#the answer is not. to say ehh fuck it

[queerofthedagger]

some of yall will really reblog anything no matter just HOW obviously fake it is if it be comfirming the biases and just. i know this is the pissing on the poor website but jesus fucking christ

[lovphobic]

i was tagged by @nuclearstorms umm three weeks ago (oops) to do THIS uquiz for my ocs! thank u bestie mwah mwah mwah

i am not sure who to tag because ummm all of my oc mutuals either tag me in these or are tagged with me in these. so. um. if u have ocs and want to do this then i tag u :)

— 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞?

𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 . . . 𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯

your heart is very lonely, isn’t it? is your fortress of ice self-made? are others afraid of you, or are you afraid of them? are you afraid of hurting them, or of being hurt? vulnerability and connection can be frightening, but that’s no reason to shy away from their light, to tuck yourself small into corners, to build up frigid walls to keep yourself from feeling. you will heal when you allow yourself to draw closer to the flames and thaw.

𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒕 . . . 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴

who are you without the company of others? you aren’t sure, but you know that you aren’t fond of whoever it is. you are an actor, a pretty face and a pleasant song. many idolize you, or love you, but you can never be sure of how sincere it is. your heart is buried under the letters they leave you, sealed with a kiss. it can’t be untangled from the red strings they’ve attached to you. you deserve to find something, someone, true and faithful to hold your heart in place. you don’t have to be everything to everyone.

𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒅𝒚𝒔 . . . 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳, 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩

your chest is wide open, and your heart is a home. others are welcomed in readily and asked to stay. you are comfort and love, everything you were never given but so desperately want to provide for others. you have built this welcoming hearth with your own two hands and won’t see anyone else left out in the cold. be careful to not burn yourself out trying to keep everyone else warm.

𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒂 . . . 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯, 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦

your heart has been torn before, chipped and maybe even shattered. some pieces will never be recovered, and you are shaped by the loss. but it can still be shaped into something tangible, something good, even with its flaws and imperfections. you don’t have to do all the work of rebuilding by yourself. allow other hands to leave their fingerprints on the new heart you create from the remnants.

[alonetimelover]

pairing: (ex)Harry Styles x Ginger Spice's daughter!reader x Max Verstappen

fc: Sabrina Carpenter

summary: They broke up and she decided to disappear and write a heartbreaking song. Through this process her old friends from F1 were with her. With one two-time World Champion getting closer and closer.

warnings: swearing, cheating, Harry is an asshole in this (sorry!)

a/n: Long? Oh yes. It's a long one. But also my first F1 related fic, hope you enjoy!

masterlist

——————————————————————————————

——————————————————————————————

——————————————————————————————

——————————————————————————————

f1 and redbullracing

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 349 392 others

f1 Is there a better way to start 2023 season than with YN YSN (sweetly called the tiny boss of Red Bull Racing) in the paddock? We say there is NOT! Welcome YN, we hope you have the best time with us!

view all 19 323 comments

yourinstagram thank uuuuu!

danielricciardo THE boss is here!

landonorris *heart eyes*

charles_leclerc Welcome back, YN!

ynupdates oh how i missed her face

ynsmybestie 5 months without even a photo of her finger online... it was a draught

ynsmymama yn's a vroom vroom girlie?????

ynsmybabie F1? is she a fan? tiny boss? what is going on?

⤷ ynupdates I feel like I'm the only one that knew. YN is Christian Horner's (red bull racing boss) step-daughter.

⤷ ynsmybestie isn't his wife ginger spice?

⤷ ynupdates yes! she's YN's mum. how do you guys not know that?

⤷ ynshands maybe because she's using her grandma's surname and not her mother's?

formulafan49 so we're getting las vegas content in bahrain? this sport is getting out of control with all those celebrities attending

⤷ landonorizz why are you being bothered by somebody that knows almost everything about formula 1? go be mad somewhere else

——————————————————————————————

yourinstagram

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 2 201 302 others

yourinstagram hiii💛 took a break and wrote a song. you're losing me is out now! i love all of you my pathological people pleasers.

view all 91 393 comments

danielricciardo be a happy song with me?

⤷ yourinstagram running to you right now

⤷ landonorris bringing mum's biscuits

⤷ maxverstappen1 I'll bring myself 😊

⤷ danielricciardo you lot weren't invited, but come in... I guess

landonorris you're the only person I'm not mad at for making me cry, ynn

⤷ yourinstagram you've heard the song before, lan

⤷ landonorris shhhh

⤷ danielricciardo it won't make her fall in love with you, norris

⤷ landonorris fuck you man

maxverstappen1 💛💛

ynupdates WHAT IN THE HELL HAPPENED HERE

ynsmybestie I won't recover. I fucking won't recover

ynsmymama I'm gonna die... its so sad. its heartbreaking. I'm losing myself

hArrysbtch woah, my heart cannot take this

harrysmoustache firstly, break my heart and take it, yn

harrysmoustache secondly, why is the whole f1 here? wtf

——————————————————————————————

——————————————————————————————

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 45 202 others

harryupdates In his latest interview Harry was asked about his private life - especially his relationship with YN. After the question of "do you feel like you throw a great love away?" Harry answered with "I don't know. I don't regret a lot of things in my life but that's [the relationship] probably one of them." You can read the interview via the link in our story!

view all 4 201 comments

hArrysbtch suddenly a six year lasting relationship was a mistake???

hArrysbtch ehh, harry. i kinda feel that the breakup (from Harry's side) happened a long time ago. there is no sparkle anymore

hArrysbtch now let me start on not mentioning her name like EVER "my last partner" her name is YN, why he can't just say it? it's been going on for years. since they started dating really...

harrysmoustache that wasn't the best interview

ynsmymama about 'you're losing me': "every artist has their imagination that they write down and then release. sometimes it's good and sometimes it should be kept private. i'm not the one to size it up." THAT WAS FUCKING LOW

⤷ harrysmoustache as much as I love him that was petty af

⤷ hArrysbtch especially when almost all critics named this song one of the best LYRICALLY and MUSICALLY in the last few decades

ynshands "I don't know if you can be ready to move on from a longterm relationship. it's definitely harder than from something that lasts months or two years." THIS MOTHERF****R IS TALKING ABOUT NOT BEING THE ONE TO MOVE ON BUT HE DID WHILE STILL BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP??????

⤷ ynsmymama this is called audacity

⤷ harrysfan49 cheating was never confirmed, was it?

⤷ ynsmybestie yes, it was. right after harry's "announcement" yn posted a story with lyrics from 'illicit affairs'. i think that's enough of a confirmation.

ynsmybestie yeah, here he comes again not being able to fucking say her name. those 6 years meant nothing?

⤷ harrysfan92 maybe he doesn't want to share his private relationship online

⤷ ynsmybestie i don't understand that. you're loving a person for six years, claiming them the love of your life, but saying the name is hard? he never mentioned her in interviews (my closest friend, my partner, someone I love). he couldn even show up at her birthday party because he had a photoshoot. just to point out, the drivers showed up in London, even though they had a race in Imola the next day.

⤷ harrysfan87 you guys are toxic. just gonna blame him for the breakup? unbelievable.

——————————————————————————————

ynupdates

liked by ynsmybestie, landofan92 and 88 203 others

ynupdates YN AND LANDO AT THE NIGHTCLUB IN MONACO!!!!!

view all 6 001 comments

ynsmybestie NO FUCKING WAY

ynsmybestie SHE LOOKS SO HOT

ynsmymama the way he looks at her ??? 🫠

ynsfan92 find somebody who looks at you just like lando looks at yn. YOU CAN'T

⤷ ynsmymuse have you seen how max looks at her?

landofan92 do I need to change my bio from norizz to yesrizz?

user39 yeah, moving on quickly when her exboyfriend is talking about how he adores her

⤷ ynsmybestie where??? because i only saw how awful he was to YN from the moment they broke up

user02 yeah, move on quickly and go trough all the drivers

——————————————————————————————

yourinstagram added to her IG story!

——————————————————————————————

——————————————————————————————

——————————————————————————————

lando.jpg

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 1 004 392 others

lando.jpg yn showed her favourites

view all 203 494 comments

danielricciardo LIAAAAAR. SHE LOVES ME MORE.

⤷ yourinstagram of course

⤷ lando.jpg i love your sarcasm

maxverstappen1 💛

yourinstagram not my fault you were the only ones available for photos

⤷ maxverstappen1 I don't mind

⤷ lando.jpg neither do I

⤷ danielricciardo I DO

⤷ charles_leclerc I DO TOO

ynsmybestie hot

ynsmybestie but also i see you YN with favouring Max and Lando, i see you girl

ynsmymama why I've never realised how hot those two are???

ynshands is there a thing she does badly?

——————————————————————————————

ynupdates

liked by ynsmybestie, maxandyn and 68 574 others

ynupdates YN and MAX VERSTAPPEN at the bar tonight in Zandvoort, celebrating Max's win!

view all 4 206 comments

ynsmybestie SEE? you defend the girl, you get the girl!

ynsmymama i mean i was rooting for them but i am still speechless

ynshands YAS PARENTS

maxfan85 after the race that he had, tying to yet another record and getting a girl? is there a thing he can't do or can't have??

ynsfan93 sooo, do we say they're together orrr?

⤷ ynsmybestie i mean, look at them. i have many friends but i'm not that cozy with any of them

⤷ ynsmymama i vote early stages of dating. yn's a touchy person in nature so you know, it can be that

——————————————————————————————

——————————————————————————————

yourinstagram added to her IG story!

——————————————————————————————

a/n: do you want to see more of them?

——————————————————————————————

part 2

[rustyironskillet]

Day 12: Time Travel

“Sooooo Phantom, do ya have any siblings?” Kid Flash asked as he tried to make small talk with the newest recruit to the team.

A few days ago, Young Justice was called to a meeting by Batman where he introduced their new team mate, Phantom. Phantom was a tough looking dude, he was jacked and towered over them all, even Conner!

Batman didn’t give them much information about the guy but apparently John Constentine was the one who suggested him for the team since he needed “community service hours”.

The dude was currently drinking some soda next to the computer as Red Robin searched for any new info on their latest mission. He turned his attention away from the can, and stared at Wally, his red eyes piercing into his soul.

“Why?” 

“Well we are all about to go on a mission together and none of us really know you so I think it’d be best if we all got to know you better,” that was half true. Mostly Wally was just being nosey, but the dude really did make everyone nervous since he was this really tough dude with blood red eyes and apparently was here because John Constentine said he needed community service hours???? Constentine typically say some wild shit, but what the fuck do you mean by community service? Wally knows you can’t use those for school, he’s tried, and what else gave you community service? Juvie and prison!!

Phantom stared at him hard for a few seconds, his eyes searing into the back of Wally’s skull before saying, “Okay fine”.

The answer surprised everyone in the room, I mean the guy had barely even spoken the last few days and had rejected every question about his personal life.

“Depending on how you see it, I have 2 to 4 siblings”

“Is your father a serial adopter too?” Tim joked.

“Yes and no”

“Huh?” 

“It’s pretty complicated,” Phantom shrugged, seemingly deciding to end the conversation there and taking another swig of his drink.

However, Tim, out of annoyances of every attempt to get to know this jerk being thwarted and a bit of confidence his family was more complicated, decided to challenge Phantom’s statement.

“Ehh, it probably isn’t as complicated as my family, we got about 50 more siblings adopted each month, all with lots much trauma”

At this, Phantom narrowed his eyes at Tim.

“I see what your doing, your trying to get me to talk tell you guy more about my family by acting like yours are more insane”

“Am I?” Tim asked, trying to hide the shivers going down his spine from the way Phantom was staring at him.

Phantom to a huge swig of his soda, emptying it and throwing it into the garbage, before fully turning to Tim.  

“You’re lucky I am always good for competitions, now sit down this is going to take a bit”

Tim gladly obliged and soon everyone sat around Phantom as if it were storytime in kindergarten.

“Okay, so at first I only had an older sister and my parents” Phantom began, “but then they died because of a mistake I made and I had to move in with my evil godfather”

Megan raised her hand and asked, “Isn’t a godfather someone who is very close to the family? Why would your parents choose an evil person?”

“‘Cause my dad was oblivious to this and though they were good friends even though the dudes tried to kill him multiple times”

“I see,” Megan lowered her hand, no less confused.

“There I went mad with grief and had him remove my humanity and tried to kill all of humanity”

“I think that was a bit of an overreaction,” Wally joked.

“You tried to kill all of humanity? Why weren’t we told of this when it happened?” Kaldur'ahm asked.

“That was in a different timeline, I was a big enough problem that they gods tried to kill the younger version of me to stop me, so to avoid dying, my younger version decide to try to defeat me and the only reason he did was cause I was underestimating him,” Phantom emphasized the last part because he had to stress he didn’t not lose to a 15 year old boy because he was weaker than him.

“What happened next?,” Artemis asked, completely inraptured in the story.

“I was then imprisoned for sometime before escaping, causing problems and then realizing that causing younger mean the same pain I experienced won't bring my loved ones back,” Phantom continued to explain, “so I am now going to therapy, doing community service, and got the majority of my powers taken away”.

“Is your therapist open to seeing new patients?” Konner asked.

“No, but this timelines version of my sister is and she has a lot of experience so I can give you her number instead”

“Sure, that’ll work”

“Okay,” Phantom said before writing her number down and handing it to Konner, “The thing is I can’t go back to living with my real parents because they don’t know that I am Phantom so I have to go back to living this timelines version of my godfather”

“You gotta be kidding me” Tim groans.

“Exactly what I said!!” Phantom put his arm up defensively, “Fortunately, this version is a little better, he is no longer tiring to kill my dad and has stopped chasing after my mom, he did clone the other of me and now there is a genderbent version of him but my godfather treats her like a princess and will not stop spoiling her, which I am also guilty of”

Phantoms continues to explain more and in the back of Tim's mind he remembers he was supposed to be doing something but honestly this conversation was too good to care.

“Anyways that's how I technically have 2 to 4 siblings, Jazz and Elle are permanently my sisters and I love them so much, and even though the other Jazz is technically the same as this Jazz, I still think of her as someone else, someone I miss dearly. Also if I considered this Jazz my sister, I guess I’d have to considered the other me as my brother”

“Damn bitch your family is crazy” Wally said, happy he finally managed to get through Phantom’s tough skin.

As they finished up their storytime, the Zeta-tubes activated and Red Tornado and an upset looking Batman walked to the group.

“You all were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago”

[vixstarria]

A night at the inn (part 3)

Vampire bites as an aphrodisiac edition

Part 1 (fluff to smut) ~ Part 2 (just smut) (Is it required reading? Ehh... But you might as well, no?)

This one gets a bit deranged.

Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader x Halsin

18+, smut, threesome, porn no plot, dirty talk, oral sex, PIV, blood drinking, soft dom Astarion, Astarion being a little shit, Halsin being rudely awakened in order to fuck nasty style again

Approx. 3,000 words this time (I uh... I don't know)

AO3

The first thought in your mind when you regained consciousness was “did that really happen?”, along with a flashback to the two elves in and around you. Halsin’s gentle, towering bulk. And Astarion finally allowing you to pleasure him, if only a little bit.  

You picked up the sound of Halsin snoring on the other bed. His favoured wildshape was all too fitting - he certainly sounded like a bear now. Weren’t elves supposed to trance? Silently? 

...So it happened. It really happened. ...It was going to be an interesting day.  

You opened your eyes. 

Astarion was already awake, lying beside you and admiring you through his lashes, a light smile on his face. It deepened when you met his gaze.  

Your immediate impulse was to ask him about last night, but you held your tongue, instead looking for answers in his eyes.  

No darkness, nothing that resembled shame or regret... Only warmth and affection as he softly ran the back of his fingers down your cheek until they reached your chin, to gently tilt it towards him, drawing you for a kiss.  

It was soft at first. Just your lips brushing and lingering on each other’s, until with a soft sigh he drew you in deeper. 

He traced the inner edge of your upper lip with his tongue. It tickled, and you parted your lips, letting him in. You tried to brush your tongue against his, but he retracted it as soon as you moved. Only once you held still did he return with his tongue, running it in circles around the tip of yours, running it up your tongue’s underside, teasing. It was so distinct, it was almost... 

You gasped with a sharp intake of breath when you realised what he was doing.  

These were the motions of your tongue on the head of his cock last night. This whole kiss was a vulgar, teasing reminder of what you’d done for him. His way of showing you that he hadn’t forgotten about it, that it’s been on his mind. 

Gods... It felt so obscene. 

You moaned as he brought your naked body closer to his partially clothed form, holding you close, a fire starting to reignite between your legs already.  

His lips split into a grin in the knowledge that you’d caught on, and he broke the kiss, giving you an unabashed look full of lust. 

“Will you let me do it again?” you whisper, hoarsely. 

“In time...” he replied. “For now there’s more I want to do to you.” 

“To me?” 

He grinned, mischievously, then glanced at Halsin’s sleeping mass.  

“For both of us to do to you, actually. If you want to try something new?” 

“Now?” 

“Why not?” 

“For one, Halsin's still asleep,” you said. Astarion rolled his eyes at you.  

“Psst, Halsin. ...Halsin. ...Halsin! ...HALSIN!” Astarion hurled a pillow at the groggy druid, who somehow managed to catch it in midair before it smashed into his face. 

“Hmm?” a low rumble reverberated in his chest as he stirred awake.  

“Do you want to try something?” 

“...What?” 

“It’s a yes or no question.” 

“...Yes.” 

Halsin, still half-asleep, opened his eyes to observe the two of you as Astarion turned back to you, rolling on top and continuing in a louder voice.  

“See? Problem solved. Anyway. I was thinking... You say your body stays sensitive around the puncture wounds for a long time after I bite you,” he said, running his fingers delicately along the wounds on your neck. 

“It’s still tender,” you nodded, relishing his touch. 

“Tender how?” he asked softly, lowering his lips to the marks on your neck.  

“It feels... sweet. Like I don’t want you to ever stop touching it,” you said, closing your eyes and revelling in the sensation. “I don’t know how else to describe it.” 

“A vampire’s bite has aphrodisiac properties,” offered Halsin. “It is well-known.” 

“What if I were to bite you somewhere more... interesting.” Astarion began to kiss further down, grazing you with his fangs without drawing blood. Halsin, more awake now, propped himself up on his elbow to lie on his side.  

“Where?” you breathed as Astarion continued on his way down, pausing to suck on a nipple. He only smiled and kept trailing soft kisses down your stomach, gradually pulling the covers off you as he went lower, until he reached your upper inner thighs.  

“What if...” he purred, starting to run his tongue along your outer folds, making you moan and spread your legs wider for him. “I left a gentle little bite right here...” He continued to run his tongue on your skin, just between your opening and your thigh. “Do you think you would like that..?” Before you could answer, he added: “Oh, and it’s incredibly distracting when you’re so wet while I’m trying to talk to you,” before plunging his tongue inside you as you gasped.  

“Did you wake me merely so I could watch?” Halsin asked, reaching down to stroke his growing erection. 

Astarion gestured for him to wait. 

“Do it,” you moaned. “Bite me there.” 

Astarion continued to lap at your hole, running his hands along your thighs, holding them open.  

“Stop teasing, damn you!” you hissed. 

Astarion chuckled and moved his head to lick you just outside your opening, sucking your lip into his mouth. Suddenly his grip on your thighs tightened and before you knew it, you felt a sharp icy pang. You whined as he continued to suck, this time drawing blood. The pain quickly dissipated and turned into a titillating sensation that spread throughout your sex.  

Astarion lifted his head, sitting up and inserting two fingers into you.  

“Now how does that feel, darling?” 

“Good... So good...” you groaned, spreading your legs wider for him, bucking your hips to ride his fingers. It felt like an insatiable, throbbing itch, his fingers your only salvation. 

“I must tell you,” you heard Halsin. “I overheard some of your remarks about wood elves earlier. And you would do well to trust me that few of my brethren are as depraved as you.” 

Astarion ignored the druid, absorbed in watching you writhe.  

“Do you like it? Do you want more? You do, don’t you... We can give you more...” You whimpered as Astarion continued to slowly fuck you with his fingers. “But first... What if I bite you somewhere else?”  

His tongue returned between your legs, licking higher and higher, until it circled your bundle of nerves.  

“Just a tiny little nick, right above your sweet nub. I’ll be very careful, I promise,” he murmured right against your clit, in between licks, as you mewled. “I’ll be gentle... And then I’ll kiss it better. I’ll kiss it, lick it, suck it better...” 

“I stand corrected... None of my people can rival you in perversion,” said Halsin. 

Meanwhile, your fingers were tangled in Astarion’s hair as he continued to tease you with his fingers and tongue. As good as it felt, the only word in your mind was ‘more’.  

“Do it,” you say, hoarsely. “I want to know how it feels.” 

Astarion chuckled, turning to Halsin. 

“You druids have an intrinsic urge to tend to helpless creatures in need, do you not?” Astarion said, as Halsin continued to stroke himself. “This helpless creature is about to be in great need.” He looked up at you, hungrily. “Try to hold still, my love.” 

This time the pang made you yelp and lurch up in shock, your hands grabbing at the bedsheets. But the pain subsided as quickly as it came on, replaced by an unquenchable burning need.  

It throbbed. It pulsed. It begged to be touched.  

Astarion did as he promised licking and sucking on your clit, his cool tongue like a salve, but before you could find any kind of release, he abruptly rose, pinning your arms above your head as you groaned in protest. 

“My, look at this predicament you’ve gotten yourself into again, pet...” 

“Please... please... anything... I’ll do anything you say.” you begged. Your need could not be ignored like this. You tried to squeeze your legs together for some friction, but he was keeping your legs spread open with his own thighs. Maybe if you told him what you wanted he would cut this agony short..? “Touch me... Fuck me... Anything..!” 

“What did I tell you?” he said, turning to Halsin. “But my sweet,” he said turning back to you. “You said you wanted to know what it felt like. Maybe we should leave you like this so you can study and savour the sensation.” 

“Astarion?” you managed, swallowing hard. 

“Yes, darling?” 

“Fuck you, Astarion,” you hissed through your teeth. You turned to the druid, looking him in the eyes and bucking your hips in desperation. “Halsin..?”  

“Give her to me,” the druid growled. 

“Oh no! There will be no mutiny! Make no mistake, I’m still the one calling the shots here,” Astarion laughed. “...But seeing as you’re all so eager – sure.” He released your hands and raised you into a sitting position. “On the edge of the bed,” he gestured to Halsin, the druid complying without another word. “And you...” he held you by your jaw, his voice lowering. “I’ll let that slip by, but if you want me to allow you any relief, you will behave.” 

You nodded, whimpering. 

“Now do you want to ride his cock?” 

“Yes,” you panted. Astarion just raised an eyebrow and didn’t make a move. “Yes, please, can I?” 

“She’s yours,” he said to Halsin, with a smirk. 

Suddenly you were lifted and found yourself on the druid’s lap on the opposite bed, your back against him, both of you facing Astarion.  

“You can fuck that needy hole of hers all you want, but don’t touch her between her legs,” he said, reclining to admire his handiwork. 

You were gliding your slit along Halsin’s shaft, covering his erection with your juices. It was something, but not nearly enough. 

Halsin lifted you and began to ease you onto his cock, once again slowly, inch by inch.  

“You don’t need to be so gentle,” you groaned.  

“No no, slow and gentle is exactly what she deserves right now,” Astarion interjected, as you swore under your breath. “And don’t you dare touch yourself,” he said to you. You knew better than to defy him, and clutched at Halsin instead. 

Halsin’s hands remained on the undersides of your thighs, your legs opened wide for Astarion’s devouring eyes, gripping you as he worked his cock inside you, raising and lowering your body along his length. It was agonisingly slow, and though it appeased the itch from Astarion’s lower bite, somewhat, it did nothing for your throbbing clit.  

“You said you’d kiss it better, you fucking liar,” you threw at Astarion, your voice thick.  

“What did I say about behaving?” said Astarion.  

“Astarion, it hurts without you,” you groaned. “Please? My love..? I’m begging you.” 

Astarion sighed dramatically, finally getting off the bed to kneel on the floor in front of you. 

“Well we don’t want you in pain,” he murmured.  

Finally, you felt Astarion’s mouth on your swollen sex, as he stroked your clit with his tongue. A moan tore from your throat as Halsin sped up the bucking of his hips, his thrusts in time with the strokes of Astarion’s tongue. This. This was what you had been craving so badly. The druid stretched and filled you completely, while Astarion’s tongue brought you to the edge of madness. And you could do absolutely nothing but accept and embrace what was happening to you. It wasn’t long before your whole body convulsed with the force of your orgasm, Halsin holding you tightly against him.  

Once you’d regained your senses, you noticed that somewhere along the way Astarion had completely discarded his pants, and was now stroking himself with one hand, as he rubbed a thumb over your oversensitive clit.  

“Hmm,” he hummed, studying it. “I don’t think it’s better yet.” 

You nearly screamed as he went right back to sucking on it, alternating that with quick flicks of his tongue. 

“Shh, sweet one...” Halsin breathed in your ear, placing a hand over your mouth, and lifting your hand into his hair with the other. “Yank on it hard if it’s too much. Can you do that?” You whimpered a ‘mmhmm’ as you grabbed a fistful. 

Halsin leaned back on the bed so you were half-lying on top of him, your head thrown over his shoulder, as Astarion held your thighs open. 

Astarion showed you no mercy as he lapped at you. Halsin sped up again, as you let out keening moans into his hand, losing your mind. There was no easing and relaxing into this - this orgasm was forced out of you, and you loved every second of it. Within a minute you came again, your thighs twitching violently.  

Halsin groaned as you spasmed around him again. 

“I cannot do this anymore... If she clenches around me like that again I will lose it.” 

The druid slipped out of you and you were once again gliding along the length of his shaft, rubbing yourself against it.  

Astarion lifted his mouth from you, wiping your wetness from his chin, as Halsin raised you back into a sitting position. 

“He’s been so very patient with you, pet. Do you want to show your appreciation?” 

“How?” you whispered, licking your lips. 

“I think you already know how,” he murmured. “Come here. On your knees.” 

You all but collapsed on the floor next to Astarion, your legs unsteady, looking up at Halsin.  

“Taste him,” Astarion encouraged you. “You haven’t yet.” 

“Oakfather preserve me,” Halsin groaned as you took his engorged, leaking cock into your hand. You were facing a dilemma. You didn’t think you could fit him into your mouth without dislocating your jaw. Instead you began by licking your juices off his length, savouring your own taste.  

“Good girl,” Astarion purred next to you, sliding two fingers into your still throbbing pussy, as he stroked himself with his other hand.  

You moaned and moved up to the head of Halsin’s cock with your mouth, licking up his precum, as the druid brushed your hair off your face and held it back for you. No, this wasn’t going to work. Instead you worked him with your hand as you moved down to lick and suck on his balls.  

“I’m close,” Halsin groaned, throwing his head back, his fingernails scraping against your scalp. 

“Suck on the head,” Astarion whispered beside you, continuing to dig his fingers into you, rougher now. “You can manage it.” 

You moaned as you worked the tip of his penis into your mouth, slurping and sucking around it, wetly. This much you could do.  

“Good...” Astarion whispered hoarsely, moving behind you. He was starting to shudder as he bit down on your shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood, continuing his efforts to tear another orgasm out of you. He couldn’t have been far himself. “Make him come.” 

Halsin’s cock twitched and pulsed in warning as you continued, the druid’s grip on your hair tightening.  

“Swallow,” Astarion commanded, just as the druid finally spilled in your mouth. You glimpsed a few more strokes of Astarion’s hand from the corner of your eye, and you felt Astarion’s spend land in spurts on your back.  

You sat back with a frustrated groan. His fingers inside you hadn’t been enough. 

“My poor little minx...” Astarion murmured, catching his breath, kissing your neck up to your ear from behind you. “I know what you need. You’ve earned it.” He moved his hand to finally rub your clit again, massaging it roughly and deliberately. “Can you come for me one more time?” he whispered in your ear. “And here, let me taste him too.” 

You came completely undone once Astarion’s tongue swirled hungrily against yours, as he continued to methodically work on your swollen clit, moaning and whimpering into his mouth through your climax.  

“I don’t think I can walk,” you said a short while later, relaxing in Astarion’s embrace after he'd cleaned the better part of your combined cum from your body. It was mid-morning by then. Miraculously, no one had come to bang on your door to try to get a move on, but then again anyone in the vicinity of the room would’ve immediately understood what was happening inside. 

“Shall I go tell everyone you’re unwell, darling?” Astarion asked with a grin. 

“Don’t you fucking dare speak to anyone about this or me, you’re staying right here,” you said as he laughed “...I don’t think they will be impressed that we’re all delayed because I’ve been fucked into incapacity,” you added.  

“Oh on the contrary, I think they will be VERY impressed,“ said Astarion. 

“I’ll go tell them you’re currently indisposed. ...A tad more tactfully. And I’ll see to it that a bath is prepared for you,” said Halsin, getting up and getting dressed. 

“Thank you, Halsin... You are a blessing,” you said, shutting your eyes and falling back against Astarion as he left kisses along the side of your face.  

Halsin hesitated at the door.  

“Before I leave this room, I must know... Once this door shuts behind me, is... this-” he gestured at the three of you, “staying behind as well? Or can the future hold something for us?” The druid would accept whichever answer you gave him, but you could tell he was a hair’s breadth from a pained expression.  

You and Astarion exchanged a look. You had gotten good at silent communication. It was Astarion who finally spoke.  

“It doesn’t have to stay behind. You’ve been better for us than you might realize,” he shook his head with a small smile. “But let’s talk about that later.”  

“I am glad,” Halsin said, smiling, before leaving. 

“You think catnip is difficult to live down?” You groaned again, once Halsin was gone, twisting and hiding your face in Astarion’s neck. 

“You should be proud,” he chuckled, hugging you tighter. “How do you feel..?” 

“Fine, right now... It still throbs a bit, but I can ignore it. But it's been coming on in waves, I don’t know if there’s another coming or how big it might be.” 

“Let me know if one does, I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, kissing you.  

“Astarion?” you murmured, breaking the kiss. 

“Hmm?” 

“Can we do this again? Just the two of us? Later.”  

You both knew what you meant by ‘later’. 

“Greedy...” he smiled. “But yes. Once all this is behind us and we can just lounge in bed all day and night.” 

“I can’t wait,” you whispered. 

~~~~~

Astarion's, Halsin's and Tav's story together continues in 'Sweat'

AO3

Series masterlist

~~~~~

Tags: @twirlywhirlywriting - Hi! You are the reason this happened. I wasn't really planning on a part 3, but it clicked in my brain. Hope it's close enough to what you had in mind. I couldn't really give Halsin a more dom role though, as I think Astarion would lose his shit at this point.

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy

[loaksbitch]

jake sully telling you to stop running away and take him when you’re overly stimulated while he’s not even near his orgasm?? yes pls i’ll def write it!! (⨳)

warnings - jake being jake obviously needs a warning itself, hellooo?? tummy pressing, pinning hands above head, forced orgasm, overstimulation, p in v, mean jake turns soft jake at the end but still we all love him, ehh idk what i missed so tell me ( grammar errors and typos ahead )

“‘s too much.” your words fell on deaf ears as your mate keeps rutting to you hard, knocking up your gut.

you’ve lost count of how many times you’d came through the time you both started to fuck. “j-jak-jake” you’d keep stuttering every time he thrusts up to you, “can’t get enough of this pussy, princess” he states.

“can’t get enough of you” he’d sneak his arms and wrap them around your waist before brining you up from the floor to his strong thighs. “no!” you whine when you feel him fully sink into your heat

jake would look down to where you both are connected and groan at the sight of your arousal all over his cock. “fuck, you’re taking me so well” he cusses holding you by your hips and pulling you up from his length to push you back in

at this point you’re nothing but his cocksleeve, jake ignores your pleas and keeps rutting to you like a monster. you gasp when you feel a bubble is about to burst in your tummy and shake your head knowing you’ll pass out if your mate won’t stop

not thinking of consequences, you slightly lift yourself up from his thighs but not fully for his cock to slip out and place your small hand on his pelvis, trying to push him off and that was a big mistake

“JAKE!?” you scream when he pulls you down forcefully. “where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he would hiss under his unstable breath and place you by your back, pressing your hips down to the floor.

you’ve now pissed jake on top of you, one hand claiming your tiny hands and pinning them above your head. “stop running away,” you feel his other hand push your left leg to the side for more access. “stop fucking running away and take it, take me”

you shake your head side to side as tears keep forming in your eyes. “it hurts,” you hear him scoff. “should’ve thought of that before being brat and pissing me off, lover girl”

you feel his hand that was holding your left leg slowly slide up to your tummy and once he was below your navel he only was needed to press lightly to feel how deep he was fucking your cervix. you did not even need to tell him you’re cumming as he felt you squeeze the day light out of his cock

“that’s it pretty girl, cum for me” he leans down to kiss your lids and wiping your tears with his hand that was pressing on your tummy, “fuck i’m so close” jake says making you gasp a sob out ‘finally’ you manage to think as your fogged mind processes what’s happening

you squeeze your eyes shut when you feel him bottom out to paint your walls nice and pretty. “so fucking gorgeous with my load in you” he would compliment you as you two try to ease your breath

finally being able to think straight, you feel jake pullout of you with a constant “shh, you did so well princess” and sweet nothings being whispered to your ears. after a while, you’re partially awake with hazy eyes as you watch jake press a warm and wet towel at your sex to clean you up

once everything was done, jake spoons you and keeps apologizing for making you cry, you hum knowing somehow it’s your fault for being a brat and trying to make him jealous with flirting with other men he doesn’t like. “i love you, pretty girl”

he’d only smile when you answer him with a soft purring as you’re technically sleeping.

boy OH BOY this is nothing but a cow shit 😭 sorry this ain’t what y’all expected :’)

like + reblog + comments are super appreciated and not pressured. i love each and everyone of you babies <3

[save-the-villainous-cat]

could you write something with the hero and villain fake dating? (you totallt dont have to if you dont want to or something I just wanted to ask cus I loveee the trope!)

"Kiss me," the villain said.

"No fucking way." A horrible blush started to spread over the hero's neck. The worst thing about this was that this had been their idea in the first place.

They were ashamed to admit it but when they had arrested the villain a few months ago, they had suggested to the judge a different kind of punishment. At the time, there wasn't much evidence of the villain's criminal activities, so the hero had thought it to be more practical if the villain had to work together with other heroes. As a kind of community service.

After all, the villain was smart when it came to these schemes.

However, for whatever reason, they had been paired together. The hero didn't quite know what to do with themselves now. Ever since the mission had started, their brain wasn't functioning at all. It was quite self-explanatory. The villain was incredibly attractive and they were joking around, seizing every opportunity to flirt with the hero.

The hero suspected it to be some scheme to throw them off their game. But they couldn't be sure.

"These guys over there have been eyeing us the entire evening. If you ask me, they're not buying our little act." The villain let their fingertips ghost over the hero's knuckles and the hero's heart started to throb. The hero didn't turn around to look at the suspicious people the villain had been talking about. Their mind was somewhere else entirely.

On this after show party, they were supposed to observe highly influential people for suspicious activity. An election was coming up and although the hero loathed politics, it was obviously the right thing to do. They weren't supposed to be the ones being observed.

Usually, the hero wasn't very fond of undercover work. They were a horrible liar and improvisation wasn't their strong suit either. For the last few days, the villain had saved them more than once from embarrassing slip-ups. It was quite pathetic.

"And you have been flirted with already," the villain said. Somehow, their voice sounded bitter.

"They were just being nice," the hero said. They shifted on their chair. If someone was indeed observing them, maybe kissing the villain was the right thing to do. God, the hero didn't have much experience and they feared they would make a fool out of themsleves once again.

The villain probably had a new lover every week or so.

"They wanted to buy you a drink."

"Ehh," the hero said. "It doesn't really matter, does it?"

"It's compromising the mission."

"Is that person who wanted to buy me a drink one of those guys who have been 'eyeing' us the entire evening?" the hero asked. They leaned over and took the villain's hand. Whenever they looked into the villain's eyes, their stupid heart skipped a beat but they tried to come closer, to appear more in love.

It was quite strange for them to display physical intimacy in public. They had never really considered themselves to be fit for relationships - work got in the way every single time but the villain brought enough casualness into the (fake) relationship to somewhat ease the hero's nerves.

The villain didn't answer their question, though.

"All I am trying to say is: when someone wants to buy you a drink, we don't look like a couple," the villain said. Their eyes dropped to the hero's lips and the hero leaned over, holding onto the villain's hand.

"Well, you could have come with me to the bar," the hero said. They shrugged and took a sip of their drink with a shaky hand the villain observed a little too long.

"I will keep that in mind." The villain followed the little veins on the hero's wrist of the hand that was holding onto them. The hero was so nervous they weren't sure if they had to cry or laugh.

"Okay, be honest. Is someone watching?" the hero asked. They managed to scoot over towards the villain.

The villain's eyes were still on the hero, observed every little move. To say the villain could be relentless was an understatement.

"They have the audacity to check you out." The villain's voice was low, even though their mouth formed a sweet smile. The hero hadn’t even realised how tight their grip was around the villain's hands. "Probably some disgusting perv. I can’t blame them, though. You look incredible."

The villain leaned in, touched the hero's forearm gently and immediately, the hero’s heart sped up.

"You have to be very careful or I will actually fall in-"

And then, the hero kissed them.

For whatever reason, they kissed them. They put their flat hand on the villain's neck and pulled them close until their lips met. Later, the hero would blame their own nervousness but truthfully, they didn't know exactly why they did it.

The hero considered themselves inexperienced - rightfully so - and heard their own heartbeat in their ears as the villain smiled against their lips. The hero felt clumsy and stupid; they didn't know exactly what they were doing. So, it was even more embarrassing when the villain put a hand on their thigh, squeezed softly and responded with slow kisses, forcing the hero to adapt.

Although the hero was painfully aware of their own nervousness, they were also calming down slowly. The villain was guiding them through it perfectly and they hated themselves for being in need of it.

Eventually, the hero pulled away and found it to be quite hard to look into the villain's eyes.

"Impressive," the villain murmured. Their smirk wasn't leaving their face.

"Sorry, I- uh-"

"Don't apologise."

"Oh, yes, uh..." The villain leaned over once more until they could whisper into the hero's ear.

"You did so well, don't you know that?"

"Are - are they still watching us?"

"No, my love." The villain gave the hero a peck on their temple. "How do you feel?"

"Nervous," they admitted.

"You're not really a fan of being undercover, are you?" The villain took their hand and the hero squeezed it, trying somehow to stop their hands from shaking.

"It's my least favourite thing about this job," the hero said. They took in a deep breath and tried to gather their thoughts.

The villain could be so sweet - the reassurance and the gentleness were so foreign to the hero that it scared them. Most of the time, their job was focused on performance and results. There wasn't much space for emotions. They weren't used to someone praising them.

"Don't worry, you are amazing at this," the villain purred. "If it's too much for you, we can always leave."

"But the mission..."

"Well, if you want my honest opinion: I couldn't care less about it. I am just enjoying my time with you."

The hero had to chuckle.

"You are terrible."

"It's your call. I can take the blame if your boss gives you an earful."

"Really?"

"Really."

Once they were back in their hotel room, the hero dared to sleep in the bed with the villain next to them and awoke unsurprisingly in their arms in the morning.

[maxiroff]

Truth or dare ~Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Truth and dare leads to unexpected questions and unexpected answers. You show Wanda what true pleasure is really like.

Paring: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Words: 3711

Warnings: Smut, fingering

Note: English is not my first language and I have not proofread this so there may be some errors.

Once the party started to die down you, Natasha, Wanda and Carol decided to move up to your shared floor. You and Natasha were spread out on the sofa while Wanda and Carol sat in the armchairs in front of you. Both empty and full beer bottles filled the table in between you. While Starks parties more often than not doesn't have a reason, this one actually did. It was to celebrate that Carol was back on earth and that Wanda finally became an official member of the team.

The drinks had started to get to you all and you wanted to keep the party going between you after everyone left. That's how you started playing truth or dare but with a twist. You could not say no. “Truth or dare Y/N?” said Carol while taking a sip of her drink. “Truth” the grin on her face told you that it was exactly the answer she wanted. “What is the most embarrassing thing that has happened to you during sex.” The moment she said those words Natasha started laughing her ass off.

“Why are you laughing Nat?” said Wanda with a confused look. “Well lets just say I was there.” “You were?” Wanda said, questioning. You decided to butt in before Natasha could exaggerate the story. “Okay here's what happens. I happened to have ehh, a friends with benefits with one of the recruits we were training, Lucy. We happened to have the gym to ourselves and we took advantage of that. I was standing up and had her sitting on my shoulders, leaning her against the wall while I was fingering her and eating her out. Right as she was about to go over the edge Natasha walked through the door. Of course we didn't notice because Lucy's moaning was so loud so Nat witnessed the whole thing.”

“Damn, was it hot?” Of course it would be Carol who asked such a question. “Carol, you can't ask that.” Wanda said. “Yeah, Yeah it doesn't matter.” she responded. “Okay since you asked me, it's my turn now.” Considering Wanda had never been asked before, and you simply wanted to know, you decided to ask her. “Wanda” her name being said got her attention and she turned to you. “Yes” “Truth or dare?” “Truth” she said with a slight hesitation.

“I know you and Vision were together before, how many orgasms did he give you in one session?” Her cheek immediately reddened at the question and she suddenly thought the floor was very interesting. “He um-” she cleared her throat “He didn't really give me any.” Her body language showed that she was either embarrassed or nervous, her eyebrows were furrowed and she was plucking at her nailbands while she told us the answer.

Her answer didn't make any sense though. They had gotten together shortly after they both joined the team and they only broke up a few months ago. The time they had been together was torture. Remembering all the times they sat snuggled up together on the sofa, giggling and disturbing the team's movie nights. The jealousy had burned through you. You could treat her so much better than he did, he’s a robot bor fucks sake. You had never felt such relief as you did the day you found out they broke up.

“I’m sorry but you're gonna have to make that make sense to us. You were together for like six months, you have to have done something during that time.” While this seemed like normal talk between you, Natasha and Carol, Wanda had never felt more uncomfortable in her life. She was a shy person and would rather keep her romantic life privat. But with all eyes on her she almost felt obliged to answer your question.

“Well he always, you know, finished quite fast and I didnt want him to feel bad about not being able to satisfy me so I just faked it.” Her answer did not surprise you. Once again hes a fucking robot, he probably had a vibranium dick that was smaller than my finger. Could he even feel pleasure and cum like a real person if he is made out of metal.

“What, so he just believed you all that time and you had to finish yourself off.” Natasha’s voice sounded judging, seeing the look on her face she probably was judging her.

Wanda could feel her cheeks redden even more when she thought of the times where she was left unsatisfied by both Vision and her inexperienced hands. To be right at the edge but not able to get over it, to never experience real pleasure. Of course it was embarrassing to admit out loud, especially to you who she admired and liked in a not so friendly way.

She already felt embarrassed enough but the alcohol made her spill her secrets away. With her arms tightly wrapped around her legs the words flew out quietly. “Um no I never really knew what to do so I never got myself there.” She made the mistake of looking up and seeing the shocked look upon all your faces. She never thought she would feel this bad about being inexperienced.

When you saw how uncomfortable she was at the topic you decided to end her misery. “Okej, we are moving on. Wanda your turn.” “Okej Natasha, truth or dare”

With Nat knowing Wanda would choose something vanilla she decided that dare was a safe bet. “Okej, I dare you to sit in Carol’s lap for the rest of the game.” Maybe she’s not that vanilla after all.

Neither Nat nor Carol complained as Natasha happily made herself comfortable in Carol's lap, wiggling her ass as she sat down. “Now it's finally my turn.” She said as she looked mischievously between you and Wanda. Natasha knew of your longtime crush on Wanda and had been waiting for an opportunity to play matchmaker, she was not about to let it go to waste. “Y/N, truth or dare”

“Dare” You said as you lifted your drink to your lips, what's life without a little excitement. Unfortunately you knew you made the wrong choice as Natashas smirk grew a hundred times bigger. “I dare you to give Wanda her first ever orgasm.”

Wanda's eyes almost popped out of her head in surprise, while you choked on your drink. “I’m sorry WHAT!” Telling Nat about your crush was obviously a mistake and if looks could kill she wouldn’t even be 6ft under ground, she would be a 100ft. “You heard me” This fucking bitch. She was enjoying everything that was happening.

Wanda however did not. She was panicking and didn't know what to feel about the situation. This may have not been a big deal for you but it was for her. She wanted to be with you in every type of way, but not because of a dare. She wanted you to be her “first” and this however, may be the only chance she would get. In the spur of the moment that was enough. Even though she was terrified, her mind was made up.

“Okej” Hearing her agree to do this may have surprised you even more than Natasha asking the question. “What, are you really sure about this Wands?” She didn't know if the surprised look on your face was a good or bad sign and doubt began filling her mind. But then again, her mind was made up. “Yes, I am.”

“Okay then” You stood up from your seat and made your way towards Wanda and held out your hand towards her. She followed through and put her hand in yours and stood up making the space between you only a few inches. Looking at her face you could see her face held a determined look, but her eyes showed something else. She was nervous.

In an attempt to ease her nerves you softly squeeze her hand. The gesture brought warmth to Wanda making her release a shuddering breath and her shoulders lowering in relaxation. “Can we go to my room”

“Yes, of course” You said as you led her hand in hand towards her room. Being that it was only a few doors down it didn't take too long. You let her hand go as you opened the door letting her walk in first. When you followed you closed the door behind you, making sure to lock it.

Turning around you saw Wanda standing in the middle of the room, picking on her nails and cuticles, a clear sign she felt unsure of what was happening. Wanting to stop her from picking her skin you slowly took each hand in your own, bringing her attention back to you once again. “I want to know that if anything we do is making you uncomfortable and you want to stop or slow down, for any reason, just tell me and we will.” You slowly bring her in your arms and hold her tight, her smaller frame being embraced by your own. “I always want you to feel safe with me.”

The feeling of you being wrapped around her and your warm breath on her neck when you whispered in her ear brought a warm feeling in her stomach. She didn't know where the courage to place one hand on your neck and the other on your hip came from. Nor where it came from when she softly pressed her lips behind your ear. “I already do.”

Her surprisingly bold actions were easily turning you on. The feeling of her soft, plump lips on your neck made your hands move lower bringing her hips to your own. Holding her tightly you slipped your thigh between her legs and made her grind down.

Her skirt rode up at the motion and you heard her gasp as she felt the pleasure strike through her. While you kept up the movement you kissed her neck in various places searching for her most sensitive spots. Beginning with slow open-mouth kisses pressed gently to her skin, making her feel all the right sensations before sucking lightly. And when you felt it to be the right time you carefully bit her skin.

It took Wanda by surprise and with the combined pressure from your thigh between her legs she couldn't hold back the moan that slipped from her throat. She hid her head in your neck as her hands gripped onto you hard trying to steady herself.

Hearing her moan made you crave for more. Crave to have her under you, tasting her on your tongue and feel how wet she was. Hearing her moan and whine as she squirms and writhes in pleasure. Hear her scream when her walls squeeze your fingers when she cums.

Wanting to make your imaginations real you slowly push her backwards to her bed, making her lay down as you reach the edge. You slowly come on top of her till you come face to face with her looking deep into her eyes. While you kept eye contact, your hands found their way to the hem of her shirt and slowly crept up inside it. Her breath became heavier when she felt your hand make contact with her bare skin.

“Is it okay if I take this off?” You asked as you went from stroking the skin of her stomach to gripping the shirt. She answered by nodding her head. “That's not good enough Wanda, I need a verbal answer.” You said in a stern tone.

“Yes, it's okay if you take it off.” With that you slowly lifted the shirt above her head revealing more and more of her skin. When it was fully off you noticed that she had opted to not wear a bra. Her light brown nipples hardened from the change in temperature and you couldn't resist from cupping her breasts in your hands.

You looked deep in her eyes as you spoke softly “ Your beautiful Wanda.” Your words made her heart flutter as a blush spread upon her cheeks. Wanda had never felt so cherished before. The way you looked and spoke to her made her understand that you meant what you said, it wasn't something you said just because.

Being too shy to reply verbally she slowly connected her lips to your as a show of her appreciation. As your lips danced together she felt your hands starting to move, massaging her breasts and nipple. You mixed between softly stroking and lightly pinching her hardened buds. She whimpered into your mouth and she felt her arousal drip into her panties, slowly creating a dark spot.

As you had slipped your thigh between her legs yet again you could also feel the wet spot that was created. You detached your lips from hers, instead bringing open mouth kisses down her neck and collarbone until you reached her breasts. You removed one of your hands from their previous position, placing it on her hip instead.

Her whines from the loss were instantly quietened when you circled your tongue around her areola. You then dragged your tongue over her nipple and started to flick and suck on it. Her hand landed on your head, fingers threading through your hair to get a tight grip on it, holding you in place.

As your hand twisted and pinched her nipple you softly bit onto her other nipple with your teeth. As you raised your head, bringing her nipple with you, her back arched from the pained pleasure. Her legs clenched around your own, her hips desperately trying to grind against you.

A soft "Please" you heard come from her. “What do you want Wanda?” You asked when you change your mouth from her right breast to her left, doing the exact same thing as before.

“I want your fingers, please.” At the same time she told you what she wanted, her hand grabbed ahold of yours and guided it down to her panites. “Good girl.” You told her as you let go of her nipple. You started making your way down her stomach, leaving a trail of kisses after you. You were soon met with a pair of beautiful red lace panties. You could also clearly see the dark spot in the middle of them, showing off how aroused she really was.

“Is it okay if I take this off love?” You asked, softly looking up at her. “Yes, please.” She answered whilst nodding. You gripped both her skirt and panties at the same time, dragging them down her legs until they dropped down to the floor.

As you made your way up her body again you left a trail of wet kisses up her legs. When you came up to her thigh you started lightly biting, leaving bruises behind. Coming up to her pussy you placed a kiss right above her small patch of dark hair.

Her hips bucked at the motion and a quiet moan slipped past her throat. You parted her legs, moving to lay between them, coming face to face with her again. “Are you really sure that this is what you want Wands? I don’t want to do anything you're not comfortable with.”

“Yes, I promise I want this, I feel safe with you.” She said that she caressed your cheek. Her words almost brought tears to your eyes. To know that she trusts you fully with her body and her pleasure.

You pressed your lips to hers, dragging your tongue across her bottom lip asking for permission to enter. She opened her mouth, tangling her tongue with yours. You used her being distracted in the interment moment to bring your hand down to her pussy.

You dragged your whole hand from her clit to her weeping hole, gathering her arousal on your two middle fingers you dragged them back up to her clit. You rubbed circles around it, teasing her by never fully touching it directly. She grunted into your mouth in frustration, her hips bucking up into your hand seaking the friction she needed.

“If you want something you have to tell me Wanda.” You reminded her. Your words made her even more frustrated, couldn't you see that she just needed you. She needs you to make her cum, not to draw it out by teasing her. She barely had any control over her own body left, her hips were bucking wildly in need and her folds were puffy and sticky from all the arousal leaking out of her.

“Please, I just want you to make me cum.” She pleaded. You could see the desperation in her eyes, how they were glazed over, only focusing on you. You knew how much she needed this, you weren't blind. You however, also knew how much sweeter her first release would be with how worked up she was.

“It’s okay love, I’ll take care of you.” Your lips connected to hers yet again, you pressed down on her clit with your thumb, tracing her entrance before sinking into her with your middle- and ring finger. “Oh God.” Her back arched as you pumped your fingers inside of her. She was so wet you could hear sounds coming from her at every thrust.

Her nails dug into your back, leaving deep, red scratch marks, desperately wanting to have you as close as possible. She hid her head in your neck as a way of trying to quieten down her moans. “Don’t do that.” you whispered against her ear. “Don’t hide those lovely sounds from me.” You curled your fingers, making them hit the most pleasurable spot inside her. “I want to hear how good I make you feel.”

She couldn't hold back anymore. Nobody had ever made her feel as good as she felt now when your fingers repeatedly kept hitting her g-spot. Loud moans spilled from her mouth and you could feel how her walls clenched around your fingers.

With your thumb playing with her clit and your fingers working inside of her your hand began cramping. The angle was a bit awkward and you couldn't use the force that you wanted to.

When you attempted to move your hand into a better position Wanda's hand shot down to yours, desperately trying to keep you in place. She panicked when she felt you move, being so embarrassing close she was afraid you would stop before she was pushed over the edge. “No, please don’t stop. I haven’t finished yet. ” She said, looking up at you pleadingly.

“I know, don’t worry sweetheart.” You chuckled. “I’m just changing into a better position.” You pecked her lips, trying to reassure her further. You moved your hand so that your palm was pressed against her clit, making it easy for you to grind it against her as you yet again eased your finger in.

The act made Wanda relax and place her hand back around your neck. You picked up the pace making sure that your palm stimulated her clit at the same time. You knew she was close again from how her body started tensing. Her legs locked up around your arm and her grip tightened around you.

“Fuck you feel so good, I’m so close!” She moaned against you. “It’s okay, be a good girl and cum for me Wanda.” And she did. “Ohhhh” She let out an almost pornographic moan as her back arched and her whole body trembled. Her eyes shut tight at the utter pleasure that pulsed through her. You could feel her cum leaking out of her as you slowly brought her down from her orgasm.

“There you go, you did so good my love.” You slowly pulled your fingers out and started stroking her legs and her waist bringing her back in the moment with you. Her body slowly lowered back into the bed as she relaxed against you. You left a light trail of kisses from her shoulder up her neck and ended it with a kiss to her forehead. The muscles in her face instantly relaxed and she opened her eyes looking up at you.

“Hi” You smiled down at her. “Hi” She whispered back with a blush rising up her cheeks. “How are you feeling, are you okay?” You were afraid you maybe had taken things too far in the moment and that she would start to regret what you had done.

“Yes I’m okay, I promise. This was amazing. You are amazing.” She said as she stroked your cheek. The worry in your eyes was clear and she wanted you to know you didn’t do anything wrong. She could also feel the heat that rose to your face due to her compliment, not being used to it.

trying to hide it from her you connected your lips and dragged your tongue against her bottom one asking for entrance. Of course she granted it and swirled her tongue with yours. You took your time to just enjoy the moment and the efter bliss, only parting when air became an issue.

"Stay here I’m just gonna get a towel so I can clean you up.” She nodded and you left to go to the bathroom. When you came back with the damp towel you gently cleaned her between her legs and where you had dragged your hand as you were trying to calm her down. Wanda watched as you made sure not to leave any residue left.

When you were done you threw the towel towards the bathroom not wanting to depart from Wanda. “ Hey Wands, would you like to sleep here tonight?” Her being exhausted and on the verge of falling asleep wouldn't say no to that. “Yes please.”

You laid down besides her opening your arm allowing her to snuggle into you. Your legs ended up being tangled, your arms wrapped around each other and she used your shoulder as her pillow. “Thank you for doing this, good night.”

“Of course love.” “Ehh before you sleep, would it be okay if I took you on a proper date tomorrow?”. She tightened her grip on you and kissed your neck before whispering out “Yes I would love nothing more.” With that you both fell asleep happy and content in each other's arms.

[elsblunt]

ellie williams | soft hc’s.

— when ur gf is the most cocky but sweet girl. headcannons

warnings black femme reader , masc ellie , smoking , ellie being protective , college ellie , fingering (e rec)

౨ৎ ellie williams will always be the girl to be honest about your friends, not being shy to tell u they might be total bitches, the sweetest people, or totally wanting to fuck u. also will be the judgiest person, glancing at somebody random in the club and looking to u, hoping ur thinking the same thing. (u always are.)

౨ৎ passing the blunt back and forth with u, small giggles falling from ur lips when u see her using ur pink sparkly lighter. she specifically has pink paper for u.

౨ৎ also before u started dating, she would use those pink rolls for the girls she thought was the prettiest. once she saw u, she bought them specifically for u and only u.

౨ৎ giving u the cutest high eyes ever when u stand up, walking in ur small white panties and a pink lacy bra she picked out as u look in the fridge and pantry wanting something to munch on. her eyes scan ur body, ur smooth skin, ur bonnet, ur ass.. ur boobs..

“els, do we have any kettle chips? the salt and vinegar ones?” u click ur tongue, sighing as u scrounge through the bags and boxes of food in her cabinets. u soon notice she isn’t answering, only hearing small breaths and inhales she takes from the blunt.

“ellie?” u furrows ur brows, turning around. when u notice why she wasn���t answering, u scoff and grab a soft bag of some food, throwing it at her.

“babe!!” she whines, throwing the food back at u lazily.

“fuckin perv! now where are my damn chips?”

౨ৎ always the one to cheer u up during ur finals. u sat between her thighs as she helps u study, calling out random questions on a notecard she probably doesn’t even know the answer to.

౨ৎ will also be the one to hold u when u cry from stress, wiping ur tears and reassuring u.

౨ৎ she practices doing ur hair. and when u trust her not to tangle it or mess it up, she places little bows in ur hair, small braids scattered throughout ur curls, hands wet with hair product. and when she’s done, she shows u in the mirror, the proudest smile on her face as ur lips tug to a smile, kissing her cheek and telling her how good she did. (even if she didn’t.)

౨ৎ now when u try to put pink ribbons in her hair, she will run away, like a cat in water. “babe, i’m not putting fucking pink bows in my hair! im not trying to look like jojo siwa!” u pout and eventually convince her, smiling brightly as u squeal and give her a half up half down, holding it together with a ribbon. she doesn’t wanna admit it, but she loves to.

౨ৎ speaking of cats, u both definitely have a cat. it’s either a orange cat or a black cat.

౨ৎ at the club, she always has eyes on u. but sometimes she doesn’t, accidentally looking over to her friend and laughing, drinking away as she waits for you to be back from the bathroom. when she looks back though, she will defend and protect u with her life if she sees somebody bothering u.

u couldn’t even make it back from the bathroom before a man comes up to u, flirting with u. “i’m sorry, but im not interested.” u try to walk away, but his cold hand grips on ur exposed waist.

“didnt i just say i wasn’t interested? or are u just deaf? i have a girlfriend.”

he scoffs, not taking u seriously as he puts his other hand on ur body, making u flinch and step back, removing his hands.

“ehh, u just haven’t met the right man yet, i can show u..” he grins sneakily, making ur face scrunch up with disgust, body tensing.

before ur able to do anything, ellie pops up next to you, placing a kiss on ur cheek, hand rubbing the small of ur back.

“hey baby, we got a problem?” she chuckles dryly, only glancing at the man for a second, looking him up and down with a judgmental look plastered across her face.

he walked away real quick.

౨ৎ ellie will ramble about comics, space, and dinosaurs as much as she can. drawing shapes on ur thigh with ur finger as she speaks softly. where the fuck did she get these facts from?

౨ৎ always holding ur bags when u shop, handing u her credit card if u mention u like something online. u returning the favor by buying her things u think she would like, as much as she says she doesn’t need it. buying her small gifts 24/7, her doing the same. you were basically each others sugar mommy’s.

౨ৎ defends u no matter what in every argument or situation, ur always right.

౨ৎ let’s just say, when ur drunk out of ur mind at a party, dancing on tables and twerking on all ur friends. she will be the one to pick u up bridal style, throwing ur drunk ass into the uber while u sing stunna girl horribly.

౨ৎ neediest fucking girl in the world, because of her masc look people are convinced she tops. but once you touch the waistband of ellie’s boxers, her breath hitches and her hips roll softly, personality changing. “baby, please..”

౨ৎ either moans so loudly when u fuck her or is quiet, grunting and breathing heavily, tiny whimpers falling past her puffy lips.

౨ৎ when ur fingers plunge into her pussy, curling in the right spot and sucking her clit. her back arches and her nose touches the pillow under her head, trembling and playing with her nipple. “fu-fuckkkk! so fuckin’ good…” she groans, other hand holding ur head, trying to push u closer as u snicker at her.

౨ৎ will litter ur body in kisses during and after sex.

౨ৎ best at aftercare, always making sure ur cleaned up and taken care of.

౨ৎ ellie’s the best girlfriend, and if u ever try to break up with her, trust she will still text u in her 30’s.

i used to write wattpad stories so this is the best i got…

[oh-babylove]

~7k. copia/f!reader. explicit. established relationship, smut, filth and fluff. copia does date night, and you show him your appreciation-- it's only fair. mdni.

thanks to @copia for showing me how to put images in a grid-- top right image by instagram user susitse.art. @enjoy-my-swearing and @photiniainsummer, this one's for you. <3

when the red comes over you - ao3

rhrn spoilers. blowjobs, masturbation, dirty talk, light degradation, a small piece of light cum kink, a touch of hanky-panky in public, some thigh riding, face-fucking, fluff, tw: references to past sexual assault/dubious consent/sexual trauma

You’re holding the same pole on the subway car as Copia, his gloved hand over yours, swaying with him, forced into his space by the crowd. It gives you an excuse to stand close to him, in the circle of his scent like cold smoke. You're not complaining– well, not much. Keeping your balance is a bit of a challenge– you aren't used to doing this in heels, even these modest Cuban heels. Riding the subway truly is riding, the rhythmic thrum of the rails swaying up your body, through the balls of your feet. Riding the train feels like riding a living thing.

“I like this,” you say, as if coming to a decision.

“Hnn?” Copia replies, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you.

“Riding the train. I like it.” You lean in to murmur in his ear, not that you have far to go. It’s a matter of tilting your head until you can feel the warmth of his skin against your cheek. “But I’d like riding you even more.” It’s just the kind of cheesy nonsense that you’re both into.

Your body keeps brushing against his– a particularly hard bump has your belly pressed against his erection, and his choked-off gasp scores a direct hit to your brain stem, bypassing your ears, cinching something tight around your diaphragm. His hand tightens on your hip, possessive. Holding you up, keeping your balance.

“You little minx,” he hisses, frustrated--with a ragged edge of delight. “You wait till I get you home.”

“You caint blame that on me, now, that was the train,” you say, but you're close to laughing, yourself. You can hear your accent getting thicker, but damned if you can stop it. Besides, Copia loves it, loves ruffling your feathers enough that he can get you to slide back into that slurring hillfolk drawl. Someday he might even make you less self-conscious about it. 

Truth be told, you’ve been practically vibrating since before you left the apartment, restless and swollen between the legs, a low-grade ache that Copia has not been helpful with.

(The apartment. Your apartment. Yours, plural, now, you think. You’d never been a co-religionist of his, and he’d had a toothbrush at your place for a long time. Then a drawer in your dresser. Then he’d brought over his best frying pan, his best chef knife– simply because he couldn’t stand it, gattina, you cook with that? And now there’s as many of his books as yours on the shelves– shelves you put up with your own hands while he did ‘the heavy lookin’ on.’ His name isn’t on the lease, but he paid the rent for the next two months anyway. In full.

When you tried to fight him on it, he’d just shrugged. “Babydoll, I’ve been here more nights than I haven’t for the last four months, this is just… ehh, consider it backdated, yeah?” He’d kissed your forehead. “We can do half each after that. If you haven’t gotten sick of your dirty old man by then.”

It was hard to argue with that.

Copia kept his room at the Ministry, even after his… promotion. His term as Imperator, he’d decided, would be more hands off. You’d talked about it a little. Mostly in bed, sweaty and spent and a little sticky. “Mister Psaltarian is more than capable of running most of it. The administrative things. I’m better with the ghouls, I think, but there’s Kevin, and Ashley, they have it well in hand. I want the new guy to– to be able to be his own man, yeah? I’ll show him the ropes, of course, answer any questions he has, but he doesn’t need me looking over his shoulder all the damn time.”

The new guy. Hell of a way to refer to his long-lost brother. “And you ain’t ready to be around him twenty-four seven just yet.”

“...And that. Yes.” He was quiet for a moment. “You’re too perceptive, gattina. Keep it up and I’ll have to fuck you again, till you don’t think so good.”

“So… you sayin’ you gone fuck my brains out? Say, you ever notice that your man Psaltarian loses his train of thought whenever Kevin comes into the room?”

“That’s it, back in the handcuffs with you. And remember, you brought this on yourself.”)

As ever, he’d insisted on doing your makeup. (It should have been your first clue that you were in for it.) It only makes sense-- he’s better at it than you’ve ever been, and he loves doing it. You love it, too, if you’re honest. He had to take his gloves off for it, to hold your chin firmly and keep you in place. It was terribly intimate, his breath ghosting over your lips, the skin of his hand against your cheek. His quiet, gentle command held something still in the center of you, made it sing like a struck tuning fork– a calm vibration that sank into your bones. The cool brush of the eyeliner on the delicate skin of your eyelids. How meticulous he’d been, how precise. That calm focus he brings to everything that he cares about. How his whole being focused on that point, painting cat eyes sharp enough to kill a man.

Your lipstick had been worse, barely holding your mouth open, the brush sliding over the curve of your cupid’s bow, stretching out your lower lip ever so slightly. You hadn’t even known they’d made brushes for lipstick. Copia has taught you so many things.

Copia knows just what shades of red match your skin tone, knows just how to bring out the color of your eyes. He knows, too, the best cut of a dress to accentuate your figure, to flatter your curves. This one was lovely, shaping your breasts, with a little bit of flare to the skirt. He bought you this dress, these heels. This lingerie. He’s taught you how to fasten a silk stocking to a garter belt, that the underwear goes on over the garters, not underneath.

He’d taken the liberty of fastening your stockings tonight. “So the back seam is straight, gattina. I know it’s tricky to get right on your own, yes? Let me help.” His hands, his clever fingers, so high up on your thighs, his face level with your pussy.

“Oh yeah, sweetness, you're helping something, alright,” you choked out, a little strangled. 

He must have seen how wet you were already, if the self-satisfied hum he made behind you was any indication. He bit the crease of your ass, just lightly, making a goofy little rawr noise that made you actually giggle.

Embarrassing, the noises he gets out of you.

“You shaved,” he said, and it was supremely gratifying to hear him a little hoarse, himself. 

“Did you wanna do that, too?”

“Hnn. We’d miss our reservation.” He wasn't moving from his place on his knees behind you. “Miss the show.”

“Sound like you're enjoying this show purt’ well,” you said, but you thought it best to step into your underwear, anyway. 

Pain shared is pain lessened, isn't it?

…He didn't need to know that you only kept them on for a couple of minutes, just until you used the bathroom one last time on the way out the door.

You almost never know in advance where exactly Copia will take you when it's his turn to plan date night- generally your only clue is what clothing he picks out for you, how he does your makeup, if makeup is required. You've ranged over the city hitting up obscure museums before, taken tours in the underbelly of the public transportation system, gone to aviaries and magic shops and tiny greenhouses.

(You like to think you hold your own. Dive bars and twenty four hour diners, sidewalk art festivals and night markets, one memorable instance of a graffiti lesson– that had been an unexpected delight. 

Your man can be blisteringly uncool sometimes– most of the time, even– but there's no snobbery in him. No fear, either, not in the way most people are afraid: of embarrassing themselves, saying the wrong thing, of looking like a jackass. He hadn't been good at it, but he threw himself into the attempt wholeheartedly, listened to the man in the baggy jeans with the paint-stained fingers explain technique and theory and the history of the medium with total attention and enthusiasm. 

Never will you reach the bottom of him. His openness and his generosity and his good, good heart.)

Dinner and a show is almost a little pedestrian, for him, but there's comfort in the classics. A bar paneled in blond wood and washed in warm light, specializing in rare vinyls piped in on a very serious sound system as much as the cocktails. 

He’d been very good, kept his knee between yours, but otherwise, hadn’t even tried to put a hand up your skirt– a rarity, with him.  His eyes told a different story, watching you with obvious, predatory hunger. The second time you caught him ogling your cleavage he leaned into it, dragging his eyes salaciously down your body with enough force that you nearly felt his gloves snagging on your skin.

The cheeky motherfucker actually licked his lips at you.

You barked out your unlovely laugh, and the way he grinned took the sting out of the sharp glances cast your way– the aim was to listen to the obscure bossa nova, not to your fellow patrons. Your face was hot. “Ah, gattina, you cannot blame a man for looking. Not when you are as ravishing as that.” It wasn’t helping the heat in your face.

A glance at the mirror over the bar, old and pitted and a little smoky, the perfect self-aware touch of authenticity. You’d never have recognized the woman looking back, not when you first met Copia, this exquisite creature with perfect makeup. Sharp. Sexy. 

You don’t hate it.

“...Y’outdid yourself,” you said, slow. You didn’t look real to yourself, this absolute pinnacle of femininity. Copia’s gaze softened, warmed, less the slavering predator and more– a naked adoration that was hard to look at.

(Of course, neither expression was comparable to the first time he’d put you in an exquisitely tailored three-piece suit. You’d thought the man was going to pass out from how quickly his blood rushed south– but that’s a story for another day.)

He crowded your space, just this side of indecent, his knee halfway between your thighs. Copia fed you little morsels from his own fork of– whatever this was. A vaguely mediterranean inspired amuse-bouche. He took his time with it, making you duck your head while the cool tines slid against your lower lip. You kept his eyes for it, moving slow, relishing the way his mouth hung open. 

It’s a little much, in public, truly.

You weren’t even sure what you were eating, something perfectly balanced with rich cream, phyllo dough, an acidic tang. Spanakopita when it’s got a Michelin star or two, you thought. Copia’s little shudder at your groan of appreciation didn’t escape your notice, but you managed to keep the smugness out of your expression with truly heroic effort. 

From there, it was a short taxi ride with his gloved hand heavy on your knee, Copia keeping up a stream of polite chatter that you barely heard a word of. He’d gotten box seats in a lovely little jewel box of a theatre, for a revival of a classic two-man existential tragicomedy starring a couple of aging comedic actors known for their roles in a cultural zeitgeist film from around the turn of the last century.

It was a good effort, all told, and the actors weren’t bad– they had a chemistry borne out of twenty years of friendship that’s impossible to replicate. But Copia proved that he’s a true and faithful servant of the Devil somewhere around the start of the second act, when he peeled a glove off with his teeth.

Your chest went tight.

No wonder he wanted box seats, you thought, as he settled his hand back on your knee. Like it belonged there, like he had perfect possession of it, every right to edge just under the hem of your skirt. 

(His hands-- you love his hands. He’s self-conscious about the hair on the back of them, the dusting of freckles. Large and well-made and skilled, seeing them is like sharing a secret. A gift. He’s squeamish about textures, too sensitive, the slightest scrape will make him shudder-- and not in a fun way. Sandpaper would be torture. Anything gelatinous is right out. You get used to the constant grime and the vague awareness of filth you get on your hands, living in a city. It’s not so bad, for you, you invest in hand sanitizer and don’t touch your face. It’s the price you pay for living in a place with something like a subway, where things pulse and hum and never truly sleep, to be a microbe in the gut of this beast of a city, to be a tiny cog in the great machine.

You love it here. You didn’t think you would. Hell, you didn’t think you could. “It’s growing on me,” you told Copia one day, cool as you like, as if you weren’t giving anything away. “A little.”

“You have no talent for bullshit, babydoll,” he said, both dry and terribly fond.)

All of your awareness focused on the soft warmth of him enveloping your knee, the rough scrape of his calluses on the inside of your thigh– a new sensation, he’s taken the acoustic guitar back up recently. Not moving, just–holding. 

You kept your eyes forward, and your breathing even.

His thumb slid over your kneecap, absentmindedly tracing little circles. Your legs fell open a little wider, just so your thighs weren’t touching. You were terribly, achingly aware of the air on your cunt.

A soft stroke back and forth, a gesture that could have been reflexive, thoughtless– if it wasn’t for the beatific expression on his face, his eyes forward and too-innocent. It would have been more convincing if he hadn’t been inching his slow way upwards, featherlight touches, tracing up and back down, up and back down. Just a millimeter higher each time. An agonizingly slow drag, a glacial pace.

Your grip tightened on the armrest. 

Copia leaned forward, his breath in your ear. “Why, gattina,” he purred. “I do not think you are even paying attention to the play.”

“You are,” you managed, “a real sunnavbitch, you know it?”

He only chuckled low, and ran his touch to the top of your thigh. The side of his hand brushed up against your wet cunt and you both gasped.

“You little slut,” he hissed, with obvious pride. “So eager for me already.”

He dragged the very tip of one finger up between your lips, so slick it was almost frictionless, pulling away just before he could touch your clit. You took a ragged breath that was nearly a whine, bereft at the loss of his touch. You felt your cunt clench over nothing, an involuntary contraction. 

Copia hummed in mock-sympathy, and took mercy on you, cupping your whole cunt with his broad hand, steady and even pressure that was nowhere near enough, but at least took a little of the edge off. 

His middle finger slid naturally between your labia majora, and settled there, his fingertip crooked so he could just barely feel the inside of you.

The bastard stayed that way for the rest of the performance, sometimes giving you a gentle squeeze, sometimes pulling away to slide his fingertip back up to circle your clit. Just often enough to keep your attention focused where he wanted.

Evil, evil man.

Copia retracted his hand before the lights went up, giving you one final squeeze. He kept your eyes as he brought his hand up to his face, inhaled deeply, and surreptitiously licked his palm before fitting his hand back into his glove for the applause.

“Play weren’t that bad,” you said, weakly. “No call to do- alla that.”

“Oh? Didn’t you tell me you had a crush on the– which was it, the one with the dark hair– as a little girl? You want to wait around, go to the stage door, get an autograph?” All innocence, all the accommodating boyfriend.

“I revise my previous opinion. You are the Lebron James of being a sunnavabitch.” Despite your discomfort in heels, you couldn’t drag him to the train home fast enough.

So now, here you are. You shiver a little, in this hot and humid subway car, remembering. You bite your lip and can taste the wax of your lipstick.

Copia sees it, of course he does, how your eyes go just a little glazed. He smirks a terribly self-satisfied smirk. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, this’d cost you at least a dollar. Maybe five nintey-nine.”

“Inflation is just outrageous these days. Highway robbery. I’m shocked.”

“Not yet, you aren’t.”

“You are talking a big game, babydoll. Be careful, I think, ehh-- your mouth is writing checks your ass can’t cash.” His hand heavy on your hip, almost indecent. His boot between your shoes, the sweet curve of his thigh displacing your skirt. He’s so close, so warm and solid. The train is packed, but he’s all you can see, all you can feel. His breath in your ear, pitched low. “Your pussy can’t cash.”

It’s all you can do to keep yourself from grinding on his thigh in the middle of the train. “Sweetness,” you croak out. “We’re in public.”

He leans back, conciliatory. Terribly smug. The world fades back in. You catch a teenager in a hoodie smirking at the two of you, a direct and uncomfortable gaze that feels more taboo in this city than even the way your hips keep shifting, restless. You feel almost drunk, stepping into the warmth of his body and his hard cock between your hip and your belly, a little vindictive, relishing his frustrated little grunt in your ear. 

“Two more stops, gattina,” he murmurs, as much for his benefit as yours. You see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “We can make it.”

“Mm-hmm,” you manage. 

He drags you roughly by your elbow off the train, in a way that has your fellow passengers actually making a faint murmur of disapproval at the way he growls. He might be leaving a bruise on your arm. Can’t be helped. You’re laughing up the stairs, your heels loud on the concrete and metal, giddy, just this side of hysterical. 

He’s clumsy with the keys when you get to your apartment building, following you up the stairs so he can look up your skirt. “Can’t believe– I watched you put those on.” 

“You just mad you didn’t get to watch me take ‘em off.”

He’s on your neck like a lamprey when you get to your door, and now it’s your turn to be clumsy while you paw through your purse, his hot wet mouth insistent, just under your ear, his teeth grazing your skin. His hands firm on your breasts, pushing the neckline of your dress down so he can fill his hands with them, gripping almost hard enough to hurt. He’s trapping you against the door, grinding into your ass while you fumble with the lock.

“What’re you– you tryna fuck me in the hallway?” you gasp. He’s reaching up your skirt now, his bare palm at the top of your stocking. When did he take his gloves off?

“I will,” he growls, “if you don’t hurry the fuck up.”

You somehow make it in the door without breaking the key off in the lock, and you give him just enough time to slide the bolt home before you’re shoving him onto the couch. You’re in his lap just as quick, your mouth on his, nearly biting him as he laughs into your mouth. Christ, you didn’t even get out of your heels. 

He’s warm under you, solid muscle under a sweet softness around the middle, and you can’t unbutton his shirt fast enough. His tongue in your mouth is making you clumsy, making it hard to keep track of how buttons work, shorting out basic motor functions. When you make it, you groan at his fur under your palms, and then he shoves his thigh between your legs and you whine when you grind your wet cunt against it. You have to break off from his mouth for it, clinging to his shoulders.

Your lipstick is all over Copia’s face. He’s grinning, rapt, delighted, impossibly fond. The man’s face is so pink it looks like he’s been slapped around. “Good, eh?” He pushes his thigh forward again, his hand up your dress and on your ass. “You like that?” He’s pulling you into it, making you drag your cunt over his tight jeans. The seam running down the front of his thigh hits your clit and you gasp. “So fucking desperate you need to hump my leg, filthy little thing.”

You roll against him once or twice more, because he’s right, it feels so good, those long runner’s thighs, the coiled power of him. That hard muscle and rough fabric against you, his body between your knees, so warm and familiar and beloved.

But his smirk is just a little too smug for your taste, so you have to make yourself stop before you fall too deep into a rhythm. Even if you actually hurt with being so turned on for so long. You get his shirt the rest of the way open, have to bend your head to suck a nipple into your mouth– the terrible brand over his heart level with your eyes– and bite. It’s not hard, but it does raise his back off the couch, and distract him from you eeling down between his legs to kneel on the floor.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, looking down at you, knowing (some of) what you have in mind.

Your hand is on his belt buckle, and the sheer Pavlovian reaction you have to the sound of undoing it with one hand forces you to press your cheek to his thigh and focus on your breathing for a moment.

You laugh, shaky. You left an actual wet spot on his jeans.

Copia’s hand is in your hair, fingernails running along your scalp, soothing, grounding you. “Baby?” he asks. “Babydoll, are you alright? We don’t have to–”

“No.” You catch your breath, look back up at him, and his mismatched eyes go from soft and sweet to almost afraid, when he sees your expression. The hunger there– you could eat him alive. “No, I was just– too turned on, for a second.”

“Oh.” He pets at you again, then his smile turns predatory as he sweeps your hair up in one hand and pulls tight. “Then why don’t you get to sucking my cock, puttana?” 

Just for that, you lean up and bite at his belly, the sweet furry softness just below his navel. You laugh with a mouthful of his flesh at his yelp, how it turns into a groan as you unzip his jeans and take him in hand. 

It isn’t as if you aren’t intimately (haha) familiar with his dick, but it’s always nice to see. You’d called it pretty, the first time you’d slept with him, and it really is an accurate description. (It had been emotional for a great many reasons, but that had touched him in ways he still couldn’t articulate.) Silky soft skin over the hard length of him, his head already shiny with precum. It’s the same color as his lips, under the paint.

“You see what you do to me, gattina?” he murmurs above you. “You wreck me. You’ve ruined me– or at least these pants.”

“It’ll come out in the wash,” you say, and take him into your mouth, slow suction, tasting salt. He fills your mouth, fills your hand, blood-warm and firm in your grip. You watch his eyes when you start to suck him down, loving, as you always do, how in that first moment he looks at you, whimpers at you, like you're breaking his heart. 

You hear the dry click of him swallowing as you pull the soft skin of his cock further towards your mouth, your grip twisting, the slow churn of it. How his veins give under your lips, under your hand. It doesn’t take long to get him slick, the thick ridge of the underside of him heavy on your tongue. The musk of him fills your whole senses, thick and animal and a little gross.

His hips shift, and before you have to pull yourself off of him to tell him to talk, he’s doing what you want. “Look at you,” he breathes, reverent. “You’re so good at this, fucking made for this,” a twitch upwards, a movement too small to be called a thrust, “aren’t you? Born for this, your god made you to suck my cock. My perfect– ohh– perfect little cocksucker. Want it so bad, don’t you?”

His hand is heavy on the back of your skull, pushing you down with that even, steady pressure just how he likes. How you both like. “Don’t worry. I’ll give it to you, give you what you want.” He’s not choking you with it, you have plenty of room to work with your hand. Still, as you take him down further, swallowing around the thick length of him, you feel hot tears running down your cheeks, sheer dumb animal reaction. You slip your other hand to cradle his slick balls, rolling them gently, the weight of them a little cooler than the rest of his body. He makes a strangled noise, an “Ohh fuck, baby, babydoll, so good for me, so good to me, fuck, fuck–!” 

His stutter and his loss of control are just too much, finally, you feel the air of the apartment cool at the top of your slick thighs, your swollen cunt, and you have to do something about it. You take your hand from his balls and slide it up your skirt, slowly enough to feel your silk stockings under your fingertips, slow enough that Copia catches it.

Just as you register how fucking wet you are, his eyes go wide and his hips shudder, the smooth hot head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. 

Your grip tightens on the base of his cock, a warning. You freeze, staring blank and unseeing at his soft belly, before looking up at him imploringly. “Okay,” he says, gentling you like a frightened horse. His big hand moving in your hair. “Okay. But baby,” he's nearly whining as you slowly suckle on the head of him, faint living salt in your mouth, “I know you want it, you’re too fucking good at that to not want it, I. Ohhh.” His hand grips tight in your hair as you swallow around him, thick and hot on your tongue. “Oh, fuck.”

You’re finding your pace on his cock again, a little faster, your hands working in time on his cock, on your clit. Freshly shaved like this, you’re fantastically, impossibly slippery. “Ohh, fuck. Oh, sweet Satan. Oh my dear Lord Below.” Copia absolutely doesn’t know what he’s saying, he so rarely gets outright religious on you. It’s an unspoken courtesy you’ve extended to each other, so to hear him break it sends a smug little charge through you. You whimper a little around his cock, give yourself a little more pressure on your clit. He can’t keep still, not all the way, even though you know he’s trying, making little aborted movements of his hips.

Copia swallows. It’s remarkable how you can see him trying to pull himself together. “Knew you loved this,” he says, his voice creaking. “Can’t be that good at something if you don’t love it. Didn’t know you loved it this much, gattina.” A little more pressure on the back of your skull, his nails scraping your scalp. He isn’t exactly holding you down, but he isn’t letting you pull off, either. “Never had my cock sucked this good, never even had a man suck my cock this good, thought I liked that better, before you came along. Had so many people suck this cock–” and that hurts, a hot bolt of pain and arousal that hits your heart and your clit at the same time. Your pace falters, and it must show, because Copia slows as well.

It’s a sore spot. You know that his own inverted form of celibacy in the Ministry included a certain implied… availability that could be, charitably, unpleasant for him at times. Clergy take no wives, no husbands, but give themselves freely to their congregation. You haven’t pushed him on the things that happened to him, he usually insists it was fine, expected, normal– but you generally have to go for a long walk and break something after you talk about it. You know, too, that he had positive experiences there, genuinely caring relationships. It doesn’t exactly help matters that your own knowledge of partnered sex, before Copia, falls radically short of the mean for someone in your age group.

All of that goes through your head in a flash, and he knows it, he can read you so well, even between one stroke of his cock and the next. “Only– didn’t know you’d have a natural talent at this.” Petting at you, soothing, his thumb moving tender on your cheekbone. “Remember, how I had to teach you how to kiss, those hours in the park.” You make a noise on him, not sure if this is helping. “Loved that, babydoll, loved doing that with you, teaching you, drove me wild.” He’s murmuring low to you, his voice a little rough, a little too exposed. “But I– I was ready for you to bite it off, the first time you went down.” 

Awkward thing, laughing with a mouth full of dick. But he keeps going. “I didn’t know, my baby. I didn’t know how it could feel. Didn’t know how good it could be.” He twitches in your mouth, in time with a tiny movement of his hips, so warm and alive in you. “Taught you how to kiss, but babylove, I swear I felt like a virgin when you took me to bed.” His voice is low and wrecked for different reasons than it was before, and oh no, his eyes are wet.

You let go of him, turn your head to wipe your mouth on your shoulder, quick and perfunctory. You can't take your eyes from him. "Sug," you say, unsure how to continue, the twisting in your chest too much for words, beyond anything you could articulate with language. Your knees creak a little as you start to get up, to do what you don't know. Kiss him or touch him or say something, anything, to the way he's looking at you. 

Copia pushes you back down, his hand heavy at the back of your neck. His thumb slots right at the base of your skull, right where he likes to keep it when he kisses you. “No, no, you’re too good at this, I wouldn’t interrupt an artist.” Back in some semblance of control. “You’re too good, you make me feel too good, show me. Will you--? Please, baby, will you show me how it can be good--?"

"Well," you say, pumping slow at his cock. "I can try." You press a tiny kiss to the head of him, too sweet for the situation, relishing the way he shivers. You take him in, how his hair is a disaster, sticking up in the back, his shirt open, your makeup smeared all over his face, his body, the parts of his thighs that you can reach. His pupils are blown wide, his eyes a little glazed, his lips swollen from the way you kissed them and the way he's bitten them. He's wrecked, and he's yours. 

You love him. With all your heart, all your mind, and, you're afraid, all your soul. It hurts to look at him, you think he might sear your eyes right out of your skull. 

You close your eyes against it, at how it stings, and nuzzle into the silky skin of his cock. Copia's belly is soft, warm, furred, delightfully sticky under your touch, as you run your hand up the front of him, up until you're cupping the sweet curve of his pectoral, until you can feel the cruel scar of his branding under the pads of your fingers. You trace over it, mapping the vector of those interlocking sixes. You feel his pulse under your palm, under your lips. You drag your mouth back and forth, just to feel the soft, delicately crenelated skin, the coolness of his flesh here soothing your feverishness. 

Copia makes a tiny wounded noise as his hand presses over yours. As if he could press his heart into your hand. He’s better at language than you’ve ever been, but you can see it falter and fail for him. All you know how to do is– action. It feels inadequate, somehow.

Your dear man. He sees you, and raises your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles in a courtly gesture. It should be absurd, with you on your knees for him, with the delicate skin of his cock against your mouth. Somehow, it isn’t, the alchemy of his tenderness conveying exactly what he means. What you mean, with the most vulnerable part of him between your teeth. “D’you want me to take you to bed, babydoll?”

“No,” you say, pulling off of him long enough to murmur it against his slick head. “Later, maybe. If you’re up to it. Right now, I want–” It’s easier to wrap your lips around him again, to tell him that way. You’re more eloquent with your mouth this way than you ever were with language.

“Alright,” he says, almost a gasp, as he returns your hand to you. “Touch yourself for me?” Almost pleading. As if your pleasure were a favor to bestow on him. “I want– wanna see you get off, my baby, wanna see how much you love doing this. So fucking hot–” His voice breaks off into a whine as you pull him further into your mouth. 

His big hand on your head, stroking your hair back, so sweetly. “Do you want me to be a little mean? I know you like that.” 

You moan around his cock in an unmistakable affirmative, rut a little harder into your hand, plead with your eyes. 

Copia’s smile turns sharp, wicked. “My perfect little cocksucker.” The deep affection in his voice belies the words. “Perfect little cumslut.” Your hand is already back between your legs, and you might– might– be moving your hips a little more theatrically than strictly necessary. 

He holds the back of your neck, the base of your skull, his grip tight. Just this side of painful. “You know how to tap out. How to get me to stop.” He pushes you down on him as he tilts his hips up to you, not quite cutting off your air. “But you’re not gonna do that, are you?” 

Copia licks his lips. He looks feverish, making shallow little thrusts into your mouth. “No, you. Ohh, you like this too much.” He’s so careful, even like this, testing just how hard he can thrust, finding your limit and pushing just past it before backing down. It makes you moan, makes you shiver, makes your hand speed up on your cunt in time with the way he’s pushing into your throat.

“Cruel to me,” he croons, as he uses your mouth. “Keeping that sweet little pussy from me.” He’s panting. “I can hear it, hear how wet you are.” As he says it, you realize you can, too, the wet noise in counterpoint to the sound of you working his cock. “M’gonna make you pay for it. Hope you’re ready, gonna eat you out till m’hard again.” He’s got both hands on your head now, and he’s too far into you for you to use your hand on him.

“You’ll. Hnn. You’ll need me to, to eat you out. Make you cum on my face.” If it weren’t for the sheer adoration in his eyes, this would be brutal, the way he’s pushing into your throat. The speed of your hand on your clit. Moving with him, point and counterpoint. “Fuck, I’m gonna wreck it, gonna split your pretty little cunt open– I’ll last longer, after I cum down your throat.” You whine around his cock, your cunt clenching on nothing, shivering against your hand.

Copia sounds like he’s in pain. It feels like he can’t stop himself, the way his hips are working. “Gattina,” he whines, helplessly. “Can’t– can’t last much longer, you looking at me like that.” You can feel him trembling under your touch. “D’you. You want it?” Movements a little more shallow, holding himself in check. “You want this cum in your mouth?” A rough, jagged thrust. “Little slut–!” he hisses, and he’s not quite too far gone to grin in smug delight at the way you moan in reaction. 

“Gonna cum like this?” he croons, taunting. His white eye bores into you, too bright, and he looks crazed. Deranged. It’s almost frightening, the way you can’t look away from it. Your eyes burn, hot tears on your cheeks, and you couldn’t stop rubbing your cunt if you tried. The way he’s watching you, the way he sees just how turned on you are by him using you like this. Like it’s shameful. “From me fucking your slut mouth like a little cocksleeve.” His voice is creaking, nearly out of control. “You want this cum? You want it? Hmm?”

You’re hanging on by a thread, your nerves strung out like piano wire, helpless before him. Your jaw hurts, his hand so tight in your hair. “Then take it.” He’s beckoning you over the edge, chanting, rapt. “Take it, take my cum, take my fucking cum–” he rasps, knowing exactly what will set you off, will snap the bright line of you.

You see his smile as you break, whining around his cock. How he lights up at it, overjoyed, crooked and tender. You hold his eyes the whole time, giving him as much of it as you can, letting him see all of it, the shining abyssal affection that crashes through your body for him, catching your nerve endings like fire through tinfoil. 

“Ohh–! Precious,” he says, almost crying, “my precious girl, my baby, my–” his voice breaks on your name, the syllables like a song, like a prayer, like something more than holy, like the shahada, like the shema, like it's the last thing that he knows. You never knew your name until he held it in his mouth like this, at the uttermost end of himself. He’s flooding over your tongue, slick and bitter. Like the first jet from the fountain in school, sun-warmed metal, iron from the earth, living water. 

His cock jumps in your mouth, and you’re shaking, trembling through your aftershocks and his as you swallow all of him, pull all of him into you, watching his eyes and his blissed out expression until his voice does– something wrecked. “You–!” he gasps, delighted. “C’mere, come up here, you’re too– too far away–” he’s pulling at you, babbling, delirious, so soft now. 

Copia’s pulling you up, into his arms, his lap, too quick for you to wipe his cum and your spit from your mouth. “Dunno if I like it, you that far away, wanna feel your pretty little body when you cum, you–” And then he’s kissing on you, shivering, laughing, little pecks along your jawline till he reaches your mouth. He makes a deep, appreciative groan when he tastes himself on your lips. He pulls back to look at you, almost scandalized in delight. 

You have to laugh at him. For once you can’t be bothered to be self-conscious about it. “Oh, I do like that,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before he dives back in, like he has to get all of it. You’re still shaky, a fine shiver all down your spine. He’s almost clumsy, licking into your mouth, a real rarity for him. You try not to feel too smug about it.

You can’t stop smiling, when you finally get your mouth back. “Acceptable, then?”

“So good. Every time, I can’t believe–” he’s nuzzling at you, his nose against yours, totally uninhibited in his affection. “So perfect, so sweet, love you so much, thank you, thank you, baby–” Nonsense babble. Incoherently effusive. He scoops your legs across his lap and runs his hands over all of your skin that he can reach. “Perfetta…sei perfetta. Angioletto,” he murmurs, and you shiver. You haven’t heard that one in a while. “Angioletto mio,” he’s saying, into your hair, your skin, and it’s rare that you blow him all the way back to Italian. “Sei tutto ciò che voglio del Paradiso.” You’re a little too fucked-out to parse that all the way, but it still snags in your heart a little.

(He knows, usually, how you still aren’t used to being loved on this much. You know he restrains himself, tries not to overwhelm you. It breaks your heart, sometimes, when you see him hold himself back, even as his consideration makes you warm.) 

Now, though, it’s good. It’s perfect. His pants are half off, his dick out, ridiculous. You think you might have snapped a garter, and you definitely put ladders in these stockings. You couldn’t give less of a shit. You loop your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, letting out a deep, contented sigh.

Copia’s still petting you– appropriate enough. You feel like a cat in a sunbeam, even supremely disheveled like this.

He squeezes you lightly, again, and makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “The, enh– the talking. It wasn’t too much?” Like he’s shy, all of a sudden.

“Noo!” You have to pull back to look up at him. “No, holy shit, sweetness, it was inspired. Even for you! Hot damn, baby. ‘Cocksleeve,’ where did that come from?” 

“Ehh– a couple of times, there, I’m, ah. Not even sure I remember what I was saying.” Is he blushing? It’s adorable.

“No, it was great. I’d tell you if it weren’t, honeybunch.” You lean your head back against him, boneless and warm all the way through. “Naw, this was awesome. Ten outta ten, go Team Us.” You hold up your hand for a high-five, and your sweet man, he’ll never leave you hanging– the slap rings loud through your living room. 

He tilts his head back onto the couch, looking up at the Devil’s Ivy crawling over your bookshelves. “Although,” he says, slow, considering. “I do seem to recall that I promised you I was gonna make you cum on my face.”

“And split my pussy open,” you remind him. “Or was you writing checks your dick can’t cash?”

“Babydoll, don’t you know by now?” He’s turning back to look at you, his mismatched eyes full of predatory adulation. “The Devil always keeps his promises.”

[corroded-hellfire]

The year is 1986. Eddie is in danger of not graduating (again). Reader is his girlfriend, and she’s tired of him not taking his future seriously, so she breaks up with him. He finally decides to get his sh*t together and buckles down. But is it too late? Will he graduate? Will the love of his life take him back? Up to you, bb!

xoxoxoxo, @munson-blurbs 💚💚 PS ily

Anything for you, my love! I hope you enjoy the way I broke Eddie’s heart. It hurt me more than it did him. ily2💚

Words: 5.2k

“Eddie, we’ve got to study,” you say. He’s kneeling behind you on his bed, pressing soft kisses along the back of your neck as you try to focus on the textbook laying open in your lap. 

“How am I supposed to concentrate, hmm? With you sitting on my bed, looking so beautiful,” Eddie says against your skin. 

“Okay,” you say, letting your book thump onto his sheets. “I’m gonna quiz you on stuff that’ll be on our finals. For every right answer, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. For every wrong answer, it’s an extra fifteen minutes of study time.”

“Fire away, baby.” Eddie lounges back against his wall and tucks his hands behind his head, a sinful smirk on his lips.

“Let’s start with English,” you say as you shift on the bed to face him. “What two Shakespeare plays are written entirely in verse?”

Eddie purses his lips, eyes searching his bedroom ceiling as if the answers were written across it in big bold letters. “Hamlet and…McBeth?” 

“King John and Richard II,” you say with a sigh. Eddie groans and lets his hands fall down to his lap. 

“Ehh, shit,” Eddie says. “But just because it had two answers doesn’t mean that’s half an hour of study time! That was one question, so only one fifteen-minute addition.”

“Fine,” you say, silently knowing this is all in vain anyway. Eddie’s been caring less and less about school lately, to the point where you’re afraid he’s going to fail senior year for the third time. “We’ll move onto biology.”

“Take your clothes off and I’ll give you a biology lesson.”

“Eddie,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Fine, fine, sorry. Go on.”

“What part of the brain deals with balance and coordination?”

One of his dark brown eyes squeezes closed and he tilts his head from side to side as if he’s deliberating what he wants for dinner. 

“The left part. No, wait, that’s a joke! I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Um…the frontal lobe?” Eddie winces, knowing that this was just a wild guess—it was the first part of the brain he could think of. 

“The cerebellum,” you say.

“Okay,” Eddie says, nodding his head. “I’ll remember that. The cerebrum controls balance and coordination.”

“The cerebellum,” you correct. 

Eddie groans, rolling the tension out of his neck before letting his head thump back against the wall. 

“Come on, hit me again.”

“Last one,” you say as you adjust your legs tucked underneath you. “History this time. What city was the first capital of the United States?”

“I know it wasn’t DC,” Eddie says, pointing his finger at you. “Hmm, what other cities were important then? Boston, Philly…Philly! Philadelphia!”

At the shake of your head, Eddie slumps down on the bed.

“New York City,” you tell him. 

“Ugh, fuck me.” Eddie rubs his hands over his face, and you give him a pat on the leg. 

“Not tonight, hot shot. Grab your books.”

Spending your free period in the library, pouring over books, you’re jarred out of the world of microeconomics by the chair across the table from you screeching against the floor as it’s pulled out. A dark figure plops down in it, and you glance up to see the dark leather jacket and black Judas Priest t-shirt that you’d sat next to in last period English. Eddie runs a hand over his unruly curls and shoots you a smile.

“Hey, babe.”

“Eddie, what the hell are you doing here?” you get out through gritted teeth. You’re almost certain the pencil in your hand is going to snap in half. “You’re supposed to be in history.”

“Ugh, O’Donnell,” Eddie complains, dropping his head back. “I swear, she was there for half the shit she’s telling us about. God, I couldn’t take it anymore. She’s just droning on and on. Told her I had to take a leak and knew this is where I’d find my best girl.”

“Eddie!” You all but shout his name before remembering you’re in the library and you lower your voice. “Eddie, you’re already in danger of failing her class. Among others. Should you really be skipping class?”

“Babe, it’s been five minutes,” he says with a chuckle, his carefree attitude that you usually love grating on your nerves. 

“Okay. So, go back and pay attention now.” Your tone is sharp and curt, but you’ve put up with this long enough. 

“Trying to get rid of me?” Eddie asks, jutting out his lower lip in what is an admittedly adorable pout. He leans forward on the table, letting his hand slide over to rest on top of one of yours.

“Trying to get you to graduate,” you say, snatching your hand away. Your boyfriend watches you with wide eyes as you slam your book closed and shove it into your backpack. Slinging it over your shoulder, you stand up and nod your head towards the library door. “Let’s go.”

Eddie follows behind you like a lost puppy as you storm out of the library and stalk down the hall. Once you’ve turned down an empty hallway, you spin around to face him. The anger in your eyes takes him aback, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“You’re mad,” he says softly. 

“Yes, I’m mad,” you snap. “My boyfriend doesn’t seem to give a shit if he graduates high school or not.”

“I care,” Eddie defends weakly.

“If you cared, you’d be in class right now. Or would study with me when I ask—or at all! Jesus, Eddie, I’ve been trying for months to get you to take your future seriously.”

“My future with you is what’s most important,” Eddie says, hand reaching out for you. Hurt flashes across his face when you pull away, and it hurts you too. This isn’t what you wanted. You’ve never wanted to be the reason Eddie’s in pain. But you also can’t just sit by and let him do this to himself. 

“That’s part of the problem, Eddie. You’re so focused on me and not enough on you.” 

“Because I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too, Eddie,” you reply, tears starting to fill your eyes. “That’s why I’m so concerned about you. About your future.”

“I’ll go back to class,” Eddie says, taking a step closer to you. “I-I’ll study with you. Baby, I promise.”

“You’ve said that before.” You squeeze your eyes closed, resolving yourself to what you know you have to do. As much as you don’t want it. As much as it’s going to break your heart. “It’s not enough, Eddie.”

“Then what?” Eddie rests his hands on your upper arms. “Tell me what to do.”

“It’s too late,” you say, shaking your head. 

“W-What do you mean it’s too late?” But the dread in his eyes says he knows exactly what you mean. 

“You’re not taking your future seriously. I’ve tried so hard to help you, but there’s only so much I can push you. At some point you have to do it for yourself. I’m so tired of waiting for you to do it, though. It hurts me to sit here and watch you not care about you as much as I do.” 

“Sweetheart, please—.”

“Eddie, it’s over. We’re over.” 

Tears flood his eyes as his jaw hangs open. Eddie’s hands slip from your arms, and he stumbles back a step. You know the pain on his face must be reflected in your own. And maybe it means you’re a coward, but you can’t look at his broken expression anymore. Tucking your thumbs into your backpack straps, you turn around and walk down the empty hallway, away from Eddie.

Eddie feels numb. He’s walking around school in a haze. Friends try to talk to him in the hallway, but they sound like they’re underwater and Eddie can’t understand them. Gareth waves his hand in front of Eddie’s face, but he doesn’t even blink. Jeff grabs his shoulder, but Eddie doesn’t even feel it, he just keeps walking. It’s not until Dustin grabs Eddie by the zipper of his leather jacket and pushes him up against the lockers that the twenty-year-old snaps back to reality.

“What?” Eddie asks, big brown eyes blinking as he tries to focus on the shorter man in front of him.

“Are you okay? What the hell is going on?” Dustin asks. Eddie’s eyes find the floor and he shakes off Dustin’s hands. 

“She left me,” he mumbles. 

“What?” Gareth asks, leaning in to hear him better.

“She fucking broke up with me, okay?” His friends flinch as Eddie pushes himself off the lockers and runs his hands over his hair. They back away, giving him room to pace the small area around him. 

“Why?” Jeff asks, sounding half afraid to ask the question to his hot-tempered friend.

“She said I’m not taking my future seriously,” Eddie answers. “That I don’t seem to care that I’m failing classes. Again.” Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie can see his three friends share a look. He stops pacing and stares at them. “What?”

“I mean,” Jeff starts quietly, “she has a point.”

When Eddie just continues to stare, Dustin decides to speak up as well.

“She’s been trying real hard to help you, man. You haven’t seemed to care, though.”

“I…I care,” Eddie says. 

“When’s the last time she tried to get you to study?” Dustin asks.

“The other night.” Eddie remembers, thinking about how he failed your quiz. 

“And what did you do?” Dustin asks.

Eddie sighs and rubs a hand over his forehead. “Tried to have sex with her.” 

“This is probably a good thing,” Gareth says, shrinking in on himself when Eddie glares at him. “For you. So you can focus on school.”

Eddie scoffs. “She really think I’m gonna be able to focus on school after she shatters my heart like this? Fuck, I love her so much.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Jeff says. 

“Fuck this shit.” Eddie slams his fist against the lockers and strides down the hall, towards the exit.

When Eddie gets home, Wayne hasn’t left for work yet. He’s sitting on the couch, remote control in his hand as he points it at the small television and clicks through the channels. Eddie wrenches open the front door, dirty black boots stomping into the trailer before banging the door closed behind him. Wayne pauses his channel surfing to raise an eyebrow at his nephew.

“What’s the matter with you, boy?”

Ignoring the older man, Eddie strides down the hallway to his bedroom, footsteps so heavy they rattle the mugs hanging on the living room walls. Wayne was no stranger to Eddie temper tantrums—having raised him through puberty—but this is a level he hasn’t seen since the last time a letter from his father arrived. He gives it a few moments before deciding to see what’s going on with the brooding boy. Wayne hoists himself off the couch, groaning as his bones click and muscles tighten. 

The bedroom door isn’t fully closed, so Wayne swings it open to see Eddie lying flat on his back, staring up at the water-stained ceiling. He hadn’t even bothered to shed himself of the leather jacket or boots before plopping down. 

“I know I may not have taught you much in life, boy, but I know I taught you manners,” Wayne says. 

Eddie stays silent, which is never the case. That worries Wayne more than anything. 

“Eddie?”

“She dumped me.”

Wayne takes a moment to process what his nephew says. He places his hands on his hips and blows out a breath. 

“What happened?”

Eddie rubs his hands over his face before responding. When he does speak, his tone is bitter. “She said that I don’t care about my future. That she’s tired of sitting around while I’m out here being a dumbass.”

“She wouldn’t say that,” Wayne says with a shake of his head.

“Maybe not with those exact words.” Eddie forces himself to sit up, shoulders slumped. “But the same messaging.”

Sighing, Wayne sits down next to him and pats his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. She’s a good kid.”

“I always told her that you like her more than you like me,” Eddie grumbles. 

“Only sometimes,” Wayne jokes with a small smile. “Now, you’re allowed to wallow for one day—two at the most. Then you get your ass in gear and get your act together.”

With a low groan, Eddie flops back down on the bed. “Don’t wanna.”

“Well,” Wayne says, pushing himself off the bed. “The girl is either gonna be right about you or wrong. It’s up to you which one it is.”

Wayne makes his way out of the bedroom and Eddie rolls over so he’s face down on his bed. He squeezes his eyes shut as the first of the tears begin to burn his eyes. The way his throat begins to tighten has Eddie gripping his blanket in his fists. Wayne’s words repeat in his head. Would you end up being right? Is everything you said about him true? Of course it is, he thinks to himself. He’s about to fail senior year for the third time—and he didn’t even care. Until now, he decides. Pushing himself off the bed, Eddie yanks his leather jacket off. He tosses it in the general direction of his closet, not caring where it lands as he bends down to pick his biology textbook from the floor. 

“Should be able to read this whole damn thing before finals.”

Eddie’s friends hardly recognize him at lunch the next day. Instead of arguing over Lucas missing another Hellfire meeting for a basketball game and munching on pretzels, he has his nose buried in a book. 

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Gareth says, dropping his tray on the tabletop. His brows pinch together when Eddie doesn’t even lift his head. 

“Is that Eddie Munson reading a book?” Jeff asks.

“And not just a book,” Dustin says as he slides into the seat next to his Dungeon Master. He picks the corner up to take a look at the cover to confirm his suspicions, but Eddie’s quick to slap his hand away so he can keep reading. “Eddie is reading Romeo and Juliet.”

“Look at this cultured man,” Gareth says. Still, Eddie doesn’t lift his head. 

“How far do you think this will go?” Mike asks. “Think we could shit talk Metallica?”

“I’m reading, I’m not deaf,” Eddie says. 

“Is this about—” Lucas starts but Dustin elbows him in the ribs. 

Finally, Eddie raises his eyes from the book and sends a death glare to all of his friends. He slams the book closed and snatches it up before striding out of the cafeteria. Weren’t these the same assholes who had told him that you were right about him not taking his future seriously? But the moment they see him trying to improve himself, they decide to make snide jokes. Eddie grumbles as he makes his way to the library, banging the door open and ignoring the sneer from the librarian as he drops down at a table. With a sigh, he opens the book again and continues where he left off before he was rudely interrupted. 

Two periods later, Eddie’s pretty sure Mrs. O’Donnell is going to have a heart attack after he raises his hand and answers a question correctly. The crone takes a moment before continuing her lecture and Eddie smirks in self-satisfaction. 

Once Eddie gets used to his eyes being tired from reading so much, and his headaches from the information overloads start to abate, he manages to bring his grades up. It takes a couple of weeks for him to finally see the difference, but when he does, he feels something that he’s not sure if he’s ever felt before: pride. Being proud of himself is odd at first, and he smokes a bit more than usual to dull the sensation, but he soon comes to enjoy it and the pleasant buzz he feels has nothing to do with the weed. 

A few weeks out from graduation, Eddie’s lounging on the wall in front of the school, stretched out as the late spring sun warms the afternoon, reading the assigned chapter in The Outsiders. A shadow falls across the pages of his book and Eddie squints as he looks up, finding you standing next to him, thumb hooked in the strap of your backpack, a strained smile on your face. 

“Hey, stranger,” you say. 

Eddie pushes himself into a sitting position, letting his long legs dangle over the side of the wall. He closes his book, keeping a ring clad finger between the pages that he’s currently on. 

“Hey,” Eddie says. This is the first time you’ve talked to one another since that day in the hallway. Neither of you had even contacted one another to give back stuff that was at the others’ houses. Eddie knows there’s a handful of his t-shirts at your place and he’s not sure if it comforts him or causes him pain to wonder if you still wear them to sleep. And he knows exactly where the David Bowie tapes that you left in his room are—one is in his stereo right now. He’s managed to either hide or push down the pain from the breakup, but he still spends most nights falling asleep to Space Oddity or Ziggy Stardust. It even got to the point where Wayne had come into his room and said, “As glad as I am that I don’t have to listen to your screaming music, you’ve gotta stop wallowing in pity. Or at least listen to Elvis or somethin’ while ya do.”

“I saw you in the library last week. And I’ve heard that you’ve been working really hard,” you tell him. “I’m glad, Eddie. That’s amazing.”

“Uh, thanks,” he says, nodding his head. Under the guise of avoiding the bright sun, he ducks his head down and looks at his white sneakers. But really, he’s not sure if he can look you in the eye for more than a second at a time. The sadness had given way to anger, which gave away to an empty, aching pain in the pit of his stomach. “I, um, started because I didn’t want you to be right. Apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought I needed to get my shit together. But, uh, now I’m doing it for me. Trying to put me first.”

“Good,” you say. Eddie looks up to see you giving him a genuine smile. The one not many other people got to see. You’re not attempting to give him a pep talk or play some kind of game with him. Eddie can tell that you’re being authentic and really are pleased to see him succeeding. “You deserve it, Eddie. I’m proud of you.”

The words affect him more than he would’ve thought. His throat feels tighter and suddenly the spring day feels like it’s a blisteringly hot August afternoon. “Thanks,” he manages to get out. 

“And I—um, I’m sorry. I really hope you know that I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” And he does. Now. He’d had moments of thinking you had done it as a way of calling him stupid or pathetic. But once the haziness of the initial heartbreak wore off, he realized you would never think that, let alone be cruel enough to insinuate it. 

“I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie,” you say, offering him a small wave. He nods his head in acknowledgment and tries to get back to his book. But too much of you fills his head for him to be able to focus on what Ponyboy is talking about.

Finals come and they go. Eddie waits with bated breath for the results, feeling more on edge, even with kicking up the pot smoking again. When Eddie sees that he’s passed every single exam, the high he feels is better than he could’ve imagined. Not quite as good as some drug highs and definitely nowhere as near the high you gave him, but it’s still good. For the first time in his life, Eddie is excited to come home and wave a school paper in Wayne’s face. In the past, it’d been a detention slip, a letter of reprimand from the principal, or a failed report card that he needed to have signed and returned. But this is something good. Better than good, Wayne tells him. 

“Looks like you’ve got to get yourself a cap and gown, boy.”

So, he does. When he puts them on the morning of graduation though, he groans at how the shade of green looks on him. Black was his best color, according to him, so something this bright just wasn’t him. 

He strolls over to his stereo near the window and firmly presses the play button. Heroes by David Bowie fills the small bedroom as Eddie takes another look at himself in the mirror. No one would look good in this color, he thinks. Well, he muses, that’s not true. You would look good in this color because it’s impossible for you to ever look anything less than breathtaking. 

I, I will be king 

And you, you will be queen

Eddie sighs and turns away from the mirror. Grabbing his keys off of his bedside table, Eddie clicks the pause button on his stereo before heading down the hallway. 

“See ya at the ceremony, old man,” Eddie says to his uncle before he’s out the trailer door. 

Only the graduates and school faculty get there this early, so the parking lot is relatively empty when Eddie pulls in. He hops out of his van and sees Jeff getting out of his car a few spaces over. 

“Glad to see you look as awful as I do in this shit,” Eddie says as he makes his way over to his fellow Hellfire member. 

“Black robes would’ve been brutal under this sun though, dude,” Jeff replies.

Eddie shrugs because he knows his friend is right. Together they walk towards the football field, a place Eddie actively tried to avoid all the years he spent here. It looks like most of the students are here already. Not long after Eddie spots Jason Carver straightening his tie, even though it’s under the gown, all the students are herded into the gymnasium to wait for the ceremony to begin. The gym smells even worse than normal with the whole senior class shoved inside. Eddie spies you off towards a corner, laughing about something with Nancy. It wouldn’t surprise him if you’re trying to make her laugh to take her mind off of the valedictorian speech she’s about to give. Eyes taking in how you look in the green cap and gown, Eddie knows he was right before; you are the only one who looks drop dead gorgeous in the graduation garment.  He knows his eyes have been on you for too long, but he can’t bring himself to tear them away.

“So, what’s going on there?” Jeff asks, seeing where his friend’s gaze lies. “You did what she wanted, right? Are you going to try and get back together with her?”

Eddie sighs and finally breaks his gaze away from you. Instead, he looks up into the rafters of the gym, squinting as the bright lights shine down.

“I don’t really think this was a ‘if you fix this, we’ll get back together’ type of situation,” Eddie says. “Besides, it’s been months. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been on dates with a bunch of different guys by now.” 

“You still love her, though.” It’s not a question from Jeff, it’s a statement. A fact that was as obvious as the scuff marks on the floor of the gym. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, not adding anything further. 

“Shouldn’t you at least try then?” Jeff asks. “You did all that hard work.”

“But I didn’t do it for her,” Eddie answers with a shake of his head. “I did it for me.”

“But you still did it,” Jeff points out. “It won’t be in vain either way, man, because you’re here right now. About to graduate. I’m just saying you should talk to her. See where things stand.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says with a sigh. 

Mrs. O’Donnell bustles into the room—well, as fast as she can at her age. Taking stock of the children around the gym, she claps her hands together to get their attention.

“Okay, okay, everyone. Time to line up. We’ll be starting soon.”

Jeff and Eddie let themselves be herded with the rest of their class and listen half-heartedly at instructions shouted at them as they make their way back outside. 

Once the ceremony starts, it’s long and boring. Nancy’s speech isn’t as bad as Eddie expected, though. But Principal Higgins has to talk, then just about every other school official that Eddie swears he’s never seen in the front office even after all the time he’s spent in there. Then the never ending list of names begins. Of course all the names are familiar to Eddie, but that doesn’t mean he cares enough to watch each of them walk across the stage, shake hands, and get their diploma. There are only a select few people that Eddie actually pays attention for. 

“Nancy Wheeler.”

“Robin Buckley.”

“Jason Carver.” Eddie pretends to gag.

“Chrissy Cunningham.”

“Jeff Donaldson.”

Then it’s your turn. Eddie can’t take his eyes off of you or the big grin on your face as you hop up on the stage and go through the long line of people none of you had ever heard of to shake their hands. Your eyes light up as your diploma is handed to you. Eddie doesn’t even realize he’s smiling along with you until his cheeks begin to ache. That settles it, he thinks. I have to talk to her. 

“Eddie Munson.”

Hearing his own name called over the loudspeaker jars him out of his thoughts. He’s distantly aware of people cheering for him as he makes his way to the stage, but it feels too weird to be real. People didn’t even cheer for him at Corroded Coffin shows. Eddie takes the steps up to the stage two at a time and forces a pleasant smile to his lips as he shakes Principal Higgins’ hand. The rest of the faces become a blur as he moves from person to person until he finally gets his diploma. He grins at the simple rolled up paper in his hands. It’s just a blank piece of paper until his real diploma comes in, he knows, but it means so much more. It’s proof that he did it. That he graduated at long last. The now-familiar pride swells up in him as he heads back to his seat among the students in the green sea of their robes. 

When the ceremony finally comes to an end, there’s hugging and crying and squealing coming from all around the football field. Eddie makes his way out into the parking lot where families are taking photos with their graduates, all smiles and congratulations. Wayne’s truck is hard to miss in the parking lot; by far the oldest vehicle there. Eddie heads in that direction and is greeted by a beaming uncle.

“M’so proud of you, boy.” Wayne pulls Eddie into a hug, which wasn’t a usual occurrence in the Munson household. “You put your mind to something and ya did it.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, smiling sheepishly. 

“Congratulations.”

The familiar voice coming from behind him has Eddie spinning around so fast he hears his neck crack.

“Uh, thanks,” he says. “You too.” 

“C’mon, let me get a picture of the two of you,” Wayne says, pulling a camera that looks older than Eddie out of his pocket. 

Eddie is about to protest, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or feel obligated, but you’re looping your arm through his before he can even open his mouth. You tilt your head, close to Eddie’s shoulder but not quite touching, and smile prettily for the camera. Eddie musters his best look for the picture as well, but on the inside, he’s cringing as he imagines what that picture must look like.

“Perfect,” Wayne says. He unlocks his truck and tosses the camera inside. “I’ll see you later, Eddie?”

“Okay,” Eddie says.

Wayne pulls Eddie in for another hug before enveloping you in one as well.

“I’m real proud of both of you,” he says.

“Thanks, Wayne,” you reply.

Wayne climbs into his truck and gives the two of you one last wave before heading out of the parking lot. 

“So, uh,” Eddie starts at the same time you say, “So, listen.”

Eddie chuckles and nods his head at you. “You first.”

“Oh, I, um, was just going to ask if you were going to the party tonight. At Cat’s place.”

“I hadn’t really planned on it,” Eddie says as he unzips the graduation robe. “Why?”

“Well, uh, I—I was wondering if maybe you’d want to? I mean, I-I’ll be there. But if you don’t wanna, I totally understand.”

“You want me to?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows at you as he slips his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. 

“I do,” you say, a shy look that Eddie is unaccustomed to on your face. “Like I said, I get it if you don’t want to. But I had to at least ask.”

“I guess it wouldn’t kill me to go for a little while. Might be able to sell.”

“You don’t want to celebrate?” you ask. “Dance and drink?”

“Of all people, you should know better than anyone that I don’t dance,” Eddie says with a small smile. 

“But you drink,” you point out. 

“Why do you want to spend time with me?” Eddie asks, tilting his head to the side, like a puppy wondering what it’s human just said. Better to ask bluntly and get a clear answer then try to piece one together in his mind. 

“I need a reason?”

“Kind of. After you dumped me? Yeah, you do.”

“I miss you,” you admit, so quietly that Eddie almost misses it. “I’ve missed you from the moment I left you standing there in that hallway. So many times I almost caved and begged you to take me back. But then I’d see you studying, and it would remind me that you need to focus on you. And you did. Look what you accomplished. I’m really, really proud of you, Eddie.”

“Not bad for the school freak, huh?” Eddie asks, the beginnings of a smirk curling his pink lips. 

“I think you need a new nickname,” you muse. “We’re not in school anymore.”

“Maybe we can come up with one at the party tonight,” Eddie says, causing your face to light up in excitement. 

“Really? You’ll go with me?” you ask, eyes widening in hope.

“I’d be pretty dumb not to.”

“You’ve always been far from dumb, sweetheart,” you tell him. Hesitantly, you reach out and lace your fingers with his. “I think I came up with a new nickname for you, too.”

“Do tell,” Eddie says. 

“No more Eddie the Freak or Eddie the Banished,” you say, imitating Eddie’s Dungeon Master voice. “You are now Eddie the graduate.”

[nejiverse]

YOU’RE HIRED!

Nagi Seishiro

In which you ‘interview’ your jobless boyfriend

cw: suggestive at the end, choki is the name of nagi’s pet cactus for those who don’t know, I’ll proofread this later lol

802 words

"Sei you really need to get a job", you plopped down next to him on the bed as he looked extremely focused on what ever game he was playing.

"Ehh? Sounds like a pain".

"Breathing is a pain for you love, at this point you're just gonna have to build a bridge and get over it", you spoke resting your head on his shoulder.

He frowned. "Building a bridge sounds like a pain too".

"...i meant that metaphorically, I don't actually expect you to build one", you didn't think you'd ever have to explain that...but here you were.

"Still a pain".

You were on the verge of banning that word from his vocabulary.

You let the room fall silent for a second before you quickly snatched his console away from him and crawled to the end of the bed.

Which unfortunately was unsuccessful because Nagi grabbed you by your leg.

"Stealing isn't nice y'know", he pouted while he put his hand out, expecting you to drop his console back into his hand.

"Oh like that time you stole my last chicken nugget?".

"Borrowed actually", he huffed.

You shook your head and stuffed his console down your shirt, showing your empty hands to him as if you've just done the most incredible magic trick.

"You need a life babe", it was true. All he did was wake up, play games, and go back to sleep. It was unhealthy.

"You are my life", he responded.

You laughed. "Nice try but that won't get your console back".

"Aw, damn".

You thought of an idea that'd entertain you but also would let you figure out if your boyfriend was equipped for a job...or if anyone would even consider employing him.

"Alright pretend i'm your potential employer, if you pass my interview you can have it back", you sat up and crossed your legs.

Nagi agreed, but only if you'd make it easy.

"So tell me a bit about yourself", you decided to skip introductions. There was no way anyone could flunk that, even your lazy boyfriend.

"Mmm my name is Nagi Seishiro, I like games and sleep", he blinked at you as you urged him to go on but he only shrugged his shoulders. "That's it".

You face palmed at his hopelessness. "Sei is that seriously what you're gonna tell your employer?!".

"Of course it is".

The fact that he was serious added to your worry for him but the show must go on.

"Why did you decide to apply for this job?".

Nagi placed a hand on his chin in thought. He already had his answer but it just added to the theatrics of it all in his opinion.

"I was forced to apply against my will by my girlfriend", he spoke.

"Seiii! Your employer will literally leave!", you shook his shoulders gently.

"I say good riddance".

"Okay one more question, and answer it properly!", you forewarned. He thought his answers were pretty proper though.

"Why should we hire you?".

"So my girlfriend'll stop bugging me about getting a job...do I get the job now?".

"Fuck no", you laughed, scooting closer to your disappointed boyfriend who laid back down with a sigh.

"If it makes you feel any better, A for effort", you laid your head on his chest. "You can just work from home or something".

"I can be a house husband", you looked up at him quizzically.

"Sei, sweetie, love of my life, you don't even do the small chores you have these days...I don't think that's possible", you patted his chest.

He grumbled under his breath, you really had zero faith in him but you were only being realistic.

"Alright then I can be a stay at home dad”.

You raised a brow. Nagi of all people as a father??. "For that you'd need actual kids. We've none of those".

You were taken aback when Nagi moved your head from his chest to the pillow and got on too of you, a hand at your head and the other on your waist. You blinked blankly. "Let's get to baby makin' then", he said it so casually, you were shocked…but not completely opposed to the idea.

“S-seriously?”, you averted your gaze to the side.

Nagi’s hand slithered up your top as he shook his head.

“Nah, I just realised I’d still have to do chores”, he took back his console and laid next to you, continuing his game. “Besides we’ve got a kid already”.

“We do?”.

“Yeah, Choki”.

Masterlist :)

a/n: more drafts..I’ve a biology exam in two days and I just came back from holidays 💀

[sweetiewrites]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙘'𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙚

𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎: the sfw abc's of hobie!

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: mostly just fluff !!! gender neutral reader !!!

𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀: i just decided to answer all of them because uhm uhh i got a lot of asks for them and i dont feel like answering them individually (´ ε ` )♡

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) hobie is a super affectionate partner. if you two are together he usually wants to have some kind hand on you or arm around you; kisses are literally his weakness. he also shows affection through acts of service so expect him to do literally anything and everything for you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) hobie is a great best friend. he's one of the types that says they'll do anything for you and genuinely means it. he would do just about anything for his friends and most of his friendships start because he's at shows causing trouble.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) oh my goodness hobie is a cuddle monster. he loves cuddling and any time you ask him to cuddle he will happily do so. also he isn't really picky on how you two cuddle, big spoon, little spoon; just touch him please.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) being a spider person (and a punk star) hobie will never really properly settle down. the closes he gets is more falling into a comfortable routine (and even that's difficult). hobie cooks decently well. it's not the best food you've ever had but he definitely tries. cleaning for him kinda falls off the way side just because he can be pretty busy with life.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) honest and open conversation. hobie would sit them down and have a conversation with them about it. above all else he appreciates genuineness so there wouldn't be any built up resentment, or miscommunication or anything like that. for a break up it's very not dramatic on his part.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) hobie feels like marriage isn't needed when you're committed to someone already. he's ready to commit with you, but the only reason he would really want to get married is for tax benefits.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) despite popular opinion (and appearance); hobie is actually a big gentle giant. physically whenever he holds you it's always very sweet and soft and emotionally he's very in touch with other peoples feelings. unless he doesn't like you then he's pretty soft and sweet.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) hobie is the best hugger alive. i don't care what anyone says. he gives the best hugs and they're so gentle yet so reassuring. hobie doesn't usually hug his friends it's usually reserved for you (partner) so whenever you want a hug or he's feeling particularly touch starved he's hugging you so much.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) it takes him a very long time to say it. he has a lot of conflicting feelings on that word and most of his affection is non verbal. so when he finally does say i love you then it's an event that should be celebrated.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) ehh... hobie is not the jealous type despite popular belief. he's very confident that if someone is flirting with you then you'll tell them to fuck off and he doesn't really compare himself to people.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) amazing. hobie's kisses are just amazing. each one is filled with passion even if it's just a little peck. his lips are nice and full and that lip ring is perfect. hobie's favourite place to kiss you (besides your lips) would be your neck, he's always planting kisses on your neck. his favourite place to be smooched is his knuckles.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) we've all seen it. he's great with children. the best uncle/god parent.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) hobie is not a morning person in the slightest. most of his mornings are spent holding you and listening to the radio (if you have a phone he's watching youtube). he isn't even that interested in breakfast, his appetite doesn't pick up till later in the day around lunch time. morning's are especially lazy.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) on the other hand, hobie is a night person. if he isn't being spider man than he's usually exploring the city, going to show, putting on shows, making music or working on his own projects on the houseboat. hobie is most active during the night so hopefully you'll stay up with him or at the very least you'll snuggle up to him in the night.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) hobie drops pieces of lore about himself very randomly. he's not an open book in the slightest so he'll know everything about you long before you know things about him. the key is don't rush him to open up, ask questions if you're interested, and pay attention to what he does say.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) he doesn't get angry easily at all. there are very few things that will make him angry. usually when he's upset it's because of grander things like the government or society, not usually at individual people. he's a very patient man.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) hobie remembers everything about you, literally every little detail. he can be quite forgetful, but when it comes to you it sticks to his head like glue.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) the first time you spent the night on his houseboat. he still remembers you snuggled up to him, your arms latched around his body. he remembers it so vividly because he's never had someone spend the night in his bed before (gwen tried and she promptly got kicked to the couch), but you just fit so naturally into his life that he had no problems sleeping with you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) if you're a spider person he isn't too protective but if you're not then he's kinda always on edge around you. hobie attracts trouble and he's well aware of that so he's kinda always ready to fight for you if need be. and hobie doesn't need to be protected but he does feel appreciated when you get a little over protective; it's cute and he feels special.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) SO MUCH EFFORT. my god, sometimes his date plans are chill but usually since he doesn't want to spend too much money he's doing everything from scratch and he's making the things that need to be made on his own. even if it's just a picnic he's doing his absolute best to make everything absolutely perfect.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) there are so many. hobie always forgets to do dishes, not to the point where it'll create mold or maggots but he just doesn't remember. if there's a partner that will clean while he cooks or vice versa than it'll balance out.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) not too vain. he cares about his appearance to the capacity of he wants to look good for himself. his piercings, clothing style, hair, all of it is for himself. also he knows he looks hot.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) no not necessarily. hobie doesn't believe in people completing each other, you should be whole enough to stand on your own. that isn't to say he wouldn't be incredibly depressed if something happened to you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) hobie is so queer coded to me. he chooses not to label himself (obviously), but he would date anyone regardless of gender or sex as long as your morals align.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) a partner that expects him to change who he is as a person or change his morals, don't try to pressure him into being someone he's not. also loyalty, if you're disloyal that's a huge ick.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) his sleeping schedule is erratic, but when he's gotten into a rhythm he stays up late and he wakes up late. he likes to hold things when he's sleeping even before he met you so he may have a stuffed animal or two. even though you're not supposed to he loves eating a big meal before he sleeps.

[jujutsubaby]

after hours (part 5)

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader ☆ summary: after your wild night with toji, you're forced to return back to reality. and by reality, you mean geto and gojo's house party. you're so tired, but nothing a few shots won't fix :) wait, hold on, who's that girl gojo is all over? wait, are you...jealous? ☆ warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! implications of sex, moderate to heavy drinking, partying, jealousy, sexting, over the shirt action, kissing, y/n and other characters get high/drunk/crossed and horny lol ☆ tags: modernAU, academiaAU ☆ a/n: HAPPY VDAY BABES xx 💜🖤💜🖤 sorry it's been a while since i updated this series (i got my period and then had lots of werk to do but im BACK). hope u guys enjoy some gojo and reader sexual tension >:) also to the anon who sent the passive aggressive msg about me not updating after hours...hope ur happy now 😒 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

“morning, riko!” you greet the raven haired barista sleepily, “iced cappuccino with soy milk, please.”

“what…are you sure?” riko says, her face surprised. you always order your signature iced matcha latte with oat milk, unsweetened of course. riko knows it, every one knows it. 

“yeahhh, i know. i just had a late night and then an early morning…” you groan. you won’t lie — you feel like you just got hit by a thousand trucks and your eyes are stinging (and probably red from the lack of sleep). “i’m bad at time management,” you confess sheepishly.

riko giggles. “not as bad as your friend trying to order a latte and pretending he likes it”. you sneak a glance at geto, who’s taking a sip of his americano and grimacing at the taste, which makes you smile at his lovesick gesture. “does he know we have other beverages?”

“ehh, i think he does but…he’s just trying to impress a very pretty girl who works here,” you say, trying your best to be obvious…but not too obvious that geto would be upset.

“oh my god, y/n! you know kuroi is happily engaged!” riko jokes, laughing lightly. 

“oh darn, i have to break the bad news to suguru…he’s gonna be sooo upset,” you say sadly, pretending to wipe away a false tear dramatically, as riko rings you up for your order. just then, you think of something awful that suguru would definitely kill you for, but you’re already pretty bold for wearing the same outfit from last night that you got fucked in and showing up 30 minutes late to meet your friends, so fuck it. 

“speaking of which, riko…are you doing anything tonight?”

“besides closing up…nope.” she answers. 

“well, a bunch of us are going to the new barcade that opened up downtown this evening. i’m thinking around 9, think you can make it? you can tell suguru himself to lay off kuroi,” you joke jovially. 

riko laughs heartily. “i’ll see you guys there”, she says, handing you your receipt, as you wave goodbye and head to your friends in the corner table. you try not to act flummoxed as you approach your friends, suddenly acutely aware of the how your hair was all over the place (why doesn’t toji own a hairbrush?) and that your jumpsuit was clearly wrinkled and that you hadn’t been able to take a shower yet. god, this was not your sexiest look. 

“do they usually allow walk of shames in this cafe? i thought it this was a safe space?” satoru grins, already thinking of 30 ways to roast you for showing your face here after being 30 minutes late. he’s trying to push away any thoughts of you getting fucked by toji out of his head. 

“shut up! i…i didn’t bring any extra clothes and i woke up late, okay!” you say, defending yourself earnestly. 

“leave her alone, satoru,” suguru chastises, as he scoots down a chair to make room for you. “anyway, why were you talking to riko for such a long time? did she…say anything? it’s my haircut isn’t it? i just wanted to trim the bangs a little bit but they went sooo overboard and now-“

“oh my god suguru, chill!” shoko says, rolling her eyes. “he hasn’t been able to shut the fuck about riko and it’s so annoying that me and satoru are thinking of just asking her out on his behalf, at this point.” suguru tries hard to hide a blush before trying to deflect, but you interrupt them both. 

“no need,” you say, turning to face suguru, “you can ask her yourself what we talked about…tonight. at the barcade.” you smile wide with your teeth and give suguru pleading eyes, hoping he won’t get upset with you for taking the liberty to speed run his first date with riko. 

his face immediately is unreadable, and satoru elbows his ribs hard and hits his back. “congrats, pal! you finally have something to look forward to tonight that isn’t on your nintendo switch.”

“yeah. i mean…i d-don’t care. at all. i mean…good for her for coming. i don’t know if i’ll even be there but if i see her then i see her. no big deal…” suguru says, mostly to himself. 

everyone at the table laughs, and you find your initial weariness of your extended walk of shame slowly melt away. you take a sip of your cappuccino, as utahime complains about how tired she is from playing animal crossing with shoko all night. you feel soft thinking about how utahime probably stayed up later than her usual early bedtime for shoko, knowing full well she has to wake up at 7am the next morning for both getting coffee and teaching her 1st period homeroom at the local high school. shoko has been recently trying to fix her sleep schedule from her night float rotation all junior residents had to do at the hospital their third year. 

“also, before i forget, pre-game at ours at 7. we’re inviting nanami and haibara and some other people,” satoru says absentmindedly, his eyes focused on responding to a text on his phone before turning and facing you. “you’re still good on giving me a ride to lab today, right y/n?” 

oh shit. “oh, umm, yeah, definitely still good with that.” you say quickly. you don’t exactly remember when you offered to give satoru a ride, but you assume it was one of the many times you tuned him out when he spoke. who’s satoru texting? the intrusive thought came out of nowhere, but you push the newfound irritation back where it came from. 

satoru and you walk back to your car while you both lament about how awful this week’s lab has been. “i mean, why even give us a lab when we have a final in like less than a week?” you say exasperatedly, as you search for the keys to your cream white mini cooper and unlock it. 

“speak for yourself, i finished that lab last week.” satoru boasts, grinning at your when you give him a confused look. “i’m only going to help the cute girls in class with their work.” he shrugs. what a slag. 

“you’re a whore,” you scoff, slightly annoyed at satoru. so he has time to help some random cute girl in class but not his best friend. you buckle in, and take pleasure in watching satoru struggle to situate his legs inside your tiny cramped car. his knees are bent at awkward angles, and his head practically touches the roof of the car. 

satoru groans loudly and dramatically. “you have the smallest fucking car in the world, y/n, y'know that?” 

“fits me perfectly,” you say nonchalantly, as you back up and drive out to campus. 

“well it baaareeelyyyy fits me,” he pouts, the sun visor bumping his head while he pulls it down. 

“it’s not even that tight,” you assure him.. 

“it’s very tight, y/n. i can feel the walls squeezing me.”

“get over it.” 

“oh, so it’s okay if toji says that to you but when i say it, it’s a fuckin’ problem?” 

you practically choke on your saliva and swerve into the other lane upon hearing satoru’s comment. “h-how did you know…he said that to me?” you say incredulously. there’s no way he like…hacked your phone or something right? maybe you accidentally butt dialed shoko last night and they all heard you moan god knows what. the storm of thoughts in your head is interrupted by satoru’s laughter. 

“i didn’t know he said that but now i do.” oh, god. you fell for it like a fucking idiot, y/n. you try to retort something back but you’re left speechless. actually you’re a bit impressed — satoru got that out of you masterfully, and you have to appreciate the tact (or perhaps lack thereof) he had. you try to be angry towards him, but it’s futile as you both start laughing. 

“i hate you — stop making me laugh it’s not funny i need to focus on the road, idiot,” you say in between giggles. your eyes stay fixed on the road as you playfully flick satoru’s head (he lets you — your laughter makes his heart beat faster and he ignores it). satoru grabs your hand with his and starts rubbing your fingers together in an effort to warm them up. 

“you’re hands are so cold all the time…” he murmurs. to him, it feels so natural to play with your hands, and you let him (his touch brings an undetectable heat to your face…and other parts of your body). you look steal quick glance over at him, and are overcome with a sudden and foreign shyness that instinctually forces you to retract your hand back to the wheel almost immediately. you clear your throat, before announcing to satoru that he was here. 

satoru’s knees and joints crack as they are finally released from the prison of your mini cooper, and he dramatically lets out a sigh of relief. he gets out of the car and makes a show of stretching his long legs and arms. his collegiate basketball crewneck slides up, and you catch a glimpse of his toned abs and happy trail. you hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch before snapping out of the trance and rolling your eyes. “have fun harassing the cute girls in your class!” you say sarcastically, as he flips you off before heading to class. 

during your drive back home, you don’t want to process the familiar feeling you felt last night when satoru texted you before you had sex with toji. the thoughts you had of him choking you and kissing your while toji played with your titties. oh god, you’re thinking about it again! stop it!

your neck aches from staring at your laptop screen for the last two hours as you try to make going out tonight worth it by studying extra for your final exam next week. your neck cracks loudly in all the right places and you head straight for a quick hot shower. you practically moan when the hot water hits your scalp, and allow the water to wash away all the stickiness of your complicated relationship with toji and satoru. tonight’s just for having fun and not doting on the future, you tell yourself, but not before taking a look at your soapy chest and thinking this is just the perfect picture for toji to see. you quickly snap a pic, promising yourself you won’t be one of those desperate girls toji always brings over to his house. 

y/n: [1 Photo] hi :)

okay, you know you had just sent the photo to toji, but it did kind of break your heart that he didn’t immediately respond. okay, sure he’s a single dad so he might be busy…or he’s fucking some other girl. your heart drops slightly at the thought of him blowing some other unsuspecting girl’s back out, and the sadness quickly turns to annoyance. you’re better than this, y/n. who cares anyway — no one sucks dick like you do. you smirk. you definitely aren’t the type of girl who would hook up with anyone, but you know how to not sell your skills short. if toji was busy with his own life, well, so were you. 

you hop out of the shower, checking your phone once again to see if toji had responded, only to be met with a text from satoru in the group chat:

satoru: [1 Photo] got the goods 😛

you open the photo to see him with a couple packs of white claws, and suguru in the background looking intently at two wine bottles in his hands. no way is satoru’s lightweight ass is gonna make through even one can before getting sloshed, you think to yourself. 

shoko: what’s sugu doing?

satoru: deciding on what wine to get for riko lmfao 

you can’t help but smile at how cute suguru was, being so nervous for something that wasn’t even a formal first date. 

y/n: awww 🥹 get the rosé bby 

shoko: y/n if ur ass isn’t ready in 10 mins i s2g i’m gonna leave without u

you scrunch your nose and throw your phone on the bed — if you really hurry you could easily be out your door in fifteen. after thinking for five minutes, you decide on a classic little black skirt with a slit on the side paired with a lace cropped bralette (that honestly really did wonders to your boobs). you wore an oversized leather button down shirt, sheer black tights, and a pair of black gogo boots. you quickly fixed up your hair, figuring that “wet” look was already trendy anyway. after applying your makeup at the speed of light (you went for a subtle yet sultry neutral look), you grab your little purse and sprint out your room, and see that shoko was staying true to her word, as she was just about to head out the door. she sees you, stops, and grins. 

“you barely made it,” she teases, as she holds the door open for you. 

“you bitch.” you respond, rolling your eyes. “is utahime meeting us there?”

“yes she’s already there,” shoko says, not looking up from her phone as she calls an uber. so that’s why she’s been dying to get out of the house so impatiently. 

as both of you get into the uber, shoko pulls out two gummies from her purse and offers one to you. “pregame the pregame?” she says, and you both start giggling as you pop the gummy in your mouth. it’s probably not going to hit for a while, which leaves you plenty of time to get there and say your greetings to nanami and haibara before you get extremely crossed. you check your phone one last time, only to be met with no texts from toji. 

“thanks for the ride!”, shoko yells out as the uber driver speeds away. 

“umm, i’ve never been to oovoo javer…”, you say through giggles uncontrollably. oh, fuck. this must’ve been one of those fast acting gummies. shoko must have been feeling the effects too because she starts laughing noiselessly and you both are doubling over outside of satoru and suguru’s apartment, grabbing each other for support so you both don’t fall from how much you both are laughing.

the door of the boys’ apartment flies open and it’s some couple open mouth kissing each other, stumbling their way out of the confines of the living room rager that lied ahead for both of you. you and shoko both bit back another giggling fit before stepping in. suddenly, two arms engulfed both of you in a strong yet familiar bear hug. 

“himeee~” you hear shoko greet cheerfully. 

utahime hiccups, already a bit tipsy. she pouts jokingly before shoko kisses her cheek and you squeeze her torso back in another bear hug. “you bitches are awful for leaving me with dumb and dumber…” she says, punctuating her words with hiccups. 

“i’m sorry, 'hime. let’s grab a drink. i also packed you a joint,” shoko apologizes before utahime drags the both of you to the kitchen for a drink. in the kitchen, you find nanami slouching against the fridge, looking annoyed as ever, and haibara animatedly talking to some lower class men. haibara locks eyes with you and immediately turns and embraces you in a warm hug, while nanami manages a shoddy wave. 

"ahhh my favorite little babiessss~" you squeal, pulling both guys closers to you and giving them a strong hug. you always get very touchy and sentimental when under the influence. "i haven't seen you guys in sooooo long!"

"please let go, y/n." nanami says calmly, but not before briefly squeezing you back for what felt like half a second. wait a minute -- what the hell is nanami doing here? he never comes to these things.

"wait why are you he-"

"save it," nanami interrupts, running his fingers through his hair. "i'm only here because i wanted a referral to the lab gojo works at, and he said yes but that i needed to come over this evening so he could ask me some questions regarding the referral application."

"oh, yeah! what questions did he want to ask you?" haibara asks quizzically.

nanami takes an even deeper sigh. "i showed up and he asked if i wanted to take a shot and when i sad 'no just ask me what you need for the referral', he was like 'that's the question, do you want a shot?' and that's how i got fucking tricked into coming to this godforsaken rager." nanami seems truly miserable having fallen for satoru's scheme so easily. "anyway...given the circumstances, i did take a shot..." he groans, slowly sliding down the fridge onto the kitchen floor.

you and haibara laugh, and utahime hands you a white claw. you open the chilled can, and take a sip, your hazy state of mind helping you not feel the slight burning in the back of your throat.

"speaking of that idiot, where is he?" you ask, your eyes scanning the room for his bright white hair. you frown not seeing him anywhere, but your face quickly relaxes when you see suguru and riko heading to you and your friends. oh nice, suguru finally managed to ask riko to come to the pregame, too.

"hey riko!" shoko greets, "didn't expect to see you here..." she teases.

riko giggles and take a sip of her wine. "i couldn't say no to seeing my favorite customers!" she steals a quick glance up at suguru and you swear you see him blush. "also, this wine suguru picked out is amazing! how did you know i love rosé?"

you bite back a smile, making quick eye contact with suguru. "oh...lucky guess..." he shrugs, playing it off nonchalantly.

"oh by the way, i got a joint for us to share," shoko says, pulling it out of her bag. "anyone interested in puff puff passing?" she asks, already holding utahime's hand and heading to the balcony. suguru and riko follow suit, and you quickly bid nanami and haibara farewell.

as you turn around, you bump into the man you've been looking for, wearing the same basketball collegiate crewneck, white hair disheveled, and a drunken flush to his face.

you don't even get to say hello to satoru as he lifts you up in a giant hug that encompasses you and spins you around, making you squeal. you can't help but wrap your legs around him, knowing full well you probably shouldn't since your skirt was not long enough for it, but you needed to feel the warmth and comfort of his body around yours. you always got a bit too touchy feely when you were under the influence...

"eeep satoru~ put me down!"

"nope, missed ya", he mumbes into your hair. oh, he's definitely drunk right now. sober satoru would never openly admit something like that and it makes you giggle.

"please~ my skirt is too short for this ahh~" you plead, unwrapping your legs from his torso, all of sudden feeling embarrassed through the warm haze engulfing your body. satoru finally puts you down and shamelessly eyes you up and down while taking large sips of his beer.

"that skirt can definitely be shorter," he says cheekily, his blue eyes filled with drunken mischief. you roll your eyes dramatically and also take a sip of your claw.

"you're drunk, satoru..."

"and you need to get drunker!" he yells, already grabbing you a shot glass and pouring some of rankest shit you've ever smelled. the music starts pounding louder, and you need to raise your voice even higher to make sure he hears you.

"aren't you gonna take one with me?" you shout.

"y'know i'm a fuckin' lightweight, baby~" he frowns, handing you the shot, a little bit spilling with his sloppy actions.

you scrunch your nose at the strong stench. "i'm a bit stoned though so only one, okay?" you say to him. you close your eyes, hold your breath, and down it. your eyes water and you have to prevent yourself from dry heaving as you immediately grab the nearest can of cola on the table and chug it as a chaser.

"wooow, you're such a baby," satoru jeers, thinking about how you've always needed a non-alcoholic drink to wash down your alcohol. you're not a heavy drinker by any means -- not even a moderate drinker. as as a social drinker, you always feel the need to try to at least sort of keep up with your friends when they drink the rankest and cheapest liquor. thank god satoru has always been a lightweight.

"shut up~" you say, rolling your eyes. you grab satoru's arm and pull him closer to the balcony where all your friends are. he slides his arm down so that you're holding his hands. your heart beats faster, knowing full well your vices always made you...hornier than usual. you're trying really hard to not look back at satoru, but you steal a glance anyway. his flush face and tired eyes are all of a sudden looking really attractive to you. your eyes slide down and look at his hands, the shape of his long calloused fingers gripping your hand and you can't help but imagine how they would feel pumping inside you. oh god, was he always this attractive? ugh! why can't toji just message you back so you can just go over to his place instead of having to lust over your best friend?!

you both enter the balcony, and the cool yet humid evening air hits your face, allowing you to finally breath something that wasn't beer and sweat. that is, until the stench of weed hits your nose.

"ugh, this shit's gross! i dunno how you guys can fuckin' stand the smell," satoru complains, dramatically making a gagging face.

"and you call me a baby?!" you snort, still trying to not be obnoxiously flirtatious throughout the night to satoru. you cannot let the horniness win tonight. god, what's gotten in you? you're never this...desperate? it's satoru's fault because he's looking so good tonight, you tell yourself. you pass on the joint, and try to focus on the conversation at hand, but it's hard when satoru puts his arms around you and pulls your closer to his chest.

almost instinctively, you melt into his chest, allowing yourself to feel his warmth and focus on his breathing chest. you smell the beer from his mouth as he laughs at something suguru said and you giggle too so people can know you're sort of paying attention.

you're a perfect mix of drunk and high, and you're feeling blissful being out on this balcony with your best friends, albeit minus the thoughts of how good satoru was looking tonight. is it even that wrong to think that your friend looks hot? you're not being delusional right?

"suguru is definitely being a comedian tonight for riko, isn't he?" you tiptoe up to satoru and whipser into his ear, thinking you're being subtle. unfortunately for you (and suguru), the loud music isn't being carried out to the balcony, and everyone hears you, and starts laughing. oh shit. you immediately pan over to suguru and see him pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"oh my god, suguru i- riko, i'm obviously joking!" you say really fast, slurring through your words as the shot finally is taking effect into your body. "obviously, suguru is the funniest person i know!"

"second funniest but i'm letting suguru tell all the jokes tonight. he needs this more than i do." satoru smiles brightly, looking at his best mate and making a kissy face at him.

"okay, riko, we are actually. um. we are leaving. and going to my room or the living room or literally anywhere else but here," suguru says, abruptly standing and helping riko up.

"wait what no, i wanna hear more about this-" she starts to tease, but ends up laughing.

"you're taking her to your room?!" shoko teases, raising her eyebrows comically. utahime chokes on the joint and starts laughing coughing and you do too, before you immediately stop. you cannot get on suguru's nerves tonight, as you know that'll make him too in his head to actually focus on having a fun time with riko.

you lift your body weight off of satoru and make way for suguru to leave. satoru side steps in front of suguru and pulls him into a hug, to which he scowls and tries to break free of. "mate, we LOVE you. i love you. and y/n loves you. and i'm going to absolutely obliterate you at street fighter at the barcade tonight." satoru slurs through his words and you almost feel bad for riko for having to deal with you and your friends.

you give a sympathetic look to riko as she trails behind suguru, patting his back softly and giggling. you're about to whisper a quick sorry to her, but she takes you by surprise by whispering "i hope i get obliterated by him tonight."

your jaw drops and you could almost cry laughing at what riko just said. i mean, okay, yeah it makes sense, and good for her but oh my god? i didn't know she had that in her?, you think to yourself.

"queen, i hope it happens. i'm for real manifesting this for you," you whisper back quickly and she sips her wine and giggles and follows suguru out of the balcony.

you turn around incredulously to shoko and utahime and look up satoru, all of them completely in shock at what they heard. there's a moment of silence to process before the intrusive thoughts win in your head. "honestly, i hope i get obliterated tonight, too."

shoko groans. "shut the fuck. up! you literally got obliterated last night! can you be normal about physical touch for just one night?"

"i can't, shoko, you know i get horny when i'm crossed~" you whine, your doe eyes getting wider in desperation. oh cool, you're off the deep end now. you're just fully horny and admitting it in front of satoru who will, at the very least, use this as incriminating evidence tomorrow.

"i can help with that," satoru flirts brazenly through the alcohol in his system, bringing you closer to him and holding you tight.

"desperation is such a turn off," utahime says almost immediately.

you giggle as you melt into satoru's chest once more. "what's going on, toji not treatin' ya right?"

your body almost instantaneously goes rigid upon hearing his name, and your senses almost clear up. you whip your phone of your purse, completely ignoring satoru's question and check your messages to see if you got a notification from toji, only to see nothing. you groan and rub your temples in stress. "okay guys, gather around. this is an emergency," you say as everyone huddles closer to you.

"it's not an emergency, FYI", shoko clarifies, already having heard this story in the uber ride here.

you explain to utahime and satoru about how toji had not responded to your explicit picture since this afternoon, and how you're feeling stupid and insecure about it. "i mean, is there something wrong with me? did i cross a line? how can you ignore the same titties you sucked on less than 24 hours ago?" you say frustratingly, the alcohol once again allowing you to give way more detail than you normally would.

"you see, it's a bit hard for me to, like, understand exactly what the situation is. i think i need to see the picture you sent him to really understand and help you out, y/n." satoru says with dead seriousness as he locks his eyes with you.

"oh yeah of course!" you say as you unlock your phone and are about to show him before shoko grabs your phone away and utahime flicks his forehead.

"you nasty disgusting pervert..." she mumbles, shaking her head.

"she was literally about to show me~" he whines. "i was asking as a friend, a homie."

"okay, listen y/n. he's probably busy. he's literally a single dad, and maybe he's busy with megumi. maybe he's trying to find a real job besides being a gigolo, we don't know but it's lame to dwell on it. let's just finish up this joint and head to the barcade soon, okay?" shoko assures, holding your hand as utahime puts your phone back in your purse. god, you love them so much it hurts.

you nod your head rapidly, as satoru gets a chime on his phone.

"ohhh, shit!" he exclaims, "this girl i helped today during lab is here. and she might actually show me her titties unlike you guys, so...i'm gonna leave."

you roll your eyes in even more annoyance. great, now satoru is gonna be hanging out some random airhead while you're left to your own vices for the rest of the night? you really don't want to spend the night waiting for toji to text, and you don't care to particularly ask satoru for help. but it does make you even more desperate knowing that you're still pretty drunk and everyone in your friend group seems to be getting laid tonight except for you. maybe you can find someone cute in the barcade?

as you all bid satoru goodbye, you continue to enjoy a couple more minutes with shoko and utahime while they finish smoking the joint. once it's finished, you all are ready to head out.

"okay, you get satoru, and we'll get suguru and riko," utahime instructs. that's so high school teacher of her, you think and bite back a smile.

"who's gonna kick everyone out of this...pregame house party thing?" you ask, gesturing to the 20 or so people getting progressively more drunk and sweaty in the boys' living room and kitchen.

"suguru will handle it, not our problem," utahime says, lighting out the joint into the nearest succulent pot in the balcony. she grabs shoko's hand and leads her out of the balcony, and you follow suit.

your nose is once again met with the stench of beer and sweat, and you make a face. your eyes scan the room full of party goers for satoru, as it shouldn't be hard to find the tallest person in the room with the brightest hair, but with no luck. ugh, he's probably somewhere in the rest of the apartment with that girl, you think, not looking forward to meeting some random slag satoru was probably going to sleep with.

as you made your way through the living room to the hallway to the boys' room and bathroom, trying your best to avoid the damp sweaty skins of people and sticky floors, you realize you need to pee really badly. you shove your way to the empty hallway and quickly down the rest of your white claw before beelining to the restroom at the end of the hallway.

as you're nearing the corner turn, you hear...oh god, are you hearing? moans? of course, someone is bound to hook up at this trashy party and make you feel even worse for being so drunk and horny and having no one tonight. that's okay though, you have a plan: you'll do your best not to make eye contact to the couple just turn right into the bathroom. just as you're about to execute this plan and turn the corner, you hear them moan, "o-oh satoru~" and your head immediately whips to the direction of the person who made the offensive noise.

you're not sure what you feel and you think you feel many things, including but not limited to: disgust, hostility, annoyance and...jealousy? wait, no, that can't be right.

your eyes widen and your jaw drops and you scoff as you see satoru french kissing some floozy outside his room, his hands up her shirt feeling her titties. wait, are you jealous or turned on? wait, what's happening?

satoru hears your scoff and rapidly removes his hands from the girl's shirt and stops kissing her to look at your bewildered and exasperated face. you give him a look that says "are you serious?" before you chuck your empty white claw can at him (he deftly dodges it) and shout, "get a room! but also get ready, you horndog, we're leaving to the barcade!"

you don't wait to hear an answer as you immediately slip into the bathroom and lock the door. god what was that? okay, let's break this down, you think to yourself, desperately scrambling to get your intoxicated thoughts in order. your head is slightly spinning and you lean on the bathroom sink for support as you try to sort out why you're feeling your chest drop in what you can only identify as jealousy. no, you're not jealous because you're in love with satoru, you're jealous because it just doesn't make sense.

if satoru is gonna fuck around with anyone tonight, it might as well be you, right? it's just rude, like as a friend, to kiss someone else who's not your friend when your friend is really horny, right? god, are your inebriated thoughts even making sense?

you try to snap out of delirium by turning on the faucet and drinking some water, trying to sober yourself down. or maybe you actually need to just get another drink? maybe you just need to find some cute guy to buy you a drink at the bar later and you'll snap out of it.

actually, maybe toji should just fucking text you back so you can go crawling to him at the end of the night so he can obliterate your pussy. you fish your phone out of your purse only to be met with no notifications from toji. you click on the message between you and toji, and start to draft out some lewd and lecherous texts to him. you thankfully, you don't have time to contemplate your actions or hit send before you hear the music die and people groaning.

you hear suguru yelling at everyone to get the fuck out and either go home or to the barcade, and you hear satoru start singing closing time, slurring the lyrics. this is the guy you're jealous about? this is the fella you want to lowkey fuck?

you pray that either a) toji messages you back or b) you find a nice non-creepy guy at the bar who's willing to at least make out with you, or 3) you instantly get sober after peeing.

only time will tell.

[jennicatzies]

how does dying feel. Is it nothing, a sudden darkness, or do you bleed slowly, feeling every ounce of pain? Later, in the story, when Hamilton can 'switch' between the scene and the world, can he do it while getting shot? Or is he forced to endure the suffering? Does burr ever feel sorry for subjecting Hamilton to that? Or, more likely, does he ever stop feeling sorry?

Okayyyy some crispy questions in the mail 👁👁

It's gonna be quite the soup of text so uh. Open the read more for answers!

Before we talk about the technicalities of Dying, I wanna clear up how mortal injuries in general work in this story!

All "Scripted" injuries [like Lee getting shot, literally anyone getting shot] would only appear as bloody and bruised and stuff in "in universe [according to script]" view, while if one is stage aware or in the view of the stage, it wouldn't appear affected. Though whatever they see, if they get injured in script, they would feel it physically. So. Ouch.

So to answer the first question, I guess you could say you'd feel every bit of it until the script says otherwise. Or uh, if you die on the spot you just. Black out. Your consciousness gets shut off/you essentially get put to sleep — pray they shut it off entirely or you'll have to... stare into darkness for a bit in pain.

Second question! Does Hamilton get to avoid the pain? Weeeell,,,, he does have the option to flip to stage view at will if he tries, but as disclosed before, he would unfortunately still feel it. And considering it also affects how he feels physically, I believe he wouldn't have enough energy to flip to the stage, unless he does so during the melody-less monologue. Even then, the impact of the "shot" would most likely fuck up his workings, so he miiiight get a bit of an unpleasant flickering before finally setting into in universe view while he uh. dies. He'll feel being shot and be able to see himself bloodied for a bit. not fun!

Ultimately he's not... "actually" wounded though, as again the physical effects only apply to the in universe. And it should ease up nearing the end of tw3e. That's... good???

Third. Would Burr feel sorry?

Of. Of course he'd feel sorry— hell, he already does according to script. and after getting the knowledge that the pain is not entirely tied down to the script, he'd feel Worse. I like to think that Burr interrogated Hamilton on the details of this dknfkdrjkr

Does he ever stop feeling sorry?

Ehh. Ehhh. As long as Hamilton still feels pain he feels sorry. I imagine. But they both understand that's to be expected, so try not too get to caught up in that, we have a narrative to tamper with!

[ravencincaide]

A second chance at life 

Summary:  You were done with life, done with being trapped and abused. But it was just your luck that you’d try to take your life on the borders with Port Mafia territory. And that there’d be an executive who had opinions. OR the time you found out that not all Mafia are heartless bastards. 

Pairing: Suicidal reader  x Chuuya Nakahara 

Raven’s Special prompt: “Hi Raven, I'm the same anon that asked for the Chuuya x fem reader where she's abused and runs away, I forgot to add that reader is poc (brown skin).” 

Warnings: Dark content with triggers, proceed at your own risk!

This fic contains: suicidal reader (who’s making an attempt- jumping), hint abusive-manipulative past/family, Cursing & mature language, Chuuya comfort/help, I think I didn’t miss anything.. i hope. Hope this brings you comfort and that you enjoy~

“ Oj don’ even think about it; I ain’t got any fucking wish to waste man-power on cleaning up civil splatter” 

You froze in your spot; your hands automatically re-grasped the safety bar of the rooftop,  keeping you upright and steady on the edge you were just about to leap off of. “ W-What?” you asked as you turned your head to the right, towards the stylish ginger haired man who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Instead of trying to talk you down from your suicide attempt however he just proceeded to light himself a cigarette. He took a deep drag of it before he pointed towards the ground below. “ The fucking ledge bottoms out onto Mafia territory. You jump- my men gotta clean that shit up” he answered in the most unbothered tone anyone could master as he took several steps towards you in warning. Something told you that even if you were to let go of the bar, he’d reach you quicker and pull you back to safety than you could accomplish your goal. Then he’d no doubt hound your ass for ignoring him.

You did not have the energy for all that drama. But you didn’t know what to say to him. You were so tired of life; of being a bother. A burden to everyone around you. Not good enough for anyone- in fact it was better if you weren’t around. But were you selfish enough to cause him more work? You glanced back at him; took notice of the dark rings below his eyes. The paleness of his skin made him look almost sickly. A powerful yet exhausted man. “ Sorry” you mumbled as you moved your body into a sitting position in defeated surrender. It seemed you were incapable of even dying right. Silence lingered for a while- you thought he had finished up his cigarette and left. Instead you heard him light another one somewhere above you.

“ So, why aren’t you trying again elsewhere? Packing your shit and getting away from whatever’s driven you up here?” You snapped your head up to face him but he wasn’t looking at you. His body leaned against the railing, his focus onto the city below. An unreadable expression on his face. 

You scoffed at him. “ Please, where the hell would I go? I’m penniless and unlike those pretty white chicks, I won’t get a job overnight. Even as an escort” you didn’t bother saying that your family held onto your payslips with no chance for you to gather even a little bit of savings. You were literally trapped under their control- a puppet to be pushed and pulled at their every beck and call. “ Ehh so you think it’s easier for ‘em?” He sounded doubtful yet curious. “ I know it is,” you answered somberly, “ It took me a year to get the job I have now- had to beg an old classmate for her to recommend me. Still I’m the lowest paid among all my other colleagues with the same title and less experience. And get reminded daily that if I don’t like it, I'm replaceable.” You sighed and rested your head back on top of your knees. “ ‘round here it’s hopeless and I got no money to go elsewhere” In your eyes, you were trapped with no reasonable way out. It left you with suicide as your only option. Your only hope. And even it was stripped away from you, leaving a dull numbness in your body. A defeated surrender to your fate. Silence lingered for a while longer as he finished his cigarette and lit himself another. Clearly not denying your words as if understanding both the said and unsaid implications behind them “ You willing to work hard?” he asked suddenly. You snapped your head up and fixed him with a determined look. “ Harder than anyone you know.” you promised in a heartbeat. You did not care to know what his offer entailed. After all, what did you have to lose? Your enthusiasm amused him. It prompted the man to stretch a gloved hand down towards you. You stared at it for a long while before you finally rested your fingers in it. The leather was cool to the touch, his grip strong as he pulled you up to your feet in a single tug. He shifted his hold and then shook your hand, as though you two had just reached a deal. A mutual agreement. 

“ Well kiddo I got an idea what the Port Mafia’s gonna do with you.” he smirked a boyish grin. An action that should have filled you with dread, but instead, you felt hope. A ray of light amidst the suffocating darkness “ Port Mafia?” you asked instead making him bark out a laugh. “ Damned right. From now on you’re Port Mafia property, and I, Chuuya Nakahara, am your boss”  

Author note:  Sweden is placed in the top four for racial equality IN THE WORLD Still those with non Swedish sounding names get significantly less callbacks for job applications than those with Swedish sounding names. Of those called to interview, how many get rejected because of accent/way of pronouncing words, skin colour or religious expression is something we’ll never know. And the thought of what and how it is in the rest of the world just shows what a cruel, unequal and sad world we live in. Truly it is a heartbreaking reality we exist in. This fic tried to portray that while adding a tiny bit of hope that only Chuuya could gift.. Hope it served its purpose.

Liked this work and want to see more? Check out Raven's masterlist for more stuff to read! ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!