#snippet: closing the circle

[bumblesimagines]

For Life

Request: Yes or No

Summary: The Wolverine was unmatched in the fighting ring, until a new face arrived and turned his life upside down.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical X-Men Warnings, lots of blood mentions, violence/fighting, both fluff and angst, Logan being as whipped as he was for Jean with (Y/N), age gap cause Logan is super fucking old lmao, more so snippets/a concept over a full fledged fic.

divider by cafekitsune!

~~~

Wolverines generally avoid humans in the wild but are known to be particularly aggressive and even dangerous when cornered or provoked, prompting them to put those sharp canines and claws to work. Wolverines are known for their incredible strength and stamina, but mostly for their infamous ferocity. Despite their reputation as ill-tempered loners, wolverines are known to be social with others and will form lifelong relationships with their mates.

It'd been a cold evening in Laughlin City and most of the bar's patrons had shuffled into the establishment with their faces nearly hidden behind hoods and scarves as they scrambled to get out of the snow and chilling winds. The occasional gust of wind blowing in whenever the door opened left patrons simultaneously groaning in complaint but the heater emitting warm air kept their grumbling and huffing to a minimum. The nipping cold had soured many moods, and Logan could see many men itching to forget about the cold with an adrenaline-pumping fight. He was just eager to make an easy buck.

He braced an arm against one of the cage's support beams and watched with a hint of a smirk as his latest opponent staggered out of the cage, his buddies narrowly catching him before he could plummet onto the hardwood floor and further batter his face. The locals eyed him with a certain disdain, certain suspicion, but he put up good enough entertainment for them to tolerate him. He sniffed, hardly phased by the punches he'd taken during the fight, and nodded to the referee. 

"Does anyone else dare-" 

"I'll have a go." 

Logan immediately craned his head to eye the voice's owner, foreign and new to Laughlin City. He'd been participating in cage fights long enough to begin memorizing the locals, and the fresh face staring back at him was an utter stranger. Passing by Laughlin City, Logan assumed, but he lacked the particular smell of gas, car air freshener, and look of exhaustion to be a trucker like most of the patrons taking up seats around them. He observed him, taking in every inch of his new opponent as he rounded the cage. He seemed young, but then again, so did Logan. 

"Name's (Y/N)." He said, staring Logan in the eyes as he shed his jacket and shirt. Someone nearby took both articles of clothing for him, likely eager to see what he'd do, or how he'd go down. Logan had managed to break two noses and chip a few teeth already, one could only wonder what he'd do next. "Nice to meet you, Wolverine."

Logan simply grunted and pushed himself off the support beam, rolling his neck and curling his fingers into tight fists. (Y/N) grinned at him, almost arrogantly, but not with the usual cockiness of a man who thought himself the toughest guy in Alberta. He appeared... too calm for Logan's liking, but once the referee stepped out of the cage and closed the door, he decided to focus on beating his face in instead. 

They circled each other first, eyes raking over the other from head to toe in search of a weakness to exploit, of a twitch that'd give away their next move. Logan could hear the muttering of the crowd, the impatient tap of fingers and boots, and the intensity in their stares. His eyes flickered away briefly, and he immediately cursed his mistake when (Y/N) lunged. Despite a part of him urging him to dodge or block, he remained still, expecting (Y/N)'s knuckles to break upon impact but instead, his fist connected effectively with Logan's jaw and he nearly stumbled onto the floor.

Managing to catch himself as scattered gasps echoed from the crowd, Logan grazed his fingers over his aching jaw and raised his head to look at the man. Mutant. No human had ever taken a swing at him without immediately spraining or breaking something, let alone been able to make his head turn with a punch. The corner of his lips twitched up into a smirk and the crowd erupted into cheers, primarily egging (Y/N) on to beat him to a pulp; Logan wanted to see him try.

The ache in his jaw faded swiftly, just in time for Logan to take a swing at (Y/N) and see how much he could tank. (Y/N) dodged his quick swings efficiently, taking steps back each time before he caught Logan's forearm and swiftly spun, his back pressing to Logan's chest before Logan was promptly hauled over his body. He collided with the floor, the cage trembling as if an earthquake had struck, and Logan doubted it'd be able to take the weight of his body a second time without damage. (Y/N) flashed another little grin down at him but instead of taking advantage of his momentary shock, he took a step back and allowed him to get up. 

A professionally trained mutant, Logan deduced when he got to his feet, intriguing. And worrisome. He hardly needed a group of mutants on his ass begging him to join them. 

"You ready to give up your title of champion, big guy?" (Y/N) questioned with a hint of a mocking coo, his words rowdying up the same crowd who'd turn on him if they learned of his mutant abilities, although Logan guessed they likely already suspected and merely wanted to see him hurt for a change. Challenging in his tone but his eyes studied Logan with a degree of curiosity he typically never saw in others.

"We're just gettin' started, bud."

"Even better."

Everything afterward felt like a whirlwind of punching, kicking, dodging, and blocking; Logan's favorite sort of dance, and one that'd hopefully end with some cash in his pocket and a well-deserved cigar. He managed to maneuver (Y/N) around, his arm coiling around his neck to put him in a headlock most wouldn't survive. (Y/N) pressed back against him, forcing them to stumble backward until Logan's back collided with the cage's wall that miraculously managed to stay put without giving out on them both. Logan released a guttural groan when (Y/N)'s short blunt nails dug into his skin, leaving bright red marks behind with specks of blood that only made him tighten his hold.

"Anything goes, right?" (Y/N) wheezed, his palm pressing against Logan's arm, a chill shooting down Logan's spine when it slowly moved on its own and gave him enough space to catch his breath without the pressure on his throat. 

"The hell-"

Straightening his knees and tossing his head back into Logan's face, Logan cursed and released him fully to bring a hand to his nose. He covered it, waiting for it to heal without catching the eye of the people around but (Y/N) gave him no time to recover. He spun on his heel and took another swing at him, bringing his knee up into Logan's stomach when he doubled over and then slamming the bottom of his boot into the side of his face. His head slammed against a support beam and he groaned, the aches and pains healing rapidly but before he could stand up, he realized his body refused to follow his wishes. 

"Giving up yet, big guy?" (Y/N) asked with a tilt of his head, eyes glinting with newfound warning. "We'll be here all night at this rate."

Logan swallowed, a hint of panic surging forward at his inability to move and the mystery surrounding the powers being used against him. Some sort of mental ability, he guessed, but whatever it was he disliked it tenfold. Logan grinded his teeth in frustration and begrudgingly nodded. "Fine," He grunted and sighed in relief when (Y/N) released whatever hold he had on him, allowing his body to relax and slump.

While, yes, losing a fight was a bruise to his pride, Logan found himself more intrigued by the fellow mutant, if not more cautious. With the sky darkening outside, Logan retreated from the cage to collect his belongings and ordered some beer while he watched (Y/N) at the other end of the bar. Once the bartender placed the beer down, he scooped it up in his hand and rounded the bar toward him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the men who clapped (Y/N) on the shoulder as if he'd done everyone a service. He waited, though, for everyone to be out of earshot. 

"How'd you do it?" Logan questioned quietly, chugging back some beer and smacking his lips as it flowed down his throat. (Y/N) fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, sparing him an amused glance and an arched brow. "The whole- the whole body thing. What is it? Some sort of telekinesis?"

"How about you walk me to my motel and I'll tell you all about it?" (Y/N) grinned again, eyes crinkling despite the way they'd been going at each other moments prior, and he turned toward the exit with a beckoning nod. Reaching into his pocket, Logan jingled the keys to his old, busted RV and watched his grin widen.

Out in the cold night, semi-trucks passed them by on the icy roads beside the snow-tipped bar. (Y/N) tugged his hoodie over his head, keeping it on when he sat in the passenger seat and relished the light heat that filled the RV once Logan turned it on. Logan glanced at him, eyeing his light attire once more but keeping his questions to himself despite curiosity knawing at him insistently. He kept his eyes on the road, careful to avoid going at a speed that'd have them sliding into the forest around them. 

"It's not telekinesis." (Y/N) muttered, reaching out and fiddling with the radio dials until he found a decent station. "I.. I controlled your blood. It's not as, uh, clean and pretty as telepathy or telekinesis but it's pretty useful in most cases. I can sense when someone's sick, too, or even help with cuts and infections. I'd make a pretty decent surgeon, honestly." He gave a small chuckle.

Logan snorted, though some unease settled in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah? How'd you figure out you had it?" Logan glanced at him again and immediately noticed the way his features fell. 

"It's not a pretty story." He sighed softly, his head tilting to watch the trees and snow pass them by in a mixed blur. "Let's just say, some of my blood got out of my body and I panicked.. and it started levitating... anyways, enough about me, big guy. What's your thing? It can't just be that super-healing thing, right?" 

Pursing his lips, Logan clutched the wheel with one hand and curled the other one into a fist. From the corner of his eye, he watched his claws slide out and then swallowed when (Y/N)'s features brightened. Gentle fingers wrapped around his hand and Logan retracted the claws, an unfamiliar feeling swirling in his stomach as he felt (Y/N) run his fingertips over his skin, tracing his knuckles and then the veins along the back of his hand. It'd been a while since he last left a gentle touch, and a quiet part in the back of his mind almost considered him unworthy of it. 

"My name's Logan." He grunted softly, the typical tension he always carried fading with each delicate caress.

"Well, Logan," (Y/N) lifted his head with a cheeky smile on his face, his thumb pressing into one of the veins and drawing Logan's eyes toward him. "You mind keeping me company tonight? Or do you have someone you have to get back to?"

"No," Logan's lips tugged upward. "I've got time." 

The motel was as rundown as Logan expected, dimly lit hallways occasionally plunging into darkness when the light flickered above them, and the curiosity surged forward again, prodding him to question where the mutant had come from or why he'd chosen Laughlin City of all places to stay in. But (Y/N) gave him no time to dwell further on it, the back of his foot kicking the door shut behind them before his hands grasped the collar of Logan's coat and pulled him in. 

There was a dangerous addictiveness and allure to (Y/N), from the way he effortlessly danced the line between sweet and rough: a kiss full of tongues and teeth and nips but smoothed over by gentle fingers massaging the muscle of his biceps when Logan slid his coat off, only for those same fingers to slip through his brown strands and tug. It triggered something within Logan, a growl emitting from his throat as broad hands grasped at the other's hips and drew a breathless laugh from (Y/N). 

As much as he enjoyed considering himself a lone wolf, the brief connection with others during one-night stands always reminded him he was still partly human, even when others considered him a savage brute. He savored it, savored when he had (Y/N) on his lap, his chest rising and falling with heaves and lips parted to release low grunts and groans. He savored the feeling of (Y/N)'s arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely, his breath fanning against his ear and allowing Logan to hear every noise he exhaled. He savored the ability to dig his fingers into soft flesh without worry, or sink his teeth into (Y/N)'s collarbone and feel the mark heal beneath his lips. He mostly savored the addictive warmth encircling him and the pleasure that made his thighs tremble. 

His arms tightened around (Y/N), pressing him close to his chest, and captured his lips to swallow another whine. For the first time in who knows how long, he found himself hoping he'd see more of (Y/N) around. 

But after a few days, the mutant disappeared from Alberta, and a week later Logan took a girl by the name of Rogue under his wing. 

"You may see another familiar face here." 

Logan turned his attention away from the mutant children, trying to ignore the way his heart warmed at the sight of them living happy lives without the threat of danger from those who despised them for simply existing. He searched the outer yard for any sign of Marie, but he assumed she was likely still getting acclimated to her new home at the school, and finally peered down at Charles questioningly. Charles smiled knowingly and motioned off to the side. 

"While I prefer having (Y/N) here for his safety, he enjoys venturing out to help others. I hear you two became acquainted while he was away." Charles spoke, and without thinking twice, Logan's head snapped in the direction he'd pointed in, his heart leaping into his throat at the sight of (Y/N) walking toward him with that godforsaken grin that'd plagued Logan's thoughts and dreams for weeks. "(Y/N) has called this school home for many years, and he often helps with the more severe injuries. I'll allow you two a moment to... catch up." 

(Y/N) nodded to Charles as they walked past each other before stopping in front of Logan and crossing his arms over his chest, his head tilting playfully to the side and eyes drinking him in. "It's nice seeing you again, Logan." He stepped closer, eyes lifting to meet his once more. "Here I was thinking about taking a drive back to Alberta. Guess you must've read my mind." 

"Pretty sure that's Charles's thing," Logan replied, pressing this thumb into (Y/N)'s chin and curling the rest of his fingers under it. He had to, otherwise he would've convinced himself he was imagining things, that the mutant who'd managed to make him laugh and smile was still miles away someplace else. "What were you doin' in Alberta?"

"I heard rumors and whispers about a man down in Laughlin City and thought I'd see what all the fuss was about. I would've asked you to come back with me but.. that didn't seem like the type of pillow talk you'd appreciate." He explained softly, leaning into Logan's touch and closing his eyes briefly when Logan pressed his palm fully against his cheek, still caught in the fleeting worry he'd wake up and find himself on the side of the icy road with Marie nowhere in sight. "You're here now, though." His eyes opened. "Are you staying?" 

"I don't-"

"Oh, come on," (Y/N) scoffed lightly, warmly, and moved in even closer. "It's nice here, Logan. I can finish showing you around and we'll find something for you to do. The food's good, the rooms are nice, and it's... freshening to hear the laughter of kids finally being happy. You'd make a helluva teacher, I bet. Everyone's favorite." His genuine tone shifted into a teasing one, laughing softly when Logan rolled his eyes. 

Lifting his brows, Logan smirked and brought him close, itching to close the distance despite a heated voice in his head telling him he didn't deserve the warmth and acceptance. "We can start and end the tour in the dorms-"

"Only if you promise to stay." (Y/N) cooed, tilting his head away to dodge a kiss but he allowed himself to be tugged into an embrace. His arms curled around Logan's shoulders, lips drawing back into a wide smile before he planted a kiss on the corner of Logan's lips. "If you stay, we can finish what we started... and see where it goes." 

Logan leaned back, his brows twitching down into a furrow but (Y/N)'s grip around his shoulders tightened, forcing him to stay and not flee from his words. He swallowed, conflicted in the way his brain and heart battled. Half of him screamed at him to leave, to go before he could mess everything up but another part desperately clung to the idea of staying and finally having a place to call home, finally having a person to call home. 

He noted the flicker of uncertainty in (Y/N)'s features following his silence, felt him beginning to draw back from the embrace. Logan secured his arms around him and allowed a ghost of a smile to slip. "Yeah," He murmured, weakly at first. "I'd like that."

Truthfully, Logan hadn't been fully listening to what Scott- or well, what Cyclops had spoken about in the briefing about their latest mission. He'd heard the usual 'group of anti-mutants' and promptly tuned out afterward in favor of soaking in how (Y/N) looked in the dark suit, though noted somewhat glumly how it didn't allow him to wear the engagement ring. His staring hadn't gone unnoticed given the amused glances Jean stole and the exasperated exhale from Cyclops before they were dropped near the location of the warehouse. 

"Good luck, Lo." (Y/N) whispered to him, planting a kiss on his cheek and dragging his fingers over Logan's beard with a mischievous glint in his pretty (E/C) eyes.

They'd separated pretty soon after, splitting up to cover more ground given the amount of people working with the group. It hadn't taken long at all for the fighting to begin, and despite Cyclops pushing for them to use as little force as possible, Logan couldn't help bruising and cutting a few people up. He managed to knock out a gunman when he heard the distinctive clap of thunder. Amusement had him cracking a grin followed by pity toward whichever fool dared face against Storm, but then he heard her shriek:

"(Y/N)!" 

Too high-pitched, loud, and full of horror for Logan to brush aside as a warning call. His footsteps thundered throughout the halls as he moved, shoving and swinging his claws at anyone who stood in his way until he stumbled upon the sight, eyes immediately finding (Y/N) on his knees with Storm beside him. Logan beelined toward them, dropping into a crouch and promptly feeling a wave of nausea pass over him at the sight of (Y/N) blood-stained hands grasping desperately at his throat. 

"They-" Storm swallowed thickly, her chest rising and falling with panic. "They shot him. He- He can't heal with the bullet-" 

"Darlin'," Logan exhaled shakily, pulling him swiftly into his arms and attempting to keep his composure despite the wheezy exhales and gurgles filling his ears. Blood spread across his throat, blobs of it levitating only to lose their perfectly round form and fall onto the floor with splatters each time (Y/N) grimaced. "I know it hurts but you have to focus on gettin' the bullet out. Baby, hey, focus."

(Y/N) stared up at him, wide eyes filling with tears and shoulders shaking with his hiccups and trembles. The red tint of blood on his lips filled Logan with a familiar sense of dread, his arms holding him tighter so (Y/N) wouldn't feel him trembling as well. He watched the blood oozing out of the wound rise, oddly shaped and raised while he worked on shoving the lodged bullet out of his throat before he choked to death on the very thing he could control. He wheezed and coughed occasionally, droplets of blood flinging onto Logan's cheek and coloring his beard but he paid it no mind.

Storm fiddled with her earpiece, stuttering out explanations to Jean and Cyclops and urging them to move quicker. Logan thumbed away the tears that slipped down his (S/C) skin, forcing himself to give encouraging nods and smiles despite the hurricane threatening to break within his chest.

(Y/N) tilted his chin up toward him and Logan swooped in eagerly, kissing him despite the blood that danced on his tongue afterward. He heard the familiar clatter of metal falling onto the floor and leaned back, eyes flickering around frantically until he spotted the bloody bullet rolling around beside them. 

"Hey, hey, you did it. You-"

Storm exhaled shakily. "Logan."

Logan's head snapped back toward (Y/N)'s face, first noticing the dullness in his eyes and then the way blood continued freely oozing from the wound. He stared at him, his mind struggling to comprehend the limpness in (Y/N)'s body and the stillness of his chest, the world around him slowly coming to a standstill. Storm's sniffling cries and the frantic questions from Jean and Cyclops as they finally arrived became distant, unable to focus on anything but (Y/N). 

"Hey..." Logan exhaled, cupping his cheek as his brows furrowed into a tight-knit. "Hey, hey, hey, you- you can't do this." He furiously blinked away the tears that glazed over his vision, rubbing his thumb into (Y/N)'s cheek and waiting for him to nuzzle into his touch as he always did, but it never came. "You can't do this. You can't-" Logan cradled his body against his chest, burying his face into his collarbone as he'd done dozens of times before. (Y/N) remained unresponsive, his arms falling limply at his sides from Logan's movements. 

"You can't do this to me. You promised you'd never leave."

[raitonsfw]

{ 𝕯𝖆𝖇𝖎 } - m.i.a. missing in action.

content warnings; nsfw mdni, dark content (mentions of quirk violence towards reader), hero!reader x villian!dabi, cunnilingus & v fingering, face riding, slight degradation, dabi has a tongue piercing, dabi's irritated ofc, just a snippet i could barely manage.

"𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔵, 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱'𝔰 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥," you heard dabi grumble underneath you, his hands heating the backs of your thighs as he smacked them curtly before removing his lips from your wet heat. “quit movin’ or i’ll stop the tongue action. n’ sit down fully on me dammit, will ya?”

you huffed out a quiet apology, sinking your thighs further open as you caught a glimpse of the scowl shrouding his face. his breath muddled against your cunt as you resituated yourself, the tight feeling fading slightly and replacing with pure neediness. “dabi… please.”

you weren’t supposed to be there for long; a quick fuck would’ve sufficed but one thing just led to another and now it’s two hours from the sunrise and three from the hero mission waiting for you. he hadn’t even fucked you yet– just played with your pretty pussy the whole night til you were whimpering from overstimulation.

“please what? use your words.”

“k-keep going…” you breathed out, a blush spread across your cheeks as they heated up from embarrassment. you’ve only been hovering over his face for a mere few minutes since your last orgasm, something he had fucking wanted– essentially pleaded in your ear to let him eat you out til morning and then he’d give you your reward. but now, he’s chastising you? 

he let out a discontented hum before his tongue swirled against your swollen clit once more. you jolted above him, another broken whine escaping you and your hands immediately pierced through his hair, tugging it as you felt his beaded tongue piercing nudge deliciously against you. dabi’s eyes slipped closed at that, moaning quietly as he lapped circles against the bud– until you started to grind against him harshly and they snapped open with annoyance.  

“fucking c’mon now…” he gritted, lifting you off of him and onto his lap. you straddled him, head cloudy from your ruined orgasm. before you knew it, his fingers plunged inside of you, thick and brooding– uncaring even. “you just don’t listen, do you? lucky you get this much from me, brat.” 

oh, that was the mood he was in. 

his demeanor was bruised and unrelenting… scary even. dare you move an inch and his hand would flash hot blue within you that would make you see more than stars. and that fueled you, wanting nothing more than to fuck down onto his fingers and see his face etch with deep irritation.

“hero y/h/n, missing in action… it has a nice ring to it.” you heard dabi coo in your ear as you gasped out another moan when his fingers grazed your sweet spot, curling so slightly upwards it made you tremble. of course he knew you were going to try to move, his other hand grasping the middle of your waist casually, a hellbent fire waiting to heat up from the midst of his palm.

“y/n baby... don’t even think about it.” 

this was the cost for playing with a villain, after all.

𝔞/𝔫; sneak peek of my new potential theme for my thirsts! it's slowly coming together, whether i like it or not- just have to finish up a few more things before i switch over!

[mononijikayu]

strip poker — gojo satoru.

You leaned in a little closer, your voice dropping just enough for only him to hear. “Alright, Gojo Satoru. Since you’re so persistent… How about we make this interesting?”  He raised an eyebrow, a playful grin forming on his lips. “Oh? I’m listening to you, doll.” he replied, clearly intrigued by whatever you had in mind. You took a sip of your drink, letting the silence hang between you for a moment, watching as his eyes remained locked on yours, his curiosity practically radiating off him. “Strip poker.” you said finally, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Just you and me. What do you say?”

WARNING/s: NSFW (R18+), Fluff, Romance, Love at First Sight, Strangers to Lovers, Pet Names (Doll, Boy, Baby, Etc), Profanity, Stripping Clothes, Oral Sex, Fingering, P to V Sex, Kissing, Making Out, Humor, Flirting, Teasing, Mention of Stripping, Mention of Body Parts, Mention of Sexual Acts, Mention of Alcohol, Depiction of Sexual Acts, Depiction of Nudity, Depiction of Alcoholic Beverage;

WORDS: 7.8k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: lately a lot of my works were really long, so i realized people need a refreshing thing from me than my long story formats. i thought about this during a writing block and i just thought that maybe, satoru would be the type to enjoy something like this, you know? and i think shoko and suguru would just try to make gojo greet all the guests and he'll be pouty. unless its reader, because reader is loved by gojo a lot (he just met you at this party) but anyway, if i posted this, it means the majority poll meant gojo won. but anyway i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all~ 🫶

ADDENDUM: with an hour left in the vote and the gap being wide — gojo does win 🙂‍↕️

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

HE WAS LOOKING FOR SOMETHING EXCITING. Gojo Satoru leaned against the doorway, his drink swirling lazily in his hand, the dim light of the room casting playful shadows across his face. His eyes, those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing at once, were fixed on you. You were standing with Shoko and Suguru, laughing at some private joke, and he couldn't help but wonder how he had never noticed you before.

It was strange. He knew everyone worth knowing, especially those who moved in Shoko's and Suguru's circles. But you... you were different. Your laughter was genuine, your smile bright, and there was a certain ease to the way you carried yourself—a confidence that wasn’t showy but quietly powerful, drawing people in without even trying.

As you spoke, he watched the way your lips curved into a grin, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief. He could see that Suguru was captivated, leaning in to listen more closely, while Shoko rolled her eyes with a fond smile that suggested she was used to whatever game you were playing. Satoru couldn't quite hear what you were saying from where he stood, but he caught snippets of your voice, warm and inviting, tinged with a teasing edge that piqued his curiosity even more.

"How is it," he muttered to himself, "that someone like you has managed to slip under my radar?"

He took a sip of his drink, his gaze never wavering, trying to piece together the puzzle that was you. Maybe you were new to their circle, or perhaps you had always been there, hidden in plain sight, and he just hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Either way, he was intrigued, and that wasn't something that happened often.

When Shoko glanced over and caught his eye, she raised an eyebrow, smirking as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. He gave her a playful wink in response, but his attention quickly returned to you.

Suguru, noticing the shift in focus, turned and followed Shoko's gaze, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Satoru, come here." he called out, motioning for him to join. "Why are you lurking over there like a ghost at a party? Come say hi."

Satoru grinned and pushed himself off the doorframe, making his way over with a casual, easy stride. "I wouldn’t call it lurking, Suguboo." he said, slipping effortlessly into the group, his gaze still locked on you. "Just... observing."

You turned to face him fully, and for the first time, he felt the full force of your presence. Up close, you were even more intriguing—eyes bright and challenging, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "Observing, huh?" you echoed, clearly amused. "Is that what they’re calling it these days?"

His grin widened, loving the way you didn’t shrink under his scrutiny but seemed to meet it head-on. "Well, you know, doll." he replied smoothly, "I like to get a feel for things before diving in."

Shoko snorted softly, rolling her eyes. "Translation: he likes to watch before he pounces."

"Careful, Satoru." Suguru added with a chuckle. "You’re starting to sound like a creep."

Satoru laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Maybe I am, Maybe I’m not." he admitted, his gaze still fixed on you. "But I like to have some good surprises for the interesting ones."

Your smile widened, clearly enjoying the attention, and you leaned in slightly, closing the distance between you. "So, am I interesting to you, Gojo?"

He felt a spark of electricity at the way you said his name, the way it rolled off your tongue like you’d known him for years. “Oh, definitely.” he replied, his voice dropping to a low, playful drawl. “Interesting enough to make me wonder how I've missed you all this time.”

You laughed softly, a sound that sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. “Maybe you just weren’t looking hard enough.” you teased him. “Maybe you need to have a better look, don’t you think?”

He leaned in closer, his smile turning sly. “Oh, I’m looking now.”

There was a beat of silence, charged with unspoken words and possibilities, and Satoru could feel the air between you crackle with an almost tangible energy. He was used to this game, the dance of flirtation, but there was something about you that felt different—like you were two steps ahead of him, and he was enjoying every second of trying to catch up.

“Let’s see if you can keep up.” you said, your eyes glinting with challenge. “Because I’m not that easy to catch, Gojo.”

His grin widened, excitement bubbling up in his chest. “Oh, I do love a challenge, doll.” he murmured, taking another sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. “And trust me, I’m very persistent when I sense something good for me.”

“Then am I good for you?” You grinned at him, eyes full of amusement.

He returned your grin. “Why, the moment I saw you, doll — you were good for me and all of my lifetimes.”

Suguru and Shoko exchanged glances, their amusement clear as they observed the growing tension between you and Satoru. Shoko's eyes sparkled with mischief, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama, while Suguru's smirk spoke of his own quiet amusement at the game Satoru was now fully immersed in. They didn’t need to say a word; their silent communication conveyed everything—this was going to be entertaining.

Satoru, however, was oblivious to their silent exchange. His focus was entirely on you, his mind buzzing with possibilities. The playful challenge you’d just thrown at him had ignited a spark of curiosity and interest that he couldn’t ignore. As he watched you, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief and your smile held a promise of excitement, he found himself drawn in even more.

You leaned in a little closer, your voice dropping just enough for only him to hear. “Alright, Gojo since you’re so persistent… How about we make this interesting?” 

He raised an eyebrow, a playful grin forming on his lips. “Oh? I’m listening to you, doll.” he replied, clearly intrigued by whatever you had in mind.

You took a sip of your drink, letting the silence hang between you for a moment, watching as his eyes remained locked on yours, his curiosity practically radiating off him. “Strip poker.” you said finally, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Just you and me. What do you say?”

"Are you serious?" Satoru chuckled, his grin spreading wide across his face. The light overhead cast a gleam on his white hair, making him look even more striking under the dim glow of the room. 

"Dead serious, darling." you replied, eyes glinting with a playful challenge. "Unless, of course, the great Gojo Satoru is afraid of a little game."

His grin only widened at the bait. "Afraid? Not exactly my style. But I've got to admit, it's not every day someone proposes strip poker to me the first time we meet." He took a sip from his drink, eyes never leaving yours, scanning for any sign of bluff or mischief.

You shrugged, leaning against the table with an easy confidence that only intrigued him more. "What can I say? I like to keep things interesting. And you looked like you could use a little excitement."

He laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. "So, what's the catch? I lose, and you get a fun little story to tell your friends? Or do I win, and...?"

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Who says I intend to lose? Besides, winning isn't everything. It's the fun in between, Satoru."

He blinked at the use of his first name, a small surprise evident in his expression. Most people would hesitate to use it so casually, but coming from you, it felt oddly natural—like it had always been meant to be spoken by you. There was something about the way you said it, with that hint of mischief and confidence, that made it feel less like an invasion of personal space and more like an intimate invitation.

For a moment, Satoru’s gaze flickered around the room. It was then that he realized Shoko and Suguru had somehow vanished. The two had a knack for disappearing at precisely the right moment, leaving him in a situation that was both intriguing and precarious. Typical of them, really. They always seemed to know exactly when to make their exit, leaving him to fend for himself in whatever delightful predicament they had orchestrated.

A chuckle escaped his lips as he looked back at you, his eyes twinkling with both amusement and a hint of challenge. “Well, it looks like we’re on our own.” he said, his tone light but laced with a playful edge. “I suppose that means we get to make our own rules now.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the turn of events. “Seems like it, glasses.” you replied, your voice smooth and teasing. “So, what do you say?”

He grinned, the playful glint in his eyes growing stronger. “I think we should make the most of this opportunity, doll. Let’s not waste time,” he said, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “After all, it’s not every day I get to have a game of strip poker with someone as intriguing as you.”

His words were laced with a mix of flirtation and eagerness, his tone smooth and inviting. The term “doll” came out with a casual intimacy, making the moment feel even more charged. You could feel the heat between you intensify as he closed the distance, his presence commanding and electrifying.

You met his gaze with a confident smile, your heart racing a little faster. “Alright, Gojo.” you replied, your voice low and sultry. He pouts. You returned to calling him by his last name. You liked teasing him, he thinks. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“You better watch it, doll.” he said, setting his drink down and crossing his arms over his chest, still grinning. “I’ll bite. Let’s play. But don’t expect me to go easy on you. And don’t think for a second that I’ll be the one taking off anything first.” 

You laughed, a sound that made him feel strangely lighter, more at ease. “Oh, I’m counting on it.” you said, your voice full of playful confidence.

His grin widened, the challenge lighting up his expression. “You’re so interesting, doll.” He chuckled, clearly delighted. “Where have you been all my life?”

You tilted your head slightly, enjoying the way his words seemed to both flatter and intrigue. “Well, you know….” you replied, your tone teasing. “Maybe I’ve been waiting for the right moment to make an entrance. And tonight, it looks like the stars finally aligned.”

Satoru’s eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity and admiration. “I have to say, I’m glad they did, doll.” he said, leaning in a bit closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Because you’ve definitely made this night unforgettable.”

“You’re quite the flirt.” 

“Gotta shoot all the shots to win, doll.” He winks at you.

You shrugged, your smile teasing. “Well, you say this now….but you’ll lose to me too.” 

He laughed, a carefree, confident sound that made Shoko and Suguru glance over with a raised eyebrow from a distant space. “Oh, I never lose.” he replied, leaning closer, his voice a low, tempting drawl. “Especially not when there’s something I really want.”

You rolled your eyes, but your grin didn’t fade. “Then prove it.” you said, nodding toward a quieter, dimly lit room down the hall. “Let’s go.”

Satoru, for his part, didn’t hesitate. He set his drink down with a casual flick of his wrist, his bright cerulean eyes still locked on yours as he pushed off the wall. He reached out and took your hand, his grip warm and confident.

“Lead the way, doll.” he said, his voice dripping with playful challenge.

You felt a rush of excitement at his quick agreement, and you couldn’t help but grin. You felt a thrill of excitement as you led him down the hall, the dim lighting casting soft shadows and adding an air of intimacy to the moment. With every step, the noise of the party grew more distant, replaced by the soft thrum of your heartbeat and the electric tension between you.

As you reached the door to the quieter room, you glanced back at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips. Gojo Satoru’s gaze was unwavering, his bright eyes reflecting a mixture of anticipation and admiration. He could feel the adrenaline in him. This was exciting. And he liked it. He liked you.

You pushed open the door, revealing a cozy, dimly lit space that felt almost like a secret hideaway. The room was furnished simply but comfortably, with a plush carpet and a few scattered cushions. It was the perfect setting for the game you had in mind.

He looked around, a playful smirk still on his face. “Alright, doll.” he said, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a chair. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You grabbed a deck of cards from a nearby table, shuffling them with a practiced ease. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you, Gojo.” you teased, dealing the cards out between you.

Satoru sat opposite you, his posture relaxed, but his gaze was intense, locked onto you with an almost predatory focus. “I think I’ll take my chances, doll.” he replied smoothly. “And please, call me Satoru. Gojo is too formal for your gorgeous lips to mouth.”

You smiled, enjoying the tension that hung thick in the air between you, the game already beginning before a single card was played. "Alright then, Satoru." you said, your voice dripping with anticipation. "Let’s see who’s getting undressed first."

He chuckled, picking up his cards and leaning back comfortably. “Oh, it’s on now.” 

And just like that, the game was set—a battle of wits, charm, and maybe something more.

You watched as his long legs folded with a graceful ease that didn’t quite match the competitive glint in his cocky blue eyes. He grabbed a deck of cards from a nearby table, his movements fluid, almost theatrical as he shuffled with deft, experienced hands.

You sat across from him, the distance between you feeling both vast and electric, like an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. The way you held his gaze, unwavering and unyielding, only made Gojo Satoru more intrigued. He wasn’t used to people looking at him like that—like he was just another person in the room, not just some role people fit upon him or a man with a reputation that preceded him.

“So, doll….” he began, dealing out the first hand with a practiced flick of his wrist. “How do you know Shoko and Suguru? And why haven't we met before tonight?”

You picked up your cards, smiling slyly. “Oh, I’m sure they’ve mentioned me. I’m just good at staying under the radar… when I want to.” 

He leaned back, considering your words. “Mysterious. I like that. But I'm pretty good at picking up on secrets. Better watch out.”

You chuckled softly. “I think I’ll take my chances.” 

The game began, and with each round, you both played with a mix of strategy and daring. He tried to read you, his eyes narrowing whenever you made a bold move, but you held your own, bluffing with an expertise that surprised him. His usual smug grin faltered slightly, and you could tell he was trying to decipher the mystery in your gaze. The room seemed to shrink with the tension between you, each card dealt heightening the stakes.

Satoru leaned forward, his gaze never leaving your face, a playful yet challenging spark in his eyes. “You’re a lot harder to read than I thought.” he murmured, the corner of his mouth curling upward in amusement. “But I like a good mystery.” 

You smirked in response, feeling the heat of his stare, knowing he was trying to unravel you with every glance, but determined to keep him guessing. You were sure that soon enough, a pile of discarded clothing would grow between you steadily. But so far, there has been little, with your little ties. All you had removed were little, like a hair tie or a necktie. 

You agreed it was still part of clothes. But then again, you just both wanted it to last a little longer. One after the other though was tossed aside with a flick of your wrist or a slow, deliberate grin from him, marking the razor's edge between victory and defeat. 

The room little by little crackled with tension, the air thick with challenge and heat, and every turn of a card seemed to bring you closer, like magnets drawn together by an irresistible force. The game had become something more than a little fun thing — it was a dance with a Russian roulette where every bluff was a whispered confession, every raise a daring promise. 

Your pulse quickened with every sly smile he threw your way, every calculated tilt of his head, and his eyes bore into yours, gleaming with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. The stakes climbed higher with every move, the line between a win and a loss blurring into something electric, something tantalizingly close to dangerous. 

You could feel it in your bones — this was no longer just about cards or luck; it was about who would yield first, who would surrender to the inevitable tension simmering in the space between your bodies. And you like winning. But so did he. Winning was after all, a different sort of drug to be enjoyed.

Neither of you spoke, but the room was filled with a silent conversation, an exchange of glances and gestures that spoke volumes. The game wasn’t just about winning — it was about who could push the other further, who could tease out the truth hidden behind those guarded eyes. Neither of you wanted to lose, not when the real prize was so tantalizingly close. And as another card fell, you knew this was only the beginning.

"You're not bad, doll." he admitted, his shirt still firmly on but with a hint of pink on his cheeks, likely from the alcohol. “But I’ve been known to turn the tables.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested this game if I didn’t think I could win, Satoru.” you replied confidently, leaning forward. The playful spark in your eyes never left, and it only seemed to fuel Satoru’s competitive spirit further.

Round after round, pieces of clothing slowly came off. A shoe here, a sock there. He was still confident, leaning in closer as he laid down another hand. "Full house." he declared, his grin downright wicked now.

You glanced at his cards, then backed up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Nice." you said, sounding impressed, before laying your cards down with a flourish. "Straight flush."

He blinked, then laughed—a genuine, delighted laugh that came from deep in his chest. "No way! You little—"

“Looks like someone’s going to lose a little more than just their pride, Satoru.” you teased, enjoying the way his grin faltered for a moment, his confidence taking a tiny, amusing dip.

He leaned back in his chair, pretending to think deeply, then slowly began to unbutton his shirt. “Alright, alright. I’m a man of my word, doll.” he conceded, though his eyes never left yours, sparkling with mischief. “But don’t get too comfortable. The game’s not over yet.”

As he shrugged out of his shirt, you found yourself momentarily distracted by the unexpected sight—his lean, toned frame catching the dim light. Satoru noticed, his smile turning sly. “See something you like?” 

You shrugged, keeping your expression neutral. "Just waiting for my next win."

He laughed again, a sound that seemed to fill the room, light and unburdened. “Oh, this is really crazy. I like that.” he murmured, leaning in closer, his voice dropping slightly. “I like you.”

You raise your glass, meeting his gaze with a bold smile. "The feeling might be mutual, but don't think for a second that means I'm letting you win."

For the first time in a while, Gojo Satoru felt a genuine thrill that had nothing to do with curses or danger. Just the electric spark of a moment, a challenge, and the intriguing mystery of the person sitting across from him, daring him to come closer.

The game continued on, the air thick with anticipation, each round upping the stakes. Satoru was completely absorbed now, his usual nonchalant demeanor replaced with focused intensity. For every card dealt, every sly smile exchanged, he found himself more drawn into this unexpected encounter. 

As the rounds progressed, it became increasingly clear that you were holding your own. The playful banter between the two of you had turned into something sharper, more personal. It wasn't just a game anymore; it was a test—a test of wills, of understanding, of reading between the lines of every look and laugh.

Satoru tossed his next set of cards on the table. "Three of a kind." he said, tapping his fingers lightly against the table, eyes flickering with amusement. "Not my best, but not bad."

You looked down at your own hand, considering your options. "Hmm…." you hummed, tapping your chin thoughtfully before placing your cards down. "Four of a kind."

His mouth fell open in exaggerated shock. "No way! You’re cheating!” 

You laughed, a carefree sound that seemed to light up the room. "Maybe you just need to step up your game, Gojo Satoru."

He tilted his head, pretending to look hurt, but his smile was as bright as ever. “Oh, I see how it is. You're trying to humble me. I can't let that happen. I have a reputation to uphold.”

He reached for his belt, starting to unbuckle it with deliberate slowness, making a show of every movement. "You really want to play with fire, huh?" he teased, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "Careful, you might get burned."

You met his gaze head-on, your smile never wavering. "I think I can handle the heat."

He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re something else, you know that?” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, close enough that you could feel the faint brush of his energy, his presence suddenly more intense. “But I’ve got a feeling you’re not here just for a game, are you?”

Your eyes sparkled, the corners of your lips curling up just slightly. “Maybe I’m here to see what all the fuss is about. People talk about you, you know… like you’re this untouchable legend.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest with a playful smirk. “And what do they say?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Oh, you know… that you’re the strongest, the smartest, the most arrogant—”

“Hey!” he interrupted, laughing. “I’m not that arrogant… just very self-aware.”

You laughed too, feeling the tension between you soften into something warmer, more familiar. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

His grin widened. "You think I’m a show-off, huh?”

“I think,” you said slowly, leaning in just a little closer, “that you like being the center of attention. And I think you’re not used to people seeing through that.”

Satoru blinked, the playful glint in his eyes dimming just slightly, replaced by something more genuine, more intrigued. “And what do you see when you look at me?”

You paused, considering your answer, letting the silence stretch just long enough to keep him guessing. “I see someone who likes to keep people at a distance. Someone who hides a lot behind that smile.”

He tilted his head, his expression softer now, almost contemplative. “And you think you know what I’m hiding?”

You shrugged. “Not yet. But I think you might want someone to try and figure it out.”

For a moment, he was quiet, watching you with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see everything and yet reveal nothing. Then, slowly, he smiled—a softer, more sincere smile than before. “Maybe I do.”

The tension in the room shifted again, this time to something less tangible, a mix of curiosity and possibility hanging in the air between you. The game had become secondary; it was clear now that something deeper was at play. Satoru leaned back, his grin returning, though his eyes were still searching for yours.

“Alright, doll.” he said, voice vibrant and light. “One more hand. Winner takes all.”

“All?” you echoed, arching an eyebrow. “And what exactly is ‘all,’ Satoru?”

He leaned forward again, his smile turning mischievous. “That’s the fun part—we get to decide. Maybe it’s another game. Maybe it’s just a walk under the stars. Or maybe…”

“Maybe?” you prompted, leaning in as well, feeling the pull between you tighten.

“Maybe, doll….” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper now, “it’s just finding out who you really are, and why you make me feel like I’ve met you before, even though I’m sure I haven’t.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected honesty in his words. This was not the Gojo Satoru you’d expected, not quite. But maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something neither of you had anticipated.

“Deal.” you said finally, holding out your hand for him to shake.

He took it, his grip warm and firm. “Deal.”

You felt the warmth of his hand linger longer than necessary, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. Neither of you pulled away, your hands still clasped together, as if testing each other’s resolve.

“Are you trying to distract me?” you teased, but your voice came out softer than you intended, betraying the flutter of anticipation building in your chest.

Satoru’s smile widened, a hint of something darker and more thrilling sparking in his eyes. “Is it working?” he asked, his voice low and velvety, closer now, his breath brushing against your skin.

You held his gaze, feeling the air between you grow thick with tension, the kind that made your pulse quicken. “Maybe a little.” you admitted, and his grin grew even more wicked.

He didn’t release your hand, instead using it to pull you closer across the small table, until you were only inches apart. “Good.” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent a thrill down your spine. “Because I’m curious… What else could I do to distract you?”

Before you could answer, his free hand reached up, his fingers lightly tracing the line of your jaw, his touch gentle but purposeful. “I’ve got a few ideas.” he continued, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, his eyes following the movement like he was memorizing every detail. 

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as his fingers moved down, tracing the curve of your neck, his touch feather-light but sending sparks of heat through your veins. “You talk a big game,” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady, “but can you back it up?”

His eyes flashed with amusement and something else—something darker, hungrier. “Oh, I think you’ll find I’m very good at keeping my promises.” he replied softly, leaning in until his lips were a breath away from yours. “Especially the fun ones.”

And then, without warning, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft at first, almost teasing, before deepening with a sudden intensity that made your head spin. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, and you felt the world around you disappear, leaving just the heat of his mouth, the press of his body against yours.

You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that sent a rush of heat through your body, your skin tingling everywhere he touched. 

He broke the kiss, just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re full of surprises,” before diving back in, his kiss rougher this time, more insistent. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you onto his lap in one swift movement. You gasped against his mouth, feeling the firmness of his body beneath you, the heat of his skin through the fabric of your clothes.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging just hard enough to elicit a low groan from him, a sound that sent a delicious thrill through you. “Satoru.” you breathed, his name slipping from your lips like a secret, and his response was a grin against your mouth, wicked and knowing.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest, his hands roaming up your back, sliding under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that left trails of fire in their wake.

You didn’t answer, just kissed him harder, pressing your body against his, feeling the heat building between you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. His lips moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you gasp, your head tilting back to give him more access.

He chuckled softly, his breath hot against your neck. “Sensitive, are we?” he teased, but his voice was strained, as if he was barely holding himself back. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips and pressing you down against him, letting you feel exactly how much he wanted you.

You let out a soft moan, your fingers gripping his shoulders for support. “Maybe,” you whispered, your voice breathless. “But I think you like that.”

He laughed, a low, husky sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, I do,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “I like everything about you… so far.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, seeing the raw desire there, the need that mirrored your own. “Then maybe, Satoru, baby.” you whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against his, “You should stop talking and show me.”

He grinned, a wicked, knowing grin that made your heart race. “Challenge accepted, doll.” he said, and then his lips were on yours again, his kiss consuming, his hands exploring, leaving no part of you untouched, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you. 

You looked at him and grinned. “Let me make you feel good, boy.” 

“Make it happen then, lovely.” He steps out of his pants and you sink to your knees on the plush carpet beneath you, licking your lips as he frees his member.. Your eyes meeting him.

You held his gaze, your grin widening as you saw the anticipation flicker in his eyes, a mix of mischief and hunger that mirrored your own. “Oh, I will,baby.” you promised, your voice a low purr that seemed to send a shiver down his spine.

You let your gaze trail down his body, taking in the sight of his lean, toned form before letting your eyes settle on his length, now freed and hard. A spark of excitement danced through you, and you licked your lips, feeling a wave of heat wash over you as you dropped to your knees on the plush carpet, every movement slow and deliberate, keeping his attention locked on you.

Satoru watched you, his breath hitching, and you could feel his intense gaze on you, almost like a physical touch. Your hands reached up, fingertips brushing lightly against his thighs, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms as you leaned in, your breath ghosting over his length. His eyes widened slightly, a soft exhale escaping his lips, and you could tell he was already on edge, trying to maintain his composure.

You looked up at him through your lashes, meeting his gaze with a wicked grin. “Ready, Satoru?” you teased, your voice soft and sultry, letting the anticipation build for a moment longer.

His eyes darkened, a soft growl escaping him. “Stop teasing, doll.” he muttered, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders, his fingers tightening slightly, betraying his eagerness. “Do your worst.”

Without another word, you leaned in, your tongue flicking out to tease the tip, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum that had formed there. Satoru sucked in a breath, his hips jerking slightly at the contact, and you felt a rush of satisfaction at the effect you were already having on him.

Slowly, you wrapped your lips around him, taking him inch by inch into your mouth, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he filled your mouth completely. His hand moved to your hair, fingers threading through your strands, not pushing, but just holding, grounding himself in the sensation of your warm mouth around him.

You started to move, your mouth sliding up and down his length with slow, deliberate strokes, your tongue swirling around him, adding just enough pressure to draw soft, breathy moans from his lips. You glanced up at him, his head tipped back slightly, his mouth parted as he tried to keep his breathing steady.

“Fuck…..” he breathed, his voice strained, the hand in your hair tightening just a bit. “That’s… you’re good at this…”

You hummed around him, a low, vibrating sound that made his hips twitch, his fingers tightening in your hair. You felt a surge of triumph, your movements becoming bolder, faster, as you took him deeper, letting him feel the heat, the slick slide of your mouth, the way your lips tightened around him.

Satoru’s breathing grew heavier, and you could hear the soft sounds of pleasure escaping his lips, his usual confidence wavering under the intensity of your attention. His hips began to move with you, small thrusts that pushed him deeper into your mouth, and you welcomed it, matching his rhythm, taking him deeper still.

You felt his muscles tense under your hands, heard the low growl building in his throat, his fingers gripping your hair tighter as if he were holding on for dear life. “God… you’re driving me crazy, doll.” he muttered, his voice thick with desire, his control slipping. 

You pulled back slightly, just enough to speak, your breath warm against his length. “Good.” you whispered, your voice a husky murmur, “because I’m not stopping until you come undone for me, Satoru.”

He looked down at you, his eyes blazing with need, and you saw a flicker of surrender there, a flash of vulnerability that made your heart race. “Then don’t stop, doll.” he whispered back, his voice a low command. “Make me lose control.”

You grinned up at him before taking him back into your mouth, your movements faster, more deliberate, determined to bring him to the edge and push him over. You felt his body tighten, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hips thrusting in time with your movements, and you knew he was close.

With a few more strokes, a few more swirls of your tongue, you felt him shudder, his whole body tensing as he let out a low, deep moan, his release hitting hard and fast. His hand tightened in your hair as he rode out the waves of pleasure, his breathing heavy, his eyes closed, his lips parted in a satisfied grin.

You pulled back slowly, watching him as he came down, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his skin flushed, his hair tousled. He opened his eyes, a lazy smile spreading across his face, his gaze soft and full of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Damn.” he breathed, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re… something else.”

You smiled, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb, feeling a flush of your own. “Told you I’d make you feel good.” you replied, your voice light, teasing.

He chuckled, pulling you up to your feet and closer to him, his hands resting on your hips. “I think you’ve more than proven your point.” he murmured, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss against your lips, his smile warm against your mouth. “But now… it’s my turn.”

A soft gasp escapes your lips as his touch moves with a deliberate, tender pressure. The sensation sends ripples of pleasure through you, making your breath hitch. Your back arches instinctively, your body pressing closer to his. Every touch, every movement feels electric, your emotions swirling in a beautiful, overwhelming storm.

His lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Each kiss feels like a spark, igniting a fire that grows with every passing second. His hands glide along your back, pulling you closer still, as if he wants to feel every inch of you against him. Your breath quickens, matching the rhythm of your racing heartbeat.

His gaze meets yours, a mix of tenderness and something deeper, something that makes your heart flutter. “I want to make you feel everything, baby doll.” he whispers, his voice low and filled with promise.

You feel a surge of anticipation, your senses heightened, every touch sending a shiver down your spine. He takes his time, exploring every curve and contour, as if memorizing you. You’re lost in the sensation, in the way he makes you feel cherished, wanted, and entirely his. The world fades away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared intimacy and unspoken connection.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he responds with a soft, satisfied hum, his smile widening against your skin. “Stay with me, ‘toru.” you breathe, the words escaping almost involuntarily, a plea and a declaration all at once.

His hold on you tightens, and he nods, his eyes filled with an emotion so intense it takes your breath away. “Always.” he promises, sealing his vow with another lingering kiss that sends a wave of warmth through your entire being.

His hands roam down your sides with a deliberate slowness, tracing every curve as if savoring the feel of you beneath his fingertips. His touch is both gentle and insistent, a wordless reminder of the connection between you. As his lips move back to yours, the kiss deepens, becoming more passionate, more consuming, his tongue teasing yours in a dance that sets your nerves alight.

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his warmth enveloping you like a blanket. Every movement is careful yet filled with an undeniable urgency. His fingers slip beneath the fabric of your clothes, his touch sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. Your breaths mingle, becoming heavier, the room thick with the electric charge of your shared desire.

He pulls back just enough to study your face, his gaze intense and filled with a hunger that sends a thrill through you. “You’re so beautiful, doll.” he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. “Every part of you.” His hands move lower, caressing the sensitive skin of your waist, drawing a soft sigh from your lips.

You could feel the edges of your nails dig deep into Satoru’s back, leaving red marks once after another in the canvas of his supple skin. Each breath comes out in a shaky gasp, and you can feel him shiver beneath your touch, his skin heating under your fingertips. He groans softly at the sensation, the sound vibrating against your lips as he kisses you deeply, hungrily.

“‘Toru…baby….” you gasp out between moans, voice trembling with need. “You feel so good, goddddd…”

Your hips move instinctively against his hand, seeking that delicious friction, chasing the elusive climax that seems tantalizingly close but always just out of reach. You wondered where he has been all your life, where has this pleasure been all your life. 

He smiles against your lips, his voice a low whisper, almost teasing. “I’ve got you, doll.” he murmurs, his fingers pressing deeper, moving with a slow, rhythmic intensity that makes you cry out softly. “Let me take you there.”

Satoru’s thumb circles gently, adding a different sensation, his eyes fixed on yours, watching every expression, every shudder of pleasure that passes over your face. His other hand is firm on your waist, guiding your movements, coaxing you closer, pulling you toward that edge with a deliberate slowness that drives you mad. 

You feel the tension build inside you, every nerve ignited by his touch, his name spilling from your lips in a breathless whisper. “Satoru… baby....please…” you beg, the need in your voice is unmistakable.

He chuckles softly, his breath hot against your ear. “I love hearing you say my name like that, doll.” he whispers, his touch becoming more insistent, more purposeful. The heat between you grows, every sensation amplified by the intensity of the moment, his pace quickening, matching the desperate rhythm of your heartbeat.

Your body arches toward him, every inch of you attuned to his movements, and you feel yourself spiraling, that sweet ache within you growing sharper, hotter. His fingers find that perfect spot, and suddenly, you’re lost to the wave of pleasure that crashes over you, your body trembling, a moan of pure ecstasy escaping your lips as Gojo holds you close, his name a soft prayer on your lips.

“I’ll eat you out later, doll. I promise.” Satoru whispers against your ear, his voice laced with a playful promise that sends a shiver down your spine. “But right now… I need to be inside you.”

He positions himself between your spread legs, leaning down to tease the head of his member against your hungry, slick folds, rubbing himself gently against you. Each movement is torturously slow, spreading your wetness across both of you, the friction drawing a gasp from your lips. He watches your reactions with a smirk, his bright blue eyes darkened with desire.

Looking up at you, Satoru grins, his expression mischievous and full of intent. “Let’s do something else for now.” he murmurs, his voice low and inviting. He starts to push into you slowly, stretching you inch by inch, his gaze never leaving yours.

The sensation is overwhelming, your body instinctively arching to take him deeper. You can feel every part of him, the way he fills you perfectly, the way your body molds around him. His hands grip your hips, steadying you as he moves further, a low groan escaping his throat. “You feel incredible, baby doll.” he breathes, his voice rough with pleasure, his control hanging by a thread.

Your nails dig even harder into his shoulders as he continues to push in, stretching you, filling you completely. He pauses for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his breath hot against your lips, his voice softer, seeking reassurance even amidst his own urgency.

You nod, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. “I’m okay… more than okay, ‘toru.” you murmur, a breathy moan escaping you as he begins to move again, slowly pulling back before thrusting in, setting a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

His pace quickens, each thrust more intense, more deliberate, as if he’s determined to draw every sound, every sigh, from your lips. His name falls from your mouth in a mix of gasps and pleas, and he responds with a low growl, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss.

Satoru’s hands wander, one sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, the other gripping your hip, guiding you into his rhythm. Every movement feels perfectly timed, perfectly in sync, as if he knows exactly what you need, where to touch, how to move to drive you to the brink of ecstasy.

“God, I love the way you feel, doll.” he murmurs, his voice rough and desperate, his forehead pressing against yours as his pace becomes relentless, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. Your body tightens around him, drawing him deeper, the heat between you building to a crescendo, and you feel yourself start to unravel.

“Don’t hold back.” he urges, his voice thick with need, his eyes locked on yours. “Let go, doll… I want to feel you come undone.” 

And with those words, everything inside you shatters in a wave of pure, overwhelming pleasure. Your body trembles, your breath catches, and you call out his name, your world reduced to the feeling of him moving within you, holding you, as you both reach for that beautiful, shared climax.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

epilogue 

You were exhausted. But you still had a curfew and your mother would be looking for you by now. When Satoru heard that, he immediately jumped up and said he'll take you home.

As you both fumbled to put your clothes back on in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, Gojo’s mischievous grin didn’t fade for a second. His white shirt was still unbuttoned, hanging off one shoulder, and his pants were inside out — not that he seemed to care.

You tugged your shirt over your head, smoothing down your hair with a breathless laugh. "You look like you got dressed in the dark." you teased, glancing at the ridiculous state of his attire.

Gojo chuckled, leaning in to nuzzle your neck, his lips brushing against your ear. "Well, to be fair, I was a bit distracted by you, doll."

Rolling your eyes, you gave his chest a light push. "Sure, blame me for your lack of coordination."

He winked and, with a dramatic flair, flipped his sunglasses back on, even though it was well past midnight. "Oh, definitely. It’s always your fault when I can't keep my hands to myself."

You both burst into laughter, the absurdity of the situation washing over you. Finally, Gojo took a deep breath, still grinning but with a hint of sincerity creeping into his voice. "So… now that I've seen you at your best — and, uh, at your most undressed — how about a date?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "A date? Like… a normal date?"

He nodded, his expression surprisingly earnest despite the disheveled hair and the inside-out pants. "Yeah, you know, the kind where I take you out, we eat something that isn't each other, maybe even talk about our feelings."

You snorted, trying to stifle your giggles. "You sure you can handle that, Satoru? The whole talking thing sounds like a lot of work for you."

He dramatically clutched his chest as if wounded. "Ouch, doll, that hurt. But yes, I think I could manage… if it means I get to see you smile like that again."

You pretended to consider it for a moment, then shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Fine. But I’m picking the place, and you’re wearing your pants the right way this time."

Gojo laughed, pulling you into his arms. "Deal. As long as you promise to wear something that makes me lose at poker again."

You smirked, leaning in close. "Oh, I think I can arrange that."

And as you both laughed, tangled in each other’s arms, the idea of a "normal" date didn't sound so bad after all.

[frost-queen]

Witches road// part 2 (Fem!reader x Agatha Harkness)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic,@alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @erikasurfer, @slythetic , @p0nycurtis , @quailbagutte , @fantasticcroissantpandagarden, @lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

Summary: Summoning the witches road, you are met up with the first trial. Being close around Agatha once more breaks unfamiliar things out of you. Can you overcome your fears and get a sense of what is becoming of you. [Witches road series]

Gather sisters fire

Water, earth and air

You quirked your eyebrow intriguingly up when you entered the house. Hand sliding on the doorframe whilst entering. Making a loud hum sound, looking around. – “What?” – Agatha asked entering behind you. – “Nothing.” – you responded looking over your shoulder to her. – “It’s just not you.” – you gestured at the clean suburban lifestyle, something unlike her.

“Well I didn’t have it to the picking Y/n.” – Agatha responded annoyed. Chuckling amused, you walked to the living room. Seeing another witch already present. With wide eyes, she looked at you. – “Are my eyes deceiving me?” – she questioned. – “They are not.” – Agatha responded walking past her. Your familiar jumped on the sofa making Agatha hurry over.

“Uh-uh no pets on the couch.” – she started clapping her hands to scare him away. Your familiar hissed back in defence, making her pull her hands back. – “Fine then sit.” – she replied bothered. Jennifer’s gaze went from you to Agatha, keeping a close eye on it. Trying to find something subtle in her behaviour.

She got quickly disrupted when the other witches walked in. – “Let’s summon the road.” – Agatha said happily, clasping in her hands. You started humming the tune of the hymn, going towards her basement. – “Is… is she alright?” – Alice asked with a point at you.

Agatha waved it away, going after you. Down her basement you all came to stand in a circle. Agatha came standing beside you. You glanced down at her offering hand, humming in disagreement as you went around taking Jennifer’s hand. Agatha narrowed her eyes with a soft glare.

Your familiar meowed near her feet, startling her. Looking down at the black cat, she showed him her clawed hand. It made your familiar hiss back at her, hairs up straight. Agatha straightened her posture. A sudden thundering made her freak out. – “Let’s get a move on.”

She grabbed their hands, readying themselves to sing the witches ballad.

Seekest thou the road

To all that's foul and fair

Gather sisters fire

Water, earth and air

Darkest hour, wake thy power

Earthly and divine

Burn and brew with coven true

And glory shall be thine

Your gaze went upwards sensing the hauntingly arrival. Their presence carried by the screeching wind. Like a banshee’s cry sending a wave of crumbled leaves with them. The pressing hour of the witches road nearing. Only one chance to succeed for else the seven would devour her.

Your familiar jumped on your shoulder, laying his tail around your neck. Squeezing your newly sister’s hands, you sang along. The words you had carved in your head for centuries. Down, down, down the road. Down the witches road. A pulsating force made you move your chest a bit back. Taken back by it’s intensity. The seven had entered the house. Having stepped over the boundaries.

Your gaze went to Agatha in front of you. Seeing her sing with fear in her eyes. Very well aware of the troubles waiting upstairs. Down, down, down the road. Down the witches road.

The chanting became louder and louder. Overpowering the rumbling from upstairs. The ceiling shuddering with snippets of dust fluttering down. Squeezing their hands tight, you felt the primal force of a coven brewing down deep. Gaze fixating at Agatha with a hard stare. Maiden, mother, crone. An ominous sound seeped through the house.

Thundering with an ominous omen. A path one should not take. Down, down, down the road. Down the witches road. Roared through the basement. Chanting loudly with every might from your lungs. Elevating with the brewing hymn. Looking up, you let the chanting fully consume you. To glory at the end.

Hands were released as all looked breathless at each other. For an eerie moment, everyone wondered if it worked. Emptiness. Whilst Agatha and the others were bickering. Knowing what was at her doorstep, you lowered yourself. Kneeling down to touch the cold ground. Your familiar jumped off your back, meowing soft.

You started to hum the hymn once more, brushing your hand over the ground. Closing your eyes briefly. When your hands felt roughness, you opened your eyes once more. Thundering rushed down the stairs as the teen appeared out of breath. – “Is that the door?” – he asked breathless. All looked at him before looking down at the ground. You were smiling wickedly at the door. Agatha immediately knelt down to pull the slots open.

“Help me!” – she yelled out with urgency. All came to her help. Revealing a set of steps. Stone and cold. You whistled brief as your familiar jumped on your shoulder. – “Down, down, down.” – you whispered taking the first step. Others quickly followed, going down. Letting the road consume them. Agatha closed the doors before the seven could claim her.

Following the glowing bouncing off the walls, you lead them down. A smile curling up when you met with the woods. Taking a deep breath, you let it consume your lungs. Letting it take over every breath of you. The teen came standing beside you, smiling excitingly at you. You smiled back at him as your black cat stuck his head out to him. The teen looked wonderous over to you.

With a simple nod of yours, you accepted. The teen reached out to scratch your cat behind the ear. – “May I ask you something Y/n?” – he dared to ask, lowering his hand. You hummed softly with a nod. – “How… why… why… were… you?” – he started, stumbling a bit over his words. Unsure how to phrase it. – “Buried?” – you responded knowing where he was going with it.

Staring off into the distance, your mind got pulled back a memory. Standing frozen as the teen tried to get a reaction out of you by waving his hand before you. – “Crawling all the way…” – you said numbly. Your cat meowed in your ear, making you shake your head awake.

Plastering on a smile, you looked back at the teen. Tapping his nose with a playful shrug. You then hummed loudly to hop after the others. – “Is… is she alright?” – Alice asked Jennifer lowly. Jennifer moved her gaze onto you. – “I’ve only heard rumours, but she was betrayed…” – Jennifer responded. – “By whom?” – Alice wanted to know. Jennifer only looked in Agatha’s direction as it said enough.

Alice nodded nervously as it made a bit more sense. Agatha came to a stop, turning round to everyone. – “We will be tested at every possible given.” – she explained. There were some uncertainties amongst the sisters. Unsure how they would be tested to find glory at the end. – “Shall we?” – Agatha exclaimed, clasping her hands together. She noticed your gaze was fixated on the ground. 

Staring lost at it, almost like in trance. Agatha chuckled nervously coming over to you. She came standing behind you, taking you by the shoulders. – “Y/n, let’s go.” – she whispered to you, her lips close to your cheek. You numbly rocked your body wobbly on your heel. – “Let’s go…” – she repeated tugging on your shoulder to follow her.

When Agatha turned around she noticed Mrs. Hart… uhum Sharon had taken off. It made her groan loud needing to search for her. All of you started to run, hearing screams. Screams filling the witches road like an embrace. Familiar and known. Your eyes widened seeing Mrs. Hart trying to pull her purse out of a puddle of mud. Slowly devouring her purse. Making it one with the earth.

You rushed over to her, grabbing her by the ankles, ready to pull along with Jennifer as your eyes fell on the mud puddle. Seeing how it was swallowing the purse whole. It made your whole heart empty, waiting for the beat to come out. – “Y/n! Y/n!” – Jennifer called out as you weren’t helping.

Agatha noticed the trauma reflecting deep in your eyes as it made her come to assist. Grabbing the ankle with your hands around it to assist in tugging. Mrs. Hart got pulled back, making you fall down. Blinking rapidly, you crawled on top of Agatha. A distant look in your eyes, as you held a stick against her throat. Pushing it slightly into her skin.

Cheeks trembling with fury as a part of you wanted to jab it through her throat. Agatha had moved her hands up, seeing you were miles away. A darkness deep in your eyes. – “Y/n.” – the teen spoke approaching you. – “Lower the stick…it’s alright…” – he said calmly, reassuring you. – “Y/n… it’s alright…” – he came kneeling beside you.

“Let Agatha go Y/n.” – he spoke softly reaching for your hand. Panting loud, your hand trembled. Once the teen moved his hand over yours, it seemed to steady. He slowly moved the stick away from Agatha’s throat. Taking your other hand to help you off Agatha and up your feet. Agatha touched her throat for a pinch.

“I’m…I’m sorry…” – you told the teen, not sure what overcame you. – “It’s alright.” – he responded with a soft smile. Your familiar came brushing against your leg, making you look down at him. Kneeling down, you picked him up, letting him snuggle against your chest.

The comfort of him brought you back to reality. Not sure what had overcome you. – “Has that always been there?” – Jennifer asked after some silence. Making you all look at the house in the distance. Agatha smirked coming nearer. All of you followed her towards the house. You remained in the back, feeling out of yourself. Like you had no idea who this person was.

This person that seemed to keep trying to crawl her way out. Been in the darkness for a very long time. Chained and shackled. The house was warningly welcoming.  Looking at the others, you saw there had been a change in appearances. It made you rub your hands nervously together. By the diner table, you stood holding the glass of wine up.

Mrs. Hart drank the wine in one breath, making you raise your brow at her. – “Shall we take the girl talk to the sofa?” – she said tipsy making you all return to the living room. You took a deep breath, feeling a shiver up your spine when Agatha stroke her finger up your arm.

“Do not drink it.” – she whispered to you with a witchy smile. It made you stare down your glass. Seeing the wine swirl around like blood. Glaring at her, you moved the glass up. – “I stray not from the path, I hold death’s hand in mine.” – you told her before emptying your glass down your throat. Down, down, down it went. Agatha’s gaze widened. With a beckoning look, you threw your glass against the ground.

Shattering into a dozen pieces. It made her jump back to avoid the shatters. The first symptoms appeared with Mrs. Hart. Her face all swollen, you could barely recognize her. Then it consumed the others. Taking each and one witch. Poison. The wine was poisoned. Your cat meowed soft at the first trial. Counting down till the hour of death. Waiting patiently at the door for unsuccess.

For the only wakening to keep death at bay was an antidote. Jennifer send everyone off. You went with Lilia and Agatha. Haunted by the hour of death and it’s testing. For a witch would be tested greatly.

The chime of a bell made you stop in your tracks. Lilia and Agatha continuing. Another bell chimed as it send a shiver down your spine. Feeling the room turn, you slowly turned around. An ominous sound grasping you when you stared down at an empty grave. A bell chiming twice.

A banshee’s cry carried by the wind as crumbled leaves fluttered over your feet. Down. Down. Down. The empty hole in the grave seemingly enlarging till the very crust of the earth. A gaping mouth ready to swallow you whole. Your body started to shock a bit. Feeling a cough come up. The bell chimed for a third time. Trying to hold in the coughs. A thickness in your throat.

Coughing loud, you coughed up earth. Dry earth, coughed out like powder. Seeping out of your mouth as it made you sink to your knees. Kneeling at the bed of the grave, the bellowing emptiness below. Down. Down. Down. Coughing more, the earth from your mouth fell in the empty grave.  

Feeling yourself choke on the earth and sand in your mouth. There seemed to be no end. Thy breathing woven to earth. Trying to grasp for air, you grasped your fingers down your throat. Body wobbling as you felt yourself nearly tip down the gaping mouth of your boundness. All that gravel. Chained and shackled.

Body releasing gravity as you felt weightless. Tipping forwards, ready to meet your earthy bed. A sudden grip on your shoulder made you gasp awake. Blinking rapidly at the vast ground. No more cemetery. No more grave. Touching your mouth, it was clean of any earth. – “Y/n?” – Agatha asked concerned.

She came kneeling beside you as you teared up. Letting yourself fall against her chest, you cried soft. Agatha shushing you soothingly. She placed a sorrowful kiss at the top of your head.

Gaining your senses, you pushed yourself off her. Returning to Jennifer to assist her. She noticed the spooked expression on your face. – “You too?” – she asked, making you nod. One of the side-effects of the poison you weren’t keen on. Your black cat jumped on the counter, purring loudly as you stroke his back. – “Is it true?” -Jennifer asked making you look up at her. – “Did you truly get betrayed?” – she wanted to know.

“It's my whole heart. Weighed and measured inside.” – you responded as it sounded like a riddle to her. – “Deemed and delivered a crime.” – you went on, staring into the distance, still petting your familiar. Not wanting to engage in it further, you picked up your cat, moving away from Jennifer. Jennifer nodded respectfully. The others returned all with their ingredients for the antidote.

You held on close to your familiar, watching Jennifer brew the potion. Your cat jumped onto your shoulder when you held hands to change the potions colour. Needing it to be teal. With the teens blood it reached teal. Letting a fallen hair drop in. The hour of death at your shoulder, breathing down. Trying to outrun it. To escape the hour of death, you drank the potion.

“Hurry!” – Agatha shouted as the glass had broken. Sending a flood of water inside. Your cat jumped into your arms as you ran with it to the open oven. Jennifer crawled through it first. You followed with your cat as the others were behind you. Jennifer’s scream was loud when she went down the slide. Followed by laughter. Cackling with pleasure down the slide till your body bumped against hers. One by one, they went down the slide. All getting up but one. For Sharon was dead.

---------------------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[eddiethehunted]

hey y'all here's yet another "i'll probably never finish this" snippet — this one's considerably longer (near 3k words!) so maybe it's okay <3

post-vecna, fwb, idiot4idiot, you know how it is. trans eddie but it’s not really relevant to this piece lol

18+ for sexual themes and also one usage of the f slur

——————————

Eddie knows he's acting weird—or, weirder than usual—but he can't muster up the energy to care.

He's not really talking, sitting off to the side and kind of just listening in. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hang out with anyone, or whatever—it’s that he doesn’t think he can handle hanging out with Steve.

He's successfully avoided Steve all night and he plans on keeping it that way. That is, of course, until Robin, tipsy and warm and happy from the beers she's been crushing all night, gets up and pulls Steve over to the swing chair with them.

Eddie considers fleeing while she’s not sitting on his knee forcing him to stay there, but he’s not quick enough. She flops back down and brings Steve with her, giggling as he stumbles and bitches and complains about it, making the chair swing back and forth and jostle them all together in a way that would normally have Eddie laughing with her.

Instead, all he can do is stare beyond Nancy’s head, rolling his beer between his hands distractedly and wishing the alcohol would hit him even half as hard as it’s hitting Robin. Maybe then he wouldn’t want to fucking bash his head into the wall right now.

He can see Nancy giving him a weird, curious stare, and look, he likes Nancy, really. She’s cool and badass and he’s kind of scared of her, which is awesome. But he’s not about to talk to Steve’s ex about this fucked up friends-with-benefits to maybe-not-even-friends-anymore-and-definitely-without-benefits trainwreck he’s gotten himself into.

Robin sandwiches herself in between them, a sharp elbow digging uncomfortably into Eddie's ribs. Eddie is being absolutely assaulted by Steve's cologne and presence and warmth and he's not okay. His heart feels like it's going to explode and he wants to leave so fucking bad.

Robin starts rambling about graduation and college to Nancy. Eddie tunes out quick, because Steve's arm is flung over the back of the chair and he's rubbing these distracting little circles on Eddie's shoulder, through his shirt. He can feel Steve's eyes burning holes into the side of his face, over Robin's head.

Steve's touch is distracting normally, but even more so now because it's been almost three weeks since Eddie has seen him, and even longer since he's touched him. The last time they were this close, he'd had Steve climbing into his lap, panting and grinding on him and kissing him like he was trying to steal the air out of his lungs. Whispering Eddie’s name like a prayer between breathy little whines as if it fucking meant something.

The painful throbbing in his chest is nearly as bad as the uncomfortable ache between his legs, and he almost forgets that he's trying to distance himself when he feels Steve shift closer. Robin's leaning forward to talk to Nancy, and that leaves plenty of room behind her for Steve's hand to move, to curl into the hair at the nape of Eddie's neck. Plenty of room for Steve to lean into his space and god, Eddie is having a really hard time keeping a grip on his self-control because all he wants to do right now is pull Steve into the bathroom and fucking get on his knees and make it so that he's the only one Steve will ever want.

“Been a while,” Steve says conversationally. Casually. Eddie wants to fucking kick him.

“Uh-huh,” he replies, not willing to give Steve more than that. It earns him a huff, and Eddie doesn’t have to look to see that Steve’s rolling his eyes at him.

His voice is quiet and trickles down Eddie's spine when he says, "You've been avoiding me."

Eddie can't think of a good response, his voice sticking in his throat, his brain full of static. He finally swallows and vaguely says, "You think so?"

Steve's hand squeezes the back of his neck and every single nerve in Eddie's body lights up. Robin is right there. Like, she's half-sitting on Eddie's thigh. This is—its a really bad fucking time for Steve to be touching him.

"Why?" Steve asks him. He sounds hurt, but also a bit angry, and that shouldn't turn Eddie on but it really, really does.

He likes that Steve's hurting. No, really, he does. Because at least it's not just him. (He's never claimed to be a nice fucking person, okay? He knows he's a bit of a selfish asshole, and he's fine with that.)

He's not having this conversation while Robin is sitting on top of both of them, so he jerks away from Steve and gets up, not paying any attention to Robin's indignant shout as he storms into her house. He's been here enough times that he knows the way to the bathroom even with all the lights off, but he doesn't have the chance to shut the door before there's a foot blocking it.

Steve pushes in, looking pissed, and so, so hot. Eddie's knees feel like jelly and his stomach squirms like he's going to be sick. Emotional confrontation is like, the actual fucking worst, and there's Steve, angry and hurt and crowding him against the counter in Robin's bathroom, looking him dead in the eyes.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

His hands are on either side of Eddie's hips and their faces are so close Eddie could count his eyelashes if he tried hard enough. His cheeks are burning, his voice stuck in his throat, and he's annoyed because Steve knows that being pinned like this gets Eddie hot, and that's not fucking fair.

"I'm not," Eddie lies through his teeth. "I've just been busy—"

Steve snorts, cutting him off with a mean laugh. "Yeah, real busy, I bet. Must be hard work pretending I don't fucking exist."

Eddie is like, five seconds away from either punching Steve or kissing him. He hates that this is doing something for him right now, hates how hot Steve is when he's mad.

"Get off of me," he snaps, but it doesn't sound convincing. Steve's gaze drops to his mouth, just for a second, before it flicks back up.

"Did I do something?" he asks desperately, looks at Eddie with those big, dark eyes. Eddie presses his lips together firmly, biting the insides of them, because if Steve keeps looking at him like that Eddie's gonna let him bend him over this goddamn countertop. Steve seems to take his silence as confirmation, and makes a quiet, sad sound.

"You can tell me, Eddie," he says, a bit softer, like some of the anger has evaporated out of him. "I miss you."

That hurts.

Eddie wants to throw up. "Don't say that to me."

Steve frowns. "Why not? What, I can't miss you? Can't wonder what the fuck I did to piss you off so bad that you won't even look at me?" He backs off, a bit, enough for Eddie to breathe, crossing his arms tight across his chest. "One day you're shoving my dick down your throat and the next you're acting like you hate me. Kinda makes a guy wonder what happened."

"I don't—hate you," Eddie manages, nearly choking on his words because he doesn't want to say them, but the sad, hurt eyes Steve's giving him pull them from out of his chest. "I'm not even—I'm not even fucking mad at you, Steve. I'm not—this is so stupid." He rubs a hand over his face. “I just… I can't keep doing this shit. This—whatever it is.” He gestures vaguely between them. “Hooking up. Whatever."

Steve's shoulders slump forward. He moves back, until they're not touching at all and there's a few feet between them. He sounds exasperated and frustrated when he says, "Okay, so don't! You could've just told me you didn't want to fuck around anymore. I’m not gonna be mad or something. Jesus, Eddie, you can like, talk to me. I give a shit about being friends more than, like, getting some ass or whatever.”

Steve's not getting it, which is maybe for the best, but the distance between them makes Eddie want to pull his hair out. "No, I mean—" He can't help but reach out, tugging Steve a little closer by the loop of his jeans, which makes him flush so pretty. “I don't wanna stop."

"So...don't?" Steve says slowly, warily. One warm hand wraps around Eddie's arm, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed. "We can keep... I dunno, doing whatever. Whatever you want. Even just… hanging out. Or watching a movie, or—uh, yeah, whatever.” He swallows, glances down at Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie’s sure he knows just what Steve’s thinking about.

He can't help but laugh, because he's sure that what he really wants is not within the realm of what Steve is okay with. Sex is fun, but—god, Eddie wants to be allowed to love him. He’s already opened himself up more to Steve than anyone else. Steve already knows things about him that nobody else does, except his uncle. It’d been so easy to fall in love with him.

"That's the thing. I don't think we're on the same page."

Steve looks so confused that it would be funny if Eddie wasn’t on the verge of spilling his guts, of throwing up his heart all over Steve right now.

“I need you to elaborate, man,” Steve says. “‘Cause you’re giving some crazy mixed signals right now.”

“I don’t want to just keep hooking up with you. I know this all started just as fun and it is fun, but it’s driving me crazy,” Eddie lets out a frantic little laugh, feels like he’s going to start hyperventilating, but he’s started now and can’t stop, “I’m so into you it’s insane, Steve. Like, I like you. So fucking much. So much it makes me want to rip my hair out or something. I can’t keep doing this knowing it doesn’t mean the same thing to you and I can’t keep pretending that the thought of you with someone else doesn’t make me want to die. Okay? I can’t. It—it hurts and it fucking sucks and I can't do it anymore.”

His voice is shaking by the end of it, and he knows by the burning feeling in his eyes and nose that he’s about to start crying. Because this is it—this is what he’s been dreading, all this time: the moment that the other shoe drops, the moment that Steve rejects him. He’s a nice guy, he’ll do it kindly, let Eddie down gently, but that’ll hurt more. Eddie needs Steve to like, punch him in the face and call him a fag, or something. He can’t handle a sweet, gentle, let’s stay friends forever, it’ll all be okay rejection.

Instead of the bright snap of pain he’s hoping for, he feels Steve’s hands slide up the sides of his neck, almost like he does when Eddie’s down on his knees for him. It’s much softer, now, Steve’s thumbs stroking just under his eyes to wipe away the tears that he can’t stop from falling.

It’s too much. 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut tight, shaking his head in frantic, jerky movements as his tears just keep coming. He wants to yell at Steve, to tell him to leave and let him lick his wounds in fucking peace, but he can’t make the words come out. All he can do is suck in another sticky, wet breath.

It tears out of his chest as a sob and Steve swears under his breath.

“Hey,” he breathes. He moves Eddie’s hair out of his face gently, tucking it behind his ears. Any traces of anger are gone from his voice now, and it’s soft, quiet, like he's talking to a frightened animal. “Eddie, hey. Shit, I’m sorry. Can you look at me?” 

Eddie doesn’t want to, but he’s never been good at saying no to Steve. He forces his eyes open, blinking away the tears that blur Steve’s pretty face. 

“If you’re gonna reject me just do it,” he says miserably. His voice feels thick as it comes up his throat. “I can take it, man.” 

Actually, he’s pretty sure he’ll collapse to the ground sobbing and maybe even dry heave or throw up the second he’s alone, but Steve doesn’t have to know that. 

“I’m not—”  Steve huffs out a breath, something like a laugh, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Eddie, I’m not rejecting you. I’m—I’m just kind of in shock.” 

Eddie stares at Steve with watery eyes. “In shock?” he bites out. “Yeah, dude, that kinda happens when your friend confesses he has big disgusting gay feelings for you.” 

“No! Not like—not in a bad way,” Steve clarifies. He has the most adorable pink flush on his cheeks, a frustrated little crease between his brows as he tries to find the words for what he’s so clearly hurting to say. “I’ve been into you for months. I honestly thought you were avoiding me these past few weeks ‘cause you could tell. I’m not, like,” he heaves a sigh, runs a nervous hand through his hair, “good at being subtle, man. I thought you were rejecting me.”

Eddie has no clue what kind of face he’s making right now, but he feels a little bit like he’s floating suddenly. Like he’s just missed the last step at the bottom of a staircase, a heavy, stony pang in his chest, his breath kind of stuck somewhere around his diaphragm. It’s almost like how it felt to flip upside down, weightless, as he climbed through the gate last spring, but only slightly less terrifying.

“I haven’t been with anyone else since the first time we hooked up,” Steve admits, and Eddie's mouth falls open, because that was nearly a year ago. “I know we were supposed to be casual, but it… was never casual for me.” His face is a little redder now, but he doesn't break eye contact. It makes Eddie want to squirm. “I shouldn’t have lied and said I didn’t want more. I wanted you. When we—”  He swallows and Eddie can't help but glance down to watch the way his throat bobs, wants to sink his teeth into it. "When we’re together, you know, it’s… it’s all I ever think about. Fuck, I think about you all the time. I feel like I'm going insane.” He groans, letting his forehead fall forward onto Eddie’s shoulder. “I feel like I’m not doing a great job here.”

Steve thinks about him. Steve fucking wants him. Eddie is literally going to pass out or something.

“No,” he breathes, because this can’t be real, he has to be hallucinating or something, “no, you’re—this is really good. Keep going.”  

Steve sighs like he’s frustrated with himself, his breath warm against Eddie’s shirt. “What I’m trying to say is that I like you too, Eddie. A lot. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t, I’m just—kind of not great at this shit.”

Eddie really, really wants to pinch himself, but he can’t fucking move as Steve’s words sink into his bones. 

“You like me,” he croaks out. His hands curl into fists in the front of Steve’s shirt. He probably looks a fucking mess right now with tears and maybe snot all over his face but he can’t think about that, not when Steve is so close. “You actually like me? Like, not—not just fucking me?”  

“I mean, I do like doing that,” Steve says, lifting his head with a ridiculous grin and eyebrow waggle that makes Eddie feel hot all over. He groans and shoves Steve’s face away half-heartedly, and Steve laughs, turns his head to press a kiss to Eddie’s palm.

Eddie just about melts into a puddle on the floor. God, the Steve Harrington charm. Steve’s smile turns a little soft.

“But yeah,” he says, leaning into Eddie’s hand. “I’m kinda crazy about you, man.”

Eddie needs to make sure he's not insane. "Like, you wanna cuddle me and shit? Fuckin’… bake me a cake?”

Oh god, what do people in relationships even do? Is that even what Steve’s gunning for here?

Steve's clearly trying not to laugh. "I mean, I can make you a cake if you want, but I'm not that great at baking. I always put too much flour and it turns out so bad, and this one time I accidentally put salt instead of sugar and Robin still doesn't shut up about it. I can make a pretty solid lasagna, though, if you want—”

"Oh my god," Eddie says, because he's definitely insane, and also because the idea of Steve in the kitchen making him a lasagna like some kind of little housewife is going to make him act fucking stupid, "shut up."

He really does pinch himself, then, and all it does is hurt. Steve’s lips quirk up again, and he steps a little closer, until it would be so easy for Eddie to tilt his head a bit and move in for a kiss. He goes a little cross-eyed trying to keep looking at Steve, trying to make sure this is still real, that this isn’t some Vecna shit and Steve’s about to turn into some kind of fucked up monster and start, like, eating him or something. 

“Did you just pinch yourself?” Steve asks, grinning so wide Eddie can almost taste it.

“No,” Eddie lies.

“That’s so cute."

Eddie makes a weird, strangled sound, and it’s the most humiliating little noise, one he didn’t even know he was capable of making. He doesn’t have a chance to be embarrassed about it, though, because Steve moves so their lips are just barely apart. 

“Can I kiss you now? I really want to.” Their noses touch. “I know it’s not the first time, but… I wanna kiss you.”

“Like in a gay way?” Eddie blurts, like an idiot.

Steve’s eyes crinkle up a bit when he laughs. “Yeah, dude. In a gay way. I mean, I kinda feel like me licking my jizz out of your mouth that one time was already pretty gay, but yeah. I wanna kiss you for real. If that’s okay.”

[estcaligo]

Sebek's scales

x reader * romantic, dramatic, focusing more on emotions than scales * Sebek's hands, eyes and ears are done, see #Caligo's stories

"Shh… there, there…" you whispered softly, your hand tracing slow circles on Sebek's back. His low groan rumbled through the quiet halls of Ramshackle, a thunderous expression of his hidden agony. His head rested in your lap, face hidden - as if from shame. He had come to you for solace, seeking comfort from the gnawing, relentless pain he had never expected to experience.

Sebek was growing scales. At last.

A couple on his neck, a few on his cheekbones, some on his back, and on his shoulders too…

It was something he had long awaited, a sign of his lineage manifesting in him. But the joy of this long-anticipated change was marred by the unfortunate surprise of unbearable discomfort. It felt like a wound trying to heal but never quite managing to, a constant need to scratch at what could not be touched - if he scratched, he'd risk tearing them apart with his strength. At this point, the scales felt more like a curse than the proud mark of the Zigvolt bloodline they were meant to be.

But it wasn't just the physical torment… it was the disappointment that burned in him, perhaps even more than the itching and pain. His grandfather had mentioned that these scales, a mark of their crocodile fae heritage, were supposed to come naturally - painlessly, without effort.

But Sebek wasn't fully fae.

Some genetic trick must have occurred, the half-human part of him must have twisted what should have been a prideful moment into a painful ordeal. A stark reminder of his mixed blood. A shameful slap in his face. It felt like another betrayal of his heritage, another sign that he was different in ways he couldn't control. And it tore him up inside, almost as much as the itching tore at him on the outside.

There were days - and long, sleepless nights - when the pain became unbearable, so Lilia, ever perceptive, suggested he spend those times with you. He knew that only you would be able to comfort him in this situation. Your boundless patience and kindness were some of the many reasons why you and Sebek had grown so… close, after all.

Lilia knew as well as you did - Sebek could only truly let down his guard in your presence. Far away from any mention of Malleus. In the presence of his liege, Sebek could never admit to weakness. Never confess to discomfort, let alone agony. He couldn't appear vulnerable - not even in front of Malleus' portrait!

So, after much bluster and loud denial, Sebek had accepted Lilia's offer. And there he was again - in your arms - his most trusted, cherished, beloved human.

To be honest, you didn't know much about the process he was going through. Much? Rather, nothing at all. You'd tried researching it, but Sebek's case was unique, and none of your studies had brought useful results. So all you could offer was your support - your warmth, your touch, your tender kisses, your embrace, your presence.

And that was more than enough for him.

At first, he grumbled and huffed, of course, too proud to fully surrender to your care (the usual routine in your relationship). But inevitably, he would end up curled in your lap, clinging to you when the pain spiked, his fists clenched tight when the itch became too much to bear.

To distract him, you would sometimes read aloud, sharing poetry. Or even snippets of random stories that would ignite his passionate opinions. His voice would rise as he debated with you, his eyes flashing, and soon he'd be pacing the room, animated and alive, the pain momentarily forgotten. You watched him with quiet joy, delighted to see your dear Sebek so full of life again. His voice loud, his gestures grand - your beloved, boisterous crocodile...

Who was growing his scales, despite the price.

You were proud of him, proud of this important moment in his life. And you swore to yourself that you would do everything you could to make this challenge easier for him. After all, he was there for you too, even if he didn't always show it.

Some said Sebek was an open book, but the more you learned about him, the more you realized - not everyone could read what was written within him.

Just because a book is open does not mean everyone can understand it.

Of that, you were certain. And maybe these scales would be like symbols, letters, writing a new chapter in his story. A chapter of a different kind of strength - forged in his unique pain and held gently in the warmth of your love. At the very least, they were writing these intimate moments now - moments you hoped you both would one day look back on and smile.

Sebek was strong. He would overcome this, just as you knew he could overcome anything. And no matter the challenge - whether scales, studies, nightmares, or war - you would be by his side.

Forever and always.

[ficsbb]

Moments with John Wick II

》 Pairing: Loving!John Wick x Reader

》 Warnings: pet names, gross misconduct of lovey doviness

》 Word Count: 1.3k+

Note: I've been overthinking about these snippets for too long, so here I go, I release them! 🤭 Enjoy! Aplogies for any error in tense use, spelling, grammar etc. Credit to @toastray for the cute dividers!

It was hard at first, getting to know him better. You could feel the heaviness of his grief all around him. It was in everything he looked at and everything he touched, lingering in doorways after he'd walk through. He knew you could see it. It was all in your eyes and how you interacted with him during moments the sadness gathered in his throat.

“I'm okay,” he says, “I promise.” You put your hand on his cheek and nod.

"I know."

He doesn't know what it is with your touch, but it unravels that monstrous grief with ease. You watch him close his eyes briefly and bring your palm to his lips, letting out a sigh, followed by a kiss.

“You save me.” It's genuine, and every part of you knows it's true. There's been a lingering doubt with others, but never with him. When John tells you this. time and time again, it makes you feel lighter and warm.

“What do you think?” You're leafing through a pamphlet for a train vacation. It's not something you would have expected John would like. In fact, you were the one more inclined to do something like this.

“When are you thinking?” He lets out a sigh of relief, happy that you're interested at least. He's waiting for you to spot the destination on the trip he circled, the one he knows you've always wanted to go on. John pauses, waits a moment and then sees your eyes glow.

You look up at him, “Is that the one we're going on?” He nods. “Like, we're actually going, for real?” You watch as he laughs, head tipped back and adam's apple moving slightly. It warms you up just as a nice cup of hot chocolate always does.

“What about work?” John shakes his head, knowing you'd ask.

“I can work anywhere, but I'm taking a full break for the trip. I don't want to miss a moment with you.” He watches your eyes flutter, your breathing change. For a second he's worried he said the wrong thing. He worries about that all the time, but when you pull him into a tight hug, arms around his middle, he feels that pull of the string. The way it snaps straight from the center of his chest to yours and he wonders if you can feel it too.

“Thank you, John. Thank you.”

“You never have to thank me, beautiful.”

A phone call comes through in the middle of the night. It startles you awake and you feel John put his arm over you. He knows when your nervousness or anxiety is heightened more than usual. It didn't take long for him to notice your mannerisms when you're under stress while you've been together. These things were part of his work and work has had some ways of bleeding through. Whether it was through his clothes or in the ways he could keep you safe, it bleeds through.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, voice laced in sleep. You rub at his arm as he pats your stomach a couple times before he sits up. Your eyes are adjusted to the dark as you sit up with him, watching his hand sift through his hair. He hates these moments. Similar conversations come to mind, blurred and racing as the quiet around you both becomes deafening.

“A job. I have to go.” 

“Oh.”

“I know.” 

He hates these moments. He hates the way your sleep is interrupted and the sadness so easily conveyed in the ‘oh’s’, ‘right now?’, ‘when will you be home?’ gnaws at him. 

“I'll have to be on a plane soon.” You nod, quiet, rubbing at your arm. Self soothing. John turns over to look at you and it doesn't get any easier for him when he sees that shimmer of tears gloss your eyes.

“Come here, sweetheart.” You take a deep breath to brace yourself and get out of bed to go to his side. He leans back slightly as you stand between his legs, both hands on either side of his face. His eyes close. You know he loves when you do this. It calms the both of you down in a way and any chance to touch him is a chance you'll grab at greedily.

“How long will this one take?” 

“Not long. A couple of days.” You kiss his forehead as he pulls you in closer. When he rests his head on your chest, he can hear your heartbeat. It's a little fast, but it's comforting. It's a song to him, the melody striking and forceful always swallowing him up. As he pulls back, he looks up at you and wipes at the rest of the tears you seem to have messily swept away.

“How about you come with me?” 

“Is that allowed?” You're genuinely surprised since he's never asked. John tells you very little about these things, hoping that sparing you details will keep you safe.

“I'm allowing it.” A rush of heat goes to your cheeks and he smiles when that twinkle is back in your eyes.

“May I kiss you?” He pulls you both into bed so you're lying down again.

“I'll allow that too.” You laugh, and he kisses you.

You slam the back door behind you and walk purposefully to the shed. It's a crisp and foggy evening. You've left John in the house somewhere, calling after you.

“Fucker,” you say under your breath, exasperated. He knows you hate big gatherings being popped up on you. While it's exhilarating being at his side at events, it also comes with your own anxieties about being seen. Apart from that, you've already made plans with close friends that you hadn't seen in a long time and it makes you angry that he's forgotten again.

“I'm sorry.” His voice startles you a bit, your thoughts swirling in an irritated bubble around you. John's voice always breaks through. You grab a bag of dirt to prep for the plants in your greenhouse.

“I'm sorry,” he says again, his voice closer than before. You sigh and pause scooping the dirt from the bag into your own mixture.

“I hate this.”

“I know, I'm sorry. I really am.” You continue what you're doing, preferring to stay quiet instead of saying something you'll regret later on. It's not long before John is right next to you, bringing his sleeves up and mixing the dirt by hand. It softens you up. The sight of him helping you always has really, and it makes you smile despite yourself.

“I can do it, John.” 

“I know you can. Let me.” You stop what you're doing and watch his hands. Watch how they sift through the dirt like he was mixing butter into a short puff pastry. So delicate and without any thought, just as natural to him as it is to breathe. John can see you from the corner of his eye. You've seemingly forgotten the mixing altogether and are leaning closer, almost shoulder to shoulder. 

“I like being here with you,” he starts, taking a used rag nearby to wipe his hands, “I can lose my focus and it doesn't cost me a life. It feels freeing.”

“I didn't know that.” You move things out of the way, cleaning as you go.

“Well, I know this is your space to get away so I try not to barge in.” He wipes some dirt from the tip of your nose.

“I always love when you're here with me.”

“Even if I upset you by being a dumb, forgetful man?” He sort of pouts and a giggle bubbles out of you. John smiles, hoping to hear that sound every moment of his life. He finds a wayward hair falling out of place and tucks it behind your ear.

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He pulls you into him, enveloping you completely. There's nothing else for you to do but fall in deep, deeper still. The smell of him calming all of your senses and somehow, some way you feel that peaceful quiet making you sleepy.

“How about this? We go inside, warm up with some hot chocolate and put on a spooky movie.” 

“Yes, please.” You say, taking his hand and following him back to the house.

You’ve never been one to push him on expressing his feelings. You learned quickly that John would come to on his own, as did you whether you realized it or not. It took an accident, a simple fall really. You were out on a walk and something struck you in how these tiny flowers, or weeds, really, stuck out from the side of the road you were walking on. The Sun shining pointedly at them and they seemed to have pointedly been reaching out to you. John had a meeting to take somewhere in town even though it was supposed to be your vacation together, so as soon as you woke in the morning to find him gone and a beautiful note at your bedside, a walk was due.

You only meant to pick a few to press when you got back to the rental, but before you knew it, your ankle rolled and you found yourself tumbling in the ditch. It wasn’t deep or far off at all, but when John found out, you might as well have fallen straight to the Earth’s core.

“You should’ve waited until I got back,” he started, pacing in the hospital room. The nurse was tending to your ankle, gently. “What if you got really hurt? How would I have known?”

“I was clumsy. I can be clumsy, John. I’m okay.”

“And if you weren’t?”

“Then I wouldn’t be.”

For some reason, that stops him. You still wonder what it was you said that calmed him down, but you remember him kneeling down in front of you and softly, deftly, taking your sprained ankle into his hands. You were going to stop him from unraveling the nurses' handiwork, but stop yourself and let him, curious. He looks you over, careful not to cause any pain or discomfort, and wraps it back better than it just had been.

“You’re okay.” You nodded, understanding what he needed at that moment. He sighed heavily, looking up at you and saying, "Getting that call scared me. I don’t want you getting hurt ever again.” And there it was.

“I can’t promise that.” You both laughed quietly. He placed a kiss on your ankle and stood up.

“I know, but do it anyway. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

You'll never forget that look in his eyes. Brown eyes, matching yours, shimmering with so much love. You swore in that moment that if you had reached out to put your hand on his chest, your hearts beating would be indistinguishable from the other. Not a single wave, lurch, or pulse different in any way. How curious all of this was. How lovely. How lucky.

"I promise, John." You remember saying again and he kissed you. A soft and sweet kiss that always lingers, still.

[haologram]

araneae 🕸️ k.sy (teaser)

🕸️ synopsis: when you realize your friend (with benefits) actually has feelings for you, a tangled web of lies and avoidance ensues. 🕸️ genre: friends with benefits au ; big dummy dumb idiots to lovers because it's the only trope ever ; ta x student dynamics ; fluff, angst & eventual smut (surprise?) 🕸️ pairing: zoology ta!kwon soonyoung x marine biology major!reader | side pairings: joshua hong x sana minatozaki ; vernon chwe x roh jisun (fromis_9) ; mentions of reader x yuta nakamoto (nct) 🕸️ word count: 2.8k | full fic: i don't fuckin' know but hopefully under 20k. 🕸️ rating: 18+. minors do not interact i beg. 🕸️ warnings: mentions of knife play (none involved), alcohol, mentions of protected sex (dw it'll get freaky later), mentions of cum, loss of virginity talk, mentions of marijuana (stoner!hoshi be off the honeypacks!!), they're naked for most of this snippet. a lot of parties later in the fic, just wait LOL. 🕸️ what to listen to: good kisser - usher ; magic stick - lil' kim ; more to come.

LAST YEAR – Sunday, October 23.

You were never opposed to a nice Halloween party. Lots of thematic drinks, stupid boys dressed as Ghostface trying to explore knife kinks, and girls going all out with their glitter make-up and tinsel in their hair for the optimal fairy costume. 

You loved a good Halloween party, music blasting out of the speakers that were stolen from the AV Club by the softer version of the Beta Tau Omega brothers. Dancing with strangers in sweat-soaked facades, and waking up with smeared face paint all over your neck and shoulders from whatever disguised hook-up you'd taken home that night.

Last night's rager had to have been one for the books, because you have no idea how you ended up in this absolute mess of a bedroom – owned by none other than your close friend, Kwon Soonyoung. The same Kwon Soonyoung who also happens to TA the class you've put off taking for the last two years, and are set to start taking the upcoming spring semester.

The same Kwon Soonyoung that was related to the wife of the Dean, and the same Kwon Soonyoung that showed up everywhere stoned or ready to get stoned. The very same Kwon Soonyoung that made infused pre-rolls and edibles for nearly the entire campus…for free. Even you could see that was a horrible business call, and you were a Science major.

Soonyoung who helped people sneak kittens into their dorm rooms and make homes for them under lofted beds. Soonyoung, who taught a dance class and self-defense class back to back, so he was never free until after nine at night. Soonyoung who made hanging out seem like he was trying to get into your pants because he was just naturally flirtatious (and somehow, still absolutely bitchless.)

Soonyoung who you've kissed twice since meeting him two years ago, both times at Halloween parties hosted by his stupid fraternity. Soonyoung, who has had his hand up your skirt twice before someone interrupts you by asking if he has any weed at hand. He always does, and it's always in his car or his bedroom. He always goes, and a part of you, no matter how into it you may be, knows it's for the best. He keeps his circle small, of friends that is. You were added to the mix sometime after your first Halloween party (and first kiss together) your  freshman year, when he slammed into you in the middle of the economics hallway, breaking your laptop in the process. He'd felt so bad he took you to Best Buy that same night and shelled out two grand for a new one and even invited you out to lunch the next day.

He did not remember making out at all. To be fair, neither did you until the digital photos came back and he texted you a picture of the two of you kissing against the Beta Tau insignia on the wall. You were so embarrassed you avoided him for a week after, but he quickly forced you out of your dorm for a movie night. The two of you became fast friends, bonding over silly little things and enjoying each other's company – but it didn't stop the rumors from flying that you were a freshman stealing a guy from the sophomores. 

You remember that he adamantly denied any and every dating rumor flung your way, and even went as far as distancing himself from you for a bit – but when you tried to pull the same move he had earlier that year, he said maybe it was best for the two of you to remain friends from a distance. You didn't speak to him for the rest of the year, choosing to spend your time with friends your age and even dating a transfer student named Yuta Nakamoto, who was also in Soonyoung's year.

When word got around, Soonyoung was pissed – but didn't attempt to rekindle your friendship. He still followed you on Instagram, and still felt a bit of anger puddle in his stomach as he liked photo after photo of the two of you together, biting his tongue at the empty smile you held by his side.

This continued well into summer, and he saw the two of you take a trip to Jeju Island together, before breaking up the following week. Soonyoung heard from your friend, Nagyung, that he was transferring back and neither of you wanted to try long-distance. 

The following school year, he watched as you got recruited by sorority after sorority – eventually joining his frat's sister sorority, Alpha Sigma Delta. You hardly had to rush, the girls actively pushing you to pledge and you were far too nice to say no. 

You saw him again for the first time at the Halloween party planning, when you and your fellow pledges were tasked with helping the frat pledges in hauling in liquor. You weren't very happy about it, but Soonyoung whisked you away without a word from you, telling everyone that he needed your help with a certain task.

That task? "Can we talk?"

And you did. You talked, and talked, and talked. He even left at one point to get drinks for the two of you, returning to you fishing through his bag of pre-rolls for the ones infused with lemon balm. He smiled, telling you they were in his car, and you rolled your eyes at it.

You kissed at that party, too. It went further this time – the two of you on Seungcheol's balcony. The idea had been to go up to the roof and get crossed, but it seems a rather tipsy Soonyoung had other ideas. You didn't mind it, in fact you encouraged it – you slipped his hand up your latex dress, you let him slip your panties down your legs. "Hey, Hoshi! Do you have any pre-rolls?!" 

Just as he'd started undoing his pants.

"Fuck, I'm sorry baby."

"It's fine."

You passed out in his bedroom that time, too tired to go back to the sorority house with your sisters. You got out of clean-up, and Soonyoung left you a kimbap roll and an electrolyte drink on his nightstand, with a note asking how you got there 'haha.' 

It hadn't been fine. Again, neither of you remembered this happening until digitals were printed. And it was freshman year all over again – except this time, Soonyoung stuck around. Soonyoung defended you tooth and nail, and even dropped a few of his friends that bad-mouthed you. When you asked him about it, he shrugged, "Nothing wrong with kissing your friends every once in a while." So, here you are. Again.

The third year in a row you and your stupid friend have made out, and somehow, you're in his bed. There's no other explanation as for why your underwear is across the room, hanging off his lamp and why his head is gently laying on your chest. There's literally no other explanation.

"Soonyoung." You rasp, patting his cheek. He doesn't stir, but pouts into your bare breast. "Soonyoung." You speak louder, shaking him slightly as he peels open one of his eyes. 

"Yeah?" It takes him a moment to realize that it's you, sprinkled with glitter from his eye look last night and practically doused in his saliva.

"Oh, fuck." He just furrows his brows, rolling off your chest with a groan. He sits up at the edge of the bed, surveying the room before realizing he's got no pants on. "Son of a bitch. Did we…Yup. Yup, it's right there." His painted fingernails point at the discarded condom atop his dresser, flung hastily in a half-asleep attempt, most likely. You sigh, letting your head fall back on your pillow with a hmph. He does the same, his fingers only reaching up slightly to close the blinds with a jerk of the liftcord.

"You think it was good?" You ask with a small smile, and he snorts. "It was with you, I doubt it would've been bad."

Silence permeates the air again, before he sees your bare bottom half also covered in glitter. You have a tattoo on your hip that you didn't have when you first met. It's a stick-and-poke kitten. "Nice tattoo." "Thanks, I got it on Jeju Island." "When you and Yuta went?" "Yup." "Cool." He sits up, peering down at you with tired eyes. "What'd you see in that guy, anyway?"

"Hm?" "Yuta." "Oh. You want the truth?" It's like being nude in front of each other isn't a big deal. It's like having slept together after years of being in limbo means nothing. It's all so normal, the way you allow him to practically eye fuck you.

"I was sad you stopped being my friend." He blinks at you, watching the way you carefully pick at a thread loose in his comforter. You pull it out, discarding it behind you with a soft smile. "Does that answer your question?" "You fucked another guy because I stopped being your friend?" He asks incredulously, and you shrug. "Not just, but it was a large reason."

"You lost your virginity to him." His eyes are wide, and you shrug once more, nodding your head. "Yup." "Did he make you cum?" "Soonyoung-" "Did he?"

You sigh, patting his comforter. "Not the first couple of times, no. He got better at it, though. It was decent." 

Nodding, he clears his throat.

"Do you think I-" "Maybe. I don't know. I don't remember much, just the Pink Whitney Mingyu gave me." "Mingyu does love his Pink Whitney." You flip onto your back again, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. Tucking your hands behind your head, you speak again. "Do you think I went down on you?" "There's lipstick on my tip." "What color?" "Uhh…wine red." You wipe a finger across your bottom lip, the small amount of residue a bloody, Cabernet red. "Hm. Checks out."

The air feels…comfortable.

"Wanna shower?" "Yeah." "Can I shower with you?" "Yeah, Soonie."

The two of you stretch simultaneously, before rolling to the side of the bed and standing up. He grabs the discarded condom off the dresser, holding it like a used tissue and taking it to the bin. You dig through his dresser for a towel, and he fishes out something for you to wear.

"Boxers okay?" "Hm, I prefer briefs." "On me or on you?" "Your underwear choices are your business." He holds up a pair of Spiderman briefs. You bite back your laugh and nod silently, extending your hand for them.

He disappears into his bathroom, flickering lights on and turning the shower head on. "Hot?" "Boiling." "Got it."

The both of you get in, and you close your eyes as the water pelts your back. Soonyoung says nothing as he moves your hair off your shoulders and away from your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You should've asked me." He mumbles, reaching for the shampoo in the caddy behind you. Peeling your eyes open, you look up at him with a confused stare. "Asked you for what?" He shrugs, holding the shampoo bottle upside down over his hand and squirting some out. "I would've made you cum the first time." You snort, shoving his chest lightly. "Yeah, well…you didn't. It's fine." "This isn't weird to you?" "What? Showering together?" "After fucking, yeah." "Could be worse." "How?" "I could be that girl you've been flirting with since last year, wondering when you're going to text her back." "Who? Yujin?" "Yeah." "I'm not flirting with her, what made you think that?" "Stolen glances, flirty touches, you give her pre-rolls all the time." He rolls his eyes as he cards his fingers through your hair, his dull nails scrubbing your scalp gently. Your eyes flutter shut, and he huffs. "I give everyone pre-rolls." "Because you're a horrible business magnate." 

"No, because I'm nice." You smile without opening your eyes, your hands reaching out to touch his chest. His body feels good under your fingertips, you realize. "Are you mad you don't remember any of it?" "Furious." He mutters, gently tilting your head back to wash the soap out. You can't see the way he's looking at the sweet slope of your neck, just barely making out small nips of his teeth across your throat. Your necklace hangs nicely. The rest of the shower remains silent, as he carefully washes you before himself. His attention to detail is insane, the way his fingers hold the washcloth taut so he can feel every inch of you. He has to commit this to memory.

After, you're drying your hair with a random t-shirt he gave you. He remembers you told him that towels can be too rough for your hair texture sometimes. It's only when you're brushing your teeth with a brand new toothbrush he pulled from his cabinets that he speaks. "Let me change my bedsheets." "Don't wanna lay in the sin of fucking your friend, do ya?" The navy blue sheets are quickly replaced by ones with light grey ditsy floral print, and his comforter is shoved off and replaced by a few throw blankets. He watches as you change his pillowcases, only looking away when he hears his phone ping.

Msg From: Cheol [9:32am] hosh [9:32am] who is the girl in ur room and is she missing a pair of cat ears

"What was your costume last night?" He asks, and you snort. "I was a sexy witch." He smiles to himself as he picks up his phone.

Msg To: Cheol [9:33am] not missing a pair of cat ears [9:34am] and it's y/n

Your head snaps up when you hear a pair of feet thundering up the stairs, followed by silence. You give him an odd look, only to hear excited giggles down the hall and the pitter-patter of two adult men coming towards Soonyoung's room. You cross your arms as you hear the door creak open, an expectant look on your face as Jeonghan and Seungcheol's noses appear through the crack. "Hey, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here." Jeonghan remarks sweetly, and you just roll your eyes.

"He wasn't bluffing." He whispers to Seungcheol, receiving an annoyed huff from Soonyoung. "If you're done intruding on my personal business, I'd appreciate it if you left. The pledges still need to clean up last night's mess." Jeonghan gives you a wry look. "Can I say something and you don't get upset?" "If it's about sex, I will punch you in that pretty face of yours." You say pointedly, fluffing the pillow in your hand before throwing it onto his bed. Jeonghan purses his lips, nodding before sliding out from under Seungcheol. He nods his head, a satisfied look on his face. "Have a good…don't fuck too loud, okay?" Soonyoung barely misses Seungcheol's face with the charger he throws across the room, his giggle being heard in the hallway as he barrels down the stairs.

"Idiots." He huffs, running a hand through his damp hair as you flop onto the bed. "You don't mind if I stay here a bit? My head's killing me."

He lays down next to you, a sigh escaping his lips.

"You okay, Soonie?" Turning only his head, he scans your face. Tired eyes lined with thick lashes, plump lips covered by the Aquaphor in his bathroom. Slightly unkempt brows and your shoulder tattoo peeking out from the collar of his shirt on your frame.

"Kitty?" You grimace at the pet name, one he christened you with when the two of you met. He'd been dressed up as a cowboy, and dancing with a skeleton that was stolen from the comparative anatomy students (with the help of Junhui, of course.) He also had a lit joint between his fingers, one that sprinkled ash over your newly healed shoulder tattoo and made you yelp in pain.

"Shit, I'm sorry, kitty." He quickly put it out in a nearby ashtray, dusting your shoulder of any ash residue. "It's fine, it's fine. Just…can I get a hit?"

"Yeah?" He sits up, leaning against his bed frame before looking down at you.  "Would it be weird if I asked to try again?"

You glance up at him, an amused smile playing on your lips. "Try what again, exactly?"

He clears his throat, a beet red blush coating his cheeks. "You said Yuta didn't make you cum. And we don't know if I made you cum. So…can I have a redemption round?"

You've sat up at this point, a small laugh falling from your lips as you push your hair back, "You want to fuck me?"

"I can just go down on you, if, uh…if that's what you'd prefer." He stutters, mentally cursing himself. You glance at him, eyes scanning his face. "And we're still friends after this? You won't dump me?"

"I won't. I promise. Cross my heart, kitty." He holds his pinky finger out, insinuating you link yours. Sighing, you do just that. "Fine. Hop to, I want breakfast."

haologram © 2024 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[laundrybiscuits]

(Continued from this snippet! Content notes: police interrogation, homophobia)

“You don’t look gay.” The detective gives Steve a very obvious once-over. Steve tries to look gayer as subtly as he can. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Guess I’ll have to let my boyfriend know you don’t think I look gay enough to fuck him.”

The detective’s face twists slightly, like he’s smelled something bad. “No need to be like that. I’m just saying, I bet a good-looking guy like you could get a girlfriend pretty easy.”

“You’re not my type,” says Steve. He smiles with his teeth, even though his heart is going fast and he can feel his palms starting to sweat. 

The detective’s hands tense, and Steve wonders if he’s about to get hit, but they relax again and the detective sits back.

“Just doing my job,” says the detective. “Because, funny enough, we asked around with all your little friends, and it seems like you used to be a bit of a ladies’ man.”

“Things change,” says Steve. 

“In fact…seems like none of your friends ever even saw you talk to Munson before. Moved in different circles and everything. I remember what high school was like.”

The detective leans close. 

“So why would the captain of the swim team, a nice normal boy from a good family with a string of pretty girlfriends, ever—ever—stick his neck out like this for some murdering scum like Munson? That’s what I’m trying to figure out, here.”

“Don’t fucking talk about him like that,” says Steve. His mouth is dry. His pulse is thundering in his ears. “He didn’t kill anyone. He was with me the whole time. He’s—he didn’t kill anyone.”

“Hm,” says the detective. 

It takes a while for them to stop interrogating him. They keep asking him the same questions over and over, trying to trip him up. He asks for water and doesn’t get it. In the back of his mind, a hysterical little voice is shrieking Scoops Ahoy! I work for Scoops Ahoy!, but he manages to keep it locked down. Doesn’t let himself get baited, just keeps repeating that Eddie was with him the whole time and neither of them know anything. 

It takes a while, but it’s over eventually.

When he leaves the station, Eddie’s standing outside with Hopper and Joyce Byers, wearing a shirt and jeans that definitely belonged to Jonathan at some point. Eddie’s got his hands tucked into his armpits, looking antsy and tense, but he’s free and standing on his own two feet. It’s a pretty big upgrade from when Steve last saw him about a week or two ago. 

It’s almost too easy to go straight over to him, wrapping him up in a tight hug like they’ve had their arms around each other a million times. 

“Oof. Easy there, tiger,” laughs Eddie. “I’m, uh, still a little fragile.”

“Sorry,” says Steve, and loosens his hold. He doesn’t let go all the way.

“Come on, boys,” says Joyce. “I’m taking you two home. Steve, Eddie’s been staying with us, but we’re a little short on spare beds and it’s not great for his recovery. We’re moving him to your place until we can figure out something better, okay?” 

———

Joyce drops them off and helps carry in a few garbage bags full of Eddie’s stuff. There’s not that much.

And then the door closes behind her, and Steve’s alone with Eddie for the first time since—actually, maybe ever. 

“So,” says Eddie. “What…the fuck, Harrington.”

“Is that an actual question?” Steve says. He rolls his shoulders, trying to get some of the stiffness out. “I mean, didn’t Hopper and Mrs. Byers explain everything to you?”

“Kind of? I mean, I still think this is probably the worst idea of all time, but they told me—anyway, what I meant just now was a much more personalized and individual what the fuck. As in, why the fuck would you agree to any of this? You know you’re never gonna get another girl in this town to look at you now.”

“Dumping me already? Ice cold, man.”

Eddie groans and actually throws his hands in the air in frustration. Steve hadn’t known people did that in real life. 

“Jesus christ.” Eddie wheels around and grabs two of the garbage bags. “I can’t do this right now, I need to take a fucking nap. We will be discussing this later.”

“Still don’t know what there is to discuss,” says Steve, but he picks up the last garbage bag and leads the way to the spare room. 

Eddie pitches forwards onto the bed, arms outstretched and face mashed into the pillow. “Fuck yes, I am going to marry this goddamn mattress. Hit the lights when you leave,” he says, slightly muffled. 

For a second, Steve finds himself stepping forward with a hand outstretched to—do something. He’s not sure what. Touch Eddie’s hair, or something dumb like that. His face warms. He’s really glad Eddie isn’t looking at him and doesn’t see how he’s kind of just standing there with a hand out for no reason. 

He turns around, flicking the light switch on his way out, and doesn’t look back.

[pedrostylez]

The Way

Jackson!joel x f!reader

A/N: Hi everyone! I’ve unintentionally taken a hiatus from here, and I’ve been working on this for longer than I care to admit. Just something I thought about one day, and wanted to bring a snippet of to life. There’s not much editing I’ve done beyond read it over and over and then close it and work on something else so…bear with me.

Warnings: piv sex, oral (f receiving), Joel’s got a big dick, some dirty talk

Word Count: 1.2k

There’s something about the cold weather and Joel.

His cheeks reddened, his eyebrows pulled down over his eyes in an attempt to brace for the cold. His hands become rougher, red and cracked at his knuckles as they catch on the fabric of his sweater and brush against his jeans when he wipes away the work from outside.

His breath comes out in large white puffs, circling his head and curling around his ears like how his hair does after a shower. His fingers curl into his palms to try and warm them up unsuccessfully while he remains outside.

But it makes him all the more happy to come inside and see you.

The way he sheds off his jacket, letting the warmth of the fireplace consume him while his boots kick off and begin to drip with remnants of snow.

The way he shuffles in wool socks across the tile of the kitchen floor to where you’re standing, those same cracked knuckles coming into view as his fingers wrap around the hot mug of coffee in your grasp.

The way he smiles when you tut over the dry skin, wanting to repair his hands before he presses his chapped lips to your smooth ones.

The way he holds back a laugh when you’ve forgotten what you were saying, staring up at him with doe eyes and parted lips. His hand comes up to run his cooled thumb against your chin, tilting you up into him again and pressing his tongue into yours.

He’s quick to change his pace, from slow to fast, pressing his body against yours. Joel rests his hands against the counter to cage you in, your mouth popping from his to sigh and shiver while he lets his lips trail down your throat. “Joel…” It’s quiet when you speak, barely above the sound of the water settling from the boil on the stove, the clock on the wall ticking away, the crackle of the fire in the other room.

The way he hums against your skin, humid and warm in comparison to the rest of him, has you closing your eyes and leaning your head back. You rest your hands over his, leaning further into the countertop.

He can’t stop himself from venturing further down, down, down. Lifting your shirt to kiss at the soft skin of your stomach, letting his hands stay stuck under your own. Pressed into your chest, squeezing gratefully as his tongue licks out at your skin above the waist band.

“I want you.” Is all he gruffs out, his hands slipping from under yours to work at the button of your pants. He smiles at the way you shiver when his fingers glide on your thighs, nipping at the skin lovingly.

You let him do as he wants, stripping you bare and pressing cold fingertips into your heated skin. The way his tongue peeks out and brushes against your clit, the only warm part of his body touching you, has your head lolling back and eyes closing.

Lifted to sit flat on the cold stone, rough fingers against your inner thighs, warm mouth engulfing your center. Joel groans into you, letting his mouth explore deeper into you. One hand supporting you, the other buried into his hair as you call out to him. “Joel–”

“No.” He growls, fingers digging into the supple flesh as if you could shimmy away. “I need you.” He corrects his earlier statement. “I’ve been missing you all day and–”

It’s like he’s in total distress, having spent all day out in the cold on patrol and now finally inside and warm and with you that has him going crazy and unable to look past the tunnel vision he has to your center. “Joel, please I want you inside of me.” You interrupt him, biting at your lip while stroking at his curls.

His eyes flick up, looking over your face as he breathes heavily over you. It’s frozen for a moment, until he shakes his head and swipes his tongue over you again. “After you come.”

Your eyes roll back, your protest dying in your throat as his tongue dips into your center and nose presses against your clit, again and again and again. Your fingers tighten in his hair, holding on for as long as you can until his humming of pleasure has you tipping over the edge.

When he finally pulls away from you, chin and mustache slick with your release and ushering you still naked into the living room where the fire crackles louder, you watch him. His cheeks are still red, but now from his blood pumping heavily through his veins. The puffs of air are invisible against your skin as he lays you down on the rug in front of the fireplace, murmuring that he “can’t wait” and “needs you now.”

The way he pulls the sweater over his head, unbuttoning the flannel beneath and shedding it like his coat earlier before smiling smugly at you. “What?” He chuckles, letting his fingers come down and grab just above your knees, maneuvering you to be spread in front of him.

You shake your head, embarrassment flooding your system and heating your skin. “Nothing. You’re just…” You trail off, your fingers unconsciously reaching forward to run through the trail of hair at his belly button.

He hums, his cheeks heating in his own shyness, his jeans popping open and resting half way down his thighs. He leans forward, his head tilted down to watch himself as the head of his cock presses at your opening.

Your hand stays planted at his stomach, resting gently but unable to move away as your own chin is tilted down to watch as he slides in easily. The initial stretch is always a bit shocking, an inhale of breath as his head snaps up to look at you and gauge your reaction. “You’re okay, shhh, good.” He coos, tilting his hips back and pressing forward again as he wraps your legs around him. “That’s it, I can feel you baby. You feel me? How hard I am for you?”

“Yes.” You breathe, digging your fingers into his arms. He grunts, happily pulling back and pressing into you again and setting a pace that has you both begin to wonder if you should still be in front of the fireplace.

The way Joel begins to lose himself, burying his head in your neck and grunting, groaning, gripping your legs tighter and tighter until he can’t hold back any longer. His hips continue to rock back and forth, his body breaking out in a sweat at his orgasm.

It’s only when he lifts his head from your neck to look at you again that he sees your smile, his own grin stretching wide. “All warmed up?” You ask somewhat breathlessly, biting at the inside of your cheek to hold in a laugh.

Joel hums in that way that tells you he knows you’re being funny, pressing a peck to your lips. “Very, might stay here for the rest of the night.”

You groan, smacking his shoulder and letting your laugh bubble out of you. There’s something about the cold weather and how horny it makes Joel.

[the-modern-typewriter]

https://www.tumblr.com/the-modern-typewriter/659807198763991040/helloo-i-love-your-writing-i-have-a-request?source=share this is one of the best snippets I've ever read on tumblr I am so in awe of your writing! I hope we get to see more of bone chilling scary villains from you because you write them so well!!

They wouldn't have known the villain was there, in the gloom, if not for their eyes. They shone like a cat's in the dark.

The protagonist swallowed. They took a step back, but the door had already shut behind them. No way out. They resisted the urge to turn around and bang on the thick, heavy metal. To scream. Beg. To say they were sorry, that they'd changed their mind, they'd do anything, anything else.

Just let me out, please.

But that would require looking away from those eyes. From the villain. And that seemed a stupid, dangerous thing to do.

"My my," the villain murmured. "I thought people had given up on surviving me."

The protagonist curled their hands into fists. "Just stay back."

The villain laughed.

The protagonist felt naked; entirely too aware of the fact that they couldn't see anything in the black, but the villain could see everything. They watched the eyes move as the villain shifted. Stood up. They were probably standing up, weren't they? The protagonist heard the gentle clink of chains. They flattened their spine against the door.

"I mean it!" The protagonist's voice came out too high, too thin. "Stay back, I'm warning you."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll - you'll regret it."

"Oh?"

The deal was a simple one. If they could survive one night, just one night, in the villain's cell with them than they could have their entire sentence revoked. A few people had apparently managed it, over the decades, but none of them would ever say how. None of them ever looked right about it.

"How will I regret it?" the villain asked softly. "What will you do to me?"

"I have a knife."

Everyone was allowed to bring one thing down with them. Just the one.

"That's so sweet," the villain said. "No one's ever thought of that before. You're so clever."

The protagonist tasted bile.

The villain moved forward in the dark. The protagonist couldn't hear their steps, just the clink of the chains, the crunch of something.

"If you kill me, you'll just have to be alone down here!" the protagonist tried. "You could at least have company for the night."

"But I thought you had a knife?" the villain asked, with yet more laughter in their voice. "Don't you want to use it?"

They didn't stop.

The protagonist was strongly beginning to suspect that no one who survived bought a knife. Maybe they brought other offerings; things to satisfy the ravenous hunger of the monster across the room. They held the knife out anyway, because it was all they had.

God. Why did they bring a knife? Why were they so stupid?

The villain paused in front of them. At least, the protagonist could feel some pressure of something against the tip of the knife. They could have stabbed forward, sliced perhaps. They couldn't quite move. It didn't seem possible for it to be that easy. It was surely a trap of some sort.

"I want to go home," the protagonist said. "I have a family. They need me. I can't - I have to get home. Please."

"Oh, well. In that case."

"Really?"

The villain laughed again. Something cold plucked the knife away. The protagonist heard it clatter somewhere in the dark. They flinched. They braced for the end. For the pathetic five minutes they had managed to survive.

"Tell me a story," the villain cooed. "And if it makes me feel free, for even a second, then freedom can be your prize."

"And if it doesn't...?"

The next morning, the door opened and the lights flooded on.

The villain sat chained to the wall on the other end of the cell. Their eyes were closed, placid. The floor was littered with bones picked clean, the walls an art gallery of blood, except for the spotless semi-circle around the villain's resting place. The knife sat on the floor in front of them.

The hero's jaw clenched.

The villain shrugged.

The lights flickered back off.

The hero stepped back.

The vault door locked.

The cycle repeated.

[fanaticsnail]

"Someone. Someone Help Me."

Word Count: 531 - Sanji Pollen Drabble

Masterlist here, Pollen Masterlist here

@gingernut1314 tagged me a while ago to release a snippet of writing for WIP Wednesday. Only issue is, when I get writing: I can't bring myself to stop until it's completed. Like a shark with blood in the water, a cat being coaxed with a piece of smoked salmon, or more like a Snail with the temptation of a crispy slice of lettuce. So, I present this drabble as my small gift to you, dear. This is a small snippet of a collab piece @sordidmusings and I dreamed up a few nights ago - This portion of it being solely Sanji. The larger plot may include this portion as a break away from the main pairing to be disclosed later.

Warnings: Pollen!Sanji, MDNI, Sanji has inhaled pollen, Sanji can't relieve himself, Edging, Crying, Whimpering, Begging, rutting, Solo!Sanji.

Minors, this is not meant for you.

Part 2 Here.

Within the vacant halls of the quiet ship, Sanji was struggling to deal with a foreign issue he had found for himself. He only breathed in a small amount of the dust falling from the soft, white and yellow leaves: rendering himself completely in shock and desperation

He was clutching at himself, fisting his cock hard and fast with a sense of panic falling from him in waves. Although he had reached the peak of climax three times, he was unable to spill himself over the edge. For the first time in his life, Sanji was unable to pleasure himself to the point of spilling his hot cum over his thumb and into an awaiting, silken paper tissue. 

Oils, moisturizer - he even spat on himself - nothing was working. His spit even seemed to make his situation more dire, the taint of white and yellow pollen on his saliva making the veins on the underside of his cock fill even more with desire and pulsating blood. His shined, red, glistening tip of his cock was leaking with pearls of translucent pre-cum as he continued to pump himself desperately. 

He had tried so many positions: rutting into his palm down onto the mattress below him with the rough snap of his hips, sitting on the edge of his bed and pulling at only the tip, falling onto his knees on the wooden floorboards below him, lying on his back and feeling the coolness of the floor sooth his burning skin while he used one hand to circle the girth of his cock and the other squeezing the exposed tip.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, was working. He needed more. Something more that he couldn’t provide for himself. He climbed back onto the mattress and lied on his back, starting up the pace once more to drag his way towards the finish line again. 

Gasps, moans, groans and cries were not silenced, even with him clapping his unused hand over his mouth as he desperately brought himself to the edge of another orgasm; yet having it fall away as he continued to chase it harder with his hand. 

Sweat pooling at his temple, his jaw clamped like a vice, and his eyes clenched tightly shut as hot tears trickled down his cheeks. 

Whimpers, groans, hisses and stuttering breaths propelling him on to keep beating himself within his closed fist. Trickling out of the corners of his eyes, he began to desperately sob harder. He was being held hostage by his inability to climax, his tears falling freely from his eyes. His lips opened wide to reveal stringy and desperate dribbles of spit over his lips and into his palm, his eyes glazed and pupils blown. 

"S-Someone. Someone h-help me" he cried, his heart beating desperately hard against his ribcage. His sniffles, sobs and whimpers alerted none to his current predicament; the remainder of the crew pursuing their own interests away from the kitchen and crew quarters.

“P-Please,” he whimpered, his hot tears of frustration falling to join the drips of sweat pouring from his hairline, down his temple and onto the soft pillowcase below him, “Please. I’m begging. P-Please, I-I can’t do this anymore.”

[loveshotzz]

kitchen? 😏

Just a little something i’ve been plugging away at since @palmtreesx3 put the idea of us wearing AIRWIY!steve’s baseball jersey from chapter nine and what that would do to him. It spiraled into our first sleep over at his house and him cooking us breakfast the next morning. Here’s a little snippet for you baby.

18+ - fem!reader, age gap, older!steve, fingering

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him, chest puffing out a little more just for you. Licking his full pink lips, they pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you giggle before you slip your hand into his palm, watching with glazed eyes when it disappears in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, while he grins down at you like someone who just won the grand prize at the fair. He wraps an arm around you to keep you from leaving, letting go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his turn soft, with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, the palm on your back squeezing you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he gets because of it, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meeting in the middle with eager enthusiasm, front teeth scraping together as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. He’s met with the bare swell of your ass when he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, and you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by your own gasp when two thick fingers trace a line up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine and your knees shake.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows bunch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out, eyes rolling back when he spreads you apart.

[run-little-hero]

“Can you remember the last time we had a moment alone like this?” Villain asks, far too pleased for Hero’s liking. They should’ve duct taped their mouth shut after tying them up.

“No, nor do I care.” They riffle through a stack of papers.

“I think I remember it,” Villain begins.

“Keep it to yourself. I’m trying to concentrate.”

The restraints creak against Villain’s wrists as they shift in the chair. “It was the time I’d nearly decimated one of your compounds. Not the most special part of that day by any means, however.”

“Villain.”

“The whole plan backfired on me, I’ll admit. Quite literally backfired. I don’t remember anything between detonating my weapon and waking to the sight of you.” Hero stills, recalling the moment. “I do remember how close you were. How close you got when you thought I wouldn’t make it. I never thought you’d be the one to make the first move, but—“

Papers forgotten, a hand grips Villain’s throat. Just a warning—hardly any pressure applied. Hero looms over Villain’s restricted figure, dauntingly displeased.

“Perhaps I should have clarified this after the incident. But I thought we had a mutual understanding to never speak of that day again.”

Hero can feel Villain’s trachea roll under their palm as they swallow. Their voice reverberates in cartilage as they utter, “We should be able to talk about it. It’s just us.”

It’s never just them. Their ever-present commitment to warring causes will always be a third wheel. Hero settles for, “We can’t go there. For both our sakes.” Their hand slides from Villain’s neck to their shoulder.

“I want to.”

“I don’t.” Hero straightens, intending to leave the topic and return to their stack of papers.

Before they can turn around, Villain’s leg wraps around their ankle and pulls them back towards the chair. They collapse onto Villain’s lap, righting themself only to be met with smug smile. Villain laughs.

Then, neither of them move. They stare into each other’s eyes and remain silent, like a single word could shatter the fledgling, fragile reality they’ve wandered into. Hero doesn’t mind the company in this place.

Villain voices a request. “Untie me, please.” Yet, they seem to fear the idea of that freedom. “I won’t run I promise, just…I want to be close to you.”

Superhero once told Hero their weakness is to abandon rationale. How calculating and decisive Hero can be in one moment, then blindsided by desire in another. But they believe Villain and recognize it is their weakness to accept entrapment.

Hero reasons, “You only feel this way because of how doomed we are.”

“Give me more credit for the depth of my emotions,” Villain scoffs.

Anchored by tension, Hero takes out a pocket knife and reaches behind Villain, swiftly sawing through the rope binding their wrists. Villains arms circle Hero as soon as they’re freed.

“Thank you,” they mutter, burying their face into Hero’s chest.

Hero shuts their eyes. “You’re making this difficult for me.”

“Too bad.”

They sigh, hands splayed across Villain’s back. “What are we gonna do?”

—

snippet #9

[lvndrfucks]

hiii !! are you able to do just cute tour moments with dylan ?? either on stage or not ?? thank u sm for writing for the wallows cuz i swear no one writes for them 😭

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆tour moments ft. dylan｡˚🐻𖤐🧋

➤ during performances, you sang clairo’s part in “are you bored yet?” you’d usually sing from behind your keyboard until fans were making comments that you should be up front with dylan during the verse.

just as you were about to sing, dylan quickly raced to your side and offered his hand out. you laughed while singing.

“feels like I've known you my whole life, i can see right through your lies.” hands intertwined, dylan led you to the front as the crowd roared in excitement. “i don't know where we're going, but i'd like to be by your side.”

your cheeks began to hurt from smiling as he circled around, his eyes never leaving yours. the two of you harmonized. “if you could tell me how you're feelin', maybe we'd get through this undefeated. holdin' on for so long.”

instead of going back to the keyboard, the two of you jumped around stage until the song finished.

➤ fans also made the connection that you and dylan often shared clothing. there were countless photos online that showed side by side comparisons of him wearing a shirt/sweater and you wearing the same one. they thought it was sweet and you thought it was cute how people picked up on the little things.

one time, during a concert, dylan decided to tease the audience a bit.

it was after you performed a song and were about to do the talking portion when dylan leaned into the mic.

he called your name. “i really like your shirt. where’d you get it?”

you glanced down, giggling a bit. “thanks. i’m not sure, actually. just something i found from my closet.”

“i didn’t know my suitcase was considered your closet now.”

the crowd screamed as you rolled your eyes playfully, waving a hand at him dismissively.

of course, there was one memorable moment in particular that was a fan favorite.

“hi, guys,” you beamed into the mic. “do you guys like my outfit?” it was a sheer lace crop top with black lace trim and gothic-inspired lettering. the top was paired with a denim skirt with a ruffled hem, giving it a playful touch. “my boyfriend got it for me.” more cheers erupted. “can we say thank you dylan?”

you laughed at the boy’s red face as half of the audience just screamed while there were a mix of thank you’s thrown in. braeden and cole thought it would be funny to thank dylan as well as they said it into their microphones.

➤ a lot of behind the scenes moments were shared online, whether they were on tour or in the recording studio. if you focused hard enough and squinted your eyes, you and dylan would be spotted in the background of certain scenes.

during the beginning of your guys’ relationship, you tried not to show too much pda in front of the camera. now, the two of you could care less.

most of them consisted of the two of you close to each other. you sitting on his lap, him having one arm around you. there would be little snippets of the two of you messing around thrown in.

as you were doing your makeup, dylan approached you from behind with a camcorder. you flashed him a small smile before focusing back to your makeup. he zoomed in on you through the mirror.

“isn’t she gorgeous?”

you tried biting back a smile, attempting to glare at him.

“see? she’s cute even while trying to be mad at me.” you placed your palm over the lens, pushing away gently. “hey, don’t hate the camera man,” dylan defended.

“go bother braeden.” you breathed out a laugh.

“fine. only because i like bothering him.”

dylan peppered your cheek with kisses, the camera only getting a shot of your shoulder when he leaned in. but the audience knew what happened.

➤ have you guys seen that one clip of ross lynch and jaz sinclair (rip) at one of the driver era concerts and she’s dancing around while he just stares at her in full admiration? and when she goes to walk away, he’s just following her with his lips pressed against hers, not wanting her to go?

yeah, that was definitely you and dylan.

during your songs, you interacted with the crowd quite a bit and liked to dance around the stage. dylan always had heart-shaped eyes watching as you pulled the silliest moves just to see him laugh.

you both leaned in for a kiss, but he didn’t want to pull away. you attempted to walk back to your keyboard, but he was right behind you with his lips still against yours. eventually, you placed your hand on his chest to pull back, cheeks red and smile so wide that it hurt.

“love you,” he mouthed.

you blew him a kiss that he pretended to hit his heart.

[creweemmaeec11]

Pitch Black - Mini snippet "What are you doing here?!" Villain demanded, crossing their arms and glaring at the sidekick standing on their front step. The sidekick, however, didn't reply, instead pushing past the villain with strength and almost *desperation* that shocked the criminal.

"What the hell-"

"I need your help- I need- I don't know- I just- I couldn't think of anyone else to go to and- I had to tell someone and-" The hero's sidekick was nearly hyperventilating, pushing out words between their deep breaths that were nothing short of a rambling mess. They were pacing back and forth in tight circles.

"Sidekick!" Villian said loudly, just to get the other's attention. Sidekick flinched, wrapping their arms around themselves like they were cold before slowly turning to face the villain. Only then did the criminal notice how wet the other's eyes looked.

The criminal gaped at them for a moment, completely unsure what to do. Was this a fight? It didn't seem like one. Storming in through their front door seemed a poor way to go about stealing something. Was this a trick? They weren't exactly known for having a "soft side,"... but the sidekick was genuinely shaking in front of them. It would be a stupid setup for a trick, coming here all alone unless they weren't-

The villain turned back to the still-open door behind them and glanced around.

"I'm here alone, I- I swear,"

The villain took a deep breath and slowly closed the their front door, locking it before turning back to the sidekick in front of them.

Now what? Nothing like this had ever happened to villain. They had half a mind to just throw them down in the dungeon and be done with it, but...

"Living room," the Villain ordered, pointing. The sidekick did as they were told, heading in the direction with the villain close behind them until they entered a cozy-looking living room.

"Sit."

They perched on one of the couches, arms still wrapped around themselves. They eyed the villain warily. Yet, it wasn't the *villain* they seemed wary of. If the villain was being honest, the other seemed wary of their own bloody shadow.

They appraised the other for a few more seconds before sighing, letting a bit of the tension in their shoulders ease.

"Now, want to tell me why exactly you're barging into my home, unarmed, all alone, at midnight?" they asked, tone less threatening then it had been prior.

Sidekick's shaking seemed to increase, and the arms around themselves tightened. "I- I'm sorry, I just- Hero- I-" Suddenly they were crying, breathing increasing again, "Oh god-" they buried their face in their hands

"Are they dead?" Villain assumed, crossing their arms and half-sitting on the arm of an adjacent couch. Why the hell would sidekick come to them if hero-

"What?" Sidekick snapped up to look at them, eyes wide, "No, no, they aren't-" Sidekick shook their head, wiping their tears in an attempt to regather themselves. Villain sat quietly.

After another deep breath, Sidekick turned to look at the villain again.

"Hero had gone home early, with a cold. I went to the afternoon meeting but- but after it was over I went- I went to check on them- see if- if they needed anything," They managed, taking another deep breath.

Villain watched their fingers tighten on their knees, turning white.

"I didn't want to wake them if they were sleeping- so I let myself in the front door with my key. I found them in the kitchen, super groggy and out of it. Getting themselves a glass of water. It wasn't.... It wasn't until they turned to look at me...." Their voice seemed to break, arms coming to wrap around themselves again.

"And.....?"

"Their eyes were black" they whispered, like they were afraid to even say the words out loud, "Pitch black,"

The weight of the situation finally seemed to dawn on the villain.

"I- they didn't seem to notice, thanking me for coming to check on them before turning to go back to bed,"

"Are you suggesting what I think you are....?" Villain asked cautiously.

The sidekick nodded, "I couldn't go to anyone at the agency, what if-" They swallowed, "What if they already know? What if there are more? What if they all are-" They couldn't bring themselves to finish the sentence. "I couldn't think of what else to do but come here..."

Villain was starting to understand. It would take a pretty extreme situation for anyone to see their house as the safest option, but well....

Finding out the hero was a demon was a pretty extreme situation.