#stop fucking shaming people over such ridiculous things

[ut-reblogs]

Tbh, I think you’re the most reasonable here, Sandra.

The plating color is a pretty reasonable argument to me. I mean, if I actually cared about signaling How Good I Am about Diversity then that’s how I’d do it. and it’s entirely fair to toss that holoform in RBs out the window because canon is ultimately just a set of instructions to a LEGO set - you can use the pieces that way, but you don’t actually have to, if you don’t want to. And tbh, it is wild af to me to be beefing over how other ppl decide to draw fictional robots if the robots were humans, when it doesn’t affect you in the slightest.

What’s really putting me off the others in this discussion is the “deserves to have their art supplies taken away [bc they don’t draw the bots like I envision them]” and that really rubs me the wrong way because it feels very reminiscent of antishipping in the “I’m doing it right and you’re doing it wrong, because [reason here], and if you don’t do it my way then you shouldn’t be allowed to play with the barbies and should be labeled as a bad person because you don’t play with them like I do” mentality.

And it’s not because the diversity puts me off, I have no problem with people HCing them as different skin tones/races than white.

I just don’t think that saying ‘if you don’t draw them in The Way I Think They Should Be Drawn then you shouldn’t be allowed to draw them’ is an alright thing to be saying, at least not to build community.

Other people are allowed to hc them as white if they want, and if you don’t like it, then just keep scrolling, leave them alone, no grudges held over it. It’s not personal, they just don’t hc them the same way you do. If you don’t want to see their content because it bothers you that much? Just block them. You’re not waving a white flag of surrender, you’re just curating your space and experience.

But that’s just my two cents on the matter, and I’m only saying all this because the ‘ppl who draw [character(s)] [this way] deserve to have their art supplies taken away’ line really bugged me for a little while. and I’m gonna go fuck off now. No, I will not be coming back, because I have better things to do with my time than argue over fictional robots skin tones if they were human when I honest to god don’t have the energy to care that much, like for example eating a sandwich, walking my dog, and touching grass.

Bye bye

I've made a post like this some time ago on twitter but decided to take it here

We listen and we don't judge: transformers rescue bots edition

Mine is that graham burns is super hot and sexy and that he should marry me 😁😁

[cheugyphobe]

i hate twitters endless shaming i really need to delete that app for my mental wellbeing

[missdynamighttt]

random idea: the paparazzi take photos of Bakugou while he is naked in the courtyard of his mansion. The photos are viral all around the world, trends everywhere (imagine PopCrave tweeting about that, lol). The it tophic with the most viral tweet exceeds 600,000 likes since obviously what caught the most attention was the immense, almost inhuman Bakugou's cock size: almost 8 inches without even being hard. The only question everyone is asking is how the hell it will be while being hard.

But Bakugou is surprisingly chill about this, proud even. He logs into his Twitter account for the first time ever, which was created and managed by his public relations team (I don't know how it's called) and simply tweets:

"My wife owns that." The bastard even has it pinned on his profile. It doesn't take long for it to be his most liked tweet and with the time reach one million likes. Other weeks of trends about him...But also about his girl. She's lucky asf.

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ SHAMELESS KATSUKI ENJOYERRR!! happy chinese new year to anyone who celebrates it btw 💜💜

you storm into the living room, phone clutched in your hand, cheeks burning as you glare at your husband lounging on the couch, scrolling through his own phone like he didn’t just set the internet on fire over his soft, 8 inch dick.

“you—” you point at him accusingly, eyes wild. “you absolute fucking bastard.”

katsuki glances up from his phone, his expression is the definition of being so fucking smug. “what is it, sweetheart?”

“oh, i don't know, katsuki. maybe its the fact that the entire world just saw your dick, and instead of just, oh, i don’t know, taking legal action or being embarrassed, you tweeted—” you glance at your phone to quote him exactly, voice going pitches higher with each word. “‘my wife owns that.’ and pinned it.”

his lips twitch, but he keeps it cool. “and?"

you gape at him. “and?! katsuki, the world has seen you naked! and instead of being mad or contacting your pr team about this, you’re out here, tweeting this shit, like you’re proud of it!”

his smirk only widens. “tch, ‘cause i am proud.” he leans back, stretching, muscles flexing like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “not my fault the whole world can’t handle what you get every night.”

your brain short-circuits. “oh my god.”

you knew he was shameless, but this? this is a whole new level. and what makes it worse are the comments. thousands of people speculating, thirsting, straight-up praying to be in your place.

you whimper dramatically. “the comments, katsuki. the comments.”

he tilts his head, feigning innocence. “what about ‘em?”

“people keep saying i must be the luckiest woman alive,” you mutter, glancing at other tweets with an ungodly number of likes, like ”his wife must be the happiest woman on earth” or "the girl must’ve saved a nation in her past life", followed by an entire thread of inappropriate lewd theories (some were true).

katsuki snickers. “well, they ain’t wrong.”

you slap his arm, face on fire. “stop! have you really no shame?"

“none,” he grins before finally putting his phone down, sitting up, his arms resting on his knees. “why? you mad, sugar?”

“no! i mean—well, i should be! do you have any idea what people are saying about me?"

“yeah, they’re saying you’re lucky as fuck. and they’re right.”

you groan, rubbing your temples in frustration. “they’re also saying things like ‘she must be getting split in half every night’ or ‘"his wife must be in heaven every night'."

he throws his head back in a full laugh. “good. let ‘em know.”

you smack his arm. “katsuki!”

he chuckles and reaches for you, catching your wrist and tugging you down onto his lap with such ridiculous ease. “why’re you gettin’ so worked up, huh? it’s the truth.” his voice drops lower as he leans in. “and they don’t even know half of it.”

you groan, burying your face again in his chest. “i hate you.”

“nah,” he murmurs, nipping at your neck. “you know you love me, sugar.”

and damn it, you do. but you’ll never admit it right now—not when he's kissing you down your neck, pressing what the internet has been buzzing about against your damp panties. especially not when he’s being the most shameless, loving husband on the planet.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[gutsby]

Abstaining Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.

Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’

Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

October 26, 2024

Dear Joel,

Roses are red,

We’re a couple of sluts,

Abstinence camp is awful,

I miss you rearranging my guts.

You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.

“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”

You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.

Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.

It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.

What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.

Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.

He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.

That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.

Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.

Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:

Dear Tommy,

Fuck you, you fucking fuck.

Sincerely,

Joel

You grinned again just thinking about it.

If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.

For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?

Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.

The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.

You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.

Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:

“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”

The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.

Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.

Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.

“On your feet, skank.”

You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.

Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.

“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.

“How kind.”

“Yeah? Certain death?”

“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.

Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.

“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.

“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”

“Oh?”

Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.

“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.

Stupidly.

“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”

That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.

“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.

“Not my brother,” you hissed.

“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.

“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”

Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.

“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.

“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.

“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.

Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.

Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.

“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

“I am not.”

“Then explain, Cersei!”

Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.

“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.

“Uh-huh.”

“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”

“Dangerous combo.”

“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”

“Right.”

“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”

Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:

“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”

“Oh shit.”

“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”

“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”

“As you should.”

“—hold that breath in right there—”

“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”

This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.

“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.

“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”

You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.

“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”

Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:

“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”

You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,

“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”

You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,

“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”

You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.

Then you felt hands.

Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.

You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.

“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.

Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?

About damn time.

Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.

“Fucker,” you hissed.

Fucker said nothing.

Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.

“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”

You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.

“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”

A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.

“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.

Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.

“Pack your shit.”

Dude.

You spun on your heels.

“DUDE!”

Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.

It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.

“Sweetheart—”

He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.

The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?

You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.

His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.

“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”

You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.

“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”

Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.

“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”

He was seriously trying to break you out?

You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.

“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.

Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.

“Joel?” You raised a brow.

“Mm?”

The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.

His gaze was alarmingly sedate.

“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”

“Just a quickie, Miller—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”

The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.

Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.

It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.

“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”

Shit.

Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.

“Joel—”

“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”

Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.

But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.

“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.

“Joel, I just—”

“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”

The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.

“It was a joke.”

No time to mince words now.

“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.

“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No.”

For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.

Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.

“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”

When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”

With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.

“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed time to think.

“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.

But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.

“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”

His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.

Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?

You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.

“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”

You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.

“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.

“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.

You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.

At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.

His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.

Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.

“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.

This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.

But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.

You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.

You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.

Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.

Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.

Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”

Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.

The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.

Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.

Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.

Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.

“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.

You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.

Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.

“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.

Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.

Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.

“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”

When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.

“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”

Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.

“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.

But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.

You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

“Another,” you pleaded.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.

Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.

“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’

Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.

His expression was hard.

“Fuck my hand,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.

Fuck my hand.

Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.

“Like that,” he murmured.

All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.

It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.

“Need more,” you keened.

“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.

“Yeah.”

A beat, then:

“Tough shit.”

But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.

“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.

“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.

Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.

And pleasure.

The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.

Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.

“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.

Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,

“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”

Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.

Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.

He nodded again.

Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.

After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.

“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.

“Too much?” he returned.

You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.

“Too soon?” he tried again.

“I—”

“Too fast?”

“N—”

“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.

There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.

You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.

“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.

“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”

Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.

“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.

Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.

“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”

Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.

“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.

“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.

When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.

“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.

Joel watched you with careful eyes.

“Yeah? And Tess?”

“Joel—”

“Or Tommy.”

“I don’t—”

“Everyone else?”

Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.

Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?

You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.

Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.

“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.

“But you did,” you panted.

Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.

Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.

He was a lot like you in that way.

You kept kissing him anyway.

The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.

All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.

“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.

You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.

“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”

Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’

You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.

Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.

Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.

“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”

Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’

Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.

He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.

Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

His face softened.

“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”

He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.

“Say that you’re mine.”

No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.

Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?

The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.

The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.

It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.

Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.

His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.

He kissed your hairline and hummed.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”

His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.

“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.

He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,

“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”

“But—”

“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”

His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.

“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.

You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.

“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.

You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.

Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.

Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:

“Joel!”

“That’s right.”

Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.

“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.

You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’

Oh.

Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.

Your legs were wet.

The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.

You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.

You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.

Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?

“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.

You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.

In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.

Where was that wetness coming from?

You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—

“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.

Your first instinct was to make a face.

That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?

“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.

Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.

“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”

Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.

Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.

“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”

You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.

And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.

Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,

“You did great.”

He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So good.”

When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.

“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”

“What?”

Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.

“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”

At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.

He didn’t.

The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.

“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”

You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.

“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”

Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.

“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”

Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.

Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.

You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.

But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.

“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.

“No!”

“I’m not—”

“He’s from the other camp.”

“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”

You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.

“I’m—we’re—” he started.

“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”

She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.

But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.

Then laugh.

Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.

Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.

“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.

Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.

“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:

“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”

Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.

And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.

“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”

[yzzart]

I KNOW, MY EYES ALREADY LOVE YOU ── KENJI SATO

── summary: What could be Kenji Sato's certainty and weakness?

── content warnings: F!reader, 18+, nsfw, morning sex, unprotected, riding, playing w/ nipples, dirty talk, praise, petnames, kenji being a fucking tease, explicit words, explicit content.

── word count: 1.798!

Kenji did not know, or did he understand, some certainties about his life, and, perhaps, it could sound like imprudence, the purest act of negligence he had the opportunity to tolerate; in fact, it was obvious. — He believed in this line of consciousness, attempted reasoning.

He declared that he made mistakes, countless mistakes, and, currently, he still thinks about the hypothesis that he could make them to this day; even though he wanted to, and tried, as much as possible, not to reveal what he believed to the cameras, journalists and specific people around him. — Sato wouldn't stand it, he knew that.

However, resonating with a merciless and sweet irony, seeming such a surprising incongruity, Kenji was, he knew, certain about one thing in his existence, something that he would not dare lie, deceive himself or dissemble; he imagined he might die if he did that. — His chest burned, sharply, just thinking about it.

You were one of Sato's weaknesses; in his view, the only one. — At the same time, it was his strength; knowing that, you can destabilize him, with ease and incomplexity, conceiving a change in his concentration and everything around, just by directing your eyes against his would be able to be seen as ridiculous and playing a vulnerable side and stealing his attention was peculiar. — Something incredibly curious.

But in Sato's eyes, it was a form, way of how to worship you; being able to feel a passion, intensely, disoriented and burning in his heart. — Admitting something so angelic and serene. — Not hiding the fact that you were his refuge, a place where he felt safe and loved and knew that it would protect him at all costs in his life; experiencing being worthy of you.

And every morning, every second and minute of it, at dawn next to you, with his body entwined with yours, Kenji thought about it.

"A kiss for your thoughts?" — A sleepy, so sweet voice exclaims in the boy's ears, spontaneously bringing a cunning smile to his lips; Kenji loved your humor, even during the early morning. — "What do you think?" — Even with the huge cuts in the windows, showing weak and soft bands of light, you refused to open your eyes at that moment, yawning.

"That's a very good proposal, should i accept it?" — He asked, looking down at your leg, which was in the region of his hips, and felt, deliciously, you pressing yourself against him; Sato's smile grew even wider due to the fact that you only had the blanket stuck to your bodies. — "Good morning to you too, kitten."

He considered some sleepy, boring mumbles and grunts that came out of your mouth as a response, and found it adorable; bringing his lips to your forehead, kissing it, while stroking your hair. — Taking care of his girl with delicacy and gentleness. — And more melodic hums were made by you.

You couldn't stop that familiar and delightful tingling between your legs, and soon you was clumsily rubbing yourself against Kenji's hips, — who didn't fail to find your morning boner fascinating and hungry — without a hint of shame.

"I see someone…" — A sensual laugh vibrated in your temple. — "…woke up very well." — He added, feeling a lump in his throat, unable to contain his shaky breath. — "No?" — Your hand snaked over Kenji's athletic chest, a line of coldness crossed his skin, caused by the ring you had on your finger; your engagement ring.

Not knowing how to resist, and never could, your movements, the painful, throbbing sensation began to burn, sharply, Kenji's dick, showing the large bulge developed in the blanket; he was already starting to feel needier than usual, wanting to fit his face into your neck and dive into your pussy.

Just thinking about being inside you makes Sato's breathing become a panting mess, not wanting or admitting to waste another second.

"I always wake up right next to you, Kenji." — You replied, lifting your head, directing your lips to the eldest's shoulder, trailing kisses across his skin; showing affection. — "Always." — The little kisses went up to his collarbone, your warm hands remained on his chest.

During the small movement between the sheets, caused by you, part of your boobs were exposed and shivering as they hit Kenji's skin; he didn't wait and anxiously felt the beak of one of them, squeezing it with a certain and frank force. — Drawing a sigh from you and making the player bite his lip, like prey. — The damn man liked doing that.

Sato was, indisputably, diabolical, the most arrogant and delighting provocation to ever stand before you.

“Come here, come.” — He asked in a whisper, cunning and with eyes clouded with desire, looking at every point of your face and eyes, running his tongue over his lips, leaving them wet and, faintly, shiny; waiting to be responded to, which didn't take long. — "Pretty girl."

Yours lips, eagerly, came together in a sinful, appetizing and wet kiss; Kenji's sharp tongue rubbed and caressed your, wanting to taste your mouth, as if it were the first time. — Sometimes causing a shock of contact between your teeth and his, nothing could stop you. — Moans, coming from you, delighting in his mouth, were muffled and made Sato smile bewildered.

Kenji felt, even so apprehensive and focused on your mouth, his body being touched, covered by your hands, and, lightly, your nails scraped his skin, desperate to touch him. — He couldn't help but find it cute and naive the way your hand moved to the back of his neck, shocking your bodies even more. — Feeling himself throbbing more and more.

You would be the death of Kenji Sato. — That was another certainty that covered his mind.

Moaning during the mediocre fraction of a second in which your lips disconnected, feeling an emptiness, you came across thin and fragile strands of spit slowly breaking and you vibrated when you heard Sato's smug laugh; his eyes surrounded your mouth, wanting it again. — He smiled, forming a pretentious and ambitious expression as he brought his thumb to your chin, holding it.

"Ride me like a good girl," — Sato clicks his tongue, incoherent. — "my good girl." — Aa words, referring with a hint of possessiveness and premise, made your pussy throb with exultation. — "Please, huh?" — Your lover pouted, almost sounding mocking but not hiding the need he burned for you.

He didn't need to say it twice, he knew there would be no need, even though he saw some clouds of pleasure, leaving you completely at the mercy of the excitement, leaving you beautiful head. — And, also, it wasn't long before your legs were around Kenji's hips, grabbing them with the limited strength you had; abandoning the silky, white sheet somewhere on the mattress.

Settling down, adjusting his posture on the soft, padded pillow, hoping for a good view, Kenji couldn't help but adore the image before his eyes; you were deliciously mounted on him and comfortable on his lap, in your honored place and feeling deified. — It seemed like an inexplicable, surreal and reprehensible scene, it could be the taste of the paradise they prophesied. — No, you were Sato's own, true and only paradise.

Your body surrendered to him, precise movements, with a moderate, almost weak strength and still clouded with sleep, against the young prodigy's hips, feeling his entire length sink, preciously, into your sticky and hot walls; never getting used to the way you was filled by Kenji, — and, wanting, dirty, at no point to get used to it. — leaving you more stimulated. — When you felt him completely, your lips opened, moaning harmoniously and delightfully, attracting panting sighs in the name of your lover.

And, with your boobs, delicious and juicy boobs, exposed, wide open, which, according to your movements, swayed and shivered in front of Kenji, wanting to devour them with desire and modesty. — And not tolerating losing the delicious vision, he preferred to remain where he was; but, he didn't hesitate in sliding his hand towards one of them and squeezing it, now, tightly.

"Ken..ji." — You moaned, whimpered, moving your hand towards his, which held your nipple, unbearably, sensitive with his calloused fingers. — "Fuck-k!" — You sobbed, threatening to release tears from feeling all that pleasurable pressure in your system; and, feeling the lack of sustenance, with the other hand, you moved across Kenji's chest. — "Ken, Kenji..."

"Is it good, my love?" — He says, removing his hand from your boob and repositioning it on your waist, guiding your movements, noticing your almost exhausted rhythm, poor thing. — "Fucking good, huh?" — He growled when he noticed a sudden tightness in his cock; your pussy choked and sucked him, divinely, well. — "O-oh, look what we have here." — He laughed, digging his short nails into your flesh.

The sharp, thin lamentations and melodic moans vociferated in Sato's ears sounded like masterful music, stirring him with every descent and ascent that you made in his lap; also mentioning the wet, filthy melody that your pussy made while swallowing his cock. — Such a greedy, hungry, desperate little thing for every inch of him.

"Keep it up, kitten." — He swore, quickly guiding your hips and showed a satisfied and happy smile when he saw that you responded to his orders, winking shamelessly in your direction. — "I love filling this pussy, fuck…" — He breathed deeply, shaking with another grip on his dick. — "with my cum in the morning." — Listening to Kenji's filthy words was a sin.

It was blasphemous, unacceptable to be able to tolerate, endure, for so long, all that excitement, — all that infernal provocation coming from your man — and adequately endure the stings that reached, perfectly, your sensitive and delicate spot, which only Kenji knew how to reach. — And he took advantage of that.

With incandescent, burning pleasure replacing all sensations, reactions of your body, finally, that nervous, tingling thread, trapped in your stomach, breaks free; accompanied by a tearful and disoriented scream, crying out for Sato, coming out of your mouth. — Cumming on his cock, having some spasms around it, you feel weak, about to become weak. — Like a pathetic little doll.

"Baby." — Hot, delicious jets of sperm painted your inner walls, taking him to the limit, as always; cumming inside you, Kenji filled you, leaving you satisfied, sated and fulfilled. — Having the impression that, still sitting on his lap, you was leaking yours mixed releases, causing an appetizing mess. — "Holy shit." — Ken moaned softly, smiling bewildered and drunk for you.

Tilting your head to the side, merely acting in a naive and harmless way, still with a look of tiredness and exhaustion, a thin and innocent smile tugged at the corner of your lips; making you even more adorable, captivating.

"Good morning to you too, Ken."

Yeah, in fact, you were Kenji Sato's main weakness.

[jungkookstatts]

Not in the Way You Think

[Summary]: You've been after your best friend for ages. But how are you supposed to know that he's after you too if he insists on being a bachelor until his dying breath?

[Theme]: ChildHoodFriendsToLovers!AU, NonIdol!AU, VirginReader!AU, BachelorJK!Au, Fuck-Boy JK, Virgin Reader

[Rating]: 18+, explicit content, dry humping, protected sex, fluff, somewhat angst, many many years of pining, making out, oral. Soft dom/Dom JK, sub Reader, virgin things, mention of alcohol and a pen

[Word Count]: 6,043

[A/N]: Hi. I've resurrected. For now. Enjoy! Also, if anyone knows what's going on with my materialist -- sos!!

[Materialist]

“Sorry, but there’s no fucking way,” your best friend scoffs against the lip of his dab pen. He was about to take a hit, but was abruptly stopped before you told him something completely unbelievable to his ears.

“Jungkook, I’m serious,” you whine.

God, this is so embarrassing. You fiddle with the rims of your hoodie's sleeve, examining it in shame. You can’t dare to look at the face of your best friend on the other side of the couch. His words already make you feel embarrassed enough, you can’t imagine what looking at his face would do.

“Y/n,” he starts again, that disbelieving smirk proving to adorn his features. “You’re 24 years old. What the fuck.”

“24-year-olds can be virgins, too, Jungkook,” you roll your eyes. “Not everyone strives to have over 30 bodies on their ‘fucked list’ by this age.”

You feel so embarrassed. Of all people, you thought your best friend wouldn’t shame you like this. It’s already embarrassing enough to be at this age and to not have tried anything sexual with anyone before. You’re inexperienced. You know that. But the conversation originally didn’t start this way. What was once a talk about which flavored soju was better than the other, turned into a ridiculing conversation about your lame sex life. The last thing you need is his bantering about how shocking it is to hear everything you haven’t done yet.

“57,” he corrects you with yet another smirk. This time, there’s a tease in his eye, obviously waiting for your reaction on his body count number. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “Forget it.” 

You try to grab the remote on the coffee table, but Jungkook takes it before you can. 

“Wait, now,” he laughs when you smack his arm. “I’m not done asking about this yet.” 

“Jungkook!” you whine. “I’m seriously so embarrassed. I don’t want to talk about it with you anymore.”

“Have you ever kissed anyone?!” He raises his pierced eyebrow. “What about Taehyung? And Soobin? Aren’t those guys your ex’s? You had to have done something with them, Y/n, c’mon.” 

“Yes!” you blush harshly. “Of course I’ve kissed people before. I’ve just never…done anything dirty with them.” 

“Not even like a hand job or anything?” he raises his other eyebrow.

“Jungkook, please stop reacting like that. You’re making me feel worse,” you tuck your hair behind your ear. 

It’s no news that Jungkook is not only your childhood best friend but he’s also been a notorious fuck-boy since about 5 years ago when the two of you moved to a different city to attend the same college. He has always told you that he was going to spend his university life being a bachelor, making it a goal of his to see how many girls he could get underneath him by the age of 25. He's gathered quite a lot. Except now, he’s more knowledgeable than you for once, and you’re not taking the news so well.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. But his words prove to be carried with no remorse. “Not even oral?” 

“Jungkook!” you kick his knee. “Seriously. I continued this conversation with you because I thought you’d be nicer about it. You’re obviously the experienced one here. But clearly, you’re not experienced enough to know that not everyone is constantly looking for which sexual activity to try on the next stranger.” 

You’ve been his #1 ear to all of his stories for years now, no matter how repetitive they can be…or how much they secretly punch you in the gut every time he tells you a new one.

The two of you couldn’t be more opposite. He’s sporty and social, you’re quiet and mellow. He’s into the music and business world, whereas you’re into radiology and all-things-hospital. He’d rather spend his free time partying and making himself feel good in any way that he can, whereas you’d spend your free time wrapped in a book or having coffee over a new podcast about aliens.

But no matter your differences, the grunge boy that you grew up with sitting on the opposite side of the couch, making fun of you and laughing at the sheer difference in how the two of you chose to live out your college years, will always be your best friend. He might remain a crush or even your first love, but nothing can change the fact that the two of you click like two peas in a pod. You couldn’t trade anything for that, even your secrets about what you feel for him. 

“Woah, hey,” he chuckles. “Sorry. I’m just–wow. It’s just shocking to me, I don’t know. Especially for you.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you scrunch your eyebrows together. 

“Well, I mean,” he laughs awkwardly, putting his pen on the table. “It’s no secret you were the girl every guy was trying to get into their bed all throughout college…and high school.” 

“Tch,” you shake your head. “As if, Kook. Don’t try to make up for ridiculing me about my sex life by covering it up with fake scenarios.”

“I’m serious, Y/n. Just as serious as you are about this,” he says. “You thought that Soobin, the university's #1 crush–a guy even more wanted than me–would agree to go out with you and date you if you weren’t the hottest chick in the school?” 

“Yeah, well, that was short-lived,” you scoff, remembering the events of your break up. “He didn’t really want me. Or well, he did, but not like how I thought.”

“This is why I’m shocked,” he explains further. “Literally every man that I knew talked about you. I don’t know how their efforts could have gone unnoticed by you. But I guess you were too in your head to notice. You had the hottest man in the school, but not even that was enough to even make you think about doing anything with him?” 

As much as that information flatters you, it doesn’t satisfy you at all. Truthfully, Jungkook could talk about any man in the world that might want you. But if that category doesn’t include him, the thought doesn’t arouse you at all. 

Your own brain can’t even wrap itself around why you were so hung up on him. Why would you possibly want a guy like Jungkook to want you. He’s careless and reckless. He doesn’t give things a second thought and pushes all your buttons at the worst times. He’s foolish and irresponsible – a walking stick screaming ‘bad news’.

But at the same time, he is oh-so gentle. He’s kind and sweet, considerate and respectful. His touch makes you jolt, and his voice relieves your headaches in an instant. You feel safe when he is there, and absolutely terrified when he is not. He’s strong and capable, but also sentimental at heart. 

You don’t think you could find anyone else like him in the world. No one like your Jungkook. 

No wonder your past relationships didn’t work out for you. Taehyung you broke up with out of frustration. It was with him that you realized that Jungkook was too in your head to be dating anyone fairly. And just when you thought you were over Jungkook being your ideal man, Soobin walked into your life. But since he broke up with you over your own inexperience, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about how maybe you waited too long. No one wants someone who has no idea what they’re doing in the bedroom at the age of 24. Most of society at this age is dating to marry. You’re still dating for the experience. 

“It’s not that I didn’t think about doing anything with him,” you respond. “I just–I don’t know. I couldn’t. It didn’t feel right. He wasn’t–I don’t know. We just weren’t a good match. The same goes for Taehyung and everyone else before him and Soobin.”

Your best friend is quiet for a moment, trying to wrap his head around everything that you’re saying.

“But it’s all irrelevant now,” you continue. “We’re graduated, and there’s nothing I can do about previous male efforts towards getting me in their sheets. It’s just–there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Clearly,” Jungkook agrees. “Sex is like–life. You truly don’t know until you try. Do you even masturbate?” 

“Jungkook,” you sigh quietly, as a disappointed palm presses against your forehead. “You weren’t supposed to agree to that.” 

“Well, do you?” 

“Of course, I masturbate.” 

“And that hasn’t persuaded you at all? Don’t you imagine what it would feel like to have something other than your fingers or some toy getting you off?” 

“That’s so graphic,” you scowl. 

“Well, do you?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I do, don’t get me wrong,” you agree. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just too hung up on a scenario that’s not possible–at least not for me.”

“You’re pined after by millions, Y/n,” he sits up straight on the couch, his legs folding against the cushions to get a better look at you. “Any scenario is possible in your world. Especially related to sex. You could get any man that you wanted to if you just broke down a wall or two and went after them.” 

“That’s not–never mind,” you give up. You’re too embarrassed to admit anything. You also don’t really want to. Risking your friendship with Jungkook isn’t worth letting out a secret like this. You’d lose him forever, and you can’t risk that. “No one wants a 24-year-old virgin,” you begin again, trying to move on from your previous words. “Unless they’re a crazy perv, or one of those dudes who thinks that only ‘marriageable girls’ should be virgins until they tie the knot. And, well, those guys are just…weird.” 

Jungkook laughs at your words and a small smile forms on your lips from the sound of his laugh. 

“Y/n, what are you saying?” he exclaims amidst his laughter. “Look at you! You haven't lost a cent of your desirability in all the years I’ve known you. Any guy would want you.”

“But not you,” 

“Huh?” 

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck. Why did you just say that?! 

The thought slipped past your lips without a second thought. There’s heat in your cheeks, and you can’t bear to look at Jungkook’s face. You might have fucked everything up now. Just over a thought you didn’t think twice about. Your brain must have been done suppressing it, but now you have to sit here and wait for the consequences of letting it all go. 

“Sorry,” you clear your throat. “C-Can you give me the remote? I’d like to drop this and finish this show.” 

“Nuh-uh,” he laughs in disbelief. His rough hand gently wraps around your wrist, forcing you to look at him again. “What did you just say?” 

“Jungkook, please,” you cry. There’s fear in your voice. You’re so scared of losing him, you can’t even think properly. All you want to do is pretend like nothing happened. Like this whole conversation didn’t happen and you were back to talking about flavored soju. The thought of losing your best friend floods your mind, and you beg him with your eyes to stop. But he’s unrelenting. 

Jungkook scoffs at the look in your eye, his grip loosening on your wrist before sliding it off completely. 

“Y/n, you are so oblivious, it actually gets on my nerves more than anything in this world sometimes,” he says. 

You feel your heart sink to your stomach. 

“I didn’t think I’d actually have to tell you this because I thought it was obvious how I feel about you,” he laughs to himself. “I don’t know how long you’ve noticed, or if you’ve even noticed at all, but I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year of high school, Y/n. And it’s only grown since then. So don’t think for a second that I wouldn’t want you.” 

Words fail to leave your lips. You’ve had so much shock and embarrassment during your time spent with him tonight. But nothing could have prepared you for this. 

“Jungkook, none of this is making sense,” you stop him. As much as your heart leaps at his confession, a part of you is still completely misunderstanding something. “You mean to tell me that you’ve had a crush on me for how long? And yet in the meantime, you’ve made it your mission to be with every woman on campus? How in the world do you expect me to think you had feelings for me when every Saturday morning you tell me about whose pussy you were up the night before? How was I supposed to know?”

There’s a bit of anger in your voice. All these years of getting your heart shattered over his countless stories about girls that weren’t you. About how he kissed Emily on Friday night and then fucked her best friend, Rachel, in the ass a few hours later. About how he went all the way home one weekend just to fuck your high school calculus teacher. Or about the countless times you’ve walked into your shared apartment with him, only to look down and see an extra pair of girly high-heels sitting by the door next to his shoes. Or the many pairs of unfamiliar panties you’ve found in the wash. Or the smell of strong perfume constantly stained on his side of the couch. 

“How in the world did I expect you to think I had feelings for you?” he reiterated your questions irritably. “Y/n, I asked you to be my date to prom! Hell, don’t even try to cut out the fact that we almost kissed when we graduated high school. I hung out with you every day after school in both high school and college. Fuck, half the reason I came to this university was to be by your side. We even have an apartment together!” 

“You’re my best friend, Jungkook!” you explain. 

“You don’t have to remind me,” he runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “I gave up trying to make us anything more than friends a while ago. Fuck, every time I lay with a girl it’s the biggest reminder of all that we’ll only be friends.” 

“Fuck you, Jungkook,” you cry. A tear falls down your cheek from his words. God, you’re so frustrated and angry and annoyed and so relieved. You don’t know which emotion to put first. “Fuck you. You shattered me into pieces. You call me oblivious when I’ve spent years loving you. But you’ve been too busy telling me about who you’re going to fuck next to notice." 

Jungkook breathes heavily, anger leaving his nostrils. His eyes are foreign to yours. You’ve never seen so much emotion in them at once. 

And then suddenly he’s on your side of the couch, hovering over you, holding your jaw in his big, tattooed palm. His lips sear against yours kissing you with passion you’ve never felt before. 

It’s second nature to hold his face in your hands. His ears slip between your middle and index finger; the cool metal of his earrings touches your skin gently. 

You moan into him when you glide your right hand into his locks, pressing him tighter against your body. Jungkook grunts at the feeling of your hand in his hair. Never in a million years did he think he'd feel you like this. No matter how many times he’s imagined it before, no matter how many times he’s pretended it was you instead of the stranger beneath him, the feeling of imagining you is nothing compared to the feeling of actually having you right there in his arms. 

You can feel him lay his weight heavier on you the more you kiss him. It prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him tighter against your body. 

Jungkook’s lips detach from yours slowly, his thumb lightly pressing against your bottom lip as he pulls away. 

“I’m sorry,” he kisses you again slowly. It’s wet and soft, but you don’t mind. It’s him, and he feels right. “I guess we gave each other too many mixed signals.” 

You kiss him back, holding his chin between your index finger and thumb. 

“Are my signals clear now?” you ask him gently. 

“If you’re telling me that you want me…more than just friends,” he presses his nose against yours. “Then they’re clear as day.” 

You smile against his lips when he indulges on you again. Jungkook kisses you slowly and softly for another few minutes. It’s much different from the kissing you did a few minutes ago. This time, he’s gentle, and so are you. Your hands find purchase at the base of his scalp again, and you smile as he moans at the feeling. This is a whole new learning curve for you, and you’re finally going through lessons you’ve restricted yourself from accessing for a very long time. It feels so good. It feels amazing to have him in your arms like this. 

But still, somehow there’s something missing. There’s a pit in your stomach, a wetness in between your thighs that begs you to rub up against him. And so you do, but you’re stopped with a firm hand on your hip from the man above you. You suddenly feel embarrassed again. 

"Y/n,” he pants against your lips. He looks down at your conjoined hips. A part of him feels embarrassed at the sight–he doesn’t think he’s been more hard in his life. But he respects you more than to indulge in his own fantasy right now. “You’re still a virgin,” he reminds you. 

“I know,” you exhale. “But I want you, Kook. I want you to be the one to take it.” 

“Y/n,” he coos, swiping his thumb across your cheek. “I think you should think about it. I’m not the most romantic person in bed. I also don’t think I’m cut out to be your first. I don’t deserve you like that.” 

“Don’t say that Jungkook,” you scrunch your eyebrows together. “You say that as if I haven’t been imagining you in the same way that you imagine me. You say that as if I haven’t been waiting for 10 years to kiss you like this. I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long, and I think this moment is why I haven’t been able to indulge in sex with anyone else. I feel right with you.” 

You watch his eyes dart from your eyes to your lips. He’s lazy with his decision on which to focus on right now. His heart is so overwhelmed, he doesn't know which feature of yours to honor first. 

“What are you doing to me,” he laughs at himself. You smile back at him, and he swears nothing has ever been more right than how it is at this moment. 

“Will you take me, Jungkook?” you ask him again, much softer this time. It sounds strange coming from your mouth. You’ve never asked anyone to do that for you. The only person you’ve wanted, or have imagined, taking it away from you has been Jungkook. And here he is above you. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Your words send all the blood straight to his cock, as if it didn’t have enough blood in it already. “If that’s what you want.” 

“It’s what I want,” you confirm with him. “I want you.” 

“God, I want you, too,” he says, kissing you passionately yet again. This time, he scoops you into his arms, sitting you up on his lap. You straddle him perfectly, your thighs hugging his, and your core pressed temptingly against his own. 

Jungkook moans at the feeling, his hands finding purchase on your hips before slowly grinding them against his own. 

Your hands fall from his jaw to his shoulder, the feeling of his clothed dick against your pussy is much more shocking than you thought it would be. Never in a million years did you think such a strange action would feel so good. 

“Kook,” you whine against his lips. 

He breathes lightly against yours, trying to keep his composure as you make yourself feel good on his thighs. 

“Can I touch you?” he asks gently. His hands remain on your hips until you nod, giving him permission to explore your body in whichever way he would like to first. 

He watches your face as he slides his hands up to your waist. His fingers make their way under your silk pajama shirt, causing you to jolt at the feeling of his skin against yours. It puts a desire in your heart that you’ve never felt before. You’ve never wanted to explore anyone else like this. 

“C-Can I touch you?” You ask him this time. 

Jungkook laughs a little at you asking for his permission. In a way, he’s not really used to that. He finds it endearing that even though he’s fucked a lot of girls in his lifetime, the fact doesn’t take away that he’s still worthy of asking something like that to you. The other part of him laughs as if he’d ever say no to you. 

“Please,” he gives you permission. 

With that, you look at the fabric of his shirt leaning against his collarbone. His typical black shirt covers just enough to make you curious. 

But your eyes move to your own hands, which are delicately mimicking his actions, except they start by pushing up his shirt from the bottom. Your fingertips feel his abs underneath them. They’re defined, and you hate to admit that they make you really nervous. 

Your eyes flick to his, and they read your mind like a book. 

With one motion, he takes his hands off your waist and pulls his shirt off, revealing all his glory to you in one quick second. 

You take a deep breath, and he chuckles a little. But his laughs stop the minute you touch him again. They slide up his abs, your fingertips feeling his honey skin underneath you. They slide to his arm, covered in ink. They’re a perfect representation of him, and you haven’t told him enough how much you love them. They’re passionate and edgy, handsome and strong, but gentle and honest all at the same time. 

You almost get lost in his ink when he slides his fingers further up your shirt. 

Your breath stops in your throat when he grazes his fingers on the underside of your boob. You’re not wearing a bra, and the fact only excites Jungkook more. 

But he wants to be patient with you, even though he knows that the two of you want this so badly. 

“Can I?” he asks again. 

“Yes,” you give him permission in a whisper. 

With that, he slides the silk fabric up and over your shoulder, his breath stopping in his throat when he sees you. 

“Fuck Y/n,” he breathes out. He looks to you for permission again to touch you, and you nod with a small smile on your face. 

Jungkook gently cups the underside of your breasts, his body leaning forward as he does so. His lips wrap around your nipple and you gasp when he twirls his tongue around your sensitive bud. 

The sensation prompts you to press your hips deeper against his, eliciting the sweetest sound from his throat. His black jeans frustrate him, the barrier is too thick between you and him. 

He sucks on you harder before popping off and transferring his torture to your other nipple. Your pussy feels like it’s almost gushing arousal from his mouth alone. A raspy moan leaves your mouth as he gently bites on your bud, prompting you to tug at his hair. 

“K-Kook,” you moan. “Please,” you beg. 

Jungkook pops off your nipple, his mouth trailing kisses up to your neck. His hands slide up your back, holding you close against his chest as he kisses and sucks on the sweetest parts of your neck. You know he’s learning you, and you’re 100% willing to let him continue. 

“I want you inside of me,” you pant against his ear. “Please, Kook. I want you.” 

Jungkook pulls away, resting his hands on your waist again. 

He looks at you with more seriousness now, although his lips are red and swollen and his skin is starting to shimmer with the slightest bit of sweat. 

“Are you sure?” He asks you again.

“Yes,” you hold his cheek. 

“Okay,” he smiles. 

With that, he stands up with you wrapped around his waist. You know where you’re going, and you giggle against his neck at the fact that this is reality. You’re in his arms, your skin against his, and he’s on his way to make you feel closer to him than you ever have before. This is the only man that you’d let do this to you, you’ve realized. And the relief that it is finally happening makes you giddy and so so happy on the inside. You can’t help but hold him closer. 

Jungkook gently lays you on his sheets. They smell like him, and you feel warm inside when he tops off the scent with himself hovering over you. 

“Have you…you know,” he gulps. “Used anything before?” 

“Like a dildo?” you clarify. 

“Yeah,” he kisses your neck again. He’s completely overwhelmed with you. He can’t stop kissing you, and he doesn't want to stop anytime soon. The urge to mark you as his own–to show every man that you belong to him–is so strong. He can’t help being so proud that this has finally happened. That you’re with him, and that this is the start of something new between the two of you. 

“Other than my fingers,” you sigh. “No, not really.” 

Suddenly, Jungkook stands up, uncomfortably fiddling with the zipper of his jeans. What you said made his dick hurt with arousal. His jeans are too tight on him now, and he wants to feel all of your skin against his. 

You watch him take off his jeans, feeling overwhelmed by the look of his cock springing free underneath his gray Calvin’s. 

“S-Sorry,” he apologizes for the change in pace. “They were getting tight.” 

“I can see why,” you exhale. 

You feel taken aback by Jungkook’s size. It’s still clothed by his boxers, and he already looks like he’s going to rip you open. No wonder he is in such high demand. 

“I’ll prep you,” he promises. “N’ go slow.” 

You watch him give himself a few pumps over his boxers, closing his eyes from the feeling of releasing a little bit of tension. He smiles when his eyes land on your face, your eyes completely fixated on his dick. 

“Something caught your eye?” he laughs at the expression on your face. 

“Shut up,” you smile. 

Your breath stills when he hooks his fingers around the rim of your pants, asking your eyes for permission before he continues. You allow him, and soon you’re left in just a pair of boy shorts with a huge stain soaking at your core. The sight has Jungkook immediately leaning himself on his elbows against the mattress to get a better look. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, sliding his hands on the underside of your thigh. He pushes your legs up, examining you for the first time. “You’re soaked, Y/n.” 

“S-Shut up,” you shy. “Do something already.” 

Jungkook laughs at your embarrassment, hooking his fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear and sliding it up and off your body. 

“As you wish,” he whispers against your core. You don’t even have time to react before his mouth gently envelopes your clit. He sucks on it as you squirm beneath him, the intensity of his pleasure feeling like it’s going to be a lot to handle. 

You slide your fingers into his hair when he plays at your entrance. It’s so wet, and he can’t control himself from sliding his finger in, knuckles deep, as you moan from his actions. 

Your responses only fuel his fire, causing him to lap you up even more, to slip another finger in and curl it up into your g-spot. He can feel you tense, and he knows you’re close. He wants you to get there, but you stop him before he has the chance to. 

“Want you, Kook,” you whine. “I wanna cum with you.” 

“You wanna cum with me?” he restated your statement as a question. 

You nod feverishly against his pillows, your eyes coming to lock with his. 

“I want you inside of me when you make me feel good,” you explain. “That’s how I want it.” 

Jungkook gulps. Fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’s ever heard. 

“If that’s how you want it,” he smiles. 

With a swift motion, he gets up to take off his boxers, his dick slapping against his abdomen as he does so. 

It's almost comical how quickly he reaches for a condom in his nightstand drawer, slipping it on while his eyes stay right on yours. They tell you he’s been longing for you for so long. That this moment was one that he always dreamt of, but never thought would become a reality. You can only hope that yours convey the same. 

Jungkook hovers over you again, his tip lining up with your entrance. 

“Are you sure you want this? I can stop right now if you want me to,” he asks you again. There’s a worry in his eyes, as if he doesn’t think he’s the right one to take this from you. 

“I want you, Koo. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. Please take me,” you plea. 

You watch that man above you gulp before he kisses the tip of your nose. He rests his elbows on the sides of your head, trapping you underneath him. With a kiss, you feel the burn of being stretched suddenly flood your system. He pushes in slowly, your back arching into him as he struggles to find a normal breathing pace. 

It hurts, but he goes slow. He’s aware of your discomfort, and he wants you to say something before he continues. 

“S’ this okay?” he asks you. 

When you look down, you realize he’s only half way, and your head tilts back against sheets. He’s so big, you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

“Mmhm,” you grip his shoulders. “You can move, Kook.” 

Jungkook pulls out, and then goes back in quicker and deeper this time. The feeling causes you to dig your nails into the skin of his back, the pain and pleasure bringing you to a high you’ve never felt before. 

“Ahh- Y/n,” Jungkook moans on top of you. His head falls into the crook of your neck as he keeps a steady and slow pace. “You feel so good,” he pants against your skin. 

“F-Faster, Kook,” you beg, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Mm,” he hums, happily obliging to your request. 

Jungkook speeds up the pace, his hips slapping against yours lewdly. There's so much liquid shared between the two of you, but neither of you care. It feels too good to stop. 

“M’ feel good, baby?” He asks you, hovering his lips above yours. “This what you wanted?” 

“Y-Yes,” you cry, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach from the name he called you.

Jungkook suddenly takes your hips in his hands firmly. Sitting on the back of his heels, his body towers over you before ramming his hips into yours again. The action causes you to tilt your head back, feeling fuller than you were just a minute ago in this new position. 

“Yeah?” He licks his lips. His face looks demonic–like an actual sex demon is on top of you right now. “This is what you wanted, huh? You wanted to be fucked by this fat cock so bad, didn’t you, hm?” 

Jungkooks fingers grip your hips tighter, slamming them against his own even harder than he did before. You can feel him against your cervix, hitting your g-spot with every exit and entrance of his cock in your pussy. 

“Wanted you so bad, Koo,” you cry. 

You feel your toes start to curl, and a part of you feels scared that you might cum too quickly. You want this to last longer. 

“Yeah?” He bites his lip. Hearing you say that makes his head go fuzzy. The girl he’s wanted for so long, the girl he thought he could never have, is finally his. And he’s a part of something that is so special to you, he feels honored and overwhelmed all at the same time. “You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum on my dick?” 

“K-Kook,” you whine. “S-Say you wanted me, too. S-Say–” 

“Fuck, Y/n, I wanted you so bad,” he grunts at the thought. He feels angry for the time he’s lost due to thinking one thing when it was actually the other. He could have been with you like this every night. He could have been loving you and holding your hand, and kissing you all day long had he just grown a pair and done it earlier. He should have kissed you at graduation all that time ago. Or maybe even earlier at prom. He’s wanted you all along. And thinking about how he felt when you got together with Taehyung and Soobin made him feel a jealousy he’s never felt before. He can only imagine what he’s done to you. The fact that he had someone new every night to talk to you about makes his heart hurt with the fact that telling you those things might have shattered your heart into dust just as you dating someone else did to his own. 

“I wanted you then, and I want you now, and I want you after,” he continues. “I don’t want to let you go ever again.” 

Your back arches from his words, your neck falling back from the pleasure and the pain all at once. 

“Koo,” you grab onto his wrist. “I think I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah?” He bites his lip again. His hair falls in front of his face as he watches your breasts move with his dick inside of you. “Cum for me baby, I’m not that far behind.” 

Jungkook falls on top of you again. But this time, he brings your legs up over his shoulders, pushing into you even further than before. You’re starting to think he has an endless cock. Every new position he puts you in, you feel another inch inside of you. 

You feel a white heat wash over you, and somehow you see stars as he continuously moves his dick in you harshly. 

“A-Ahh,” you hear him moan. “You’re so tight–m’ gonna cum,” he tells you against your ear. “S’ that–that alright?” 

He holds out until you let him, nodding into his cheek, too blissed out from your orgasm to form a worded response. 

His thrusts get sloppy after you give him permission. The last few of them are hard and deep before you feel his dick pulse inside of you. A stream of sweet moans and your name falls from his lips as he releases inside of you. Out of all the music in the world, this is the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. 

After a few moments to catch a breath, he pulls out, not wanting any of his cum to leak out of the condom as he begins to soften from his post-sex glory. Jungkook kisses you gently, moving your hair off your sweaty face. He kisses your cheek and your forehead before tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“You okay?” he asks you gently. 

You laugh at his question. Hell, you were more than okay. Your best friend, first love, and current love, just took your virginity. Although you know you have a lot to experience in the sexual world, you whole-heartedly believe that it cannot get any better than this. 

“Yes, are you?” you ask him back. 

Jungkook laughs in the same way that you laughed at him. 

“Is it safe to say that you’re my girlfriend now?” he asks. 

“Only if the feeling is mutual.” 

-----

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts, 2023 ]

[jarofstyles]

Y/N goes over to her friends house to sleepover but then her friend somehow makes plans like while Y/N is still there but she can’t leave cause her friend was her ride. what she doesn’t know is her best friends brother (harry) is home and sees this all happening and is angry because his sister always doing this to Y/N so he spends the night with her

I am a complete sucker for best friend’s brother H… completely down bad so yes !! I got carried away so maybe I’ll continue this as a one shot, I don’t know.

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——

“What are you still doin’ here?” Harry stopped short as he passed the den, seeing Y/N sitting stiffly with her phone in hand. It wasn’t unlike her to be at their place, but he had heard his sister’s car leave 30 minutes prior. He knew they’d had plans, as they usually did during the weekend, so it had caught him off guard.

That, and the fact that he’d have put a shirt on if he knew she was around.

Y/N startled slightly as she looked up at him wide eyed. She didn’t have time to hide her bloodshot eyes or the fact her makeup was messed up, making his confusion grow.

The fuck had happened?

“Hey… hey, what happened? Thought you both were goin’ out to that new place for your birthday weekend.” He walked towards the couch to see that she was indeed dressed up. A cute little black dress and her hair straightened, glitter on her eyelids. Heels were kicked off to the side and she had her nails done in a deep red, something very unlike her. Harry paid a little too much attention to her, it seemed, and it wasn’t her normal soft pastel colored nails with a pretty design. She looked different.

Like she was trying to be the stereotypical version of sexy or something. He couldn’t exactly tell her that her normal looks were sexy in the cute, girl next door way, but this was more vixen, tear your heart out sort of thing. With a lot of shame, he momentarily wished the smeared makeup and tear tracks had been caused by choking on his cock rather than something birthing her heart- but that wasn’t something he should be thinking about right now.

“Um…” her noise was slightly nasally from the crying, eyes avoiding his gaze as he tenderly sat himself on the coffee table in front of her. “We were supposed to. But she… that guy she was seeing asked her to come to a quick trip.” Picking at her nails, she took a shuddery breath. “So she asked if we could do stuff next weekend.”

Harry’s brows furrowed at the situation. It didn’t make much sense, but neither did his sister. Unfortunately, he had seen that Livvy was one of those people who dropped everything for a man. She could have friends or a boyfriend. Both were a struggle for her.

Honestly, he’d been shocked that Y/N stuck around long as she had. He loved his sister to bits, but he wasn’t oblivious to her faults. Being boy crazy had never faired well for her friendships. Sometimes he had seen how she swooped in and took attention away from Y/N. He knew she loved her and cared about her, but his sister had some serious issues when it came to jealousy.

Y/N was ridiculously pretty. He’d been warned away from her, sure, but he had eyes. And a weird little distant crush he’d felt for her the last few years she’d come around. They had a polite friendship, but Livvy had been irritated about it and told him to keep a distance. Still, he knew she had to be jealous. They were both different types of pretty. He didn’t think much of his sister all things considered, but he thought a lot about the type of pretty Y/N was. It sort of thumped you in the chest and grew the longer you looked at her. And when you talked to her? Forget it. She was so fucking kind and attentive, one of those people you never doubted were listening to you. She was a little quiet at first but came out of her shell the longer he was around, and he’d liked everything he’d seen from her.

“That’s shit.” He whispered. “It’s your birthday weekend. It won’t be the same next weekend.” However that was the wrong thing to say, considering her eyes filled back with tears and he felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” Reaching out for her hand, he squeezed lightly as he tried to make it better.

Maybe Livvy would be pissed about it later but she’d have no room to complain when it was her doing. When she got back he was going to chew her out, tell her how good of a friend Y/N was and how lucky she was to have her- but for now? It was his mission to make her happy.

Y/N was going to have a good birthday weekend. He’d be sure of it.

“Listen. Let me go get dressed and we’ll go out t’eat. Okay?” Maybe he was a little presumptuous by thinking she’d want to spend time with him, but he had to imagine she was upset because she didn’t have other plans. “We’ll go out to eat and then go to the store t’get your favorite snacks and stuff. Can even bake a cake if you want. We’ll come back n’eat and watch whatever trash reality show or cheesy movie you want. You can sleep in the guest room and I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow or I’ll pick you up… I’ve got the weekend off.”

Harry was getting ahead of himself by assuming she’d want to spend the weekend together but he really fucking wanted to. He never got to spend alone time with her. How could he possibly complain about spending his weekend with a pretty girl?

“You��d… you’d really want to do that?” Her eyes met his in disbelief. “Don’t you have other plans or something? I don’t want to bother you. I swear I didn’t sit here to get pity, I just need to call an Uber or something and I can leave-“

“I don’t have any other plans. I really don’t mind. It would be fun to get out and do something. We don’t have to.” He reassured, reaching out to fix her hair. It has stuck to her damp face and he knew it had to be uncomfortable. “I know we don’t hang out a lot or anything but I consider us friends. My sister is extremely shitty for doing this but I really would like to make sure you have a good birthday. If you’re uncomfortable-“

“I’m not!” She peeped, grabbing his arm. “Not at all. I just don’t want to ruin your plans.”

“Well, my plans are now yours. Let’s get dressed and go out for our own celebration, shall we?”

[loves4ge]

jealousy, jealousy

gojo satoru x gn!reader

established relationship

gojo satoru is a menace.

"toru, stop glaring." your voice is low, a strained smile stretched out as you whisper through your teeth. your grip on his arm tightens towards the end of your sentence.

satoru, however, makes the decision to ignore you and opted to pat your hand on his arm lightly. as if he was acknowledging a comment you made on the weather or the little tea cakes the venue was serving rather than placating you while he glared at your coworker.

or ex-coworker, you think. maybe he'd die by satoru's hands tonight. you shudder to think of it; imagine all the blood.

"erm, it was a pleasure to meet you," your coworker says, features pulled tight in discomfort. you wanted to scream.

"shame. i wish i could say the same about you." silence.

your hold on his arm became suffocating. satoru didn't flinch.

your coworker, flustered, turned to you and murmured a goodbye. he spun on his heel and left.

"satoru, care to explain what just happened?" you release his arm, your own crossing over your chest. the glare he wore melts into a grin as one corner of his lips turns higher than the other. god, you hate when he grinned. you couldn't stay mad at him long when he did.

"jus' protecting my baby." he says it like it's an accomplishment. something he'd put on his resume (he would). maybe you should monitor his linkedin for a while. for the foreseeable future at least.

"satoru, not everyone who knows me is in love with me. please understand that." this is ridiculous.

"he might not be in love with you. maybe he just wants to hit." you raise your eyebrows at that.

"that is a truly appalling statement, baby. look, all you have to do is say hi to my coworkers, ask them about family or work or the weather. that's it. if they want to hit," you pause, feeling weird about saying it aloud, "they can either talk to me and i can turn them down or they can wallow in their feelings forever. either way, i don't care."

satoru's hands creep lower and lower down your back. he tries listening to your words but they blur in his mind. all he can think about is that guy. with his tattoos. and black hair. and fucking blue eyes. he knows that's your favourite feature of his. he might just have to kill every blue eyed person he comes across. god, geto's psychotic tendencies were rubbing off on him. if people could read minds, he'd be dragged off to an asylum.

and then the audacity he had to call you by your name. your first name. and so sweetly. it made him sick.

you had stopped talking when you realized he wasn't listening. you sigh, moving in closer into his space. his hands automatically place themselves at your lower back. then they slip further down. he squeezes, lightly. he takes note of your styled hair, and remembers when he hugged you earlier before entering the venue. you hair smelled nice. he'd have to ask you which shampoo you used today.

"hey?" his eyes snap to yours.

"yeah?"

"love you, satoru."

he grins.

"i know." your mouth forms a half pout and a half frown. you try to glare at him but you don't have a good pretend frown. you never could be mad at him for long, and it's harder to set your foot down when your anger's all worn off.

"say it back, bitch."

he kisses you instead. in the middle of event. the place wasn't exactly jam-packed and apparently this kiss was the most exciting thing the attendees were subjected to since the event started two hours ago. you could feel eyes on you. so many eyes.

you grab his collar, and kiss him back harder. his tongue swipes your lip. you try biting his. his smile presses against your mouth. cheeky. he pulls back, panting.

"i love you too."

[1-800-local-slut]

I so desperately need more liam smut 😫😫 literally searching the ends of the universe to find good liam content and i found your blog!

And idk if you write for Issac Lahey but if you feel up to it id love some Switch!Issac smut

Nasty Dog

Liam's never wanted something so bad, and things get a little nasty when you come over to watch a movie.

Liam Dunbar x Black! McCall! Reader

Warnings: smut, male masturbation, unprotected sex (guys please wear condoms) , Liam is a munch, Liam is pathetic over you like he literally drools at the sight of you

Note- Scott and the reader are cousins, so obviously you have a black parent. Black people can be any shade of black despite having a white parent! I'm always going to be a whore for any of Scott's friends being down bad for his sister, but I wanted to switch things up a little

Thank you for the request and I hope you like this enough to send another one <3

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Pathetic, Liam felt so pathetic. He felt his cheeks burning, not only from the shame but speed of which he was pumping his hand up and down his dick that also felt very hot.

He just met you. Not even an hour ago, it took 45 minutes and a game of Twister that he had to hide in the bathroom and attempt to make it fast. He had gotten lucky; Scott had gone to the airport to pick up your mom since you took the train in so he couldn't hear him pathetically humping his hand to the mental image he couldn't erase of you bending backwards with both feet firmly planted to put your left hand on red under Stiles's arm (who's heart sped up so fast when you jumped into his arms thrilled to see him again that Liam thought he was about to have a heart attack) and victoriously grin.

How else could you bend for Liam? It was close to the Supermoon, and lately Liam's anger was channeling into horniness. Your arrival literally could not have been at a worse time. His shirt shoved into his mouth; his abs flexed as his thumb rubbed over his sensitive tip and he bit back a loud growl.

Before the game of twister, they were all sitting around having some fruit punch and kid friendly drinks and you revealed you were a cheerleader for your school and Scott showed them this video of the two of you having an acrobatic little race across through your backyard last Summer. He was hard the minute he saw you in that swimsuit- holy shit the swimsuit.

His eyes squeezed shut as he recalled how you looked in that bikini in the video. Your tits bounced each time you came up right, your legs toned and entire body a darker brown than it is now due to the Summer Sun. His heart pounded through his chest, as he aimed into the toilet to save himself some decency. He was losing it. He was imagining you kissing him with those soft, plump lips. You, hugging him again but this time being completely naked. You, sitting on his dick and riding it like a rollercoaster. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit-

He came with a hardly contained growl, blood rushing through his ears as he felt like a bottle of champagne was just popped in his groin. In a good way. He, because he was ridiculously horny kept aggressively fucking his hand, whimpering from the overstimulation. He couldn't stop pumping himself until he went limp and felt the world start to revert to normal.

And after a very shameful washing of his hands, he checked his watch and saw he kept it to a very inconspicuous two minutes. His legs felt like jelly, and he willed his heart to slow down and rinsed cold water over his face praying the redness of his cheeks would fade fast enough. His legs felt like warm jelly, he bets you feel like warm jelly inside, and with shakey hands opened the door as he made his way back downstairs. It was probably his turn.

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Since becoming a werewolf, Liam had gained some animalistic tendencies. He found himself wanting to chase down squirrels who were unlucky enough to cross his path, scratched the back of his ears like his life depended on it, and the game of catch was far more thrilling now. Oh, and drooling. Whenever he gets excited now. According to Scott, this wasn't applicable to all werewolves because Scott has never had that problem.

But right now, Liam found himself excited at the fact that you two were locked in an intense make out session. Like a virgin Liam basically forgot how sex works for a second. You'd been here three weeks and each day was impossible for Liam.

And apparently, he'd done a number on you as well.

You whined on top of him, as you two parted for air and Liam wished you had just let him suffocate under the weight of your smooches. You pulled your shirt off and revealed your chest, and Liam didn't even try to stop himself. He tenderly placed both hands on the sides your boobs, running his thumbs over your covered nipples. His eyes went wide as he admired the delicate lacing on your bra, and he was starting to think that when you came over this was your plan all along. You let out a sensual moan, neck rolling and your body shuddered you let your eyes gently flutter shut.

Liam felt his mouth watering at the sight of you, you just looked so perfect. Part of him wanted to leave your bra on you. The color perfectly matching your skin and the dim lights of Liam's bedroom made you look like an angel, the TV on behind you two illuminating you with an angelic glow behind you. He felt shakey, his insides trembling.

What does he do next? It was like he'd never seen a girl before, the way he forgot what to do. Did he unhook your bra? Slide off your bottoms and then your underwear? Shit was he thinking too long?

Pressing a kiss to the top of one of your boobs, he felt how hot your skin was underneath his touch as he felt his legs twitch and his dick jump in his sweatpants. Speaking of; you slowly snaked your hand down his chest, and down his stomach. Fingers trailing over his happy trail before you slipped you hand into his boxers before you gently wrapped your hand around his cock.

His heart started jumping and he was so happy you couldn't hear the way his pace was picking up. He pressed kisses across your chest, sucking bruises into your chest passionately and with shakey hands he unlatched your bra. It was a cute sigh of relief as you felt your chest freed, eyes looking down at him with a look that Liam couldn't place but his suspicion was starting to feel right. You certainly had planned this.

He shook underneath you, as you planted kisses on his face and the two of you became an untangled mess of heavy breathing and rough kisses. Your nipples pressed against his chest, and he leaned backwards, hitting the headboard and the next time you two pulled apart it was his turn again. He pulled his shirt up and you helped him the rest of the way by basically ripping his shirt off him.

If he wanted to make out all night, he would continue his pattern of kissing you, but he'd be stupid to just make out with the topless girl sitting on top of him. Slowly, he started to prepare to do what he had too.

Liam enjoyed very much the strength of being a werewolf. It was helpful when it came to lifting you off of him and placing you down on the side of the bed. God, you were so perfect. Your pupils massive as you observed him with curiosity, while he got up and came around to the side, bending down to capture your lips in a kiss. Slowly, he worked his way down your body, and you were never slow on the uptake.

He slid down the biker shorts you wore that made your ass look like a pillow. He went down, his eyes pleased to see the matching underwear you wore. Totally planned it. Running his tongue over the lining of your underwear, he felt a surge of confidence and power when you shuddered, hands running through his hair like it was a life line.

His lips found your inner thighs, leaving hickeys and bite marks all over the inside of your thighs as he licked you once more. Then he planted a kiss against your cunt, feeling how wet you were through the thin fabric. Your shaking legs would've been great if he couldn't feel the fear radiating off your body. Popping his head up to look at you he tilted his head up and you let out a soft sigh of relief.

"Is something wrong?"

"No!"

It was cute how desperate you were to continue. You were horny, you were. But something else seemed wrong. He laid his head on one of your soft thighs and looked up at you with pleading eyes. He couldn't in good consciousness go on with how he could sense you feeling.

"No one's ever...eaten me out."

And Liam's brain was rewired immediately. How? From the moment he met you, he wanted you to sit on his face and crush his skull open with your legs. He had to keep the perversions at bay for long enough not to scare you away.

"It's okay." He assured you running his thumbs over the flesh of your legs.

Pressing a kiss to your hip, while he slowly slid your underwear down your legs and tossed them somewhere behind him.

"I'll take care of you. Promise."

With that boyish charm that girls found it basically impossible to resist. You nodded and gave you this smile that made your heart flutter. Slowly he pushed your legs open, eyes never leaving yours and then looked down at you.

You were perfect down there. Wet and shiny, it was calling to him like a cool spring in the middle of the desert. He ran his tongue over your opening, and you let out a soft 'oh' with your head rolled back and you gripped his hair tightly. From there he couldn't just stop.

He started slowly, basically making out with your pussy in a way that had you moaning out soft cries. Perfect, just perfect. His strong arms lifted your legs, placing them over his shoulders, while he sucked on your clit and your legs began to shake around him.

Liam was a dog, in more ways than one. His hips rolling into the mattress like it was you. You were letting out moans that spurred him on while he flicked his tongue over your clit and your back arched for him. He couldn't help but slide his tongue inside of you, and you jumped at the intrusion. How did anyone resist the urge to do this to you? To have you, basically the most perfect woman he's ever seen, unraveling under their tongue.

To have you gasping and sweating as he flicked his tongue over your clit with legs squeezing tighter by the moment. He wanted to taste you cumming on his face and he would do so or die trying. He pulled your entire hips into his face. You began grinding your hips, one hand pulling his hair and the other gripping his bed sheets.

Hips jumping while he slurped on you. The noises and sounds coming from the two of you were filthy, he couldn't live without hearing those noises again. He gave one particular thrust into the bed that had him on the verge of cumming in his pants. Your hips started jumping, voice getting louder and louder, and you began aggressively riding his head.

You came with a loud cry of his name. He gave your thighs a squeeze while you locked your legs around his head while using him to ride out your orgasm. What a great way to suffocate.

Your eyes were shut until you came back down to Earth while you unlocked your legs and flopped backwards onto the bed. Fighting the urge to give himself a pat on the back, Liam licked his lips savoring the taste of you on his lips. He was throbbing in his pants, like his dick was about to explode.

Never, in all the years of his life, has Liam wanted something so badly. He cupped your sweaty face and pressed a passionate kiss to your lips. His hands over your head while you grabbed his wrist and melted into his touch.

Slowly, he slipped out of his sweatpants and out of his boxers. He was leaking from his tip and he mentally started trying to remember something- anything- to keep him from ending the show early. You looked him in the eyes, like you were saying 'hurry up please'. Liam wasn't one to disappoint .

Making space in between your legs, he kept his gaze locked with yours. All at once he went inside of you and it was better than he had imagined. Better than the past three weeks he spent stalking your Instagram while scrolling through your summer pictures and ignoring the growing possession he felt when he saw you posing with a male friend while he spat on his hand and jerked off until he saw stars. For a few rounds, when he was finding porn stars who looked like you or sounded like you. Until one night he was shooting blanks and passed out for about ten seconds covered in his own mess. The shame he felt when he woke up didn't even matter because it all led up to this.

You were warm and tight, and already soaking him in your juices. You both let out a disgusting moan as he tried to get his bearings. He slowly started moving, setting a passionate pace as he let himself roll his hips into you with no self-restraint. Liam's drooling issue almost shot him in the foot there, and he ducked his face in between your boobs as he let out a low groan. He felt you let go of his wrist, and pulling his face up from your chest.

You held eye contact with him, your eyes revealing just how badly you'd been wanting this. How badly you wanted to feel him twitching against you while he tried to keep himself from giving you a creampie. You kissed him, tongues roaming eachothers mouths and while picked up the pace. Your boobs jumped, underneath him while his abs pressed against the smooth skin of your stomach. He hit a spot, that had you break apart to let out a high-pitched moan.

Righttt there. That's where he needed to be. You stared into his eyes, biting one of your lips on instinct while trembling. He pushed himself up, to end this little body roll thing he had been doing into you. Your arms came up to wrap around his neck, as if you couldn't stand to not be touching him and Liam felt his heart warm a little at how clingy you were to him.

He set a rougher pace, he needed to see your boobs moving up and down. He needed to see you unravel, to hear you plead for more. You began letting out high pitched moans, and your legs wrapped around his hips. He was hypnotized. The way you sounded, looked, felt, smelt, you were driving him crazy and didn't even know it. He slammed into you like it was his last day on Earth.

He kept going, the way you were basically begging him too with your eyes shut. You looked amazing. He couldn't help but to reach down and hold you softly by the neck and leaning down. Truthfully, he was about to explode, and he had to still his hips for a second. And he wanted another kiss. Eventually, he resumed his strong thrusts and pressed his thumb to your clit.

He was amazed when he looked down, looking at the way cream of liquid you left around the base of his cock. He began moving his thumb and for a moment you stopped breathing. It was like all the air got sucked out of your lungs as your voice climbed in volume. He was so thankful his mother and step-dad were out for the night because then he'd have to have a very uncomfortable conversation.

The headboard slammed into the wall. Liam was on a mission; he was hell bent. He needed to cum with you. And he was just about to get what he wanted. You let out small whimpers, whispering between gasps and moans that you were about to cum. He couldn't even force himself to stop for a second to delay his own orgasm, he felt it rushing through him like water. You gripped the hand he was holding your face with and jumped off the mattress as you squeezed him tightly while gushing around his base.

He came so hard his entire body tensed up. He did mean to pull-out, but his impulse control wasn't always the strongest. As he slowed his hips down, you two slowed your breathing. It was like he just ran a marathon and got a runners high. Perfect. That was perfect, you were perfect.

Slowly he pulled out of you, watching a stream of his cum leaking out of you. Damn, he was already ready for round two.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Don't get possessed!

You'll end up like this...

Gassy air bubbled from deep inside my soft, pudgy stomach. The smell of semi-digested beer wafted into my nose as my lips flapped in the gust of a violent belch dragging itself out. God, this body was disgusting, but this is what I did to it; this is what I did to him...

I used his cellphone to snap a pic of the sweaty slab of meat I'd been wearing for the past three years. It was the disgraced body of a former jock. Jake's stomach rumbled like it always did when I filled it to the brim. Even after all this time, it still hasn't adapted to the crap I've constantly been stuffing it with.

Swallowing yet another beer, I toss the can into the corner of his dark living room, where it collided with discarded pizza boxes and half empty milk jugs. I'd let the entire apartment overflow with the garbage generated by this once-godly body, and there was a lot of it.

The place smelled like a dumpster in the sun.

You might think this is a disgusting way to live. Well, I did too. Everything about the situation was nasty; the damp basement apartment, the stacks of dirty dishes, the closet of unwashed clothes. The entire place had a permanent stench of body odor, and I know it followed this body around everywhere.

I had never in my life felt so absolutely disgusted by my surroundings.

But that was the exact fucking point.

To explain, we'll have to flash back to a few years ago. Let me show you a photo of Jake when I first possessed him. I took this right after jumping into his perfect body...

The athlete had just gotten back from the gym. It was another perfect workout for the perfect jock, and I could feel the grit and intensity swelling in every muscle. The college footballer would normally shower after any physical activity, but I was happy to crack open a beer and bask in his sweaty glory.

I don't know if you could tell, but I am not a fan of Jake.

He was a pretentious bully at my university, and he got away with anything. I tried my best to stay out of his way, but ultimately found myself staring into the headlights of his fancy Christmas present: a shiny black camaro. The asshole ended my life while driving back to campus after one of his famous parties!

I hate to be dramatic, but I was not ready to pass away, and I was not going to let an asshole like Jake get away with my murder. The police couldn't solve the crime any more than I could console my mourning family, so I took matters into my own ghostly hands.

Jake, beautiful Jake, didn't have a single iota of remorse. He continued to get belligerently drunk, and continued to shame and ridicule anyone shorter, weaker, or fatter than him, which was just about anyone. The worst part was people let him: they allowed it because he was the strongest, the most handsome, the prize quarterback with a winning smile!

I had to do something to stop the piece of trash lurking inside his god-like body.

So I possessed him. And I did this...

When I took over, it was like putting on a body suit. As a ghost, I was invisible, so I got right behind and slipped inside. First, I shoved a leg in, then an arm, and then the rest followed.

He struggled, flailing the few body parts he still had control over, but it was in vain!

My head was the last thing to get situated, but once I slid it into place, his yelling subsided. His thoughts evaporated, and I broke in his handsome face with a wicked smile. It felt different, grinning with someone else's mouth, but I was just glad to have a body again. His was definitely an upgrade compared to my old one. The height I stood at, the breadth of my shoulders, the weight of muscular pecs hanging off my chest; it all took some getting used to.

I enjoyed living inside the jock's body, but I was on a revenge mission. The first thing I wanted to screw up was his diet!

I started shoveling massive amounts of fast-food down his throat three times a day, packing on forty pounds in just a couple weeks. Obviously, I quit going to his football practice and even dropped out from his classes. I needed the time to bulk his body up.

His teammates and coaches all reached out, but I told them to get lost. He took everything from me, so I wanted to do the same to him...

This is a pic I took of Jake's body after almost a year of controlling him. I wanted him to look and smell as awful as possible in public, so I kept him as sweaty and hairy as I could. Despite my best efforts, his attractiveness was still shining through. If anything, he looked like a hot, hard-working bear on the way home from the job, and that was not what I wanted.

This made me realize that I could destroy more than just his looks.

In his body, I marched back to campus and begged the manager of the university gym for a job. A bunch of his old friends were there to see it, so I made sure to act as pathetic as possible in the six foot hunk, practically grovelling for any position. I even dropped to Jake's knees in front of the guy, giving a lot of the gym-goers second hand embarrassment.

Ultimately, the manager offered me a janitorial position if I would shut up. I accepted it gladly, kissing the guys shoes with Jake's lips like some kind of submissive idiot.

So even though Jake's body was still attractive with the extra weight and fur I'd given it, the dingey old uniform of a janitor made sure to mark him as the bottom of the food chain. I wore it like a badge of honor, even if I never washed the damn thing. Wearing a stained boilersuit labelled 'janitor' everywhere definitely told the world what Jake was worth!

By that point, people really only saw Jake as a walking mop, if they even looked his direction at all...

This last picture is one I took after about a year of working for the school. No one had spoken to me (Jake) in that entire time, unless they needed a toilet unclogged. The man had truly lost any respect people had for him.

The overalls hide the giant gut I'd managed to grow on his torso, but you can look at the top pic if you want to see how fat and hairy I ultimately got him. He looked nothing like the explosive athlete he'd been a couple years ago.

I took that photo right before I released Jake's to his body.

The jock probably wouldn't recognize himself. He'd wonder why he was suddenly so fat and hairy. He'd be terrified by the janitorial uniform on his back and even more horrified by the layers of dried sweat swamping his skin. It wouldn't be until he realized how much time had passed that he would fully understand the punishment I'd carved out for him. I wonder how he'll react when he finds out that he's spent the last three years scrubbing floors in the gym instead of working out in it.

I wonder if he'll clean himself up and learn a lesson? Or maybe he'll just accept his fate and give in to the habits I've made for his body. I don't know, and I don't care.

I'll be long gone by then.

Honestly, I have to admit that it's kind of fun living like this. Disgusting, sure, but there's something about reveling in the laziness, the degradation, the stink. I never allowed myself to be so laid back in life. Maybe, I learned something from this experience with Jake as well. I'm starting to think I'll find a new body to possess and live in. Someone I can take over and use for my own immediate pleasures.

Maybe you're the right candidate! You've got a nice body I could jump into. You won't mind if I hop in and drive for a few years, would you? You'll be disgusted by the state I leave you in, but hey it's not like it's my body I'm fucking up, right!

[kissitbttr]

how would frat!mig be in a huge argument w his girl?? idk a part of me feels like he’d be lowk immature abt it. of course he makes up to her un the end bc i cant stand angst 👎👎🧌

oh very

—

“so that’s it? you’re not even going to talk to me?” miguel stares at your moving figure, who’s hastily picking up a fresh shirt from the dryer. “never realized i’m actually dating a child” he scoffs when you don’t answer to him,

before the two of you started dating, you already knew how many girls miguel had swept off their feet. the ex-girlfriends, the jealous glares, the talking in between groups. it does brings the greatest displeasure in you to witness all of that. but miguel’s top priority is to ease your worries, and he doesn’t want to lose you over something that’s not worth to be talked about.

but the thing is, miguel sometimes forget how to set boundaries. almost like he’s not even trying anymore.

like today during practice. when you were practicing your tumblings and routines whilst miguel did his football drills. your eyes fell upon a familiar blonde girl from the volleyball team making her way towards your boyfriend.

it’s not like you don’t allow miguel to talk with other girls, you’re not as insane. letting a girl touch and feel his biceps is another story. you don’t need a damn book to know what the girl’s intentions are. obviously she was being flirty. blinking her eyes up at him, subtly biting her lip though knowing he’s taken.

the girl was previously known to be acting like a total slut. not that you’re shaming her when it really is a fact. prances herself around other guys even though their taken. you and gloria shares the same mutual dislike towards her when she had told you how the blonde kept trying to get into beck’s pants. thankfully, beck knows how to handle it.

so you waited. waited and watched at how your boyfriend would respond. instead he did nothing. nothing but a smile on his face without brushing the girl’s touch. they carried on a small talk

it broke your heart. and to some, it may sound a little bit too exaggerated but they wouldn’t know for sure until their partner was being felt up by other people and them not doing anything about it.

you were about to make your way towards the two of them, wanting nothing but to rip that girl’s hair off of him but stopping when your coach calls you to inform the practice is starting soon,

your mind wasn’t at ease for one bit during practice.

“i’m a child for wanting to communicate over what happened today? yeah, sure. talk your fucking shit, o’hara” you reply to him, rolling your eyes as you furiously toss your other belongings into a bag. “a real keeper you are”

the sound of his last name falls upon your lips doesn’t feel right to him. sure, you may have called him that in a fun manner but he knows that this time you’re actually pissed.

and miguel is not an expert at expressing his feelings and emotions. he’s got a lot to learn. the only way he knows how it to use anger and frustrations, which is something that he should control. especially when he’s talking to you.

“por el amor de dios! are you serious? we’re still on about that?! get over it, muñeca. it’s not a big of a deal!” he exclaims, removing his shirt before throwing it away on the nearest chair of his room,

“not a big of a deal?!” your tone rising as you walk out of the bathroom to see him. “you let another girl felt you up, letting her get close to you and you said that it was nothing?! are you out of your mind!”

“veronica and i were just talking! am i not allowed to talk to other girls simply because i’m dating you? that’s quite ridiculous, baby” he chuckles but there’s no humor in it, almost like he’s mocking you. receiving a baffled look from you.

“stop putting words in my mouth, that’s not what i said! you missed the part where i said you were letting another girl touching you, when you already have a girlfriend!” you point at him, trying to get him to understand but it seems like it’s no use. seeing him only roll his eyes and dismissing your words with a wave of his hand. it furthers your already broken heart to more pieces,

“fucking immature little shit” you spit, going back to zip up your bag,

he laughs loudly at that, shaking his head. “look who’s talking!” he turns around to face you. “i can’t control the people that like me, sweetheart. what am i supposed to do with that?”

“you really are entitled and narcissistic” you laugh sadly, “maybe try setting up boundaries between people especially girls? ever thought of that?”

“ever thought about not being insecure and jealous all the time? may come off handy”

and that does it. the words just pierced right through your heart, making you stop your movements all together.

never thought in your life that miguel would be the one person to say all of that to you. is that how he views you as? a insecure girl?

is it wrong that you love your boyfriend so much that you want him all to himself and for him to learn how to listen to you?

“if that’s how you feel, then maybe we should just end it here” your eyes turning glossy, trying not to break down in front of him. “if you missed being flirted by other girls or flirting back to your flings, then i am not stopping you. so instead of making me feel like shit, calling me insecure, we should just see other people”

that’s not what miguel had expected you to say. his blood runs cold, face faltering at your suggestion because that is not what he wants. not at all.

hearing what he just said to you makes him want to crawl into a hole and let himself die. he didn’t mean it! he didn’t mean what he said, he’s just grown tired of this argument that he wanted nothing but to end it. yet instead of making you feel secured and listen to you, he chooses the latter.

holy fuck, o’hara what have you done?!

“wh—n-no! muñeca, I didn’t mean what i said, i did—“ he stutters, walking closer towards you only for you to step back. “baby please i wasn’t thinking—“

“exactly! you weren’t!” you yell, picking up your bag and getting ready to walk out of his room, the frat house and his life for good. “i’m giving you, your freedom card from now on”

this can’t be it, right? fuck, no, no, no

“you’re not leaving” he says while trailing you from behind, hands shaking at mind in scrambles at the thought of you walking out of him for good. “y/n please—please don’t leave me—i’m sorry—i—i cut off every girls on campus if you want me to, just stay—please” he tries to reach out to you but your pace is quicker while walking down the stairs, ignoring the looks from some of his frat brothers,

shaking your head, you try to ignore the pain in his voice. part of you wants to hug him and tell him that you won’t be going anywhere. but part of you realize that this time, you need to put yourself first. because as much as you love him, you love yourself more,

this is going to be painful.

“that’s not what i want you to do, i just— i can’t do this, miguel. at least not now” your head shaking, voice lowering to prevent the eavesdropping ears from the kitchen. “i—i need to think, for a while. competition is coming up and exams are too—everything is just so overwhelming. i think we need a break. i think you need a break”

“a break?! I don’t need a break. i need you” his voice cracking, tears welling up in his eyes as he gathers your hands quickly and pull them into his chest. “i love you, muñeca—please—i’m so sorry—i’ll do better i promise. just stay, por favor”

his eyes are pleading at you, staring intently into your eyes as his grip tighten around your smaller hands. for just one second, you almost cave in.

almost,

you smile sadly, “just give it a week or two, okay? and we’ll see after that”

but miguel doesn’t need a week or two. he doesn’t need to see after. he knows who he wants to spend the rest of his life with. he knows who he wants to marry. he knows who he wants to have his kids with.

and it’s always going to be you, no one else.

however looking at the state of you now, miguel has no right to force you to do anything. he cares too deeply about you,

so he complies,

“o-okay” he nods and agrees with a heavy heart. “if that’s what you want—i’ll give you space, but just know that you’re the only one that i want. the only girl i want to have by my side. keep that in mind, okay?”

a small smile appears on your lips, as you reach up in your tippy toes and give him a soft kiss on his cheek before you turn around and open the door. giving him one last look and walk out of the house, carrying his heart as you do.

miguel breathes out a shaky sigh, watching the door closes. his tears are rolling down his cheeks without him realizing.

without you here right now, what else is he supposed to do?

—

don’t worry, i’ll make these two make up :)) i just think that miguel needs to be humbled rn lmao

also, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated xx

[iouinotes]

Show-off | Mike Ross

pairing: Mike Ross x female!reader

show: Suits

genre: smut word count: 2,9k

summary: you and your co-worker Mike dont get along very well. But when you have something that he needs, suddenly everything is different.

a/n: Just watched the first two episodes of "Suits" and something about Mike is really attractive-

Working in a well-known office as a lawyer has it's advantages. Such as being respected by business people or being able to afford a lot of things, you spend all your evenings analyzing documents rather than meeting actual people.

Nevertheless, sometimes there are also negative factors. For example, my co-worker Mike, who really believes, that he is with his ridiculously skinny tie and sarcastic humor better than the others. Or right now, better than me.

"God, I cant believe you. Can you behave for once?" I use my fingers to push my hair back in frustration, noticing how my head starts to hurt. Its 10 pm and I'm currently trying to stay calm, though because of one man in particular, my nerves seem to be getting thinner within seconds. Valuable time is wasted that I could spend somewhere else instead of with him.

"Now it's my fault, that you don't have the documents with you? Sorry, I can't help you being organized in your own workplace." His voice irritates me. Everything about him is so frustrating.

"I told you, I didnt get the message! How am I supposed to know, that you need something, when you don't tell me anything about it? Maybe you should stop being so childish and ask me in the first place, instead of running to Rachel!" If our job had nothing to do with justice and we werent literally standing in a law company right now, I would kill him. And then I wouldn't hesitate to go to court and say it was self-defense, because I didnt want to hear any of his miserable excuses anymore.

"So what do you think, I should do? I need these documents for tomorrow. Please, I know you don't like me, but it is really urgent." Why does he has such blue eyes? The look he is going me is even more irritating than his voice.

I sign, exhibit my laptop and try to put the pens back, that are laying all over my desk.

"Okay, fine. As I said, the documents are at home, so-" I don´t even get to finish my sentence.

"Great, so I'll meet you there. And I wont even tell anyone, if your place is a mess." His eyes wander over my messy desk, and even If I don´t like to admit it, it's a bad habit of mine. But, he shouldn't make any assumptions about the neatness in my apartment.

"I hope you loose the documents on your way home." At my words, he grins smugly.

"Well, then I could lie and say you didnt found them anymore and I hadnt had the chance to go through them." He leans towards me.

"I'll run you over with my car." He raises his eyebrows at my threat.

"You sure should do something that makes you smile more often. Is that even something you know how to do?" I show him my middle finger and turn to left my office. When I close the door, I hear the laughter in his voice.

"The next storm should be named after you as quickly as you left the room." He follows after me.

"Can you shut up for once? Oh, I forgot. You don´t last one second being silent. Thats a shame, the world could finally heal." His hand rests on his heart, his features fake a hurt expression.

"Ouch. You really don´t like me that much, huh?" His eyes try to search mine.

"You get on my nerves on purpose every fucking day. Should I thank you for that?" I turn my head to look at him.

"Yes, you should. Your life would be so boring without me." He grins at me again from the side, that typical grimace that is always adorn on his face.

"You wish." When I tell him my address, he raises his eyebrows, but before he can make an unfavorable comment, I get into my car.

Darkness surrounds me and when I see him going away, I lower my head to the steering wheel. He really is the best at confusing my emotions.

~~~~~

I turn off the lights of my car and get out of it, so I can finally make my way to my flat. Its not something special, I mean I have a living room, which is quite big and connected to the kitchen, a bedroom and a bath. But I am very lucky, because I have a small balcony, from which I can watch the stars at night. But I usually only do that when I can't sleep.

So, when I enter my apartment, I let my eyes wander over the manageable mess, I put some clothes back in the closet and the dishes in the washing machine. The place almost looks decent, when I hear the doorbell.

As I open the door, I'm nervous for some reason. I let him in and turn to my office drawers, looking for the document.

"Nice place. You live here alone?" His fingers trace my bookshelf, I see him reading the titles.

"No, my wife is still at work." When I look at him dead serious, I see him laugh in surprise.

"So, you do have humor. I thought, you were one of those exceptions that wouldn't be able to do that." He means it as a joke, but something in my chest hurts.

When I reply with a monotonous voice, I see his eyebrows pull together. "I live here alone. That's what you wanted to hear?" I'm getting more frustrated again with every second he's around me.

"No- I didnt mean it that way. I'm sorry. My intentions were good, I promise." When I look at him for a moment, I see his honest expression.

It would be so easier for me to hate him, if I didnt know, he was a good human. Well, most of the time.

We are silent for a moment, but when I hear his footsteps, I tense up.

"What are you doing?" He's now standing right next to me.

"Helping you. You seem a little, tense?" I glare at him for a moment and he raises his hands in defense.

"Just pointed out the obvious. But dont worry. You still look lovely." I stop in my movements at his words.

"Thats such shock for you?" His voice shows surprise and a certain curiosity.

"Only that you say it." I look into his eyes.

"Well, you may think I'm dumb, but I'm not blind."

He just called me beautiful, sort of. It´s confusing me.

When I finally find the documents, I hold my hand out to him.

"I don´t think you are dumb. I think you're annoying. And a show-off. I don´t like that." His eyes follow me.

"What do you like then?" His question surprises me. He slowly takes the documents out of my hand, his finger gently brushing mine.

"I don´t think that is any of your business." I try to clear my voice. His touch makes me shiver.

"Come on, tell me. Would that be so bad?" His whole presence is making me nervous and I feel my hands start to shake.

At work, I can always hide behind a mask, pretend that nothing he does affects me. I can act like I truly hate him, even though I catch myself looking at him, from time to time. Especially when he shows off his intelligence without realizing it, impresses his clients and -I would never admit it- me too. It's a certain charm about him, the way he always knows how to answer, while being mischievous and clever about it.

But now, that he's in my apartment and so close to me, it's suddenly different. And I don't know how to react to him being nice.

"I look for someone who isnt afraid of commitment. Someone who is honest and kind, but who also challenges me. I want to feel safe, so I can put my trust not only in myself."

He nods and is quiet for a moment, I begin to feel stupid for telling him all of that, when he responds.

"I get that. Someone whose shoulder you can lean on when things get too much. Someone who meets your needs, who wants to be in your life. For longer than a one-night stand." He smiles at me and I see for the first time, why I possibly could like him.

"Also, statistics show higher rates of being robbed or kidnapped, when you have one-night stands." This remark almost makes me laugh, even though it's frightening.

"Well, who would even notice, if I would disappear? Probably only my clients, because they need me." I lower my head, being completely honest with him for the first time.

"I would notice."

When I look at him, he takes a step towards me. His fingers gently slide over my shoulder and brush my hair aside, the touch makes a warm feeling bloom in my chest.

"I couldn't annoy you anymore. My life would be pretty boring without you. And it's not so bad to be able to look at such a pretty face every day, even if it always looks at me annoyed, like all the time." I quietly laugh at that, feeling surprisingly good because of his compliment.

We look at each other, now being really close. My eyes travel to his lips and I don´t even know how it happens, but suddenly he is all over me. His lips on mine, his hands on my waist, lifting me up to sit me on the desk. I moan softly when his hands tangle in my hair and he pushes himself closer to me, so that he's standing between my legs. One of his hands gently wraps around my neck and I feel my loud pulse.

My hands move too, stroking his back and holding him closer to me by his tie. As he pulls his lips away from me, he lifts my chin with his finger. Now, looking down at me with widen pupils. I hold his eye contact, forgetting all about my issues with him, when he speaks to me with a deep voice (which I suddenly don´t think sounds irritating anymore).

"Be angry at me tomorrow and mine for tonight. I bet, all your frustration from work and your thin nerves can catch a break, what do you say?"

Not much. Because I pull him towards me by his tie and kiss him again. I don't want to stop at all anymore. He returns the kiss with the same enthusiasm and his hands find their way to my waist again to lift me up again. When he crosses the living room with quick steps and lays me down on the sofa, I already feel out of breath and clearly turned on.

His kisses become more intense, his lips move from my mouth to my neck, leaving marks there. But it feels too good to make him stop.

"I will gladly hear your excuses, when someone asks you about your hickeys tomorrow. Because you will be all flustered, when you think again about this moment. Where you are ready to be fucked by your colleague, who you despise so much." I whimper as he pushes up my dress and his hands pull my tights down to my knees. The cold air hits my skin, but I don't really notice it, because his lips are on my neck again and his fingers connect first with my stomach and then further down. I hold my breath as his lips touch my ear and his fingers stroke my folds.

"So wet for me. Didnt think, I would turn you on this much." I kiss him to shut him up.

"You are-" I moan, when he finally puts a finger in me. "-so annoying." He laughs at me.

"Am I? But you seem to like it." I feel myself getting wetter, his fingers feel so good as they move gently but firmly inside me. One of his hands moves to push my dress further up and somehow, he manages to pull it over my head. Now, I'm lying in front of him in just a bra, his hands slowly find their way over my body and to my back, which I lift slightly so that he can open the clasp.

When I lie naked in front of him and he massages my breasts, his lips touch mine and his fingers stimulate me, I feel like I'm in heaven.

He breaks apart, so he can look at me and I draw my eyebrows together, when his fingers increase in speed. My mouth opens and the sounds that escape me echo in the apartment.

"I'm- god, I think I am going to come-" at that he starts to tease me, going slower but a lot deeper. My eyes almost roll back as he hits a certain spot inside me.

"That feels good? What do you say, when you want something?" You stupid idiot.

"You stupid-" I begin to say as his lips graze my nipple and his finger scissor and stretch me out further.

"One word, darling. Say it." And because I feel this knot inside me (and maybe this side of him turns me on, like a lot), I finally open my mouth to please him.

"Please, Mike. I-I need to-" My sentence is cut off as his fingers speed up and I moan loudly.

"Thats a good girl, you can be so good to me, if I make you." His lips search mine as I finally come. My breathing is heavy and when I come down from my high and look at his face, I see the satisfied expression.

"You are done-" I can't maintain my strict facial expression and suddenly have to start smiling. His eyes widen in surprise and I raise my eyebrows, still smiling softly.

"What?" I quietly laugh at his expression.

"Nothing, its just- I have never seen you smiling so happy." I roll my eyes gently. As I look at him closer now, I see the bulge in his pants and the loosened tie. As I lean forward, his eyes shift to my body.

"You still are fully clothed. A bit unfair, don't you think?" I watch him swallow and my hands move to his chest to slowly unbutton his shirt. As I also remove the tie and slip the shirt from his shoulders, I sit myself on his lap. Rocking my hips forward and seeing his eyes close. His hands move to my hips and begin to control the movements, my eyes close too and my head leans into the crook of his neck as the movements become faster.

Sighs and heavy breaths leave his lips and once again, one of his hands moves to grab my breasts, lightly grazing the nipples.

I look at him, noticing his swollen lips and his flushed cheeks. His hair is a mess and his forehead is furrowed, but he tries his best to pull himself together.

I groan as I look at him and suddenly think back to todays afternoon, when he was on a phone call and I heard how he listed one reciting fact after another, without any difficulty.

"What are you thinking about?" His voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"N-nothing" I'm definitely too embarrassed to admit how much his intelligence and the way he seems to know everything, turns me on.

One of his hands moves to my entrance and teases me by just circling around it. When I try to push myself down, he pulls his fingers away.

"You tell me, whats going on in that pretty head of yours and you'll get me." My body feels so hot, I can't think properly anymore.

"You where on a phone call today and you just- you listed without any effort every single point that will help you win the case. You just said it like- it's nothing."

When his fingers dig into me again, I bite my lips. I try to control my moans and not pay attention to the fact, that I just gave him every opportunity to make him be more complacent than his usual self.

His fingers pump into me and I feel slightly overstimulated. But I wouldnt want to stop now.

"You get off by the thought of me, saying memorized facts? Who would have thought that my intelligence would turn you on so much." God, his ego probably doesn't fit in this apartment anymore.

"Don't think too highly of yourself, you still annoy me." Now I'm really just trying to get myself out of the situation. I lean towards him, so he can't say anything anymore and pull on his blonde hair to distract him.

Moans escape my lips and when I notice that his noises are also getting louder, I pull away from him. He looks at me confused.

"I want you inside me." Thats all I say, but he quickly complies with my request. I slide off his lap and wait for him to take off his pants and boxers until he's finally on top of me again. His fingers find my bottom lip and while maintaining eye contact, I open my mouth so he can insert a finger. My tongue brushes against his and after a few moments of him pressing on my tongue, he lets his fingers move back to the spot that needs him the most.

He stretches me for a few minutes until he finally guides his cock to my hole and slowly penetrates me. My eyes close and I hear his breath in my ear as he pushes further.

"You are so tight- good thing finally someone fucks you." I nod without thinking and hear his laughter in my ear.

"You think so too, huh. Would you let anyone fuck you then?" My stomach tenses, I feel the pleasure growing again and every movement of him. This feels so good-

I try to shake my head, but I'm too lost in the sensations to pay much attention to his words.

"No? But I thought, you hate me. Why would you let me fuck you, if you don´t even like me?" His thrusts become faster and more uncontrolled, I feel him getting closer to his own high.

"I-" I try to stutter "d-don´t hate you." I feel myself getting closer and reach into his hair, pulling at the roots and feeling his lips on my shoulder. His thrusts become more powerful and as he moves his hand and massages my clitoris, suddenly everything goes white in front of my eyes and I come.

I feel every inch inside of me, feel his fingers brush over the visible bulge in my stomach and think to myself: god I feel so full

When he comes too, I moan so loudly that it's impossible that my neighbors didn't hear me. His hand finds its way around my chin, he slides a finger into my mouth and I feel my vagina tighten because of it.

He hisses and his thrusts slow down until he finally pulls out of me, trying not to fall on top of me. As I give him some space next to me, he falls halfway on me, but pulls me on top of him in the next second and I can hear his strong heartbeat. With his outstretched hand he pulls the blanket over me, that had fallen to the floor.

We both try to catch our breath and as the minutes pass, only the wind outside is heard. He is the first to break the silence.

"So, you don't hate me?" I lift my head from his naked chest to look at him.

"Only sometimes." He shakes his head and smiles, gently stroking my back.

The evening went by quickly, we ordered a pizza and ate it (clothed) on the terrace. We were going over his documents for tomorrow, I blushed at the thought that this was the real reason he came here, but he just hugged me from behind after we finished and continued watching the stars.

It's not really clear what this evening means for us, but I don´t want to get into that, not yet. Because I'm not sure what it means anyway.

Because now, I have to get used to the fact that his voice no longer irritates me, that his jokes no longer annoy me and that he as a person, is actually not as bad as I imagined.

"Who thought, I was the one to get you relax."

But he is still a show-off.

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Interrogation

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader 18+

wc. 1.2k Warning: 18+, MDNI!, fingering, edging, <33333

“Satoru~” you moan as you sit in his lap, his fingers thrusting themselves deep into your poor, dripping cunt.

“Come on, baby. Tell me. You wanna be my good girl, don’t you~” He asked, feeling your juices drip down his hand onto his chair.

“I-I can’t! That would be cheat-ngh-ing~” you whine, fat tears clinging to your eyelashes. His thumb rubbed faster on your clit, his fingers thrusting up deeper to the point where he was knuckles deep inside.

“Come on, it's just a test baby. There's no shame in a little cheating~” He said, placing open mouthed kisses on your neck, making sure to leave plenty of marks.

Indeed, it was all true. This entire situation stemmed from a ridiculous test designed to evaluate Satoru's interrogation skills. He was tasked with solving a fabricated crime scene by extracting information from a few people: Kento, Shoko, and you. Kento and Shoko had already taken their turns, and unsurprisingly, Satoru easily coaxed the necessary information out of them, mostly due to the fact that he was being hella annoying and they just wanted to leave.

Satoru was nearly finished unraveling the mystery, with only you, his beloved wife, left to question. He assumed it would be straightforward, expecting you to simply provide the answer so he could complete this absurd test. However, you proved to be far more challenging than he anticipated, and Satoru found himself struggling to elicit any useful information from you.

But then, a solution to his predicament dawned on him. And that’s where you both find yourselves now.

“B-But this isn’t how a pr-proper–fuck–interogation s-should go. You would never do this in a real si-situationnn~” You whined, feeling your climax approaching once again.

“True, but this is a stupid fucking test that my wife is making unnecessarily difficult for her sweet and kind husband. The man who worships the ground she walks on, who can't ever stop thinking about her, and who loves seeing her unravel right in front of his very eyes~” He said, speeding up the pace. He knew you were close, so very close to that wonderful and toe curling orgasm that would leave you in shambles.

“Toru, please~” You begged, not wanting him to stop again.

“Please what, my love?” He asked, acting all innocent.

“I wanna cum…please let me~” I whined, looking at him with desperation. However, seeing that you still haven’t answered his question, he quickly pulled his fingers out of you. You gasp once more, feeling that long awaited orgasm slowly disappear.

“Not until you tell me what I want to hear, my sweet~” He teased, looking at his coated fingers. He spread his fingers apart, seeing the sticky residue you left on them.

He looked at you and placed them in his mouth, licking them clean and savoring the flavor.

“N-No! I won’t!” I said, trying to gain back control, failing miserably. Satoru looked at you, his jaw clenched at your stubbornness.

“Fine.”

He picked you up and slammed you on his desk, digging his fingers back into your aching pussy. And he was ruthless. You arched your body into his chest, feeling his fingers hit just the right spots inside of you.

”Then we’re gonna keep doing this until you tell me. And trust me, my love, I have all day and night. Only thing is, can you survive that long? Hmm?” He asked, kissing down to your chest, placing his mouth over one of your sensitive nipples.

”Fuck! S-Satoru!” You cried out, grabbing onto his hair to have some sort of leverage. He moaned, feeling your delicate fingers intertwining themselves with his locks.

”You like that, baby? You like feeling my fingers drive into you like this?” He asked, kissing back up to your neck.

”You like when my thumb presses hard, right here?” He asked, pressing down hard on your clit, rubbing quick little circles over it.

”Mmmm~” You moaned, feeling yourself slowly fall into the brink of insanity. He had been edging you for so long now and you were getting desperate.

“Fuck, you know I love you, right?” He whispered in your ear, licking the outer shell. And as soon as he said those words, he felt your sweet and needy cunt clench around his fingers.

”Oh, you liked that, didn’t you~” He said, grinning sinisterly.

”You like when I say how much I love you~” He asked, bringing his other hand to your face, forcing you to look up at him.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful like this…Open your mouth for me.” He ordered, and you were quick to oblige. He leaned over you, spitting right in your mouth.

“Now swallow, my love~” And you did, hoping he would now let you cum.

You fool…

Satoru quickly removed his fingers again, making you cry out again.

”Don’t stop! Please baby!’ You begged, trying to move closer to his hand to get that sweet relief.

“You know the rules, Yn. Tell me what I need to know. And then I'll make sure you cum so hard, it's all you’ll think about.”

He reinserted his fingers again, moving at the same pace as before.

“Come on, baby. Tell me. That’s all you have to do~” he said in your ear. And at this point, you were so blissed out that you didn’t care anymore.

“Fine!” You moaned, telling him everything he needed to know. He looked deep into your eyes, giving you a small little kiss on your lips.

“See, that wasn’t that hard now, was it? And for being such a good girl, you can have your reward~”

He sped up his fingers, curling them inside as he spread you out. He rubbed your sensitive clit once again, sensing your upcoming orgasm.

“Cum baby. You did so well that you deserve it. Fuck, I love you so much.” He said, placing his lips on yours in a sloppy, heated kiss. He drove his tongue into your mouth, exploring all over.

Within seconds, you feel a wave of pleasure hit you like a train. Warmth spreads throughout your entire body, blood rushing to your ears. Your body tenses up, your muscles clenching as you let out a loud, gorgeous moan. It was music to Sartoru’s ears. You finally came and it was one hell of an orgasm. It left you shaking and breathless on his desk.

Satoru pulled away from your lips, watching you slowly come back down from your high. He gently pushed back one of your stray hairs from your face, kissing your nose.

“You, my love, did so well for me~” Suddenly, a knock was heard. “Now, let’s see how he did.” One of the higher ups said, alerting both you and Satoru.

“Damn higher ups. Come on.” He said, picking you up bridal style.

“S-Satoru! What are-“

“You think I’m staying here for those losers? I’d much rather be with you, Yn. Now, let's go finish what we started, shall we?” He asked, teleporting you two away back to your guys’ home.

And you slept happily ever after~

_________________

[steddiealltheway]

Eddie stares up at his ceiling bored out of his mind. He’s not technically completely on bed rest from the bat injuries, but he’s not allowed to do anything too strenuous. It’s ridiculous though really. He’s basically all healed with his ugly scars that make up a good portion of his body, but whenever the kids see them, they tell him to lay back down.

It’s stupid really. This is not how he thought playing the hero would end. Well… honestly he hadn’t thought that far ahead before, but now…

He groans and sits up ignoring the way his side slightly aches, but he needs to call the one person who actually knows what’s he going through. He makes his way down the hall and to the phone where he dials a number he had memorized months before.

After the second ring there’s a voice that answers, “Harrington residence.”

Eddie sighs, “How do you overcome the never ending boredom of our condition? I can’t be laying in bed all day, man.”

There’s a laugh on the other line. “It’s good hearing from you. How are you doing?” Steve asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

It somehow pulls a smile on his face in the way only Steve can. “Not great, man. Better though now that I’m talking to you,” Eddie flirts shamelessly.

“Same here. But hey, I’ve actually been spending some time in my pool. The doctor told me that swimming isn’t too strenuous as long as I’m not doing laps back and forth like I used to. You should stop by sometime. Exercise usually gets my mind off things. Even floating around in the pool helps.”

Eddie let’s Steve’s voice wash over him and soothe all the aches in his body. Swimming or floating sounds nice, but being around Steve sounds even better. “I’ll stop by sometime then definitely.”

“Let me know if you need a ride or anything, alright? No shame in that.”

Eddie tried to hold back a sigh. He hates that people feel the need to take care of him after he’s handled himself all these years. “I’ll be fine, but thank you. When should I come by?”

“Literally whenever you want, man. I’d appreciate the company,” Steve replies sounding almost desperate for Eddie to stop by. It makes Eddie smile.

“I’ll see you some time soon then,” Eddie replies with a smile.

“Sounds great,” Steve says like he’s smiling equally as much as Eddie.

Eddie lets his heart yearn a little longer as he hears Steve breathing on the other line. He doesn’t want to say goodbye, he just wants to stay in this moment as long as he can. He hears a shuffle on the other line then the steady breathing again.

These are the moments that confuse Eddie the most. Whenever they call and they just linger on the line when they know the conversation should end just like the linger in each other’s space whenever they’re physically around each other. It makes Eddie’s heart race, but he tries to fight it. Steve isn’t into him like that. Sure, he stares at his lips a lot and lets him flirt with him and even sends him winks but… it’s not like that.

Steve deserves someone gorgeous. Some girl that isn’t covered in scars and missing their left damn nipple. Eddie sighs.

“You okay?” Steve asks. Eddie nearly jumps as he forgets Steve is still able to hear him on the other line.

“Yeah, man. Just…” Eddie trails off and runs a hand over his face before pulling the phone down and thudding his head back against the wall. “I think I love you,” Eddie mumbles, making sure the phone is far away and muffled against his stomach. He pulls it back up and continues. “I just have to go, but I’ll definitely take you up on your offer if it still stands.”

“Pool is always open for you, Eddie.”

The way he says his name sends chills down his spine. Fuck. “Thank you. I’ll talk to you soon I hope.”

“I hope so, too. Bye Eddie.”

“Bye Steve,” Eddie says and hangs up as soon as he can and gasps for air. Damn Harrington for making him so breathless.

He makes his way back to his room and digs through his drawers for his old swim trunks that he prays still fit. He finds them and pulls them on. He frowns.

They fit okay, but that’s not the problem. His scars are exposed in a way that make him want to cover up completely and never let Steve see this side of him. He feels… he sighs and looks away from his scars. He grabs the nearest shirt he can and tugs it over his head. He can just swim with it on. The scars of his ankles and legs are fairly small and less gruesome so he’ll be fine exposing them.

He turns to look in his mirror but stops. He knows if he sees himself, he won’t go to Steve’s. He knows the man won’t judge him but… looking won’t help convince him of that.

So, without taking another moment to consider, Eddie grabs his keys and wallet, slips on his shoes, and heads out of his trailer. It’s weird to be out in daylight with his scars partially on display, but he needs this.

The drive over is fairly quick. He bypasses the front door and just starts heading to the backyard. He hears the water splashing a bit before he’s greeted with the sight of Steve slightly wading around the shallow end.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, startling Steve. “Sorry,” Eddie says with a smile, “When you said anytime, did that mean today?”

“Of course, of course,” Steve says making his way to the steps of the pool. He may have said something else but all Eddie hears is his own conscious chanting Speedo, Speedo, Speedo.

And it is a lovely sight. Christ.

Eddie’s eyes fight to try to stay up. It helps when Steve snatches a towel off a nearby chair and wraps it around his waist. “Sorry,” Steve says sounding unapologetic.

“Don’t be,” Eddie flirts.

Steve winks and flirts back, “Sadly today wasn’t a skinny dipping day.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie mutters under his breath. He hopes the water is cold.

“I’ll grab an extra towel for you, just give me a minute,” Steve says with a smile and heads inside.

Eddie takes a few deep breathes, removes his shoes, and sits by the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in. It’s warm.

The back door opens and Steve returns with a towel and two beers. Eddie makes grabby hands at the beer and Steve complies by opening one and giving it to him.

The cold liquid makes Eddie feel a little more alert as he stares at his feet in the water. He feels like his wet shirt against his body is going to be a harsh, uncomfortable reminder of swimming in the lake behind Reefer Rick’s place. He sighs and slowly starts removing his rings one by one before setting them by the poolside.

He slowly starts sliding forward into the pool but is stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. “Gonna take your shirt off first?”

Eddie scoots back and sits on the edge. He takes a big swig of his beer before shaking his head. Steve sits next to him and softly says, “I’m not pressuring you or anything, but it’ll feel nicer to not have wet clothes clinging against the scars.”

Eddie sighs and puts his head in his hands. “I don’t want you to see them,” Eddie says honestly.

“Why not?” Steve asks not offended or pushing it, just prompting him to continue.

Eddie sits up and looks at his feet in the pool again. “I’m scared of your reaction. Scared that you’ll find them hideous and find me hideous. I hate those damn gasps every time one of the kids sees my shirt lift or someone sees part of my face when I go out. But to see it all at once… is a whole new beast.”

Instead of responding, Steve slips into the pool in front of Eddie, the water coming up to his hips. He grabs Eddie’s hands and places them on his scars. “And what do you think when you see my scars?” Steve asks.

Eddie glances up at Steve’s eyes and hesitantly looks down. His heart skips a beat as he stares at them. He traces his fingertips lightly over them. “I think of the way you got them. The way you sacrificed yourself for us and risked everything for everyone else. The way you got blood on my vest but I didn’t care. You still somehow managed to defeat Vecna with those wounds still open. God, Steve. They’re absolutely gorgeous.” And he means it. Every word of it.

Steve’s hands come to the hem of Eddie’s shirt and slightly tug up. Eddie releases a deep breath and lifts his hands over his head, letting Steve pull the shirt off. When he’s free from it, he sees Steve staring down at his torso, eyes flicker over the scars before he slowly rests his fingers on them. The skin is sensitive and Steve’s fingers are cold and slightly wet, so Eddie shivers.

“You wanna know what I see?” Steve asks. Eddie’s tongue rests on the top of his lip as he nods. “I see the marks that show the way you sacrificed yourself to try to save Dustin. To distract the bats from the rest of us, which saved the us and helped us defeat Vecna. The marks that almost took you from us which destroyed everyone. The same ones that bond us, and are used as an excuse so I can reach out to you when I want to. They’re the marks that remind me of everything that you are. And they’re absolutely beautiful, Eddie. You don’t ever need to hide them around me,” he finishes his little speech settling between Eddie’s legs with his hand resting over the scars on his face.

Eddie feels a single tear slip down his face and wipes at it. “Thank you,” he breathes out and rests his forehead against Steve’s. He knows in this moment that he has to tell Steve. And with all the honesty that he’s already laid out he’s able to confess, “Steve, this might ruin things between us, but… I’m in love with your scars as much as I’m in love with you.”

Steve pulls away and searches Eddie’s eyes before huffing out a laugh, “Damnit, you beat me to it. Because I am absolutely in love with you - all of you.”

Eddie smiles so wide that he can feel the scars on his face tug up before he slips into the pool and seals his lips over Steve’s. His arms come up and trace the scars on Eddie’s side and Eddie mirrors him as he kisses and kisses and kisses him.

When they pull away to catch their breath, Steve says, “Let me show you how much I love all of your scars.” Then, he peppers kisses over each of Eddie’s scars, and Eddie thinks he might be in heaven.

[coco-loco-nut]

Eternal Sunshine

pairing: pato o’ward x reader

summary: ok, maybe you have a type. at least this time he might treat you right

masterlist requests open

——————————————

They say that in the darkest skies you see the brightest stars, that suffering is essential to growth, that it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. You never believed it to be true until you met your boyfriend. He kind and funny and ridiculously handsome, and he arrived at one of your lowest points.

——

You shouldn’t be here, your mind screams at you to turn around and leave, but it’s the same one that wanted you to be here in the first place.

The track used to feel like home, for five years you got to watch your boyfriend drive and enjoy the secrecy of your relationship. You both put in a lot of effort into keeping the spark alive, even if it meant shuffling some things around. That was until he decided he to cheat on you. It was easy for him, you weren’t public so it was easy to lie that he wasn’t in a relationship. Turns out he’s been cheating for over a year.

But this isn’t Formula One, this is IndyCar. You chose this to get your fix and move on. It would be satisfying to see someone crash into Oscar, maybe he can feel the pain you felt.

“Are you lost?” a deep voice comes from beside you and you look at the man speaking to you.

“A little,” you smile nervously, you haven’t been recognized yet. Maybe you should’ve chosen a race that wasn’t right outside of L.A.

“Luckily for you, I’m an expert,” you don’t know why he seems familiar. You notice his McLaren shirt, similar to your own - except yours was a fuck you to Oscar. You stole some of his official gear when you packed your bag and left.

“Are you a McLaren fan?” you ask, trying to place why he seems familiar.

“I guess you could say that? Are you?” the man asks, and you can’t help to notice some resemblance to Oscar, but he is far more handsome.

“I, um, same. I’m new to Indy, but I’ve loosely followed the F1 team for around five years,” you choose your words carefully. Pato looks at you closer, knowing he’s seen you somewhere before. Your pass says that you have VIP access, so he doesn’t question it as you walk with him.

“I’m Pato,” your brows furrow slightly as you give him your middle name as a cover. Where have you heard that name before. Your eyes catch sight of a video screen and they widen in horror.

“This is embarrassing, you’re a driver,” you are at a bit of a loss for words, mortified at your carelessness. He has got to be so mad, you straight up lied to his face.

“And your name is actually Y/n. I’m surprised to see someone of your talents here. Especially without security,” Pato’s unoffended smile disarms you, making you mentally sigh a breath of relief.

“Sorry for all the secrecy, it used to be the only way I can attend races,. I guess my disguise didn’t work then,” your smile is bittersweet, it’s almost freeing to be at a race without worrying if your relationship is going to be put on blast.

“I understand. I’m actually a big fan myself, so I recognized your voice. I introduced Lando to your music last year,” Pato says but you know the last part isn’t actually true. He may think he introduced your music to Lando, but Lando couldn’t reveal he knew you and your music well. He was one of the very few people who knew about you and Oscar.

“That’s so cool,” even if it’s wrong, maybe even vain, you love hearing things like that. “Did you get to go to the tour last year r hen?” you follow, curious how much he truly listens to your music.

“No, I wasn’t able to make it between races and other duties. I wanted to though,” he replies, scratching his neck while contemplating if he should ask a question or not. He has you as a captive audience though, so it doesn’t hurt to.

“That’s a shame,” you realize that you’ve started walking with Pato, but no one’s stopped you yet.

“Will you be releasing new music soon?” he sees a flash of hurt in your eyes and immediately regrets asking.

“I’ve both lost and gained inspiration, so there may be something in the works sooner than expected,” Pato immediately understands your words. It was widely known that you were in a long-term relationship, but no one knew who you were dating. It seems like you are no longer in one now. You really will have to hide when that bit of news breaks.

“I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay, it’s actually good, in a way. I’m starting to get over what happened,” the last part feels like a lie, but you don’t feel as heavy as before.

“I’m sorry, you are probably busy and I’m yapping on and on. I should probably get ready for practice anyway,” Pato realizes, flushing slightly with embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” you smile and something inside you tugs at your heart at the thought of him walking away and never talking to him again. “Would you like to get drinks or something after the race on Sunday?” you ask quickly, voice slightly shaking with nerves. You watch his eyes light up before he reels himself in to act cool.

“Yeah. I’d give you my number, but I know that you will run into me soon,. Enjoy all the racing” he grins, disappearing into the crowds. You continue to walk around, finding a spot to watch the end of the IMSA practice.

You slip back into your brooding as the sounds of engines put you on edge. It used to be a sound that was a comfort.

You want to kick yourself, how could you let a man - no, a boy - play you like that. And now here you are, wide-eyed and talking to another driver. Stupid. Not only does he drive for Arrow McLaren, but he’s the reserve driver for the F1 team.

All you can think about is how Oscar and Lando would react, how Pato would react if you started something and he found out about Oscar. The words they could use to hurt you. Whore. You would be moving on quickly, but then again, so did Oscar. He moved on while you were still together. Manipulator. Even if you don’t intend on it, it would be very easy to assume that you are using Pato for revenge, as a low blow. So many more.

“Fuck,” you whisper. You have a lot to think about before the end of the weekend.

Pato was right, you run into him (literally run into him) on Sunday. You just finished and early lunch and got on a call with your agent to discuss an opportunity.

“Sorry, I gotta go,” you apologize, hanging up the call.

“When I said you will run into me, I didn’t mean literally,” the smile on his face tells you he isn’t actually mad. In fact, he seems delighted. Yet the uneasy feeling of nerves bubbles in your stomach, you can’t hurt him. You know what you have to do, you have to tell him the truth. Lay it all out and let him make an informed decision, even if it hurts you to talk about.

“Sorry, I was distracted, and I guess I still am. My agent was trying to convince to, um, you know that doesn’t really matter,” you shift your focus to the present moment.

“I’m glad I ran into you, I was going to offer a garage tour,” Pato brushes you odd behavior off and your eyes light up. The look sends a thrill down his spine and butterflies in his chest. He feels like a teenage boy talking to his crush.

“Really? I’ve never been, not even when I-,” you catch your words, quickly clearing your throat, “not even when I attended an F1 race a few years ago,” the excitement from your voice is gone. Pato can tell there is a story there, but he takes your initial reaction and runs with it. Oscar never brought you to the garage. Even Lando offered, but you both said it was too risky. Oscar never even introduced you to the team, other than Lando.

“Follow me!” he leads you through the Arrow McLaren area, and you end up back at his motorhome. Pato did make sure to take pictures during it, especially with you and his car. You don’t think twice when you follow him in and sit down.

“I kinda like this a lot more than F1, it seems more humble in a way. It’s a spectacle like all racing is, but F1 is so flashy and honestly some people wouldn’t realize if there wasn’t a race. As long as all the other entertainment is there,” you unintentionally start on a tangent. Pato realizes he can learn a lot about you by reading between the lines.

“You sound like you have a bit of experience,”

“They, uh, COTA wants me to perform at F1 grand prix. They claim I will be the biggest attraction,” you huff, you really weren’t supposed to say anything, but if anyone would understand it would be Pato. Plus, he’s in the industry and you deep down you know you can trust him.

“They aren’t wrong. I know at least Lando would rather watch you than drive,” Pato smiles cheekily, dissolving your frustration.

“He’s had a private concert before, I’m sure he’ll live if I turn it down,” you abruptly stop laughing when you realize what you revealed. Pato’s brows furrow as he processes your words, maybe you misspoke. Here goes nothing, you have to come clean now.

“Lando and I were kinda friends, we met through my ex,” you reveal some of your truth. Careful to keep some of the cards in your hand hidden. The ones too painful to share.

“Oh, that’s cool! How did your ex know Lando?” Pato asks, almost wondering how you didn’t know who he was when you met. You quickly weigh the pros and cons. If you are going to get drinks with him after the race, he deserves to at least know and make his decision from there.

“My ex is Oscar Piastri,” your voice is quiet at you look at your hands, picking at a nail. Pato observes you as his stomach drops.

“Oh, how, uh, how did you meet?” he tentatively asks, trying to get an answer but not shut you down.

“I grew up as a huge racing fan and I thought he was cute, so I messaged him and that was that. You know my music,” you watch him smile to himself and then meet your eyes.

“Well, I’m glad I’m your type then, unless it’s just Australian racers,” Pato teases and your lips quirk up, relieved that he isn’t mad.

“No, apparently just men who drive for McLaren,” you chuckle. “He um, he cheated on me, and that isn’t part of my type. Hopefully that’s a part of the Australian thing,” your voice is quieter, but not dejected. That’s as much as you are willing to give for now, somethings are still too painful.

“I think he’s stupid to do that. And to not show you off. Plenty of guys would kill to meet you, to be on your arm and the one you come home to. I know I would,” Pato reassures you as he reaches out and squeezes your hand.

“It isn’t weird?” you ask. He just shrugs, looking at you in a way that makes you like a million butterflies are in your stomach.

“It’s not like you came here searching for me. Based off of your story, I doubt you came here looking for a relationship either. Besides, I initiated our first conversation, and you just came here for… why did you come here?”

“I missed racing, and this is really close to LA,” you say honestly. “I really didn’t know who you were, by the way. I wasn’t allowed to be around the F1 team, and everything I new about the team was from Oscar, so I never really thought to ask who the reserve driver was,” you add on.

“I believe you. For the record, I think you should perform at the race. It might be therapeutic not having to hide your presence there,” Pato offers his opinion. Silently adding that it might be nice to show Oscar you don’t have to hide.

“You have a great point,” your smile sends a thrill down his spine.

“Pato!” a girl barges into the motorhome, drawing both of your attentions. “Oh my god, you’re,” she stares at you with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you stand up to greet her.

“Y/n, this is my sister, Elba,” Pato says as she tells him something in Spanish that sounds borderline angry.

“In that case, maybe we should watch the race together?” you want to get off on the right foot, especially if you want to pursue something with him.

“Really?” her eyes light up as she shoots Pato a look again. “Pato, why are you trapping her?” she asks her brother and you fight a laugh.

“I’m not-“

“I ran into him today, literally ran into him, and he offered to show me around,” you offer an explanation.

“I promise I’m much cooler than him,” she tells you. You admire their sibling dynamic, there’s clearly a deep bond for them to interact as they do.

“Why are you even here?” Pato puts an end to things before his sister steals you away.

“Making sure you are ready, you have ten minutes,” she says, walking over to you and linking your arms. Too late, Pato, you are being stolen.

“Oh shit,”

“That’s what I thought,” she hums, walking the two of you out so he can change.

“Drinks on me,” you tell her, knowing you will get along well. And you do, three drinks later you are telling her all about Oscar and even playing a sample of a new song. She happily takes in all the industry insights and background of your music. You answer most of her questions, even one’s like who your least favorite artist to work with is.

You both don’t even notice when the Arrow Mclaren team takes a picture of you laughing in their hospitality area. You only noticed after the race when your phone started to blow up.

“Everything okay?” Elba asks as you stare at your phone with a frown. You are in the safety of Pato’s motorhome, away from prying eyes.

“My publicist is freaking out. I wasn’t supposed to officially be here and being spotted with you as made the public assume things,” the pinched line between your eyebrows tells Elba just how frustrated you are.

“So you aren’t allowed to have friends,” she scoffs. Even if she can tell there is a spark between you and her brother, there’s no need to push that at the moment. A devilish smile creeps onto her face as she looks at you. “I bet those rumors are killing Oscar,” she says while watching the frustration melt into satisfaction.

“I would never use you or your brother like that, but I have to admit I like the idea,” you smile.

“Hello sister and supposed girlfriend,” Pato walks in, causing you to sit up a little. He clearly isn’t bothered by it. Secretly, he loves it, he wasn’t lying earlier about being romantically interested.

“Do your ears burn?” Elba asks, eyebrow raised like this isn’t Pato’s motorhome.

“No?”

“Hm, okay,”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that a photo of Elba and I would cause so much trouble,” you apologize, a little embarrassed at the public’s reaction. You went from never having a public photo of you and Oscar to having articles being written about you and Pato when you aren’t even together yet.

“So I shouldn’t post the photo of you with my car?” Pato asks lightheartedly.

“Post whatever you’d like,” your words are truthful, it’s a good photo and people already know you are hanging out.

“Good, you look very cute in it,” Pato’s words cause your cheeks to flush.

“I should go, my car is here. Congrats on your podium,” you stand, sneakily leaving a slip of paper on the chair behind you.

Pato and Elba watch you disappear. Guess you aren’t getting drinks tonight.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Elba asks, watching as Pato stares at the door you left from.

“She’s different. I should be thrown off about Oscar, but she didn’t know me. She loves racing too. I want her, but I’m willing to wait,” Pato says wistfully. Elba subtly picks up the paper that you dropped.

“Well, she lefts this. Maybe it’s a good start,” Elba leaves Pato to himself.

Pato, sorry I had to leave quickly. Text me when you get to this address, 10pm…

Your handwriting is neat with the details listed at the end. A quick google search of the name tells him it’s a members-only upscale bar. It’s so exclusive it has a dress code and no address listed online.

His stomach churns with nerves as he sends a text to you letting you know he’s there. A moment later a man in a suit opens the door for him. He’s never been so nervous for a date.

“Mr. O’Ward, follow me,” Pato runs his hands nervously down his button-down, smoothing non-existent wrinkles. The tie feels tight as he steps further into the bar. Pato spots you wearing a sleek black dress with hair perfectly styled. You look absolutely breathtaking as you stand to greet him, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

“Sorry for the formality, it’s just the best place for privacy,” you apologize.

“It’s okay. This is a really cool place,” Pato looks around, shocked at the big names sitting near him.

“I ordered some food, if that’s okay, but the waiter will be back soon for drink orders,” you tell him. relaxing into the seat.

“That’s perfect,” Pato takes a look at the menu, noticing there’s no prices.

“Don’t worry about the cost, I’ve paid for everything already,” you answer his thoughts, practically reading his mind.

“But-“

“I asked you out and invited you, you weren’t going to pay regardless,” your smile tells him to enjoy being treated so he does.

“How was your first Indycar weekend?” he asks after you order drinks.

“I enjoyed it, I think I might have a new favorite driver,”

“You mean I wasn’t your favorite in the first place?” Pato teases.

“No, it was Nico Rosberg, jury is still out if he’s moving from number one,” your eyes crinkle.

“Will that change if I show you pictures of my dog?”

“Absolutely,” you lean in to look at his phone. You may be a cat person, but you love dogs almost as much as you love cats.

Your first date turns into two, then three, then four, then nights spent together. Pato even occasionally joins you at the studio while you record your new album. The summer flies and you make some appearances at races as Elba’s friend - which isn’t untrue. Your fans connected the dots when you posted a dump that included Pato’s dog and Pato posted the photo of you with his car from your garage tour.

She joins you and Pato at COTA. You’ve spent the whole week both stressed and nervous as you practiced your set and announced your new album, eternal sunshine.

“Are you okay?” she asks as you nervously walk through the paddock.

“No, but it’s okay,” you frown, glancing at your pass. Your cream linen outfit is neutral, you didn’t even touch the Arrow Mclaren gear that Pato gifted you when packing for the weekend. He insisted that you didn’t have to accept Mclaren’s offer to be a guest on the day of your performance, but you told him that you would stick with Elba. Your PR team thought it would be a good idea too, especially since you are known to support the Indycar team.

“We can take a shot before going over,” she suggests.

“It’s not even noon,”

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs. You follow her as she leads you to a bar, ordering two shots. You’ll just drink extra water before performing tonight. It doesn’t stop the nerves pooling in your stomach as you approach the papaya area, but it does make your brain not care as much.

“Y/n!” Lando practically falls over himself running over to greet you.

“Hey Lando,” your smile is tight, glad it’s him and not Oscar, but not happy to see him this early in the day. You thought you had another hour at least.

“I’m sorry, I was going to reach out but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me,” his words fall on your deaf ears.

“Save it. If you want to apologize, keep him away from me,” your words are resolute.

“Too late,” Elba says under her breath and suddenly you wish you took more than one shot. You don’t know Pato approaching from behind you, you are honed in on the person now in front of you.

“I see you have a type,” the first words every girl wants to hear from her ex. Certainly not ‘i’m sorry’ or ‘i am the worst, you deserve better than me’. You squeeze Elba’s wrist, silently telling her to stand down before she yells.

“Right, well, he doesn’t cheat on me in my house and bed multiple times, shamelessly apologize when I walk in on it and then send photos to me together with the same girl in that bed a week later. So, I’d say he isn’t like you at all. And if you think you are my type, then you are sorely mistaken,” your eyes narrow. Lando gives Oscar a WTF look, clearly unimpressed with his teammate. He didn’t know the whole story, all Oscar told him was you broke up.

“It’s a shame no one will know who she’s talking about on her album. Except for the ones that are clearly about Pato. Trust me, you’ll know which ones those are,” Elba can’t resist herself, and you are proud of it. You probably shouldn’t have let her listen to two of the demos though.

“What?” Oscar’s eyes widen, not expecting you to tell the world about your break up. Lando is silently thrilled, he can’t wait for your new album. It’s too bad he will have to wear headphones while listening to it.

“You seriously didn’t expect me to not write about it, did you?” you raise your eyebrow. “I wrote about the good and will sure as hell write about the ugly. Be glad I respect you just enough to not name drop you,”

“Hermosa, let’s go,” Pato wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, gently removing you from the situation. You startle slightly, not having realized his presence.

“Just wait until she sings tonight,” Elba shoots another comment at Oscar, channeling the spite that you won’t show. Just because you are taking the high road doesn’t mean she has to.

“Elba,” Pato’s sharp voice calling back to her tells her enough and she walks away. Sending one final nasty look over her shoulder before catching up with you and Pato.

“Dude, what the fuck,” Lando turns to his teammate.

“I, she broke up with me,”

“You cheated on her. Multiple times apparently. You know what? We are not having this discussion here. Lucky enough no one was around to see this whole fiasco. Just, stay away from her,” Lando shakes his head, leaving Oscar to wallow in his thoughts.

“Hey, none of that was your fault,” Pato keeps you close, your breathes deep and shaky as you hold yourself together. He brings you into a small empty room, Elba closes the door behind you as tears streak down your cheeks. You sit on the floor, leaning against the wall.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying,” Pato crouches in front of you, thumb wiping away a tear.

“You weren’t ready to encounter him again. I’m so proud of how you handled it, and it’s okay to cry,” he reassure you, which makes you cry harder. Elba bites back a comment about the aforementioned boy, but he should be careful to not run into her again. She’s only nice when not talking to someone who hurt her friend. Pato moves to sit beside you, pulling you into his lap. He lets you cry it out, something you refused to do when you found out about Oscar’s infidelity. You’ve been so strong for so long, you’ve never given yourself the chance to feel your feelings.

“How much of it did you hear?” you tearily ask, a little ashamed that you revealed a part of the story you never told Pato. So much pain put out for the world to hear in a fit of anger.

“Most of it,” Pato answers and you know he knows.

“This is not how this weekend was supposed to start,” you rest your head against Pato’s now damp shirt. Elba stepped out to grab water for you and give you some privacy.

“No,” he agrees, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. Pato won’t vocalize it, but he’s worried about you being in the Paddock for his free practice drive in Mexico.

“Am I doing the right thing by being here? Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to perform,” your voice is thick with that post-cry sound.

“Absolutely, this was hard but I think it will help with your healing. He can’t touch you anymore, he’ll risk your fans knowing he is the one who hurt you,” Pato is reassuring himself too, it was terrifying to find you face to face with Oscar.

“Right,” your tears have stopped.

“Hey, we need to get lunch before sound check,” Elba pops in, carefully tossing the bottle of water to Pato.

“Right,” you sniff, carefully removing yourself from Pato’s hold and standing up.

“Drink this, you need to rehydrate. Fuck, and I need to go to a meeting,” Pato kisses you, letting it last a second too long before leaving you and Elba.

“I can hurt him, make it look like an accident. Then Pato can race this weekend,” Elba suggests. You know she won’t and can’t, but you crack a smile anyway.

“I don’t deserve you or Pato,” you hug her.

“Let’s fix your mascara and get out there. We’ve avoided your team this long, I don’t know how much longer we can manage,” you and Elba find Mclaren hospitality and take advantage of the drivers being in a meeting. You two are gone by the time they get there.

You make your way to the concert stage for a sound check with your band. The hot Texas heat beating down on you.

“I’m making changes to the set list,” you hand them the revised one. “We are doing three songs from the new album. Opening with True Story, then we will do The Boy is Mine and Eternal Sunshine later in the show. Maybe ending with Boy is Mine,” you tell them.

“But those aren’t your singles,”

“It’s a gift to the fans, it’ll help get hype around the album,” you lie, you just feel that they will send the message to Oscar. It’s your little piece of revenge.

“Sounds good, we will practice those later,” your guitarist says. You run through a couple of your hits so the sound levels can be adjusted, before going into a meeting with your team.

“We have an interview set up with F1 TV in half an hour. It’s some type of quiz with Hinchcliffe while doing a hot lap,” your publicist tells you as you hydrate and stretch.

“Right, well, let’s get ready,” you head to the dressing room that is air conditioned, thankfully.

“So, the rumor is that you are a big motorsport fan,” Hinch starts off the interview.

“Ever since I was a kid. I’ve been to a few grand prix before, and now I get to perform at one,” you reply, happy to talk about racing.

“Is Mclaren your favorite team then?”

“No, but I’ll never tell who is,” your playful expression is opposite to the one you wore earlier. No one can tell that you had been crying.

“Well, you’ve been a frequent guest at Indycar races. Who is your favorite driver, me or Pato?”

“I don’t think I can answer that either,” you smile, playing along with the bit.

“So it’s me. Great taste,” he accelerates off the starting line.

“I’ve always wanted to do one of these,”

“Triva while on a hot lap? We all have our own aspirations,” he takes a turn quickly and you cheer in excitement. You confidently answer his questions.

“Can we go again? Can I drive?” you ask, not wanting to unbuckle.

“Unfortunately that’s all the track time we have today,” you sadly unbuckle, giving the in-car camera a thumbs down.

“Thank you for the ride,” you tell him after getting out.

“Thank you, I don’t think I’ve had anyone tell me to go faster. Good luck on your performance tonight,” he is a little shocked at how well you handled it.

“Thank you, I’ll give you a backstage pass if you let me drive,” you say once the cameras stop filming and the mic is removed.

“Unfortunately I cannot this time. Get Pato to rent a track for you. Has he taken you on a lap yet?”

“No, he will in Mexico. Don’t tell anyone, but you are my favorite commentator,” you take your bag from an assistant and hand him a pass.

“I will be holding this over Buxton’s head,” Hinch waves the pass before you part ways. You find Elba and Pato to watch qualifying before you have to get ready for the concert. Elba leaves to get food, claiming that now is the right time while everyone else is busy on track.

“Are you nervous,” Pato asks, his fingers entwined with yours as you stare at the screen.

“A little, but I changed the set to add some of the new album,” you keep your eyes trained on the Ferrari on the screen.

“I have a request from the social media team,” your head turns to look at your boyfriend at the uneasiness in his voice. “They want Oscar and Lando to watch the concert with me, they think,”

“They think it will show team togetherness since you will already be there to watch me,” you sigh, mulling it over. “Fuck. If I say no then it makes me look like an asshole,” your frown deepens at the thought.

“Lando said he will make sure Oscar is gone by the time you get offstage,”

“No, they will want a video or picture of me interacting with them,” you run a hand through your hair and Pato regrets asking on behalf of the team.

“It’s not a big deal if you say no. I can watch from the front row with them and come backstage once you are done. Then the social team still gets what they want,” Pato reassures you with another option.

“Yeah, I think I like that more. Plus, I can sing to you easier that way,” your frown goes away as you lean into him. He removes his hand from yours and wraps his arm around you. “The pass I gave you should let you immediately come backstage, and I’ll have my team inform security to let you through,”

“You are going to kill it, I’m excited to see you onstage,”

“I’m excited too, I can shake off the rust. Oh, and Lando can come backstage with you. Since you introduced him to my music,” Pato lightly groans with embarrassment as you giggle.

“I had no idea you knew him when I told you that! It’s his fault that he didn’t tell me he knew your music,” Pato defends himself.

“Am I too late?” Nolan appears in the doorway, a little out of breath.

“Nolan?” you ask, a little like an excited puppy. You would lay down your life for him, he’s like your baby brother now.

“I couldn’t miss the concert. I tried to be here an hour ago, but the traffic is insane,” he shakes his head as he greets Pato with that weird male handshake.

“Sometimes I think you love Nolan more than me,” Pato says as you hug his teammate.

“I doooo,” you dramatically sway back in forth in the hug.

“I knew it,” Pato shakes his head lovingly. “Oh and surprise. I figured you’d like the extra support,” Pato got your team to give him an extra pass after Nolan dropped some not so subtle hints about wanting to be here.

“Hey Nolan,” Elba returns with a plate of food for you.

“Where’s mine?”

“Um, you can eat later. You aren’t going on stage in a few hours,” Elba waves her brother off.

As every minute in qualifying ticks by you increasingly get both nervous and excited. As Q3 reaches its halfway point, your phone buzzes to summon you away before the crowds start.

“You are going to be amazing, I’ll be front and center,” Pato hugs you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“I will be there too,” Nolan interjects.

“I’ll be backstage before the show,” Elba promises. You thank them and head out. You are immediately thrown into warm ups and hair and makeup.

“15 minutes,” the stage manager warns. You check your phone one last time before grabbing your water and heading to the stage.

“Good luck, you got this, you are an icon,” Elba starts to hype you up, and your laugh makes her join your laughter.

“I’m more worried for my fans, they aren’t expecting new music to be performed,” you shake your head as you are directed to a platform.

“You will smash it,” she says as she’s led to the wings. You focus on your breathing and hydration.

The lights go dark and the crowd silences. A cue tells you to start your first surprise. Your voice is alone in the dark as you start singing. You start rising in the darkness during the first gimmie love section of the intro and as soon as the platform locks into place and your beat picks up a golden light flushes the stage. The show’s begun.

Pato soaks in the vision of you up on the stage and how Oscar has to mask his shock. It didn’t take long for Oscar to realize that bad light you paint of him, the opposite of how you’d written him in the past. You send a subtle smile Pato’s way, one he returns as an eager grin.

“Dude, your girlfriend is killing it,” Lando yells over the music. You are currently singing one of your first hits, and the energy is high.

“I want her to adopt me,” Nolan agrees. Even the songs you wrote about Oscar feel directed at Pato now, and that’s a new level of hurt. The final blow comes as you end the show with your newest steamy song, and everyone know who you are singing about and to.

“Holy shit,” Pato says as he listens to your words, he hasn’t heard this one yet and it’s capital H-O-T. You strut upstage, back to the audience as you end the song. During the final word, ‘mine’, you turn your head back to look at the crowd, quickly finding Pato’s eyes and sing the word. The lights go dark, and it’s somehow more electric than your start.

“I’m actually speechless,” Lando says as Nolan grabs Pato’s shoulders, shaking him.

“Dude,” he is practically jumping. “You are her’s and she let everyone know,” Nolan says.

“Imagine having a song like that written for you, that must be so cool. Right, Osc?” Lando turns to his teammate, still mad about the recent facts he learned about. Oscar swallows, nodding.

“Yeah, that certainly seems very cool,” Oscar begrudgingly agrees.

“Mr. O’Ward and guests, your presence is required backstage,” security arrives just as expected. Oscar follows but before they reach you, the group is stopped. They couldn’t just leave him to a crowd of fans.

“Alright guys, smile,” the Mclaren admin takes a quick picture while they wait for you to finish taking off your mic pack and monitors.

Still high off of the performance, you practically jumping into Pato’s arms, not looking at who else was around. Elba trails you, a jacket in hand for when you get cold from your sweat evaporating away.

“You were incredible, mi amor,” he holds you, letting you kiss him, arms around his neck.

“Hey, we get it, the boy is yours. You literally just sang about it,” Lando jokes as you pull away from Pato. The way you two look at each is different than when you and Oscar were together. Fondness? Sure. But the look you and Pato give one another is deeper.

“I would like to bleach my eyes,” Elba agrees.

“Mind if we get a couple photos?” the Mclaren admin asks and your social team also approaches to get some. You stand between Pato and Nolan. Elba is on the other side of Pato, Lando beside Nolan, and Oscar on the other side of Lando.

“I take it you guys liked the show?” you ask, proceeding as if Oscar wasn’t there. The more you act like nothing happened and you don’t know him, the worse he will feel.

“It was incredible,” Nolan answers for the group.

“I’m glad,” you smile tiredly. The physical exhaustion of the performance hitting you. “Thank you guys for coming, I hope you do well tomorrow,” you give Nolan and Lando hugs, offering just a nod to Oscar. Fans know he doesn’t like physical touch like that, so it doesn’t seem abnormal.

Your fingers intertwine with Pato’s as you practically drag him back to your dressing room, locking the door behind you. You plop down into the comfy chair and Pato helps remove your heels.

“I have to admit, a part of me wanted to climb onto that stage and carry you off of it when you were singing to me,” Pato gently massages your calves.

“I wouldn’t have been opposed. Just wait until the album comes out,” your sly grin widens as he stands up and steps closer to you.

“Be careful with what you say, hermosa,” his voice deepens as you tilt your chin up at him.

“I can be quiet. These clothes need to come off anyway,” your breath hitches as he lifts you up, lips crashing together. His hands slide to your back, working your outfit off.

You spend the next few months laying low as you plan a short tour after your album released on Thanksgiving. You even train with Pato. It’s surprising how similar your training is to his and it keeps both of you accountable.

Everything really hits you again the first time you walk the red carpet with Pato. He’s so proud to be at your side, showing you off and supporting you. It’s nothing you’ve ever had before. He’s here when your album isn’t eligible for awards until next year, when you just have to be here for the appearance.

“Thank you for being here,” you whisper in his ear as you sit at a table, tearing up a little as your hands are joined underneath the table.

“Of course I’m here, you support me. I like being your WAG,” Pato turns towards you, feeling as if he is doing the bare minimum. “Amor, I would go anywhere for you, just like you would for me,” he brings your hand up from under the table and kisses your knuckles.

To him, this is just a scratch of the support he wants to provide you. It feels like nothing in comparison to what you’ve done for him. You scheduled a whole tour around the month of May so you could spend it living out of a motorhome with him.

“I love you so much,”

“I love you more.”

[isaidlandowecanbeworldchampion]

I’m sorry, I love you - Lost the Breakup Part 2

OP81 x reader, ex!LN4 x reader

Warnings: swearing, slut shaming, poorly written angst

A/n: hi, I'm sorry it took so long for a part two, I wasn't expecting part one to do so well and I hadn't decided where I wanted to take it .

Previous part // Next part

You shuffle into the kitchen around 7am. Oscar is sitting at the breakfast bar drinking a protein shake. 

“Morning.” You mumble, still half asleep. 

Oscar chuckles lightly and stands up. He grabs you a mug and pours a coffee for you.

“Milk? Sugar?” He asks gently. You shake your head and pull the mug towards yourself.

Oscar fiddles with the hem of his shirt before sighing. “So uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Can we just forget about what I said last night? Not the winning for you part, I, uh, meant that bit, But the other stuff. It was just a lot of adrenaline, you know? And I-” 

“It’s fine, Oscar” You cut him off, “Already forgotten” 

He smiles and nods. “I’m about to go on a run, but if you want to put a list together we can do some groceries later?”

“Can we stop by my old place? I need to grab some stuff.” You ask, sipping the warm coffee. 

“Of course”, Oscar heads for the door, “I’ll see you later.”

–

You slide into the passenger seat of Oscar’s Mclaren Artura, one of the perks of his job. In one hand you hold a list of groceries and the keys to your and Landos flat, in the other is your phone. Oscar seamlessly steers the car onto the road heading towards the closest grocery store. 

You glance down at your phone fiddling around to avoid saying anything to Oscar. Things had been tense since last night, despite Oscar’s apology this morning. 

Oscar glanced towards you. He cleared his throat. 

“So I need to give you a heads up about something, “ He began, focusing on the road. “Someone managed to get some photos of me dropping you off at the airport and the media is making it seem like something it’s not.” 

Your head whipped towards Oscar but he didn’t look back at you. 

“I am so sorry Oscar” You looked towards your hands on your lap, “I never should’ve gotten you involved. I can move out and find a hotel. You don’t need to be dealing with this on top of everything with Mclaren and the championship battle.” You began to pick at your nails absently, pulling up hotels on your phone. 

“Hey, whoa whoa, I never said you had to move out. I just wanted to tell you so that you’re not blindsided.” He reached over and squeezed your knee. “ I don’t care what people think. You’re my friend, I'm not going to leave you homeless.”  

Oscar smoothly pulled up outside your old apartment building. 

“Do you want me to come up?” 

You shook your head and opened the car door, “I’ll be quick” 

– 

The flat was quiet when you opened the door, maybe you got lucky and Lando was out.? You heard footsteps approaching and you knew that you had no such luck.  Lando leant against the doorframe to the living room. 

“Are you done fucking my teammate then?” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, making your way towards the bedroom. “I’m not going to even answer that question, given how ridiculous that accusation is.”

It was Lando’s turn to scoff, following you towards the bedroom where you had dragged a suitcase out of the closet and were now shoving the contents of your wardrobe into it. 

“I think it’s a perfectly reasonable assumption” He snarled, “There are photos of you basically sucking his face off and you moved in with him before we were even officially done.” 

You stood up straight and stalked towards him, “ Last I checked, I wasn’t the one who called their girlfriend who has only ever tried to support you -” Your hands come up in quotation marks. “- exhausting …on live television nonetheless  You were barely a foot away from him now, your voice seething with rage, “For your information, I have no interest in Oscar that way, but even if I did, It’s not your business anymore because we are done.” 

“Whore” Lando hissed. 

“I’ll ask you once not to speak to her in that way, Norris.” Oscar stood behind Lando, the look on his face showed that he’d heard what you said about him. 

“Or what, Oscar? You’re behind me in the championship,” Lando seethed, “and now you’re fucking my leftovers. Guess you’ll always be in my shadow, huh?”

Oscars fist cracked across the side of Lando’s face and he doubled over in pain, “Fuck!” 

“I asked you once not to speak to her in that way.” Oscar turned to you,  “Are you done? What else do you need?” 

You nodded, “I’m okay, I have everything I need”

Oscar gently took the suitcase and carried it towards the door. You bent down and lightly touched Lando’s cheek. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, “I love you.” 

“No,” You reply, gently “You don’t. If you loved me you wouldn’t have said it” 

You stood up and followed Oscar out the door. 

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