click. Again. Realization flashes in your eyes at the same time the third gun cocks. “Guns,” you bark out, stepping forward with your gun drawn.

You fire two bullets at the two mutated men on the left as you shove Silco down behind the wooden chair. As two bodies fall, it seems at least ten more burst through the doors of the abandoned building chosen for the ‘meeting’. “I’m hungry,” you mutter absently as you drop three more lackeys. You duck under the fist of a stocky man. You sweep his feet from under him and bring your steel-toed boot down onto his head without glance as you send a bullet straight into another woman’s head.

“Are you seriously thinking of food while my life is in danger?” Silco asks dryly.

You scoff. “Do I look scared?” You leap at a pair of legs and bring down the lackey. Holding his body in front of you as a shield, you easily take out the last four shooters. Dropping the body riddled with bullet holes, you rush to Silco.

“No,” he answers quietly. “You don’t look scared.” He lets you pull him to his feet and examine him closely. “Y/n.”

You are still determining if the bloodstain donning his leather jacket is his or not when he steps closer to you and hesitates before placing his hands on your face. You feel his thumb rub gently at the dripping blood from your face as his eyes search yours. “Boss?”

“You�� Y/n, I don’t know how to say this,” he starts. His feather-light hold on your complexion tightens as his breath shakes.

“Am I fired?” You ask, dread filling your face as you attempt to step back.

“No, y/n, you-“

On your right, you see movement concealed by the table. As you reach from your gun, you realize you missed one of the lackeys. “Fuck,” you curse, wrapping one arm over Silco and falling to the ground as the random fucking machine gun the idiot lackey somehow acquired fires. You shoot, but miss and hit the wood.

Silco groans under you, arms tight around your waist. You don’t realize his lanky legs are wrapped around your legs as you wrap your arm over his head for protection.

For a split, weak second, Silco’s eyes close as his limbs tighten around you for the illusion, that maybe you could be his and he, yours. You smell like gunpowder, the jasmine and saffron perfume you always wear, and the familiar iron fround in blood. Silco hears his ears ringing but if that’s the price he has to pay for your hand in his hair, then that shall be what he pays.

Silco is still zoned out when you flinch violently on top of him. You squirm to the other side and tighten your hold on him like a boa constrictor on it’s prey- and even though Silco is used to being the predator, he doesn’t mind. And then finally, he stops hearing the gunshots and his ears stop ringing. And when his ears stop ringing, a… longing fills his senses as you pull your protective hold from his head and roll off of him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, sitting up with a wince. “Silco?” You wince as you sit up, grabbing his chin and turning his head back and forth looking for blood or injury.

“I’m fine,” Silco answers. “Let’s go.”

As he brings himself to his feet, he gathers his senses and pushes his disappointment of not having your touch down to the bile in his stomach for the acid to dissolve. When you are not immediately at his side, he sees you sway on your feet and press sharply on your side.

“Y/n.” His voice is uncharacteristically quiet as he watches your chest heave as you fumble to put your gun into it’s holster.

“I’m fine,” you tell him. “I need to get you-“

“Y/n.”

Silco easily beats your limp with his long strides and pulls your hand from your side. Thick, dark blood stains your hands and bleeds into your shirt. “You cannot think I would not find out about this,” Silco informs you with a reprimanding tone.

You throw your hands up and immediately wobble. Silco reaches out to steady you as you answer: “As long as you are safe, I couldn’t give two shits if I got shot between the eyes,” you rasp. “This is what I’m paid to do,” you remind him.

Silco’s lips press into a thin line. “Do not ever say something so careless about yourself again.”

You look at him in confusion as he wraps your arm over his shoulder and takes a step forward. “Okay.”

Silco finally scooped you into his arms and started the trek to The Last Drop- which, was luckily only one block away. “Keep your eyes open,” he told you.

If you weren’t so lightheaded you would have thought he cooed at you. “Okay, boss.”

“Tell me something, y/n,” Silco said, glancing down at your crumpled form. He felt his jaw tighten as your face screwed up in pain as Silco took a step. He felt guilty for jostling your injured body around so much. “Tell me anything.”

Your breathing has slowed considerably. “I…” your hand reaches up to trace the curve of Silco’s nose as you fail to gather your thoughts. “I used to dance. Ballet. My mama… she was a dancer. My papa was a fighter. When I told my pa I wanted to start boxing like him, he told me I had to dance if I wanted…” you yawn and feel your head grow heavy. Your arm is too heavy to lift. Normally, that would bother you but you’re in Silco’s arms. “If I wanted to be ‘swift as a fox and precise as a snake’.”

Silco’s hard eyes soften. He quivers as you run you knuckles over his chest. “Do you still talk to them? Your mama and papa?”

“Nah,” you drawl. “Papa, mama, and Derri are dead. They… I don’t want to talk ‘bout ‘em.”

“Who’s Derri?” Silco asks.

You answer despite your ‘I don’t wanna talk about them’. Silco feels his heart beat irregularly as you burrow into his body as he carries you home. “My brother.”

Silco stays quiet. When you don’t elaborate further, he looks down and sees your eyes closed. “Y/n. Y/n!”

You blink owlishly. “Silco.”

“Hi.”

“Hey,” you reply. “My side hurts really bad and you’re carrying me. That’s not… Am I fired?”

Silco turns the corner to the main street and sees the familiar sign. “No, y/n. I would give you anything- even a job- should you ever need it.”

“I’ll be okay, right?” You ask, blearily examining Silco’s eyes for any sign of lies.

“Do I look scared?”

Blinking, a small smile pulls at your lips at the words you spoke earlier. “No,” you yawn. “You don’t look scared.”

You can’t hear Silco’s next words because you are too preoccupied with falling unconscious.

Silco shifts in his seat when he hears you cough. It’s when you try to pull your hand from his does he open his eyes. His mouth opens and he feels a wave of relief crash into him because you’re awake. “Hello, y/n.”

You shoot him a wry smile and attempt to sit up. When Silco wordlessly pushes your fatigued body back to the bed, you decide it better to lie till and be a bad bodyguard. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have-“

“What? Shouldn’t have done your job flawlessly and get yourself injured saving my life? Y/n, darling, do not apologize for things that are my fault,” he tells you, his thumb stroking your knuckles. “Forgive me if I’m reading the situation wronf, but… I care for you. More than necessary. I will be here for you unless you tell me to walk away and leave you to your life. But believe me when I say: thank you. Thank you y/n, but never do that again.”

You blink. “Silco,“ you begin with a raspy voice. “Slow down… for my sake. Just, be here. Or,” you shrug. “I know you probably have work to do. If you want to leave and work on that, I won’t be offended-“

“Let me be here for you.” Silco finally asserted.

You just smile and look down to see his nimble fingers tenderly tracing your veins and occupying himself with you. “Okay.”

[star2fishmeg]

more inexperienced reader x lh pls🥺🥺 sfw or nsfw

Clothes are piled on his bedroom floor, only with the low light of the lamps and you sit opposite each other on the bed. His fingers wrap around your wrists tenderly, slowly prying your arms away from your body. Your head turns and you stare at the wall rather than his soft gaze that scans along your figure adoringly. Luke means it when he says that he loves you anyway, no matter what, and how your body looks won't change that, it wasn't the reason he fell in love with you.

"Baby, look at me." He says quietly, voice soft and you do, hesitantly. "I think you're beautiful, okay? Nothin' to be afraid of. I just want you to be comfortable, we can put our clothes back on and do this another day if-"

"-No. I'm comfortable, I wanna do this. I've just never been naked in front of a guy before, like, you look great, I mean, I'm just lucky that someone who looks like me pulled someone like you. I just don't want to disappoint you."

Luke's eyebrows raise and pull together, releasing your wrists, and he leans towards you. Butterflies swarm in your stomach but your arms stay away from your body, regardless of how loud your head wants you to cover yourself again. You can't decipher his expression or his actions, and the only thing you can do is lean back into the pillows, letting him straddle over you, his lips meeting the space between your collarbones as if you're made of glass. The little kiss is soft and triggers a chain reaction of sweet kisses over your breasts, his lashes brushing against your skin with every peck over the plush mounds.

"Pretty tits, soft like pillows. Could sleep on them all the time." He murmurs, goosebumps running down his neck when your fingers tangle in his curls.

He continues down your sternum, kisses becoming more weighted and wet as they cascade over your stomach, hands gliding along your waist soothingly. You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him with keen eyes and with every kiss your heart beats just that little bit faster and your cheeks flush warmer. Luke wants to show you that he loves you, it's something he's been adamant about doing from the start and seeing him go that extra mile to ensure your mind can rest has you drawing your thigh up and rubbing the back of his thigh with your foot.

"So fuckin' beautiful, y/n." He moves further down, his final kiss to your upper pussy area before sliding back on the bed, cautiously peering up at you with wet, puppy dog eyes, your fingers still in his hair and you think you've dreamt about something like this before, him between your legs. "Fuck, could suffocate between these and I'd be happy. You still okay? Want me to stop? Just say so, angel, don't wanna freak you out."

He's not going to engage in anything, not tonight. It's too soon and you've only just shown him your body, but he still checks in for security. Your thigh is still elevated but the foot that once caressed his leg is hooked around his back, his arm wrapped underneath it so his hand holds your thigh over his shoulder and to his ear. For someone so comparatively strong against you, the way his thumb rubbed your skin's tender, his eyes soft.

"I'm okay, this is okay. Please, don't stop."

You smile and he repeats sweet nothings, confessions on how he thinks you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, how you're the one, his person, how you fit his frame perfectly, all while he's pressing his lips to your thighs, alternating between the left and right with teeth grazing, flushing sparks through your nerves that only he can make you feel. His words rush to your head and embrace your self-esteem, the kisses making heat pool into your lower stomach but before your body can react further, Luke's hovering back over you, his familiar crooked grin blessing your vision.

Your palms cup his cheeks, and he rolls you both over so you're lying on his chest, your hands sliding onto his chest and his strong arms holding your waist. The world is quiet. Your head is finally quiet, and your heartbeat slows to fall into sync with his.

"This feels nice," he says softly, grinning at how your chest squishes against his, one hand gliding over your back in slow circles, occasionally cupping your ass and giggling with you, "and you have a nice ass, think it belongs on my lap."

Luke holds you tighter, feeling you smile against his chest, and he knows you're okay now and you are. You're better than how you started and no longer afraid of him seeing you naked, he kept his word and now he refuses to let go, wanting to savour the moment where you and he are skin to skin in the purest form.

[enchantedflameandflower]

Billy Butcher x you oneshot!

Billy knows how to really take care of you when you need it most…

18+ only smut, piv, cock warming, creampie

Merry Christmas! 😘

~*~*~

It was getting late. Butcher was watching a movie on the couch, but you were sitting at the table, finishing up some work.

When you were finally done, you gave a huge sigh of relief and checked your email one last time.

"Fuck," you groaned as you opened the 5th message from your boss that night asking you for a report on one of your projects. Frustration and tension and anxiety surged inside of you like the tide, and for a moment all you could do was sit there and stare at the screen.

Butcher had paused halfway through his movie as he got up to get a drink and seemed to sense what was happening. Honestly, you were stressed a lot these days. Most of the time he wouldn't notice, or at least would just let you be but right now you felt like you were at your tipping point.

"C'mere doll," he said from behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder to tell him you were busy, but the fierce look in his eyes told you he was not going to take no for an answer.

You sighed when you stood up and went over to him but all you were thinking was 'he noticed.'

Butcher slid his hands around your waist, tugging you against him. "You've been workin' too hard."

All of the breath in your lungs seemed to escape in one big whoosh. "It's just how it is this time of year.

I just have one more report to work on. And I need to do my laundry. And it's Thursday."

Butcher leaned back, lifting his eyebrow at you.

"Dusting day," you explained meekly.

Billy gave you a look. "I'll do yer laundry with mine and dustin' can wait. What can I do tonight to make ya sit still for a while and let yerself go?"

You leaned forward wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek against his broad chest. He was right, you felt like you were about to collapse but there was still so much to do...

"Maybe just hold me," you said softly.

"I'd be chuffed, love, but yer mind would still be whirlin' wouldn't it. Need somethin' to distract that pretty head o' yours too."

He rubbed your back for a moment as he thought and a soft, but tired, little sound escaped your throat. He knew you, and he knew it had to be something different to truly get your mind off of your worries right now.

He glanced at the tv where the movie was paused, then back to you. "Up for a little playin', love? I've got an idea."

The look in his eye told you it was something interesting and you couldn't help immediately being intrigued. "Maybe...what would I have to do?"

"Nothin' love. Go and change inta somethin' comfy. Just a shirt, nothin' else, then come back out and sit with me."

"Ok." You gave him a kiss before you retreated into your shared bedroom.

When you came back out he was sitting on the couch and he groaned as soon as he saw you.

"Fuck me," he muttered.

You grinned at him, pleased. You'd changed into one of his shirts, and you'd left it unbuttoned, though it was pulled around you at the moment. It was soft and it barely came to the tops of your thighs.

"Well c'mon," he husked, patting his lap and letting his heated gaze roam over you.

You climbed into his lap kneeling over him and sitting back on his thighs. "If your idea is to fuck me..." you deadpanned.

He smirked wickedly, his hands sliding to your hips. "Nah it ain't that. You know you'd be comin' in minutes, love, then you'd be right back to your troubles again wouldn't ya? Need somethin' to relax yer brain fer a lot longer than that. Besides I need t'finish me film."

Well...he wasn't wrong.

For a moment you met his eyes, gleaming with mischief, and you could feel his cock swelling beneath you...and then you realized what he wanted to do. A surprising pulse of lust surged through your veins and you knew you were immediately wet for him. It wasn't something you'd ever thought of before but now that you did...now that you did you were more than eager to try. That might actually work.

His hazel eyes glinted with desire even as they darkened. "Be a good girl and get me cock out, yeah?"

You swallowed, nodding your head and sliding back off his lap. He gave you a look and you obeyed instantly, working his belt free and opening his jeans. He shifted his hips so you could tug them down just enough to free his cock, already hard and ready for you.

"How do you want me?" you whispered.

"Facin' the telly, yeah? Wouldn't want you to miss the rest o' the film."

You hadn't really seen the first half as you'd been working at the same time, but you had a feeling that didn't matter. And maybe it would help to have something to watch to help distract you from his...distracting.

You stood up and turned around as he slid one big hand around the base of his cock to steady it, and gripped your hip with the other.

"Ready, doll," he murmured low, and you moved to sit on him slowly, his hand positioning you with a tight grip.

When you felt the head of his cock at your entrance, a little moan left your lips but he kept guiding you down without pause.

"Fuck..." you breathed. Without much preparation, the fit was tight and he stretched you almost uncomfortably but you knew your body would adjust.

"Fuckin' hell, love, your gushin'," he groaned. "Must've liked this idea more than I realized."

You wanted to argue but a broken moan was all that left your lips. You took a breath as you took him all way, you ass quickly pressing flush against his thighs. "Oh my god..." you whimpered. Syrupy pleasure flooded through your body, making your clit throb and your cunt flutter around his length as you thought about staying like this.

Billy gripped your hips hard with both hands and you felt another gush of wetness around his cock. "Easy now. Take a deep breath fer me, love. Yer gonna have to calm down if you yer gonna be a good girl and let me keep ya on me cock till I'm done watchin'."

"Oh fuck," you moaned breathily, closing your eyes and biting your lip hard. Breathe.

His hands rubbed soothingly over your hips and outer thighs and you took a slow deep breath and licked your lips, focusing on the tv in front of you. You caught sight of the time bar and you almost groaned at the amount of time that was left, just a little less than an hour. Breathe.

He felt so thick inside of you, the size of him alone lighting up every nerve ending you had. But you had a long way to go so you took another deep breath, and finally your body let go of some of the tension, just a little.

That's my girl," Billy murmured low from behind you. He slid one arm around you and urged you to lean back against his chest. "Just rest here for a bit, filled up with me cock, not thinkin' 'bout nothin' else."

Your only answer was another whimper and he gave a low chuckle.

Starting the movie again, he moved a pillow to your side, and another on his shoulder so you could rest your head against it and still watch the movie. Your bare legs were draped over his jean clad thighs and you had to be careful not to let his open zipper scrape across your inner thighs or worse. Incentive not to move, you supposed.

You swallowed again, trying hard not to clench around him, but you couldn't help the little flutters of your cunt anytime his cock twitched or he shifted even the tiniest bit.

How he was keeping his own control so easily, you had no idea. Probably had a wank in the shower earlier, you sighed to yourself.

His chest was warm against your back and his big hand was rubbing your thigh. You really tried to watch the movie, but fuck, he was so deep like this. His cock was fiery hot inside of you and you swore you could feel the veins that ran the length of it. You felt every inch af him.

Minutes ticked by slowly, and you did your best for almost 15 of them, but as pleasure continued to pool in your center, and your body adjusted to his size, relaxing and taking him deeper, all you could think about was getting relief. You were dripping and you were sure he could feel it, but still he seemed as relaxed as ever, lazily stroking your thigh as he watched the tv.

Then before you could try to stop yourself, your hips rocked on top of his lap and a soft little cry escaped as bliss erupted inside you, making your whole body tense and buzz, making your fingertips tingle.

Billy rumbled and caught your hips with both hands, gripping hard, holding you still. "No movin', doll."

Your clit throbbed helplessly, completely neglected and you had to bite your lip to keep from whining pathetically, clenching your hands on your thighs.

"Breathe," he murmured, his beard tickling the curve of your neck as he leaned forward. You took a gulp of air, and then another, not even realizing you'd stopped.

Breathe.

Finally, you caught your breath and your lust lowered back to a simmer.

"That's a good girl fer me," Billy said, kneading your hips in reward but all you could do was groan at his praise and it made your cunt flutter around him again.

"Don't say that," you whimpered.

He gave a quiet laugh and patted your leg. "We'll have to keep practicin' this," he said low against the shell of your ear, then went back to watching the movie.

You slumped back against his broad chest again and his arm came around you. Instead of thinking about the way his cock was filling you, you tried to focus on letting your palm play over the little hairs on his forearm. After another 15 minutes, a hazy-sweet fog started to drift over your mind, some combination of dazed and still wildly turned on.

Anytime he moved it sent a jolt of pleasure through you but you were starting to get used to it, learning to let it soften into your body, banking it for later. After a while you couldn't even tell where he ended and you began, he was just a part of you.

At some point you must have completely spaced out, because you suddenly realized the tv was off. Billy was smoothing his hands slowly over your stomach and your thighs and your hips, still thick and big inside of you.

"Did I do it?" you murmured languidly.

Billy leaned closer, kissing the side of your neck, his mustache and his beard scratching sensitive skin spectacularly. "You did it. Such a good girl. My girl..."

You made a lilting, blissful sound and wrapped your fingers around his forearms, desperately needing to hold on to something.

"Think you can come for me now, pet?" His voice was gravelly and rough in your ear.

"Mmmm...mmhmm..." You gripped his arm tighter, unable to get your mind to even form another word. Every single worry was completely gone and you couldn't care less about anything except this right here.

Billy shifted underneath you, pushing his jeans further down his thighs and the movement made him thrust up into you.

You cried out, trembling with need, and he made a low sound to soothe you. "I've got ya, love. I'll take care now..."

It was too much to hold yourself up so you fell back against him and he rumbled approvingly. The vibration in his chest only added to your pleasure.

He pulled the edges of his shirt that you were wearing apart so you were totally exposed and tugged it down so your shoulders were bare but didn't bother taking it all the way off. Then he wrapped his hands around your bare waist and began to thrust up into you. "Fuck," he groaned. "Wasn't gonna last much longer either, love."

One of his big hands slid up to engulf your breast, kneading the weight of it in his palm then pinching your tight nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your heart stuttered as you gasped for breath, every nerve lighting up. Billy knew how to make your body sing.

Lifting one arm, you curled it around him to thread your fingers through his hair and let your eyes flutter closed, just feeling him.

Every single thrust hit the right spot and made you whimper or moan or cry. Pleasure seemed to only crest higher and higher inside you, no limit in sight.

Within moments, as he had predicted earlier, you were on the brink of orgasm, but you wanted more, needed it. Grabbing at his hand on your waist, you pushed it down, guiding his fingers to where you were joined.

Billy moaned, his lips brushing the nape of your neck. "Mmmm, needy little thing, ain't ya..." he teased, but he deftly nestled two fingertips right over your swollen clit.

The second he started to circle over the throbbing nub your bliss heightened ten-fold...it had been left ignored for too long.

Your cries now were so much that you vaguely wondered if the neighbors would be concerned but there was nothing you could do, and Billy didn't seem to care at all.

His fingers slowed when he sensed you were almost there and he used his free hand to move your knees to the outside of his so he could push your legs farther apart with his own, wide open for him, and stuffed full.

Then his fingertips returned to their fast, slick circles with haste.

The eruption of your climax happened immediately. Your entire body tensed in pleasure, wave after wave crashed through you in relentless pulses as he continued to stroke your clit.

The growl Billy let loose against your shoulder in response was earth-shaking. You had never felt an orgasm this intense before and you could tell your thighs and his fingers and his cock were drenched.

"Fuckin' "ell," he groaned. He moved to grip your hips with both hands one last time, the fingers on one hand still slick with you, and he bucked up into you, rough and erratic as his own orgasm began.

Burying his face against the curve of your neck, he bit down, moaning, low and gruff.

Broken whimpers and unintelligible words fell from your lips as every sensation continued to bounce and ping through your body like a pinball machine.

You could feel his come, hot and thick, spurting deep inside you. It felt just as good as everything else this night.

By the end of it you were completely expended, weak in his lap. You wouldn't be able to move even if the apartment caught on fire.

Billy was slumped into the couch now too, but his arms were around you and he was still inside you.

You had no idea how long the two of you lazed there, but eventually Billy regained his strength.

You whimpered as he finally slid out of you then gathered you up in his arms.

Your own strength was long gone and it was not coming back. He carried you into the bathroom and you were too fucked out to even care he stayed. After he cleaned both of you up, he scooped you up again and set you on the bed. He found your favorite, softest long t-shirt to sleep in and tucked you in. In the next minute he was sliding under the blankets too and he hauled you against his chest.

"Alright love?" he murmured.

"Mmmmmm. Mmmhmmmm." You were nestled in his arms, his skin warm beneath you and your face pressed to his shoulder. You wanted to say thank you but you were pretty sure only a mumble of half-formed words came out. His hand rubbed soothingly over your back and you felt him nuzzle the top of your head only seconds before you were out.

You couldn't go to work the next day, much to Butcher's smug amusement.

~*~*~

thank you for reading 🥹 thank you for all the inspiration to write this ❤️

(post tags are not working for this so doing my best to figure out what the issue is, and tagged people instead, I’m so sorry bleh tumblr)

@chocolategiverzombie @kus-babygirl @jynx15 @cassiopeia-grimm @karlurbanism

@butchers-girl @bluemerakis @bohemianblasphemy @crispydragonwhispers @dustie-faerie

@weallhaveadestiny @violent-darkness @norman-b @fenyxhawthorn @smallsadjellyfish

@butchersboobs @shirley-girly @bobabilbil @galaxyshifting @angelically-yours

@burntsaltsblog @multifandomqueen199032 @waerwena @rebelled-angel @spikycritter

karl urban masterlist

[subcultureblues]

When I Feel That Something (I Want To Hold Your Hand)

T | Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson | tags : Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship | cw : Period-Typical Homophobia, Discussions of Homophobia

———

It’s late and it’s been a long but lazy day. Eddie and Steve decided to go to that one diner in town that’s open late.

Eddie was drumming along to a nonexistent tune, his fingertips tap tapping away on his lap. He looked over at Steve very studiously reading the menu.

“You’re actually getting something different?”

“Nah.” Steve said without looking up. Eddie grinned. He figured as much. Steve was a creature of habit. Eddie was pretty sure he’d anyurize if they came here one day and they were out of strawberry ice cream for his milkshake.

And then he felt it. The slick bastard…. Without taking his eyes off the menu Steve had slipped his hand onto Eddie’s lap and tangled up their fingers.

He’s tenacious. Eddie’ll give ‘im that. Of course one glance around the diner and Eddie was elbowing Steve between the ribs.

“Hey.” Steve held the same hand against where Eddie had jabbed him as if it actually hurt, the big baby. “What was that for -“

“Heya. I’m Mylene. What can I get y’all tonight?” Eddie gave Steve a fabulously vindicated, ‘I told you so’ look as their waitress materialized.

She must be new or something because Eddie’s never seen her working here before.

Eddie let Steve order for him, because he too, is a creature of habit and Steve knows what he likes. The waitress hadn’t seen anything, clearly - considering she’s definitely flirting with him.

She’s pretty too. Soft, delicate face. A real Miss Indiana.

Eddie pretends to study his rings and Steve pretends not to notice her overtures.

And that’s as good as it’s ever gonna get.

As soon as she walked away Eddie could feel Steve scooting closer.

“Sittin’ awful close there, Stevie.” Eddie teased, smiling casually and looking straight ahead.

“Yeah, yeah…” he heard Steve slide back a few inches down the seat. Eddie snuck a glance and chuckled.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty when you pout.” Eddie whispered, nonchalantly stretching to rest his arms over the back of the booth. For just a second, he let the tip of his thumb brush the back of Steve’s neck.

Softly, Eddie hummed that one song Steve put on when he was feeling corny. I wanna hold your hand-a-aand. I wanna hold your hand. Because Eddie did. Really did.

Steve smiled ruefully, but - He was smiling. As good that was ever gonna get either.

When they get their separate checks, and no she didn’t ask, Steve’s had a number scribbled on the bottom. Next to the waitresses name and a little heart. Eddie huffed dryly, like maybe it was funny.

Steve reached past him and crumpled it. Left it there with the discarded napkins as they got up to leave.

“Can you believe her?” Steve muttered after they had stepped out of the diner and into the dark and cold. Eddie shoved his fists in his pockets to keep them warm.

Steve looked back at Eddie expectantly.

“Can’t fault a gal for good taste.” He shrugged. She didn’t do anything untoward. Eddie knew that. Steve did too. Still he was high strung, his shoulders tensed as they walked up to the van.

“You gotta get your head in the game, man.” Eddie said, opening the driver side door.

“What are you talking about?” Steve said, pausing in front of the open passenger side to look up and bite the inside of his cheek. When they were both inside they closed the doors and locked out the night chill.

“Come on, Stevie.” And then more reluctantly, almost apologetic he said, “You know what I’m talking about…”

“Yeah.” Steve pouted. God, what an adorable, majestic labradoodle of a man. Eddie never stood a chance…

Steve crossed his arms, uncrossed them. Crossed them again. “This sucks.”

“Yeah.” Eddie shrugged. “Doesn’t matter though. No, I’m serious. Stop with the face. I’m not gonna risk you getting - “ Eddie huffed. Obviously, Eddie wasn’t upset with him. But honestly… would it so hard for Steve, just once in his life, to not be quite so brave and shining and true. Just once.

For Eddie’s sake if not his own.

“You.” He said, “Do not get to get hurt over this shit. Capiche?” Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw Steve mouth the word Capiche back to himself. Eddie valiantly resisted the urge to roll his eyes back into his skull. The two of them actually do have to take turns being entirely juvenile or nothing ever gets done around here. “I’m not - fucking letting that happen, alright? It’s just not worth the risk. So yeah. It sucks. But you gotta stop - “

“What?” Steve raised a bitchy eyebrow.

Eddie laughed, a bit startled at how just fond that look makes him feel. “Being cute.”

“Being cute?” Steve scoffed.

“Mmhmm.” Eddie said pulling out of the parking lot. “Cute.” He nodded definitively.

Steve rolled his eyes. He quietly waited for Eddie to finish fiddling with the radio, til he found a compromise worthy station, before speaking again.

“Ok, well.” Steve looked around. The roads were empty. It was dark. “What about, now….?”

Eddie lolled his head to look the opposite direction as Steve, biting his lip to hold back a ridiculously satisfied smile. Only then could he bare it - to glance at his boyfriend.

He was so sure Steve could see the big cartoon hearts in his eyes. It was annoying, when he was trying so hard to give Steve the ‘I told you to quit it’ eyes.

Steve put his hand over Eddie’s on the stick shift and locked their fingers together. Made a petulant noise, as if he was in active defiance.

“You’re one to talk about being obvious…”. Steve muttered

Eddie laughed. Steve had him dead to rights on that one.

“You know usually you’re meant to look at the road when you’re driving.”

Yeah usually. But then there was Steve in his car. Which, made it hard. And Eddie was a weak, weak man.

“God Steve Harrington... I love you so much sometimes it makes me sick.” He said smirking. Shaking his head at himself more than anything.

Sue him. He’s got Steve Harrington (yes that one) on his arm. He’s gonna be a little bit love struck for the rest of his life.

But now Steve was just slightly pink and biting his lip. Trying to contain himself, struggle against the upward tilt playing at the corner of his mouth. Still playing at mad while giving Eddie the ooiest, gooiest of eyes.

“Shut up…”

“Yeah. Because you fell in love with me for my strong but silent demeanor.”

“Yeah.” Steve looked out the window and huffed a laugh, squeezing his hand. “Something like that…”

Eddie still has no idea what about his ‘wet rat on the run from Johnny Law’ look had managed to charm Steve, but he refused to question it.

Eddie shifted the car in a higher gear, but Steve hand stayed right there on his. Didn’t move the rest of the way home.

When they got back to the trailer, they puttered around in easy silence. It was familiar. Eddie kind of loved it. That Steve didn’t even ask before raiding his pack of beers. That he had shirts in the dresser and a toothbrush next to Eddie’s and that he left his ridiculous shampoo here even though he knows Eddie’s been siphoning from it.

Hell, at this point he knew what drawer they kept the spatula. It was downright domestic.

That’s right folks. Eddie Munson had officially gone soft.

They were hanging out in his bedroom, Eddie playing his guitar at the head of the bed, one leg hanging off it and the other bent at the knee. Steve crisscross on the foot of the bed tossing a baseball of unknown origin up and down.

“I wish I could hold your hand.” He said, catching the ball just to stare at it.

“Steve.”

“No. It’s - I should be able to. It’s messed up.”

Eddie shrugged. Because such is life, amright? No point getting bent up out of shape about shit so, so very far out of your control.

Steve just sighed.

Because Eddie was used to the uh, - sociological blue balling. Whereas Steve, was not. Because Steve was new to all this.

“You can hold my hand now.” Eddie offered, but then he looked down at his guitar and thought about the riff he had almost perfected. “Ok, well not now.”

He stuck up his leg in the air and offered it in Steve’s direction.

“Here take this.” He said. Steve gave him an unimpressed face. Or maybe he could just smell Eddie’s socks and that look was judgement. Eddie wiggled his leg around in front of him a bit until Steve relented and pulled Eddie’s foot into his lap. Eddie grinned satisfactorily.

The baseball ended up rolling onto the floor and under the bed. Likely from whence it came. Steve barely even noticed. Still looking the wrong side of forlorn.

“Maybe I just don’t know what I’m missing out on.” Eddie shrugged, going back to running scales.

“I wish you did…”

“You wish I knew what I was missing out on so I’d suffer the more for not having it?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty fucked up, Stevie.”

Steve rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall.

“I want - fuck, man… I wanna just kiss you whenever I feel like it. Put my arm around you when I feel like it. And you know what? Yeah, maybe I want you to know what it feels like to get shown off a little. You… you should be, deserve to get shown off, you know…”

Eddie looked up at Steve. He was staring into space looking wistful. Sad. His hand still vaguely holding Eddie’s ankle. Eddie gently set his Baby down on the floor, propped up against the nightstand. Refocused his attention on his other Baby. Steve turned his neck to face Eddie, head tilted against the wall.

“It sucks. When you’re sitting right there and it can’t be like how I want it to be.”

“How do you want it?” Eddie risked indulging the hypothetical.

“I want em to know you’re mine.” Steve shrugged, picking at loose thread on Eddie’s thread bare jeans.

Eddie flopped back onto the bed, head sinking deep into his pillow. Sometimes it was like Steve was trying to stop Eddie’s heart in its tracks. He glared at Steve down the bridge of his nose.

“I thought I told you to stop being cute.” He pretended to grouse.

Steve’s lip twitched up but it didn’t clear the upset on his face.

“Can’t help it I guess…” Steve said quietly. Distracted.

“No. I guess you can’t.” Eddie agreed. He outstretched his arms, raising them and leaving them suspended in the air. Beckoning for his sweet prince. Waiting for his Steve to come fall into them. “Come on.” He encouraged, with a begrudging tone -one he’s sure was deeply unconvincing.

Steve crawled up the bed, and sunk down on top of his chest. Christ, he was he heavy. And warm. Like the sexiest, most suffocating sleeping blanket to ever hit the market. The last blanket Eddie’d ever need.

Eddie really did love the way Steve used his chest as a pillow. Steve settled so he was mostly not crushing Eddie’s lungs. He snuggled his cheek against his usual spot. Right over where Eddie’s got that screaming face tatt, just getting comfortable.

Eddie ran a hand up and down his shoulder, hoping it did something to soothe this something in Steve. Squeezed his arms around him. Snuggled his own cheek against the top of Steve’s head.

“You think I wouldn’t be running around town screaming about, Steve Harrington, man of my dreams if I could.” He said eventually. He could hear Steve rolls his eyes. “Here ye, here ye! Thine King has the tightest, hottest, most fuckab-“

Steve pushed him away with a hand on his cheek.

“I’ll show you fuckable…” Steve mimicked, muttering nonsense. He looked up at Eddie from his chest. Eddie looked down at him, with a positively lecherous eyebrow.

A look that said, Oh baby. You already are.

And yet… Steve wasn’t preening. Usually he loved how Eddie could lighten the mood. Made light of things because sometimes it did start to make them feel lighter. Said it helped when he got too in his head. But Eddie got the distinct feeling Steve wanted to… talk.

Perhaps counterintuitively… Eddie’s not the best at that. He can never seem to shut the hell up, until something important comes along and his silver tongue leaves him like a filthy deserter.

“This comes with the territory of being little Missus Munson, hey stop it! Stop it! Hmph. Ow…”

Steve did stop trying to poke him to death with his pointer finger. Eddie sighed.

“It does though… It comes with the… me.”

“Eddie. S’not like it’s your fault.”

“Yeah… Doesn’t mean I can do anything to change it.” He said quietly. Staring at the ceiling so he didn’t have to look at Steve. “I remember you in highschool. You always had some girl on your arm.” He said, eyebrows raised and sounding detached.

Steve poked at him again which made Eddie wriggle but it didn’t shut him up.

“You’d be… holding hands in the hallway. Making out against your locker. Under the bleachers… In the lunchroom...”

“Eddie.” Steve frowned. Eddie shrugged the shoulder Steve wasn’t lying on, resigned.

“I - can’t give you that, Steve.” He said simply, though words rose like bile in his throat. “This is… You can take it or you can leave it. But if you ever want to just,” Eddie felt too big for his skin. Felt sick and warm. Felt like his heart suddenly forgot its easy, devil-may-care rhythm. Which is why he tried not to think about it. This. Not to dream of things so far out of his reach. His eyebrows drew together. “You ever want to just - hold hands and walk down the street again… I’m not the person for that. You’re gonna have to um, your gonna need to, uh, find someone else.”

Someone like Mylene, Eddie thought numbly.

“Eddie.” Steve’s head rose from his chest. His face all twisted up. With that unconscionably cute pissed off little frown of his, the one he puts on when he gets all serious. The one for which Eddie had no earthly defense.

God, Eddie hated when his heart did this. Ached.

“Stop it. Don’t - I want to hold your hand. Show you off. Kiss you. Kiss you whenever I feel like it.” He scoffed. “Not just like for the fuck of it. What’s the point if it’s anybody but you, stupid.”

Eddie managed to smile. It was small and sad and he still couldn’t look at him. But it was there - and a lot more earnest than Eddie lets himself be a lot of the time.

Steve moved up his body and pressed his forehead to Eddie’s temple. Grounded them both at that point of contact.

“Hey.” Steve whispered. Eddie did finally face him. Prayed his eyes looked less scared than he felt. Steve put a warm open palm on the side of his neck. Slid it up to rest on his cheek. Stroking his thumb back and forth purposefully. He nosed at Eddie’s other cheek. “Hey. I love you. I really - I really need this. You.” He could feel the warmth of his breath in the shape of the words. Eddie dragged his nose down the bridge of Steve’s. He loved the way their skin on skin felt. Loved the way it made him feel, how it transported him somewhere simple and safe.

Like those ruby slippers from Wizard of Oz. Press them together, and suddenly… you’re home again.

Like magic.

“It kind of scares the shit out of me when you talk like that.” Steve said, quiet and pretending it hurts less than it really does.

Eddie closed his eyes and squeezed Steve in his arms.

“M’sorry.” Eddie mumbled into his neck. “…You know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Right?”

“I better be.” Steve ribbed gently.

“We’ll uh,” he cleared his throat, but it still felt like there were like, rocks stuck in there or something. He tried again. “You won’t ever be able to get married… can’t have kids - s’illegal and all.”

“So what? Ya know? So what. I get to have… this, right?” He grinned, reverently running a hand through Eddie’s mess of hair. Scratching his fingernails softly into the back of his neck. “And I’d like to see them try and take that from me. I have a pretty scary bat, you know.”

“I heard about that.” Eddie murmured.

“Yeah? It’s all covered in like, nails and demon blood and everything.” He laughed softly, pressing his face into Eddie’s hair.

“You’re very metal, baby.” Eddie said, placing a kiss on his neck.

“And don’t think I won’t use it.” Now it Steve trying to unsuccessfully lighten the mood.

Eddie uncurled and laid back, just staring at the ceiling.

“You want it though. You’ve always wanted that…”

“Well. Yeah…”

Eddie’s eyes start to sting and somewhere in the back of his head his dad’s voice is there telling him to stop being a pussy, that he’s being a real baby about this, that he’s always been a fucking idiot. He’s too loose limbed and sedated to bother toughen up. Too tired to be impenetrable.

Steve kissed him. On the cheek, softer than anything else in Eddie’s life.

Eddie’s been slowly trying to wisen up to the fact that uh. When he and Steve are all pretzeled up like this, their whole bodies a tangle. When it’s dark and quiet and just them. It’s actually fine to feel like a pussy, and a total baby, and a fucking idiot. It just makes Steve kiss him like that. Squeeze a little tighter. Makes him want to stay folded up like this longer, as long as they can. Even when Steve like really, really has to pee.

Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck he’s gonna do with himself when he looses this too. Steve nuzzles up against him, make a small sound. If, he tried to remind himself. If he looses it.

Pretty please, Jesus fucking Christ - Please be an if.

“I wanna marry you Eddie.”

“Ok.” Eddie shrugged, disaffected. He wants to marry Steve too.

He also wants a million dollars, a 84’ Flying V, to be trapped in an elevator with Gary Gygax for like 30 minutes, because he’s got some serious ideas about the rules alright?

He wants to be a rock star. He wants Wayne to be able to retire.

The wanting is the problem. It’s an indulgence that doesn’t do anyone much good. That just precedes a dull, drawn out ache.

Steve sat up very suddenly, straddling Eddie’s hips. And God, if Eddie’s not a boy because he’s way too easily distracted by Steve sitting on his dick. Steve stretches an arm out to reach over Eddie. He puts his hands on Steve’s hips to steady him as he goes to grab something off the nightstand.

Sweet. So they’re gonna fuck it out. Eddie won’t complain about that. Simple ecstasy? A carnal pleasure? That’s the #1 Munson Recomended method to treat self pitying bouts of despair, baby.

He was great with the words that didn’t matter, really not so much with the ones that did. And Steve always was and would be a man of action. And ok, maybe Eddie was even a little relieved to forget this conversation, this hole in his chest. Just, not have to think about it.

But then Steve didn’t present Eddie with a bottle of lube. Instead he was carefully holding one of Eddie’s rings pinched between two fingers. Eddie had slipped them off and put them on the nightstand (because as cool as they make him look on stage they’re clunky and obtrusive and practicing with them on his fingers gets on his nerves.)

“Marry me.” Steve said, presenting Eddie’s very own ring to him.

“Uh - “ His eyes crossed looking at it held up in front of his face.

Steve huffed.

“Fine. I Steve Harrington, ask thee, Eddie Munson, for your hand in marriage.” Steve said, gently picking up one of Eddie’s hands. He was just staring at Steve trying to figure out the punchline.

“Maybe not today, alright? But like, someday, right? There’s gotta be a a someday. And then I’m gonna marry you. First day they’ll legally let me do it.”

“Sure. We’ll probably be like, a hundred.”

“Ok.” He shrugged. Like for Steve it was that simple. It came that easy for him. “Would you want…?”

“Fuck you. Fuck you, man.” Eddie rolled them over so he was curled on top of Steve. Steve put up a struggle, slowly suffocating under him.

“I want it so bad it’s like a bullet to the chest.” He said, holding the love of his life down in an illegal wrestling move.

“You’f suz a drauma queen.” Steve mumbled under him. Eddie rested his weight his on his forearms, one on either side of Steve’s head, releasing the petulant creature from it’s confines. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“And you’re… something else, Harrington.”

“It’ll be Munson won’t it.” And there’s a second round, a clean shot to the heart. He hides his face in Steve’s neck, pretending he’s not squealing on the inside like a teenage girl with a bad case of Beatle-mania.

“Fuck off.” He sighs. “You’re gonna kill me one day, Steve Harrington.”

“Steve Munson.” He sputtered a little, mouth open like he was trying to get a stray hair out of it.

Eddie made a sound like he’s dying.

“God that sounds awful actually.” Eddie said, as if he’s not gonna be writing it in little hearts in the margins of his notebooks. “Just. Does not roll off the tongue. Like at all.”

Steve’s fingers were trailing featherlight up and down his spine. “Yeah.” He agreed. And Eddie could hear the smile on the bastards face.

“Robin can be our incubator.”

“She agreed to that?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Steve snorted. “But I’ll wear’er down. She’s a total sap.”

Eddie snorted. She was a god awful hopeless romantic.

“You’re gonna force that poor lesbian to pump out 4 little Harrington’s?”

“Little Munsones. Munsonses?”

“Munsons?” Eddie raised a condescending eyebrow.

“Besides I don’t need 4, I’ll already have one giant fucking baby waiting for me at home.” He digs his nose into Eddie’s cheek accusatorially.

“You get one.”

“Three.” Steve bargained, eyes squinting in challenge.

“Two.” Eddie said, grinning widely.

“And a dog.”

“You get a hamster.” Eddie said, feeling warm all over. “Final offer.”

Two little tikes running around the house, screaming like banshees. He could read them The Hobbit when they’re all tuckered out and tucked in, to put them to sleep. Use all his silly voices.

He could teach them D&D and they could all giggle and create chaos together as a family, sat around the dining room table.

They could play princes and princesses and Eddie could be the big mean dragon - that they then vanquish in glorious combat. He would fall to his knees and ‘die’ oh so dramatically. He knows he would.

When they’re real little, he could bounce them on his knee like a cowboy. Do stupid shit like play peek-a-boo and blow raspberries on their tummy’s til they barfed themselves laughing. All the stuff he doesn’t remember but had wanted anyways.

He pictures himself up at 2 am with Steve standing behind him, pressed against his back. Having finally gotten the wailing little beast in his arms to fall back asleep; and he gets to hold something small and fragile and full of so much living potential and do it better this time around.

Damn.

He was crying, wasn’t he?

He just noticed. Steve had noticed too. He was quietly kissing up Eddie’s jawline, into his temple. Running those magical hands through his hair in a way that made him want to pur like a cat.

“Eddie?” He spoke softly.

Eddie sniffed. He grabbed at the fist Steve was still holding the ring in. “Gimme.” He said, frowning.

“Hey.” Steve warned. He took Eddie’s left hand by the wrist, slowly coaxed his fingers open. Carefully slid the ring on. Stared at it on Eddie’s hand. Smiling just, way too smugly.

Eddie flexed his fingers, testing his grip. It’s literally the ring he wears on his left ring finger almost every single day.

And isn’t that something. The way Steve can take something that should be entirely mundane. And make it mean everything to Eddie, make it mean the fucking world.

A very serious expression crossed Eddie’s face, then he reached over to the night stand and grabbed a handful of the rest of his rings.

He opened his palm and sorted through them by size. “What are you doing?” Steve asked. Eddie shushed him. Steve clicked his tongue but he went easily when Eddie reached out to grab his left hand.

“Oh.” Steve said, as Eddie went about trying a few different rings on his fingers. Steve’s hands were a lot meatier than Eddie’s. Steve was a fit guy, you see. Even his hands were bigger, more muscular. Eddie had slender guitar player hands. But eventually he found one, a simple silver band with a fleur-de-lis that fit like Cinderella’s glass slipper.

“Mine.” Eddie said, hugging Steve’s forearm tightly and trapping it possesively against his own chest. Steve looked at the ring on his finger. He turned his hand around in Eddie’s grip to press it flat against Eddie’s heartbeat. Then Steve kissed him, rested their foreheads together.

“You’re such a brute, you know that?” Steve said, kissing him again.

“I’ll show you a brute.” Eddie raised his eyebrows suggestively. They kissed and kissed and kissed.

“Have you heard about what’s going on in New York? And like San Francisco and stuff.”

“The big gay revolution? Sure.” Eddie shrugged. Kissed him again. Lots of tongue.

Does it still count as premarital sex after whatever that was? Eddie’s gotta be honest, he’s a little disappointed at the idea of their sex life getting even the slightest bit less actively sinful.

“What do you think?”

“Hmmm? It’s a nice dream. I’ll give em that.” Steve gave him a look. Eddie scoffed.

“I want to… I can’t just sit here, man.” Steve said. Because Steve was a man of action. Because when Steve sees a monster he just starts swinging. He held Eddie’s hand in his own, looking at the ring that was next to meaningless 10 minutes ago and it just wasn’t anymore. “I’m not kidding. I am gonna marry you. I want to be out there. Doing that. Until they have to let me.”

“I dunno, man…. I’m more of a rebel without a cause.” Eddie said, because activism’s an idealist’s game.

“Oh, come ooon. Fighting the power. Sticking it to The Man. Riots in the streets. You gotta admi-t. Pretty metal….” He grinned, knowing each and every one of Eddie’s weaknesses and exactly how to tempt him.

“Yeah. Ok, yeah it kinda is.”

It would be nice. Knowing there’s others people like them is different from actuating knowing other people who are like them. It’s crazy just how much Eddie’s life changed from having two people in the world who could get him the way Steve and Robin got him. They could drag her out there with them. Hit up the lesbian bars, ‘find her Eddie’ as she and Steve refer to it sometimes.

The music scene there is actually… existent. Unlike here. Eddie could… he try and make a name for himself.

They could… it sounds like a fucking pipe dream. That things could ever change. That people could ever change. That some day people like them wouldn’t have to be afraid.

But… fuck if Steve’s optimistic smile wasn’t convincing him of something. Convincing Eddie that hey, it’s at least worth a try, right?

“I wanna hold your hand.” Steve said quietly, even thought he was already holding it.

“That’s not very metal at all.” Eddie teased.

“I dunno… Feels pretty metal to me.” He said, absently playing with Eddie’s fingers.

Eddie huffed a laugh.

“Yeah… Yeah I guess it really is.”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One ThirtySix

Prompt from @travelingtwentysomething

“I want to try it.”

Steve is...ambivalent about the idea, to say the least.

“But what if it...hurts you. Or is poisonous?”

“Eddie has eaten and drunk loads of stuff, I don’t think it’ll hurt him, Steve,” Robin volunteers from the couch. She’s already a little drunk, her and Chrissy cuddled up next to each other.

“It grows out of the ground man, it’s practically a vegetable,” Argyle adds, really unhelpfully.

Jon, who Steve’s pretty sure was wasted before they even got here, adds, “that means it’s good for you. It’s green,” and then he starts giggling.

Eddie’s looking at Steve with big pleading eyes right now, but in a minute he’s going to turn stubborn about it, Steve’s sure, “you haven’t had a beer yet tonight, have you?”

Eddie shakes his head, “no.”

“Well, good, we’re not getting you cross faded right out of the gate, and just a little to start okay, share one with me?”

Eddie agrees immediately, and Argyle is already producing a pre-rolled from a little baggy, “this isn’t the hard shit bro, don’t worry. Baby steps for the little fishy,” Jon is set off giggling again.

They’re sprawled around on the lounge floor, a Christmas record playing, much to Eddie’s vocal disgust. It’s been forgotten now though, and only Nancy thinks to get up and flip it over.

Steve lights it and takes the first drag, holding it. Eddie watching him closely, “okay, go easy yeah, just a little breath in.”

Eddie nods, trying to copy Steve, but inevitably he ends up having a coughing fit, eyes watering. Steve takes it and rubs Eddie’s back, “is it supposed to be like that?” Eddie chokes out, voice a little fucked.

Jon starts giggling again, “he sounds just like great aunt Enid, she smoked a hundred a day.”

“It is to start with,” Steve tells him, “you still want to try?”

Eddie nods, taking the joint back from Steve. He’s more cautious this time, and knows what to expect, so he keeps it down a little better until he lets out a cloud of smoke on a mighty cough, Steve laughs, handing the last of the joint off to Robin’s questing fingers.

“It’d be easier on him if you shot gunned it-” Argyle starts, raising a lewd cheer and plenty of wolf whistles.

“What is shot gunned?”

“I’ll explain when you’re older,” Steve responds reflexively, everyone in the room promptly ‘boos’.

Steve takes a pillow to the face from Chrissy, “come on Steve, he never got to do the high school party thing. Go make out with him in a closet or something.”

Eddie immediately perks up, but then frowns, “why in the closet?”

Chrissy reaches over to smooth Eddie’s curls, clearly pretty trashed herself, “just dumb high school kid stuff baby. Pretty sure you wouldn’t want to play spin the bottle.”

“Spin the bottle?”

“It’s a game,” Steve explains, leaning into Eddie’s side, Argyle might think this stuff isn’t strong, but Steve hasn’t smoked anything for quite some time because of Eddie being around, and Argyle’s judgement on the strength of weed is clearly skewed by his monster tolerance, “say I spin a bottle, like, on the floor. We all sit in a circle around it, and whoever it lands on, we gotta’ kiss.”

Eddie’s face is an almost comedic scowl, “no.”

“No I know, none of that, I promise.”

Steve leans further, looking up from his new place in Eddie’s lap. He blows, making Eddie’s fluffy bangs fly about, giggling. Eddie’s eyes look a little bloodshot, but they crinkle at the corners just the same as he starts giggling too, tugging Steve’s hair in return.

Eddie’s sharp nails feel incredible on Steve’s scalp, “Stevie love, what is shot gun?”

Steve sighs, “someone hand me-” but it’s already there, and lit, Robin must have sourced another from Argyle in the meantime. Steve gets Eddie around the back of the neck, and he leans down easily when Steve pulls on him. Steve takes a deep drag, handing the joint back off to Robin, pulling Eddie down the rest of the way for an open mouthed kiss.

Steve breathes out his lungful, letting his tongue slide across the top of Eddie’s, Eddie gets the idea, breathing in deep, before turning it into a proper kiss and briefly sucking on Steve’s tongue in return.

Steve’s vaguely hopeful that they’re mostly hidden by Eddie’s hair and their position, but it doesn’t stop a dirty cheer being raised by everyone. Steve can’t really find it in himself to care that they’re being watched. The smoke still feels warm when Eddie exhales again, giving Steve slow, soft kisses as they break apart.

“What?” Eddie asks, looking around and, yup, Steve does too, confirming everyone is absolutely staring at them.

“It was hot,” Chrissy says, deadpan, and Robin snorts a laugh so long and ugly she ends it curled up, her forehead pressed to her knees.

“You’re just not...that publicly affectionate,” Nancy explains, probably the only sober person in the room, “it’s just...still new, you know?”

“Well it’s been like, a year?” Steve’s pretty sure that’s the right thing to say, but his thoughts are kind of syrupy.

Eddie’s playing with his collar now, tugging a little on a bit of chest hair he’s uncovered, “Stee. Eddidie...hungry.”

Steve hums, “yeah, I could eat, come on.”

There’s plenty of snacks laid out in the kitchen, and Steve follows Eddie as he immediately gravitates towards the chocolate cake, cutting himself a really fucking massive slice. Steve snorts a laugh at the size of it, watching as Eddie shovels in the first mouthful, his eyes sliding shut in pleasure as he chews; Steve grabs a fork and helps himself to some of Eddie’s.

“Stee,” Eddie says, kind of plaintive.

“What baby?”

Eddie frowns down at the cake, shaking his head, “good bad.”

“Oh? You want something different?”

But Eddie’s already put the cake down, rummaging in the fridge, he comes back with ketchup. Steve watches as Eddie dollops the ketchup, forks up some cake, dips, and eats.

He’s not entirely sure what to do, but Eddie lets out a quiet sigh of contentment and goes back for more.

Steve caves pretty fast, “that is...actually not that bad.”

Part ThirtyEight

[insidekatmind]

Red card~ Vinicius jr

Wearning: +18,smut

It was a quiet Sunday evening, and you were comfortably sitting on the living room couch. The Real Madrid match had just started, and as always, your heart raced as you watched Vinícius Jr. play. Your relationship with him was special, a love that had almost happened by chance but had grown intense and deep. He called you his "lucky star," but that evening, it seemed like luck wasn’t on his side.

"Go, Vini, show them who you are!" you whispered with a smile, sipping a cup of hot tea. Your eyes followed every movement he made on the field, as he dribbled past opponents with his usual elegance. You were used to seeing him face everything with a smile, but tonight, something felt different: there was a palpable tension.

45th minute.

The referee blew the whistle. A foul. Vinícius, usually calm, approached the referee with a furrowed brow. You couldn’t hear their words, but the images were clear. An opponent had provoked him, and Vinícius was trying to defend himself. Then it happened: the red card.

You were left breathless.

"No, no, it’s not possible!" you screamed, placing your cup on the table with a thud. You jumped to your feet, your heart racing. You watched in disbelief as Vinícius left the field, shaking his head. The referee seemed unwavering, and the camera lingered on the dark, furious face of your boyfriend.

An hour later.

The door to the house opened with a snap, and Vinícius stormed in. His gym bag flew to the floor, and he ran a hand through his hair, visibly shaken. He didn’t even look at you.

"You saw it, right?" he murmured, approaching you. You gently looked at him and embraced him. "Love," you whispered, hoping to ease his tension.

He was mad but felt better when you grabbed him to hug, making him sit next to you on the couch.

Vinicius puts his arm around you and rests his head on your shoulder."You’re not mad at me are you?" he says quietly, in a weak tone

"No, love, you are and will always be my champion," you whispered softly to him.

He smiles when you call him champion, it’s one of his favourite nicknames you had for him. He nuzzled in your neck, his hand resting on your leg and squeezing it softly

"Even when I act like a dickhead and get sent off again?" sentendo le sue parole sorridi.

"Especially when you become a dickhead,it's hot," you whispered.

He smile.His hand began to slide up slowly on your leg, just teasing."You still think I’m hot when I get mad?" he asks, teasing your neck with small kisses. You groan and nod.

He smirked, hearing you moan he began sucking on your neck, wanting to leave a mark

"Prove it to me then…” he mumbled against your neck, his hand slipping further up your leg.

You smile and kneel down, lowering his trousers and boxers and then pumping his cock a little before taking it in my mouth.

He grabs your hair gently with a hand."Holy fu-ck…“ he moans when he feels your mouth on his tip. You start to swirl your tongue around his big cock and then take it all in your mouth.

Vinicius raised his hips and fucked your mouth and you were moaning as you started to tease his balls with your hands and continued sucking him with more passion. He groans and comes down your throat.

When he makes you rise, he sighs happily and you kiss him.He returns the kiss with even more love, his hand caressing your cheek as they make out. He pulls you closer, until your body is pressed against his, and his leg goes in between yours, keeping you even closer to him.

“Mm… you know, I wouldn’t have been sent off in that game if you weren’t on my mind the entire time…“ he whispers in your ear.

You laugh as you watch him."So now it’s my fault?"

He chuckles, rolling over so he’s on top of you. He looks into your eyes, with a smirk on his lips.”Exactly… it’s your fault, you were being distracting in my mind the whole game…“

I smile and bite my lip. "What were you thinking?" Taming his muscular shoulders.

He moans lowly when you caress his shoulders, his body slightly shudders under your touch.“Do you want me to tell you or show you?”.he replies in a seductive tone, as his hands begin to wander up and down your body, caressing your curves.

"Show me" You say whispering.

He grins and kisses down your neck, occasionally leaving marks on it. His hands keep feeling up your body, caressing it lovingly. As he’s still busy with your neck, his knee slips gently between your legs, slightly rubbing against you.

Feeling the pressure on your pussy groan and you start rubbing yourself on it moaning.

He moans as you rub against his knee, his lips still attacking your neck with kisses.“Mmm you’re just impatient aren’t you…?“he mutters against your skin, his hand roaming down your body and caressing closer to your inner thigh.

"It’s not my fault I have such a sexy boyfriend" you whisper with a mischievous smile.

He chuckles at your comment, lifting his head up to look down at you while still letting his hand gently caress your thigh.“Oh you’re gonna flatter me like this? I might just have to get an even bigger ego…” he grins a little, his hand starting to get closer and closer to your centre.

You kiss him and groan in his mouth feeling the movements of his leg where you needed it. "It’s so beautiful Vini"groan once again.

He kisses you back, his hands going to your waist to grip on it softly. His knee is rubbing up against you still, his body starting to grind down and slightly rub himself against you as well.“Mmm, you like it that much, princesa?” he mutters, the vibrations of his voice sending more pleasure through you.

You moan madly for his Spanish and murmur a little 'yes.'

He moans a bit himself at the sound of your voice, the sound sending even more sensations through him. His knee continues its pace, the friction of him rubbing against you making him want you more. He leans in to your ear and whispers.“Dios mío… te quiero.” say Vinícius.

"Vini please"you have murmured. He growls lowly again, the sound of you begging making him feel even more aroused.

His knee keeps rubbing against you, while his lips go back to attacking your neck, leaving marks all over it. “What do you need, mi vida?“

"I want you inside me, please" you whine, you desperately clung to Vinícius.

He moans when you tell him, his knee slowly slipping away from you. He kisses all over your neck and down to your chest.“You’re begging for me that badly, cariño?“

His hands start caressing your thighs again, slowly spreading them apart for him.

Groan and spread your legs as much as you can. He groans at the sight of you so open and eager for him. His hands go to your waist, holding on to you while he grinds against you slowly, wanting to tease you a bit.

“Mmm… you want it that badly, don’t you, amor?“ he whispers you making you whine.

"Love please don’t tease me" you whine as you raise my hips wanting more.

He smirks, seeing you wriggling around and trying to get more with your hips. His grip on your waist is strong so you don’t move too much.“You’re being impatient again… I thought I said I’ll be making you feel good all night long…” he mutters against your chest, his lips leaving marks on it as one of his hands move down between you.

Groan feeling le sue parole and kiss him. He kissed you back passionately, his tongue exploring your mouth as you feel his hand rub against your entrance slowly. At the same time, his hip grinded against you, letting you feel how hard he’s becoming. “Mmm you drive me crazy, cariño…“

I moan wanting he inside me. "Baby come into me please fill me" you cry.

He grunts when you beg and he can’t take it anymore. He breaks the kiss to look into your eyes.“You’re gonna be the death of me one day…“

Then, you feel him slowly entering you. His grip on your waist tightens as he e tra tutto in te e gemi sentendo il suo grosso cazzo riempirti.

"Always so close to me, child" grunts Vinícius and you whine raising your hips towards him.

In the room you heard only the sound of your skin meeting and your groans and his grunts.

His impulses increased and you were moaning, managing to concentrate only on the pleasure that Vinícius was giving you.

"Vini" you groans scratching his back.

He groans lowly feeling how tight you get around him, and his hands grab on to you more intensely, wanting to hold you as close to him as possible. His lips are on your neck again, leaving more marks on the skin while his hip start pounding in you faster.“Mmm, say my name… say it again…“ he mutters against your ear, his voice is slightly hoarse from how intense his breathing got.

Every time you groaned his name increased the push making you groan louder.

He moans against your ear when he hears his name coming from your lips again and he starts biting and sucking on your neck again, leaving more marks all over it.“Mmm good girl… only say my name from now on, say it loudly and tell me how good I feel…“ he mutters in your ear, as his hip start moving faster and faster.

"It’s so beautiful" you groan, squeezing even more on him.

He grunts at your words, hearing how good he makes you feel was driving him crazy and making him go even faster.“Mmm you’re so tight mi vida…. Do I feel good?”he mutters, his lips are on your neck again, his teeth gently leaving even more love bites.

"Yes, Yes, Yes" You cried when you felt your g-spot hit.

He moans loudly again when you tighten around him even more, his hand grabbing your hip and pulling you closer so he can go even deeper.

“Mmm that’s it… feels good, doesn’t it?” he mutters in your ear, his breathing getting even more intense as he hammered deeper and deeper into you.

You were so taken by the pleasure that you groaned only not being able to say a concrete word. He chuckles at how you’ve become a moaning mess and is now unable to speak after he keeps ramming into you, his grip on your waist gets even tighter, holding you close.

“Mmm you’re so cute like this, amor… all lost in pleasure you can’t even speak" He teased you and you whined.

Two more pushes and you came and you squeezed his cock so hard that he came too.

He chuckles and pecks your lips, as he rolls off of you and lays down next to you. He’s slightly sweaty and his breathing is still a bit heavy from how intense that was. “You’re all mine…”he mutters, as his arms wrap around you and he pulls you close to him, your body pressed snuggly against his.

He burrows his face in the crook of your neck and snuggled against you, smiling blissfully.

You smile nodding and cuddle to him feeling satisfied.He smiles more as you bury yourself in his chest and soon fall asleep.

He looks at you for a moment and can’t help but think how adorable you look when asleep. Then, he pulls the covers up and covers both of you with it, before gently petting your hair. He continues to hold you close to him and soon, he falls asleep as well.

[aquamarixx]

breaking the internet

chapter seven Hiori and Miss Journalist share more than just a passionate night, opening up about their relationship and the uncertain future that lies ahead. blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains slow slow slow burn, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader, suggestive nsfw masterlist

After the heated confrontation on the JFA party balcony, the two of you decided to run into the night. 

The music and laughter echoed behind as you navigated through the crowd on the dance floor, weaving past a sea of bodies. Like mischievous teenagers sneaking away, you let Hiori sweep you away, his hand clasping yours tightly as both of you shared hushed giggles on your way out. 

Your heart races, feeling the adrenaline course through your veins. But you know it’s not just from running but from the familiar excitement between you both.

A cab ride later, you arrive at Hiori’s apartment. The complex sat in a quiet neighborhood, far removed from the relentless chaos of the city. As the elevator hums upward, Hiori’s touch grows bolder. His lips find yours, his hands exploring you with an eagerness that leaves you wanting more. 

By the time you reach his door, you’re tangled in each other, his kisses fervent, his hand cradling the back of your head while he fumbles with his keys.

“Maybe we should get inside first,” you murmur between kisses, barely managing the words.

“Nah, I like it this way,” he replies with a grin against your lips, his hand sliding to the small of your back to pull you closer.

When the door finally opens, the two of you stumble inside, breaking apart only long enough for him to catch your hand. He leads you further in, fingers intertwined.

Hiori’s apartment was modest but inviting. The living room is tidy, the furniture simple. Beneath a large TV, a PS5 sat neatly in its place, its controllers perfectly arranged. Everything else spoke of practicality rather than extravagance.

You couldn’t help but think of other athletes his age, often swept up in the luxury their careers afford them. Big houses in exclusive neighborhoods. Sleek sports cars. Designer furniture. Wardrobes filled with high-end brands. Nights spent clubbing, jet-setting, and entertaining an ever-rotating cast of partners.

But Hiori’s different. Even before stepping into his home, you’ve sensed it in the way he carries himself.  And it even bleeds into his home. Simple, thoughtful choices define his home, save for the pockets of indulgence: the gaming setup and a few shelves lined with football memorabilia. 

“Make yerself at home. I’ll grab ya some water,” Hiori calls out, disappearing into the kitchen.

You wander towards the balcony, drawn by the expansive window that frames the city skyline. Sliding the glass door open, you step outside, the cool night air wrapping around you. The city stretches before you, vibrant and alive, but softened by distance. Above it all, the moon hung luminous, bathing the world in silver light.

You can’t help but pull out your phone to capture the moment. The city below felt worlds away, a far cry from the relentless energy of your own apartment (that you share with a college friend), where even behind closed doors, the unsleeping city’s energy seems to reach and breathe life into.

But here, in Hiori’s quiet home, you feel safe from the usual chaos you live in every day. 

“The moon’s real pretty tonight, don’tcha think?” Hiori’s voice breaks the quiet as he joins you on the balcony, a glass of water in hand. His gaze isn’t on the city or the moon—it’s on you.

He reaches for a stray strand of your hair, absently twisting it between his fingers.

“It is,” you reply softly, eyes on the horizon. ��It’s... breathtaking.”

To him, though, it wasn’t the moon or the view that captivates him. It’s you.

The moonlight softens your features, erasing the tension he knows you carry. He never understood when books and movies talk about being completely stunned by someone’s beauty. He never did.

But somehow, you basking under the moonlight got his heart pounding, he swore it would leap out of his chest. 

In that moment, you look at peace, and he wants nothing more than to etch this image of you into his memory.

You finally face him and when you reach for the water, he smirks and pulls it away. Raising the glass to his lips, he takes a sip but doesn't swallow. Instead, his free hand slides to the nape of your neck, pulling you into a kiss.

Caught off guard, you felt the cold rush of water spill into your mouth. You gulp instinctively, then gasp when he pulls back, a boyish grin lighting up his face.

“What was that?” you ask, half-laughing, half-stunned.

“Just somethin’ I’ve been wantin’ to try.” he shrugs, brushing a stray droplet from your lips with his thumb.

The two of you go back inside and you finish drinking the remaining water in the glass. After placing the now-empty glass on the coffee table, Hiori catches your hand again, this time pressing soft kisses along your fingers, your palm, your wrist. Each touch grows hungrier and draws you closer to him, pulling you toward his open bedroom door.

Compared to the simple living room, Hiori’s bedroom offers a more vivid glimpse into who he is. It’s still nothing fancy but the first thing you notice is the sleek, high-end PC setup in the corner. The multi-screen rig and glowing keyboard look like something out of a tech enthusiast’s dream. You can’t help but wonder how many months of your salary you’d need to build something even half as impressive.

The soft glow from his wide-screen monitors lights up the room. Its screensaver displays a scene from a game you don’t recognize. Posters and shelves line the walls, filled with a mix of manga, books, and meticulously arranged character figures. Your gaze lingers on a strikingly detailed 2B and 9S pair. When you look closer, you spot a familiar keychain.

It’s a small 2B that matches the 9S one he gave you before you guys stopped talking to each other.

“Ya can look around,” Hiori says, his voice low and amused. He sits on the edge of his neatly made king-size bed, watching you with a mix of curiosity and an almost shy anticipation.

You wander towards his manga collection, fingers lightly brushing along the spines as you read through the titles. When you pause and open one, your eyebrows lift slightly. It’s a shoujosei title, and the mature, steamy panels on the page catch you off guard.

Hiori notices and shifts a little, a hint of nervousness creeping into his expression. He’s never felt this self-conscious before. Talking about his interests with you had always felt easy, but now, with you here in the flesh, seeing it all up close, he wonders:

Does she think it’s weird? Childish? Too much?

It’s not like he’s inexperienced. He’s dated before, even hooked up with others in the past. But he’s never brought anyone home. The thought of sharing this space with someone had always felt too personal. 

And yet, after kissing you on the balcony, he knew he couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else bringing you home. The very memory of Reo asking you out sends a fresh wave of irritation through him.

“Hey,” Hiori calls, casually pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion. “Something caught yer eye?”

Startled, you snap the book shut and turn toward him. Warmth blooms across your face as your eyes land on the now half-naked midfielder, his lean, toned torso illuminated by the monitor’s soft light. He pats the space beside him, smirking slightly.

It’s one thing seeing him all sweaty and his jersey sticking into his body during games. But being up close, behind closed doors and seeing his toned torso got you holding your breath for no good reason. 

You shrug off his cardigan and drape it over his gaming chair before walking towards him.

“You’ve got some impressive collections,” you say, attempting to sound casual. “I’m kind of jealous.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Ya don’t think it’s childish?”

Hiori’s hand finds yours, and before you can answer, he gently tugs you onto his lap.

“I—uh… no,” you manage, a little flustered. “It’s very… you. But I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who reads shoujosei. Especially the, um, adult-rated ones.”

You shift slightly, unsure of your own weight, but Hiori’s hands steady you. His grip is firm, and his thumbs trace slow circles on your hips through the fabric of your trousers.

“Well,” he says, his tone light and teasing, “What can I say? M’just a cultured kinda guy.”

Your arms wrap around Hiori’s neck, pulling him closer as his hands find your waist. His touch is firm yet hesitant, as though he's afraid to push too far.

Before you can process it, you tug your top over your head and toss it aside. In one smooth motion, he flips you onto the mattress, his body hovering over yours. The mattress sinks beneath your weight as he moves to unbutton your trousers, sliding them off and leaving you in nothing but a matching set of black lingerie. His gaze lingers, taking in the sight of you in nothing but your underwear.

Hiori stands briefly to shimmy out of his pants, leaving only his boxers. He kisses you again and it deepens even further, growing even more bolder. His lips trails down from your mouth to your jawline, then your neck, where he pauses to draw in a deep, shaky breath. 

Every touch is deliberate. Firm yet reverent. Like he’s trying to memorize the feel of you beneath his fingers. But at the same time, there’s a certain hunger in his touches that feels restrained, as if he’s holding back. And you feel it too. The tension, the longing. 

When his hands slide over your thighs, you instinctively move to cover them, a wave of insecurity about your stretch marks hitting you. But before you can, Hiori gently moves your hands away, leaning down to press soft kisses against the marks. There's a certain tenderness to it that makes your heart ache. 

“Yer beautiful,” he murmurs to you, peppering your thighs with light kisses. 

His words send a warmth flooding through you, and your heart races. But as his fingers hook around the strap of your bra, he pauses. His forehead rests against yours as he exhales heavily, his breath hot against your skin.

“I don’t want this to be just physical,” he says softly, his voice trembling slightly. “I don’t want ya thinkin’ this is just for tonight.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. He looks away, as if afraid of what he might see in your eyes.

You cup his face, gently guiding him back to meet your gaze. “I don’t think that,” you whisper. “And if we’re not ready for this, it’s okay. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

A small, relieved smile plays on his lips. You both chuckle at how awkward and intense things have become, and he pulls you upright so you can lean on his chest. 

He exhales, his shoulders relaxing as though a weight has been lifted. Then he begins to talk.

“I’ve never been uninterested in romance,” he admits, his gaze shifting to the window, where the faint glow of moonlight seeps in. 

“It’s just… no one’s ever made me feel like it was worth the effort. I liked the quiet and peace of being on my own. Maybe I’ve even convinced myself that I didn’t need anyone. Easier that way.”

You stay silent, your heart tightening as he continues.

“Maybe it’s because of my parents,” he confesses, his voice dipping with a hint of bitterness. 

“They’re both Olympic athletes. Together, they’re the perfect story on the outside: power couple, world-class achievers, everything you’d think people dream about. But growing up, I realized their love wasn’t the kind of love that brought happiness. It was convenience.”

He briefly pauses, remembering that night when he found his parents shouting at each other for not doing better to make him the best. His heart twists at the memory of falling down the stairs, the sharp sting of pain in his knee as he fell. 

He hadn’t meant to overhear them arguing, but their raised voices were impossible to ignore.

"He’s slacking because you’re too soft on him!" his father had yelled.

"And you’re too harsh! No wonder he looks miserable every day!"

Hiori had stood frozen outside their door, his small hands trembling. He thought playing soccer made them happy, that it brought them closer as a family. But that night, the illusion broke.

"I still remember the exact words," Hiori murmurs, half to himself. "'We can’t waste his potential. He has to be the best.'" He looks away, his jaw tightening. 

"I realized that night," Hiori says softly, his voice laced with quiet bitterness, "their love wasn’t real. It was convenient. They stayed together because I was their project—not their son. Not for each other, either. Just… to protect their legacy."

He pauses, the weight of it all settling over him again. What if love really is just a transaction? A compromise? The thought had scared him then, and it still did now.

"I kept playing soccer after that," Hiori continues, his voice steadying. 

"Not ‘cause I loved it, but ‘cause I thought it’d keep the family together. That maybe it’d be enough to stop the cracks from showin’. But it never was." He swallows hard, his gaze clouding. 

“Soccer stopped being mine. It became theirs. A chore I did for people I didn’t even love anymore.”

His words hang in the air like a confession he’s been holding for years. He hesitates, looking back at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

“That’s why I’ve always kept people at a distance, even when I tried dating. I just… couldn’t care. I felt detached. Until ya.” His voice softens, but the rawness remains. 

“Yer different," he says, his voice low but full of emotion. 

"Ya made me wanna know everythin’ about ya. Made me wanna be bothered, be interrupted. I… want ya to look at me. Not anyone else. Just me. I want ya."

For Hiori, this moment feels surreal. It’s been so long since he’s let himself get close to anyone like this. Not just because he’s unwilling, but also because his life as an athlete has left little room for romance. 

Between grueling schedules and the endless pursuit of perfection, there was no space for vulnerability—or so he thought. 

And then you happened. 

You walked into his life and unraveled his carefully constructed walls without even trying. Now, with you here, wrapped in his arms, the raw intimacy feels new, almost overwhelming. He hadn’t realized how much he craved this until now.

“I didn’t know how much I wanted it until I thought I might lose ya.”

He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he searches your eyes. “Ya scare me,” he admits. “Ya make me feel things I don’t know how to handle.”

The depth of his words stuns you, leaving your chest heavy with emotions you can barely name. Without thinking, you sit up and you lean into him and pull him into a fierce hug. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“You scare me too,” you confess, your voice trembling. 

“You’re the only one I see. Always have been. I meant every word I said earlier. And I’ll say it a thousand more times if you need me to.”

You pull back slightly, your hands cupping his face as you meet his gaze. 

 “You’re… unreachable, Hiori. And I can’t even begin to understand what you see in me.”

“It’s hard to explain,” you continue, your own voice faltering under the weight of your honesty. 

“You leave me speechless, and yet I could talk about you forever. Getting to know you these past months—through games, through work—it’s felt unreal, like something out of a movie. And that scares me because liking someone like you feels impossible for someone like me.”

His brows furrow, and you see the protest forming on his lips, but you press a gentle kiss there before he can speak.

Hiori reaches up, his hands covering yours as they rest against his cheeks. His eyes meet yours, a flicker of hesitation before he speaks, his voice quieter now but no less steady.

“You don’t have to wonder,” he murmurs. “About what I see in you. All I know is ya make it feel like it’s worth a try. I don’t have all the answers, but… I know I want to try. With ya.”

His words land softly. You don’t respond right away, the air between you thick with unspoken fears and hopes.

Finally, you nod, your lips curving into a small, uncertain smile. “I don’t know if I’m good at this,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to try too. With you.”

A small, almost incredulous laugh escapes him, and you feel the tension in his shoulders ease as his hands slide down to rest on your waist. “That’s good enough fer me,” he says softly, the corners of his mouth lifting into a genuine smile.

You both sit there, holding each other, the quiet between you no longer heavy but comforting. The weight of expectations, doubts, and past fears seems to lighten, even if just a little. It’s not perfect—there’s no dramatic declaration, no grand resolution—but it feels real.

And that’s more than either of you had dared to hope for.

The soft rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, painting the room in a warm, golden glow. You stir, body stretching lazily before realizing Hiori is still sound asleep beside you.

Tangled together, your leg drapes over his, he cradles you against his chest. Peaking thru your lidded eyes, you see his features softened in a rare moment of peace. The sight tugs at her heart, but a glance at the clock reveals it's almost noon.

It’s noon. Shit. You find your phone under the pillow and check your messages. There’s one from your roommate, who’s worried you didn’t come home. Both of you share a GPS tracker on your phones to ensure each other’s safety.

miko: WOMAN I SWEAR TO GOD IF U DONT REPLY I WILL CALL POLICE WHEN IT HITS 24HRS

miko: IS THIS WHERE UR BODY IS BURIED?!

[image attachment]

Attached is a screenshot of your geolocation on the app, your avatar image zoomed in.

miko: if u hooked up with a guy, do a sister a favor and tell me in advance!

miko: also, i want all the details when u get home. stay safe! xoxo

You laugh breathlessly, trying to slip out of Hiori’s arms without waking him. Stealthily, you slide out of bed. You’re still in your underwear, so you decide to grab Hiori’s shirt from the floor and wear it in the meantime.

At this point, you’re already contemplating going home, but you don’t want to leave him so abruptly. Closing the bedroom door behind you, you head to the apartment’s kitchen. Maybe you can cook brunch and eat together before heading home.

The fridge is surprisingly well-stocked. There are eggs, beef, chicken, vegetables, and fruits. The cupboard is filled with cup noodles, chips, and snacks. You decide on a simple but hearty brunch—pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit.

The rhythmic sizzle of the stove fills the apartment, and the aroma wafts into the bedroom. Hiori stirs awake, his hand instinctively reaching for the space beside him—empty.

She’s gone. 

Panic rises in his chest as his eyes snap open, heart pounding. Memories of last night flood back, and he bolts upright, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He hurriedly gets up and stumbles into the hallway, his heart racing.

Then, he sees you in the kitchen, wearing his shirt and humming softly as you tidy up the countertops. You’re on your phone, replying to your roommate to inform her that you are indeed alive and kicking. The tension in his body melts instantly, especially when you pout for the camera and snap a quick selfie to send to your roommate as "proof of life," as you call it.

You take the plates and notice him looking a bit dazed.

“You’re up,” you greet him with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind me raiding your kitchen.”

Relief washes over his face, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “Ya scared me. I thought ya left.”

You tilt your head, your expression softening. “Why would I just leave?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he walks over to stand beside you, his fingers lightly brushing your thigh as he absentmindedly tugs at the hem of the shirt you’re wearing.

 “It smells good,”  he murmurs, his voice warm against the shell of your ear as he takes a plate from your hands.

You and Hiori sit at the small dining table. Hiori has done the liberty of putting on some sweatpants and a shirt.

Thank God, or he might’ve been my breakfast, you think.

He takes a bite of the pancakes, his expression shifting into one of pleasant surprise.

“This is really good,” he says between bites.

You grin. “Not bad for someone who usually orders takeout, huh?” 

You pop a piece of sliced apple into your mouth, watching him while sneaking a quick peek at your phone when it vibrates with a message from your roommate.

Hiori leans back, his eyes lingering on you. “Stay a little longer.” His voice softens, hesitant. 

“You don’t have to go home immediately. I just... I don’t want ya feelin’ like ya hafta rush off.”

You smile, your chest tightening with a mix of surprise and affection. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

After brunch, you decide to take a shower. Hiori lends you a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a loose shirt. The clothes are oversized, practically swallowing your frame, and Hiori can’t help but smile at how cute you look in his clothes.

Once you're done, he takes his turn in the shower, emerging moments later in similar attire—black sweatpants, but he opts for a black hoodie instead.

When he steps into the living room, he finds you on the floor, flipping through old photo albums and yearbooks that he must’ve taken from his home. It’s been years since he’s touched them. You’re currently looking at photos and clippings from his Blue Lock days.

He sits beside you and starts walking you through the memories. There’s one photo of the Blue Lock team celebrating after their victory against the U20 team. Isagi’s arm is slung over his shoulder, pulling him close as they all smile together.

Another photo shows the Bastard Munchen team at the start of the Neo Egoist League. The group is stiff, awkward, but undeniably cute—especially the younger Noel Noa standing in the middle of a group of teenage boys. You spot Hiori between Isagi and Ness, wearing the same jersey, his face deadpan as ever. The boyish energy surrounding him makes it just so endearing.

As Hiori recalls some fun stories behind the photos, you snap pictures of them. When he asks why, you casually answer, “For my personal photo album collection.”

While Hiori fires up the PS5, your eyes catch a familiar cutout. It’s the clipping of the article you first wrote about Bastard Munchen earlier this season. The sight of it brings a nostalgia, and you pause for a moment, letting the emotion wash over you before carefully closing the album.

You both settle onto the couch, deciding to play Overcooked 2. It was meant to be a chill game (Hiori’s words, not yours) but your competitive streak kicks in, and suddenly you’re both obsessed with earning three stars on every level without missing a single order.

It’s chaotic and hilarious. Hiori doubles over with laughter, teasing you for taking it so seriously. But your energy is infectious, and soon, he’s caught up in the challenge as well. For a while, everything else fades away—the world outside no longer matters. It’s just the two of you, working in sync, caught up in the frantic fun of the game.

Then, a sudden realization dawns on Hiori. One night, the two of you were just casually playing online together, and now—here you are, comfortably (and fiercely) competing in his apartment, with nothing more than each other’s company to keep the world at bay.

The game is in full swing when a notification pings on the screen, briefly interrupting the action.

“What was that?” you ask, eyes flicking to Hiori.

A stream of messages floods the tv.

isagoat: hiori where d heck r u isagoat: check ur phone kyuuurona: check gc now!!! jintan: whos the girl raichinumbahwan: damn everyones panicking abt u rn and ur playing overcooked?!

Hiori picks up his phone, his brow furrowing as he scrolls through a deluge of messages in the Bastard München group chat.

Ness: look what i found /Hiori Ness: [image attachment link] Isagi: So this is why you were gone immediately? Igarashi: You were supposed to be my wingman last night /Hiori 🙁 Gesner: damn hiori has more rizz than raichi wwwww Kurona: [chiitan bonk gif]

Hiori clicks on the link from Ness, and you can’t help but peek over his shoulder. The screen loads a gossip article with a headline that's as bold as it is damning:

THE MOST ELUSIVE BASTARD MÜNCHEN MIDFIELDER CAUGHT KISSING A MYSTERY WOMAN AT THE JFA PARTY—AND LEAVING TOGETHER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE EVENT!

The accompanying photo is blurry, but unmistakable.

It’s you and Hiori, his navy-blue cardigan shielding most of you from view as he cradles your face, kissing you.

Your face pales. “Oh god…” You immediately cover your mouth, mortified.

Hiori groans, running a hand through his hair. “I knew someone’d see us. Shoulda been more careful.”

The two of you sit in stunned silence, staring at his phone as the comments continue to flood in beneath the gossip article. Some are playful, others more speculative:

Is the new girl a celebrity? Is she someone from JFA? Hiori Yo a womanizer?! Is Miss Journalist out of the picture? HioRizz caught on 4K Edited, that’s not Hiori lolol Does anyone else think she’s kinda familiar? Like I’ve seen her somewhere before. Hiori going public with a girl? Wild. Who’s next, Niko Ikki?

You scroll through them, a tinge of panic rising in your chest. The sudden spotlight is definitely not what you need right now. You don’t want to cause any trouble for Hiori—or yourself.

Especially not for him, since he’s already a public figure. Someone who’s been fiercely private about his personal life.

You glance up at him, worry etched on your face. “Hiori, this could cause problems for you, right?”

He meets your gaze, unwavering. “I don’t care what they say ‘bout me. M’more worried ‘bout ya. Are ya okay with this?”

“As long as you’re okay, I’ll be fine,” you reply, nodding more to reassure yourself than him.

Hiori notices the subtle shift in your expression, and without a second thought, he places his hand over yours.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, squeezing your hand gently. “We knew this could happen. Not this soon, but... I won’t let it get worse.I won’t say anythin’ about us till yer ready.”

You look up at him. “But what if they don’t leave you alone? What if they keep bothering you? I don’t want to cause you any problems this early on.”

The tension in the room begins to ease as the two of you talk through the complexities of the situation. Hiori leans back, propping his feet up on the coffee table, his fingers running through his hair in thought.

“We can’t ignore it,” he admits, his voice firm but calm. “Our lives are too connected, professionally and personally. The media will be watching, and people will wanna know more. But I don’t want that to dictate us, either.”

You nod, the weight of the situation sinking in. “It’s hard, though. I mean, we’re both in the public eye. You with your career, and me with mine. If this becomes a story, my job could get involved too.”

“I don’t want to put you on the spot, or make you uncomfortable, or—”

“Hey, hey.” He cuts you off, meeting your gaze. “Ya don’t hafta worry ‘bout me too much, alright?” His fingers intertwine with yours.

“But you—”

“It’s not just me in this. It’s both of us. So lemme worry ‘bout ya too, ‘kay?” He leans in and kisses you softly on the lips.

“We’ll figure it out together,” he assures you. “We don’t hafta let them dictate how we handle this. Not until we’re ready.”

You look at him, your heart swelling with appreciation for his honesty, his understanding. “We can keep it private for now, right?”

“For as long as ya need,” he says, his eyes soft with affection. “Let’s just focus on what we have. No distractions.”

The conversation lingers in the air, but Hiori gently pulls you into a quiet, comforting silence. After a few moments, he leans in, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead.

“This isn’t something we have to solve today,” he murmurs, his voice steady, calm. “Whatever happens tomorrow, we’ll deal with it. But right now, we’re here.”

You smile up at him, the warmth of his words melting the uncertainty that had been growing inside you. “And that’s enough, right?”

“Yeah,” he says with a gentle grin. “That’s enough.”

Hiori holds you close, his arms wrapping around you, and the noise of the outside world fades into nothingness. The article, the comments, the chaos—they’re all just background noise in your little bubble, and for the moment, that’s all that matters.

amari's notes: this is my fave chapter so far! i was originally making this a smut chapter (but i suck at writing one) and it didn't felt right for some reason with the both of them. but nevertheless, this one is really close to my heart, i love hiori and miss journalist's dynamic so much huhu anw, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask. i'll greatly appreciate it! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ (if you wanna join the taglist, just comment or send me a message!)

taglist: @inu1gf

[kaminocasey]

Daddy's Home

Summary: Scar comes home late at night to you, after being out with the firelights.

Pairing: Scar x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Smut. A lot of smut. Rough sex, Scar likes to be called Daddy, unprotected p in v (wrap it up friends), Angst

WC: 2.4K

A/N: Ah, my first Scar fic lol. And the first smut I've written for any Arcane character so please be gentle with me lmao. I love this man so much it's insane, he makes me wanna get his name tattooed on my ass. (Kidding but lmao)

Taglist Form │ Arcane Masterlist │ Scar Playlist

The neon lights travel through the sheer curtains of your bedroom, casting a soft pink glow over everything. You’ve been awake for hours, waiting for Scar to come home to you. The baby is tucked against you, sleeping peacefully, not even realizing her father isn’t home right now. 

You’ve known Scar for years, having become Eva’s babysitter for when Scar would go out with the Firelights, sometimes not coming home until the next morning. It never bothered you before. He was doing what needed to be done. 

But now… it’s harder. His missions with the Firelights were becoming more and more dangerous that sometimes you can’t help but stay up and worry. And now that you two are together, finally, it makes things more difficult for sure.

A few hours later, you’re on the verge of sleep but get woken up by a set of hands scooping Eva up. Instinctively, you grab her and then raise your fist to fight off whoever just grabbed her. You’re not exactly the best fighter, but you’re almost certain you could hold your own in an emergency. 

“Woah, relax, babygirl. It’s just me.” A deep familiar voice chuckles in a hushed tone. 

You sit up, finding Scar taking Eva into her room and then returning a moment later, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Since when are you ready for a fight?” He teases, starting to strip his clothes.

“Since I became a mother.” You whisper. 

Despite being frustrated, you can’t tear your eyes away from him when he peels his shirt off, dropping it to the floor. He lifts up off the bed momentarily to take off his pants and then slides next to you, pulling you against him. 

His piercing green eyes that always manage to see into your soul meet yours and he sighs softly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart-”

You instantly feel bad, knowing he’s only doing what needs to be done. 

“No, don’t be. I’m sorry. I know what you’re doing is more important in the grand scheme of things.” You murmur, kissing his chest. 

He shakes his head, reaching underneath the hem of your shirt and trailing his sharpened nails lightly up and down your back. “Not more important than you and Eva. If you want me to stop-”

“You can’t. Ekko needs you too much.” You murmur, trailing your own fingers over his chest. “But thank you.”

He sighs, knowing you’re right, and grabs your hand, bringing up to his lips. It’s a silent agreement that you’ll just suck it up until this fight is over. If it’ll ever be over… 

“Did everything go-” You start but he rolls over on top of you, silencing you by crushing his lips to yours. 

Scar’s sudden roughness leads you to believe that maybe he had a close call with death tonight. While you try to push that to the back of your mind, his lips make their way down your neck, his sharp teeth lightly grazing over your skin. You melt as his hands travel down to your hip, gripping tightly.

“Scar-” You whimper softly. 

He lets out a soft growl letting you know he’s got you… that he needs you. He looks down at you for permission and when you nod, he pulls you up quickly so he can pull your t-shirt off. Technically, it’s his but you wear it more than he does. It’s comforting to wear when he’s not around.

Before you can reach up to kiss him, he kisses you first, pushing you back down to the mattress with a slight force and you smirk up at him. 

“Look so pretty like this for me.” He whispers softly as he drags one hand down your chest, palming your breast while the other hand holds you by the hip, keeping you anchored.

You let out a whine, making him smirk as he squeezes with more pressure, dragging a breathless moan from you. 

“So needy for me aren’t you? That’s the real reason you needed me to come home, wasn’t it? Needed me to fill this sweet little pussy, huh?” He’s right there in your ear, licking a stripe up your neck and teasing the lobe of your ear. 

“Fuck… Scar-” You try to roll your hips against him to let him know you need him now. 

“What do you want first? Tongue or cock?” He purrs, rubbing the pad of his thumb over your covered clit making your underwear rub just right to make you gasp.

He starts to pull your underwear down, discarding them to the floor as you wonder why he’s making you decide? He knows how indecisive you are when you’re needy and desperate for him. What happened to the roughness?

You look up at him. “Tongue.”

It comes out like a desperate plea. But you know he doesn’t mind one bit. 

“Tongue it is, sweetheart.” He winks and then rolls over onto his back. “Come have a seat.” 

You let out a breathless laugh and then straddle Scar’s face, eagerly. 

“My favorite view.” Scar murmurs before wrapping his long, strong arms around your thighs and anchoring you down to his face so you can’t go anywhere. 

He licks a long stripe up your already soaked warmth and your hands fly to his hair with a gasp, gripping tightly, making him moan against you. You both live for this kind of intimacy. The kind where you have to be as close as possible when you’re together. Sex doesn’t even have to be involved. 

But it’s always a plus, isn’t it?

His grip on your thighs tightens as he starts to eat you out like a man starved. The moans that leave your lips sound absolutely sinful to your own ears. His lips tighten around your clit, sucking enough that you can feel your release coming a little too soon.

“Fuck daddy…” You whimper. 

He hums roughly and the sound reverberates throughout your entire lower half, making you squirm. You look down at him and he throws you a wink, making you shake your head at him, amused. 

One of his hands leaves your thighs so that he can run it up your stomach and then

grope your breast again. Your hand falls to his, letting him know exactly how to touch you. He doesn’t need it, though. He always just knows how you need him. His grip tightens, making a breathless whimper leave your mouth.

Scar’s tongue slips back down to your entrance, making the grip you have in his hair tighten. You take the moment to reach behind you into his briefs, wrapping your hand around his hardened length. He groans into you and you tighten your grip with a needy gasp. 

“Gods… babygirl… keep going.” He encourages you, letting go of your thigh for only a second while he pulls his briefs down further for you. 

You smirk down at him, stroking him exactly how he likes, deep and slow. He groans again and you give a slight twist, making his hips buck against your hand. 

“Good girl… always know exactly how to handle me, don’t you?” He asks, his voice rough with need. 

Your head falls back as you writhe against his face, continuing to pump his length until you start to feel your edge nearing. 

“Gonna…” You gasp. “Sc-”

“Fuck… do it, baby girl. Come on daddy’s face.” He groans, his grip on your body tightening. 

All you can manage is a high pitched quiet whimper as you get thrown over your edge, your orgasm practically ripped from your body by Scar’s tongue. He doesn’t give you much time to come down from the high of it all before he pulls you off of his face and presses you into the bed, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. 

“Sorry baby… need to be inside you right now… that okay?” He pleads, and all you have to do is nod before he pushes into you fully. 

He growls as you let out a breathless gasp. Your fingers press into his strong shoulders as he buries himself inside of you, unable to move for a moment. 

“So fucking wet.” He whispers into your neck, licking and biting softly as one hand travels up to the back of your neck and the other tightens on your hip. “All for me, hm, pretty girl?” 

You whimper with a nod, barely able to say anything more. He chuckles, understanding, as he presses a kiss to your jaw. He slowly pulls out, only to push back in just as slow. You pull away to look up into piercing green eyes and he grins as he drags his cock out only to push it in a little rougher, making your lips part as you gasp, clenching around him.

His cock drags in and out repeatedly, the wet sounds between the two of you filling the room sounding like music to both yours and Scar’s ears. 

“Doing so good for me, baby girl. So fucking good.” He kisses your forehead gently. “Gods, I love you.” 

“L-love you…” You whimper, digging your fingers into him even more.

Scar’s lips travel down your jaw to your neck, licking in a way that sends goosebumps down your body. His licks turn into sucking and you can’t help but clench around him, which makes him growl lowly, his grip on you tightening even more. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you, pretty girl?” He smirks with a darkened look while he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look him in the eyes.

You nod slowly and he glances down at your parted lips. 

“That’s what I thought.” He nods, sitting up, pulling out of you suddenly, making you miss the full feeling he gives you. 

“Wait-” You sit up with him. “I’m-” 

Before you can even finish what you were trying to say, Scar pushes you down onto your front with a growl so that your face is buried in his pillow, forcing you to inhale the smell of him on his pillow. His foresty scent has always been intoxicating to you. 

You moan softly while he trails his sharp nails down your back again, teasing you before placing a swift smack to your ass. You gasp, looking back at him with need in your eyes and then find him smirking down at your naked form. 

“Tell me how much you missed me.” He whispers. 

“I missed you…” You whimper. “So much… I always do.” 

He leans down and places kisses down your spine before he retracts his nails, gripping your hip with one hand while guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance with the other. 

“Scar… please.” You plead. 

He pushes into you without another word. There’s no slowness to it this time as he pushes in fully, burying a soft growl in your neck as he leans over you, pushing you further into the mattress. 

“Fuck, I missed you too, baby.” He whispers. “Couldn’t wait to come home and wrap my arms around you…” 

You can hear the fear in his voice and you know right then that there was in fact a close call with death tonight. 

“Use me…” You whisper, knowing he needs it. 

He tilts his head for a moment before asking if you’re sure.

You nod. “Please.” 

“I won’t be gentle…” He warns you.

“I know.” You’re betting on it. 

He lets out a breathless chuckle, kissing your shoulder. “Tell me to stop if you need me to.” 

You nod, understanding. “I will.”

“Good girl.” He gives your hip a squeeze and sits up on his knees, still buried inside of you. 

As promised, he pulls out and then roughly pushes in with a dangerous growl. His hands move from the safety of your hips to the flesh of your ass, gripping so tightly you know there will be bruises in the morning. And that’s alright. You know he needs this.

He goes almost silent as he slams his hips against you repeatedly. The only sounds in the room are his growls, your whimpers, and the soaked sounds leaving your pussy.

One of his hands leaves your ass to trail up into your hair to grip tightly, pulling your head to the side so he can see your face. You look up at him as best as you can, your mouth open, practically drooling from how good he’s making you feel. 

“Need to fill you…” He grunts, desperately.

You nod with a soft moan, clenching around him. He smirks again and slams against you roughly.

“You love it, don’t you?” He growls. “Being full of my cum.”

“Y-yes… please…” You whimper. 

He groans at the sound and you can tell he’s close by the way his head falls back and his eyes squeeze shut. You know he’s trying to savor the feel of you around him. 

“Cum in me daddy…” Your voice sounds broken, desperate even… 

But it works. His hips stutter and his hand on your hair releases as both hands grip your hips again, squeezing tightly as he falls on top of you, pressing you even more into the mattress. He groans as he paints your walls with himself, filling you as full as he possibly can. 

He holds you there like that for a moment, holding it inside of you and you can’t help but smile. 

“You okay?” You ask, softly, after a moment. 

He nods and then slips out of you, falling to the bed as he pulls you into his arms, kissing your head. “Yeah… I’m alright. Are you?” 

“I’m perfect.” You murmur, kissing his chest. 

“That you definitely are, sweetheart.” He smirks.

“Do you want to talk about what happened while you were gone?” You ask, softly.

“Nah… Just had a close call, is all. Couldn’t wait to come home to you and Eva…” He mumbles, pressing his lips to your hair and holding them there. 

You nod, understanding. “I’m glad you came home to us.”

“Me too.” He nods and then pulls you even tighter against him, needing your comfort.

You wrap your arms around his large frame as much as you can and squeeze. He lets out a content sigh.

“I hope you know I’ll always fight to come home to you.” He tells you in an apologetic tone. You nod. “I know that.”

“I love you…” He whispers, brushing his lips against yours. “More than you could ever know.”

“I love you too.” You whisper back, smiling against his lips. 

A few moments later, he’s asleep in your arms and you don’t even care that you’re in an awkward position. All you care about is that for now, he’s home safe with you. Tags: @moonstrider9904 @justanothersadperson93 @idledreams

[captain-hawks]

hiii Dee!! for your holiday drabbles, maaayybeeee accidentally standing under mistletoe with Meian? 🤭

no questions asked 🎀 meian shugo x f!reader

Spending Christmas Eve with your cheating ex-fiancé is no longer an option, so a party at Atsumu's will just have to do.

1.3k — msby manager!reader, angst and fluff

It’s a little embarrassing—thinking about how you should be out for dinner with your fiancé and his parents right now. 

How you should be planning a wedding that’ll take place in the new year. 

How, instead, you’re standing in the middle of Miya Atsumu’s apartment wearing the same red dress you picked out for a very different occasion, ring finger now entirely devoid of a weight you were once familiar with for the past five months.

While the Black Jackals tried not to pry into the mortifying details of your breakup when you showed up for practice uncharacteristically late one morning two weeks ago with eyes ringed red after a sleepless night, Bokuto, Hinata, and Atsumu were all wholly insistent that their team manager couldn’t spend Christmas Eve alone. 

(They’d let Coach Foster off easy when he politely declined the invite to tonight’s party, but you? Not so much.)

(Bokuto’s known you since your Fukurodani days, after all, since you were a year ahead of him on the girl’s volleyball team.)

Which now finds you here, leaning against the doorway that separates the living room from the kitchen, fingers curled loosely around the sweaty neck of a bottle of beer. 

“I never liked him, ya know,” Atsumu’s voice interrupts your thoughts. 

You turn to face the setter, brows raised in mock amusement. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

You met Ren a year or so after you started working for MSBY, after you’d already grown close with the team, and he got down on one knee just over six months later. 

And now—

“He never liked showin’ his face at games, that cheatin’ bastard. He probably knew we’d see it on his stupid face and pummel his ass.”

Sighing, you nod in a disconnected way, taking a swig from your bottle before placing it down on a table nearby. 

You hadn’t gotten into the rest of the details—how the marketing executive had been sleeping with his eighteen-year-old intern for the entirety of your relationship.

How he was only proposing to you to appease his father for the sake of inheriting his company.

How everything was a lie—

How—

“Atsumu.”

Something prickles along the back of your neck at the sound of Meian’s voice, his tone stern as he approaches.

Atsumu perks up. “And I bet Meian woulda really loved to beat his—”

“Bokuto’s two seconds from puking on your bed,” Meian cuts him off brusquely, sliding into the spot where the blonde was standing as he scurries off, eyes going wide in concern.

You shake your head, offering a genuine smile to the team captain and trying to ignore the long-ignored warmth that rustles in your chest as he looks at you.

“Really?”

He shakes his head, the curve of his mouth matching your own. “Nah, but I know he gets annoying when he’s drunk. And I know that’s the last thing you want to talk about right now.”

Meian has always had a way of reading you, of knowing what you need. 

And you know that, logically, it’s just something that comes naturally to him as a captain. He does it with his team all the time.

But it still does something odd to your fragile heart anyway—the way he notices you.

Bokuto’s sworn this secret (which you accidentally shared after too many drinks one night) to the grave, this stupid little crush that you have on the team captain. One that sprouted long before Ren came into the picture.

One that you were quick to pluck, to try digging out at the roots before it could blossom. 

Part of you is loath to admit that you were inclined to reciprocate Ren’s advances solely in an effort to get over these feelings. 

Feelings that came boiling right back to the surface the night after that teary-eyed practice when your phone lit up with a text from the captain.

MEIAN: I’m not going to ask about things you’re not ready to answer. MEIAN: But if you need help, a hand, or anything, let me know, and I’m there.  MEIAN: No questions asked.

Meian stayed true to his word when you subsequently texted him an address and asked him to bring his pick up truck. 

He didn’t dig for details when you swung open the door to your shared apartment with Ren and gestured at the boxes you’d packed. 

Truthfully, you didn’t know who else to call.

You didn’t know who else would let you sniffle and struggle your way through it all without prying. Without pushing. Without batting an eye when you asked if he could grab things from the closet you couldn’t bear to look back into again. 

Without asking for all of the sordid details of your fiancé’s affair that still find you dry heaving in the bathroom most nights. 

You didn’t have much, the apartment and furniture was Ren’s to begin with.

He helped you move across town back to your parents place with the promise that he’d help again when you found an apartment. 

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet,” you exhale, and Meian nods in understanding as you smooth your fingertips down the skirt of your dress. “But when I am…”

He waits patiently as you trail off, eyes offering a comfort that’s always been there, that feels like a balm now against the frayed edges of your rattled nerves.

“...I’d like to tell you,” you finish, nervously pinching the material’s hem. 

Meian smiles. “I’ll be here.”

And it’s then that you feel something light hit your head, and you glance around to find a plastic sprig of mistletoe rolling away on the floor. 

“Really?” you choke out a weak laugh.

You don’t immediately look up at Meian. Because while it feels almost childish, the back of your neck burns anyway with the implication behind the silly tradition. 

It wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve found yourself wondering what his lips would feel like against your own. Wondering if he’d cup the back of your head or stroke your jaw. If he’d part the seam of your lips with his tongue and run his thumb against your chin as you melt into his touch. 

Wondering what it would feel like to jump into his arms after a win, to wrap your legs around his waist, to drag your fingers through his sweaty, messy hair and laugh in a mess of tongue and teeth as someone tells you both to get a room while he presses you up against a wall—

You’re tugged away from that train of thought by the feeling of Meian’s large hand taking your own, and your eyes go wide as he lifts your knuckles to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to them.

“Rules are rules,” he shrugs, offering you a lopsided grin that has no right being that handsome under the multi-colored glow of string lights that adorns the living room.

Overcome by a fleeting surge of confidence as your heart flutters wildly in your chest, your fingers find a home curled in the collar of Meian’s button-down shirt before you can think better of it.

“Captain, I thought you followed rules to a T,” you tease in a voice that feels almost foreign on your lips.

But you’re too caught up in the moment to second guess yourself.

Meian leans in as you tug him closer, and you sway a little, steadied only by his hand as it comes to rest against your waist. Gently, featherlight—as if he’s still waiting for you to change your mind.

He quietly says, “You’re the manager here, maybe I need a refresher.”

His breath is hot as it curls against your lips in the scant space left between your faces.

Your mouth brushes against his, and you can feel him smile against your lips.

“Like this?” he murmurs, fingers curling and pressing the fabric of your dress.

“Yes,” you breathe out, and Meian’s other hand slides to the back of your head as he kisses you.

[dante2045]

Holiday Spirit

Luke looked up from his desk at the sound of knocking, seeing his husband standing in the doorway. Other than a brief greeting when he'd come back from work, Luke had barely seen Parker that night; he'd had to stay late for a big meeting with a prospective client and had retired to his office immediately upon coming home. Luke was up for a big promotion, and closing this deal would be a huge boon in his favour. Unfortunately that had translated into a lot of late nights, which Luke knew was starting to get on Parker's nerves.

"Are you ready to head out soon?" Parker asked, wrapping a scarf around his neck. He was dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater that Luke found cringeworthy. Parker loved Christmas and the festive season; Luke personally thought the whole thing was overrated, but did his best to tolerate the holidays on Parker's behalf.

"Oh shoot, I forgot about tonight," Luke lied. He'd remembered their plans, but had no intention of fulfilling them. He hoped that playing dumb would buy him some leniency.

Parker tried to hide his irritation, and was only partially successful. "You forgot about Christmas Eve?" He asked through gritted teeth, crossing his arms.

"Babe, you know how busy I've been at work lately. I need to get this proposal down ASAP if I want a chance at getting that manager position in January," Luke reasoned, rising from his desk and approaching Parker.

"So what? You're bailing on tonight?" Parker shook his head in disapproval. It was evident that Luke's attempts at charming his husband were falling on deaf ears.

"It's not that I want to! Believe me, I would love nothing more than to spend Christmas Eve with you and everyone else. But this proposal-" Luke started.

"Your proposal can't wait a few hours? What the hell am I going to tell everyone when I show up by myself?" Parker took a step back as Luke reached out for him.

"You could say I'm not feeling well?" Luke suggested.

"You're unbelievable sometimes, Lucas," Parker spat, turning to leave. Luke winced; Parker only used his full name when he was really pissed.

"Once I get through this week, things will be different," Luke promised, following Parker out into the hallway. "When I get this job, I'll be able to cut down on my hours."

"Funny, I remember hearing a similar promise at Halloween. And Thanksgiving. And countless other times," Parker muttered, sliding his boots on and grabbing his coat from the hall closet.

"What do you want me to say, Parker? Would it make you happy if I threw my career away for you?" Luke knew this argument wouldn't help things, but he felt his anger getting the best of him. How could Parker be so selfish to make everything about him? Didn't he realize that Luke wanted this promotion for the both of them?

"Always so melodramatic, Lucas," Parker rolled his eyes. He opened the front door but then paused at the barrier, turning over his shoulder to look Luke in his eyes. "I know this job is important to you, Luke. And I love you and support you. But I should also be important to you. I wish you'd at least make an effort to be a bit more festive at Christmas. If not for yourself, than for me." Before Luke could respond, Parker left their apartment and firmly shut the door behind him.

Luke groaned. He was going to be in the doghouse for all of tomorrow. He knew that this was important to Parker, but if Luke was honest he didn't really know why. Christmas was just another day of the year; the only difference is that it had been marketed as a special day for commercial purposes. The true meaning of Christmas, as far as Luke was concerned, was for the braindead population to spend their rent money on something they didn't need or couldn't afford, and in turn give CEOs a nice bonus to end out the year. Parker thought Luke's viewpoint was overly cynical, but Luke just saw it as reality.

Luke returned to his office to continue working away at his project. As rude as it was, he was kind of grateful to have the place to himself for the night; it was much easier to get things done without Parker's constant interruptions.

A text popped up on his phone from Parker. Made it to the party. Everyone's asking where you're at. Luke swiped the message away without responding. He knew that Parker was trying to make him feel guilty, and he had too much to do to deal with juvenal antics.

A few hours later, Luke's eyes burned from staring at his laptop screen for so long. He got up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, staring at the living room couch in envy. He glanced at his watch; he'd made good progress on his work and still had a few hours before Parker would be home, and decided a quick break wouldn't hurt.

Luke let himself sink into the sofa, pressing his head against the padded cushion. He'd take a 5 minute recharge, then get back to work. He struggled to keep his eyes open, fighting the urge to sleep...

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

A loud knock at the door woke Luke up from his sleep. He sat up on the couch, checking the time and cursing when he realized that he'd slept for nearly two hours. It was just after midnight; Parker would be home soon. It was probably him at the door now, locked out from forgetting his keys during his tantrum earlier on. With a big stretch, Luke reluctantly stood from the couch and went to the front door.

He unlocked and pulled it open, expecting to see an impatient Parker on the other side. Instead of Parker, a stranger stood at the door. Luke was surprised but not immediately alarmed; they lived near the downtown core, and from time to time a drunkard who was lost knocked on their door for directions.

The man standing in front of him appeared to be in his mid-fifties, with short white hair and a neat, closely trimmed beard. He was dressed as Santa, with red pants and jacket. The jacket was undone and the man was shirtless underneath, showing his beer belly and thick pecs. Luke wasn't really into older guys, though he did feel an immediate attraction towards this stranger; he was handsome and rocked his dad bod.

"Merry Christmas, young man," The stranger greeted in a booming voice, a big dumb grin on his face.

"Do you need help, sir?" Luke asked. He crossed his arms, shivering from the cold wind blowing in through the open door. How was this man not wearing a shirt in the freezing cold?

"No, no, I'm quite alright, though thank you for asking. I'm actually here on business," The man answered.

Luke arched an eyebrow. "Oh really? And what business might that be?"

"Why, don't you recognize me?" The man asked, astonished as he gestured downwards at his outfit. "I'm Santa!"

Luke had half a mind to slam the door shut in this man's face. He was not in a mood to deal with this nonsense and had work he needed to get back to. At the same time, the man was clearly inebriated and Luke didn't feel comfortable leaving him to brave the cold weather in his delirious state. Luke gave the man a quick once over; he seemed harmless enough, nonsensical ramblings notwithstanding.

"Well, why don't you come in, Santa, and I'll call you a cab to get you back to workshop?" Luke offered, standing aside to let the man enter. The stranger seemed affable to this suggestion, stepping inside.

"I think I left my phone in my office. I'll just go grab it," Luke said as he shut the front door. "I'll be back in a second."

"Yes, yes, working all night on Christmas Eve. Not very festive of you, Lucas," The man admonished him.

Luke froze, turning to look at the stranger with a newfound wariness. How had he known his name?

"Do I know you?" Luke asked, taking an apprehensive step away from the stranger. Maybe inviting him into his home wasn't the smartest idea after all.

"I'm Santa, I know everybody." The stranger let out a deep chuckle.

"Did Parker put you up to this? Is this some kind of prank?" Luke took another apprehensive step away from the stranger. If he needed to defend himself, could he get a weapon from the kitchen before the man reached him?

"There's no need for that. I have no plans to physically harm you," The stranger said. Luke felt a chill wash over him; this man had heard his inner thoughts. Who the hell was this guy?

"I think it's best you leave," Luke said firmly, gesturing towards the door. This was getting too weird for him; let the old man fend for himself, he decided.

"I can't leave yet. Like I said, I'm here on work," The man replied calmly, still smiling at Luke.

"Listen, dude. I'm not going to ask a second time. Either you leave or I make you leave." Luke eyed the table lamp beside him. It would make for a decent weapon, worst case scenario.

"You are thinking very naughty thoughts right now, Luke," The man scolded. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, bright sparks shooting from his fingertips. Luke tried to grab the lamp to defend himself, but his body wouldn't move. It was like he'd been frozen from the neck down.

"What the hell, man? What the fuck is going on?" Luke cried out in fear. He could still move his neck and head to look around the room, but otherwise he'd been paralyzed in place.

"You need to listen better, Luke. I've already told you who I am; you should know what I am capable of."

As impossible as it was to believe, Luke could find no other logical explanation for what was happening. Maybe the man standing in front of him really was Santa?

"Santa? Why are you doing this to me?" Luke hated hearing the shakiness of his voice, but couldn't control the fear surging through him.

"Like I said, I am here on business. Your husband Parker, he's been a very good boy this year. And for Christmas he wished you would be in the festive Christmas spirit." Santa snapped his fingers again, sparks flying through the air. Luke's clothes began to shift; his black sweatpants brightened to red as the loose material tightened around his lower body. His t-shirt dematerialized, leaving him shirtless and revealing his chiseled upper body.

"Very nice body, Lucas. I can see that you definitely didn't miss out on your workout regimen this year," Santa commented, admiring Luke's bare chest.

"Please, man, stop whatever it is you're doing," Luke pleaded. He was still unable to move, at the mercy of Santa's powers.

"It's not up to me. I'm just fulfilling Parker's wish," Santa explained, snapping his fingers again.

At first, Luke wasn't sure what Santa had done. It didn't seem anything was different, until he looked down and saw his legs widening in his pants. A padding of fat grew in along Luke's calves and thighs, leaving them muscled but with much less definition. Luke looked at his butt to watch his tight ass expand with fat as well, growing round and juicy in his pants.

"What the hell are you doing to me, man? My body!" Luke cried out in protest.

"Parker wished for you to be more festive during Christmas," Santa laughed, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Can you think of anyone jollier than me?"

Santa snapped his fingers again, and Luke could feel his cock start to harden in his pants. He looked down at his erection, the bulge clearly visible through the tight pants he was wearing. Luke had always thought he'd been of average size; not particularly big but packing enough not to be embarrassed about it. His erection started to retract, shrinking in length but growing in girth. His dick was now a short, thick chode.

"Fuck, man, please stop!" Luke shouted, despairing at his reduced manhood. "I learnt my lesson, I need to be a better husband."

Santa didn't say anything, instead just snapping his fingers yet again. Luke wanted to cry as he watched his abs fade away, softening as his stomach ballooned outwards into a round belly. His pecs swelled outwards, staying firm with muscle whilst also growing rounder and drooping. Luke's broad shoulders slimmed down as his entire frame was compressed, reducing his height. His arms remained muscular and toned, their definition softening under a padding of fat.

"Santa, please! This is not what Parker meant when he wished I was more festive," Luke tried one last time to get Santa to stop his magic.

"He should've been more specific, then," Santa shrugged nonchalantly with one last snap of his fingers.

Luke's dark brown hair lightened to a snowy white as a beard sprouted along his chin and lips. His face softened, his defined cheekbones fading from view as laughter lines were etched on his rounded face. His eyes lightened to a warm welcoming blue while his eyebrows grew thick and bushy. A thin layer of dark grey hairs sprouted along his pecs and stomach, a treasure trail forming from his belly button down towards his crotch.

With the transformation complete, Luke found himself able to move again. He quickly ran to the hallway mirror, shocked at his own reflection. He looked just like Santa! Though initially filled with horror, Luke quickly found himself appreciating his new bod. He was still hot; if anything, his belly and man tits actually made him sexier! And the white hair and beard really gave him a sophisticated look.

Luke spun around to face the original Santa, who was still smiling at his handiwork. Santa reached out a hand and gently gripped Luke's dick through his pants, which was still rock hard.

"Mind if I take a quick inspection down there?" Santa asked with a wink, "I like to give all my presents a final check before delivering."

Luke was so horny he could barely speak, instead just nodding in agreement. Santa got down on his knees and unbuckled Luke's pants, sliding them down to reveal Luke's hardon. Santa gently stroked Luke's cock before opening his mouth and swallowing it whole. Gripping Luke's fat ass for support, Santa hungrily sucked on Luke's cock. The pleasure from Santa's blowjob was overwhelming, and Luke's panting increased as he neared orgasm. It was so much better being Santa, Luke thought, moaning as he blew his load down Santa's throat. He couldn't wait to spread the Christmas joy far and wide.

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Luke sat up from his desk, wakened by the knocking at the door. Panting heavily, Luke quickly looked down at his body, relieved to see his muscular, fit body back to normal. He opened his phone and looked at himself in the camera, relaxing at seeing his own reflection rather than Santa's. The whole encounter with Santa must have been some crazy dream.

Luke looked up to see Parker standing in the doorway, frowning in concern. He was still wearing that stupid Christmas sweater, but Luke had never been so happy to see his husband before.

"Are you alright?" Parker asked warily. "You're drenched in sweat."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Luke nodded. He jumped up from his desk and embraced Parker in a tight hug, much to his husband's surprise. "I just had a bad dream, that's all."

"Well, I was just getting ready for tonight. Are you ready to go soon?" Parker asked.

Luke glanced over his shoulder at his laptop. The project was still waiting; Luke knew taking the night off would put him behind. Luke returned to his desk, grabbed the lid of his laptop and slammed it shut before grinning at his husband.

"Yeah, let's head out."

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Hey everyone, just wanted to thank you all for giving my blog your support over the past couple of months. This will be my last post for 2024, so wishing everyone Happy Holidays and a great start to 2025!

[augustcastle]

August isn't sure if Ryan is going to take that fishing line at all, but she surprises him by going right along with it. He knows it's probably silly, he could just ask her if she wants to sleep in the same bed tonight. It's not like they haven't done that sort of thing before but...things aren't always easy to figure out, especially when you're in this weird limbo of kissing and touching but not exactly in a relationship.

He wanders into his bedroom and cleans up a little, mostly just random clothes in places and slides into his bathroom. He washes his face, brushes his teeth and comes back out in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He smiles a little as he sees her sitting with Moon, who already has her spot in the center of the bed.

His eyes trail over the t-shirt she's wearing, "She steals covers, just FYI."

Ryan hums, content with the brunch plans. She hopes she doesn't sleep until noon, though. Ryan begins to shuffle down the hall, ready to undress from her work attire and put on a big shirt. But she halts as August asks about a draft and she turns around him to ask if he's delusional. But the second half sums it up instantly for her. She glances at his bedroom across the hallway then back to him.

"It is a bit cold," she nods, the corners of her lips turning up and she can play his game too. Ryan disappears to change, tugging a thrifted big shirt over her head. She scrubs her face in the bathroom, brushes her teeth and steps across the wooden floor to August's room, pausing for a moment.

She wonders if she should be nervous? She isn't, there doesn't feel a need to be. It anything there's a bit of anticipation about it. She's laid on his bed before, mostly just in the midst of a conversation but hasn't slept in it. She can't wait. So Ryan pushes open the door wit the pads of her fingers, walking into August's room. She glances around before sitting, petting Moon.

Much warmer in here.

[coca-colas-truck-driver]

john knew he shouldnt of let it go on, and should of been proactive years ago by getting dean his own adjoining room so they’d at least have a door when dean would bring home girls. not that he’s even heard or seen dean with a girl since that girl, bianca, back in wyoming a few months back.

john definitely shouldnt of let it continue just under his nose, shouldnt of started picking up more cases and letting them stay in towns for several months at a time just so he wouldnt have to sit in the car with them for days on end. he knows he cant undo any of these things, sams already fourteen and seems to hate him while craving some odd sense of approval john doesnt know how to give him.

john knows he shouldnt take advantage of the fact his sons are in the next bed, with sam pinned under his older brother and his head turned towards the door and away from the AC unit and john. he definitely shouldnt slide his hand from where it was resting against his chest as he slept, down his abdomen and shouldnt slide a hand under the drawstring of his sweatpants while he looks at sam’s tan skin shining from the yellow-white bathroom light.

it feels wrong as his hand wraps around his fattening cock, but then sam breathes out a moan into the silent room, high-pitched and so out of character for his youngest son. dean shushes him, chuckles into his ear and makes a comment about not waking up dad. too late.

john can hear every word dean says to sam, like the kid wants his dad to hear the crude, loud whispers of how sam feels around his cock, how pretty his noises are, how needy sam is. every sentence feels like a punch to the gut, but it only feeds his arousal as his hand speeds up.

john should feel disgusted, not enticed, but sams so responsive, keens when dean fucks into him and surprisingly doesnt protest when dean keeps running his mouth. his voice even agrees, soft but cracking from exertion “y-yeah, feels so g-good dee- pl-ease?” it barely even sounds like sam, his tone tapering off into something whiny and pleading before deans muttering “i got you”

john forces himself to stifle the jealousy bubbling up, since he shouldnt even want claim over sam in this respect, and should of coughed before rolling over to face the opposite way like he usually does when they cant keep their hands to themselves the few days john sticks around anymore. but tonight he’d stayed silent to grant himself some gratification and now he has to listen.

“stop looking away.” dean tells him, despite being behind sam and it confuses john till sam complains that “its embarrassing- what if he wakes up?! then-“

dean doesnt let him finish, using his hand not holding sam’s hips to grab onto his hair and manually turn his head towards their father.