#that shit was pure liquid underneath though

[misunderstandings-georg]

Wow that tart could cheese alright

[syzzish]

payback ! m. fushiguro

wc: 3.3k

경고 // warnings: not proofread. enemies to lovers. college au. oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, degrading (slut), praising (pretty girl), generally indecisive dom megumi. unprotected sex! lowercase intended.

a/n: use a condom. also i’m starting to notice my love for megumi is coming back hard.

— megumi genuinely could not explain how he felt about you. one minute you pissed him off so bad that he had to leave a lesson (of course, he didn’t hear the end of it from gojo) and then the next you frustrate him. but not just any type of frustration.

it was the type that stuck with him all day, the same moment constantly on repeat. maybe it was that you accidentally bumped into him due to lack of spacial awareness, or that you’d blatantly cut him off mid sentence to chip in your thoughts during a conversation with your friends.

whatever it was, it pissed him the fuck off, and the pent up frustration was quite the hassle to deal with on his own.

so he figured he'd call you out on it the next time you messed up his mood. maybe guilt trip you into getting him a few snacks, something light to teach you a lesson on not angering him.

the next time you did mess up, though, his plan changed.

you had just spilled your juice on his and your own uniform, the liquid seeping through to the white button-up underneath his jacket. the juice had stained your clothing as well, so you quickly removed the jacket to see that the juice had made your shirt see-through. it was a complete accident, but the look of pure distraught on the boy’s face was enough for you to gather you had just sent him fuming.

megumi didn’t say anything at all, not even after your never-ending apologies and offers to get him a new top. he simply raised his gaze from his shirt to look at you.

megumi towered over you, his lean figure intimidating you. his eyebrows were furrowed and he methodically sucked in his cheek over and over again, almost as if he was thinking on how to react. suddenly, he cocked his head to the side and relaxed his brows, a much more lightened expression, almost as if he got an idea.

“y’know what? c’mon.”

that was all he said before his larger, cold hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the scene.

quite frankly, megumi didn’t know where you two were going. somewhere private, he hoped, so he could personally humiliate you like you just did for him. there was only one distinct difference between what you just did and what he was about to do: your humiliation was for his eyes only.

as he dragged you down the halls, students looked, pointed, and whispered. this had to look odd; the school’s most moody boy and the clumsy girl together? no one expected it.

you certainly didn’t expect when megumi took a sharp turn into a janitors closet, locking the door of the tight space.

he turned to meet you, finally relaxing your wrist from his grip, which was sure to leave a bruise.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” he said coldly. the closet was dark, but not dark enough to hide your face from his gaze. you stammered to give a response, clearly intimidated by his tone.

he stepped closer, leaning down to your eye level, and in the most calm tone, he asked you once again.

“did you not hear me? i asked you a fucking question.”

“i really don’t know what you mean, it was an accident-”

“i could give two shits if it was an accident or not, you ruined my shirt.”

“well i offered to get you another but you straight up ignored me.” you said, crossing your arms, clearly annoyed by his ego.

“i heard you offering the shirt, y/n, it’s just the fact that you always seem to find a way to piss me off.” he said, his dark blue eyes locked on yours. even through the darkness of the room, he could still see that your body tensed. he knew it totally betrayed your tough exterior, and you knew it too.

“i don’t understand what you’re talking about, fushiguro. why did you drag me all the way here when i could’ve easily just gotten you a shirt?” you said.

megumi had to think about his next words wisely. he was very aware that you infuriated him.

but did it turn him on?

“y/n, i’m gonna be completely honest with you.” he said, pausing. megumi pronounced every syllable clearly, making sure to to drag out the word “completely,” almost as if he were talking to a small child.

“you frustrate me in ways i cannot fathom, but it’s something about you that doesn’t make sense to me.” he began. he took a deep breath before he spoke again.

“i don’t want anyone else to have you.”

he said it so bluntly. so casually, it was almost frightening. you had absolutely no idea what was going through this boy’s head. one minute he was pissed at you for spilling juice on his shirt, now he’s confessing his sexual attraction to you? what the fuck is going on?

megumi dreaded the next few seconds of silence — not because you didn’t respond, but because he couldn’t read your face. despite it being dark, he was close enough to make out the details of your face. he just couldn’t tell what your expression meant.

“what?”

you on the other hand were straight-up baffled.

“fushiguro i really don’t know what to say, i mean this makes absolutely no sense,” you started. you watched as megumi’s face dropped, a look of disappointment washed across it. he expected the answer, but it still stung a bit.

“but i’m not opposed to it.”

the taller boy’s head immediately lifted, his body perking up along with. you hesitated but figured this was the time to say it.

“since we’re being honest, i’ve always found you attractive, fushiguro. i just didn’t expect that you’d feel the same about me. i mean, i always ruin your day.”

“i think i just gotta teach you a lesson now.” his voiced lowered. you felt shivers go down your spine, and your nose tickled as his hair brushed against it. fushiguro’s hands made their way to your waist, snaking around to pull you impossibly closer in the small closet.

he brought a hand from your waist to your chin, lifting it up to meet his gaze.

“can i kiss you?”

you felt the room get hot as he asked you. it’s all you wanted, and who were you to keep the man waiting?

“yes, please.”

fushiguro’s lips crashed onto yours, his hand cupping your face while the other snaked lower to grip your ass. your hands felt along his muscular arms, stopping to grip for support as he smacked your ass. you gasped, and fushiguro quickly took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. the kiss grew more passionate as it continued, and for a moment, you felt bliss.

eventually, both of his hands made their way down, and fushiguro cupped your thighs as he lifted you up to straddle his waist. you felt a prominent bulge against your heat, and the pool in your panties grew.

you pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his.

“fushiguro,” you began.

“megumi.” he corrected.

“megumi, can we go somewhere more private?” you asked bluntly. you were sure you were intoxicated by his pink lips, which currently, gave your lips no filter.

he smirked as he placed you back on the ground, the height difference between you two becoming obvious again.

“yea, cmon.” megumi said, his hand reached for yours as he dragged you out of the closet and into a nearby empty classroom. he locked the door and shut the blinds behind you, making sure that no one could see. he couldn’t guarantee that they wouldn’t hear you, so at least you could keep your dignity somewhat intact.

after closing the final blind, megumi turned to you with a newfound dominance on his face. his eyes darkened and his stance got heavy, almost as if he was hunting and you were his prey.

he slowly walked towards you and extended a hand, to which you grabbed. he led you to a desk in the room and motioned for you to lay down. you complied, laying down with your legs closed.

“open.” he said as he opened your legs. he sat in the chair at the table, face nearly inches away from your clothed cunt.

“can i take this off pretty girl?” he asked, staring up at your chest. you looked down to see you were still wearing your juice-covered shirt. you nodded and he quickly reached up to help you take off your shirt. megumi admired your breasts for a minute, as they sat prettily in your favorite bra.

“you’re so beautiful.” he said. that was enough to make you weak. your ears got hot as he brought his hands up to your chest.

“can i touch?” megumi said as his hands stopped right before they made contact with your tits. you hummed softly.

“i need verbal confirmation, love.” he said calmly. you replied with a short “yes,” and with that confirmation, he reached and began to squeeze your tits.

it felt surprisingly good, his heavy hands groping you. he felt all around your breasts and leaned into your neck as well to leave a faint trail of love bites from your ear to your—actually, your bra was in the way.

“take it off.” he said bluntly. you felt that his movements stilled as you sat up to look at him. his lips were red and swollen as he retracted his hands from your chest. you looked down to see that he meant your bra, so quickly, you unhooked it and slid it off your shoulders. the cold air in the room immediately made your nipples raise.

“fuck, y/n…” was all megumi said before he pulled you by your thighs closer to the edge of the desk and latched his mouth onto your tit. as he kissed and licked your bud, he gave made sure to give equal treatment to the other by pinching your nipple in between his fingertips.

you were a moaning mess—and completely soaked—and he hasn’t even done anything yet. megumi seemed to take notice as he moved lower. as he kissed along down your waist, he slid off your skirt and began kissing your inner thighs, bruising any spot of skin his lips touched.

“megumi..” you moaned aimlessly. there wasn’t any true intent behind it—maybe it was to get him to move faster or with more purpose? who knows, you were soaking.

“be patient. besides, you owe me for being so goddamn annoying.” he said as he slipped one finger under your panty’s waistband. you felt his digit inching closer and closer to your cunt, and he knew it with the way he watched your face contort.

“megumi, please..”

“what are you asking for? go on, use your words.” megumi encouraged you as he found your clit. you body jolted as he rubbed the bud ever so slowly. you couldn’t help but moan, he knew exactly how to touch you.

“y/n?” he asked, never stilling his movements on your clothed pussy.

“megumi..p-please fuck me..” you didn’t mean to stutter, but the minute you said his name, the boy’s finger moved faster and pressed harder, sending a shockwave through your body.

“fucking slut. so impatient, lemme prep you first, ‘kay?”

megumi then hooked your panties to the side with two fingers and proceeded to spread your hole with another two. he kept a thumb on your clit, constantly.

megumi had seemingly lost all of his determination to make you wait as he licked up and down your cunt like a starved man. he couldn’t help it, your pussy had made such a mess, it was practically begging him to clean it up.

as he lapped at your cunt, you reached for megumi’s hair for support. you gripped his soft black locs as he made your legs squirm by being between them. megumi’s hands reached up to pull you impossibly closer to his face, practically suffocating himself. he pushed you to lay down as he pleased you, clearly wanting to see the way your tits rose and fell with your heavy breathing.

you felt yourself inching closer and closer to a release with the way his long tongue fucked your hole. he eventually switched out the muscle for a finger, then two, and moved his lips to your clit.

“megumi, ahh, i’m gonna-”

“cum.”

that was all he mumbled into your pussy, the vibrations hitting your clit and sending you headfirst into an orgasm. it felt so good, all of it; the way he continued to lick your juices away, the way he curled his fingers up to hit your g-spot, and especially how he looked up at you as you looked down to see his face in between your legs.

after helping you ride out your high, megumi backed away from your cunt and began to take off his jacket and unbutton his shirt.

you sat up slightly and took into account how absolutely ripped he was. it made your pussy throb the way the veins in his hands showed as he pulled down his pants to reveal the prominent bulge in his navy blue boxers. his body looked as if it was sculpted by the gods, unintentionally flexing as he put his shirt and pants to the side. he leaned over you as he asked,

“you still want me to fuck you, pretty girl?” he asked softly, stilling his movements to look you dead in the eye, despite you being completely naked. (so he had some sort of decency about him.)

“yes please.” you said, voice still breathy from practically straining it.

you were still lying down, so it made it very easy for him to slide off his boxers and position himself. you felt him rub along your entrance, and that’s when it hit you.

“uhm, megumi, do you have a condom?” you asked.

“quite honestly, i wasn’t expecting to fuck anyone today, so no.” he said bluntly. “do you want me to stop?”

you took a breath. i mean, as long as he doesn’t cum inside you should be fine, right? plus, you were already so horny, no way you were gonna stop.

“no, keep going.” you said. megumi leaned down to kiss you as he rubbed his cock along your entrance. suddenly, he began pushing in and it hurt.

“are you okay?” he whispered into your ear.

“nngh—yes, fuck, just go s-slow.” you moaned back to him, and with this confirmation, megumi continued to push into your cunt.

“god, you’re so tight.” megumi strained as he bottomed out in your pussy. he let you adjust to his size — which was a good 7.5 inches — and when you were ready, you rubbed the back of his neck and kissed his jaw.

megumi began at a very slow pace, trying to be gentle with you, despite every single fiber in his body telling him not to. sure, you annoyed the shit out of him, but he figured the least he could do was try to be a good fuck buddy.

he watched as your body rocked beneath him, your pretty tits bouncing in the direction of his thrusts. he leaned down to kiss them, leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake. his thrusts into your tight little cunt got increasingly more rough, you were pretty sure you could feel him in your throat.

you reached your hand to cover your mouth and muffle your moans when megumi reached his to circle your clit, but he didn’t appreciate that too much. the black-haired boy reached down to grab your hand from your mouth and pinned it onto the desk below you both.

“i wanna hear you, ahh, go on and t-tell me how much you love my cock, pretty.”

your pussy clenched around him, his moans in your ear making you impossibly wet.

“i love your cock so much ‘gumi, fuck! right there,”megumi looked down at the mess you two had made.

“you fucking slut, look at you, creaming on me.” with a few more rough strokes, you came on megumi, leaving a pretty white ring for him. he watched as your face contorted with pleasure and your body tensed up. he especially liked how your hands scratched his shoulders and reached for his hair as support. all of it was intoxicating? you were intoxicating.

“cum, ‘m gonna cum, w-where?” gumi struggled to keep a steady pace as he felt himself approaching his high.

“here.” you quickly pulled away from the boy and cooked off the desk to your knees. you took his cock in your mouth as you massaged his balls to get him closer and closer. you felt him throb in your mouth as he fucked your face, grabbing your hair and groaning.

“fuuuuck just like that, take my cock like the good slut you are, yea?” he groaned. “you’re gonna make me cum—”

you held megumi’s dick in your mouth, allowing yourself to choke on it. you soon felt his hot cum drip down your throat, slow thrusts from his hips helping you milk him dry.

“holy shit, y/n.”

you pulled back from his dick, not even realizing tears were falling from your eyes until his thumb wiped them away. megumi’s expression was a hard one to read—especially from the angle below him. from the best you could tell, it was a look of admiration as well as a look of bliss. but he also looked displeased? maybe it was just his usual attitude, but had you done something wrong?

“that was amazing.”

a wave of relief washed over you as megumi extended a hand for you to stand up with. he guided you to the desk and quickly put on his clothes as well as handing you your own.

“wait here okay? i’m gonna go get some stuff to clean up with.” he said, quickly exiting the room.

so, he’s not that bad after all, huh.

within 5 minutes, megumi was back with towels, clean uniforms for the both of you, and some water. he cleaned you up and handed you the new set of clothes, as well as cleaning the desks and changing himself.

“so megumi,” you began. he looked at you as he slid on his shirt. “what does this mean for us?”

“i assumed that it meant you’re mine now.”

“what?”

“did you think i was just gonna fuck you and leave?” he asked, walking closer to you.

“i mean thinking i’m attractive doesn’t necessarily cancel out finding me annoying.” you reasoned, feeling a bit intimidated by the look on his face.

megumi stepped even closer. “yeah you’re annoying, y/n, but you also make me feel things i’m not sure how to identify. i just want to make sure it’s what i think it is.” he said, his voice dropping as he looked at your eyes.

“and what do you think it is?” you asked, scared that he would admit that it was only a sexual attraction.

“i think i like you.”

my stories always end so cheesy lmao. anyway, thanks for reading! <3

[marierg]

A Simple Wish

Pairing: Comander Cody x Rowan Atwater OC (written as a reader insert)

Rating: Everybody! (for this chapter at least)

(regular world AU/ zapped into reality AU/ fix-it AU?)

Warnings: holiday depressie, loneliness, language, Hurt/comfort/fluff/comedy...

Honestly though this may get a little more interesting and reflective later so... we'll see.

A/N: So I noticed that some of the peeps (actually a lot of us) are in the bleak midwinter rut and one in particular inspired this little story. @spicyclones79s I hope this is a good start

Masterlist Next

Another year and another Christmas spent on your own. With everything being so expensive you couldn't afford to fly home. Not that your Command would give you more than a few days leave anyway, such was military life. Well only a few months left till you hit your ETS and then you'd be outta here. If they wouldn't let you fly combat anymore and the Doc could give you a medical discharge without it interfering with a Civilian flying job then all the better.

To top all of it off this week you'd been trying to kick a cold but damned if it wasn't turning into a sinus infection. Still it was Christmas Eve, tradition demanded that you make some cookies and prepare for Santa to drop off presents. Silly as it was you still wanted to have a Christmas like when you were a kid. So you made a hot toddy (extra strong), set out the cookies and lay down on the couch.

Glancing out the window you caught sight of a shooting star. Maybe there was still something of the bright eyed kid you had once been underneath all the cynicism and pain. Perhaps it was simply that every human looked to the stars in wonder and hope. Closing your eyes and snuggled under the thick fleece blanket you made a wish, "Hey Santa, if you're out there, don't suppose you could send me a friend? Maybe someone brave and smart and patient..."

Glancing at your entertainment center, eye catching on your DVD set of the Clone Wars you smirked. Chuckling at the thought you went for broke, why not. "If Marshal Commander Cody isn't busy for the next oh... forty years that'd be awesome!"

With a little drunken giggle you lay back and drifted off to sleep.

It was just past one in the morning when a solid thud and some creative cursing summoned your mind back to semi consciousness. You thought it might be some of the dude bros from across the hall coming home after too much holiday cheer at the bar. So you rolled over and went back to sleep.

"Can anyone hear me? Hello? Rex..."

Oh this was Kriffing great. Cody couldn't believe this. One minute he's about to be shot while escaping the Empire, the next he's standing in some strange domicile. Glancing around Cody noted the lower use of technology and the darkness outside the windows. He was definitely not where he had been just a few moments ago.

It was a small apartment of some form, second floor above a small town street. Cody also noticed the woman who was asleep on the couch. It was far too dark to take in all her features, but pretty none the less. Easing his way through the space (was that a tree of some form?) and closer to the window he further confirmed that he was not where he should be. Vehicles rolling on wheels, no discernable space port, "Where in Sith hells am I?"

Hearing a distinctly deep, male voice you peeked your eyes open again. Holy shit there was someone in your apartment! Fueled by liquid courage and pure pissed off rage you took the throw pillow and began to bash the stranger. "TAKE THAT YOU CREEP!"

"What the-," Cody wasn't sure if he was being beaten by the small hellion or if this was their way of saying hello. Grabbing the soft cushion out of their hands he took his helmet off with the other. "Whoa.. Hold on... I can explain!"

"Alexa lights on!" The room illuminated immediately. You're not sure what hit the floor first the pillow from his hand or your jaw. "You're... You're..."

Cody had to move quickly to catch the poor little thing as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Great, just great. Placing her back on the padded lounger he elevated her feet and checked her pulse, "Poor girl, must have scared her... hey you still with me?"

Blinking open your eyes you looked up into kind brown ones full of concern. Oh yeah you had had way too much to drink or you were dreaming... except the pounding headache only confirmed that neither of those could be true. The man pulled his gloves off and brushed the hair back from your face, hallucinations weren't solid and they couldn't manipulate your body. Nor do they chuckle when you reach up and touch their face. That scar is so distinctive that there was no question. Squinting at the man you took a deep breath, "Commander Cody?"

"Yes! Do I know you?" Cody lit up at the fact that this Nat born seemed to recognize him.

Watching the man closely you placed the flat of your hand on his cheek, shaking as it was. You couldn't believe it, he was actually here. How? How could he be here?!

"I need to get back, but I don't know where I am?" Cody could see that you were still coming around. He could only hope that you could help him. "Ma'am I need to get back to my brothers they're in trouble."

"You're in North Dakota... Earth." You saw the confusion on his face, you sat up biting your lip. This was the kind of thing that happened in books and TV, not real life. Yet here stood none other than one of the hero's of the grand army of the republic. Giving yourself a good pinch just to confirm that this was real you saw as the man smirked.

"I promise I mean you no harm," Cody wasn't quite sure why he found your reaction so funny but it felt good to laugh. Holding your gaze he tried again, "Is there a spaceport nearby?"

Blowing out a breath you looked at the façade of calm the Commander held to. You'd had that same look many a time in the past and as then you settled on being blunt with the situation. "I'm afraid you're a long way from home Commander."

Cody felt his gut drop, though he tried to remember what General Kenobi would say about the Force working in mysterious ways. The question remained though, "And how do you know me?"

"It's complicated... and I don't think you're going to believe me." Grimacing you sigh, "I don't even think I believe it."

Carefully taking the woman's hand in his own Cody gave it a reassuring squeeze, "Try me."

The next few hours were spent talking, arguing, and confirming the few known facts as the two were able to put together. Cody was not in his own galaxy or time. That after viewing a small clip of a holo film series showing him and his brothers, you explained that he was considered a fictional character. You had been kind enough to take him to the roof to confirm there was not a single recognizable constellation in the sky even. This was a far more primitive world than his own as well, the mechanical devices looked like they were put together by a group of cadets. No, Cody was not where he was supposed to be, nor could either of you explain how he came to be here. He seriously doubted it was because of a wish on a star.

You had been terrified as Cody revealed to you what had been happening right before landing in your living room. That one revelation made you grateful to whatever power had sent him, glad beyond measure that it saved him. Then you were heartbroken seeing the hopeless, lonely look on his face as it started to set in that there was no way to send him home. As you came back to the couch you handed him a cup of tea, "I'm really sorry Commander, truly."

"It's not your fault Rowan, I just wish I knew how they are? If they're safe?" He couldn't yet sip the tea, if he drank it then that meant accepting that this was real, that he was really and truly stuck in this place.

Sitting opposite him you took a deep breath, "I can tell you what I know, at least how the story has been told here. Rex and Wolffe survive and fight against the Empire, Gregor too. Boba is the Daimyo of Tattoine."

"And the others? Wooley, Boil, Fox?"

"I can't say for certain, I'm sorry. But I will tell you that Rex saw the fall of the Empire for sure. He even fought on Endor with the rebel forces there in the beginning of the end. You can be really proud of him," reaching across to pat his hand you felt horrible. This was all your fault!

Cody took hold of your comforting touch, it wasn't often clones were treated kindly by natborns. He felt the momentary stiffness but then the relaxation as he just held on to you. Cautious little thing, but you hadn't crumpled under the impossible situation and instead were being an anchor for him. Cody smiled at your compliment to his brothers, "I'm always proud of my Vod'e."

"I'm sorry... for everything." For all he endured, all that he faced now it wasn't fair. The clones had done nothing wrong and still they had been used. A great many of your fellows felt the same.

Cody chuffed and smirked, "I sincerely doubt that you're at fault."

The two of you sat for a minute not sure what the next step should be. Being of a practical mind and also a tired body you took a deep breath and tried to make the next right choice. "Well in the mean time you're staying here. Why don't you get comfortable and I'll get some blankets. We can work on it more in the morning."

Cody chuffed out a breath, "Is that an order?"

"You got a better offer?" You sassed back.

That did get a laugh out of Cody, "Aye Ma'am."

After he had gotten settled on your, sofa he thought you called it, Cody watched again as you paused in the doorway glancing back at him. There was something serene about you, a kindness that was like a balm to the ills of the world. It was unique and beautiful to him.

"Good night Commander."

"You can call me by my name Rowan." Cody did chuckle at the flush rising in your cheeks, "Only my troopers call me by my rank."

"Oh, of course... I mean duh..." Oh well done, such an intelligent response Ro. Squinting and blinking your eyes open in embarrassment you turned, "Goodnight Cody, sleep well."

Cody rather liked seeing you all flustered, it was karking adorable. Mischief taking his better judgement he rolled pulling the blankets up, "Goodnight mesh'la."

"Oh my...night!" You quickly closed the door. Oh Ro what have you gotten yourself into now? settling under your own blankets you closed your eyes. and somewhere between the waking and the dreams you thanked the stars. One soldier safe for another night.

As he rolled and started to drift the commander was set to the side leaving simply the man. Cody may not know where he was or how to get home, but he felt safe here with you. Strange situation aside, for the first time in a very long time Cody relaxed enough to fall into an exhausted, deep sleep. No nightmares of battle droids, no screams, just the quiet of the night.

Tags:

@spicyclones79s @the-rain-on-kamino @arctrooper69

[trollblivion-ooc]

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS NOT ALL CANON TO THE CURRENT STORY- I MADE THIS WHEN I WAS STILL MAKING THINGS UP!

THIS IS A PLOT DRAFT this is just something ive had in my drafts for a while !!!!

depicts probably canon topics in homestuck (typical death and injury.)

start: (still partially canon to the original timeline though (before endur))

Dream Sequence: Xxxxxx Lumeni: EO @enduring-oblivion

=> Your Name Is AKRINE LUMENI

(Original Timeline)

YOU are a GOLDBLOOD but previously thought you were a pure VIOLETBLOOD. Your morail is NORAXI AFROND, she is a BRONZEBLOOD.

This far caste relationship is RARE in this area, you two are prone to being picked at by a certain PURPLEBLOOD, who happens to have an issue with being violent and antagonistic.

Right now, that shithead PURPLEBLOOD named VIEVNA FISSUS is picking on your bull

What do you do?

=> Watch What Happens

You watch what happens, as you are currently too far away to deal with this prick right now, besides, your bull could handle herself.

Shes strong and confident and you have all faith in her to take care of this, thats what she usually does anyway when youre in the sea.

She is very beautiful and wonderful and your everything and you cannot live without her. especially after everything shes done for you.

She could handle herself.

Until she couldnt.

There Vievna was, tearing apart your bull, after having said vile words about her mark that you gave her of your golden heart symbol, which she was so proud of.

The mark that Vievna has slashed apart.

Which she loved. Oh, did she love

There she was being torn apart, wonderful bronze blood spilling onto the beautiful sand. and water

Thats all you can really focus on other than the soft wavering reflection of the pink moon on the edge of the sea behind her.

You are not frozen.

=> Get Him

You rush at him in a blind rage, pressure building in your temples underneath the skin of your lower pair of horns.

Those damned HORNS

You punch his face as hard as you can , ripping him away from your dearly beloved, who is quite silent for someone who just got mauled.

You punched him too hard,

M•YBE NOT H•RD ENOUGH!

The skin on your knuckles peel from the jab, gold waves of blood dripping out.

You look at his stupid fucking horns, that snake.

TH•T SN•KE!

=> Grab

You grab onto his right horn as hard as you can and you-

SNAP IT OFF!

You snap it off of his stupid head.

You hear shouts somewhere near you, yelling, calls

“Hey!” “+ holly shit !” “S0me0ne fucking st0b him!”

The pressure near your temples is building so much but you don’t care. You can only see red.

You’re going to kill him.

You’re going to tear him apart for what he did.

Do it.

Do it.

Do it!

And you do.

You push him down

Near you, theres a sound meek and small but concerned, it doesn’t matter.

I he•r-

You hear an awful shattering sound right next to your facial fins, and feel a weight lift of you, pressure relieving from your temples.

Something horribly loud comes from the sky.

Rushing sounds of something else come from around you.

It doesn’t matter.

You’re about to bite off his face when- suddenly the sky changes in an instant, your feetpaws feel wet

Screaming, theres screaming around you, and another concerned and horrified sound.

No, a word.

€ Akr!…?

You glance and through your red haze you see-

And suddenly you can see again

And you look around

There are shards of… horn floating in the water nearby. you feel something sticky on your face, touching it and looking at your paw.

Gold shimmering liquid. you’re bleeding. you bring your hand higher.

pawing the air near your temples.

The empty air.

Your second pair of horns are gone.

Thats what you wanted right?

You shattered them with your rage somehow.

You didnt know you could do that.

You step closer to your bull, she looks wrong, wrong like youve never seen before, shaky and faint.

That golden heart of yours is almost gone from her skin.

You grab her shoulders, ignoring the water W•tr? that consumes your legs as you kneel down to your beloved.

Its like her eyes were turning white, you look around and-

a rainbow of colors in the water thats flooding in. bodies floating.

did…

did you do this? how did you do this?

=> Look Up

oh.

the moon.

youve broken it.

But violetbloods c•nt-

Youre not a violetblood, Akrine

What did you do.

I dont know- i-

Akrine.

…Yes?

Look down

….Oh.. oh no.. i-

Nor•?

You blew up the sky

I dont c•re- Nor•???

Stop shaking her, shes not going to wake up

Wh•t?????

Do you feel tired?

I do but-

Sleep.

=> Sleep

You wake up. you see a small troll that almost looks like you, it’s kind of funny, really.

Hes running around next to her lusus, isnt that cute?

Where is everyone?

Dont worry about that right now, can you stay with him for me?

With who?

The troll that looks almost like you in a funny way

I-…ok•y

Thank you, Remnant.

=> Hello Endur!

Im going to s•ve her

[cryptidsurveys]

Friday, October 4th, 2024.

Has anyone ever stolen your survey questions before, if you make surveys?: When it comes to generic questions, I wouldn't really consider that "stealing." There are only so many questions you can ask before they start to get ridiculous. As for something super specific, though, not that I can recall. I wouldn't even care if someone did. They're just surveys, after all.

Leggings with denim shorts; yes or no?: That's probably the only way you could convince me to wear shorts - with leggings/stockings underneath. Otherwise, I much much much prefer pants.

Do you like to burn candles?: I like the idea of burning candles, but as for actually burning them? I'm scared I'm going to burn the house down, or worse - light one of my cat's tails on fire.

Are Yankee Candles really all that?: I will say that I love me a good candle aisle… But I don't have a particular brand preference.

Have you ever broken into a public place, like a high school, after it was late and secluded?: No, but I have explored an abandoned house, as well as a house that was still being built/under construction.

Have you ever gone to the movies and hopped from movie to movie all day?: Pretty sure I've only movie hopped once.

Have you ever been to a drive-in movie?: I went to a few of them when I was younger. Now I'd just be too sleepy. That's waaay past my bedtime.

Would you be interested in going scuba-diving?: Nooo. I might be able to tolerate it in shallow water, but that's about it (IF even that). And I absolutely would not go into any sort of cave. You can fvck right off with that nonsense. (Lmao, I've obviously watched far too many videos of cave diving tragedies).

Have you ever heard of the band “Indian Jewelry”?: I haven't.

Do you go to church?: I went occasionally when I was younger, but not anymore.

Have you ever had sex with someone you didn’t love?: No.

Have you ever been in a cave?: I've been to Cave Of The Winds and Carlsbad Caverns.

Do you anyone who’s painfully socially awkward?: Me. But who knows, maybe I'm not as awkward as I think I am. Maybe I just ruminate on it too much.

Do you actually know anyone named ‘Bill’ or ‘Bob’?: No.

Have you ever scared yourself when you sneezed?: Not sure how I would scare myself with my own sneeze. They're not exactly a surprise. I mean, I can feel 'em coming on.

Have you ever had to attend therapy?: I've been in therapy on and off since I was in middle school. I feel like I only started to make real progress with my current therapist, though, and even that took years before it became truly noticeable.

So, what about Billy Ray Cyrus talking about how Hannah Montana ruined his life?: What about it…?

Who were you last in a hot tub with?: I have no idea.

What’s your favorite liquid coffee creamer flavor?: There's this pistachio one that I get that I really like. I'm also fond of hazelnut and pumpkin spice.

Can you knit?: I used to be able to. It's not super complicated, so I could probably pick it back up again fairly quickly.

Can you do the splits?: Not even close.

Are you wearing any rings? Not at the moment, but I do have several rings that I wear now and then.

Have you ever sold anything to a pawn shop?: No.

Have you ever traveled outside of your home country?: No.

Would you be satisfied growing up to be like your parents?: I'm not trying to throw my mom under the bus here (because this isn't meant to be mean - it's purely an observation), but I wouldn't want to turn out like her because she still has so much unresolved trauma. I wouldn't want to spend the whole rest of my life stuck in that hell. I'd like to think that by the time I'm her age, I will have found a way to move past or put to rest all the shit I've been through. And I wouldn't hate to turn out like my dad - we already have a lot of personality traits in common - but I would just rather be my own person, I guess.

Is there anything other than clothes in your dresser?: Yeah. Lots of books, for one.

How long does it take you to clean your room?: Maybe 20-30 minutes. Well, that's if we don't count the time it takes to wash/dry my bedding.

What’s in your closet? A whole bunch of random junk. Maybe one day I will finally feel brave enough to tackle it. I don't even know why I'm holding on to some of those things. It's just unreasonably hard to let go of what are relatively insignificant physical memories.

How many pictures do you take of yourself in a week?: Maybe a couple. Most of my photos are of cats, nature, and food.

Do you use iTunes, or do you unlawfully download music?: Neither. I just listen on YouTube.

Has anyone ever sent you flowers?: No.

Have you ever had a water balloon war?: Probably.

Do you have to buy something at every store you go in?: I don't have to, but if I'm going to a store, then there's probably a reason for it. I don't often go window shopping.

Do you know anyone who always looks stoned all the time, whether they are or not?: Amy - a previous staff member at the shelter. She didn't necessarily look stoned, but she acted/spoke that way. She was so chill.

Have you ever seen the movie Ghost World?: No.

The most expensive clothing item you own; how much did it cost?: Nothing I own is especially expensive, but maybe one of my hoodies? So like 45 dollars?

How many towels do you go through in a week?: Oh man…at the animal shelter…I don't even want to think about it.

Have you ever found a member of the same sex attractive?: Yeah.

Are you good at relaxing?: I'm good at doing things that are stereotypically relaxing, but am I actually relaxed? NOPE!

Do you count calories?: No. I have a general idea of how many I eat, but I don't closely track them and I try not to think about it too much.

Would you rather try Blueberry and Hazelnut Pringles, or Grilled Shrimp?: Blueberry and hazelnut.

[ryanlockheart]

— ₊ ° . ☆ there was one side of riley that wyatt hadn't gotten to know yet. he could be down-right insatiable and full of lust, but the smaller boy hadn't learned that quite yet. riley's track record with guys hadn't been the best: closet cases or emotional unavailable guys... but wyatt? he was practically perfect, an angel in plain sight. he was someone who would treat him like royalty, who he could actually talk to, who his parents would absolutely adore. it was in that moment, he was eternally grateful for whomever had paired them up to be roommates their freshman year. "that's the thing, wy. if they're the right person, you won't scare them off. you'll see just how badly they want you too in their eyes," riley said softly. "don't settle for anything less." he never had set out to be some guru for big-dicked twinks, but wyatt was too precious for him not to help. of course, he himself was intrigued about what was hidden underneath his jeans, but he didn't automatically expect wyatt to feel some kind of spark between them — but in the case that wyatt did, riley was going to snatch him up in a heartbeat. "it's a coraline reference, wy! he's not making fun of you... i don't think?" riley assured him gently. "also, why do y'know what the hell wyborn means?" he giggled softly to himself, a soft shade of pink blossoming on his fair cheeks. riley was becoming absolutely smitten with wyatt, and he couldn't help himself. it was turning into more than he ever had anticipated, but somehow, riley just loved every second of it. "who knows you better than me, wy? who helps me with my calculus homework 'cause i can't do math for shit? and don't get me started on how hot you are..." his voice trailed off, his brown eyes looking up at wyatt from his spot on the floor. riley found himself spiraling without a way to stop, but he embraced it. he was going to give wyatt his all. "well... i wanna take care of you, baby. 's the least i can do," riley said, his voice breathy. "y'don't think that's weird, do you?" he was terrified that he was going about everything all the wrong way, but once wyatt had given in, riley was starting to find his footing again. he could tell how much wyatt was enjoying himself with his little groans of pleasure. it just made the fire in the pit of his stomach burn hotter. "that's what i wanted to hear," the raven-haired male hummed happily. his mouth was eager, and wyatt surely could see it. riley wanted to feel an ache in his throat from that massive cock pressing down his throat. he wanted to be an utter mess for wyatt, to show him that he was the one he'd been waiting for. "i will, baby. promise," riley said with a nod. he was more than confident in his own ability — more out of pure desire and desperation than skill — but wyatt was sweet to think of him. wyatt's cock was certainly the biggest he'd ever touched, but riley had never been more eager. as the massive cock pressed down his throat, he fought back his gag reflex. the noises coming from his mouth were obscene. drool pooled down his chin, soaking wyatt's balls in his saliva. his brown eyes were red, and tears streamed down his porcelain skin. riley breathed through his nose and took it all happily. he moaned around wyatt's cock, sending vibrations around the massive length. his shorts were stained with a spot of pre-cum, but he didn't care. there was hardly a warning before he felt the warm liquid spilling down his throat, but riley just swallowed it down like it was nothing but water. what he wasn't expecting, though, was for wyatt to pull back and cover his face in even more of his seed. his chiseled features were soaked in the sticky, warm liquid... but he didn't care. his lips twisted up into a smirk, his gaze still fixated on wyatt. "thank you, baby," riley hummed, lapping a little bit of the cum off his lips. "don't be sorry. i love it. d'i do a good job?" he questioned, letting his puppy dog eyes do all the work. it was all a ploy just to get what he wanted: even more of wyatt. "y'think i look real pretty?"

as sad as it was to admit, wyatt had never really had a friend. there were a few acquaintances here and there, but no one that he could really talk to— until riley came into his life. a friendship grew between them rather quickly, and now wyatt could confidently refer to riley as his best friend. "but what if they don't want me? what if i scare them off like the rest?" wyatt asked softly. strangely enough, confiding in riley had him looking at the boy in a brand new light. wyatt's train of thought wandered to all of the times he'd gotten a peak at riley's naked body. he would have had to be blind not to see that riley was gorgeous, but wyatt never thought that anything would happen between them— now, the idea wouldn't leave his head. "wybie's short for wyborne, which is old english for born warrior or something along those lines," he explained. "wait— you think he's been making fun of me this whole time? i thought he was hard of hearing." as the other carried on, wyatt was struck by disbelief. he kept repeating it to himself over and over— riley mackenzie thinks i'm hot, ryan mackenzie thinks i'm hot. he couldn't fathom it. "honestly, ri. i'm having a hard time understanding this whole time," wyatt chuckled awkwardly. "you could get anyone you wanted. why... me?" the smaller boy felt lightheaded as riley swirled his tongue around the tip of his cock, toes curling in his sneakers from the pleasure. "c-cum on your face? eat me out? my feet?!" wyatt choked out. "jeez, ri— i had no clue that you were like this." consider his mind blown, amongst other things. riley's mouth was heaven, his filthy words working magic of their own within his psyche. images of his roomie drenched in cum, or his face pressed between his smooth ass, had taken over. "it's all yours," he said before he could stop himself. "'s just— you look so pretty with it, it'd be a real shame if i never got to see you like this again. so... y'can have it anytime you want it, ri." wyatt felt like his brain was no longer connected to his mouth. his roommate's slick lips and warm tongue were all he could think about. wyatt found himself nodding along with every word that left riley's lips, blindly agreeing to whatever the other wanted. "tell me if i'm being too rough, okay? i heard what you said, but... 's big," wyatt said, curling his fingers into riley's hazelnut mane. his cock slipped past the other's lips yet again— this time with wyatt's hands guiding him along the length. he groaned deeply as his shaft was surrounded by that wet heat, tightening his grip on riley's hair as he began to thrust his hips forward. "god, your mouth is driving me crazy," he moaned out, working into a steady rhythm. his saliva soaked balls slapped against riley's chin with each thrust. wyatt's clenched shut as his movements grew faster, getting lost in the sensation of his roommate's tight throat. the pleasure washed over him like nothing the nerdy boy had ever felt before. it was so strong that he didn't even realize how close to his climax he was before his load was spilling down riley's throat. "fuck! oh my god, 'm cumming— 'm so sorry, ri. can't stop," he stuttered, pulling the other off of his cock. he shot the rest of his load across his roommate's delicate features, cum leaking from his slit like the heavy flow of a faucet. riley's face was drenched, but he'd never looked prettier. "i should'a warned you," wyatt huffed. "i... i cum a lot."

[lexie-cameron8]

Alright, the one-shot I’ve been trying to finish for days now.

Warning: smut, light choking, cream pie, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), kinda shit towards the end.

A/n: An AU where Topper’s little sister participated in the TikTok trend, “Calling my brother’s best friend pretty”

Rafe Cameron X Fem!Reader

. . .

Y/n-

You're pretty ;)

Rafe-

What?

Does Top know that you're texting me rn?

No idc and it doesn't matter

because you're pretty

Fuck

Y/n say it again

You're pretty Rafe, so

fucking pretty

Shit, no stop

Make me

FUCK

Screw this shit I'm coming over

You can't

Toppers's home

You should've thought about

that before you texted me

I'm coming over

• • • • • •

After reading that final text message, Y/n felt a rush of butterflies form in her stomach. She'd quickly tossed her phone onto her bed and rushed into the bathroom.

As she turned on the shower and waited for the water to run warm, y/n couldn't stop thinking about Rafe's plans for when he arrived. The plans couldn't be good, especially if he was rushing.

They would be good, but bad at the same time.

Standing in the middle of her closet, y/n stared at the mirror in front of her. She played with the strings on a hoodie that she'd found as she examined her body in the spandex shorts that she wore.

She gave herself a nod and heard a knock on her bedroom door. "Y/n I will kick this door down if you don't open it," Rafe's voice echoed through her ears.

She slowly, but excitedly opened the door revealing a nearly sweaty Rafe. His face was slightly red and he wore a a backwards had that made Y/n weak at the knees.

Without any warning he stepped in, closed the door with his back foot and brought y/n into a rough and needy kiss.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?" He questioned in between every turn of their heads during their kiss. Y/n moaned into his mouth as a response.

Rafe had his hands roaming all over her body as the back of Y/n's knees hit the edge of the bed.

Her lips disconnected from his as slow as possible. She tried to make it nearly unbearable for him. She sat on her knees on her mattress with Rafe still standing in front of her. He trailed his fingers to her chin and tilted her head up to look at him.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned his head back. The sudden warmth that surrounded the top of his thumb surprised him. Rafe looked back down to find Y/n's tongue swirling around the tip of his thumb.

"Fuck." He mumbled while pulling dow his swim shorts along with his boxers. He removed his hand from her grasp and watched her lick her lips in anticipation.

Y/n watched his erection spring free from his restricting briefs and hit his stomach. She couldn't help but look up at him while she pulled him closer to her by his waist. His length was right in front of her breasts and Rafe didn't know if he could contain himself much longer.

Y/n placed tender kisses on his tip and trailed them down to the base of his length. A soft chuckle rolled of her tongue when she looked up to find Rafe's jaw clenched, he was tired of the teasing. "You're pretty when you look down at me like that." She taunted him with that phrase.

Though it was the reason he was there in the first place, Rafe truly hated how it made him feel. Weak at the knees, butterflies in his stomach. It made him feel soft. "Tsk...tsk" Rafe shook his head slightly and held his length, tapping the tip onto Y/n's lips. "Open up," he teased.

Y/n obliged and took his tip into her mouth. She swirled her tongue to collect any precum that might've leaked. Chuckles left her while she refused to take him any deeper knowing that it nearly killed him.

Rafe tried to keep eye contact with her, but it was nearly impossible. He was overwhelmed with the constant pleasure and anytime that Y/n made any noise it would send vibrations throughout Rafe's body and bring him to pure ecstasy. "C'mon baby, you can go deeper," Rafe cooed with his hands gently pushing y/n's head further down his cock.

She relaxed herself feeling nothing other than the growing heat between her thighs. She loved the way Rafe used her mouth for his pleasure, barley giving a care about her own.

Extremely loud moans escaped his mouth before he finally pulled y/n's head away. "Fuck, look at my pretty girl." Rafe's hand cupped her chin while using his fingers to spread her saliva around her chin. "Letting me use your mouth, god you're so fucking dirty." He crooned.

A soft smile showed in her lips as a tear streamed down her face. Rafe leant down and pursed his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her left eye. His tongue dragged down her cheek, licking her tears and tasting the salty liquid.

Y/n giggled as Rafe's tongue reached her lips, kissing her with small praises escaping his lips every now and then.

With his muscular body, Rafe pushed her down onto the bed so he was now hovering over her. "I'm gonna fuck you now if that's okay." Y/n placed a kiss on his soft lips and that's all Rafe needed to push into her.

Y/n's eyes widened as a loud moan was silenced when she glued her lips shut. Rafe chuckled with a rough thrust, bottoming out inside of her. Instead of the outcome he expected of blowing Y/n's mind with one thrust, he'd just hit a spot that nearly made him cum right there.

He threw his head back and groaned loudly, but it was quickly muffled with Y/n's hand. She couldn't have Topper know that she had company, especially if it was Rafe.

"If you're not quiet I will tie you up, get myself off and will edge you until it hurts." She threatened, but in some twisted way, Rafe liked it.

His eyes fluttered closed when he started to slowly thrust in an out of her, going his deepest every time. Y/n's arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. Though she wanted to kiss his lips, she has other plans.

Y/n arched her back just to tease him, her breasts pressing against his chin. Rafe's mouth sucked over her breasts sending her over the edge.

Y/n gripped the bed sheets and Rafe held firm onto her neck just to keep her quiet. The squirming girl underneath him made him feel the need to pull out because he was seconds away from coming.

But, Y/n stopped him by wrapping her legs around his waist. She wanted him, all of him. "Cum inside me Rafe." She whispered, still trying to recover from her intense orgasm.

With her words and the sexy tone, Rafe released his cum into her, connecting his lips to hers once again.

***

Y/n and Rafe stood in front of her bathroom mirror after a long ten minutes of after care. "What the fuck did you do to me?" Y/n laughed at her appearance. Dark hickeys, bruises on her hips, hair messy, saliva still spread over her chin and down to her neck.

“Looks like I did a good job,” Rafe teased, proud of his masterpiece.

Y/n then looked at his appearance. “I didn’t do half bad.” She smiled, admiring the messy hair, nearly faded hand imprints on his neck, and swollen lips.

“Did you say my pretty girl earlier?”

Rafe sucked in a breath. “I didn’t think that you’d remember that.�� He chuckled before pressing a kiss on her lips as he stood behind her.

[lacontroller1991]

The Other Stevens: Chapter 1

Main Master List The Other Stevens Master List

Warnings: age gap relationship, drinking, language, sexual passes, sexual innuendos, mention of masturbation

Word Count: 1.6k

-----------

The first time you met Gordo Stevens was at a pool party. You were 17 and had just moved to Houston attending Seabrook High where you met Danny who had immediately invited you over, and you were quick to accept.

Every weekend you, Kelly, Danny and Jimmy would hang out at the pool until Gordo would eventually stumble out of his room or onto the driveway, drunk as a skunk, and killing the mood. You weren’t an idiot, however, you know about him and his ex wife and despite him being “damaged goods” you found Gordon Stevens to be insanely attractive, attractive enough to be the sole object of your attention.

And so it began, your obsession. You’ve read every single news article, seen every public video footage, seen every photo of him and it was never enough to satisfy you. 

By the time you were 19, you knew he saw you, and not in the traditional “you’re right in front of me” aspect but in the sensual aspect. He started to take notice of your smooth sunkissed skin, your long glossy hair and your plump, luscious lips - always shining with a strawberry lip gloss he’s seen you use. He’s also started to take notice of your long, toned legs and your perfect perky breasts. He also noticed your radiant smile whenever he was around and the way your body always angles toward him no matter where you were sitting. But, Gordo Stevens isn’t naive. He knows that your attraction for him is all in his head and that a girl as gorgeous and young as you would never go for a lumpy, middle aged has been. He’s wrong. Because what he doesn’t know is that everytime you come over, you’re always wearing a pure, white lingerie set underneath your clothes, hoping that one day he’ll finally take a hint and have you as his, but for now, lonely nights and lingering glances will have to do.

It’s early springtime in 1983 and the sun beats down on you. Despite wearing next to nothing, the sun still warms your skin up. Sitting up on the lounge chair, you look over to your friends, pushing your sunglasses up into your hair. “Hey guys, Imma head inside for a drink. Can I get you anything?” Danny looks at you from his spot next to you and offers you a toothy smile and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his flirtatious nature.

“I’m good, thanks though. What about you guys?” Kelly and Jimmy shake their heads in denial and wave their drinks in the air before Danny turns back to you. “Dad should have some Buds somewhere in the fridge,” he mentions as you mumble a ‘thanks’ and make your way over to the patio door, shimmying down your bathing suit top to expose more cleavage than necessary. Stepping into the house you let a small moan slip from your lips when you feel the cool AC hit your skin.

“Hot out there?” His voice shocks you as your head whips to the kitchen where Gordo stands, hand in a jar of cheeseballs. You smile at him, causing him to shift awkwardly.

“Oh, hi Mr. Stevens. Didn’t see you there,” you make your way into the kitchen as he subconsciously backs up against the fridge and sucks in his gut. You stop in front of him, causing his heart to hammer in his chest. You look behind you and Gordo uses the time to quickly brush the crumbs off his shirt. “But yes, it’s hot out there, which is why I came in for a drink.” Gordo and you remain still for a minute before he realizes he’s standing in the way.

“Shit, sorry,” he scoots out of the way as you brush past him and grab a can of beer out of the fridge. He eyes the can. “Aren’t you a little too young to drink?”

You smirk and open the can, guzzling the amber liquid and letting some drip off your chin and onto your breasts, pretending to not notice the way his eyes follow the drip of the foamy liquid down your chest. Finishing off the can, you use the back of your hand to wipe away the excess as you look down to your breasts with a laugh. “Shit, seems I completely missed my mouth,” even though your words are innocent enough, Gordo can’t stop the gears turning in his head. You reach behind him and grab a glass of water and fill it up in the sink, loving the way his eyes burn holes into your back. “I mean, I did just turn 20. Drinking age is 18, so no, I guess. Guess I’m old enough. Technically an adult,” you shrug your shoulders as you turn around and rest against the counter, casually sipping on your water as he sets down the bag of cheeseballs and coughs, trying to collect his thoughts. Noticing the way he seems to struggle with himself, you let a small smile plaster onto your face. “Oh by the way, when is Sgt Slaughter’s next match? I keep trying to ask Danny but he never seems to remember.”

“You’re interested in wrestling?” Gordo raises his brows in shock as you nod.

“Yeah, I love watching them beat each other up. It’s so staged and hilarious.” Gordo smiles and laughs along with you as he raises his own beer in agreement.

“It is, but the next match is Tuesday. Do you-”

“Jeez (Y/N), what’s taking so long?” Danny crashes through the patio door, causing you and Gordo to jump. You smile at your friend. 

“I was just asking your dad when the next wrestling match was since you can never remember,” you tease the elder Stevens kid as he rolls his eyes and pushes past his dad only to grab a couple of more beers. You don’t miss the way Gordo kinda just shuffles to the side. “Danny! Use your manners. That was rude,” you scold him and Gordo’s lips twitch upward into a smile as Danny rolls his eyes. 

“Ok well, wrestling is stupid and you’re missing all of the fun. Come o-” he eyes the living room for a second and pinches the bridge of his nose. “When’s Sheila coming over?” You and Gordo look over to the living room and Gordo blushes, embarrassed about the mess. He immediately goes over and picks up a couple of cans, trying to tidy it up and you move to join him but Danny grabs your arm and drags you with him. “No, come on, he can clean it up himself.”

“Daniel. That’s your father, why the hell are you talking to him like that?” You jerk your arm away from Danny as he searches your face for any signs that you’re joking but when he finds none he scoffs. “I’m gonna help your dad. I’ll be out in 10, ok?” He nods his head and opens a beer.

“You’re too nice for your own good. You’re gonna miss the fun,” he calls out before exiting the house, leaving you and Gordo alone. Walking over to him, you help pick up various cans and papers and Gordo huffs.

“I don’t know what the hell happened to him. Ever since he turned 15 he’s been a pain in my side,” Gordo comments, throwing away trash while you smile at him in concern.

“Yeah, he can be a jerk sometimes. But that wasn’t ok. My dad would have spanked me. Hard,” you joke but Gordo’s thoughts run dirty. You take notice of his blank stare. “Mr. Stevens? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he snaps out of his trance and struggles to maintain eye contact with you, especially with your breasts pouring out of your top. “Thanks for helping me. I have a cleaner but she’s been out sick.” You wave him off and stand to your full height before stretching, letting your top ride up over the bottom of your breasts causing Gordo’s eyes to trail down your stomach, as his thoughts run wild. His dick twitches in his pants. He needs to get out of there and as soon as possible because if he doesn’t, well, he doesn’t know what he will do. “You should probably get back out there, don’t want Danny throwing a fit again.” He laughs and you smile, fixing your bathing suit top a little. 

“Yeah, I probably should. It was nice talking to you Mr. Stevens.” 

“It was nice talking to you too,” you wave him a goodbye as you head back out to his pool, stealing a beer from Danny and plopping down next to Kelly to discuss whatever girls discuss. Gordo doesn’t focus on it too much, not when his cock is aching in his pants. 

Scurrying away to his room, he quickly locks the door and unbuckles his pants, shoving his hand in to massage his member, he allows a moan to escape his lips. He knows it’s wrong and he shouldn’t be touching himself to the thought of you, but he can’t help it. He can’t help the way the beer falls onto your breasts, or when you lean over, you expose everything to him, or the way your breasts are too big for the top. He realizes that none of it’s his fault as he pictures your hand working him instead of himself. If anything, it’s your fault for being so pure, but so dirty and it drives him insane. 

----------

General Tag List: @marvelousmermaid @himbovillain-anon @babblydrabbly @a-reader-and-a-writer @fairchildflag @infatuatedjanes @niki-xie

MCB Tag List: @ed-baldwin @reveluving @sugapapichulo @violetmuses

[bunnykawa]

i’m better than you! (oikawa x f. reader)

summary: If there was one thing Oikawa hated more than geniuses, it was your boyfriend.

a/n: thought about oikawa with a glock and it had me feeling some type of way. so here’s 6.2k words of what’s been in my head. also if you love iwa-chan, i’m deeply sorry. (btw someone replied to my last fic saying they were gonna move to the states with iwa-chan and...yeah that was funny cs this was sitting my drafts) 

warnings: 18+, yandere themes, implied character death, mentions of blood/gore, GUNPLAY!!, violence, noncon/dubcon/rape, little bit of exhibitionism?, mentions of cheating, brief mentions of stalking, abusive language/cursing

Oikawa didn’t know when it started.

It could’ve been the first time he ever saw you in school, so quiet and shy, with a pink tinge across your face when you glanced in his direction. Or it could’ve been the first time you spoke to him, with a little tremble to your lips as you struggled to form the right words that would leave a lasting impression. Maybe it was when he started noticing you were always attending his volleyball games, cheering on your school with a big stupid grin on your face.

Or maybe it was a mixture of all these little moments that made Oikawa feel what he felt. It didn’t matter what started it. All Oikawa really knew was that he was so in love with you. 

You ended up spending so much time together and blossoming such a beautiful friendship that others didn't expect to happen. It was a dream for him—seeing you smile and laugh, not caring about how you looked. And when you would tease him, it would make him laugh rather than upset him. Yes, he loved you for that. He loves everything about you. From the way you fiddled with your fingers when you had nothing else to do to your weird outbursts when you get excited. You were nothing like the girls who threw themselves at him in hopes of getting his attention. 

Often times, after you would hang out, Oikawa would pull down his pants in the privacy of his bedroom and desperately fist his cock until thick spurts of white would shoot onto anything that he was able to steal from your room from all the times he came over to your house. A picture, a shirt, his favorite pair of panties that smelled so deliciously like you, one of your socks that he wrapped around his length as he fucked his hand—absolutely anything he got his hands on that once belonged to you—was enough to have him dizzy with lust, desire, and love.

You became everything to him. If he was ever able to hold you close with his own fingertips, he would be able to die happily. He would even suffice with just a sniff of your hair while you’re actually awake instead of when you’re dead asleep in the middle of the night and he sneaks into your room through the window you always forget to lock. You couldn’t know that, though. Not like he would have been able to make a move on you so soon to make you completely his anyway.

But he would do anything for you. You were his best friend after all.

So when for the first time ever in your close friendship, you suddenly show up to his house unannounced with tears running down your cheeks and shamelessly throwing yourself into his arms, Oikawa was frozen in place for a second. 

“He cheated on me, Tooru,” you sobbed into his chest. Oh...all he could do was hold you close, bring you inside, and kiss the top of your head lovingly as your shoulders shook.

“It’s okay, Princess. Let it all out. I’m here,” he cooed.

And, wow...you smelled so good when you were awake. So sweet and pure. Absolutely beautiful...

So why the fuck would he cheat on you? 

Oikawa was angry. He was so angry he could laugh at how incredulous the situation was to him. How could he willingly treat you like shit?

After letting him take you away so easily, so Oikawa was forced to resort to pretending that he wasn’t devastatingly in love with you. After being forced to trust him with your heart, convincing himself that he would never hurt you. After having to deal with the fact that every single moment that you shared with Oikawa, that made him fall so deeply for you, was also shared with him. After hearing you scream his name at every single volleyball game you ever attended instead of "Go Tooru!"

It was true—you really were nothing like Oikawa’s fangirls. You didn’t love Oikawa like the fangirls loved him. Never yearned for Oikawa like how his fangirls did. 

You loved Iwaizumi, the former ace of Seijoh and the target of most of Oikawa’s sets. And you broke poor Oikawa’s heart every single time he witnessed a loving moment between you and Iwaizumi. He didn’t understand. He was taller, maybe even more cuter, just so much better than Iwaizumi. So why didn’t you choose him?

That’s how you ended up here; shivering in fear on Iwaizumi’s bed as he sat on the swivel chair he usually kept in his bedroom. Iwaizumi's hands and feet were tied together and the ghost of a blue bruise was forming on his right eye. The rest of his face was slightly swollen and there was a smudge of dried blood under his nose. Whenever you glance up at him, he was staring down at his hands in guilt, shame, and maybe anger and pain. But he made no move to try to get out of his restraints. It was no use.

Can we talk? Come over soon.

You received that text from Iwaizumi's number, assuming it was him. Anxiety-ridden and curious, you came to Iwaizumi's house, wondering what he could possibly say after hurting you so bad. The door was unlocked so you let yourself in, but you didn't expect a shirtless Oikawa—your best friend ever since you met him—to be sitting on the couch looking as relaxed as ever with Iwaizumi's phone in his lap. The little dry splatters of crimson liquid that kissed his skin were easy to notice.

As he led you to Iwaizumi's bedroom, your heart was pounding. And when you saw Iwaizumi in such a disheveled state, you were frozen in fear. Oikawa forced you to sit down on the bed, and you would've started screaming for help—you could've, but a metal handle sticking out of Oikawa's pocket caught your eye.

"God, I fucking hate you. Ever since you got with (Y/N), you’ve made it so hard not to rip your skull apart.”

Oikawa was standing a few feet away from Iwaizumi. A million thoughts ran through your head and every single one of them was wondering how this happened.

When did your best friend become so violent?

And when the fuck did he own a gun?

"I know. I made a goddamn mistake," Iwaizumi grunts in pain, "It's over now. We're not together anymore so-...so you don't need to be doing this dumb shit."

Oikawa laughs loudly, "That's not the point, Iwa-chan! The point is you hurt her." He's clenching and unclenching his fists in anger.

"I said I fucking know!" Iwaizumi barks. He was breathing heavily, his chest was rising and falling deeply.

Oikawa's face forms into a deep scowl. Suddenly, he pulls the black pistol out of his pocket and strikes Iwaizumi's cheek with it, making him jerk his face to the side, before pressing it against his temple. Blood drips from the side of his mouth from the sudden impact.

"Tooru," you whimper. You were shaking so bad, trying hard to stay as calm as possible in case he would try to turn the gun on you. The sight of blood made you feel sick. This whole situation was disgusting.

"You're lucky I haven't blown your brains out for stealing my girl. But hurting her, too? I should fucking shoot you right now." Maybe Iwaizumi was scared, just like you. One pull of the trigger and he would be gone in an instant. But he also looked so furious, with his jaw clenched and his eyes ablaze.

"Then shoot me, Shittykawa. Fucking do it," Iwaizumi taunts him, "Let (Y/N) see how fucked up you are. Traumatize her."

Oikawa pulls away and presses the pistol underneath his own chin in thought, before he carelessly waves it around as if it was just a toy. Every single time he moved, you jumped in your seat and your heart beat eratically. He was unpredictable. "Fuck that, I don't wanna kill you in front of (Y/N) yet. I'd rather blow her back out than blow your brains out first."

His words send a fearful shiver down your spine and makes your skin crawl. You’ve never seen this side of him before—never even expected him to be like this.

Iwaizumi growls, "You're sick."

"I'm not sick, Iwa-chan. I'm doing what's right for my girl," he said firmly. He spun the weapon between his fingers.

"She's not 'your girl.' She was never your girl!" Oikawa and Iwaizumi continued to argue, as if one of them wasn't holding a gun capable of killing everyone in the room instantly. “If this is what you consider right, then you’re just a fucking psycho!”

Why did you have to be here? In between this mess?

You cover your face with the collar of your shirt, crying and trembling with your heart threatening to pound until it jumps out of your chest and leaves you dying. The thought of someone just... getting their life stolen in the hands of someone else right in front of you was destroying your mind. Somehow, even if this was all Oikawa's twisted idea, it felt like it was your fault. 

"Tooru, I don't wanna be h-here. I... I don't want you to kill him..." you hiccup through your tears. Without you noticing, he slowly walks towards you so that he's directly in front of you, watching you break down. “I wan-wanna go h-home.”

"Put the fucking gun down, dumbass," Iwaizumi warns him.

Looking up from your shirt and desperately brushing away the tears as they fell, you're faced with the muzzle of the barrel pointed straight at you, only a mere few inches away from your terrified face. Behind the pistol was, of course, the man you thought would always protect you.

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi snarled, "Don't you dare fucking hurt her. Are you crazy?"

"Shut up, Iwa-chan! Since when did you ever care about her like I do?" Oikawa snaps at him. You stay focused on the shiny barrel of the pistol.

You could die right now. Right in front of your ex boyfriend and your soon-to-be ex best friend. Bleeding with your brains on the mattress you once shared with the man you spent a whole year loving.

All because of Oikawa.

"Why, Tooru?" you ask in a cracked voice, struggling to swallow the lump in your throat.

Oikawa smiled at you, "I'm gonna make this right, okay? I won't hurt you. I just...follow what I say, okay, Princess?"

“I don’t-” you gulp hard, trying to find your voice, “I really don’t understand any of this. I-...I hate this. I don’t wanna die. Tooru, I’m so-...I-...nng?”

The muzzle is delicately pressed between your lips suddenly, nudging your soft lips apart and cutting you off mid-sentence. You inhale sharply as you stare into Oikawa’s brown eyes, surprised and terrified of his sudden action. It throws you off guard, your body going rigid at the thought of dying at this very second.

What would your parents do? Is anyone even gonna find you? Will Iwaizumi survive? Since when did Oikawa hate you so much that he wanted to stick a gun in your mouth?

“Suck.” 

Wait, what? 

The fear on your face is instantly replaced with bewilderment. Suck? What does he mean suck? You stare at each other, the confusion evident on your face, but Oikawa couldn’t stop smiling evilly. 

“Suck on it, Princess,” Oikawa coos. Is he being serious? Even Iwaizumi, ten feet away and tied up, is looking at him as if he was an alien.

“You heard what I said, (Y/N). I won’t hurt you if you listen to me.” When you don't move, he pulls the gun back only to cock it. Your breath hitches in your throat as he places it back on your lips. "Put those sweet lips around my pistol and suck on it. Make it pretty.”

“What the fuck?” breathes Iwaizumi, gawking at Oikawa’s odd demand. 

With the sound of Oikawa cocking the gun fresh in your mind, and fueling your desire to live, you hesitantly wrap your lips around the gun. You start sucking on it, flicking your tongue against the underside of the barrel and slowly bobbing your head around it as you maintain eye contact with Oikawa through your blurry vision. It wasn’t cold, surprisingly, but the feeling of the metal in your mouth made you wince. You’re squeezing your eyes shut, ignoring your tears and trying to think of the weapon as something else.

Oikawa says nothing, his gaze never leaving you while you take his gun as if it was his own cock. The only thing flashing through his mind is that this view is absolutely perfect. Your saliva leaves a thin coating on the barrel every time you pull your head back, just to nibble on the muzzle and swirl your tongue around it, only to let half of the barrel disappear into your mouth again—and it leaves a satisfied feeling in his lower stomach seeing you attempt to submit to him so you could live. 

Slowly, he starts pushing it deeper into your mouth, almost to the back of your throat, and you recoil before he can reach that point, grabbing onto his hand that was holding the gun with both of your weak hands. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts in a disappointed tone, “I wanna see you take in more, Princess.” Instantly, you force yourself to relax your throat to let him invade the rest of your mouth. You hold your breath as he hits the back. You’re still trying to bob your head along the weapon, relying on your nose to give you the air that you need.

There was something really fucked up about this whole situation. A red tint is flushed across your face when you glance over at your ex boyfriend, watching you intently. He’s disgusted, that’s for sure—but when you look up to make eye contact with Oikawa, he’s far from disgusted. And it’s easier to tell, because when you trail your gaze to his lower half...

He’s rock hard—bulging from beneath the fabric of his sweats, sweet smile on his perfect face, absolutely no shame in his erection from getting his pistol sucked.

Iwaizumi always knew he was fucking weird.

But there’s an odd, yet familiar sensation, in your lower stomach—a warmth that you know all too well that only happens when Iwaizumi touches you—that makes you clench your thighs and flutter your eyes shut. Looking up at Oikawa, there’s no doubt that he knows what you’re feeling. A small smirk finds its way across his lips. 

Iwaizumi didn't know you were fucking weird, either.

Yeah, that’s what’s fucked up about this situation. Why was this turning you on, too?

Oikawa suddenly pulls the gun away, leaving a thin string of saliva following your lips to the harsh metal for a second until it disconnects. He leans in, making you hold your breath, and his lips find yours.

Soft—that’s the first thing you think about when he connects your lips. “Kiss me back,” he murmurs. 

So, you do. He feels foreign to you, strange even, and you feel quite awkward kissing him when you never even thought about kissing him before. You were beyond flustered. Despite being in such a stressful situation...he’s gentle. The tip of his tongue trails along the opening of your lips. As a habit, you part your lips and allow him to enter your mouth. 

You’re still scared. Your heart is beating so fast. Your breathing is labored from the anxiety sitting heavily on your chest.  But Oikawa is strangely calm. In fact, if he wasn’t moving against your lips right now and lapping at your tongue with his, he’d be smiling and laughing at Iwaizumi’s face. I’m kissing your ex girlfriend!

And Iwaizumi couldn’t do anything except stare. 

You push your hands against his bare shoulders to pull away. “Tooru, stop it,” you gasp out, “Hajim- Iwaizumi is right there.” You didn’t want him to see you like this. You didn’t even wanna see him in the first place after coming home to find him with another girl.

With his face close to you, he harbors a blank expression. “So, would you rather...do something else?” You pause for a second, remembering that he has a gun that’s a few inches away from you, and you reluctantly nod your head. His expression changes—a small smirk and softer, relaxed eyes, an indication that he definitely has something else in mind. Regret starts to fog your mind, but you also can’t help but be curious.

“What are you planning, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi asks in an irritated, strained tone. He even sounded a bit...jealous? Was he actually jealous? You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

Oikawa tilts his head to the side to shoot Iwaizumi an evil smirk.

“I’m gonna fuck your ex girlfriend, Iwa-chan. Right in front of you.”

~

You never thought you'd be in this position.

It's hard to fully take in the situation when you literally feel like you're about to pass out from anxiety and all you want is for everything to be calm. At least go back to the way it used to be or how it should be—spending the rest of your time with Oikawa while eating tubs of ice cream and watching movies until you pass out together.

Instead, you're shaking like a leaf while straddling his thighs, fully exposed, soft skin pressing against his. Oikawa is completely bare, too, and while you always admired his athletic ability and perfect body, you didn't wanna see him like this. Not at all. Especially when his finger is still lazily sitting on the trigger of his pistol with it still pointed towards you, challenging you to do something so he can pull it.

It's that mischievous glint in his eyes that make you tense up the most. You want to be angry. You have every right to be, you think, but it's so difficult.

You're trying to cover up your body with your arms, holding onto the small amount of pride you have left, but it's no use when Oikawa is constantly looking you up and down. At the same time, you're trying to avoid looking down—his cock was sitting upright, hard and pulsating and...bigger than you thought he would be.

Way bigger.

"You can give it a little lick, Princess. If it'll make it easy for you."

You bite your trembling lip, shaking your head side to side, "I don't...I don't feel like it, Tooru." Oikawa moves to place his free hand on your waist, trailing his finger tips up and down, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Just try it, baby. I won't bite," he muses, "Or would you rather I-" He picks his gun up higher. That small, annoying smile seemed to never leave his face because he knew the power he had over you at this moment.

"No," you quickly interrupt him. A chuckle vibrates in his chest at your response.

"I think I need to take care of you first, hm?" Before you can disagree with him again, he's sitting up to grab your hips. He flips you both over so he's above you. He opens your legs and lifts them up so your thighs are pressing against your stomach, exposing everything to him. You’re embarrassed, covering your face with your hands. 

“Let’s see your face, Princess. Don’t hide,” he insists, “You’re so pretty. I wish I could’ve seen you like this sooner.” You have no choice but to let your hands fall from your face. Oikawa looks so happy. In the corner of the room, Iwaizumi is muttering something under his breath with a flushed, bruised, and bleeding face. 

Oikawa runs his fingers along the skin of the underside of your thighs before placing his palms on each. He was still holding onto the weapon. It’s pressing against one of your thighs. Why did everything feel so cold? 

You flinch when he leans down towards your heat to flatten his tongue and lick a stripe up your slit. Oikawa stifles a groan at the taste of you. This was what he wanted since the first time he met you—an opportunity to make you his. He wraps his lips around the little sensitive nub at the top of your cunt and sucks on it. 

“T-Tooru,” you softly whine in uneasiness. You’re not sure if Oikawa can hear the distaste dripping at your mouth, but he keeps sucking and lapping at you as if you were the last thing he would ever eat. “I really don’t like this, Tooru. This is so embarrassing...”

He looks up at you, locking eyes with you as you silently beg him to stop. He removes one of his hands from your thighs to probe at the entrance of your pussy with his thumb. Your heart drops to your stomach when you hear the familiar slick of your wetness and he spreads it around with the pad of his thumb. “You don’t seem to be that against it, (Y/N).” 

Of course you’d be wet—he’s licking and playing with your cunt. When would he understand that?

You gulp nervously, “I don’t want this, Tooru. Please.”

He hums to myself, seeming to be deep in thought as always, before he mutters, “Oh, I know what you want.” You’re confused for a second, but he moves his other hand to hold the pistol at your entrance and...what the fuck?

What the fuck?

“No! Tooru!” you gasp, moving to sit up. Oikawa quickly pushes you back down by your chest. He’s pushing the gun inside you, slowly, but surely—and you feel every single rough patch and texture on the barrel, breaking through the rings of your cunt. “No, no, no!” You’re trying to reach for him, to stop him before he continues, yet he’s able to hold you back with one arm and pushes the pistol inside your pulsing heat, stretching you with the hard metal. It’s an uncomfortable stretch because of how stiff it is. You can already feel the trigger guard pressing at your asshole from how much he filled you up.

You swear Iwaizumi whispers a “holy shit” from his place.

“This is what you wanted, hm? You wanted to get fucked by my pistol?” Oikawa coos in a sickeningly sweet tone. You’re shaking your head, bracing your arms against the bed sheets and chewing on your lip. No. This can’t be happening. “I saw how you reacted when I let you suck on it, Princess. Bet this sweet pussy was already dripping the second I put it in your mouth. I never knew you were so dirty.” He wanted to laugh. The view from between your legs was incredible. He’s glancing at Iwaizumi, who is trying very hard not to look.

“That’s not true!" you gasp. Oikawa continues to pump the gun in and out of you with slow and deliberate strokes. You hate that you feel every single ridge and dent. He leans down to give a few licks at your clit. You’re suppressing a moan in your throat, because this shouldn’t feel good. Every single time he snaps it back into you, you’re gasping for breath. The walls of your cunt are clenching around the thick barrel and it’s hot—you’re heating up from the unfamiliar object forcing its way inside you, forcing you to react. Forcing you to take it in even if your brain is screaming for mercy.

“I know you better than you know yourself,” Oikawa mutters, “You’ve been mine since the beginning. I just let him have you.” This time, you’re biting down on your fist as he continues his assault. This wasn’t the Oikawa you met and became best friends with; this was an absolute monster. Maybe this was who he was the whole entire time—a liar, a master manipulator, a delusional psychopath who couldn’t understand the chemicals behind truly loving someone. 

But that doesn’t matter right now because fuck—the consistent strokes of Oikawa fucking you with his pistol felt good. The tiny moans you’re letting out proves everything, even as you try to hold them back. It’s so hard to stop your hips from bucking against the hard metal, even harder to stop that stupid fire burning in your pelvis. God, you’re about to fucking explode.

It doesn’t feel good, you’re trying to convince yourself. This is assault. This is rape. This doesn’t feel good. You’re not turned on, you’re just terrified if he pulls the trigger—

“Let it out, baby. The gun’s still fully loaded,” he whispers against your lips with a smirk, suddenly lifting himself up to press his forehead against yours. His words were ringing loudly in your ears, reaching every single nerve in your body. You part your lips in shock, your legs are shaking violently against your chest, and your eyes are finally rolling back into your head. A loud moan erupts from your throat, high-pitched like a scream. Quickly, he connects your lips and forces his tongue inside.

Fuck.

Fuck. 

It almost hurts with how tightly you’re clenching onto the gun still inside you. But it’s one of the best feelings that you’ve ever felt because you’re cumming. You’re actually cumming. Your pussy is hot with so much shame, but you’re still gushing juices, soaking Oikawa’s hand.

You’re cumming on a fucking gun.

The room is silent as you’re coming undone. Iwaizumi is dazed, obvious from the look on his face as he’s staring at the place between your legs and the wet spots soaking the sheets. Oikawa stands upright on his knees, and you notice that his pelvis is wet from your juices. How embarrassing. How utterly fucking embarrassing. He’s pulling the gun out of your cunt and raising it up to his face, examining how your cum is running down to the handle. 

Oh, that’s really satisfying. He could take a picture right now, but he didn’t want to waste anymore time. 

"Cumming just from my pistol?" Oikawa chuckled, "So fucking dirty. I love it. I could get you pregnant right now. Pump you up with my kids, would you like that?" 

“Fuck’s sake, Shittykawa. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Iwaizumi speaks up all of a sudden. Oikawa simply scoffs at the other man before pulling you closer to rest your thighs against his hips. 

You wheeze, completely out of breath, “No, Tooru. I’m done. I need to leave.” With the palms of your hands against the mattress, you weakly try to pull yourself up and away from Oikawa’s grasp. 

“I said I was gonna fuck you, didn’t I?” Oikawa hums, pulling you back against his hips and placing his tip at your entrance. You wanna move away, and you really try to by moving to scoot away from him, but you feel so weak. He’s still holding onto his disgustingly wet gun—wet from you. Has he even put it down at all? 

"I never break promises," Oikawa sighs, with a big smile on his face, "And you’re so beautiful, (Y/N). How did I ever stop myself before? I should've taken you even if that fucker was still with you."

You’re trying to protest. You’ve been trying all night, but Oikawa is so persistent with wanting his revenge—revenge that you never even wanted. But he’s also thinking that this is it—this is the stepping stone of becoming the object of your affection. Not Iwaizumi, the man you loved and who cheated on you. Not anyone else. Just your best friend.

His hands are gripping onto your hips as he arches your back for his hips to meet yours. It’s another uncomfortable stretch as he pushes passed the fleshy walls of your pussy with his throbbing cock. You’re already wet—he has no struggle sinking into your pussy—and the squelching sound your wetness makes and the sharp whine that you let out in response to his movements are music to his ears. 

“Fuck,” he moans, “You’re tight, Princess. I thought Iwa-chan was fucking this pussy every night before.” 

It seemed like Iwaizumi wasn’t in the room at first, even if you were hyper-aware of that fact and it made your whole body become flushed. If you could hear his thoughts right now, he would most definitely be thinking that this fucking sucks. There’s a crack in your voice when you let out a low moan at Oikawa finally sheathing you on his cock. 

“How is it? Bigger than Iwa-chan?” he teases you. He pulls back only to dive deeper into your wetness. The feeling of his cock sliding against your walls makes you tremble. You’re so sensitive from how he fucked you with his gun less than five minutes ago, it’s a surprise that you haven’t passed out from the extra simulation he’s giving you. 

“Shut up,” you groan, looking off to the side. When Oikawa is comfortably settled between your folds, he leans over you to brace his hands on either side of your head. Instinctively, you wrap your small hands around his biceps as he slides in and out of you, squeezing desperately. 

Oikawa cocks his head to the side. “You don’t want to admit it, huh?” He suddenly snaps his hips sharply against yours, jerking your whole body upwards. “You don’t need to say it. I know how you feel, anyway.” It fucking hurts. His cock is longer, thicker, and going deeper than his gun was.

“How would you even know how I feel, Tooru?” you ask in a shaky tone. The anxiety never seemed to go away. Maybe you kept quivering because of your new-found fear of the brown-haired man above you, or maybe it was because you can still feel Iwaizumi burning a hole through you—he probably realized how much he hated you because if it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t be sitting tied up in his own home witnessing his friend rail his ex girlfriend.

Oikawa knew, though, that it was because you couldn’t fight the way your nerves were responding to how he touched you.

“Because if you didn’t like this, you wouldn't be under me right now,” he says lowly. With his hands gripping the sheets next to your head, he forces you deeper into the mattress with his body weight. The gun next to your head would’ve made you nervous, but you were too focused on the way Oikawa’s cock was drilling into your pussy like he was trying to leave an imprint of himself there for you to remember forever.

Every time he thrusts into you with all his strength, you’re gasping and moaning, gripping onto his biceps that flexed so deliciously as he filled you up completely. Your body was betraying you, writhing beneath him, basically begging for him to give you more. To make you cum one more time from just his cock.

“You really think this is funny, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi growls. You tense up at the sound of his voice—the anger dripping in his tone. “Basically raping my ex girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa purrs, “It’s so...satisfying.” He’s building up his pace, and pretty soon he’s pounding into you with such a force that you’re struggling to let out moans and end up up letting out breaths of air and whiny squeaks. “Especially since she likes it so much. Right, (Y/N)?” Your eyes are rolling back at the sensation—you’re not even trying to deny it at this point. No matter how fucked up or disgusting you look right now, you couldn’t escape Oikawa and you couldn’t stop your pussy from sucking in his cock hopelessly like he belonged inside you.

“I fucking hate you.”

The area on your pelvis is undeniably hot now. Sweat was appearing on your skin despite being fully naked and exposed to the cold air in Iwaizumi’s bedroom. Oikawa is consistently snapping his hips into yours while you’re trying to control your own hips from trying to buck into his. Trying to hold onto what little sanity you have left before you’re ultimately forced to let go on his veiny cock.

Oikawa is your best friend—was your best friend, you don’t even know anymore. Fuck, he’s evil, giving you a warm, welcoming smile with a gun laying next to your head and ravaging your insides at the same time. This isn’t normal. But damn did this feel so fucking good.

You’re crying now, the tears running down your cheeks in a steady stream. Fuck Iwaizumi. Fuck Oikawa’s gun. Fuck the insecurity, feelings of worthlessness, and guilt that you’ve had inside you for the past few weeks after your failed relationship, crying into Oikawa’s lap every single time. Fuck everything. 

Only his name is forming at your lips, accompanied by wails of pleasure. You’ve never felt like this before, not even with Iwaizumi, who you thought would be the only person making you cum until you’re stupid. 

“F-fuck, Tooru,” you manage to gasp out. All your muscles are clenching involuntarily. It only makes Oikawa groan, your pussy unbelievably squeezing even tighter around him, pulling him inside you.

“Are you okay, my baby? You gonna cum all over my cock?” 

Your head is spinning and you just want it to stop. All you’re thinking about is how roughly Oikawa is fucking into you and the pleasure he’s bringing in waves washing over you. He’s not even touching your clit—the base of his cock is just hitting your swollen nub every time he thrusts inside of you, letting tiny shocks run through you.

“This is my pussy now,” he growls, “I’m gonna fuck this. I’m gonna stretch out this little cunt every day and you’re gonna let me, right? You’re gonna let me fill you up with my cum, too?” 

Let go, every sensor in your body is screaming.

"C'mon, Princess. Tell me. Tell Iwa-chan how much you love my cock inside you. Tell us how much you wanna be filled with my cum," he grins as he shoves his length into you roughly. He nudges your head to the side and attaches his lips to the soft skin on your neck, sucking and biting at the area. You arch your back off the bed and you don't hold back anymore—you're chanting his name, finally, begging for him.

"Tooru-mmm, please," you plead, "Fuck me, please! I'm...I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum, Tooru!"

Then Oikawa lifts himself up, bracing himself on one of his arms before bringing his gun against your lips again. You don't hesitate to stick your tongue out, letting it in your mouth this time. God, he could fucking cum at the sight of you willingly sucking on his pistol, swirling your tongue over the metal surface. He won't shoot, he just wants to see you submitting to his gun and his cock like he's a king.

It's taking everything within you to not pass out from violently twitching and spasming on his cock, letting your juices squirt all over him once you open your mouth to cry loudly. His gun is still pressing into the base of your throat, so your scream drawls out into a choking noise. Oikawa is letting out a string of curse words—your juices are coating his skin and spraying all over his cock.

Your thighs feel so sore, and you're a sputtering mess as he pulls his gun away from you. It's covered in your saliva. Oikawa is lifting himself up, panting heavily, observing the erratic movement of your chest and the red flush of your body. He doesn't bother to pull out of your convulsing cunt. Why are you still trembling like that?

But it's okay. Oikawa is so happy, so pleased. You were such a good girl—he knows for sure that you finally accept him and want him.

“Hey, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sang with delight in his tone to catch Iwaizumi's attention. Damn, you completely forgot he was still there.

Oikawa is finally upright on his knees, leaving you sweating on the bedsheets. Iwaizumi looked up, cringing in disgust and fueled with anger and envy from watching Shittykawa himself take your body so relentlessly as you were cumming beneath him. Oikawa lifts his arm, pointing the shiny metal weapon towards the other man in the room. He was still throbbing inside you, enjoying the feeling of you still twitching gently around his cock from your orgasm. With half-lidded eyes, you look up at him weakly, suddenly admiring his toned, muscular body and the sweat glistening on his abs. You're not sure if he came inside you, but the wetness escaping your hole and the feeling of his length twitching, too, is more than enough proof that he probably did.

"What do you want now, you fucking asshole?" Iwaizumi snarls.

The words that come out next are so snarky, filled with hate and arrogance. "Just wanted to let you know that I’m better than you," Oikawa sneers, "And I don't shoot blanks."

He finally pulls the trigger. The sound of a gunshot is piercing the air and Oikawa jerks slightly from the recoil. Then it's completely silent. Your thighs are still shaking, you’re still struggling to find your voice, and your brain seems to be focusing through the haziness. He leans down to give you the sweetest kiss, as if to say that everything will be okay now. The smell in the air was suddenly pungent—a mixture of sweat, sex, gun powder and...blood? Holy shit.  You're screaming now.

Holy shit, Oikawa.

[babyboy-cody]

THAT LAST CONCEPT WAS SO GOOD BUT NOW WE NEED AFTERCARE WITH GRAYSON PLS PLS PLS

ask and you shall receive, my darling ✨ part one is here :)

When Grayson entered the room with two cold drinks in his hands, he couldn’t help but ‘awww’ softly at the sight in front of him. Sprawled across the bed in the same position he left you - legs still wide and hair a tangled mess - you were sound asleep. One of your arms was wrapped around his pillow, your lips parted as soft snores escaped them. His cum that was leaking out of you had quickly dried on the bed. He knew that you would get fussy and cranky if he had to wake you up and make you stand while he changed the sheets. And so, as he quietly made his way over to you and placed the beverages on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but to admire you, his pretty girl. Your eyes twitched underneath your eyes and every snore that escaped made your nostrils barely flare. That always made Grayson tease you and you would always nudge him and jokingly tell him to stop bullying you.

“Angel,” he whispers, sliding a cold hand up and down your warm back, gently coaxing you from your tiny nap. When your eyes barely open and a soft hum sounds, he smiles and pulls a few hairs away from your mouth and eyes. “Hi there.”

“Hi,” you sluggishly mumble, spreading your arms out and doing a little stretch that made your entire body shiver and a muffled “hghnnngghhhh” coming from you. Grayson laughs quietly and hands you your water. The condensation was still chilled and it felt so good on your hands as he helps you take sip after sip. “This is so good,” you groaned against your cup, eagerly drinking some more of the cold liquid.

“Not too fast,” Grayson laughs and pulls the cup away when it’s half empty. “Don’t want you to choke.”

“I’ve literally choked and gagged on your dick and also almost passed out from you choking me with that baseball glove you call a hand, and you’re the one worried that I’ll choke on water,” you giggled at the shocked look on his face.

“Fuck off,” he laughs as well, shaking his head and sucking his teeth. He gets up from his spot and makes his way to the bathroom like he did a few minutes prior. This time, he grabs a clean cloth and soaks it in lukewarm water and grabs a bottle of your favorite lotion. “Oh shit! Go pee, right now.”

“Help,” you whined and lift your arms up for him to carry you. “My legs still feel like jelly.”

“I wonder why,” Grayson jokingly says, laughing at the annoyed expression on your face as you give him a lighthearted glare. When you get up too fast, almost doubling over, he immediately grabs you by the arms and carries you bridal style to the bathroom. “How romantic is this?”

“I know right,” you sarcastically say as you take a seat on the toilet. “My freaky deaky boyfriend carrying me to the bathroom, like the gentleman he is, so that I won’t get a UTI. Talk about romance.”

Grayson snorts and stares at you with a loving expression. He had a goofy smile on his face, arms crossed over his chest with his butt leaning against the counter. He has a slight blush on his tan cheeks when you catch him looking.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you softly tell him and finish doing your business after using the warm and damp washcloth he grabbed for you to gently clean yourself off.

“I can’t help it,” he tells you, voice showcasing a tenderness you hear during times like this - when it’s just you two in your own private bubble. “I’m just madly in love with you. I just never felt like this before. I mean, I have fallen in love, but nothing ever to this point - if that makes sense. Like.. every single day, you make me feel like I’m fucking flying over the clouds.”

You slowly get up and carefully make your way to him, not caring how numb and tingly your legs are or if your hips and lower back are aching. Standing in front of him at this very moment made you feel like you could tap dance. Pressing your still bare chest against his, feeling that skin to skin contact, feeling that warmth of just him, you now understood what he was saying.

“You make me feel like I’m flying too, baby,” you so quietly say to him, fingernails gently scratching up and down his biceps as his arms wrap around you. “You make me feel like I’m going through space and back.”

“Yeah?” He questions, eyes now full of adoration. “How many times, huh?”

“So many times,” you squeal as he lifts you up with that strength that always surprised you for some reason. You knew how much he worked out, but seeing and feeling him using that strength was unlike no other.

You felt yourself being plopped back down onto the bed, giggling as though you were drunk off of the pure love Grayson was radiating. His energy bounced onto yours almost immediately and it was borderline overwhelming, but also so comfortable. After he lays a towel on the dry spot on the bedding, he takes a seat behind you with a comb in his hand. As he combs your hair, you’re grateful at the slow pace he’s going. He snags a few knots here and there, frantically apologizing and giving your neck and shoulders tender kisses to make up for the slight pain in your scalp. When your hair is all knotted out, he instructs you to pull your hair over one of your shoulders.

“This might be cold, sweet girl,” he warns you before rubbing his lotioned hands all around your back. He gently massages all the kinks in your shoulders, causing you to moan softly as he relieves the pressure. You barely wince when he presses a little harder on a tender spot. The lotion immediately warmed up from Grayson’s hands, the entirety feeling so good. “How’re you feeling, baby?”

“Really good,” you whisper, now on the verge of sleep as you slowly become drowsy. “‘m getting so sleepy.”

“Wanna go to sleep?” He quietly asks you, hands now smoothing down your arms as he tucks his face into your neck, kissing you gently between your earlobe and jaw. When you barely nod, he slowly pulls you back against the pillows. “Okay angel, we can go to sleep.”

He removes his sweatpants so that he’s now fully naked as well. Skin to skin contact always felt so intimate, and Grayson realized that a while ago. He had never done it before, so when you brought it to him as an idea, he was a little iffy and nervous. But then he got into the field of it, loving the way your body perfectly molds against his without any clothing barriers. Or how soft and supple your body. Or how protected he feels just by feeling your skin against his. When he shuts off the light and lays beside you, now tucked under the covers, he hums quietly when you wrap an arm around him and tuck your head under his chin.

“I love you, pretty girl,” he whispers against your forehead, arms wrapping tight around you, not wanting you to move away from him out of fear that you might fall.. or maybe because he just doesn’t want you so far away.

“I love you more, handsome man,” you whisper back to him, placing a small kiss on his chest and smiling when you felt the vibrations of his quiet laugh.

[stopeatingwhales]

playing cards x damon albarn

THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE OMG OK. hope you guys enjoy it!!!! I love arrogant damon sorry not sorry <3

Pairing: 1995 damon albarn x reader

Warnings: alcohol use

Word count: 2.339

@damonfuckingalbarn this is 4 u!!!! <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Have this, you’ll like it far much more than what you’re drinking.”

Diverting my gaze from the beverage encapsulated in my palm, I met my view with the mysterious voice that had beckoned in my direction. “Excuse me?” I said, first landing my glare on his ethereal orbs, spheres that were so magnificent that I had to attempt a double-take; the idiosyncratic shades, merged together to create a masterpiece of different blues, as if they were small fragments of the water from most pure oceans, exemplifying the ideation of eyes that engulf you in at the instant - simply gazing into his orbs was the token I had needed to be entirely enthralled by his presence. Perhaps his gaze was too intense, too enticing, leading me on to trail my stare to admire the more gorgeous head of hair, which looked as if it hadn’t been brushed, though that portrayed its attractiveness. His face was beaming toward my direction, taking me aback slightly as I quickly ditched the sight of his face, drifting my sight to gawk at the two drinks clasped by his hands. “That looks like shit.”

A small scoff escaped his throat, evident that he was not expecting the abrupt attitude that had beckoned upon my lips. Slightly embarrassed at my dramatic remark, I adjusted my posture, accentuating such confidence that I had seemingly demonstrated so diligently with my demeanour. “Just try it.” he replied, placing one of the glasses on the dark wood counter, pushing it towards my direction lightly to prevent it from slipping off the glossy counter. Leaning my torso closer to the counter, I spent a couple seconds examining the contents of the unknown drink, it being something that I had never set my eyes upon.

Placing my original drink on the countertop, I nervously grasped the ambiguous drink that he had offered me, glancing back at him with an unsure expression illustrated on my features. In a way to reassure or encourage me, he nodded his head, resulting in me then taking a small sip to ease myself into the new flavour. Before the liquid had merely touched the back of my throat, I spat the contents back out into the glass. “That’s minging!” I choked, my face scrunching up in disgust. Focused on each move I was making, I felt his eyes continue to gawk at me as I attempted to rid the awful taste that lingered on my tongue by taking a lengthy sip of my pint, swallowing down the contents gleefully. Connecting my stare with his, I once again analysed his features, almost like my mind trying to discover what had been the true ideal that his beauty had enthralled me so rapidly just gaping at him. Perhaps I had over-emphasised his gorgeousness too much, though my doubts were denied as soon as my view had set upon his face once again. He had a smirk carefully illustrated at the side of his lip, curving the top of his cheek slightly, his face sculpted so delicately it urged the want to caress your finger against his skin, it conveying the impression that it was so soft, accentuating the prettiness of his facial features. Something inside me was itching towards the fact that he was somebody I knew, or at least somebody that I had seen somewhere, until it had clocked that he was from television, more specifically Top Of the Pops, last night. "You're that singer from that art school band, aren't you?" I questioned, my vision squinted together as I challenged my active recall abilities. “Damon isn’t it?”

"Wow, you know your music!" he laughed, edging his arm to rest on the counter. The stare orchestrated between us remained, as I left my mind to ponder over the common-knowledge of how men were like in bands. Aware of what he was going to solicit, and knowing that he would think it was going to be extremely easy, I had to prepare myself not to fall for it, no matter how good-looking or tempting the concept engulfed in my brain made it out to be. "Want to go out for dinner tomorrow?"

“No, sorry.” I bluntly replied, breaking the poignant eye contact to down the rest of my drink, slightly forcing the glass containing the beverage he had offered me, back to him. If I had my eyes lingering on his for any longer, I’d end up doing something I’d highly regret the next morning.

“Why not?” he quizzed, bewildered by my sudden response. Clearly he had never had a woman decline his offer before, or was definitely not expecting it after he had gone head to head and won against the second biggest band in the country the night previous. So arrogant.

“Because I don’t want to?” I replied, slightly amused by how perplexed he had gotten. Darting my eyes around the dimly-lit room, my gaze fixated on a booth consisting of boys that, from my vague memory, believed were his band members. Knowing that he was still looking at me, I allowed a smirk to fall on my lips as I thought of what to say next. “I've actually got my eye on that guy over there," I mumbled, pointing towards the familiar booth of boys, my index finger lingering on the tall, lanky boy, whose hair looked as soft as the petals of a newly-bloomed rose. Granting my finger to saunter for a while, it directed enough time for Damon to swivel his head around to see whomever I was speaking about. "Alex, isn't it?"

Switching my focus back to look at him, I noticed his jaw clench at my remark, his orbs dawdling over the three boys who had been engrossed in conversation. Feeling the smirk on my face widen, I relished in the sensation of battering his ego - even if it was just slightly. A small laugh escaped his throat as he locked his gaze with mine, clicking his tongue as he sneered, understanding what I was trying to do to him. It was a forced chuckle, most likely portrayed out of annoyance,  “Look, I just think you’re really pretty, alright?”

Chewing on my bottom lip, I felt my stomach ignite at his frustration towards my obnoxiousness. Butterflies were blooming in my stomach as a certain heat flushed over my cheeks, my body mindful that I couldn’t keep up with such a persona for a much longer time. As well as this, it would potentially drive him away, which at this rate I didn’t want him to do, so I thought of the best possible solution to bring his hopes up, reaching to the ground underneath the barstool to grasp my bag, taking out a deck of cards. “Let’s play snap.” I exclaimed, beginning to shuffle the card deck.

“And you just carry those around do you?”

“It’s fun to play.” I replied, splitting the deck and then sliding him his share.

“Can I just get you a drink?” He groaned, though a small smile had perched on his lips at the irregularity of the situation. A girl is asking him to play cards after she simply rejected him, at a bar.

“You already did, Damon, and it was shit.” I spat back, fixing my eyes on his once again. He looked slightly offended at the insolence I demonstrated towards his efforts, which, for some reason, sank my heart a little. “If you win this game, I'll give you a second chance.”

“Deal,” He beamed, the signature devilish grin of his painted on his lips once again. “Might as well get you that drink now.” he added, his arrogance seeping through his teeth.

As we began placing our cards in the middle of the table, one after another, the environment was tense as to when two cards of the same origin would land upon each other. It was funny, I had gone out tonight to blow off steam from the stresses that work had offered me the past week, and somehow I had landed myself playing a game of cards with undoubtedly the most famous musician in Britain at the moment. “I’m not falling for it, you know.” I said, avoiding his gaze.

"Then why are you doing playing cards with me, love?" he interrogated, the sneer on his lips evident by his lustrous tone. He was right; his obvious pretentiousness, and egocentrism only edged me towards loving his company just that much more, which had disgracefully increased my attraction to him, but of course I wasn’t going to admit that, hell, I was adamant that I wasn’t going to fall for it, even though that was exactly what I had been doing this entire time - sinking down a hole of allurement from his persona that panned something inside of me that I wasn’t able to pinpoint on. Pop star effect, I suppose.

Completely silenced by his comment, I felt a certain radiance tease it’s way to my cheeks once again, edging me into humiliation even more to the fact that he could tell the effect his words were having on me - the sly grin on his features was felt in the tension shared between us. In an endeavour to shy away my embarrassment, I dragged out my packet of Marlboro cigarettes, snatching one from its packaging and lighting it before placing another card down on the deck that had been piling up since we had started. Inhaling sharply, I allowed the cancerous smoke to escape my lungs, my body adorning the relaxed feeling that seeped through after. “Can I have one?”

“No.”

“Why not? Your pack’s full!”

Pausing my movements before taking another hit from the roll of tobacco, a smirk lingered on my lips as I let my head rest on my palm, keeping my body upright. "Why? Those songs of yours not selling much?" I mocked, blowing another whiff of smoke into his face, the stunned expression held on his face only exhilarating me more in what felt like... control, though from the way he had been acting, I knew that such power was not going to last for a long while. "Put a card down, for goodness sake."

Scoffing, he followed my demand, though the card he placed down was the exact same as the one I placed down before, ensuing his hand slamming suddenly on top of the card deck, my mouth agape as I realised that he had won. “Look who won!”

A beam covered my face as I shook my head, watching him grab the attention of the bartender, asking for another drink that once again, I hadn’t heard of before. Once the bartender was done preparing the beverage, Damon passed it over to me, another grin captured on his expression. Sighing, I discarded the remains of my cigarette before taking a sip of another, unknown drink, the feeling of déjà vu hitting me as I had enraptured myself in the same situation when we had first spoken. "For fucks sake Damon, this tastes worse than the last one."

"More for me then, isn't it?" he grinned, my mind now aware that he had simply ordered such an appalling drink to agitate me. Be that as it may, he was aggravating, and took delight into making one’s time horribly spent, there was something about him that kept me latched onto him. Perhaps it was his glowing features, which were so enticing that it blinded me into thinking that he was the only other person in the room, and the only other person that I could set any fragment of attention towards.

"Stop pissing me off, you twat." I mumbled, looking at my bag as I placed the card deck back inside, it not proving much use to the situation anymore.

"You could quite easily just walk away, if I’m pissing you off this much.” he said, his head tilted to the side as his eyes lingered on me, practically forcing me to connect our gazes once again. “Doors just there, love." he uttered, beckoning his hand towards the timber door that divided us between the streets.

"Why would I leave when I'm getting free drinks?" I asked, trying to maintain whatever control I had over the situation, which had been deemed to have slipped out of my grasp at this given moment. The tension between us had been alleviating faster than it had been before, as we began reaching the climax of the encounter.

"You're not liking them though, are you?" he replied, face beginning to draw dangerously close to mine, his eyes flicking from my eyes to my lips every couple of seconds, contemplating how to end the situation. It was fully in control with him now; I was merely wrapped around his measly little finger, and he knew it. Our noses grazed ever-so-slightly on one another's as I felt his breath fan onto my cheeks - all I had craved for at this point was to attach my lips onto his, my breathing quickening as the realisation of just how close our bodies were to one another. "Just admit it, you're loving this." he mumbled.

"Am not." I whispered, my eyes staring at his lips as shuffled closer and closer to mine. We were both aware that what I had said was a lie, but my stubbornness wasn't ready to let that slide yet. Just as I thought we were going to connect lips, he darted his head away rapidly, the movement so swift I hadn't come to realize until a couple seconds afterwards, my cheeks now reddened to the point that I was almost convinced I had a fever.

"You fell for it, lovely." he grinned, placing a white slip on my lap, decorated with numbers to which I assumed were in relation to his telephone number. "Let me know when you're free!" he exclaimed, before waltzing off to the booth where his friends had, leaving me completely stunned, and exactly where I knew would be - absolutely encapsulated by the man known as Damon Albarn.

[hollandgarden]

Drinking Game (TH)

Description: After Tom and his girlfriend are snowed in the for evening, unable to attend Harrison’s birthday party, he comes up with a brillant game. Each rounds leaves one of them with more or less clothing. Who will be the winner of the head on surprise?

Warnings: smutty af (if you’re under 18, maybe don’t read), alcohol use, swearing, stupid sexy Tom 

Word Count: 1,848

***

“Hey, babe?” I called. 

Tom came swiftly down the stairs, ready to go to Harrison’s birthday party. “What?”

I shot him a nervous smile as I pulled back from the window. “The snow is coming down pretty good. News says the roads are already slick.” 

“Damn, I’ll message H. We should not risk it,” he mumbled, pushing up his glasses, and crossed his arms. “No excuse to drink then.” 

“You need an excuse?” I snorted. “We both know that’s not true.” 

Tom tapped his chin, a subtle smirk crossing his face. “Let’s have our own drinking game.” 

“What kind?” 

I followed him into the squared off kitchen and watched him take out a whole twelve pack of Coors Light. This oughta be interesting. 

“We’ll have six rounds. First five the loser has to remove an item of clothing. The sixth round, the loser goes down on the winner,” Tom explained. 

I eyed him curiously. “Basically, we’re getting shit-faced and someone’s getting head?”

He bit his lip, then chuckled “Yeah, pretty much. Sounds good, yeah?”

The look on his face alone should’ve warned me what it actually involved. But I couldn’t argue that this wasn’t going to be better than going out with friends.

“Sounds fucking perfect. Let’s get started.” 

Both of us took off our winter coats and shoes before we settled into the living room. I pulled back my hair with the tie on my wrist. Who knew how this was going to go; it was a toss up honestly. But winning the last round would be oh so fucking sweet. 

“Ready?” Tom started as he popped his tab. 

“Steady,” I countered, popping my own. 

“Go!” we both yelled and started chugging. 

Oh, boy, this first round was not going to be good for me. The bubbles running down my throat made me cringe a little and slowed me down. I went as fast as I could though, yet Tom slammed his empty on the coffee table first.

I did get better the more drunk I was. We both knew that. 

“I say jumper,” he stated, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“You didn’t say the winner chose the item,” I retorted, already holding back a small burp from the carbonation. 

Tom fully smirked. “I’m adding it now. Come on, make it more fun, my love.” 

He was right on that. I barely huffed as I pulled off the navy crew neck to reveal my black lace bra. 

“Look at those,” he whistled lowly. 

I rolled my eyes. “Tom, you’ve seen them before.” 

“But they’re yours and I love them every time.” 

I couldn’t stop the heat that filled my cheeks, and that was partly due to the one drink and heater we had going. 

“Second round.”

I struggled against the same bubbly current. I chugged the liquid through the tiny hole as quickly as possible. I eyed Tom from the corner of my eye and he was doing the same; a clint of amusement sparkled. I coughed at the little bit of alcohol went down the wrong tube and I had to stop. 

He threw his arms in the air. “I win!” He gestured widely at my bottoms area. “Skirt next. I want the skirt.”

“If you say so. You won’t win every round. I’ll get one and then it’s my turn to make the call.” I stood up before I reached back for the zipper of the black and white houndstooth mini. I inched it down, Tom enjoying every second until it naturally fell to the ground. I flicked it to the side with my foot. I did sway a little and after this third I would definitely be tipsy. 

Tom leaned over to plant a sweet kiss on my lips. “I look forward to it.”

We cheered to start the third. The time slipped by as it had in the others. Some of the beer splashed onto my cheek, but I managed to win this one. I had found my rhythm finally. No more stuffing my cheeks as much as I could before swallowing and doing it again; I went straight for a fluid stream. 

I ripped one to announce the victory. There was no way to stop the giggles that followed and I covered my mouth with the hand that held the empty to hide them. “Go ahead with... your button up.” 

“Cheers, I was gett-” he lightly burped and busted out laughing. “I was getting stuffy.”

I licked my lips as he barely fumbled with the buttons. He raised his eyebrows up and down, like an idiot, as he whipped it off to reveal his beautiful chest. There was no way to not linger on the collarbone area and biceps, and I had to swallow away the sensation. 

Get a hold of yourself.

I shot up and slid into the kitchen. “Eat. We need a s-snack!”

“Get the crisps!” he yelled. 

I dramatically opened the cabinet doors and crawled up onto the counter, which was immensely unnecessary but so fun. Then I scrambled the three different bags into my arms and hurried back to him, tossing the bag of crisps to him. I ate out of the already opened bag of popcorn. The saltiness and slight crunch was exactly what I needed; though chicken nuggets wouldn’t be a bad idea either. This would do. 

Tom leaned back against the armchair with his eyes closed and munched slowly. 

“Not done already, are you?” I giggled under my breath. “I-I think… that qualifies as an automatic win for the final prize.”

“Nope!” He shot his head up. “Just resting up, darling.” 

I popped another piece into my mouth. “Let me know when.”

“When.”

“Ha ha.”

He rolled up the bag and tossed it aside. “Seriously, let’s go.” 

I scooted back up to the table, letting my legs sprawl underneath it and rest up against his. “Okay.” 

Let me save you from the gory details of my horrid slurping. Tom won his third round. I knew the crisps would soak up some of his alcohol and sober him up enough to focus. Fuck. 

Slowly, he set the can on the table and tapped his chin, “How about.... Your underwear, but leave the tights on.

I furrowed my brows. “W-why?” 

He squinted an eye momentarily and shrugged. “It’s hot.” 

There was no way I’d admit to him that I agreed. Though, this meant I had to go through the hassle of taking off the sheer black material and pulling them back on. I’m sure that was unattractive to watch; embarrassing for sure. He was the only one I’d ever do this for. 

My vision was getting blurry, and if I attempted to use my phone it would definitely end in a disaster. But a hilarious moment in the morning. Alas, I tossed it somewhere on the couch to stop myself. 

We went straight into the fifth round and I practically spilled half of the beer on my chest. Well, that was one way to win. 

“Bott-ttems.” I pointed him up and down. “Take them off, Holland.”

I gazed in pure amusement as he tried to dance them off. 

“You’re such a dork.” 

He pointed at me abruptly with a serious look. “But you love me.” 

I rolled my eyes. “I do. More snacks or should we go straight into the next?”

“Straight!” He circled his hand and plopped down to grab his last can. 

I reached over for my last and it took me two tries to pick it up. I was basically drunk. If we were at a club and anyone asked, I’d try to convince them I wasn’t. I’m sure if he asked right now, I’d do the same. It wouldn’t be believable. 

This final round was the one that truly counted, though I wouldn’t care who won. It was pleasurable to give and receive in my opinion. 

“One,” I started. 

Tom cocked a brow, bringing the can closer to his mouth. “Two.” 

I also brought the cool metal to touch my lips. “Three!” 

I tiled my head back as far as I could to give leverage for a smoother chug. It was by far the best I had done all the rounds, though that didn’t matter. It didn’t take a scientist to see how slow Tom was drinking. 

When I finished, I slammed my empty on the table and whipped my arms out. “You cheated!” 

“I cheated?” he gasped and rested a hand on his chest. “You won!” 

I giggled. “You let me win.” 

“I…” He held a finger up. “I did not… Y-you won fair and square, my love.”

Tom crawled his way over to my side and left small kisses on my neck. “Get up-p on the couch.”

I couldn’t stop the short giggles. But I backed my way up onto the couch. I rested my legs on his shoulders and eyed him. His lips left sweet kisses on the inner of my thighs and trailed all the way up. We were going straight for it; that was fine by me. 

His mouth came close to the already throbbing at the thoughts. His breath left me cringing. The laughs couldn’t be controlled as he did a few more puffs of air on purpose. It tickled and he knew that. 

“Stop that.”

Tom looked up at me for a moment with a laugh before he slid his tongue up and down. It was hot against my clit and I swallowed. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of pleasing me so soon. 

“Not yet,” I mumbled, tangling my fingers in the soft, chocolate curls. 

Tom licked his lips, pure determination in his eyes. His mouth disappeared and the slick warmth returned. He continued his slower teases, not missing a single area. Every inch was loved. His lightly calloused hands trailed up on my outer thighs and landed on my lips for a squeeze. It caused me to shiver. 

I found myself making small pulses and moaned as I closed my eyes. His lips left sweet kisses as well. That was torturing. 

His hands pulled down the tights, only halfway, and he used them to keep my legs at his sides; this was why he wanted me to leave them on, I knew that now. I whimpered as he leaned back in. His licks turned into numbing flicks on my clit. We should’ve put a towel down; this was not something I should be thinking about right now. 

“More, Tom. Make me cum.” 

I had to sit up a little as leverage when the burning sensation began and gasped. I gripped the throw pillow beside me with my final moans and clenched. I revelled in the following shudders. It was almost better than the actual high.

“Fuck,” I breathed. The only coherent thought I had after that drunken orgasm. “I… definitely won.” 

Tom crawled his way up to give me a peck. “We both won, darling.”

I laughed. “I say we play this again next weekend.”

“I agree…. Shall we eat and binge more Teen Wolf.” 

I clapped my hands. “Hell yeah!”

[Masterlist]

[ynscrazylife]

The Cold is Her Savior

A Wanda version was requested of “50% Ice, 50% Fire, 100% Smitten” so you ask and you shall receive! 

Requested by @capmarvelq

Summary: Y/N has a crush on Wanda, and Wanda has a crush on her. Y/N doesn’t like using her ice powers because she hates the cold, but she’s forced to when Wanda is in danger, and feelings are revealed. 

“Y/N, Wanda,” Steve said as he entered the Avengers Tower living room. The team had been sitting there, all chatting and watching the T.V. Y/N had been talking with Natasha and Wanda with Clint, but both women looked up when they heard their names. 

The Captain smiled, pausing before continuing. “I have a mission for you two.” 

Y/N’s eyebrows raised and her eyes lit up with interest - it wasn’t so common that you’d go on a mission with not all of the team, but that wasn’t it. Y/N was going on a mission with her crush, and she was beyond excited.

Little did she know that Wanda had returned her feelings, and she had gasped and grasped onto Clint’s arm in her surprise, nearly breaking it. 

Immediately, the two scrambled up to follow Steve to the conference room. The rest of the team poorly concealed their chuckles, seeing them both so energetic. Everyone was aware of their crushes on each other, except them. 

“I think Rogers paired them up on purpose,” Natasha whispered to Clint with a smirk. 

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“Okay,” Steve began, closing the conference door and turning to the two Avengers. “We need you to gather intel on this private organization. We got a tip that they’re planning something against the Avengers and important information regarding it is stored inside one of the old members’ house. His family, who seem to be unaware of what he is doing, is hosting a gala and we expect some of the members of this organization to be there. You need to find the information before they do and, if possible, take the guys back to S.H.I.E.L.D. Banner will be coming for medical, just in case, and Barton will be coming to act from the van. We need you two out there because we think the guys have powers - Inhumans, maybe.” 

Y/N and Wanda nodded. 

“When do we leave?” Wanda asked. 

“Right after you get your disguises,” Steve answered. 

Y/N grinned. 

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“See anyone suspicious?” 

“Clint, we literally just set foot into the place,” Y/N said quietly into her headpiece, rolling her eyes at the archer who couldn’t see her. Wanda caught that and flashed her a smile, obviously amused. 

Y/N nearly fainted. ‘Mission, Y/N. You and Wanda have a mission,’ she reminded herself sternly. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m gonna get cracking on seeing if I can identify our enemies,” Clint said, and they heard some shuffling. 

“You do that,” Wanda said, Y/N having joined the witch by her side so it wouldn’t look like Wanda was just talking to herself. “Y/N and I will dance.” 

Y/N stopped in her tracks, fear flooding her. She stared dumbly at the redhead for a moment. “W-what?” She spluttered, confused. 

“Dance, Y/N! We need to blend in,” Wanda said with a giggle. 

Oh, boy, did that giggle make Y/N’s heart flutter. 

“Okay,” she agreed quietly and nervously, and barely contained her excitement when Wanda led her onto the dance floor, as more classical music started playing. 

“You know the waltz?” Wanda asked, teasingly. 

As they danced, Y/N was sure that this was what heaven was. Wanda danced so gracefully, and Y/N’s cheeks burned, imagining how clumsy she was. She nearly stepped on her friend’s toes! Occasionally, the redhead would twirl her around, and Y/N couldn’t ignore the chill that’d go down her spine, nor could she deny how she felt so special and so loved.

“I’ve identified them and found out where the information is,” Clint broke in, effectively ruining Y/N’s great dream. She found herself feeling a little out of sorts. While dancing she almost forgot that they were doing something important. 

“The two guys by the bar, the one dancing with the women in the white dress to your right, and the two guys by the food table are them. I think whatever information is stored on a computer on the second floor, third room to the left,” Clint continued. 

Wanda twirled Y/N around once more before responding to him. “I can go find the information, and I’ll turn off comms to secure the cover. Y/N, you wanna keep them occupied?” She asked. 

Y/N nodded, but didn’t like the idea of Wanda turning her comms off. 

Together, the two thought up a tale and then managed to get to the two men by the bar. 

“You gentleman wouldn’t happen to know where the bathroom is?” Wanda asked. 

The men shared a glance. “Second floor, fourth door to your right,” the guy on the left answered. 

Wanda nodded, thanking him, before leaving. 

Y/N put on a smile as another song came on. She gasped. “Would one of you care to dance with me whilst I wait for my friend?” She asked. 

“Uhh, sure,” the guy on the right answered, and he stepped forward to take Y/N’s hands. 

“I’ll get drinks,” the other guy said. 

Y/N and the man danced for a couple minutes and his friend handed them drinks. Y/N sipped hers and continued to dance, while also casting glances on the room, keeping her eyes on all of their enemies. 

However, she started to feel a bit odd . . . It was probably nothing, however Y/N excused herself from her dancing partner for a moment to alert Clint. The dress she was wearing was actually her superhero suit (it could change its appearance quickly). The suit had a cool feature where it could analyze a liquid or food that seemed abnormal, in case of poison or knock-out gas. 

It only took a couple of moments for Clint to get back to her. “Y/N, Bruce looked it over. It’s slowly blocking your powers so eventually you won’t be able to use them until the liquid is out of your system. It only detects and works if it’s ingested by someone with powers,” he said quickly. 

“Shit,” Y/N whispered, because at the same time she saw two of the guys disappearing the same way Wanda had gone. 

She had to follow them, and she had to be quick.

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

Y/N took off frantically, but not that frantically to cause too much suspicion. As she walked to the stairs she saw the men get to the second floor, and when she got there herself, she heard a scream. 

Y/N ran forward, unable to comprehend what Clint was telling her, and burst into the room. 

Her amazing Wanda had her arms over her head, stumbling around in pain, as she stood in front of the computer. The men were on either side of her using their powers on her. 

Y/N went to use her ice power to send a fireball their way, so powerful that it’d make them both crash into the wall but would otherwise do no damage. However, nothing was happening. Whatever was in her drink must have deactivated her heating powers already. 

She had to use her cold powers, which she hated, or else both of them, plus the mission, were screwed. 

Y/N took a deep breath and with a wave of her hands, she made the floor underneath the two men pure ice. Then, thrusting her hands down and breaking her concentration, the ice cracked and both men fell through the floor to the first floor. 

Seconds later, though, Y/N screamed as she felt some sort of immense pain hit her. She stumbled, and the last thing she saw before collapsing and passing out was Wanda angrily using her powers on someone. 

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

“Please, Y/N, wake up, okay? I really, really need you too! Oh, god, I should have told you earlier, and now that Bruce says you might slip into a coma . . . I-I love you, Y/N! And . . . I need you to be awake so that I can actually tell you, cause I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time.” 

Y/N didn’t open her eyes, but she was able to make out what this person - Wanda, was it? - was saying. Before she could respond, though, she drifted back into unconsciousness. 

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

When Y/N came to, she found herself lying in the Avengers Tower medical bay, hooked up to an I.V and other machines. She tried to recall what happened . . . Wanda was in danger . . . She used her ice powers . . . The rest was blank. Looking around the room, she spotted the very women in question sitting in a chair. 

“Y/N!” Wanda said, scrambling to get up and leaping to her side. 

“Hey . . .” Y/N said, finding that her voice was croaking. “What happened?” 

“Right after you saved me, one of the guys used his powers on you. Caused you a lot of pain, even more so because your powers were deactivating, and it overwhelmed you. You nearly slipped into a coma . . . but it’s been a day since the mission,” Wanda answered. 

Y/N nodded slowly, although her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she remembered something else . . . 

“Did you, uh, happen to confess your love to me?” She asked sheepishly. 

Wanda’s eyes went wide. “You heard that?” She asked, horrified. 

Y/N nodded again. “Yeah . . . For the record, I love you, too.” She smiled.

[cherry-glade]

only ever pain (until you)

pairing: jason todd x reader

summary: it’s been a while since this has happened—jason’s been having a good run—but life is always out to get him, and soon enough, he's curled up into a ball of nothing but pain, aching muscle and brittle bone. luckily, like the last few times, he has you now to help him get through it.

warnings: some angst, jason being mostly touch-averse in this, jason also being quite self-deprecating, sensory overload, hurt/comfort, ptsd and hallucinations, chronic illness (fibromyalgia).

w/c: 4786 words

Jason doesn't know why it happens—maybe it's a side effect of either the Lazarus Pit, or of living in a world that he doesn’t belong in, where he should technically be dead, or perhaps it's just the trauma from the Joker's beating coming back to haunt him—but some days, it's as though all Jason is capable of feeling is pure, unadulterated pain.

He knows that it’s going to be one of those days from the minute he wakes up, wincing and turning away as the sun peeks through the window and makes his eyes sting, even though they’re still closed. He tries to roll over onto his stomach, not realising that the sheets are tangled up around his legs, and ends up falling off the bed with a dull thud, knee bashing into the floor.

Shoving the sheets away, Jason pushes himself up into a sitting position, stretching his leg out and noticing the faint redness to his skin, but he doesn’t take much note of it as he rubs at his surprisingly sore knee, preoccupied by the sudden throbbing pain in his head and behind his right eye, a sure sign of an incoming migraine.

Groaning, he stands up, damn near clinging onto the bedside table for support as he picks up his phone up and taps on the screen to check the time. It’s nearly noon, so you must already be at work. Jason usually wakes up on time though for you to kiss him goodbye, and the fact that he didn’t today is just another sign that things are probably going to end up going to shit.

Jason’s legs feel weak as he walks to the bathroom. He swears he can feel each individual fibre in the carpeting, rough against his feet. Jason pushes on and relieves himself before washing his hands and splashing cold water onto his face, nearly collapsing into a heap on the floor, but he manages to catch himself before he cracks his head open on the sink.

”You look like a piece of shit that got turned into roadkill, and are very lucky that Y/N isn’t here right now to witness this,” Jason says to his reflection in the mirror above the sink as he leans forward, noting his bloodshot eyes and the bags underneath them, skin paler than usual.

He blinks hard at the mirror and then stumbles out towards your kitchen, regretting not putting any socks on first as his bare feet come into the contact with the tiled floor, cold and leeching any remaining heat from his body. Jason fills the kettle up with water and switches it on, studying the darkening bruise on his knee as he waits for it to come to a boil.

Surprisingly enough, the bruise is already reddish in colour, almost verging on purple and tender to the touch as Jason prods at it with his fingers like a curious child, hissing at the pain radiating from it. He tries his best to ignore the dull ache as he makes himself a quick cup of jasmine tea, specially bought for him by Alfred, fingers trembling all the while.

Jason has to pick up his mug with both hands, taking a moment to let the warmth of the tea seep through his body, and then makes the mistake of taking a step back towards the bedroom. He vaguely recalls having a conversation with Tim and Damian, a while ago now, about if he would rather walk on heated coals or a trail of Legos. Remembers Damian absentmindedly mentioning that he’d already done the former as part of his training in the League of Assassins.

Remembers chiming in himself and saying that he’d done the same, then having to squirm away from Dick when he’d gotten that oddly sad look on his face as soon as Damian mentioned it—that look that said Jason was going to get a hug whether he liked it or not. Jason had barely escaped by pushing Damian into Dick’s arms instead, and Dick had apparently been appeased by that as he curled around Damian like an octopus, still giving Jason puppy eyes.

This, right now? Taking this single step? It feels infinitely worse than both options combined.

Jason grits his teeth and forces himself through walking the few paces to your shared bedroom, feeling like he’s about to collapse onto the floor the whole way. He has to take a break when he reaches the doorway, clinging to the doorframe with one hand, and tries to keep his other hand to stay as still as physically possible so it doesn’t spill, even as the handle of the mug feels bruising against his palm.

Jason takes a moment to breathe in deep, resisting the urge to claw at his own neck and chest as his pulse quickens and his heart beats harder against his ribs, as the insistent buzz under his skin grows even more insistent, like it’s trying to seek his attention over the throb of his migraine, over the ever-growing pain in his knee and his trembling hands and his dry throat and chapped lips and the keen desire to have you by his side.

Jason isn’t even exaggerating when he says it feels like it’s been years when he finally reaches the bed, practically falling down onto it. With shaky hands, he brings the mug to his mouth, breathing in the subtle sweetness through his nose before taking a sip of the tea, regretting it immediately when it feels as though molten lava is being poured down his throat, clogging it up to the point that Jason’s nose burns when he tries to force down the urge to choke.

Instead of being stupid and trying to drink any more of it, Jason decides to set the mug down on the bedside table so he can wait for it to cool down, his hand jerking when he sees something other than tea in it. Jason stares helplessly, frozen in place as liquid spills over the rim of the mug and trickles down its side, leaving a faint stain on it, the colour reminiscent of dried blood. He blinks when his eyes start to water, and the tea is its usual colour again, a rich, golden caramel.

Jason stares for a little while longer and then decides to get back into bed so he can wait, for both his tea and you. Curling up into a ball is easier said than done, especially when he can feel every single hair on his body rubbing against the sheets when he pulls them close to his chest, then yanks the covers over his head like he’s trying to smother the pain as he squeezes his eyes shut.

His last thought before unknowingly succumbing to the darkness of sleep, selfish as it might be, is that though he hates being so reliant upon you, though it makes him feel weak and not so different from a leech, asking for everything from you and giving nothing in return, he wants to hear your voice telling him that he will get through this, and that you’ll be with him every step of the way.

***

Jason awakes from his restless slumber to the sound of someone knocking on the bedroom door, even though he remembers leaving it open. He knows it’s you though, because you’re the only one who ever bothers knocking anymore, even if the door is open, in an attempt to give him the space he sometimes needs. He tries his best to focus through the pain and realises that you’re knocking in a pattern, the same pattern you established with each other a while ago to ask if he was okay.

Jason nearly bites through his lip to stop himself from crying out as he reaches an arm out from under the covers to knock on the wood of the bedside table thrice, the nauseatingly coppery taste of blood lingering on his tongue. He wants you to tell him everything is going to be okay, even though he knows it isn’t going to be that way for a while, if only to delude himself into thinking so.

“Jay? Are you having a day?” You call out softly, and the ringing in his ears doesn’t stop him from hearing you shuffle your feet. Jason ignores the sound of his teeth grinding together as he summons the energy to peek out at you, squinting at how you’re stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob with both feet firmly outside of the room. Somewhere deep inside him, past all the parts that scream with pain and hurt and anger, it warms him to see that you’ll still respect his boundaries.

He nods at you, regretting it when his migraine comes back with a vengeance. It feels like someone’s hammering at the inside of his head, trying to break out of it. “You okay with touching?” You whisper, finally stepping into the room.

He isn’t sure. Touching his thumb to his chin makes his skin burst into a flurry of sensation, and Jason only refrains from scratching at his face because he knows that you know he wants to do it, going by the stern look on your face. “Can try, but… not skin,” he rasps out, wincing at the way his voice sounds. It’s hoarse and raspy, like he’s been screaming for hours. He could’ve been, in his sleep.

You come closer, casually tugging a pair of gloves out of your pocket and sliding them on. Other than the fact that they’re very soft, the gloves aren’t anything special. When you first found out about the pain, it had been Jason wearing them so he wouldn’t scratch himself, but both of you quickly found out that the material was far too itchy against his sensitive skin, and now it’s you who wears them so that you can help him without accidentally touching his skin and sending him into a frenzy.

Jason watches you as you step in front of the bedside table and curl your hand around a mug that he hadn’t noticed until then. “Jasmine tea?” You ask him, and Jason holds his shaking hands out to take it, but you move it away and put the mug back down, shaking your head. “It’s gone cold. You must have made it before you went to sleep.”

“I—don’t remember,” Jason murmurs, suddenly feeling very lost. He thought you had made it for him. Your mouth twitches into a small frown as you study his face, and your hand rises like you’re about to touch him, faltering midway before falling back down to your side.

“I’m going to get you some water,” you say, waiting for Jason’s nod before leaving to do just that, and Jason knows you’re coming right back, but he somehow misses you even more now than he did when you were at work. His shoulders are tense until you return to his side with a small glass, half-full of water.

“Do you want me to hold it for you—”

“Can do it myself,” Jason interrupts you, insistent on doing at least this without having to be so dependent on you. But once the glass is in his hands, water keeps sloshing over the sides, his teeth clacking into it because of how much his hands are shaking. Your gloved hands come up to support his, holding the glass steady, and he does his best to shoot you a thankful look as he takes a careful sip. He’s sure it’s lukewarm, but it feels like shards of ice scraping against his throat, almost making Jason choke.

Once the glass is empty, you set it down with a clink and crouch down next to the bed, facing him. “Have you eaten?” You ask, and Jason just about manages to shake his head, feeling sick. Your frown deepens momentarily before smoothing out entirely as you stand up again, taking a few steps back so that you’re not looming over him.

His skin is itchy. He feels dirty. Jason doesn’t realise that he’s scratching until you say his name sternly, startling him when you place a gentle hand on top of his. Your eyes scan over his face, and you must see something on it because you straighten up, a somewhat determined look in your eyes as you slowly peel the covers off him, baring Jason’s body to the cold darkness of the bedroom.

“Bath time,” you tell him, a small smile on your face. Jason shivers violently.

“Dirty? Am I dirty?” He asks, vaguely aware of the fact that he’s slurring his words, focussing more on how hot his face feels. Your smile wavers and it feels like his blood is boiling inside him as you shake your head, muttering something to yourself about him getting worse.

“But—”

Jason looks down at his hands, which only shake even more when he sees crimson pooling in the crooks between his fingers, staining his cuticles red and drying into the lines of his cracked palms. Red drips from his fingertips, staining the sheets beneath him. He doesn’t want to touch you, to dirty you with his red hands.

“They’re dirty,” Jason says, showing you his hands, and you shake your head again.

“You’re not dirty,” you say out loud this time, looking Jason in the eye. “You’re having a bath because it’ll help with the pain,” you explain to him like he’s a child, but Jason can’t find it in himself to get annoyed. He shivers again, but this time it’s because of the sudden cold he feels, because of the goosebumps rising along the surface of his bare arms as the buzz under his skin roars for his attention.

“I’m not?” Jason asks, still hesitant, and you repeat yourself as your eyes flicker over his face, telling him that he isn’t dirty.

“Come on,” you gently coax him until Jason eventually pulls himself out of the safety of the bed, a whimper escaping from between his clenched teeth when his feet touch the floor and pain shoots through his body. Your eyes are glued to him, concern clearly written all over your face as Jason battles his way to the bathroom and then starts to undress as you fill the bathtub, resisting the urge to scratch as the fabric of his clothes drags uncomfortably over his skin.

He studies his trembling hands as you pour some odd-looking powder into the water, dipping your hand in and swirling it all together until you’re left with a slimy mixture. You turn to him with an expectant look on your face like you’re waiting for him to do something, and then it clicks, and Jason’s nose wrinkles as he presses his lips together in a thin line.

“Sweetheart, you need to actually get in for it to have any effect,” you remind him, a teasing undertone to your voice. Jason pulls a face and steps up to the tub, wincing as the muscles in his legs sprain when he tries to swing his leg over the edge to do as he’s been told. But you come up next to him, holding one of his hands as lightly as you can to support him as he manages to climb into the tub, slowly sinking down until he’s sat down and almost fully submerged.

For a moment, it’s almost too overwhelming for him, and then the continuous sensations of hot and cold and pain and numbness, of all too much and nowhere near enough, they all slowly ease. Jason sinks a little lower into the water, hands shooting out of the water to grip onto the sides of the bathtub so he can ground himself as he closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall, slowly breathing out through his nose.

Jason isn’t sure if he’s relieved or terrified by how easy it was to get his body to just shut up, but doesn’t ponder on it, revelling instead at how he can now simply feel without hurting so much.

He must zone out for quite some time though because he ends up tuning back in to the sound of your voice, smooth and familiar as you tell him about your day at work. You aren’t holding his hand anymore, but are still sat on the rug next to the bathtub, watching him with sharp eyes.

Once again, Jason is reminded of the fact that you’re too good for him, too good for someone with blood on his hands and vengeance on his mind, for someone who is capable of feeling nothing but anger in his heart. Once again, he wonders why you choose to stay, why you keep choosing him even though everyone else in his life does the opposite.

There’s an odd look on your face when Jason turns to look at you. You don’t say anything, not pushing him, but wait for him to speak in his own time. He’s fiercely reminded of how much he loves you and swallows down the lump in his throat which threatens to choke him.

“They’re red,” he finally croaks out, and his tongue feels too big for his mouth. “My hands are red, and they’re always gonna be red with people’s fucking blood, because that’s all I’m good at. That’s all I can do.”

“Jay—” you start, frowning, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head which makes him feel like he’s about to throw up.

His bloody hands shake. “I’m never going to be clean,” Jason whispers, but even that is too loud for his overly sensitive ears. “When people look at Red Hood, at me, that’s all they are ever going to see. Blood on my hands.”

“Jason, baby,” you murmur, and Jason doesn’t think he’s ever heard your voice so soft before. He turns his head to look down when your gloved fingers graze the tips of his, even though it makes him feel like his brain is pounding violently against the inside of his skull.

You’re asking if you can hold his hand, and Jason takes in a deep breath as he slowly uncurls his fingers from the death grip they previously had around the edge of the bathtub, then flips his hand over so his palm is facing upwards.

You don’t cover it with your own like he’s expecting, but manage to slide yours underneath Jason’s so that you’re cradling his hand. He has to fight hard against the instinct to snatch it back.

“You wanna know what I see?” You ask as your eyes fall to his hand, but it isn’t really a question, and if it is, it’s clearly rhetorical. Your gloved fingertip traces over the lines in his palm, and it doesn’t hurt as much as Jason had thought it would. Instead of thousands of tiny needles piercing through the surface of his skin, it just feels like sharp little pinpricks of sensation.

He looks up at you, and you look right back at him with soft eyes and a softer smile. Jason’s pretty sure his heart skips a beat in the same way it always does when you smile at him. “I see strength, and I see kindness, and I see good.”

Your eyes lower to look at his hand again. “I see scars and callouses and bruised knuckles, and fingers that haven’t healed right after being broken. I see the hands of a man who has worked hard every single day of his life, who doesn’t stop working even though it hurts sometimes, because he’s just like that.”

Your eyes meet, and Jason has to take in deep breaths after seeing the fierce look in your eyes, even though his chest is painfully tight. “I see hands that disarm bombs and shoot guns and break assholes’ noses. Hands that help and protect and love, so, so much.”

Jason exhales shakily through his nose, eyes stinging. He doesn’t deserve this, he knows that. He’s known that he doesn’t deserve you since the moment he met you, since the first time he dared to utter your name with his unworthy tongue, to touch you with his undeserving hands.

But you make him sound like this wonderful person, somebody who actually deserves to have you and love you, and Jason doesn’t know how you can see him like that. He’s killed and tortured and hurt people, both physically and emotionally, he’s not good at all, but he couldn’t bear to lose you if you ever came to the realisation that you’ve been wrong about him all along.

Loving you is the best thing he’s ever done, the greatest choice he’s ever made, and the closest he can get to being good is being good to you. If that’s taken away from him, he’s doomed to an eternity of making the wrong choices.

“When I look at you, I see someone who is brave and gentle and strong. So strong,” you emphasise with the gentlest squeeze to his hand, almost like you think if you put too much pressure on it, his bones will cave in and shatter beneath your touch into dozens of tiny pieces, just like Jason’s heart does whenever you say things like this to him, like you actually mean it.

“I see a man who has been hurt by the world around him so many times, but he’s come out fighting every time.” Jason flinches at that, turning away so he can watch the condensation slowly forming on the tap, a single water droplet threatening to spill from it.

“Jay,” you whisper shakily, and he can hear the swell of emotion in your voice. But Jason knows that you’re not asking him to turn back and face you again, though he feels like he should so he can lean in and kiss any revealing traces of wetness off your face, even if it makes his lips feel like they’re being seared right off his face as he touches them to your soft skin.

“I wish you could see what I do when I look at you,” you admit, eyes no longer burning into the side of his face as you steady your voice again, sounding like you’re determined to prove it to him, that he’s worthy of your love and time.

“You deserve every good thing in this cursed world that we live in, and I wish I could give you that, but I can’t,” you say, voice cracking halfway through your sentence, and you sound truly heartbroken about it, about the fact that—that Jason deserves more, and he’s not getting it.

The water droplet leaks from the tap and lands on the bottom of the tub with a faint splat. Jason doesn’t hear it because he’s too busy staring at your glossy eyes, tears threatening to spill over the delicate tips of your eyelashes and down your face.

You blink and a tear runs down your cheek, just one, leaving a faint streak on your face as you breathe in deeply through your nose, trying to pull yourself together before you speak again. “All I can give you is my love and my time, and hope that that’s enough for you.”

You look back down at his hand cradled in yours again and there’s a faint smile on your face, like you know something he doesn’t. “These hands which you think are red? The same hands which you think will only ever ruin everything they touch? They’ve never hurt me.”

“These hands right here?” You say, shaking his ever so slightly, but not so much that it hurts. “They hold me when I’m happy and when I’m sad, when I’m angry and when I need to feel safe.” Your eyes meet his again, bright with warmth and determination. “My heart is in these hands, Jason, and you’ve never done it wrong. Ever.” Jason briefly considers arguing with you but he really doesn’t have the energy to—this bath is making him strangely sleepy.

But you must see the intent in his eyes because you shake your head and continue, just as stubborn as he is. That isn’t a bad thing, not at all. It’s why you work so well together.

“When I got into a relationship with you, I trusted you to take care of my heart, and that’s exactly what you’ve done,” you explain. “So all I’m asking is that you trust me to take care of you, because I know you deserve it, whether you agree with me or not.”

Jason stares at you and you stare right back, your smile growing ever wider as Jason’s eyes dart away and his cheeks warm slightly. He loves you so much.

“I think you ought to know,” Jason starts, meeting your eyes as water trails slowly down the back of his neck, making him want to claw at his skin, to press his nails into it and drag them along the surface until it’s raw and itchy and as red as his bleeding heart. “If it weren’t for the fact that the thought of touching someone’s skin makes me want to peel the fucking flesh right off my bones, I’d be kissing the shit out of you right now.”

Your wet eyes go soft again, as does your trembling smile. “I appreciate the sentiment,” you laugh, undeniably fond, and even after all this time, it makes Jason want to squirm a little. He refrains, but just barely.

You stare at each other for a little while longer until you speak up again, asking if you can wash his hair. It’s not that he needs to have his hair washed, but he enjoys the feeling of your fingers in his hair, adores the sound of your voice as you tell him a story or sing to him to replace the silence or distract him from the thoughts racing around his mind.

So naturally, he agrees, and soon enough, he’s facing the wall with you balanced on the edge of the bathtub, warning him before you scoop up a handful of clean water and pour it over his hair. You start to hum a simple song, briefly pausing to tell that you’re going to shampoo his hair before continuing.

He tenses up, trying to prepare himself for the feeling of being overstimulated when your hands land in his hair, but warmth tingles through him instead in the same way that it does whenever you touch him with no plans other than to love him, and really, Jason was a fool to expect anything else, seeing as you’ve only ever touched him with the best intentions in mind.

“I love you,” Jason murmurs quietly, and you don’t tease him by telling him you know that like you sometimes do. Like Jason himself did when he finally became comfortable with the fact that he loves you and you love him too.

In fact, you don’t say anything at all, still humming that same song as you gently massage your fingers through his thick hair, paying particular attention to his white streak. It occurs to Jason that maybe you didn’t hear him.

Or maybe you just somehow know like you always do that this was something he needed to say, that it was something he needed to learn for himself without finding out that you knew how he felt before he did, something that he needed to come to terms with so he could finally put a name to the way you make his heart try to punch out of his rib cage and right into your hands whenever you smile at him or say his name or praise him, or kiss his tears away and take him into your arms after he’s had a nightmare without a word of complaint.

“I love you,” he repeats anyway, hoping for you to understand, and you try your best, leaning in to press your mouth to the wet skin on the back of his neck, mouthing words against it that Jason can’t quite make out, but he’s pretty sure he can have a good guess. It makes him shiver again, but in a good way this time.

“I love you,” he says a third time, and now you get it. Now you hear what he’s really saying.

I love you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for always choosing me. Thank you for helping me through this.

Your mouth curls into a smile against his skin. “I love you too, Jason,” you whisper, voice tender. And Jason hears what you’re saying too.

I love you. Thank you for letting me.

[aworldoffandoms]

Love is a Beautiful Thing - Ethan x F!MC

Authors Note:  HI! I’m back (finally) with another prompt ask fic! I know it’s taken too long for this to happen but my laptop battery decided to shit itself and I needed to send it away to get it fixed and now it’s back and here it is! lol. I’m sorry for my mediocre writing with this one but I hope you enjoy, anyway! I apologise for any spelling, grammar and punctuation mistakes. Prompt is in bold.

AO3 WORK

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC [Nicolette Valentine]

Word Count: 2, 075 (who allows me to write? Oh, me... damnit.)

Prompt: “Not only am I deeply in love with you, you’re my best friend.”

Rating: G

Warnings: Fluff and Ethan and Nic being cute. 

Tag list at the bottom of this post.

Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Pixelberry and all characters belong to them.

*** 

LOVE IS A BEAUTIFUL THING

Ethan knew the exact moment that he fell in love with Nicolette. It was on a Sunday, their first weekend off in two months and Nicolette was staying over, her hair up in a messy bun, red hair slipping out of its hold and framing her face in the most delicate way that made her more ethereal when the sun shone on her hair, making it glow like a warm fire. 

He knew he was in love when she smiles, her cheeks and all of her smattered with freckles that Ethan found himself tracing with his fingers at night, following them like a map as they trailed from her nose, down her cheeks to the lower parts of her chest and shoulders and Ethan marvels each time he gets to see them, touch them...kiss them. 

His chest warms with love when she comes home from grocery shopping in an oversized Columbia University jumper that she got at a conference in her second year of medical school, her Adidas stretch leggings that hugged her legs in the most enticing and her long hair a mess around her shoulders, not caring about her appearance in the slightest. It reiterates how comfortable she was with him. This is Nicolette in her purest form and a smile lifts his lips at the thought that Nicolette, the most gentle, kind-hearted and compassionate woman was able to be herself with him in whatever capacity.

Ethan knew he was in love when he finds Nicolette on his couch, tears tracking down her face and a pile of tissues surrounding her, her eyes glued to the television. One glance at the TV and Ethan realises it’s a Disney movie. He should be amazed and somewhat turned off by the fact that a twenty-eight-year-old cries at a Disney movie but in this particular case, a fond smile raises his lips at the sight even when his heart drops at seeing her crying. He never likes to see her cry. He always admires Nicolette when she doesn’t hide behind a facade of what she should be. If she wants to watch a movie from her childhood then she is going to watch it, if she cries then she’ll do it. She is real. She is her authentic self and Ethan has never been more in love. 

Ethan’s in love when he finds Nicolette, sitting in front of his laptop, researching a case they’ve been trying to diagnose one night, her glasses perched on her face, her nose scrunched up in concentration, the light of the screen emphasising the bags under those beautiful blue eyes. She doesn’t know he’s there, himself tucked behind an alcove out of sight. So now, he just watches her do her thing, sift through notes, type on the keyboard. A silent chuckle escapes him when he sees her tongue poking out of her lips, a sure sign that she was in the deepest trance of her concentration. Nicolette pushes back some of the hair that had fallen in her face and Ethan’s fingers twitch to do the same but he forces himself to resist and stay put. He’s more than content just to watch her. 

It’s then that he really knows it. He could watch her do that for the rest of his life if he wanted to and he’d never get sick of it. Pure happiness and joy settle around him like a warm blanket on a cold night and he sighs at the euphoric feeling. He loves Nicolette and he’ll love her for the rest of his days on this earth. 

“I know you’re there, Ethan so you can come out of your creepy hideaway and come sit with me. I need your brain for a minute.” 

Ethan jolts out of his own trance (or perhaps he should say his Nicolette trance) and pads over to the couch, laughing as he does so. 

“‘You need my brain’? That’s a creative and articulate way of saying you need me.” 

Nicolette glances over to him, giving him a flat look before she smiles and shrugs at his words. “It’s true though, I need you for your brain and nothing else right now.” 

Ethan chuckles, his hand coming up to wrap around the back of her neck as he begins gently kneading it, finding a cord of tension there. Nicolette melts into his touch but her eyes are still focused on the notes in front of her. 

“What a shame. I would have been happy to oblige in whatever else you needed from me.” 

Nicolette scoffs. “Please, Ethan. Maybe go grab some water for yourself because I am sure as hell ain’t thirsty right now. I’m researching this case and I need to study for my boards.” 

Ethan ignores the implication of those words (he did know what it meant, he wasn’t a complete tragic) and focuses on what Nicolette was viewing.

“Practice exam questions for IMCs?” 

Nicolette signs, removing her glasses to rub at her eyes. She had been staring at the laptop screen for too long and they were starting to hurt. She sighs as she puts her glasses back on and turns to her boyfriend. “Yes, they are. It’s the third time I’m going to study it today. Can you please help me through them? I need a sounding board right now. I’m sick and tired of hearing the voice inside my head read questions back at me.” 

Ethan’s eyebrows furrow in concern at the lethargy he can hear in her voice and the small droop of her shoulders. He doesn’t want her to burn out but he figures that she’ll continue anyway. She’s as stubborn as him. 

“Okay, I’ll help. What do you need?” 

Nicolette claps and sits back from him, pulling her knees up underneath her and turns so that she’s face to face with him. “Run through some practice questions with me and then we can get some takeaway and watch a trashy movie or something.” 

Ethan chuckles, a fond smile lighting up his face. He finds where Nicolette was up to and begins reciting the question. “Okay. Here we go… A 23-year-old woman with bone marrow failure is treated with a large dose of rabbit anti-thymocyte globulin. Ten days later, she develops fever, lymphadenopathy, arthralgias, and erythema on her hands and feet. Which of the following is the most likely cause of these symptoms?” 

Ethan already knew the answer but he allows Nicolette the time to answer herself. He sees the clocks working in her mind and her eyes light up as she finds the answer. “Is it immune complex deposition in tissues?” 

Ethan flips back to the practice test answers and he gives a nod and an answering smile at her when he finds that she was correct. He would have told her yes straight away but he knew Nicolette enough that she would have appreciated that he goes to the answered section to make sure that she’s correct. 

“Yes, you’re right! Good work!” 

Nicolette cheers with a resounding ‘yay’ as she claps her hands, her face alight with relief. Ethan grins at her enthusiasm because he knows how much succeeding at this means to her. So, it’s there, in the middle of Ethan’s living room, the sun already on its decline where Ethan and Nicolette sit and work through each question of her board exam practice test. 

It's a few hours after that, the inky black night piercing the living room, both of them leaning up against the couch with Ethan chuckling at a particular answer that Nicolette got wrong (and a particularly hard one at that, he wasn’t going to lie) that he realises he’s having the time of his life. It’s these little moments that set his heart aflame, that bring him a sense of contentment. Rightness.  

Ethan can’t fathom a time where he wasn’t having fun with Nicolette and he is so glad that he is in a position to be here with her. She is his closest confidant, a person with whom he can be himself, his best self, opinions, objections and all. A warm smile lifts the corners of his mouth and he says the next words with an air of reverence, of truth and certainty for they were the truest words to ever leave his lips. 

Ethan grabs her hand, his face serious for a moment and Nicolette stops and stares at the utter warmth of his eyes, the blue of them liquid cyan and the admiration on his face makes her breath hitch in her throat.

“You are amazing, Nicolette. You make every day brighter and I can’t honestly imagine walking through life without you. I can honestly, without any reservation, say that not only am I deeply in love with you, you’re my best friend.” 

Nicolette is frozen, her mouth popped open in evident shock but Ethan sees the effect his words have had on her. Her crystal blue eyes shine like diamonds as tears well up in them and he resists the urge to pull her to him. He needs to say this otherwise he was going to burst. 

“I realise it’s not the best time but I just had to say it. I needed to otherwise—” 

Nicolette cuts him off with a kiss, the kiss so strong that he loses his balance against the suddenness of it and falls backwards, both of them sprawled on the plush area rug. 

Nicolette breaks the kiss after a while and just looks at him, her fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. Her eyes are shiny and tears are slowly making their way down her cheeks as she whispers, her forehead coming to rest upon his gently, her lips mere inches away from his.

“I can’t study for my boards now since you’ve said that so we’re going to get takeaway. Call for Chinese and I’ll put on a movie.” 

There is a pang in his chest as he hears her words and he can’t help but be disappointed. A part of him was hoping for reciprocation or at least something remotely related to his words. And yet, Nicolette’s mind is different from his, no less fantastically intelligent but different and he realises that she processes things differently from him. Whether it takes her a few seconds, minutes or days, it won’t matter to him. He would wait for her forever. 

He nods, trying to not let the disappointment show on his face and plucks his phone out of his pocket and press speed dial to call his favourite Chinese restaurant just down the main street, a few metres from his condo. 

He’s just staring out at the horizon, his eyes scanning the twinkling skyline of Boston when he freezes as he feels Nicolette behind him hugging him, her head on his back and her arms tight around his torso. He shivers when he feels Nicolette kiss his shoulder, her face buried into him, almost like she wanted to melt into him completely. 

“I love you too, Ethan. I know I don’t say it enough but you’re my best friend and I thank the stars every day that we met.” She squeezes him once more before letting go. “Oh, and don’t forget the Kung pao chicken.” 

Ethan grins and his heart flies out of his chest. God, he loves this woman so much. 

“I would never forget the Kung pao chicken, Nicolette.” 

Nicolette turns to him and gives him a soft smile, her eyes shining with deep affection. “Good. I knew I loved you for a reason.”  

“Oh? Is that the only reason?” 

Nicolette smirks as she makes her way to the cabinet next to the stove where they kept the wine, her eyes alight with mischief as she gives Ethan a wink. 

“A woman never reveals her secrets, Ethan.” 

Ethan laughs, the sound light and happy, a smile on his lips as he orders them dinner. Love is a beautiful thing, Ethan thinks, and he again berates himself for resisting this wonderful feeling for so long. He marvels silently as he stares out at the Boston skyline again, the sounds of domesticity surround him as Nicolette gets ready for dinner and he’s never felt so safe, so calm...so at ease.

Ethan lets out a sigh of contentment. Love is beautiful and if he could have a beautiful life with Nicolette? Well, then... he can call himself the luckiest man on earth.

***

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[wherevermyway]

you taste flamin’ hot | hyunsung | smut

pairing: han jisung x hwang hyunjin rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: explicit sexual content, awkward sexual situations, alcohol, public sex, food kink, deradation, watersports, dacryphilia. word count: 6,346 also on AO3!

originally published: 12 october 2020

Hyunjin and Jisung have no idea why they're roommates, or even friends. They're the polar opposite of each other: Hyunjin was well-pampered and high class, his platinum blond hair always well maintained, he was always draped in nice, bright, tasteful designer clothing; Jisung, however, was the exact opposite. Jisung would buy the cheapest, darkest shade of boxed black hair dye and hastily slather his hair in it, missing big patches and splattering viscous ink everywhere. He only wore black, sometimes with red accents, and would cake on eyeliner like there was no tomorrow.

Hyunjin was neat, well kept and groomed, and was a picky eater. Jisung was a sloppy mess, and practically lived off of iced americanos and spicy Cheetos. Hyunjin was a quiet, reserved drunk. Jisung was a sloppy, flirty drunk.

When they get drunk at a party one night, they finally realize that they were friends for one glaringly obvious reason: they were both incredibly sexually compatible, and Hyunjin finally had a good excuse to get messy.

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

Crunching. That was the only thing that Hyunjin could hear as the younger man in his lap snacked on those toxic waste-like Cheetos that Jisung loved so much. They smelled briny and, not surprisingly, like they were laden with salt. Hyunjin could never understand why Jisung liked those stupid, messy, disgusting snacks so much. There was no nutritional value to them, they were overpowering, and they got absolutely fucking everywhere.

The residual red flakes from the spicy Cheetos bag stood out like a bright red highlighter on Jisung’s fingers. It didn’t bother the younger man, but it bothered Hyunjin. “Would you please go clean your disgusting fingers? Stop getting all of that shit on me.” He stared down at the bright, neon red dust and scowled.

Jisung cocked his head to the side, looking up to his senior in confusion, before he looked down to his own fingertips. “Ah, whoops,” he muttered before sticking his fingers in his mouth, rolling them around before grating the residual coating off of them with his teeth. “My bad, dude.” He immediately went back to scrolling and swiping around inanely on his phone, leaving oily, smudgy streaks on the screen.

Hyunjin groans, rolling his head into the back of the couch. “No,” he mutters, reaching down to Jisung’s phone, plucking it from his fingers and taking it away from him. “I mean, go actually wash your nasty fingers.”

“No,” Jisung mumbles, reaching up to grab his phone from Hyunjin, rolling his head in the lap of his senior. “I’ll do it later. It’s just not important now. I’m in the middle of my manga.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and groans. “You’re disgusting,” he says a bit louder than he intended.

“So what?” Jisung mockingly groans back, pressing the back of his head into the thigh of his senior.

“You’re disgusting,” Hyunjin repeated with emphasis, rolling his head back. “I don’t know how someone like you, so outwardly concerned about your cool guy aesthetic, is fine with being so gross.”

Jisung rolls his head back a bit, looking up to his senior. “It’s not hurting anyone, is it? Then what does it matter? Besides, I’m not that gross.”

Hyunjin sighs, sticking his hand underneath Jisung’s back and lifting him off of his lap. “Fuck you,” he grumbles as he stands up, brushing neon red crumbs off of his nice clothing. “I’m gonna have to get this shit dry-cleaned. I should make you pay for it.”

“Make me.” Jisung flopped back down on the couch, right back to the warm spot was from where Hyunjin was sitting. Without skipping a beat, he went right back to scrolling through his phone. “You wouldn’t have signed the lease with me if you were really that disgusted by me, and you know that.”

A frustrated groan erupts from the blond as he spins on his heel and storms off into his room, slamming the door behind him. He knew that Jisung was right, but he would rather walk on hot coals than admit that.

“Are you ready yet?” Jisung shouts into Hyunjin’s door. “You prissy bitch, I know you look fine. Stop fussing over your stupid hair and let’s go. I don’t wanna be late for the party.”

Hyunjin’s door flies open, and he scowls down at the black-haired man in front of him. “Like you’ve never spent hours in front of the mirror, trying to perfect your stupid eyeliner and get your bad boy look down. Sue me for wanting to look good.” He unironically flips his shoulder-length blond hair, almost as if he was punctuating his statement with sass. “Everyone’s going to be looking at me, anyways.”

The pair was an interesting duality. Jisung only wore black, would wear thick layers of eyeliner, and dyed his dark brunette hair deliberately darker: the cheapest, darkest box of black dye he could find. Hyunjin was the exact opposite: he wore only designer brands in bright colours alongside shades of cream and off-white. His hair was platinum blonde, well maintained with his monthly appointments, and had weekly manicures and facial appointments.

How the two of them got along as friends was beyond them. They shared virtually no similar interests, they butted heads all the time, and they were constantly yelling insults at each other. The thought of their sexual compatibility did cross Hyunjin’s mind several times, though. Especially on the nights when they would go out and party together. Jisung was a touchy-feely drunk, loud and experimental, and Hyunjin was quiet, loving all of the attention he got from him for it. They would recklessly flirt when they got drunk, but nothing ever came from it, because they still managed to be awkward cowards, even while hammered.

“Shall we?” Hyunjin sarcastically coos as he lightly shoves Jisung’s shoulder, pushing him out of the way.

//

The party, not surprisingly, was uneventful. Jisung forgot to eat something between the Cheetos incident and the start of the party, so he got drunk really quickly. About two hours in, he started doing body shots off of a couple of decent-looking guys, Felix and Chan. Hyunjin sipped on his vodka soda in the corner, enjoying his light buzz as he watched his friend be the sloppy drunk he always was.

“Jinnie!” The black-haired man called out to him, waving him over to the kitchen table he was sitting on. “C’mere, c’mere!”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and slowly made his way over to Jisung. “What?”

Jisung hastily grabs the empty shot glass from earlier and the bottle of vodka next to him. He lays on his back, balancing it on his sternum as he tries to open the bottle without knocking it off of him.

“What are you doing?”

“I want you to take a shot off of me,” Jisung frowns up at the man as the glass falls and he attempts to stand it up one more time.

“You’re an idiot.” Hyunjin snaps at him, grabbing the bottle from Jisung. The younger man pouts, until Hyunjin grabs the glass off of him, placing it down on the table. He pulls up Jisung’s skin-tight black shirt enough to reveal his abdomen, causing the black-haired man to gasp and flush. “You take a real body shot off of skin.” Hyunjin unscrews the cap off of the bottle of vodka, then pours some of the liquid into Jisung’s belly button.

“That’s cold!” Jisung cries out, his abdomen flexing in response.

“Suck it up.” Hyunjin doesn’t say anything else as he leans down, feeling the warm heat radiating off of Jisung’s skin as he’s maybe a couple of centimetres away from his flesh. He flits his eyes up, making eye contact with a very confused Jisung. Hyunjin bites back a smirk, deliberately not breaking eye contact as he brings his lips to the rapidly warming liquid on the soft skin beneath him. He sucks up the liquid, wincing as the cheap vodka burns his throat as it goes down.

The look on Jisung’s face is priceless, but it’s made better as Hyunjin sticks out his tongue, rolling the tip of it around the bottom of Jisung’s navel, then around all of where the vodka touched his abdomen. “Oh my god,” Jisung drawls out the last syllable as he rolls his head back, letting it collide on the table with a soft thud. Hyunjin smirks to himself, knowing that was a good reaction he just got out of the younger man.

“That’s how you do a body shot.” The smirk on Hyunjin’s face causes a confused look to pass across Jisung’s face. Hyunjin knew he was finally going to fuck the life out of him tonight, and he was beside himself with excitement, thinking of making the man cry as he choked on his dick.

“We should go home,” Jisung breathes out, his chest rapidly rising and falling.

“Party’s just started.” Hyunjin smirks and takes a long swig of vodka directly from the bottle. Looks like his plan was paying off. “You sure you wanna abandon all of your friends so early in the night?”

Jisung sits up, wobbling a bit. He takes a second to reorient himself, then looks up at Hyunjin with a serious look in his eyes. “They’ll be fine. That’s not what I care about.”

“What do you want?”

“After that body shot?” Jisung bites his lip back and looks away for a moment, before looking back up to meet Hyunjin’s eyes. “You.”

//

“I like the way those chains slap against your ass, Sungie.” Hyunjin says, eyes trained on the back of the smaller man in front of him, entranced by the way the flimsy metal danced around his waist.

Jisung spun around and pouted at Hyunjin. “Stop looking at me like a piece of meat, Jin.” He attempts to walk backwards, but isn’t quite coordinated to pull it off drunkenly in knee-high platform boots. Jisung’s foot catches the sidewalk awkwardly, and he throws his hands in the air, waving them around to balance himself.

Hyunjin takes a long step forward, moving in to catch Jisung before he was able to tumble to the ground. The two of them make uncomfortable eye contact, and stare at each other for a beat too long. Hyunjin, without any tact, slips his hand down from the small of Jisung’s back, sliding his hand down under the chains draped from his hips, and grabs a fistful of the younger man’s ass.

Jisung lets out a whiny gasp as the firm hand makes contact with him. “Hyunjin,” he whispers in a panic, “we’re in public, what are you doing?”

“Letting people know what’s gonna be mine tonight.” The blond smirks, helping the younger man stand up. “C’mon, let’s go to GS25. I have an idea.”

Jisung’s face is a deep shade of crimson as his senior lets go of his waist and walks off without him.

//

The two men walk through GS25, and Jisung is about to dart off to grab a bottled americano from the cooler, but Hyunjin grabs his hand and yanks him towards the back. “What are you doing?”

“My parents own this one. It’s fine.” Hyunjin quips, still not answering Jisung’s question. He pauses in front of the staff washroom door for just a moment. “Wait here.”

“What? Why?” Jisung pleads, but Hyunjin darts off into a back room for just a moment. Jisung fiddles with his hands while he waits, clearly looking nervous as he waits for Hyunjin to come back.

Hyunjin comes back out of the door, holding a key between his fingers. He says nothing, just slides the key in the lock, opening the door and pulling Jisung in by the wrist. “Be quiet. My parents may own this place,” he locks the door behind him, then pins Jisung up against the wall, “but I don’t wanna get in legal trouble. Because I’m gonna wreck your fucking night and make a mess out of you, embarrass you so badly as we walk home. You cool with that?”

Jisung sputters incoherently, then nods his head nervously.

“No,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes, “use your words. I need to know you’re fine with the shit I’m about to do to you. I know you’re not into vanilla shit after that stint you had with Seungmin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung grips at Hyunjin’s hips and he pleads with wide eyes.

“Good. Colours?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because I wanna make you fucking cry.” Hyunjin presses his lips against his junior’s, jamming his tongue in between his parted lips. Jisung ruts his hips against Hyunjin’s, aimlessly letting his hands wander up against his cream coloured, silken shirt. The blond reaches down to his belt, undoing it and unzipping his pants. “Get on your knees.”

Jisung does as he’s told, bringing his face up close to Hyunjin’s crotch.

“I’m not gonna hold back unless you tell me to stop. Slap my wrist or my hips if it’s too much.”

Again, Jisung nods, which earns a glare from his senior. “Yeah, sure, I will.”

“Good boy.” Hyunjin coos, then pulls his cock out of his pants. He takes Jisung’s jaw into one of his hands. ��Open.” Once Jisung’s opened his mouth, Hyunjin aims his cock into the younger man’s mouth, allowing him to run is tongue over him, warming up to the taste and the sensation of him.

It only lasts for a minute. Hyunjin roughly positions Jisung’s jaw right where he wants him, then takes his hand and slides it to the back of his head, gripping his hair tightly between his fingers. He slowly pushes his hips in, until he’s completely inside of Jisung’s mouth, rubbing up against the back of his throat.

Jisung’s eyes widen in panic for a moment, but then his eyelids flutter in excitement. Hyunjin takes this as an invitation to continue, pulling back and preparing himself to fuck his junior’s face like nothing more than a sex toy. “I’m not gonna stop until you cry.” Hyunjin says, then thrusts harshly into Jisung’s throat.

The younger man lets out a stifled moan, surprised as to how much Hyunjin filled his mouth. He reaches his hands up to Hyunjin’s hips and saliva comes sputtering up from his mouth as Hyunjin relentlessly continues to aggressively pound the back of his throat. It felt so good, but it hurt and he felt the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Gonna ruin that pretty face of yours,” Hyunjin pants, tugging on Jisung’s black hair a bit harder, with purpose. “Look at you, getting your face fucked in a disgusting public bathroom. I bet you love this kind of shit with how nasty you are, don’t you?”

Jisung lets out a choked affirmation, and starts to feel the tears spill from his eyes. He was secretly thankful they both had a little too much to drink, because his gag reflex had completely disappeared. He looked up at Hyunjin, meeting his eyes for just a moment before he closes them. Hyunjin grips his hair even tighter and thrusts more aggressively.

The tears start pouring, now. They weren’t tears of sadness or pain, they were tears of pure enjoyment. Jisung loved to be used like this, to be rendered as nothing more than a way to please someone. The way that Hyunjin’s cock felt in his mouth was enough to make him uncomfortably hard.

Hyunjin suddenly pulls out, relinquishing Jisung’s hair from his hands. “Don’t touch your face,” he pants out, then slips his dick back into his pants.

Jisung blinks rapidly, his moment ruined. “What? You’re not gonna come?”

“That’s for later.” Hyunjin pulls out his phone and aims it at Jisung. “Gimme a slutty face, I want a photo so I can show you how pathetic you look, and just for personal reference later.”

“Okay,” Jisung bats his eyelashes and offers a peace sign with his fingers, opening his mouth wide and sticking his tongue out.

“Beautiful, I love it.” Hyunjin stares longingly at his phone for a moment, before turning it to face Jisung. He captures a glimpse of the photo, his perfectly applied eyeliner now ruined, streaking down his face haphazardly and completely fucked up. Jisung subconsciously goes to wipe his face, but Hyunjin swats his hands away.

“Stay like that until we get home.” His voice is cold, calculated. “Don’t rub it off or try to make yourself pretty, my disgusting little Sungie. I want the strangers we walk by to know how much of a dirty slut you are for me.”

They take a moment to compose themselves, then walk through the GS25. Hyunjin doesn’t bother with returning the key, just leaving it in the door. He grabbed Jisung’s hand, interlacing his fingers together. “You sure you’re alright with this?”

“I’ve done worse,” Jisung quips. “This might be the most obvious ‘my-throat-just-got-fucked’ look I’ve ever had, though.”

Hyunjin laughs, leading him to the cooler. “Grab your stupid americano. I’m gonna grab something for us while we’re here.”

Jisung cocks his head as Hyunjin walks over towards the bagged snacks, but doesn’t question it. He doesn’t question it until he’s got his americano in hand and they are at the counter together, and Hyunjin tosses a bag of spicy Cheetos onto the counter. Jisung looks wildly at Hyunjin as the clerk gives them both a horrified look.

“What?” Hyunjin says to both of them. “Boyfriend had a rough day, just making it better.”

//

They get home maybe ten minutes later, earning some choice looks from passersby on the street as they walked down the sidewalk, Hyunjin’s hand down Jisung’s tight back pocket. He was wearing women’s pants, he figured, with the way they hugged his hips and his ass, and he loved it.

Hyunjin unlocks the door, letting Jisung walk through first. Jisung spins on his heel in confusion, but Hyunjin just tosses the bag of Cheetos to the younger man, then bends down to untie the intricate weaving of Jisung’s knee-high boots. “Shut up and eat them. Get that stupid red shit all over your fingers.”

Jisung’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, and he makes some sort of unintelligible noise.

“Shut up and eat your toxic waste-looking shit.” Hyunjin doesn’t bother looking up as he undoes the lacing in the first platform shoe, then moves to the next one. Jisung opens the bag, shaking his head in disbelief. He wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity for a post-drink snack, especially if it was his favourite thing and if it wasn’t going to bother Hyunjin.

Hyunjin holds the boots down, and looks up at Jisung. “Get out of these.” Jisung steps out, as requested, and Hyunjin tosses the shoes carelessly to the side before undoing his shoes. “I can’t believe you actually walked around in public with makeup streaked down your face.” He scoffs, sliding his shoes off and neatly tucking them onto the rack by the entrance. He stands fully upright and gets directly in front of Jisung, centimetres away from his face, pushing him up against the wall next to the kitchen. “You really liked it, didn’t you?”

Jisung nods twice, a single Cheeto halfway in his mouth as he stares up in confusion at Hyunjin. “I didn’t tell you to stop eating.” Hyunjin gently pushes the snack into his mouth, as daintily as possible, with a single finger. He scowls at the residual dust on his finger, then grabs a fistful of the briny, neon red sticks from the bag. “Open.” He commands, and Jisung obeys.

Hyunjin takes his free hand and tilts Jisung’s chin up, then firmly grips his jaw and holds his mouth open. He drops a few of the snacks into his mouth, letting the younger man chew them and swallow, looking up at Hyunjin with big, pleading eyes. Jisung opens his mouth again, and Hyunjin deposits the last of the snacks into Jisung’s mouth.

Hyunjin snatches the bag from Jisung, putting it down on the kitchen counter, then grabs the bottle of coffee. “Don’t clean your fingers off yet. I want you to get that shit everywhere in a minute.” He says, passing the drink to his junior, who accepts it, opening it and taking a few hasty swallows. Jisung is barely able to take his lips off of the bottle before Hyunjin is pressing his lips up against him.

Jisung practically chokes on the americano, some of the drink leaking from his lips, sputtering on to Hyunjin’s face as he barely swallows most of the cold liquid. More spills as Hyunjin assertively jams his tongue into Jisung’s mouth, spilling down his chin, spilling down Hyunjin’s chin. They were making an absolute mess out of each other and it was so wrong, but it strangely felt incredible to ruin each other.

The two of them continue to kiss for a few moments, then Hyunjin pulls away, looking down at his hand. “You know,” he says, “you’re awfully messy, huh?”

Jisung bites his lip, nodding his head in excitement. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I’m gonna make it worse.” Hyunjin quips, leaning into Jisung’s face. He takes his tongue and drags it up the side of his junior’s cheek, repeating this a couple of times, then he takes his reddened, crusty hand and pushes it into Jisung’s cheek. He leaves a red, greasy mess tangled up in the streaks of black eyeliner on Jisung’s face.

“You look so filthy.” Hyunjin’s voice is breathy and layered with excitement as he stares down at Jisung with wide eyes. “I’m gonna take a photo of this, too.” He reaches back into his pocket, hastily snapping a couple of photos without even bothering to show Jisung. “Come on,” he pushes his phone into his back pocket “Let’s get cleaned up.”

Hyunjin steps back, letting Jisung peel himself off of the wall. Jisung takes a couple of steps forward, before he’s stopped by Hyunjin taking a fistful of his hair and pulling him along as they walk towards the washroom. “Ow!” Jisung sharply whines. “Why are you dragging me?”

“You want me to stop?” Hyunjin asks insincerely, continuing to lead the two of them along. “Didn’t hear you tell me a colour.”

Jisung whimpers. “No, I don’t want you to stop, it just surprised me.”

Hyunjin chuckles once as they approach the washroom. He flips the light on, then shoves Jisung in, pushing him into the wall with force. He crashes his lips against his junior, the nauseating taste of coffee, spicy Cheetos, and a little bit of vodka overwhelming his senses. It should distract him, make him not want to kiss Jisung at all, but it strangely drew him in, like a moth to flame.

They continue to roll their tongues around each others’ mouths, as Hyunjin works on getting them undressed. He unbuttons his nice, silky shirt, then tosses it to the side. Jisung unbuttons his pants, chains clattering as his pants and briefs collide to the ground. Hyunjin grabs the hem of the bottom of Jisung’s shirt, hastily pulling it up over his head and discarding it somewhere past his shoulder.

“Get me off,” Hyunjin demands, grabbing Jisung’s hands and bringing them to the button of his pants. “I’m gonna come all over that pretty face of yours. You’ll look so pretty with white, black, and red all over you.”

Jisung fumbles a bit with the button of Hyunjin’s pants, too distracted by the promise his senior made. He eventually undoes the button, pulling the zipper down, then helping Hyunjin shimmy out of his pants. Once they were both fully disrobed, Hyunjin grabbed Jisung by the hair and pushed him down.

“On your knees, where you belong.” His voice is stern, but also dripping in anticipation. “It’s probably not gonna take long with that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around me.” Jisung opened his mouth, presenting his tongue to Hyunjin before he takes his cock into his mouth, unprompted, but Hyunjin doesn’t complain. “Oh, that’s good,” he groans, tilting his head back.

In this moment, Jisung is like the antithesis to Hyunjin. While his senior is rough and direct, he’s more gentle and calm, enjoying taking his time with things that have a good payoff. The two of them together worked a little too well, Jisung managing to tame the wild side of Hyunjin, while Hyunjin brought out the freak in Jisung.

Hyunjin wrapped his fingers in Jisung’s hair, looking down and making eye contact with Jisung as he offered a few tiny licks at the head of his dick. It was cute, he had to admit, but he didn’t want cute, not right now. “Come on,” Hyunjin whined, “don’t be a brat and tease me. You know I’m impatient.”

A devious smirk curled up Jisung’s lips as he pulled back. “Shut up.” He barked back at Hyunjin, dropping his cutesy, quiet demeanour. “Learn how to let go for once in your life. Not everything is about instant gratification, you uptight bitch.” His lips pulled up into a wide grin as he could barely contain his excitement when Hyunjin chewed over the words he spat at him.

“'Uptight bitch'?” Hyunjin tugs Jisung’s hair, pulling his head back. “That’s awfully brash of you. Did you forget that you’re the one that’s covered in filth?”

“Bite me.”

Jisung’s attitude snaps something in Hyunjin. “Fuck you,” he growls as he tugs at Jisung’s stupidly dyed black hair harder, enough to make him squeal, to open his mouth just enough to push his cock in, all the way to the back of his throat. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

The younger man starts to drool uncontrollably as Hyunjin repeatedly, aggressively thrusts his hips back and forth. “I can’t believe you had the audacity to speak that way to me. Gonna fuck your throat so hard, you’re not gonna be able to talk back to me for a week. Change that attitude of yours right quick.”

It felt good, probably the best oral he’d ever received. The people Hyunjin had been with before were usually never this experimental. He’d never felt comfortable enough to ask someone if he could ruin them in such a way. He loved taking beautiful things and destroying them; it was something he was never able to do, being forced to be such a pristine example of high-class lifestyle for his entire life.

Jisung looked up at Hyunjin with wet, teary eyes, more black streaks being painted on his face. To anyone else, it may have looked like he was truly unhappy, but the way that his pupils were blown wide open, his eyes were half closed, and the way that his dick twitched with every thrust was enough to drive Hyunjin mad.

The blond pulled his cock out of the black-haired man’s mouth, letting go of his hair, moving his hand down to his chin as he firmly held it upright. He stroked his cock feverishly as the two of them made eye contact. Jisung closed his eyes, knowing what was coming, and he opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out to catch any stray cum that would stream down his face.

“Fuck you,” Hyunjin pants as he removes his hand from Jisung’s chin, slamming his hand on the wall, his cum splashing onto his junior’s face. “Fuck your stupid face. Fuck your attitude.” He gasps in between statements, stroking the last bits of cum onto Jisung’s tongue.

Hyunjin took in the way that Jisung looked, and it took his breath away. Jisung was an absolute mess. Jisung blinked one of his eyes open a couple of times, looking up at Hyunjin. His face was covered in sloppy, patchy streaks of eyeliner, there was still some oily red flakes on his face, and now, there was cum dripping down from his forehead, rolling down his nose and eyebrows, down to his cheeks, some hanging from his lips.

That’s when Hyunjin gets an idea. He reaches down to grab his phone out of his pants, taking a couple photos. “You look so wonderful like this, a masterpiece with the last strokes of paint on you.” He tosses his phone back down to the floor and walks over to the medicine cabinet. “I’m almost done with you. Get in the shower and wait on your knees, and I’ll clean you off before we shower.”

Jisung swipes some cum off of his eyes so he can see, he slips his socks off, then shuffles over to the shower, where he obediently waits on his knees.

Hyunjin makes his way back to the shower and tosses a bottle of lube in between Jisung’s legs. “I’m gonna let you fuck me in a minute when we finally get all of this shit off of us. But I’m gonna make one last mess out of you yet, get some of that cum off of you.”

Jisung’s eyes flutter open and widen as Hyunjin towers above him, cock in hand. He suddenly realized exactly what he means. “Dude, are you seriously about to piss on my face?”

“And in your hair. Do you not want me to?”

The younger man takes in a sharp breath and closes his eyes. “I love this. Clean me off, stuck-up pretty boy.” He presents his face and opens his mouth, and the sight is almost enough to get Hyunjin hard again.

It takes a minute, but the stream weakly starts, splashing up against Jisung’s face. The sudden warmth and shock causes the younger man to flinch, but he gets into it immediately, rolling his head all around the stream and making sure that it gets all over his face and in his hair. Hyunjin lets out a strained groan as he empties his bladder on Jisung’s face, enjoying the view far more than he should’ve.

Hyunjin shakes out the last few dribbles, then drops to his knees in front of Jisung, gripping his face tightly as he pulls the younger man in for a hasty kiss. He didn’t care about the acrid taste that danced on their tongues, he just couldn’t believe that someone actually indulged him in all of his strange fetishes, all in one night, so he had to show his appreciation in some way.

“Okay,” he says as he pulls back, “let’s actually get you cleaned up, then I’ll let you fuck me.”

Jisung rubs his eyes and nods his head. “You know,” he scoffs, “you’re probably the freakiest, messiest person I know. Messier than me, just so you know.”

“Shut up.” Hyunjin stands and grabs Jisung’s hands, pulling him up to his feet. He reaches behind the younger man, turning on the shower. The water is cold, shocking both of them a bit, but then quickly warms up. “You went along with all of that,” he scoffs as he wipes off all of the mess of various substances off of Jisung, “so that says something about you, too.”

“Yeah, it means that we’re both pretty freaky and should do this more often.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and turns to grab a dry hand towel from off of the wall, passing it off to Jisung. “Wipe off your face so you can finally fuck me.”

Jisung takes the cloth, making sure to dry his eyelids off well enough so he didn’t have any leftover irritants on his face. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” He reaches down to grab the lube and tosses the hand towel behind him. “Now I get to have my fun with you. Face the wall and keep that pretty mouth of yours shut.”

Hyunjin lets out a scoff, but chooses not to say anything in response as he slaps his hands on the wall dramatically, slightly bending over and presenting himself.

“Don’t you look pretty like that?” Jisung flips the lid of the lube open, squirting some on his fingers. He takes another step closer, putting his free hand on Hyunjin’s hip as he takes his lubricated fingers to the older man’s rim. “You want my fingers inside you, pretty baby?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin whines, “do your worst.”

“Maybe if you ask nicely.”

“Fuck you.” Hyunjin’s arrogance earns him the loss of Jisung’s touch.

“I’ll leave you here by yourself and just go jerk off or something.”

Hyunjin turns his head to face Jisung, a look of bewilderment on his face. “You wouldn’t.”

“Be that way,” Jisung steps back, making his way towards the shower door.

“Wait, please!” Hyunjin whines, surprised he was actually begging for this. “Please come back and fuck me, okay?”

Jisung smiles and turns back to Hyunjin, grabbing his hips and hastily slipping his index finger inside, causing the older man to whine. “Pretty bitches like you are always so impatient. You need to be taught a lesson.” He twirls his finger around a bit, circling the digit in a calculated motion to find the older man’s prostate. before Hyunjin arches his back and lets out a strangled cry. Jisung bends down next to Hyunjin’s ear and whispers, “I wanna fuck you so hard that you can’t walk straight in the morning.”

Hyunjin curls his toes a bit at the comment. “Please,” he whines, “that sounds so good, Sungie.”

“It’s nice seeing you not being such a spoiled, impatient brat,” Jisung laughs and slips his middle finger inside. “You should let loose like this more often. You might think that, just because I let you make a mess out of me, even in public,” he continues circling his fingers around the sensitive spot inside of the older man, causing him to let out pathetic mewls, “you think that I’m not going to devastate you? Nah. I’m gonna wipe that stupid, ‘holier-than-thou’ grin off your face.”

Hyunjin was honestly surprised that Jisung had such an attitude in him. He knew that Jisung was a bit of a brat, but to be so commanding was the inverse of his personality. This kind of night/day difference in Jisung was causing Hyunjin to go mad.

A third finger slips in, causing Hyunjin to throw his head back and let out a drawn out moan. It was almost too much, too soon, but there was something about the way that the discomfort of the stress made him feel so good. Jisung waited a moment for Hyunjin to adjust, to relax a bit, before he started circling his fingers again.

“I can’t believe it took you so long to admit how much you wanted me.” Jisung condescendingly coos, slowly moving his fingers around. “Can’t believe you actually begged me to fuck you. You really want my cock inside of you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin whispers, and Jisung isn’t very pleased with that.

“Speak up and speak nicely, otherwise my pretty little prissy bitch won’t get what he wants.“

This new side of Jisung was shocking, but also a turn-on to Hyunjin. He’d never been talked down to like this by anyone; he was always the one that took control and talked down to his partners, but it felt good to just let go for once. He had his cocky, arrogant moment, now it was time for him to be put in his place.

“Yes, please,” Hyunjin whines, resting his face against the cool tile. “Fuck your pretty little slut, please. Show me where I belong.”

Jisung lets out a laugh as he grabs the lube again, squeezing a generous amount onto his cock. “The slut gets what the slut wants, hmm?” He teases, before he slides his fingers out slowly, then replaces the empty space with his cock. He does so in such a painstakingly slow manner, that Hyunjin lets out a frustrated groan, but knows better than to say anything.

“Impatient, hmm?” Jisung grabs both of Hyunjin’s hips and bends down to be right up next to his ear. “I don’t care. I’ll take as long as I want with you.” He sinks his teeth into Hyunjin’s exposed shoulder, causing the older man to shudder. Without warning, he pushes himself all the way inside of Hyunjin and it causes both of them to make guttural, sinful noises.

“I’m getting you back for this, just so you know,” Hyunjin spits out in between pants.

“I didn’t ask you for your opinion.” Jisung bites another mark into Hyunjin’s shoulder as he slowly rocks back and forth at an even pace. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Are you always this much of a fucking tease?”

A sharp huff of air is exhaled through Jisung’s nose as he scoffs. “Alright, fine. You wanna play that game, I’ll play along.” He stands fully upright and takes a fistful of Hyunjin’s hair and pushes his face firmly up into the wall, using his head and his hip as anchorage as he moved at a relentless, unforgiving pace.

Hyunjin’s eyes roll back as his face gets repeatedly slammed into the tile wall with Jisung’s thrusts. He doesn’t intend to, but he lets out pathetic moans each time Jisung’s hips slap against his thighs.

“This is the only noise I want to hear you make.” Jisung says, pants punctuating each thrust he makes. “You talk too much.”

“Payback for how disgusting you are.”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” Jisung lets out a moan at the end of his sentence. “Okay, fuck, I’m really close. Where do you want it?”

“Don’t care. Come inside, outside, on my face, it doesn’t—“ Hyunjin is about to tell Jisung that it doesn’t matter, but, before he can finish his sentence, the younger man bottoms out behind him, and he feels cum filling up his insides.

Jisung pants and collapses onto Hyunjin’s back, loosening his grip on his blond hair. “That was so much. How are you feeling?”

“I’m pretty sure you broke my cheekbone, but we’re fine.”

“Oh, shit,” Jisung panics for a second. “I didn’t even think about trying to get you off again.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. It would take a while anyways, I’m not lucky enough to have a freakishly short refractory period. You’ll just have to make up for it later. Anyways, can we please shower? We’re wasting the hot water and I feel disgusting and I’m pretty sure I have your nasty Cheetos flakes in my hair.”

//

After their shower, the men towel off and awkwardly stand in the washroom. “Now what?” Jisung questions, staring up at Hyunjin. “Are we supposed to, like, cuddle or something?”

Hyunjin looks down to Jisung, then spins on his heel before he’s able to see the inevitable blush creeps up on his face. “I don’t care. It’s pretty cold in here, so I won’t say no.”

Jisung shrugs his shoulders and follows Hyunjin towards his room. “Alright, cool, I guess.”

“That was fun and all,” Hyunjin says as he opens the door to his bedroom, “I just hope you know that you’re paying for my dry cleaning, you filthy brat.” Hyunjin says as he flops down onto the bed.

“Worth it.” Jisung quips, laying down next to Hyunjin and curling up into his chest. “I’ll pay to ruin your clothes any time you want, you prissy bitch.”