#rolled & told

[screampied]

࣪.₊ 𐙚 SHE WANNA GO VIRALLL ?! ★

gojo, choso, nanami, toji, geto. cybersēx and getting freaky on camera with the jjk men

𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, camgirl/boy themes, phone sēx, unprotected, praise, dirty talk, toji slander, toy usage, hair pulling, guided órgasms, size kink, using a cóck ring on choso, squırting, òral (f! / m! receiving), voyerism.

𐚁̸. an. kind of lost in ikea rn so i wrote this yaya

TOJI ✩ FUSHIGURO.

“tch,” toji grunts as a third piercing smack hits against your ass. you let off a gasp as you’re just lazily arched over for him. just a few moments ago and you were leaking with globs of velvety ropes of cum. the powered on monitor you had propped up against the desk had a blinding bright glow to it. dark, viridescent eyes glance at your chat that’s spamming with donations before he squints. as he’s drilling you into your keyboard from behind, he clings onto your hip. “why the fuck does y’er chat keep callin’ me broke.”

“eheh, oh—” you swallow, feeling him reach in deep areas. indeed they were, flooding your chat with the same tiring jokes of toji. it was a common joke within your audience. as another moan leaves your throat rawly, you gnaw down on your lip. “they’re jus’ trolling, ‘toj. everyone knows you’re filthy rich, baby.”

itsnotchosover: girl who is everyone

sexymartha38: he's so hottttt. when is it my turn

drakesfatbbltbh: Dad? :0

with an eye roll, he resumes back to fucking you stupid. a being hand of his grasps onto your head, digging into your precious scalp. holding your head up, he makes you stare at your thousands of viewers with the dumbest expression glued onto your face. “bet all y’er little fans wish they were me, huh,” and there’s such cockiness dripping underneath his tone. toji’s fat cock has your mouth dangling agape—you’re almost drooling. it was so effortless on how you’d always coat his base with a translucent-colored ring. a pretty, soddened white ring that sticks against your ass each thrust he presents. it’s downright nasty, and yet—his hips were even nastier. as he’s got your hair with a firm secure grip, he lightly shoves you into the screen. moaning, you’re being pushed face first into the monitor—pupils glowing from the colors on your stream ricocheting against your dilated irises. “mhm, good girl. fuck back against me ‘n let these losers watch.”

of course—throughout everything, he’s catching all types of strays through the multicolored flood of comments.

toji could really care less though, a sly grin compresses against his lips before he makes you arch more forward. your back slouches over the wooden desk in such a sexy way that he can’t help but gift your left cheek with another rude spank. “f-fuuuck,” you’d sob out, trying to grab onto your mouse but he snatches your hand. with a quick paced speed, he makes your arm restrain around your back. significantly, he’s amping up his sloppy pace. your weeping cunt repeatedly squelches against him over and over and over. it’s never ending—profusely, your cunt’s idly dripping wet and the sounds just gets more addictive to listen to. that and the repetitive shrilling pings of your donations. aw, another goal met, it makes you smile with gratitude—and just as you were about to recite your recycled ‘thank you’ to your thousands of viewers, your breath catches in your throat and you whine. toji’s thickset base pap pap pap’s against you through and through and your mind’s just mush. not a single thought in your empty brain. “gonna cum, toji. tojiiiii, so fuckin’ big.”

“want me ‘ta slow down after you said i was small, yeah oookay,” and he’s just so sassy that you wanted smack him. that was practically true though. your chat told you to prank toji, telling him how he’s small. obviously, that wasn’t true, and here you were, feeling every staggering inch he’s presenting to your clingy greedy pussy.

a sopping string of your own slick sticks against his base each time—it’s sticky, he groans at the sight of it. a tongue of his flicks against the scar near the right side of his mouth and you wriggle your hips back into him. hissing at the almost sharp sensation between your thighs and your constant teasing, he yanks you back toward him. leaning up close to you, he licks a stripe down your neck before groaning. “sloppy fuckin’ girl, ‘m gonna get you pregnant on live. want that?”

with a sheepish whine pouring out of your throat, you grind your body against him, feeling the tip of his dick expand through every secluded crevice of your sweet cunt. “yeah, gimme a baby then. fill me up again, pleaseee.”

and as his pounding against your clit exceeds, so does your arch. the pace was almost animalistic. the chat’s spamming with comments, praising you and even trolling your expressions. your mind’s on a loop, with warm bodies clashing against each other, he groans into your ear. “fuck, gonna give you twins, girl,” and his voice was a mere pitchy deep. your limbs spike and with his rough hips, it allows a candied stretch to pry its way into your pussy. all from your girth, it’s almost delicious and you’d rate his dick five stars if you could. “shit, clamping all around m—” and before he could even finish his sentence, toji pauses. a roaring grunt rumbles out from him and he steadies your hips. not only does he shoot into you, but he gets a mean leg cramp. twitching ravened brows of his contort together and he quickly pulls out. it’s almost comedic, you stare at him through the reflection of your screen all while feeling his oozing hot cum spill down from between your thighs. hearing a giggle come from you, he grunts, spanking your ass. don’t laugh, little girl.”

“s- sorry, forgot you have skeleton bones,” you playfully rub your neck, peering your eyes at the dozens of comments trolling him.

“s— shut up,” he breathes, both hands on his hips. his leaky tip now flaccid and swollen, toji entraps his bottom lip with a teeth. exhaling out a tired whew, his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. “gimme a minute. er . . an hour, fuckk.”

and then as he tries to get up, a sudden loud crack in his bones occurs. “ignore that.”

NANAMI ✩ KENTO.

with a pout, you slump back onto the shared bed of your husband. it was near the afternoon—you knew he was busy, off on a mission or something but you missed him badly. it was almost painful at how you almost forgot what his touch felt like.

so you decide to text him. pulling out your phone, you scroll towards his contact with a heart next to his name. eagerly, you align your thumbs against the grey keyboard, squeezing your thighs together. starting off with a simple, ‘miss you baby,’ and awaiting for his reply. as you wait, you go back to playing with yourself. with your pretty legs all sprawled out, your fingers cramp up inside of your drooling pussy. shoved to the side of your thighs were a pair of panties nanami gifted you on your birthday. about four minutes later, he replies.

nanami: Sweetheart. I miss you too.

nanami: I need to hear your voice, call me yeah?

and without wasting any time, you dial those same known ten digits before pressing a thumb against the call button. on the first ring, he answers and he speaks first with a low, “hey you, how’s my pretty princess?”

“horrible,” you whine, still stuffing your cunt full of fingers. two slender fingers that were all soaked with your slick. it was a mess, your breathing patterns continue to change the more you imagine if he was really here. “i- i miss you, ‘ken. touchin’ myself ‘s so hard when you’re not around.”

“oh,” nanami says through the other line, his voice as smooth as silk. his absent presence only his fingers knew the exact layout of your pussy. nanami’s fingers were the pure definition of utopia—knowing all the right areas of your cunt with such ease. simply perfect. nanami was still on a mission, but he took care of his tasks. clearing his throat, taking a seat on a nearby bench, he sighs. “you’re touching yourself without me, huh sweetheart.”

“s- sorry,” you stammer, feeling yourself about to release soon. not before long, your thighs start to quiver and shake. “mhm,” you chew on the lower part of your lip, feeling your breathing shake up. “kento, talk to me please. help me c-cum, baby.”

“my wife decided to be filthy today,” he purrs, the sweet moans that escaped from your lips making his cock twitch. you were so loud, he’s always thought you had the prettiest voice. as you’re continuing to feel pounds of elation surge through you—you curl a finger inside, rubbing against your sensitive nub. “bring the phone up to her. wanna hear what she’s got to say too, my love.”

putting it up to your sopping cunt, you switch the phone to speaker. nanami grows mute for a second, listening to how wet you were. your fingers play and strum against your folds before you start to tremble. “k- kento, ‘m close, so close.”

“come on princess, listen to my voice, okay,” and with your back reclined against the cushioned mattress, you start to pant. your body feels limp, his voice was the perfect mixture of deep and a bit raspy—tender, each praise he gives you only makes you throb even more. “i want you to pretend you’re using my fingers,” and as he’s speaking, the tips of your fingers prod against that particular area. grazing against your clitoral hood, you nibble on your halfway lolled out tongue. “mhm, doing so well. just listen to me, play with her a bit more ‘n then let go sweetheart. let go just for me.”

gasping for any sorts of breaths—you whimper, two fingers getting lost into the depths of your pussy. it was a mess, a nice viscous amount of your slit departs from your digits as you pull them out of you before dragging them back in. “kento, ‘m cumming. all on your f- fingers,” you whine, imagining it was his thick fingers shoving in and out instead of yours. as you continue to whine through irregular breaths, the bobbing of your throat intensifies. “hnghh,” you babble, clammy fingers soaking in everything before you finally let loose. gushing out— it’s a lot. volumes of your sweet trickle onto the satiny sheets. a damp spot soaks its way into the fabric before you collapse back with a cute orgasm to follow. “f- fuck, ‘s good,” and your legs tremor vigorously. you felt like you were floating, everything throbbed and pulsed and your mind felt like it was racing at miles a minute. with an airy exhale, you put the phone back up to your mouth. “ken— you still there?”

“always,” he coos, his voice sending you various amounts of euphoric shivers. as you’re still letting go of your high, you can hear nanami’s raspy breaths through the other end of the phone too. he’s panting, almost as if he was actually there with you. “good girl, you did so good,” and nanami pauses for three seconds before whispering. “hm, i gotta go—but princess, send me a picture of the mess. i wanna see what ‘m gonna have to clean up when i get home.”

CHOSO ✩ KAMO.

it wasn’t really surprising to you that you found out your shy and timid best friend was a camboy. he was pretty well known—trendy and everyone’s favorite whiner.

pulling in thousands and thousands of views per month, he started to become a household name in the cyber world. choso was having a usual stream late at night, stroking himself off in front of his various followers. biting his lip, he tries to ignore the comments of his fans asking for him to try on his cock ring. “h- heh, if you guys want me to do that, you’ll have to help us reach our goal.”

and as soon as he says that, he reaches it.

with a frowning pout, choso’s lip quivers. “shit. nevermind then,” and as he’s fisting his own dick with solid pumps, a vein runs down his prolonged fat shaft.

he leans back, tossing his head back too—choso’s hair was unkempt and flowing down. he didn’t have his usual two ponytails today. ravened strands of hair go against his eyes and he lets off a nervous laugh toward his viewers. “ugh, s-so much for that. fine, i’ll use it for a little,” and then it dawned on him, the cock ring not only goes around choso, but it vibrates too.

as he’s just about to put the toy around his base, that’s right when you walk in. “hey, did you see my shower g-” and your jaw nearly drops once you’re trying to process the lewd view in front of you. so that’s what that noise was, the constant whining through the walls. choso’s reaction is an exact replica of yours. swallowing thickly, he’s still got his erect dick in hand, and it’s just so pretty. “oh, am i interrupting?”

“n— no,” he hitches a single breath, taking a moment to stare at your body. even dressed down, you looked so attractive. with a sheepish grin, he rubs a hand down the brief undercut that’s near his nape. he’s embarrassed, but it slowly goes away due to him being aroused. occasionally gawking at the chat, he does a hand motion with his fingers. “actually, since you’re here. i kinda need your help. please.”

“okay,” you giggle, setting aside your bag. you’re face first with his dick that’s standing tall right in front of you. it seems like he’s been stroking it for a while before stopping. the tip of his shaft was all reddened. a flustered pinkish pink. choso licks his lips and you stare at his neatly set up monitor. “hi chat,” you tease, and dozens of comments stare to flood, asking if you’re the girlfriend he keeps rambling about. with an eyebrow raise, you hum. “girlfriend?”

“sh— ignore them,” he grunts, and he grabs onto your arm. in a shaky breath, choso speaks in an almost needy whisper. “can . . i use your hand? sorry if that’s weird. you just- you have really nice hands,” and once you simper, giving him a nod, he softly grabs ahold of your wrist. choso couldn’t wait any longer, he didn’t really care if things felt rushed—with another lip bite, he hands you the plastic cock ring. “put . . can you put this on me ‘n stroke me off? mhm, ‘m close ‘n it might help.”

“ooh, a cock ring?” you stare at the toy in hand, a thumb feeling against the stretchy material. choso prepares to inhale once you stretch it out, playing with the buttons on it. your eyes briefly light up once you notice that it can really vibrate. oh, he was gonna whine for sure.

putting it around his dick, it flings a bit before you grab ahold of his base—it’s pretty, a vein runs down the very center and you can’t help but give his tip a little kiss. “mwah,” you smooch, even going far as to sliding your tongue against his sensitive frenulum. his tip was leaky, you taste a bit of his bitterly sweet precum before you turn the ring on its medium setting. once the whirring buzzes of the toy vibrates, you leer up at him. “mhm, ‘s this okay, ‘cho?”

“y- yes, kiss it more please. use your t- tongue,” and as he exhales deeply, his chest falters back. your tongue feels so good. with the mixture of added vibrations, he wasn’t gonna last two seconds. the maddening ringing in his ears was so high pitched that it was almost equivalent to tinnitus. whining, he grabs a fist full of your hair before you start to open your lips apart. choso watches with glossy eyes as you lower your head onto his length, taking him into your warm welcoming mouth. “mhm, such a nasty little t- throat,” and his voice cracks—even his attempt at dirty talk was adorable. choso then gawks back up at his audience, thousands of viewers praising choso for being so whiney, with a few comments praising how pretty you looked.

he never told you, but he told his fans that you were his girlfriend, every single stream. you were just his roommate, but he liked imagining you and him were together. a little fantasy of his.

your throat was a force to be reckoned with. it was warm and narrow, so perfect for his long inches. you almost gag a bit as he’s lightly pushing you back and down—yet he pauses every few seconds to ask if it’s too much or if you’re okay. choso was lengthy, a bit of girth and you were already slobbering on his dick. the constant teeth-shattering vibrations of the cock ring that’s wrapped around his base makes him whimper. “mphm,” you make a muffled noise, feeling him sloppily drag your head down back and forth. you’re trying to speak but choso nervously smiles.

“b- baby, don’t talk with your mouth so . . full, ‘s rude,” he swallows, feeling the inside of his throat become dry. and of course, choso barely lasts.

the pulsing in his cock only surges, and within minutes he’s already a mess—he ends up finishing early, shooting a whopping load into your mouth. it’s gooey and comes out in stringy ropes. it coats all on the back of your tongue and you’re slurping it all up. “s-so good,” he whines, and choso’s looking down at you with literal heart eyes dilating in his irises. with that throat of yours, he was already in love. he’s heavily panting, and he closes his laptop before making your bobbing head get off his length. with the cock ring still jittering against his length, he gingerly grabs you by the neck, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. despite its deepness, it was sensual. immediately, choso sucks against your tongue. half-lidded eyes staring up at you before he moans, tasting the remnants of his own cum on your lips. a free hand shakily rubs against your neglected cunt. “t- thank you,” he mewls, sable strands of hair sticking against his forehead. huffing out a single breath, he squeezes your cunt before making you wrap a leg around his waist. “i want more though. i want y- you.”

GOJO ✩ SATORU & SUGURU ✩ GETO.

with them both, they’re both major sluts.

it goes without saying that where there’s gojo there’s geto. in this case, they’d both be top camboys. fighting over the number one spot of being at the top. but as of now, they’d both be fighting between your legs. fighting over who can eat you out better.

they’d position their monitor in a good angle so that their thousands of viewers can see you with your legs all sprawled out.

“f-fuuck,” you whine, feeling each of their tongues clash and swipe against your saturated entrance. you were living every girl’s dream—as you ogle down toward your two best friends, you comb a hair through geto’s messy strands. with a tight yanking grip, you pull his hair up. “like that sugu, wanna feel your piercing more.”

“hmph,” gojo pouts, using a broad hand to pry your legs apart even further. you’d already came about four times. four times the two of them snatched out such dangerously pleasurable orgasms. with your head throwing itself back, you feel gojo starting to suck against your clit. gojo’s getting aroused himself. a free hand of his reaching down, creeping inside of his boxers.

the difference between gojo and geto—gojo was more of a clit biter, geto was more of a clit kisser.

where gojo’s sloppy sucks and slurps against your cunt would occur, they’d soon turn into playful bites and nibbles. “stop hoggin’ her, suguboo,” he grumbles, the cutest pout squeezing against his facial expressions. geto’s got a sly grin, feeling you tug all on his hair. as his face runs back and forth against your cunt, his chin pouring down with a sheeny slick of your slit, he kisses your pussy. a variety of smooches that makes you pulse right on their tongues.

“make me, pretty boy.”

they’d always bicker, always,

you’re struggling to stay still, squirming from the stimulation and it’s making your mouth water. you were sure they were gonna give you another orgasm within no time.

with your tummy heaving sporadically in and out at such irregular intervals, you let off a whiney whimper. gojo nibbles down against your cunt, and he suddenly pauses once he feels geto’s tongue flick against his. “eh. dude—”

“what, you want me to give you attention too or something?” geto shrugs, and you feel the long edges of his fingernails trace against your skin.

seductively, he gently uses the tip of his finger to carve into your leg, pretending he’s writing the four letters of his name on your flesh.

circling against your skin, he pushes his tongue in further before he’s nose deep—bedaubing all over and against your slick. “mhm, fuckin’ soaked for us.” and a thumb of his drags down your swollen, pulsing clit. your cunt continues to weep and beg for more, you’re so close—your orgasm was on the very tip of your tongue. you could almost taste it.

gojo’s still got the same pouty glower on his face as the two of them delve their twitching pink tongues into your cunt. hot, feverish breaths fan and aerate against your pussy before he cranes his head toward geto, mumbling in a cheeky tone. “you wanna kiss me so bad.”

“maybe i do.” geto rolls his eyes—and a dozen invisible question marks float over your head as your two best friends were literally flirting.

right in front of your salad—well in the case, right in front of your pussy.

by now, you’d all forgotten they were still live, hence the deafening pinging sounds of donations and notifications bringing you straight back to reality. staring down at them both, geto and gojo were still between your legs before they lean in to kiss. immediately, gojo folds before whining into geto’s tongue as the moving muscles dance amongst each other. for some reason, as they’re making out and still eating you out, it makes you throb. gojo’s pretty lashes flutter close, and they take turns with claiming each other’s lips and sucking against your pussy.

but that only lasts for a second or two—as they’re still having their lips locked, a hand of geto’s slides up gojo’s shirt, chuckling against his lips. furrowing your brows, it’s now your turn to pout. “um?? hello. did you guys just forget about me?”

[kurooh]

Can you make something with Sero and Shinsou? Maybe they firts eating you out or making you squirt (I'm just really dumb I asked in the comment section and I don't even know if I'm sending it in the right place, it's my first ever ask, so sorry for anything and the bad english, I love your writing so much lots of love for you)

SOMETHING NEW ☆ MY HERO ACADEMIA

⊹₊˚. featuring midoriya izuku, sero hanta, kaminari denki, shinsou hitoshi, & takami keigo trying something new in the bedroom with you.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, f! reader, threesome, oral, facesitting, squirting, a vibrator, filming, orgasm denial, nothing too crazy

xoxo, juno. no worries your english is perfectly fine!! i saw your comment but i’ve been busy so i’m sorry this took a while 🥲 thank you & sending you lots of love <3

MIDORIYA IZUKU + a vibrator

“uhhh, what setting do you want it on?”

you giggle softly as izuku fumbles with the wand, eyes widening when it buzzes out of control once he mistakenly presses the highest setting. “how about you amp it up as we go, ‘zuku?”

he’s flushed down to his neck as his thumb rubs reassuring circles into your thigh, wand moving closer to your cunt. the head settles onto your clit and izuku pushes two fingers inside of you, which you adjust to with a hushed exhale.

“‘s good,” you nod, laying back onto the pillows as heat settles in your lower stomach.

“i’d hope so,” izuku chuckles nervously, curling his fingers inside you and prodding against your g-spot while the vibrations against your clit get barely stronger. “is this okay?”

“hm, yeah,” you huff, wiggling your hips as your hand comes to rest on top of his. he watches as you push the vibrator harder against you, gesturing to the buttons. “do it like you mean it, ‘zuku.”

“are you sure?” he’s painstakingly awkward when it comes to trying something new, having never used a vibrator before or watched you use it. you’d been working together to clear out your nightstands when he came across the pink wand, questioning what it was until you told him and asked him if he’d like to try it out on you.

“of course i am,” you wink, hand slipping away from his and relinquishing control. carefully, izuku presses the button, turning it up and increasing the power of the vibrations against your clit.

the new, welcomed change in stimulation pulls delicious moans from your lips, and his cock eagerly twitches in his pants. with this, he could easily have you sobbing and begging for more. what if he paired this toy with his cock sometime?

the simple thought has him creating an entire scenario in his head, unconsciously amping it up a few settings.

“fuck!” you exclaim, back arching right off the bed as you buck closer to him. “i-izuku, that’s perfect.”

“yeah? feeling close at all?” he hums, voice lilting into a curious, innocent tone. the setting is changed again, buzzing growing louder as your clit swells beneath the head of the toy.

“n-now i am,” it’s so much stimulation and the continuous, random changes of the settings make it so that you can’t catch your breath. just seeing you spread out for him on the bed has izuku’s eyes widening and growing teary as he thinks of how far this could go.

“already, huh?” izuku finds his confidence growing, a large palm coming down roughly against your ass. “know what, baby?”

he flicks his thumb against the button and the change has your eyes rolling back into your skull. some kind of noise comes from your parted, spit slicked lips in place of your voice.

“how about,” his eyes rise to connect with yours, gleaming with something filthy. “you don’t cum till i tell you to? is that alright, baby?”

KAMINARI DENKI & SERO HANTA + threesome

“so, about that bet..” a smug little smile has denki’s lips curling, and hanta’s eyes rolling in aggravation.

“seriously, dude? you wanna ask right now?”

“shut up, there’s no rule against it,” the blonde replies petulantly, sticking his tongue out and still fucking into you, maintaining his brutal pace with long, languid strokes. “so? we’re dying to know.”

you shudder, gagging on hanta’s cock as denki pulls you back onto his own, asscheeks slapping against his thighs.

“i don’t think she can answer you, idiot.” hanta bites back a moan, scoffing towards his best friend instead. denki’s shameless, moaning in between each word he says to either you or hanta.

“feelin’ good, baby?” his jaw clenches at the sight of hanta’s hand on your head, urging you to take his cock deeper into your throat.

the whole reason you’d even gotten into this situation was because the three of you found out you were all fucking one another on the down low. then questions were flying through the air like arrows, each of them hounding you about who you thought fucked better. i don’t know, you’d said, let’s all find out.

drool races down hanta’s balls as you choke on his length, which tenses and thickens on your tongue. “shit, i’m gonna cum,” he gasps, hanging his head and looking down at you with stars in his eyes. “w-will you swallow it all for me?”

“you’re losing for sure, couldn’t even last more than three minutes,” denki laughs, interrupting hanta’s moment of bliss with his stupidity. thankfully, he’s ignored, and hanta pretends he’s not even there, allowing himself to cum down your throat with a groan. he’s forced to steady himself by planting his hands on your back, already beginning to shake as your throat contracts around him.

“real greedy, huh?” he gasps, his voice raspy.

despite all his talk, denki follows suit, desperately rubbing at your clit so you’ll cum with him. thankfully, hanta pulls back to watch, fingers stroking over the taut muscles of your shoulders.

“fuck fuck fuck,” denki sobs, beads of sweat racing down his nose as he feels his body grow hotter. “b-baby, gonna cum inside you—”

your back arches, body nearly collapsing onto the bed. “i’m cumming too,” you manage, swallowing as tears fall from your eyes. your last demand is simple before you fall forward into the duvet. “d-denki, fuck me through it, please..”

hanta’s already hard just from your voices, slowly stroking his cock while denki pushes himself halfway in and lets go with a choked groan. cum spurts into you, and he pulls out quickly, watching as it pours from your sloppy cunt.

“well. i’m ready for another round.” hanta’s voice is playful but you and denki are exhausted, collapsing on one another with heaving sighs.

“dude, read the room,” denki huffs, wiping the sweat from your forehead and offering you a bottle of water.

“oh, you cannot be talking,” hanta snaps, fully naked and jumping up in astonishment. “i recall saying the exact thing when you were—”

they start arguing, and you just turn over and pray you fall asleep. even when they realize you’re trying to sleep, they go back and forth about waking you up.

SHINSOU HITOSHI + facesitting & squirting

“come here, now.”

“are you really sure? i can always just lay on my back like usual, i really don’t want to hurt you.”

hitoshi scoffs, impatiently waving you over with a bored huff. “i promise you won’t. sit down and stop worrying, baby.”

you balk at his lightly demanding tone, crawling across the bed and biting your lip as you position your thighs on either side of his head. still, you’re hesitant — it’s obvious in the way you’re hovering above his face.

“my tongue won’t be able to reach your clit,” hitoshi says bluntly, unimpressed with your nervousness. what are you so afraid of? you’ve been together for so long, you should know by now that he’d be happy to go out between your thighs. air simply doesn’t matter when your pleasure’s on the line.

a whimper slips past your lips and you lower yourself carefully, clit bumping into the tip of his nose. “is this good enough, toshi?”

“mhm,” comes his voice from below you; he’s entranced by the sight of your soaked pussy, practically dripping, all from a few well placed kisses along your body. “relax and enjoy it, okay? i want this—i want to taste you.”

“o-okay,” you huff out, and hitoshi rests a large hand on your asscheek. if he spanks you, you might lose your balance and crush him.

“don’t be afraid to make a mess for me, baby,” his last words are no louder than a whisper, and he gives your clit an experimental lick. his tongue is silky, sticky with the saliva that’s been pooling in his mouth at the thought of tasting you.

“again,” the command rushes past your lips before you can stop it. “lick my clit again.”

hitoshi’s hand comes down hard against your asscheek, and you waver above him; he notices your pointless resistance to sit fully. how cute, you’re that concerned for his ability to breathe.

“where are those manners, baby? as far as i’m concerned, you haven’t the liberty to ask for anything without fully sitting down.”

oh, so he’s trying to force you to take a seat.

but you shut up, lowering yourself down further, and hitoshi lets out a moan of approval, licking up your sticky pussy. glossy strings of slick gather on his tongue, and your taste is truly so addictive that he can’t help but rush in for more without taking a moment to breathe.

“oh, hitoshi,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. he’s pushed two fingers inside of you without any hesitation, filling you up and stretching you out deliciously. the initial sting before the rush of pleasure is a feeling that makes your head spin.

“mmm,” hitoshi groans deeply against your cunt, nose pushing into your clit as he speaks. “put your hand on your lower stomach for me.”

without asking questions, you do as he says, placing a hand right above your pelvic bone. his hand moves from your ass and comes down on top of yours, pushing it down into the soft skin.

“good girl,” hitoshi huffs out, lavishing your clit with attention from his tongue, curling his fingers inside you while also pressing your hand into your lower stomach. a new pressure builds inside you, white hot and only making your pussy even wetter.

what is this?

hitoshi feels the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm without needing a warning; your walls squeeze his fingers so hard they’re almost pushed out, muscles in your thighs tensing on either side of his head. “it’s coming, ‘s coming,” is all you can sob out to describe the unfamiliar feeling that’s taken place inside your body, “hitoshi, it’s gonna—”

oh, the way you say his name is something he’ll always commit to memory no matter how many times he’s heard it. your voice is frantic as you give in to the pleasure, sitting all the way down on his face and then grinding on it. this is what he was after the whole time—he wanted you to use him to get off, take the lead so he’d have no choice but to follow.

“hitoshi,” is all you can sob out, voice breaking into teary moans as you succumb to pleasure. out of control, your pussy gushes waterfalls of liquid onto his face, into his mouth, all over his skin.

even as you’re riding out the high on his face, hitoshi’s sure to help you through it, tonguing at your sensitive cunt and drinking in everything you’re giving him. “it’s t-too much, i can’t take it,” and you try to move off him, but he easily prevents you, taking your clit between his lips and sucking tightly.

the action pulls a pitched whine from you as you realize you cannot move away and catch a break from the intense pleasure.

“toshi—”

“that was fucking perfect,” he grunts against you, licking your mess off his lips eagerly. “i want you to do that again for me.”

“what was that?” you muster, lifting up with a gasp. your pussy made quite the mess — covering his entire face with shimmery slick and other juices.

“you squirted, baby,” hitoshi says simply, “and you’ll get more familiar with it in just a moment.”

“what’s that mean?” nervousness lines your words.

“you’ll get more acquainted with what it is after some practice. it’s better to learn sooner rather than later, hm?”

TAKAMI KEIGO + filming & orgasm denial

“hehe, is it on, kei?”

“shhh! it’s been on, babe.”

you suppress a cute laugh, looking back to the phone propped up on the dresser. from a distance, you see your reflection — you’re on your belly, between keigo’s thighs, face to face with his hard cock. you’d been going back and forth about when he’d go away on missions, how you both needed something better than your imaginations while you were apart.

keigo wiggles his hips, pushing close to you impatiently. you roll your eyes, making a show of leaning forward and taking him in inch by inch, until you’re gagging at his base.

“jesus, fuck—!” his back lurches off the bed and he laughs awkwardly at how quickly he’s reacting, but it dissolves into a groan almost immediately.

his fingers lightly ghost the sides of your face as he looks at you adoringly, “you’re beautiful when you’re sucking me off like this.”

you hum appreciatively, the vibrations resonating through his entire lower body and pulling a gasp from his throat. he wants to say more, but he doesn’t want to have to hear his own voice every second when he’s jerking off in the future.

just the thought of jerking off in the future makes a fantasy play like a video behind his eyes — you, fingering yourself to his moans and gasps of pleasure. how would your nimble fingers toy with your clit in place of his own? would you cry out his name as you cum, tears streaking down your face from the intensity of the stimulation? at the same moment, would he be thousands of miles away doing the exact same thing?

“s-shit, baby,” keigo stutters out a curse, his thighs trembling beneath your fingers, nails pressing into his skin to keep steady. “i’m gonna cum soon.”

his words spur you on, and you take him deeper, increasing your pace. the squelching sound of his cock stroking into your throat grows louder, filling the air. that video is about to become the most valuable file on his phone.

the desperation hangs off every word of his, sending a bolt of pleasure right between your legs. there’s a delicious tension in the air between you, and he’s raring to relieve it, hurtling closer to his orgasm by the millisecond.

one of the biggest pro heroes in japan has been reduced to a shaking mess by your touch; keigo’s wings flap violently, kicking up stray vermillion feathers and messing up the blankets. his voice breaks as you pull your head back, then take him deep into your throat. “i-i’m gonna cum— dove, swallow it all,” with two fingers, you tightly squeeze his base and pull off his cock with a pop.

“what are you—? why did you do that?” this denial is so frustrating that he feels a pathetic lump in his throat and tears pricking the corners of his eyes. he was so close to his euphoric high, only for you to rip it away.

“not yet,” is your calm answer as your free hand pushes his jolting hips down. “soon enough, keigo. let’s have some fun before you cum.”

his wings are trembling, quivering from the force in which his almost orgasm was ripped from his grasp. usually, he’d be annoyed, but this is so devastating and he can’t place why. he tries to nudge your head so you’ll suck him off to completion.

“i’m in control now,” you say into his skin, peppering featherlight kisses along his shaking thighs. you look back at the still recording phone on the dresser, and your lips split into a grin. “kei, it’ll be alright. just a few more times and you’ll be cumming in my mouth.”

he can’t help but feel like there’s dishonesty behind those singsongy words, and nods trustingly. “make me cum for real this time, baby.”

[tulpanya]

you have something on your lips— mine!

includes : (mouthwashing) anya, curly, daisuke, swansea.

summary : the tulpar crew & kisses.

warnings : gn! reader.

ANYA

Kisses so softly, as if she's scared to hurt you

Her kisses are pretty chaste, especially in public (she gets flustered very easily with pda)

Her lips are usually chapped because of how often she bites/licks them. On the bright side, she loves wearing flavored chapstick.

"Hmm, is it sundae?" Anya's eyes widen in surprise at your answer, which is astonishingly correct. She touches her lips, before eyeing you suspiciously.

"Did you see me apply it?" She asks, wondering if you've begun to cheat in your little game of 'guess-that-chapstick!' but you just puff out your chest in pride, chuckling to yourself as if the answer was obvious.

"My dear, dear Anya, are you that surprised? I just know you that well, I've memorized all your chapstick flavors by now~"

She buys a new chapstick flavor to mess with you next time you kiss her.

Anya is a total sucker for forehead kisses, if you kiss her forehead she'll melt instantly!

It's also a quick way to calm her worried thoughts or to lure her away from the stress of her work. Just one peck on the forehead and she's better!

Of course one of her favorite way to kiss you is by kissing your boo-boos better.

Perhaps you even get (minorly) injured on purpose, just so she'll have an excuse to kiss you.

"It's just a papercut." Anya says as she inspects the thin slice on the tip of your pointer finger. You huff, shaking your head.

"But it huuurts!" You complain, amping up the dramatics to see her roll her eyes at you. She sighs, turning to fetch her first aid kit. She comes back with a bandage.

"I guess I'll have to patch it up then." She says, wrapping the band-aid around your finger. You wiggle your finger, impatiently waiting for the final part of her treatment. She bites back a giggle as she presses a kiss to the band-aid. "How's it feel now?"

"Much better~"

CURLY

Kisses you like it's the first time and last time every. single. time. he's so passionate about his kisses with you- it's all or nothing!

Cups your face with both hands, kissing your nearly breathless, and when you pull away he always chases after your lips.

That being said, he's also painfully shy about pda, and get's a little flustered if you ask for one in public- but he definitely won't say no! He'll just plan a little revenge ("revenge" being an attack of kisses when you both get home).

"Honey," You coo, the sickeningly sweet pet name catching his attention like a dog being told it's time for a walk. You two were out walking around, shopping, when you decided to tease him a little bit. "Can I have a kiss?" He blinks a few times, before swallowing thickly.

"Right now?" There was already a flush on his ears, slowly creeping down to his cheeks. When you nod in confirmation, he'll take a step towards you, gently cup your face and press a kiss to your lips. When he pulls away, the blush has reached down to his chest. "Was that okay?"

Curly was answered by your giggles, and that's when he realized you did it just to tease him. He groans, "Laugh now, 'cause I'll be getting my revenge later." A lighthearted threat that you're sure will end just as sweetly as his kiss earlier.

Curly is a big fan of a good ol' back of the hand kiss too, especially when you two are out on a date or he's feeling particularly sappy.

One of his favorite things is when he's let his scruff grow out nicely, and you get tickled by it.

He's literally a menace, the second a giggle escapes you and he's reminded that it tickles you it's game over, good luck~

"P- Please!" You wheeze, begging, for a chance to breath, but Curly is having the time of his life hearing your laughter. Nuzzling his scruff against the junction of your neck and shoulder.

"'m just kissing you," He murmurs against your skin, "I don't understand why you're laughin'?" However when you threaten to take away kissing privileges he quickly pulls away, although a small pout on his face.

You'll have to push his face away, or else those baby blues will definitely make your defenses falter. "I... I'm serious, don't try anything else, 'kay?"

DAISUKE

One word: Addicted. Daisuke is addicted to your lips and he'd gladly let your lips suffocate him!

Will literally whine if you pull away, please just a few more- what? you two have work to do? just... just one more? He'll use his ultimate weapon: His big brown puppy-dog eyes!

Has a bad habit of murmuring praise about your lips when you two kiss.

"Your lips are so soft," Daisuke mumbles against your lips, lost in pure bliss at the feeling of your lips against his own, "how are they always so soft," he shudders when you let out a annoyed sigh.

"Daisuke," You try to interrupt, but he just keeps on murmuring your praises, doesn't even notice that you've pulled away and are now watching him babble on about how sweet you taste and how soft your lips are and how he loves how you let him kiss you and ho-

"Huh? wait-" He finally blinks his eyes open only for you to bite back a laugh at his confused expression. Composing yourself, you give him a pointed look.

"Daisuke, stop talking."

"O-Oh, yeah, okay," he nods, breathless, before gladly continuing the little makeout session.

He tastes like mango, perhaps it's his chapstick or perhaps he just eats a lot of mango but he 100% taste like mango!

Here is a little warning: Daisuke is weak to your kisses, and if you ever offer a kiss as a reward for him doing a task or something...

Well let's just say you'll have one eager man running around completing tasks and doing errands and showing up in between each one for a sweet kiss as a reward~

"Daisuke, this is getting out of hand," You say more to yourself than to him, looking at the monster you've created. He is currently trying to fix a pipe (much to the dismay of Swansea) in hopes of getting a kiss.

"Hm? What'd you say?" You wave your hand dismissively, offering a sympathetic smile.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," You might have to slowly ween him off your kisses.

SWANSEA

Claims he "doesn't need" such affections, but whenever you forget to give him a 'good morning' kiss he is 10x more grouchy throughout the day.

Won't accept any form of PDA, but in private he is actually such a sweetie, and loves giving and receiving affection.

Especially in the early mornings or right before bed, he'll gently kiss the palm of your hand, then your wrist, before capturing your lips. This is an essential part of your routine.

Swansea is relaxed on the bed, grumbling about what a hard day he had, when you enter the room. The stressors of the day slowly melt away from his mind as you approach the bed. "'m sorry you had such a bad day," You cup his cheek, but he shakes his head, leaning into your warmth.

"'s fine, with you now," he mutters, turning to press a kiss to your palm, before moving his lips to your wrist. His eyes flutter open, and it's clear he's hungry for more- he wants your lips. His hands find your body, gently pulling you closer to him.

No words are said as your lips meet, no words are really needed for the rest of the night.

(On the Tulpar) If he's being grumpier than usual, any of the crew (but particularly Daisuke) will find you and beg you to "talk" to him. You'll go into the room, and come out a few seconds later, and it's like Swansea is a different person. (Literally one kiss smh)

Likes when you kiss his cheek, secretly makes his heart beat a little faster. He'll grumble you're not good for his heart when you sneak up and kiss his cheek.

Actually he does get nervous sometimes because it can't be normal to still get heart palpitations from little kisses like that.

It was a simple kiss in passing, on your way towards the kitchen to prep for dinner, a quick peck to the corner of his lips, but it was enough to make him freeze at first. It takes him a second to recover, before he's clutching at his chest.

"The hell..." He grumbles, before looking up, his eyes following your figure. "Ya gotta warn a guy before you do somethin' like that!" He hollers, but you just wave your hand dismissively, a smirk on your features.

"Yeah, yeah, old man- when'll you get used to it, hmm?" Probably never, but he hopes that doesn't deter your future attempts.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[neo-nomatrix]

(My) Nuisance

Hobie brown x reader

word count: 964

find the rest of the mini series here

synopsis: You thought you hated Hobie, but for some reason you’re starting to like him just as much as you like Spiderman.

a/n: (maybe too much) british slang used

You hate your next door neighbor. No, no you loathe your next door neighbor. You think he is the worst person to possibly exist. His stupid flat decorations, his loud punk-rock music blasting at unruly hours, the way he would come back to his flat at 4 am stomping his boots yelling with his friends about their latest anarchist protest. But you hate nothing more than the way he looks at you.

Everytime you try yelling at him he opens his door with the cheekiest grin on his face. While you’re standing there fuming he’s leaning against the door panel looking you up and down. The worst part is how much he tries to smooth talk you.

“I already told you how annoying your music is, no one wants to hear that at 3 am alright? Some of us have work in the morning,” you complain, smoke practically coming out of your ears.

“Oh c’mon love it’s not that bad. Don’t have to be such a tosser ‘bout it. It messes up that pretty face of yours,” he says.

“Are you daft? You’re the one keeping everyone up at night with your dumb guitar,” you roll your eyes.

“It’s not that big a deal sweetheart. Y’know i'm starting to think you’re making up rubbish just so you can talk to me more. I’ll admit it’s pretty cute but you could just ask me out,” he leans closer to your flushed face.

“I don’t fancy you if that’s what you mean,” you scoff.

“Not saying that. I’m saying if you wanna snog me so bad you could just say so,” he shrugs.

You could burst out laughing. Kiss him? That’s fucking hilarious.

“You’re joking right? i’d rather die.”

“I don’t believe in comedy, love,” he says.

“Of course you don’t,” you mumble as you storm off back to your door.

You’ve decided he is the worst person ever. He doesn’t deserve your efforts and time.

You set your keys down and fall into bed as you hear amp feedback and the sounds of Hobie strumming his guitar. You can’t help but roll your eyes. How could someone be so incompetent?

You reach your hand over to where the bed and the wall meet to grab your Spiderman plush. You hate to admit it because it’s kind of dumb but you’ve always loved spiderman. Ever since you were a little kid you collected posters, figures, pins, and merchandise having to do with the superhero. Even now, your walls are decorated in spiderman posters, you own spiderman clothing, and even printed your keys to have a blue and red spider web on them.

There was something so nostalgic to the vigilante and his style that you had to adorn your room with touches of blue and red. You thought spiderman was the embodiment of “cool.” From his suit to the way he acted around criminals to the electric guitar on his back. Sure, a guitar was the main thing you hated about Hobie but Spiderman did it better. He made it work in the way Hobie dreams of.

You wake up to the loudest knock on your front door you’ve ever heard. You immediately know it’s him. You try to ignore the blaring pounding coming from your door but it keeps going. You force yourself to get up and answer the door. You hope you can open it, yell at him, then go back to bed.

To your dismay the second you open the door Hobie places his hand on the top of the wood, stopping you from moving it anywhere else.

“What do you want this early?” you groan.

“It’s like 9 am, love. But anyway-” He cuts himself off before finishing his sentence. You’re too groggy to notice that he’s staring inside of your flat. His eyes search the walls and decor in front of him.

“So, I take it you like Spiderman?” He laughs.

“That’s none of your business,” you sigh, crossing your arms.

He pushes his way inside of your flat, moving around like he’s looking for buried treasure. He picks up memorabilia and smiles at them. He holds up a Spider-Punk figurine and turns towards you.

“Spider-Punk huh?”

“Don’t touch my stuff! You know this is technically breaking and entering,” you scold him, taking the figure out of his hand.

He puts his hands in his pockets and just smirks at you. That stupid smirk, displaying half of his teeth and perfectly showing his lip ring.

“What do you want from me, Hobie?” you question after placing the figure back on its stand.

“Jus- Just wanted to apologize for last night,” he starts.

“You mean this morning? We talked at 1 am, remember?” You say, passive aggressively.

“Right, whatever. You’re… You’re right,” he exhaled, “I shouldn’t be blasting my music that early. It’s inconsiderate and rude to the people in my vicinity,” he breathes.

In the time you’ve known him you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say sorry. You’re taken aback, did he really apologize? And did he sound genuinely sorry?

“Oh, oh uhm thanks,” you sat, still skeptical a camera crew would come out laughing saying this whole thing was a prank.

“I wanted to see if you maybe wanted to come to my show tonight? We could get dinner after or whatever you want,” He scratches the back of his neck, he’s nervous.

“I’d like that, I guess,” you reluctantly say.

“Wicked. Uhm, i’ll be leaving then. Sorry again,” he says. Shooting finger guns at you and making his way out the door.

You smile, maybe, just maybe, Hobies getting to you. As he’s leaving you could swear you see some blue and red material with spikes on it slipping out of his pocket.

[xoxoavenger]

Coward

pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!Reader

summary: Luke goes out of his way to prove to Annabeth he's not a coward (requested by messages for my birthday celebration but I changed the request a lil bit)

word count: 595

warnings: sooo much fluff

birthday celebration (even tho my birthday was a couple days ago) main masterlist

Luke's pretty sure there's something wrong with him.

"There's something wrong with you." Annabeth says as she stands next to him. He flinches with the bow in his arms, the arrow hitting the hay next to the target. He puts it down and turns to her, frowning.

"Please, bestow upon me your wisdom." He snarks, even though he had just been thinking the same thing. He knows that Annabeth knows he's lying, but he would rather shoot himself in the foot than admit his problem.

"Really, Luke?" She has her arms crossed, and the two stare each other down in silence as everyone begins to leave. Neither speaks until everyone has begun the trek to the pavilion.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Luke lies, copying her stance.

"Come on!" Annabeth cries, outraged at her brother's stubbornness. "She likes you back, so why are you being such a coward?" They begin to walk to the pavilion for dinner at a slow pace so they can talk.

"Oh my gods." Luke rolls his eyes, annoyed now that he's being called a coward. "We don't know that she likes me, first of all, and even if we did know that she liked me, we don't know if she wants a relationship."

"Luke," Annabeth groans, resisting the urge to run a hand down her face.

"Annabeth, I don't want to talk about this." Luke is starting to get peeved as well, and this conversation is clearly getting nowhere.

"Because you're a coward." Annabeth teases, and Luke thinks he may explode.

"I am not a coward." He seethes as they come up to the pavilion. Annabeth just won't let it go, however.

"Really? Because refusing to ask out a girl that clearly likes you seems pretty cowardly to me." Annabeth knows what she's doing, but Luke is too angry to see through her plan.

"Fine!" Luke explodes, turning to her. "You think I'm a coward? Would a coward do this?" He stomps toward Y/N's table, where her back is to him. He's a little amped up, his heart racing, so he feels smooth as he leans on the table in between her and her sibling.

"Luke?" She mutters, shocked that he was suddenly right next to her. Their faces were right next each other, and her heart was racing with the proximity.

"Y/N," He smiles, and she melts just a little bit. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to the beach with me after dinner?" In the moment were they're just staring at each other he starts to lose his nerve. Maybe he is cowardly.

"I'd love to." She answers quietly, feeling her cheeks heat up. He nods, winks, then leaves, listening to her siblings start to gush over the interaction.

"Think I solved your problem." Annabeth is smirking smugly as he walks past her, and he pauses as he realizes that her plan all along had been to push him hard enough to finally ask Y/N out.

"You conniving little-"

"You asked her out, didn't you?" She still looks just so happy, and if Luke wasn't also happy from his upcoming date he would probably tell her to meet him at the sparring mats.

"Told you I'm not a coward." He says, getting in line for food.

"Yeah, you really showed me." Annabeth can't herself, and Luke just takes a deep breath, because he loves his sister. "Except really, I'm the one who showed you."

Luke may have to throw Annabeth into the ocean before he goes on his date. Just to prove he's not a coward.

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler

[humanoid-life-form]

Heated (Part 1)

Alpha Claggor x Omega Reader, rated E (explicit)

Part 2

Let me know if you want to be tagged for Part 2!

I know Claggor senses it from the way his body goes rigid. I feel the heat rolling off me in waves, my scent suffusing the air around us. But Powder and Mylo, both betas, don't have the receptors to pick up on it. Really, they're lucky.

I slide into the booth beside Claggor, already involving myself in the conversation at the table.

“They keep wanting add-ons,” Powder is saying, resting her chin in one hand as she stirs her drink with the other. The metal straw clinks rhythmically against the glass. “I told Gert there's only so much I can do.” She puffs her cheeks out, ignoring the way Mylo perks up at the name. “We maxed everything out.”

“What sorts of mods do they want?” I ask. “Maybe I could figure something out.” It's only half true right now because I can feel the daze creeping in from the corners of my mind. I slip my hand into Claggor's, squeezing meaningfully. I see his head turn in my peripheral vision, and I can feel his eyes on me.

“Oh, Shay wants chem amps for her drumset,” Powder says flippantly. “I told her the stuff's loud enough already, but she said she wants the drummer equivalent of a drive pedal.”

“You sure she doesn't just want, like… the glowing lights?” I suggest. Chem mods not only changed the sound but also the aesthetic of the instruments. “Cuz it's not like—”

I stop mid-sentence, hit with a wave of vertigo. I have to close my eyes against my swimming vision.

“Whoa, Y/N, are you good?” Mylo's voice reaches me through the haze. I keep my eyes shut tight, feeling the world spin. I grip Claggor’s hand tighter as I feel a fluttering in my lower belly.

Then I’m being pulled in against him, tucked under his chin. I almost whine aloud at the contact, nuzzling my face into his neck and chest, taking in deep lungfuls of his scent. Cinnamon, flowers, earth, alpha.

My alpha.

“Claggor,” I whisper, feeling feverish. He’s nuzzling me in return, scenting me.

“Uhh….” Mylo sounds confused across the table. Not that I care. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“She’s fine,” says Claggor, his deep voice vibrating in his chest. “Just… not feeling well.”

I don’t have the energy to respond. I can barely pay attention to my surroundings.

“You should take her home,” Powder says, and I can tell she understands. “She’s…. She needs rest.”

I hum in agreement, squirming against Claggor as the heat threatens to bring a flush to my face. It only started thirty minutes ago! And I'm already losing my senses to my heat. Dimly, I realize he must be triggering it somehow—or at least exacerbating it. Or maybe I'm making it worse by being so close to him, breathing in his scent. But I don't care. He's intoxicating.

Claggor gently nudges me, so I reluctantly pull away from him to get out of the booth. My knees feel weak, but at least I can stand and walk. He places one hand on my back as we leave the bar and head out into the street.

On the walk to my place, we’re constantly touching, whether it’s his hand on my back or my arm around his waist. In a few minutes, we’re in my apartment building. As we climb the stairs to my floor, his scent sharpens into something hotter. Almost entirely cinnamon, no fresh flowers or earth. My fangs descend, and when I meet his burning gaze, his grey irises are thin rings around his dilated pupils.

I nearly drop my keys in my rush to get inside. He’s holding me from behind as I unlock the door, scenting me right here in the hallway. I’m sure everyone on my floor can smell us right now, but I don’t care. The pheromones will be blocked by my door and carried away by the specialty vents once we get inside.

Speaking of: the door finally unlocks. I sigh in relief, and we’ve barely made it over the threshold before I slam the door and press Claggor up against it. He has the presence of mind to turn the deadbolt, and then he’s kissing me.

It’s as though he’s a drowning man and I’m his last hope of oxygen. The kiss is hot and messy and wonderful. I pull his lower lip between my teeth, biting gently, and he groans into my mouth. The air is clouded with cinnamon, sugar, and sex—our scents mixing together into a rich aphrodisiac.

Somehow, we end up in my bedroom, and we’re stripping off each other’s clothes between kisses. My wetness is obvious now as he teases one finger against my underwear, and he huffs out a breath. “Fuck.”

[matchaelette]

here's an idea! jungkook teaching ash to box!! imagine how cute it'll be, he'll keep praising his girl and said girl will actually shock him w her skills hehehe

GIF by @jung-koook

when you want to learn boxing and jungkook’s method of teaching it leaves a trail of butterflies in your stomach

summary: idol!jk and oc!ash, established relationship, shoutout to anonie, their idea explains it all <3 it’s pure, unadulterated love and we’re just here for the vibes, as we generally are in my drabbles.

genre: fluff

warnings: does jungkook being disgustingly in love count?

word count: 1.9k

notes: kim seokjin is back homeehehehehehehe and namjoon welcomed him playing a saxophone— I missed them so. so. so. much. happy 11th anniversary to our found family guys <3

it was one of those rare days.

having the air conditioner turned on just a short while ago, the air around jungkook feels hot and suffocating. for a whole minute, he contemplates knocking over the glass of iced latte over the countertop and letting it soothe his sweltering skin.

it has probably been less than thirty minutes since he woke up, today being one of those rare days he woke up to your kisses instead of good morning texts. he rolled out of bed in a hazy bliss, brushed his teeth, put on a t-shirt, and waddled his way into the kitchen to make breakfast for the both of you while you decided to go downstairs to check the mail.

now, he’s standing over the stove with a spatula, patiently waiting for the pancakes to cook and not letting his impulsive thoughts win. it was one of those very rare, and quite unusual days, where both of you had the morning off together. he didn’t want to waste even a single second doing unnecessary things without you, such as, perhaps, cleaning the coffee he voluntarily spilled. he’d rather—

but jungkook is broken out of the reverie when he hears a click on the door.

“jungkoooookie! the boxing gloves are here!”

if the click on the door wasn’t enough, your amped-up voice certainly was, to break his train of thoughts.

the door shut behind you with a loud thud— the same thud that you’ve told your beloved boyfriend plenty of times not to make— echoing through the whole house (tell me jungkook. is it so hard to close the door gently or do you just like the sound?). one of your hands is holding onto a glass of iced latte jungkook made for you just minutes ago, sipping it with a straw and another one is secured around a huge white package clutched onto your chest. but jungkook stares at you instead.

you’re wearing one of jungkook’s baby blue oversized shirts, paired with the same black boxers he carelessly tossed on the floors last night, hair swept up into a messy bun. fuck, did you actually wear his boxers downstairs? jungkook suddenly felt himself burning up and he was sure the scathing heat of the day had nothing to do with it.

“kook, hello? look! the boxing gloves are here!”

jungkook, once again distracted by his train of unholy thoughts, blinks when you spin gracefully and land in front of him with a princessy curtsy. the action makes him break out in a wide smile unknowingly, and he suddenly realizes the source of your uncontained glee.

“the boxing gloves are here?”, he asks you, his smile is a literal ray of sunshine. a few weeks ago, jungkook dragged you to one of his boxing training sessions, and it somehow piqued your interest, even though you never really gave it much thought. you were like that, always trying new things and tossing them away as soon as you got the hang of it, floating from one thing to the next like a butterfly. maybe that’s why people played you too. loving you way too easily, discarding you even more easily, just as you begin to love them back.

jeon jungkook didn’t. the thought never once crossed his mind.

“yeah! c’mon let’s open it!”

“give me a second, princess. the pancakes will go up”

“just so you know, I ordered a pair for you as well”, you tell him, making your way to the living room couch.

“really? but babe, I already have way too many”, jungkook follows you soon after, carrying a plate stacked with pancakes, topped with berries and peanut butter just the way you like it. he sets the plate on the side table and sits beside you.

for a brief moment, jungkook’s face fills with confusion.

“yeah but you don’t have—”, you rip open the package, “—this one!”

then he throws his head back in laughter.

the boxing gloves you are holding up triumphantly are black in color, snug and thick and padded with patent leather, perfectly normal, until you notice the white patch covering the area from the knuckles to the wrist— a blonde kim seokjin, mouth stuffed with ramen, face contorted into a totally ridiculous expression.

“see? isn’t it amazing?”

“oh man, holy shit”. jungkook doubles over in laughter, hitting his own thigh repeatedly in the process, “oh my god, where did you find these?! this is absolutely gold!”

“I have my ways”, you flash him a wicked smile, “I knew you’d like ‘em!”

“like them? I am never taking these off!”

“look at my one!”

second wave of laughter hits jungkook when he sees your comparatively smaller boxing gloves. it’s the same black ones as jungkook’s, with the same white patch in the middle but this one portrays a young park jimin in the iconic red bullet concert, eyes smeared with black eyeliner and lips pouting in an ‘ayo’.

“I told you it’s amazing!”

jungkook just laughs uncontrollably, unable to form any coherent sentences.

“I was looking for one with you on it but unfortunately they were all sold out”, you snicker, attempting to put on the gloves and try them out.

“fortunate for me”, jungkook’s laughter is unstoppable, “man, I gotta show these to the hyungs. immediately.”

“after you teach me to box! c’mon c’mon c’mon!”, you spring up from the couch, hopping your way to retrieve one of jungkook’s punching bags, in the corner of the living room where he usually keeps his gym essentials.

“princess”, jungkook’s laughter subsides, and he grabs onto you immediately, “not now. after breakfast.”

“naaaaur—”

“after breakfast”, he says, a stern look in his eyes. and there’s no room left for any arguments anymore.

“but I don't want to defend!”

“babe, you can’t just attack people, you have to defend yourself too!”, jungkook exasperated.

“now, tuck your arms”. jungkook instructs you but then proceeds to bring your arms up to your chin and tuck them by your side himself. “stepping forward would help you initiate a very powerful jab. and stepping backward would help you create a distance between you and your opponent, so it’s the best immediate defense. continue moving back and forth to maintain a powerful stance.”

“okay. which foot stays forward again?”

“keep your feet shoulder-width apart. you’re right-handed, so your right foot stays backward.”

“right foot points at two o’clock, right?”, your focus is solely on your boyfriend, trying your best to follow through with whatever he’s saying. jungkook just wants to kiss you.

“yeah. bend your knees slightly.”

“no no no, not that much— unless you’re getting on your knees for me?”

“jungkook!”

“okay okay! you’re perfect”, jungkook moves a few inches backward and flashes you a mischievous grin, but can’t help being proud of you. he didn’t even have to tell you much and you were already in a perfect stance, certainly much better than him when he was starting out. “now have a go at me. I wanna see your strength. then I’ll teach you the different punches.”

you take position, but hesitate. “okay— how hard am I supposed to hit exactly?”

“huh?”

“could you punch me and show me how much strength i’m supposed to use?”

“really?”, jungkook looks offended but amusement fills him.

“yes! I just want to know if I should go all out or keep it light.”

“you want me to punch you?”

“oh my god, you’ll survive not being a gentleman for five seconds, jungkook”, you say impatiently, “now punch me!”

jungkook, unsurprisingly, doesn’t do what he’s told. instead, wraps his arms around your waist and smashes his mouth against yours, swallowing your surprised squeal with a smirk. in a flash, your head spins and you lose your balance into an abyss of delight. jungkook knows you all too well and presses you against him when you try to grab his shoulders out of reflex (don’t you know he’d never let you fall?) but fail because of your glove-cladded hands. your lips taste sweet and savory, the peanut butter and berries combining into a deadly experience he’s not sure his heart could handle.

yet he never hesitates to steal your breath.

when jungkook lets you go, it takes you several minutes before you can talk. or think.

“what are you doing?”, you whisper.

just what he’s wanting to do… always.

“i’m never gonna learn boxing this way”, you sigh.

“what way?”, jungkook’s breathing is heavy but the smirk on his face says a million other things.

“this way you’re—”, you shake your head and peer blearily, “wait, what was I saying again?”

“c’mon princess, you don’t need me to punch you. just land a punch on me. give me your best shot.”

you mouth an ‘okay’ and fall into stance, as jungkook instructed. “is this okay?”

“good girl”, jungkook teases, which has you losing your focus for a second. but then, you shake your head and direct your shot at his abs, self-instructed.

the punch lands hard and square on him, causing the doe-eyed boy to stagger several steps backward, gripping his abdomen with clear astonishment.

“babe! did you really hit me?!”

“wha— you told me to!”

“I didn’t expect you actually would!”

“what did you expect?”, you’re nonchalant but the redness creeping up your cheeks isn’t, “i’d kiss you senseless after you asked me to land a punch on you?”

jungkook dramatically collapses on the floor, shaking violently with fake coughs. you snort at his antics and offer your hand to your boyfriend to help him up but he doesn’t give you the chance— he grabs onto it and pulls you down. the unexpected gesture throws you off balance and you land directly on top of him. you yelp, but jungkook doesn’t even flinch. he quickly secures his grip around you, making sure not an inch of your body touches the floor or gets hurt.

“jungkook! you—”

said jungkook cuts you short, gently pressing his lips against yours, once again making you forget time and space. what were you planning to say? however, he doesn’t give you any time to think— moving away from your lips and peppering your entire face with kisses. you burst out into giggles and jungkook sighs with satisfaction— that’s it, that’s the smile he’s so helpless in love with.

“is this your idea of teaching me boxing?”, you put your hands on your boyfriend’s chest, lifting yourself up and sitting beside him.

“that was the reward of a punch excellently thrown.”

“oh, you gotta be kidding me. are you planning to reward me after every punch?”

“that’s a very good idea. but jokes aside babe, that was one heck of a punch”, jungkook beams at you, propping himself up on his arms.

you laugh.

“okay, remember when you couldn’t take piano lessons from yoongi oppa because he wouldn’t stop praising you? that’s exactly where this is going.”

“I mean it! that was a really, really solid punch, I did not expect that at all!”. oh, but he did. he has an unbreakable confidence in you that he wished you had in yourself.

“what can I say? you’re being a very good girl”, he winks.

“kook, you're a terrible teacher! you shouldn't flirt with your students!”, you scold him.

“forget what a teacher does. i’d rather do you instead.”

[biblical-chronicles]

Holding you

__________________________________________________

where Liam can't get enough of his missus

__________________________________________________

You’d always been indifferent about your chest. Sure, it was larger than most, which came with its fair share of challenges. Shopping for clothes could be a headache—finding the right balance between stylish and supportive, flattering but not over the top. It was something you’d just accepted, not something you’d ever really celebrated.

Then Liam Gallagher walked into your life, and apparently, he had other plans.

“Love, you’ve got to try this on,” he’d say, holding up a dress or top he’d picked out on one of your rare shopping trips together. His choices were surprisingly good, emphasizing your shape without making you feel uncomfortable. At first, you teased him, half-expecting him to pick something completely mad just to wind you up. But no—Liam had an eye for it.

“You missed your calling as a personal shopper,” you joked one day, spinning in front of the mirror while he lounged on the bed behind you, his grin growing impossibly wider.

“Nah,” he replied, hands tucked behind his head. “Only shop for you, babe. No one else’s worth the effort.”

And it wasn’t just clothes. Liam had a way of making you feel like the most beautiful woman in the room without even trying. He gushed about you in public, bragging to anyone who’d listen.

“Look at her, mate,” he’d say to Bonehead or Noel when you came to visit him at rehearsal or a gig. “Proper stunner, isn’t she? Don’t know what I did to deserve her.”

You’d laugh and roll your eyes, trying to downplay the attention, but he wouldn’t let up. He’d wrap an arm around your waist and plant a kiss on your temple, grinning like he’d won the lottery.

Then there was the matter of your chest. What you’d once thought of as a minor inconvenience had somehow become Liam’s favorite thing about you—aside from, as he’d hastily add, your gorgeous face, brilliant mind, and everything else. But when it came to sheer enthusiasm? Your chest was the clear winner.

“They’re just… perfect, aren’t they?” he’d marvel, completely unabashed. “Dead softest thing ever. Better than any pillow money can buy.”

“Liam!” you’d protest, half-laughing, half-mortified.

“What?” he’d say, deadpan. “Just statin’ facts.”

He loved snuggling up to you whenever he got the chance, head on your chest, sighing contentedly like he’d found his own slice of heaven. “You’re wasted on law, babe,” he said once, tracing lazy circles on your arm. “Should be a professional cuddler. Full-time gig. Make a fortune, swear down.”

Everyone knew how smitten he was, and while you sometimes rolled your eyes at his antics, you couldn’t deny how he made you feel: loved, appreciated, and—dare you admit it—more confident than ever before.

Because if Liam Gallagher thought you were the most beautiful thing to walk the earth? Well, who were you to argue?

The rehearsal space smelled of stale coffee, amps overheating, and the faint tang of cigarettes—not exactly the most romantic setting. But Liam Gallagher? He didn’t care. His mind wasn’t on the band or the endless repetition of the setlist for the fiftieth time that day. No, his mind was miles away, fixated on you and that couch where he imagined you sitting, waiting for him to get home.

“Right,” he suddenly announced, slinging his tambourine onto the table. “Gotta wrap this up, lads. Me missus is waitin’.”

Bonehead gave him a side-eye, cigarette dangling lazily from his mouth. “What, she told you to be back by a certain time?”

“Nah,” Liam smirked, leaning back against the wall. “She don’t have to. I just wanna get back. Can’t wait to see her, hold her—”

Noel snorted, cutting him off. “Hold her chest, you mean.”

The room erupted in laughter, the lads all howling at Liam’s expense, but he didn’t even flinch. “You’re just jealous, you miserable tosser,” he shot back, jabbing a finger toward Noel. “Wish you had summat like I do, don’t ya?”

Gem was still chuckling as he rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright, Gallagher. We get it. You’ve got the world’s best missus, we know all about it, we are all her boyfriends at this point. Now pack up and piss off so we can have some peace.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Liam said, practically bounding out the door. He grabbed his coat, threw on his sunglasses, and left the studio without another word, leaving the band shaking their heads in a mix of amusement and relief.

The short walk back to your apartment felt like it took forever. Liam was practically vibrating with energy, eager to see you. As soon as he unlocked the door, he didn’t even bother calling out to announce his arrival. He spotted you immediately, lounging on the couch, a book in your hands.

“Love!” he yelled, dropping his bag and kicking off his boots in record time.

You barely had time to glance up before he was all over you, jumping onto the couch and sprawling himself over your lap. “Liam!” you yelped, laughing as he smothered your face in kisses, his hands everywhere as if he had to touch you just to make sure you were real.

“Missed ya,” he mumbled between kisses. “Missed this. Missed you.”

Your laughter bubbled up uncontrollably as you tried, and failed, to push him off. “You just saw me this morning, you daft idiot!”

“Yeah, but it’s been hours, babe. Like… forever.”

Finally, Liam settled himself, resting his head dramatically against your chest with a deep, theatrical sigh. “That’s better.”

You rolled your eyes, though the affection in your expression was undeniable. Your hand automatically went to his hair, stroking through the soft strands. “You’re like a big puppy sometimes, you know that? Undomesticated may I add”

“Yeah, but you love it,” Liam countered, his voice muffled against your shirt.

You laughed, unable to argue with that. “Alright, Mr. Overly Affectionate, care to explain what this obsession is all about?”

He tilted his head back slightly to look at you, grinning. “Dunno, love. It’s just… I dunno, grounding. Calms me down, like. Practice is proper stressful, yeah? I get home, and this…” He gave you a pointed look and nestled himself closer. “…This sorts me out. Better than any of that bollocks the band gives me.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” you teased, flicking his forehead lightly. “Forget a cuppa tea, a nice pint. The cure for stress is me chest apparently.”

“Dead right,” he said without missing a beat, making you laugh harder.

“Honestly, you’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” Liam said, closing his eyes. “But you love me for it. And this, babe…” He pressed his ear to your chest. “Your heartbeat. It’s somethin’ else. Better than any tune our kid could ever write, swear down.”

Your playful teasing dissolved into something softer as you gazed down at him. There was a vulnerability to his words, a quietness that he rarely let anyone see.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I love you, you ridiculous man,” you whispered.

“Love you too, love,” Liam murmured, already sounding half-asleep as your fingers continued to stroke his hair.

Liam nestled deeper into your chest, a contented hum escaping his lips as your fingers traced gentle patterns through his hair. The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of your heartbeat and the occasional rustle as you shifted slightly beneath him.

“You know,” you began, breaking the peaceful silence, “if you’re this obsessed, I might have to start charging you for snuggle sessions.”

Liam snorted, peeking up at you with a lopsided grin. “What, you think I wouldn’t pay? Love, I’d clear out me bank account. No contest.”

You laughed, your head tilting back against the cushion. “Alright, alright, no need for the dramatics.”

“No dramatics,” he said, shaking his head. “Straight facts, darlin'. You’re the best thing in me life. Can’t believe you’re mine sometimes, y’know?”

His words were soft, but the sincerity behind them made your heart ache in the best way. You reached out to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. “You’re such a sap when you want to be, Gallagher.”

“Yeah, but only for you.”

The room fell quiet again, but this time it was filled with a warmth that seemed to radiate from both of you. Liam tilted his head just enough to plant a quick kiss against your collarbone before resting his cheek back on your chest.

“You’re proper comfy,” he mumbled, his voice heavy with contentment. “Best seat in the house.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re lucky I like you, you know that?”

“Lucky? Babe, I’m the luckiest lad alive. Look at me, sat here on the couch with the prettiest bird in the world. Who wouldn’t be jealous?”

“You’re impossible,” you teased, though your cheeks flushed at his words.

Liam’s hand wandered up, resting over yours where it lay on his shoulder. He intertwined your fingers, squeezing gently. “I mean it, though. You’re everything to me, love. And I’ll keep tellin’ you ‘til you believe it.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, you were at a loss for how to respond. Instead, you leaned down and kissed the top of his head, letting your actions speak for you.

Liam sighed happily, his head still nestled against you. “See? Told ya. Proper heaven, this.”

You chuckled softly, your hand still combing through his hair. “Don’t let it go to your head, Gallagher.”

He looked up at you with a cheeky grin, his eyes sparkling. “Too late, love. Already gone.”

You laughed again, leaning your forehead against his, and in that quiet moment, you realized there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

__________________________________________________

thank you to whoever requested this it was so cute to write xx

hope all you lot like it, I need to speed meself up I have so many requests lined up love you all for it x

[scribblue]

"Expectations" A Naturaldisaster* Fic

[*Poly ship with Jay, Cole, Geo, and Nya.]

Jay struggles with self-identity and relationships after losing his memories in the merge, and some familiar faces have been trying to help him through it... but it's an unfamiliar one that finally gets through to him. 3,437 words | Rated T, some suggestive themes/references | Angst and Comfort

Read below, or on ao3!

✧《✩》✧

The boy in the photograph almost looked like him.

Closely cropped hair modeled the same ginger hue as his current mop of curls, and a youthful face bore traces of freckles not yet matured under the sun. The boy was hemmed in on both sides by faces Jay only partly recognized– younger versions of the people that claimed to know him before the Merge. Cole stood on his right, Nya his left, squeezing in tight with arms threaded through his elbows. Their bright smiles and casual displays of affection almost made all those outlandish stories about his past feel plausible. Almost.

The longer he stared at the photograph, the deeper his unease grew. It was like peering into an alternate timeline, or some washed-up magician's crystal ball; everything felt frustratingly familiar and terribly wrong at the same time, like a word lingering at the tip of his tongue and never finding its way past his lips. Here was a moment in time preserved in a frame, yet all of his memories were nothing but static. This memory didn't belong to him anymore. He couldn't be sure it ever did.

"You and Cole were real close."

The gravelled voice jolted him out of his thoughts. Jay turned towards it, mildly relieved to see the one person that didn't claim a long, complicated history with him. Geo lingered in the threshold to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe. 

Jay frowned. "So I've heard."

Geo countered his frown with a soft smile. He shut the door quietly behind him, though there was little need for privacy; Cole was watching the little gremlins with Bonzle over at the Monastery, allowing Jay and Geo an evening alone at the junkyard. Not that Jay would have objected to Cole's involvement, of course, except perhaps in this very conversation. "He told me a lot about you," Geo said. "About the two of you. You and Nya, too."

Jay rolled his eyes and gave an irritated huff, making sure to amp up the theatrics. "Oh, great. And here I was thinking I'd finally met someone who doesn't have all these expectations of me." 

"Expectations?"

"Everyone thinks they know me better than I know me, but they don't," Jay said, letting the bitterness drip from each word like Venomari spit. "They all try to tell me how I felt, what I liked, and how I acted, as if it makes any difference now." He set the picture frame down on the dresser with a pointed clank, his gaze still fixed on it. His old self smiled back naively. "That version of me doesn't exist anymore."

He hadn't realized Geo moved closer until he felt a hand on his upper arm, gently refocusing his attention to a faint, saddened smile. "But he did exist once, didn't he?" 

Something twinged in his chest, a pang of everything he'd tried so hard to suppress; he put on a good show of not caring about his supposed past, but here he was longing for his companion's words to be true. Heat rose to his cheeks and yearning flared into annoyance, brightening Jay's red eyes in a flash. He jerked his arm away. "I don't know! How should I know? I have no memories of anything before the Merge."

"I know," Geo said gently. He gestured to the photograph with a nod of his head. "But they do. Cole and Nya knew you intimately– whether you believe that or not, that's their truth. It's natural they want to share that with you, Jay. Even if things are different now."

Jay crossed his arms and turned away, taking a few steps towards the bed. It was neatly made in anticipation for his arrival, a third pillow living between the usual two. He glared at it with practiced indifference. "I'm not the person they all think I am."

"Maybe...maybe not. But you are someone they want to know, aren't you?" 

"Only because they think I'm their ex."

Geo crossed the space between them with light-footed steps, as though approaching too quickly would scare him away like a bird rustled from the bushes. He placed a hand on his back and leaned forward to catch a glimpse of his face, which Jay angled away to avoid his probing eyes. "You're not my ex."

"No," Jay admitted. "I'm not." That much was undeniably true. With the other two, he at least felt a nagging ache of familiarity somewhere at the back of his fuzzy mind, and had visual proof to back up their claims of previous relationships. Geo, however, was a blank slate. A different kind of mystery to unravel, with a whole different set of complications. Jay finally met his gaze, and the adoration– or perhaps infatuation– he found there was as enabling as it was overwhelming. "...I'm just something new to tinker on, aren't I? A broken man to fuse back together?"

Geo's elven ears drooped. The adoring look morphed into that of a kicked puppy, and for a moment Jay almost regretted his words, though only briefly; sick satisfaction was quick to lock its jaws around his neck. As much as Geo seemed to enjoy “fixing” him, these days Jay got his kicks by ruining everyone he touched. 

“Of course not, Jay,” Geo said. He sounded so sincere. Maybe he even was. “What would ever give you that idea?”

Jay snorted. “Please. That’s like…your whole thing, isn’t it? Turning trash into 'treasure'?” He reached over to the nightstand, picking up a mini sculpture welded together with Geo’s fusion powers. It was a figure, seemingly of Cole, frozen in a heroic pose and sculpted of scrap materials. Bits of metal, bottle caps, rusty gears and coils. He waved it at Geo with a sneering smile before tossing it at him underhand. Geo scrambled to catch it. “I’m just your newest project.”

“You are not– and be careful with that, that was an anniversary present.” Geo fussed over the figure, ensuring all of the repurposed trash was in the proper place. When he seemed satisfied, he carefully set it back on its place of honor.

“See? You care more about your things than you do me. Why do you even still make stuff with that junk? You said you could live anywhere now, you could be out there making…literally anything else, with literally anything else. Why a junkyard?" Despite a judgemental tone, his curiosity was genuine– Jay couldn't imagine why anyone would willingly live in a place like this, much less rummage through other people's trash to use as materials. 

“...I like it," Geo said, his voice so quiet Jay nearly couldn’t hear it. He averted his gaze and began worrying the tassled hem of his vest. “This place was my home when I never had one of my own, and… I don’t know. I like giving lost things a purpose. Even if I’m not lost myself anymore.”

Giving lost things a purpose. The words struck a chord somewhere inside Jay, like the ringing of the gong he still felt resonate through his bones. He pushed the feeling deep down into the yawning pit in his stomach. “Oh yeah? What’s my purpose, then, oh great Purpose-Giver?”

Geo halted his nervous fidgeting. Slowly, he raised his gaze to study Jay's face, feathered brows knitting together over probing eyes. "Your purpose?"

"Since you're the expert."

His lips pursed into a taut line, broken only by his two protruding lower teeth. “Well...what do you want your purpose to be?”

Oh great, the cryptic wise-man routine. Jay groaned, throwing his head back in exaggerated exasperation. “Nevermind. I’m sorry I asked.”

“Jay, you know I can’t answer that for you. That’s something you have to discover for yourself.” 

Though delicately spoken, his words hit like bricks. He wasn’t wrong, and Jay knew that. He hated that he knew that. He’d been struggling to establish a new purpose since leaving the Administration, since being abandoned by his master, Ras; so far, he’d come no closer to achieving that. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

Geo stepped closer, extending a hesitant hand to clasp one of Jay’s. Jay stared down at it blankly. “You aren’t alone," Geo said. "If there’s any way I can help you on that journey, I, and surely Cole and Nya, would happily—”

Jay gripped Geo's hand like a vice and yanked him close. Their chests collided, and the sudden motion elicited a yelp from Geo, quickly stifled into an insistent kiss. At first he didn't return it, but slowly his lips softened to accommodate Jay's; not quite the same level of energy, but Jay had no issues picking up the slack. This was his element...at least, it was lately. An electricity unlike any he wielded in a fight. His free hand grappled at Geo’s waist, attempting to pull him even closer as though fusion could merge their bodies into one. 

He nipped at Geo’s lips, eliciting small noises in response but otherwise minimal reciprocation. Jay let go of his hand and took him by both hips, blindly maneuvering him towards the bed until he felt Geo’s calves bump against the frame. Geo pulled away from the kiss and gasped for the air he'd been passionately deprived of. “Jay…”

Jay kicked an ankle out from under Geo and allowed the two of them to fall onto the mattress, to another surprised yelp from Geo. Jay landed on top of him and wasted no time to dive back into a kiss, propping himself up with one arm and grabbing at Geo’s cropped shirt with the other. Everything in Jay's head had melted away, leaving only this. Only the moment they shared. Nothing else mattered.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing else mattered.

Geo broke the kiss once more by turning his face away from Jay's mouth, which began to travel along Geo’s jawline and neck instead. Roving fingers teased the hem of Geo's shirt, before being abruptly grabbed and held tight. “Jay,” Geo repeated, more forcefully this time. “Can you just— hold on a second?”

Hold on? Jay pushed himself upright to the best of his ability, just enough that he could get a good look at Geo’s face; his cheeks were flushed a dark reddish-purple, but rather than the usual blissful or flustered expression, he carried a troubled air that gave Jay additional pause. “...What?”

“Jay…I…this is…” Geo fumbled his words, seeming unable to land on any. He rubbed Jay’s fingers absently with his own. “I…I don’t know if I’m in the mood…for this…right now.”

Jay felt himself deflate under the crushing weight of returning reality. “What? Why? What do you mean?” he said, unable to keep the panic out of his voice.

“I just– it's nothing you did, and it's not that I don't enjoy it, but… maybe we could just...talk, tonight?"

Jay’s pulse quickened. A litany of unsavory thoughts spiraled in his brain, a tornado of self-loathing that had long since been percolating, just waiting for an excuse to gain momentum. He’d made Geo uncomfortable. How? This was supposed to be the fix. The smooth-over, the nonverbal apology for every passive-aggressive comment that spilled from his mouth that night. How had he managed to mess this up too? “Talk? That’s— no, I’m not good at talking. Please, I’m not— this is the only thing I’m good at,” he said, the words spilling from his mouth before he could stop them. “Please, Geo, this is the only thing I’m good at. Don’t take that away from me, I—” He caught himself mid-sentence, realization sinking in at Geo’s increasingly concerned expression. “...No. I’m sorry. It’s fine, actually. I don’t even care. That’s fine. No worries, I’ll just— I’m gonna go, then.”

He started to push himself to his feet, and Geo hurried to grasp his arms, pulling him back. “Jay,” Geo said, voice as firm as his grip. “Stay. It’s alright, you don’t have to leave.”

 “Yes I do. I can’t do all this…this…talking. All these emotions. I told you, I’m not good at it. I’m not good at it like you, I don’t— all I do is make people feel bad.”

“You’re not trying to.”

"Sometimes I am. Sometimes I enjoy it, too. I’m really, really good at making people feel bad, Geo. But this…this is the one time where I feel like I can make people feel good, and…” His chest tightened along with his throat, and his eyes stung with tears that threatened to form. He heaved a dry sob, like a breath caught in reverse. “If I’m not good at that, what am I? Just some asshole with amnesia? Geo, I don’t know who the fuck I am. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t—” The floodgates burst, sending rivers of electrified tears streaming down his cheeks in a trail of static shocks. His shoulders shuddered as another sob overtook him. “I don’t know who I am.”

“Hey, hey now, it’s alright.” Geo reached up to swipe at Jay’s tears, jumping slightly at the static that crackled on his thumb. He shook it off, wholly undeterred. “Come on. Come here.” He shuffled himself further onto the bed and laid down on the pillows, beckoning Jay to join him with wide, open arms. 

Jay sniffled, staring at him for a long moment before he finally gave in— what more did he have to lose? His dignity was already long gone. He crawled over to him and flopped into Geo’s arms, head landing on his chest. Geo completed the gesture by wrapping his arms tightly around Jay’s upper body in turn. 

As soon he sunk into the embrace, the sobs increased in intensity, and the tears poured onto Geo’s shirt. Geo only held him tighter, a granted permission that Jay had never even given himself: to cry freely.

Neither of them spoke. Jay wouldn’t even think of attempting it in that state, lest he be reduced to even more of a blubbering mess; he’d admitted plenty already, and Geo didn’t seem to mind the lack of conversation. He merely hummed a comforting tune under his breath and rubbed gentle circles into Jay’s back. It was a strange sensation, to be cared for. Jay wasn’t sure he knew what to do with it. He didn’t understand how Geo offered it so easily, like it was second nature to him. But the embrace felt…nice, Jay supposed. 

He had no idea if he’d ever cried like this before. It certainly felt like a first. Had the old him sobbed on Nya or Cole’s chest? Did he cry over every little thing, or had it only happened when he reached a breaking point? Did he feel as ashamed of his tears then as he did now? Jay had no answers for any of those questions, and wasn’t sure if he truthfully wanted them. All he knew was that, be it a first or not, he was sobbing in Geo’s arms. And in some odd, twisted way, it felt good. 

He wasn’t sure how long he cried. It ebbed and flowed like a wave, building up to a crescendo just to crash and settle once more. Eventually, though, his tear ducts began to dry up, and the tightness in his chest began to ease. Geo wordlessly stretched an arm over to the nightstand to grab a tissue, which Jay gratefully accepted— he felt like he was drowning in his own facial fluids, and was eager to regain some composure. Geo just laid there, observing while Jay aggressively wiped his face, blew his nose, and tossed the balled-up tissue onto the floor. Jay let his head fall back on Geo’s chest. His neck felt weak. And Geo was warm. “Don’t tell Cole or Nya about this,” he mumbled.

“About what? You littering tissues on my floor?” Geo said, earning a slight amused huff.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I won’t. But having emotions isn’t a crime, you know. I don’t think either of them would judge you for it.”

“They should. It’s gross. I hate it. Don’t tell them.”

Geo chuckled softly, the heave of his chest shaking Jay’s head. “I won’t, I won’t.” 

“Good.” He considered leaving it at that, but a dreaded seed of guilt began nagging at the back of his tired mind. He curled his arm around Geo’s torso and sniffed. “...Thanks.”

Geo craned his neck to place a gentle kiss on the top of his head, amidst his fluffy curls. Barely did it graze his scalp, but he felt it resonate down to his very core. “Any time.”

They laid there in silence for longer than Jay could keep track of, despite his attempts to keep time by the ticking wall clock and the beating of Geo’s heart. It thump-thumped a steady rhythm, as dependable as its carrier. Slowly, the internal lullaby lured him into a deep, inescapable slumber.

✧《✩》✧

Cole

Despite having their own room in the Monastery, neither Spitz nor Fritz would be deterred from sleeping in their ‘own beds’ that night. Cole certainly couldn’t deny them that, even though he was well aware they’d be sleeping in his arms before they even arrived—and they were. Or, at least Spitz was. Fritz was determined to walk regardless of his barely open eyes, guided like a sleepwalker by Cole’s hand. 

He didn’t blame the two of them for wanting to come back. While the monastery was like a home to him, the first to take him in after striking out on his own, the Finder’s residence was his home. His, Geo’s, Bonzle’s, Spitz and Fritz’s. Maybe it was once made from necessity, a lack of freedom…but it became a choice to stay. And it was a choice he was happy to keep making.

The house was quiet and dark when they walked in. Curious, he had expected at least a couple lights, or to hear some muted conversation. Everything felt so…still. Cole shifted Spitz on his hip. “Bonzle, can you take the kids to their room? I gotta check on the love birds.”

“Can do,” Bonzle said, reaching out to take Spitz from Cole with a soft grunt of effort. Cole transferred Fritz’s hand to hers and the three adoptive siblings made their way to the younger one’s bedroom. 

Cole smiled after them, and then turned his attention to the closed door across the hall. He approached cautiously and gave a small knock. “Jay, Geo? I’m home.” Without a response, he tried the doorknob—unlocked—and opened the door as quietly as he could muster.

It was dark in the bedroom, too. As Cole peered in, a strip of soft blue light illuminated the pair sleeping on the bed above the blankets, still fully clothed. Jay was laying somewhat on top of Geo, with his head resting on his chest and one of Geo’s arms draped loosely across his back. It was as heartwarming a sight as it was surprising to see Jay cuddled up on Geo the way he used to cuddle up on Cole. The way he denied ever doing before.

Geo peeked open an eye as the light hit him, sleepy confusion giving way to a smile when he noticed his partner standing in the doorway. He beckoned for him, and Cole was quick to comply, leaning down to give Geo a peck on the lips before gingerly climbing into bed. He moved slow and deliberately so as not to wake sleeping beauty, managing to position himself in a spooning position against Jay’s back with his head on the pillow next to Geo. He stacked his arm on top of the one that currently cradled Jay, enveloping him in a dual hug. 

Jay shifted and let out a muffled groan, and Cole froze, unsure if Jay would appreciate or allow the intrusion. It wasn’t long before he got his answer by way of Jay’s hand fumbling into theirs, weakly grasping at their wrists and pulling them tighter around his body. He stretched his legs, shimmied his shoulders, and let out a long, drawn-out sigh—content, or perhaps resigned— before settling back into sleep between the two of them.

Tension released from Cole’s shoulders, and he sighed happily in turn. Whether or not Jay would acknowledge this night ever again, much less allow it to be more than a fluke, Cole would appreciate every moment while he had it, this glimpse of his old jay resurfacing.

I know you’re in there, Jay, was the last thought that crossed Cole’s mind as rest began to claim him. And we’re right here.

[sourbites]

Can I request a Kirk smut!! Friends to lovers kinda thing. For instance yall are smoking weed at your place and feeling a bit insecure about still being single and he makes a move on you???

Can't Tell You Why

thank you for the request! this was a lot of fun to write. i chose to write this imagining early 80s kirk, just to really amp up that clumsy love that friends share. hope you enjoy :)

The tip of the joint crackles, embers glowing as you coax smoke down into your lungs. The atmosphere in your bedroom is thick, smogged with smoke and giggles. There's soft rock playing in the background — some band Kirk chose.

"You're avoiding the question," He laughs, all love-me-tender brown eyes and crooked white teeth. You're both having fun, he's teasing you, you're teasing him. But still, you hesitate, exhaling smoke from your nose thoughtfully.

"I don't know," You wipe one hand on the front of your jeans. "I've only done it, like, once. Wasn't that fun, either— we were in this tiny car, and there was so much bumping around."

You twist on your bed, leaning up against the wall. Kirk moves, too, leaning his weight on a hand. "Once?" He repeats, surprised.

"What's that supposed to mean? You think I've been around?" You laugh, although there's some discomfort at his reaction lurking around in your mind. His mortification catches up with him two beats later. Eyes wide, laughing nervously along with you.

"I didn't mean it like that," Kirk exhales, smoke floating and swirling around the both of you. It hazes everything up: the light from your lamps scatter differently. Shadows look hesitant. He mulls over how to explain himself, self-conscious as he adjusts his position again. "I— I just meant, that you," He swipes a hand over his face, groaning in embarrassment through those hesitant chuckles. "You're smart, and— and real pretty. And charming enough to get anyone you'd want, so— I dunno, I mean, I'd..." He trails off. He speaks unintelligible nonsense for a few moments, before trying again. "You get what I mean." He concludes.

"Do I?" You take the joint from him. Something within you makes you feel sick with a feeling you wouldn't like to meet.

Kirk, ever the conversationalist, gives you an eye-roll. "So who was he, anyway?" He gestures to you, his index and middle finger steadying the shrinking joint.

You shrug. "Just a friend of a friend. I already told you."

He didn't say anything after that. Just hid behind his curly bangs, working his fingers into your bedsheets. Honestly, you're unsure why you even entertained this conversation. It's not like you'd find camaraderie within Kirk, not these days— tons of women want his attention. They want to taste his plump lips, hold his baby face, and kiss the crease between his brows when he frowns. You want to claw this bitter taste from your mouth. Gut the barbed vines in your stomach. As cool as you want to present, it isn't the most brag-worthy thing. Your first and only time being a half-baked hookup in some cramped-ass Ford Pinto? Get out the confetti. Your train of thought became an internal train wreck.

"Well," Kirk begins to roll another. "Where would you rather it happened?" Just briefly, his brown eyes glance up at your face to read your expression.

"Where else could it happen?" You ask no one in particular, voice hushed and ironically smoky in your fogged-up bedroom. You hum thoughtfully, picking at the thin rolling papers sprawled out on your bed. "Is it boring if I say a bed? Nothing else I can think of sounds appealing."

For some reason, you're allowed first drags. Pouring over you, Kirk lights the fresh joint between your lips. "Not boring at all. It's a classic for a reason, real nice when it's done right." He speaks easily, shrugging slightly. He's trying to soothe you. His smile makes your insides twist— and you enjoy it, in some macabre way. Teeth vibrantly white against warm lamplight and fuzzy shadows and black curls. You want to eat his mouth.

"Right." You sigh. Smoke billows from your parted lips. "I suppose you have? Done it right?" You're not sure why you ask that. You just want something to say. Preferably not about your (totally lacking) sex life.

Finally, it's Kirk's turn to bristle hesitantly. Easing his nerves, you pass him the joint.

"I've had some good nights, yeah." His answer is guarded. Your eyes glitter. What's he hiding? You nudge his side with your knuckles.

"But...?" You invite.

Kirk watches you for a moment or two, concluding you won't let this go. "But," He echoes, nudging you back. "I wouldn't say I've done it right."

"Why not?" You lean in. Drinking up the smoke that rolls off of him. You can smell him in the air, too, smoke-smouldering something spicy and musky.

He tilts his head to see you better. "Can't tell you," He whispers, grinning, wholly contradicting the inviting way his body slants to indulge you.

"Kiiiiirk."

Sigh. He's giving you the eyes. The eyes. Round and big, brown eyes so sparkly that they disarm anyone he's gazing at. You lean to him, attentive as a statue. You could soak him up if you wanted to; you're that close. Discarded smoke, already exhaled with all that high-inducing goodness soaked up, swirls around the both of you, murky white tendrils making you want to sway with them, beckoning you to move. Speak. Breathe. Live.

"Ideally," He shifts again, wanting to reshuffle his atoms. "Ideally, it'd be a bed..." A warm palm brushes your wrist and sneaks the joint from your fingers. "With you..." Your heart pauses. You stare at him, bewildered. "And me..."

What. The. Fuck.

Kirk takes your silence as a sign you want him to keep going. One hand cups your cheek, so tenderly you're tricked into thinking you're made from glass. "C'mon. How many more hints do I need to drop?" He coos at you before taking a much-needed drag of the joint to ease his own racing heart.

The funny thing is, you've hoarded his name in your throat for months. You didn't realise he had been holding his own breath for you.

Why? Out of everyone— you?

Kirk runs his tongue over his teeth, getting antsy. Softly urging you, he brushes the pad of his thumb along your lower lip while you just stare at him, amazed. You watch him from beneath your eyelashes as if he hung the stars in the sky. It comes again: the longing. The desire with no name, because no one has yet given you the language to speak it in.

Wordlessly, you draw his hand into yours. "That, um. Sounds nice." You reply, with what limited cohesive brain cells you have left.

Testing the waters, Kirk brushes his lips against yours, his breath mingling with your own. And it's hands down the most intoxicating thing you've ever had— you want to swallow it down in handfuls. Your eyelashes flutter again, and you almost feel drunk. He holds your cheek with clumsy, gentle fingers. He puts a heat in you that you didn't think was possible. And it feels so unfathomably perfect to feel wanted.

It's slow. Gently, you gravitate towards Kirk as if you're floating. Your mouths connect with a little more certainty this time. He laughs softly against your mouth. There is no better taste than that, you decide. Someone's honeyed laugh on your tongue. You're dizzy— should you feel dizzy? You want this feeling to stay.

Restless, he abandons the joint in the ashtray. With both hands in use, they swipe over your back, worship your thighs by the handfuls, winding and sewing roots in your hair.

"Can I take care of you?" Kirk whispers into the edge of your face, right underneath your chin. His mouth- wet and wanting, marks the uncharted territory of the soft underside of your face with a slow, hot kiss that ripples through you, reshaping you into something with an emptiness that's hurting to be filled. His tongue is laving wet and dripping with eagerness, building a taste for your skin as it glosses his spit down your throat. He tilts in to suck below your ear.

"Fuck, Kirk. Yeah— yes." You stumble out, nodding, your hips squirming in their cage of your jeans. You sweep your aching palms along his back, mussing his curls. He tucks your earlobe between his teeth, grazing the bluntness of his front teeth slowly along your skin. His breath sends chills down your spine. He grinds both hands beneath the waistband of your jeans, reading your mind.

He's aching to get a taste of you. The softness of your inner thighs swath around his head, dark curls rasping against your skin. His hot mouth is drinking you up through your panties, nosing into your pelvis. He wants to breathe as many 'I love you's' as he can into your skin, he wants to rake his tongue against your slit, lick your cunt open. Kirk can tell you're soaked— arousal drooling through the fabric that covers you, teasing him with the cock-hardening punch of girl flavour that he loves so much, seeping along the edge of his mouth.

Your underwear is thumbed off, his face shoved right into your cunt, and yet you still want to steer him by the shoulders and pull him closer. He takes slow, indulgent sucks on your quickly throbbing clit, that snowball into big, broad licks, tongue flat and mopping up your slick from bottom to top. He sinks two fingers into you, each pump straight down to the knuckle, creating crude squelching noises with the purest, stickiest arousal simmering within you. It's all burning hot, hot, hot.

Kirk swoops down again, filling his starving mouth with what he thirsts for: your leaking pussy. His cute nose is smooshed against your pelvic bone, and every dirty lap of his searing tongue forces your hips to scatter restlessly and yanks a whine from your throat. He's wild and heartache and sin, and it leaves you reeling from his every touch, every curl of his fingers and every relentless, starved suck of your clit, until his cheeks hollow.

"Can't believe I went so long without this," He groans with lusty delight, releasing your aching clit with a pornographic, wet pop. He kisses your parted entrance, tips his head down and spits on your slit. Whatever honey-soft brown was left lingering in his baby-love eyes has been devoured by total blackness, glimmering in delight as he watches his work of art, your soaked, spit-slick sex. He goes back in, shoving his parched mouth onto you, sucking in a fold, nipping the other, thumbing at your throbbing, swollen clit. He wants to eat you whole. Every salacious lick of his neverending tongue thunders within you— your cunt, tight and hot and so adored by Kirk's divine mouth, squeezes of arousal building within you until they morph into full-body trembles, your abdomen clenching and un-clenching, taut.

He glances up at you, dark eyes glittering behind his curly bangs, eyeing the heave of your tits with each tremoring breath. He touches you where hands simply cannot. His thick tongue eagerly tastes your heat: flesh, sweetness, salt. His cock is bursting against his too-tight boxers. You roll your hips against his mouth, chasing every lap of his tongue, every brush of his calloused hands. Softly, he becomes endless in you, and the searing pleasure he paints for you becomes explosive. Your volatile hands fist into his hair and yank, grinding down against his pretty face as gasps block your airways. He's drinking your soul - stuffing his mouth with every morsel of your worship-worthy pleasure.

You wail through the orgasm, something deep within you awakened and booming; how you survived him, you don't know. Your cum, sticky and warm, ebbs down Kirk's plump lips, smearing on his chin as he laps you up, thumbs spreading your cunt open to ensure he's licked every part of you clean. Even then, the impish flicks of his tongue do not go unappreciated.

To get him to stop his (wonderfully feeling) assault on your cunt, you peel Kirk away from you, a hand in his hair and your other palming at his shoulder. "How'd," You breathe, stupefied, "How'd you learn to do that?"

Kirk hides behind his curly bangs as if he has the right to get coy after gorging on your pussy so filthily. His teeth, white and charmingly crooked, glitter as he grins flusteredly. He wipes his mouth of spit and slick with the back of his hand. You feel a pang of emptiness without both his hands somewhere on your overheating body. "I, uh, I have a thing for it, I guess."

Great. You sigh, lost for words.

"Can we keep going?" You murmur out, gingerly pressing a warm palm to his worn-soft denim jeans, which are all warped and taut from his hard bulge.

Kirk's hands, all slow tenderness to soothe you, cup your cheeks, fingers sweeping into your hair. He lays a kiss on your lips with his own hungry mouth, kissing away at your senses. "Of course, beautiful."

His bulge swells right beneath your pussy, your orgasm simmering away and dirtying his denim jeans. Handsy with it, he palms off his belt and throws his jeans and boxers somewhere in your room. You let one of your legs fall open while he scoops up the other, forcing your thigh high up his waist, his palm sliding down to grab a handful of your ass. He sinks inside the molten ache of your eaten-raw cunt. He kisses you into oblivion at the sight of his thick cock disappearing within you.

The odd thing is, it all feels so easy. You're choked with the sincerity of the moment. Kirk's hands are devoted worshippers, thumbs stroking along your skin where you tremble, holding you where your thigh and hip meet, cradling you. Weightlessly, and yet with heavy limbs, you lay into the bed. You're full of paradoxes tonight. Light, heavy, friend, lover. They're all the same.

Your hands glide up his taut biceps, sliding down the slope of his back, tracing along muscles and bone. You hook him in, keep him close. Kirk's biting down on his lower lip, his eyes lidded, fluttering at the dreamy feeling of your dripping cunt clenching down on him in searing hot pulses. You shift your hips a little— you can feel his cock smushed into your cervix. Kirk groans low near your ear.

This hot, fulfilling fullness seems to seep deeper and deeper within you, endless. With a hitching breath, Kirk's hips withdraw, taking his body-hot heat with him. Until it pours all over you again in waves, easing your abuse-swollen sex, his thumb dipping down to gather the sopping wetness of your slick, cum, and his drool, and stir it around your puffy clit in full circles. All while he takes you in long, eager strokes, delicious friction causing your hands to skirt around his shoulders, putting a cramping, throbbing, ache in your hips.

You shudder, going tight around him. Kirk presses his face where your shoulder meets your neck. You can feel his baby face, sweet cheeks and plump mouth, those fawn brown eyes of his squeezed shut. Those charming features on a man who is fucking you with so much impeccable spirit that you're surely driven crazy with every rock of his hips, snapping up to wallop into the tenderly sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Every wet sound of his mean cock scraping the velvet insides of your aching cunt draws sobs out from deep within your stuffed-full belly. Your heart feels like a bass pounding in your ears, surrounding you with so much noise, every throbbing thump causing your breaths to shake.

Tangled bodies feel like they're cooking with all the hot friction between them. It smoulders, threatening to ignite— as if the hazy smoke of your social chainsmoking wasn't enough to put you in an awestruck daze. You clench your teeth, scraping your nails up the hollow of Kirk's shoulder blades, your own back arching off the bed, (which he uses as an excuse to get another gropeful of your ass) while he works your throbbing clit even harder. You want to squirm and writhe, but that'd disrupt the gorgeous rhythm of his cock. He drags himself through your wound-tight pussy, sloppy, indescribably thorough whacks of his pelvic bone right on the beginning of your slit.

You forget who's air you're breathing. Or if you're breathing at all.

In carnal screams that scratch up your sore throat, you murmur something akin to more more more don't stop, Kirk. Please. Kirk. His pace stumbles, landing right on his high while you're already curling around him, nails anchored in his skin, cries spilling from your lips. You squeeze around him with so much zeal that Kirk quite literally cannot move for fear of splitting you in two. All epic highs have lows, however: you scrape your hands down, tracing where your cunt oozes out your climaxes, feeling the boiling heat settle down, watching Kirk's glistening cock withdraw from you.

Everything feels suspended. Mid-air, hanging on the edge of something. Maybe it's longing. By some phenomenal stroke of luck (maybe it's your lucky day), the joint you were sharing is still lit. Kirk takes a long drag, exhaling against your clammy, bare skin. His mouth reaches your shoulder, and he kisses it with that pretty, insatiable mouth until you feel faint.

"Fuck," You take the joint he offered to you. Although you're not sure that this moment can get softer and warmer. "That was definitely better than my first time."

Kirk grins at your words, grunting quietly as he lays beside you, guiding your splayed-out hair away from your neck. "Just you wait. That was just a warm-up."

[screampied]

edging choso. thank you for listening 👍

꒰১ cw. fem reader, cowgirl, mdni.

“my g—god,” choso huffs out in short breathy pants, his breathing became shallow—almost as if it came with ease, a straining exhale snatches from his throat as he leans back. you’re riding him, sensually grinding your hips against him to where his droopy eyes roll way back into the depths of his cranium. “more, more, moreee,” he pleads with crimson red lips, two big hands stuck to your waist. he was so whiney, with the way you rode him until he clung onto his final breaths—how could he not moan out a whimper or two . . ?

it’s sloppy, the way your ass moves up and down against him— he’s so thick too, such length to him that the stretch just comes so easily. callused fingertips roughly dig into your skin and his head throws back the moment his tip thrashes against your most sweetest spots. you feel it and he feels it too. “choso, how’s it feel baby? feels good?”

“uh huh, uh huh,” he’d immediately nod, half lidded eyes and he looks so cute— his entire body felt hot, he can’t help but pull you into a steamy kiss. the feeling of your warm lips mashing against his was enough to make him get off, so warm. his thighs start to pang, the undersides of them tense and he knows in the back of his mind that he’s about to dump yet another load right into you. “uh,” he whines, departing away just to see the sheeny cobweb of spit leave from your lips. choso was horrible with eye contact— he’s panting heavily before he moans out that sweet familiar, “princess ‘m gonna cummm.”

but that’s right when you amp up your speed, the piston of your hips only grow quicker— he bites his tongue, feeling a twinge of arousal brew up before he’s hitting you deep. the crownhead of his cock only tickles against your clit before right when he’s about to sink into his release,

you . . . stop.

choso inhales . . then exhales, he’s confused..

a cute perplexed expression with a pout before his eyebrows curl up. “. . wha-” he croaks and his voice cracks as you just sit there. your attention suddenly aims at coating the inner part of his chin with a plethora of sweet kisses. mwah after mwah, he moans from your touch before finishing his sentence. “why’d you stop? why—why?”

“not yet, baby.” you coo, pressing a kiss near the pierced lobe of his ear.

he frowns at that, balls deep and he was so close, so so close…

he wanted to pump you full, choso’s mouth felt dry, the inside of it felt equivalent to the sahara. he’s always had a hard time being told no and he was adorable. “n-not yet?” he repeats, soft big arms wrapping around your waist. you lean into his bare chest before giggling. you were panting yourself, heave after heave leaving your lungs as you glance into his darkened irises. “but why?”

“because,” you kiss near his neck, then his chin, then finally . . his mouth. a lewd moan escapes from his throat at your touch, he loved your kisses more than anything. his dick twitches inside of you and your tender touch only drives him more crazy. warm breath wafts against his skin and he moans again, your touch was truly his worst enemy. out of all the enemies he’s been in battle with, a simple touch or kiss from you was simply choso kamo’s weakness. “because, i want you to wait a little. is that a problem?”

“oh . . !” he cutely mutters, a sheepish smile on his lips.

he gulps, finding your sudden dominance a bit hot — dark pools of aroused eyes gaze into yours before he scoots you closer against his lap. with a low soft tone, he rasps a, “g-guess not,” and he swallows the invisible lump in his throat, feeling your pussy soak him dry. “if my love wants me to wait, i’ll w-wait.”

“you’re such a good boy, ‘cho.”

“hey, don’t call me that though. please.”

you titter, peppering a kiss towards the corner of his lips.

his mouth quivers, always so weak for any amount of kisses that you give him. he’s so grateful, the warmth that you always provide him, whether it’s being inside of you or simply sharing a sweet kiss with you, you were really his kryptonite.

“i thought you liked when i praised you?”

“i— i do,” he protests, jaw tightening as you move a bit more with him still stuffed inside of you. his cock continues to pulsate and it feels so good. but being edged felt different, something surges within him as if he was most definitely on pause mode. “it’s just . . it’s embarrassing. ‘m supposed to call you good. ‘cause y’know, you’re my good girl.”

you giggle once more, wrapping your arms around him—trying to stall as much time as you could and it was working.

“but whenever you say it, it’s just cute.”

“hmph,” he pouts, a cute tint flushing towards his cheeks before he pulls you even closer. “baby,” he questions out, snapping back to lewd reality. his head throws back as he feels the same throb stir up inside of him. a thumb strums alongside your back before he pants. “can i cum now? i waited, i just wanna fill you up— please. let me cum, okay?”

another chaste kiss goes against his lips, he whines from the contact your mouth goes against his. so sweet, you’re so close to him that you can hear him swallow and he stares at you with glossy eyes, reddened lips just shuddering from your movement.

“pretty please,” you whisper. “say that ‘n you can cum.”

“. . . babyyy,” he groans, reaching to grab onto the headboard and it’s unintentionally sexy— the way his veins on his arms pulse and bulge, a whimper drags out his throat before he finally gives in. “fuck, okay okay. fuck just, pretty please. pretty please, can i finish inside you? please.”

with the way you’re straddling him— keeping his throbbing idle cock between your gummy walls, he was about to risk it all. “okay,” you comply with a soft voice, gently stroking your thumb against his neck. “you can cum, baby. don’t waste it.”

“i won’t. promise, promise.” he purrs out, both hands going towards your bare ass. he squeezes it tightly before once you give him permission, he’s floating on cloud fucking nine. “fuh—fuckk,” he breathes, melting into a puddle once you take the time to plant a kiss near the bridge of his nose where his darkened scar remained. it shot up, arose— and it was so much. his heart pounds, a rapid heart beats through his ear before finally, he finishes.

thick velvety ropes pour right into your womb— it shoots out in such a hot way that you’re spasming, you feel each spurt and you hug him tightly. “make me feel s-so good, princess,” he pants, entirely out of breath. he’s shaking underneath you, lip quivering from the way his cum slowly but surely fills you up to the brim. your pussy’s flooded, sweltering with nothing but the hefty amounts of his cum before he bites into your neck softly. “thank you, t-thank you.”

“what for, baby?” you mutter in a hushed tone, watching as he brings his head back up to look at you with sweet droopy eyes.

choso shivers, your words only making him ten times more hard as he pulses inside of you still.

“for . . for making me a messy boy,” and he swallows, eyes closing for a brief second. “fine. fine,” and your eyebrows furrow at what he means before he whimpers into your neck, gentle breath bristling against your skin. “i . . . a-admit it, ‘m your good boy,” he moans, a hand grabbing your ass for the umpteenth time before he sheepishly huffs. “can— can we do that again though? pretty please?”

[sutaagaaru]

STAR BOY— NANAMI KENTO X READER

CHAPTER 04: NANAMI KENTO IS A GENTLEMAN.

౨ৎ synopsis: nanami kento is finally dragged out to a bar by his work colleague, satoru. against his better judgment he ends up drinking, and finds himself spending the night with a pretty girl. he can’t seem to stop thinking about her, or if he’ll ever see her again. turns out she’s closer than he thought….

౨ৎ content: masturbation (m), you are plotting and gojo satoru is your shit stirring accomplice, massage therapy nanami, flashbacks, i’m planting little foreshadowings here and there (hehe), this man is JEALOUS, use of ‘sir’ many times

౨ৎ chapter summary: nanami is starting to crack, and you’re doing nothing to help stop it.

previous chapter // next chapter

“i feel so blessed in this moment that it’s you who’s contacting me, you know.”

satoru’s lilting voice rang through your phone’s speaker, while you were manoeuvring through your kitchen.

“don’t consider yourself special, gojo. i just need your help with something.” you rolled your eyes despite the fact he couldn’t see it.

“as much as i’m flattered, i don’t think we’d make a very good couple. i’m simply too valuable in the single market.” the man teased you effortlessly, and you realised that this was just his natural personality.

“in your dreams. i need you to help me with nanami, actually. you know more about him than i do and i want to be at an advantage.” you grabbed a carton of eggs from your pantry, as well as a jug from your cabinet.

“well, in that case, i’m all ears. i’ll tell you his deepest, darkest secrets and his turn on’s, even ones he doesn’t know he has.” satoru’s smile could be heard through his words.

“don’t be so crude, gojo. i’m being serious.” you scolded him, cracking an egg.

after an enlightening conversation with maki and nobara last night— which consisted of them laughing at your irrational behaviour, and recreating said behaviour in your living room— they told you that you should find out more about him from his own friends, namely satoru.

“okay, fine. but there is one teeny tiny condition. you have to call me satoru from now on.”

“absolutely not.”

“please?”

“no.”

“pretty please? it will help you get nanamin!”

“how will it– fine… satoru.” you surrendered, reluctantly. he was so insufferable, but you truthfully enjoyed the friendship you had, even if satoru was perhaps the most irritating man you’d encountered.

“yippee!” you pulled a face he obviously could not witness (of course he was the type of man to say yippee…)

“okay, first of all, do you have a pencil skirt?”

౨ৎ

nanami kento was… well, he was dumbfounded, for lack of a more dramatic term. the dramatics were your thing, and you seemed to amp it up overnight. it was like you peered into his mind, his secrets, his innermost less-than-gentlemanly thoughts. but before that…

he’d already spent the night tossing, turning, and quite frankly pacing his bedroom thinking about the feeling of your sweet lips on his cheek.

how could he be acting so childish over a kiss on the cheek of all places? it was like a time warp back into his formative years, with his sad, asymmetrical fringe and a permanent dust of blush on his cheek if a girl even spoke to him.

he remembered how satoru would tease him back then, the same way he would now:

“aw look, nanami is blushing! he must think that girl is pretty, huh?” satoru teased, poking a 16 year old nanami in the arm.

“shut up gojo… you’re so insufferable.” he muttered, fiddling with the strands of his hair.

“you speak like an old man, nanami, has anyone ever told you that?” satoru jokingly wrapped an arm around the boy, who just glared at him.

“yes. you have. every time we speak.”

“ignore him, nanami. he’s trying to rile you up on purpose.” shoko mused, clearly getting a kick out of it but wanting to spare nanami from the situation, “i’m gonna go for a smoke…”

“those things are bad for you, moron. i’ll take one too, though.” suguru chimed in, following shoko outwards.

nanami wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, but suguru was getting quieter than usual.

“they’re so… anyway, if you like the girl, you should go for it. no harm in shooting your shot.” satoru continued, while nanami rolled his eyes.

“i don’t care for relationships. all it does is distract me from what i need to be doing with my life.” nanami mumbled dispassionately.

“wow. i knew you were cold, nanami, but that’s just… damn. relationships are fun. and i would know since i’ve had like, 40 of ‘em. you’re kinda… mean, nanami. wait, i just thought of the most genius nickname for you…” satoru’s voice trailed off.

“nanamin!” nanami snapped out of his reminiscence of the past, by the ever disappointing sound of satoru’s voice.

“are you having a good morning? feeling nice and relaxed, full of life?” satoru cheesed, of course it was because he’d had a master plan in action, but nanami didn’t yet know that. so of course he assumed satoru was being his usual self.

“what in god’s name are you talking about, gojo? can you please save the theatrics for a time where i am not present?” he sighed woefully.

“i don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you–”

“gojo. must you make the same joke over and over? it’s been well over a decade by now.”

“alright, alright. it doesn’t matter. the point is, i hope you have a beautiful week.” satoru bowed in an unusual politeness, and made his way towards the door.

“is– is that it?” nanami asked with slight reluctance.

“no, that’s not it, but for now… i am finished. bye bye!” satoru quickly stormed out of the room before nanami could even give a response. (he was too busy realising gojo is exactly the type of man to say ‘bye bye’. and why did everyone keep leaving before he could respond?)

regardless, nanami’s poor mind wandered back to you again. he was torn between two options: give in to that voice in the back of his head– that almost sounded like satoru?– and take what he finally wants for once; or do the responsible, level-headed thing that he would usually do.

of course he should choose the latter, but it was easier said than done because the minute he saw you, the former option seemed much more appealing to him.

maybe if he avoided you, it would be easier to be rational! yes! that’s exactly what he’d do, he’d just ignore you— fuck.

the timing was cruel. the moment the thought formed in his mind, there you were with a coffee cup, knocking on his door.

but it wasn’t only your presence that had shaken him up, it was when he invited you in and saw the tight-fitted, black pencil skirt adorning your body.

“good morning! i hope i’m not disturbing you.” you beamed, closing the door behind you.

“…oh! no, i was just preparing our project for today,” nanami mentally slapped himself, he’d practically been ogling you but if you’d noticed, you weren’t showing it. he turned his head to the clock on his wall, then back to you, “you’re here a little bit early today. you aren’t expected to be here for another 20 minutes, and as you can see by the empty bullpen, none of the other staff prefer having an early start. did you need something?” nanami willed himself to keep his eyes level.

“yes, actually. i wanted to know more about this project, and how i could be of better service since it’s my first week…” you were deeply satisfied to see nanami’s eyes descend down your body with a complete lack of subtlety, and shoot back upwards hastily as if he were chastising himself.

you loved gojo satoru right now.

“ahem, yes, well i’d be happy to talk you through it, the project, and how you can use this as a foundation for future endeavours too. i’m sure with your past experience, you’ll be very useful. for the project.” nanami briefly considered launching himself out of the nearby window.

“you’re so kind, i really appreciate that about you.” you gave the man a heartfelt compliment, “i also got you a coffee from the bakery to apologise for my clumsiness… but you’d be better off taking it from me otherwise i’ll most likely spill it.” you laughed while he grabbed the cup from your hand.

“you really shouldn’t have, i told you it was fine. but i- is that black coffee?" he interrupted himself, the smell of the bitter drink invading his nostrils.

"i may have asked around to find out your favourite... i hope that's okay." you grinned, knowing this was only the beginning of your plan (operation: get nanami laid, as satoru crudely named it.)

"it's more than okay, i didn't have time to get my own this morning because of the workload i have today, so thank you. speaking of, would you like to stand by my desk while i show you the plan for this week's project?" nanami took a sip from his cup, familiar with the rich taste, and he sighed satisfactorily.

"of course, i'm really interested to see what the–shit!" with the grace of a landmine, you knocked a pot of stationery off of nanami's desk, and it landed with a thud onto the floor.

"you should stop making such a habit of this." nanami chuckled as he watched you scramble to the floor next to him.

"i'm like a human tornado. seriously, i should be padded with foam to prevent accidents to myself and others." you peered up at him (bad idea), seeing him loom over your kneeling body and it made you dizzy with want.

nanami, meanwhile, felt like he was unknowingly participating in a social experiment in which he had to resist the temptations of the perfect woman. and with god as his witness, he was failing miserably.

what was it about your eyes that had him so enraptured? his plan to avoid you so he could impede exact moments such as this had been cast aside.

he just needed to get through the week.

"i swear, you are just as dramatic as gojo, if not more. here," he offered his hand, something that had become a frequent occurence, and pulled you up, causing you to almost stumble into him, "you okay?"

"yes, i'm okay. let's agree to ignore my elegant slip ups and then you can tell me all about this proposal." you exhaled.

"right. this is the premise of what we do here. the company collects clients which is decided by the board, made up of each department manager and including my superiors. for this project, we have the author torugu gusetsu, who we have worked with previously on a compilation of short stories and poems." nanami explained thoroughly, making sure you were following along.

"shades of winter! i have that in my collection, it was beautifully written and the design was perfect for the central theme."

"yes, the design is one of my favourites, gojo put all his efforts into that. torugu has brought us a novel this time, similar to the themes of shades of winter, so gratefully he has chosen to work with us again. our department first focuses on the editing, so each and every one of us will have to read it and give initial notes. i have previous examples of notes i have written if you'd like to see them." nanami releases your hand— oh god, he'd been holding it the entire time and neither of you noticed— and hands you a folder full of exquisitely written notes.

"these are the notes i wrote for mieko kawakami's heaven: roman novel. it's important to highlight specific lines and chapters which you find compelling, as well as sections you feel aren't as necessary. after this process, we have a meeting and discuss these notes, and relay them back to the author. this is where the marketing comes in. our department creates advertisements and ways to build excitement with the public before the book's release." he continues, skillfully averting your eyes to avoid you seeing the blush tinting his cheeks.

"so things like press tours, promotions that showcase the best parts of the book?" you added for confirmation.

"exactly, we have our hands full in this department." he nodded affirmatively, "publishing and marketing used to be two separate departments, until they conjoined the two. it's the reason we have the most staff."

nanami continued to give you the details until you felt you were prepared.

"do you have any questions?" he asked you.

"not at the moment, but i'll be sure to come to you if i think of any. you've really helped me out, thank you... sir." you bowed, hiding the tiny smirk planted on your lips.

"what exactly is that going to do? i'm sure he gets called sir all the time, how will it be any different if i say it?" you grabbed a forkful of your fried egg from the plate.

"trust me, it's completely different," satoru remarked, "he insists that everyone use his family name, and i've always known it's because he secretly loves that title a little too much, if you know what i mean." was it possible to hear someone's eyebrows raising through the phone? you certainly could.

"oh...so he likes being an authority figure. i have to admit, i didn't expect nanami to be so... kinky?" you outwardly cringed at your word choice.

"wait until i tell you about his obsession with tights..."

౨ৎ...

nanami watching you strut of out of his office, tights covering your lower body, was only the beginning of his torment.

every day for the rest of the week, you walked in, with the sheer material wrapped around your legs, and the intent to kill him.

it started with you depending on him with all of your questions, though they were warranted, and ending them with an appreciative thank you, sir!

then, you began asking him if he wanted anything from the bakery- hah, as if supplying him with baked goods would get him to crack!

but each time you brought him a morning snack, you simply had to accompany it with a handwritten message on a sticky note:

'i hope you enjoy my delicious homemade treat (hehehe just kidding, i could never take credit for our bakery's work) i drew you as a cat, he's called nyanami! he's eating a croissant just like you'

'nyanami has an apple strudel today. i wasn't sure if he likes them so i got him his favourite too: a beignet. i hope you enjoy them together. P.S. if you actually don't like apple strudels i will give it to my real life cat because he definitely likes them. :3'

'i'm glad you liked the strudel. today's divine snack is my favourite, so i drew nyanami and catoru (satoru as a cat) fighting over the choux bun. happy friday sir!'

yes, friday. even though nanami deeply appreciated the daily mediocre cat drawings, friday was the worst day of the week. you were cruel, you were so, so cruel to do this to him when he'd tried so hard to remain a gentleman.

you'd handed him the choux bun, along with the note, and instead of making your exit you'd stood opposite him.

"is something wrong?"

you hummed, rocking back and forth on the heels of your shoes, "i just wanted to savour the moment of you enjoying the pastry i got you. because it's my favourite."

nanami snickered, "are you after some of my snack?"

"well if you insist! possession is nine tenth's of the law, after all. plus, i didn't get myself one today." you sat in the chair he'd pulled out for you, watching him split the bun in half.

"oh yeah? why not?" he passed you your half.

"i didn't think i wanted it that badly, but now that it's in front of me, i can't think of anything i want more." your hand, that wasn't currently holding the pastry, reached up to hold your neck, and you winced slightly, "my neck has been killing recently, i must not be sleeping properly."

"you know, i took a short massage therapy class in college once." nanami informed you.

"wow, really? i had no idea!" which of course, was a lie. satoru had already told you.

"yes, it was quite unusual for me. though it did become useful since… some old friends needed them often." he seemed to almost mutter the last part, glancing to the side of the room.

"could you give me one? it feels like someone punched me in the back of my neck.” you rolled your head around to exaggerate the pain.

“i- uh, sure. i’m a little rusty, though.” nanami stammered, caught off guard by your request.

he stood from his desk chair, moving behind you and reluctantly pushing your hair to your shoulder.

“here, i’ll tie it up so it’s out of your way.” you quickly grabbed your hair and tied it into a ponytail, and for a brief moment nanami had a carnal urge to tug at it.

“where exactly does it hurt? right here?” he pressed a thumb against the lower part of your neck, hitting the knot that formed there. you inhaled, flinching slightly which indicated to nanami he’d found the sore spot.

“i’m going to pinch the side of your neck with my fingers, and drag the skin back until i get to the ache, okay?” he explained as he did exactly that.

you sighed, partly at the relaxation of the massage, but mostly at nanami’s hand grasping at your neck.

“that… feels good.” you breathed, tilting your head downwards.

behind you, nanami focused on the pressure his hand was demonstrating, the sound of his clock ticking on the wall, anything that wasn’t how intimate this exchange was. he hadn’t touched more than your hand since that one night, and now he had his fingers kneading into your skin, he felt like his morals were crumbling before his very eyes.

“is it working?” his voice betrayed him, the words sounding hoarse and breathless.

“mm… definitely. your hands feel amazing.” you murmured, affecting nanami in precisely the way you’d hoped. you heard him exhale quietly, almost like he was shuddering.

though you couldn’t see, nanami’s eyes were fluttering out of his control, as they watched the way you squirmed at his touch. bringing his other hand upwards to your neck, he pressed both thumbs onto the knot in your muscle, holding them down and circling them to massage the knot.

a whine unintentionally slipped past your lips. this was all part of the plan satoru had devised, but you weren’t expecting nanami to be this good with his hands…

“right there, sir… that’s where i feel it the most.”

…and that’s how nanami ended up inside of a bathroom cubicle, tugging at his aching cock to the thought of you.

he felt like a perverted man, he had never felt so strongly for a woman to commit such a depraved act.

sliding his hand up and down the length, he bucked his hips into nothing, wishing, praying, begging that he could be inside of you.

all week long, you had tortured him, tempted him, and he made such an effort to defy his own cravings. but like a phantom, you kept appearing and reeling him in.

throwing his head back, his eyebrows furrowed, nanami thought only of you.

your hands, easily engulfed by his. would they even cover his dick? you’d have to use two. would you slowly drag your hands up and down, and up, and down, teasing him? would you thumb at the slit, circling around it just as he had done to your neck?

oh god, and your mouth. he’d kill to watch you struggle, parting your lips, trying to fit him inside.

and your damn eyes. staring at him from below, always pleading with him for something he wasn’t even sure of. your eyes, boring into his, while he thrusted into your tight warmth.

your eyes, rolling back as he filled you up.

“oh, my god…” he inhaled through gritted teeth, so close to release.

come for me… sir.

nanami’s mouth gaped open as his cock twitched, spurting his hot seed into the bunched up tissue in his hand.

and as he caught his breath, nanami kento was overcome with sick guilt.

hours later, satoru made a visit to your department during lunch break.

“hey, you. how’s it going today?” he squatted down beside you casually as you opened up the boxed lunch you had prepared this morning.

“okay, i think? he’s been holed up in his office all morning, i’ve barely seen him since earlier.” you whispered tentatively.

“i would have loved to be a fly on the wall when that went down.” satoru smirked, stealing an apple slice from your container.

you swatted his hand away, “he’s unsurprisingly amazing at massages. he was acting kind of weird after it was over though, apparently there was an emergency board meeting?”

“what? i wasn’t called to that–” satoru stopped mid crunch of his apple, “ohhhh. what a naughty man he is.” satoru came to some realisation that you had yet to find.

“wait, tell me! what do you mean ohhhh?” you mimicked.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about that. anyway, are you ready for phase three of operation: get nanami laid?” he ruffled your hair, to your dismay, and stood upright.

“i told you not to call it that. but yes, go ahead.” you fixed your hair, lifting up the compact mirror from your desk and checking your appearance.

“okay, say ‘toru!”

click!

[image attachment]

satoru: lunch break with my new favourite co-worker :p

shoko: ew

she’s not even from your department

satoru: so? she’s the only one who calls me satoru which means i like her more than you two

nanami: why are you touching her shoulder?

shoko: stop trying to get all alpha male with each other

besides i met her first which means she’s my favourite

satoru: EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER NOISE

nanami: shut up, gojo.

are you still in my department? don’t you have more important things to do? for instance, your job?

satoru: nuh uh

it’s my break

i might take her to that bakery across the street, i’ve heard it’s really good

nanami: absolutely not. she’s not going anywhere with you.

shoko: did i lace my cigarettes with crack? what’s going on

satoru: i don’t remember asking for your permission nanamin

she told me she wants to go to pick something up for ryo

shoko: who the fuck is that

nanami: why do you know the name of her cat?

satoru: because i’ve met ryoki before and she loves me?

i mean duh ;p

shoko: okay fine no one explain anything to me then

nanami has sent you a message!

nanami: good afternoon. if you’re free, i’d like to visit the animal adoption agency you mentioned at the end of the day.

you: really? that’s great! let me double check my calendar

nanami: of course, if you’re not available i’ll wait until you can accompany me.

you: i’m in! when do you finish work today?

nanami: i haven’t got any extra work to complete, so hopefully right on time.

you: perfect, i can’t wait!

“am i amazing or what?” satoru smiled self-assuredly after you showed him the messages between yourself and nanami.

“i don’t want to inflate your ego any further, but yes. yes you are.” you shared a high five.

“all he has to do now is adopt a kitty and pounce on yours.”

“way to ruin a moment, gojo.” you deadpanned.

“hey! it’s satoru to you.”

౨ৎ…!

author’s note: i don’t know why my chapters start off so strong and then slowly go downhill writing wise. it’s the burnout i whisper to myself. anyway this was a chapter. it’s the first time i’ve written anything remotely smutty for this series, but of course it will NOT be the last. i hope it gives you a taste of what’s to come (eyebrow raising emoji)

i wish i could write this entire story in one day but alas my brain power is not what it used to be. i do however, have a solid plan for how i want it to end, and also some sweet moments (and angsty, too) in between.

i want to thank everyone for their patience with this story so far, i know it takes me a while to release chapters but it’s because my job SUCKS so i never have any time to be creative. plus, i want this to be perfect.

with that being said, see you next chapter!

(meow.)

© SUTAAGAARU 2024. do not repost, translate, or duplicate any of my works here or any other websites.

taglist: @higurumapet @opheliaas-stuff @diogodxlot @socialanxietyvictim @delirious-donna @zombriesworld @aomi04 @topiatwinss @doyouevenshipit @levin4nami

[pokopippitypop]

I've literally never read any of this segment Gerard Way wrote (?) for Rolling Stone about Queen before?? lowkey got jump scared by his name while reading this article /pos

My dad was a mechanic. He worked on a lot of bottom-of-the-rung cars that didn't have cassette decks. But they had 8-tracks. Somebody left an 8-track tape of Queen's Greatest Hits in a car — the one where they're wearing leather jackets on the cover, and Freddie's got the mustache. I loved it immediately, and I came to emulate Freddie both as a child and as an adult.

"Bohemian Rhapsody" is arguably the greatest song ever written. I'm sure people told them it was too long or had too many movements. But then it came out and just took hold of the world. When you're in a band and you find something that breaks every rule, it gives you creative hope. And Queen were always trying something new; none of their hit songs were paint-by-numbers.

When My Chemical Romance were making The Black Parade, we watched tons of documentary footage about A Night at the Opera, Queen's best album. We used Brian May amps and wrote songs with different movements. But we didn't try to make another "Bohemian Rhapsody." Whenever someone tries to do that, they fail.

I love the way Freddie performed. He would strike amazing poses; maybe he practiced them in front of a mirror, but he wasn't pretending to be somebody else. That was him telling the world, "This is who I am." I remember when the surviving members of Queen were looking for a singer a few years ago, I was like, "I would love to try it." Freddie's songs are just so much fun to sing, and he had such stamina. I would definitely have to quit smoking to be able to do what he did.

Queen fell in and out of being cool, maybe because they were so sincere. Rock music is all about being phony sometimes. And they weren't. They were obviously so psyched to be doing what they were doing.

They had a polarizing quality. I heard a story — maybe apocryphal — that Queen played a festival and got booed off the stage. Freddie vowed they would return as the biggest band in the world. And they did. When we played the Reading and Leeds festivals, we had to follow Slayer, and got bottles of piss thrown at us. I thought, "If we ever come back here, we're gonna headline it." I've always held on to the same dreams as Freddie.

Best Musicians, Artists of All Time According to Rolling Stone – Rolling Stone

[munsonsmixtapes]

Fulfill My Fantasy

Based on this poll, it looks like rockstar!Eddie has won!

rockstar!Eddie x plus size!groupie!reader

summary: you jump at the chance to finally hook up with your celebrity crush in a porta potty at a music festival

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) reader calls Eddie a good boy

If you were being honest, you had been convinced that you were put on this earth for the sole reason to fuck rockstars. You had been in the pants of the most famous names out there, each one being surprisingly easier than the last. They were always so eager to get into anyone’s pants and you always left them wanting more even though you never slept with the same person twice.

Your most recent target was Eddie Munson, even though you weren’t sure you would have been able to get to him because he was always already with someone. You almost had him in Texas, but saw him enter his dressing room with another girl so you took the loss and tried again in Missouri only for the same thing to happen.

You felt a little stupid for trying so hard if it wasn’t going to work out, so you just decided that you’d give up and stopped following Corroded Coffin on tour. You then settled for men who you weren’t interested in, completely forgetting about Eddie altogether since you knew that wouldn’t happen. It was all just a pipe dream, it seemed.

You found yourself at yet another music festival, on the prowl for yet another celebrity to add to your list, but weren’t finding anyone who you felt was worth your time. They were all either creeps or just weren’t interested in you. But then, as if the universe had listened, your eyes locked on Beckett Brooks, the guitarist of one of your favorite bands, who was purchasing a beer from one of stalls.

You made a beeline for him and stood behind him to act like you were in line. You didn’t know why you were nervous since you had done the same thing more times that you could count. Maybe it was because you had looked up to him for so many years.

You tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around, giving you a bright smile once he caught sight of you. You watched his eyes rake down your body and you were eating it up, hoping he was liking what he saw.

“Hi,” he greeted and your smile matched his as he put his hand out for you to shake. “I’m Beckett,” he introduced himself and you shook his hand briefly before letting yours fall back by your side.

“Y/n,” you replied and he nodded and he turned to grab the beer he had purchased that was sitting on the counter of the stall and twisted off the cap before taking a swig of the drink.

“Can I buy you a drink?” There was no way you were drinking with no one around to take care of you, but you’d definitely take a soda or water because it was so hot in the summer heat.

“I’ll take a water.” You really needed to hydrate, especially with what the two of you were going to get up to if you played your card right.

“Sure,” he nodded and ordered you a water while you tried to amp up the flirting to really get the ball rolling.

“I saw you on stage earlier,” you told him as he handed you the bottle of water and he looked at you in interest, as if he was intrigued by what you were saying.

“Oh yeah?” He titled his head to the side and pushed some of his blond hair out of the way. You thought the long hair suited him and wondered what it felt like. It looked soft and shiny in the sunlight.

“Mhm,” you nodded, taking a sip from your water.

“What’d you think?” They were great as always, but you couldn’t help but notice that they were pitchy in a few spots.

“You guys were really good,” you told him, putting on the excited face that men always ate up. “Especially you.” You stepped closer to him and wanted to push some hair behind his ear when you felt an arm drape over your shoulder.

You turned your head and held in a gasp as you saw that Eddie Munson was standing next to you. He was dressed in a mesh top that showed off his tattoos and nipple piercings off so nicely. The top was paired with a very short pair of black shorts and you had to stop yourself from drooling at how hot he looked. Honestly, it should have been illegal.

He turned to you with his signature mega watt smile and you tried to figure out what he was up to. You had had maybe a couple of conversations with him over the years and honestly didn’t think that he even knew who you were. Especially not enough to have his arm draped over your shoulders as if you were old friends.

“Sorry I’m late, hon,” he smiled and you furrowed your eyebrows, unsure as to what he was up to. You barely knew each other and now he was acting as if you were super close despite the face that you had only had a few conversations that had only consisted of small talk.

“Eddie, man, so good to see you,” Beckett greeted him, but Eddie couldn’t have given less of a fuck, keeping his gaze on you. You looked into his eyes and the sun reflected off of them, making them a warm honey color that was just so pretty.

“Hey, Beck,” he gave him a wave, still keeping his eyes locked on yours. “I think Millie, you know, your girlfriend, was looking for you.” Eddie finally turned to the guitarist and gave him a look that told him to get lost and Beckett was quick to make himself scarce.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I should go find her. It was nice to meet you, y/n.” This wasn’t the first time that you found out that one of them had a significant other, but at least you had found out before sleeping with one them this time.

You pushed Eddie’s arm off of you and turned to face him, wondering what he was playing at. You had a feeling that this little game was for his own personal gain and that he wasn’t just trying to protect you like he may have wanted you to believe.

He just smiled at you and you hated that you almost wanted to melt looking into his stupid, pretty brown eyes. It was almost as if he was looking at you on purpose and you had a feeling that look got him out of so much trouble.

“What the fuck was that?” You yelled, ignoring the eyes that were now on you. Eddie just crossed his arms over your chest and blinked at you as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, y/n,” he shrugged and that made you even more angry. He wasn’t going to get away with what he did and you were going to make sure of it.

“Bullshit.” You stepped closer to him and he mimicked your actions, a grin breaking out on his face.

“Oh, she’s getting angry.” You were falling right into his trap and you didn’t even care. He deserved to be yelled at.

“Of course I’m angry. You drove Beckett away while I was just about to get him.” You weren’t even close to getting him, but you could have been having him in that moment if Eddie hadn’t ruined it for reasons you were still unsure of.

“I think that was an exaggeration,” he laughed. “But I honestly think you dodged a bullet. I mean, he has a girlfriend and honestly, he’s not that great in bed.” He grimaced as if he had been speaking from experience and that didn’t surprise you since Eddie was openly bisexual and seemed to get around just as much or maybe even more than you did.

“Right, of course you’d know.” You crossed your arms over your chest and smirked as Eddie’s face twisted into a look of anger.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He glared and you just stepped closer to him so you were toe to toe.

“We both know what to means. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to find a hook up since you ran mine off.” You turned on your heel and searched around for another person as Eddie followed you, not wanting to lose you in any of the crowds. He has already been looking for you all day and wasn’t going to have all of that time go to waste.

Little did you know that he had wanted to hook up with you just as much as you wanted to hook up with him. He had wanted you the moment he saw you, but he was just so intimidated by your beauty that his mouth went dry when he tried to talk to you. So, he settled for another girl and let you slip through his fingers twice.

Today was the day, though. He was desperate for you and really needed to know how his dick felt inside you and it was driving him mad thinking about you. Maybe interrupting your conversation with Beckett was wrong, but he thought you deserved to know the truth about him even if the reason why he did it was selfish.

“Hey, wait up!” He grabbed your arm and pulled you back, turning you around to face him. “Why don’t you hook up with me?”

“After what you just pulled? Fuck no!” You laughed and even though it was at him, Eddie still loved the sound and wondered what he could do to make you do it again.

“Listen,” he licked his lips. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you in Atlanta, okay?” You figured he hadn’t been lying since he remembered the exact city he first saw you. And even though you believed him, he was not off the hook.

“I saw you backstage and ran into a wall because I was staring at you.” You didn’t believe that, though. Unless he had some sort of proof, you were convinced that he was lying. If he wanted to have you, he was going to try harder. He was going to have to beg. On his knees. With tears.

“Right. So that’s why you passed on me twice?” You had a point there. That definitely didn’t make him look good.

“I was nervous. You’re just so pretty that I was intimidated.” You laughed again and wondered how stupid he thought you were. This definitely wasn’t your first time hearing that and it wouldn’t be the last.

“This may work on new groupies, but I’ve been around long enough to have heard that line more times than I can count. You know, for an alleged casanova, you’re doing really bad at this.”

“What do you want me to do, y/n? Beg?” Exactly. He was finally getting it and you didn’t even have to spell it out for him.

“Right on the money, Munson. You’re not as dumb as you look.”

“I can beg,” he nodded furiously.

At that, Eddie dropped to his knees and grabbed onto your hips while he looked at you. You loved seeing him so small and pathetic and were eating up the way his eyebrows pinched together as if he was in pain.

“Please forgive me,” he begged, his voice coming out like a whine and you felt yourself getting wet at the sound of it.

“Gonna need a little more.” Your hands moved to his hair, giving his head a scratch.

“Please,” he said again, his words somehow coming out even more whiny. “I promise I’ll be a good boy.” Your pussy was become a sopping mess and you desperately needed him inside you.

“Alright, I forgive you,” you nodded, giving his head another scratch and he hummed at the sound. “Now c’mon.” You pulled him to his feet and took him by hand to lead him to the only private place you could think of.

“Where are we going?” He asked and you just ignored him, pulling him across the grass as fast as you could without breaking out into a full on sprint.

You finally got to the porta potties and Eddie nodded, finally understanding what you were getting at. You pulled him to the only vacant one at the far end and he opened the door, letting you in first. You both squeezed inside, the space very tight and your lips were on his in an instant, not wanting to waste any time since the place wasn’t somewhere anyone wanted to be for longer than necessary.

You liked into his mouth and he let out a whimper as his hands moved to your waist, his hands dipping into the waist band of your skirt as your tongues swirled around each other, the two of your letting out moans as you did so.

“Take off my skirt,” you instructed and he was quick to oblige.

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded.

“Good boy,” you patted his head and it drove him wild to hear you call him that, practically creaming his pants at hearing it.

Eddie removed your skirt in record speed before taking off his shorts and underwear. He reached into the pockets of his shorts and pulled out a condom before opening it and rolling the thing onto his cock then thrusting into you, both of you letting out moans as he did so.

He thrusted in and out of you slowly so the movement wouldn’t rock the porta potty even though you both always wanted it fast and hard. You grabbed onto his shoulders and dug your fingers into them, pressing little crescent shapes into the skin as you did so.

“Fuck, so good,” you moaned and Eddie continued, testing the waters by moving a little faster and harder and you moaned even louder, digging your nails further into his skin. He responded by grabbing onto the backs of your thighs and you jumped, knowing that he would be able to catch you even though you were bigger than him. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you buried your face into his neck as he fit all of himself inside of you, both of you letting out loud moans as he did so.

“Taking me so well, hon,” he breathed. “Look so good wrapped around me too. Like, fuck. You’re even hotter than I imagined.” He continued to pump in and out of your cunt and his fingers dug into your ass as he tried to keep putting all of himself inside of you, your moans getting louder as he did so.

“Same goes for you. You’re much bigger than I anticipated.” That was exactly what he liked to hear and in response, he pumped the hardest and fastest he could, nor even caring if it made the whole thing too over.

“Sh-shit, Eddie. Oh my god.” Your head tilted back as your eyes closed and Eddie wished he had a camera to photograph just how fucking hot you looked in that moment.

Just as you both reached your climaxes, the porta potty did in fact tip over and it was needless to say that the both of you had been asked to leave and were told that you were never allowed to return to the event ever again.

But neither of you cared and you laughed your entire way to your car to continue where you left off, finding it hilarious that you really thought you could get away with fucking in a porta potty. Well, at least you both had a great story to tell to tell people how you officially met.

[strgrlxox]

⤷ ☆☆★ NICE FACE

ELLIE WILLIAMS / FEM!READER

SUMMARY            ❫⠀───     this req was the cutest thing ever 

WORD COUNT     ❫⠀───     771

  ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

ellie was easy to fluster. all you had to do was let your arm brush against hers or make prolonged eye contact with her and she rewarded you with her cute stutters and that pretty blush that settled on her freckled cheeks. you knew she liked you. hell, everyone knew she liked you. you just wished she knew you liked her.

you made it as obvious as you possibly could. always spending time with her when you could, going out of your way to touch her, being extra helpful by doing things you knew she didn’t want to. but she just didn’t seem to take the hint. no matter how persistently you tried to give it to her. 

you began to think that maybe you just misread her, maybe she only acts this way around you because you make her uncomfortable or something. but dina and jesse both told you that ellie was hopelessly in love with you, which made you unbelievably giddy. so you amped it up, complimenting ellie way more and doing even more for her. 

ellie had invited you over to her place, something she’s done many times before but everytime she asks so sheepishly and cute while avoiding looking at you. and everytime you agreed to come over, she would smile at you so wide and make eye contact with you…you could literally see how ecstatic she was.

you were comfortable on ellie’s couch. the two of you had already done an elaborate skincare routine at your instance (ellie complained but she loved it). now, you were watching a movie at ellie’s instance, some random horror film. you weren’t paying much attention to it…or any attention at all really. ellie just looked too good for you not to focus on her. and then she looked up at you. the way she always does when she catches you staring at her, curious but timid. “what're you lookin’ at?”

although the words themselves are a little standoffish, the way she says them makes you smile. the little laugh that leaves her lips and the way she scratched the back of her neck while avoiding your eye contact. god, and the little crease in between her brows that you wanted to kiss so badly. ellie really had no clue just how much of an effect she had on you.

“you.” you deadpan while squinting at her, the fact that you don’t look away makes goosebumps form on her arms. she rubs her skin to make them go away, still wondering how whenever you caught her staring at you she could get so flustered but here you were, shamelessly doing the exact same thing to her.

“i can see that.” she rolls her eyes playfully, clearing her throat. “but why?”

“cause you’re pretty.”

she throws her head back and groans, making you chuckle. when she sits back up straight you can see that she is flushed. you smile wider because you (not so) secretly longed for that cute blush that would spread across her freckled cheeks when you called her that.

“okay.” she sighs, meeting your eyes for a moment before shaking her head and looking away. 

“okay? that’s it?” you narrow your eyes at her, putting a hand on your chest and feigning offense. “i don’t get a compliment back?”

“no—i mean, you have a…” she pauses, blinking rapidly. “nice face.”

your smile spreads immensely as you try to hold in a laugh. “really?”

“you’re making fun of me.” she hides her face in her hands. you reach for them, pulling them away so that you can see her. the little pout she has on her mouth looks so cute. very dramatic, yes, but still adorable. you find yourself wanting to taste it, wondering if she’d blush all pretty again if you did. you lean in to see if she would pull away, your breathing slowing as her eyes flicker down to your mouth. 

your hands meet her cheeks and you pull her closer so that your lips meet. despite how shy she could be, you wouldn’t know it by the way she kisses you. ardent and feverish but still so tender. she moans softly when you bite her lip and it takes everything in you to pull away from her mouth. you rest your forehead on hers and you can feel it when her breath fans across your face. “thank you. you have a nice face too.” you laugh so softly that if she wasn’t so close to you she probably wouldn’t have heard. she smiles and then pulls you back into her so she can kiss breathless again.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Staying alive - Dante and his s/o

It works, you can't tell me otherwise!

Devil May Dance - Stayin' Alive, by Bee Gees

Pairing: Dante x Reader

Summary: Oh, hellish imps. One of your least favorite demons. It doesn't help that they managed to chain you to a chair at the local Disco - luckily, Dante will surely be there to save the day. And to dance.

Author's Note: I friggin' love this song, thanks so much anon for throwing this with Dante here, it works like a charm!! I almost screamed when I saw it xD My mom is a HUGE Bee Gees fan, so I listen to their songs all the time since I was born hahahaha

I've been writing this one since you guys sent me the songs, but as I mentioned before, my health got in the way as always. I'm managing my energy and a bunch of personal issues that appeared the last couple of months, so I decided to finish this one and focus on the Halloween specials of this year! Fret not, though. I'm keeping all your suggestions and I'll write them - it's just gonna take longer than I expected "^^ Also, there's a throwback here to a very special Devil May Dance, hope you guys like it!

Well, out of all the situations you could have found yourself in, that would be your most unexpected one.

It was a stupid mistake, really. A step in a wrong place, a weaker grip on your sword, a miscalculated attack from an enemy. When you least expected, there you were, caught by a bunch of hellish imps, tied to a chair on the local Disco in town, of all places.

With the imps, well, imping around as all those annoying little creatures used to do.

They were one of your least favorite types of demons, that you had to be honest with yourself.

“You know, if you keep doing that, you’re gonna end up breaking it, stupid little thing.” You said with a sigh, head boringly held by one of your hands.

“Says the big bad devil hunter tied to a chair!” The imp taunted back, still smacking the amplifier. You could kick it into oblivion and make it fly to the next country without a plane, but with those chains you were really useless. You sighed again.

“That’s an amp, you buffoon. Its purpose is to amplify sound, if you want something to happen, you have to put some music on, jerk.” Yes, Vergil’s vocabulary got to you – then again, the best way to describe those demons was ‘buffoon’. Vergil’s colorful vocabulary did have a purpose.

“Blah blah blah – talking too much for someone in your situation!” The room exploded in a bunch of high-pitched devilish laughs and you could only roll your eyes.

“Honestly, I hope that thing breaks and electrifies you. That will serve you as a lesson, you moron.”

As if words had power, the thing immediately broke on the hellish imp hands and sent a wave of electrifying shock through its body – making it shake viciously and drop the thing immediately as it fell to the ground with the tongue sticking out of the mouth and mumbling something while unconscious. The other imps stared at you as you smiled with pride – as if you had actually done something.

“Told ya.” You perked on your chair, looking as proud as you could in that situation. Your weapons were tossed on the other side of the room – and you had already gone through the suffering of watching those buffoons playing around with your stuff until they got bored. “Keep messing around and you’ll all end up dead by stupidity.”

Suddenly, a very well-known bass line started playing – followed by a guitar, a set of lights dancing around the club and the colorful squares on the ground starting their own choreography. You raised one eyebrow, trying to understand what was going on and, really, why the Disco started functioning all of a sudden.

“WOOOHOOOOOO!!!!” Until you saw an imp at the sound booth, messing with a bunch of wires, spinning on one of the office chairs – that definitely didn’t belong to the DJ.

Well you can tell by the way I use my walk I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk Music loud and women warm, I’ve been kicked around Since I was born

Well, well, there it was. Stayin’ Alive. Quite fitting, if you had to say, given your situation. Quite ironic too – and if Destiny really was a humanoid entity, you wanted to have a serious talk to it, because why in all hells it had to be joking around with you that much?

“And now it’s alright, it’s ok, and you may look the other way…” You started muttering the lyrics, lightly tapping your foot on the colorful ground. If that song didn’t remind you of your red devil, you didn’t know what would.

Smiling to yourself, you forgot the imps for a while. You could almost see Dante at the Devil May Cry, barefoot on a lazy Saturday, dancing around the floor of the shop while you giggled at his huge desk. He had some great moves and was definitely showing off now that he had someone to dance to – you were reading, comfortably settled on his big chair, until the jukebox started playing Bee Gees and Dante couldn’t stop himself from dancing.

You didn’t last long with your book though: your red devil grabbed your hands, leading you to the center of the shop; your very own dance floor. You never really talked much about that with Dante, but you were quite certain he didn’t have many opportunities to go out dancing and have fun – even if he was the most fun-loving guy you had ever met in your life. He was a Sparda, after all, and you knew how much Dante avoided being around people so he wouldn’t put them in any sort of danger. You could almost see him dancing alone at the Devil May Cry for so many years – probably watching Saturday Night Fever on that sorry old television of his, copying Travolta’s moves and learning it all only to have fun… By himself. But now, he had a partner to share that with – and you could see in the brightness of his smile how much Dante enjoyed it.

Both of you waited a whole lifetime to start enjoying the things you had dreamed about for so long.

You snapped out of your golden memories, though, when you heard a shot and a loud sound of something falling on the ground. Furrowing your brows, you looked to the other side of the room and, lo and behold, those hellish pestering things were messing with your stuff again while prancing around to the sound of disco music.

That was something you never thought you would see in your life.

“Oi, put that down! You’ll end up breaking it!” You pointed at the imps joking around with your guns, but they only made funny faces and flipped you back as a response. You just stared at them with contempt in your face, having almost no expression but a very annoyed one. “I swear, I’m gonna hang you all by your feet when I get rid of these shackles, you fucking clowns.”

Among the laughs and the music, though, another shot rang outside the club. No one really cared about it, until the door burst open because the imps outside were yeeted in – flying through the dance floor while screaming, stamping the wall of the stage right across the club and leaving a trail of blood on it as it fell dead to the floor.

Looking at the door, you couldn’t help but shake your head and smile. Bathed in the dancing lights of the Disco, Dante strutted in – sword resting on his shoulders, arms open while his free hand held one of his guns.

“Ey, you guys started the party without me?” He stopped after taking a few steps in, illuminated by the twinkling lights on the floor and the ceiling – that cocky smile plastered on his lips.

Oh, you loved that man. So much. How couldn’t you?

“Wouldn’t call this a party when I can’t dance.” You showed him your foot chained to the chair – and you could see in those sky-blue eyes, a sort of compassion mixed with love and a little bit of pity; crowned by his endeared but still convinced smile.

“No worries, babe, your man’s here to help you.” With a wink, Dante skillfully glided through the dance floor, shooting some imps on the way. They tried to block the man, but he swept the floor with the demons with a swift move from his sword, back to his shoulder with a flowy movement. “Got the wings of Heaven on my shoes, I’m a dancin’ man and I just can’t lose!”

You had to laugh at how happy Dante looked while gliding his feet on the colorful squares on the ground, spinning around to hit a couple more imps who tried to get to him. Facing you, Dante winked one more time, now keeping his sword on place and dual wielding Ebony and Ivory.

One step to the right, a shot at a flying imp. One step to the left, a shot at another devil who tried to run towards him. Keeping the groove, Dante spun again doing his old trick of shooting around the club and hitting multiple enemies at once – you ducked and covered your head, still laughing at his antics. Spinning his guns in his hands, Dante coordinated his steps, the beat of the song and the shots being fired.

Ah – shot – ah – shot – ah – shot – ah – shot – stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive – and a little pause for a choreography as he faced you, as if Dante was putting on a show for you only.

“Woohoo, get ‘em, cowboy!” You had to. Dante usually had fun while fighting, but not like he was having today – it’s not like it was a difficult or life-threatening fight, so he could afford being a lot more playful and goofy.

And you had to love goofy Dante.

A couple more shots, and the imps surrounding him were all but stunned, laying on the floor while recovering for the next round. So, Dante did what he did best.

“Stayin’ aliiiiiiiiiiiiiveeeeeeee…” Singing out loud, shaking his hips, and pointing around only to finish the phrase pointing at you.

And of course, he had to be even more over the top. As the demons got up from the floor – helping each other, fighting each other, trying to stand and walk a straight line – Dante started to walk towards you in the rhythm of the song, shaking his hips with every step only to accentuate even more every beat, as if he was a cowboy who had just laced you and now was approaching his bounty.

“Pffffft, you’re ridiculously campy, cowboy…” You couldn’t help but slightly flush, hiding your face on the hand you previously leaned on while completely bored. Well, you couldn’t say you were bored anymore.

“Guilty of all charges, sheriff!” As he approached, one imp tried to get him from behind only to be kicked on the face and thrown into oblivion by Dante’s strength in the process – those sky-blue eyes never left you, though, as well as the playful smile on his lips. “You can arrest me and throw away the key!”

“Hmmm, I might keep these chains then. Maybe I can tie you to our bed when we get home.” You had to tease him back, or it wouldn’t be you and Dante. You saw a sparkle of both fun and desire inside his eyes, as Dante let out a delighted laugh – and kicked another demon on the face.

“Ha! Now that…!” And he had to let the choreography down for a couple of seconds to turn around and shot a few more demons – spinning his dual guns in his hands before doing so, and once more to put them back into their place – but quickly turning back to you; resting one of his hands on the back of your chair, leaning down so his eyes would be leveled to yours. “Is somethin’ I’d love to try, sheriff. You can tie me up and love me any day, sugar.”

You would’ve quipped back if Dante hadn’t used his free hand to cup the back of your neck and pull you into a quite loving kiss – given the situation you found yourselves into. The demons were still trying to get back in shape, now that some of them had run away and some others were still insisting on keeping the Disco to themselves, but with Dante around… You didn’t have to care about demons that much.

“First, let’s cut you lose, shall we?” He still had that playful tone in his voice as he let go of your lips, but as Dante kneeled on the floor to see the shackles, his eyes turned to you with nothing but care in them. “Be careful, Imma cut it down, ok?”

You nodded with certainty and kept your feet together, straining the chains as much as you could so Dante could easily cut it with his sword and not fear hurting you in the process.

“And… You’re set free, babe.” Of course, he had to use that sultry tone he always did whenever he decided to use Lucifer or Faust while sparring with you.

And you would’ve paid more attention to that, if it wasn’t for your sheer and rather intense joy of being cut from those chains.

“Ah, freedom, at last!” You got up in a jump, making him laugh with how happy you were. “Now! Who’s the first one I’m gonna hang from the ceiling, huh?!” You had your hands on your hips, staring at the imps with such a deranged fire some of them actually screamed in terror and tumbled away, flying for their lives through the smashed door.

“Will ya look at that!” Dante clapped while laughing, watching as only a few demons remained to try to stand their ground. “I’ve never seen you scaring so many demons at once!”

“See? I’m learning!” You proudly strutted towards your gear on the other side of the room, mirroring the little show Dante put on for you before. He just stood there, hands on his hips, gladly watching you dance. “Gotta thank Vergil for being such a great example!”

“Oh, bet he’s gonna love hearing that!” With a laugh, Dante punched an imp who tried to get him by surprise – now flying away to hit another couple of demons who inadvertently tried to follow. “But hey, keep on shakin’ those hips like that, hot stuff, I might have to one up ya.”

You let out a mischievous giggle in response, now feeling even more motivated to let yourself loose on the dance floor. While checking your guns – making sure they were in one piece, all bullets where they should be, no damages – you kept moving to the rhythm, singing the lyrics you knew so well.

Dante crossed his arms, gladly watching the show you were putting on – now casually hooking your guns to your holsters and moving to check on your sword. The imps gathered together, blabbering around like screeching minions, preparing a supposedly devastating attack with all their forces combined to bring both of you down – but Dante couldn’t care less. He had a delighted smile on his lips, arms still crossed and tapping one of his feet on the floor to the beat of the song, barely holding himself still.

He guessed his lifetime of bad luck was to compensate for the one moment in his life where you appeared – out of nowhere, in the middle of a job, covered in demon blood and spite. That was the luckiest Dante had ever been and he could see that happening as all the luck he never really had.

Who could’ve guessed that after all that hell that he called his existence you out of all people would find him – and see him? Someone with a heart of gold, a soul of steel, a spirit like fire and kindness like water; who would challenge him but also complement him in all the perfect ways Dante could have never imagined.

Watching you dancing while strapping your sword on your back like he always did, turning around to wink at him and shake your hips from side to side to the beat of the song, raising your arms above your head and closing your eyes while smiling… You were better than any dream. You were his partner, his sheriff, his lover. He only wished he could’ve had an entire lifetime with you in it.

“Hoo, is it me or it’s gettin’ hotter in here, babe…?” With those words from his lips, you opened your eyes once more, trying to read what he was about to do when Dante took his sword from its holster and left it on a table.

“Dante…!” You immediately widened your eyes as he started stripping off his coat while making the most obnoxious and campy stripping dance you could have ever seen.

“What…?” Of course, being the man he was, Dante feigned innocence. You just pointed back at him – blushing like the first layers of Hell, but with a radiant smile on your lips. Honestly, he lived just to see that sight every time you decided to grace him with it. Dante would never tire to see you smile so genuinely.

“There are hellish imps here, red devil. Have some decorum.” Again. Vergil’s vocabulary had its purpose – and when it came to his twin brother, you had to admit colorful words were the best you could do to try to voice some of your exasperated feelings.

“Oh, you thinkin’ I’m gonna take it all off?” Dante pointed at himself with his free hand, his coat hanging on the other hand. He let out a hearty laugh right after. “Ha! You are gonna have to work for that, sheriff!”

You had to fall into a fit of laughter as Dante started spinning his coat on the air only to throw it away dramatically, going back to his best Saturday Night Fever dance. You didn’t know if you wanted to melt through the floor into oblivion from embarrassment or if you wanted to get into the challenge. Therefore, laughing was the only choice available, really.

You had to note, though, that the embarrassment only came from having an audience – you could still hear the imps arguing and wondered if they would end up killing each other in disagreement – because if you were both alone at the Devil May Cry… Dante would have the dance-off of a lifetime after that taunt.

“Whether you’re a brother or whether you’re a mother, you’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive!” You decided, even if feeling a little awkward, to mirror Dante’s dancing – pointing at him while singing, finally strutting towards your red devil.

You had your whole life to kill demons – dancing with your lover, though, was a lot more important in your book.

“Feel the city breakin’ and everybody shakin’, and we’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive!” Dante pointed back at you, ready to meet you in the middle. Those lyrics, though, they were quite fitting to both of you – with everything you had to go through on a daily basis, somehow, you always remained alive. Together.

There was some kind of poetry in that. At least in Dante’s point of view.

As the famous riff sang its lyrics, you finally reached each other, starting a perfectly synchronized choreography you both invented during a boring afternoon at the shop – which ended up being not so boring after all. With you dancing while perfectly mirroring him, Dante couldn’t help but have the brightest and most delighted smile on his lips – his face lighting up like the sun, barely noticing he was laughing from enjoying that moment.

The most mirroring he ever got was from a shadow doppelganger at the Temen-ni-gru – and that thing was hell bent on killing him with his own powers and tricks. Now dancing? That was a first. Something he had only seen on movies like Footloose or Grease, something he thought he would only have in the realm of daydreams. Oh, how he loved turning those into reality with you.

“Ready…” Of course, you both were very much aware you weren’t alone - the imps weren't as subtle as they thought they were. Your lives were made mostly of stolen moments like that, but it was something you would never complain about. Better to have those moments than to have nothing at all – and the imps were about to steal it away from you. Looking into those sky-blue eyes, you saw Dante’s typical spark and his smart smile on his lips, winking at you as soon as he understood what your eyes were saying. “NOW! ATTACK!”

“I’m stayin’ alive!” You and Dante sang out loud – if you could call that kind of shouting singing – as you spun on the colorful floor, taking one of your guns from your holsters. You ended up with your backs to each other, your arm by his arm, pointing the guns at the demons at the same time. “Let’s rock!”

The imps expected everything but the rain of bullets. They planned a massive attack, all of them at the same time, and still you and Dante made their forces seem like nothing but a wave of hungry mosquitoes during summer – and that because you were each holding only one of your guns.

They could barely get near you before realizing they wouldn’t be able to make it in one piece. The attack was a failure and the best option they had – for those left alive anyway – was to run. You and Dante kept shooting, hitting bullseye with every quick shot. They first screamed as a battle roar, but now they screeched in terror, fleeing from every broken door and window of the Disco – until there were only you and the red devil left.

“Well, guess we showed ‘em a lesson.” You sighed, relief washing down your spine while you put your gun back into its holster. Dante did the same, but you barely waited for him to look back to you. “Thanks for the rescue, cowboy. It was worthy of Bonnie Tyler’s Holding Out For a Hero.”

“Ah, don’t mention it…” But you cut his dismissive words short with a kiss.

It was intended to be a quick kiss – the types of kisses you would always use to shut him up whenever Dante started self-deprecating or playing down how much he was worth – but soon you wanted more. Stepping closer to him, you didn’t let his lips go, resting your hands on his chest while Dante, even if surprised at first, immediately laid his on your hips. The song was still going, and you both still had the fire to keep dancing, but you could take a few moments to enjoy that kiss with more heart than you intended at first.

You had every intention, though, to keep it going for as long as you could – Dante’s lips were too wonderful to be half-appreciated – but as Stayin’ Alive found its last chords, another song seamlessly started to let its golden beats and delightful guitar color the place with new rhythms and notes. Apparently, the DJ imp had figured out how to keep the whole collection of disco songs playing – and you couldn’t complain about that.

“Hey…” You parted the kiss abruptly, mirroring Dante’s smile from also recognizing the song. “It’s our song, cowboy!”

You held Dante’s hand, pulling him even further into the dance floor, while he let his head hang back with a laugh at the words he never thought he would hear in that damned life of his. Stepping closer to you, he spun you around only to catch you in his arms, dancing together the same way you used to dance at the Devil May Cry – you both giggling and singing to each other.

“Do you remember? The 21st night of September?” Oh, yes. September. The song that wrapped you both in golden dreams and shiny days – the song Dante would always run to you to have you in his arms while singing, the one you would always search his hands to hold while dancing. The one Dante never thought he would be able to have with someone else.

Dante couldn’t have another entire lifetime with you, but he could have that one – and even better than that: you could have that song together. Your song.

He could get used to the sound of that alright.