#not gonna be able to get that image out of your head forever

[florestalio]

INSATIABLE NEEDS — p.sh

you had always found your best friend attractive, who wouldn't? but perhaps, him being so close to you when you were ovulating... wasn't the best idea. after all, a harmless crush can lead to being dangerously close to toeing the line of friendship.

GENRE— porn with little plot, friends to ???

WARNINGS— unprotected sex (don't!), reader is extremely horny, reader is so down bad for sunghoon it's almost embarrassing, reader isn't as subtle as she thinks, sunghoon is a cocky little shit, fingering, mirror sex (?), pussy slapping, cum eating, missionary, bondage, let me know if i missed any!

WORDCOUNT— 3.6k

NOTE— this is a REVAMP of this bnd fic. since i'm on hiatus, and probs won't be able to publish anything else for two months...

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

a soft groan fell from sunghoon’s lips, as you continued to read your book, despite him being literally two feet away from you — that too on the same bed. what could that stupid book possibly contain, that you were completely ignoring his presence?

he groaned again. “can you please put that damn book aside and pay attention to me instead? we were supposed to hang out, not be busy reading stupid books–”

you rolled your eyes. “we weren’t ‘supposed’ to do anything. you came to my apartment of your own accord, went straight to my bedroom, and plopped down on my bed, expecting me to entertain you — it’s not my fault that you can’t find the entertainment you wanted from me.”

yes, maybe you were being a little harsh. but then again, he deserved it. you were ovulating — really bad at that — and were peacefully watching certain… videos on twitter, when he suddenly rang the bell to your apartment. of course you were gonna be mad at him. guaranteed, he had no idea. but that can’t stop you from being petty, can it? not to mention that the book you were reading was one of the best smut books ever, so you had at least had something to distract yourself from the current dilemma with — but he was hellbent on trying to get you to ditch that as well, just to make you pay attention to him.

distract yourself from what, exactly? why, it’s your best friend, of course.

you had always found him attractive, who wouldn’t? but now that you were ovulating… the images in your head starring him were… unholy in the least.

you needed the distraction. everyone knows that a girl ovulating, while being in the presence of a guy who she is even slightly attracted to, can be very, very dangerous. especially if said guy is a good friend. toeing the line of friendship is never a good idea, especially with sunghoon. you weren't willing to lose him forever, just to satisfy your temporary needs… even if he was making it really difficult for you to not pounce on him.

you never thought a band aid on someone's cheek could be that attractive, combined with his all black outfit and the lollipop in his mouth. the way he kept swirling his tongue over the candy? god, you were definitely going to hell from the thoughts you were having about him.

a scoff from your best friend snapped you out of your daydreams. “okay, maybe i came uninvited. but isn't it common courtesy for you to not blatantly ignore someone right in front of you? or is that book of yours so engaging that you forgot basic etiquettes?”

oh, how you wished to yell at him and say that yes, the book really was that engaging. how you wished to recreate the absolutely mouth-watering smut scenes in the book with him–

okay, you really needed to get a grip over yourself.

you cleared your throat. “fine, i'll keep the book down, but i don't know how to entertain you.” true to your word, you kept the book down, the uncomfortable heat that had been long since pooling into your lower stomach, not fading in the slightest. in fact, the more you looked at him, the more the heat intensified.

he rolled his eyes, speaking in an irritated voice. “it’s not like you aren't enjoying yourself right now, is it?”

you couldn't understand if it was because you were ovulating, or if he was doing it purposely — but something about the tone of his voice was so fucking hot — you could feel even more heat starting to pool into your lower stomach, your panties sticking to your folds uncomfortably. you spoke in a slightly shaky voice. “w-what is that supposed to mean?–”

sunghoon took the lollipop out of his mouth with a loud ‘pop’, before speaking with an accusatory tone. “don’t play dumb with me. you know exactly what i’m talking about.”

…there was absolutely no way you were growing wetter at his tone. since when did he sound so… hot while accusing you? and why were you enjoying it?

you didn’t even know what he was accusing you of. all you could concentrate on was his slight smirk and the cocky gleam in his eye. you couldn’t tell why he was looking at you the way he was, but you knew he was up to no good.

but even when you predicted that, his next few words still managed to make your blood run cold. “stop pretending like i can't see you rubbing your cute thighs together. i'm not blind, you know.”

your jaw dropped, staring at him with eyes that were wide open in horror. he noticed?! god, so now he thinks you're a pervert — which, given your behavior, wouldn't be wrong — but still–

you didn't know how you still had the audacity to play dumb, but you did. “i-i don't know what you're talking about–”

you were cut off with a loud scoff from him. he gave you an incredulous look, speaking in a condescending tone, paired with sheer disbelief, letting you know that he didn't buy your bullshit. “you don't know what i'm talking about?”

you gulped, your thighs unintentionally pressing together even harder to prevent a fresh wave of slick from trickling down your hole. “n-no?–”

he let out a disappointed sigh, which seemed to be more of a mocking gesture than a genuine reaction of disappointment. “so you aren't going to admit it on your own. that's okay, i can always make you admit it.”

without a warning, he wrapped a hand around your ankle, yanking you towards him. you screamed out loud from utter shock. before you could say anything, he pulled you up, wrapping a hand around your waist so that you were pressed flush to his chest. he spread his legs, settling you in between them, before turning you, pressing your back to his chest. sunghoon grabbed your chin, pulling it up, so that your eyes stared right into your own in the mirror on the far end of your room.

your eyes trailed to his own in the mirror, shocked to see his expression. his eyes had darkened, slightly hooded eyes staring straight into your soul. you had never seen your best friend like that, but today… safe to say your thighs clenched again, your panties surely drenched by now.

you gulped, noticing a slight smirk on his face. he brought his lips closer to your ear, whispering softly. “tell me princess, are you still not going to admit it?”

his tone sent chills down your spine. you wanted to admit it so badly, wanted to let him know exactly how you needed him to rail you within an inch of your life — but then again, you wanted to find out what he would do if you didn’t give into his demands. what you guys were doing had already crossed all lines of friendship, it didn’t matter now if you guys went all the way anyways.

so you proceeded to lie. again. “i- i seriously don’t know what you’re talking a-about–”

he let out a disappointed sigh, — which sounded really condescending instead — before speaking again. “so you really have no idea, hm? you’re telling me you aren’t wet right now? hm?”

your breath hitched. fuck, this was really happening. “i- i’m not–”

you were cut off with a loud gasp, when he suddenly pressed two fingers right over your clothed cunt, the nearly drenched fabric soaking up more of your wetness. you couldn’t help yourself, letting out a choked moan, when he pressed them in even harder, effectively pushing the fabric deeper inside your puffy lips, even more slick dripping down out of you.

your best friend — could you even call him that anymore? — bit down on the lobe of your ear, before speaking again. “nasty little slut, aren’t you? soaking up your panties right in front of me, and yet you have the gall to lie to my face? acting all innocent too… was this what you actually wanted? for me to force an answer out of you? fuck, look at the way you’re clenching around my fingers, and they aren’t even inside you yet — we’re gonna have so much fun together princess…”

his last few words turned you on even more, — if that was even possible — falling out of his lips like a dark promise, a promise that he intended to keep. you still needed to answer him, so you did — only this time, all hesitation, all the ‘acting dumb’ was gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated, lust. “i’m s-sorry please — please, fuck me hoon–”

you couldn’t even complete your sentence, before he pulled his hand off your pants, opting to push the waistband of your shorts down instead. you didn’t even realize that you were lifting up your hips for him to shove them down your legs, your underwear following suit — only, instead of throwing it far away randomly in the room, he brought them to his nose, screwing his eyes shut and taking a deep inhale.

his action caused your jaw to hang open in pure shock, eyes as wide as saucers — you were so unbelievably horny, all you wanted was to push him down to lie down on your bed, and ride him till the two of you were spent beyond salvation — but you knew he wouldn’t let you do that. he always liked to be assertive, which you were fine with — although right now you were growing impatient. you needed him, did he not understand that? you needed him so fucking bad, you would let him take you raw, breed the fuck out of you, fuck a baby into you–

at this point you didn’t even know if these were your own thoughts, or your ovulation fucking with your head. either way, you were filled with the thought of him, your mind chanting ‘sunghoon, sunghoon, sunghoon’ like a mantra, imprinting his name into the walls of your brain — which was funny, because he hadn’t even done anything to you yet — properly, that is.

speaking of, you just noticed him stuffing your soaked panties into his pocket, his hand coming to grip your chin again. he raised it to make you look into the mirror. you made eye contact with him in it, gulping at the look in his eyes. it was purely predatory, lust swimming in his irises like an insatiable hunger.

if you had any doubts about him not wanting you as much as you wanted him, your doubts were certainly all cleared now.

his hand left your chin, coming down to your impossibly wet cunt instead. he slid a finger over your slit, rubbing it up and down, collecting your abundant amount of slick on it. he watched in the mirror, completely fucking mesmerized by the sight of your pretty little pussy fluttering around his finger. he decided to use another finger, using both of his digits to part your folds, watching even more slick dripping out of your needy cunt. it was truly a sight, causing his bulge to strain against your back, a loud moan escaping you at the feeling. your head fell back on his shoulder, your eyes screwed shut from the feeling of him playing with you so lewdly — it was like a scene straight out of your dirtiest fantasies, one that you never imagined would actually happen in reality — but fuck, you were definitely not complaining.

you suddenly gasped out loud, your head jerking up, staring directly into his eyes in the mirror. your eyes were wide open in shock, from the impact of his slap on your impossibly wet pussy. your breathing had fastened, staring at him in pure shock. he scoffed at your expression, glaring at you through the mirror. “what? surprised? if you want me to continue, you better not remove your gaze — you’re going to watch as i make you fall apart on my fingers. if you avoid eye contact even once, i’m going to edge you the entire day — yes, the entire day. i’m not kidding in the slightest, princess, so you better keep those pretty eyes of yours peeled open if you want to cum at all.”

you swallowed thickly. this, this was what you needed. he was what you needed, he was all you needed. his tone, his words, everything was so fucking hot — you craved everything he could offer, and more.

but, in order to get a little bit of literally anything he had to offer, you needed to obey him. so you decided to comply, not removing your gaze even once from the mirror.

he plunged his fingers inside you without a warning, fucking them into you at a rough pace, drawing out loud squelching noises from your pussy. you let out the loudest moans and whimpers known to mankind at his rough pace, whining slightly, clenching and unclenching around his fingers. you arched your back to the best of your ability, letting out a loud whimper, when the calloused pads of his fingers rubbed oh-so-deliciously against your walls. your breath hitched as he rubbed that spot on your walls, his other hand holding you down tightly to stop you from squirming. he had noticed immediately, making sure to hit that same spot over and over again, using his thumb to rub on your clit simultaneously. you let out a choked gasp, the band in your stomach tightening at alarming rate; a telltale sign of you being brought to your fastest  — almost embarrassingly fast — orgasm yet.

sunghoon watched your expressions with his lip pulled between his teeth, his eyes hooded, as you fell apart on his fingers. the little shudders and loud whines were music to his ears.

god, you knew exactly how to drive him crazy.

he kept on thrusting his fingers shallowly, until you were squirming from the overstimulation. he then withdrew his fingers from your soaking cunt, giving your clit a last pinch, eliciting a whimper from you. he brought his fingers to his mouth, maintaining eye contact with you in the mirror, as he licked them clean, a soft groan leaving him as your taste hit him.

he licked off every last drop from his fingers, before harshly grabbing your chin. he turned your face halfway towards him, smashing his lips on yours, for the very first time — which was a little funny to think about, given that he had already made you cum on his fingers; that too at such an embarrassingly fast pace.

the kiss was sloppy and messy, spit mixing and dribbling down your chins, tongues clashing with each other. but neither of you seemed to care, too engrossed in trying to memorize the feel of each other's mouth.

he gripped your waist without breaking the kiss, pulling you backwards, before shoving you down on the bed. you fell on your back with a light ‘oof–’, your head hitting the pillow. you barely had any time to gather yourself, before sunghoon was crashing his lips into yours again.

he kissed you at a feverish pace, one that you could barely keep up with. his hands roamed about your body frantically, desperately trying to memorize every inch of you. he started to fiddle with your clothes, trying to take them off you, almost tearing them off in the process.

you barely processed it when your shirt went flying in some corner of the room, your bra following suit. your nipples harden almost instantly as they come in contact with the cold air, causing him to immediately pinch them, drawing out a loud whine from you. he sucked on one of them harshly, using his hand to pinch and twirl the other nipple. he alternated between both, biting and sucking on the skin around your nipples too, until your entire chest was covered in red hickeys and bite marks.

you were starting to find it a little unfair because of how you were the only one unclothed between the two of you, causing you to take the matter into your own hands. you tugged at his shirt impatiently, causing him to give in and take it off. he tried to immediately kiss you again, but your hands that were tugging at his pants stopped him. he stared at you with a slightly impatient glare, before taking his belt out of the loop.

instead of taking his pants off like you hoped he would, he grabbed both of your hands, before tying them with the belt, attaching them to the headboard. you gasped loudly, trying to free your hands, in vain. he laughed at your state. “patience is key, darling. didn't you know that?”

he pressed another harsh kiss to your lips, swallowing your whines, as he slowly grinded on you. you could feel the outline of his rock hard dick through his boxers, pressing insistently against your clit. you let out sharp gasps and moans at the sensation, but it was quickly ripped away from you.

you were positively drooling when he shoved his boxers down, his cock standing proud and tall. it slapped against his stomach, leaving a trail of precum on it. he grabbed your thighs, shoving them apart, before aligning himself with your eagerly awaiting cunt.

he rubbed his angry red and leaking tip on your clit, before gliding it up and down your slit, collecting your wetness. you arched your back, your eyes rolling into your head, a loud moan practically ripping out of your lips. you looked up at him with teary eyes, silently begging him to hurry up.

he smirked down at you, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip, before finally pushing himself inside. you let out an even louder moan, feeling his bulbous tip stretch you out, before he thrust himself fully inside — earning a choked gasp from you. he groaned, barely giving you time to adjust, before pulling himself almost completely out, leaving only the tip in, before thrusting back in.

he set a brutally fast pace, the continuous ‘fap-fap-fap’ sounds ringing loudly in your ears. the squelching sounds from your pussy were almost equally as loud, as more and more of your wetness trickled down his length. your bottom lip was pulled in between your teeth, eyes screwed shut. you subtly bucked your hips up, trying to match  his pace.

he noticed it quickly enough, grabbing your hips to still you, before stopping as well. he gave you a stern look, before changing his pace. instead of the brutally fast pace he had set earlier, he switched to a slower pace, focusing on hitting every single spot perfectly.

you clenched around him tightly, a breathy moan of his name leaving your lips. his pace stuttered, before he grabbed both of your legs, folding them to your chest. the new position helped him pound into you even deeper, reaching places you never could on your own. his mushroom tip collided with your cervix every time, making you see stars.

he was deep, so so deep. he felt so fucking good, like you were in cloud nine. by the looks of it, he thought the same.

he let out a deep groan, breathy whispers leaving his lips. “p-pussy feels s-so — fuck — s’fucking good — fits like a glove–” he cut himself off with a moan, feeling you clench around him harder. “keep s-squeezing me like that i'll cum.”

you could barely hear him, your brain completely fogged up. you could barely formulate a single coherent thought, the completely unadulterated pleasure leaving you dizzy. you let out a soft gasp as you felt him sucking on your neck, just above your jugular. it felt good, too good.

you could feel the band in your stomach start to tighten, signalling your impending climax. he could tell it was close too, by the change of pitch in your moans. he focused on hitting your g-spot with every thrust, bringing his hand down to rub circles around your clit, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

the added stimulation was all it took for the band in your stomach to finally snap, your cunt clenching impossibly tight around him.your eyes rolled back, mouth open in a silent scream. your orgasm washed over you, coating his dick in a layer of white.

your orgasm triggered his own, causing his hips to stutter. he tried to pull out, but your pussy was clenching so tightly around him, he simply couldn't. he grabbed your hips, pushing himself even deeper. his eyes rolled back, a groan escaping him, as he came in you.

spurts of cum erupted from him, shooting deep inside, your pretty cunt clenching around him even harder, milking him for all he was worth. he came and came, till he physically couldn't anymore. he pulled his softening length out of your spent hole.

your ruined pussy clenched around nothing, globs of cum dripping down your thighs. sunghoon scooped them up with his fingers, pushing them right back into your sensitive folds. he pressed a kiss to your forehead, pushing your hair out of your face. “you're still with me?”

you nodded tiredly, too spent to speak. you were still in disbelief of the entire situation, but it was as real as real could get. you felt him untie your hands, before scooping you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style, carrying you to what you could only hope was the bathroom — before you passed out in his arms.

[0deathpainting0]

roommate!jjk men (can be any chars u want) with shyish!reader who’s not opposed to the idea of being a free use slut whenever they feel like it 🦇

all yours

choso & mahito // geto & gojo // sukuna & toji 

summary: your roommates slowly figure out you're not as shy as you seem

warnings: 18+ f!reader, swearing, pet names(baby, good girl, sweet girl, etc), teasing, free use, somno, masturbation(m), spanking, fingering, oral(m+f), face fucking, p in v, raw, creampies, roughish, shower sex, praise

a/n: didn’t know if you wanted a two for one again but i did <3 and babes i swear ur in my mind bc ive been wanting to write abt free use for a min !! 

w/c: 6.2k was prepared to go on forever tho

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choso & mahito - 2.2k

The first time a line was crossed was when you walked into Mahitos room without knocking and found him sprawled out on his bed fisting his cock. Your eyes widened and you stood there frozen, unable to tear your gaze away. He didn’t stop or even try to cover up, actually a grin just formed on his face as he stroked himself a little harsher. His hips jerked up into his hand as he watched you squirm in his doorway with flushed cheeks. 

Slowly your eyes started to travel up his torso and when they locked with his you whimpered. His eyes were dark and a little crazed and you watched his brow furrow as he searched for his pleasure. His cheeks were faintly flushed and he let out a low groan that had your attention drawn to his mouth. Lips slightly pouted and wet from running his tongue along them seemed like a forbidden invitation. He cursed lowly and you watched as he spilled cum over his hand still sloppily fucking his hand. 

“Need something?” Mahito tilts his head with a lazy smile. 

“‘m sorry.” you shake your head quickly and run to your room. 

You didn’t avoid Mahito after that but you also couldn’t look him in the eyes. You would only look at him if you knew he was occupied with something else and with one glimpse you were left squeezing your thighs and trying to push away the image of him fisting his weeping cock. But when he would catch you he would be hovering over you instantly. Dipping down, letting his breath fan against your neck. 

“Looks like you need something.” he chuckles when you shake your head. “No?” you shake your head again. “Go get Choso for me.” he watches you nod and disappear down the hall. 

This wasn’t necessarily a line being crossed but it had the same effect on you nonetheless. You knocked softly on Choso’s door waiting for his response. He opened it and the sight you were greeted with had your heart pounding. His hair was still slightly dripping and a towel sat low on his hips. You opened and closed your mouth, not able to stop yourself from looking over every inch of him. When you finally looked up at his face he tilted his head slightly. 

“D’you need something?” his voice washes over you. 

“I..” you watch a drop of water drip from his hair down to his chest and you shake your head. 

Choso watches as you walk to your room and quickly click the door shut. He shrugs before shutting his own door and continues to put his clothes on. When he opens his door again he’s greeted by Mahito about to knock on his door. 

“Well how long are you gonna take? I asked for you like 30 minutes ago.” Mahito glares at Choso. 

“No you didn’t?” Choso squints his eyes. 

“I sent her here to get you.” Mahito looks around Choso’s room to see if you’ve made other plans. 

“Oh,” Choso hums. “Nah, she knocked on my door and got all blushy before going to her room.” he shrugs, looking down the hall at your room. 

When you heard knocks on your door you didn’t know what to expect. Maybe if you pretended to be asleep they would just go away but then came another set of knocks. You sigh and drag yourself out of bed and crack the door open. You hide a little more behind the door when you see it’s the both of them. They’re both fully clothed but your mind couldn’t care less. Heat blooms throughout your body as you look at them both standing in your doorway. 

“Can we come in?” Mahito grins as the flush on your cheeks deepen. 

“Mm,” you look back at your room not knowing how to get out of this. You feel like you’re going to combust if you look at them again. 

“Or we can go to the living room?” Choso offers and your hand tightens on the door. 

You step out of your room and they step aside for you to walk out. When you sit down on the couch they take a seat on either side of you and look down at your hands in your lap. The weight of their stares is slowly seeping into your skin and you chew your lips waiting for one of them to say something. 

“Wanna tell us why you’ve been a lil more shy than normal?” Choso’s soft voice coaxes you to turn to him. 

“I dunno.” you whisper, blinking up at him. 

“I think it started about a week ago..” Mahito teases next to you. “Ya know.. When you watched me cum.” you feel your face light on fire at his words. 

“I..” you turn to him with wide eyes. 

“Don’t act all innocent, baby.” he drawls, letting his fingertips skim up your thigh. “We both were there.” he grins. “When you ran off to your room did you think about it when you played with your pussy?” he watches you squeeze your legs together at his words. 

“That what you were doing when we knocked on your door?” Choso’s tone makes you turn your attention to him. “Did seeing me fresh outta shower get you all worked up?” you whine at his words. 

“Y’know we can help you,” Mahito softly squeezes your thigh before continuing to the edge of your skirt. 

“We can always make sure you’re taken care of.” you feel yourself melting into the couch at Choso’s words. 

“Just give yourself over to us.” you gasp when Mahitos fingers graze your soaked panties. “Fuck, baby,” he groans pressing against the fabric feeling how truly wet you are. “Can Cho feel how wet he got you?” he peels your panties to the side and drags a single finger up your slit. 

“Yeah,” you nod your head quickly. 

After that if there were any more lines between the three of you they were all crossed that night. You were theirs completely in every aspect and couldn’t be more content. They thought you would still be shy but most times you were throwing yourself at them, begging them for anything. Any suggestion or idea they had you agreed to eagerly and without any complaint. 

Mahito mentioned his idea to you a couple days ago and watched as your eyes sparkled as you nodded. So now he’s standing at the edge of your bed watching you sleep, thanking himself and Choso for suggesting you just sleep naked from now on. The blankets are pushed down and tangled between your legs leaving your chest exposed to him. Your nipples are perked from the soft breeze of the fan and they’re taunting him to come over and give them attention. 

He slowly undoes the blanket and pushes your thighs open for himself. Your thigh twitches when he places a soft kiss on it and then another and another before starting on your other. Hooking his arms under you, he brings your center closer to his mouth and licks a line through your slit. Your hips jerk against his face when he repeats the action and he hears your soft whine. 

His small kitten licks against your bud have your pussy leaking already. He licks down to your core and pushes his tongue inside groaning at your taste as he starts to make his way back up to your bud to suck it into his mouth. He glances up when a moan escapes you but your eyes are still shut and your fingers are softly digging into one of your plushies. Your chest heaves as he zeros his tongue in on your bud and he smirks when your breathing quickens. 

“Hito,” you murmur, hips starting to buck against his face. 

Your thighs start to squeeze his head but he couldn’t be bothered as he’s embraced by your warmth and wetness. Every whine and gasp that you allow him to hear only makes him press closer to your pussy. He wants to know what cute little sound you’ll make when you cum all over his face in your sleep. He slowly creeps one of his arms up your body and takes one of your nipples between two fingers. He rolls the hard bud before pinching it between his digits. That one pinch is all it took to have you grinding against his face letting your juices run down his face. 

“Mmmph, yes,” you whimper as he continues to softly lick at you. 

He rubs your thighs on either side of his head as he starts to kiss up your body. “Gonna flip you over.” he whispers in your ear before placing a soft kiss on your neck. You’re pliant in his hands as he flips you onto your tummy and chuckles when you cuddle closer to you plushie. “Hold onto him real tight for me baby.” he lifts your hips and smooths his hand up your back. 

Your pussy opens right up for him as he slowly pushes his cock into you. He keeps his pace slow as he slowly rocks into you keeping himself on the edge of pleasure. The way you cling to your plushie with every stroke and let out small gasps has him digging his fingers into your waist. He continues to slowly fuck you into your bed until he can’t take it anymore and fills your fluttering pussy and collapsing next to you. He pulls the blankets over you both and finds sleep himself. 

Choso’s desires were a little more restrained. Of course he still took you when he wanted but you could tell he really liked when you would truly just hand yourself over to him at any given time. His favorite thing to do was to get in the shower right before you got home so he could catch you in the hallway. The bathroom door would open and steam would pour out and you would turn and look at him and forget how to breathe, forget your morals, forget anything that wasn’t Choso standing before you with a towel low on his hips. 

“Just getting back?” he would smirk at you. 

“Mhm,” you nod, walking to stand in front of him. “Use me.” his cock twitches watching you sink to your knees in the middle of the hallway. “Please,” you blink up at him.

“Yeah?” he cups your jaw. “Guess you could suck me off since you’re down there.” he rubs his thumb along your lower lip. 

“Please,” you suck his thumb into your mouth. 

He slips his thumb out of your mouth and undoes the knot in his towel before letting it drop to the ground. His cock springs up in front of your face and you scoot closer wrapping your fingers along his shaft. Bringing the tip to your mouth you trail your tongue around the head, lapping against his slit as he starts to leak pre. You suck his tip into your mouth and pop it out, repeating this a couple of times until his fingers tangle in your hair. 

You lean back to press your lips down his length and glance up at his flushed cheeks. He jolts when you suck his balls into your mouth while starting to slowly stroke him. You lick back up to his tip and sink your mouth down around him pulling a low groan from him. He starts to guide you and you softly close your eyes and let him start to control your movements. Fingers tightening in your hair, he starts to bob you up and down, losing himself to your hot mouth. He twitches when he hits the back of your throat and you sputter. 

“Fuck baby,” he jerks his hips into your mouth. “Perfect lil mouth feels so good around my cock.” he pants holding your head still as he starts to fuck your mouth. “Yeah just like that,” your hands hold onto his thighs as you look up at him with fluttering eyes. “My good girl, my messy girl,” his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. 

Your thighs are sticky and clenched together at his words as you feel spit trailing out of your mouth. Each small choked sound that comes from you sends his pleasure racing towards him and his stomach coils when he spots the first tear to trail down your cheek. You hum when his head is tossed back and he starts to fill your throat with ropes of his cum. He holds your head down and you dig your nails into his skin, sending his pleasure even higher. He pulls you off of him and watches a string of spit and cum connect you before snapping and sticking against your chin and neck. 

“You’re fucking perfect.” he cups your cheek and helps you stand. He presses his lips to yours, never caring about the mess. “Got some stuff to do.” he mumbles into your mouth. “But later ‘m gonna reward you.” he nods, stepping back and walking to his room. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you til he’s done.” Mahito grabs your hand and takes you to his room.

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geto & gojo - 1.7k

It was a slip of words that had you on the end of Gojos relentless teasing. You glare at him from the couch trying to mask your embarrassment with anger but he can see right through you. He even goes so far as to pinch your cheeks and cooing about how flushed they are. You bat his hand away and he flops down on the couch and drapes himself on your shoulder. His cologne floods your nose and his hair brushing against your neck sends more heat throughout your body. 

“So you think I’m hot?” he squishes your cheek. 

“No,” you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. 

“I think you dooo.” he drags the word out with a grin. 

“I think you’re stupid.” you huff and go to your room shutting the door with a defining click. 

Gojo had made it his goal to keep you flushed and squirming for.. for the rest of time. He’ll never let you live this down and you’re sure your cheeks will start bubbling with how hot they stay. He makes it a point to walk closer to you and let his hands linger on you. Whispering in your ear, your personal space is now his, along with teasing you until you’re whining and covering your face. 

“C’mon baby,” Gojo coaxes trying to pull your hands away. “Lemme see your cute little face.” he successfully moves your hands and you look up at him with a soft pout. “There she is.” he cups your cheeks. “Y’know I was wondering..” he rubs his thumbs on your heated skin. “If you think I’m hot what do you think about Suguru?” he chuckles when your eyes widen. 

“You’re gonna tell him.” you shake your head in his hands. 

“Only if it’s something worth telling.” he grins. “You can tell me.” his voice lowers as he nods. “You can even whisper it.” he turns his head so your confession can go right in his ear. 

“I dunno,” your words barely a breath. 

“I think you do.” you don’t even have to see his smirk to know it’s there. “You think he’s hot?” 

“Mm,” you whine knowing you’re about to let your words spill out again. “I think he’s like.. really pretty.” he snaps his head towards you with a grin. “Toru please,” 

“I’m so telling him.” he falls back onto the couch in a fit of laughter. “Nooo come back.” he reaches after you as you practically run to your room. 

For the next couple of days everything seems perfectly normal. Geto doesn’t look at you any different and Gojo continues with his teasing. When they invite you to the pool you agree, excited to finally enjoy the sun. Excitement soon turns to something different when they remove their shirts before getting in the water. Gojo gives you a knowing smirk as he watches you take off your cover up. You avoid his eyes and step into the pool hoping the cool lick of the water will calm you but the way you can feel their eyes on you only makes you more flustered. 

“Soo did you know she thinks I’m hot?” Gojo offers Geto a lazy smile. 

“Satoru,” you hiss. 

“You talk about it everyday.” Geto shakes his head with a smile and you beg the pool to swallow you whole. 

“Did you also know that I asked her if she thought you were hot?” Gojo raises his eyebrows. 

“Ohmygod,” you cover your face. 

“Tell Suguru what you said.” Gojo chuckles as you pull your hands down and peek across at Geto.

“Satoru must you always tease her?” Geto can’t hide his smirk, already knowing what you’ve said. 

“Just tell him.” he nods with his smile you can’t say no to.

“I think you’re pretty.” you blush furiously as Geto turns his full attention to you.

“Exact words.” Gojo tuts. 

“I think you’re really pretty.” your words get softer as Geto steps closer to you. 

“Yeah?” he cradles your cheeks and you nod. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out. 

“Well I think you’re absolutely adorable.” Geto coos. 

“The cutest little roommate we could ask for.” Gojos hands slip around your waist and you squeak as he presses you against Geto. “You got me wondering about something else baby.” he softly squeezes your side. 

“Hm?” you lean back against Gojos chest when Geto lets one of his hands slide to your jaw and tilt your head further back. 

“Why don’t you let me and Geto have you?” Geto locks eyes with Gojo at your whimper. “I can make you flush for different reasons.” you gasp when he grinds his covered cock against your ass. 

“And when you're done with his teasing I’ll take you to my room and lock us inside.” Geto nods, rubbing his thumb on your jaw. 

After that everything shifted. You’ve never felt more satisfied yet so scandalized with everything that goes on with the three of you behind closed doors. They both tease you about how you still get embarrassed when they talk openly about how messy they had you cumming all over their cock. Sometimes this would lead to them hoisting you up onto the table and seeing which of them could make you cum the hardest. 

Gojos new favorite way to tease you was to have you perched on his cock and bouncing away and you list off things you like about him. He sits back and watches your tits bounce listening to your juices leak between you two as you try to form a word. One of his hands loosely holds onto your hip while the other rests on your lower tummy, letting his thumb lazily circle your throbbing bud. 

“Tell me more, baby.” he watches you peel your eyes open. 

“Your.. mm your hair,” you nod rolling your hips against his. 

“What else?” he squeezes your hip getting your attention again. 

“Toru,” you whine when he starts to move his thumb faster. 

“You like my name?” he taunts.

“Mhmm,” you nod, humping against him and sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “I like.. like your voice ‘n..”

“Keep goin,” he grunts, feeling you squeeze around him. 

“Your eyes,” you gasp when he jerks his hips up. “I.. I really like-“ he pulls you down against his chest and starts to snap his hips into yours sending you into a frenzy of whimpers and soft cries. 

“You gotta,” he grunts. “Gotta tell me what you really like.” he pants. “Know you can say more than just ‘yes’ and my name.” he chuckles, feeling more of your pleasure leak between the two of you. 

“Your cock, ‘s perfect,” a high pitched gasp comes from you and you fall apart. 

“That’s my good girl,” he hammers his hips into you as he starts to fill you with his cum. “Can’t believe you think I’m perfect.” he grins up at you finally stilling inside you. 

On the off chance that Gojo is teasing you while you're not on his cock Geto will quite literally come take you and lock you in his room while you preen about him being your savior. Whispered words between kisses about how you have to give him something for his galant rescue. He’ll shush you with kisses and press you into his mattress beneath him effectively silencing and trapping you. 

“Lemme take your hair down, Sugu,” you murmur into his mouth, fingers quickly finding the tie. 

He nods and you delicately undo the tie and sigh contently as his hair curtains around the both of you. The low groan that comes from him as you card your fingers through his hair sends heat throughout your body. He rolls his hips into yours and you tug softly on his silky strands. The next couple of minutes consist of fumbling hands and flying clothes until there are no barriers between the both of you. All of your heated touches and kisses leave you wet and waiting for him when he lines his tip up at your fluttering pussy. 

“Satoru said you called him perfect the other day..” Geto mumbles, slowly sliding into you. 

“I..” you furrow your brows not knowing what to say. 

“He’s been tryna make me jealous.” he voice drops as he moves to press his lips to your neck. “Gotta admit.. it’s kinda working.” he softly bites into your skin before soothing it with his tongue. 

“Suguru,” you gasp as he pulls out to snap his hips back in. 

“After all of the ‘rescuing’ I’ve done?” he chuckles lowly into your neck. “But today,” he snaps his hips again. “You are locked in this room until I’m done.” you flutter around him at his tone. 

He hears you start to respond and starts to hammer into you. He could never truly be mad at you and he knows Gojos words were only meant to spur him on and he decided to finally take the bait. You’re whimpering beneath him letting out incoherent pleas as you dig your nails into his shoulders. His pace is ruthless and becomes even more so when he pushes your leg up and leans back. He looks down at the mess you're making all over him and his sheets before glancing back and your scrunched face. 

“If you wanna cum you're gonna repeat after me.” he leans down and grabs your chin never letting his pace falter. “And loudly.” he smirks knowing the war he’s about to start. “Okay?” you nod trying not to burst at the way he grinds into you. 

“Yes,” you pant. “Anything please,” 

“Suguru,” he nods at you bringing a thumb down to rub at your bud watching your pussy cry a little harder. 

“Sugu.. Suguruu,” you cry out and he smirks. 

“Is,” his fingers dig into your leg as he has to push off his own pleasure. 

“Is,” your voice cracks followed by a loud moan. 

“Better.” he watches you work out the word on your tongue. 

“Better.” you squeak. “Suguru’s better, Sugu’s better..” you chant as you start to pulse around him. 

“That’s right baby,” he groans, spilling his cum into your seeping pussy. He lets your leg down and he slowly continues to rock into you sending aftershocks through the both of you. “We’re not-

“Open the door.” Gojo bangs on Sugurus bedroom door before jiggling the handle. 

“We’re not done.” Geto hums. “Maybe later.” his tone mocking. Geto ignores the continued banging against his door as he grinds himself into you until he’s hard again. 

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sukuna & toji - 2.3k

All this started because you forgot your robe after the shower. So with an arm squished over your breasts and the smallest wash cloth being held with white knuckles to cover between your legs you peek your head out into the hall before taking your chance. You start to sprint down the hall to only smash into Sukuna’s chest. Your cheeks are on fire and you squeeze your eyes shut willing a robe to wrap around your body but then you feel his hands grab your waist and you gasp, snapping your eyes open. 

“Whatcha doing?” he grins down at you. 

You shake your head and scuttle past him running the rest of the way to your room. Pushing your door shut, you lean back against it feeling your cheeks get even hotter. The wash cloth is thrown across the room as you stare daggers at your robe hanging on the wall near your mirror. Your bed promises to engulf you and your shame and you take quick steps to it before collapsing into your blankets and burying your head in your pillows. Minutes pass as you let the world drift away and curl further into your blankets. Your eyes become heavy as you let sleep take you as hours slip by.

“Hey, you up?” Sukuna knocks on your door with scrunched brows. You never hide in your room this long and he’s starting to get worried. “Baby?” he knocks again. 

You spring up from the bed and rush to grab your robe before making it to the door. “Yeah?” you crack the door open and look up at him. 

“You okay?” he takes in your lidded eyes and flushed cheeks. “Were you sleeping?” he leans against your doorframe. 

“Mhm,” you nod. 

“Come eat with me and Toji. We ordered in and got your favorite stuff.” he keeps his voice soft trying to coax you out of your room. 

“Really?” you pull your door open more. 

“Yeah, c’mon,” he offers you his hand. 

You grab onto his hand and he pulls you against his side before leading you down the hall. When you reach the dining room you see Toji lounging back in a chair with a lazy smirk as he takes in your form draped in your silk robe. You take a seat and they start to pass you a plate and boxes of take out. 

“Heard you streaked down the hallway.” Toji chuckles as your eyes widen. 

“Kuna,” you pout at him. 

“You looked good, baby. Don’t need to be embarrassed.” he shovels some food onto your plate before taking his fill. “Might just have to throw away all the towels and robes so it can keep happening.” 

“You’re a pervert.” you can’t help the way your cheeks burn under his gaze. 

“I wanna see since he got to see.” Toji grabs your attention and you turn to him. 

“Toji,” you whine. 

“Just a lil peek.” he grins. “After dinner.” he points at you with his fork before turning back to his plate. 

All dinner you were sure you were going to explode as they kept teasing you. Your robe was clutched between your hands as you tried to focus on your food but their low words and chuckles are keeping you on edge. They’ve always been flirtatious but their words seem more charged and their eyes hold a hunger you’ve never seen before. Dinner comes to an end and you feel like you’ve melted into a puddle under the table. 

“Look at you all flushed n squirmy.” Toji pushes his chair back and walks over to you. “Stand up baby.” he scoots your chair back. 

“Kuna didn’t see anything.” you rise from the chair and blink up at him. 

“No?” he steps closer to you. “So he didn’t see you squishing your chest together, still dripping from the shower?” his hands start to tug on the ties of your robe. “Or your cute little ass as you ran down the hall?” 

“Mmm,” you cover your face with your hands. “Toji,” you gasp as you feel the tie on your robe come undone and you clutch at it quickly. 

“You’re so fuckin cute baby.” he groans. “Lemme see.” he smiles as you let him pluck your fingers from the silk and he watches it start to open. 

“Well now he’s getting a better look.” Sukuna drawls from across the table. 

“Can we give him a better look too?” Toji brushes his knuckles against your cheek. “Yeah?” he prompts you, watching you nod.

“Yeah,” you suck your bottom lip between your teeth as Toji lets his hand drop to your shoulder and start to push off the silk. “That’s our good girl.” his fingers leave your skin pebbling in their wake as he bares you to the both of them. Toji starts to walk over to Sukuna and you trail behind him trying to hide behind his back. 

“Come on out, sweet girl.” Sukuna chuckles. You poke your head out from behind Toji and are greeted by Sukunas grin. “Not gonna bite or nothing.” the way his eyes are devouring you alive makes his words hard to believe. 

“I might.” you squeak when Tojis hand pushes against your waist and scoots you between the both of them. 

“Why’ve you been hiding from us?” Sukuna takes one of your hands and pulls you closer.  

“Been keeping this lil ass to yourself.” Toji tuts making you gasp as he grabs a handful of your ass. 

“I- Kuna,” you whimper when his hands come up to cup your breasts. “Mm,” you squeeze your thighs together when he takes your nipples between his fingers. 

“You like us touching you?” Sukuna watches you squeeze your eyes shut when he flicks his thumbs against the hardened buds. 

“Mhm,” you lean back when Toji brings his other hand to your waist and trails his calloused fingers over your skin. 

“What’s got you squeezing these thighs together?” Toji's voice washes over you as his fingers skim towards your lower tummy. “Hm?” he smirks watching your breathing deepen as he keeps creeping lower. 

“Want us to touch you here too?” Sukuna moves one of his hands down to start sliding up between your thighs.

“Please,” you whimper. 

Ever since that night the boundaries between the three of you have completely dissolved. It kept your heart beating a little faster when you were home with them. How possessive their touches were, how tightly they held you. With just a look they could leave you dripping and fluttering around nothing in anticipation of what they’ll do. 

Sukuna didn’t throw the towels away but you slowly stopped using them because he would usually show up in the middle of your shower anyways. You would still gasp every time he pulled the shower curtain aside and stepped in. He would tower over you as he scooted you back against the tile to box you in. He steps closer, satisfied with watching your chest heave in anticipation.

“Please,” you push your chest into his as he presses you back against the cool tile.

“Hush, ‘m right here.” he leans down and takes your lips. “Always so needy.” he mumbles against your lips as his hands hook under your ass and lift you. “Know you’ve been waitin for me to come in here.” he smirks as you wrap your legs around him. 

“Please Kuna,” you curl your arms behind his neck, letting your nails rake along his skin. “Please please,” you whine when you’re pushed harder against the tile as he looks between you both to line himself up. “Yeesss,” you tug on his hair, feeling the familiar stretch of him pushing into you. 

He’s about to tell you to be quiet but it’s not like you're saying anything. Your words are lost to broken moans and small whines as his thrusts become demanding. “Feel fuckin perfect.” he starts to snap his hips into yours. 

You bounce yourself against him and with every wet smack of your hips your mind goes a little more blank. Sukuna watches your eyes start to flutter so he presses you harder against the tile with his hips and grinds himself into you. Nails clawing into his neck you shutter feeling the pressure start to build in your tummy. He pulls his hips back just to smack them back into you. 

“Kuna,” your breath is stolen from you when he starts to ram into you again. 

“Hm?” he grunts, digging his fingers into your skin. Your juices wet his cock more than the stream of water pouring down his back. “What d’you want?” he groans when one of your hands tangle in his hair and pull him closer.

“Ca- Can you.. please,” your wrecked voice has his hips snap into yours a little harder. “‘m gonna cum.. gonna cu- yesyes,” you pulse around him. “Want you to,” you gasp as pulls you off of the wall and snaps his hips up into yours pulling whimpers and cries from your mouth. 

“You want more?” he lets out a shaky chuckle. 

“Cum,” you press your forehead to his shoulder. “Your cum.” you nod your head. “Want it in me.” you press your lips to his skin.

“Course ‘m gonna fill you up.” he’s happy you don’t notice the way his voice wavers. “Pussy’s begging for it. Hugging me so tight.” he pants. 

“Please, I need it.” you whine and he feels his pleasure snap. 

“Then take it all.” he grunts and slowly grinds his cum into you. 

“Thank you, thank you,” you cling against him, rocking your hips into his. 

Toji has gotten used to being woken up from his naps by you and Sukuna going at it. Sometimes he would join but when he’s tired like this he’ll just close his eyes again and wrap his hand around his cock. He plans out what he’ll do to you later, sending his cum falling onto his hand and stomach as he listens to your cries as Sukuna takes you. He’ll fall back asleep with a smile and not wake until the moon is high in the sky and the apartment is dark. He doesn’t even bother to put on his sweats as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

As if you were waiting for him to wake up he hears you pouring yourself a drink. He smirks and lightens his footsteps as a grin forms on his face. The fridge shuts and he watches you set your glass in the sink as he slowly stalks around the counter. He steps directly behind you and watches your back straighten. You gasp when his hands grip your hips and press you into the counter. He pushes you down against the chilly surface and kicks your legs apart. Upon seeing your panty clad pussy he starts to slide his cock up and down the quickly dampening fabric.

“Toji,” you whimper, pressing your forehead against the counter. 

“Hush,” he brings a hand down to give you a quick spank. “Don’t wanna hear it, you woke me up from my nap earlier.” he swats his hand against your other cheek. 

He keeps one hand pressed to your back keeping you stuck against the counter while he lets the other grab all over you listening to your gasps and whines as he rocks his hips faster. His cock twitches when you arch your back for him and he feels the thin fabric start to get squishy from how wet you are. The whimpers escaping your lips have him leaking his pre all over your panties as he continues to hump against you. Your little gasps tell him how much you’re enjoying this and he chuckles when you kick one of your legs up when he quickens his pace. 

Toji lands two fast spanks on each of your cheeks before he slips his cock under your panties. You both groan at the contact before he continues his previous movements. You wiggle your hips and rock against him trying to catch his tip in your aching pussy only for him to stop his movements and spank you again before stepping back. He smirks when you turn your head with a frown when you see him stroking his cock.

“In me.” you plead, spreading your legs wider. “Please Toji,” he presses his hand hard against your back as you start to squirm. “Please.” 

“I dunno,” he leans closer to you, panting slightly. “I could cum like this.” he smacks his tip against the heated skin of your ass.

“‘m sorry I woke you up.” he watches your eyes well up. “Please,” he looks and sees your pussy crying along with you. “Toji please.”

“Yeah, alright.” he slides into your throbbing pussy and you press your cheek against the counter at his stretch. “Course you’re expecting me to fuck you too.” he sighs starting to pull out. “Anything else you’re wantin from me?” he lets out a low chuckle.

“Thank you.” you whine when his hips start to fall into yours. “Thank you, Toji.” you press back into him. 

His other palm lands on the counter next to your head as his hips start to pound into you frantically. The moans that tear out of your throat are barely louder than your juices sopping all over Tojis cock and down your thighs. He leans down over you and presses his chest into your back, smushing you into the counter. Your high catches you by surprise and you burst around him, thanking him over and over. With a few more sloppy thrusts he’s spilling his cum into you with low curses falling from his mouth. 

“Well damn,” Sukuna chuckles from the doorway. “Just needed a snack.” a grin spreads across his features as he walks over to the both of you. 

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                                      masterlist

[lustlovehart]

This is like my first ask ever so I'm a bit nervous, but I've been thinking abt monter!twst nonstop so I just had to make an ask. What would the boys do (including Rollo) if mh!reader was on a mission and got put under a sleeping curse?

I'd imagine it'd be pretty distressing, imaging Rollo trying to keep the monsters away while looking for a cure for reader.

Love the au also! Keep up the good work!

- milk 🥛 anon

A/n: Ahhhh!!! Hi 🥛 anon!!! Don’t ever be nervous putting stuff in my inbox <33 I’ve said this before but I love reading everyone’s ideas!! Even if i don’t get to writing them </3

Featuring: [Monster!Twst] Heartslaybul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasmonia, Rollo, Neige, Fellow, Skully, Chenya x Reader

Cw: Head canon format ( So no individual scenarios unfortunately), Obsession, Possessiveness, Kissing, Insecurity, No proofreading

Unfortunately, Poor Rollo has to deal with BOTH swatting them away like flies, and checking up to make sure you’re not suffering in your time of rest with nightmares 😔 (a wanting to be married to you single mom who works 2 jobs).

I like to imagine fairytales still exist within the universe, but they don’t reach their ears in the wild. It’s only Heartslaybul, Leona, Kalim, and Epel who have any idea of the “Kiss of true love”, and then words spreads around of these human stories and suddenly it’s less about getting your body back and more about being the one who wakes you up…

Why would he wanna kiss you? That’s stupid nothing’s gonna happen… Maybe one—?

- Ace, Jamil, Epel, Sebek

- Depending on his personality, he’s either going “Ew gross i’m not kissing a human” or “Those humans tales are foolish, why would i believe them?”. But either view end them in the same boat, standing over your slumbering form and hesitantly leaning into your face. Maybe he isn’t fast with it either, taking his time to look at the details in your mortal face, pores, eyelashes, everything really. It’s stupid, so stupid he shouldn’t believe any of this really, it’s vulnerable, emotional, unnecessary; yet, he can’t seem to stop himself from placing his monstrous mouth on yours, hoping something will happen.

Wants to kiss you, but feels a sense of insecurity that holds him back

- Riddle, Deuce, Cater, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Idia, Silver

- Similar to the previous category, but slightly different. They don’t oppose the idea of a kiss at all, what really has them fearing their lips on yours, is both the vulnerability, and the event of it not working. What then? He puts himself out there for you and it’s pointless? It’s cruel, a further reminder of just how different you both are. He will look at you with pain in his eyes, wondering what he should do. Ghastly hands taking your own as he lifts them to his mouth. He might not be able to bring himself to your lips, but he’s willing to settle on your skin. He just… can’t bear the thought that he wasn’t made for you.

He’ll try, it sounds fun! When, not if, you wake up, he’ll make sure to tell you about everyone’s current violence problem.

- Trey, Floyd, Jade, Rook, Lilia, Fellow, Chenya

- Practically jumping at the chance to place his mouth on you. Of course he’ll wake you up! You’re a lot more fun when you up and about trying to hunt him down! The thought of it not working does cross his mind, but is he truly an all famed beast if he can’t take risks? He lucked out on Rollo being gone, he’s essentially a human version of a brick wall. He’ll go out all out for you, snaking his arm around your waist and lifting you out the glass coffin liking a loving husband. He’ll swirl you around with care, before dipping you down like a ballroom dance, and then wake you up. He can’t wait to show off to everyone else, because you will open your eyes.

He’ll do it. if his try doesn’t work though… He’ll make sure no one eleses does either. Your sleeping body will forever be held with him until you wake up.

- Leona, Kalim, Vil, Malleus, Neige, Skully

- He’s already sat by your side, his hand tracing patterns into your collarbone while he whispers. Will you wake up for him? You will won’t you? You must. Silent affirmations only he and he only will know, unless you wake up of course. His finger will trace down your chest, tapping the place your heart would be, each touch in sync with the beat of your heart. It’s gentle, yet somehow possessive in some right. With the final beat of his index, he’ll finally lean down, his face feeling your breathes on his fiendish skin. You’ll wake up, not because he believes in the tale, but because you must let him be the one who does something so intimate to you. If it doesn’t work, he’ll put you in prettier clothes, a prettier coffin, a prettier home, because he won’t let anyone else have the blessing of tasting your lips, only him.

The one who places your body in the pretty glass coffin, putting you in the prettiest of wear and scenery during his attempt; all while warding off the wretched creatures.

- Rollo

- Practically spends every waking and sleeping moment in your presence, only leaving for at most 5 minutes. Unfortunately for him, 5 minutes is enough time for anything to happen to you. He’ll hold your hands, fix your clothes, place new flowers and ribbons on your coffin, anything for you; except be the one who kisses you. The urge to consumes his entire being, eating at him like a sinful leech who wont let go. Sometimes whenever he’s by you, his eyes can’t help but trace back to your lips, a temptation too good for any man or beast to resist, but he does, because he can’t bear the thought of stripping you’re purity, directly at least. Whenever the urge becomes much too strong, he’ll lean down, placing a kiss on your knuckle, on your wrist, on your forehead, on your cheek, on your collarbone, on your neck, on your chest, even on the corner of your mouth, until the only place he hasn’t placed his mouth on is your lips. An indulgence he won’t take no matter how much he wishes to. Because…

You don’t deserve a monsters love, not matter how much he wishes to be yours and yours alone.

You are the sole blessing he has left, he won’t taint you, no matter how much he wishes too. But… he won’t let anyone else take you either.

A/n: For Floyd, Jade, and Sebek I realized half way that these guys wouldn’t be able to reach you on land if that’s where you were laid to rest, a perfect scenario for Rollo really. Imagine his surprise when he opens your room and sees tiny imps dragging your coffin out and into the river, where a horrific marine monster takes hold of you… Truly, how desperate for you are they?!? (Rollo has no room to judge considering he’s just as obsessed)

This honestly makes Floyd and Jade scenario so pretty <3 being in pretty clothes while he ball dances with you in the water, dipping you down while clear water envelops your upper half, leaving only your pretty face <33 do you guys see the vision?!?

And trey? He doesn’t seem like the type to be in that category, but hear me out, he does it low-key. He doesn’t go all out like the others guys so it’s not as cocky, yet there’s the underlying feeling of bragging that they can get mad and but can’t outright criticize him for. Same goes for kalim, he doesn’t seem like the type to do such a thing, but in this case, he can’t help but feel a little jealous if it isn’t him who wakes you up.

[y-elleven]

the mental image of sae stressing in your kitchen at like 5am trying to not burn the pancakes he saw a recipe for a few days ago so he can surprise you with breakfast in bed is doing. things to me. once he gets it through his thick head that he wants to wake up with you in his bed for the rest of his life he is immediately trying to learn how to be your husband. its so funny bc he canonically is pretty clueless about things outside soccer. he will (try to) cook he will (maybe) clean he will (definitely) provide and one day he's gonna get so good at it that he'll be able to go down on one knee and ask you to marry him and he wont be scared or nervous anymore because by then he knows he can take care of you. but he's not like that rn. not yet. that's why he's slowly losing his mind, gritting his teeth while glaring at the stack of misshapen and burnt pancakes he's gonna begrudgingly eat later, diet be damned, while he slowly pours a new round of batter into the buttery pool of his pan. he knows you'd get on his ass for "wasting food" if you found out and like hell he'd let you eat something like this. he's used to waking up early but he has almost zero experience in the kitchen and he's about two more failed attempts away from never following a recipe from the internet ever again. he's cranky and tired and a little overstimulated, but he'll keep going til he gets it right bc what is he if not a creature of spite? being in love with you can be such an inconvenience to a high maintenance guy like him, honestly. but the look on your face when you walk in on him stacking two wonky-looking pancakes makes him want you to inconvenience him forever

[kyupidu]

Hello!!! Can I have a yandere twisted Astro mayhaps?? :0 or just twisted Astro if youre more comfortable, headcanon or oneshot, its up to you!! Either way thank you and I hope u have a nice day/night :)

● Forever in his arms.

Yandere!Astro x toon!reader

Warnings: Yandere, Asphyxiation, Delusions, forced affection, astro is abit mean in the first half

Notes: This is my first yandere fic it might not be the best sorry! but i hope you enjoy reading! also i couldnt get the images to work so i just didnt add them..

A smile would grace your face as you finished your fourth machine, two more to go! This was your last floor till you were able to finally go back up. You snickered abit at the thought of being able to brag about how to gotten to such a high floor all by yourself AND finally being able to sleep.

Venturing off to find your second to last machine, noticing a twisted Cosmo approaching you quickly hid behind two boxes and a shelf. Sitting there for abit you peeked to see if Cosmo was gone. This caused you to fail to notice a certain sleepy twisted approaching you.

Closing your eyes and sighing thinking that the coast is clear, you twirled around just to be grabbed by the throat at slammed against the wall. Your head would hurt as you writhed trying to escape its grasp though Astro being the stronger one was unphased by your attempts.

Thrashing and kicking and yelling you grasped the hand around your neck and pulled on it hoping his grip would lighten. Your panic filled eyes would meet tearful ones, recognizing them. tears gathered in your eyes you choked out "S-Stop! Stop Astro!" you pleaded so fearful you forgot that this wasn't your friend.

Hearing this put a thought in his ichor fogged head making him remember.. something. Although he could slightly remember it. You had stopped him with a worried look in your face , although he couldn't remember anymore than that. What he did know is remembering it made him feel.. something.

He felt warm.. warm like... a hug.. -wait a hug? This thought caused a picture to finally resurface, of you hugging him. This made his hand loosen and fall to his side. You fell to the ground and scrambled to catch your breath.

As your breathing somewhat calmed you quickly got up and ran. This would cause him to come back to his senses. No.. you couldn't leave.. he loved you so much.. he yearned for you to hug him again.. he yearned.. for you, he would make sure you NEVER left. As you ran trying to find a place to hide still trying to catch your breath you failed to notice you were running toward a research capsule.

As you approached it you finally noticed it, you were too late and tripped over it. Falling to the ground, before you could even try to get back up four arms picked you up rendering you helpless. Struggling in his hold trying to get out as he turned you toward himself. You looked at him sobbing thinking that you'd never see your friends again. To him you always looked so beautiful even when your crying like this.

You looked cute crying, but he was sure you'd look even better with a grin. Using on of his hands pat your head and the other to cup your cheek and wipe away your tears. It felt so good to be in your embrace once more.

You slowly stopped trying to get out realizing that wasn't gonna work. "It's okay.. everything's okay now.." he said bringing you closer to him. It was good you stopped trying, it was always gonna be useless. No matter how much you ran he would always catch you. He hoped this meant you loved him too. You would forever be in his arms.

[bunny7567]

I don't know how the night might change us

Pairing: Fox x Padawan!Reader / Fox x fem!Reader

Summary: Trying to escape the unwelcome attention of a senator, you take refuge on a balcony - and find yourself in the company of a certain Commander in scarlet armor. Little do you know, this encounter is about to change you forever.

Word count: 8.2k Tags/Warnings: NSFW 18+; I wanted to write porn with plot, but this turned out to be 73.96% plot and 26.04% porn (I did the math); pinv sex; oral (f receiving); edging; kind of drunk sex; unprotected sex (but we all know better right?); smoking; alcohol; Fox is a cocky bastard; Reader is wearing heels and a red dress; Reader is over 18, just didn't pass the trials yet; had to throw in an overprotective big brother; it's Cody, of course it is; just a tiny bit of angst; slightly awkward!Reader

Part 2 here

A/n: So this is the first 'x reader' thing i've ever written. Fox brainrot is real guys, couldn't escape it. Was this supposed to be a one-shot? yes. Is it a one-shot? not really, i'm pretty much setting up possible follow-ups. Am I gonna write said follow-ups? ...maybe.

Title is from Terrified by Vincent Lima - which is sooo Fox-coded in my opinion 😭 3rd image is a painting by Miguel Dominguez Cody's scar origin is from this video that I loved so fucking much, I had to adopt the headcanon too.

ori'vod - older brother ; vod'ika - little sister vod - brother ; vode - brothers cyar'ika - sweetheart, darling mesh’la - beautiful osik - crap, shit shabuir - extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger Shab kyr’unsen’ye - made this up to mean 'fuck off and die'

~~~

The senator grips your arm in a way that causes your face to briefly scrunch in disgust, but there’s nothing you can do besides quickly schooling your expression back to a neutral one. Your eyes search through the crowd of elegantly dressed sentients, franticly trying to find anyone that could help get you out of this uncomfortable situation. You see your Master – Obi-Wan is all the way on the other side of the grandiose event hall, engrossed in what appears to be quite a serious conversation with Master Windu. Or, it might as well be idle chitchat about the weather – you can never tell when it comes to the Council Member.

Your eyes keep shifting through the crowd, scanning for orange-painted palstoid – if Obi-Wan can’t help you, maybe your ori’vod can. But any hope of securing help from the Commander dissolves in a second. Cody seems to be in just as bad of a situation, standing next to Rex and surrounded by a group of wealthy socialites you know they are supposed to impress – that’s the point of this whole damn gala isn’t it? showing off the Republic’s perfect soldiers and gathering more funds for this never-ending war. You catch his gaze and faintly tilt your head towards the man still holding onto your arm, allowing a barely visible eye roll to communicate you disdain. Cody’s shrugs and nods, his movements just as discreet – he knows exactly how it feels. Your attention is then caught by the same speech you’ve heard at least five times tonight.

“And she is the first Jedi Master that our planet has had in 200 years. We could not be more proud of all her accomplishments”, the senator exclaims.

“Padawan”, you correct, “I have not yet passed my Trials”. How many times do you need to explain it to this man?

“Right, of course. We’re still so, so proud”.

The mixed group of men and women nod, and a few flashes from the holo-cameras make you recoil – journalists form your homeworld, the senator explained earlier. You don’t understand why he insists on having so many pictures of the two of you taken, but you bite your tongue and play your part, praying to the Force you’ll finally be able to escape his grasp soon. You take a sip of the sparkling chandrillan wine you’re holding – you are so over this whole evening.

The Force finally seems to take pity on you – a man in expensive-looking robes calls the senator’s name and he finally releases your arm in order to shake his hand. With a curtly muttered “excuse me just a moment” you hurry away, making a beeline for the nearest balcony door. The room feels stuffy and you desperately need some air. As you move through the crowd, you slightly roll your ankle and curse under your breath – what in the hell possessed you to wear heels? – but nevertheless you carry on.

As soon as the door shuts, you lean against its coloured transparisteel, close your eyes and finally breathe out a sigh of relief. The night air is chilly, the sun having long disappeared past the horizon, and it feels soothing against your heated cheeks. You did not think you’d have to stay for so long, but the damn party just won’t end. Maybe you’ll be able to hide out here for the rest of it.

“You alright?”, a deep voice startles you and your eyes snap open.

Turning your head to your right, you notice a man leaning against the durasteel railing and you feel your heart skip a beat. He is a clone – Coruscant Guard by the looks of his armor, but he’s just so…

The clone’s hair is drizzled by streaks of grey and there’s a prominent scar across the bridge of his nose. There seem to be more scars scattered on his face, but in the faint, reddish light coming through the transparisteel, you cannot make out that much detail. Smoke is enveloping him, and your eyes travel down to the lit cigarra in his hand. An empty glass sits next to him on the railing, only two cubes of slowly melting ice remaining on the bottom. Another details grabs your attention – the kama. You’re pretty sure you’re looking at a Commander. Now if you could figure out which one.

The man cocks his head to the side, an amused expression sparkling in his eyes. Right… he asked you a question and all you’ve done is stare at him – you might as well be drooling. Get a grip.

Straightening, you turn to face him better. “Yes. I just really needed some air… and to escape some unwanted attention”, you confess.

“Senator Brenko”, the clone nods, an understanding passing over his facial features.

“Yeah… how did you know?”

“It’s my job to pay attention”, he says dryly, taking a drag out of the cigarra.

Your eyes involuntarily track the movement, focusing on the way his lips enclose around it. Suddenly, your throat feels really dry, so you down the last of the sparkling wine in your glass. Maybe that wasn’t the best decision – it was not your first glass of the night and you’re starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol. But it’s not enough. The past hours of being paraded around by the senator have left you restless and irritated, and you’re craving something to take the edge off.

Slowly, you walk to the railing and place your empty glass next to his, then eye the cigarra which is back between his lips. You promised Cody you were done with tabac… but one cigarra every now and then can’t hurt, right?

“Do you have another one of those?”

A small smirk tugs at the clone’s lips as he reaches for one of the pouches on his belt, procuring a pack of cigarras and tilting it towards you. You take one out of the pack, bringing it up to your nose to inhale its aroma before placing it between your lips. The clone then takes out a small, metallic lighter, igniting the flame and holding it out in front if you. The normal thing to do would be to simply lean in, but for some reason, your hand gently grasps his, bringing it closer in order to light the cigarra, your gaze lifting to meet his as you do so. You’re not sure if he minds – his face remains impassive, but you do catch the way his posture slightly tenses at your touch.

“Thank you, Commander…?”, you prompt, exhaling the first puff of burning smoke.

“Fox”, the clone replies, standing a bit taller.

Your eyebrows briefly lift up. The Commander Fox, head of the Coruscant Guard.

You’ve heard plenty about him from Cody – mostly complaints. Then again, Cody might still be slightly bitter about that scar on his face, courtesy of a very drunk Fox one night at the 79s. You weren’t there to witness it, but Boil has provided a very detailed retelling. The words “miserable asshole” have also been thrown around – that one was Wolffe’s description. Cody’s main grievance, however, is Fox pulling away from them for what he considers no good reason, and how impossible it is to get to talk to his brother.

Rex, on the other hand, always tries to defend Fox whenever he comes up in conversation at the 79s, especially after Wolffe has had a few drinks and starts tearing into him. You’ve heard so many contradictory accounts of the man standing in front of you, you have no idea what to make of him.

Safe to say, you are intrigued.

“Nice to meet you, Commander. I’m–”

“Cody’s Padawan. I know”, Fox interjects, his eyes giving you a once-over.

“Cody’s Padawan?”, you repeat with a chuckle. “I don’t think Master Kenobi would agree with that statement”

“Just clone-talk”, he shrugs.

You narrow your eyes. You really, really shouldn’t meddle in their relationship – it’s not your place. But Cody is important to you – he is your ori’vod after all – and you’ve seen how much Fox’s gradual disappearance has been weighing on him. What the hell. You’re feeling bold tonight anyway.

“That implies you and Cody talk, and I know for a fact you do not pick up his comms”, you jab, taking a slow drag of the cigarra.

All amusement seems to disappear from his eyes and his gaze turns cold. You don’t falter – you square your shoulders and stare him down, making it very clear you’re expecting a reply.

“I’m busy”, he mumbles.

“Cody’s busy too”, you counter, “but he still makes time to comm his brothers”.

Fox’s jaw clenches and his eyes dart to the door of the balcony. For a moment you think you’ve offended him so much that he’s going to leave and you’re about to open your mouth to apologise, only to be stopped by a low, defeated sigh. Fox tosses the nearly-finished cigarra into his empty glass, the ambers fizzling out as they touch the melted ice. He pulls another one from his pouch, lights it, and shifts his stance, resting his forearms against the railing.

“Well, busy looks different on Coruscant”, he says, gaze lost to the skyline.

He sounds so tired and for some reason your heart breaks for him. You have seen your fair share of the ugliness of Coruscant – and if you’re honest you’ve never really liked it here. An uncomfortable feeling of guilt stirs in your stomach. You do not know this man and you do not know what he has to deal with on a daily basis. All you know is what other people have told you and their retellings are clouded by personal feelings. Maybe you were too quick to judge.

“This place does fucking suck”, you comment, leaning back on the railing.

Fox huffs a small laugh and turns his head to look at you. “Is that the kind of language they teach at that Temple of yours?”.

You roll your eyes. “My master had a very colourful way of expressing herself. My first Master, that is. She died at the beginning of the war – it’s how I ended up in the 212th”, you explain, smiling ruefully at his muttered condolences. “Obi-Wan would probably have a stroke if he heard me”.

“Don’t think Cody would be too pleased either”, he adds.

“Really? Cause he’s the one who taught me how to swear in Mando’a”, you lie, wanting to gauge how well he knows his brother.

“Cody?”, he asks, giving you a look.

“Yes, Cody”, you affirm.

“Not a chance. I do not believe that for a second”.

You genuinely laugh and shake your head. “Fine”, you admit, “it was actually some of the boys from the 501st”.

“That I can believe”, the Commander nods. There’s a pause in the conversation as both of you gather your thoughts. Before you can find the next thing to say, he continues. “What’s your favourite then?”

You mull it over, going through the words and phrases you know. “Not sure if I have a favourite, but ‘Shab kyr’unsen’ye’ was pretty much all I had in my head earlier”, you say, gesturing to the door of the balcony with the hand holding the cigarra. “Honestly you should get a medal just for dealing with these fuckers every day”.

Fox arches a brow, that spark of amusement back in his eyes.

“Oh, sorry. Esteemed fuckers”, you correct.

The Commander laughs – actually laughs – something that, based on everything you’ve heard about him, you didn’t think was possible. “I see why Cody likes you”.

You join in on the laughter, before adding, “no but really, how do you deal with them every single day? I’ve only spent time with one tonight and I was ready to commit murder after only 15 minutes”.

“Honestly?”, Fox says, taking a long drag of the cigarra, “I tune out most of what they say”.

“Really?”.

“Really”, he confirms. “They just like to hear themselves talk, they’re never really looking for a reply – it would interrupt their monologues. I’m sure you’ve noticed – did Brenko let you get a single word in?”.

“Not really”, you contemplate. “And I’ve even corrected him on something at least five times”.

“How dare you ruin his campaign?”, Fox jokes.

You frown, confusion clearly written on your face. “What campaign?”.

The Commander straightens, turning to face you better. “The re-election campaign. His term as a senator is almost over. I assumed that’s why he was parading you around all night – trying to imply he has the support of the Jedi”.

Your entire body tenses as a wave of anger violently crashes over you. “That… that fucking shabuir. Of course he was just using me, I should’ve realised”. Shaking your head, you let out a sharp exhale. “You know that could actually get me in trouble? I’m a Jedi, I’m not supposed to support anyone’s fucking political campaign. Fucking bastard!”.

Finishing your cigarra, you throw it into the empty glass next to his earlier one. You’re already imagining having to explain yourself in front of the Council, and the disappointed looks you will receive. Why did you always have to be so polite? You should’ve said no to the holo-photos. You shouldn’t have let him drag you around and introduce you to all those people. You should’ve told him not to touch you. Your gaze lifts and you suddenly realise the Commander is studying you intently. Was your outburst too much? Heat rises to your cheeks and you quickly look away.

“Sorry”, you mumble.

“Why are you apologising?”, Fox asks, eyebrows pinching.

“For getting so angry. Not very Jedi-like”, you laugh bitterly.

The Commander shakes his head and chuckles. “That’s adorable – you actually think that was angry”, he teases.

You swear your heart does a somersault at hearing he thinks you’re adorable and you shuffle awkwardly in place, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot. The movement reminds you that your feet are killing you and you once again curse your decision to wear heels. You need to sit down for a moment.

Placing your hands on either side of your hips on the durasteel railing, you push yourself up to sit. Before you're even fully settled, a strong hand encircles your waist, steadying you with a firm hold at the small of your back. Your brain takes a second to process what’s happening – his hand on your lower back feels as if it's burning, filling you with a warmth that seems to unfortunately travel to your core. He’s close now, too close, and his whiskey-coloured eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’m not gonna fall, Commander”, you say once you regain your composure, your voice a little strained but mixed with amusement.

“Don’t want to risk it. Cody would have my head if I let anything happen to you. And that is quite a drop”, he remarks.

“Yeah but I’m a Jedi”, you scoff playfully. “Even if I fall I’d be able to use the Force and land safely”.

“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t fall”, Fox reiterates.

His hand is still on your back, and it doesn’t seem he’ll move it away any time soon. You’re not sure why, but you want to test him. Maintaining eye contact, you allow a small, mischievous smile to grace your features, right before you abruptly push back against his hand. As expected, you barely budge.

“Don’t!”, Fox warns, his voice low and commanding.

You roll your eyes, trying your hardest to ignore the dampness in your underwear. Maker why do you find him so hot?

“Fine, fine, I’ll behave”, you promise, “You can let go now”.

“I’ll let go when your feet are back on the ground”, he counters.

“Are you serious?”, you laugh.

The look he gives you silences you immediately. He is, actually, dead serious. You bite your lip and look away. The warmth of his hand, even though the fabric of his gloves, is extremely distracting.

“Well then, Commander, I hope you’re comfortable. My feet are killing me and I plan to sit here for a while”, you challenge.

“I’m fine, don’t worry”, he replies. His tone is infuriatingly casual.

Silence settles over the two of you and you don’t know which part drives you more mad – his hand on your back, his thighplate pressed against you knee, his intense gaze or the way he appears completely unfazed by any of it. You try to keep your face neutral and your breathing steady, but you simply can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat when Fox finishes his cigarra and leans over you to toss it in the empty glass, briefly caging you in. For a second, you think you see his gaze dropping to your lips and you curse yourself when your own eyes wonder to his.

You shouldn’t be thinking like this – it would be wrong on so many levels. Maybe you both share the same rank, but he’s a clone, a soldier, and you’re a Jedi – it’s simply not allowed. Plus, he is Cody’s brother, and not just in the way all clones are vode – Fox and Cody were batchmates, they grew up together, their bond is different. Cody would not approve. And you’re fairly certain it’s all in your head anyway. But even if you weren’t imagining the tension, even if Fox somehow felt it too, it wouldn’t change the fact that it was forbidden.

“Would you really get in trouble?”, Fox breaks the silence.

“W-What?”, you stutter.

“For those holo-pics with Brenko”, he clarifies.

You jolt, pulling yourself together. “Uhh, depends how they’ll use them, I guess”.

Fox appears to contemplate something before giving you a stern look. “Do not move!”, he orders.

All you can do is nod.

His hand finally leaves your back, coming to tap the comm on his vambrace. You almost whine at the loss of his warmth, but catch yourself before making a sound. Maker, what has gotten into you?

“Stone, come in”, Fox speaks into the comm.

“Yes, vod”, a voice replies in less than five seconds.

“The journalists following Brenko around – say there’s a problem with their accreditations and confiscate the holo-cams. Return them after you delete all images with General Kenobi’s Padawan”, he orders, eyes not leaving yours as he does so.

“Understood”.

Your lips part as you realise he’s about to save your ass without you even asking and a warm feeling blooms in your chest. “Are you allowed to do that?”, you manage to utter.

“I’m the commanding officer of the Coruscant Guard”, he says, a small smirk breaking through his mask of professionalism.

“Yeah, but freedom of the press and all that”, you argue weakly.

“The press needs the proper accreditations. They have it to document the gala, not to participate in a political campaign”

“Isn’t that stretching the truth?”

“That’s playing their game, cyar’ika”, Fox declares, his tone of voice bordering on teasing.

Your cheeks immediately heat up – you know what the Mando’a term means. “Thank you, Commander. You, uhh… you’re a lifesaver”, you reply with a small, embarrassed chuckle.

His eyes soften and he smiles, and this time you’re certain – he does glance at your lips. He’s still so close, he could just lean in. You want him to lean in… His eyes quickly return to yours but you saw it clearly and your heart begins to race. Without thinking, you tilt your head up, and you hear him inhale sharply.

Before either of you can make another move, a couple of raindrops land on your forehead and shoulder. You both look up. A thick layer of black clouds covers the night sky and the faint rumbling of thunder reverberates through the air. The raindrops keep falling, quickly multiplying, and Fox curses under his breath. It was already a chilly night, and with the rain now pouring down, it’ll only get colder.

“We should get you back inside”, the Commander voices.

You shake your head. “I cannot go back in there; I just can’t stand it anymore”.

His head turns to the balcony door, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. Whatever he’s thinking seems to make him tense; you notice his fist clenching and unclenching. However, any sign of tension disappears before he turns back to you, his expression carefully composed.

“Come on”, he says, his hand settling on your back again, gently coaxing you to jump down from the railing with a soft, guiding pressure.

“But–”, you begin to protest.

“Once we’re in, head right and stay close to the wall. I’ll cover your flank so the senator can’t approach you again. We’ll slip out through one of the side doors and go to the Guard HQ”, he instructs, picking up his helmet from the floor and securing it in place. His voice takes on the same commanding tone you've heard his brothers use countless times during briefings.

You hesitate for a moment, considering all the implications. But what’s the alternative? Stay out in the cold rain or go back inside only to be used as a prop by the senator? Simply heading to their HQ doesn’t mean anything – he’ll probably take you to the mess hall or maybe a break room, like the ones you’ve been in countless times aboard the Negotiator or at the base on Coruscant. You’ve been enjoying his company, and if you’re honest, you want to spend more time with him.

Deciding to trust him, you nod and follow his instructions. The heavy air hits you as soon as you step inside and the general noise of voices, laughter and music is overwhelming. You move quickly, not wishing to spend a minute longer in this large, overcrowded space, and as promised, Fox walks right beside you, blocking you with his large body from anyone’s prying eyes. His hand presses against the small of your back on a few, brief occasions, as he steers you through the crowd and towards a concealed door, which he opens with the help of an access card.

You’ve been in the Senate building before, but never walked these maintenance corridors. Fox guides you, his fingers brushing yours as he walks by your side down the stairs. Your heart races every time you feel the contact and you tilt your head to look at him a few times, but his face is safely hidden behind his helmet.

The Coruscant Guard compound sits just behind the Senate building, appearing separate but connected through a network of underground tunnels. You’ve never been here – never had a reason why – and you find yourself looking around and taking in every detail. Although, there isn’t really that much to take in, as it has the same cold, utilitarian architecture of the main base.

As you walk quietly beside Fox, you begin to feel out of place – though, funnily enough, your attire matches the Corrie’s colour scheme. The shock troopers you pass nod at their Commander but always do a double take when they see you. You’re starting to wonder if coming here was a mistake.

Fox leads you to the turbolisfts, then to one of the upper levels and down a couple of corridors until you are stood in front of the door to an office – the door to his office. He opens it and gestures for you to go in first. The room is small and very minimalist – there’s one desk and chair, one file cabinet and a worn-down couch. The desk is full of datapads and flimsi files and the sheer amount of work looks overwhelming, yet somehow everything is neatly arranged and stacked.

You pause in the doorway for a second, but your feet really are killing you, so you plop down on the couch, kicking your heels off with a dramatic sigh. You hear a chuckle as Fox walks over to his desk and takes his helmet off and you want to make a snarky comment, but the words get stuck in your throat. You take a moment to study him better, the brighter lights of his office allowing you to see more of the scars on his face, the bags under his eyes and the silver strands in his hair. You’ve always found the clones attractive, but Maker, there was something about Fox that was hitting you harder than ever before.

The Commander is also observing you and a self-satisfied smirk breaks through his mask of composure.

“Like what you see?”, he teases, crossing his arms over his chest.

A “yes” escapes your lips before you can stop it and your eyes go wide at the realisation of what you just admitted. “T-The paint job”, you then blurt out, as if that would somehow save it.

“The paint job?”, he repeats, thoroughly amused.

“Mhmm”, you hum, the sound coming out strained. “Cause most of the Guard troopers I’ve seen have the-the red on the chest plate and the white is-and you know, nice choice having it the other way around”. The words spew out with a rapid flow and you cringe internally.

“Glad you approve”, Fox bites back a laugh.

You give him a look before you throw your head back, starring at the durasteel ceiling and cursing the stream of stupidity that came out of your mouth.

“Do you want a drink?”, he asks.

“Yes, please”, you nod, meeting his amused gaze again.

Fox crouches down and procures a bottle or corellian whiskey and a glass from the lower drawers of the cabinet. You watch intently, your gaze following every motion as he pours the amber liquid. The Commander then walks over to the couch and hands the glass to you, clinking the bottle against it before taking a swing directly out of it. A laugh escapes your lips at the sight.

“Only have one glass”, he shrugs before sitting down next to you.

“So you usually drink alone?”, you ask, voice playful. “That’s a bit sad, Commander”.

Fox huffs a bitter laugh and shakes his head. “You can drop the ‘commander’, you know?”, he says instead of answering your question.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you look away, taking a sip of the whiskey. The liquid burns as it slides down your throat and you cough – it’s stronger than what you usually drink. You really should put a stop to this.

“Alright… Fox”, you say.

You glance back at him, heart beating faster. Fox closes his eyes, almost as if he’s savouring the way his name sounded as it left your lips. When he opens them again, the look he gives you is different, hungrier, and it sets a slow burn alight in your core. You should get up and leave, take yourself out of this inappropriate situation, but instead, you shift in your seat to face him better.

“So”, you start sweetly, pausing to sip your whiskey, “tell me something about yourself”.

He takes another swing of the bottle before placing it on the floor next to the couch. “What do you want to know?”

You have no idea what compels you to do it, but your hand moves on its own, cupping his face. Your thumb gently brushes over the scar at the corner of his mouth. “How’d you get this?”, you ask.

His eyes flick down to your hand, then back to yours and you can feel his jaw clenching as he sharply inhales. “Careful, mesh’la”, he rasps, “you might make me do something we’ll both regret”.

“I wouldn’t regret it”, you whisper.

“You’re drunk. You would regret it”, he insists, his voice coming out strained.

“I’m not that drunk, Fox”, you counter. “I know what I want”.

He stares you down, his expression unreadable, and your boldness begins to falter. You try to pull your hand away, but before you can, he catches it, holding it firmly in place against his face. You can almost see the internal conflict behind his eyes. Slowly, he tilts his head and presses a kiss to your wrist. His lips feel so soft, so warm, and goosebumps appear on your skin in anticipation. But then – he lets go of your hand.

The disappointment is fleeting. Fox takes your glass, downs the whiskey in one go, and sets it on the floor. Then, he moves closer, devouring you with his eyes. The look is electric and it sends a shiver directly to your core. When he cups your face, your breath hitches, quickens. You are completely at his mercy – if only he would just kiss you already.

“Please don’t regret this”, he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.   

The raw vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard and your heart clenches. “I won’t. I promise”.

The last of Fox’s self-restraint finally breaks. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss – slow, tentative, sweet. Not at all what you expected. You thought he would be rougher, demanding, but the way he takes his time, the gentleness of his lips – it’s endearing, but also maddening, and it fills you with need. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer and his other hand settles on your hip. You want more of him – you need more of him – and so you deepen the kiss. Your tongue brushes past his lips and he groans, his grip on you tightening. Somehow, he tastes like caf, even though what you expected was tabac and whisky.

The kiss becomes hungrier, more desperate, and you start to suspect that Fox needs this even more than you do. His hand leaves your hip and starts exploring your body as he guides you down onto the couch. He’s caging you in now, his large frame looming over you – it’s intoxicating really. He breaks the kiss in order to pull back slightly, finding your eyes.

“Is this okay?”, Fox asks.

“Yes!”, you reply, eager for him to continue.

You pull him back to you and feel him smile against your lips. The need for more pours into the kiss – you’re really worked up now – and your hands roam over his chesplate then up to his shoulders, fumbling to find the latches and get it off. It is not an easy task.

“Do you need help there?”, Fox chuckles against your lips

“I need you out of the armor”, you whine.

“Maybe if you asked nicely”, he teases, his lips trailing down your neck.

You tilt your head in order to give him better access, and moan when you feel his teeth scrape on your pulse point. The feeling is so exquisite you almost forget what you wanted. However, the hard plastoid pressing down on your chest quickly reminds you of your wish.

“Fox”, you breathe, “please take it off”.

Fox smirks and sits back on his knees, his eyes not leaving yours as he expertly sheds his upper armor with impressive speed. He leans back in, more urgent this time, kissing you deeply. You immediately take advantage, gliding your hands over the planes of his chest. The fabric of his blacks feels smooth against your palms, but you yearn to feel his warm skin. Slowly, your hands make their way down to his belt, pulling at the material tucked in, and Fox pauses the kiss to assist you in taking his top off.

You take a moment to admire him, your fingers gently tracing over the scars scattered across his chest. Your eyes then land on a bruise on the left side of his waist – it's the size of your fist, fresh and a dark purple with yellowish-green edges. Concern flashes in your gaze as you meet his eyes.

“Incident on the lower levels last week”, he answers your silent question.

“Are you alright to continue? That looks painful”, you ask, the worry in your voice genuine.

“I’m fine, mesh’la, don’t worry”, he reassures you with a soft smile.

He doesn’t give you too much time to keep thinking about it – his lips crash into yours, kissing you with a renewed hunger. He then trails down, nipping at the skin on your throat and chest. One of your hands tangles in his hair, pulling his greying curls gently, an action that makes him moan. He pulls back, staring intently in your eyes as his hand comes to cup your breast. Your soft moans encourage him to continue and he pushes the material of your dress and bra to the side. Your nipple pebbles as the cool air of his office brushes against it and Fox sees it as an invitation to lean in and close his lips around it. His tongue swipes over the hardened bud, and the whimpers falling from your lips only spur him on.

You hook a leg around him, drawing him closer as he moves to the other breast. You hiss at the contact with the hard plastoid of his codpiece, your core aching with need. His hand slides on your thigh, pushing at the hem of your dress.

“You’re wearing too much fabric”, he groans, lifting his head from your breasts.

“What’s stopping you from taking it off?”, you purr.

His hands find the zipper and pull it down, and you shift your body to assist him in freeing you from the dress and bra.

“You’re so beautiful”, he murmurs, eyes raking over your naked form under him. You bite your lip as heat darkens your cheeks.

He throws the garments somewhere on the floor before his mouth claims your breasts again, sucking a mark on the left one. His lips then continue down your abdomen, every kiss and bite sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you. When he finally reaches your center, you’re dripping wet, and Fox curses under his breath as he pulls your underwear to the side and sees your arousal. His eyes meet yours, silently asking for permission. You nod eagerly, not trusting yourself to speak.

His hands spread your legs a little wider and he impatiently dives in, his warm tongue sliding though your folds. A loud, needy moan sounds from the back of your throat, and your head falls against the armrest of the couch. Your eyes are squeezed shut and all you can focus on is the pure pleasure that his lips and tongue elicit as they flick over your clit. Slowly, you start grinding on his face, helping him find a rhythm that makes you head spin.

You gasp when his fingers find your entrance. He slips two of them inside in a slow, maddening pace, stopping his attention to your clit for a just a moment in order to gauge your reaction.

“Don’t stop”, you manage to whimper, not even caring how needy you must sound.

Fox chuckles – a low, self-satisfied sound that reverberates through your core. He resumes his earlier assault on your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you in a faster pace at the same time. Your hands tangle in his hair again, pulling sharply on the strands. He moans at the pain, and the sound only increases your pleasure.

His fingertips find a spot that makes you cry out and you’re desperately grinding against him. You’re so close, the pressure is building and you squeeze your thighs around his head instinctively. Pleasure overtakes your senses and it only keeps increasing with every pump of his fingers and lick of tongue. You're so, so close now – the damn is about to break. And then he stops, swiftly pulling the digits out of you.

“Fox!”, you shout, the indignation in your voice sharp as all pleasure dissipates.

“Sorry cyar'ika”, he laughs, “but I want to be inside of you when you come”.

“I could've done that after. There was no need to stop now”, you whine in protest.

“It's more fun this way”, Fox teases as he gets up and begins removing the rest of his armor.

“You are such an asshole”, you mumble under your breath.

The smirk he gives you is so disarming, you’re glad you’re already laying down. “Someone must've warned you about that before”.

“Well maybe I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt”, you bite back.

“You should believe everything you've heard about me”, Fox declares, now standing before you in nothing but his underwear. “Especially the bad things”.

Your gaze falls to the outline of his erection, lingering on the way it strains against the fabric of his boxers. The sight sends a wave of heat through your body, reigniting the desire simmering in your core. You bite your lip – he is big and you can already imagine how he’ll feel inside of you. You swallow, your mind racing in anticipation of what will come next. He pulls the boxers down, letting his cock spring free, and your eyes go wide.

“If you’re done ogling, I’d like to continue”, he taunts.

“I am not ogling!”, you exclaim, a bit defensive.

“You are definitely ogling”, he says with a smirk as he climbs back on top of you. “Drooling a little too”.

You playfully slap his chest with the back of your hand, trying to give him a dirty look, but the smile frozen on your lips betrays you. It seems you do enjoy his teasing. His lips find yours again, and any indignation you felt from earlier immediately melts away. You wrap your arms around his back, nails scraping his skin in response to his erection pressing against your clit. He swallows your moans and pushes his tongue into your mouth, filling it with the unexpected taste of your arousal.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”, Fox pulls away to ask, the tip of his cock positioned at your entrance.

“Yes”, you nod eagerly. “I want this – I want you”.

 His eyes darken and the look he gives you is almost possessive. Slowly, he sinks in, and you gasp at the stretch. You look into his eyes as he gradually bottoms out, lost in their mesmerising amber hue. A sudden wave of panic violently crashes over you – you’ve been around so many troopers before, yet you've never felt like this. It's overwhelming, terrifying... and yet, you don't want it to stop.

“Fuck, you’re so tight”, Fox groans, the awe in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“You feel amazing”, you respond, the words coming out strained.

Fox pulls almost all the way out, before sharply snapping his hips back into you. The cry that leaves your lips echoes around the room and, based on the smile on his lips, gives him immense pleasure. His lips claim yours again, as he thrusts harder, faster, driving all coherent thought from your mind. All you can sense, all you can feel – it’s him. Fox consumes you completely – he is everything you taste, everything you smell, everything you see and hear.

Your breasts bounce with each sharp thrust and Fox brings a hand up to cup one of them, pinching the nipple between his fingers. The extra stimulation is almost too much and you moan as you feel your peak quickly approaching. A thought crosses your mind – maybe you shouldn’t be so loud; but that is easier said than done.

“You’re… you’re taking me so well, mesh’la”, Fox rasps, voice rough with effort. “Fuck! It’s… it’s like you were made for me. So perfect, you’re perfect”.

You try to speak, but no words come to you. The tip of his cock hits that spot inside of you just right, and every thrust of his hips brings you closer and closer to your release.

“What is it, mesh’la? Use your words”, Fox teases, noticing the crease in your brows.

Your mouth opens and closes silently a couple of times before you finally find your voice. “Don’t stop”, you beg. “Please, Fox, please don’t stop”.

The sound he makes almost sounds like a growl and it sends a visible shiver across your body. Fox presses his forehead to yours, grunting as he forces himself to maintain the same pace. Your hand slips between your bodies, finding your clit, and you begin circling it with quick, urgent motions. It doesn’t take long for the coil to snap – your back arches as your walls contract around his length, and your climax washes over you in powerful waves.

The sounds you make and the sight of you writhing beneath him soon push him over the edge. With a low grunt, Fox quickly pulls out, spilling his release across your stomach. He collapses on top of you, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck, and you tightly wrap your arms around his still-trembling body.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like that – lost in each other’s embrace, catching your breath. It feels peaceful, natural, almost necessary. You stroke his hair, savouring the way his arms pull you closer, how he nuzzles your neck. Honestly, this might even be better than the sex. When he finally pulls away, the look he gives you is reverent, and he leans in to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll be right back”, he says as he gets up.

Fox disappears into the small fresher attached to his office, returning shortly after with a damp towel in hand. He sits down beside you, and with slow, deliberate movements, he carefully wipes his release from your stomach. You mumble some thanks, your gaze lost to a random point on the ceiling as your mind races with a thousand thoughts.

“What’s on your mind?”, Fox asks, his voice cautions.

“Uhm…”, you hesitate, sheepishly meeting his gaze. “Cody’s gonna kill me”.

“You plan on telling him?”, he questions. “Cause I sure as hell won’t”.

You shake your head and exhale deeply. “He’ll know – he always just knows somehow”.

“As far as he’s aware, we don’t even know each other”, Fox counters, his hand resting on your hip. “I think we’re safe”.

“Hope you’re right”.

Fox huffs a small, bitter laugh. “So you regret it then?”.

Your eyes snap to him, and the resigned expression on his face breaks your heart. “No!”, you exclaim, sitting up and taking his hand. “Absolutely not, that was amazing. Honestly, 10 out of 10”.

He gives you an unimpressed look. “Very funny”.

“What?”

“My CC number”, he says. You tilt your head to the side, brows furrowed in confusion. “My designation? CC-1010?”, he adds.

“You’re kidding”. You try your best to stifle your laugh at the serious look he gives you. “Very fitting then”, you manage between giggles.

Fox shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “You’re terrible”.

“That’s not what you said earlier”, you tease. “I think the word you used was… perfect?”.

“Get dressed”, Fox orders, trying to keep from smiling. “We’re going to the mess to get some food”.

“Yes, Commander”, you purr, earning another eye roll.

Unbeknownst to you, Cody has been trying to speak to Fox all night. Besides a brief holo-call a couple of months back and a short meeting last leave, he hasn’t seen his brother in ages and really hoped the gala would give them the opportunity to catch up. Unfortunately, he kept getting stopped by senators and wealthy donors, and pulled into long, tedious conversations. He lost track of Fox at one point, and by the time he managed to slip away, he couldn’t find him anywhere.

Cody did find Thorn, who told him that, considering how much Fox hates these events, he probably went back to his office to get some work done. So the Corrie Commander lead Cody back to their HQ, but when they reached Fox’s office, they were stopped from knocking by the muffled, yet very distinctive noises coming from inside.

The two commanders shared a look, completely shocked by what they were hearing. The fact that Fox would be fucking someone in his office – in the Guard HQ – it was unbelievable. They stepped back and leaned against the wall, trying to figure out who could possibly be inside with their brother.

A senator? Impossible, according to Thorn – Fox hates senators. An aide? Unlikely for the same reason. One of the waitresses? Maybe.

Thorn was curious and adamant about waiting to see who will come out of the office. And Cody – well, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get some dirt on his brother.

So unfortunately for you, the moment the door swishes open and you step outside, your eyes lock immediately with Cody’s.

His mouth falls open as he tries to process what he’s seeing – who he’s seeing. Your eyes go wide – almost as wide as his – and you instinctively step back toward the office, only to bump into Fox. You meet his gaze, silently pleading for some help, even though you know he’s just as much in trouble as you are.

“Osik”, Fox curses, his eyes darting between Cody and the other man.

The man next to him – another Corrie Guard commander you suppose, judging by his armor – looks confused. But Cody? Cody looks furious. His face contorts as realization dawns, and he steps forward, eyes locking onto Fox with pure fury.

“You!”, he thunders.

“Vod, it’s not what–”, Fox starts, trying to diffuse the situation.

“You’re dead”, Cody interrupts, his voice filled with rage. “My Padawan, Fox? Y-You… my Padawan? You’re so dead!”.

“Oh shit”, Thorn whispers.

You step in front of him. “Cody it’s-I didn’t mean… w-we-”. The look he gives you could melt durasteel, and it silences you immediately.

“General Kenobi is looking for you. I suggest you leave now, before he somehow finds you here”, he hisses.

“But–”

“Go. Now!”, her barks.

You can’t argue anymore. With one last glance at Fox – who gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod – you turn and make your way to the turbolifts, head hanging low. As you walk away, the sound of their argument follows you.

“We can’t talk about this in the corridor”, Fox insists. “Let’s step into my–”.

“I am not going inside your office”, Cody snaps, disgust evident in his voice.

“Mine’s down the hall, let’s go there”, Thorn cuts in.

You don’t dare turn around – afraid that Fox might look back at you, or worse, that he wouldn’t spare you a second glance at all.

Three rotations later, you’re back aboard the Negotiator, en route to your next campaign in the Mid Rim. You’ve barely slept, your mind constantly replaying the events of the gala. You cannot get Fox out of your head. You’ve tried, really, really tried. You’ve hidden yourself in the Temple – mostly to avoid Cody but also any chance of running into the Coruscant Guard – and you’ve tried to focus on meditation, lightsaber training, anything to keep your mind from thinking about him. But still, Fox lingers in your thoughts.

That’s why you’re here right now, in front of Cody’s office, trying to talk yourself into going in and facing your ori’vod. You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t ask what you’re about to ask – but you just can’t help it. You take a deep breath, press the buzzer, then step inside.

Cody greets you with an icy glare – he’s still pissed off, you assumed that much –but you walk to the chair in front of his desk and sit down, drumming nervously on your thigh. Where do you even begin?

“I didn’t mean for it to happen”, you start. “We just got… caught up”.

Cody shakes his head disapprovingly. “If this is your way of apologising–”.

“I’m not”, you cut in. He lifts an eyebrow. “Apologising. I’m not. I don’t regret it, and I’m not sorry it happened”.

“Then why are you here, vod’ika?”, he asks.

“I, uhm… I was hoping you could give me his frequency”, you say, sheepishly looking away.

He visibly tenses, your request catching him off-guard. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”.

“Probably not. But I can’t stop thinking about him”, you confess.

The silence that settles in the office is deafening. Cody is staring at you, his expression unreadable and you begin to squirm under his gaze, shifting in your seat. The reality of what you’re asking come crashing down on you, filling you with guilt and shame. You’re a Jedi – what the hell are you thinking?

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?”, you murmur. “I’m sure he doesn’t even want to hear from me…”

Cody sighs and leans back in the chair, his gaze finally softening. “He asked me for your frequency two days ago”.

Your eyes light up. “He did?”

“Yeah. I didn’t give it to him. But if you’re asking now too…”, he trails off, shaking his head. With a few taps on his datapad, your comm beeps. “I hope you know what you’re doing, vod’ika”.

“Thank you”, you exclaim.

“Don’t thank me for this. I’m sure I’ll regret it”, he retorts.

You walk back to your cabin at a brisk pace, unable to hide the grin on your face. You cannot wait to comm him, and maybe, hopefully, see him again next time you’re on Coruscant.

Taglist: @selene131

[jjwolves]

OXIDATION ততততততততততততততত

What: 5 Headcanons of ENA the Worker X Reader, Involving a Downer After an Exciting Day

Who: ENA the Worker from ENA Dream BBQ (by Joel G)

How Much: ~1000 words, ~5 mins

Credits: Image Banner → Joel G Commissioned -> @namosaga (Thanks a ton for the support <3 !!)

Warning: None

It was a crazy day, and that was saying something in ENA’s world. But it was a really good day, too. You had been accompanying your favorite polygon on a job, which was about as standard as one of these jobs got. But instead of the client requiring that you two go retrieve something via convoluted chain of events as per usual, the psychedelic snake with the brown sack on its head told you that you’d only get their business if you made merry with the amusement park that it had built. People rarely used it and it really pissed the snake off—so it demanded that you and ENA get reverse tickets by riding all the rides and going to all the attractions. Finally, you had said to ENA. This is the closest you’re gonna get to a day off! ENA responded with her typical velvet, albeit a bit unsure. “Well, it sounds like a fascinating opportunity! But we’re not cut out to be time thieves. We don’t have the funny outfits, after all.” You tried to explain, perhaps a bit placating, perhaps begging, that this was the perfect opportunity for you two. It was still work! But it was fun, too! ENA’s voice came out like gravel and radar echoes. “Finally! Someone who knows what fun is! No takebacks!” Her clawed hand gripped your hand and she was already stomping over to the nearest ride. You smiled. You gulped.

Of all the attractions you wanted to try, the fractal-wooden trampolines were at the top of the list. The more rings they had, the further they bounced! Most of your adventures involved travel, but being able to rocket away and cartwheel into the sky just for the sake of it was uniquely liberating. You and ENA took turns soaring past each other and landing on sunset slides, dipping below the inky skybox just to catapult past whoever was last. Halfway into it, ENA started staring at you when she passed, posing in midair before being pulled back down. Sometimes you’d be greeted by a salesperson posing seductively on an invisible bed, and other times you’d be greeted by a grump who was stiff as a board and crossing her arms as she hit the peak of her launch. Despite her straight-laced pose, she seemed like she was enjoying herself.

You two were leaning on each other and laughing after such a rush, your girlfriend’s voice glitching and cracking. It wasn’t practiced in the art of levity—but that made the day even more special. “Hahaha! You—you soared and crashed like a market share!” You laughed hearing her laugh, and said that she couldn’t decide between dropping like a statue and gliding like a model. “Hmhmhm. Did you like that part?” You tell her that you liked every part. The sky really brought out her colors today. ENA paid you back for your compliment by clapping your face into her hands and gruffly informing you, “Quit wriggling around like a living tie! I’m gonna kiss you now, so you better like it!” It was a powerful and extremely passionate kiss which ENA was quick to flip the script on, drawing away from your face and initiating a twirling dance with you instead. You asked why you were dancing. You liked it either way. ENA dipped you and got a shine in her dark eyes like she forgot she could be smooth and had just dredged up the ability once again. “I’m selling you the day so that you can own it forever.” You kissed her that time.

After the theme park was gone, the snake had vanished and the light was split into a billion tiny pieces so that the sky’s ink could seep through, coating everything in darkness. “Looks like this moronic hustle has met its termination.” You agreed; it felt like your workday was over. It was good timing, too. All the excitement left you feeling a little drowsy after a day of such vigorous play. Your voice was sore from laughter. You and ENA relaxed on beach chairs as the outlines of ancient tree dragons occasionally faded into existence on the surface of the sky. Meanie speaks up, but she sounds leagues softer than you’ve ever heard her before. Or maybe yelling and cheering all day has left your hearing a little weakened. It’s hard to tell. “We’re doing this again, soon.” You poke fun at her by saying that you thought that she didn’t like fun for the sake of fun. “Shut it. I’m a thousand times more fun-incarnate than your soulspace could ever be. I mean we should date more. You obviously liked the kiss, right?” You turned to her in your chair and nodded sheepishly. “I figured a soft-serve like you would. The more we do stuff like this, the more I’ll want to bite your sentiments, so make it happen.” Yes, ma’am.

You both settle into a sleepiness brought on by a day full of joy and excitement, which is novel in a world characterized by the frantic running back and forth that you and your girlfriend are subjected to. All you know is that this is nice. ENA’s moved into your beach chair and taken her hat off, idly resting her hands over yours. You can’t normally tell, but with her weight pressing on you, your skin can feel a defining line between the sensations of her red side and pale side. The red side has a smooth yet electric feel to it, while the pale side has a chilly, sharp feeling to it. It’s like one side of your body is covered by a smooth, statically charged blanket while the other allows a cold metal blade to rest on it. You get goosebumps from how (nice? Confusing?) it feels. ENA looks over her shoulder like she’s been made privy to forbidden knowledge. Or maybe her bandwidth allows her to pick up on the frequency of your thoughts. Her ahoge twitch like ears for a moment before she speaks, so the theory’s still on the table. “Could I offer you a lifetime guarantee of… whatever I’m doing right now? It’d be a shame to sell this to anybody else. Don't you agree?” You kiss the top of her head and tell her that you’d pay anything for that. For once, ENA doesn’t reply; she simply releases a contented sigh and flips over to properly stare at your face with an unchanging smile.

[mxeve0]

Rodrick Heffley X Female Reader

Masterlist Part•2

Synopsis: You’ve just moved in next door to the Heffly’s and your bedroom is in the attic, just like Rodrick’s…with the windows facing each other. And though he admits to himself that you’re attractive when he first saw you, but he kept his distance, until he accidentally saw you getting changed.

A/N: I’m not actually sure how old Rodrick is, especially since the books seem to be in this weird state of time never passes by, but he’s still in school so I’m just gonna say he’s in his last year of high school making him 18. There’s also not actually smut in this one bc for some reason I spent so much time writing the build up?? Oops

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI, yes this is basically Rodrick being a big ahh pervert and the reader subtly provoking him so if not ur not into that move on👍, body worship

Uhmm (Part•1)

Rodrick flopped down onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling twirling a drumstick in his hand. His friends were busy which meant no band practice and there was never anything to do in town anyway. He could do some studying but that required too much effort. Boredom was going to kill him soon, he could feel it.

He sighed, throwing his drumstick on his side table, after which it quickly rolled off down the back, pinned between it and the wall. Fuck. Ah he’d get it later.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the blur of a figure pass by his window. Slightly spooked his sat up, turning his gaze towards the window.

You’re stood by the window with the curtains half drawn; unfortunately you’re not stood behind them. Your top half is completely exposed, the hem of your shorts peaking above the top of your dresser.

He lies back down on his bed, out of fear that you’ll catch him staring, his eyes wide in shock. The image is clear in his head, like he’s still looking at you. He can’t help but close his eyes and focus on your body, the way your low rise shorts hug the curves of your hips, how smooth your skin looked, the freckles dotted along your collarbone and down your chest. Oh god your chest. The way your tits sat perfectly, the perfect size. He imagined his hands cupping them in place of a bra.

For a moment he wondered if perhaps you’d done it on purpose. If you hadn’t closed your curtains fully because you wanted him to see. And then he wondered if that meant you liked him, wanted him even. He shook his head to rid the thought, realising he only thought this because he wanted you. When he first saw you he could acknowledge your beauty but he never had the desire to be with you. It was sort of like a celebrity crush in that aspect. But after seeing you half naked his perspective changed. Now he had that desire.

Then another thought popped into his head; were you still there? Should he look again? He weighed out the pros and cons in his head. If you were still there getting changed then he’d be able to see your figure again, take another look and engrave the image into his brain. But it meant he’d also run the risk of you catching him. He was lucky the first time that you were too busy looking from something in your dresser to notice him. And if you did catch him looking you’d probably shut your curtains forever and never speak to him. Not that you did anyway. But it would ruin the possibility of a relationship.

The chances of you still getting changed were low enough for him to prop himself up onto his elbows, turning his head to look through the glass another time.

You were no longer at your dresser, but still in view. You were stood in front of your mirror, examining or admiring your body. You’d put on a small black crop top which revealed far too much cleavage to be worn in public and your shorts were so short that they were more like panties.

You were further away so he couldn’t see you in as much detail, but he could also see more of your body. The way your hips were the perfect width and how they slimmed down into your thighs yet were still plump. As you twirled around he took in the shape of your ass, imagining how it’d feel pressing against his lap.

You then turn and disappear behind the closed curtain, and Rodrick is left with his memory and imagination. Almost like it has a mind of its own, his hand slides down and unbuttons his trousers, his cock springing up slightly, still restrained by his boxers. He shouldn’t, but he can’t help it. He closes his eyes to really focus on the image in his mind. He strokes his cock, thinking about your curves and small features that nobody else will have seen, and maybe it’s because he feels guilty for being a pervert, but he goes antagonisingly slow with each stroke.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

He wouldn’t do it again. He swore. But then you left your curtains wide open when you were changing after your volleyball practice and he couldn’t help himself. As sweaty as you were, it made your skin glisten in the late afternoon sun that shone through the window in such a beautiful way he thought he was going to die on the spot. It wasn’t perverted if he really admired you instead of being lustful. That’s what he told himself anyway.

He’d began learning your schedule, and over a few weeks he’d memorised that you have volleyball practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays which means you come home at around 5 in the afternoon. It was as honestly when he preferred to see you; there was something about the way you glowed in the low sun. It made him feel like a mere mortal admirer a goddess.

Though he’d also noticed that you had began to stand at your dresser more frequently, taking longer to get changed. Specifically he noticed that you spent more time naked in front of the window, and that you’d been forgetting to close your curtains on a regular basis. Part of him questioned if you noticed what he was doing, his perverse behaviour, and that maybe you were doing it on purpose. It again made him wonder if maybe you were into him.

There were a few times he thought you had caught him. It had become a routine to sit watching you and masturbate as you paraded around your room usually half naked or in just underwear. Sometimes horn would beep on the road and it’d grab your attention, or you’d just randomly look up out of your window. Either way he knew that the more he watched the more likely it was that you’d catch him in the act.

But it was too late now.

He needed you. To be able to feel you. Not even in a sexual way he just wanted to run his hands along your smooth, plump skin, feel the dips between your muscles and any imperfections in your skin that you may have. He wanted to be able to show affection towards you, to show you just how obsessed with you he’d become in the last few weeks. Of course he did also want to feel himself inside you, taste your slick on his tongue, hear how you moaned when he hit the sweet spot inside of you.

But you’d been at the school almost a month and the popular girls had laid their claim on you. He knew that in your mind you’d branded him and his friends as the weirdos, so this was the closest he could ever get to achieving his desires. And he’d accepted it.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

It’d been about three weeks since you first caught him watching you undress. At first you didn’t mean for him to catch you, you’d just forgotten to close your curtains fully. But there was something about the way he tried to hide from your gaze and keep his actions a secret…it sort of turned you on.

You’d learnt that when he wasn’t in the basement with his band he was in his room, meaning there were a lot of opportunities for you to ‘accidentally’ leave your curtains open. There were times when he thought you couldn’t see him, when he got too close to his own window, engrossed with the shape of your figure. Even with the distance between the two of you, it was clear how much he desired you. You could see how his eyes were glazed with appreciation, how he truly admired your body, his gaze falling on your chest most of the time.

And you seemed to thrive in the way he quietly worshipped you.

So you’d began spending more time getting changed, purposefully standing by your dresser more often. Unfortunately he always managed to position his lower half just out of view, meaning it was up to your imagination. It didn’t matter though; your imagination with his perverse behaviour was enough for you to get off to. You’d found that almost every time you flopped onto your own bed, hidden and out of view of your window, your panties had quickly become wet, soaking with your slick. So more often than not, you’d find your hand between your thighs, your thoughts filled with ideas of what Rodrick might look like when he cums, how flustered he might look underneath you, since there was no doubt that he was definitely a virgin.

He was the same at school. Minus the masturbation part. You’d caught him staring at you too many times to count; when you turn around to talk to your friends you’d see him admiring you out of the corner of your eye. Or when you noticed the way his gaze followed you as you walked past him in the corridor. His attention was solely focused on you, oblivious to the questions his friends were asking.

Your friends had told you that he was one of the weird kids at school; he dressed emo and listened to weird music and played even weirder and shitty-er music. But there was something charming about his messy hair, dark puppy dog eyes, and the passion he had for his music whenever you overheard him talking about it.

You had to do something. As weird as it felt to admit, you wanted him, desperately.

[ravenstargames]

Are there any wedding customs in Limbo? And do the LIs have their own image of their dream weddings?

✦ Are there any wedding customs in Limbo?

(I purposely left out the second part of the ask because this is gonna be long enough OTL im sorry...)

There are wedding customs in Limbo! However, the Sovereigns "officiate" the "weddings".

Limbo's weddings are referred as Bonding Ceremonies or Trials and require to overcome a few...well, yes, trials. Every Sovereign has a different way of approaching this. They themselves don't get bonded with anyone. It's not seen as fair neither to the people of Limbo nor to the people they'd want to be bonded with. Which doesn't mean it hasn't happened befo—

Also, you don't have to be bonded to anyone to be considered legal partners. That can be done signing a few papers!

To quote myself from the Discord server a while ago where we briefly discussed what a bonding trial would entail if you were to ask for The Mindbender's blessing...

It's seyl yapping time with some corrections :^)

Each Sovereign focuses on certain blessings and "rules" you have to follow for them to agree to bless the ceremony. When it comes to blessings, for example Raeya is Strength in the face of adversity, Amon is Determination in the face of failure, and Gael is Knowledge in the face of ignorance.

If you ask for Gael's blessing you basically have to prove him you and your partner/s have the drive to learn from each other constantly. You have to accept your naivety and your ever-changing nature. You have to be willing to accept actions and reactions (independently of if they're considered morally right or wrong) are born from the knowledge (or lack of) you've acquired throughout your experience as a living being. So basically it requires a long period of meditation, self-discovery and understanding of those you want to be bound to forever. People prepare for this for years.

As for the trials—first of all there's a cleanse of the soul and mind done by "priests". Each participant is taken to a small empty room with no windows and no external stimuli with only a priest, covered from head to toe to not be recognized. I'll save the details of this ritual for the sake of not literally writing the whole lore of the ceremony.

Then the participants are evaluated personally by Gael; this process is a bit painful as he basically gains access to any relevant memories and is able to explore them at will. For this he manifests in some sliver of his true form, which can shake the soul of the participants, in which case they're deemed unworthy by the priest. Gael can protest to this, but it has rarely happened.

The rest of the memories have been temporarily cleansed by the priest, beforehand, to preserve the participants' intimacy to an extent, so Gael only has access to things related to the Bonding Trials.

He then decides if they're adequate or not to receive his blessing. If they fail, they are welcome to try again in the future.

If they're worthy, their memories of the previous ritual are completely erased by Gael himself for their safety. Basically the participants just remember they have been deemed worthy.

Then we move to the soul-linking ceremony! This can be public or private. This step is vital for every ceremony in every "pantheon". All the participants kneel down, hands linked together between them with a special rope / tie. Every participant has to be personally linked to the others so in ceremonies with more than one participant this process can take a while as the tying of the rope is very specific.* This is done by another "priest".

*if all the participants want to be linked to each other. if there's two participants who don't want to be linked to each other but they want to be linked to the third participant, that's doable too!

(There's more stuff happening but we'd be here until tomorrow and I have to work or my team will kill me) (I wrote this in the discord message and it's still relevant)

Then Gael extracts a fraction of the essence of every participant as well as blood (this done again by the priest) and mixes it together. It's then solidified in an essence crystal (or more than one if not all participants want to be bound together) that he breaks in as many parts as participants in the ceremony. The crystals symbolize the permanent, unbreakable union of the participants. When Limbo claims their souls in death, they'll travel back to the Great Void together, which is seen as the utmost declaration of love among Limbanians.

After this, everyone is free to celebrate how they see fit!

Some people describe the bond as being able to understand their partners to a deep, spiritual level, or feel them. Others don't notice anything changing.

[joeyfranchise]

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

i’ll be home for christmas

fiance!joe x fem!reader

summary: a bulleted blurb/fic about you surprising joe in athens on christmas.

warnings: NSFW, 18+. mdni. p in v, slight dacryphilia, not tooo descriptive.

note: my first bulleted fic with smut?? kinda feels like a crack fic but lmao it was so fun. love yaaaa 🫶🏻

joe was bored

he came to athens to be with his family because you

his lovely fiancée

the light of his life, even

you were away. on a business trip. IN LONDON

at christmas time?? CRIMINAL

but honestly like. joe could’ve stayed in cincinnati

gone to the facility every day. watched film. all that

HOWEVER

his mother convinced him to come home. AND FOR GOOD REASON

because you were conspiring

you were gonna make it home to surprise him. it was going to be sO EXCITING

you called robin to plan it all out. she was also SO EXCITED and she got you and joe some matching pajamas (that she had to hide)

she couldn’t tell jimmy or joe’s brothers you were coming

because they would’ve absolutely told joe considering he was MOPING

and like he’s a grumpy ass in general. BUT WITH YOU GONE?? OVER CHRISTMAS???

*insert grumpy pic of squidward here*

for days he sat and moped. and scrolled his phone. and just chatted with you

poor lil baby joey. texting you like

joe: miss ya

y/n: i miss you bub 🥺

joe: i love my family but it’s different without you

y/n: i know. i hate that i have to miss it. but work is going okay! i’ve learned so much while i’ve been here

joe: i’m glad to hear it baby. i can’t wait until you’re back

y/n: it’ll be sooner than you know it <3

joe: wish it was right now. miss your pretty face

y/n: attachment: 1 image *photo of you in one of his hoodies, showing off a pout with a coffee mug in hand, your gold necklace with a ‘j’ charm on full display*

y/n: miss you 😭

joe: wanna kiss those pretty lips

and GOD

YOU WANTED TO TELL HIM SO BAD. but you knew the pay-off of making him wait would be so daMN good

finally. it was time to fly back home. you had a window seat. thanK GOd. would you be jet-lagged? yes. did it matter? nO

robin arranged it ALL for you (what a saint) and you were able to arrive in the states on the 23rd

she had someone pick you up from the airport and drive you to their house, and you literally drug your luggage into the garage (you’d make joe get it later)

now. to enact your elaborate plan

you walked up the front porch steps SUPER CAREFUL not to be seen

you rang the doorbell

“joey can you get the door”

you can practically feel him grumbling after being asked to do that

but when he opens it. and it’S YOU???

IT’S YOU????

you’re in his arms in less than a second. just completely enveloped by him. he’s pressing a kiss into the top of your head

“you tricked me”

“but aren’t you glad i did?” you’re smirking as you look up at him

and he’s never felt happier. never felt such peace. because you’re here

you come inside and say hi to everyone and make a little small talk before retiring to joe’s room because

A BITCH IS TIRED

it doesn’t take you long to fall asleep, right there in his star-wars themed room

you and joe are awake by 1am

nobody else is, and you intend to keep it that way but

YOU HAVEN’T SEEN EACH OTHER IN SO LONG

joe kisses you tenderly on the lips, his hands roaming your body, peeling off your layers of clothing

you’re undressing him too, taking your time as your hands map each others skin

you laugh into the kiss, your eyes are focused on the wall

“hmm?” joe whispers to you, wondering what’s funny

“i think your anakin poster is staring at me”

“well don’t make eye contact with him”

finally the two of you are fully naked, still pressing kisses to each others skin, taking your sweet time

and trying yoUR BEST to be quiet (it’s hard to be quiet)

after what seems like forever of loving kisses and tender touches, joe lines himself up and presses his cock between your folds, pushing into you

you let out a soft gasp and immediately

“quiet, princess”

“m’sorry” you say, muffled from your hand covering your mouth

joe shoves a pillow between the headboard and the wall just in case because

IT’S GONNA BE CLANGING IF NOT

he takes his time with you, unraveling you so slowly

because again, it has been SO LONG

and he’s got you in the mating press

you’re biting back moans, every sensation feels like a live wire in your skin

and he hits you with that slow, deep thrust

the deadly hip swivel

tears are falling from your eyes, it’s so much but it feels sO good

“feel good, baby? love seeing you cry for me”

his voice. he’s so

perfect

sexy

amazing

when he talks you through it? oH GOd

“taking it so good. doing such a good job being quiet for me”

you loSE YOUR MIND

you can’t help it, you’re cumming around him

and still, he’s talking you through, helping you along as his fingers trace delicate patterns over your clit

“that’s it. good girl. doing so well”

and he makes you cum two more times before you’re finally ready for a shower

then you’re clean and back his his bed

now he’s falling asleep

AND SHE’S CALLING A CAB

no but really he falls asleep with his head resting on your chest

when you wake up christmas eve (technically you already were, but) you go upstairs and have breakfast with everyone

it’s so nice, his family is so loving

and you spend the whole day laughing, snacking, baking, and most of all just enjoying being back home with joe

he’s glad you’re back too

christmas morning is exciting as well. in more ways than one ;)

but afterrrrr you get to go upstairs in mATCHING PAJAMAS

and relax. and watch the kids open gifts. and most importantly

you get to watch football

joe’s the happiest you’ve ever seen him. and you’re so glad to be here

home for christmas is the best place to be 🫶🏻

photos and dividers are not mine. all cred to owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @joeyburrrow @yomamaslays4lyfe @gazebotori

[lanawinterscigarettes]

can you pleaseplease write a friends to lovers with jennifer check x female reader? i love ur writing btw 🙏🙏

ofc I can! and thank you so so much, that's so sweet of you to say 🥰🥰 this is meant to be a part two to a previous jen fic I wrote, practice makes perfect, so I recommend reading that one first if you want

Perfect Your Craft (Jennifer Check x fem reader)

Warnings: friends to lovers, kissing happens a lot here (both casual/platonic and romantic), sapphic/wlw yearning, slightly vulgar/salty language, slowburn (kind of but not really cause idk how to write that), brief implied mistreatment by Jen's past boyfriends

You couldn't get over the kiss you and Jennifer had shared. While you were quite certain that it was meant to be just that, a kiss and nothing more, the feelings you already held for her in your heart were starting to grow and blossom like a garden after a rainstorm.

Part of you was under the assumption that it would just be a one time thing, but you should've known better.

"Come over to my house after school so we can practice," she had murmured in your ear as soon as the bell rang to signal class was over.

A shiver went down your spine at her words, knowing exactly what she meant when she said practice. Practice makes perfect, right? So if the two of you wanted to get good enough to kiss your future boyfriends, you needed to practice on each other first.

But that was part of the problem. You didn't want a boyfriend, you wanted her. You wanted Jennifer.

Of course she could never know, because how do you tell your best friend since forever about the massive crush you have on her? You don't, that's how.

Especially not when you're both from Devil's Kettle, one of the smallest towns ever. She'd laugh right in your face for liking girls, let alone daring to have a crush on her of all people.

It was all you could think about for the rest of the day, even after you'd gotten to her house. You were so caught up in your quiet longing that you almost missed what she'd said.

"Okay, we should probably get to work on learning how to use tongue." The dumbstruck look on your face at her words caused her to let out an amused laugh. "Oh my God, you look ridiculous."

"Tongue? Tongue?" You questioned in disbelief, unable to wrap your head around the notion.

Jennifer rolled her eyes, now becoming less amused and more annoyed with how long it was taking you to digest her comment. "Yes, tongue. Plenty of guys use tongue when they kiss, so you'll want to learn how to use it, too. Trust me, it's for the best."

You tried not to make a face of displeasure as she mentioned the way guys liked to kiss. It was hard enough trying to handle the idea of her kissing you like that, you certainly didn't need the image of her experiencing it with guys firsthand.

"If you insist," you finally muttered in agreement, to which she merely grinned at in excitement.

"Great. You know, you're really gonna need to learn how to 'perfect your craft' in the subtle art of kissing if you want to score a date by the time prom season rolls around, or whatever it is that you dorks say."

The only date I want is you, you couldn't help but think automatically as you envisioned what prom would even look like for you. You'd obviously go with her, but not as a real date, more as a substitute if you weren't able to find a guy to go with.

She'd have no doubt finding one, meaning you'd most likely be third-wheeling her the whole time. As much as you wanted to feel bad at the thought of potentially spoiling her fun, imagining the look on her date's face as you spent the entire evening glued to her side was priceless. Talk about getting cockblocked.

Then again, she didn't seem like someone who'd be entirely against the idea of a threesome, so maybe you wouldn't cling to her so tightly after all.

"Hello, earth calling. What's your home planet like on Mars where you've disappeared off to?" Jennifer's sarcastic voice cut through your thoughts, bringing you back down to reality.

It wasn't prom season yet, neither of you had dates, and you were both sitting on her bed about to practice kissing each other for when the time came that you'd need it. Perfect your craft, or whatever it was that she said.

"Sorry, I was just... thinking about stuff." What a weak excuse. She had to know you were lying, but for once she didn't push you for info. Probably only because she figured you were imagining some kind of boring "nerd thing", as she'd say.

"Guys like it if you're a tease, but don't do it too much or it'll only piss them off. Unless you're into that," she added with a cheeky smirk.

You bit back the immediate urge to blurt out the word "gross" at her advice.

"The most important thing to remember is how you move your lips. You're not just smashing them together with someone else's the same way you did when you played Barbies growing up, you want to try to fit them together perfectly, almost like a really sexy puzzle."

A sexy puzzle? Sometimes her comments made you wonder what you even saw in her in the first place.

"Like this." She moved closer to you on the bed so she could demonstrate. You stayed completely still as she kissed you, indeed moving her lips along yours as if they were made for each other.

"See? It's not so hard once you get the hang of it," she said once she'd pulled away, absentmindedly playing with her hair as she leaned back. "Now you try."

Oh, great. She expected you to initiate a kiss. It was awkward enough for you when she was the one who was doing it, but now you had to.

"Um, okay." You cleared your throat as you slowly shifted over to where she was. Closing your eyes, you leaned in and attempted to kiss her the same way she'd done to you.

She let you take the lead this time, allowing you to kiss her for as long as you wanted to. And once you'd started, it was hard to stop. Even though your lips were only touching hers for a minute or so, it felt like hours.

When you finally pulled away, you felt your face heating up as you realized just how eager you must've seemed to be kissing her for so long. "How- how was that?" You asked nervously as you tried your best to act natural, hoping she wouldn't notice just how affected you were by the kiss.

"That was great. I'm jealous of whoever gets to date you," she teased while giving you a playful shove.

Laughing awkwardly, you decided to play along. "Y- yeah, sure." It was hard for you to imagine wanting to kiss anyone else besides her, let alone date.

Jennifer casually checked her nails as she asked her next question. "You're not currently dating anyone, though, right?" If you didn't know any better, you would've thought that she sounded jealous, but there was no way. She was just overly protective, that was all.

"Uh, no. None of the guys at school really seem to interest me that much," you admitted as you watched her, always finding yourself mesmerized with even the smallest things that she did.

"Good, because let me tell you a lot of the guys at school are either jerks or creeps. Believe me, I know from experience."

It broke your heart to think about her getting mistreated by anyone, let alone by some random guy that she was seeing. "That's awful, Jen. You shouldn't have to go through that." You tenatively reached your hand out to rest on top of yours, half expecting her to scoff and pull it away, like she usually did.

This time, though, she simply allowed it, she voice uncharacteristically soft when spoke. "Yeah, I guess."

You thought about saying something else in order to help comfort her, but you weren't sure what. Eventually you just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I could treat you so much better than they could." You didn't know where this sudden burst of confidence came from, but deep down in your heart you knew it to be true. You knew you could treat her so much better than any guy she'd ever hooked up with before in the past.

Her gaze instantly shot up to meet yours the second those words left your mouth. You'd never seen Jennifer look so shocked before, if ever. "What?"

"I- I-" And just like that, your devil-may-care attitude disappeared just as soon as it came. "I- I don't know what I'm saying. I'm just being stupid." You turned away from her as you withdrew your hand, feeling embarrassed.

"No, hey, don't say that." She gently grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back in her direction, placing her hand under your chin so you couldn't look away. "I think we should try that, actually."

"Wh- What?" This time it was your turn to be shocked. You hesitantly met her eyes, which for once lacked their usual mocking glint. They didn't look bitter and mean, only soft and genuine.

"You're really nice, and you really care about me, and you're a really great kisser. If I was going to date anybody here and actually plan on sticking around instead of just bailing the morning after, it would be you." She admitted in a quiet voice, averting her gaze from yours as she spoke.

"Promise?" Your voice came out in a hushed whisper, and while you might've seemed to be frozen in a state of disbelief she knew she couldn't blame you for thinking that. Jennifer wasn't really one for commitment, but that was with other people who she never really cared about. That wasn't ever with you.

"Yeah, I promise." Her eyes flickered back up to meet yours, the both of you holding your breath as you waited for the other to make a move. Time seemed to stand still when you finally decided to lean in and give her a kiss, something you'd done so many times before- but this time felt different. It felt passionate, and full of love, and real.

She kissed you until she lost her breath, the two of you panting from lack of oxygen. "I love you. Like, really, really love you."

Your heart soared at her words, the blossoming love you felt within you growing more and more the longer you spent this moment with her. "I love you too, Jen. I really, really do."

A giggle of delight escaped from her at your words, and she quickly pulled you down onto the bed next to her. "I'm so glad you're my girlfriend now. I'll never, ever let you go."

You'd never seen her look so happy, and it made you proud of yourself for being the one to make her feel that way. Cuddling up close, you wrapped your arms around her and let out a sigh of content. "Me, either."

End notes: this was longer than I meant it to be but I didn't want to rush the plot so 🤷‍♂️

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

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[callsign-rogueone]

deja vu - b.d.

Bodhi Durran x reader part of Bodhi and Darling's story 💗 words: 2.9k 🏷: set in the year before Fourth Wing (Bodhi’s first year). one tiny book spoiler but it’s not stated explicitly, hurt/comfort, anxiety, imagined character death (in a nightmare). mild dissociation, anxiety, nausea, fighting (challenge match), one very small injury, canon-typical peril and danger.

“I love you,” Bodhi rasps, closing his eyes. “I’m so… sorry…”

“No, no, hey, look at me,” you beg, hot tears slipping down your cheeks. “You’re gonna be okay, we’re getting you help, but you have to keep looking at me, okay?”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t move or make any indication that he can hear you. He’s silent, perfectly still — he isn’t breathing. 

“Bodhi,” you cry, “Bodhi, please don’t leave me. Wake up, please.”

His heart has stopped beating. The love of your life, the man who had sworn to protect you, who you had sworn to love in sickness and in health and through the test of time, until the end of your days, is dead.

You feel like the air has been squeezed from your lungs, your breaths coming in choked sobs. 

“Wake, child,” someone interrupts — Sìoda. “It’s just a dream. It’s not real.”

You shake yourself awake, panting like you’d been running for miles. You look down at your palms, illuminated by the gentle moonlight filtering into the room -- they’re clean; not streaked with Bodhi’s blood. It was just a dream. Just a terrible dream, likely a product of the overactive imagination you’ve had your whole life, and your anxiety about the dragonkind exam you have tomorrow that you’re convinced you’re going to fail, despite spending all evening studying. 

“Your mate, and all of your brothers and sisters are safe in their beds,” she soothes, “as are mine.”

Oh. You still aren’t any good at shielding, so she’s been getting all of your emotions through the bond — you’d likely woken her up with your distress.

“I’m sorry,” you say in a guilt-ridden whisper. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Don’t apologize, my child. Just breathe.”

You mop up your tears with the sleeve of your pajama shirt, and focus on deepening your breaths, trying to relax your racing heart.

“There are still a few hours until formation,” she says gently. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

You lay back down, gazing at the wall of gray stone beside you, counting the bricks and trying to find patterns in the texture until the exhaustion overtakes you, and you fall back asleep.

Thankfully, your subconscious doesn’t torment you with any more cruel sights. You wake up to gentle November sunlight warming your skin and birds chirping — last month, a pair of doves had made a nest in the tiny alcove by your window.

You get dressed quickly, sorting out your hair and straightening your uniform. You’re in the middle of lacing your boots when there’s a knock at your door, the familiar rhythm that you know can only be Bodhi; like clockwork, he comes down the hall to get you every morning so you can walk to breakfast together.

You unlock the door with your mind, something you’ve been able to do for the last week, breathing a sigh of relief when he walks into the room unharmed and smiling. You hug him extra tightly, tucking your head into his neck and holding him a moment longer than usual, comforted by the steadiness of his breathing.

“You okay, Darling?” he asks, sounding concerned.

You hum in contentment. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

You don’t mention the dream, because nobody wants to hear about their own death, and it would be silly to bother him with something you’ve already gotten over — though you know the image of Bodhi bleeding out in your arms on the floor of that empty classroom will likely be burned into your brain forever.

He gives you an easy smile, shouldering your bookbag and gesturing for you to head out the door.

You’re comforted by the normalcy of the day. It’s almost too easy, too smooth.

Everyone is present and accounted for at breakfast, in good spirits — as good as they can be, in your current situation. Battle brief passes quickly, with no reports of catastrophe, though you know that they likely aren’t giving you all the information they have. The dragonkind test you’d been so worried about is much easier than you’d expected, and you have the rest of the afternoon off until dinner.

You don’t object as your squadmates suggest you use one of the empty common rooms to study in — the same one you’d seen in your dream. 

What would you even say? Sorry, guys, but can we pick somewhere else to be, because I had a nightmare last night that Bodhi died in this room? 

You shake it off, repeating Sìodha’s words in your mind as you crack open your textbook: It’s just a dream. It’s not real.

But then every word of the conversation going on around you starts to sound very familiar, like you’ve heard it before — like they’re reciting lines for a stage play.

It’s just a dream. It’s not real.

But this can’t be a coincidence. There’s too many similarities for comfort; the location, the timing — the sun is just starting to set — the exact page that each boy’s book is open to… you remember that, remember Sawyer’s book being open to a page with that same illustration.

“Have you done number four yet? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Let me see.”

You predict their replies with nearly perfect accuracy — because you’ve heard this exact conversation before.

What if it is real? What if you’re trapped in an endless loop like in one of the novels you’d read, where the leading lady has to live the worst day of her life over and over until she figures out how to change it? 

You could hardly bear to watch the light leave Bodhi’s eyes in that dream, and so help you gods, you are not going to see it ever again; you’re going to do something about it.

You’d read some theory in a philosophy book once that the flap of a butterfly’s wings can set off a chain of events that cause a hurricane. Would it be safer to stop this exact moment as it happens, or to interrupt now? Or was that dream really just a dream, and today will just be a normal day, or Basgiath’s version of normal, and you’re worrying over nothing?

“I don’t think that’s it. I think that’s the answer to number five, though.”

Those are the words. You’d almost missed them, too concerned about what’s going to happen in the next five seconds, but you should have just enough time if you act now. Sìodha seems to think so too, sending you a flood of urgency and panic.

You tackle Bodhi to the ground, wrapping an arm around his waist and putting a hand behind his head to cushion his fall as you both hit the floor. Your knuckles split on the impact, pain ripping through your hand, but all you can focus on is Bodhi underneath you — his eyes wide with shock, but still blinking up at you, his lips parted in a gasp, but not slick with blood, his heart racing, but not stopping. 

There’s a shout from beside you, the clatter of metal against stone, and the sounds of a brief struggle. Dain has the would-be assassin pinned in a matter of seconds, Sawyer helping him restrain her and haul her away, leaving you and Bodhi alone, still tangled up in one another on the floor, his eyes locked with yours.

He finally manages to form words, but not a complete sentence, still stunned. “What… How did you… What?”

“I saw this in a dream last night,” you answer, your voice wavering. “I saw you sitting right here with me, talking to Sawyer. You said that same sentence, and then there was a knife in your chest.” 

You look to your right, where it lays on the floor a few feet away — the exact shape and length as the one you’d dreamed of. “That knife.”

Bodhi’s eyes widen even further as he puts it together.  “I think that was your signet,” he breathes. “You’re a visionary.”

You finally let go of him, moving to sit by his side on the cold stone of the floor and staring blankly at the dagger. It had missed either of you by at least three feet, but had you acted a second later, or not at all… That doesn’t matter, you suppose. What matters is that Bodhi is alive; that you’d been able to save him, because you’d known what was going to happen and you altered course at the last second. 

You should be proud of yourself, but all you can think about is his words to you, and the implications thereof. If this is truly your signet, then you’ll have to watch this kind of thing happen over and over, and likely not just to Bodhi, but to the rest of your friends, too. But what if you can’t stop it next time? What if you see something happen to the twins? They’re a two-hour flight away, and you can’t abandon your post just because you had a dream that something bad happened to them. 

Will any of your dreams be just dreams anymore, or are you going to see all manner of terrible things every night for the rest of your life? How are you supposed to distinguish between dreams and reality, between the sleepy inventions of your subconscious, or the magic of your signet?

“I’m sorry, child. It is a powerful gift to have, but it can be quite cruel.”

You can hear Bodhi speaking, likely a thank you and some soft reassurances, but you don’t process the words. You don’t respond to either of them, still not fully convinced that this isn’t another dream.

The warmth of his hand on your arm starts to pull you out of that numbness. “Talk to me, darling.”

“I watched you die,” you whisper. “There was nothing I could do. I just had to hold you, until… I thought it was just a nightmare, but then it started happening in reality, and...”

You shake your head, eyes welling with tears that you try to blink away. You tell yourself that there’s no reason to be crying, no use when he’s standing in front of you, alive, breathing and talking and holding your hand, but you can’t stop the flood of emotion; confusion and relief and horror and several other things you can’t put a name to right now.

“Hey,” he coaxes, “look at me.”

You focus your gaze on him, on those soft brown eyes that still blink at you, the rise and fall of his chest.

“I’m okay,” he says softly, wrapping your hand around his wrist, mindful of your scraped knuckles. He positions your fingertips over his pulse, pressing them into the skin so you can feel the gentle beat of his heart. “I’m alive, because you saved me.”

You nod silently, warm tears slipping down your cheeks. 

He gathers you into a warm embrace, rubbing your back in soft, soothing motions. “I’m so sorry you had to see that, my darling girl. But the next time something like that happens, you tell me, okay? I don’t care if you wake me up at three in the morning, I want to be there for you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Good.”

You stay like this for a moment, just sitting with him and finding comfort in the warmth of his touch and the steadiness of his breathing.

“Do you want to go to the healers for your hand, or do you want me to wrap it up for you?”

“Want you to do it,” you answer softly, still feeling a little fragile. You don’t want to be away from him, even for a moment; you might work up the courage to ask if you can sleep in his bed tonight.

“Okay.” He presses a kiss to your temple, getting up to pack your bags.

Dain and Sawyer haven’t returned, likely still in Varrish’s office with the unbonded girl. You scribble a quick note to thank them, and to say that you’re done studying for the afternoon, leaving it on top of Dain’s book.

Bodhi picks up your bag, shouldering it along with his own.

He stops to pick up the dagger, sheathing it at his side, and you blink at him, confused. “You’re keeping it?”

“Of course I’m keeping it. It’s a memento of my first assassination attempt.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Only you could be so proud about someone wanting to kill you.”

He pulls you in closer, tucking you under his arm. “Not nearly as proud as I am of you. You should have seen it. I’ve never seen you move that fast in my life.”

Your cheeks warm in embarrassment, suddenly shy. “I was worried I’d lose you,” you say softly.

“You won’t ever lose me,” he soothes. “We made each other a promise, and I intend to keep it.”

“So do I,” you say quietly. “So do I.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t have any more terrible dreams -- visions -- for the rest of the week, just a generalized sense of anxiety and insomnia, waiting for the next one and wondering what it’ll be, what terrible fate may befall one of your friends.

Each day that passes simultaneously soothes your anxiety and stokes it. If you aren’t dreaming of any terrible things, then they won’t happen, but what if you don’t dream them? What if you can’t see harm coming to them in advance, and thus can’t prevent it?

As soon as you enter the gym for Emeterrio’s class, it hits you again; that incredibly strong sense that something very bad is going to happen, very soon.

Bodhi sees your posture change, your normal relaxed and graceful presence tightening uncomfortably, and puts it together immediately, looking at you with concern.

“I have that feeling again,” you manage, forcing down the acid rising in your throat. “But this time, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“It’ll be okay,” he soothes.

“You don’t know that,” you reply, still looking around, surveying the gym for anyone that could pose a threat to you or any of your friends, which happens to be every single person in the room. 

He takes your hand, and the feeling stops; vanishes completely, as if it was never there. Bodhi’s presence and his gentle touch have always been a comfort to you, often the only comfort you have, but nothing like that has ever happened before, a relief so intense and sudden.

Your gaze snaps to him, eyes widening. “How did you…”

He lets go, and the anxiety and nausea comes back in a tidal wave that nearly knocks you over. He lays a hand on your back to steady you, worried you’ll collapse, and the feeling dissipates again in the blink of an eye. Definitely not a coincidence.

“I think you turned it off,” you whisper. “When you let go, it came back.”

He blinks at you for a few seconds, processing. “Do you think that’s…”

“Laurent and Daneel,” Emeterrio calls.

Oh. That’s what you’re supposed to be worried about.

“Deep breath,” Bodhi prompts.

You inhale as deeply as you can before he moves his hand off of your back, and you aren’t hit with another tidal wave, just a normal, manageable level of anxiety appropriate for someone about to start a challenge match.

But as you step onto the mat, the anxiety fades into… something new. Confidence, like nothing you’ve ever felt before -- like you know you’re going to win this fight, without question, like it’s already been written down in the professor’s gradebook, and carved into history. 

Interesting.

You lower your head to your opponent in respectful acknowledgement, getting a snarl in response. Well, then. Maybe this will be harder than you’d thought -- but you still have that unshakeable feeling that you’re going to come out on top.

She makes the first move, a punch that you’re able to dodge easily. She tries again -- and you step to the side without thinking, avoiding the blow by a few inches.

You continue dodging and blocking, reacting naturally, almost subconsciously, not even thinking about your movements. 

You feel the same strange feeling you’d felt during the conversation leading up to Bodhi’s would-be assassination; you’d known all the words, knew what was going to happen because you’d seen it in a dream -- only you don’t remember dreaming any of this at all. It had been a total surprise that your name would be called with hers, the intense anxiety you’d felt being the only indicator, and even then, you’d been worried that it would be one of your friends in danger, not yourself.

Very interesting.

A slow smile spreads across your face as you realize exactly what is happening -- this is your signet at work, that familiar hum of power through your veins as you move, keeping you a few seconds ahead of everyone else in the room.

“You’ve had your fun,” Sìoda nudges, sounding amused. “Now end this, and end it well.”

The girl agrees. “Come on, you filthy fucking traitor! Fight me already!”

There’s a collective intake of breath from the quadrant as they wait for you to respond -- every eye in the gym is watching you, even the other cadets that are supposed to be fighting across the room, but you don’t move, don’t react to the comment, preparing for what’s going to happen next.

She hurls a dagger at you, enraged by your lack of engagement in this fight -- and your hand flies up to catch it, your fingers wrapping around the hilt and stopping it in midair.

Silence. Absolute dead silence.

You examine it for a second before you tuck it into your belt, looking back up at her. “Let’s fight, then.”

[milliesfishes]

i know it’s been forever (a day) bc i’ve been busy being my own sugar mommy (working my summer job) but i have all the thoughts

like ttpd (the song) is giving best-friends-but-maybe-something-more reader + coryo until the games and then he’s being all cozy with lucy gray

and readers over here like i know everything about you and who you want to be, i’ve been here for you all along, if u really think that any other girl will be even half the partner i’d be then good luck babe

(who else decodes you? / who’s gonna hold you? / sometimes i wonder if you’re gonna screw this up with me? / i laughed in your face and said)

im sorry in advance for all the world vomit lmao

౨ৎ꣑ৎWho Else Decodes You?౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: injury, jealousy pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: you know coriolanus like the back of your hand, and yet he runs to another girl the first chance he gets author’s note: so sorry this took forever! I needed very specific vibes for this and I hope it's good! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Your sheets were silken, soft to the touch, but they felt better when he was lying next to you.

Opening your eyes just a hint, you reveled in the glow of the morning sun filtering through the curtains. Coriolanus was sprawled out next to you, remaining deep in the throes of sleep. His curls were a messy halo across his forehead just as they were every morning, and you delighted in the sight of him, knowing he'd smooth his hair as soon as he awoke.

The broad plane of his bare chest was vastly uncovered by the comforter, and you traced your finger down the bump of his ribs. The heat of his skin exuded from his body like a fire in the hearth, warming you right up just by being next to him.

Resting your chin on his shoulder, you let your hair fall to the side as you studied him like a book. If your Coryo was a genre he'd be a classic- renowned and readable if one took the time. Not many people did.

His lashes fluttered like butterfly's wings, and you shut your eyes. No need for him to know you'd been staring at him.

Shifting under you, Coriolanus made a quiet noise as he emerged from his dreams, one of his big palms rising to rest at the crown of your head. The intimate gesture was a spark in your quiet heart.

Thumb raking through your strands, his other hand settled by yours on his stomach, clasping your limp fingers in a delightful knot. At that, you allowed yourself to unfold your eyes, looking up at him in an innocent way.

Coriolanus had never been one to smile easily. His face was hardened all too often, by the survivalist ways of his life in the cutthroat world of the Capitol. But now the corners of his lips were lifting just barely upwards as his cerulean eyes drowned yours in the best possible way.

"Morning," he whispered, voice slightly raspy with the cobwebs of sleep. Coriolanus rubbed your arm and dug his nose into your hair, inhaling softly.

The mornings with him were sacred, locked away in a vault for your darkest hours. At your insistence, he stayed the night often. His trust was not an easy thing to come by, and yet you were in possession of it. You knew of his living conditions, of the Snow's maintenance of their surname's image. It was a gift how at ease he was with you. So much so that he was able to slip smoothly into unconsciousness with you right there in his arms.

Friends. Best friends. That was your title and yet you were tangled in the sheets of your bed like lovers. And you couldn't ignore the familiar flutter in your heart when he peered down at you, usually icy eyes softened.

"Can we stay here all day?" you questioned in dulcet tones, tracing a patch of his skin. "It's so cozy."

"We've got to get to the school," Coriolanus shifted, sitting up in the bed and bringing his hand to his forehead. "The Reaping-"

"Yes," you murmured, rubbing his side. Your satin-like hair was a waterfall over your shoulder as you propped yourself up on an elbow. All Coriolanus had been able to talk about was the Reaping in the past few weeks. Ever since he'd been selected as a Mentor.

It was a high honor, although it came with a heavy price. To groom a child for death as a spectacle was no easy thing. You had opted out of the selection of students poised to be mentors, personal fear and heartache for the soon-to-be victims eating at your psyche.

You were privileged in that way, you knew. Coriolanus didn't have a choice if he wanted any hope of attending the University. He was proud, your boy, refusing to accept even a penny from your family's expansive funds. Through your late father's investments, you could have paid to keep the both of you comfortable in a penthouse in the city, tuition and food the furthest of worries.

Watching him now, donning his dress pants and shirt, lacing up his too-small shoes, you wished he would let you help. The white shirt was exquisite, clandestine work by Tigris- his fashion-centric cousin. Coriolanus had a talent for making anything he wore appear regal- a byproduct of his last name no doubt.

Rising, you disappeared into the closet to find a dress appropriate for the event. Though you were not a mentor, all students at the Academy were invited to the celebration. You would have begged your way in anyways, eager to watch your best friend receive his tribute.

Rifling through the selection, you decided on a black number with thin straps, hugging your figure and flaring out subtly toward the bottom. Removing your nightdress, you tossed it over a chair and stepped into the other garment, zipping it up as high as you could.

When your fingers were unable to stretch any further, you poked your head out, calling, "Coryo? Would you help me?"

His shoes clicked on the wooden floor as he approached, one hand steadying you on your waist while you drew your sheet of hair over your shoulder. The zipper crawled up your spine as he closed the gap between fabric, reaching over to brush your hair back behind you when he finished.

The mirror positioned in the corner of the room painted a picture that passerby couldn't possibly guess the context on. Coriolanus and you cut a striking pair, making your foolish heart leap at the idea.

Squeezing your shoulder, Coriolanus left you to ponder at your reflection, digging through his school bag for something. It had been a miracle you'd been able to convince him to spend the night at all with how meticulous he was. But your honeyed musings about how he needed a good dinner and night's rest before the ceremony had won him over. Before you'd known it he'd been passed out under your blankets with a belly full of roast, lulled by the motions of your nails scratching his head.

Inside and out, you knew him, had memorized him better than any textbook passage, could unravel his tangled secrets quicker than any detective. He took your heart by storm.

Slipping your feet into your shoes, you picked up your purse and checked your recently finished makeup one last time, casting a glance at Coriolanus, who was fiddling with his curls again. You capped your lipstick with a snap, dropping the tube into your bag and turning to him. "Ready?"

When he looked at you, his oceanic eyes held a promise of storms. You reached your hand out and took his, offering the tiniest smile. "It's going to be okay."

Closing his eyes briefly, he inhaled once and gave a single nod. If you'd put your hand to his chest, the stampede of his heart under it likely would have worried you. The tendrils of hope crept between you as you tried to will your words into him.

Sticking his hand into his bag, Coriolanus withdrew twin flowers you recognized as his grandmother's precious roses- the special rooftop ones reserved for special occasions. Snapping the stems, he fixed one behind your ear, thumb featherlike. The gesture swelled your chest and warmed you from the inside out. "For me?"

"The Grandma'am insisted." There it was- that almost smile that told you the flower was coming from him too. Coriolanus steadied it in your hair, the petals brushing you like a kiss.

"Thank you," you whispered, touching your lips to his cheek. A slight flush brightened his face, and he looked away as your hands came to the one of his holding his own rose. Gently easing it out of his grip, you fastened it to his vest, taking care not to scratch his white shirt with the pin. Ironing out invisible creases with your hands, your eyes found his once again.

Friends. And yet it didn't feel like it. Not one bit. Electricity seemed to crackle in the line connecting your gazes, and you swore something flashed across his irises. The rose didn't mean nothing.

Half-dazed, you tentatively unearthed the feeling stored in a drawer stuffed to the brim with secrets. One more passionate and powerful than you were used to stood tall above the rest.

Though it was strong, it revealed itself in memories; quiet, simple things so delicate they could be gone in a blink. This feeling was rain pattering against the roof, it was flowers blooming between the cracks in the sidewalk. It was blue eyes and golden curls and a try-not-to-smile that arranged itself in a way that bloomed through the walls of your heart.

Somehow you had known what it was all along. And yet now its foretelling had come to pass.

What if he loved you too?

The Reaping was a lilted event highlighted by the revelation of Coriolanus' tribute.

District Twelve. You could have strangled the Dean lost in the throes of his beloved drug for what he'd so obviously done: set Coriolanus up for failure. From where you were sitting you could see the resignation on his face as he watched the Lucy Gray Baird in her rainbow dress part the raggedy crowd like the Red Sea.

Then she slipped a wriggling snake hidden by her hand down a girl's dress, and your attention was piqued. Bold. Maybe there was optimism yet. Coriolanus stood sharply; eyes glued to the screen as he watched his tribute dragged up the stage by stone-faced Peacekeepers. The mayor's hand struck her face, and she fell to the ground graceful as a ballerina, hair hanging over her cheeks.

And then she began to sing. Lilted as a bird's song, clear as a bell, her voice rang over the crowd, rich enough without background music. Lucy Gray's chorus needed no accompaniment.

The entire hall was entranced. Your eyes tore from the sight, instead watching Coriolanus. Even from where you were sitting you could see what you'd tried to instill in him only hours ago.

Hope.

The time following was a film reel of interconnected pictures. In later days you would recall them and only be able to see brief flashes of memory.

Coriolanus behind the bars of the Capitol Zoo's cage. Lucy Gray Baird standing tall and proud despite her forced surroundings, her rainbow dress a bright contrast to the rest of the setting. He had told you his plan to greet his tribute, but you'd had no idea of his exertions until you saw him on the evening news. Even if his Academy uniform hadn't been such a bright red, you would have known those curls anywhere.

She was stunningly lovely standing beside him- a flower of adversity if there ever was one. A flower with a song. Speaking of flowers, one of his was tucked behind her ear just as it had been with yours the morning of the Reaping.

A pang echoed in your chest at the sight of him, holding hands with her and greeting the citizens of the Capitol who'd come to gawk at the forced participants of a cruel game.

You had turned off the television at that, bringing your knees to your chest. He was just helping her. That was his job. He only wanted her to trust him in order to reach his end goal. Was it manipulative? Maybe. But it wouldn't matter if she won. It would be good for the both of them.

Coriolanus kneeling beside Lucy Gray, sharing a sandwich with her. You hung back behind the crowd, having accompanied him but not wanting to scare her away. He spoke in hushed tones to her, and you watched with a sinking heart as a smile split his face like a sunrise at something she said. A full smile.

After that, you saw him rarely. He was either at the zoo with her or at home writing things up both for the games and for school. Coriolanus used to do all his work with you by his side.

The media outlets were fond of showing him and Lucy Gray, reporting on the Snow boy and the songbird. You had tried to ask him about his affiliation with Lucy Gray, but he assured you it was pure strategy. He didn't know you loved him, though.

Coriolanus hadn't spent the night since the Reaping. The side he usually slept on grew cold. It still smelled like him, and that was a haunting thing. Whenever you asked him over he cast a net of excuses, claiming he needed to go see Lucy Gray in the morning or that the mentors had a strategy meeting.

As you stared up at him, with his eyebrows drawn taut, mouth no longer offering even a half-smile, a feeling of dread awoke in your heart.

Avoidance was your friend in the next week. The buzz of the games was impossible to ignore, and your feelings became matted in a bloody tangle. Tidying your room, you found little things he'd left behind. A pen, a spare shirt, a notebook. Opening the cover of the latter, you saw his neatly scribbled notes. For a moment you pretended it was a love letter.

It all came to a heading after the attack in the arena.

Everything was a blur after you received the news. Your feet were moving before you knew it, stumbling down the stairs. The driver on the way had to have been breaking every speeding law, but it still wasn't fast enough for you.

You didn't have any idea how you made it up to him. There was no recollection of asking someone where he was, or even a room number. But somehow you were at his side, taking his clammy hand in yours and collapsing to your knees beside his bed.

Tigris told you in a hushed way of how rebels had somehow bombed the arena, how there was a fire and rubble, and Lucy Gray had pulled him out of it. His leg had been in worse shape earlier, but it would heal soon.

A surge of gratitude shot through you. Thank heavens for Lucy Gray. Coriolanus was stirring now, his hand gripping yours as his lids revealed those oceans you'd missed so badly. And now his half-smile was back. He murmured your name and you could have burst into tears.

"You're okay," you murmured, other hand coming up to smooth curls back from his face. The way you knew he liked it.

"What happened...Lucy Gray..." he muttered, sitting up. A cold feeling of disheartenment washed over your heart. You opened your mouth to respond when the sound of music echoed from the hospital television on the wall.

There she was. The answer to his question. Lucy Gray's voice poured from the scratchy speaker, singing about a tale of lost love, paired with her guitar.

Coriolanus swung his legs over the side of the bed, getting to his feet nearly in a trance. His lips were parted, eyes fixed on her. Donations were pouring in, likely the most of any other tribute. The look on his face was of pure awe. It was as if he'd watched an angel descending.

Your heart sunk below your feet. Tears pricked your eyes as the chilling fingers of want gripped your arms, pulling you back into the shadows. He was falling for her.

It hit you like a punch to the gut, and you wanted to curl up on the floor beneath you until the ground opened and swallowed you up. Your love was a disease now that you didn't want to cure anyways. Even if you did, there wasn't one in sight.

The program ended, and Tigris excused herself, telling you both she was going to find something to eat. You sat at the chair beside Coriolanus' bed where he'd resumed his spot, despondent in the chasm of your thoughts.

She didn't know him like you did. Every hidden desire and pain of his fit into the palm of your hand, and you protected them just as he did. Time had slipped through the cracks and buried you, every shred of history with him flashing through your mind.

Walking to school together. Him coming from a particularly hard class to where you were sitting and resting his head in your lap. At your family's dinner table, trying not to overindulge. Asleep beside you, whispering that he felt safe.

You had been in front of him this entire time, holding him and loving him beyond everything. And yet here he was, running to a girl he knew so little of. Sabotaging everything you wanted to give him.

Even through all this, you couldn't find it in yourself to hate her. Lucy Gray was in the business of making it out alive. Whatever means she used to attempt a win were out of survival.

It was as if you'd pricked your finger on one of his rose's thorns. As you looked at him, you had the thought that he was drawing out of reach. Your Coryo was nearly lost to you and there was hardly anything to do.

He looked up at you, reaching for your hand. Letting him take it, you kept your eyes on his face, thoughts distant as he spoke.

"I think she has a chance," he said, voice bordering on excitement. "I think she can win. It'll all work out."

Bittersweet, you nodded, eyes falling to the floor. "You make a good pair." Every word was soft, and you avoided his eyes.

"Hey..." Coriolanus squeezed your hand, and you raised your gaze back to him. His features were drawn in a sincere way, and your demeanor lightened just slightly at the sight. "I want to get the prize. Go to the university with you. That's what this is all for."

"You look at her differently than that." Pursing your lips, you stood and let go of his hand.

Coriolanus frowned, throwing aside the covers and standing. "She might be the answer to all of this."

"That's fine," you said, turning away. "If you want her-"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, taking your elbow and forcing you to turn and face him. "I leave my things in your room. I gave you one of the roses...you're special to me, you have to know..."

"Then why have you abandoned me?" you questioned quietly, the tension between you thicker than a rope. "You're letting go."

"I'm doing all this for you," he emphasized, and your eyes widened slightly. "You..." he swallowed; mouth pulled tight. "I need you. If you ever left...I don't know what would happen."

Usually you had to comb through the depths of him eyes to find what he was feeling, but now it was right at the surface. Brimming and calling you. What he felt wasn't nothing.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Coriolanus demanded, holding you by both arms now. His words were not aggressive, but worried.

A thousand things stemmed from your core and climbed your being like vines on a stone wall in a secret garden. Fabled to act, more likely to yearn, your feelings bubbled and churned in your ocean of secret lives. Maybe once you would have poured your soul out to him, but the words were withered from lack of use.

"You weren't mine," you said weakly, leaving it at that. "Not mine to have or to lose."

Something changed in his face. He loosened the bands of his hands on your elbows, instead taking one of your hands and putting it to his heart. It beat a steady rhythm against your palm, that quiet assurance that he lived. Searching your eyes, Coriolanus breathed, "I think I've always been yours."

A myriad of scars and knotted emotions emerged in you. All these hours, all of what had seemed like tricks. And there had been something there the entire time.

You felt it right then- the connection. He was a tongue you spoke fluently, and now you were grateful for it. It sparked a fire in your soul that encased a promise echoed in his eyes.

He loved you too.

[corroded-hellfire]

Gimme A Break - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Collaboration with my beloved @munson-blurbs

Summary: A trip to the grocery store has you running into some familiar faces--and one not so friendly.

Note: Let Brittany bashing commence!

Warnings: talk of body image

Words: 2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

In your opinion, there’s no such concept as a bad time for soup. The dead of winter, the stifling heat of summer—it’s all good. 

The fall weather that’s rolled into Hawkins has inspired you to try your hand at making some from scratch, bringing you to Bradley’s Big Buy on a Sunday afternoon. You’re inspecting a bag of carrots for freshness and tossing them in the cart haphazardly when you feel a sudden thump against your leg. 

“Wha—” you start, ready to confront whoever was careless enough to ram into you. Your scowl immediately softens when you see the two smiling faces looking up at you. “Oh, hi boys!”

Luke, unsurprisingly, is the one who ran into you at full speed. Ryan is a few paces behind his bull-in-a-china-shop brother, but his expression is equally happy. 

You crouch down to give each of them a hug. The way they both wrap their arms around you radiates love’s warmth, and it melts your heart. 

“Are you buying anything good?” you ask, knowing they’ll be wholly unimpressed with your basket full of vegetables. 

Luke nods vigorously. “CHICKEN NUGGETS!” He bellows, drawing irate glares from nearby shoppers. “Daddy has a cool-pon.”

“It’s coupon,” Ryan says with a gentle roll of his eyes. 

You’re still stuck on the mention of their dad. Eddie’s here? And you don’t have on a lick of makeup—of course. 

“Where is Daddy?” you ask, looking up and down the aisle in the unlikely event that you missed him. 

“He’s uh…” Luke trails off, scrunching his nose as he searches for his dad. Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain” crinkles over the PA system after being interrupted by a call for assistance in the frozen food department as Brittany appears at the end of the aisle.

An irritated voice calls out from the end of the aisle. “What’s taking you two so—oh. You’re here.” Brittany crosses her arms over her chest, huffing out an impatient sigh when she spots you. 

Luke pipes up, still attached to your leg. “We can’t find the asper-, uh, aparag, the um…”

“Asparagus,” Brittany corrects him as if the five-year-old should be able to pronounce words perfectly by this age.

“Oh,” you say, turning to exactly where you know the asparagus is. “Here you go.”

Ryan gladly takes it from you with a grin. Huh, maybe there is a Munson who shares your affinity for veggies. It certainly isn’t Luke—or Eddie, for that matter. 

“You’re the best!” he says cheerfully, placing it in the cart that Brittany’s been pushing.

“Boys.” It almost sounds like she’s admonishing them for being kind to you. She looks at you with unkind eyes. “Maybe you should work here instead of for us,” she says, trying to play it off as a joke, but you can tell there’s some underlying threat. 

Luke is not amused by this, his little fingers digging into your leg as he clutches onto your jeans even tighter. “No! She has to be our babysitter forever and ever!” He pouts, eyes welling up with tears at the mere mention of you leaving. 

“Maybe not forever,” Ryan points out, always the practical one, “because one day we’ll be grown-ups with our own kids—”

“And then she can babysit them!” Luke declares, proud of his idea, loosening his grip on you. 

Brittany shakes her head, immediately eschewing the notion. “C’mon, let’s get going,” she says tersely. “Dad’s gonna be wondering where we are.” The cruel curl of her lip serves as a painful reminder of what’s hers; more specifically, what isn’t yours. 

As if on cue, Eddie meanders out from a nearby aisle, a canister of quick oats tucked under his arm. He’s wearing gray sweatpants that lay low on his hips and leave little to the imagination. Somehow on this brisk autumn day you have sweat beading along the back of your neck as you take him in.

“You’re So Vain” fades out on the speakers above, only to start playing the infectious opening notes of “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel.

“Britt, I couldn’t find the old-fashioned kind, but will this—oh, hey,” Eddie says, stopping in his tracks to acknowledge you. “You here to make sure these gremlins don’t lock themselves in the ice cream freezer?”

Luke grins, lets go of your leg, and takes your hand proudly in his as if it was somehow all his doing that you’re here in the grocery store the same time as they are. 

“Hi,” you greet before realizing you have a dopey smile on your face. “Uh, yeah. And it seems like I got here just in time. This one here almost had the lid off a rocky road before I caught him.” You shake Luke’s small hand in your own for emphasis and the boy wrinkles his nose up at you, the spitting image of his father.

Eddie chuckles and goes to respond, but his wife cuts him off.

“I guess those oats will work,” she says as she takes the canister from him—or snatches it, more like. “Come on, we didn’t even get to the dairy section yet.”

“Or,” Luke ventures, his hand gripping yours tighter in the chill air of the produce section, “we could get a cow in the backyard and get our milk that way.”

Eddie chuckles. “Hard pass, little man. We had to bring in reinforcement just to handle you and your brother.” He looks over and winks at you. 

It takes all of your strength and will power not to immediately vomit right then and there at the wink. Such a simple gesture from this man has you ready to lose all control of your body. 

Brittany huffs, clearly annoyed at the interaction. How dare anyone be having a conversation in her presence that doesn’t revolve around her? 

“Well, we need to keep shopping.” Brittany turns on her heel, spotting a red bag of fun-size KitKats in her husband’s other hand. “And put that back. The last thing you need is more junk food.” Her eyes flit down to his stomach, which has softened with time and a steady diet of pretzels and Mountain Dew.

The tips of Eddie’s ears turn pink, and he tries to hide them behind his curls. He clears his throat, the whole time avoiding your eyes, and tosses the KitKat bag onto an empty spot of a nearby shelf. He’s clearly embarrassed, but you’re seeing red. Fury scorches you from the inside out and it’s so potent that it might just dry up some of the vegetables around you. There have been many times in the past where you’ve wanted to tell Brittany off, but this one takes the cake. The callous yet truthful words rest on the tip of your tongue, but you know it would only make the mess bigger for everyone involved. You don’t want to add any extra stress for Eddie. Brittany is the one who should be embarrassed for treating her husband that way, not Eddie. That man is drop dead gorgeous and he still would be if he inhaled a bag of those KitKats every single day. 

Leave it to Luke to break the tension that he wasn’t even aware of was surrounding them all on this produce aisle. The young boy spies a can of spinach on the shelf and snatches it up, staring at it with wide eyes.

“Will this make me strong like Popeye?!”

“Sure, sweetie,” Brittany says, not paying any attention to her youngest son whatsoever. 

Brittany turns and heads towards the end of the aisle, no goodbye to you, no saying where she’s going, just leaving and assuming the guys will follow behind her. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow after school, right?” Ryan asks, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

“I’ll be there,” you assure him, booping the tip of his nose. He gives you a quick, strong hug around your middle.

Luke, still holding on to the can of spinach, blows you an overdramatic kiss which you pretend to almost drop into a bed of lettuce. The little boy giggles and it’s one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard. 

Eddie takes a step closer to you, still feeling the sting of embarrassment, and speaks in a soft voice. “We, uh, should get going.” Eddie clears his throat. It kills you to see how Brittany zaps the life out of him. “I’ll—we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“I’ll be there,” you promise once again. 

Eddie offers you a small smile before turning to his sons. 

“All right, come on. Let’s catch on up to Mom.”

The boys don’t look too enthused about that, and it warms your heart that they’d rather stay here and hangout with you. 

“Bye guys,” you say, waving to all three of them as they head down the aisle.

Once they’re gone you heave a heavy sigh. Being in Brittany’s presence for two minutes was exhausting enough, you have no idea how those three manage to live with her.

You try to refocus on your shopping, however impossible that might seem now. When you’re checking over the items you already have and look back up at the shelves, you spot the red KitKat bag that Eddie had wanted to buy. There’s no hesitation at all to pick it up and add it to your pile of groceries.

The Munson car isn’t hard to spot as you step out into the parking lot of the store. You see it almost every day and the gorgeous, familiar looking man loading groceries into the trunk is also a huge indicator. 

Not surprisingly, Brittany is in the car while Eddie does all the work. The boys are in the backseat and from what you can make out of their silhouettes, they’re arguing with one another. They’re kids, they’d probably be more of a hindrance than help to Eddie. But Brittany could at least be doing something. 

Steeling your nerves, you take a deep breath and head over to him. 

“Eddie?”

His head whips around. “Hey,” he says with a small smile. “Everything okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod, summoning all of your courage and handing him the candy. “You left these on the shelf.” You try to play it off casually, but the slight tremble in your voice gives your nervousness away. 

He starts to take them but pulls back. “I probably shouldn’t,” he mumbles, shoving his hand into his pocket. “Britt’s been on me to lose the ‘dad weight’ for a while.”

You shake your head, mostly to keep from opening your mouth and saying something about his wife that you’ll regret.

“I think you look good,” you say. “Um, like, you don’t need to lose any weight.” You’re perfect the way you are, you ache to tell him, but you shouldn’t. You can’t. 

Eddie senses that you have words unspoken, but he doesn’t press further. “Well, um, thanks.” He takes the bag and opens it, grabbing two before giving it back to you. “Can’t get caught,” he explains with a laugh. 

You grin at him, an idea already taking form. “I’ll bring one each day I babysit. Sneak it in like contraband.”

“As long as the boys don’t find it first,” Eddie chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “The last thing they need is more sugar.”

You agree with a laugh. “Deal.”

Eddie tucks the KitKats into his jacket pocket. 

“Thank you, by the way,” he says softly. 

“No problem. Just some candy,” you shrug. 

He shakes his head. “No, it…” he trails off. “Just…thank you.”

You smile as he ducks into the driver’s seat, and you walk back to your own car. As you pack up the back with your groceries, you mentally calculate how long this bag of KitKats will last if you bring Eddie one every day that you work. You purse your lips as you slam the trunk closed.

“That’s not nearly long enough for my liking,” you mumble to yourself as you slip into the driver’s seat.

Once you put the key in the ignition, the car rumbles to life and the purr of the engine sounds like it’s coming from your brain as it churns out an idea. 

You smile to yourself and shift your car into gear.

“Guess I’ll just have to buy some more bags of candy.”

[gaydadeddie]

for your recovery writing prompts 🤗: would you like to participate in buddie come marking wednesday? 👀

He's Got Stars In His Eyes 3.8k

-

It starts as a thought.

Eddie imagining Buck with his Silver Star pinned to his dress blues. And he knows Buck would love the opportunity to wear it, the way his eyes go all wide whenever he sees it. And so Eddie just thinks about it. About the odd shame that accompanies his star, about his team, about the weight he feels when he looks at it. And he wonders if, maybe, Buck would shoulder that burden for him.

Wide-eyed, in his uniform, flushed--

Eddie shakes the image from his mind, it's inching too close to...something he's been avoiding for longer than he'd like to admit.

Maybe since forever.

So he ignores it.

-

It's a Thursday, Ravi is working cause Buck is off, baking a birthday cake for Jee-Yun and taking a whole day for it--it's sweet, honestly, to see the guy who once filed a lawsuit to get back to work, softening, rearranging his priorities, even just by a little.

They've finished their latest call (a girl with a fork sticking out of her abdomen) and Eddie's in the loft, sitting on the couch, when Ravi plops down beside him.

"It is so good to have you back, man, I thought Buck was gonna go crazy."

Eddie chuckles, certain their constant FaceTimes were the bane of the 118's existence.

"Seriously, we went out for drinks and he would Not shut up about you. Did you really remove a booted tire from his car?"

Eddie chokes, laughs, then nods. "Oh my god, I can't believe he told you about that… I was hoping no one would ever find out."

"Buck was all, 'Don't worry, it wasn't illegal, Eddie has a Silver Star!'"

And there it is. A zip or a glint, something shiny and new. Buck thinks about it too, tells people about it, pins it to Eddie like it's nothing.

Eddie manages to snap out of it, "Oh, Rav, I'm sorry about that. I know Buck gets even more talkative when he's drinking." Eddie feels sweat on his brow.

Ravi rolls his eyes like 'yeah, I fucking know'

"Luckily I was able to pass him off, I felt kinda bad about it, but I think one more shot and story about you would have sent me over the edge." He laughs and shakes his head, his soft curls following suit. 

Eddie quirks his head, asks "Passed him off?"

And Ravi looks over at Eddie, a flicker of something nervous passing through his eyes, "Uh, yeah, I mean. Tommy was there watching some fight on the TV, so I, y'know. Passed him off."

Eddie feels himself take a sharp breath, tries not to react any more than that. Begs himself not ask any other questions. "Oh. Did they um. Reconnect?"

Ravi shrugs, gets up like he's brushing this off his shoulders, like he didn't just fire a bullet into Eddie's chest, "You'll have to ask Buck about that one, buddy."

With a pat on his shoulder, Eddie watches Ravi go, then stares down at his own hands, wringing them, trying to keep himself grounded.

Read the Rest on AO3

[ceoofsammonroe]

Cherry - Clay Beresford

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six |

Summary: After the boundaries are pushed a bit too far, you and Clay agree that you both need to be more careful about adhering to the rules going forward. That lasts for all of about ten minutes…

Warnings: angst, descriptions of sex work, alcohol consumption, dry humping, coming in pants, nipple play, the pining is strong as ever.

Playlist | Masterlist

After another week went by with no sign of Clay, you began to wonder if he was busy with work or if he had just finally decided that you weren’t worth his time.

This was why you hadn’t wanted to be involved with someone like him. You didn’t like how much it consumed your mind. He was all you were able to think about lately.

You had replayed that last meeting in your head over and over, cursing yourself for pushing it so far but craving to feel that fire again. You hadn’t even touched him, but that connection had still been the most visceral thing you had ever felt.

You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror, wondering how you’d let yourself fall in this deep. You knew better than to get roped into the romantic ideology that men like him subscribed to, but things with Clay felt…different.

“He’ll be back, babes,” Frenchie spoke, coming up behind you and resting her chin on your shoulder.

You held her gaze in the reflection of the mirror, softly sighing as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“I’m not worried about that, French,” you told her, shrugging dismissively. “He’s just a customer, that’s all. He’s no different than any other patron here.”

“Except for the fact that he owns a multibillion dollar corporation,” she said, quietly. When she saw your wide eyes, she scoffed, “What? I have eyes, doll face, I can recognize a celebrity when I see one. Besides, he’s been plastered all over TMZ enough times that he could get rich from the royalties, alone.”

“He…” you paused, glancing around to make sure the other dancers weren’t listening. “He just wants some privacy. I don’t think he wants it getting out that he’s spending so much of his time in a place like this.”

“You mean you don’t think it would fit his lovely public image?” Frenchie joked, snickering as she nudged you. “I’m joking, Cherry-pop. The man has every right to live his own life without it becoming the next big news story. You don’t have to worry about me running my trap. The other girls, however… They may not talk, but they’re certainly waiting for their turn with him. If you’re truly so tired of him, maybe you should let one of them take him off your hands.”

You felt a sudden spike of anger as the bitter taste of jealousy settled on your tongue. Frenchie smirked knowingly at you, laughing quietly as she shook her head.

“Just a customer my ass…” she snorted, walking over to sit down at her station. “You want my advice? Rules are meant to be broken — and I’m not just talking about the club.”

Her words sank in, settling heavy in your chest as you looked away from her. You sighed, shaking your head as you busied yourself with touching up your hair and makeup.

Sal walked into the back, clipboard in hand, and he idled on over to you. He looked up, glancing between you and Frenchie as he sensed the tense atmosphere.

“I don’t wanna know,” he said, sighing. “You’ve got a customer, Cherry. Room four. The kid’s gonna buy this whole place out sooner or later. Dunno what you’ve been doing to the boy, but keep doing it.”

As Sal walked off, you felt your heart begin to race. He was here. Oh, god…he was here. You didn’t know whether to feel ecstatic or to crumple in a complete panic. You settled for a dazed middle ground as you took one last look at your appearance and adjusted your lingerie set.

“Mr. Admirer awaits you,” Frenchie teased, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You glared at her with a huff, feeling your palms growing sweaty.

The hallway seemed to go on forever as you made your way down to the looming door of room four. With a shaky hand, you reached for the handle and pushed it open.

Your breath escaped you as you walked into the room and met the gaze of his dazzling blue eyes. Your heart was in your throat and your feet felt rooted to the ground. You had thought a week would be enough time for the effects to wear off…but no.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you said, quietly.

Clay’s eyes locked onto yours, his face flushed as he spoke with just as much tenderness, “Cherry.” He walked toward you, his movements slow and deliberate. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve thought about you every day since we last saw each other. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come back.”

The confirmation that he’d been thinking about you as much as you’d been thinking about him tugged on your heart.

“I was beginning to think you’d ran for the hills,” you joked — though your voice betrayed your doubt. You held his gaze until it became too much to bear, then you looked away and cleared your throat. “We, um…we may have pushed the boundaries a bit too far the last time we met. Going forward we should probably stick to the rules.”

“Yes,” Clay agreed, nodding. “We need to respect the boundaries.”

His eyes told a different story, however. They burned with desire, his gaze lingering on the curves of your lips. His fingers twitched by his sides, as if itching to reach out and touch you.

“I’ll try to behave,” he confirmed, his voice hoarse.

“Thank you,” you said, biting back every urge to say fuck it and break every goddamn rule in the book. “Besides, this will give you more time to ask your questions and tell your stories.”

“Oh, I have a story to tell you, Cherry,” he smiled, moving to sit down on the couch. His eyes never left yours as he leaned forward, propping his elbows onto his knees. “It’s a story about a boy who fell for a girl, but couldn’t have her. He would do anything to be with her, but she was out of reach. He would dream of her every night — of the way she looked at him and the way she made him feel. He would wake up every morning hoping that she would be there, waiting for him…but she never was.” He paused, his gaze intense as he looked at you with longing. “The boy would wonder — was it all just a dream? Is this a dream, Cherry? Are you just a dream? I’m beginning to think that I’ve made you up in my mind as some sort of psychotic delusion.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart pounded as you smiled at him, a hint of laughter in your voice as you asked, “You think I’m made up?”

“I think that maybe I’ve created you in my mind,” he breathed. “Maybe you’re just a figment of my imagination.”

You stared at him for a moment before you said, “Stand up, pretty boy.”

Clay rose from the couch and moved to stand in front of you, his body tense with anticipation. He was ready to do anything you might ask of him.

“Yes, Cherry?”

You moved closer until you were a breath away from him, peering up into his eyes.

“I may not be able to touch you, but there are still ways that I can prove to you I’m real,” you told him. “Can you smell the subtle hint of perfume on my skin?”

Clay’s eyes closed as he inhaled deeply. The sweet, faint scent set his senses ablaze as he sighed.

“Yes,” he whispered, his eyes opening to lock onto you. “I can smell you.”

“Good,” you smiled, leaning up to let your lips hover near his ear. “Can you hear my voice?”

“Yes,” he nodded, shivering at the soft sound of your whispers. “I can hear you.”

You walked around his frame, moving behind him as you stood on your tiptoes to gently blow on the back of his neck.

“How about that? Can you feel that?”

“Yes,” Clay gasped at the tickle of your breath, feeling goosebumps erupt onto his skin. “I can feel you.”

“See?” You grinned, walking back around him until you were stood in front of him again. “I’m real, pretty boy.”

Clay’s gaze was locked on you, his heart thudding inside of his chest. He could see you — the way you batted your lashes, the way you smiled at him.

A small, fond smile tugged at his lips as he whispered, “I suppose you are, Cherry.”

“Good,” you smirked. “Now that we’ve got that settled, why don’t you pour me a glass of that champagne you brought.”

Clay breathed out a laugh as he turned toward the ice bucket. He grabbed the bottle, popping the cork and picking up a glass. His hands trembled slightly as he poured the drink, watching the bubbles fizz to the top.

“Here you are, Cherry,” he said, handing out the glass for you to take.

You held his gaze, smiling as you reached for it. You weren’t paying close enough attention. Your fingers grazed his as you took the flute from him and you gasped, letting go of the drink as it fell to the floor with a loud clank.

Electricity zapped your fingertips. The touch was so small, but it had happened. You had touched him. After weeks of building up boundaries, your skin had finally touched his.

Your chest heaved up and down as you stared at him, wordlessly. His eyes were wide, his own breaths coming out in ragged pants. He could feel the electric current between you.

“Cherry,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

“I…” You attempted to speak, but words fell short. You were stuck in his gaze, feeling the remnants of his touch on your fingertips. So light, and yet…it was the catalyst to undo the final shred of your resolve.

Your eyes wandered down to his lips. His full, perfect lips…

“Cherry,” he breathed, his own gaze following suit as he leaned closer to you. “Please.”

There was nothing you could do to stop your body from moving on its own accord as you reached up to grab his face, bringing his lips down to yours.

Clay instantly sighed into your mouth, wrapping his arms around you to pull you close to him. His warmth enveloped you as he parted his lips, his tongue pushing past to taste yours.

The world around you melted away as your bodies melded into one another. The spilled champagne was long forgotten and the music faded into the sound of ragged breaths between you.

You were both lost in the moment, in the sensation of your lips touching, in the thrill of breaking the rules — of giving into your desires.

You pressed your body into his, relishing in the contact. You tried to memorize the way he felt against you — the way his hands roamed, the way he held you, the way he tasted.

He kissed you like he needed you — like yours was the only air he could breathe.

Without breaking the kiss, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of the couch. He stumbled, falling down against the cushions and bringing you with him. He groaned as you straddled his lap, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as the kiss grew more intense. Your nails gently scraped at his scalp, earning a small shiver as his breath hitched. You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, gently biting down on it.

Clay moaned, his hips surging upward as he pulled you closer. His large hands wandered up to brush over the cups of your bra, squeezing softly.

You whimpered against his lips, arching into his touch. You were craving more, craving him.

His fingers traced across the thin fabric, tugging lightly at your nipples. His actions elicited a soft cry from your throat and he hummed in satisfaction. He used his thumbs to circle the sensitive buds, letting his tongue dance against yours.

It was ridiculous how natural this was for him. He didn’t even have to open his eyes to play your body like an instrument he’d known his entire life.

You moaned into his mouth, feeling the arousal pooling between your thighs at his teasing touch. You could feel the ache burning within you — the need, the desire.

You adjusted in his lap until you could feel his erection pressing up against your core. You ground your hips down against him, gasping at the friction of him pressed up into you.

Clay groaned, his eyes snapping open to meet yours. The blue in his eyes was nearly non-existent, his pupils blown with lust. The intensity of his gaze would’ve made your knees buckle, had you still been standing.

“Cherry,” he panted, his voice hoarse. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you breathed, grinding against him. “God, I want this.”

Clay grabbed your chin, moaning softly at your response. “Then take what you want,” he demanded. “Show me how much you want me, Cherry.”

You held his gaze as you slowly moved your hips, watching his eyes flutter at the sweet friction. You leaned forward and captured his lips again in a slow, passionate kiss. You grabbed his chin and tilted his head, kissing across his jaw. You trailed your lips down his neck, nipping and sucking at his pulse point before soothing the area with your tongue.

You moved your mouth up to his ear and whispered, “You feel so good, pretty boy.”

Clay’s eyes rolled back as his head lolled to the side. He kept a firm grip on your hips, dragging you back and forth against his crotch.

“Yeah, Cherry,” he groaned through heavy breaths. “Feels so fucking good.”

Your soft moans against his ear caused his hips to buck as his mouth found yours again. You could feel the constant friction beginning to stir a steady thrum of pleasure that was building in the pit of your stomach. Clay gripped your ass, kneading the flesh as he moved you faster against him. He returned your kiss with urgency, the desperation he felt evident in the way he devoured you.

“Fuck,” he panted. “You’re going to make me come like this.”

You held his face, giving him a knowing smirk as you continued to move against him. His eyebrows were knit together as he tried to ground himself, but the pleasure was too intense. His hips met yours at a particularly delicious angle and a whine escaped your lips. His eyes darkened further as he repeated the action, both of you desperately chasing a release. You gripped onto his shoulders for leverage, gasping for breaths as you felt your body humming with need.

Both of you were teetering on the edge, nearing the precipice. He rested his forehead against yours, holding your gaze as the space between you was a mingle of breathy moans.

He thrust upward, meeting you movement for movement as your bodies moved as one. The need to finish this, to reach the peak of pleasure, overwhelmed you both. You were caught in a dance of pleasure, of desire, of hunger. You danced with abandon, solely focused on the connection between you.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, pushing you further. “Finish the dance.”

You shivered the moment you heard the word baby slip from his lips. You whimpered, biting down on your lip as he coaxed you closer to the edge.

“I want you to finish it with me,” you panted, trying to hold on to the little restraint you had left.

“Anything you want, baby,” he nodded, a low moan sounding in his throat. “Anything you want.”

His hips surged up at the perfect angle, hitting you exactly where you needed it. He repeated the motion, reaching up to gently cup your face.

“Let go, Cherry.”

You held his gaze as your body soared over the peak, falling into a fit of pleasure as you gasped. Clay watched with rapt attention as you came, the sight alone sending him to his own release. He let out a strangled groan as he buried his face in your neck, clutching you tightly as you both rode out your highs.

Moments passed, your breathing ragged as your bodies both moved in sync. Finally, you both relaxed against each other. He pulled back, looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes.

You held his face, tracing his swollen lips with your thumb before capturing them in a slow kiss. He hummed, contentedly, returning your kiss with sweet devotion as his hand cupped the back of your head.

The world was hazy as you both pulled back, gazing into each other’s eyes. You struggled to catch your breath, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all.

“Cherry,” he breathed, caressing your cheek softly. “That was…”

“Incredible,” you finished for him, smiling softly.

Despite your better judgment, you laid your head down on his shoulder and buried your face in his neck. You inhaled the musk of his cologne, breathing him in as you relaxed in his arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, holding you close as he gently ran his fingers through your hair.

You knew that this was a mistake you’d be sure to regret, but you wanted to bask in the affection. You hadn’t known such comfort in so long…

“Tell me another story,” you whispered, clutching the fabric of his shirt in your fists — as if he’d fly away if you didn’t hold him down.

“Okay, Cherry,” Clay smiled, stroking your face with his thumb. “How about the story of a young boy who grew up with a dream to make something of himself — to continue a legacy. He worked hard, chased his dreams, and eventually found success…” he paused, his fingers trailing up and down your arm, “…but even with all of the fame and fortune, he still sought something more.”

“Why did he want more?” You asked, tracing the buttons of his shirt with your finger. “Was he unhappy?”

Clay’s smile faded slightly, his eyes losing their playfulness. “No, not unhappy,” he said, softly. “Just lonely.” His fingers intertwined with yours, his thumb rubbing your palm. “He found himself successful, but it wasn’t enough. There was a void he couldn’t fill, no matter how many people surrounded him. Then, one day, he met someone…”

You sat up in his lap, facing him. You held his hand, playing with his fingers as you waited for him to continue. He watched you intently, his heart in his throat.

“He met someone who made him feel alive,” he continued, softly. “Someone who saw past the fame and the facade. It made him realize that…maybe he’d been chasing the wrong legacy all along. Maybe a life well lived is less about the fortune, and more about the people you’d want to share it with.”

You held his gaze, feeling the threat of tears sting your eyes. You opened your mouth to respond, but the shrill ring of the timer sounded — signaling the end of the session.

“Shit,” you cursed, grimacing. You looked at him with apologetic eyes and said, “I have to go work the rest of my shift.”

Clay’s heart sank at the sound — the sudden reminder of reality. He didn’t want you to leave. He didn’t want the moment to end.

“Yeah,” he whispered, softly, his voice filled with disappointment. “Work.”

“Don’t worry, pretty boy,” you told him, holding his face in your hands. “You’re the only rule breaker I’ll allow.”

You leaned down to place a gentle, slow kiss to his lips before climbing off of his lap. Your body immediately missed the warmth he provided. You felt hollow, having to step away from him again.

“Thanks, Cherry,” he whispered, smiling sadly. “I’ll hold on to that.”

He stood up and straightened his clothes, trying to shake off the lingering sensations.

You couldn’t help but glance down at his crotch, stifling a giggle at the wet patch that had formed on the front of his pants.

“You should, uh…you should probably cover that,” you laughed biting your lip.

Clay blushed, his eyes dropping down. He groaned, an embarrassed smile pulling at his lips as he untucked his shirt to hide the evidence.

“Yeah, I should,” he murmured, his cheeks pink.

You couldn’t resist reaching up to kiss him one more time. He sighed against your lips, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. He kissed you like he may never get the chance again. You could feel it down to your toes as he poured himself into this fleeting moment.

You pulled back and rested your forehead against his as he peered down at you.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

He held your gaze for a moment longer before stepping back, giving you space. He knew you had to get back to work, and he respected that. Still, a part of him wished you didn’t have to go.

“I’ll see you around, pretty boy,” you said, taking one last long look at him before leaving the room and returning to the real world.

You missed him the moment he was out of sight. You wanted nothing more than to run back into that room and tell him to take you away — but that wasn’t a story you could write for yourself.

You changed into a clean costume, but you could still feel his touch against your skin. You never wanted to wash that feeling off of you.

When you walked back up to your vanity, Frenchie looked at you with a shit-eating grin.

“You little rule-breaker,” she whispered, poking your arm with a laugh. “The smell of sex is practically wafting off of you, babes.”

You couldn’t help but blush, frantically shushing her as you looked around. Realizing that nobody else was paying attention, you bit your lip and looked back at her.

“Do you think I’m taking a huge risk, French?”

“Yes,” she nodded, without hesitation, “and it’s about time you did.”

You sat back in your chair as her words sank in, unable to shake the feeling that this was the start of something that would change your life forever.

By the time you were gathering your things and getting ready to clock out for the night, Sal met you in the back with a wad of cash. You took it from him, seeing a tiny piece of paper sticking out between the bills.

When Sal retreated back to the front with a grunt of acknowledgment, you grabbed the paper and unfolded it.

For Cherry,

From Your Pretty Boy.

Your heart fluttered. Your pretty boy. The implications of that word alone were very dangerous.

You gasped as your turned the paper over, bringing your hand up to your mouth.

Across the back, he had scrawled his phone number. You stared at it long enough that you could have committed it to memory. Those numbers stared back at you, daring you to risk everything.

You wouldn’t call him. You couldn’t call him. That would mean breaching every rule in the book — both the club’s and your own.

No matter how badly you wished that they could, your worlds could not collide. There was a reason why Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. You both existed on opposite sides of life.

If you were to bridge that gap, to cross that divide, it would surely be your ruin.

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