#keep calling him lanky please it gives me life

[ratatatastic]

"Okay! Niko Mikkola! He came in his first year for the Florida Panthers, last year. We didn't know too much about him—hadn't played too much in the National Hockey League. The Panthers were really high on his size and his strength, and he really brought it throughout the season—he played all 82 games. And how about what he did in the playoffs as well?" "Unbelievable! You can't teach size, right, Randy? I mean for him—so big, lanky, good skater. Sometimes you see him leading the rush as we've seen tonight in this preseason game. But excellent playoff depth guy that's really comin' to take this role for him. Great on the penalty kill, covers a lot of ice, lanky and not afraid to jump up in the play."

carolina hurricanes @ florida panthers | 9.28.24

[soapyblubbles]

⋆｡˙ runaway pets ˙｡⋆

pairings: dark regulus + dark poly marauders

warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, implied kidnapping, threesome, implied fivesome, voyeurism, overstimulation, (light) slapping, choking, stockholm syndrome, smoking, shotgunning, pet names, etc.

a/n: please enjoy the much more comprehensive version of one of my very first works. there were a lot of inconsistencies and issues with the first version. I added a lot more detail to this and it honestly feels more like a one-shot than a drabble now. i'll add the unedited version at the bottom just incase anyone wants to take a peak. anyways, happy reading <3

“I told you it’d be worse if you went to get help.” Regulus sits on one end of the bed, a small indulgent smile flitting across his lips. As if nothing was wrong. 

As if you weren’t being fucked within an inch of your life.

You turn your head to him, breathless pants leaving your mouth as Remus continues to rock into you. His hips slap into your own at a steady pace. How long had he been sitting there?

The air is stifling, sweat beading along your forehead and the small of your back. The arm around your waist only adds to the oppressive feeling, Remus’ strong grip keeping you upright and in place.

Your arms shake from exertion, and you have to force your hands to unclench from where they’re fisting the damp sheets.

With a whimper, you reach for Regulus, trying to find the comfort you once found in him before it all. Before he had selfishly stole you away. Before you knew of the darkness lingering just beneath the surface.

You weakly try to pry off the arm wrapped around you, but it doesn’t budge. It only tightens, pulling you up until your back hits Remus’ firm chest.

“Want sir now. Please- Remmy-” The lanky brunette ignores you, muttering something unintelligible into your neck as his thrusts speed up. Your attention was stolen from him. He doesn’t like that- not one bit.

Your face crumples at the silent dismissal, the tears you’d been holding in falling just as you reach another trembling high.

“Please, m’sorry sir- c-can we please go home now?” You gasp out. Your limbs burn, they have been for a while you suppose, but still you try to ignore it, concentrating on just Regulus for now.

But he only hums noncommittally, standing as he makes his way to the makeshift bar in the corner of the room. Regulus rubs his jaw in mock thought, scrutinizing the scene before him while he pours himself a glass of firewhiskey. The smell of cinnamon saturates the air, adding to the heavy atmosphere.

“Thought you wanted to come here-“ He gestures around the room, lazily draping himself on the nearby armchair. “For help.” The last word is said with a sneer and laced with so much venom that you balk.

Even though you can tell he’s done arguing about it, you still sob out: “I’ll be good- promise.”

You hear Sirius let out a scoff. He’s leaning against the headboard, his shirt unbuttoned and a lit cigarette in hand, doing nothing but watching as his friends ruin you.

He’d been the one to call Regulus when you came running to their house, barefoot and in nothing but a frail, white nightgown. “You’re already being good here, pup- s’no use in leaving.” He makes his way towards you, squishing your cheeks together, your lips forming an o-shape.

He blows smoke into your mouth, smirking when you cough at the burn. “Y’already gonna be punished anyway, might as well do that here- ain’t that right Reggie?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, breaking his normally composed demeanor. “Don’t call me-”

“Hush, I can’t focus when you lot keep talkin.” James' speech is slurred as he speaks up, moving his head slightly from between your legs. He pays no mind to the way Remus pumps in and out of you. His mouth is so close to where the two of you meet that you can feel his cool breath against your clit as he talks.

“S’annoying.”  

You clench around Remus at the feeling, and the man in question groans, giving you a particularly rough thrust.

James goes back to work at that, humming softly as he drinks in yours and Remus’ juices. You let out a another strangled moan, instinctively trying to tilt your hips away.

Instantly Sirius’ face darkens with anger, “Uh-uh, I don’t think so puppy.” A hand shoots out to grab the base of your neck as James’ hands grip the front of your thighs tightly.

“Don’t fuckin’ run away from him- you understand?” 

You nod shakily, chest rising and falling quickly as you watch him with unseeing eyes.

“Just take it like a good girl, princess.” James cooes, lightly nibbling on the inside of your thigh. You let out a startled yelp.

“What d’you say bunny?” Remus asks from behind you, hips slowing as he tries to find that spot. Trying to coax the words out of you. You whine, unable to answer until Sirius gingerly slaps your cheek, raising a sharp brow at you.

“M’sorry- m’so sorry Jamie.” Your head is spinning, an ache growing until it becomes practically mind numbing.

At this point it’s all you can focus on.

“Thought I taught you better than that pet.” Regulus chides, clicking his tongue in disappointment. He looks only slightly more disheveled than before. His hair is not neatly combed back like it was earlier, and his tie considerably loosened. His fingers dig into the cushioned arms of the chair, the veins in his forearms flexing in a way that makes your mouth water.

You lick your lips. “Sir-”

Remus shushes you. “S’ okay bunny- y’just have to make it up to him.” You cry out as he brushes against your g-spot, finally finding what he’s been looking for this whole time.

Each hit of his hips is aimed perfectly, giving you no room to breathe until you’re a gasping mess.

James’ mouth certainly doesn’t help. His warm tongue suckles at your clit, unrelenting as he brings you to that exhilarating peak over and over again.

Eventually he breaks away, wiping the wetness around his mouth with the back of his hand. A feral grin forms as he pushes the hair away from your face, cupping your teary cheeks. “That wasn’t so bad now was it? You can take a little more, right?”

Sirius answers before you can even think to open your mouth, a mocking frown on his face. “I don’t know about that Prongs- she seems a right mess already, huh? Don’t think she can go on.” He slaps between your legs, and a panicked moan startles its way out of you. 

You quickly come undone, so worked up from before, but the torment doesn’t end there.

“I think you're right, Pads.” James murmurs, as he slips his fingers through the mess of your cunt, the tips of his fingers grazing the base of Remus’ cock.

It’s enough to startle a groan out of him.

Sirius grabs onto your hips, reaching around James to take control of the even pace Remus set. “C’mon pup, make a mess on Moony’s cock- be a good little cockslut for us.”

He bounces you viscously atop Remus, everyone watching intently as you become a drooling mess.

Your set your lidded gaze on Regulus, whose self-control looks like it’s seconds away from snapping. 

Yet he makes no move to stop the situation.

“Come on princess- fuckin’ come for us. Make a fucking mess.” James growls into your ear, pinching your clit roughly. Tears well in your eyes, body tensing as you are, yet again, pushed off the edge.

“Fuck- such a good bunny.” Remus curses. 

Sirius and James mock your high pitched cries, taking a sadistic pleasure in watching you sob at the overstimulation.

Your limbs go slack, Remus panting heavily as he fucks you through it all, his breath fanning against your neck. He kisses your temple softly and you whine, barely able to move, even as the aftershocks flow through you. 

The three continue to overstimulate you, and Remus lets out a breathy chuckle when Sirius lets go of your hips, letting you fall face first into James’ chest.

“S’your turn princess. We’re not doing all the work for you- besides you still have three more cocks to go.”

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

UNEDITED VERSION

[steviewashere]

Late night fic idea that I'm definitely going to try and write at some point!!

Definitely very angsty. Steve's got bad parents. A few arguments. And Steve basically restarting his adult life. But it would definitely have a happy ending! Walk with me here.

In early 1987, Steve gets into a nasty argument with his parents. About how much of a disappointment he is, how he can't hold a good enough job, that he's just not who they wanted him to be. They tell him, pretty loudly, that if he can't grow up, then he needs to get out.

He, of course, is very upset by the result of this argument. Because he's trying his damn hardest at this whole adult thing. He's trying his damn hardest to be the person everybody wants him to be; the older brother, the best friend, the boyfriend—the good guy. Yet, even though he's completely emotionally devastated, he still goes to Eddie's because they have a date.

He's not very attentive during the date. Ignoring Eddie's comments sometimes. Giving half answers. And Eddie takes it the opposite of something wrong with Steve—no, he thinks there's something wrong with him. They end up having their own nasty, explosive argument. One that ends with Eddie muttering something along the lines of, "God, I hate you so much right now." He doesn't mean it, knows he doesn't mean it because it's too easy to just say a bullshit claim than talk it all out, hash it out as it is, figure out the root of the problem. However, Steve doesn't know this. Steve thinks Eddie means it.

Thinks that Eddie's just been putting on this interested facade to save Steve's lonely, battered heart. That maybe the novelty of their relationship ran out a long time ago. Eddie's just now telling it as it is; the same way Nancy had. A bullshit relationship, one that never meant anything. (And similar to Nancy, they don't really mean it. It's all just moment of passion stuff).

Steve leaves Eddie's. Leaves with his heart dropped out of him, wet and dead on Eddie's carpet. He leaves with bile in the back of his throat, eyes that ache, a head that's too messy to sort through. And then, the only idea that becomes clear to him: he has to get out.

Get out of Hawkins.

Because if Eddie was thinking something like that all along, who else has been thinking the same thing? Dustin? Max? Robin?

He goes to work. Submits a letter of resignation. Gives the courtesy of two more weeks. And then...

He packs all that he thinks he needs in a couple bags: a backpack and a duffel bag. He sells his car, the only money he now has to his name, plus whatever his last Family Video paycheck is. Steve gets on the closest bus, one that'll take him to a shuttle, and he takes a train out of Indiana.

Goes west. Goes to a shitty neighborhood in Sacramento, as far as he can get. He got the transfer request sent over to a Family Video here, he'll start there soon. He stays in a hotel for a couple nights, a couple nights before he finds a last minute lease for a shitty apartment.

And he just stays there. Stays in Sacramento.

He calls Robin's house once on a payphone, that way he can't be tracked. Robin's not home when he calls. He gives a message to her mom: "Tell Robin that I'm sorry. And...and that I love"—he'd sigh—"Yeah. Yeah, just tell her that I'm sorry, please. I did what I had to." He hangs up, doesn't give another way for him to be contacted and he moves on.

Some years pass. He hasn't been taking care of himself all that well, it's noticeable in how he looks. Scraggly facial hair, heavy eyes, lanky and skinny body, he's mowed down most of his hair. Just looks like an imposter in his own skin. He's working a different dead-end retail job—some supermarket, one that's owned by a corporation, he's one in thousands; somebody not cared for. His social life is nothing. He's weird around other people, weird in general; trauma that's been left unsolved, nightmares that keep him awake (so his neighbors now have a vendetta against him), stares too hard, doesn't like to talk anymore. He's hollow. A man who nobody knows, no connotations, no stupid hierarchies or nicknames attached to him. He's just Steve Harrington, some guy.

Yet, in the time he's been there, he takes up a few hobbies. Ones that work well with his secluded lifestyle. He picks up painting and photography. Things he never thought he'd be interested in. But...but he gets too bored, so he tries.

Finds out that he's good. Finds out that he's good enough for his own small studio space. For a small exhibit in the local art museum. And there, on the floor of his exhibit, idling between people who want to know more about the guy that keeps showing up in his paintings: brown eyes and pink mouth and smiles that are too big for his face; and the woman: a bob with bangs, crystal blue eyes, and a kindness that shows in her soft smiles; it's there that he sees an all too familiar face.

Eddie meets his eyes. Older, grown into his body, same brown eyes, same long curly hair. And there's a sheen of tears in his stare. A recognition he never thought he'd receive.

And there's silence. People passing them by.

Until, when the exhibit is empty except for them, Steve can only muster a simple, "Hey." And a smile, something thin that doesn't feel very real. Didn't want to be found, not yet. But in the paintings, he's been dreaming; he's been searching.

From the entryway of another exhibit, one that connects to Steve's, Robin appears. She's got that '90s pixie. And cherry stained lips. Grunge eyeshadow and an ill fitting, hole-riddled t-shirt that Steve slowly realizes is one he wore; those red Converse from Scoops, faded black Sharpie, but the only text that's still dark (as if it's been written over and over) is one he put there: "Dingus was here". She doesn't even speak. Only knows. Tripping over her own feet, dashing across the waxed floor, sliding across it with clumsy limbs. Crashing straight into Steve, hefting him up in her arms, squeezing him so tight he can't breathe.

When she places him back down on the ground, standing side by side with Eddie, the two of them simply staring at him in awe and relief, Eddie finally speaks for the two of them.

He fucking speaks. His voice is dripping with relief, yearning rich and honey-sweet in the vowels. Words full of love that's been stirring slow like a stew in his heart, thick and clogging.

"There you are, sweetheart. There you are."

[arachnoia]

Hobie with a tall thick reader like Megan Pete :P

Lanky skinny guy x Tall big booty country girl troupe >>>

Nsfw/Sfw Who knows

megan is literally mother pls. that trope is so fucking cute i’m in love. anon you’re so smart 🤭

tags- nsfw/sfw headcanons, afab! reader, unprotected sex, head-giving, p in v, i don’t know if this is good but requests are opennn (lowk wanna do a miguel one with a trope and nsfw/sfw but idk 🥲)

- im absolutely fucking certain he would call you a stallion. you told him once that people in high school called you a stallion and thought they were being rude for calling you a horse.

- once he found out what “stallion” meant, he started bragging to everyone he knew that his gf was a “stallion” which also confused some who didn’t know what it means.

- he would def be all over you when it comes to praising curves and and would be the type to try to match energy when it comes to confidence.

- as I said, he would def be all over you with praises, especially in your sex life and would have you as a top (with him being the occasional switch) but loves how sexy you look being in charge while riding him. (bondage is something he is into with you and enjoys it along with you straddling him…)

“you’re such a good boy for me, baby,” you cooed, caressing his face. he let out a breathless moan as you moved your hips on top of his thighs, him being buried deep inside you as you kept riding him slowly. “please, my love. you’re so beautiful…so fucking beautiful” he whispered shakily, eyes shut. he felt pain from not being able to touch and caress you due to his hands being tied on the bed frame. you started to move your hips even faster, stifling a moan from how he felt in you. “you’re so good, babe. so good for me…”

- the vibe from you two would be like that one justin bieber vid where he’s with nicki and in one part of the vid he’s like “I got my drivers license” trying to hit her up and she’s like “can you handle curves?” that would essentially be you two in a nutshell except hobie would be more of a tease to you and say something like “idk can I?” — but he loves your curves.

- there’s something about you that he loves but he can’t put his finger on it. other than your curves, he just loves your confidence and personality. opposites attract and that’s what you two are. the sun to his moon, the hot to his cold. him being from a metropolitan city and you being from the country. you’re exactly what he needs for him to stay balanced.

- as you know how to handle him and keep him balanced, he can handle you pretty good as well. even though he loves having you in charge, there are moments where he can’t help but fuck your brains out.

“oh my fucking god-“ you cried, gripping the kitchen counter as you felt your boyfriend fuck you from behind, immense euphoria hitting you like a goddamn train. you felt like a mess under him when he was finally in control. it was your 3rd round and you felt tired as fuck, cum already spilling from your pussy and onto your thighs from the two previous rounds. “fuck…” he whispered, loving the way you clench around him and having you in almost tears. he started caressing your ass before spanking it hard. he loved fucking you from the back just to feel on your ass in front of him. his thrusts started turning sloppy and inconsistent, finally finishing inside you and leaning forward to whisper to you, mumbling incoherently, “you did so good, love.”

- you’re his bright sun. the person who can put up with his compulsivity and inconsistencies. amongst all the inconsistency, the only thing he’s consistent of is how he cares for you. always looks out for you even during his missions as spider-punk.

- that being said, aftercare is great. although he might be a bit overreacting and reaching at times, he still tries to make sure you feel good after sex.

“hobie baby, I said I’m fine,” you smiled. he had given you a few seconds to compose yourself, going to the bathroom. once you raised yourself a bit from the counter and could form a sentence, he tried to carry you. “but i don’t want you to hurt yourself if you’re sore,” you rolled your eyes as he ended that with a “mhmmm” to stroke his ego. “I can walk just fine.” he gave you a look before placing you gently on your shared bed to clean you up.

.

.

masterlist

[nonotnolan]

The Great Gym Shift

Day 15 of life after the body swapping incident that affected downtown Washington DC, and life was still weird as shit.  Some people were calling it the Great Shift-- a government cover-up for a science experiment gone wrong.  I don’t think a two mile radius really deserves a “Great” moniker but I had to admit it was catchy.  Others were calling it a terrorist bioweapon meant to cause havoc across the nation’s government.  That did seem possible, but the terrorists had terrible aim if that was the case.

A few people even said it was a plan to put key politicians into younger, healthier bodies, but... I know for a fact that one isn’t true.  I was there at ground zero when the swap occurred, working as a personal trainer at the gym.  All those desirable bodies, mine included, went to some of the most pathetic white collar workers you could imagine.  Whatever happened, it was definitely an accident.

It’s been a month, and I still haven’t gotten used to my reflection.  I hope I never do, to be honest.  The government is working on getting this whole mess resolved, and I can only hope it will be sooner rather than later.  I’ve never had hair this long, and I am in desperate need a of a haircut.  Since it’s not my body, I’d have to fill out a requisition form, and I keep hoping it won’t come to that.  

One of the first things the Government did was send in the National Guard to put everyone affected into a quarantined hotel area, and then they started drowning us in regulations and paperwork.  I’m still working as a personal trainer... only now most of my clients are lazy office drones.  Those desirable bodies I mentioned?  I’m in charge of making sure their new owners keep them in shape.  I’m slowly losing my sanity.

“Mitch!  What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” I said, walking out into our shared kitchen.  Uncle Sam was putting us up in some very nice accommodations, I had to admit, but my clients-turned-roommates left a lot to be desired.

“C’mon Grady, it’s Saturday,” he said, as if that was supposed to be an answer.  I kept starting at him until he continued.  “Saturday is my self-care day, and today that means Netflix and cookies.  I don’t see what the big deal is...”

“Absolutely not,” I said, holding out my hand.  “Give me those, that is way too many calories for one serving.  We’re sharing those with the whole floor.”  He rolled his eyes and sighed at me, but at least he obeyed me.  I can’t help but feel self-conscious bossing all of these men around, especially when they’re large enough to beat me to a pulp if they knew how to leverage their strength.  The real Mitch was a lanky college intern who had no idea how to build or maintain muscle mass.  Russ would’ve had a heart attack if he was here to see even half the things Mitch wanted to do in that body.

As I walked the plate of cookies out to the common area, I couldn’t help but notice that Larry was still sitting at his room’s computer desk, shirtless and surrounded by a few wadded tissues.  Gross, but... I’ve seen Larry’s old body.  I can’t entirely blame the old pervert.  “Please tell me you didn’t stay up all night watching porn again.”

He just smiled at me, his bloodshot eyes telling me everything that I needed to know.  “So what if I did, Grady, it’s Saturday.  The fitness schedule you made for me says I don’t have to work out today, and a sleep schedule isn’t a part of the body cohabitation contract we all signed.  As long as I still eat three healthy meals today, you can’t make me do anything.  So how about giving me some privacy?”  He was right, of course.  Larry was one of my most frustrating clients, because he knew exactly how to do the bare minimum and nothing more.  Tana was one of the gym’s biggest over-achievers, so seeing his body do a complete 180 had been quite the adjustment.

I knew better than to engage with him right now-- better to save my strength for fights that I would be able to win.  I set the cookies down in our shared kitchen, waved at a few of the other guys, and retreated back to the bedroom I shared with one other man.

Simon smiled at me, and I could feel my frustrations starting to lift away.  “Good morning, Grady.  Rough start?” he asked, looking up from his book.  Simon was a licensed psychologist who happened to be at a nearby Industry Convention when the Great Shift happened, and I was so glad to have his assistance dealing with all of the heated emotions that boiled over during the aftermath.  Furthermore, Simon had ended up in my body.  It was a relief to know that my body was being controlled by someone responsible, even if seeing myself each day came with its own set of weird situations.

"You have no idea,” I said, shaking my head.  “Or rather, you have an exact idea, because you’ve also had to deal with those guys.  I don’t suppose you would be up for some... stress release?” I asked, peeling off my tank top and tossing it onto the floor.

He laughed, quickly setting aside his book and his glasses.  “In this body?  Always!”  Was it weird that I was having sex with my own body?  Maybe, but honestly, our daily hookups felt like one of the least weird things about this whole mess.  I always knew I was an attractive man, and I’ve always been attracted to anyone who keeps themselves healthy, regardless of gender.  Presumably that’s how Simon now felt-- I know that ever since I’ve been in this new Twink body, I have only felt attraction for hairy men.  Sexual attraction seemed to follow the body, not the inhabitant.

“Do you ever worry that we’re complicating things?” Simon asked.  “For whenever the government is able to switch everyone back into the right bodies, I mean.  They’ve told our loved ones that we’re in quarantine, but... how can we go back to normal life when this is all over?”  I understood where he was coming from-- his real body was at least twenty years older, and while he didn’t like sharing too much about his life, I’d gotten the impression he had a wife and maybe a few grandkids waiting for him back home.

Simon clearly had a tendency to overthink everything, and I was now used to offering friendly advice while his warm load was still inside of me.  “Honestly, I think we’re dealing with a stressful situation, and we’re all just coping however we can.  There’s nothing wrong with two consenting adults having sex.  And I don’t know about you, but... if I didn’t try to get a wide range of experiences inside of this temporary body, I think I’d regret the missed opportunity forever.”

He smiled at me.  “I suppose you’re right,” he said, as he sipped on cheap hotel coffee.  “’In sickness or in health’ wasn’t really meant to cover something so impossible.  And I’d rather seek forgiveness than forever ponder what might have been.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said, smiling back at him.  I think we both knew it was a bit selfish, but how else could we be expected to process these strange new desires?  Yeah, I guess I felt a bit guilty having sex with someone other than my girlfriend back home, but... when else would I ever get an opportunity to have sex with myself?  I don’t think there is a person alive who could blame me.

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Part 5

Masterpost

AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is about to head to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Author's Note: We interrupt your regularly scheduled mission programming to bring you... a gay astronaut wedding? Please enjoy this wedding sequence that got away from me a little bit. Because they deserve all the happiness before Bucky flings himself off the planet.

--

October 11, 2025 Houston, TX

Gale has known that he would marry John Egan for years. He won’t be dramatic and say he knew it from the first day that that lanky, brown-haired boy came tumbling into their assigned college dorm freshman year, but… it was close. It was a sure thing well before their engagement, and not a day has gone by since then without one of them calling each other “fiancé” or “groom” or “bride” (Gale had eventually accepted that Bucky would never stop calling him that). Meeting John was a one-way ticket to the rest of their life. But Gale wasn’t prepared for how real it would feel today.

The venue they chose is perfect for something extravagant. Something worthy of hosting NASA’s best and the many other friends and families on the guest list, nearing 300 people total. Thousands and thousands of dollars went into this whole crazy day– one of Houston’s finest wedding locations decorated to the nines, enough food to feed hundreds of people, not to mention a huge wedding cake, a wedding planner and photographers and DJs and musicians, flowers and wedding favors and tuxedos that cost a fortune. 

But somehow, sitting in the venue’s designated bridal suite, it doesn’t feel extravagant at all. Warm, gentle light passes through the windows, illuminating the quaint little room and splashing off Gale’s face and perfectly coiffed blonde hair as he looks at himself in the mirror. Other than the photographer taking photos as he gets ready, it’s just him and his attendants: Marge as his maid of honor; Benny; Helen; Croz; and Crank, an old Air Force buddy. And, of course, Meatball. They’ve been hanging out in here ahead of the ceremony, drinking wine (white to ensure nothing stains Gale’s white tux), listening to good music, telling stories, and having a good time. 

Gale smiles at himself in the mirror and runs a hand anxiously through his hair. Marge, standing beside him, smacks it away. “Stop that!” she scolds. “You’ll ruin it.” His hand falls back to his side, his fingers twitching almost imperceptibly, just itching to do something with all of the nervous energy building up in his body. Marge grabs his hand to still it as she makes eye contact with him in the mirror and grins. “You’re getting married today, babe.”

“You know, there was a time everyone thought it would be us,” Gale chuckles as she moves in front of him to straighten his tie. 

She glances up at him, huffing in amusement. “Yeah, that was before everyone knew you’re gay as fuck for John Egan.” They both burst out laughing and she gives him a tight one-armed hug. The photographer takes a picture.

–

John can no longer really remember not wanting to marry Gale Cleven. He’s fantasized about those pretty blue eyes since the very first time he saw him smile, and he’s made it his mission to make Gale smile every day since.

That doesn’t mean he’s not freaking the fuck out, though.

In a suite on the other side of the building from Gale’s, Bucky’s groomsmen are living it up to try to keep his nerves down. Curt, as best man, has taken it upon himself to keep the mood light, the music going, and allow all the other men just enough beer to liven the room but stay appropriately functional for the rest of the day. Brady and Murph – two of Gale and Bucky’s friends from AFROTC – laugh loudly at some joke Alex told while Rosie scratches Pepper behind the ears. He sets down his drink and steps over to Bucky, who is staring at himself in the mirror.

Rosie gently pushes Bucky’s shaking hands away from his tie and helps him tie it properly. He offers a comforting smile. “Can’t have you looking sloppy on your big day.”

Bucky laughs warily. “Shoulda made you my best man.”

Rosie looks over at Curt who, in his defense, is looking diligently through the “Best Man Duties” checklist Marge had made for him, but, not in his defense, is doing it while dancing on a table. “Nah,” Rosie says. “He gets shit done in his own way, and I know you’d trust him with your life.”

“With my life, but maybe not my marriage.” 

–

Gale shrugs his shoulders and shakes out his wrists, taking a deep breath. Benny hands him a small black gift box, and Gale opens it, already knowing what’s inside. Delicately, he pulls out one of the cufflinks. Custom-made in silver, a beautiful likeness of the moon with a space capsule crossing in front of it. Today’s date is engraved in small lettering across the top. They were a gift from Harding, and he knows Bucky is pulling out matching ones right about now. He thanks Benny and puts them on.

“What’s better?” Crank asks as he watches from the ornate couch in the middle of the room. “Goin’ to the moon or marryin’ Bucky?”

Gale grins. He doesn’t say a word.

–

Bucky drops one of the cufflinks as he tries to get it on, and Brady snatches it before it tumbles under the couch. He hands it to Rosie, who takes it upon himself to put those on for Bucky, too.

“Are there gonna be reporters?” Bucky asks.

Rosie glances up at him as he secures the second cufflink. “Is that what’s got you so shaky?”

If we’re lucky-

No. Not today.

Bucky just blinks, clenches and unclenches his jaw. “No, but it doesn’t help.”

Curt hops off the table and shoves his crumpled checklist into his pocket. “There will be,” he says carefully, then rushes to continue, putting his hands up to placate the groom. “But just a couple, hand-selected by Marge.” Bucky takes a deep breath and tries not to let his nerves show. He fails. He’s been failing at that all day. Curt places one hand on each of Bucky’s shoulders. “They’re under strict instructions not to talk to you or Gale uninvited ‘cept when they get some pictures. And they ain’t allowed to talk to any of the guests on the record. Marge had ‘em sign a bunch of shit.”

Bucky nods and looks Curt in the eye. “Thanks.”

Curt shakes him gently. “Any problems an’ I’ll take care of it. You don’t worry ‘bout a thing.”

–

In Gale’s suite, Croz and Helen raise a toast to the groom – or, bride, if Bucky has his way – the best spaceflight partner, CAPCOM, coworker, and friend they could ask for. Everyone, even Gale, clinks their wine glasses together before taking one final sip.

Gale kneels down to press his face against the top of Meatball’s soft head. Meatball licks him on the lips, making him laugh. “Great, now I’ll have dog breath for my wedding.” Croz tosses him a mint.

–

As Bucky tries to tame an errant curl insistently falling over his forehead, he hears a shout behind him and spins around in alarm. Alex is lunging after Pepper as she hops clear over the couch, a small black box in her mouth, and runs to the other side of the room just as a photographer walks through the door. She slips right past his legs and out into the hallway beyond, Alex in hot pursuit.

“What the fuck?” Bucky exclaims.

Curt is standing stock still in the middle of the room. “She has the rings,” he says.

“What the fuck!”

–

When he hears shouting and what sounds like a stampede in the hallway, Gale looks up from the surprisingly sweet little note that Bucky had written for him to read while they get ready. “What the fuck?”

“Wait here.” Marge puts a finger up and slips out the door, opening it as little as possible in an attempt to keep Gale’s sanity intact. She’s glad she did. The entire groom’s party is wildly chasing Pepper down the hall. She reaches out and snatches Curt roughly by the arm. “Talk,” she demands.

He pants as he leans over to catch his breath, pointing after the fiasco ahead of them. “Pepper has the rings.”

Marge nearly slaps him.

–

The photographer gets an action shot of Brady tackling Pepper, with Bucky’s other 3 groomsmen and best man running up behind in a panic. It’ll end up being one of their favorite pictures from today… after Marge finishes being royally pissed off.

–

Back in the groom’s suite, the four groomsmen stand in a line in parade rest, chins held high. Pepper sits obediently at the end of the line, wearing a navy blue bowtie to match the others, and Bucky swears she looks like she knows exactly what she did, and she’s proud of it. The ring box is now securely in Curt’s pocket.

Curt walks down the line, carefully inspecting each of the men to ensure not even a hair is out of place and demanding they correct any imperfections. Four perfectly pressed and donned gray suits with navy blue bow ties and boutonnieres to offset Bucky’s deep navy tux. Curt nods in satisfaction and turns to look at Bucky, gives him a once-over as well. “Ready?”

–

Gale’s attendants stand in a loose circle as Marge checks each of the men’s suits – which match Bucky’s groomsmen – and Helen’s navy blue dress, which matches her own. She adjusts Meatball’s matching bowtie and turns to Gale, who is fussing with the boutonniere on his lapel. His fingers are twitching again, the only sign that he’s nervous, even though she knows he’s just not showing the full extent of it. She pushes his hand away and fixes the boutonniere for him. Then she looks him in the eye and smiles as she squeezes his shoulder. “Ready?”

–

Gale and John want to remember every single second of this day, but they won’t. It’ll go by in a love-hazed, celebration-filled blur with only snapshots and key moments to fill in the gaps. That’s okay, though. Maybe even a good thing. Perfect days aren’t meant to be wholly remembered. They’re meant to be felt. They’re meant to be looked back on with a dazed sense of sentimentality, of love, of I don’t remember all of it, but I remember it was the best day of my life. That feeling is what will get Gale Cleven and John Egan through the next couple of months. 

Here’s what they will recall:

The grand hall is even more massive than they remember, with vast marble floors filled with nearly three hundred seats and towering columns that stretch up past the mezzanine to possibly the highest ceiling they’ve ever seen. It’s elaborately decorated from top to bottom and end to end with navy, silver, and white decor including elegant and elaborate flower arrangements. Twinkling lights are strung from one side of the mezzanine to the other, crossing back and forth across the entire grand hall, and shimmering star-like decorations hang down from the mezzanine and upper ceiling. It’s a classy but subtly space-themed wonderland. 

Before walking down the aisle, they meet each other outside the entrance to the grand hall. Bucky can do absolutely nothing but stare in wide-eyed wonder with his mouth hanging open the first time he sees Gale. The photographer snaps a picture. 

Gale is in a perfectly tailored, bright white three piece suit with silver buttons, a navy tie, and a navy and white boutonniere. With the way the light streams in from the huge windows above, illuminating him from all directions, he looks like an angel. Bucky’s perfect, beautiful angel. 

Gale grins at him, already fighting to keep his eyes dry. “What? Something in my teeth?”

“You-“ Bucky stammers. “You. You’re… oh my god.” That’s it. That’s all he can manage. 

Gale steps forward and kisses him on the cheek before really taking in the sight of his groom. Bucky contrasts him beautifully in a deep navy blue suit, so dark it’s almost black, a gray waistcoat, light blue tie, and a white boutonniere. Their cufflinks, as expected, are exact matches, signifying not only their marriage but their legacy to this world. Everything that makes them whole in one little piece of metal. 

Gale reaches out and brushes his hand over the curl Bucky had spent so long trying to tame, making it fall over his forehead again. 

“Hey!” Bucky cries.

Gale just smiles. “You look more you this way.” 

They’ll remember Marge walking them down the aisle together. She’s in between the two, wearing a lovely navy blue bridesmaid dress and carrying a small baby-blue and white bouquet that matches the one Helen will be holding. Gale didn’t want to carry one – that was the line he drew – but they wanted the girls to have something to hold. 

A string quartet plays What A Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong, and Bucky walks on Marge’s right, Gale on her left, each holding tight to one arm as hundreds of people stand and watch them approach the altar. While planning the wedding, Gale had felt a bit nervous about who would walk them down the aisle; neither of them had doting parents left to do it. But this, he thinks, was the right choice. One of the most important people in both of their lives, the person who binds them together and keeps them sane. 

This, Marge thinks, is one of her proudest moments as a friend. The photographer snaps a picture. 

During the ceremony, Bucky is so besotted with Gale that, when it comes time for him to say his vows, Curt has to shove him gently to get his attention. Bucky can’t help but laugh, and everyone laughs with him. He shakes his head, bites his lip, holds tight to Gale’s perfect hands. He’s never been the best with words and he just so badly wants to get this right. “Gale,” he says. And he has to pause, because he’s worried for a second that his voice won’t let him do it. 

“Gale, I knew you were someone special from the first time I ever saw you smile. I knew that I had to hold onto you, and God knows I held on with everything I had. You know, teenagers always think they know what love is but, uh, wow, I was not prepared for you.” He releases one of Gale’s hands to wipe at his face with a shaky laugh before entwining their fingers once again.

“We’ve been through so much together. And I don’t know where I’d be, who I’d be, without you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, that will ever happen to me, and I’m going to the goddamn moon next month so that’s saying a lot, because that doesn’t even come close to how in awe I am of getting to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re the most amazing human being I’ve ever known, and sometimes I still can’t believe how lucky I am. How lucky I am to be standing here, looking at you, with you looking at me like that.” 

Bucky shakes his head like he can’t even fathom what he did to deserve someone so perfect. Gale squeezes his hands tight, and Bucky tries to finish before he can't get the words out anymore. He wasn’t at all prepared for how emotional he’d feel today. “I am so proud of you and of us and of everything we’ve ever done and will do. I love you more than anything in this entire wild universe. I love you to the moon, to the stars… Gale, I love you more than any words could ever say, and I promise I will keep loving you, keep doing my best by you, for the rest of our lives.”

When Gale starts reciting his vows – “John Egan, I loved you the moment you barreled into my life, and I have loved you every moment since” – Bucky is suddenly glad he heard them last night, because his heart is pounding so loud and all he can do is think I love you I love you I love you.

He blinks away the tears that are threatening to spill and tunes back in as Gale comes to the part he didn’t hear before. “I love this life with you, John. Nothing makes me happier than waking up every day to you, going to sleep every night at your side. Nothing makes me prouder than watching you chase your dreams. And not a day goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am. Because of all the possible places, all the possible times we each could have existed, the universe allowed us to walk this Earth together. Words can’t describe how thankful I am that you’re in my life. And I promise I will hold onto you with all I’ve got, I will love you with my entire being, until the end of time.”

When Curt gives them the rings, Bucky’s hand is shaking so bad he’s worried he’ll fuck it up. But Gale is there, steady despite the fact that his heart is racing and Bucky can feel it in the pulse in his wrist. And when they both say “I do,” they mean it more than anything they’ve ever said in their entire lives. 

When they kiss, it’s sweet and it’s passionate and they hold each other like the rest of the world has fallen away. The photographer snaps a picture. 

A room full of people is clapping and cheering. Benny and Brady whoop and holler and the dogs start barking in excitement. Then Pepper breaks free of Alex’s hold and nearly knocks down the happy couple. Meatball quickly joins her, celebrating right along with Buck and Bucky at the altar as they laugh and try to stay upright, try to keep two massive huskies from ruining their suits. The photographer snaps a picture.  

During the cocktail hour, the newlyweds and the wedding party run through staged photo after staged photo with every possible combination of wedding attendants and every possible picturesque background and positioning for John and Gale. Later they’ll think that no matter how much they paid their wedding photographer, it won’t have been enough to compensate for how elegantly he captured every possible moment. 

True to Curt’s word, there are two reporters with two different news outlets. At Marge’s direction, they were barred from photographing the ceremony, but have been granted the opportunity to take a few photos of their own during this time as well as throughout the reception. Bucky’s heart is beating too fast, trying to outrun the negative thoughts beginning to swirl around his brain. But the reporters smile kindly, congratulate them, and ask what type of photos they would be comfortable with them taking. 

They don’t say another word, other than offering some posing directions, until Gale says “do you need anything else from us?”

One of them, a lovely young woman, replies “only if you’re comfortable sharing a few words or answering some questions. I’m sure people would love to hear what you both are thinking on your big day!” Bucky wonders what lengths Marge had to go to to keep them so courteous. Curt is standing by, more like a bodyguard than a best man, ready to intervene. 

But Gale nods and strikes up a conversation with both reporters. Bucky’s ears are ringing, his hand holding too tightly to Gale’s. When Gale glances at him, a silent question – is this okay? – Bucky just gives a slight nod. It has to be. But he’ll never remember a word of what was said. 

He lets Gale do all the talking except for when the other reporter, an older man, asks Bucky what he loves the most about Gale. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat as he looks right at the guy like the answer is obvious. “Everything.”

The magazine and news articles that are printed about their wedding will be kind, written with cognizance, grace, and an appreciation for everything it stood for. The photographs will be flattering and genuine. They won’t mention that Bucky so clearly did not want to talk to them. All they’ll say is that John Egan was so mesmerized by his husband that everything else was secondary. They won’t be wrong. 

Bucky knows he owes Marge his fucking life at this point. 

When he starts to get fidgety, fiddling nervously with Gale’s fingers in his own, Gale looks over at him, kisses his cheek, thanks the reporters, and tells them to enjoy the reception. 

Then he takes Bucky by the hand and they slip away to a quiet corner before they have to go back into the grand hall. Gale holds him tight until his heartbeat starts to slow again. 

By the time the cocktail hour comes to an end, the amazing staff have transformed the grand hall into something somehow even more impressive, with neatly arranged tables and flowers and balloons and lighting in soft white and blue hues. The wedding cake, four tiers of navy blue with silver dusting and white flowers cascading down one side, sits on display at one end of the room, opposite the dance floor. The topper is a black silhouette of two men standing on a crescent moon. 

Gale and John re-enter, hand in hand, as the DJ announces their first appearance as newlyweds. When they take their place on the dance floor, all eyes are on them as Can’t Help Falling in Love plays over the speakers. 

Even with some spins thrown in, they manage not to trip. But for the most part they just hold each other, breathe each other in, know that they never have to let go. Gale thinks that he has never been more in love. Bucky thinks that this couldn’t be more perfect. They don’t even notice when the photographer snaps a picture. 

By the time toasts come around, Gale and Bucky haven’t stopped laughing and smiling since the reception began. There’s hardly been a moment where they aren’t touching, whether it’s a knee or a hand or an arm or a kiss. They sit together at the table of honor as Curt, in Curt fashion, climbs up onto his chair and taps his wine glass with a fork. “The maid of honor would like to say a few words,” he declares, before stepping down and helping Marge up. Gale worries about her up there in her heels, but then he realizes, it’s Marge. She’s fine. 

“I can clearly remember the night Gale first met John,” she begins, as she turns to look at them warmly. “It was when they first moved into their college dorm freshman year. Yes, everyone, that’s how long these two idiots have been in love. Because that night, Gale snuck into the stairwell and called me. The first thing he says is, ‘Marge, I don’t know if I can do it. This kid is the most chaotic, most talkative, most energetic guy I’ve ever met.’ So I tell him he just met the guy, give him a chance, and he goes on to list every single thing that’s wrong with John Egan.” The crowd laughs, and Gale blushes as he sips his drink, Bucky acting hurt even though he knows this story. 

They go quiet at Marge’s next words, though, laughter turning to awe. She smiles at the two of them. “And then he says ‘and my god, Marge, he’s beautiful.’” 

Gale just about turns bright red. Bucky kisses him lovingly on the temple as Marge goes on. “And, well, that was that. Neither one of them ever looked back. I have had the privilege of watching these two grow up together in the many years since. From the first time I saw them together, there was no question they were in love. I think I knew it before they did, but today was always where they were heading. No matter what the world threw at them, there was never anything that could keep them apart for long. There was never anything one could do that the other wouldn’t eventually forgive. There was never anything that could break them. ‘Buck and Bucky,’ we all say. ‘It’s just how the world is meant to be.’ We can’t imagine a life where these two aren’t attached at the hip, and I’ve known this to be true since they were just boys. So, to my boys.” She raises her glass in toast. “You‘ve built something incredible between you. The rest of us could only hope to be so lucky. I love you both, and I know you’ll have a beautiful life together.”

Curt helps Marge down and climbs back on the chair himself as everyone claps and takes a drink. “Man, I just spoke at this man’s birthday and now I gotta do it here, too.” Everyone laughs. “Alright Bucky, I’m gonna call ya John cause this feels like a sentimental sorta moment. So, I first met John – fuck, no, never mind. Can’t do that. Ain’t right… I first met Bucky when we both went into the service after finishing AFROTC at our respective schools. From day one, he wouldn’t shut up about this guy, Buck, from college. I thought he was crazy. Didn’t learn for weeks that Buck was actually Gale Cleven and was, in fact, not Bucky just talkin’ ‘bout himself in some weird third person. But he’d talk your ear off about Buck Cleven any chance he got. Buck this, Buck that, Buck’s at another base, can’t wait for you to meet Buck, you’re gonna love Buck, I miss Buck.” It’s John’s turn to blush. 

“And then it was even longer before I learned that Buck wasn’t just some guy he knew, some best friend he admired. No, Gale was basically Bucky’s reason for stayin’ alive, keepin’ some sense of self-preservation through all the crazy shit we did in the Air Force. He was the love of his life, the person he had to get home to. Two airmen, sometimes together and sometimes apart, but always holdin’ each other up somehow. It would’ve been sweet except for Bucky never shuttin’ up about it. It was insufferable, and I’ve been dealin’ with it for ten fuckin’ years.” He glances at Gale. “Gale, honestly man, you could do better.” Gale grins and rolls his eyes.

“Nah, but really,” Curt continues. “I didn’t know it back then, but these two would become my best friends, and they amaze me all the time, as individuals and as a couple. I only had to meet Gale once. See them together once. And I understood.” He smiles fondly at his friends, and it may be the most genuine Curt’s ever been in public his entire life. “All you gotta do is watch these two for a moment, and anyone can tell that the way they look at each other is somethin’ beautiful.” He raises his glass. “Here’s to you two fuckin’ love struck dorks.”

The rest of the night flies by in a blur. Music and dancing and singing and talking with friends and thanking people for coming. Bucky sings along obnoxiously to Blue Skies and Gale can’t hide his embarrassment. Someone jokingly asks if he already regrets his choices but he just laughs and shakes his head, says “not even for a second.”

Gale slow dances with Meatball. Then with Pepper, too "so she doesn't feel left out." Then, for the hundredth time, with Bucky, cause he literally cannot stand Gale being apart from him for that long.

When they cut the cake, Bucky’s hand just about engulfing Gale’s around the handle of the knife, it’s messy and imperfect and they can’t stop giggling like little kids. Bucky takes a handful of cake and smashes it into Gale’s mouth, smearing blue icing all over his lips and nose. Gale kisses Bucky through it and it’s sticky and sweet and the best cake they’ve ever tasted. 

At some point, Bucky locates and steals the bouquet that Marge walked them down the aisle with. He grabs Gale’s hand, pulling him away from a group of friends to drag him up the stairs to the mezzanine. He shoves the flowers against Gale’s chest. “Gotta toss the bouquet!” He insists. 

Gale rolls his eyes. “Bucky…”

“No excuses! It’s tradition.”

Gale motions between the two of them. “This isn’t exactly traditional.”

But then someone is announcing to the whole room that the wedding toss is happening and Bucky spins Gale right around so his back is to the rail. He kisses him gently behind his ear and says “you’re the most beautiful bride in the whole world.” 

Gale groans in exasperation, but he’s smiling anyways. “You better believe it,” he mutters. Then he covers his eyes with his free hand as people gather below, and he tosses the flowers over his shoulder.  

–

It’ll go down as possibly the best party in NASA Houston history. But what the couple will remember most clearly, most fondly, is what happens after, when it’s just the two of them alone in the quiet night. They’ll remember these simple moments, woven together with love and desire and care. Body and breath and soul. The way it all feels so different from just days before and yet not different at all. 

The ineffable connection between them. That’s what Gale will cling onto, dream about no matter how much it might hurt, on those days when he’s alone on this planet just hoping against hope for his husband to come home. 

They stumble up their front walk, not because they’re drunk but because they’re delirious, exhausted and giddy and in love to the point that they’re out of breath and out of words and nothing else matters other than being in each other’s arms. Gale opens the door, but Bucky grabs him by the hand. “Aren’t I supposed to carry you through or somethin’?”

Gale tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “You realize you did actually marry a man, right?”

“Course I do.” Bucky smirks and puts his hands on Gale’s narrow hips. Everyone always thinks Gale is tall, built, broad. Until Bucky comes, slips an arm around his slim waist or grabs him by the shoulders or just generally exists beside him. Then all of a sudden, Gale looks small. The way Bucky towers over him makes his heart go wild. His eyes flutter closed as Bucky presses him against the door frame and puts his mouth next to his ear, nips at it gently. He whispers, “But you’re still my bride.”

Before Bucky can do whatever he’s about to do, Gale grabs his hand and tugs him roughly through the door and Bucky is not complaining. 

Somehow, they end up in the kitchen. Bucky opens the fridge and grabs the bottle of champagne they bought for tonight, expertly pops the cork with a delighted grin. They both take a sip. Then, bottle in his left hand, Bucky presses his right hand to Gale’s chest and pushes him back against the kitchen counter. Gale lifts himself up so he’s sitting on the granite countertop. They haven’t done a thing and his hair is already a mess, and he’s looking at Bucky like that with his lips parted and his eyes bright and the corner of his mouth ticking up in just the hint of a smile that says, like a challenge, now what?

Bucky steps between his legs, rests a hand on Gale’s hip, and looks him up and down, at that lovely white suit and the way it snatches his waist and accentuates his shoulders. “You look fucking amazing in this. But I need it off of you asap.” He starts working at Gale’s tie until it’s completely undone, hanging limply around his neck. 

Gale grabs the bottle of champagne and presses it to his lips, takes another sip, then cups Bucky’s cheek and kisses him softly. Bucky bites at Gale’s lower lip and, without looking, carefully guides his hand to set the bottle on the counter. When he pulls away, with hands far steadier than when he slid the wedding ring over Gale’s finger, he makes quick work of undoing the top few buttons of Gale’s shirt, lets the tie drop to the floor. Gale groans quietly at the gentle kisses on his collarbone, the teasing teeth at his neck, as Bucky strips him of his suit jacket, then his waistcoat. 

Not fair, he thinks, and with urgent fingers grabs at Bucky’s tie, his jacket, his shirt buttons. Equally urgent fingers twist into Gale’s soft hair. 

Gale pushes Bucky away, hops off the counter, presses him to the kitchen wall. Between kisses, Bucky undoes the rest of the buttons on Gale’s shirt. It falls to the tile below, exposing a muscular chest and torso, and Bucky rubs his hands up and down Gale’s sides. Then he takes his hand and leads him down the hall to the bedroom, gently pushes him to sit on the edge of the bed. He wants to fucking worship this man. 

They both kick off their shoes and Gale leans back on his elbows, cheeks flushed as he stares at Bucky in awe, watching him strip off his waistcoat and dress shirt. When they make eye contact, the same desperate and eternal thought engulfs both of their entire beings: beautiful. 

Then Bucky’s on top of Gale, pushing him back back back into the soft mattress. And when their hands come together on top of the sheets, they pause to marvel at two silver rings, glinting in the moonlight. Inextricably linking them to one another for the rest of their lives, no matter where they go or what they do. 

“I love you,” Gale whispers. 

“To the moon and back,” Bucky says breathlessly. And then he kisses him.  

--

--

Thank you to everyone who has been reading, liking, commenting, etc. Hearing your thoughts fuels my inspiration and makes me day!

Part 6

[grlzluvmyswag]

"Oh, my god, come on." You stand before him in the staff lounge, gritting your teeth and making a mental note to wipe that shit-faced grin right off that pretty-boy face of his soon. You irritably grab two fistfuls of your uniform shirt, as well as the lacy bra beneath it, and yank them both upwards so that they’re bunched up above your bared tits. For him, this should be adequate. It was adequate the last time, right? Men love boobs, surely he’ll just appreciate the gesture and give you what you need…? You almost groan in exasperation at his unpredictable nature and the apprehension it brings along with it. The man slinks back into the most ridiculously expensive chair you've witnessed the like of with a lazy sigh, proactively making you wish you could dropkick his lanky frame to the cold, hard floor.

"Ehhh..." Gojo taps his chin with a slender finger, giving the impression that he is "thinking about it", albeit in the most unconvincing way possible while making a face at the sight of his student in the same scenario she was in the previous week. At once, an apparently innocent smile brightens up his face, and those keen eyes peer up into yours as though you happened to be having a normal discussion. "Yeah, no, not good enough for me."

"Huh…!?" is what you yell in reply to his selfish conclusion. Naturally, you could've called that response, but that doesn't make it piss you off any less! Please, who does this cocky bastard think he is? Given the taboo element of your budding relationship, he should consider himself so lucky to be seeing your tits for the second occasion in a row.

Gojo, who was hoping for that exact reaction, grins more enthusiastically than ever. He shifts back in his chair, sets his polished boots on the desk in front of him, and interlaces his fingers behind his head. He looks a little too proud for your liking, you think to yourself with a scowl.

"I said... not good enough." He shrugs his shoulders, making fun of his agitated student and all that she's trying to do in order to acquire additional training sessions with him. His claims are contradicted by that dumb smile of his, but he'll keep this up just a while longer for the hell of it. Maybe he can get more than he originally bargained for?

"Why." you promptly ask, planting your fists firmly on your hips as you continue the heated interaction, playing right into his game. Gojo is determined to have you as on-edge as possible, and it's evident in his sparkling blue gaze.

"Why is this not good enough?"

"Yeah, why."

"You're asking me for more one on one training. You know that's gonna eat into my personal life, right?"

You sigh frustratedly at the way he forever finds a way and a will to skirt around the answer you expect from him, palms slamming upon the polished surface of his desk in a futile attempt to intimidate the man. Your movement is carried with such ferocity, yet all it accomplishes is to lure the idiot’s interest back to those exposed tits. They sway and jiggle a small distance from Gojo's face, and he finds himself beyond turned on. Enough that even his leg is beginning to bounce as a way to cope with the overwhelming urges he's suppressing inside.

"Can you ju-" you cut yourself off suddenly, frozen as ice once you register the sensation of your tender nipple being delicately rolled between his knuckles at the same time his other big, veiny hand squeezes at your chest. You swiftly shift forth for him in search of more touch even when your body's instinctual need to jolt away from the stimulation is activated. "Huh, w-wait..." before you can stop it, a soft whimper manages to escape you, and this automatically motivates the teacher to insist on continuing with an air of smugness up until you fiercely slap his hand away.

The sorcerer chuckles breathily at your harsh behaviour while he tilts his head. And to really gain your sympathy, he shamelessly adjusts and briefly strokes the throbbing bulge in his slacks, because look at him... he's already painfully hard at the sight of your perfect tits! You just have to let him get his way after what you've done to him!

"Oh dear, just drop that god-awful attitude already, would you? What I'm sayin'... is while the sight is good, more would be good enough."

"...What are you playing at, Satoru Gojo?" Your tone is cautious, slightly breathless as you gather yourself. It's only a question of making sure. You know he loves to take every advantage he can just to get under your skin. He’s already had the pleasure of fondling you just then, so maybe it’s only acceptable for him to want more from you. That’s what he wants you to think, anyways. The man huffs impatiently, crossing those long, lean arms of his.

"Tch. Come onnnnnn. Do I seriously have to spell it out for you?" He groans like an impatient child, a slight pout contorting his lips. "I want you to let me suck on your tits. Play with 'em."

Yep, there it is. Ever so determined to cross the line, isn’t he?

"…you’re kidding." You blink at the man. Once, twice. 

Gojo is bewildered. No, he's not kidding at all! If he didn't intend to act on  it, why would he state something so obscene? You look at him as though he were known for abusing your feelings or something... it’s almost hurtful!

"No, I’m not." He expresses his annoyance with an exaggerated sigh, running his fingers through locks of snow white, pushing back the strands that messily rest over the frames of his shades.

Oh, wow. He’s truly not kidding. What is this… self-entitled, utterly infuriatingly handsome man’s issue?! He must really enjoy the thrill of greedily sinking his teeth into more than he should chew, mustn’t he? And he’s just so shamelessly rude about it! Yet somehow that’s barely enough to keep you from actually, actually, considering the price he wants you to pay. What really gets you thinking about it is a quick peer at the teacher's (effortlessly aggravating) mouth. You have to admit that with those perfectly pink lips sucking, kissing and everything in between, your view could certainly gain just that little bit more oomph. And oh, you can only imagine how absolutely delectable that silver tongue of his would feel, lapping at your hard nipples till you feel weak. On top of that, the task ought to shut him up for a moment or so! A highly appealing aspect indeed.

But damn it all! If what you were doing were to be discovered by an unsuspecting member of staff or a fellow student who hadn't left yet, what in all hell would you do? Really, what would you say? "Sorry, I was just letting Gojo-sensei here suck on my tits so he'd continue to supply me with the additional training I need"? God, no! You're practically gasping for air at the mere notion of something so probable occurring, however you're struggling to determine if this is due to that sinking sensation of dread or… arousal.

"Thirty seconds." you place a time limit in a stern tone of voice, not wanting to allow the smug bastard to think he has the upper hand in this little negotiation.

"A minute." Gojo counters almost immediately, a challenging smirk curving the edges of his mouth much to your displeasure. It’s only natural for him to push the limit, after all, so how could you snap at him over something of such common knowledge. It’s not like you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into here, is what he’s thinking.

"Thirty. Seconds." Yes, that’s right. Stand your ground, you! Show him who’s boss right here and now—

"Minute and thirty seconds."

"Deal."

He could have been so considerate as to try concealing the certainly antagonising snicker behind a hand, or at least disguising it with a little cough! But not even the most meager attempt!  Without so much as a small slant of his head to keep you from catching it, it simply slips by those sparkling pearly-whites. He knew you would cave eventually, but this quickly? Brilliant, really. No, truly! Brilliant. Ugh, and if you had thought ‘that ego couldn’t possibly get any more obnoxiously huge!’, it’s very well proven by that fucking smile that yes, yes it can get any more obnoxiously huge. Of course, the man can’t help but smirk at the dirty scowl on your face as you simmer, taking off his shades to get a better look.

I am your most strongest, most incredibly attractive downfall, sweetie. Those are the words that his sultry gaze conveys as he beckons you closer, firm thighs spread out on that damned rich-prick-vibe chair to accommodate your body between them. Having forgotten that your chest was bared free, you’re abruptly reminded once his open-mouthed breaths lightly fan over the soft and sensitive skin, not failing to direct your attention to his actions. Shit, the view’s pretty. It’s all so very pretty. Bright blue eyes peering up at you, sparkling and enthralling enough to the point where you study them too intently and catch your own reflection. Rosy, full lips that fluidly mould against the shape of your breast, planting slow kisses with his cupid’s bow prominent and glistening with a thin sheen of saliva. Stray locks of pure white that fall across his forehead, the ends getting caught on the tips of his long lashes when he blinks up at you. Flawless, yet such an entitled asshole.

With minimal thought, you carefully brush the flyaways from his face, carding your fingertips through the perfect mess that is his hair. It's so soft — soft enough that it could be mistaken for the feathers of an angel's wings.

"Mmph, fffuck… again." the sorcerer groans lowly against your dampened flesh, dancing his eager tongue around your areola and barely making contact with the stiffened bud at the centre, just enough to have your breath hitching. The heaviness of his palms caressing your waist is fucking dangerous, something you feel you could get addicted to very easily. Could? Will.

"For god’s sakes…" with a deep sigh and a roll of your eyes, you let him feel your nails grazing his head once again and gently tug on a loose fistful of hair, earning a genuine moan sent straight from the back of his throat. Oh, the noises he makes are downright delicious, you could just… "Ooph-…!"

Gojo swiftly pins you between the staff room’s large desk and himself, carefully bending you backwards until your head could rest on the surface if it wanted. The teacher’s deft hands leave no distance when it comes to your bare skin, greedily rubbing up and down over your ribs and stomach like nobody’s business. He’s thriving for the overwhelmed yet delightfully pleasured expression on your sweet face, chuckling to himself before happily leaning over and wrapping his warm lips around your nipple to suck on it.

"Uh, mnn..." you moan quietly within the otherwise empty lounge, nails instinctively sinking into the nape of his neck as his tongue swirls around your sensitive bud. He’s super into it now, teeth grazing and suction differing, so many techniques directed at one area until he decides to switch to your other nipple, only to mess around with your fleeting reactions. Every nibble, every hot caress of that silver tongue has you reeling. Even your toes curl at the sensations he brings you, causing you to feel more than ashamed of yourself for genuinely enjoying Satoru fucking Gojo.

He’s hovering you above the desk, marked papers, stationery, folders and god knows what else being knocked off by the force of his passionate movements. A string of little gasps, oh’s and ah’s escape your mouth, twitching and jolting in a pair of strong arms in response to his advances. It’s so sexy, the manner in which he goes about handling your body. Rough but not too rough, quick but not too quick for you still find yourself yearning for much more of him than you would ever like to admit. Realising you’re about to start thinking of him in a different light, you forcefully lay a hand on his chest and attempt to push him off. You’re way too paranoid about being caught right now, you lie to yourself for an easier, less aggravating excuse despite having just remembered where you were only a few seconds ago. Damn it, he’s too good and it’s tempting your inhibitions to jump out the window.

"Hold on, hold on-" the man murmurs in a concentrated state as his teeth are almost taken away from your sweet flesh, chest pressing against your hand in order to get closer again since he’s clearly not done the time. Actually, Gojo’s almost a little offended that you think he’d miss the chance to get the last few seconds in on such a perfect pair of tits.

"Hey, what the hell!" a vexed whisper leaves you when he doesn’t comply, kicking your legs in the air in a half-assed attempt to strike him.

"Four… mmff, three." he counts down the remaining seconds out loud and pays no mind to your thrashing, desperate flicks of his tongue and short, gruff moans occasionally interrupting the sequence of numbers, "Fu- two… mmnnn one."

Finally, he stops sucking. However, his warm mouth trails up to your neck as you reluctantly hold your shirt and bra as high as they can go for his access, and its only after the last couple of open-mouthed kisses that he allows his slicked lips to detach from your body. Gojo can feel his pulsing cock trying its very best to escape the irritating confines of his clothes now, pushing and jumping against the fabric as he effortlessly continues to hold you, a sign that he needs to leave before he lets himself get too carried away.

"Minute and a half, bam."

"A minute and thirty-seven seconds…" is what you retort snappily in return, glaring at that dumb smile he’s sending your way.

"Training on Monday." The man purrs in your ear before carelessly dropping you against the desk, humming obnoxiously as he strides out into the hallway on those string bean legs you’d love to kick in as of right now.

"Ugh!" you grunt loudly when your head bumps upon the hard surface, immediately scrambling to sprint to the doorway with a hand rubbing the bruise that’s definitely forming as you shout, "Prick!"

"…You say somethin’?"

[laughterisorange]

Fic Length: Tangerine

Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives

Ler: Charles

Lee: Edwin

August’s Daily Tickletober Day 1 (2 days late): ANTICIPATION

~ ONE OF THESE DECADES ~

“Come on mate, you need to learn how to defend yourself.”

“Charles, give it a rest. I don’t throw punches, and you don’t know how to properly teach a man to box anyhow.”

“Ay - I’m getting better at it. I told you, one of these decades -“

“You’d get me to defend myself, yes yes, you said.”

Charles lifted his palm, raising his eyebrows in invitation.

“You look stupid.”

“Says the man wearing boxing gloves from 1899.”

Edwin pouted, holding his gloved hands close to his chest. “…They’re gentlemanly. But at least you got the time period right - mostly.”

Edwin flinches as Charles goes in for a fake punch, dancing around him again.

“Would you stand still? You’re making me dizzy.”

“And you’re making me bored, so let’s up the ante, shall we?”

Charles reaches out, tazing Edwin side. The lanky boy recoils, bending at an odd angle to get away from the sensation. “Charles!”

“Ed.” Charles says cheekily, jutting his lip out teasingly.

“You’re being ridicuhuhlous.” Edwin’s statement is broken by giggles, as Charles darts in, skittering his fingers across Edwin’s stomach. “Stop.”

Charles grinned, dancing around like a goddamn twinkle toes once more. Edwin fought a smile. “Make me. Defend yourself from the tickle monster.”

“Dohoho not call yourself that.” Edwin admonished, grinning in earnest, the gloves coming up to hide it.

Charles furrowed his brows. “Tsk. So serious.” He drove a flurry of pokes into Edwins side. The gloves came back down to protect himself.

“Chahaharles!”

“Ehehed!” Charles mocks, darting around him, those devilish hands squeezing at his hips for a moment and then they were gone again.

It was driving Edwin insane. His face was hot, but his chest was light and fluttery, almost giddy.

Charles barely needed to touch him, Edwin was giggling so much on his own, and his laughter jumped as Charles made a move to attack again. He tested it a few more times - each time he would move in quickly and fake out Edwin, Edwin would twitch violently and giggle. Charles was having the time of his life!

“Ehehehnough already! If you’re going to do it, just dohohoho it!”

“Fight back!” Charles pinched at his shoulder blades, and Edwin positively squawked, whipping around red faced, and shoving Charles back a step.

“Better!” Charles laughed, keeping on his feet. “Honestly, if I had known a little tickling,” He said moving again to scratch at Charles’ stomach. “-Would get you to finally defend yourself, I would’ve started this shit earlier!”

Edwin folded, his back hitting the shelves, as he sunk to the floor. “Chahahahrles!”

Charles just grinned, attacking him in earnest now, training forgotten.

“Shihihihihit! Nohohohoh!”

“It’s refreshing to see you smile and loosen up like this you know, you’re always so tense!”

“We dohohon’t have the luxury of - gAH - of relahahahaxing! Merherherhecy! Please Charles!”

Charles slowed his hands, rubbing over Edwin’s side to chase away the last of the maddening sensations as the older caught his breath.

Edwin shook his head in mirth. “You absolute, buffoon…”

“Ah you love me, really - ” Charles said, finishing his ministrations before patting Edwin’s arm and standing.

And as Edwin took the hand that was offered and was pulled up to Charles’ shining face, adorable dimples and sparkling eyes, he found himself thinking that yeah, he really did.

FIN

[royalsunshinehotel]

The Alchemy (Neal Sampat x Work Wife! Reader)

A/N: I'm on a real fluff kick at the moment, please enjoy this little ficlet! this one's for America's #1 Neal girlie @hecuba-of-troy

From the first moment that Neal set foot in America, he was more than aware that he’ll be in too deep with the culture shock. It would be overwhelming, and he’d learn to live with that. The risk outweighed the unhappiness he would have felt had he stayed home. 

That was several years ago, and still, New York City had surprises for him, the most important one being, you. 

The self-proclaimed “work wife” that he’d befriended since your very first day. 

Neal had never been one for work-life balance, coming as the second-born heir to a restaurant chain in London, so this was alright. And it happened quickly too, you snuck right in as his desk mate, and now he’s bringing you your morning bagel the way you like, and you deliver a special creamer only sold by a man in a bodega next to your apartment, across town. 

And there were the evenings, saturated and gloomy, at Hang Chews, the standard post-shift hangout. You’re three margaritas deep, wobbling off the karaoke stage after a solo attempt at “California Dreamin’ ” It has been a long day, that’s the only song you can sing after a long day. 

Thankfully, you’re able to make your way back to your stool at the bar, most of your co-workers had gone home, and from your expression, Neal said you had an hour max before you completely faded and got ‘hangry’. He was your work husband, in the noise and the lights of the ‘greatest city’, he knew exactly what to do to care for you. 

You’re the kind of dizzy someone can only get after pushing themselves. He knows that too. You ate that damn bagel he got you, and some of the drinks at the bar. 

He gets out of his seat to ‘greet’ you. Your brows knit together and he knows your “mystery” headache has begun to work. 

"Yeah, I'll settle up, you sit here and don't move." The lanky boy reaches for his wallet to close out your shared tab for the night. Of course the two of you shared a tab, it was easier. That’s what friends do. 

"I won't move, Mealanananai ." You giggle and Neal wants to die, but in a good way somehow. Ever since Will had seen fit to spill the tea on his real name, his drunk friends had made an attempt. His mother had been right though, it was a “right musical” name. 

Neal quickly settles his and your tab, and Tamsin the bartender gives him a look that makes his heart skip. He signs his bill, trying to subtly gulp. 

"Good luck pal," she says. He nods. He needs luck to wrangle you. 

The neon from the karaoke corner burns a little too bright as Neal tucks his wallet away and offers you his arm, 

"Why thank you sir," you say a little too loud, waving goodbye to the bar, and they wave back. They tend to do, only when you do it. 

“What a day Neal!” You exclaim, as his long arm loops through yours. It’s a great gesture, and helpful at the tattered state of your ‘work’ heels. 

“Yeah, I’m going home now.” You have a blue leather couch calling your name, and he knows it. 

“I’ll walk you out,” he says, and he does. 

You shudder in the cold night air. New York was tricky with weather, especially for someone newer to the city. Neal doesn’t flinch, he’s too comfortable, with you on his arm. 

“One day you’re gonna remember a sweater.” He mocks, lightly, as you eye his comfortable Sherpa-lined jacket and thickly knit sweater, blue. Your phone buzzes, the lyft driver is on the way.

"Keep dreaming chump.!" You tease.

"You can't get in here with me." Neal opens his coat to reveal, a likely very warm torso.

"You know I'll do it." You'd jump in that sweater with him so fast! You were drunk enough and he had very weak wrists!

"I know you will, now what car are we looking for?" He questions, but you're already moving towards him.

"Let me in!" You shout, giggling as you wrap your cold arms around him, covered by the jacket. His cheek is pressed against the top of your head. A beat passes, as the two of you sway together. 

“You alright? It wasn’t a great news day today.” 

“I’m good. Well not ‘good’, but I will be when I get home.”                   

“I think I get that.” He scrunches his nose, and your drunk self feels the urge to put the bridge of his nose  in your mouth. There was no way Neal could truly be this oblivious. Neither of you move.

“I know you do.” Of course he does! You had been flirting since the day you met him, and it was ridiculous to be written off as a ‘work wife’, when you both could be so much more. 

Jesus Christ this was annoying. 

There’s a lovely moment where your desk partner pauses, your hands warm in his pockets. He’s perfectly able to lean down and kiss you in the mouth. Maybe he’d grip your chin, maybe he wouldn’t do anything but you were right there. 

You know he won’t do it, you know he’s too focused on work to take a shot at someone technically his supervisor. He’s Neal. He’s going to be kind and treat you like a full person, who’s just as complicated as he is. 

It’s Neal, he’s going to do everything for you and ask for nothing in return. What made you insane about Neal was the fact he was just so focused on doing the best work he could, but he remained kind. Any man you met in Manhattan either had one or the other, which was annoying to say the least. 

Next Friday, maybe you should drink again. You could have had another shot before you finally break whatever the two of you are into pieces. You have a chance to do so now, but you don’t take it. 

“Goodnight Neal, don’t miss me too much.” You pout,  taking a half-step away, and watching him trip over himself to get the door of the first taxi that pulled up on the somewhat abandoned street. 

“Text me when you get home.” He says, and he means something else by it. 

“Same for you.” You half-smile, your remaining comrades stumbling out of the bar, Kendra with a few days worth of Chinese Takeaway, as she usually got on Fridays, “See you Monday.” 

You slide into your seat in the taxi, letting Neal pause, before shutting your door. You take a deep breath, from the bottom of your lungs, as Neal- your Neal gets smaller in the rear view mirror.

[tillthelandslide]

Insufferable Arsehole Head canons

a/n: okay so i randomly had this idea and i'm aware most people wont be interested in the slightest but i just had to write it, for myself more than anything haha. So I was thinking about the character Lou within my Matty series "insufferable arsehole" and i was thinking about her relationship/friendships with the guys and decided to do some head canons for each of the boys... enjoy if you do read haha

Special thanks goes to @poisonmedaddy13 aka my wonderful support system on here :) thank you for helping me with this, for not shutting down my ideas and for having my back

Part 5 will be posted soon so keep your eyes peeled if you're interested :)

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE YET TO READ INSUFFERABLE ARSEHOLE BC SPOILERS!

You can read the series here

George:

George has been her best friend since diapers, they've gone through every aspect of their lives together, that fact alone means that they're bonded for life

They know every minute detail about each other

She thinks he probably knows her better than anyone

He's the one person in her life who has been a steady unwavering support

He's her rock, the person she knows she can go to for everything, for advice, for comfort for laughs, anything

they have to deal with lots of people assuming they're something more and it has got a bit tiring over the years but theyre kind of used to it by now

she knows he would jump in front of a train if it meant she lived

he would hurt anyone who hurts her and has come close to beating up ex's of hers that have been douches (and has punched a fair few of them)

she's the first he shares lyrics with or song concepts (even more matty sometimes)

they both felt that because they were so close, whatever one was feeling, the other felt too

not a day went by where they didnt talk, even when they weren't together, on opposite sides of the world, they would still talk

there was this one time: when they were around 16 maybe 17, g had organised this big surprise party for her birthday, it was absolutely amazing, he had managed to get a fuck ton of beer and weed from an older friend, his garden was full to the brim of all of their friends, some people she didnt know (not that it matter). but despite it being HER birthday party, he had invited matty who at some point in the night had said something about how the dress she was wearing would make all the guys think she was an easy fuck... she remembered how her best friend (a very drunk and high george) had laughed at mattys words... they didn't talk for weeks after that until one day her lanky friend appeared at her door, begging on his hands and knees to forgive him, saying how much of a prick he had been and how much he had missed her. somehow they grew closer after that, he would always have her back and she never questioned that.

they have their own handsake and george knows her disdain for something by one simple fact: she will crinkle her nose up at him, he'd do it back and then they'd laugh about it... it was their thing

she was practically his sister

nicknames they have for each other: G, Georgie (he doesn't like this too much), he calls her Lou ofc, also pumpkin (when she was sad or needed comfort),

Ross:

ross and lou grew close when they were kids, they were never as close as G and Lou (basically impossible to be) but there friendship was different

ross feels like the person she goes to when she doesn't even know she needs him

he's always there for her: always

he knows whats wrong before she does most of the time

they're relationship has the same vibe as ross x matty, that kind of intense platonic love

he's her cuddle bear, someone who gives amazing hugs, the kind that heal her

again she knew he'd die for her and she would for him

he was one of the best things that had ever happened to her, she know if she were to have kids he'd be the god father

she was his wingwoman most of the time, always trying to find a partner who was deserving of his love, someone who would love him the way he needed to be loved

he felt like her platonic soulmate, someone that made her soul happy

buttttt.... when they were younger they did used to flirt... like ALOT and people often thought they were together bc of this... they got drunk at a party once a shared quite a steamy kiss (they would take this to their graves btw) but over time it kind of just fizzled out and was replaced with this platonic love, he was enamored with her regardless

they were often childish with each other, he'd carry her around the empty stages on his back, so she began calling him "monkey man" not only bc he was freaking tall but because she clung to him like a monkey

nickanmes: lou would call him: monkeyman, macdonald, mr macdonald, he calls her: sweetcheeks, rockstar, cool kid, sweetheart

Adam:

now adam and lou aren't as close as lou x george and lou x ross but he's still one of her best friends

adam is the person she goes to if she needs an honest opinion, he is the The “tell it like it is” friend and she is so appreciative of that: often the other boys' opinions can be clouded by how much they love her, adam always had a fair mind about her

And tbh she was that for him too, he remembers when he confided in Lou about his worries about carly in his relationship (very early on in their relationship), he told her how he was worried carly would leave him becuase they could never have a 'normal' relationship, they'd always be on tour, swarmed with fans, fans who (despite their sweet intentions) would always want to know everything about their relationship, Lou all but smacked him round the head, telling him he was being ridiculous, that he'd never find another like carly, someone who was so loving and accepting of everyone she met, told him he might as well marry her and that his thoughts although valid, were just thoughts, and that the realistic state of things was that carly was going to love him regardless.

he is someone who watches on the sidelines, showering her with love and affection and his admiration in his own way, often by doing simple things like "i got you xyz thing because i remember you mentioned it"

he loves how she makes carly feel welcome, always the first to talk to her and ask how she is (carly and hann and agreed that they'd ask her to be godmother)

he's not often one to be cuddly with her but when he is it means so much more

they are the type of friends who dont have superficial conversations, their conversations are much more meaningful than that

he knows she'd do anything to protect him, carly and the baby that is on the way and is so thankful to her for that

she likes how in depth their conversations are, everyone knows hann as this guy that doesn't talk much but the two of them often talks for hours

he's one of those friends that tells these cracking jokes out of the blue that makes everyone die of laughter

nicknames: she ofc calls him Hann, she teasingly starts calling him daddy, he mainly calls her Lou tbh, sometimes calls her rockstar too

[avatar0ftheeye]

Tw for described violence, abuse

Wow

y’all really liked my silly little campaign

My players and I geeked out over y’all last night we were so exited that people LIKED our story!

so without further ado, here’s part 2 of Dungeons and Teenagers!

the players begin their walk toward the town of Phandalin. 4 human teenagers, a Half-goblin, and a goose. As they walk, the kids try and press Jim for questions. He is VERY secretive, only giving vague answers.

once they reach the town it isn’t as deserted as they thought. Mostly humanoid looking animal people, all walking around doing their daily tasks.

Jim, getting straight to the point, says they should get some weapons. The players are suspicious of Jim, what is this lanky teenager doing acting like he’s the boss of them? However, they fail their insight checks so they won’t know for another like 4 sessions.

They find a closed down weapons shop, several weapons and armor line the walls of it. the party suggests they rob it, and Jim doesn’t refute

They lock pick the door and have 5 minutes to gather anything they need.

Maisie, with an unnatural 20, find 16 god damned daggers underneath the table. 10 are rusted, only one good use, 3 are new, and 3 are slightly used. Good enough, it’s 16 GOD DAMNED DAGGERS

Damien, being the rouge he is, just grabs anything and everything he can find. Beautiful bows, cases of arrows, swords, daggers, etc. life is great when the DM uses minecraft inventory mechanics

Goose goes straight for a giant ax. That’s it. The biggest ass ax he could find that is about 5x his size. Jim is fearful for his life.

Thomas just wanders around the shop, gawking at everything. He’s was a sheltered kid, doesn’t even have a phone. The most he was allowed out was going to school, so the sight of all this weaponry was a shock to him.

Alex began eyeing the armor. Large pieces of leather, iron, chain mail, and a material he can’t quite place. Though he knows nothing of magic in this world, the armor is glowing a bright neon blue and, when he got closer, emitted ice cold air.

he reached out to touch the armor, enamored by it. Yet once his hand reached the glowing chest plate, it disappeared. A sharp, ice cold pain shot through his arm and through his entire body. His blood felt like it was freezing, yet all at once, it stopped

“oi, Morekai!” The players hear from outside, “Theres some people in yer shop! Call the guards or ey dunno, get em!”

They’ve been spotted through the window! They really need new dice! They keep failing their stealth checks! Seriously guys! Please get new dice! (/directed)

They begin to scramble out the door, Goose and Damien dropping everything they had on the way out

Thomas, in his panicked state, trips over his own two feet and face plants into the floor. The glass shards from the window dug deeper into his skin and he let out a small whimper of pain, just as the door opens

in the doorway stands a tall, humanoid blue jay. He had thin stick like legs, blue feathers, and the face of a man who works in retail

he begins to comfort Thomas, offering to take him downstairs and remove the shards from his skin. Thomas, failing yet another insight check, agrees and follows him down

outside the shop, the players catch their breath. After a quick headcount, they realize they’ve lost Thomas. They must go back inside to get him, much to the dismay of damien.

You can’t blame Damien though. born to a neglectful father and a mother who would die a week into his life, he doesn’t understand why these people care about others. Damien has long scars across his face, old and faded with time. These scars were caused by his father, an abusive man who cared about nothing other than himself and who he was sleeping with that day. Damien was raised as a solider, who knows how long it would take to undo that damage.

back inside the shop, Thomas and morekai descend the stairs to the basement

“so,” started morekai, “what’s your diet like?”

“????? Excuse me????” Asked Thomas, “who???? Asks that??,, kind of question??,, what’s your diet like then man?”

“Fish and gum! It’s not an unusual question, It’s just small talk, jesus!” Replied Morekai, annoyed and seemingly offended

“fine, I guess normal???”

“would you consider your self poisonous?”

The party breaks back into the building and rushes into the stairwell to the basement. It is long and winding, seemingly going on forever. They descend slowly, trying to not be spotted by Morekai (they finally succeeded their rolls!).

as they reach the bottom, a low, hungry growl is heard. A kind of hungry growl that you only hear from a stomach that hasn’t eaten in days. A growl of pure feral hunger.

Morekai grips the back of Thomas’ shirt “you seriously thought I would be HELPING you?? After you broke into my shop and stole who knows what?” Morekai mocked, “seriously man, get less gullible”

morekai shoved Thomas into the room, and that’s when Goose took his strike

Goose leapt off the top of the staircase and began freefalling downwards. Unbeknownst to him, Maisie had tripped and fallen at the same time, taking Jim and Damien with it. now, 70% of the party was freefalling down yo the bottom of a cavern. Alex, being the only sensible one, just kept running down the stairs.

Jim reached into his bag and grabbed a pair of boots. He slipped them on and began to fall slower, leaving Damien and Maisie to continue freefalling. Realizing this, he turned upside down and began falling FASTER

Damien reached out to him and latched onto his arm, but due to the way physics work idk they begin to spin in the air, faster and faster until they’re just a circular blur

goose flies over to Maisie. Maisie reaches up and grabs his legs as they begin to slowly descend to the ground. Maisie and Goose Are fine

Damien and Jim, on the other hand, are violently still freefalling toward the floor. With a final roll of dexterity, Jim grabs onto Damien and flips him on top of him. When they crash to the ground, Jim took most of the damage instead of Damien, leaving a cartoonish hole in the floor

A surprised morekai screamed at them. Goose saw this as a challenge and, after a quick argument and a Google search, started biting his legs with his teeth that he apparently has. He gnaws and gnaws on his leg until the thin ass stick snaps in half

morekai falls to the ground, bleeding profusely. Maisie takes the opportunity as well, and begins stabbing at morekai with the stolen daggers

Thomas, witnessing his friends murdering his captor, beings to cry. He just kinda does that

the sound of his cries alerts something

something big

something hungry

out from the shadows emerges an enormous raccoon named Rigabus

he glared down at the party and begins his slow, predatorial walk towards them

the party must think fast

Jim, being the idiot he is, grabs Damien from on top of him, sits up

and throws him over Rigabus

With a strength check from Jim and a nat 20 performance check from Damien

Damien backflips over rigabus, Doing a triple twirl in the air, and spiderman poses onto the ground, causing Rigabus to be so enamored better just stares at damien

the rest of the party takes their chance and begins to sprint up the stairs. They make it about a 1/3 of the way before they realize

oh yeah

Damien’s down there

Damien screams at them as he begins to run, breaking the trance with rigabus

Now, picture this dear readers

a goose, a 6’0 goblin, 4 teenagers, and a giant raccoon I plagiarized from Regular Show, all running up a giant staircase to freedom

I couldn’t believe it either, and I was there

the players run as fast as they can. Jim manages to grab Damien like a cat and begins to run faster

With a final jump, the players make it through the door, trapping Rigabus in the doorway. They sprint out of the shop into the street, running and running as fast as they can

finally, once they stop, they realize they had run to the edge of town, and are standing in front of a giant coliseum

inside, as seen through the glass ceiling, a woman stands trapped inside a cage. She is tall, beautiful,

and Calluna Grace, Maisies Mother

[mmaurysiek]

ch1 - the Good Place Mechs AU

While this post fic contains a major spoiler to the Good Place, no familiarity with the Good Place is required to understand this post. I'm merely putting our favourite immortal space pirates (including the space vampire mum) in a fun story setting 😈

...

Jonny blinks and, huh, what's going on in there? He is in an unfamiliar place, all pastel colours and space bare like a hostel room, and in some weird getup he doesn't remember putting on.

A door opens, and some pointy-eared lanky person in an ugly yellow uniform grins at him.

"Hello," says the stranger. "You are dead and you've made it to the Good Place, congratulations. Before we begin, John, do you intend to continue upholding the vow of silence you took back when you joined the monastery - also thorough your afterlife?"

Jonny gapes a little, and gives a small nod.

It's convenient, really. That way, he can always pretend that he's figured out this fucking prank much earlier.

"It works a little differently than you may have expected, John," prattles the stranger, "but the essentials should sound familiar to you. The neighbourhood has 322 residents perfectly matched to live together in a blissful harmony. I will show you around on the way to your new home. Quite a lovely little farm, I must say. Your soulmate came to us not long before you, and has kept that little farm running ever since."

Jonny nods. Get on with the exposure, he thinks impatiently, only half-listening. A giant line of bright green text stretches over one of the yellow walls.

"I feel like I'm forgetting something," muses the stranger. "Ah, right, we've done a little experiment on the resurrection of the flesh, here. See, some of the life's pleasures are only available to you mortals while you wear your, ah, flesh bag - we've made sure to fix them up a little, please remember to not pour any water inside when you shower - we have tried to improve the bodies a bit, too. It took a little guessing, i hope your facial hair is what you've wanted it to be because, frankly, you're stuck with it now."

Jonny touches his face to check. There is a thin hairy line on his chin and it doesn't fall off when he pulls on it. He manages to rip out a single hair.

He's got real facial hair! Woah!

Huh, maybe he really is in heaven. If they've got the gender reassignment shit done for him, well, Jonny supposes he can play along for a little while. Just until he figures out how to make the good parts stick, maybe.

"Aurora," says the - angel? - and a second version of them appears out of thin air.

"Hello world! I am Aurora!" says the copy cheerfully.

"Yes, Aurora, we know," the first angel says and then takes a second look at Jonny. "Oh, right, this is Aurora - she works with me as we keep watch over this neighbourhood. She appears when called by name, and takes shape of whoever said it out loud. She can conjure anything people ask for, and knows the answer to any question she might be asked. Of course you've always been very self-sufficient, John, so I understand that you won't ever need her assistance anyway."

...

"...a sprout salad bar, a sprout burger stand," the angel kept filling the silence, and Jonny yearned to loose them a little early. "And there is this little sprout garden there, so you can eat them directly from the soil if that strikes your fancy... Oh, hello Ahega, fancy seeing you here! John, look who is there! Ahega, look, your soulmate has finally arrived-"

"I'm forking begging you," whines a tall stranger who looks pretty cool actually, piercings and all - but forking? what the fuck? - "call me almost literally anything else. Maybe a nickname-"

The angel shakes Jonny's shoulder so hard that Jonny bites his tongue, ow.

"John here won't be calling you anything," the angel cheerfully announces, apparently oblivious. "He took a vow of silence while alive, and still upholds it here. Aurora?"

"Hello world! I am Aurora!" announces the copy, and Jonny jumps a little.

He's still not used that that, okay? And by the looks of it, his - or maybe the other John's - his soulmate doesn't seem to be used to Aurora yet, either.

"Aurora, would you please be so kind to give us a recording of brother John's life from his point of view, so that he can share it with his soulmate despite having vowed not to talk?"

"Processing... Here you go!" announces Aurora, handing Jonny something that looks like a real life save button. Huh.

"We'll leave you two to catch up, come on, Aurora," says the angel.

"Goodbye, Edda," answers Jonny's new soulmate with much less enthusiasm. Huh, the angel apparently does have a name, after all. "Goodbye, little moon," Jonny's new soulmate adds much more gently.

Aurora beams and skips steps, as she and Edda walk away.

...

(to be continued)

[rosesflowingthroughthewind]

‘i wish i were heather’

NOTE: NONE OF THE CHARACTERS NOR THE STORY ARE TRYING TO BE BASED AROUND REAL PEOPLE OR EVENTS. I understand the song is partially true to the artist’s real high school life, but this story is meant to be all fiction.

Fic inspired by Conan Gray’s “Heather”, all rights to the song are from Conan, and I only own my OC

note: guys I meant to have this out yesterday for the 3rd of December but LIFE decided to get in my way, so here it is, a day late ( ◠‿◠ )

Also, happy birthday tomorrow Conan Gray!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

God, he was gorgeous. Why the hell did he have to be passed down those perfect, doe blue-gray eyes, that ever-so-wavy light brown hair that was probably just so soft. The tall boy had a smooth face with a sophisticated jawline and sweet smile. Fucking Danes with their amazing fucking genes. Conan had told himself a million times to stop hanging out with Miles, it was just going to hurt him more every time he remembered it was never going to happen. Miles had only shown attraction to girls before. Just girls.

But, Conan being Conan, there he was, sitting on Miles’ bed covered with his signature Mario Kart sheets he had claimed to have since he was 10. Conan took another bite of the cherry danish Miles’ mother, Astrid, had made them (which, from a history lesson the woman had taught him, first originated from Austrians who eventually introduced the now-called Danish pastry to Denmark).

Conan looked at Miles, who was currently sorting through a pile of clothes to keep or give away, which was supposed to be a quick stop before they went to the book and record store on Main Street and lunch (which Conan had to keep reminding himself, wasn’t a date).

“Jeez, how many clothes do you have?”

“I’m almost done, no need to throw a fit”, Miles chuckled.

“I am not throwing a fit!” the other boy whined.

“Sure, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night”

You help me sleep at night, Conan thought silently.

His thoughts were interrupted when he caught sight of Miles raising a dark green crewneck sweater, making sure it was in a decent condition to give away. It might’ve been the plainest piece of clothing he’d ever seen, but at least it was a nice color and looked cozy.

“Hey Cone, what size do you wear again?” Miles asked.

“Umm… like a small or medium, why?”

Miles tossed Conan the sweater, who was surprised at the suddenness but took it.

“I like it, but it’s far too small,” Miles explained. “Plus, it’ll look better on you than me. I think green is probably your color. But, god, you still wear a small? I forgot how tiny you were.”

Conan blushed hard at the compliment, but felt self-conscious from the playful tease Miles made from his size.

He knew the boy meant no harm, but Conan would be seventeen that coming Monday (just two days away) and he was scrawny with a height of 5’7”. Miles was nearly three months younger and was 5’11” (and a half, mind you).

He was endlessly bothered about his small build and height. However, he knew and was constantly reminded by his best friend Emilie (who was unsuccessfully trying to help), that it was mostly genetics. That didn’t change the fact he was still trying to find a cure to his, as Miles called it, “tinyness”.

Miles however, with both parents and all ancestors from Denmark, had inherited a tall physique. A little lanky, but he was strong enough to defend himself, unlike Conan. The smaller boy couldn’t help but feel jealous. And maybe a little mesmerized.

Breaking out of his thoughts, Conan realized something. “Wait, these are going to Goodwill. Don’t just give it to me. I mean, thank you, but I really can’t.”

“Don’t be silly, I have two whole bags full right here. Plus, it’s still freezing out, you’re wearing a t-shirt, and you only have a thin zip-up,” Miles said, making Conan realized how ill-prepared he was. “Take it,” Conan gave Miles a look when he said this. “Please,” he almost sounded sad.

Unwanting to cause such a feeling in the boy, Conan slipped on the sweater without another word. Quickly though, he took it off to check the material. His mother was allergic to cotton, and every now and then she’d do his laundry for him.

100% polyester. Score. He would have hated to give it away. Especially since it was from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

how did you guys like it?? if you have any suggestions please share them because i’m a new fanfic writer and i would love to hear!!

-rosie ♡

[lucariwoah]

SEND ME ASKS ABOUT MY STORIES (PLZ :3)

Hey.

Send me asks about my stories. Please for the love of God. I need to talk about my stories. Here, I'll give synopsis of each one!!

Badrigulay

A not-so-human creature awakens in a dark castle in a forest as deep as it is old. Their realm is in chaos, demons have come to claim the souls of it's people to take to their realm for slave labor and punishment. Badrigulay, our nature-goddess hero, must put a stop to this and reclaim the lost souls of the Garden of Eden. The overweight dragon god of souls, life, nature, and the very essence of this world has a lot of work ahead of them.

The Fable Lands

Life is simple for Blumure Murduesong. Their sterile human life remains monotonous and safe within the walls of Capital West, one of six human cities upon Earth. All there have ever been is humanity, and that's all that will ever be. But nobody knows about his imaginary friend he's kept secret all this time. The painted dragon, Kolena. She helps take care of him and keep him company. But the Church of the Immutable Form does not tolerate any shape besides human. Blumure may be changed forever by the unknowable darkness of night, outside the walls of Capital West.

Rather Be Dragon

Eleni Bellum, a boy who has always longed to be more than human, maybe even a dragon, wakes up in the body of an ancient, morbidly obese, time-manipilating Mercury dragon after dreaming of receiving a porcelain dragon masked inscribed with the name Somastra. They meet a gravity dragon named Sid with a cracked mask similar to theirs who has forgotten their past and seeks friendship and safety with others. They want to escape the danger and darkness of the layer of filth they both woke up in, so they must go on a journey to navigate the dimensions and realms of elements and intensities that surround our universe, seemingly created by dragons, so they can get back to Earth safely with their bodies and minds still intact.

Lossery

Two employees of a digital flower shop that exists in the atomic virtual universe, the Omnisrete, have to deal with the horrible wickedness of their capitalist overlords and find ways to survive and fight back against unjust punishment, horrible labor laws, and lack of breaks. Yarrow, the huge strawberry cow, has trouble remembering who she was and loses consciousness when trying to think to hard. Dillard, the lanky blackberry armadillo, tries to take care of her friend but can't do much against the bosses and rules and mysterious lack of infrastructure and resources this job expects them to have but is absent like erased code from the flower fields they work in. Will they survive this digital hellscape to understand who they are and why they're here?

No Kobolds on Unia

On a planet where goblins have Snapchat and dwarves have perfected fracking and oil drilling, the modern fantasy world of Asbreicha is teeming with life, people, and technology. One kobold, Squeesha Firefoot, has recently been dumped by her long-time boyfriend who is going off to the esteemed college of Bridleheart to pursue an education in historical research. Wanting to impress her ex, she follows in his footsteps to try and get his attention and love back, only to fall in love with ancient history of the world she calls home. Myths and legends give way to historical record and fact. Once upon a time, magic existed in these lands, but an ancient threat required that power sealed off from the universe. Squeesha vows she will understand more about this history for herself, and goes to Unia on the first-ever Bridleheart historical expedition to look for clues surrounding a mysterious relic known only as The Black Door. What will she find there, and will it change life as she knows it forever?

Lmao I love how at the end there the synopsis get really long. Honestly the stories are in order of oldest to newest so there's different levels of development between them.

Anyway please let me know if you're curious about any of these a little more!!! I'm so happy to share cuz I've got so many ideas and written a lot already.

[soapyblubbles]

✶˖·˳✧ 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐬 ✧˳·˖✶

pairings: dark regulus + dark poly marauders

warnings: foursome, implied fivesome, voyeurism, overstimulation, dubcon, pet names (bunny, princess, pet, puppy), slight choking kink, poly relationships, etc…

a/n: uhhhh- this was supposed to be for Mother’s Day but then I had to take my finals. This is also sorta half-assed bc I didn’t get to proofread so beware. One last thing; is this considered a one-shot or a Drabble? I feel like drabbles are a few paragraphs at most but this doesn’t feel like that?? Idk. Happy reading.

“I told you it’d be worse if you went to get help.” Regulus sits on the edge of the bed, smiling softly at you. As if nothing was wrong.

As if you weren’t being fucked within an inch of your life.

You turn your head, breathless pants leaving your mouth as Remus continues to rock into you. How long had he been sitting there?

Whimpering, you reach for him, weakly trying to pry off the arm wrapped around your waist, but it doesn’t budge. “Want sir now. Please- Remmy-”

The lanky brunette ignores you, muttering something unintelligible into your neck as his thrusts speed up. Your attention was stolen from him. He doesn’t like that- not one bit.

He just hums noncommittally, rubbing his jaw in mock thought as he scrutinizes the scene before him. “Thought you wanted to come here-“ he gestures around the room before lazily draping himself on the sofa, “for help.” The last word is laced with disgust and even though you know he’s done arguing about it, you still sob out: “I’ll be good- promise.”

From beside you, Sirius lets out a huff. He’s sitting at the edge of the bed with his shirt unbuttoned and a cigarette, doing nothing but watching as his friends ruin you. He’d been the one to call Regulus when you came running to their house, barefoot and in nothing but a frail nightgown. “You’re already being good here, pup- s’no use in leaving.” He squishes your cheeks together, making your lips form an o-shape as he blows smoke into your mouth. “Y’already gonna be punished at home- ain’t that right Reggie?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, “Don’t call me-”

“Hush, I can’t focus when you lot keep talkin.” James' speech is muffled as he talks from between your legs. He pays no mind to the way Remus pumps in and out of you, his mouth dangerously close to where the two of you meet. “S’annoying.”  The vibrations from his voice going straight to your clit and you let out a strangled moan, tilting your hips away from him. 

Sirius’ face darkens with anger, “Uh-uh, I don’t think so puppy.” His hand darts out to grab your neck as James’ hands grip your thighs tightly. “Don’t fuckin’ run away from him- you understand?” You nod shakily, chest rising and falling quickly as you watch him with unseeing eyes.

“What d’you say bunny?” Remus asks from behind you, hips slowing as he tries to find that spot. Trying to coax the words out of you.

“M’sorry- m’so sorry Jamie,” your head is spinning, the ache in your lower stomach practically mind numbing.

“Thought I taught you better than that pet.” Regulus chides, clicking his tongue in disappointment.

“Sir-”

Remus shushes you.

“S’ okay bunny- y’just have to make it up to him.” You cry out as he brushes your g-spot, finally finding what he was looking for. Each hit of his hips is aimed perfectly, giving you no break until you’re a sobbing mess.

“I don’t know about that Moony- she seems a right mess already, huh? Don’t think she can go on.” Sirius mocks, slapping in between your legs. You let out a panicked moan, quickly coming undone but the torment doesn’t end there.

James slips his fingers through the mess of your cunt, rubbing sharp circles on your clit as Sirius grabs onto your hips, taking control of the pace Remus set. “C’mon pup, make a mess on Moony’s cock- be a good little cockslut for us.”

He bounces you atop of Remus, watching as you quickly become a drooling mess. Your lidded eyes settle on Regulus, who looks positively unaffected as he watches on.

“Come on princess- fuckin’ come for us. Make a fucking mess.” James whispers into your ear, pinching your clit roughly. Tears well in your eyes, body tensing as you are, yet again, pushed off the edge.

“Fuck- such a good bunny.” Remus curses. Sirius and James mock your high pitched cries as you sob at the overstimulation.

Your limbs go slack and Remus slows down as he fucks you through it all, being sure to hit your g-spot over and over again. You whine, barely able to struggle as Remus continues to overstimulate you. James lets out a breathy chuckle as Sirius lets go of your hips, letting you fall face first into the mattress.

“S’your turn pretty. We’re not doing all the work for you- besides you still have three more cocks to go.”

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

EDITED VERSION

[cherrywhipped]

LESS THAN 20 DADDY LEORIO SMUT POSTS ON TUMBLR??????? NAAW. SAME THING ONLY A HANDFUL OF PAPI KITE ?! THEREFORE HOOKERS<3, YOU KNOW WHAT IM BOUT TO DO. Here’s a quick Leo, Kite otw. This might be trash but I just wanted to add sum to the tag ;-;

I need a doctor ♡

CW: Leorio Paradinight x fem reader smut, kinktober, maybe? established relationship/living together, costume party theme, light roleplay, drinking mention, oral, quickie, fun stuffs

“Doctor Leorioooo~” you called to him longingly, finally stepping out of your shared bedroom to give him a show. Tonight you would be attending a costume party held by an older friend of a friend. Your sweet boyfriend, deciding that he already had most of the necessary pieces to put together the costume anyway, decided to attend as a doctor. And, as he suggested, what good is a doctor without a sexy nurse? You went along with his excitement, even though you thought it was kind of cliche before, but now? Seeing how the thin fabric hugged your curves and settled against all the right places was enough to convince you that Leo was onto something. The added height from your heels and the silky stockings around your legs made you feel like you fit the role perfectly.

“Are you ready y/n, can I see yet??” The lanky man sat in the living room, covering his eyes as per your instructions. He looked so smart and adorable: business casual attire underneath his lab coat, and a stethoscope draped around his neck.

“Yes! Look!!” You squealed and struck a cutesy pose.

“Hoooly shit. Babe…” the second Leo opened his eyes, they were stuck to you. His jaw practically dropped to the floor, mans was flabbergasted at the fantasy you brought to life for him. “Babe. You are fucking hot. Look how sexy you are!!” He clapped for you and whistled at your figure.

“Stoppp, hehe. Thank you, handsome,” you were a blushing mess. Leave it to Leorio, the undefeated champion hype-man, to gas you up beyond belief. “We better get going before I try to keep you at the house all to myself.”

He cocked a brow before responding, “Is that a promise?” He was shamelessly eyeing your tits, licking his bottom lip as he waited for your response. Your thighs clenched.

“Babyyy, we’ll have plenty of time for that later, we should get a move on,” you replied half heartedly. You did want to go, sure, but you were kinda horny too… it’s hard not to be when you and your boyfriend got dressed up and look this good.

“Mm, come sit in my lap. Just for a second, baby, please? C’mere.” He had that familiar lust-filled glint in his eyes, and you weren’t entirely sure it would only be a second like he said. Nonetheless, you sauntered over and straddled him. Leorio’s hands immediately groped your ass and helped you settle on top of him. “Atta girl,” he praised with a light slap to your ass cheek. He kissed your lips lightly as to not mess up your lipstick. “Wow, baby,” he whispered softly, resting his face against your boobs. He kissed and sucked at the flesh, causing you to lightly grind against his lap. Leorio lifted his head and almost gave you a hickey near your collar bone, but you stopped him before he could finish.

“Leooo, baby we need to get going!” You insisted, reluctantly climbing off of him.

He sighed deeply. “Fiiiiine, but I won’t go easy on you later for making me wait so long.”

•••

The party was pretty lively, although you couldn’t really find anyone you knew. Maybe Kurapika wasn’t the type to go to costume parties. Or maybe these were mostly Leo’s friends from university. No matter. You grabbed a drink as your sweetheart chatted with his colleagues in costumes. After a light snack and a few drinks, you had a brilliant idea.

Leorio made his way back towards you after a few minutes, snatching a cupcake from the snack table. “What’s up, buttercup?” He asked sweetly.

“Doctor, I think I need your help,” you cooed innocently, doe-eyes meeting his curious gaze. Leorio blushed at your pet name for him. He knew it would someday be his official title, but for now, he was playing a role—one he took seriously, no less. After finishing his dessert, his switch flipped into doctor mode almost immediately.

“Oh, what’s wrong, honey? Do you have a headache? Do you need some medicine? You know I always have—”

“No, I think I just need a dose of Leorio. Maybe you can examine me,” you teased, grabbing at his clothes. You laughed at your stupid joke. Leorio squinted and shot you a look like he was only half amused.

“Ha-ha, y/n, very funny.” He took a step forward and stood against your chest. Leaning in close to your ear, he spoke in a low tone, “If you wanted to sneak off and fuck around in the bathroom, you could’ve just said so.” His words caught you off guard.

“I-, well, I wasn’t sure if you, um…” you stumbled through half a sentence. Leorio grinned fiendishly upon realizing that he was making you nervous.

“Here, I’ll help you. Come on,” he said flatly and dragged you by the hand towards the bathroom.

You stumbled in the door behind him, neither of you trying to hide entering at the same time. Leorio shut the door quietly. “Now… what seems to be the problem, nurse y/n?” He questioned with a subtle smirk.

“I have, uh, just a few aches I think, doctor,” you replied, taking a seat on the bathroom counter.

His gaze was back to the same intensity as earlier, he was fucking you with his eyes and would not ease up. “Could you tell me where at?”

“Um, it’s a little inappropriate, doctor…” you bit your lip softly. “Here,” you responded, and as you did so, you spread your legs for him to see and placed your fingers over your clit, covered by your lacy panties. Your dress hiked up your hips in the process.

He let out a nervous laugh. “I think I need a closer look…” he first leaned in close to your lips, kissing you firmly but gently, lipstick smearing across both of your faces. You touched yourself with your fingertips as he kissed you, his hands beginning to wander down your body. He broke the kiss and dipped his head down to your wide open legs, forcing your back up against the bathroom mirror for support. He brought his nose dangerously close to your sex, retracting with a hum. He glanced up at your face and hit you with a devilish smile. Leorio pushed your panties to the side and kissed your clit softly. His tongue poked out from his lips as he delivered tantalizing kitten licks to the area. You moaned shamelessly, one hand finding its way to the back of Leo’s head, tangling your fingers in his hair. Leorio gripped at your thighs with his free hand, the skimpy stockings were really doing it for him. He sucked you into his mouth slowly, your body burning at the action. One more kiss to your clit and he’s back to fully standing. Fucking tease.

“We can’t spend all night in here. You better hurry up and bend over.” He said forcefully. “Doctor’s orders.” You might’ve laughed if his sudden dominant aura wasn’t turning you on. Quickly sliding off the counter top, you did as he asked: bending over and leaning on the counter, you stuck your ass up in the air, weight shifting slightly on your tip-toes for a better angle. His palm met your ass with a harsh slap before pulling up your dress to slide off your panties. “Good girl.” Your boyfriend slipped two fingers in your cunt and shivered at the wetness. “I’m surprised you weren’t begging for me sooner, being this wet,” he teased. “Damn, alright.”

He unbuckled his belt and you watched in the mirror as he worked his pants down juuust enough to slip his cock out. You felt him push his length between your thighs tortuously slowly, the friction dragging along your bundle of nerves, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. “Please, Leo,” you whimpered softy. “Don’t make me wait.”

He smirked. “Uh huh. Now look who’s impatient after they made ME wait earlier,” he retorted. “I’ll give you a little now, but you’ll just have to get the rest at home.”

He pushed the tip into your aching cunt in one swift motion, pulling a moan from both of you. You see, he planned to only please you a little bit like he said, hit it nice and deep but slow enough to make you want more… yeah, that didn’t happen. Leorio was way too wound up to go slow right now. After maybe 2-3 slow thrusts, his pace became frantic. His hands grabbed on to the sides of your hips harshly, lewd slapping sounds echoed through the room. His dick kept kissing your cervix perfectly. He was in over his head. Leo didn’t have it in him to ruin yours or his own orgasm, so he just decided to let you both ride it out. After all, he could always have more later, right?

Your back arched so nicely like this, hips tilted back and up like your hole was made to be filled by Leorio. He grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled on it, sending your back into an even deeper arch. The sensation was painfully pleasant. Your whimpers and cries couldn’t be heard outside the room, but you still tried to minimize them. Leo’s soft pants were becoming more frequent, you knew he was gonna cum soon. You rubbed your clit harshly and came hard and fast, a loud cry escaping you on accident. “aHhh~,” you couldn’t help it. “Fuck,” he said breathlessly as he pulled out of you. Your panties weren’t down all the way, they were draped around your knees. He decided to cum in your panties and make you walk out with them wet, the dirty bastard. Hot liquid dripped into your underwear, some drops clinging to your thighs as he came.

You turned around to face him, eyes wide at his action. You looked him in the eyes as you pulled your panties up, humming as the cum-soaked garment made contact with your pussy.

“I think… it’s time to go home, hmm?” You suggested, your breathing beginning to steady itself. Leorio nodded, still fighting to catch his breath. “I want more of youuu,” you whined.

“Huff, I-, hah, yeah, I can do that baby. Let’s get cleaned up and head home first.” Your boyfriend kissed you passionately, the color on his cheeks almost matched the smeared lipstick across his mouth. His flushed face complimented his pretty, chocolate puppy-dog eyes. “You are amazing. I love you so much,” he confessed genuinely.

“I love you too, Leo, let’s go home. I can’t wait for round two,” you giggled and winked at him.

“Guess I’ll need my nurse y/n to take care of me after this,” He sighed and laughed back, holding your hand as you left the party, basking in the shared secret of your bathroom rendezvous.