#so I was curious to see...and then it faded to black

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection: First Meetings

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You have two encounters that you never imagined would change the course of your life.

A/N: This is a side story set during a time prior to the events in A Feline Connection series. Please read the series first to understand the characters involved.

Warnings: backstory, slight fluff, light angst, signs of toxic relationship (not from Natasha)

Words: 1906

“So if you want to arrest me, arrest me.”

Your lips curl up into an amused smirk as you rest your chin on your hand, captivated by the impressive words of the legendary Black Widow. You continue to watch the news broadcast with interest as she stares down the camera, her expression unwavering.

“You know where—”

The large screen suddenly turns off, leaving the room in silence. Surprised, you straighten in your cushioned seat, turning to search for the remote. 

A hand slides under your chin, tilting your face back over your shoulder.

The intense gaze of familiar, stormy gray eyes meets yours.

You tilt your head back further, lips curling into a playful smirk.

“I was watching that.”

Whitney stands behind you, her expression unreadable as her eyes glance briefly at the now-dark screen, a flicker of something sharp passing through her gaze before it fades to something softer.

She returns her attention to you, a soft sigh slipping from her lips. 

Without a word, she leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your mouth, her quiet apology barely murmured as she pulls away.

“Sorry.”

When you smile, accepting her apology, she lets go of you and straightens.

“Come on, let’s get ready for tonight.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The city is quiet tonight, the empty streets echoing only the calls of late-night food vendors. 

You gaze down from your perch above, eyes narrowing as you wait for the correct time to act.

Below, a vendor tries to charm a couple into a last-minute snack, his voice bright and persuasive.

But a flicker of movement in the shadows diverts your attention. 

A small black cat creeps toward the food cart, waiting until no one is looking to pounce, snagging a piece of meat before slipping back into the darkness. 

You smile, watching the graceful creature scurry off into an alley, successful and unseen.

“What a cute little thief,” you murmur, amused. 

With Whitney nowhere in sight yet from her scouting, you decide to investigate, descending into the alley as silently as a shadow. The faint scuff of paws guides you until you spot a worn box tucked against a wall. 

You approach carefully, hearing a faint rustling from within.  

Peering over the edge, your gaze meets wide, curious yellow eyes. You hold still, barely breathing as the little creature tilts her head at you, a soft, inquisitive meow slipping from her.  

You smile, extending your hand slowly. 

The cat’s gaze narrows with suspicion, but she inches closer, sniffing your fingers cautiously. Her rough tongue flicks over your skin, and you chuckle softly at the tickling sensation. 

You take a moment to observe the makeshift shelter she’s claimed. It is nothing more than a worn box lined with scraps of newspaper and a thin, tattered cloth for warmth.

On the side, a torn sign reads, “Please take.” 

Your chest tightens at the sight, and you gently lift the cat, cradling her against your chest. She nuzzles closer, purring at the warmth. 

Before you can appreciate the small creature further, a sound catches your attention—a familiar footstep, sharp and steady.

You turn to see Whitney approaching, a disapproving frown etched on her face. 

“Hey, there you are,” she says curtly. “You need to be focused. We only have a small window of time.”  

Her gaze falls to the cat in your arms, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“And put that back.” 

You throw her a teasing smirk, hoping to lighten her mood.

“Since when is it my job to leave things behind?” 

However, her gaze hardens at your attempt at a joke, her eyes flashing with a warning. 

“Put. It. Back,” she repeats firmly, her tone brooking no argument. 

Your smile falls as you frown at her, a slight chill running through your spine at her voice. You hesitate, feeling the cat burrow closer. 

“You’re scaring her, Whitney,” you say, your voice soft.  

“And you need to learn the difference between things that matter,” she murmurs, her hand trailing up to cup your cheek, her thumb caressing your skin gently.

But then her grip tightens, her gaze dropping to the tiny creature in your arms. “And useless things left behind for a reason.” 

You unconsciously tighten your grip, cradling the cat closer.

“Now, put it back,” Whitney says with a finality. 

Reluctantly, you move to place the cat back in her box, arranging the makeshift bedding into something comfortable. The cat tilts her head, letting out a soft meow as you pull away. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, stroking her head one last time before turning away. 

Whitney's hand cups your neck as you stand, leaning in close. 

“Good girl,” she murmurs approvingly, moving to kiss you, but you turn slightly, evading her.

Her lips brush your cheek instead, and with a small huff, you grapple away quickly, leaving her alone.

Whitney scoffs in disbelief, her hand falling back to her side, her eyes narrowing as they watch you disappear. 

Her glare shifts to the cat’s box. 

With a frustrated growl, she kicks it over, scattering the contents. 

A startled cry echoes as the little creature scurries into the shadows. 

Taking a deep breath, Whitney shakes her head, running her hand through her hair as she regains her composure before following after you. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Whitney paces down a hall, irritation clear as she speaks on the phone. 

“I don’t care which one. Buy them all if you have to. Just get it here.” 

Hanging up, she pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration, but something bumps her leg as she rounds a corner. She snaps her gaze down, surprised to see the little black cat stumbling upright from the collision. 

Scoffing, she grabs it by the scruff, lifting it to eye level.   

The cat hisses, swiping a tiny paw at her. 

Whitney rolls her eyes, muttering, “How did you even get in here?” 

She’s about to call a guard to remove the creature and send it back into the streets when your door swings open. 

Your eyes meet hers with a slight glare, obviously still upset about earlier. But when your gaze shifts to the cat, your expression softens, and you step closer to her.

“You got me the cat?” you ask in surprise, a happy expression crossing your face.

Whitney observes your expression, glancing from you to the cat who meows softly at your attention. 

“I…felt bad. So, I tracked her down,” she says, lying smoothly as she drops the cat into your waiting arms. 

You beam, stroking the cat, and turn back to Whitney, cupping her cheek before pulling her into a kiss.

She deepens it instinctively, pressing closer, but you pull away, and she has to clench her teeth to keep the irritation of your action at bay.

Her frustration is only slightly soothed when you caress her cheek fondly, giving her a soft look.

“Thank you,” you whisper, smiling. 

Whitney gives a slight nod, her gaze thoughtful as she watches you cradle the cat close. 

“Anything for you,” she responds, the words smooth and automatic.

You kiss her once more, along with the promise that you’ll drop by her room later, before returning to your room, cooing to the cat, “Do you want to see your new home?” 

As you close the door, Whitney watches, a hint of satisfaction mingling with annoyance.

Remembering your expression and reaction to the cat, she scoffs lightly, deciding the little stray had some uses after all.

Shaking her head, she turns to leave, opens her phone, and redials. 

“Cancel the order,” she says. “I won’t be needing it after all.” 

Inside your room, you set the cat on the coffee table. 

“Stay,” you murmur, watching with pride as she sits patiently. “Smart girl.” 

You go to the bathroom to fetch supplies to help clean up the cat. When you return, you find the cat staring up intently at the TV that you were previously watching.

“So if you want to arrest me, arrest me.”

Your gaze drifts to the person on the screen, her red hair frames her face perfectly as her sharp green eyes stare into the lens of the camera, steady and confident.

“You know where to find me.” 

Her voice filters through your speakers, making you smile lightly in admiration at her fearless statement.

Meanwhile, the cat is entirely entranced by the person on the screen. Her paw raises, almost as if reaching for the woman.

You laugh softly, lowering the volume as the screen cuts to news analysts discussing the country’s changing landscape now that SHIELD is gone. 

“That’s the Black Widow,” you tell the cat, lightly tapping her nose. “She’s pretty impressive, just like you.”

When you said the woman’s persona, you noticed the cat’s tail quickened in excitement. You tilt your head curiously as a suspicion comes to mind.

“Widow?” you muse tentatively, watching the cat respond with a happy meow. “Is that your name now?” 

She purrs happily in agreement, her gaze returning to the screen. 

“Widow, huh?” you murmur, glancing back at the picture of the woman on the screen, observing the face of a person you’ll probably never meet. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Two Years Later

“Widow?” 

Your voice echoes along the empty path as you search for the cat. 

She’s trained to return after her little adventures, but you still feel the pang of worry and guilt for bringing her with you on this early walk in the first place after you found yourself unable to fall back asleep.

Nightmares about the life you left behind and your past actions still haunting you. Regrets and guilt return as they always have.

Lost in thought, you wander down the path, about to call out again, when you spot a figure up ahead. 

Curious someone is here this early, you approach quietly, before your eyes widen, realizing who it is.

There, resting against the tree is the Black Widow herself, eyes closed, cradling a familiar black cat. 

Strands of her unmistakable red hair have fallen across her face, swaying gently in the early morning breeze.

Even in her sleep, you can see subtle signs of fatigue etched across her features—the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the slight furrow of her brows as if even her dreams carry weight. 

Your heart aches, a wave of sympathy mingling with respect.

This woman, known for her strength and resilience, now rests quietly, a sliver of vulnerability showing through.

As if sensing your presence, Widow peaks one eye open, casting a fleeting glance your way. 

Before you can react, Widow nuzzles deeper into the comfort of the Avenger’s arms, closing her eyes as she returns to her new space of warm slumber. 

You barely stifle a quiet huff, rolling your eyes slightly at the cat’s usual antics, before spotting a nearby bench. 

With a resigned sigh, you take a seat, crossing your legs and resting your chin on your hand. You decide to wait, giving both the Avenger and the little troublemaker their moment of rest.

Eventually, the early morning light slowly creeps over the horizon, casting a soft glow over the path as the world begins to wake.

Then, with a subtle stir, Widow shifts slightly, slowly rousing the Avenger from her rest.

As her green eyes flutter open, she blinks against the gentle light, her gaze eventually settling on you. 

For a moment, neither of you speaks, her emerald eyes meeting yours with a look of mild surprise. 

Slightly stunned yourself, words of greeting seem to elude you, and instead, the only thing that escapes your lips is the simplest of truths.

“You have my cat.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: a perspective in the readers past and her first meeting with Widow and Natasha, hope you enjoy. thank you for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

Taglist : @cd-4848, @carifletchersgirl, @skittlebum, @queen-of-chaotic-surprises, @ima-gi--na-tion, @rainix13, @gay4hotmilfs, @imaginexred, @caramelcat123-blog, @2silverchain, @nowthisisliving27, @waltermis, @scarlettbitchx, @self-indulgent-writer, @ashadash0904, @alowint, @littlyamadeus, @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic, @imthenatynat, @transparentflapfarmsludge, @natashasilverfox, @mousetheorist, @btay3115, @samfunko, @wandaromamoff69, @lost-in-the-ice, @ahsatanizgay, @stonemags, @karsonromanoff, @wandanatlov3r, @l1kepeps1cvla, @esposadejoyhuerta, @fxckmiup, @panickedbabygay, @esposadejoyhuerta, @escapereality4music, @azaleavolkova, @gay4wandanat

[napoleondidthat]

Napoleon, The Director’s Cut

The added material makes the film better but that doesn’t mean it’s good.

So I did it. I rewatched the Napoleon movie with the added material. I was wondering if a second view would salvage it, maybe it ages well.

That answer is no.

It has been awhile since I saw the theater version, so I am not 100% sure that what I will say isn’t maybe a few scenes that were in the movie and I just don’t recall. There are new scenes and old scenes that are longer now.

From the beginning to Toulon are about the same as far as I can tell. One thing I will note: it is curious that they chose as the Bonaparte family representative Lucien. I am happy to see Lucien get some love as he’s my favorite of the dysfunctional clan, but it seems a weird choice. Joseph is usually chosen because he and Napoleon do have a different dynamic of an elder brother who has such a stronger personality younger brother. But what is equally weird is that Lucien serves no purpose. He’s there in a military looking uniform listening to Barras talk about France’s military challenges, he just pops up in Toulon (as does Barras who apparently just hangs around on the perimeter of the battlefield) so Napoleon can hand him the cannonball he fishes out of his poor dead horse (I’m traumatized all over again), and then disappears completely after the coup d’etat.

There might be some new stuff in here but I am not remembering it.

The most backfill is the Josephine arc, and that does actually help the film somewhat. In the theater version Josephine launches on screen stumbling out of prison.

Scene one shows her at her home and some asshole guy is questioning a five year old Hortense about the whereabouts of her father and the Revolution. Eugene stands back with Lucille, the maid. Josephine watches the scene from the top of the stairs wrapped in a shawl. Little Hortense is obviously scared and says that her father is in prison and the Revolution is against the nobility. The man asks her about her and the father (I think) loyalty and is she a noble, and she looks to Josephine for guidance, Josephine nods at her to answer. She says she is noble, her father does support the Revolution, and so does she. The man warns her not to lie because he can tell. Josephine pipes in saying that she’s a five year old child leave her alone she tells the truth etc.

That scene bleeds to the next where Josephine is in the back of a cart of other prisoners and is being unloaded at Carmes prison. She is processed through by a gruff woman who strips her of her rings and demands to see in her mouth. She wanders around the prison and at all the chaos. A woman comes out and calls her name and they embrace. It’s Therese Tallien. She leads her through the prison and acts a bit of a tour guide. The watch some prisoners get in the cart to meet the guillotine. Therese says there is no tears….moving on. They pass cramped quarters where they pass a couple having sex. Therese says if a woman gets pregnant she can avoid the blade and “since when do men need a reason to fuck?”

The next scene is that night and Josephine lays in Therese’s bed and watches her doll herself in the mirror as much as she can. She ties a red ribbon around her neck and tells her how it represents the blade. Therese states she will survive this and Josephine can too or she can die pure. Josephine stays silent in all these scenes.

Next scene is Josephine cutting her hair short, looking a little more sexy in her dress and walking down to the lower part of the prison where she goes to a man waiting for her on a bed. And fade to black.

There is a rather powerful scene of an order of nuns being led to the guillotine. The crowd jeers and screams at them just like they did for Marie Antoinette. But these nuns look pristine in their habits and they go to their deaths calm and cool and singing a hymn in French. The last nun is just a young girl and she watches as all her order meets their end and she goes up the platform and they rip her veil from her and put her down on the bench for the blade and she never misses a note. Her song only ends when the blade falls. The crowd that was bloodthirsty just goes deathly silent and exchange looks with each other.

That follows the scene of Barras confronting Robespierre over his actions. Same as the theater version. Robespierre shoots himself again but the scene doesn’t end with Barras saying “the guillotine for you my friend” the added scene is Robespierre’s death as he is dragged with his bandaged face up to the guillotine with the crowd cheering. He is beheaded.

The scene with Josephine leaving prison is longer. She walks around the city and it’s rather strangely deserted and messy streets. She comes to her house and enters to find it’s been ransacked. She goes up the stairs calling out to her children and Lucille. She is eventually confronted by Lucille who takes her to be an intruder but then recognizes her and calls for her children. They appear and approach her slowly as Josephine takes off her hood and they all reunite.

The party scene where Napoleon and Josephine meet is longer. Napoleon runs into Barras who cheers him but Napoleon like the buzzkill he is refuses to show a smile and Barras eye rolls him off. The scene of the play that they are putting on is a bit longer with Josephine and Napoleon first noticing each other in this setting and exchanging glances. Josephine is sitting at Barras’ table. Napoleon is hanging out with Lucien.

An added scene is that after the party there is a scene of a naked Josephine having sex with Barras after the party. She watches herself in the mirror. Barras tells her she accumulated a lot of debt at the party that night and gets up to get some money for her debts. She quips she should charge him more for the attention she brings him. He tosses the money at her and says he will pay for her debts this time but he’s done. She needs to get to know Bonaparte.

Fast forward to Napoleon and Josephine courting. Lucille and Josephine talk about whether Josephine likes Napoleon that way or not. There is an extended scene of Napoleon receiving her invite but this time it shows him standing outside her door killing time in the street by reading a newspaper. Lucile watches him from the door discreetly. She closes the door when he come across the street. He rings the bell and Lucille stands inside the door smiling. She makes him knock again before she opens and smiles and welcomes him in. I am not sure what this is supposed to be implying? Lucille has a crush on him too?

The wiff of grapeshot is the same but there is an added scene of Napoleon, Barras and other random military men singing a song and toasting their success. They all congratulate Napoleon as the savior but he shrugs it off and plays humble.

The wedding scene is slightly longer I think. The guy talks about their birthdays that I don’t remember from the original.

Italian campaign is merely what they show in the released footage that I posted. There is the dinner where Napoleon notices Hippolyte and Josephine chatting it up at the dinner table.

There are more scenes with Hippolyte and Josephine. Mostly narrated by Napoleon writing to her his love etc. One scene of Josephine buying hats and Hippolyte sits in a chair and watches her. She looks sad like she does through most of this film. Hippolyte puts on a turban and clowns around. The two maids find it adorable and laugh. Josephine seems mortified and keeps telling him to stop and to take it off.

There is an extra scene of Napoleon and Josephine lying in bed and she tells him that the trouble is that he is always off to battle and she is alone and never knows if he will return or not. He assures her he will always return and not to worry. He kisses her all over her face and she looks on gloomy. I don’t remember where this scene is, but it’s around the Italian campaign scenes.

Another Josephine and Hippolyte scene where he is in her garden chatting up people and Josephine sits inside by the piano listening to the musician play. He watches her as she looks visibly upset.

Napoleon in Egypt is pretty much the same as the original. His return is slightly different. He returns to find the house empty and blows up at Lucille. There is an added creepy scene of Napoleon eating alone at the dining table and Lucille comes in with a plate. Napoleon stops her and apologizes for his outburst. She understands. Be great if they stop there. But no. Napoleon slides his chair out and asks Lucille to sit on his knee and she does. He tells her he’s sad and needs comforting what can be done? She tells him she can get him some desert or draw him a hot bath and she will console him. Napoleon just lays his head on her shoulder.

The scene where Napoleon confronts Josephine over the affair is for the most part the same except there does seem to be some added dialogue. Josephine the following day asks Napoleon if had affairs and he admits he did. She asks if they were pretty and did he love them etc. He says they were pretty because they didn’t cry. She then says she doesn’t care as long as he doesn’t leave her. Please don’t leave me. I don’t recall this in the original film but maybe it was there and I just blocked it out.

The scene where Napoleon confronts the directory is longer to me it seems with some additional dialogue but that could be wrong.

There is an additional scene of Napoleon cleaning his guns at the dinner table with Lucien. They are a bit drunk and Lucien says he doesn’t get why Napoleon is going along with the plotters plans. He doesn’t need them. Napoleon says he will need ladies in waiting, right? Lucien says they aren’t good except to lick your balls and Napoleon laughs and says that he will need one of those. Josephine stands on the balcony watching and listening. She leaves, Napoleon hears the sound and swings the gun in her direction but she’s gone.

There is a new scene I think of Napoleon designing the Consulate uniforms. There is also a scene of Napoleon and Josephine hosting a party and mingling along the table where Napoleon kinda flirts and Josephine watches him and the flirts with whoever she talks to.

The assassination attempt scene is pretty much what has been released. It happens incorrectly and Napoleon yells at his advisors. They do show the execution of the Duc d’Enghein out in the forest and not in a moat. He’s some poor sweaty looking guy. He messes with the gravel he’s standing on and turns and there is the firing squad. He reminds them he is a Frenchman and some other nobles stuff and asks to command the execution. The guy who I assume is General Dumas ignores him and commands ready…aim…but then tells the duc that he can go ahead. The duc instructs to aim at the heart and the guns fire.

It’s the scene right after the coronation that Napoleon and Hippolyte Charles have their conversation.

A lot that comes after this is the same I think. There is a whole scene in Russian between the Czar and God knows who. And they only subtitle half of the scene. So you listen to the rest and don’t know what the fuck anyone is saying.

There is a scene of Napoleon huge ass map being painted by David. Napoleon wanders in in his nightgown and starts walking on the map. David tells him it’s not dry and if he must walk on it, he can step on Italy. Cut to the new scene of Napoleon and his generals on the map planning Austerlitz and Napoleon hopping on Italy so as not to disturb the now dry paint? I don’t know.

There is a scene of Napoleon on the toilet before battle, I believe it’s Austerlitz. He gets up and then buries his head in a bowl of water. He strips down and asks I guess the valet to brush him like a horse. Harder etc.

The next new scenes seem to be Napoleon on Elba. There is a scene of him walking down a street by himself and he draws his sword and starts practicing fencing moves but trips over his own feet and falls down in a doorway.

There is a scene of a boy bringing his boots that he shined in and dropping them unceremoniously on the floor. Napoleon chuckles and asks him to go get him wine. Napoleon sees in the paper Josephine is wining and dining Alexander. He gets mad but this time the boy enters the room and Napoleon asks him if he knows who Alexander is. The boy says no. He asks but you knew who I was? The boy says yes. Napoleon dismisses him.

There is a new scene of Napoleon and his mother serving him lunch. She quips she didn’t come all this way to sit and have lunch with her son who is a moody SOB. Napoleon doesn’t react but just broods. She tells him he wasn’t meant to die on this island and puts her arm around him. Napoleon tells her his wife is entertaining the Emperor of Russia in his home. Madame Mere hugs him.

Except she isn’t your wife. It isn’t your home. And she’s dead. And what has happened to his son and Marie Louise? Never mentioned again.

The scene where he learns of Josephine’s death seems longer. There is a scene where he goes into her bedroom and crawls into bed. That might be in the original and I forgot.

There is a small scene of him on the toilet again before Waterloo. He wipes his tush and look into the bowl to see nothing but blood.

There is an additional added on scene of Napoleon showing the St. Helena girls how to fence before he just drops dead at the picnic table.

I think those are all the added scenes. I may have missed a few.

This movie feels like a bunch of baggage the British have yet to unload from Napoleon to me. Like an angry ex who can’t understand why the guy they broke up with is still so popular and why we aren’t writing odes to Wellington. It also feels strangely like English cartoon propaganda come to life. Like all those English cartoons now filmed with people.

I say this because the obnoxious hit you over the head stats at the end tallying up the war dead is just so cringing. I am no war lover but laying the blame at Napoleon only seems the worst of takes. Not only does it ignore that a lot of history is people waging war and killing each other, it’s not as if Napoleon is a serial killer racking up all these deaths on his own. If Napoleon is to blame, then so is Wellington for dragging his army out at Waterloo. He could have stayed away and look how many people would have lived? And a nation that was at one time killing people left and right all over the globe as it expanded empire saying “yeah but Napoleon did…” seems a bit too hypocritical.

Second, if Napoleon is such a baddie, then why portray him as such a buffoon? It’s hard to hate him in this movie because he’s a cartoon. This Napoleon if anything makes me want to flick him off the screen. And that sucks because Napoleon is so much more compelling than this hot mess.

What story are they telling? That Napoleon was a warmonger but also a cartoon? That Napoleon was a serious threat? That Napoleon had mommy issues? That Napoleon and Josephine were toxic were they some great romance?

They keep trying to point to Napoleon having some weird Mommy issues but never follow the thread except for some characters making statements out of nowhere.

The actors do the best with this crap, but they all suck including Vanessa Kirby who usually gets praised. Sure, she does alright if you don’t know the real character of Josephine.

Kirby and Phoenix seem to try to be overly serious about these characters to the point that they become melodramatic jokes. You can make an argument that Josephine did suffer some form of PTSD after the Revolution. She probably did. Except it didn’t last her whole life. The historical record of her is as gracious, cheerful, warm, loved to spend and party, happy for the most part. She also could be a drama Queen and manipulator. Did Kirby just not read this and instead picked up some emo biography that I’m not aware of? He constant “fuck off and fuck you and the horse you rode in on” is so unlike the real woman.

Phoenix I think honestly doesn’t give a shit. He was way too old for the part but he is a gifted actor so I though he might be able to pull it off. Clavier was way too old too but somehow shines better than Phoenix. And Clavier wasn’t that great of a Napoleon either. But when Phoenix was quoted as sort of saying Napoleon was a little weirdo with a small coat that he wasn’t really concerned with playing a historical figure but just a cartoon character.

It could be also because I think the chemistry between Vanessa and Phoenix is in the negative territory that the characters fall flat.

In closing, this a film I can’t see myself really watching again. It has its moments, and it does look like an Assassin’s Creed Unity decorated set (and that is a compliment). It’s just too much for a mess and not really a fun mess. I’m glad I got to see it in the theater because Lord knows when that will happen again, the opportunity to see a movie about something that I live with in my head.

But this is a British cartoon take on a man that they seem to still be angry with and they want you to remember he is a villain, a terrible killer but also a silly man child who is a buffoon somehow.

Oh and he is a shitty lover too who doesn’t know anything about it.

[mumblingsage]

Also there needs to be more intensity in the sex scenes, just across the board.

Semi-baked thought but recently I have read 3 different professionally published gay romances that were...fine...some more satisfying than others, but what stuck out to me was the extent to which the characterization and dialogue lacked surprises. A bi guy in an M/M romance recommendation thread on reddit pointed out the extent to which published romances gravitate toward a particular flavor of feminine man paired with a particular flavor of masculine man and it's hard not to keep seeing once it's pointed out. In each of the three books the more 'masculine' guy was bisexual. I love bisexuals (it's self-love), I love characters with differing relationships to their gender, but I'm also fighting down thoughts of a drinking game.

It's not the exact same flavor as the original Fandom Ghost but it is a Ghost. [And specific enough that it is a Ghost, not an archetype.]

Perhaps the bigger lacking-surprises issue is a craft one where everyone just Says What They Mean too often, and in rather bland ways. I don't mind the occasional revelation of Truth from the Heart; I am reading romance! But how you do it matters, points can be won for style; there's a low quotability quotient and less satisfaction because, again, it's romance, we know they're going to communicate these particular ideas, we're here to be charmed and surprised by how they do it. (In parallel to the romances, I'm reading Robin Hobb's character-driven fantasy novels, and one thing I will say for her, the characters' dialogue + narrative is a firehose of surprises in a way that often reads as more truly romantic.)

If this was fanfiction of my Blorbos I would be more easily satisfied, or perhaps the generic-ness would be less noticeable because I'd be backfilling richer details from canon. When it's happening to original characters, it leaves a feeling of dissatisfaction.

There's also a thing where the side characters root for the relationship in rather flat/uninteresting ways; I'm willing to admit some of this is Just Me having a higher angst preference than the target audience, but at the same time I've read older romances (old enough that they're standardly heterosexual) which, for all their myriad other sins, give side characters much richer and more complex emotional affects and roles. And I think some of it is approach/style more than content: if I summarize various side characters, they sound perfectly interesting, but on the page they fall flat because they just Say What They Mean in polite and generic ways. [This a flaw that annoys me in fanfiction too. Once you've read enough, you already know what they're going to say, usually, but you want the way they say it to make some impression. "Say" can be broadly construed to include body language and symbolic action - my kingdom for an extravagant gesture.]

[000jeon]

Focused on her

mature: graphic detail.

synopsis: He had always been a master of concentration, but the sight of you in that black, figure-hugging dress was enough to shatter his focus. The way the fabric clung to every curve of your body, accentuating your shape, was simply irresistible. It was as if the dress had been tailor-made for you, and him alone. Every inch of his being was drawn to you, he found himself struggling to keep his eyes off you and had to his frustration out in other than boxing gloves. So about a leftover spiked condom in his leather wallet he had left from previous nights?

aged jungkook au! complicated friendship au! Roommates!

contains: oral, smut, dirty talk, tattooed JK, pierced JK, not as much plot but plot, dub-con, Dom jungkook, sub reader, ball sucker, coy reader, slight pinning, wall, floor, verbal jk, the reader isn't as verbal, jk focused, jk is very imaginative, in love jk, cursing, daydreamermer, face sitting (m), the reader isn't on bc, mentions of pregnancy, crempie, cumshot, blowjob, rounds, he is big, w.a.p.

Sweat glistened down his towel-wrapped forehead and rolled down his chin and neck as if melting underneath the warmth of the sun. His stamina and determination kept him going for hours at a time, taking a break every second to see what you were up to In the living room as he practiced alone. Typically he'd go down to a trainer or have him over, but due to severe rain pour and storm, it was best to cancel and take precautions for both parties.

You on the other hand took the opportunity to go through your clothes and see what could be donated. He never minded you stripping naked in front of him, allowing him to view you in such a relaxed state and you never hesitated to ask why. Was it because like his friends he was a pervert or because it was just a woman's body and he shouldn't huff and puff like a dog wanting a chew toy? You never knew and you never gave it a second thought.

With a loud smack coming from an undercut against the 6'0ft punching bag, he whipped his chin using his tattooed sleeve arm and continued working on his strength. Continuing he took his gloves off with his teeth and placed them besides his hip, giving himself a break to drink some water and sit on the little black padded gym bench he bought recently. With your back towards him, he took the opportunity to check your ass in your panties out and smirk to himself while he quietly took a small spit to drink.

Curious about why you were slowly bending down to pull something up he soon realized the dress had small chains of gold around the midsection of the dress and he practically held in a laugh at how you thought aloud of how delicate the seems were. Within another sip the dress was under your breast and almost completely on besides the spaghetti straps that looked like they needed to be clasped by another.

In amazement, his eyes raised and mouth slowly hung as he watched in awe of your beauty and amazing figure. Was it the ideal body you'd see marketed no, but the way your body hugged and tugged at the dress made him rethink his life choices of women in an instant. Once again shaken to his core, he stood up and walked over to help you clasp the back of the dress, his height leaning over your smaller frame and taking a peek at your breast naturally sitting comfortably in the dress.

With a wrap around your waist, he turned you, softy. With fear your eyes expanded wide like dear in headlights afraid he'd stupidly break it, but instead gave you more breathable room and adjusted the dress with a smile he wasn't aware he wasn't hiding from you.

"mmm, you think I could take you somewhere nice in this. It's a shame you've never worn it until now," he mentions, backing up to get a better view of the dress. Looking up at him you could see his gaze dancing to the slight sparkles that shined ever so softly in the living room light.

With a faded smile you look down and sigh saying "I've never felt confident with anyone enough to really show it off, so I hid it until now I suppose." Ignoring his offer due to the last bit of his speech, he walked up and lifited your head a bit with a sweaty finger.

"let me be the confidence you need, I'd train harder to protect something as bright as that smile when you turned around in that dress" he mentions, his heart fluttering more than yours at a soft compliment. Taking a moment he realized what he had uttered and pretended to cough to the side in his arm.

Flustered he tried speaking and only studdered words came out and was embarrassed. Taking a breath in, he smiled and gain a slight composure to excuse himself to what he believed was a full sentence.

"I'm going to uh, yeah. I'll -" he stopped himself, walking off itching his hair as he walked back to the puffy cool new gym bench. Flustered himself, that giggle you let out killed him and he knew it was about to haunt him for days of how he messed up a cool moment like that.

Undoing the towel wrapped around his head, he sighed and smelled it. It wasn't very noticeable but it was time to wash his hair. Which to him was a blessing sent from above or love itself, a moment he could hopefully steam out his head as he washed his worked-out bodys trophie of sweat and pride out his pores or so he thought.

He thought the cold water would stop the thoughts of taking you out as friends to a dinner, to show off your curves. As friends to a fancy 5 star restaurant in Seoul, he'd have to book now to see you in that dress again. But the one thing that made the water run warm was the thought of watching the dress fall down your body like a melted white chocolate fountain. A fountain he'd pour over you if you gave him one day, a night, and even the chance. Something his mind was begging for at this point.

Turning the water to warm, he gently hit his head against the wall in frustration and desperation at that point in time. He wanted to last one more hour to make it four with boxing, but damn if he did it's be obvious on how he felt about the dress on your body and there would be no way of getting out of being teased for months on bodily functions.

Couldn't help he liked what he saw, it pumped more thrill in his body to watch you turn your back away from him then to finally land that harsh punch he's been aiming for all day. And that was bad, very bad. He could trip over thoughts as he was over you. Was he in love or just desperate or maybe both? Not a teenager anymore, but grown enough to acknowledge that his heart dipped lower than his chest and throbs at the sight of you at times. Something he kept secret and hideen if possible, very hidden..

With a last scrub and the daily shower confession, he assumed he was clean of rightfully lustful thoughts until he walked out in a towel to his imagination of the black dress falling at easy down your body. He gulped and quietly made it to his room in search of clothes and franticly looked for clothes to go out in.

"gah, fuck this" he cursed aloud, pulling his shirt down as looked for clothes and ways to get that image out his head. Infact he needed to get out of his head, out of his apartment as he searched for boxers and his pants, and his wallet in a hurry.

"why me?" He whined to himself silently as he fell dramatically on the bed in a pain only you could fix. Reaching for his wallet in defeat he felt a circle like dent and remembered he kept a condom in there incase the day you wanted to get spicy with him out side of his head he'd be ready. Was he ready if that ever happened. Sighing he took the condom off and placed iton his bed side counter.

"it's pouring outside, wet. Wet like- ugh" he slapped himself slightly on the forehead. "What am I doing wrong with my life" he groaned sitting up and gaining the mental strength to go back out to see you. Which he did, to only find you ordering a pizza online without him.

"Ya" he yelled loudly scaring you as you jolted towards him on the bar stool to face him.

"Without me you jerk. First, you surprised me with the dress and now you're ordering without me, is this how I'm being kicked-"

"No you're not being kicked out, you purchased the place, and two, I just got the website. It's late, cold and I'm sure they will happily deliver here. So here, look and order with me. We get wings half off today." you mentioned getting up In your set pajamas and shoving your iMac laptop in his face.

Grabbing it with thanks he ordered his half added more items and placed his credit card in the order so you wouldn't have to pay before handing it back.

"Thank you jungkookie oppa!" you teased seeing the uncomfortable scrunched face he let as he regretted coming out here. Laughing, you ordered some drinks from another website to come and eveuting wa settled to come withing 45mins to an hour, which could increase due to the storms harshness.

"Is this where we play games and head back to" he jokingly questioned pausing as you got on your knees in front of him. Blinking several times he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or just maladaptive daydreaming again. Looking down he saw he wasn't and his Best friend of 20 years was on her knees looking at his Bonner like it was meat on a menu.

"Why not skip to the fun part of waiting," you softly bit down on your glossed lower lip as he gulped in anticipation.

"Maybe the wait is worth the fun in the end?" He lets out a deep huff of warm air backing up a bit in sheer awkwardness. It wasn't like he didn't want you, it was more he didn't like the way you started it when he could've 'man up' and started it himself. It was his erection anyway.

With a hand offered to help you up, you gratefully took it and he used it to pull up and close to his chest. Breathing heavily out of shock, your eyes slowly trailed up to meet his as he smirked in a smile.

"One thing to know about me is I like taking care of others, I want to have the lead, and those soft pleading eyes you're giving me are driving me crazy right now" JK mentions, lowering his head down so his lips could meet with yours but only keeping them an inch away for added suspense.

"then I'm glad I've always listened to you, to every word and command you've asked of me thus far" you gulp, lips quivering in need of attention. With that in mind, his head slightly turned and yours did too without breaking the small gap between his throbbing lips and your slightly quivering ones. A distance he shortly after broke, with his hands feeling around your back before bringing his arms around in a comfortably tight embrace around your hips.

Moaning from the tug and the great relief of broken space, he drank up the vibration and used it to fuel his lustful fire below. One that could be felt pushing against your pelvis as if asking on his behalf for more, for consent of the obvious.

Wanting more, he kissed vigorously. Their lips moved from the pace of uncertainty to tongue exploring the edges and buds of your own as his heart pounded from the excitement of your arms wrapping around his neck loosely like his thin silver chain with a gem pendant you bought him for his birthday years ago.

The birth gem necklace he swore to himself to wear religiously every day. The one he didn't put on today, in an attempt to run away from your hold. To only be wrapped around your embrace, just like the necklace.

While he tries to calm himself before making any long-term decisions with you. He knew that was a promise he couldn't keep with himself as he ached for something long-term and his body was pushing him to. Meanwhile, with his heart controlling his movements now, he started to walk you over to the closest kitchen wall in sight to corner you. To trap you in his warm-hearted embrace the same way the thought of you, your body, and your whole existence did to him mentally.

With the kiss naturally breaking off, he moved his lips around your jaw and pushed any fly hair strands away as he made his way to your neck. Gripping his shirt, in the back his mouth drooled over it in need as he applied rough pressure in the crook between your jaw and neck. With a burning desire he build higher than the pyramids of Asia, you pulled his shirt up and gripped his skin. A bright hue of red plastred on his cheeks as he marked other places on your shoulder of him.

"so much pleasure" you whined quietly, your words loudy admitting to the idea of how sensitive you were to every touch of his on your body. A sentence he repeated mentally as he pulled off to see your pleading state of your face and lips.

"Good, I wanted that" he chuckled at your need for intimacy. Whilst eyeing you carefully watching for your aroused response to his movements, he gripped the hemming of his shirt to pull over and throw off to the side of you. In all its glory, his upper body was indeed muscular and slimmed. A pack of 8, along with his biceps were seen more clearly as you walked your eyes down and around his bare uper torso.

"keep them lowered for me only" Jungkook insisted, pulling his shorts and leaving him in his ballooned underwear for your visual pleasure. A moment- wait no a sight you never thought you'd see like this. Moving your gaze back up, caused him to tilt your head back down to look.

"never said to look up, so keep your eyes lowered" he leaned in your ear to say. With a nod, you saw him lower his body to his knees and pull both layers of pajama pants and underwear down to reveal a slight bush. Embraced you covered yourself modestly with shock as he pushed them away and lifted one of your legs on his shoulder.

"looks good, so it'll taste good," he says, tongue slowly brushing and coating his lips in hunger as much as wetness as he leans his nose forward more. With a lookup of yes, you nodded and soon gripped the jet-black strands of his hair as his lips collided with your folds. Tongue lathering your juices around your clit as his hands held your hips still and close as he sucked and teased the floods and your nerve with ease. Arching, you felt the release of wetness drip along your thighs as he continued to lick his deep coral-pink tongue around the nub as his lips attached to your labia with thirst.

Moaning at almost an uncontrollable pace, you tugged and played with stands of his washed musk musk-smelling hair as your mouth felt like it was being held open for you in need. Pulling away softly, he made his eyes make contact with yours as he continued to orally fuck you to insanity before pulling off at any side of orgasm as he could feel the convulsions of your opening with ease and with some experience and a vague memory could tell the difference between one cumming and having an orgasm. A feeling he could sense was near.

Completely coming away from you, he caught you in his arms as your Legs buckled and gave up on standing on him. With a smile, he laid you on the thankfully clean, but cold white-lined tile floor and even placed his shirt under your head for a slightly better experience. Pulling his underwear off he threw them and eventually kneeled himself over your mouth, shaft in hand as his hard on faced towards your tits.

"get me even more excited for your mouth" he requests, your tongue like his earlier licked to become wet to provide a more comfortable experience for both of you. Thankfully JK decided to spend a few minutes trimming himself a bit in the shower as it was overdue for him, something you didn't mind not caring long as he was sexually clean. Something you knee from the constant lack of lotion in the bathroom and your bottles disappearing out of sight .

Succking on one side of his balls, you were glad they weren't too big to suck and roll around in your mouth as he jerked his cock in pleasure. Pulling up your shirt, he saw your breasts once again in a relaxed state and jerked and toyed one handily at them in ecstasy.

"so good" he breathed out heavily, cock heavy in his hands as he jerked over your breast harder in delight. It wasn't like he needed the extra help, but fuck if he had the chance to jerk himself over your pretty breasts he'd take it with no questions asked. Another fantasy fulfilled to him. Pulling himself off of you he stood up and helped you up to strip you of your top.

"fuck there's no way I'm letting your body get pleasure on this floor baby. You deserve somewhere warm and cozy, like my bed to lay on" he insists, taking your hand and urging you to his room. You gladly followed behind him as he rushed the both of you to the bed.

With the shut of the door and the flick of his warm-toned mood lighting. His bedroom was lightly illuminated with a warm yellow glow. Laying on the bed, he thought about a blowjob first but realized saving it for the end was more worth it as he knew how much of you he could handle before leading to his own orgasm.

Turning you over with light force, you laid on your belly and he handed you a pillow for added pleasure as you placed it under your pelvis. Waiting as he was you were getting adjusted completely, he tore his spiked, lubed, and internally ribbed condom and shuttered in slight coldness as it went down his shaft. Ready as you were, he soon pined your legs down and wanted to do things in prone bone style jungkook version than anything. Besides your ass in his eyes was meant to take it face down like this.

With his chest now hovering above your back, he placed his tip on the entrance of your cunt as he held himself in a somewhat of a one-armed plank position to do so. Kissing your upper back he warned you his cock was a large size to take. Which you believed based on how tight his boxers were on him minutes ago and the sound of him jerking wasn't light. With that in mind, he softly slid just his tip in before going into a full plank-like stance above your back as he introduced his protected cock to your warmth.

With the sound of painful pleasure coming from your lips, he stopped and allowed his hips to roll his tip in circles to get you accustomed to his cock. A feeling both mentally and physically arousing to both of you. After about 3 mins of him rolling his tip in and back kissing, he was able to inch his way deeper into you which caused him to panic at the feeling of walls tightly gripping and sucking him in with urgency.

"I'll pay for plan b if I fuck up and more if that doesn't work" he assured, knowing he's gonna wanna take that condom off to feel skin to tissue any minute.

Part 2: coming soon

M.LIST

[alley-cc]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Plus size reader

Note: F!Reader, 18+ MDNI

After an unnecessarily long three months in the middle of fucking nowhere, Simon is just itching to get home. Back to his flat in Manchester. Back to solitude for five blissful weeks. But, before that he has to survive the trip home. Survive sitting in the airport with wailing children and disgruntled civilians. They're all in the same boat here. All tired, hungry and just want to get to their destination.

God, he needs a stiff drink.

People shuffle around him, finding their seats to wait in until the plane arrives. He's tempted to cash in a favour with Nik, it would probably get him home quicker.

He feels the eyes of a curious child two rows behind him burning into the back of his head. He hears the stressed voice of a mother fussing over her newborn baby seven seats across from him. He smells the pungent perfume that the elderly woman in front of him is wearing. To top it all off, the seat he'd found himself a home in would rival the rough terrain he had been sleeping on for the entirety of his mission.

Then you come along. A soft sweet-looking girl. Your hands clutching tightly onto the duffle bag strung across your shoulder. He watches your eyes dart around the waiting area, landing on the free seat beside him. Your teeth anxiously bite at your lip as you venture over to it. Shy thing, you are. Soft apologies fall from your lips whenever your body brushes against a fellow passenger.

You finally make eye contact with him. "Sorry, is this seat occupied?" you ask tentatively. Simon lets out a grunt in response causing your eyes to widen. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't see a bag....I didn't mean to assume....I'll find another spot....I..." the words from your lips sounding as sweet as honey.

"Sit." He orders. Your mouth snaps shut and cheeks blush a bashful red. You place your bag down on the floor, your blouse dipping down with your body. It gives him a front-seat view of your tits which sit so prettily in the black lace bra that holds them.

If he were a lesser man, he'd have reached out and felt them. You'd like that, he tells himself. You'd like the way he'd sit you on his lap, hands trailing the curves and valleys of your beautiful body. Letting you grind down against him with your full weight. Desperate girl. His lips sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck. He'd mark you up so you'd remember him for far longer than it would take for those marks to fade.

You manage to seat yourself into the small pokey chair. Good girl. Obedient girl. Thighs that he'd kill to sink his hands into are flush against his own. You wrap your arms around your stomach in an attempt to make yourself smaller. The words take up all the space you need sweetheart bounce around in his head but never make it out. Your ankles cross to hold your legs together. He'll have to teach you to keep them apart for him.

You offer him a smile, another thing he'd kill for. "Headed home?" You ask. Simon grunts in response causing a small frown to tug on your lips as you shift into a more comfortable position. "I just moved to Manchester. I think it's pretty." You tell him. Not as pretty as you'd look under me, on top of me, on your knees for me.

Silence settles between the two of you, from his peripheral he notices the way your fingers fidget. "Where are you sitting on the plane?" you pipe up. "23B" Simon huffs. "Oh, we're neighbours," you note with a quiet laugh.

Just his luck.

He wonders if you've got all your essentials tucked away in that duffle bag of yours. Because when the plane lands, you won't be headed back to your new place. You'll be headed to his.

_________________________________________________________

Hi, hello, hey!

Brain went blank and spat this out. I've been seeing a few like sitting next to Price or Ghost on an airplane artworks and I love love love. I'm unapologetically down bad for those silly little video game characters. Anyway, Stay hydrated and stay slay. Mwah x

[punkshort]

Roll Call 2

a Roommates one-shot

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel convinces you to watch one of the videos he's starred in and you like it more than you expected.

Warnings: reader and Joel watching porn, smut (18+ MDNI - I don't know what came over me but it's surprisingly soft), language, dirty talk, infidelity, unprotected piv sex, creampie, alcohol consumption

WC: 2.9K

A/N: this was inspired by these asks and is not considered canon, it's just for fun

"It really ain't as bad as you think," Joel teased, watching with glassy eyes as you tossed back a shot with a wince. You swiped the back of your hand across your mouth and shook your head.

"It's porn, Joel. It's pretty black and white."

"See, that's where you're wrong. You must be watchin' some low budget shit if that's your impression," he said over his shoulder as he lead you back to your table through the crowd of people hovering around the bar.

"What're you saying? Your porn is better somehow?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm sayin'," he said with a grin before sliding into the booth. You plopped down across from him and greedily took a sip from your water. "My stuff's produced by people who actually give a shit about quality and storylines."

"Uh huh," you said with a giggle. The two of you were waiting for Tommy to get off work but the bar was busier than expected that particular evening and you had been stuck for almost two hours with nothing to do but drink and kill time.

"You don't believe me? Lemme show you," he said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. Your eyes widened and you began to sober up.

"N-no, Joel, I believe you."

"C'mon, it's no big deal. We've slept together, for fuckssake, it ain't nothin' you haven't already seen," he said, eyes pinned to his phone as he scrolled on some website that had a suspicious amount of ads and pop ups. His eyes lit up when he found what he was looking for and fished his AirPods out of his other pocket, handing you one and shoving the other in his ear. You held it in your fingers, your mind reeling. You've never seen Joel's porn before, but Maria had, and she told you it was hot at the time but you'd never felt the urge to look it up for yourself.

Joel finally picked up on your hesitation and paused. "If you really don't wanna, it's fine."

You chewed your lower lip as you thought about it. You couldn't deny you were curious and you didn't have to watch the entire thing if it made you uncomfortable, so you took a deep breath and popped the earbud in. "Play it."

He grinned and glanced around. "Come over on this side, don't want anyone walkin' by to see."

You rolled your eyes, finding it laughable that he would even give a shit, but did as he asked and settled in next to him.

"Roll Call 2? Will I be lost if I didn't see Roll Call 1?"

Joel snorted and shook his head. "Shut the hell up."

He pressed play and you watched as the black screen faded to a classroom where Joel sat hunched over behind a desk looking busy as he scribbled on some papers. He wore thick rimmed glasses and a white button down shirt with a navy blue tie. You laughed and poked him in the shoulder.

"Maybe you're right. This is the most professional I've ever seen you dress."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered.

A door squeaked open and he looked up to find a young looking brunette enter the room with a stack of books pressed against her chest.

"Excuse me, Mr. Ryder, do you have a minute?"

"Ryder?!" you cackled, "are you fucking serious?"

Joel grinned but kept his eyes on the phone. "Yeah, alright, that was less than subtle, but the rest is good, keep watchin'."

"Tiffany? What can I help you with?"

You hid your grin behind your fist and kept watching.

"Can I talk to you about this test? I-I really can't fail this class or else I won't graduate."

"Tiffany" set her books down on the corner of his desk and pulled out a paper, putting it down in front of Joel and leaning over. Her own button down shirt only had three buttons fastened, at best, so when she bent forward, her tits practically spilled out of her shirt.

"Mhm, I noticed your grades have been slippin'. Maybe you could do some extra credit to help boost your grade?"

"Really? You'd let me do that?"

Joel's hand gently brushed up against the back of her thigh, his gaze dropping to take in her plaid mini skirt.

"'Course I would, s'long as you do somethin' for me."

"Joel, this is so corny," you said as you were about to pull out the earbud. He stopped you and scooted closer.

"It ain't 'bout bein' corny or not, it's 'bout the production and the set and how the actors are treated. When you have good people 'round you, it comes through on the screen and the performance is better."

You sighed and continued to watch as his hand snuck up the back of her skirt. Tiffany gasped and pressed her hips into the desk then looked down at Joel, who was gazing up at her like she was the only woman in the world.

"I don't know, Mr. Ryder..."

"Why not, darlin'?"

"W-what if someone finds out?"

"No one'll know," he assured her before taking her hand and placing it over his lap. She moaned softly and bit her lip before sinking to her knees and undoing his belt. He groaned and leaned back in his chair, watching her with a pleased smirk.

"Yeah, that's it," he whispered when she took him in her mouth. Suddenly you remembered you were in the middle of a bar watching porn with your ex and you yanked the earbud out.

"Okay, I think I get the idea."

Joel chuckled. "Fine, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable," he said, setting his phone down so he could take a sip from his glass, but the video still played. You couldn't hear the audio anymore but you saw his head tip back and his eyes squeeze shut in pleasure. You wondered what kind of noises he was making, knowing he was the type to be more vocal during sex, an attribute you always appreciated. You tried to look away, focusing your attention on the people around you, but your eyes kept finding his phone. On the screen, Joel pulled Tiffany up by the shoulders and pushed her up against his desk. He slotted himself between her legs and pushed up her skirt before plunging his tongue into her mouth and rubbing slow circles over her clit.

"See somethin' you like?" Joel teased when he caught you looking. You pursed your lips before rolling your eyes and shoving the earbud back in just in time to hear him groan deeply into her mouth when he began to sink his cock inside her. You had to admit, it was nice when the video didn't cut to a godawful closeup of her pussy but instead took advantage of her wide spread legs and chose to capture both their reactions. You swallowed, throat suddenly dry, as you continued to watch the video. Much like Joel in real life, he was attentive and caring, subtly making sure Tiffany was comfortable. He didn't jackhammer her, he didn't remain awkwardly silent, but instead he rolled his hips leisurely while lavishing her with praise until he tugged on her shirt and wrapped his hand around one of her breasts, biting at her nipple. She moaned and grabbed his hair, whispering how big he was and how good it felt and fuck me harder, Mr. Ryder, I can take it.

He pulled out and flipped her around, pushing her hips into the desk before sliding back inside, her pussy and thighs glistening from her arousal.

"Goddamn, you're so tight. Oh, good girl, look at you. Takin' my cock like a champ. Fuck, y'feel so good."

He was slamming his hips into her faster now, so much so that the desk was beginning to move. Tiffany's fingers clutched around the edge of the wood, knuckles white, mouth agape and eyes rolled to the back of her head.

"How much of this is fake?" you asked breathlessly, unable to look away. He shrugged, no longer watching the phone, but instead his eyes were glued to your face. Your lips were parted and your breath was coming a little faster now.

"What'dya mean?"

"Like, is she faking it?" you asked.

"No," he chuckled, casually draping his arm behind you. On the screen, Joel gently pressed a palm against her spine so she laid flat on the desk, then he reached down to pick up one of her legs to open her hips even wider. The noises she was making were so loud at that point, you didn't need to keep the earbud in anymore, so once again you took it out. He could tell how aroused you were, even though you initially tried to hide it. You squirmed in your seat and you rubbed the back of your neck before taking a deep breath. Your eyes met his and he saw you swallow thickly, your gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips over and over again.

"Joel?"

Your voice was low, suggestive, as you leaned into him a little more. The heat between you was growing thick. It was probably made worse by the alcohol coursing through your veins but he didn't care, and neither did you. He nodded and tore his eyes away.

"C'mon," he said.

He grabbed your arm and shoved his phone back in his pocket before leading you through the crowd, his cock straining against his zipper, knowing full well how that night was going to end.

"Where are we going?" you asked when he bypassed the bathrooms in favor of a third closed door.

"Basement. Where they keep the booze."

He swung open the door and flicked on the light before pulling you in after him and ushered you quickly down the stairs. He swiveled his head back and forth until he spotted a corner of the basement that had a small amount of privacy hidden behind boxes of liquor, then turned around and cupped your jaw before crashing his mouth against yours with a deep groan.

"We gotta be fast," you murmured before breaking away and tugging your jeans down.

"Yeah," was all he said, his heart thumping wildly in his chest when you pulled your jeans all the way off and started on your underwear. "Jesus Christ," he added when he realized you weren't messing around. Fast meant fast.

You tested the weight of what looked like a repurposed workbench before hopping up and grabbing the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward just as he undid his belt. You helped him unzip his jeans and slid your hand past his waistband, wrapping your fingers around his cock as you nipped greedily at his throat.

"Fuck, baby, you liked that, huh?" he murmured, grabbing onto your hips, letting you pull his cock out and line him up against your opening without his assistance. He hissed when the tip of his cock prodded at your folds, feeling just how wet you were from watching that video.

You didn't answer. You just spread your legs wider and scooted closer to the edge of the table. Your heels dug into the backs of his thighs, urging him forward. A whimper fell from your lips when he slowly eased inside you, then tipped your head back with a gasp when he pushed all the way in.

"God, that feels good," you moaned, your arms draping lazily around his neck, forehead resting against his chest.

Slowly, he pulled his cock out, leaving just the swollen tip before pausing and pushing back in. You both watched in a daze as he slid in and out, emerging slicker than before with each thrust. Calloused hands ran up and down your thighs. Slowly, leisurely, adoringly.

"Faster," you mumbled, eyes fluttering closed, forehead still pressed against his broad chest.

"I don't like goin' fast with you," he whispered, then wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you even closer as he continued slowly feeding you his cock.

You moaned and dug your nails into his neck when he hit a spot just right, making your thighs shake and your breath stutter.

"L-like the video," you managed to stammer out. You pulled your head away from his chest and hazily looked up at him. "Don't you wanna make this table move like the desk?" you asked him with a teasing smile, but he didn't give you one back. He shook his head and rubbed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip.

"No," he said softly, still fucking you agonizingly slow. His eyes were warm and sweet as he stared down at you, scanning your face. His fingers slid through your hair, cupping the back of your head as he continued to look at you, watching the little flickers of pleasure cross your features every time he hit that one spot he knew made you come undone. "Don't wanna fuck you like them. Wanna take my time 'n really feel you." He rolled his hips, pushing inside you extra deep and you melted against him, giving up and letting him take you the way he needed.

The hand that was lost in your hair tilted your head so he could kiss you. His tongue, slow and lazy, slipped into your mouth, licking and savoring the taste of tequila and the cigarette you bummed from him an hour earlier.

Eventually, you lost yourself in the moment, raking your fingers through his hair and kissing him back just as deeply. You knew it was too intimate, you knew it was dangerous to be like this with him, but it was too late. Who were you kidding? It's been too late for a while now.

You finally had to break the kiss, your lungs burning for air the same way your thighs were burning around his waist. Tipping your head to the side, you slumped against his shoulder, gasping and panting while he continued to torturously fuck you slow in the dirty basement of your favorite bar.

The setting hardly matched the mood, but it didn't seem to matter.

"You gotta know, I don't fuck anyone else like this."

You squeezed your eyes shut.

His fingers dug into your ribs, the others into your scalp, pressing you against him as if you were one.

"Yeah?" Your voice was breathy and high pitched.

"Only you." He pressed his mouth against your hair, his cock splitting you open in the softest way possible. "Just you."

"Joel," you whined, one hand dropping to grab the thin material of his tshirt, fingers getting twisted as you tugged and pulled at him. You said his name again, a whisper that time. Being so close, you could feel his heart beating loud and fast in his chest. It felt like it matched your own.

"Yeah, say my name," he muttered, hips moving a little faster now. "You gonna come f'me, baby?"

You couldn't respond. You were too close and everything was too intense. Instead, you nodded and squeezed your eyes shut tighter, fighting back the two tears that sprung up out of nowhere.

When you came, you pulled harshly on his hair and gasped, warmth flooding your limbs as your orgasm washed over you. He was murmuring something but you couldn't hear him over the ringing in your ears and then finally, your muscles relaxed and you sighed.

"Fuck, Joel."

"I know," he grunted through clenched teeth. "Shit, you're gonna make me come. Feels too good, I can't... oh, god."

He made a move to pull out but your legs tensed around him once more, keeping him still. His hips slowed.

"What're you-"

"I want you to come inside me," you mumbled drowsily from his chest. You felt more than heard the low growl he gave you in response.

"Baby-"

Tugging him by the back of the neck, you pulled him down into a searing kiss, shutting him up. He cupped your jaw with one hand while the other remained wrapped around your waist, still holding you against him. It only took him a few more seconds before he spilled inside you, his moans getting lost against your lips.

Long after you had both recovered, your mouths were still latched together, tongues slowly dancing, neither of you wanting the moment to end, but it was you who finally pulled away.

"We should go before we get caught."

He hummed and pressed his forehead against yours.

"So what if we get caught?"

You practically stopped breathing at the double meaning behind his words, your brain unable to formulate a response. He must have sensed it because he continued.

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"Jail?" you finally offered, leaning back and giving him a smirk, purposely ignoring the real meaning behind his question. What would happen if someone found out about your affair?

He gave you a small smile and sighed. "You make a good point." He pulled out with a hiss, his gaze darkening for a moment when he saw your pussy leaking with him. "Christ," he whispered before backing away and fixing his clothes while you did the same.

"You ready?" he asked once you got your clothes back on and looked relatively presentable.

"Yeah," you replied, but took a step and stumbled. Joel quickly reached out to steady you, his thumbs rubbing affectionately over your arms as he did.

"Don't worry, I got you."

You looked up at him and smiled. "I know."

[sayoneee]

☆ AND I KNOW IT’S OVER (STILL I CLING)

percy jackson, who never seems to know when to quit, keeps coming back. (2.9k)

contains: percy jackson x daughter of minor god! reader. post tlo (alt universe - everyone lives). book percy descriptions. apollo (derogatory).

kashaf’s note: book percy descriptions bc that was my first love. (sry if i get some of the words wrong, english isnt my first language pls be patient!!)

SUMMER BURNS. at camp half-blood, the scorching heat has dwindled to soft caresses, from the heat of the fire during sing-alongs where your cabin joins hands and toasts marshmallows to the cool breeze balming the sun’s glare at its zenith in the sprawling strawberry fields. at home, the scorching heat leaves marks — the biker with flames for pupils who clutched an openly bleeding wound as he thrust a first-aid kit at you, and the girl not much older than yourself with tears marring her face as she handed you a pregnancy test to ring up, avoiding your curious (sympathetic) gaze.

however, despite it all — you stand infallible, much like your grandfather’s part convenience store and part pharmacy, a poor man’s family heirloom.

you stand idly, flipping through an edition of seventeen when the rusty door swings open to admit a familiar face — with unruly black hair and an equally reckless grin (you know exactly who it is from the ba-dum of your heartbeat), the infamous son of poseidon (with the same smile as shawn hunter from boy meets world) is easily recognizable.

you glance at the crimson blooming around the crevices of his knuckles, tightly gripping a faded and worn-out skateboard, his scruffy converse squeaking across the tiled floor, raising an eyebrow as you coolly say, “band-aids are in the back, on the right.”

jackson laughs, an all-consuming sound (the wind-blown half-blood hill where apollo seemed to smile down at you, the laughter, like the memory, evanescent), “thanks, doc.”

you discreetly watch him perusing the aisles, before stopping in front of the ancient fridge — your grandfather’s store was something of an 80s pompeii with the peeling posters of back to the future and motley crue and the antiquated maroon and cream color scheme — and pulling out an arizona green tea.

when he finally goes to look for band-aids, you attempt to fix your attention back on the magazine in your hands, but like a moth driven to a flame, percy jackson was unbelievably hard to look away from (a magnet among mortals and immortals alike). 

jackson’s hands are on his hips, his tupac t-shirt creasing, thick brows furrowed as he decides between different types of candy with the same intensity as a single mother with two children and a nine-to-five (even in the mortal world, there is something else entirely about him, something that made it so that you could never truly write him off).

when he approaches the register again, it’s hard not to look up and watch his ascent. when he finally does come to a stop in front of you, he looks the same as he did the last summer, though the tiny silver trident earring is new, the camp beads resting peacefully atop his collarbones aren’t.

you ring up his items: a box of band-aids, the arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks, looking away from him all the while.

“good to see ya, doc,” jackson says, a wry grin on his face, and his eyes are so green — as green as they were at twelve.

“it’s never good to see you, jackson,” you snark back, reciting his total, “four ninety-five, by the way.”

he laughs again (your heart goes ba-dum again), and hands you a five dollar bill, shoving his things into the seemingly bottomless pockets of his baggy jeans, with a salute on his way out (his turning back was a sight far more innocuous than the last time).

the next time jackson breaks whatever tacit agreement lies between the two of you, your hands are similarly stained. reds and purples line your palms, much like the burgundy seemingly permanently staining your grandmother’s fingertips; the culprit (the bowl of pomegranate seeds) sits innocently beside you. 

“back again?” you say, glancing at the familiar scarlet stains adorning jackson’s hands (a familiar blue friendship bracelet sits on his wrist, edges frayed with five years of wear, and there’s a lump in your throat). 

“why, did you miss me?” jackson asks, again with that wry grin of his, skateboard in hand. 

“you’re the one who came back,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest, willing the constricting feeling to disappear.

“doc, i’m sorry to have to be the one that has to break this to you,” he sighs sympathetically, putting a bleeding hand over his heart, “but the sun doesn’t revolve around you.”

“actually, jackson, the sun kind of does revolve around me, ��cause y’know apollo, the sun god apollo? my grandpa apollo? my grandpa, the sun god, apollo?” 

“going by your logic, that would mean time revolves around me, ‘cause y’know kronos, the time titan kronos? my grandpa kronos? my grandpa, the time titan, kronos?” jackson says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sets down another band-aid box, an arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks on the counter.

“y’know, if you cared this much, you might’ve passed greek,” you say, referring to the progress report cards you were handed at the end of summer.

he shrugged, handing you another five dollar bill, and proceeding to shove everything into his black holes of jean pockets, “yeah, well — wait, are those pomegranates?”

“yeah,” you say, “i peeled them myself — do you want some?” 

(your father liked these, your grandmother had said earlier this afternoon, your mother liked to peel them for him, as i peeled them for her, and your grandfather.)

jackson suddenly looked bashful, fidgeting with the hem of his a tribe called quest t-shirt, “i’ve never had pomegranates before,” he confessed.

you blinked, taken aback, “you’re seventeen years old and you’ve never eaten a pomegranate before?” you pushed the china bowl toward him, “now you have to eat it.”

“my mom liked telling me the myths when i was younger,” he begins, setting down his skateboard, and reaching for the spoon before halting, like he was shocked, “she told me about persephone —”

“jackson,” you say, sardonically, leaning over the register to look him in the eye (there was always a storm brewing in his eyes), “i promise you, hades won’t come out of the ground and drag you to the underworld if you eat the pomegranate seeds i peeled.”

“i know what my next sleep paralysis demon is gonna be — thanks to you,” jackson says, looking down at the bowl and its floral blue pattern around the edges, playing with the spoon, and shifting the seeds from side to side.

“percy jackson, i swear to asclepius, you’re missing out on pomegranates,” you say, coming out from behind the register, and looking percy in the eye again, and there is something so earnest, so raw about your next sentence that his breath catches, “and, i swear on the styx, if hades does somehow come out of the ground to drag you down to the underworld, i’ll come down myself to drag you out, even if it’s tartarus.”

a rumble of thunder can be heard overhead despite the clear sky and scalding sun; percy blinks, before breaking out into a slow grin (your stomach seems to grow wings of its own, on the verge of flight.)

“invoking your dad, huh, doc? these pomegranates must be serious,” percy says, finally taking a bite — stepping around the bomb you just dropped.

you watch him intently, studying him as you studied tennyson and homer, “they are that serious.” there is something innocent about the way he eats, starved like every other teenage boy with black holes for stomachs. 

“y’know, i can put that into a tupperware container and you can take it with you, right?” you offer. 

“really?” percy asks through a mouthful of seeds, looking up from the bowl at you, “won’t you think i’ll steal it or something?”

“not really,” you shrugged, “i trust ms. jackson.”

percy nods solemnly — sally jackson is sally jackson after all, a queen among women, and an achilles of sorts, with her soft smile and steely eyes. 

steeling your nerves, this is already the longest conversation you’ve had (ignoring the forever-ago late-night debriefs under a firmament of stars), you step up to the plate and take a swing, “how is she, by the way, haven’t seen her in a while.”

percy swallowed, eyebrows furrowing, “great — oh, wait, did i tell you she was seeing someone new now?”

“no way, really? good for her, honestly. i know, poseidon’s a god and all, but like, she’s always deserved just, so much more.” (you manage to make contact with the change-up thrown your way.)

there is something so sincere about your words, that percy can’t help but grin back, finally reaching the depths of his sea-green eyes, and there is something still so boyish about him, that you can hardly believe any time has passed at all, and that somewhere within this demigod who successfully defeated kronos, while saving luke, there is still a semblance of your percy. 

“yeah, the guy, paul blofis, he’s an english teacher — absolutely worships the ground she walks on.”

“sounds perfect for her.”

“you should come over some time — see her, meet paul, y’know,” percy offers, still funneling spoonfuls of pomegranates, meeting your gaze head-on (this is the home run you were waiting on).

you grinned, a slow smile overtaking your face, pushing your hands in the pockets of your jeans, “might just take you up on that, before you change your mind.” (you’re leaving the ball in his hands now; it’s up to him to tag you out or let you reach home base safely.)

“nah, i won’t change my mind, unlike someone else i know.”

you ignore the jab (a smaller, suppressed part of you itches to shoot a reply back), instead choosing to focus on the hesitant hand of friendship being offered — as your father liked to say, keep moving forward.

you shrugged, and you swear, for a second you think the intensity of his gaze has lessened, almost as if disappointed. almost as if mentally shaking it off, percy hands you the china bowl back, empty, running a hand through his shaggy hair with a sheepish grin.

you smiled wryly, glancing down at the bowl and back to his face. “fatass,” you say, affectionately, and then almost freezing, wondering if you somehow overstepped the invisible lines constricting you. 

percy laughs — a green light. 

“lucky for you, though,” you say, disappearing behind the register for a moment before reappearing with a tupperware container filled with peeled pomegranates, “i peeled more.”

you hold it out to him, and he glances down at your outstretched hand, then at your face, before seemingly making up his mind, and accepting the olive branch, “you’re really committed to seeing my mom, huh?”

“well, obviously — the other alternative would be seeing you, wouldn’t it?”

“aw, c’mon, doc, i know you missed me,” percy says, a bit smug, picking up his skateboard, the tupperware container in his other hand (the one he still wears your bracelet on).

“in your dreams, jackson.” there is a peal of odd laughter in your voice as if you were unused to this kind of jocularity when fumbling over his name.

“in my dreams, we do more than just argue,” percy says, with one last smug smile and salute, before walking out the door, leaving you behind in the worst state of confusion you’ve possibly suffered (percy jackson: 1, you: 0).

(your grandmother admonishes you later that evening as you stand beside her stooped figure at your kitchen counter, peeling pomegranates, you gave the rest of it to that boy, didn’t you? her voice is not scolding, but you feel like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar once more. your immortal grandfather, the nuisance that he is, stands in the doorway, hands in an 80s leather jacket and matching sunglasses, waiting to be welcomed in. in contrast, his son — your father — brushes past him, grumbling, and takes on your grandmother’s burden.)

the analog clock reads ten fifty-five as you start mopping the floor, yawning when the front door swings open with a jingling bell, and a sharp metallic smell wafts into the store.

you whirl around, gripping the mop in your hand as a baseball bat, immediately alert as your demigod reflexes come into play. you physically relax at the sight of percy clutching his side, crimson pooling on the edges of his white t-shirt. 

“of course you would attack a man when he’s injured,” percy says with a grin, blood dripping from a gash over his eye (luke had returned to camp some years ago, with a similar scar), and a split lip, collecting like rust on his t-shirt collar. 

you scowled, dropping the mop and immediately rushing toward him, your healing instincts kicking in. lifting one of his arms and letting it curl around you, you shouldered him to the register, cringing with every audible wince percy let out.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked, as you sat him on your stool, reaching for the ambrosia and nectar you kept hidden under the counter for emergencies (one could never be too careful).

percy grinned — it came out more of a grimace, “what isn’t wrong with me — that’s the question you should be asking, doc.” he nodded to himself, and then immediately cringed at the action.

you glared at him, shoving an ambrosia square in his mouth, before turning away from him to put antiseptic on cotton pads. “does ms. jackson know you’re here?”

“no?” percy says. you walk over to the fridge, grab a water bottle, unscrew the cap, and drench the part of his t-shirt covered in blood.

“ow? in case you forgot, i’m still injured here, doc?” percy clutches at his side.

“you dumbfuck, your mom is probably worried out of her mind right now,” you say, scowling, stepping closer to percy (he still towers over you, even when sitting down).

“i iris messaged her,” he shrugs, looking at you as you shift even closer to him, cotton pad in your hand, “she just knows i’m with you — pretty relieved at that, dunno why.”

reaching out to grasp his jaw in your hand, you begin dabbing at the bruises on his cheekbones, his eyes fluttering shut as you try to ignore the way his hot breath is fanning across your face right now. “you didn’t tell her what happened?”

percy opened his eyes, staring at you. “no, how could i?” he says, slowly, “you were her favorite — still are, by the way.”

you don’t say anything for a moment — after all, how could you? (sally jackson’s homemade cookies drift to the front of your treacherous mind — the sunny afternoons with her kind voice, and percy’s loutish laughter.)

“you didn’t come to see her,” percy says, the statement not accusatory, his eyes fluttering shut again (you try not to let the way his eyelashes sit so prettily distract you) as you dab at the gash over his eye.

“i didn’t think i was welcome,” you say gruffly, turning away to grab bandages. “after everything.”

while the deeper wounds have eased into far easier, superficial ones, you still make sure to wrap and bandage everything — percy had a penchant for getting into trouble (one that you knew all too well), so it was the least you could do.

“i just told you that you were welcome, last time i was here, didn’t i?” percy says, an accusation.

“yeah, well, it was hardly an invitation was it?” you say, turning away from him, packing your supplies up. 

“doc, you didn’t even come to take your tupperware back.”

you ignore him, moving to walk away when his hand is enclosed around your wrist (the hand that wears your blue friendship bracelet), tugging you around to face him. 

percy’s standing up now, his green eyes looking more like a swirling storm with each passing second — he still hasn’t let your wrist go.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, trying to snatch your hand back from him, to no avail — his grip is ironclad.

“i can’t let you walk away with your back turned to me again,” he says (the dim, lantern-lit night comes back into focus, and you wonder if you were too consumed by your own pride, if you had just turned around, if you had just stayed).

you realize too late that tears are pricking in the corners of your eyes, and you manage to successfully wrench your hand out of his grasp, a watery, sarcastic laugh escaping, “you’re a couple years too late, asshole.”

“i know that,” percy says, earnest, reaching out to cup your cheek, and wipe a stray tear (the action stuns you into paralysis), “but i miss you, and my mom misses you, and she hasn’t gotten off my case about you, yet.”

the thought of tender-hearted sally jackson scolding percy is an amusing one, and draws a laugh out of you against your will (percy’s smile grows a little brighter, and asclepius knows you’ve never been able to resist that smile of his), “i’ll come over for ms. jackson, not you.”

percy’s smile is even wider now (his hand is still ghosting your cheek), “same thing.”

“shut up,” you say swatting at his shoulder, trying to duck out from under his arms. 

percy avoids your attempts to escape him, instead latching onto your hand, and pulling you out of the store. “c’mon, she’s expecting us for dinner.”

you let out an incredulous laugh, and let yourself be dragged out anyway (you would follow this boy anywhere, even to the depths of tartarus). 

(your grandmother watches from the apartment window above the store, a soft smile gracing her lined features.)

[peanutpinet]

Unexpected - Tomioka Giyuu x Fem Ubuyashiki Reader

A/N: in which you are the eldest daughter of Kagaya and Amane Ubuyashiki but unfortunately, you were weaker than your siblings and your parents thought it would be best if you were to be with someone they know will protect and care for you and who else than one of their most trusted hashira.

Warnings: soft Giyuu, fluff

“Giyuu…how have you been?” Oyakata-sama asked the young new water hashira

“I’ve been well, Oyakata-sama. I hope that you’ve been taking care of your health as well” Giyu replied, making the Ubuyashiki leader smile

“Thank you, Giyuu. I have a special mission for you if you don’t mind” Oyakata-sama requested and despite his flat expression, Giyuu was rather taken aback that the Ubuyashiki leader had a specific request for him as he was a new hashira

Suddenly, Giyuu heard soft footsteps coming from behind Oyakata-sama and out came a young girl who looked to be in her teens, her hair was black faded into white like a mixture of Oyakata-sama and Amane whereas her eyes were a deep violet colour.

“Giyuu, this is (y/n), mine and Amane’s eldest daughter” Oyakata-sama mentioned while Giyuu was mesmerized by Oyakata-sama’s eldest daughter who sat next to him

“I would like for you to take (y/n) out to town if that’s alright” Oyakata-sama smiled. “She rarely goes out as she sadly inherited my weak body”

“Of course, Oyakata-sama. It would be my honour” Giyuu mentioned, bowing at Oyakata-sama

After the meeting, Giyuu then waited for the young Ubuyashiki outside of the Ubuyashiki household when (y/n) called out to him. “Giyuu-san”

Turning around, Giyuu was met with soft dark violet eyes. Giyuu then unintentionally eyed the young Ubuyashiki who wore a soft purple kimono with wisteria flowers on it. Giyuu then shook his head and extended his hand out for the young Ubuyashiki who placed her soft hands against his rougher ones.

Giyuu then easily lifted the young Ubuyashiki off from the patio whilst still interlacing his fingers with hers before bowing to Amane Ubuyashiki. “We’ll be going now Amane-san. I promise to bring her back before the sun sets”

“Thank you Giyuu. And please, there’s no rush. Kagaya and I trust that you will take care and protect (y/n) while the two of you are out” Amane thanked Giyuu as she slightly bowed her head, waiting for the two to be out of sight before going back to update Kagaya

(In Town)

Both (y/n) and Giyuu went around in town with (y/n) mainly being curious with everything in town. From the street food to even the souvenirs they were selling. Being the curious and innocent girl she is, (y/n) caught the attention of several vendors who were shoving many things at her all at once.

Despite his stoic and expressionless face, Giyuu watched (y/n)’s curious self and couldn’t help but smile a bit seeing her innocent self; making him want to protect her even more. So when several vendors were all up her face, Giyuu didn’t hesitate to step in and saved her from all those people.

“T-thank you, Tomioka-san. I, I’m sorry for troubling you” (y/n) managed to voice out and slightly bowed her head which took Giyuu aback

Giyuu had never heard the young Ubuyashiki speak before but the moment she did, Giyuu was captivated. Just like his master, Oyakata-sama, (y/n) had a soft tone to her voice that calms him but loud enough for him to hear.

It was only when he heard (y/n) spoke for the first time did Giyuu actually taken a good look at the young Ubuyashiki heir. How unlike her siblings and parents, (y/n) actually have long hair that perfectly framed her face. How her face seemed more pale but still filled with so much life. Giyuu was too lost admiring the young Ubuyashiki heir that he almost didn’t hear her calling out to him.

“Tomioka-san? A-are you alright?” (y/n) asked, standing in front of Giyuu, her soft hands brushing his bangs and touching his forehead, wondering if the water hashira had a fever as he seemed a bit red. “Hmm, you’re a bit hot, are you under the weather, Tomioka-san?”

Giyuu couldn’t help but get even redder when the young Ubuyashiki’s hand touched his face but he still tried his best to maintain a neutral expression whilst holding (y/n)’s hand, lowering it from his head. “I’m alright (y/n)-sama. The weather is just a bit warmer than usual despite it being the fall season right now”

“Is that so? Shall we get something to cool down then?” (y/n) asked and before Giyuu could answer, (y/n) was already grabbing Giyuu’s hand and dragged the water hashira with her. “Come, I saw a shop that was selling cold drinks”

Unknowingly to (y/n), Giyuu was actually flustered when he was being dragged by (y/n) but in the end, Giyuu decided to interlace their fingers so it would be easier to walk alongside one another rather than being dragged.

The two then went into the shop and had some cold refreshments which Giyuu paid for. Right before sundown, Giyuu suggested that they started to go back to Demon Slayer Corps HQ. Giyuu then extended his hand which (y/n) took since she was now very much comfortable around the water hashira.

The two then started to walked out of town but right before they left, (y/n) dragged Giyuu one more time to a merchant who was selling several accessories which she decided to buy several items and even bought something for Giyuu.

It was a bracelet with similar colour spectrum to the water hashira’s mismatched haori with a small charm of water to represent him as the water hashira. Shocked at the sudden gift, Giyuu was at loss for words. “(y/n)-sama…, you, you didn’t have to”

“You like it? I saw it before we went to have a drink and figured that it fits you perfectly” (y/n) shyly mentioned and for the first time in a long time, Giyuu actually smiled which made the young Ubuyashiki heir blushing

“T-thank you, (y/n)-sama. I’ll treasure it forever. Shall we head back now?” Giyuu asked, extending his hand and this time (y/n) excitedly interlaced hers with him and nodded. “Hmm!! Let’s do this again sometime, Tomioka-san!”

“Giyuu, just call me Giyuu, (y/n)-sama” Giyuu smiled as he took the young Ubuyashiki back to the headquarters

A/N: hellow everyone who has been liking my Muichiro fanfic, it means a lot to me as I'm new to the demon slayer fanfic world. Here's a lil fluff of our fav water hashira, Giyuu 🥰 I loved this man since I watched demon slayer back in 2020 and who would've thought that I was only fall deeper ever since. I hope that this fic brings a smile to your face and brightens up your day!! Take care everyone xoxo vinet

[dix0nspretty]

Knives, Bikes, and Stitches, Oh My!

Summary: Daryl is working on his motorcycle and you watch. Too bad you can't keep your focus.

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader, 1.3k words

Era: Prison (again) because he's just so yummy...

TW: Mention of blood and stitches. Maybe chronic horniness?

Y'all loved my first story and I hope this one whets your appetites just as well! I have no idea how motorcycles or vehicles of literally any kind work, so please feel free to educate me in the comments.

You put the fear of God in Daryl every time he sees you with a knife.

It’s not that you can’t use one. On the contrary, you’re a force to be reckoned with when you’re fighting. Sometimes all that can be seen of you in a fight is the shine of blood-tinged metal as you slash and stab at whatever is attacking with your twin blades. No, your knives are comfortable and at home in your grip. Maybe too comfortable.

“How many times I got to tell ya to stop eatin’ off yer damn knife?” Daryl’s rough accent sounds out in the empty courtyard. His head is bowed low as he works on his bike, not looking up as he speaks.

I’m perched on the tabletop of one of the prison’s picnic tables eating a can of peaches. Daryl, for some reason unknown to me, had elected to start taking his bike apart and putting it back together and I followed along to watch the process. I don’t know shit about vehicles, much less motorcycles, but I like spending time with the grumpy man.

“It’s fine, I’m not gonna cut myself.” I tell him as I tilt my head down to drag a slice of peach off the blade. Daryl’s eyes don’t move from the work in front of him, but I can feel him watching me. I pull the chunk into my mouth and lick the blade clean of the sticky juice.

“Told ya to cut it out.” I’m eating the canned fruit haphazardly, not paying any attention to how close I am to the edge. Daryl shakes his head. He knows it’s a matter of time before I cut my lip or tongue.

At his repeated command, I roll my eyes but pull away from the edge of my knife. I set the can of peaches down and watch him. His brown hair is getting longer now and it’s sliding down into his eyes, shielding most of his face from my watchful gaze.

“What are you doing, anyways?” I ask. I scoot myself closer to the edge of the table and peer down over his shoulder. He has one of his tools in his hand and some pieces of metal I can’t identify. It is roughly the size of my fist and cylindrical. Whatever it is, it looks important.

Daryl glances over his shoulder, feeling my curious eyes looking down. He huffs and continues his task. “Workin’.”

“No shit. Working on what?” I’m playing with my knife in my fingers, absentmindedly twisting and flipping it. Daryl looks up at me through his hair, squinting one eye against the sunlight. My breath catches in my throat, and I try to play it cool.

“Do ya really want to know or are ya jus’ bored?” He asks in his gruff voice. I don’t answer for a second. He looks so pretty. Get a grip, Y/N, I think to myself.

“Really want to know. Come on, I don’t know anything about bikes. Teach me something.” Daryl squints at me for several seconds longer and I’m convinced he’s going to send me inside to bother someone else, but he slowly starts talking.

“’M cleanin’ the carburetor.” He tilts his hand up to show me the same piece I was looking at earlier. “It’s startin’ to get clogged.”

“Oooookay. What’s that do?”

“It keeps the engine runnin’ smooth, basically. Don’t keep it clear and that can fuck up the bike, make it stall or overheat. Gotta take it apart and clean it every few months.”

Daryl lets me watch over his shoulder as he points out different parts of the carburetor and how to clean them. After a few minutes, his gruff voice starts to fade out and my mind begins to wander.

He just looks so good. His hands are greasy and dirty from all of his work today and his biceps are sweaty from the Georgia heat. He’s wearing one of his simple black shirts that already fit him so well and the sweat is only making him look more delicious. I’m watching his hands work over the small brass jets when I feel burning heat in my palm and look down.

I’d been messing with my knife the entire time and cut myself. I instinctively let go of the blade and it hits the concrete with a harsh clang. Daryl’s head lifts at the noise and he spins around right as I rush to tuck both hands behind my back. I look like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar and I’m trying to hide the chocolatey evidence. Except this time, it’s blood.

Daryl’s eyes run over me for a second, then flick down to my knife as it sits on the dirty floor. He slowly bends down and picks it up. “Y/N.” He starts, a low warning in his tone.

“It’s fine! I’m fine, I just dropped it.” My voice rambles out. There’s a high, nervous note to it and I’m hoping to God he doesn’t notice.

He raises an eyebrow. “If yer fine, why’s the knife got fresh blood on it?” Fuck.

“Uhhhhh.” I look around the courtyard, trying to find an excuse. I, naturally, see nothing. “Magic?”

Daryl huffs and crosses his arms. “Let me see your hands.”

I wince. I don’t want to get in trouble, but I can feel the blood dripping off my hand, and it stings. The longer I hold off showing him the angrier he’ll get.

“Y/N. Hand, now.” Daryl’s voice leaves no room for arguments.

“Jus’, don’t be mad?” I ask. He says nothing and I sigh, then slowly move my hands back in front of me. The blood is quickly evident on my skin.

“God damn it, girl. Why can’t ya ever listen to me?” Despite his rough tone, his hands are gentle as he takes my wrist and tilts my hand, inspecting the damage. I risk a glance at my hand. There’s a slash across my entire palm and more blood than there should be. It’s going to need stitches.

“Ya need stitches.” Told you.

 Daryl looks up from my hand but doesn’t let go of my wrist. His eyes lock with mine and he gives me a warm look. There’s exasperation and concern and I don’t know what to do with it. He takes a surprisingly clean rag from his pocket and ties it around my bleeding palm, firmly but not enough to hurt.

I can’t help but be surprised by just how gentle he’s being with me. I was expecting a pop in the side of the head and a banishment to Hershel’s cell. I look up at him through my lashes, waiting for my verbal lashing. After almost a minute, I realize there is none.

“Does this mean I gotta go in now?” I try to keep the potential disappointment from my voice and don’t entirely succeed.

“Yeah, yer going to go get those stitches. Ya weren’t listenin’ anyways.” He grumbles at me. “The hell were you doin’?”

I look away from him. I do not want to explain that I was too busy being horny over him to notice that I gouged my palm open. I risk a glance at him and I’m caught by those ocean-blue eyes.

“I was watching your hands…”

Daryl pauses, then snorts. “Maybe instead of watchin’ my hands ya should’ve been watching yours. Go get your damn stitches and I’ll show ya somethin’ else.”

[mystsee]

MESMERIZED ✦ KEEGAN P. RUSS

✦ about: keegan is mesmerized with you since he first met you ♡

✦ content: NSFW +18, virgin!reader, afab reader, blood, guns & death mentions, panic attacks, misogyny

✦ a.n: the boots i kinda imagined are the moonboots!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

in the sun-kissed landscapes of italy, you, with your captivating charm and surprising intelligence, was dealing with a meeting with very higher ups in the politic world, things were going so far so good.

that was until your boss, a figure whom you trusted very much, revealed to you the news. a deployment to russia as a military translator.

nervous feelings ran down your spine, not from the revelation of a new challenge, but from the anticipation of russia’s frigid embrace. most of the time, you were assigned to help translate in missions involving trafficking, drugs, dark stuff like that. and having to translate for the “bad guys” involved them being not so nice to you. mostly because they don’t like a woman all up on their dark buisness.

nevertheless, you knew you were going to be protected, and the military people have never treated you wrong.

you prepared your clothes, having to use a bigger backpack due to all the puffy jackets, scarfs, you know, all cold related things. which you do not protest! the colder the weather, the better you can dress.

right now you had a puffy black jacket, warm leggings with a thick skirt attached! it was 100x more comfortable because now your ass didn’t have to feel all the cold seats anymore. and of course your puffy boots, thick beige fur covering the boots. one thing about you is your feet were always cold, making you use like 3 layers of socks!

you arrived late night, making the cold even worse but you managed to cover the lower half of your face with your scarf, seriously the cold was so bad in here. as you disembarked from the helicopter, the biting russian cold embraced you, making you shiver involuntarily.

you were greeted warmly by your captain “nice to see you again over here” he smiled warmly “i’m glad too, really missed the artic” he laughed at that, how could he be out here with only a small jacekt?!

he noticed your shivering frame, you thought you were hiding it well, making him start leading you through the snow-covered landscape over to base.

upon entering, all eyes turned towards you – a mix of amazement and curiosity danced in the gaze of your new colleagues, you knew your boots were quite attention catching, probably why everyone kept staring at you.

to say you were pretty was little, it was obvious everyone in the room found you beautiful, but you didn’t pay it any mind, again thinking maybe your boots were standing out a bit too much, not the way your thighs looked so good with the skirt on top, but! they would need to get used to see your babies, they were your go-to in cold weather.

however, one pair of eyes stood out, belonging to keegan. he almost looked mesmerized with you. he watched you stride with an unyielding confidence, almost model like, the skirt making your hips move so so pretty, that it was making it hard for him to stop staring at you.

somehow your eyes found his, thanking the heavens you had your scarf covering your cheeks because you were blushing so hard rn, his gaze lingered, an admiring intensity in his eyes that you almost tripped.

only his eyes, a window to the unspoken thoughts within, were visible, making you curious. as his fellow soldier spoke, keegan’s attention remained freezed on you, his focus unyielding, and the words of his comrade fading into the background of his silent admiration.

the spell was broken as soon as the captain opened the door to his office, inviting you in to debrief the mission with you. you were going with keegan’s team to help them gather intel, they were trying to find a very big drug dealer, and you translating, would help them find him faster.

tomorrow morning would be your first mission with them, yet you still didn’t know who keegan was, making it intriguing whom you’d be working with.

captain showed you your room, it was a basic military room, a twin sized bed in the middle, small vanity to your left, a desk in the other size to the room, and a small window, last but not least, your own bathroom.

you pleaded your boss to give you your own bathroom, there was enough experiences a girl can have in a shared bathroom used by men.

you started investigating about who you were translating for tomorrow, loosing the track of time. by the time you finished it was 3 am, making you worry a little, you were leaving tomorrow at 6 am.

you were almost going to bed when your stomach rumbled, making you internally groan, you knew that if you didn’t sleep, insomnia would make its way to you.

rolling your eyes you went to the kitchen, you thought everyone was asleep rn, so you paid no mind yo your outfit, a small cropped sweatshirt, leggings and fluffy slippers.

you were about to eat your slice of bread with jam when a sudden voice made you drop it to the washer “can’t sleep?” “jesus fuck!” you swore you felt your heart stop for a second, you never saw anyone in here!

you turned around to see the same guy from before, keegan, who just stared at you, seated in a chair with a book in his hands, it almost looked like he was trying to contain his laugh.

“what’s wrong with you!” you said with a smile laughing, he probably saw your bread jump to the washer “me? nothing, was just asking” he said it so proud of himself “how do you even read with all the lights off?” by now you had turned to him, still by the counter “i wasn’t reading, i was drinking tea” “oh” you never saw the cup of tea beside the book silly you.

“just know you ruined my dinner” you said pouting “and you asked my what’s wrong with me” he said scoffing “oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t eat late at night” “no i do princess, just not a bread with jam at 3 in the morning” his nickname made you stop your breath for a second, deciding to pay no mind to it “but you do you princess” he was by your side now, putting his cup of tea in the washer, until you saw him freeze next to you, there was small light coming from outside, oh yea, you had no bra on.

he could see see your breasts, your nipples to be precise, under your sweatshirt, practically begging to be touched, your sweatshirt was so small it had ridden up just a tiny bit when you were making your dinner, making keegan see a small part of your under breast.

“princess” keegan suddenly moved closer to you, making you see his eyes better, revealing a captivating shade of blue, a mesmerizing hue that held a subtle warmth within its cool depths, caught your attention.

his gaze, unwavering in its intensity, sent a gentle warmth through you, leaving a blush on your cheeks again, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection forged in that shared moment.

“you still don’t know my name” which was true making you ask for it, when he said it, he saw the realization in your eyes “oh! i’m working with you in the next mission” you said a bit breathlessly “glad to have you with us” you could see the deep appreciation for you in his eyes.

keegan had heard about you, he knew of your well-regarded reputation as a translator, held a silent acknowledgment of the confidentiality that shrouded your professional endeavors.

in the subtle lines of his expression, you could see respect for the enigma that surrounded you, a recognition that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. “thank you” you said, he just nodded to you, he was so close to you now you could feel his chest, and his chest could feel your nipples. you just held your breath keeping eye contact with him “well, princess, you must get your sleep, i won’t keep you up” you were in a trance when he moved, snapping you out of it “goodnight keegan” you said in a small voice. keegan smiled behind his mask.

ever since then, a connection quietly unfolded between you and keegan. it initially started as him being a distant observer, he always kept his eyes on you everywhere you went, even more when you were speaking russian towards the males, you held such confidence with you he was deeply allured with you.

his presence evolved into a silent shield, a comforting assurance amidst the unfamiliarity of a foreign land. he may couldn’t understand russian, but he sure as hell could see the body language and the tones they were speaking to you.

everytime he could sense any sort of verbal assault at you, his steely gaze fixed upon the adversaries with an intensity that spoke volumes, as well as his hidden raised gun;), sensing the weight of his silent threat, they found themselves silenced. even though you had no idea he was threatening them behind you.

you always knew keegan had your back, and silently thanked him for it. as the time passed, you felt keegan more protective of you, and you more attentive of him, you two were almost all the time together.

there were moments, a shared smile in the midst of icy winds, or a wordless understanding in the chaos of a mission, that spoke louder than words. in these instances, his protective instinct manifested – a steady hand guiding you through the challenges, a silent assurance that you were not alone. metaphorically as well as physically.

his interactions evolved into a touch that carried a warmth beyond mere protection. his gestures, once purely professional, became tinged with an affectionate familiarity.

a guiding hand on the small of your back during a mission briefing or a reassuring touch on your shoulder in moments of uncertainty, each contact seemed to convey a connection that lingered beyond the realm of your relationship.

these touches carried a feeling of something more, a silent language of shared emotions between you and him. in the hushed moments when his hand lingered a second longer than necessary or the gentle squeeze that accompanied a reassuring smile.

in the dim glow of the base's common area, keegan’s touches continued to weave a tapestry of unspoken connection. a shared moment over a map had his fingers brushing against yours, the contact lingering for a heartbeat longer than required, it was practically normal for you to be blushing around him now.

during a particularly challenging mission, his arm found its way around your shoulders, a protective embrace in the face of caos. in that moment you just wanted to be beside him all the time, you felt safe around him.

there was also a time in which keegan was behind you, listening to what you would be doing, until he felt rather not okay with what you were supposed to do. he suddenly put his hand discreetly on your waist, and the other arm in front of your chest, his hand subtly telling “no”

“she’s with us, meaning we protect her, what you’re saying is risky for her, she won’t do it” you felt warmth on your chest. you have never experienced this, the other teams you had been were never this attentive with you. it was a weird emotion for you, you were used to always seek for yourself.

in the quiet of the nights, a shared gaze held more than words could express. keegan’s hand, a reassuring presence, sought yours across the table, fingers intertwining with yours, squeezing your fingers every now and then. he did that more times than you could count.

the line between friendship and something deeper became increasingly blurred, leaving both of you suspended in the uncharted territory of unspoken emotions.

the endearing term "princess" slipped from his lips almost all the time, a word you loved hearing from him even though you never tell him. it became a private language, whether in the midst of a mission or during quiet evenings, the endearment echoed, making you warm inside all the time.

keegan’s feelings had transcended the boundaries of friendship, evolving into a profound connection that bordered into almost being in love with you.

his gaze, once intense, now carried a softness that showed a deep admiration, a mesmerizing allure that held him captivated in your presence.

his eyes just seemed to follow you everywhere, absorbing every detail of you, every facet of your being, as if etching your essence into his soul.

the desire to be with you became a palpable force, an unspoken longing that lingered in the spaces between conversations. the way his fingers sought yours, the way he leaned in, just a fraction closer than necessary – each action seemed to fluster you more and more.

you too couldn’t deny it, you felt drawn to him, but even with the warmth of his company and shared moments, there was a bit of confusion.

your feelings were kind of mixed up, wanting to connect with him but also feeling unsure about it. it’s like a struggle between what your heart wants and what your head is thinking.

you just don’t know how to respond to him :(

figuring out your own feelings became a bit like wandering through a maze, with no clear destination.

being close to keegan made you feel good, but accepting his love brought its own set of uncertainties. you tried taking things one step at a time, trying to make sense of your own heart and the budding feelings between you two.

until you just couldn’t anymore

you were in a very heated meeting with keegan, as always, behind you, talking to a very dangerous person, in a very dangerous place, at any moment now something could happen, making you feel on edge all the time there. you felt keegan’s hand hold your shoulder softly, reminding you he is here with you.

in the middle of the conversation, you saw in less than a second the man’s eyes change, from angry, to weirdly happy, like he was going to be free from all this interrogation. you were confused, until you heard it.

bullets and bullets and more bullets echoed in the building, as well as some passing through the windows in the small office you were. in a second keegan had moved you, shielding you from any possible damage

you heard him speak to the captain, the captain said they were under attack, making difficult to get out of there. you were alone inside with keegan and the man, he was tied to the table though, so you weren’t worried he would escape.

keegan held you behind his back, opening the door and checking if it was safe to go out. he made a clear sign and went to the right side. you were shaking of fear, you could hear explosions all over the place, the shaking of the floor, bullets everywhere, it was crazy.

suddenly a man spawned out of nowhere pulling keegan and tried stabbing him.

the military gave you a gun before you left, you had basic military training, knew how to use a gun, yet never needed to. but seeing keegan almost being stabbed made you react on instinct, you pulled your gun in less than a second and shoot the bastard. keegan’s was free from the man’s arm and shot another bullet between his head.

you just stood there, the adrenaline was making it hard to process what just happened, but you could feel your body trembling with fear, you may have possibly just killed a man. you’ve never done that in your life.

keegan saw the fear in your eyes “princess, hey, i need you to focus on me” keegan’s grabbed your face, you stared at him, worry clear in your eyes “you saved me and you’re a fucking badass for that” keegan’s appreciation words dragged you out of the dark thoughts you were falling to.

you both heard footsteps approaching you, making keegan grab your hand, tight, and walked to the other direction, you moved faster than him, adrenaline was making you rushed now, until you were about to move to the other corner of the hallway and saw armed men looking for, you supposed, keegan and you.

you pushed keegan back, startling him for a second, until he could hear the voices. you had a door next to you, keegan opened it and dragged you both inside. it was small, very small, yet enough for hiding. keegan turned you so his back was to the door, always protecting you first.

you on the other hand, was shaking shitless again, you could understand what they were saying, they were here for you, obviously not happy at all that you knew about what they were doing.

keegan once again tried dragging you out of your starting panic attack, he said your name twice trying to get your attention. you looked at him, you were very much fucking scared.

“hey, you’re with me, i won’t let anything happen to you okay?” you felt one of keegan’s hand hold your head softly, the other went to your back. you then realized he was hugging you, you were so close to each other he didn’t even need to moved you closer. you moved your hands to hold his back too, resting your head on his shoulder.

in the middle of the chaotic circumstances, keegan emerged as your anchor, his presence became the grounding point that helped you survive this.

it was then when it hit you, the realization, the profound connection that resonated beyond words. attempting to utter his name, you found your voice stifled by anxiety, your very core trembling with fear.

keegan, ever perceptive, tightened his hold around you, a silent reassurance.

as the threat passed by your door, keeping your mouth shut became a necessity, not just for the mission at hand but also to guard the burgeoning emotions inside you.

after a few minutes, you could hear them muffled, meaning they were far. keegan opened the door, still holding you, and looked out, he saw that it was clear “let’s go princess”

the next few minutes was you and keegan trying to get out of here, it was almost like a maze, the explosions seemed to calm down as well as the bullets. but there was still people looking for you.

you were about to turn to your left when a hand grabbed you from your neck, choking you, you tried to scream, but the man was fast, he suddenly pushed you to the wall, punching you in the face, almost breaking your nose, but you moved just in time your face, hitting you in the cheek.

you suddenly remembered you had a gun, you pulled it out, raising it fast to the middle of his head and shot him quick.

it was ugly, scary, and it glued you to your spot, all his blood soaked you, yet his hold on you loosened, making the man fall to your shoulder, surely staining your coat.

you were so fucking scared you thanked the lord keegan grabbed the man and lunched him to the wall behind.

you were again almost in shock, but keegan was in front of you fast “come on baby, we need to leave this hell” keegan kept dragging you, your body fully trusting him, because you were going into shock now.

you saw light, and finally you were out, a few dead people scattered on the ground, not helping you at all.

it until you saw the familiar humvee you felt slight ease. everyone saw your state, blood soaking all your face, dripping all over your coat. quite a sight. keegan just shakes his head to his teammates, silently telling them that you needed space now.

the soldiers admired you, even cared for you after all this time, it was clear seeing you like this worried them, but they trusted keegan, and they know you trust keegan too.

keegan helped you up the humvee, sitting next to you, you felt him whispering beside you “you okay?” you just nodded taking a small ragged breath, wiping your nose. you felt disgusting, you could feel the man’s blood dripping down your nose, the need to shower was strong right now.

keegan just softly held your hand, squeezing it to help you ground yourself, but you just couldn’t, you were so bloody anxious right now you couldn’t stop moving your leg up and down.

keegan felt it, slightly worried about you, he knew you’ve never been in combat before, let alone kill someone. you felt his hand slowly let go of yours, and put it on top of your thigh, making you halt your movements.

he kept it there slightly above your knee, massaging a little, not daring to move his hand up higher.

the ride to base was just the captain talking to someone on the radio, other than that, it was silent.

as soon as you arrived to base, you hurried out of the humvee, and fast towards the barracks, feeling the weight of the mission on your shoulders. you desperately needed the shower.

keegan stayed by the humvee, not following you right away. he stood there, giving you room. he could understand the impact of what just happened, and knew letting you calm down first was a good idea.

the letting you calm down time meant maybe you would come out of your room later, but now, it was 11:45 pm, and keegan was more than worried about you now. he had no idea you were still in the shower, living the past event over and over in your head.

you just couldn’t erase the image from your brain, just seeing the man’s eyes go lifeless in front of you, it was such a crazy thing to look at, and you weren’t dealing with it very okay.

you felt dirty, even though you cleaned your body more than twice. you had lost the track of time, you were so inside your brain you forgot to eat something. your stomach begging for food now, making you feel nauseous.

you just put on a brown long sleeve sweatshirt with some random leggings. you knew it was last midnight now, making it easier for you, you didn’t want to see anyone right now.

keegan, on the verge of heading to your room, noticed you entering the kitchen. your eyes were red, and your nose was puffy – the signs of tears evident. the concern on his face deepened as he observed the aftermath of emotions that had washed over you. he paused, recognizing the fragility in your demeanor, reconsidering whether to approach and offer comfort in this vulnerable moment.

spotting keegan in the kitchen, you froze in place. your hair, still damp, added a chill to the atmosphere, and a subtle shiver ran through you. keegan stood there, his worry evident in his eyes. the unspoken concern made you feel a twinge of guilt for disappearing, realizing the impact it had on him.

feeling the wave of emotions crash over you once again, tears welled up, and sobs escaped despite your efforts. a whispered "i'm sorry" escaped your lips, muffled by your trembling hand pressed against your mouth. the vulnerability laid bare.

in an instant, keegan was by your side. dressed in a simple black sweatshirt and cargo pants, he became your anchor once again.

his chest against your trembling form, you held him tight, as if seeking solace in the warmth of his presence. his hands gently cradled your head and waist, offering a silent reassurance, “nothin’ to be sorry about princess” you could feel his deep voice rumble in his chest “it’s okay”

his hand now gently petting your hair as you clung to him. between sobs, you began to express the guilt weighing on your chest. "i feel so bad for leaving like that" you admitted, the words punctuated by shaky breaths.

the shock of your actions you did a while ago lingered, casting a shadow on your thoughts. the vulnerability in sharing your feelings with keegan felt both liberating and daunting. it was a bad habit of yours, disappear whenever you felt any emotion that wasn’t happiness. it was normal to you:( even if it’s been more than 12 hours since you last emerged from your room.

keegan’s voice, calm and reassuring, cut through the heaviness of the moment. "it's okay," he whispered, his hand still tenderly stroking your hair. "you're here now, and that's what matters."

a flicker of strength ignited within you, and you stood a little taller, you pressed a tender kiss on keegan’s cheek, your hand lingering on his face for a heartbeat. his eyes held an unspoken love, you could see it clearly now.

keegan’s question for the kiss hung in the air, a gentle curiosity evident in his gaze. you felt his mask close and his breaths deepen, you took a moment, meeting his intense eyes. "it’s a thank you," you said softly, "for always protecting me."

his response was a tightening of the embrace, bringing you even closer. his face, now near yours, held an intensity matched by the deep breaths he took. in a rough voice deep with emotion, he confessed, "you driving me fucking crazy." the admission hung in the air, your cheeks flushing furiously.

a playful challenge danced in your eyes as you maintained intense eye contact. "what if you show me how much I drive you crazy?" you suggested, your doe eyes locked onto his.

a groan escaped him as he dropped his head to your shoulder. laughter bubbled from you, but your breath hitched as keegan shifted, causing your sweatshirt to ride up slightly. the short length and absence of a bra made you almost flash him your right breast.

keegan could feel it, in fact, he could feel your nipples pressed on him since he hugged you, making his pants feel tighter.

you felt keegan’s hand move up, near your breast, starting to massage there, making you blush furiously “may i remind you were are still in public keegan” you didn’t want anyone walk in on keegan almost touching your breasts, in the middle of the kitchen.

startling you in a swift motion, he lifted you off the ground, his strong hold on your bum leaving you feeling both surprised and strangely like jelly inside, and before you could voice your concerns, he began walking towards your room.

you were silently screaming at him about the possibility of getting caught, but keegan just tightened his hold on you more like squeezing your booty, effectively silencing you.

the situation didn't seem to faze him as he navigated the corridors, your protests muted in the intensity of the moment. the world outside seemed to fade away as keegan carried you and opened your door, leaving behind a trail of laughter and a flutter of unspoken excitement.

you thought he was going to drop you now, but no! he just went to your bed, and dropped you, making you bounce and laugh at what he just did “such a romantic” keegan just held the back of your legs and dragged you near his cock.

that motion made your shirt roll up, now showing him your bare breasts. you widened your eyes a little, but keegan looked like he was more enamored by you now “what a fucking sight i have” he couldn't help but revel in the intimate view of you beneath him. your eyes, filled with affection, locked onto his, radiating a warmth that mirrored the depth of your connection.

the air thickened with tension, and keegan couldn't ignore the tightening in his pants, a physical response to the emotional intimacy and the allure of the moment. “look how you make me feel princess” you could feel it, near your cunt, his big cock, making a big tent in his pants.

you just couldn’t anymore, you rolled your hips up a little, the sensation almost made you cum on the spot, but keegan just made a noise of disapproval “nuh uh, let me have my time with my princess yeah?” you blushed even more when keegan took a hold of your hips, and slowly moved his hands up, dying to touch your breasts.

when his hands finally felt them, he was on cloud 9. they were so soft and moldeable in his hands he could feel precum leaking from his cock. keegan lowered himself close your breasts, rolled his mask up, and licked your nipple making you moan.

he started sucking on your nipple like a man starved, while the other hand groped your other breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. you were panting, his hands were god sent, as well as his mouth.

that’s when you felt the sudden urge to kiss him. and you couldn’t wait anymore. feeling the magnetic pull, you took charge, gently dragging his face upward to meet yours. in a bold move, your lips crashed against his, a collision of desire and longing.

a sound of contentment escaped keegan, emotions flowing between you like an electric current. the world outside the moment ceased to exist as the intensity of the kiss spoke volumes, an unspoken exchange of emotions and desires woven into the fabric of that stolen, passionate embrace.

keegan deepened the kiss even more, angling your head better, he was heaven sent. in the heat of the kiss, your hands, seemingly of their own accord, found their way to his mask. it became an unconscious exploration, a touch laden with curiosity. unexpectedly, keegan broke the kiss, startling you, and swiftly snatched away his mask.

in the soft glow of the small light, his face was revealed, and you found yourself enraptured by the sight of him.

"you’re so beautiful" the words slipped from your lips almost involuntarily. a deep resonance of satisfaction echoed in keegan’s chest, and without a moment's hesitation, he dragged you up. seated on his knees, you found yourself straddling him, his hands on your waist and bum, fondling with it making you whine, as your lips met again in a deep, intoxicating kiss, yet you felt needy.

involuntarily you moved your hips, grinding right on his cock, making him groan deeply “fuck baby, you’re going to make me cum” knowing he was as aroused as you made you feel even more needy, making you grind your hips even more.

keegan’s hand took a hold of your hips, making you stop your movements. you whined again, even surprising you, you’ve never met this side of you, so needy of someone.

keegan's touch on your face was soft, almost reverent. he spoke with a gentle intensity, "i want to worship you. let me." the request hung in the air, and you, captivated by the depth of his gaze, agreed with a simple nod.

with deliberate tenderness, keegan laid you back onto the bed, his hands moving to the fabric of your clothes. He began with your sweatshirt, each movement deliberate and unhurried, as if unraveling the layers of vulnerability and desire between you two. as he raised your sweatshirt up, his hands once again touched your breasts, making you moan lowly.

keegan just smirked, having removed your sweatshirt, he then proceeded to shed his own shirt. the unveiling of his toned body drew an involuntary blush to your cheeks. his eyes caught yours, and a playful smile graced his lips.

"like what you see?" he teased, the husky timbre of his voice adding a layer of seduction to the moment. the air hung heavy with anticipation as you met his gaze, your response a silent affirmation that echoed in the space between you two.

keegan, still holding your gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes, continued his deliberate exploration. his hands, deft and unhurried, moved to your leggings.

with tenderness, he peeled them away, revealing more of your vulnerability. the room seemed to pulse with shared desire as each layer of clothing fell away, creating an intimate tapestry of connection between you and Keegan.

you were only with your panties on now, and keegan with his grey boxers, not hiding anything, making you slightly anxious, he looked very big, and you’ve never done this before.

a sudden realization gripped you, and you couldn't help but say, "wait" keegan, on the verge of sliding your panties off, halted immediately, his expression shifting to one of concern.

nervously, you confessed, "i’ve never done this before." the vulnerability in your admission hung in the air, an unspoken plea for understanding and patience. the room, once charged with desire, now held a new layer of intimacy.

keegan, surprised by your revelation, felt a renewed sense of responsibility. he looked into your eyes, the desire tempered with understanding, and reassured you, "i’ll go slow. we’ll take it at your pace."

his words carried a gentle promise, a commitment to make you feel at ease in this intimate moment. keegan then slowly slide your panties off, your cunt now bare and displayed in front of him. keegan just stared at it for a second, absolutely beautiful he thought; all shiny with your slick, begging for some attention. and who was he to deny it.

one thing about keegan, he loved foreplay, and you, you liked it too, but he’s made you cum twice! fingers and tongue involved, you weren’t complaining, but you really wanted his cock now.

from where you were, you could see his boxer stained with precum, making you whine, you were past needy now “i need you keegan, please” keegan heard the whiny tone from you, making his cock even more hard.

“such a needy princess aren’t you” keegan swiftly removed his boxers down, his cock sprang free on his stomach. your mouth was watering just seeing it. it was big, veiny and thick.

you didn’t think it, you were on all 4s now, keegan was looking behind dropping his boxer when he felt your mouth on his cock, making him hiss loud as well as whined “fuck princess, what are you doing?” you could hear his voice strained, like he was containing himself.

you didn’t answer, it was your first time doing this, yet you felt confident when you swallowed almost his whole cock down your throat, making keegan’s hands grab your head, pushing you deeper, making his eyes roll back.

“who taught you this?” he was a panting mess now, you kept bobbing your head up and down, using your angelic hands to grab his balls, swollen with his cum, massaging them, making keegan go all over the edge.

he didn’t warn you, just grabbed your head dragging it all the way down, thrusting his big cock down your throat, moaning loud. you decided to look at him then, giving your best puppy eyes you could, making keegan mesmerized with you, you could see all his reactions from here, his stomach clenching, his mouth panting, and his eyes full of love.

“i’m gonna cum love” you felt keegan trying to move his cock out of your mouth, but you just grabbed his hips, pushed them to you, and moving your tongue around his veiny cock.

keegan cummed on the spot, thick white ropes of cum going all the way down your throat, you as the princess you are, swallowed it whole, keeping your hand on his balls, feeling them clench everytime he cummed.

you were sure keegan was about to pass out now, that was the hardest orgasm he’s ever felt.

his desire was evident in the intensity of his gaze, deciding to take charge. his hands gently grasped your head, lifting you slightly making you put your hands on his big muscular chest. a deep, intense kiss ensued, each meeting of your lips sending a shiver through your body.

keegan murmured a sweet praise, "you’re such a beautiful good girl aren’t you?" he was still in his post orgasmic state, making you laugh a little, but this man had a very strong stamina.

you could feel his cock hard again in between your stomach making you put your hand on top of his slit. he bucked his hips a little “come on now” he said with a strained voice “let me make you feel good” desire evident in his voice.

keegan laid you down on the bed, moving your thighs open, letting your cunt once open to him. keegan not waisting a second now, aligned his cock with your cunt, dragging it up and down your folds “stop teasing keegan” you said pouting.

it took you by surprise when you felt his tip in your entrance, making you stop your breath for a second, keegan was smirking now, how easy it was to shut your needy ass up.

“i’ll go slow yeah? you tell me if it too much princess” keegan started sliding his thick cock insided your virgin cunt, it felt weird, a slight burn everytime he slide deeper.

keegan on the other hand was in awe, he saw your cunt swallowing his cock inside, inch by inch, your puffy clit at view too. in a second keegan had his hand on your clit, slowly circling it, making you moan, allowing his cock to slide further.

once he bottomed, he stayed there, he was still on his knees, allowing him a beautiful view. you had your knees next to your breasts, his cock swallowed by your cunt, your face flushed.

he couldn’t wait anymore, keegan dropped his forearms next to your head, and started grinding his cock inside your cunt. you felt so full, and him grinding was almost hitting your womb, making you moan loudly. “keegan you’re so deep” you said frowning from pleasure, your nails were on his big muscular biceps, hanging on for dear life.

“does it feel good?” “very fucking good” you said moaning the last word, keegan had his head hidden on your neck, his pace now a bit faster, balls hitting your ass everytime he thrusted, the skin to skin slapping sound resonating all over your room, creating such an erotic scene.

keegan then raised his head and kissed you deeply, his hand holding your head softly, you could feel him even deeper now. he had you on a mating press, his chest squeezing your breasts making your nipples stand out even more “you feel so fucking good princess” “this cunt belongs to me yeah” “you’re all fucking mine”

keegan kept saying this small praises everytime he thrusted, but what made your orgasm come quick was when he said you were his. yes you were. you were his since you met him. he was there for you ever since then, always by his side, always his.

“y-yes i am” keegan’s intense gaze was on you now “i’m yours keegan, all yours” he hit a particular spot inside you that you saw stars, moaning loud “say that again princess” “i’m yours” keegan was about to cum just from hearing you say that.

“and you’re all mine” you kissed him hard when you said that. keegan never thought you were the possessive type, yet when he heard you say that, you could say he fell in love even deeper “you’re all fucking mine keegan” you started meeting his thrusts with your hips, your clit rubbing with his stomach making your orgasm come fast.

keegan could feel it, you were clenching stronger now, almost making him stop his movements “you cumming princess?” that goddamn nickname was going to be the death of you “i want to cum with you”

your needy voice made keegan tighten his hold on you, and thrust deeper, and slower. keegan grabbed your face and kissed you, his other hand rubbing your clit. making you cum hard.

keegan cummed in an instant too, feeling your cunt clenching around his cock too, your orgasm so hard you closed your eyes. he cummed inside you, sliding even further, letting all his cum coat your walls with him. only him.

he stayed there for a while, letting you come down from the high. you were breathing hard, his cock now softening inside you, yet you didn’t want him to come out yet.

you used your feet to hit him on the hips, making him slide a bit more “stay here for a while” keegan caught the message, you wanted to cuddle. with him still inside you.

you were a sucker for cuddles, and touch starved. so when keegan laid down, still inside you, and dragged you almost on top of him, you felt shivers down your spine.

as keegan’s arms enveloped you in a tender embrace, a warmth spread through you, reaching the neglected corners of your soul. the gentle cradle of his arms was a stark contrast to the void you hadn’t realized existed, a reminder of the absence of such intimate touch in your life.

his arms forming a protective cocoon around you, fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. the rise and fall of his chest against your back mirrored the rhythm of shared breaths, creating a serene melody.

it wasn't just the physical closeness; it was the profound sense of being seen and held, a silent promise that in his arms, you were cherished and safe.

a few minutes had passed when you felt keegan sitting up, you as well on his lap, making you pout “don’t make that face” he said condescending “i need to clean you up yeah?”

keegan carried you all the way down your bathroom, again, still inside you, and seated you on the counter. he took a really long look to your breasts. such beautiful breasts just sitting there, making him want to hold them again.

“enjoying the view” you said in a proud tone, keegan just moved his eyes to your face and laid a small kiss to your cheek. you started feeling how keegan slid his now soft cock out your cunt, once it was all out, he just stayed there, looking at both your cunt and his cock “look at the mess you made love”

his cock was full of his cum, and yours, you felt all his cum slide out of your cunt, now on the counter, the sight making keegan’s cock start hardening again, and you saw that as well.

you just stared at him, beautiful doe eyes, and grabbed his cock. “can’t get tired of this cock huh?” you just smiled, stood up, and dragged him to the shower. that was the best shower sex you’ve ever had.

after the shower, keegan was behind you like a lost puppy, just wanting to be near you, touching your waist, squishing it, as well as your bum, all while you were doing your small skin care.

and on bed? keegan was even more cuddly than you! he said, scratch that, obliged you to be the little spoon. now you had his beautiful face right next to you, his hand drawing small circles in your waist, going near your breasts to tease you, your legs tangled beneath the sheets. you could get used to this.

“so, for how long have i driven you crazy?” keegan heard the cheekiness in your voice, you probably knew keegan was head over heels for you, acting all dumb to torture him, making keegan groan behind you “i’m going to keep it with for a while”

you laughed, putting your hands on top of the one that was on your waist, dragging it near your lips, planting a soft kiss there. when you kissed his hand, an unexpected tenderness surged within him, like a flood of warmth.

in response, he hid his face against your neck, as if to shield himself from the cascade of emotions, laying a few kisses here and there. you really could get used to this.

♡

AHHHHHH the end ;’[ i love fluff, was deciding if splitting this into chapters but i got carried away and made it a one shot jiji

hope u liked it!

[llamagoddessofficial]

perhaps maybe some bad guy moth crumbs? Mayhaps? Maybe?

ok ok o kok ok jokojokjfokdsjfokjokJLFKDSLKFJDSKF i love you anon, good question. This also ties in very well to all the fae thoughts I've been having.

Horror has the wings of a great big ragged peacock moth. They're large, heavy, and thick with fur. They drag behind him like a cape when he walks. With the way the mass of fur around his neck clumps and curls, it gives him the appearance of a lumbering bear - if he can fly, he seems to prefer not to, instead stalking the ground and picking off anything that can't get away from him.

His wings are very matted, very dirty. They have been for a long time. He... he would really, really like it if you brushed him. He doesn't mind how long it takes. It's been so long since someone touched him with care. Just... please brush him.

Dust resembles a muslin moth. Smooth, silky, grey. Too smooth - too untouched. The air around him smells strange, when you touch him its hard to tell what's the usual fine powder moths shed and what's something else. The rest of Nightmare's men have cuts and scrapes and imperfections in their wings, tears from battles they lost. Dust has no such imperfections. Almost like... he just doesn't lose. In some lights, when he raises his wings to attack, it's like the edges glow red and cyan. He is not the creature he purports to be.

You're curious about his wings? Cute. Why don't you come closer, have a better look? Why don't you stand close enough for him to see your lovely face. Then you both get something you want.

Whatever Killer was before, it's hard to tell now. His wings have been stained completely black, the only colours are the vivid red of two perfect eyespots, one on either wing. There's probably another moth pattern under all that black. Who knows.

Moth monsters often tend to shed a kind of fine powder, but it's hardly visible and pretty easy to ignore. Killer? His powder is dark, like soot, it clings to anything he frequently touches. Everyone around you can tell that Killer likes you, because his affection comes with great big black marks across your clothes and body. It's his way of declaring ownership. If he thinks someone is getting too cosy he sneaks up on you and hugs you to stain you for the rest of the day.

The exterior of Nightmare's wings looks like a pipevine swallowtail, with a lovely black fading into an equally lovely dark blue. Regal and elegant enough already. He keeps them folded around himself, as a makeshift cloak, and frequently decorates them with silver chains and precious gems.

The interior of his wings sports large, cyan eyespots. If he wants to, he can open his wings and flare the eyespots, causing a sudden rush of uncontrollable terror in whoever witnesses it. It's his decision how the fear affects the victim. He might want to make someone so scared they blab the truth. He might want someone to flee his presence because he's sick of them.

... Or... he might want to stop someone he's interested in from leaving.

[undead-supernova]

Prologue - Chapter 1

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

plot: you and Mr. Munson are freshman english teachers at south jefferson high school and it seems that some of the kids think he's a better teacher than you. and, yeah, you're a little bit pissed

wc: 3.9k

no cw for this prologue - (lighthearted enemies to lovers)

a fun 2000s idea i had after watching the tv show English Teacher

title reference: We Are Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes

You were a curious moth to a smoldering flame. If anyone accused you of such a thing, you’d tell them they were crazy. And yet, here you were, staring at a piece of lined paper sticking out of a locker. 

It belonged to Dustin Henderson, obvious from the Weird Al sticker stuck next to another of a retro baseball hat that read This is my thinking cap! Yeah, undoubtedly Dustin’s.

You thought about trying to push it back in so he could avoid some stupid bully ripping it. There was no reason for anyone to do that, but Dustin was a freshman and, well, he wasn’t exactly the most popular guy here. 

Fuck it, you thought before taking a step forward.

As you touched the worn corner, you spotted your name poking out from the page. Next to it was…Mr. Munson’s?

You couldn’t help yourself from pulling it out just a little further.

I just think Mr. Munson is better

Huh?

You yanked the paper from the slit, fisting it with both hands as you scanned the page. That was undoubtedly his handwriting, haphazardly written like he was always thinking faster than he wrote. 

So what the hell was Dustin Henderson doing saying that Mr. Munson was a better teacher than you? Dustin was in your class, not his! How the hell would he know?

A sudden flood of panic washed through you, causing you to throw a glance over to Aisha sitting farther up the hallway, scribbling away at something.  She was always here before everyone else, begging you to give her homework early. Most days the answer was no. Most days.

But today, her attention seemed far away. 

You looked back down, noticing a bunch of tally marks in pencil and pen. Even one was made with…an Expo marker? What the fuck?

she’s hot though, someone responded under Dustin’s comment, taunting you in red ink.

dude I’m dating Suzie 

that doesn’t mean you can’t look

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

Why did this feel like betrayal? Why was the word gnawing at your gut? Why was it bringing that bagel you’d scarfed down this morning up to the surface? 

“Find anything good?”

You startled, instinctively jumping backwards and into the chest of the person behind you. Whirling around, you were face-to-face with Mr. Munson himself. 

This was the first time he’d spoken to you. Ever. You’d been here since last spring, subbing for a teacher on maternity leave before she decided to become a stay at home mom. The hiring process was much easier after that. You’d see him at staff meetings and watch him holding the door open for the students after school like he was herding zoo animals off of his arc. 

And now here he was, looking way too put together for a Monday morning. He had a crisp white button down with a noticeably ironed black tie and his long hair skillfully tucked into a low bun. His shaggy bangs were freshly trimmed with little tendrils framing his face. You couldn’t help but think he was the only teacher here without dark circles under his eyes. 

“I…” you trailed, trying to parse through everything that’s just happened. The tally marks. The comments. The other candidate standing in front of you. The sheer amount of tally marks declaring you inferior to said candidate. 

Mr. Munson’s eyes flickered down at the page, eyebrows shooting up. Before you could respond, he plucked it from your fingers. He mouthed the words as he read, scanning intently.

And then he let out a wheeze of laughter.

“Dustin fuc—freaking, excuse me, Henderson. You know, he’s just—” He looked back up at you, grin fading as he noticed your deflated expression. “Woah, hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, hurt your feelings or whatever.”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine and you hated that it wasn’t fine. 

There was an image that flashed briefly before your eyes, of a note stuck to your locker with gum. A love letter from your crush, the one you held to your chest with a death grip as you floated through the cafeteria to his table. The great swell of hope before the roar of laughter that ensued. Before he high-fived his friends and let you down hard. 

But this wasn’t your hometown. The walls weren’t flecked in vertical lines of blue and gold. The lights didn’t signal a death sentence.

And standing in front of you was your colleague, stuck with you in this limbo between the past and the present.

“Don’t let it get you down or whatever. They’re just kids.”

You could’ve sworn he saw the swirling fog that lingered in your eyes. Was this him letting you down easy? 

Then why does it feel like a jab?

Mr. Munson was acknowledged as the favorite teacher of the freshman class last semester. You’d caught the tail end of this recognition, watching him laugh and roll his eyes as he gave a quick salute and sat back down. Mr. Munson, who already had everything figured out within the first year of teaching here. 

You opened your mouth, pathetically suppressing the urge to ask, How did you do it? What am I doing wrong?

But the wave of students coming through brought you back to the current moment, stifling any admittance of weakness.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said. “Gotta run, bye.”

You turned.

“Isn’t your classroom that way?”

Wincing, you turned back around, watching a smirk fill Mr. Munson’s stupid face. His eyes flickered toward your classroom three doors down from his before back at you.

“Yep, thanks. I know where my classroom is.”

“Yeah, I bet you sure do.”

“Great.”

That was the last time you would ever speak to Edward Munson.

Two weeks after you two found the list, you’d decided to sit in the empty break room for lunch. Every time you went to the cafeteria, you saw Mr. Munson there, laughing with the music and band teacher, Chelsea Jennings. 

The numerous times you’d tried sitting even slightly near them, you always heard Mr. Munson talking loudly about his Creative Writing elective. He’d rattle on about the short stories he’d assign them as models with authors even you didn’t know. Names that flew past your head, some even being professors from the local university you hadn’t attended. Professors that he still talked to.

You had taken up the Poetry elective, quickly updating the curriculum to include more female poets and sprinkle in some of the moderns. You’d desperately wanted to talk to someone else about it, but insecurity spread the second you realized all of your poets were well-known. But how could you ignore Emily Dickinson, Annie Finch, Pablo Neruda, and Mary Oliver?

Chelsea wasn’t the only one who talked to him so casually. The other teachers would greet him with such warm demeanours that it made you feel sick. George Bedding, the junior geometry teacher and Mathletes coach, ruffled Mr. Munson’s hair and pretended to punch him before sitting next to him. The fucking P.E. teacher and football coach, Shaun Atkins, even clapped a hand on his shoulder while heading towards the line for pizza day.

The few teachers that had been more than welcoming to you were never around for lunch. Angela Bradbury, one of the senior English teachers, was always helping students or hidden away in her room, nibbling on her Wonder Bread sandwiches while reading the latest romance novel. Sarah Stewart, an art teacher, was your closest ally but spent her lunches working on her own projects. 

See? There was no need to be jealous of him. You weren’t stuck on the outs. You fit in just fine.

Or, at least, that’s what you once thought. Now you had no idea how you were being perceived. And if you hadn’t come to the break room today, you would’ve spiraled. Again.

The room was small, coated in depressing beige with flimsy cabinets filled with powdered creamer and Folger’s coffee that expired two months ago. The refrigerator could barely keep anything cold. 

So, yeah, no one really came in here. 

(The other teachers hid a coffee pot in one of the supply closets with the good creamer in a mini-fridge you’d all chipped in for. Rumor has it that even Principal Scott used it.)

You sat down at the folding table, lower back already aching from the lack of support the metal chair gave you. At least you wouldn’t run into Mr. Munson again.

He’d just laughed while you were in the throes of humiliation. You supposed he didn’t have to think much about it because he was the one who was winning. Even if he was just some guy in his mid-thirties who must’ve taken this job as a last resort.

As if you hadn’t done the same.

But that was irrelevant. 

And, yes, you looked at Dustin a bit differently after the incident. Every time he raised his hand, which was a lot, you couldn’t help but see his penciled scrawl. 

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

You wondered dejectedly if they wrote that during your class. 

Before you could let out a frustrated groan, you noticed Mr. Munson in the doorway with a metal lunchbox covered in band stickers. He paused, wide eyes locking with yours. You couldn’t help but glare. 

Should the opinion of fourteen-year-old boys affect the way you treat another adult? No, probably not.

But you weren’t always known to be a rational person.

It could’ve been minutes. You couldn’t say. The two of you locked in a stare that seemed more like predator and prey than two teachers just trying to make it through another Tuesday. His dumb expression, dark eyes as wide as a deer caught in the fluorescence. You, a mountain lion trying desperately not to devour your sandwich, chips, and Coke in one bite. Including the aluminum can.

What was worse was the longer you stared, the more you noticed how attractive he was. Properly attractive, with lips coated in what seemed to be tinted chapstick. There was no way his lips were that pink, right? And he had to be using some kind of mascara with how dark his eyelashes were. Then there was his hair, seemingly still stuck in the Eighties with the waves. At least he brushed his hair at all, which was more than any of the greasy-haired teenage boys that frequented the halls. Maybe he could be something to aspire to.

Maybe he already was.

Mr. Munson moved silently, only heard as he pulled out the chair across from you, the legs screeching against the dirty linoleum. You surveyed his lunch, an already cooked ramen cup with a Dr. Pepper. He must’ve found a better microwave in Sarah’s closet.

The teachers of South Jefferson High School had a lot of secrets hidden in their closets. 

You finally dug into your sandwich, nearly moaning in relief. The school had implemented some new rule that the kids couldn’t bring snacks or they’d be “confiscated.” This rule applied to the teachers as well which was fucking cruel. You’d said your tearful goodbyes to apple slices with caramel and coughing fits between periods because you’d tried to choke down packets of Cheez-Its.

However, you weren’t prepared to watch Mr. Munson heave noodles into his mouth with a plastic fork, slurping and sucking the entire time. You couldn’t help your grimace, desperately trying to hold back the sound of disgust in the back of your throat.

Until he looked up, stray noodles plopping back into the styrofoam.  

“Uh, what kind of sandwich is that?” 

He only swallowed after he posed his question. Jesus Christ, this was the guy the kids were deeming their favorite? If only they saw him like this.

“Turkey and provolone,” you responded curtly. 

He lifted an eyebrow. “Really? ‘Cause I see other stuff on it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Banana peppers and onion.”

“And lettuce.”

So much for that scared little deer. Now he was some annoying warthog or a fox trying to slither through chicken wire.  

“Why are you interested in my sandwich?”

He shrugged, a hint of a smile growing in the corners of his lips. You hated it. “It, uh, looks good.”

“It’s Jersey Mike’s,” you said bluntly. 

Mr. Munson only shrugged again. “I only have ramen at my apartment.”

“Right.”

“And that fridge is a piece of shit.”

“True.”

“Woah!” he exclaimed, a huff of laughter leaving his lips. “Did we just agree on something?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the feeling of being a teenage girl again. It figures you’d revert after being in this environment for so long, with the stinging scent of cleaning supplies and hormones spreading like diseases. But nothing prepared you for this to transport you back to a time once easily forgotten.

On instinct, your tongue grazed the front of your teeth, laving over the missing braces that hadn’t been there for nearly twenty years. 

“Why do you care?” you snapped. 

Something flickered across his eyes, too quick for you to distinguish. “Oh, I see,” he started, pointing his fork at you. It was then you noticed that it was in fact a spork. “You’re still pissed off about the list.”

You feigned a snort, waving him away as you took the final sip of your Coke. “What? No way.”

Another pearl of laughter flew out of him. “Has anyone told you you suck at lying?”

“Has anyone told you you’re annoying?”

As soon as it flew out of your mouth, you realized just how mean it sounded. You winced.

Mr. Munson let out another laugh but this one didn’t sound the same as the last. “If I had a penny for how many times I’ve been called annoying, I think I’d be, like, the wealthiest guy alive.”

“You’d surpass Bill Gates?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He pretended to think about it before nodding. “Oh, yeah.”

“Wow.”

You couldn’t help the ease you felt when he played along. But the irritation started right back up as he reopened his mouth.

“I know you’re impressed,” he teased. “It’s okay. Go ahead and gawk.”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely starstruck.”

“Don’t worry about the list.” When you rolled your eyes again, he added, “Seriously! Those guys are just bored. I bet you’re a great teacher.”

“Thanks.” You didn’t even pretend to mean it.

After another shovel of noodles, he said, “But, just between us, I am kinda the best English teacher here.”

You couldn’t help a third eye roll. “I sincerely doubt it.”

A smug grin filled his face. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be sponsoring the new book club next semester.”

A flare of anger flooded your veins.

“What?”

“Don’t get too jealous there,” he teased.

You shook your head. “No, I’m sponsoring the book club.”

He let out a hum and tilted his head. “You sure? ‘Cause I didn’t see your name on there.”

You scoffed. “I didn’t see Edward Munson on that list.” You said his name with a certain amount of venom that you knew wasn’t lost on him. His resulting scowl said it all.

He stood up, smoothing out his shirt and fiddling with his tie. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to deal with us being partners then.”

You were at a loss for words, unable to do anything but watch him move towards the door. “Been great talkin’ to you,” he said. He threw his napkin in the trash can before glancing at you over his shoulder. “I’m Edd-ie, by the way. Don’t wear it out.”

He walked away but you couldn’t help but throw a napkin at his fading figure. It made it as far as the end of the table.

That was the first moment you wondered why he’d decided to eat here in the first place.

“There must be some kind of mistake!” you exclaimed.

Principal Scott shook her head for probably the fourth time in two minutes. “I don’t see why you can’t work with Mr. Munson on this. If anything, that makes the club stronger.”

“It’s my chance to try and connect with these kids,” you explained, desperation leaking through your professional demeanor. “Ed—Mr. Munson has been here way longer than I have—”

“Only by a year,” she corrected, but you were far from over.

“ —and he has a leg up on me with them! I want to start making an impact! Kids these days are less interested in reading than ever before. It stopped being cool. What if I could inspire them to care? What if I could get them to read things that change their point of view on the world, to inspire them to think further outside of the little box their environment puts them in?”

Eddie was impressed by your speech, even if he wasn’t supposed to witness it. He’d actually been on the way here to talk to Principal Scott himself to try and keep his spot as the club’s head sponsor. Maybe keep you there but reduce your authority.

But then. Well. He heard you talk like this.

“And that’s great,” Principal Scott continued. “I just don’t see why you and Mr. Munson can’t do that together.”

“The kids like him,” you said before coughing. “At least, that’s how it seems.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to do this work if he’s taking the spotlight? I’m just supposed to stay sidelined?”

He thought about the first time he saw you, at that first staff meeting you’d attended. You fidgeted a lot, all flustered and nervous like all new teachers were. Even in your fear, he thought you were pretty. Standing there, shifting from one heel to the other like you’d rather go barefoot than stand in the opposite corner.

You’d looked over at him at the same time, caught up in an awkward staring contest where both contestants refused to stop blinking and had no idea when to call it quits. It didn’t help that you seemingly relaxed at the connection. It was kind of adorable.

When he saw you in the halls after that, he found himself pausing to observe you. You were always there to wish the kids a good morning and a good rest of their day with a certain amount of sincerity that he could never muster. If there was a hyperventilating kid in the hallway, you were the first one to huddle them into your room to help them down from whatever ledge their raging hormones put them on that day. 

Once, he’d walked past your room to see you opening a drawer while saying, “Don’t tell anyone about my secret stash, okay?” You pulled out a bowl of candy that even had his mouth watering. The student nodded her head, puffy-eyed but already reaching in. “If you promise to keep it a secret, you can come get candy whenever you want. How does that sound?”

If you were outside directing carpool, the worst of all the roulette wheel of responsibilities South Jefferson had to offer, you always seemed energized. Like it wasn’t a chore whatsoever. 

He knew you cared about these kids. He did.

But you seemed to have absolutely lost it at the mere implication that you weren’t already everyone’s favorite English teacher. You’d developed some personal vendetta against him as if it was his fault that fourteen-year-olds with greasy hair, braces, and cruel acne flares thought better of him. Especially Dustin Henderson and his group of nerds. He meant that with all the love in the world, of course.

The way you spoke to him was more intriguing than infuriating. Amusing, even. But then you said his name with such disdain, such vitriol. It prodded at something deep inside him, a well of nearly forgotten memories that seemed to overflow the second you said his name like that.

So, yeah, maybe he was starting to develop a bit of a vendetta against you.

Eddie had to shift his plans. Clearly you weren’t going to give up easily. Maybe he’d annoy you to the brink of insanity and get you to drop your sponsorship. He’d always had proficiency in that skill. Besides, it wasn’t too mean. What was another push?

“Don’t you think you’ll get better turnout rates if he’s there?” Principal Scott reasoned. “If the kids like him so much, you can use that to your advantage—and his. I know Mr. Munson is a dedicated teacher. He’s given your speech to me dozens of times about things that quite frankly matter less. He’s passionate. Just try to work together. It doesn’t have to be that complicated.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “Fine. I can do that. Thank you for your time, Principal Scott.”

“Call me Carrie.”

“Yes, thank you, Carrie. I’ll see what I can do.”

Eddie thought about walking away. Really, he did.

But there was a part of him that really wanted to see you. Your figure had been obscured by the doorframe and, sure, he’d gotten enough from your words alone.

Nothing prepared him for the sight before him. You were utterly defeated, scratching at your neck as you hunched forward. The cross-strap bag you always carried was slipping off of your shoulder, causing you to groan as you fixed it. 

As your eyes flickered up, he watched the scowl that seemed reserved for him deepen.

“What?” you challenged. “You wanna gloat?”

It was then Eddie realized he’d been grinning. He gestured to his face. “Was I not already gloating?”

“I can’t believe this,” you grumbled, quickly strolling past him.

But Eddie had a hard time knowing when to stop. And maybe, just maybe, he was solidifying his new plan. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

“You could take a picture, you know,” he continued. “just so you can keep up with every face I have when I win.”

“Shut up.”

Oh, he could get this done before Christmas break was over. If he challenged himself enough, maybe by the end of next week.

“I can lend you a camera if you’d like.”

You halted with a huff. “I’m trying to get things done for these kids. I’m trying to help them. Do you not get that? Or is this just a mask you wear to make people like you?”

Eddie tried to disguise the quirk of his eyebrow as he considered your words. But judging by the upwards flick of your eyes, he knew he’d been caught.

What was it that you saw in him that hadn’t been uncovered since his youth?

“You think so low of me.”

“I haven’t been given a reason to indicate any other kind of reaction to you and your incessant need to be a pest at any given time of the day.”

Eddie resisted the urge to give you a slow clap. Instead, he settled on “You done?”

You took a deep breath before nodding. “Yes.” Something seemed to shift as you took another deep breath and straightened your posture. “Winter break is coming up next week. We should try to figure out how to make this work. Why don’t we go get coffee or something and hammer out the kinks.”

“I think that is a great idea,” he replied, his tone more mocking than anything. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You opened your mouth, seemingly to say one thing before hesitating and starting over. “Meet me next Tuesday at Java Bean at one p-m.”

Eddie grinned, smugly wondering what your reaction would be when he said his next words. Professionalism be damned.

“It’s a date.”

Your eyes widened, amusing Eddie to no end. Oh, yeah. That hit something. 

“Do you hear yourself?” you asked, nearly scoffing at him.

There were those eyes of yours, searching for something in his. As if you were both trying to find the truth behind your cement walls of defense. But you gave up first, spinning around and trudging down the hallway.

“See you Tuesday!” he called after you, smiling triumphantly when your shoulders locked up.

Oh, yeah. This would be a cake walk.

thank you to @jo-harrington for all the time she took helping me with the writing process and @littlexdeaths for always making the best dividers. i love you both so much it's hard to articulate.

[munsonsmixtapes]

First Time

Find part two here!

virgin!Eddie x experienced!fem!reader

since smut won the poll, heres what I came up with!

summary: you hook up with a very inexperienced Eddie in a club bathroom

cw: MDNI 18+ smut (p in v) oral (m receiving) Eddie receives a handjob

The club was very overcrowded with dancing bodies covering the dance floor. You had a drink in your hand and were dancing the night away without a care in the world. By that time in the night, you usually had someone to take home, but you came up empty handed. Nobody looked good. They were all either drunk off their asses or definitely looked like they’d slip something into your drink when you weren’t looking.

You scanned the place one last time, deciding that if you didn’t find anyone, you’d just go home by yourself, your only company being your fingers and vibrator. They did the job just fine, but sometimes you just didn’t want to fall asleep alone.

You noticed a table that was to the far left. Four men were sitting at it, laughing their asses off about something while sipping from their drinks. Your eyes locked on the one with curly hair, deciding that he was the one. He was so pretty and definitely your type. As you got closer, you could see that he had a beard which made you even more attracted to him.

You could practically imagine his beard scraping your chin and above your top lip as he kissed you roughly, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to pull you closer.

As you approached the table, you noticed the small silver hoop looped through the right side of his nose. You loved men with piercings, finding them to be very attractive. Everyone at the table but him looked your way, all curious as to who you were going to talk to.

“Hey handsome,” you greeted but he still wasn’t making eye contact with you, almost as if he was avoiding it. The Black guy sitting next to him nudged his shoulder and he turned in his direction, only for his friend to point to you.

“Me?” He seemed confused as he pointed at himself, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You are handsome, aren’t you?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow as he got all flustered. God, he was adorable.

“I mean, I guess so,” he shrugged. You loved a modest man. Too many of them had a lot of confidence for being so mediocre.

“What’s your name?” His own name completely faded from his brain. Women didn’t usually talk to him, especially not super hot women such as yourself.

“Eddie,” the guy on the other side of him answered for him. For whatever reason, the name suited him. He looked like an Eddie.

“Well, Eddie, do you want to dance with me?” Dance? Eddie could do that to save his life, but since such a beautiful woman was asking, he had no choice but to say yes.

“He’d love to,” the same guy answered for him and pushed him up from his seat. You weren’t going to dance with him if he didn’t want to. Consent was very important and only wanted to do things with people if they were really enthusiastic about it. And that went for both inside and outside the bedroom.

“Would you?” You asked, wanting to make sure.

“I really would,” he nodded furiously and stood up from his chair, taking the hand that you were offering him.

You pulled Eddie out on the dance floor and he was quick to turn to his friends in panic. He had no idea what he was doing, but they all just gave him a reassuring thumbs up.

He liked the way your hand felt in his, all soft and warm. He let you lead him through all of the drunk, dancing bodies on the floor, just happy to be there. He tried his best to keep up with how fast your legs were moving. There was no way that he was losing you in the crowd. He could barely handle going to clubs with his friends, let alone by himself.

This whole thing was so overstimulating; the lights, the loud music and the people yelling over the loud music. Eddie hated it, but he only went because his friends liked it. While they danced, he sat at the table, throwing back glasses of whiskey like they were going out of style.

But there he was, actually getting his ass out onto the floor because you had asked him. He had denied so many invitations because he was afraid of looking stupid or being made fun of which had just been a product of not being desired in his youth. He was the freak, a loser, a person who just wasn’t worth anyone’s time. So why did he think that he was worth yours?

You stopped in the center of the floor and turned your back to him, taking no time to grind your ass on his dick to the beat of the pop song that was blasting through the speakers. Eddie had no idea what he was doing, but he was loving whatever was going on.

You grabbed his hands that were still by his side and guided him to rest them on your waist. You moved to the music together and Eddie could already feel his dick getting hard at the feelings of your ass grinding against his crotch.

If you noticed, you didn’t say anything. You turned around as the song chance and draped your arms around his shoulders. Eddie’s hands ended up on your ass when you moved in his arms and quickly slid his hands up to your back, thinking that it was a safe place for them.

“You’re quite the dancer, Eddie,” you smiled and he was grateful that you couldn’t see his blush in the terrible club lighting. He knew you were lying but he appreciated the compliment. He couldn’t dance to save his life and was sure that you agreed.

“Oh, am I?” He sounded so unsure and you thought it was refreshing that a man as attractive as him had no idea how good he was at anything.

“Definitely,” you nodded then leaned closer, your lips right by your ear. “You know, I can take care of that little problem in your pants if you’d like.” He felt a shiver run down his spine at both your breath and thinking about you “taking care” of his boner.

The thought made him kind of nervous. He didn’t have any sexual experience, hell, he hadn’t even kissed anyone since Josie Geller when he was thirteen and that hadn’t really counted. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had offers, he’d had many, but his insecurity always got the best of him. He was just convinced that it was all a prank and was quick to shut it down, not wanting to fall for anything like that again. He had had enough tin high school.

But for some reason, he has fully believed that you were being genuine. He could see the look in your eyes; it was excited and full of lust. You had to be telling the truth. Either that, or you were just a really good actress and he didn’t think that was the case.

“I would love that.” His words came out breathy and rushed and he hoped that you couldn’t see how desperate he was for you to help him with his little problem.

You took him by the hand and the two of you made a beeline for the bathroom. Eddie was almost giggling while you kept it cool. You had had your fair share of bathroom sex while he hadn’t had sex period. It was almost funny how opposite you were.

You pushed the women’s bathroom door open and checked to make sure no one else was in there before pushing him into one of the stalls. Eddie pressed his hands against the walls so he wouldn’t fall into the toilet while you locked the door and turned around to face him, your eyes lighting up as you took him in.

He was so hot even in the dark of the bathroom stall with the way his messy, curly hair that you just wanted to run your hands through, giving it a tug as pounded into you. Your gaze moved to his pretty pink lips and you could see that they were a bit chapped but you hardly minded. You just needed to feel them on yours.

You leaned forward, but Eddie put his hand on your shoulder to stop you. He took a deep breath before licking his lips, preparing himself to tell you the truth. He felt he owed that to you.

“Before we start anything, I should tell you that I’m a virgin.” Your eyes widened, now feeling guilty for pulling him into the stall. You pulled your hands away, backing up to the door, trying your best to give him space in the small area.

“Oh my god, I-I had no idea.” You put your hands up to your face to cover it, but Eddie quickly pulled them away.

“How could you have known?” Eddie wasn’t going to blame you for something you didn’t know. He just wanted you to be aware of the situation before you continued.

“We don’t-we don’t have to-”

“But I want to.” Even though Eddie didn’t know you, he still felt like he could trust you, not getting a single feeling in his gut like he had all the other times women approached him. It just felt right being there with you and he was hoping you felt the same.

“You do?” You wanted to be one hundred percent certain before you continued, wanting him to be absolutely sure that it was what he wanted.

“So badly. I mean,” his snapped to his still very hard dick and your gaze followed. “Still want to take care of it for me?”

“You’re sure you want to lose it to a stranger?” Eddie stepped closer to you so that you were chest to chest. He looked at you, taking in all your features and now that he was looking at you up close, he could confirm that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and couldn’t have been more honored to have you take his virginity.

“I’m sure.” He gave you a nod and you slowly moved your arms to wrap around his neck while his went to your waist. You slowly inched your face towards his, capturing his bottom lip between your two.

He was quick to respond, mimicking your actions, hoping that he was as good at it as you were. He honestly had no idea what he was doing, but he was confident that you’d teach him, showing him exactly what he needed to do so he was fully prepared for next time.

The kiss slowly progressed to hot and heavy as you swiped your tongue along Eddie’s bottom lip. He opened up and let his tangle with yours, a whimper escaping from the back of his throat as he did so. His eyes widened at the noise and he pulled away, covering his mouth with his hand.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” you told him softly. “Make as much noise as you want. And actually, I found that really hot.” Even though first times could be awkward for some, you wanted Eddie’s to be memorable for him. Something he could look back on positively and not in embarrassment.

“Oh.” His cheeks burned at your compliment and you thought it was adorable how you could make him blush so easily.

“Wanna make it again?” Eddie thought for a moment and decided that he did, especially since you thought it sounded hot.

“I do, actually,” he nodded and your lips were back on his in a second. You licked into his mouth once again and he let out another whimper, not holding it back this time. You felt your cunt getting wet at hearing the noise and you slow moved your hand down his chest, stopping right when it got to his belt buckle.

You pulled away and looked at him for permission. He nodded his head furiously, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and you slowly unbuckled his belt, giving him plenty of time to back out if he wanted to. You pulled down his pants and let them his the tops of his shoes before shimmying his underwear down his legs. You let out a gasp at how big he was, feeling honored that you were the first one that he was going to let touch it.

“Wow,” you said, looking back up at his eyes. “You really are huge, aren’t you? I’m going to consider myself grateful that you’re going to let me take care of it.”

“Wouldn’t want it to be anyone else, to be honest.”

Beads of pre were falling from the head and you looked around for your purse that had fallen to the floor at some point. You pulled out a small bottle of lube and put some in one of your hands before letting it and your purse to fall back to the floor.

You stepped forward and grabbed hold of Eddie’s dick, moving your hand up and down the shaft slowly to test the waters to see if he liked it. His hands moved to hold on to the wall as he threw his head back. A moan fell from his lips and you were convinced that you hadn’t heard anything hotter.

You continued to pump, making your movements harder and faster at his commands, wanting him to be in control and tell you what he wanted. Moan after moan fell from his lips and now you felt like he was ready for more.

“Can I suck you off?” You asked, your hand slowing down, but still moving at a good pace. Eddie still had his head titled backwards, his eyes closed and you felt yourself getting even more wet at seeing him like that, coming undone from your touch.

“God, please,” he groaned and you slowly dropped to your knees.

Your hand wrapped around the base and you took him into your mouth giving his dick a suck while your tongue swirled around the head. Eddie’s hands pressed flat against the stall as he threw his head back even more at the pleasure he was experiencing. God, this was so much better than using his hand.

“Shit,” he moaned, his breath becoming heavy. He closed his eyes, trying hard to prevent his knees from buckling. “Fuck.”

You continued to suck, taking all of him into your mouth, ignoring the fact that your eyes were watering, desperate to give him the best head of his life. Your tongue swiped along to tip another time as you sucked the hardest you could, eliciting the prettiest sounds from Eddie.

For the finale, you stood up and gently pulled down on his chin to force him to look at you. His eyes opened and he watched you swallow, feeling his knees buckle as you did so. God, you were so fucking hot.

“Fuck,” he moaned and pulled you into a kiss, his beard scratching roughly at your skin as he took what he wanted from you, you happy to be pliant under his touch. His hands moved down to your pants and you let him unbutton them, pushing them down so they hit your ankles and you kicked them off, leaving them in a small pile next to you.

“Is that all for me?” Eddie asked, his lips parting as he stared down at the wet patch that had dampened your underwear.

“And only for you,” you winked. “You think you’re ready to get inside me?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” he breathed.

You pulled a condom from your purse and opened it before sliding it onto his cock. Once he was all set, you stepped forward, helping him line up with your pussy. He then slowly entered you, the two of you letting out moans as he did so.

He grabbed onto your waist and slowly pumped in and out of you, trying to feel it out for himself. You moaned as he pumped, closing your eyes in pleasure as you grabbed onto his neck.

“Am I doing this right?” He asked, unsure and you just moaned in response.

“Oh, Eddie.”

He began to moved a little faster which elicited more moans from you as you wound your hands into his hair, giving it tug after tug. You both moved together, feeling nothing but pleasure as he began to pound into you.

“Just like that, baby, yeah,” you whined and Eddie continued, feeling super confident about his movements, knowing that you’d let him know if you didn’t like something.

Sex was far better than he thought it was going to be, but he was sure that it was all because of you. You had been nothing but sweet and kind and made him feel like a king. How was he going to have sex with anyone else when his first time was practically perfect.

“Oh my god, I think I’m gonna-” he cut himself off as he reached his climax, suddenly feeling embarrassed that it had happened so quick.

“That’s right, honey,” you told him. “Let it out. You’re doing so well.”

“But I finished.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less how quickly he had finished. That just meant that you could have gone for round two that much faster if he was up for it.

“That’s okay,” you assured him as he pulled out. “Do you wanna…take this back to my place? I think it’d be more preferable to being here.”

“I’d love to go back to your place.” He pulled the condom off of his cock and tied it off before disposing of it. He then pulled up his underwear and pants before buckling his belt.

“Do you want to call a cab while I clean myself up here?” You asked and Eddie just nodded silently. You both shuffled around the stall so he could get to the door. You pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before he opened the door. He then stepped out and pulled out his phone to call the cab company while you took a piss then cleaned yourself up.

You were confident that you had just had the best sex of your life. Who knew that a virgin knew exactly how to make you cum as opposed to men who slept around all the time? Maybe it was because he was actually interested in pleasing you.

As Eddie ordered the cab, he couldn’t help but let the images of you orgasming flash in his head. It was the hottest thing hearing you moan like that and he was looking forward to hearing it again and again even after the night was over. Maybe if he played his cards right, you’d invite him over again.

You exited the bathroom as Eddie hung up the phone and placed your lips on his, pulling him in for a sweet kiss that has been the exact opposite of the last one you had given him.

“C’mon,” you reached for his hand once you pulled away. “Let get out of here.” He put his hand in yours and you led him out of the bathroom and through the club, confident that you’d make his second time even better than the first.

[strwbwrrybunny]

skin. ino takuma.

𝐜𝐰 𐙚 nsfw link, drabble-ish, black reader , creaming, explicit language, underage drinking, cannabis consumption, high/drunk sex, kissing, oral, fingering, age-gap, ino is 21 reader is 18. . . i think that’s all? as always mdni . . .

𝐚/𝐧 𐙚 all fifteen ino fans rise up! but like seriously, he’s so underrated. no one writes about his fine ass.

"boo!"

a cheeky grin pulls across your face as you feel the familiar inked arms wrap around your frame, the intricate designs on his skin a comforting sight. you can't help but lean back into his warm, protective embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. the scent of his cologne fills your senses, grounding you in the moment. with a playful glint in your eye, you turn around slowly, your movements deliberate and teasing. your arms drape over his shoulders, fingers gently gliding into his soft chestnut hair.

he looks so pretty, brown eyes sparkling with warmth and mischief as he gazes down at you. his black beanie is snugly pulled over his tousled brown hair tucked behind his ears, showcasing small silver hoops, two on each side, as well as an eyebrow piercing that catches the light and adds a touch of edgy elegance to his look. his lips curve into a soft smile, making your heart flutter, and you can't help but admire the effortless charm he exudes.

"my dad will kill you if he sees you in here," you mutter against his lips. ino hums, shrugging his shoulders, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he pulls you closer.

"good thing he’s not here then beautiful." he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, you giggle. never did you think you’d be messing around with the pool boy, yet here you were, sneaking behind your father's back doing just that. there was something about ino takuma that you couldn’t resist—maybe it was his mysterious aura, or maybe it was the way you’d always catch him sneaking glances at you while you sunbathed in those too-tight bathing suits. not that you minded him looking, anyway.

your dad would have his neck if he knew ino was sleeping with his precious daughter, which is why you and ino snuck around when your father was out, which was often. the thrill of secrecy added an intoxicating layer to your relationship. every stolen moment felt electric, charged with the risk of being discovered. you relished the way ino's touch sent shivers down your spine, the way his lips felt against yours.

you remember the first time you noticed him, his quiet demeanor and the way he seemed to blend into the background. it was intriguing, and you found yourself watching him, curious about the stories behind his reserved nature. despite his efforts to remain unnoticed, there was an undeniable pull between you two.

ino's lips pressed against yours, soft and demanding, sending a thrill down your spine. you melt into the kiss, fingers further tangling in his hair as his hands roam your back. the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this stolen moment. you pull back slightly breathless, and gaze into his eyes, seeing the same fire reflected back at you.

"you're trouble, you know that?" you huff, tracing a finger along his jawline. ino chuckles, hands tracing shapes on your back. you looked so damn enticing, wearing a pink tube top that clung to your skin, your nipples subtly pressing against the fabric. your leggings accentuated every curve, highlighting the beautiful dips and contours of your body. ino loved seeing you barefaced, never understanding why you felt the need to wear makeup. to him, your natural beauty was captivating.

"and yet, you can't stay away," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. it's true; no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you're drawn to him like a moth to a flame. there's something about his quiet strength, his mysterious nature, that captivates you. you want to peel back the layers, to understand the man behind the reserved exterior.

"maybe i like a little trouble," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. ino's eyes darken with desire, and he leans in to capture your lips once more. this time, the kiss is deeper, more urgent, as if he's pouring all his emotions into it. you respond in kind, losing yourself in the sensation.

a sudden noise from the front door startles you both, and you pull away, hearts pounding. "dad's home," you whisper, panic setting in. ino's eyes widen, and he quickly steps back, adjusting his beanie.

"i'll go out the back," he says, his voice calm despite the situation. you nod, trying to steady your breathing. as he slips out the back door, you can't help but feel a pang of longing. taking a deep breath, you smooth out your clothes and attempt to compose yourself.

“hey honey,” your dad calls out as he enters the kitchen. “how was your day sweetheart?”

"good, thanks.” you reply, forcing a smile. "just doing some reading."

“that's good. totally forgot to tell you i have a work dinner to go to in a bit, so i’ll be gone for a few hours. will you be okay here alone?” he quips an eyebrow at you as you laugh. “dad, i’m eighteen not twelve. i will be perfectly fine.”

he nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and heads upstairs.you let out a sigh of relief, your heart still racing from the close call. your mind drifts back to ino, grabbing your phone from the counter you send him a message.

dad’s leaving 2nite, bring booze and weed ♡︎ i’ll text u when coast is clear!

ino takuma looked so damn pretty when he was high, brown eyes half-lidded as he nursed the blunt in his hand. he was sprawled out comfortably on your bed, his legs spread out in a casual yet confident manner. his grip on your waist was firm and reassuring as you sat on his lap, creating an intimate connection that made your heart race. the soft glow of the room highlighted the contours of his face, adding to the captivating aura he exuded in that moment.

“your face is so pretty, y’know?”

“so sit on it.”

it was almost comical how fast you began stripping after those words left his mouth, hungry lips on ino’s as he assisted in peeling off your clothing. his hands gripped your hips with a possessive intensity, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. the kiss was deep and demanding, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervor that sent shivers down your spine. you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the raw desire evident in every movement. his teeth grazed your lower lip, eliciting a gasp from you that only seemed to fuel his passion further. it was a kiss that spoke volumes, filled with a lustful need.

“mmmngh,” you’re an incoherent mess as you grind your wet folds across his face, eyes low with pleasure. ino was a man of many talents, and one was eating pussy. the way he’s dragging his tongue over your sensitive cunt has your stomach churning, his hands holding a tight grip on your quivering thighs. ino knows you’re a runner, and rest assured he’s not letting you out of his grip.

“eating my pussy so good,” you breathlessly whine, lips caught between your teeth as you attempt to stifle your moans. the slick sound of your folds meeting his tongue is lewd, ino’s a messy man, a combination of spit and arousal coating his face as well as your inner thighs.

ino moans into you, the deep vibrations making your clit tingle. you fail miserably to swallow back a moan, ino’s cock twitching against his sweats at the beautiful sound. it’s like music to his ears and it spurs him on, teeth grazing your bud, sending waves of pleasure up your back. “inooooo,” you mewl out his name in complete ecstasy, every tug, every nip at the sensitive bud igniting your senses, toes curling in pleasure.

“w-wanna feel your f-fingers inside o-of me,” you hiccup out, mind foggy.

almost instantly, your legs are pulled to each side of your head, stretching you to the brink of your flexibility. ino's fingers move with a relentless rhythm, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, each thrust deeper and more intense than the last. his other hand wraps firmly around your neck, the pressure adding an intoxicating blend of control and desire to the moment.

“such a greedy thing” ino groans watching as your lips latch around his digits each time he withdrawals, “stuffed to the brim with four fingers, yet you still want more.” you moan at his words, knowing he’s right. ino’s name fumbles from your swollen lips multiple times in a daze, he could get drunk off the way your mouth rolls the syllables.

“tell me how you feel baby,” ino coo’s, fingers curling into your cervix, lips attaching back to your clit. the combination of his tongue lazily gliding over your throbbing clit along with his fingers working in relentless rhythmic harmony has you shuddering in pleasure. “so fucking good!” you sob, hands entangling in his hair as he devours your pussy.

“you’re so wet,” ino mutters into you, fingers coated in cream, ass lifting off the bed with each thrust of his fingers. “this all for me?”

“yes,yes,yes. all for you daddy!”

mymanmymanmyman.🫧

[miraclewoozi]

ELECTRIC. - y.jh

your best friend is many things. smart, funny, empathetic, a complete and utter pain in your ass to name but a few. and on the evening of his twenty-eighth birthday, you discover something a little unexpected: jeonghan is very afraid of thunderstorms. 

pairing : jeonghan x fem reader. content : f2?. smut. fluff. a bit of angst. comfort. (MINORS DNI) w/c : 6.3k warnings : swearing. jeonghan has astraphobia / a fear of storms (for a brief period, he's a little fragile). intentional lowercase. smut tags utc. PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. notes : happy birthday to this sweetest of sweethearts. i would chew my right arm off if he asked me to. (barely proofread. if you see a typo, no you didn't.<3)

smut tags : pussy drunk jeonghan (my beloved), no real power dynamics but jh is a cocky mf and a bit of a dick, panty sniffing hehe, fingering, oral sex (f rec), reader is turned on by the storm. they're very unserious about it.

the lead actors meet in a kiss. the screen fades to black. so ends yet another round of your annual birthday movie nights.

jeonghan reaches for the remote and silences the end credit theme to the film you’ve just finished watching at the same time as you lift your head up off his shoulder, stretching high above your head and letting out perhaps the loudest yawn (-stroke-moan) of your life. your joints ache from too long spent in one, rather cramped, position, your eyes feel heavy in the late hour. the room falls almost silent around you both, save for the harsh splashing of rain against the windows. 

(this really doesn’t help the fact that you’re seconds away from falling asleep.)

“what did you think?” jeonghan asks, stretching his long legs out in front of him. 

“not my best pick,” you say, scrunching your nose a little. “not my worst, either.”

your best friend gives a short ‘ha’ of agreement, finally standing up off the couch. “couldn’t have said it better myself.” 

he gathers up the takeout boxes currently decorating his coffee table and grabs the now empty drinks glasses with his free hand, grunting softly as he stands fully upright again. you see him trying to roll out a kink in his neck and laugh from where you’re still settled comfortably in the couch cushions.

“you’re going stiff in your old age,” you tease him, grinning brightly. he fires a look at you that simultaneously dares you to keep going down this path, and yet also, tiredly agrees. “remind me to book you a good massage for your birthday next year.”

he grunts something that sounds suspiciously like an instruction to go fuck yourself as he takes his leave from the room, carrying everything that needs to be thrown away or washed up into the kitchen. you busy yourself on your phone while he’s gone, deciding to check in on your weather app. you quite like the rain and you’re really not that worried about driving home in it; you’re just curious how long it’s going to last for. 

in the delay of the app opening, a series of bright flashes bounce off every single wall in the living room. when you glance outside, the rain is falling harder than before; barely ten seconds later, a thunderclap roars through the ajar windows and you feel it all the way down into your tummy. 

you don’t have a chance to excitedly run across the room to get a look at the storm, though. a loud swear and the sound of crashing glass stings your eardrums before the rumble is even over. instead, you’re bolting through in the same direction jeonghan disappeared off in just moments ago, your heart having taken dangerous residence your stomach.

“what’s wrong?!” you ask as you skid around the corner in your socks, just managing to catch yourself from sliding straight into the wall at the end of the hallway. “i heard a—”

you freeze, then, falling silent. jeonghan is gripping onto the kitchen counter like his life depends on it with both shattered glasses laying at his feet; he looks like he’s seen a ghost, all white-knuckled and clammy and pale-lipped. it’s terrifying. 

“hey,” you say, slowly making your way into the room, mindful not to startle him and even more careful not to stand on one of the many shards on the laminate. “what happened? are you okay?”

he nods, weakly. swallows hard. blinks a few times, curls and uncurls his fingers, steps back from the counter. 

“yeah,” he breathes eventually, uncertain and still visibly shaken. he wipes his palms on his sweatpants and looks over at you, forcing a smile, but you’ve known him for entirely too long to be sold on this terrible performance. “i, uh-...”

but jeonghan stops short, shaking his head, running out of words to say. for a moment, you think maybe he’s about to apologise; that’s the shape his lips make, anyway. you cut in before he gets the chance.

“it’s okay,” you say, leaning one hip up against the counter. “go sit down, i’ll clear all this up. watch where you stand, though.”

“you don’t have to–” he starts, but you interject before he can even entertain the idea of cleaning the mess himself.

“i know i don’t, but i want to. go. i’ll only be a minute.”

begrudgingly, he agrees; you grab the broom from his kitchen cupboard and start slowly sweeping the broken glass into a dustpan while he carefully steps on the safe parts of the floor and makes his way back through to the living room. you make reasonably quick work of everything, emptying the fragments into the bin on top of the takeout boxes – all that’s left by the time you’re finished a couple of minutes later, is to try and figure out what caused all this in the first place.

jeonghan isn’t an easily shaken individual; you know this from years of experience. he seems to be able to catch you every time, without fail: whether he’s just popping out at you from behind a door and making you yelp, or he’s near-on giving you heart failure by texting you that something terrible has happened and that you need to come over, immediately, only for said ‘terrible’ thing to be that he got really comfy on the couch without making any popcorn. but regardless of all the numerous ways he manages to terrorise you, you’ve never, ever managed to do the same back to him. 

he’s always shrugged off your attempts, bragging that he just isn’t afraid of anything. so… you’re not really any closer to finding an answer at the time of going back through to the living room with your backpack slung over one shoulder.

“you wanna tell me what happened in there?” you ask, sitting down next to him on the couch. you’re sure his posture is supposed to be an attempt to convince you that he’s absolutely fine, now, but jeonghan looks stiff and is outright refusing to meet your eyes, despite your best attempts. again, unfortunately, you aren’t so easily fooled.

“i just came over dizzy,” he lies, doing his best to play it down. “maybe i stood up too fast and had a delayed reaction, i don’t know.”

“i’ve known corpses get up faster than you did, hannie,” you deadpan, laying one hand by his knee. “come on. that’s crap.”

he doesn’t quite jerk away from you, but you do feel his thigh muscles tense under your touch. you slide your palm down onto the couch between you instead in an effort to make him a tiny bit more comfortable. 

“it’s nothing,” he tries. “really. it’s–”

“jeonghan–”

“y/n.”

the room around you falls silent, both of your stubborn personalities at a stalemate. he won’t talk, and you won’t let him stay quiet. it’s been this way for years. since you were teenagers, even. you’d think he would have learned by now. (he hopes that you might have, too.)

but, there is a fact at play that makes you stop staring him down, and you relax your shoulders slightly as you sit forwards.

“i’m only letting this go because it’s your birthday,” you sigh, clasping your hands together. “if it was any other day of the week–”

“yeah, yeah. trust me. i know.”

there’s an edge to his voice that almost sounds like your jeonghan. like the teasing menace you know and adore. almost. it’s missing something. missing his usual spark.

“i swear to god, though, if i find out you’re sick and you’re not telling me,” you mutter under your breath. not quite under your breath enough, mind – he hears you perfectly, and you can see, out of the corner of his eye as you start to rummage through your backpack for your car keys, the way his ears prick up.

“don’t be stupid, i’m not sick,” he says. the truth in these words, specifically, is evident in the weight of his voice, in the way his fingers brush against the small of your back. “i swear.”

“pinky swear?” you ask, turning to look at him over one shoulder.

he holds out his little finger on his right hand for you, both eyebrows raised in a silent challenge. you pinch your lips tight before hooking your own pinky through his, leaning in and pressing a short kiss to the pad of your thumb. the way you used to when you were kids. ‘you really can’t break those.’ he used to say. ‘they’re like, triple the strength’. saved for really important promises. when he does the same, you know you can believe him.

“okay,” you concede, going back to your search. “in that case – i think i’m gonna head on home before the roads get flooded.” you had to learn the hard way that the drains in this part of town aren’t known for their ability to handle much more than a middling rainfall.

somehow – always, somehow – buried at the very bottom of your backpack, you manage to find your keys and your hand curls around them as soon as you feel one of the rough edges against your fingertips. it’s barely been three seconds since your announcement, but jeonghan has managed to shuffle right into your personal bubble anyway and is now sitting with one arm pressed fully against your own.

“i don’t know if it’s safe to drive when it’s like this,” he says quietly. “it seems dangerous.”

“i think i’ll be okay if i leave, like, soon,” you try to reassure him. 

“you think,” he repeats, narrowing his eyes at you. 

“i’ve driven in so much worse, believe me,” you say. “don’t worry, i’ll be careful.”

“why don’t you just stay the night?” he offers. “you’re not working tomorrow, are you?”

“i’m not,” you confirm, and you do genuinely consider the offer for a moment before deciding to decline. “but i need a shower, and–”

jeonghan interrupts you, a little too quickly. “you can use my shower, i’ve got spare towels. i’ll sleep on the couch. don’t drive in this.”

“hannie, stop worrying,” you laugh, starting towards the door. “i promise, i’ll go slow and i’ll text you the second i’m home.”

“y/n,” he sighs, stepping towards you, jaw tense. “please. just this once.”

you swallow, looking all over his face, trying to figure out what train of thought the cogs behind his eyes are turning in tune with, why he’s so stressed about this. you’ve never known him behave like this sober. (you’ve only ever known him to be like this once, at all, and he tried to kiss you, then, so–)

“i really…” you start, only to be interrupted by another brilliant white flash. your eyes dart to the window just in time to see the lightning bolt through the clouds, and you feel your face noticeably soften in wonder. barely four seconds later – it’s getting closer – the loudest thunder clap you think you’ve heard in your life drowns out every thought you’ve ever had. 

every thought, except the sudden pressure of jeonghan’s fist around your forearm. every thought, except the stuttered gasp he lets slip. every thought, except the sudden fear in his too-wide-eyes.

oh, you think, realisation dawning on you as the blunt press of his nails grows just a fraction softer in time with the end of the rumble. that’s…

“it’s okay,” you say softly, taking a step closer to jeonghan and opening your arms for him to step into. “it’s okay. i’m here.”

he falls against you like an unsteady house of cards, his arms tight around your back and his head buried into the place in your shoulder where it fits the best. you’ve never seen him like this, and you’re not really sure what to do with yourself; he’s always been the sturdy one, between the two of you. he’s always been your rock. there’s a little bit of an irony in how he’s always been the one to help you weather the storm, but with the shoe on the other foot…

“how can i help you?” you ask, trailing your fingers up and down his back, not really sure that he can feel you through the thick material of his sweatshirt but you’re trying your best, anyway. 

he squeezes you tighter, buries his head further down into your shoulder, takes a few shaky breaths in through his mouth and screws his eyes shut a little more before he makes his request. 

“please stay with me.”

if your heart wasn’t aching for him before, it most certainly is now. you nod to the room at large, hoping jeonghan can feel the movement even a little. you don’t loosen your hold around him, though: you let your best friend cling to you for as long as his muscles will allow before they start to ache and he has to step away. 

“come with me,” you say once he’s finished running his fingers through his hair, trying to set it back to rights. “it’s okay.” you hold one of your hands out to him and he takes it, albeit apprehensively; giving his palm a squeeze with your own, you guide him through the apartment towards his bedroom.

“what are you–?” he asks, and despite his earlier hesitance to hold onto your hand, he doesn’t want to let go of you now you’ve reached your destination. he just stands next to you, fingers threaded through yours, looking at your face with tired eyes and a lifted brow. 

“grab your bedsheets,” you tell him, shaking your hand free. “and your pillows. we’re gonna make a fort.”

“a what?”

“a blanket fort,” you say. “to hide from the storm.”

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, and for a brief second, you think maybe the idea has offended him. his face hasn’t lifted into the smile you sort of expected it to; instead, he’s just staring down at his bed as if he’s trying to will himself out of existence.

“we don’t have to do all that,” he says. “it’s… that’s way too much?”

“it’s your birthday,” you counter. “and i want to make you a birthday fort. like we used to, when we were kids. it’ll be fun!”

he gives a little sigh, but it’s not one of sadness or exasperation with you. it’s defeat. except, you think if you could taste it, you’d be able to pick up a tiny lacing of sweetness in his exhale. 

“fine. you’re building it, though.”

you think it’s safe to say that perhaps, you’re a bit out of practice. you distinctly remember this being much easier when you were young: throwing bedsheets and blankets over the couch and propping them up with chairs or broomsticks. the forts that you would make as a child were, truly, a sight to behold: you used fairy-lights to decorate one, once, and it still remains one of your most prideful projects to date. the slight catastrophe that sits in jeonghan’s living room by the time you’ve finished laying out the last few pillows is… more a cave, in your opinion, and not a very pretty one, but you emerge from it smiling anyway and jeonghan looks at you so fondly that no matter how rubbish it is, it’s worth the half an hour you spent putting it together.

“what do you think?” you ask, sitting back on your heels.

“it’s not your best,” jeonghan teases as he walks towards your monstrosity masterpiece, critically eyeing the ‘roof’ that would definitely fail any kind of health and safety audit. “but it’s not your worst, either.”

a bright smile lights up your face as he drops down to his knees and crawls inside the space alongside you, letting the ‘door’ (a particularly thick blanket) fall down behind him. one of the (many, many, many, many, many) problems you encountered was trying to make one of these to fit two grown adults, but with him tucked away inside with you and a few flashlights to prevent you from being plunged into darkness… ignoring the potential for it all to come collapsing in on you at any given time, it’s surprisingly comfortable. 

you lay back against the pillows first and jeonghan follows soon after, a weirdly gleeful smile playing at his lips as he does. he curls into your side and you talk, and talk, and talk. about everything. about nothing. it doesn’t really matter.

you’re not quite sure why, but the deep roars of the storm outside don’t seem to bother jeonghan quite as much in here. maybe it’s because he’s not alone, and there’s no imminent threat for him to be: maybe your company really is making a difference. he still reaches for you every time there’s a particularly loud clap, still closes his eyes and takes a series of deep breaths until his stress passes, but for whatever reason, he feels significantly less tense.

and when, after the third boom, he decides just… not to let go of your hand? who are you to try and force him?

there’s… just one problem, though. you’re ecstatic that the storm isn’t bothering jeonghan as much, now. that he can talk absolute nonsense to you in your private little hideaway, that he can lean his head against your shoulder and chuckle at your bad jokes and even crack a few of his own. genuinely, you could not be happier. for him.

but there was more reason than wanting to sleep in your own bed that had you desperately trying to get home before you realised the gravity of your best friend’s situation. 

with every new growl of thunder outside, something low in your stomach twists, accompanied by an ache, a warmth, a throbbing between your thighs. at first, it was easy enough to battle through. you kept telling yourself that the thunder never lasts too long, that you could get through this without jeonghan being any the wiser, that everything was going to be fine. but now, almost an hour later, the buzz of electricity in the atmosphere and the entirely-too-addicting scent of your best friend’s fabric softener has you feeling hot enough you could faint.

you twist and shuffle over and over, hoping to find a position that eases the throbbing. it’s fine, you think, taking a deep breath and praying to every deity you can recall by name that jeonghan doesn’t notice your discomfort. i can do this. it’s fine. just a little while longer.

a spectacular boom sounds through the apartment and jeonghan’s fingers tighten around yours so much that, against all your better judgement, you let out a loud gasp. not out of pain, though – no, you wish. if only it was that easy. ha. no – as he squeezes your hand, images flash through your mind of him being the one to relieve you of the tension building up beneath your skin. of him gripping and grasping and tugging, thrusting, tasting, adoring. your throat runs dry and you squeeze your thighs together desperately, pinching your lips tight, willing your pounding heart to calm the fuck down. willing your cunt to stop drooling into your panties.

“fuck,” you breathe when he finally lets go. you feel him shuffle at your side and prop himself up on one elbow, looking down at your face with mild terror written into the lines of his own.

“i’m so sorry – did that hurt?” he asks, searching your eyes for any kind of clue. you wish he wouldn’t. surely, you think, pressing your tongue harshly against the roof of your mouth, surely my pupils are blown to oblivion, right now.

you shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“are you sure?” he asks, slowly running his fingers down your arm, moving to take hold of your hand again if you’ll let him. you flinch, the drag of his nails akin to an electric shock – like being struck by lightning, you tell yourself – and he snaps his hand back straight away. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you hurry, pushing yourself up to sit (almost head-butting him in the process) and groaning at the way the seam on your jeans rubs against your clit. who wears fucking jeans to a movie night? what absolute moron–

“do you feel okay?” jeonghan questions, sitting fully upright now too. “do you think it was the foo–”

“oh my god, please,” you whimper, bowing your head, letting your hair fall around your face, shielding you from him. just a little. not quite enough. “please. i’m fine. stop asking. i’m fine.”

“said everyone, ever, who was in fact – not fine,” jeonghan quips. “do you need water? i can help, just talk to me–”

“jeonghan,” you snap, whipping your head back up. your face feels hot and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt this tense before in all your years on this earth. all your muscles are tweaking in anticipation for something that most certainly is not going to happen, and you really need him to stop talking in that deep, smooth, caring voice. with immediate effect. for the love of god – 

…and heaven above, the penny drops. 

jeonghan’s concerned expression turns to one of complete shock and you cover your face with both hands, trying so desperately hard not to be perceived by him in this most humiliating of moments. he doesn’t say anything for a second, and you tell yourself that he’s probably trying to find either a terrible joke to ease the tension or a way to tell you to go home. you don’t know which would be worse, but it’s only a matter of time until you find out.

therefore, you definitely don’t expect him to pry your hands away from your cheeks, and for his shit-eating, impishly charming, handsome-as-fuck grin to be the first thing your eyes land on when you open them.

“really? thunderstorms?” he asks, close enough that you feel the breaths that his words don’t quite steal. “that’s your kink?”

“it’s not a kink,” you whine, throwing your hands down either side of you. he doesn’t release his hold on your wrist, though. “come on, don’t be–”

“of all the things you could be into,” he says. oh, he’s back. he’s back with a vengeance. you suppose, really, you should be glad that he’s feeling more like his usual self, but the fact that it’s at your expense? that there’s no-one else around for him to turn on instead? that this is your topic of conversation at ten past midnight on his living room floor?

“hannie, please,” you huff, lips drawing downwards into a frowning pout. the ache isn’t going away. why isn’t it going away? why is this cocky, smirking version of your best friend making you feel even hotter under the collar? what’s going on? “don’t you think i’ve suffered enough?”

“not even nearly,” he says, sitting up on his knees, resting his palms on his thighs. “since when? how did you even fig–”

boom.

and his jaw falls slack, watching you squirm.

you’re quite literally fighting for your life. or, at minimum, for your friendship. because, really, you could jump jeonghan’s bones right now and you don’t actually think he’d turn you down (something to be filed under: thoughts that are not making this any easier). but that’s not what you’re trying to do; you’re trying to help him feel better, and take his mind off his fear, and when he pulls his bottom lip between his bottom teeth before speaking –

“okay, wait. hear me out.”

to both of your surprises, you do. you don’t try and protest, which he was sort of expecting you to do. you don’t tell him to shut up, you don’t try and get away from him. you sit there, eyes wide, hands curling into the blankets beneath your slowly numbing ass, and you wait for him to continue.

“i can help you.”

your heart shoots up into your throat and you struggle to swallow around it. your breaths are heavy, laboured, your lips parted and a little swollen from how you’ve been biting at them for the past hour and a bit.

“you don’t have to–”

“shut up, y/n,” he says dismissively, crawling in front of you and lifting your hands away from the bedding you’re kneading (pathetically, in his professional opinion) like a cat. “listen. you’ve helped me so much tonight, you don’t even know. let me return the favour.”

“hannie…”

“hannie,” he whines, in a poor imitation of your voice. “hannie, i only helped you because you needed me– is that it? look at you, y/n. you’re a mess.”

if this were anyone else, you’d be livid. not only at the way he so effortlessly makes fun of you, but at the fact that he accurately finished your sentence without having anything more than an affectionate nickname to work from as a hint. you don’t know what to say, suddenly stunned into silence, but it’s all right. you don’t need to say anything; he keeps going.

“you need me. let me help you – look. it’s my birthday.”

he wants this, you think to yourself, growing slightly concerned by the way your heart continues to hammer in your throat. he wants… me.

you give one slow, but definite, nod of your head and jeonghan’s grin grows from cocky to genuine. he crawls until he’s right up in your space, lifting a hand to your cheek, and you forget how to breathe for a moment as he looks you in the eyes with more heat than the mid-august sun.

“lie down,” he says, pushing that last little bit closer and capturing your lips in a kiss. it’s short, but mind-boggling. your brain goes totally blank when he pulls away. “it’s okay. i’ve got you.”

but you do as he says and shuffle around the little fort so you’re on your back, head resting against one of the many pillows you’re grateful you brought in here with you. he crawls on top of you, then, caging you in with one hand either side of your head, settling with one of his knees slotted between your just-parted thighs. 

“okay?” he asks, searching your face for any signs of discomfort or worry. he doesn’t find any, though – he’s met only with a perhaps too enthusiastic nod and your hands playing at the hem of his sweatshirt. he chuckles, bending down to kiss you again, a little deeper this time, a little longer. open-mouthed and hot, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, dropping onto one elbow so his torso lies almost flush against yours. 

“easy, tiger. taking care of you, right now.”

you sigh as his lips start to descend down the column of your throat, and you press your shoulders back into the blankets to try and push that little bit closer to him. one of his hands slips beneath your own shirt and his palm comes to rest flush against your hip, dragging his thumb in small circles over your skin. 

“this,” he mumbles into your collarbone, tugging the neckline of the garment between his teeth for a moment so you know what he’s referring to. “off.”

“bossy,” you mumble, your body cold all of a sudden as he sits back away from you and you tug your t-shirt off over your head. as you do, he reaches behind his neck and tugs off his sweatshirt as well before he tosses it up near your head, out of the way.

now, this is certainly not the first time you’ve ever been around jeonghan without anything covering his top half, but it is something that you rarely get the chance to see. if it’s not the fact that he’s chronically freezing cold, it’s because he’s grown emotionally attached to some of the baggiest tops known to mankind, or he’s worried about getting a sunburn so is still covered up at the beach. for one reason or another, this just isn’t something you’re blessed to see very often, and he looks so good you almost forget that it’s him.

of course, that only lasts until he says something really fucking dumb. in other words, all of about three seconds.

“how… practical,” he says, eyes trained down on the bra covering your tits. in a way, it’s probably a good thing you’ve snapped back to your senses, because you once again find yourself thinking that if this were anyone else, you’d have told them to get off you and never call you again.

but why is jeonghan, of all people, criticising your choice of comfy underwear… weirdly endearing?

“sorry,” you grunt, making no effort to hide the (flesh-toned, full-coverage, entirely too old) bra that he’s looking at like it’s personally offending him. “didn’t expect to need to impress, tonight.”

“don’t be sorry,” jeonghan says, shaking his head as he unpops the button on your jeans and tugs them down over your hips. “just… do better next time, yeah?”

you laugh so suddenly, so abruptly, so loudly that you choke on your own spit and end up coughing a little, propping up on one elbow to try and relieve the burn in your lungs as he continues to work your pants off your legs. by the time he scrunches them into a ball and puts them to the side, too, you’ve managed to catch your breath, and gasp out, “next time?”

“next time,” he nods, making himself comfortable between your thighs. he lays one palm on the inside of each knee, pushing them as far apart as your hips will allow, before he brings one hand over your covered cunt and drags his thumb up and down your slit.

you don’t even get a chance to ask why he’s so sure there’ll be a next time. he skillfully works you through the material and in seconds, has you tipping your head back into the pillows, moaning at the overwhelming feeling of finally being touched.

“so fucking wet,” he sighs, feeling your arousal through the cotton of your underwear, pressing the material between your folds. his thumb circles your clit over and over, the pressure just right – not so light that he’s teasing, not so hard that you’re squirming away from him. hell, if you knew he was this good, you’d have dragged him into bed years ago.

“come on, hannie,” you gulp as he starts to work his thumb faster, starts to massage at your inner thigh with his other hand. “need more…”

well, he doesn’t need to be told twice. you lift your hips and he tugs your panties down your thighs, unhooking them from around your ankles. you expect him to, you know, return to business, but he does something just a little bit unhinged first and brings your soaked underwear up to his face. you hear how deeply, how loudly he inhales, the subsequent groan he gives even louder, and you swear the reason you end up bumping his hip with your knee is to bring him back to earth, because it actually feels like he’s forgotten you’re lying right there.

“i’ll do it myself, in a minute,” you threaten, and jeonghan grins wickedly down at you as he lowers your panties down to join the rest of your discarded clothes. 

“no you won’t,” he tells you – he tells you? – , finally now lying down between your legs, just inches away from your glistening cunt. “god – as if i’d ever let that happen.”

“i swear– ” you start, half a second before one of his fingers presses against your hole. you stop talking with a gasp, a hand flying to your chest and squeezing against your tit. just like that. in a heartbeat, you’re done for. 

he seems intent on gathering as much of your arousal on his fingertip as he possibly can, running it through your folds, pressing it inside you, smearing your slick all over and then some like a fucked-up painting. only once he’s satisfied does he finally start to work his finger in and out, pressing his lips just above where your clit is begging for his attention.

“don’t play stupid,” you chide him when he looks up at you through his lashes, eyes wide and feigning innocence. “if you can find it through my underwear, you can find it now.”

“bossy,” jeonghan tuts. “what’s with the rush, huh?” 

and he adds another finger to the first, both long and elegant and reaching spots inside you that your own physically can’t. you keen against your will, hips reacting of their own accord, trying to fuck your pussy down against his hand. he makes no effort to stop you.

“m’not gonna beg,” you tell him. “just – fuck, get your mouth on me. now.”

to his credit, he does.

and more to his credit, being eaten out has never, ever felt this good.

the hand not grasping at your chest shoots down to tangle in his long, silky hair, and jeonghan moans loudly against your pussy as he laves his tongue everywhere he can. over your clit, between your folds, slipping it inside your hole in place of his fingers – he’s relentless, slurping and groaning and finding some sort of insane stamina from somewhere deep in his soul. you swear to god, this is not the man who sometimes falls asleep with his light on because he doesn’t have the energy to get up and turn them off.

within a matter of minutes, you can feel the coil in the pit of your stomach growing tighter and tighter, your walls fluttering around his fingers, your moans and whines only getting louder by the minute. your legs are shaking. your thoughts are little more than static, and him. at some point – you don’t know when –, jeonghan reached around your hips to pull your thighs together and clamped them around his ears, mumbling against your clit something to the effect of to help with the thunder. (you don’t mention that there hasn’t actually been another thunder crack since he started making out with your pussy. it doesn’t feel relevant, somehow.)

every time you tighten your thighs, every time you squirm, he hugs you tighter against his cheeks and you just end up humping against his tongue. something tells you maybe that was the plan all along? 

sparks of energy start to prickle all over your skin as you teeter on the edge of your high. your fist tightens in jeonghan’s hair, your breaths become fewer and further between. it’s frankly a bit of a miracle you’ve even managed to last this long – you held back as long as you could, determined to milk as much of the pleasure his hands and his mouth so skillfully bring as you can. just in case there’s no next time, but… hell, do you hope there is.

“hannie, i’m–” you gasp, his fingers curling upwards again and resuming their earlier assault on your g-spot. “fuck, hannie, i’m so close–”

“mm, have been for a while, huh?” he asks, drawing his mouth away from you, licking his tongue over his arousal-slickened lips. “you’ve been holding out on me.”

“yeah, but-... i wanna come so bad,” you swallow. jeonghan flicks his tongue out over your clit again and you jolt up into the touch. “please, don’t stop.”

“won’t,” he promises. and it’s the last thing he says before his lips meet your pussy again and he brings you over the edge into the most electrifying of climaxes.

by the time you’ve stopped twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm, jeonghan is sat up on his knees again, softly massaging at your hips with his thumbs. your vision is still kind of fuzzy at the edges when you glance up at him, and for a moment, with a hazy outline and an amber glow behind him owed to the flashlight you set at the entrance to the fort, you think he looks a little too much like an angel.

“where the hell did that come from?” you ask him, fighting against the squirming in your belly. fighting against the sensation that feels a little too much like butterflies. 

“really?” he asks in a breathy laugh. “that’s-... i mean, do you actually want to know, or…?”

you mull this over for a moment before crossing your arms over your eyes and concealing yourself from his view, shaking your head. one part of you is morbidly curious as to how he got so good at giving head. the other part of you is too busy trying to gather the brain cells he just sent flying across about eight different dimensions.

“i think you’ve broken me, jeonghan,” you breathe, feeling more than seeing him lie down next to you again. his lips press sweetly against the curve of your shoulder. warmth radiates from that one spot, all over your body. you smile, like a complete loser. 

what’s worse is that you really don’t mind.

“is that a yes, then?” he asks, slinging an arm over your waist. you turn your head to look at him, eyes crossing a little with how unexpectedly close he is. 

“yes to what?” 

“to next time,” he says. his grin matches yours and you nod your head at him, yes. in your peripheral vision, you notice how he lifts one hand, extends his little finger. straight in front of you, you see both of his eyebrows raise.

you pinch your lips tight before hooking your own pinky through his, leaning in and pressing a short kiss to the pad of your thumb. the way you used to when you were kids. ‘you really can’t break those.’ he used to say. ‘they’re like, triple the strength’. 

saved for really important promises.

“to next time.”

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.&lt;3

[igbylicious]

My god Im so curious about Yunho from your Woosan fic 😫 anything for a solo scene with him to see what hes like esp cuz damn

oh god strictly speaking i don’t take requests but OOF anon it’s whiway and you caught my brain right in the middle of a perfect Yunho-shaped storm asdjhadshj. so here you go, i whipped this up real quick >:3c

WHICHEVER WAY: A YUNHO BONUS

(set before the main series but doesn’t need context. features a different reader character)

pairing: yunho x gn reader

genre: pure smut, strangers who fuck

wc: 2.5k

warnings: bdsm sex party but like a lowkey chill semi-privately hosted one, dom Yunho, sub reader, big dick Yunho obv, explicit consent, blow job, exhibitionism (you suck Yunho off in the middle of a room full of strangers), a lil rough face-fucking & light choking, hand kink, hand on throat, Yunho wears a leather glove, dirty talk, cum swallowing, light hairpulling (@ reader), copious amounts of drool, degradation that sometimes leans into praise, nicknames for reader (‘cocksleeve’, ‘cockslut, sweetheart), corruption kink if you squint, Yunho pov, mention/cameo of the skz aussie line, also a San cameo and he’s shy :3, implied threesome w/ San at the end

a/n: gender neutral reader, wearing clothes described to have ‘generous amounts of see-through fabric’ but no specific details. reader is called ‘little’ but in a sweetly demeaning way; not a reflection on physical size, and also called ‘pretty’. there is a mention that Yunho has larger hands

Yunho always enjoys the parties hosted by Chris. He has a ridiculously large home with plenty of room to accommodate his guests, zero tolerance for unwanted shenanigans — and great snacks at the buffet table.

People tend to underestimate the importance of a good snack during a sex party. Not Yunho.

He scopes out the room while munching on some kkokkalcorn, not in any particular rush to get his hands dirty or his dick wet. It’s still early; the door has not even been closed yet, but already there is a decent amount of people. Yunho knows some of them, at least by face, but there are some unfamiliar ones too.

Yunho hones in on the unfamiliar faces. He enjoys meeting new people, like that adorably inexperienced dom he met at his last party; nerve-wrecked yet filled with potential — but San is not here. Too bad. Yunho wouldn’t mind taking him under his wing again.

But San quickly fades from Yunho’s mind when a stranger catches his eyes. When you catch his eyes.

He stops reaching for more snacks, absent-mindedly using a tissue to wipe his hands clean while he watches you instead. You took the flexible dresscode and ran with it, wearing a sexy getup with generous amounts of see-through fabric. Covered yet exposed. Intended to provoke… but not exuding any particular authority. You want to be noticed, noticed by someone who will act on what they see.

It’s enough for Yunho to mentally categorise you a sub, or at least a switch. He can never be completely sure from just a look, of course — but Yunho has a solid track record of educated guesses, and you’ve put too much effort into your look to be unintentional about what message you telegraph to others. Well, you succeeded in your efforts; Yunho has noticed you, and he is definitely contemplating to act on it.

Your getup almost makes him feel a little under-dressed in comparison. Nice slacks and a flattering pinstripe waistcoat, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his strong forearms. The look is finished by a nice, bulky watch on his wrist and silver rings adorning his long fingers on one hand, a leather black glove on the other.

(Okay, maybe he’s not that under-dressed. He also wanted to telegraph a message.)

You must feel his eyes on you, glancing Yunho’s way and unmistakably pleased by his attention. You bite your lip, almost like you’re shy, but then you subtly arch your back a little, pushing your pretty plump ass back. You grin when Yunho’s eyes follow the movement, then you saunter over to the buffet table with confident steps.

Yunho watches with a slow, amused smile how you ignore him completely, pouring yourself a glass of water instead. Already you’re playing. He doesn’t mind that, not at all. He can give a little chase if you want to be pursued.

“Haven’t seen you around this scene before. First timer?” he asks. His voice is casual, his burning gaze anything but.

You look at him over the brim of your glass, hiding a coy smile. Your eyes flicker over to Yunho’s hands, lingering on his leather glove. “Second, actually,” you answer, though Yunho infers from your tone that while you might be new to parties, you are not inexperienced with this type of play in general.

“Shame,” he says with a shrug. “Wouldn’t have minded showing you around. Give you the grand tour.”

You set down your glass, tilting your head with a playful glint in your eyes. “…You can still show me around, if you like. Wouldn’t mind being seen with you.”

The way you tilted your head shows off the column of your neck in a way that has Yunho’s hands itching. He considers your grin for a long moment, flexing his fingers. You don’t waver.

“Yeah. I can do that,” Yunho says, something darker creeping into his voice. “So what are you looking for? Any hard limits?”

“Nothing outside what Chris doesn’t allow in his house,” you say, not in the least thrown by the directness of Yunho’s question. You talk through some of your expectations and preferences, and Yunho listens with vested interest as the vast extent of your compatibility rapidly becomes clear.

His pants are already getting a little tight. You notice.

“Then… want to play with me?” you grin, biting your lip at him.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Yunho extends his ungloved hand to you, and he chuckles at how you almost seem disappointed. “Hey. All good things to those that wait,” he teases, beckoning his long fingers, showing off his rings.

“I’m not good at waiting,” you sulk, but take his hand anyway. For all your pouting, Yunho can feel the shudder that runs through you as his warm palm envelops yours, his rings pressing into your skin.

He leads you away from the buffet table (‘shenanigans near the snacks’ is among the things Chris does not allow), across the house’s open floorplan to a semi-secluded lounge area. You won’t be alone there.

Some of your future bystanders look up at the new arrival, though a few are too wrapped up in each other to pay you and Yunho any mind. Soft moans and faint wet squelches make up the background music, punctuated by the occasional muffled cry from a private room nearby.

Everyone else is seated, but Yunho takes you to stand right in the middle of the lounge area.

“Now, let us see what you can do,” he drawls, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. It’s time to play for real now. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

As you do just so, Yunho glances about the room again. Everyone not otherwise occupied is watching you intently. Hungry interest; some of pure appreciation, others laced with envy.

Just as you unbutton Yunho’s slacks and pull them down, inhaling tightly when you fully comprehend what you are dealing with, Yunho catches the eye of a delicate young man with long blond hair. A pair of lips is lavishing his chest with attention and yet he can’t look away, can’t seem to decide if he wants to fuck you or want to be you, face-to-face with Yunho’s impressive size.

Yunho grins at the pretty freckled blush on the young man’s face — and then ignores him completely, putting his hand on your head to give you a light push down to his half-hard cock. He sighs in bliss when you press a soft kiss against the tip. A sweetheart you are indeed.

You start off slow, not taking him very deep yet; first a few hungry strokes with the flat of your tongue over the underside of his slowly hardening dick. It creates an easier slide for your hand, but your mouth is focused on sucking his cockhead, teasing at his slit. Yunho takes deep breaths, not wanting to show just how affected he is already.

He idly wonders if this is your usual style, working up to more, or if you’re a little intimidated by his sheer girth and length. He wouldn’t mind that — it’s kinda cute, honestly. And it does lead to wonder just how filthy you’ll get once the timidity wears off…

Yunho likes the thought of that. Wants to coax it out of you.

“Cute,” he taunts with a raspy chuckle, sinking his ungloved hand into your hair. “The little cockslut is nervous about taking my dick down that tight throat. Never had one that big before, have you?”

You moan around him, glancing up with a pitiful shimmer in your eyes. You take him just a little deeper, whine in frustration at the physical limitation of your mouth, and pitifully shake your head at him.

His cock twitches, and not just from the vibrations of your whines. Usually Yunho believes he doesn’t have an ego about his size, just appreciates its utility — but then someone like you comes along and proves him all wrong.

A light movement catches Yunho’s eye, and he chuckles again. “Look at you, can’t even keep your hands to yourself,” he scoffs as you try to relieve some of the pressure between your legs. “No. No, that won’t do. Cocksleeves don’t get to touch themselves until they’ve served their purpose.”

You make a noise, slightly more distressed this time as you stare up at him.

“I’m not good at waiting,” you had said. It sounded bratty to Yunho’s ears at the time, still does now, but there is not a hint of defiance in your needy eyes, only desperation.

“But… I happen to be in a friendly mood. How about we make a deal,” Yunho offers in compensation. (Fuck, is he soft on you already?) “You keep your hands where they belong” — he pats on his thighs — “and I will use mine to reward you after.”

Just to make his point, Yunho goes to lightly wrap his gloved hand around your neck, leather pressing against bare skin, while his other hand tugs at your hair a little harder. He saw you check them out earlier. Yunho knows perfectly well how most people feel about his hands, and you are no different.

You swallow thickly around his cockhead, anticipation shuddering through you. Obediently, you press your palms against Yunho’s thighs, fingers brushing against his hipbones. Good. Yunho likes his hands too, likes using them. Especially to wrap around a pretty neck like yours.

“Then come on, sweetheart,” he says, tugging at your hair again. “Show me how far you can take my cock without gagging on it.”

Again, you let out a little moan around him, in protest this time.

Yunho’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Oh? My little cockslut is ready to choke on my dick now?” (You sure changed your tune on that one quick. Yunho is definitely not complaining though. Maybe you really aren’t a brat.)

You make an affirmative noise that grows whiny when his gloved fingers tighten ever so slightly. Shit. He’s gonna have so much fun with you.

“Then relax for me, sweetheart. Let’s see how deep I can fit in that tight throat.”

The answer is, right around three-quarters deep. It’s a brave effort, honestly; some don’t even get that far. And Yunho hardly cares about the neglected part of his cock, not when you are so warm and welcoming and wet around the rest of him, drool leaking down your chin. Your eyes are even tearier than before, swollen lips stretched obscenely around his fat cock.

You gurgle weakly, your eyes fluttering shut as you let him guide you up and down his length. He can’t imagine that your jaw isn’t aching, but you make no noise of complaint, content to let him take control now it’s clear where your limit lies. Yunho is fine with that, except…

“Look at me,” he says, just sharp enough to snap you out of your cockdrunk haze. “Let me see those pretty eyes while I’m fucking your mouth. A good cocksleeve can do that for me, can’t you?”

You blink up at him, your gaze wet and shimmering. There is almost an innocence to it, like it’s your first time sucking dick and you are in the middle of a holy revelation right here on your knees for him. Never wanting to let him out of your mouth again.

Although… Judging by the way you’re starting to squirm, rubbing your thighs together, Yunho suspects that last part might just be wishful thinking. He hisses when your nails dig into his hips, like you’re trying to stop yourself from reaching down. Yunho smacks at your hands in warning.

“Hey, hey, don’t go and ruin things for yourself now,” he sweetly coos, though his grin mocks as he firmly rubs his thumb over the length of your neck. “You were doing so well, is this your limit? Is this as much as a fragile cockslut like you can take?”

Immediately you whine in protest, trying to shake your head but pinned by Yunho’s hold on your hair, stuffed too deeply by his dick.

“That’s it,” Yunho hums in approval. “I’m gonna move a little faster now, alright? Be good and swallow my load, then I’ll give you everything you need.”

You moan eagerly, letting him fuck into you with shallow but rough thrusts. Muffled whimpers and wet gurgles escape past his cock, your chin soaked with saliva that spills down onto his glove. It doesn’t take him much longer, not with how good your hot mouth feels enveloping him, and the eyes surrounding you and him still watching how Yunho takes exactly what he wants from you.

He grunts sharply when he hits the back of your throat and you spasm around him with a loud, choked moan — and it takes all his self-control not to buck harder into your willing mouth. He could break you, he knows that. You would gladly let him, he knows that too. Not yet. Not this early in the night.

Instead Yunho pulls back until just his cockhead rests heavy and leaking on your tongue. He strokes his spit-glistening length, just a few quick passes and he groans lowly as hot euphoria bursts through his veins, magnified by the sight of your throat bobbing as he spills inside, swallowing him down.

Yunho pants with harsh breaths as he carefully releases your hair, still semi-hard when your glossy lips are finally released. They stay open in a wide ‘o’ as you stare up at him in a daze, like he fucked the shape of himself into them.

Your knees are stiff and unsteady as Yunho helps you back on your feet. It endears him, appealing to his softer side again. The sloppy mess on your face and neck, however, appeals to a different side. He sort-of wipes you clean, two tender hands cupping your cheeks, but he doesn’t try too hard. He likes the wrecked look too much on you. Wants to see how much further he can take you.

But as Yunho glances up to give his audience one last look, his eyes light up when he finds a familiar face. A face that has clearly been watching them intently for at least a while, cheeks dusted with an adorable blush, a distinct tenting in the pants underneath.

San.

Almost as shy and uncertain as the last time, though he no longer looks like he might bolt at any second — and he looks exactly as eager to please. Yunho is still not wholly convinced that San isn’t a switch, despite what he may say himself; but then again, Yunho’s guesswork has never been an exact art. Doesn’t matter right now anyway. A sweet thing like you might be just what San needs to melt that uncertainty away… and Yunho finds himself in a sharing mood.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Yunho murmurs to you, gently brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Yeah,” you say, slightly hoarse but with a tired, radiant smile. “I’m really good.”

“Then… how does my pretty slut feel about having two cocks tonight?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, but you quickly find the target of Yunho’s suggestion, whose flush deepens when he realises he’s been noticed. Your breath catches at the sight of San, and Yunho smiles slowly as he draws you towards him. The night has just gotten started, and already it’s far beyond even his sweetest expectations.