#the real answer is there's just something that Tickles My Brain about that one end credits art it's just very visually nice

[aq2003]

Bro what the hell did the dnd do to u that u changed the whole theme /lh

the perc'ahlia huh

[k-hotchoisan]

backseat serenade

<mingi x fem!reader>

Getting stuck in the backseat of your friend’s car after a night out with your drunk friends wasn’t how you thought of ending the night, especially not on Mingi’s lap.

Genre/warnings: smut, pwp, forced proximity, technically exhibitionism but not because no one ends up noticing, fingering, light choking and wrist pining, riding, cream pies, orgasms, something is going on in the backseat…, furcoat mingi

word count: 3.3K (what the fucK)

a/n: y'all be eating fucking good fr. Also shout out to my loml @bro-atz for helping out with the plot a little <3 shout out to mingi brain rot!

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess  @woojirang @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn  @voicesinmyhead-rc @woojirang @wlv-asteria @jjoongstar @comicnerd557 or @kpopwrites @vic0921

networks: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

“Who else is here?” You ask. 

She shrugs. “My boyfriend and a couple of his friends. You know them.” Well, you’ve definitely met a couple of your friend’s boyfriend’s friends before. Your eyes scan the crowd and sure enough, you spot familiar faces. 

And then your eyes rest on a particular male—his hair dyed platinum and slicked back, already drawing attention because of his height alongside his fur coat that hung over his shoulders. You never thought someone could pull off a fur coat that well actually. A pair of glasses sits on his nose bridge, which seems to somehow accentuate how sharp his eyes are. He’s been on your radar since he appeared on a mutual friend’s Instagram. 

“He’s pretty cute isn’t he?”, your friend’s date pushes, lightly bumping his arm against yours. 

You cast him a glance. “Just surprised that there are people who still wear fur coats in this economy.”

“That’s-“

“Song Mingi”, you reply, not taking notice of your friend’s boyfriend’s surprised expression. 

“You know him?”

“Came across him”, you reply a little too quickly. You sure as hell were not about to spill the truth. 

He definitely looks and is intimidating for sure, especially when he opens his mouth to speak, his voice so low that it tickles your ears. You could hear him talk forever, you think. You could imagine how he moans in your ears.

You blink. The fuck?

And so, for the past hour or so, you’ve been stealing glances at the blond male, but unfortunately, there was only so much staring could do, and it was not helping you get the male’s attention. Sure, the both of you actually followed each other (you were surprised when he followed you back), and the way he liked your stories sometimes made your stomach grow butterflies, but you never actually interacted with him in real life. 

It wasn’t until the party was slowing down, when you came back from being distracted by another friend, was when you realise Mingi was gone. A ping of disappointment fills you up, but it’s not as horrendous as the feeling of regret—for not just going up to talk to him. You wonder when you’ll see him again.

You decide to find your friend and call it a night.

“Do you wanna hitch a ride with us?”, your friend asks, uselessly trying to balance herself, her partner holding onto her waist. 

“The driver didn’t drink, I promise”, your friend’s partner assures. 

You open the car door and your eyes widen when you spot Mingi. 

You whip your head to your friend to ask her sincewhen Mingi came with the friend group but you realise you wouldn’t be getting any concrete answers from a tipsy person. 

You glance back at the male donned in the maroon fur coat, who seems rather surprised when he sees that you were the one who opened the car door. 

But Mingi’s expression remains indifferent—god knows what he’s thinking about but you swore you saw a tint of something in his eyes when your friends told you to just sit on his lap because “the car had no space”. 

“Hi, y/n”, Mingi’s deep voice calling your name is kept in a bottle and stored at the back of your head. 

“Hey Mingi”, you greet back, cautiously approaching him. 

“Are you okay with this?” You ask, testing the waters by putting your weight on his left thigh. 

“It’s fine. I’m just worried that it’s gonna be uncomfortable for you since it’s gonna take a while to reach your place right?”

Right. You nod in defeat. 

Your body jolts slightly when you feel Mingi’s touch burn against your skin—especially your thighs. 

His friend on the passenger seat has the aux cord and he’s picked out a song to blast in the speakers. You feel goosebumps bloom across the nape of your neck when Mingi’s voice hits your ear from behind. 

“Sorry, you might need to move in a little more, Princess. We have three more squeezing with us at the back.”

You blink, processing the information before internally thanking the universe that the car is dark so the red flushing against your cheeks gets hidden. 

Soon you find yourself fully on Mingi’s lap, and although you try not to lean too much against him, you realise the position feels awkward, and when Mingi personally shifts you with his hands instead, you decide to stay put. 

The energy in the car is high, even after all that partying, which you easily deduce to be due to the alcohol. Unfortunately, you couldn’t be singing along at the top of your lungs, not when you’re subconsciously aware that Mingi is just behind you. 

Sitting on someone’s lap was definitely not as comfortable as sitting on a car seat, and that was a given, so you find yourself shifting constantly, not realising Mingi closing his fists every time your ass shifts against him, particularly his crotch. 

Suddenly you feel the weight below you shift. Mingi’s arm wraps around your waist, his weight pressing against you. You stay put the moment you feel his lips barely inches away from the shell of your ear. 

“I strongly suggest you try to stay still, y/n, or it’ll become a problem for the both of us.” 

You turn your head slightly, barely enough to capture him within your peripherals. At first, you wonder if you’re starting to annoy him, but when you feel his hands slide down to your thighs and something hard pressing against your ass, you get your answer. 

And you wonder how far you should take this. 

Your face is heating up, at the idea you’re just sitting on Mingi’s thick erection, separated by the fabric of his pants and the ridiculously thin fabric of your body con dress. You wonder about his size, which only gets more vivid since you’re literally sitting right on his fucking cock—how thick he would be, how much he would stretch you open, and it’s making you slowly drench your panties. 

The more his erection is blatantly pressing against you, the more you can’t help but fidget on his lap. You’re wondering why Mingi hasn’t said anything, you wonder if he even felt it at all. The moment that thought forms in your brain, you pick out what sounded like low groans from behind you. Then you feel Mingi’s fingers press against your bare thighs, just this fucking close to lifting your dress. 

Mingi shifts against you, his hard cock now even more prominent against your ass—directly below your pussy if it wasn’t for the fact that there were layers of annoying fabric keeping them apart. 

His deep voice is like a melody in your ear,  “I’m closing an eye if you’re just doing this on accident, but there’s only so much more grinding I can take princess.”

You glance over to the company seated just right beside you—they are still singing their hearts out thanks to the self-assigned DJ of the car. The music was still blasting, and you realise you and Mingi are slowly forming another world—one growing of hot and heavy air. 

You’re trying to weigh your options and risks, but the constant friction of Mingi’s cock just poking you through his pants mixed with the light buzz from the alcohol earlier is keeping you less than logical. 

You lean back, the back of your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the thick coat tickle your cheeks, taking in the scent of his cologne that you swear only he could pull off, the boldness rushing into your veins like adrenaline.

“And if I said it wasn’t an accident?”

You don’t know what he might do next, but it’s making your legs tremble by the second. Your clit is fucking throbbing from the sheer anticipation. 

Mingi’s eyes dart to glance at you while his head remains positioned straight, before he presses himself onto you with a smirk against your ears, “Right. Glad we cleared that up, princess.” 

His hands press on the sides of your throat, two fingers tipping your jaw to turn your head to face him as he clashes his lips against yours, and you’re ready for him to just take whatever the fuck you have left. You’re doing your best to muffle your moans through the kisses, but as every second passes, you’re ready to give into it—mostly scream his fucking name into the night at this point. 

Your eyes are so glazed out, your pussy throbbing and drenched, your mind so sexually frustrated the more Mingi keeps you waiting. Mingi’s fingers trail along your bare thighs, his legs forcing yours to stay open, easily letting the gather of your dress push upwards, while his fingers push your panties to the side. You hear him mutter fuck when your wet cunt drenches his fingers. He barely drags his fingers over your clit, yet you already feel like you’re about to burst. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” Mingi asks, sinking his gaze into yours. You swallow hard and nod, so fucking entranced by his sharp eyes behind the glasses, and alongside the fact that his fingers are rubbing circles on your clit. 

“Fuck me. You’re so fucking wet for me”, he hisses, eating up your moans as he fits his thick fingers into your pussy, filling you up instantly. Oh god. You feel your mind completely blank out at the sensation of Song Mingi stretching you out. 

You swear that the wet sounds of Mingi’s fingers fucking your sopping cunt were louder than the music, but for some reason, and thank fuck, no one else seemed to notice. Yet. 

His other hand clasps over your mouth as he watches your eyes roll back, your desperate and satisfied moans muffled every time his thumb presses against your clit while his fingers fill you up again and again. 

You shouldn’t have agreed to stay quiet. 

Mingi’s legs are strong as fuck because his knees keep your legs from snapping shut as you let the feeling build in your stomach. Your hips are involuntarily bucking against his fingers, craving for him to fuck his fingers deeper. Shit. You can’t seem to get enough. He releases his hand off your mouth for a while, letting it wander to your tits, rolling your nipples over your dress with his fingers, listening to you pant and whimper.  

“Can’t wait to fuck your tight cunt once we get off”, he mutters into your ear, increasing his pressure on your clit. 

“Please… fuck! Mingi…” you trail, not even sure what you’re begging for at this point. But the knot tightens hard and taut. You’re about to snap anytime soon. 

“Cum on my fingers for me, y/n. Show me how your cunt is gonna feel like when my cock is gonna stuff you full.”

His hand goes back to clamping over your mouth to muffle your cries while your orgasm rips through your body. Your eyes roll back, and your back arched against his abdomen, the pleasure spreading through every nerve while he’s still fucking you with his fingers, enjoying the way you’re completely undone because of him. Your cunt can’t seem to stop spasming and it’s only from his fucking fingers. 

But it slowly wears off, and he releases his hand from your mouth, letting you catch your breath. 

His fingers slowly leave your spent and creamy cunt, and for a split second, you’re almost disappointed. You turn your head, watching Mingi slide his stained fingers past his lips, licking them clean, and his eyes locked onto you. 

“You taste so fucking good, Princess”, he whispers, before his hands are on your throat again, pulling you in for a wet kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue, your face heating up at his words once more. 

The split second you pull away from him is when the music stops, and you hear your name being called.

“Y/n!”

Your eyes widen, and Mingi lowers his knees, letting you quickly shut your legs, letting his arm rest close to your legs, blocked by his fur coat. Thank fuck you’re in the dark. 

“This is your stop right?” Your friend asks before she turns on the interior car lights. You glance at the apartment building and sure enough, it is your apartment building. 

“Right”, you manage to answer with a forced smile. 

And as you are about to leave the car, Mingi suddenly announces, “I’ll send her up. Don’t wait for me.” He takes off his fur coat, draping it over your shoulders, quickly turning away as he pushes the car door open, ignoring the suggestive looks his group of friends were giving him before curtly saying his goodbyes and shutting the car door. 

Mingi is pretty much gentle with you as the both of you head up to your apartment, asking if you’re feeling cold, even though he’s only in a black tank top. You can’t help but gawk at how he looks even under shitty elevator lights—still so fucking hot. His fingers haven’t let go of yours yet since the both of you left the car, and he sure isn’t letting you go when the both of you reach to the door of your apartment. 

You feel so ridiculous in this oversized fur coat, but the fact that Mingi’s smell is just all over it makes you turn a blind eye to it. 

You unlock the door, pushing it open, the post nut clarity hitting, but the realisation of Mingi in a private space with you sending you mind into the gutter. 

And suddenly you feel your cunt throb again. Fuckin hell. 

“Cute place you have there”, he comments, slipping his shoes off. 

“I try to make the most out of it”, you return, taking off the fur coat, handing it back to him. 

Mingi pauses, staying near the door.

“I got no clue why I left the car like that, y/n. If you want me to leave, I can just call a cab and-“ 

His mouth runs, watching the way you’re walking towards him, and his lips snap shut when you pull him in for an open mouth kiss, his thoughts completely disappearing like they never existed. 

“Finish what you started, Minki”, you whisper when you pull away. 

For once, you like the way red looks on his pretty face, the red that disappears when he catches on, eye fucking you while thinking how fucking hot you look under normal apartment lights than the dim lights. 

His hands cup the back of your neck before his fingers are on your scalp, tugging your hair to face him, letting his lips collide with yours. You taste him so much more intensely now, and fuck does he taste like heaven. 

You feel his hands leave your head, going for your wrists instead, and he backs you up against the wall, deciding to pin your fucking wrists against the wall while stealing all of the oxygen you have left in between pants. 

His fingers trail down so lightly across your skin, you feel like you’re about to combust. 

“Is the couch fine for you?” He asks. You nod, just internally begging him to do anything to you. 

His hands slip down to your thighs, carrying you up in his arms, kissing and sucking against the skin of your neck while he navigates through your apartment. When he does find the couch (rather quickly), he lets you fall onto it, watching the way your dress rides up higher to your hips, your soaked panties coming into view, and his cock growing hard once more. 

“You know, you’re honestly killing me with that dress”, Mingi comments, his fingers tugging off your drenched panties, almost salivating over your glistening cunt. “Had to hold back from just pulling you out and fucking you.”

Oh, fucking gods. 

“That’s why we’re here now, aren’t we?” You tease, watching his satisfied grin grow bigger. 

You can’t wait for him to fuck your brains out. 

Mingi squats, letting his face press against your bare cunt, giving licks up, his tongue pressing against your clit while holding your legs apart. He thinks your whimpers and begs are like a fucking symphony—and he could listen to them over and over again while he breaks you, over and over again. 

It doesn’t last long, unfortunately, because he feels like he’s about to burst the longer he waits, his cock bulging against the fabric of his pants. 

So Mingi unbuckles his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear, his thick and long cock springs from his apparel, wet and decorated in thick precum. He gives himself quick strokes, amused by the way your face is turning a soft shade of pink. 

His thick fingers once again hold your wrists above you, lining his cock up to your pretty hole and pushing himself in, his girth taking up all space instantly. You see stars splatter beneath your eyelids as his cock stretches you out—thick and heavy. 

“Fuck. Song Mingi-“ you cry out, struggling against his grasp. 

“So fuckin tight, princess. Fuck, you feel so fucking good”, he sighs, letting himself bottom out in you, relishing in the way your face completely contorts into pleasure when he’s fully seated in you. 

And when he starts fucking you, your eyes roll back—the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you switching off most of your senses. 

You sense his arms pining your wrists are growing tired, so you do your best to tap his arm, and Mingi lets go, watching you slide his wrist down to your throat. 

You sure know how to push his buttons. 

He applies pressure and it hits all the perfect spots. A choked moan escapes you while he fucks you dumb. 

“I’d love to choke you more, princess, but I really need you to ride me right now”, Mingi whispers, his fingers leaving your throat, and he pulls his cock out. 

You climb onto his lap, lining his cock before you push yourself down, his fullness knocking the wind out of you once more. 

“Are you gonna take all of my cum like a good girl?” He hums, wiping away the tears from your eyes. You nod weakly, biting your lip. 

“That’s my good girl”, he compliments, and it makes your heart fucking soar. Mingi bounces you on his cock, groaning at the way you’re squeezing around him. “Fuck, squeeze me just like that. God, your pussy feels so fucking amazing, princess.”

“Mingi, I’m so close. Oh fuck I’m gonna-“

Mingi only holds your thighs down, watching you shake, feeling your cunt just clenching down and flutter on his cock, cream seeping down his shaft, and he groans in your ear, keeping himself deep in your pussy, his thick cum flooding into your tight cunt, listening to you curse while he forces you to ride out your high. 

“So fucking good. Mingi…” you mutter through tears and hiccup, letting Mingi kiss your tears before he slowly pulls his wet cock out of you, satisfied at the way his cum slowly trickles out of you while you catch your breath. 

Mingi waits for your mind to slowly clear, and you climb off him, but your fingers stay interlocked with his. 

“We can wash up and order food if you want”, you say, trying to avoid the fact that you’re still flushing slightly considering Song Mingi made a wreck out of you. 

But he pulls you along with him. 

“An invitation to shower together? I’ll gladly fuckin take it, princess.”

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Agent Peña

Summary: You and Javi are unpacking as you move into your new house, when you come across something unusual in one of the boxes. Surprise, it's Javi's old tac vest, and boy, do you need to show him how good he still looks in it.

Word Count: 5.3K (I'm surprised it's not longer, I could write a thesis about this vest)

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no used of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) BOY OH BOY- unprotected p in v sex (be better pls), oral (m receiving), face fucking, mastrubation (f), big ole praise kink, creampie, cum play (ig??), soft dom!Javi (still being our consent king as always), Javi lifts reader up on the dresser and holds her hair, Javi's got a FILTHY mouth, THE VEST STAYS ON LADIES AND GENTS (gn)

A/N: ....Well.... Here we are. This idea has been rotting in the back of my brain for SO long, and I am finally ready to serve my time in horny jail 🫡 As y'all know, Javi's tac vest is deeply important to me, and it only feels right to support my namesake as such by sharing my deeply dirty thoughts of getting absolutely obliterated by this man in that stupid fucking vest. If you know me, no you DON'T, please do not make eye contact with me for the next 7-10 business days. 🤪

This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!!

“Are you sure this is the last box?” 

“Yes, Hermosa, I’m positive.”

“Well, that was your answer 3 boxes ago, Jav.” 

You laughed to yourself, hauling what was supposedly the last cardboard box out of the back of Javi’s truck as you followed behind him into your new house. Your official move in day had finally come, and while you and Javi had been periodically transporting things from your apartment to the new house since it had been finished with construction, today was the last day on your lease, and the first day of your forever in your new home together. While you couldn't have been more excited to finally be in a real home of your own with Javi, you were much less excited about the 47 trips you had made in and out of the house, hauling boxes to and from Javi’s truck, and unpacking your entire existence into your new living space. 

You let out a little grunt as you set down the box into the mountain-like pile that had accumulated in your living room, Javi sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist as he planted a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

“You promise this was the last one?” You giggled, your voice oozing with sarcasm as you gave Javi a playful nudge while he held you in his grasp. 

“Promise.” He laughed, giving you a squeeze, only making you squeal and squirm even more. “Hopefully unpacking shouldn’t take too long, I’ll start moving the heavier shit upstairs and in the garage, and I’ll come help you down here when I’m done.” 

“What, are you saying I'm not strong enough to carry the heavy boxes? Rude.” You teased, spinning around to face him, crossing your arms over your chest, one eyebrow raised. 

“You know that’s not what I’m trying to say, you dork.” Javi sighed, rolling his eyes at your utter lack of seriousness in response to his comment. 

“I don’t know… Sure seems like it to me… I just don’t think that- HEY! PUT ME DOWN! STOP, STOP, YOU MEANIE!” You screeched, flapping your arms in hysterical laughter as Javi slung you over his shoulder, trapping you in the only way he’d figured out how to get you to stop with your never ending sass- tickling you until you were close to tears. “Fine, I- Javi! Stop! You win! You win! Let me go, you butt!” 

“Did you just call me a butt?” He snorted, setting you back down on the ground, smirking at the goofy grin on your face as you tried to recompose yourself, post tickle torture. 

“I would have come up with a better insult if I wasn’t close to almost peeing my pants.” You grumbled, sticking your tongue out at Javi, the two of you trying your best to keep from bursting into laughter again. 

“Will you just go start unpacking, weirdo? The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go break in the new bed.” He smirked, biting down on his lip, his eyes looking you up and down with a mischievous sparkle. 

“Oooorrrrrr… We could just go break it in now and unpack later?” You shrugged, placing your hands on Javi’s chest, grabbing a fist full of the soft cotton of his worn t-shirt as you pressed up on your tiptoes and placed a kiss on his pouty lip. 

“As much as I want to,” He paused, pressing his lips back into yours, feeling the smile of his smug grin, “If we go now, there’s no way all of this is ever getting unpacked.” 

“Ugh, fine. You win again, Mr. Reasonable.” You frowned, giving him one last quick kiss before pulling away to search through the endless sea of cardboard to sort where each box needed to go. You reached down, hoisting up one labeled “bedroom” and resting it on your hip, pointing to the scratchy scribbles of Javi’s handwriting. “Look! I’m already going to the bedroom, soooooo…” 

“Osita…”   

“Fine, fine. You better move those boxes fast. Rude to keep your wife waiting like this, ya know.” 

“Will you please just go unpack, Hermosa?” He sighed, laughing and shaking his head, hiking up two boxes, heavy enough to make his biceps flex and the veins in his forearms incredibly noticeable. You could almost hear yourself audibly gulp as you watched him walk up the stairs, the muscles of his back flexing and straining deliciously against the gray cotton of his t-shirt. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…” You muttered to yourself, in awe of your husband’s sheer broadness. So in awe, in fact, that you hadn’t even realized you had let your box slip from its place resting against your hip onto the living room floor, making you jump and startle yourself, scrambling to try and pick it back up in hopes that Javi hadn’t noticed. 

“You okay, baby?” Javi shouted from halfway up the stairs, peeking his head over the railing to see what had happened. 

“Yup, yup, totallyyyyy fine, all good, just going to unpack, nothing to see here.” You mumbled, darting down the hallway, eyes peeled in whatever direction was the exact opposite of Javi. 

Oof. You better find a way to become the world’s fastest unpacker. 

Thankfully, you and Javi seemed to make an unspoken pact to unpack in separate parts of the house to avoid distracting each other, Javi now working on organizing things in the garage while you worked on sorting all of the things that belonged in your master bedroom. Clothes and sheets had been easy to put away compared to all of the pots and pans you had unboxed in the kitchen before this, working your best to put things away as fast as you could with keeping the metal clashing and clanging to a minimum.

 As you dragged the last box labeled “Master Bedroom��� into your room from the hallway, you were curious what kind of contents could be inside, considering you’d put away all of yours and Javi’s clothes, and whatever bedding belonged in your room. You spun the box around to each side, looking for any more clues, until your last turn, where you found “Javi DEA” printed on the upper corner. 

You paused for a moment, letting your fingers drum across the tattered cardboard, questioning whether or not you should leave it for Javi to deal with, or open it up for yourself. You gently chewed on your bottom lip as you internally debated, trying to rationalize with yourself before quite literally opening up a box into Javi’s past.

You had heard about the good, bad and ugly that had been Javi’s life in Colombia before returning home to Laredo, so you would be shocked to find something in this box that Javi really didn’t want you to see. 

It’s not like there was anything he’d be trying to hide from you in there, right? Probably just a bunch of badges and paperwork, anyways. 

With a little sigh and a shrug, you carefully ripped down the seam of the tape holding the box together, slowly lifting the cardboard flaps to reveal the contents inside. As you peeked into the box, you let out a little huff of relief to find out that your suspicions were correct- nothing but file folders, old badges and ancient coffee mugs with DEA symbols slapped across the front. 

You began making your way through the box, sorting its contents into piles for Javi to go through once he was finished in the garage. Even though majority of the items inside the DEA box were less than thrilling (unless you had a thing for reading 50 page long contracts full of legal jargon), you did get a kick out of Javi’s old badges, giggling at his grumpy frown that seemed to be plastered across his face in every picture he took from the time he started, until he retired. What cracked you up even more was finding the badges from the first few years Javi must have started working for the DEA, still sporting his signature pout, but with a clean shaven baby face you had only had the pleasure of seeing from the photo albums of Javi's youth that his father, Chucho, had so lovingly offered to share with you.

You gave the picture a sweet smile before setting it down with the rest of the badges in the growing pile, mindlessly reaching back into the box to pull out what you assumed would be more file folders full of paperwork. Except this time, you felt your fingertips graze against what felt like tough and worn fabric, dragging your hand further along the cloth until hitting a patch of scratchy velcro, making you cock your head in confusion. You scooted yourself over closer to the box, peering under the few manilla folders left inside to spot an army green strap popping out from in between them. 

Now very much intrigued, you dug your hand between the sea of papers, yanking on the mystery item to reveal a deep olive green vest, followed by a few crinkled pictures that must have been stuck inside it, gently fluttering to the floor in front of you. You set down the much heavier than expected vest to pick up one of the photos face down on the carpet, only to turn it over and feel your jaw practically drop to the floor and eyes bulge out of your skull. Because in that picture, was not just any photo of Javi from his time in Colombia, this was a photo of Javi, in the very vest that you had dug out from the bottom of his box. 

And holy fuck did he look hot. 

Frantically, you picked up another photo that had fallen to the floor, feeling your heart legitimately skip a beat to find it was another shot of him in the vest, his dark curls sticking to his forehead from the sweat soaking his skin and the light blue button down underneath it, hands resting on the hips of his dark gray khaki pants that left very little to the imagination. You flipped over one last picture, only to find the same, breathtaking visual of him in that damn vest, his biceps straining against the sweat-stained cotton of his army green shirt, the veins in his forearms prominently on display as he held the gun he was carrying pointed at the ground. 

While you had never seen these photos, or even known about this mystery vest until today, there was a part of you that was glad you hadn’t- the way Javi looked suited up in that vest had your head reeling in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever recover from, because Jesus Fucking Christ, it was the hottest goddamn thing you’d ever seen. 

Your eyes darted back and forth between the three photos, each picture somehow looking better than the last every time you found a new detail to drink in that made Javi look even more delicious.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander even further than it already was, picturing what Javi would look like with it on now, the broadness of his shoulders filling out the vest even more than he would have the last time he wore it. 

You were so entranced, so lost in ogling at how attractive Javi looked in the vest, that you hadn’t noticed the sound his familiar footsteps trudging down the hallway, stopping in the doorway of your bedroom and watching you as you sat cross legged on the floor, hunched over the now nearly empty box. 

“Hey, Hermosa, I’m almost all done in the garage if you wanna-” Javi’s voice quietly trailed off as his eyes wandered, looking at the items from inside the box spread across the floor, stopping at the long forgotten sight of his old tac vest propped up against the cardboard.

He couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself, simply out of shock that you had even found the vest in the first place, considering he hadn’t even remembered it had been living inside a box that hadn’t been touched since it was shipped back to Laredo with the rest of his things post DEA.

“Where the hell’d you find this? I haven’t seen this thing in fucking years.” He chuckled, reaching down to pick up the well worn armor, letting his thumb run along the seams of the rough fabric as he held it up in front of him, blocking your blushing and bright red face from his view. 

“It was uh- it was at the bottom of the box.” You gulped, trying not to stumble over your words, biting down on your tongue to try and keep your embarrassingly sheepish smirk at bay, Javi’s eyes now meeting yours as he lowered the vest from his view. He tilted his head in confusion at your clearly flustered state, reaching out his free hand to gently grab your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your skin, his touch only making you more riled up. 

“Hermosa, are you okay?” 

“Yeah I’m- yes, I’m- I’m fine, it’s stupid.” You muttered, making no attempts to cover up your clearly blatant lie, darting your eyes away from Javi and shifting your gaze to the floor to try and hide your hot, flushed face, embarrassed that you were this worked up from 3 old photos and a piece of police gear.

But unfortunately for you, Javi knew you like the back of his hand, and knew all too well when you weren’t telling him something that was on your mind. 

Letting his hand slide up your arm and across your collarbone, he stopped at your chin, forcing your gaze back on him, giving you a smug shrug and raise of his eyebrows, silently waiting for your real response, the one he knew you were hiding behind your bashful facade. 

“What’s going on, baby?” 

With your eyes locked on his, thumb resting under your jaw, you had no choice but to swallow your own pride, the sweet dark brown of his glare coaxing your sheepish secret right out of you. 

“There were- there were pictures of you in the vest in the box. You look- Jesus, Javi, you look really fucking hot.” 

“That’s it?” He laughed, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, still feeling like he hadn’t quite gotten everything out of you. 

“Well I was thinking... that uh- if- what-” 

“What, baby? Talk to me, it’s okay.” 

Oh, fuck me. 

“Would you, um, would- would you put it on?” 

“Put it on?” He chuckled, lifting up the vest, gesturing towards it. 

“Mhhmmmm.” You nodded, letting your tongue run against your teeth before biting down on your bottom lip, feeling a rush of heat rapidly creeping through your body. 

“Like, right now?” 

“Like, right now.” 

Realizing that you were completely serious about your request, Javi let out a playful scoff, running his hand over the back of his neck, almost as flustered by your ask as you were at the thought alone of seeing him in his vest. 

“Really? I mean, uh- yeah, okay.” Working in a quick and determined silence, Javi began slipping the vest over his head, pulling it over his broad shoulders and unfastening the velcro sides before readjusting them, tugging the flaps tighter against his stomach to hold them in place, quietly grumbling to himself. “Used to be able to pull these a lot tighter…” He groaned, flattening the last strap against the velcro.

As his focused shifted from his vest to you, he couldn’t help but smirk at the dumbfounded look on your face- the image in front of you leaving you so completely stunned, you felt like you needed to wipe the corner of your mouth to make sure that there wasn’t any drool coming out of it. Your brain was so short circuited, at a loss to form any sort of coherent sentence, the best you could muster out was a low, shaky, “Holy fucking shit.” 

“Didn’t know you had a thing for tactical vests.” Javi grinned with a devilish look slowing spreading across his face, seeing the complete and utter mess you were becoming as he slowly stepped towards you, the looming image of his broad body in that fucking vest making your heart race and your palms sweat. 

“Well, I- I didn’t, um, I didn’t-” You stammered, your breath trembling as you tried to respond, your brain going blank as you watched Javi approach you. Before you had a chance to even try to and concoct some sort of answer, Javi’s hand was back under your chin, fingers wrapped around your jaw with a much tighter and demanding presence than just a few moments ago, sensing the undeniable shift of palpable tension in the room. 

“Didn’t what? Use your words, sweet girl.” He rasped, teasing you with his knowingly smug smirk, his words shooting straight to your core, making your stomach flip in anxious arousal. 

You could feel your words bobbing in your throat as you swallowed, your tongue darting out of your parted mouth, desperate to taste Javi’s lips now barely ghosting yours, patiently waiting for your response, relishing in the needy mess he could sense you were quickly becoming. 

“Didn’t realize it until I saw you in it. You look- fuck- you look so hot.” You whispered, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he sucked at your pulse point, his teeth nipping at your neck as a ragged moan escaped your mouth. “Javi…” 

“Not gonna give you what you want 'till you tell me. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me what you want.” You could practically feel his satisfied smirk as his kisses worked their way down your neck towards your chest, each press of his lips taunting you, only making it harder and harder for any part of your brain to function. 

“I wanna- fuck- I wanna suck your dick. Fuck, I need to taste you.” You whimpered, reaching out to run your hand across his vest, letting it trail from his chest, down to his stomach, your fingertips grazing his belt buckle before a firm grasp wrapped around your wrist, holding your hand in place and stopping it from traveling any further. 

“Nuh-uh.” Javi tutted, rasping in your ear. “Be a good girl and ask first. Tell me how badly you need it.”  

“Please, Javi. Fuck, please let me suck your dick, baby. Please.” You moaned, sounding more desperate than you had intended, but fuck, there was nothing you wanted to do more than drop to your knees and worship him in the most sinful way you could.  

“Jesus, you’re so fucking pretty when you beg for it. You need me that bad, Hermosa?” Javi grinned, feeling you nod your head frantically, the hand he was holding in his grasp reaching for below his belt. “Okay, baby, show me how bad you need me, huh?” 

In an instant, you were dragging your hands down his vest, sinking to the ground as you frantically worked to undo his belt buckle, the quiet clang of the metal singing a song of sweet relief as you shuffled his pants down his legs before hooking your fingers around the elastic waistband of his boxers, tugging them down to meet his pants. pooling around his ankles. His cock sprung free as it was released, already painfully hard and weeping with precum as it slapped against his stomach, the sight alone making you lick your lips. You kissed the inside of his thighs, trailing your way up to his shaft in long, languid movements, dragging your tongue back and forth along the underside of his cock before sinking just his tip between your lips, swirling it in your mouth. 

You had barely touched him, but you were already so worked up that what had started as just a wet patch in your underwear had now turned into the fabric becoming completely soaked in your slick, leaving your cunt aching and throbbing. With your mouth still sucking and flicking at his tip, you couldn’t help but let your hand snake down your front, sneaking between your skin and the waistband of your pants as it dipped into your underwear. You let your fingers slide through your folds, before sinking them into your heat, your hips instinctively grinding down on your hand to find any sort of temporary relief as you fucked yourself with your fingers. 

Looking up at him with batted lashes, you sunk your mouth deeper down on his length, hollowing your cheeks as you took him inch by inch, watching his eyes go wide as you took the hand that had just been inside your pants back out to reveal the shiny slick covering your fingers, then wrapping them around his base, covering his shaft in your arousal. 

It was taking everything in him just to say fuck it right then and there, to toss you onto the bed and fuck you until you were begging him to stop, but watching the way you worked around his cock so needily had him so stunned, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but let you work your magic. 

“Jesus, fuck…” Javi muttered to himself, already feeling his balls beginning to tighten as your head bobbed along his dick, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils. 

It wasn’t long before his hand was buried deep in your hair, his fingers cradling the back of your head as his hips began to buck towards your face, trying to hold himself back from full-on fucking your throat, until your fingers wrapped around the back of his thighs, bracing yourself as you gave Javi your silent nod of approval to keep going. Letting a low groan rumble in his chest, his second hand met the one already palming the back of your head, guiding you up and down his cock as he thrust deeper into your throat, tears welling in your eyes and saliva spilling out the corners of your mouth. His tip brushed against your gag reflex, making you dig your fingertips further and further into his skin. 

“Oh fuck- this what you wanted, Quierda? To get on your knees and let me- shit, shit, shit- fuck that pretty little mouth of yours like the good girl you are?” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, trying to keep himself together as he watched his length slide in and out of your mouth, tempted to let himself go and spill deep down your throat, watching his spend drip down your lips. But he knew he’d be kicking himself if he wasn’t finishing buried in the depths of your cunt, your warm, wet walls milking him of every last drop, clenching around him as you came. 

That was enough to pull him back to his senses, guiding his dick out of your mouth, the two of you catching your breath as you wiped your hand with the back of your mouth in confusion, wondering what had made him back off so quickly. 

“Javi, are you okay? Did I do something wr-oh!” You gasped, stumbling as Javi forcefully pulled you to your feet, manhandling you towards your dresser, your mouths becoming a mess of tangled tongues and teeth as your back bumped against the wooden edge. Javi’s hands were under your legs, grabbing you and hosting you up to sit on top of it, ripping your pants and underwear down off your hips and tossing them to the floor. 

“I need to be inside you. Fuck, I need to feel you when I fuck you full of me.” He mewled, reaching down to stroke himself as he lined his dick up with your entrance, running his tip through your folds, coating it even more in your slick before sinking himself deep into your pussy, flushing his hips against you as his cock bumped against your cervix. Even though you were already soaking wet, you couldn’t help but whimper at the sweet sting of how full Javi’s stretch made you feel, gripping around the shoulder straps of his tac vest for dear life as he began to thrust in and out of you, already setting a punishing, desperate pace. 

You wrapped your legs around the small of his back just under his vest, whimpering and moaning into his shoulder as your buried your face in the crook of his neck the lewd noises of muted moans and slapping skin filling the room as Javi punched into you, his cock splitting you open in the best way possible. 

“Javi, oh fuck baby, fuck, you feel so good, oh shit-”  You whined, your brain going blank, babbling between moans, already feeling a tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine while Javi’s hands gripped around your hips, holding you in place as he fucked into you hard and deep. Your cunt was starting to clench around his cock, pounding into that sweet spot inside you that had you seeing stars and screaming his name as you could feel yourself coming undone around him. 

Rutting your hips against him, the hairs at his base rubbed your clit, the friction giving you just enough stimulation to send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a ferocious intensity, flooding every inch of your body with pleasure. 

“That’s it. Give it to me, Hermosa. Fuck- cum all over me baby girl.” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, his words humming deep in his throat as he fucked you through your high, his hands holding you in place as you melted into him, your body going limp as you came. “You gonna give me another one, Querida? Be a good girl and give me one more before I fuck you so full of me, I’ll be dripping out of you for days.” 

You were so lost in your pleasure, you couldn’t find any words, simply nodding your head as you moaned into his neck, only starting to come to when you suddenly felt an emptiness in your cunt, Javi pulling out to scoot you off the dresser, guiding your feet to the floor as he turned you over, splaying your chest across the wooden surface and pinning your arms behind your back. Gently nudging your feet wider, you could feel his broad body looming over yours, his hot breath dancing across your neck as he nibbled at your ear. 

“You still okay, Osita?” 

“Mhmmmm” You whimpered, your body trembling as Javi’s hands ran across your hips, feeling his hard length pressed against your ass, wiggling your bottom half against him, desperate for him to ease the emptiness between your legs again. 

“Lemme hear you say it, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.” Javi grunted, now dragging his cock through your folds, teasing your dripping entrance, waiting painfully patiently for your response. 

“I need it so bad, Javi, please, please baby.” You moaned, rolling your hips and pushing your ass back on him, doing anything to try and feel him inside you again. 

“My needy girl. Shhhhh, it’s okay baby, I’ve got you.” Javi smirked, flushing his hips against your ass as he bottomed out inside you, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure.

He slowly began thrusting in and out of you, dragging his cock along your heat, each stroke punching against your g-spot, so wet that you could hear each rut of his hips as he buried himself deeper and deeper into your hilt. 

You were so blissed out, barely hanging by a thread as you felt heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, that you were resting your head against the dresser, closing your eyes as you felt yourself coming undone. That was until Javi’s firm grasp shifted from pinning your hands behind your back to sliding up your neck, resting his hand under your jaw and forcing your gaze into the mirror on top of your dresser. 

Your eyes locked with Javi’s, the reflection of him in his vest towering behind you as he thrusted into you over and over, watching the brown pools of his eyes darken with lust as he watched you slowly begin to come undone under him. 

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see that pretty face when you cum all over me.” 

The image of him was all consuming- His wide shoulders spilling from the sides of the vest, his dark, damp curls sticking to his forehead from the sheen of his sweat that had begun to pool in his brow, the wrecked look painted across his face making you weaker and weaker as you could feel the heat creeping up your legs and through your core. 

Reaching back, you grabbed on to the side of his vest, burying your fingers into the thick fabric for dear life as his pace began to quicken, his thrusts becoming faster and sloppier with each snaps of his hips as he felt your pussy fluttering around his length, watching you turn into a puddle below him. 

“I know you’re close, baby. C’mon Hermosa, oh shit- give it to me.” Javi grunted, letting his hand drop from your jaw to snake down your body, the pads of his fingers circling your clit with just enough force to have you screaming his name, clenching your cunt around his cock as you came. 

“Javi, Javi, oh fuck, fuck, fuck-” You babbled, your eyes practically rolling in the back of your head as Javi began to follow suit, rambling incoherently, chasing his own high. 

“I know, baby, I know. Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well. Fuck, oh shit- I’m close, too. Oh, fuck me- Jesus Christ, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh-” With only a few more thrusts, Javi was spilling inside you, his spend pulsing against your walls as he milked himself of every drop he had, his body slumping over yours as your chests rose and fell in sync, trying to catch your breath. 

Your legs trembled as the warm mix of your spend trailed down your thighs, only to be caught by his fingers, slowly dragging your combined arousal back up your skin before taking it and pushing it back into your entrance, languidly pulsing his digits in and out of your dripping hole, making a ragged moan fall from your lips as he nipped at your neck, softly sucking at your pulse point. 

“Gonna keep you full of me all night, sweet girl, all fucking night.” 

“Holy fuck…” You whined, finally catching your breath enough to speak before pushing yourself back up to stand, turning around to grab Javi’s face, pulling him in for an electric, passionate kiss before letting your hands rest on the worn army green of his vest, quietly laughing to yourself in disbelief. “Jesus fucking Christ, Javi.” 

“You okay, Osita? Sorry if I got carried away, I just- fuck, seeing how worked up you were, I-” 

“Javier Jesús Peña, you better not be apologizing to me for being the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in that goddamn vest. I swear to God, I’m never letting you take that thing off. Well… On second thought, if you don’t take it off I don’t think I will ever be productive ever again because holy shit.” 

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh to yourselves as Javi wrapped his arms around your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against the bare skin of your hips, looking out at the scattered sea of pants and underwear on the floor that had been quickly left behind during your horny antics. 

“Well, if you let me take it off,” Javi grinned, pressing a chast kiss on your cheek and then peppering them towards your lips, “then we can go take a shower to clean up,” he paused again, feeling his smile against your mouth, “we can go break in the bed, and I can return your little favor from earlier since someone was too eager to get dicked down to let me.” 

“Oh, shut up, can you blame me? Don’t have to ask me twice.” You giggled, raising a playful eyebrow at Javi. “Just promise me one thing, okay?” 

“Of course, Hermosa. Anything.” 

“Don’t you ever get rid of that fucking vest, Agent Peña.” 

Taglist:

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[theaawalker]

Something to Feel, Something Real [Finnick Odair Smut]

Pairing: Finnick Odair x male!reader Song Inspo: Call Me By Your Name by Lil Nas X Word Count: 1,394 Summary: You've seen Finnick around, often through pitying eyes, but haven't spoken to him. The times you have seen, he's either with a client (flirting) or leaving them (shaking with shame, rage, and disgust). You decide to make him feel something real and mutually pleasurable. Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), emotional build-up, MxM, one-shot, begging, substance usage, cursing, narrator pov Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly) A/N: This is not attached to "I Promise", my other Finnick imagine. The second part will be here shortly. Just adding a little twist to the end. *smirks villainously* In the meantime, here's some gay smut to tickle your tentacles. Peep the easter egg tho ;)

You and Finnick have your first real conversation when he’s arriving back at the Tribute center one night after spending an upsetting few hours with one of Snow’s clients. He’s in a foul mood, anger bordering on despair and self-hatred, still feeling the ghosts of unwanted fingers on his body, when he steps into the elevator and finds you smoking a joint.

"Shit, shit!” you curse, hiding the joint up your sleeve and coughing, waving your hands in the air like you can disperse the smell. “Sorry, someone was smoking in here before,” you lie.

Finnick can’t help himself. He laughs. “Give me a hit and I won’t tell anyone.”

You share the joint in the elevator, not hitting any button to go up to either of your floors. The chatter comes easy with both of you, but it’s not long before you’re stepping over friendly small talk into a genuine conversation about the wild shit you’ve seen in the Capitol and in your case, at home, too. District 2 loves to rub elbows with the Capitol, something you despise. Your comparisons and imitations have Finnick barking laughter.

During one of the lulls in conversation, he takes in your face and form, basking in the fact that he’s responsible for the smile on your face right now. He’d like to get to know you better, and fuck it, maybe he’s a little horny right now, too.

“Come to my floor?” he asks, the joint between his fingers. He takes a slow drag, watching you.

You stare at his lips as he exhales. God, the high must be hitting because all you want to do is cover his lips with yours. Like, it’s the only thought rattling around in your peanut brain. His lips curl into a smile and--Oh, shit. He asked you a question.

“Sure,” you answer.

One expression Finnick identifies all too easily is lust. And he sees it plain on your face. “Then let’s go.”

Finnick leads you to the lounge on the fourth floor, well away from the bedrooms. The giant windows let in light from the Capitol’s nightlife.

“I miss the stars,” you say once you’re both settled next to each other on a loveseat. “It’s not like there are a ton of them back home with all the light pollution, but still. There are more than here.”

Finnick gazes at the dark sky. “You should come to District 4 sometime. You can see the entire Milky Way. And instead of listening to all those cars you listen to the ocean. And you can forget everything for a few moments.”

Despite the lounge being much, much larger than the elevator, this feels far more intimate. Finnick and you face each other, your eyes flicking to his lips. He’s the Capitol sex icon and has always acted like an absolute peacock on camera, but you’ve seen him trying so hard mentoring his own tributes and taking care of Mags. There’s a lot more depth to him than what the cameras show. And you like the bits he shows off camera far, far more. Those bits are coming out tonight; a funny, deeply caring, deeply hurt young man with a vast capacity for kindness.

When he came into the elevator, he looked positively miserable and so, so defeated. Like he had been stomped on and ground down. You wanted to make him smile, a real smile, but then you couldn’t stop at just one, and now here you are. You know about his and Snow’s “arrangement”. You also know you can treat him better than any of the “clients” do even when they’re trying, and you wonder if he’ll let you treat him like that.

Your intense stare has Finnick shifting, feeling a few degrees hotter than before.

“Can I kiss you?” you finally ask, voice low. If there’s one thing being a Career has taught you, it’s to grab at any opportunity you see. Finnick swallows. “Yes,” he croaks. “Please.”

You lean forward and capture his lips, one hand on the back of the couch and the other securely in your lap. You’re close and leaning into him, but not holding him. The restraint surprises him at first. But he’s grateful for it and he relaxes. He sinks into the kiss, his own hands venturing to fist in your shirt collar and hold you there. You let him lead, let him feel your arms and touch your face and chest, but never move your own hands from their position, just pour your all into your lips against his.

The lights flick on. You and Finnick snap apart like a rubber band snapping back into shape. It’s Mags. She looks between you both with wide eyes before a mischevious smile breaks across her face. “No, no, Mags,” Finnick protests.

She winks, grinning, and flicks the lights back off. She exits.

Finnick groans. “I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

You grin and wink. “Well, if you’re never going to hear the end of it, we may as well make it worth it, right?”

His seafoam eyes lock on yours, an eyebrow lifting. He smirks. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

Leaning forward, you whisper in his ear, “I’d like to suck you off.”

All thoughts leave his head and all blood flows straight to his groin. For once, he’s speechless. No one has ever offered this before. All the people he spends time with want his attention on them, want him to fawn over them, wants him to boost their egos with his attention. And if they did off, he’d wonder what they want in return. Exactly like he’s wondering right now. He should ask, but his brain is too focused on the thought of your lips around his dick. Does he really care what happens after as long as he gets what he wants, first?

At his silence you withdraw. “Only if you want me to, of course,” you add. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable.

“Yes,” he hastily replies. “Yes. I’d love you to suck me off.”

That affirmation is all you need. You kneel in front of him and slowly unzip his pants, revealing plain boxers beneath. Finnick watches you, his heart pounding. With agonizingly slow movements, you touch his length and guide it through the gap in his boxers. He grips the cushions of the loveseat as you lick up the underside of his member, from the base to the tip. Your tongue is deliciously wet. Finally, you take Finnick into your mouth and work him slow, slow, slow. One hand balls into a fist on his leg and the other slips in your hair. He moans, a low sound that barely reaches your ears.

You can’t believe no one has ever done this before. You’ve barely started, and he looks absolutely wrecked and so goddamned pretty. His head falls back against the loveseat and he lets out a shaky breath.

Fisting him, you take your mouth off to quip, “Have I made the Finnick Odair speechless?”

He huffs a laugh, meeting your gaze. “Just wait until I have you on your back and—oh.” His words end in a strangled moan as you suck his head. You ease him a little bit further into the rhythm before you deep-throat him. By then both hands tangle in your hair and he’s whimpering and trembling, muscles taut. “Fuck. Fuck.” It’s so warm, so hot, feels so, so good.

He comes shortly after, cock hot and stiff in your mouth, his entire body rigid. As he comes down from his high he melts into the couch, both his hands gently tugging at your head. “Get up,” he pants. You comply and stand, bracing your arms on either side of his head, and kiss him. There it is again, that restraint.

“Touch me,” he moans. “Please.” He might combust if you don’t.

You obey and cup his cheeks. His hands mimic yours, holding your face to his while you kiss. His stomach feels warm and body completely relaxed, for once completely in the moment, his brain pleasantly quiet.

He opens his eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You press your forehead to his, cheeks hot. God, there’s so much you want to do to him, with him, but not tonight. “You can go to bed and get a full night’s sleep,” you answer.

What? He knows he heard you right, but what? “That’s not what I meant,” he says hesitantly. You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

“I know.” You brush back a lock of his hair. “And as much as I’d like to fuck you or you fuck me and make out well into the morning, you taking care of yourself is what I want the most. Can you promise me you’ll do that?”

Finnick can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “I promise.” He feels almost bashful. How do you know what he needs? Beneath your soft gaze he feels vulnerable and open, and while it’s foreign, it’s not unwelcome.

You smile at him, a brilliant smile that lights up the night. “Thank you.”

You’re thanking him. You just gave him a blowjob and you’re thanking him. Who the fuck are you?

After exchanging a few more minutes of sweet nothings, you leave to head to your floor. Finnick stays on the loveseat a while longer, smiling, watching the twinkling lights of the Capitol. The content expression gradually falls from his face and he sinks into the reality that is his life. At least this has been a sliver of good in what is his constant parade of masking for the Capitol. Maybe he can have a few more of those slivers when you’re around. He’s certainly going to try to grab the chances when they present themselves.

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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[a-kaash-me-outside]

the walls are thin - ch8

in which atsumu is your college neighbor with whom you share a wall. previous | ch8 | EPILOGUE [masterlist]

// gorgeously genuine, absolutely beaming ~ ᴀᴛsᴜᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 5443 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni omg more smut, confessions, last chapter hey!, mentions of hard scratches/blood, soft fucking, fucking with feelings, the end all takes place in atsumu's little room, afab she/her pronouns

join my taglist here!! ~~ (only a 12k epilogue left) ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

sight is the last sense to come to you. 

first, it’s the touch of the grip on your waist; it’s the sensation that stirs you awake. it’s tight around you, strong and tense as if any sort of laxity would cause you to slip out of it. your bare back is pressed up against a beating chest and you’re surrounded by warmth. 

then it’s the smell, that familiarly clean scent that isn’t just in front of you, soft blankets bunched up underneath the side of your head, it’s behind you, it’s under you, it’s above you, weaved within the fabric of the sheets and wafting off of the skin that’s all around you.

the sound is apparent next, introduced softly, gradually, tiny piece by tiny piece like an hourglass that only lets one grain of sand through at a time, and then a constant in your ears, not overwhelming or loud, but there. the inhale and exhale, tiny breaths of air that could barely make a candle flicker. the soft hum of the fan, the faintest chirping of birds, the rustling of the covers.

then it’s taste, an unfamiliar one lingering on your lips, heavy on your tongue. it’s almost jarring at first, this foreign, though not unwelcome, taste that you can’t quite put your finger on. it causes you to stir a bit more than the rest of the realizations, not as steady or recognized or easy. the second that you move to turn over, body already in motion, everything’s already come rushing back. 

you remember every single event from last night and the taste becomes just another sense that you get to file under familiar and comforting. 

your eyes flutter open, blink a few soft times, and then remain half-lidded as you take in the scene in front of you. all of atsumu’s features rendered gentle, peaceful from this blissful sleep he’s found himself in, his bangs covering his eyes in a way that doesn’t really bother him in the state he’s in, lips slightly parted, jaw lax, soft pink on his cheeks from your body heat and the mountain of covers, eyelashes flittering as you let out a surprised exhale at just how incredible he looks right now. 

sure, all five of your senses are important, but you would give up the remaining four if it meant being able to see this every morning. 

part of you is begging to wake him up, to talk about last night, to talk about what it all means, to hear his voice again, to ask if you can kiss him again, to kiss him again, but another part of you thinks… what’s the rush? why not just lay here for a few more minutes? 

you extend your arm out, let it fall against the small dip of his waist, curl your fingers against his lower back, and pull yourself closer. you bow your head into his chest. forehead resting against his heart, you can feel every single beat like a metronome. and then sleep takes you once more, no longer kicking and screaming, but happily submitting this time. 

sight is the last thing that comes to atsumu. 

first, it’s the sound of your muttering, something delicate that he can’t make out, but his brain implores him to be awake for. he answers back on instinct, questioning hum leaving his throat that does not get any real response from you, just another lovingly sweet, definitely unintelligible babble.

then it’s the touch, your hair tickling his bare chest, the pressure that he can feel on his entire body, wherever you are against him. it’s the tiny movements of your skin against his, brushing up and snuggling into, the tiny breeze of his fan, your breath on his chest. 

the taste is apparent next, swallowing gently once he realizes why his mouth tastes like that, a blush rising to his cheeks and a gratitude spreading through his body when it doesn’t go away. he wants to lean down and kiss you again and again, stockpile on the taste of you so he never has to be without it.

then it’s smell, yours, everywhere, head right under his nose, he recognizes it instantly. he wonders how long it will be stained in his sheets, how many times he’ll have to have you around before he, god forbid, gets used to it. it’s fresh and perfumey, not overwhelming, but not too subtle.

he pulls you closer, opens his eyes when you make another adorable noise, looks down at you pressed into his chest, cheek smushed against him, and he curses under his breath, “fuck.” because he wasn’t ready for you to look this good and he doesn’t normally get up this late and he might have disturbed you with how fast his heart is beating at the sight and this has now set an expectation of how he wants to wake up every morning.

he leans down and presses a small kiss onto the top of your head, digs his fingers into your hip as he does so, and he wants to feel bad, really, he does, when you stir awake in his arms, slight confusion immediately dissipating and being replaced with complete comfort, but you reach your fist up to rub the sleep out of your eye and you close one eye because the light peaking through the shitty school blinds is so bright and you run your hand over your hair before looking up at him with groggy eyes, and he refuses to feel bad for anything that has resulted in a sight like this one. 

“good mornin, pretty,” he says, voice rumbling against your palm on his chest. 

it takes a few moments for you to process your surroundings fully and he’s patient as you navigate through these waking senses. atsumu is just watching you, eyes following the changing emotions on your features.

wow, he looks good. 

you have a million thoughts on your mind, all racing to get out of your mouth first, and the one that wins amidst your worries and adorations is, “what time is it?” 

“barely 11,” he answers after looking at the alarm clock on his side table. “but it’s a sunday, you can’t have anywhere to be right now.”

you turn on your back and he leans forward to maintain the closeness he had before, chest and head hovering overtop of you. all you can see is him, that gorgeously genuine, absolutely beaming smile, amber eyes filled with fondness. you pick your head up and press a kiss whenever it lands (the tiniest bit of the corner of his upturned lips and the cheek beside). 

“‘m not asking so i can rush out of here,” you explain, hands reaching up, fingers outstretched as they part his messy hair. you move closer to him, shoulder pressing into his stomach. his hair is velvety, tangled, feels so nice in between your fingers and fist. “i did this,” you mutter under your breath as you smooth out matted clumps on the back of his head. 

even at this angle, hovering above you, shielded from the light, you can see the blush that rises to his cheeks. “you did,” he mumbles, leaning down and pressing his lips into yours. 

you put your hands over top of his, sliding them with yours down your sides, fingers skimming over the purplish marks in the lows of your hips. “and you did this,” you breathe, hips shying away from his touch as he puts a bit of pressure on the bruises. 

he kisses the side of your cheek, down your face, along your jaw. he speaks into your neck, “and you know what else you did?” 

“what’s that?” you ask, letting his fingers play with the maltreated skin as you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers clasped at the base. 

“maybe move your hands a bit lower,” he suggests. he skims his lips over your sensitive skin, breathes coolly over your collarbones. 

you listen, hands migrating down his back and you feel it instantly. the second your fingertips come into contact with the deep scratches, he pulls away to see your reaction. he watches your eyes go wide, face on fire, apology about to leave your lips, but he leans down and kisses it away. 

“holy shit,” you say under your breath, fingers tracing the scratches down, moving left and right to find (very easily) different ones. “oh my god,” you say in disbelief still as you claw your hand, letting your fingernails ghost over the scabbed over scratches. when your nail gets a bit too close to his skin, it reopens the mark and causes atsumu to wince. “m so sorr-.”

“don’t be,” he says, steady in your hands now. “ts a nice reminder that last night actually happened.” he leans down again and kisses your neck. you’re so grateful for the closeness, linking your hands behind his back and pulling him deeper into you. 

“what? do you normally have dreams like that?” you tease. 

he lets out a light laugh. “yea,” he jokes (or maybe not), “so i can’t believe i got to actually fuck you last night.”

oh? you still don't forgive atsumu? you.. you uh? you want to be with maki instead? okay. >:) (otherwise, carry on babes)

you keep one hand on his back, pads of your fingers following the marks you made in fervor last night, and you cup his cheek with the other, guiding him softly down to you, though it doesn’t take much. he chases your touch until his lips collide with yours. you speak against them, “would you believe it if you got to do it again?”

his skin grows warm against your palm as he presses his lips into yours harder, the smallest grunt breathed into your mouth. “now?” he asks, trying, but failing, to hide the excitement in his tone. 

“you said so last night,” you link your arms around his neck, pull him on top of you. his knees are on either side of your upper thigh and his skin, his touch, his warmth is everywhere. “that you would fuck me in the morning when i couldn’t get out of bed.”

his forearms are bracketing either side of your ribs and he pulls away from your kiss begrudgingly. his eyes are glued to your mouth, at whatever words are coming out, at your too-sweet expression as you keep saying things that make him melt. how do you exist? “i’m too sore to be thrown around, but i think you said something about really slow and really hard?” you ask, leaning your head to kiss his forearm, the closest place you can reach.

“you remember that?” he asks, trying to keep his composure for just a little longer.

“how could i forget?” you say, but that alone doesn’t accurately portray how your recollection of last night, “i’m not sure i’ll ever forget last night.”

he has to kiss you. 

atsumu leans back down, kisses you deeper this time, to taste you and to tell you that he won’t either and to show you how he feels about you. 

he pulls away, looking at you once more, joking as he says, “but not the part where you abused my poor back?”

you blush, chewing on your bottom lip thoughtfully. “actually, didn’t you tell me to?”

he laughs. “yea, told ya to go harder if you needed to,” he nudges your jaw to the side with his nose, starts to kiss down your neck, captures your collarbone between his teeth as he mumbles, “and you needed to i guess.”

“did it hurt?” you ask under your breath, just barely above a whisper, hands moving up his back and threading into his hair as he moves quickly to your chest. 

he hums an affirmation against your chest, lips dragging across your tits until he captures one of your nipples into his mouth, flicking the tip against it until it becomes hard in his mouth. he snakes his arm under your lower back, creates a pretty arch bringing your tits deeper into his mouth. you tighten your grip in his hair. it only makes him suckle harder. 

“and when i need to do it again?” you ask.

he talks quickly, away for as little time as possible, but you can hear the smile in his voice, “as hard as ya want, baby.” fuck, okay, yeah, you get it. you pull him back into your tits, nodding, embarrassed, almost, at how wet you can feel yourself getting already.

it doesn’t help that you can feel him against your plush thigh, heavy growing cock resting on top of your supple skin occasionally grinding into the fat. it drags across the inside of your leg, skipping over the soft, unlubricated skin. it only takes a few rolls of his hips to smear the leaking precome from the tip and the dragging turns to gliding. 

atsumu is grunting and whimpering into your chest, barely able to focus on your perfect pretty fucking tits. if he wasn’t so desperate to slip inside of your warm, tight cunt, he’d fuck your thighs until he blew his milky load all over them. his arms shake at the thought, nearly collapsing his entire body weight into you, not that you’d mind.

he moves his hips, slowly grinding closer and closer to your pussy until the underside of his cock slips between your fat lips. it’s instantly coated with your slick, so drenched that he almost slips inside without warning. he can’t see the mess he’s made between your legs, all he can see is the picture in his brain, how slick and wet and- “fuck,” he breathes.

you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers quick to play with the ends of his hair, because you just don’t know where to put all of this anticipation in your body. you slide your hands down his back, palms smoothing over the scratches, the beads of dried blood unpredictable under your soft fingertips. your touch is nearly tremors, head full with need, walls fluttering, too empty. it’s like he can read your mind.

he slides his cock between your folds, hips stuttering because he didn’t even think he’d get to fuck you one time, let alone two, and he’s not sure if this is a good idea because sure, he could’ve gotten over you if he only felt you one time. one time is enough to savor, but two? two is enough to commit to memory. two is uncharted territory. two is the start of a pattern. 

two might mean three and four and five and forever.

he positions his head right against your quivering hole, fluttering so pretty, asking so nicely for him to enter you. he pushes inside, slowly, just as he promised, snapping his hips to be fully sheathed inside of you once his cock is sucked in halfway, hard, just as he promised. 

your nails claw into him, not dragging, but gripping, crescent moon shaped divots adding to the visible displays of passion. you press your forehead against his shoulder, shaky breath leaving you as you shift to accommodate his girth. you feel so full, can feel the dull stretch of your tight walls giving way for his thick length. at first, you don’t remember it being that big, don’t remember feeling as speared as you do right now, but as the sensation settles in, you remember it all too well. the lingering stretch, how deep he is in your fucking guts, how perfectly your walls hug him. 

he’s doing exactly as he said he would, cock pulling out of you slowly, fucking into you at the same pace save for the last few inches. his hips slap against the insides of your thighs and you can feel the sting so quickly, your body recalling all of the abuse it went through last night. he places his palm on your hip, presses the bruises into your bones, and you whimper. he almost stops, moves to pull his hand away, but you place yours on top of his, looking into his eyes, pleading to him that you can take it. 

it takes only a few lazy morning thrusts for you to be crumbling underneath him. he can feel it, too. can feel how tight you’re getting, how hard you’re breathing, how sharp your nails are. “would i be an asshole if i made ya wait to cream all over my cock?” he asks, and your immediate answer is yes, of course, but you look up at him and you can see his resolve fading as well. you know exactly what he wants you to wait for and now you can’t imagine coming before him. 

you shake your head no. “i’ll wait for you, baby,” you breathe like an unbound promise. his hips stutter, eyes squeeze shut, and he almost lets himself give in to the quickness of his orgasm, but he doesn’t. he’s not embarrassed or ashamed, he just wants to fuck you nice and slow for a little while longer. 

the longer that he fucks you, the less he cares about the things coming out of his mouth. if you called him baby nice and sweet, he’d give you his load in a second, but he wants it to keep going, to last for even a minute longer, this wet, squelching, sticky sound that’s coming from between your thighs and the feeling that’s accompanying it, so he just keeps fucking talking, doesn’t give you a single breath to say something that will make this end too soon.

“god, yer so perfect for me” for him “so fucking perfect. swear to god if i could just fuck you forever” forever “i fucking would. if i could just be with ya” be with you “forever i fucking would. ‘ve got no idea what you’ve done to me, how you came into my life and made me fall for you” fall for you “so hard so quickly, even now ‘m still falling” still falling 

the words keep spilling and you can’t breathe, hanging on to every last one, “from the moment i met ya, knew i had to have ya. n then i talked to ya and knew i had to know you, really know ya” know you “couldn’t stop thinking about you” he pauses, but not for enough time for you to reply, not that you even had a reply to give. “spring break, during spring break, couldn’t stop thinking about ya while you were gone, knew i was fucked. didn’t see anyone else, couldn’t.” couldn’t. ba-bump. 

you swallow harshly, hands migrating to his hair, his face, smoothing over his cheeks, combing through his locks. you nod your head. “thank you for knowing me,” you breathe. that would’ve been enough for atsumu, something for him to carry in his heart forever, at the forefront of his mind for days until it sinks in and takes residency for the rest of his life, but you press on, pulling him down into you so he can taste your tongue and your words all at once. “you don’t have to think about anyone else anymore if you don’t want to,” you shake your head desperately, words barely choking out of your tight throat. “and i won’t think about anyone else either, just you, baby.”

he starts nodding the second that you tell him he doesn’t have to think about anyone else and he doesn’t stop as you keep babbling on. by the time baby has left your swollen lips, he’s a puddle, spilling inside of you, hips stilling, pressed flat against the insides of your abused thighs, pumping streams and streams of hot come inside of your perfect fucking pussy. you’re filling and filling and so full and you can’t stop the few tears that fall from the corners of your eyes as you come so forcefully that you wrap your legs around his lower back, pulling him in deeper, your stomach tight, forehead against his, alternating murmurs of baby and atsumu and tsumu as your mind goes numb, blank of anything other than him.

neither of you move. neither of you want to move. neither of you are sure that you even can. he’s still inside of you. you’re still surrounding him. his forehead slumps against your shoulder. your arms instinctually wrap around his back, holding him as close to you as you can. the sounds of the two of you breathing in time are the only thing you can hear until he breaks the constant noise, talking into your skin, “did you mean it?”

you hum a questioning noise, still trying to recover. he leans back to look at you. it takes all of the energy in his body, but he does it. “did you mean it or were you just trying to make me come?” he looks so serious that your heart skips a beat. you reach up and place a soft kiss on his nose, blush spreading from the point of contact almost immediately. 

“i don’t say things i don’t mean,” you state. that’s really the only explanation that he needs.

he smiles, big, doesn’t even try to hide it. “y’know, i can’t believe you never told me that you could hear me.”

you narrow your eyes, “and i can’t believe you never thought, ‘hey, this might be loud!’”

“i can’t believe it’s taken this long for this to happen,” he admits, falling onto his side and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him, snuggling into your shoulder.

“i can’t believe i just slept with you,” you admit back. he laughs at the confession and that’s okay. it’s valid at first. honestly, it comes out as a joke. or, rather, it comes up your throat as joke. the second it’s left your tongue, it feels different, heavy, wrong.

he hasn’t noticed, not yet, but you don’t blame him. you’d give a lot of things to not feel this off. “come on it, couldn’t have been that bad,” he jokes, another one loading up right behind it. 

“no it- it wasn’t i just-,” you say, stuttering through your words, because you’re not trying to make this a big thing, not after the two of you have just had sex twice, but it’s weighing like a big thing. 

you go to move, his arms tighten around you on instinct and you want to stay put because you’re very comfortable pressed up against him, but you’re feeling antsy now. 

“no, i just,” you sit up, “i can’t believe i’ve just become another girl you’ve hooked up with.” you can’t believe that that’s just come out of your mouth, a conglomerate of fears that you’ve had since you’ve met him.

“we were different than that, i thought, closer than that.” you feel like you’re going to cry. the reason you’ve never fucked him after all this time was because you didn’t want it to end, it couldn’t end. there are a million tells in this room alone that are screaming at you that this doesn’t mean the end, but you still can’t shake it.

“you know? i think that day at the cafe was our first date,” he speaks so clearly, but you’re still confused. why is he bringing up your stupid cafe date? “but i think i should take you out properly this time?”

your stomach lurches and you can’t believe this thought is making it past your lips, “you mean like a second date?” he nods, hand bracing your lower back just to let you know that he’s there. you don’t move away. “i thought you weren’t a second date guy,” you say, cautiously.

“i’m also not a guy that usually gets walked out on because he can’t stop thinking about someone else,” he half-jokes. “can i please take you out again?” it pains you how much he’s fucking trying.

you’re quiet, not answering, slowly moving backwards until your back is flat against the bed, mulling over all that’s happened and the words that he’s said, weighing your options so carefully, accounting for any and everything that you could. him, how thoughtful he is, the note he left you when he was plant sitting, the way he steals your food, the people he’s slept with, his track record, his room, the conversation you had with his brother, meeting his friends, spring break, your text messages, the way that he smiles at you when he thinks you’re not looking, his touch, his arms, his thighs, the beat of his heart.

he rolls onto his back, a large puff of air exhaled from his lungs as he does so. he smooths his palms over his face, fingers parting his own hair, eyes squeezed shut as he exhales again into his hands. “god, you make me feel like-,” he takes another breath, sitting up this time. you get a good look at his back from this angle and if the words he were saying weren’t so important, you’d interrupt him by kissing the toned muscle all over. 

“like-,” he pauses, shaking his head, turning his neck, twisting his back to face you, “i don’t even know. i can’t even describe how you make me feel.” he narrows his eyes at you like he’s thinking of the most difficult math problem and trying to solve it in his head. “i know that sounds cheesy, i know it does, but i’m serious, i’ve never felt like this before.”

you sit up with him, his face morphs into realization, a tiny moment in time that you wish you could’ve caught on a camera. it looks effortlessly difficult, a long road to get there, figuring out his feelings in real time, and yet it doesn’t come out like a question. “i love you.”

your stomach drops. you can’t breathe. “you love me?” you ask.

even without instant reciprocation, he doesn’t show an ounce of regret, not a single one. in fact, he replies quickly, even more assured this time, “i do.”

“i can’t believe you just told me that you loved me before we’ve even been on a second date,” you say because it’s the only other thing on your mind other than i’m so scared to tell you that i love you too because i’m terrified that this will all end when we both admit our feelings to one another. he breathes a laugh, nodding, a smile on his face that hasn’t left since he’s admitted it.

“what happens when school ends?” you ask, trying to distract yourself from what’s really happening, from the realization of love glowing throughout your body, “we both graduate in the fall and-”

“i’ll follow you anywhere,” he answers quickly, facing you completely now, all attention on you, eyes scanning your face, just waiting for the okay to kiss you to show you how truthful he’s being. 

you keep coming up with excuses, not because you want him to agree with them, but because you want him to keep disputing them. “but you have volleyball and your own things that you’re doing and-”

he cuts you off. “i’m not doing any of that without you,” he says, pauses, and then adds, “if you’d keep me around.”

“okay,” you say, letting the air settle before reiterating, “second date it is then.” it’s the confirmation he’s been waiting for this entire time and he doesn’t hesitate in leaning forward and kissing you so hard that you fall back into the pillow again, no teeth or tongue, but just as desperate as last night and this morning. 

it’s not just an okay to the date. it’s an okay to the rest of your lives together, the two of you know this. it’s an okay to attending each other’s graduations, him sitting between maki and iwaizumi and cheering just as loud as the two of them, you sitting between osamu and bokuto and making a fool out of yourself as bokuto tries to lift you on his shoulder, and the mixed graduation party that you throw, the first party that you throw as a couple.

it’s an okay to a small apartment near campus after you decide to pursue your graduate degree, decorated with photos from your dorm, all of the plants that atsumu continues to care for, the cactus he got for you senior year and the cactus you got him as a graduation gift, a tiny shelf dedicated to osamu, tiny trinkets from the trips that the two of you went on all summer, floral bedsheets and a sage comforter, even more photos of him and his friends and you and your friends and you and his friends and him and your friends and just the two of you on your dressers, and a mat outside of your front door with strawberries that reads welcome home. 

it’s an okay to the trip that the two of you take to go see osamu, a road trip that consists of an uneven driving division, a playlist with a million genres of music that’s intersected by random half hours of podcasts, and a stop at a stupid roadside attraction that ends in an entire week of you getting to watch atsumu and osamu interact, unhinged and with a love that makes your heart swell no matter how many times you see it, and where osamu lets slip all of the plans that atsumu has for your future and how happy he is that the two of you ended up together, his actual girlfriend. it’s an okay to the handful of trips that you guys take to see osamu after that.

it’s an okay to the huge proposal that seemingly every single person in both of your lives has a hand in planning from the ring to the song to the stupid dance to the setting to the party, not just planning, really, but actually being apart of it too, embarrassment spreading over your cheeks and a stupid pride filling your heart as you enter a rented out building and are “surprised” by too many people to effectively be doing a flash mob proposal and you say yes into a microphone and are hugged by atsumu first and then a million other people and you want to cry but your tear ducts are dry, because it’s also an okay to the actual proposal that atsumu plans all by himself, rents a small apartment in the city that you’re terrified that he bought for you, but that isn’t the surprise here. it’s an okay to the quiet, meaningful, sob-inducing speech that he feeds you and the way that you can barely speak the word yes, you’re crying so hard, crying even harder when he kisses your ring finger before slipping on the ring.

it’s an okay to the wedding that follows, a destination somewhere beautiful that was supposed to just be close friends, but you quickly realize that the two of you foster a lot of relationships that could be filed under close friends, you do it anyways, and you let every single one of those close friends write a speech and you cry a lot and atsumu cries even more and you have your first dance to a stupid song that the two of you became obsessed with on your first road trip and you forgo a father/daughter dance but osamu insists on pulling you to the dance floor and no one dares to join you, all watching in silent awe as atsumu tries to stay stoic but fails miserably and atsumu lets maki steal you every other second because in maki’s speech he refers to atsumu as the shining light in an already beaming life and it’s the best few nights of your shared life, adding a million more photos to your bedroom walls and even more memories to your hearts. 

it’s an okay to midnight drives when you’re feeling down, and coming home from work early just to crawl into his lap, and going out to eat more frequently than you should because neither of you want to do dishes and both of you are craving something, and watching tv shows together before anyone else, and continuously finding out new things about the other, and never not thinking that the other person is the funniest person in the entire world, and sharing food and kissing a lot and an unwavering trust that you didn’t think was possible and the love that comes along with it. 

it’s an okay to everything. 

you say it once more, so you’re certain that he hears it all, so many thoughts, so many promises riding on four little letters, “okay.”

and he says it back, so that you’re certain he’s heard it all, “okay.”

okay so you forgave atsumu and love him but you still wanna read alternate universe maki love? alright. head on over babe.

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[doki-doki-imagines]

Synopsis: Your posts don’t show up in the tags and it annoys you endlessly, your boyfriend thinks you are really dumb.

Inspired by what is happening to me right now, I think the health of my stomach is way more important than my dumb stuff showing up, my brain is settled, but my body isn’t. Anyway I only choose characters that I think would “bully” you in this situation LOL. So I wrote this because my brattiness won't make me accept the situation, if this doesn't show up I'll laugh a lot btw

Slightly suggestive

Feat. Sae Itoshi, Tabito Karasu

If years ago someone told Sae that he would end up with an idiot of your caliber he would just have scoffed and told them to “fuck off”. Too bad fate had other plans for him, that’s why he finds himself in the living room, with his partner all curled up on his sofa, half-crying half-pissed off because a post of theirs doesn’t show up in the tags.

One of those posts for fictional men moreover. One of those where the reader do something romantic, if not pure smut, with a fictional man.

The idea of throwing you out of his house really tickles his brain, but your long face and teary eyes are pulling the strings of his heart and he really can’t bring himself to do it.

“Dumbass instead of crying over a fictional man shouldn’t you spend time with your real and talented boyfriend?” Annoyance drips from his voice like venom.

“I know! I’m just frustrated okay? It’s like doing good dribbles, but then always getting blocked by a defender. Easier to understand?”

It would have been if only you didn’t sob every 5 seconds, plus Sae can’t avert his eyes from the snot running down your nose making you look even more pathetic.

The gears in Sae’s brain start moving and soon his body follows, that’s how you found your nose roughly cleaned, in typical Itoshi fashion, eyes puffy, but with no tears, and Sae jacket on your shoulder.

“Why are you looking at me like a dumb fish? Move your fat ass I’m gonna take you to that new burger restaurant, I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

He is already out of the door when you run to him, attracted to Sae like a moth to light.

Sae knows pretty well frustration, the pain in the stomach when things don’t work as you wish to, but he also knows best how to deal with it; by trying to fill your mind with other activities. Maybe now is the burger and how tasty it is and maybe later your mind will be filled with the taste of his tongue down your throat in the backseat of his car, all the attention on him; “rightfully so” he thinks.

He shouldn’t be jealous of fictional men, he really shouldn’t. It’s what Tabito keeps repeating to himself, but why is he!? He knows the point is that nobody can’t see what you’ve written about those guys and not that you’d rather read than spend time with him, but he’s getting livid every second that goes by. Tabito even contacted the assistence to help with your post, but nothing, it just won’t show up and he doesn’t know what’s worse: your sad face with tears staining your desk or his jealousy, anyway they are both making his heart ache.

“Why do you care so much about this! It should be a hobby, probably nobody cares about what you write anyway!” No – shit, fuck he didn’t want to be so mean.

Tabito doesn’t need to look at your face to understand that he went a bit too far. Your lips wobble ready to let out a sigh, and damn he wishes he could turn them into a smile, but he just stutters

“I’m sorry darling I was too-“ then a ding, you both turn to the light source

You look at your smartphone. Your post finally is showing up.

Screams, tears of joy, you throw yourself on Tabito, the chair he is sitting on tilting back, but not enough to make both of you fall. Fucking finally the God up there took pity on the both of you.

“I’m so happy for you”

“Really? You were pretty nasty about this before, crow boy” you sing sang, sitting now on his thighs, Tabito's pale face making you snicker.

“Will you forgive me?”

“Oh, my jealous boy…maybe if you kiss me-“

You can’t even finish the phrase that Tabito’s lips are on yours, the lips that make the butterflies in your stomach always go crazy, the lips that make you feel warm and loved like no one ever can.

“I don’t think one kiss will make me forget, I think I’ll need some more”

“Gladly” Tabito replies, voice already huskier than before.

Your sweet kisses are the only sound in the room, your post forgot, your mind only for that ass of your boyfriend

Finally

[writing-for-life]

Shipper Tag Game

I was tagged by @ginoeh , thank you so much!

And also: I’m notoriously bad at doing these and still have many, many in my inbox I will eventually get round to answering (thanks to everyone still waiting), but I thought I can do this one since it will be a lot easier to write off the cuff because:

I don’t really ship; I don’t find it particularly interesting, sorry 🤣

Having said this, I’ll still try to answer the questions, so here goes…

What ship were you completely obsessed with as a teenager, but now you don’t care about anymore?

I don’t think I was ever obsessed with any ship, not even as a teenager, because I tend to like characters and their stories, but I don’t really ship them other than what’s already in canon. So very mildly, maybe Batman/Bruce Wayne and Catwoman/Selina Kyle because they never truly ended up with each other? But even that one was meh…

Which ship would you consider your first one?

Hm, again, too mildly too really care, but maybe Aragorn and Arwen from LOTR?

Your first fanfic was about which couple?

Written: Erm, despite having been a writer for aeons, I only wrote my first fanfic in 2022, and that was an OC x canon. So if we’re looking at canon x canon, it was Johanna Constantine x Rachel Moodie/Sandman.

Read: I’ve honestly no idea and can’t truly remember, but I’m fairly certain it must have been a Batman one.

Do you remember the first couple you saw fan art of?

Fairly certain it was Bruce and Selina.

Have you ever gotten into ship discourse?

When I was a teenager, people were fighting over whether Bruce/Selina or Bruce/Talia were the OTP, but we weren’t terminally online, so ship discourse in this disproportionate, unhinged way wasn’t really a thing. I stayed out of it back then and still stay out of it now because I think everyone is free to like whatever they like. I have opinions that I occasionally voice, but that’s rather about general fandom trends (misogyny drives me up the wall) than specific ships. So as long as no one tries to ram their ship down my throat, it’s all good.

Did you used to have a NOTP or have one currently?

No ship is generally NOTP, but the way some people ship can be annoying. I have to admit that Dreamling has started to get on my nerves a bit. Not because I have a general problem with the ship or people who like it (many of my mutuals do), but rather because it’s everywhere, it’s hard to filter, and certain people need to make every discussion—also the ones that have zilch to do with it—about it and literally claim every corner of the fandom.

I don’t mind if people ship them though, I just don’t constantly want to get bombarded with it. So I guess what I’m trying to say is: Have your fun with it, but leave other people who don’t like it out of it, and stop constantly encroaching on creators to make it “real”, and above all: Stop inboxing people hurtful crap. In short: Don’t be an entitled arse with OTP goggles about it.

Who were the last couple in the last fanfic you read?

Dream x Calliope/Sandman.

Currently, do you have any OTPs?

Yup, the one I’m writing, which is a canon x OC pairing, sorry. Other than that, I don’t. I usually can’t get over why pairings don’t work in canon, hence I write OCs. And if they work out in canon, they already have everything they need, so I don’t feel particularly tickled to write about them. It’s sadly how my brain works. The only ones that currently get remotely close are Dream x Calliope (because of second chances) and Dream x Johanna (because they’ll be a complete fuck-up, but in an interesting way). But I still wouldn’t consider them OTPs.

Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting into?

That question doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, but maybe I’m missing something? If I can’t get into it, it’s for a reason, and that’s not a loss or something to get mad over…

Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they’re kind of interesting?

Nope.

Do you have any ship that, in the past, would have been considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

No because again: I don’t really ship. Unless it’s a =>

What is your favourite crack ship?

I am one of the main instigators of “Murphy and His Cool Hat”, so of course it has to be Dream x Helm.

What is the couple you read the most fanfics about?

None in particular. I either like the tone of something or I don’t. It’s probably easier for me to say what I don’t read/tend to avoid…

What do most of your ships have in common?

Byronic men who are shit communicators 🤣

What do you absolutely hate in a ship?

Nothing outright? I can get behind a lot of tropes if they’re crafted well, the plot is solid and the writing is good. If I had to pick one thing it’s power-over-dynamics. I abhor them in real life, and I don’t feel a massive desire to write them or read about them (as in: specifically seek for them or make them part of the plot myself). But even so, I have read fics with such dynamics and it didn’t massively bother me because the story and writing were good. Another thing I’m not massively keen on is enemies to lovers and/or lots of forced arguments just so people can angry-fuck. But hate is a strong word—again, if the story is well crafted and that’s not the only thing that’s going on, I wouldn’t drop a story just because of that.

I'm no-pressure tagging @rey-jake-therapist (shipping, friend, it’s about shipping 🤣), @marlowe-zara, @tickldpnk8 if you want to, or maybe just point me towards your post if you've done it already?

[giggly-squiggily]

okay this is not for the event, it's just me having nagiri brain rot bear with me pls 😭

during the third selection nagi walked in on isagi wrecking chigiri and did nothing, he just kinda stood there and examined. and chigiri was a little busy so he didn't think anything of it but after that nagi just will not stop bothering him and he's so random about it!

like chigiri will lie on his bed when nagi suddenly squeezes his sides and when chigiri curls into himself, already bringing up the defenses, nagi just nods carefully and says something like "interesting." before returning to his phone as if nothing happened.

they're at dinner and suddenly chigiri shrieks at the top of his lungs and his leg hits the underside of the table and when they take a look, nagi sits under the table in the l lawliet position (how did he get there without them noticing? no one knows), one hand still on chigiri's knee and then says "i see." and scrambles off to god knows where.

and this goes on for days and chigiri gets so paranoid, especially because nagi never ends up full on tickling him but isagi and barou sure do whenever they're around to witness the shenanigans and it drives him crazy. and then one night he decides to go to sleep early and lets himself fall back on his bed, only to shoot back up immediately when nagi attacks his sides (has he been there the entire time? who knows, chigiri sure as hell doesn't) and he's like "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY BED" and nagi just shrugs and goes "i'm ambushing you." as if that's not a weird thing to say.

and then chigiri just can't take it any longer; "if you wanna ambush me do it right, i can't live like this!" cue nagi blinking at him and simply answering "if you insist." before pinning him down and finally tickling him for real, then he goes, way too matter of factly, "i just thought you were cute when i did those things to you" and barou and isagi walk in on chigiri absolutely dying under nagi for more than one reason.

that's it that's the scenario idk i needed to get it out my system i'm sorry 😭

THIS IS SO CUTE AHHH! 🥰

Nagi sitting like L from Death Note took me TF out! 🤣🤣🤣 I can imagine Nagi lying in Chigiri’s bed in wait- completely still and blended in with the sheets. And the way he just scrambles away to who knows where is too funny to imagine ahznnsnsnkwks 🤣

“I’m just ambushing you.” Is such a Nagi thing to say AJJZJWNNSMWMS 🤣🤣🤣 I adore him HELP 🥰🤣

I love the idea of Barou and Isagi just taking advantage of it whenever it occurs. “Oh, miss Prick-cess is ticklish? Let’s investigate!” “What was that noise just now, Chi? It’s like you’re asking to be tickled!”

And the ENDING! 🤣🤣🤣 God I need more Nagiri in my life- this was absolutely majestic, thank you for sharing! 🥰🥰🥰

[beepofsleeplessdreams]

thinking out loud about some anime an illustrator i like worked on

so, one of my favorite illustrators (at least, I think that's the right term for him) is yoshitoshi ABe. recently i made the decision to look through a bunch of projects he had a hand in, mostly because i wanted to see what kind of stuff he'd attached himself to over the decades. prior to this i'd only seen Serial Experiments Lain, but i feel like basically everyone's seen that so that's not saying much lol. this was partially spurred on by a friend of mine telling me Texhnolyze was among their favorites. at time of writing, i've finished Texhnolyze and NieA_7, and i'm watching Haibane Renmei on-and-off and loving it. the world is bizarre and beautiful, and the character designs are lovely and have so much personality in my eyes. so that's where i started. so below is a series of rambles and thoughts i've had on this little journey of mine up to this point. i've still got a ways to go.

misc. spoilers for Texhnolyze in the next section

texhnolyze was a show i really enjoyed, but falls into the same pit as serial experiments lain in my brain. i struggle to understand what it's trying to say below the immediate surface and i end up primarily enjoying it as a surface-level product. not to say that i didn't make some connections in my head along the ride, i have so many questions about the world that i want answered, and some really fun observations I made. ichise's conversation with the voice in the chair was something that i had a lot of fun picking apart because it tickled that little goblin in my brain that loves social science. with the whole idea that height relates to authority, the pile of stones bringing images of gods on mountains in myth, but the chair tying all that powerful imagery up in this idea of boredom. apathy of the gods and all that. the entire trip to the surface is something that had me on the edge of the seat, and kinda tied into my greater sci-fi brainrot. that whole idea that one a society stagnates and rots people seek "better times", and this is how you end up with so many space prussians/germans being bad guys in older sci-fi anime like classic gundam and legend of the galactic heroes. it's people clinging to an idea of a """better time""" to larp that they're better than they are. this is what was going through my head during the arc of the story on the surface, whenever i saw that outdated technology that lives only in old b&w movies and period pieces. despite these obversations, i feel like i can't formulate a big picture, this is by no means bad, but i can't help but feel like i'm "missing something". though, this might be rectified in lain's case when i get around to it, it's been close to 10 years since i last watched it.

misc. spoilers for NieA_7

this is one that i don't think i ever heard someone talk about prior to me just plucking it off of ABe's wikipedia page. it's this weird slice-of-life comedy about living in poverty but there's also humanoid aliens that are kinda just around and comically failing to integrate into society. that whole second point, with the aliens, i feel it kinda detracts from a lot from the show's actually really simple and touching heart about just trying to escape being poor. the whole thing is kinda tainted with this mild xenophobia for the sake of "comedy" and the vast majority of the recurring aliens are these really mean-spirited racist stereotypes. eventually i came to ignore the vast majority of that aspect of the show, besides the titular NieA, and focus on the part of it that really spoke to me. the main character, Mayuko, is a young adult working 3 jobs on top of going to cram school in a desperate attempt to get into a good college and escape poverty by getting a """real job""" and a """future""". the reason why i use quotations is the same reason why her character really spoke to me. she was so focused on the mere act of survival and vaguely working towards the future that she never found the time to really think about the future. no plans, no dreams, inching towards a success she has no idea how to capitalize upon. something similar happened to me, personally. i spent the vast majority of highschool and college fighting for good grades and accolades with no other plan than to just get away from a very toxic family situation. and i succeeded. i gave up a social life for the sake of advancing and was rewarded by getting poached right out of college into a fairly comfortable. i moved out 6 months later and subsequently broke down. without that constant pressure of ESCAPE ESCAPE ESCAPE i had this sort of psychological explosive decompression and became incredibly depressed, and almost made some very poor and very permanent decisions. i saw a character that was flying towards the same mistakes i made and i was wondering all along if the show would propose some kind of "solution" that i'd failed to see. it didn't offer anything concrete, but something much simpler that i nontheless really appreciated. a loving promise that things will be okay somewhere, someday. the same sentiment helped me when i needed it. i get that that's corny as hell, but i'm a stupid mushy man-thing. it's a show i really recommend people look at, because while the lows are INCREDIBLY low and mean, the heart is there and beautiful.

[officialgleamstar]

*insert Bee Movie "D'ya Like Jazz?" meme here*

song recs time! I got a coupla jazzy ones, funky ones, and jazz-adjacent ones for ya :D

MAD RIDING by Masaru Imada

meet me in september by Bill Wurtz

That Life by Unknown Mortal Orchestra

Space 1 by Nala Sinephro

There Is A Place by Maisha

Sini Ka Dja by Baba Sissoko

Ice V by King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard

no worries about listening to them all - feel free to just pick whatever entices you - but they be some recs for you or anyone else who sees this :D

preemptively, i dont tend to enjoy jazz (which is insane because i used to literally play jazz in school) or like, instrumentals in general besides bittune or lo-fi, but im really excited to hear these songs :D

send me song recs!

MAD RIDING by Masaru Imada

couldn’t listen all the way through | not my thing | it’s okay | kinda catchy | ok i really like this | downloading immediately | already in my library

this is a BOP but not something i would ever listen to on my own LMAO i prefer songs with lyrics over pure instrumental!! i think this would rule if i heard it in a video game though

-

meet me in september by Bill Wurtz

couldn’t listen all the way through | not my thing | it’s okay | kinda catchy | ok i really like this | downloading immediately | already in my library

love bill wurtz <3 i dont listen to him very often since i gotta be in a specific mood for his music, but his music is always so awesome!!!

-

That Life by Unknown Mortal Orchestra

couldn’t listen all the way through | not my thing | it’s okay | kinda catchy | ok i really like this | downloading immediately | already in my library

off topic slightly: obsessed with the album art for this LMAO. anyways YEAAAH I LOVE THIS!! i love singers with rougher/scratchier voices so this is tickling my brain real nicely. big fan!!

-

Space 1 by Nala Sinephro

couldn’t listen all the way through | not my thing | it’s okay | kinda catchy | ok i really like this | downloading immediately | already in my library

another one where i just. like. lyrics ghfdghbdfhj but im tossing this straight into my homework playlist because it has the exact same vibe as my lo-fi stuff - which i have just now realized i dont need anymore. i graduated. huh. well, its in there anyways!

-

There Is A Place by Maisha

couldn’t listen all the way through | not my thing | it’s okay | kinda catchy | ok i really like this | downloading immediately | already in my library

probably not particularly surprising with my previous answers, lol. i think this one is very intense which i enjoy, id probably love seeing this performed live! oooh or at a dramatic reveal in a movie!!! but not something id listen to casually

-

Sini Ka Dja by Baba Sissoko

couldn’t listen all the way through | not my thing | it’s okay | kinda catchy | ok i really like this | downloading immediately | already in my library

i really liked the energy of this one! very good to bob my head along to. just not my kind of music :0 i liked the singing at the end a lot, i wish the entire thing was that LMAO

-

Ice V by King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard

couldn’t listen all the way through | not my thing | it’s okay | kinda catchy | ok i really like this | downloading immediately | already in my library

very bold to send a ten minute song. i am not listening to all that. to give it a fair shot though, i listened to it while i detangled my tablet wires, which took about 4 minutes and 30 seconds! it was neat, i liked it. another very video game feel one to me

[ivysangel]

I could be better but I’m definitely trying to look in the bright side of things. I’m in a show and we’re performing again this weekend so im trying to be excited for that, but I’m just getting over being sick, so we’ll see how that goes (I was getting off the stage after every song either coughing up a lung or blowing my brains through my nose so)

Slice of life is the best when it’s them fighting over cookies or worrying about making friends or going on dates or being (found) family and yeah I think bc relationships and dynamics are so important to me, that’s what tickles my fancy the most, just seeing them connect with each other- 💌

Here are my quizzes!

https://uquiz.com/9CYhbj

https://uquiz.com/3lX4IP

https://uquiz.com/eRtam4

https://uquiz.com/jYI8uI

https://uquiz.com/WsTSmq

https://uquiz.com/pxHmBi

https://uquiz.com/Y6YL3c

(I’m so sorry I tried to grab every quiz with something remotely dc related and that ended up being the majority of them, um yeah sorry friend. But enjoy)

i hope you're feeling better now and i hope you show went well. being sick is the worst, i hope you got to rest some!! i agree about slice of life, i am obsessed with relationship dynamics!! both my own and other peoples, real and fictional! it's why i love sitcoms so much!

link 1 (which of my favorite characters are you)

i got "dork diaries malewife" i'm not entirely sure what that means lmao? first thought was brandon from dork diaries tho? also semi related, winston duke is my supposedly stepmoms cousin

link 2 (which of my favorite albums are you)

i got positions by ariana grande!! one of my fave songs of ALL FUCKING TIME is on that album. motive, u will always be famous. doja you may be a fucking freak but oh my god u know how to feature. kinda need a collab album between the two of them bc motive and i don't do drugs are two of my most fave songs ever

link 3 (which of my ocs are you)

i got priscilla looool. i'm not a middle child tho, unfortunately am an eldest daughter with only child syndrome :(( edge of seventeen mentioned!!! i actually have a dark history with that movie meaning me and my best friend watched it one time in middle school and spent the whole time screaming at the screen. every time i think about it i get so viscerally angry like i'm popping veins. am awkward on the inside but *sighs* the most charismatic person ever. and i do have bomb taste in music, that is true. was going through it trying to pick between the lyrics for blame it and complicated but ultimately decided on complicated bc me and avril are locked in for life

link 4 (which of my rebinge shows are you)

i got abbot elementary!!! i was actually just watching it lmao but i switched it to superstore bc that's my #1 rebinge sitcom along with bk99 and modern family. description was so me tho i am funny and i do enjoy stirring the pot

link 5 (choose some stuff and i'll give you a crime against one of my favorite pieces of media)

i got "jacob imprinting on a baby that's three minutes old" i'm crying lmao. gosh, i've never seen the twilight movies but i've watched so many clips on tiktok i might as well log it into letterboxd. twilight will never get money from me!!!! i've got one sided beef with it, not entirely sure why tho

link 6 (answer these questions and i'll give you a song i like)

i got "i can wait forever" by simple plan. i've never listened to it so i'll have to do that soon!

link 7 (which ridiculous thing in titans are you)

i got rachels dad being a villain to the titans twice. i've never watched titans and probably never will because bad wigs make me want to nuke the planet. but is that not pretty on brand for trigon?

these were fun, i enjoyed them a lot so thank you for sharing w me <3

[distraughtmary]

Guilty of Affection. A Conversation

4 Years Ago

‘Who are we going to invite to our wedding?’ Kyle asked me randomly as we were chilling out on my bed.

‘Our wedding?’ I giggled. ‘Kyle, we aren’t even dating anymore.’

Kyle looked affronted, as if my definition of the marriage had been invalid.

‘We’re already closer than anything. But if we don’t marry, we won’t be able to preserve this connection. If you happen to get hospitalized, I want to be there, but they won’t admit me as just a friend. Your husband, on the other hand….’

‘Why would I get hospitalized?’ I feigned outrage. ‘It’s you who’s under the constant threat of your brains being bashed out by a ball.’

‘Fine, let’s pretend it’s me, though my head is sturdy enough to withstand all sorts of balls,’ he chuckled. ‘You would want to see me, right?’

I chewed on my lower lip.

‘I suppose yes, I would.’

‘You suppose?’ Kyle said threateningly and tickled my armpits. I wanted to escape his devilish antics, but his strong arms enveloped me, and all I could do is to sulk.

‘What I mean is that I don’t want to see you in such situations whatsoever, but if it happens, then yes, I want to be next to you. And while some nurses will probably allow me to see you if I lie about being your… boyfriend or something, the scheme could always fail. Still, marriage, Kyle? Well, a sham one could work, but what if we both find people we want to be in a real one with?’

‘Nah, I’m good,’ Kyle shook his head. ‘I’ve always thought you’d be my end game, Fili.’

I wanted to see his face as he had been saying that, but his grip on was strong, his breath relentless.

‘Your end game? What does that mean?’ I asked Kyle. I might have had some idea of what it could mean, a pretty good idea. However, with him, nothing was certain until that sensual mouth of his said it directly.

‘You know… getting a nice house, adopting a couple of kids, watching them grow… and then dying together on the same day,’ embarrassment engulfed Kyle’s fairy-tale-like words.

‘Too cheesy for a person who supposedly doesn’t believe in romance,’ I tried to pinch his nose behind me, although my aim was off, and I only managed to touch his chin where a thick line of hair was blossoming. I liked my boys clean-shaven, but Kyle was no longer my boy, and he was free to do anything with his face. Not that anything would ever blemish it.

‘Um,’ I was not sure if Kyle was contemplating his answers or taken aback by my attack.

‘Um,’ he vocalized again. ‘It’s not really… romantic or anything. It’s more… familial, I don’t know. I want to be your family, Fili. Well, you’re already one, but I as I’ve said, we’ll have to make it legal somehow.’

‘You’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you?’ I marvelled at his determination. ‘It’s not some spontaneous thing you’re going to forget tomorrow.’

‘Nope,’ he moved his head to meet mine, and I could feel his stubble brushing against me. ‘I’m totally serious, and… I want you to consider it carefully, too.’

‘Kyle…,’ I could only sit there in his arms, thinking that I would not mind dying in them that very instant. He was still holding me as if he had been afraid to let me go and see me leave him. However, Kyle’s hold on me had a calming effect, and even if I wanted to leave, it was only to trick him and return shortly.

‘I don’t inspire much confidence, do I?’ Kyle said coarsely, his voice slightly trembling.

‘I must admit, Kyle, that your image of our future seems contradictory… to your needs. It’s not that they’re wrong. But if we’re doing that, I need your full devotion to the cause. The last thing I need is having to explain to my children why one of their daddies didn’t come home last night and then showed up at the door reeking of another man.’

‘But I always clean…,’ Kyle protested.

‘I know, I know,’ I gently put a finger to his mouth. ‘But hear me out, Kyle. Even provided that you’re all clean and discreet, do you really believe that our children won’t notice anything? I don’t care what you’re and will be doing, but I don’t want to raise children in such an environment. Call me an old-fashioned, monogamous prick, whatever. And who said that I want children? I’ve never mentioned anything of the sort.’

Kyle chuckled, prompting me to pinch his lips for real. He decided to lick them in retaliation, and I retreated.

‘If you didn’t want them, you wouldn’t be so passionate about it,’ he smirked, and I could not deny the truth. ‘And you’d make a great parent. I can’t explain why – it’s just my intuition.’

‘Okay.’

‘And as for the rest… I get it, Fleet. Yes, what you’ve described might happen, and I’d hate myself for that. But I’m going to become better. I’m going to ‘live my life’ now, experience things, get wild… However, in several years, maybe after we graduate college, I’ll be ready for this, for the family. The question is… will you wait for me?’

Kyle’s question struck my heart, and I almost winced with phantom pain. Kyle was resolved to commit to ‘the family’, to the idea of us. But I… What did I want?

‘I don’t know, Kyle’, I said honestly, feeling him tense. ‘I can’t make important promises like that. You say what you feel towards me is familial, and there’s some truth to it. But I want to experience some romantic love, too, and I can’t predict where it will take me. Maybe that person will be the one I’ll marry. Maybe romantic love is nothing compared to yours. I need to find it out for myself, Kyle. It might take months, it might take years, it might take several people… Will YOU wait for me?’

Kyle abruptly released me, and I thought that it was the end of everything, the consequences of my earnestness. But then he grabbed my body again and rotated me so that I could face him, our noses touching. He looked as if he had been on the verge of tears, though his eyes were dry and full of something akin to desperation and pure sorrow.

‘I’m sorry, Fili, I…,’ his breath was shallow. ‘It’s selfish of me, I know. But trust me – I don’t love anyone more than you, and I’m sure that it’ll never change. I will probably survive if you tie yourself to another guy, though I can’t imagine my life without you. I’ll feel… completely lost.’

Kyle had never sounded so timid, and I brushed my knuckles against his cheek. He was transfixing me with his brown eyes, begging for me to paint the future for him. I was no God almighty, but maybe in Kyle’s eyes, I was just that.

‘Such strong words for someone who’s only 16, Kyle,’ I shook my head. ‘Although you’re right about one thing – I also cannot imagine my life without you. That ephemeral guy who’ll apparently eclipse everything in my life will have to share. I… cannot afford to lose this either.’

I patted the bed on which we had done many things: laughing, crying, hugging, building caves made of books and blankets, playing board games, putting make-up on each other, writing sloppy poetry, practising French, cuddling during winter and keeping distance in the heat of the summer, discussing crushes, spilling milkshakes on the blanket, gossiping, kissing romantically and kissing platonically… That bed and its predecessors had seen us do everything except for THAT thing, and I regretted nothing. I wanted us to continue to do all those things, and if I ever should do THAT thing, it would have to be somewhere else. Kyle and I’s precious memories were not to be desecrated.

‘So?’ Kyle looked at me expectantly. ‘And for the record, I may be just 16, but we’ve been together for 11 years. No one will be able to outshine that.’

I… was struggling not to tell Kyle that deep inside, I wanted him to be my end game, too. Those 11 years had belonged to me as well. Those 11 years had been defined by him. The best my potential partner could hope for was to supplement Kyle. I was not a fool – nobody would agree to that position, to play second fiddle to Kyle. Unless that person managed to make me fall in love with him so hard I would forget Kyle. But did such love even exist? Was there anything bigger, more significant, more overwhelming and more unconditional than Kyle’s love? Still, I could not confide that to Kyle, even though he could read me like a pharmacist deciphering a doctor’s prescription anyway. We needed time. Our relationship had not worked out once, and I did not want to see a repeat of that.

‘Let’s return to this conversation around the time of our college graduation,’ I said, my voice wooden. ‘Time will sort everything out, and I’ll be experienced enough to sift through feelings and see for myself what’s genuine and what’s not.’

Judging by Kyle’s expression, he had been expecting to hear something else, although after a moment or two he nodded.

‘I agree. I don’t want to rush you or anything. Just know that I love you and that after all is said and done, it’s you who I want to be with.’

Kyle kissed my cheek, and a sole tear trickled down the area he had marked.

‘I love you too, Kyle,’ I hugged him.

[angeldcgs]

maybe he wasn't the most mentally stimulating companion, but mac could handle that. she provided more than enough stimulation for the both of them all on her own, could fill the silence for hours on end— she didn't need to be competing with anyone for attention. growing up in her family was a constant fight for scraps, and now she reveled in being the loudest, toughest, meanest, nastiest sucker in the room wherever she went. the opinions of others were inconsequential when she didn't value anyone else as a real human being, anyway; any disdain for her was likely just misplaced envy, all these poor sheep trapped in their pen with nowhere to go, always at the mercy of their shepherd, looking to the fox as she snuck in to cull the herd with a longing to experience the same freedom she'd brought about for herself. any one of these people in the diner could do what she did— at any second, rabbit could exercise his free will and stand up to his callous coworkers, demanding they show him some respect and call him by his government name, or even simply tell them to fuck themselves, drive past city limits, and never look back. but he wouldn't. not on his own, not ever. when one was raised their whole life to see themselves as a lowly rodent hopping around trying to avoid being stepped on by those who were raised wearing big old boots, there would be no rewiring their brain chemistry. which wasn't a problem for mac. it was his very meek nature that had drawn her in, and his belief of his own inadequacy would be what kept him her obedient little pet until she was ready to discard him in favor of something shinier. for now, though, she was plenty entertained by his reactions to her brazen persona, enough to want to at least spend the day getting to learn how he operated. "ya' think so? my, uh..." her nose wrinkled as a chuckle escaped its way past her lips before she could finish her story, seemingly tickled by her own past. "my teacher used to have a special roll 'a duct tape just for me. think that was... third grade? fourth grade? just wouldn't shut the fuck up, i guess..." the way she reminisced about her childhood, a grin on her face and a fondness in her tone, you'd think she was regaling him with tales of the best birthday party she'd ever been thrown and not about being abused an adult in her life who was meant to guide her. that really was one of the more pleasant memories from her childhood— at least it hadn't left her with any bodily injuries or lasting scars. she hadn't lasted very long in school after that. hadn't ever learned to read or write properly, but she could talk her way out of or into pretty much any situation, and wasn't that so much more valuable in the long run? it was sweet, seeing how easily flustered rabbit became at the slightest provocation— if he was squirming in his seat this bad without her even trying, how would he respond to a genuine attempt at seduction? "just try it! you'll love it, swear on my mama." who was god knows where doing god knows what, but she could save such nitty gritty details for at least the second date. she continued looking to him expectantly, attention not letting up until he finally took the mug and took a tentative sip. "see? told ya'. they should gimme a show on the food network, or somethin'." after taking a more drawn out gulp of the syrupy concoction, mac sat back and settled further into the booth, satisfied that she'd at least consumed some sort of calories. "'bama," she answered him simply. "'bout an hour from mobile. could ya' tell?" folks from their region were usually adept at distinguishing different southern dialects, so she could never hide where she was from. not that she thought he'd ever put two and two together, somehow coming to the conclusion that she was related to the family of backwoods circus freaks from mentone, alabama who cut people up for fun. "you live here your whole life?"

mac was like a shotgun filled with fireworks pointed directly at rabbit's head. she didn't seem to know anything about subtlety or silence, she was fully committed to whatever bit she was performing and all rabbit could do was sit there in awe, staring at her with his mouth wide open and his hands fidgeting nervously in his lap. half the thing she said he didn't have an answer for, it was like she spoke an entirely different language and he was forced to simply go along with everything and hope he didn't make too much of a fool of himself in his attempts to keep up. nothing she did was careful, all loud and hectic movements that somehow resulted in no spillage, it made him strangely envious when he thought about how much effort he had to put into things he'd still make a mess of. before he could get lost in his momentary melancholy, mac was howling in mock pleasure and rabbit shot upright from where he'd begun to slump in embarrassment. he supposed that it was a lot easier to be so rambunctious when you were surrounded by strangers, no one had a right to judge when they barely knew your name but most of the people had either witnessed rabbit grow up or did so alongside him, he didn't have the privilege of authenticity without the threat of being ridiculed. he wasn't brave enough to stand up for himself or to even think about leaving, so he'd learned to accommodate for the judgement of those around him. it was refreshing to see someone free from that, it took him off guard but he found himself laughing alongside mac's manic giggles, if not out of surprise more than genuine entertainment. "gosh, you, uh, you really have a way with words." his attention was drawn down to her pale cup of coffee with probably enough sugar in it to warrant the diner purchasing a new shipment, but he couldn't judge when he was the kind of adult who couldn't drink water unless it was diluted with some stupidly sugary concentrate. a familiar but condemned feeling twitched within him and rabbit shuffled awkwardly in his seat, his attempt to act normal in the face of her downright pornographic exclamation clearly a failure, but an attempt nonetheless. his face felt like it'd never been hotter before in his entire life, probably burning a steady red yet he made no attempt to try and hide his blush, not when it only continued to grow with each flirtatious comment thrown in his direction. "i'm not really a coffee fan..." he murmured shyly alongside a half-assed shrug. then again, he didn't want to look ungrateful for the offer, so after a brief moment of hesitation, rabbit reached out and slid the mug in his direction. with all the additives, plus the fact their coffee wasn't all that strong to begin with, it wasn't anything to complain about. "that ain't half bad." after a small sip, he handed the coffee back over and slipped his hands down beneath his legs, sitting on them so he could try and quell his temptation to keep fidgeting. "so, uh, where'd you come from? we don't get many new faces around here all that often, you're a- a real nice change of pace."

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 1

“You can do this Marinette,” Adrien whispered encouragingly, echoing the mantra she’d been whispering to herself for the past two days.  She could do this.  She could manage.  This was for Max.  She could handle it.  He couldn’t be here but she could.  She could be strong for him.  She gave Adrien a shaky smile and nodded.  “We just have to find him and we can leave,” he reminded her.

Marinette took a breath and let it out slowly. She’d dealt with far, far worse than a few judgmental, heartless asses who had no real interest in her.  But seas of artificial smiles had always unsettled her and currently she was surrounded with so much artificial sweetness she felt like she was walking through a kid’s cereal aisle.  That added onto her already existing anxiety had her ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

She ran her hand over the skirt of her dress, letting the feeling of the fabric and the knowledge of all that had gone into it soothe her.  She was especially proud of her dress and the work that had gone into it.  It was a black so dark it almost appeared to draw in the light around it.  A mesh with strategically placed blood red decorations overlaid the dress, hugging her bodice until it reached her hips then dropped into a flowing skirt that ended just before it could pool on the ground.

She fought the urge to fiddle with the belt in her nervousness.  She couldn’t show weakness like that, not here.  She looked up at Adrien again in search of an anchor to reality.  She took in his expression and had to stifle the laugh that resulted.  He had his own artificially sweet smile on but his eyes quite clearly begged for a quick death.  He glanced down to her and nudged her discreetly, his artificial smile becoming wide and real.  “Shhhh,” he hushed her under his breath.  “We’re trying not to attract attention to ourselves, remember?  We’re ghosts.”  He looked around to make sure nobody was looking at them.

Marinette immediately quieted, her face becoming somber. She did remember.  In and out.  That was the goal.  Her goal. Knock the man on his ass with Max’s accomplishments, then never see him, or anyone else in this room, other than Adrien of course, ever again.  They were supposed to be like ghosts.  There but not.  Her eyes scanned the room looking for their target.

Adrien’s eyes immediately softened and filled with regret.  “Shit, Mari. I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to…”

“No,” she looked up at him with an artificial smile of her own.  “I know. It’s fine.  It’s not your fault.”  She scanned the crowd again, cursing her height, as she had many times in her life.  Even with the six inch, death defying heels, she still barely reached Adrien’s eyes, let alone give her any kind of advantage to see the crowd.  She needed some kind of vantage point but unfortunately, the only high point in the ballroom was the stage, which she couldn’t utilize if she was going to follow her Ghost policy.  “We might have more success if we split up.  Let me know if you find him.”

Adrien squeezed her arm quickly before nodding. “Good luck.”

Marinette shot him a genuine smile.  “You too.  May the Luck be with you.”

Adrien laughed and shook his head.  “I never should have forced you to watch that movie.”

Marinette grinned back.  “You never should have forced me to watch the prequels.  The original ones were just fine.”  Adrien narrowed his eyes at her but let it drop in favor of disappearing in the crowd to find their target.

Marinette followed him with her eyes until she couldn’t see him anymore then took a deep breath to brace herself.  Her eyes immediately started darting around and her fingers started dancing.  She needed something to occupy them or she was going to start attracting unwanted attention.

She noted a bar close by and made a beeline for it. She waited politely for the bartender to notice her, her fingers tapping anxiously against the bar while she waited. She froze when she heard a gruff voice next to her.  “Did you sneak in here?”

She turned to the voice and blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”

“You’re anxious and jittery.  Afraid you’re going to get kicked out?” the man elaborated.

Marinette studied him for a moment trying to figure out why he looked so familiar.  “No,” she started slowly, trying to give her brain a chance to answer the puzzle. “Just not a fan of events like this.”

The man scoffed and nodded in understanding. “Cheers.”  He raised his glass for her to clink his but she held out her hands with a sheepish look, showing she didn’t have a drink yet.  “Well, that’s a crime.  Nobody should have to endure one of these without a drink.”  He motioned to the bartender and got an immediate response. “Another for me and a…” he motioned to Marinette to give her order.

“Oh, champagne, please,” she finished with a smile for the bartender.  That’s what was socially acceptable at events like this, right?  Champagne.

The bartender looked to the man for confirmation. The man nodded.  “And a champagne for the woman.”  Marinette scowled at the bartender causing the man to laugh. “He’s just worried that you’re underage. You look awfully young.  You’re not, right?”

Marinette’s glare softened in realization.  “Oh, that makes sense.  No, I’m not.  I forgot the legal age here is higher than in France.”

He nodded and looked at her critically for a moment before offering his hand.  “Jason.”

Marinette immediately reached out for his hand and answered with her name before her brain registered the name he’d given. Jason.  Jason Todd.  Bruce Wayne’s son.  She pulled her hand back quickly as the realization hit her and focused on leveling her breathing.  She grabbed the champagne glass more violently than necessary when the bartender set it down in front of her and immediately downed the entire glass, only coughing a bit as the bubbles tickled her throat.  Overall, champagne was not the best drink to chug.  “Another, please,” she croaked out.

“You know, there are better drinks for that, if that’s what you want to do,” Jason grinned, laughing at her.

“Wasn’t the plan until it was and then that’s all I had,” she croaked out, her voice still hoarse from the bubbles.  She kept her eyes focused on her empty glass as she spoke, almost afraid to make eye contact with him as if just seeing her eyes would be enough to blow her cover.

Jason chuckled and nodded in understanding. “Don’t suppose you’d care to dance?”

Marinette whipped her head to him and stared incredulously, forgetting her previous reservations.  She only moved again when the bartender set the new drink down in front of her.  “Um… no… thank you.  That doesn’t seem… I don’t think my date would be comfortable with that.  Good luck getting drunk enough to handle tonight though.”  She gave him a weak smile and raised her glass to him before moving into the fray again, now armed with a socially acceptable fidget toy.

It took five minutes of avoiding wandering hands and leering looks but with a little luck and some prodding from the goddess hiding in the folds of her skirt, she was finally able to stumble on M. Lucius Fox, Director of Research and Development for Wayne Enterprises.  He was in a conversation he was not remotely interested in with some vapid business exec who was just as interested in M. Fox.  Not that M. Fox’s disinterest was clear.  He was very polite and good at covering his boredom, much more so than his conversation partner, but she’d been at enough stuffy, snobby parties with Adrien, Felix, and Chloe to know the signs.

She took another breath and squared her shoulders, going into Ladybug Mode; calm and confident, completely assured of herself. She was on a mission.  She had a goal and a plan to accomplish it, and once she had a plan, she had a direction and purpose, and with those, her insecurities fell away.  With M. Fox in her sights, she could see the pieces and the way they fit together. There were no more doubts.  She set her glass on a passing waiter’s tray and made her way over to M. Fox.

“The elusive M. Fox.  It is a pleasure to meet you,” Marinette purred, coming up next to him with a charming, real smile.

“I didn’t realize I was hiding,” Lucius responded with a polite smile of his own.

“Must just come naturally.  Foxes are known to be crafty.”  Marinette looked around them and motioned toward the dancefloor. “Would you care to dance, M. Fox?”

He shook his head deferentially.  “Are you sure there aren’t other people here you’d rather dance with?”

Marinette smiled conspiratorially and leaned closer to him, making sure to keep a respectable distance.  She did NOT want to have her banter confused with flirting. That was not the strategy she had devised.  “That would defeat the purpose of coming here.  I came here specifically to speak with you.”

Lucius looked down at her analytically, trying to figure out what her angle was, but took her hand and followed her onto the dancefloor.  “And what did you want to speak about, Ms…?”

“Dupain Cheng.  Marinette Dupain Cheng.  It’s nice to meet you M. Fox.  I wanted to speak to you to sell my friend Max Kante.”

Lucius’ eyes widened almost imperceptibly as the music changed.  After a beat, he chuckled.  “I’m not in the market to buy anyone, but thank you.”  He settled his hands on her mid-back and hand for their dance.

Marinette chuckled good naturedly along with him. “Sell his talents, would be a better way to say it.”

“And where is Mr. Kante?” Lucius raised an eyebrow at her, curious why the young man didn’t bother to come himself.  “Why are you presenting his talents instead of him?”

“Finals.  Had the incredibly bad luck to have a Friday at noon final.  I mean at least it wasn’t at 19h, right?  Can you believe they have those?”  She scrunched up her nose in playful disgust.  “But still means he’s taking it right now.  And for his last final of his career.  I mean… probably.  Knowing him, he might get another PhD at some point.  My finals and presentation ended last week.  M. Wa…” she took a steadying breath and looked back up with a strained smile hoping he wouldn’t notice the stutter.  “M. Wayne even visited for it.  That’s when the idea for this came to me.  So while Max studied, I plotted.”

“So why me then and not Mr. Wayne?” Lucius asked with a curious interest.

Marinette froze for just a second.  Hardly enough for anyone to notice.  Her mind raced to calculate the appropriate response to that question, a satisfactorily casual yet intelligent response.  “M. Wayne isn’t in charge of research.  You are.  Not to mention, I highly doubt the CEO would be involved enough in the research and development projects to know what was going on.  You I take as a man who knows what is going on with all your ongoing projects.”

He nodded.  She wasn’t wrong, or normally wouldn’t be.  Mr. Wayne usually was not involved in any projects and with the exception of one particular project they were having issues with, he wouldn’t know the particulars.  “A very dangerous and elaborate plan.  Why didn’t you make an appointment with me?  Or just stop me on the street?” he prodded, hoping for her thought process.

Marinette laughed lightly.  “I don’t imagine I would have had a chance in Hell of making an appointment with you in your office.  I have no standing, no name, no significance that would have attracted any PA worth their salt’s attention.  I would have been pawned off onto a low ranking employee to handle, if I was handled at all.  And something like this needed to be taken to you.  

“As for running into you on the street, I can’t imagine you would have responded positively to getting accosted on the street. You seem more than capable of handling yourself with grace in the face of a pest.  I doubt I would have gotten more than a few words in.  At a gala however,” she grinned conspiratorially at him. “Societal convention.  Almost absolute certainty of at least one dance where I would have you one-on-one for a few minutes.  Hostage audience.  Figured I could use it to my advantage for once.”

Lucius smiled back at her ingenuity.  “There’s an application process he could have gone through,” he noted.  

Mari nodded and looked out to the crowd, scanning it.  “Right, applying to M. Fedor Rabler,” she said distractedly.  “He did that.”

Lucius nodded in understanding.  Their application process was tough.  Lots of amazing candidates didn’t get through. He had to respect her devotion to her friend, to risk coming here and potentially making an enemy of Wayne Enterprises if he’d been that sort of man.  His eyes turned sympathetic.  “I’m sorry he was passed over.”

“You know, I’ve noticed Elspeth Cole puts forth a lot of inventions and extremely varied ones at that,” she continued as though she hadn’t heard his consolation.  “Most inventors, you can see their process, you can see how they got from one invention to the next, but hers… they’re so varied.  It’s almost like they’re coming from completely different people.”  Lucius watched her carefully, waiting to see where she was going with this.  “That’s them, isn’t it?  Dancing together.  Awfully close for purely colleagues.”

Lucius followed her sight line to Ms. Cole and Mr. Rabler dancing extremely closely.  Not obscenely, but perhaps a bit closer than was normally acceptable at a society event such as this one.  “It’s hardly incriminating that two people with expertise in electrical engineering would get together,” he said slowly.

“Max is amazing.  Brilliant,” Marinette said, seemingly not noticing her non-sequitur. “He created an AI that helped the Parisian superheroes locate and defeat our supervillain at only 14.”  Lucius’ brow rose.  That was certainly promising.  He wondered what would have caused them not to take such an applicant.  Surely there was some sort of embellishment there, but as he studied her, she seemed entirely genuine.  

“He’s being scouted by several high profile companies including Lexcorp and Palmer Technologies.”  She turned her attention back to Lucius, a curious pout on her lips. “But not Wayne Enterprises.”  She looked away with clearly forced casualness. “Lexcorp and Palmer, they’re offering pretty impressive packages.  Not as good as he deserves in my opinion, but I may be a bit biased.  Wayne Enterprises however… nothing.  Not even an offer.

“Now, I don’t really have a dog in the fight… other than wanting my friend to be safe and treated with the respect he deserves. But Palmer Technologies gets blown up by a villain or its inventors kidnapped far too frequently for me to be comfortable with my friend working there.  And Lexcorp…”  She looked down as if in thought before looking back at him again with a determined look in her eye.

“You know, I get a feeling sometimes.  I can’t really explain it, just get a feeling about people or things.  I’ve found it’s best for me and the people around me if I listen to that feeling and that feeling tells me Lex Luthor is the last person who should be trusted with a brain as brilliant as Max’s.”  She looked back over to Mr. Rabler and Ms. Cole.  “That same feeling told me Max shouldn’t trust the application process for Wayne Enterprises.”  

She looked back at Lucius with an apologetic smile. “No offense.  So, I convinced Max to make a small part of his submission just a little off.  Just a bit. Enough that even an expert could miss it, but if it’s wrong the project could never work.  It took a lot of convincing to get him to do it.  He refused to believe he had anything to worry about in Wayne Enterprises with its stellar reputation.”  She scrunched up her face in annoyance.  “But that feeling, you know?  I couldn’t get over it.  After a lot of work, I convinced him there was no harm.  After all, if he was hired he could fix it.  If he wasn’t… well, you shouldn’t be using what he presented anyway, right? No harm, no foul as you Americans say.”

“No,” Lucius agreed.  “That would be theft and completely against WE policy and standards.  In fact, we should not be asking applicants to submit anything like that in the first place.”

Marinette smiled and nodded approvingly.  “I’ve heard rumblings, or rather Max has, of WE getting into transmutation of materials.  Just can’t get that algorithm right though, can you?  Algorithms are hard.  Just a little off and nothing works.”

He stared at her.  That was a secret project.  Other departments in Wayne Enterprises didn’t even know about it.  “I can’t comment on ongoing projects.”  

“I never did show you what Max is capable of, did I?”  She gave him a bright smile and reached down to press a disguised button on her belt. Lucius tensed and cursed himself for exposing himself to whatever she was about to do.  A wave of emerald green washed over the front of her bodice as the blood red decorated mesh overlay turned into a brilliant emerald green that reflected the lights now rather than absorbing it.

Lucius’ eyes widened in surprise, a feat very few had been able to draw out of him.  “He designed the fabric?” he whispered out.  He reached out tentatively to touch the fabric at her shoulder.

Marinette grinned brilliantly at his reaction.  It was no less than Max deserved.  He’d worked incredibly hard on it.  “He did,” she nodded in confirmation, “and the software that controls it.  The whole dress can change but we’re kind of surrounded here and I didn’t want to attract too much attention.”  She let him touch it for a moment before pushing the button again to turn it back into the black, then allowing him to feel the mesh to confirm it was the same fabric.  “He has ideas for changing the texture as well, but limited resources you know? Something I’d hope wouldn’t be an issue at WE.”

“How does it work?”  His eyes were still focused on the fabric at her shoulder. He took a quick look at the rest of the bodice, but quickly snapped his eyes back to her shoulder.  The neckline was conservative, but it was still rather unbecoming to stare at the young woman’s chest.

Marinette laughed.  “You’ll have to ask Max that.  I just designed the dress.  I don’t really understand the mechanics behind it, but he does.  I doubt Ms. Cole can say the same.”

Lucius stared in awe at her shoulder before looking back up to her eyes and nodding in understanding.  “Interesting.  I’ll take that under advisement.  Maybe we should be scouting you as well.”

Mari laughed.  “No, thank you.  I’m not an inventor.  I’m a designer.  But I appreciate the interest.”

Lucius nodded and led her off the dancefloor with the end of the song.  “Inventor or not, we can always use someone with intuition, intelligence, and ingenuity like you’ve demonstrated.”  

Marinette gave him a brilliant, somewhat familiar smile. “That’s very flattering.  Thank you, M. Fox.  But tonight is about Max.  I have my own, separate plans for my future.”

Lucius nodded in understanding.  “Our loss,” he answered sincerely.  “If you ever need any help or advice, please feel free to call me.  I’m sure Mr. Kante will have it soon enough and can pass it onto you.”  He looked back down to her shoulder again.  “If I may…”  He motioned toward her shoulder.  

Marinette laughed.  “Of course.  I understand how truly impressive it is.  It’s been incredibly inspirational, thinking of the options.”

“And what did your intuition tell you about tonight?” He looked up to meet her eyes, curious about her answer.

Marinette’s face went slack for a moment before she pasted on a bittersweet smile.  “That it would be costly but worth it.”

Lucius quirked his head to the side.  “In what way?”

Marinette shook her head absently and took a sudden interest in M. Fox’s tie.  “I’m not sure yet.”

Mr. Fox’s eyes softened.  “Would he be available to meet on Monday?”

Marinette grin and snapped her eyes up to him. Mission success!  Max was going to get his interview!  “He can be.”

“I’d actually like to speak with both of you, if you don’t mind.  In my office at 10 Monday?” he offered.  

Marinette faltered.  “In Wayne Enterprises?”

Lucius chuckled.  “Naturally.”

Marinette swallowed heavily.  “Why don’t we meet somewhere else?  Early morning coffee perhaps?” she offered instead with an artificial smile.  “Here’s my card.  Have someone give me a call or text and I can arrange it.  He’s scheduled to fly in tomorrow morning.  He was supposed to meet with Lexcorp Monday morning, but he’ll be at coffee to meet you instead.”

Lucius smiled back at her as he slipped her card into his pocket.  “I greatly appreciate your candor and support Ms. Dupain Cheng.”  He took her hand in both of his to shake it.  “I cannot tell you how good it was to meet you.  And if you ever get one of those feelings about me or Wayne Enterprises, let me know, okay?”

“Lucius.”

Lucius froze at the cold voice, not accustomed to that tone of voice directed at him.  He looked over curiously and missed Marinette freezing before pushing another button on her belt.

Chapter 2

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Hi and congratulations for the milestone!! 🎉🎉

I did promise I’d take the wheel for a spin and it must be fate because this came up:

It seems fitting, that man is known for his talents with his mouth, tongue and fingers 🥴🥴

I’ll leave you with a question to go with the result (feel free to ignore if it doesn’t tickle your fancy); how long does he last until Frankie has to have a taste?

Congrats 🎉❤️

Ohhhhh frick, how could I POSSIBLY ignore that question?? Because now my head is simply reeling with HOT THOTS about Frankie Morales, finally eating you out, after you tease him endlessly.

And, of course because this is Frankie, I have to tip my hat to the seminal masterwork of “All Hail the King” by Kat @pilothusband, without which we would not have the headcanon of Frankie Morales as the pussy-eating king, which we all now know as gospel...

Thank you for helping me celebrate! There’s some real hot stuff under the cut, people!

The Game

Word count: 4500

Outline: Frankie Morales x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Mature/Explicit, 18+ only; mature and vulgar language; mentions of making out; teasing Frankie; one mention of oral sex/M receiving; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; Frankie has a FILTHY praise-kink mouth; Frankie going primal caveman on your pussy when he finally gets there

You’ve been on two previous dates with Frankie, and each one has ended in some truly smashing makeout sessions. The man is an excellent kisser, and it’s been so long since you had that, you’ve gone a little crazy with just kissing on your first two dates.

On your first date he took you out for a drive to the scenic overlook, and after an hour of good conversation, the sun had set low behind the ocean and you made out like teenagers in the cab of his truck for another hour.

Date two was an action movie, and since the theater was practically deserted when you sat down, you got a wicked idea. You tickled your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and invited him to join you in the back row, and you made out again for all 105 minutes of explosions and punching. Neither one of you remembers the plot.

Tonight is date three, and after an early dinner out, you’ve decided that it’s time to invite Frankie back to your place to see what else he can do with that talented tongue.

You pour him a cold drink and he sits on your couch, but neither one of you really wants to talk. There’s too much electricity in the air. Your head is fuzzy with want. You’ve been able to kiss him plenty, but you haven’t had the chance to do more. And then you get another idea, a leftover ‘game’ from your teenage years, something that was hot back then when you played it with your boyfriends… maybe it still works?

“Do you want to play a game?” You slip your feet out of your sandals and tuck one leg under you to swivel toward him on the couch. You smile at this handsome, sweet man with your most secret smile and bite your lip as he frowns and looks at your bookshelf full of board games.

“You mean like Scrabble?” His confusion is adorable, and you giggle as you move closer to him on the couch, your voice low… “Not like Scrabble.” You flutter your eyelashes up at him and now his frown is gone, replaced by a look of interest.

“What kind of game did you have in mind, pretty girl?” And now he looks very interested, his broad hand coming up to your shoulder to stroke your arm, pulling you closer for a kiss. But you don’t let him pull you in all the way, you stop a few inches from his face and whisper… “A naughty game.”

And now you can see the sheer hunger in his eyes. The way his pupils flare and his deep coffee eyes fix onto your lips. He tries to go in for a kiss and you pull away, just out of reach. You hold up one finger and place it to his lips, stopping him in his tracks.

You smile up at him from under your lashes. “That’s the game.”

“I have to chase you?” He flicks his eyebrows up, not looking impressed.

“No. We try to get as close as we can, but we can’t touch. We tease each other, just to see how long we can hold out.”

He chuckles. “That’s a terrible game.”

“You don’t think anticipation is hot? How about this… what do you want to do to me the most? If you play my game you might get to do it.”

He looks less skeptical now. He glances at your lips, then back to your eyes, before his gaze trails down, down, down your body. You shiver, and from his look alone, you feel hot and cold all at once.

You’re starting to think this might be… well, not “dangerous,” just more of an experience than the last time you played, which was at an age where the absolute wildest possibility was that you would get to feel a boy’s hand on the outside of your bra.

You bite your lip and blink with nervous anticipation, waiting for him to take the bait. He could decide right now not to play and you would still let him ravish you, let him put his mouth and hands and dick wherever he wants. You would welcome it.

He meets your eyes again, and you hold your breath, feeling a heat creep up to your cheeks and down to your cunt at the same time. His whole body is still, except for the rise and fall of his chest, moving breaths slowly in and out, and his big brown eyes that blink occasionally as he considers you with a thoughtful expression.

This is torture, waiting for his answer. You’re about to break first, tell Frankie he doesn’t have to play your silly game, when he moves just his mouth. His bottom lip opens a crack, and his tongue slides out of the corner and sweeps across that plush, velvety top lip, half-hidden under his scruffy mustache.

He moves the tip of his tongue slowly, deliberately, keeping his eyes fixed on your face... watching you watch his mouth. You suddenly realize that this is his opening move, he’s playing your game already, and he’s playing you as well. You set the rules, and he’s already winning.

You release a shaky breath and scoot an inch closer on the couch. You flick the tip of your tongue out, letting it wet your bottom lip. You bring your lower lip in between your teeth and bite down hard, watching Frankie’s eyes drift to your mouth. You release your lip from between your teeth and then exhale a sigh and a breathy moan of, “Hmm…”

You reach your hand up to open the top button of your thin cardigan, the one you like to wear because it’s your color and it’s soft and it fits you like a dream. But it’s also the one that you wear on third dates on purpose, with no blouse underneath it - just a lacy bra and a heart full of hope pounding in your chest.

He watches your fingers with that hungry look resurfacing, the one that made your stomach flip a moment ago. He scoots closer to you, closing the gap until his denim-clad leg is a centimeter from your knee, one arm draped over the back of the couch, thick fingers resting just an inch from your shoulder.

No touching, you had said. Frankie is making it clear to you that he knows the rules and will play them to their limits. He reaches up to the neck of his denim shirt, the top two snaps already open, and then he unsnaps two more. The neck of his shirt falls open, and the amber light from the lamp scatters across the planes of his neck and clavicles. You can’t tear your eyes away from his golden skin, and you feel the emptiness of your pussy as it starts to leak into your panties.

Frankie holds himself still, waiting for your next move. You aren’t sure what to do next, and truthfully your brain went completely blank the moment you caught sight of Frankie’s chest. You decide to raise the stakes. You get up from the couch, moving to stand in front of Frankie where he sits. His deep brown eyes are watching you intently, smoldering as he takes in your form just an arm’s length away. His gaze skates from your face to your breasts to your hips and back up, and you wait until his eyes come to a stop before you make your move.

You reach up to the second button of your cardigan and open it, then the next one. You see Frankie’s eyes go wide, pupils flaring black as he realizes what you’re doing. You fight the giddiness that surges up inside you, forcing your face to remain as neutral as possible. You see Frankie’s cock twitch once in his jeans, and you are delirious with the sudden realization that you’re holding quite a lot of power over this gorgeous man.

Your fingers continue their dance down your buttons until all of them are free, and then you grab the lapels of your cardigan. Frankie’s eyes flick to your hands where they hover at your breasts, and you pause, drawing the moment out for as long as you deem just short of cruel. You open the cardigan and shed it from your shoulders, tossing it on the couch seat you just vacated.

Frankie takes a sharp breath in, and his eyes flutter closed for just a moment. When he opens them again his brown irises are nearly blown black with arousal, and you almost feel bad for escalating the game this far. You take three steps backward toward the hallway, curling your finger to draw Frankie up off the couch. You break the silence with one word, “Bedroom.”

He surges up off the couch so quickly that you think he’s decided to break, to just grab you and pounce on you and end the game. But instead he halts a foot away, and looks deep into your eyes with a smirk. Something like a warning in the back of your brain tickles, uh-oh.

Frankie starts to undress, and as you see more of his golden skin in the low lamplight, you start to think that you might concede first. He sheds his baseball cap, then his shirt, tugging the remaining snaps open with a single pull. You drink in the sight of his naked torso, the soft patches of hair that mimic his delectable facial scruff, the breadth of his wide shoulders, and the curve of his abdomen where it meets his waistband. There’s a faint trail of hair that leads down, and now you’re dying to follow it where it leads.

He toes his work boots off, then opens the fly of his jeans. He pulls them down and off with his socks, and now he’s standing in your living room, clad only in a pair of black boxer-briefs, the soft cotton fabric doing a valiant job of containing his massive erection. You fight the urge to sink down to your knees and rip his underwear off, shove your mouth down onto his cock, see how deep you can take him. You hear yourself shudder as you inhale, nearly a sob, and it echoes in the silence and stillness of the room. Frankie looks pleased with himself, coiled and waiting for your next move. He must know how close you are to breaking.

You take another few steps backwards, keeping your eyes on Frankie as he follows you down the short hallway to your bedroom. You open your jeans as you cross the threshold, pushing them down along with your underwear and kicking them off into a corner. You reach behind you to unclasp your bra, and Frankie pauses to watch you, hands braced on either side of the doorway where he stands, his corded neck and shoulders tensed. You reach up to one shoulder and slowly pull the strap down. Then you do the same to the other strap, moving deliberately, watching Frankie’s ears go slightly pink as he clenches his jaw. You stand with your back to the wall, and you rest your back and shoulders against it, no longer trusting your watery knees to hold you upright. Then you tip your jaw up at Frankie. Your move.

Frankie crosses the room swiftly, long legs eating up the distance between you. He braces each large hand on the wall on either side of your head, then leans in closer, caging you in. His dark eyes fix on yours, and for just a moment you forget how to breathe. His gorgeous hooked nose is just an inch from yours, and if you tilted your head up you could bump noses, engage him in a kiss. But you’re not ready to give in just yet.

You gaze into the liquid cocoa pools, and inhale as silently as you can through your nose, smelling the clean cotton scent of Frankie’s detergent as it mixes with the masculine musk of his deodorant, the expanse of his tawny skin giving off its own salty hints. You feel a sharp twinge between your legs, another clench of your pussy, and now that’s all you can think about. You’re throbbing and wet, hot and getting hotter.

You press your thighs together in a futile attempt to relieve the ache, but it only makes it worse. You exhale and it comes out on the back of a whine, a faint noise that you know Frankie hears, because his expression changes to hunger again, mixed with a secret and knowing smile that tells you that you’re in deep trouble with this man. You have underestimated him, and you’re going to learn that lesson in a very memorable way.

Frankie is sweet and kind, soft-spoken and gentlemanly. You try to think back to what you assumed would happen when you proposed this little game, that maybe he would get a little bit horny, play along with you for a few minutes, and then pretend to give in just to get his arms around you. Instead, you seem to have awakened a strategist, someone who is used to making important calculations toward an end goal. You mistook Frankie’s softness for something it definitely is not, and now you’re regretting having challenged him. He’s not going to go easy on you.

Your stomach does that sick roller-coaster thing that it does sometimes, and you feel your heartbeat kick up a notch as Frankie uses those sharp eyes of his to inspect you. His penetrating stare moves from your eyes to your lips, which part involuntarily, an invitation to kiss you if he dares to give in first. He breathes slowly through his nose as his eyes trail down to your breasts and back up, taking in every inch of your bare skin. You feel like you’re being strangled by his gaze, but it is delicious.

Frankie takes his hands off the wall and then drops slowly to his knees. You look down at him in surprise. He opens his mouth and his voice is low and commanding. “Hands above your head for me, sweetheart.”

You lift your chin level with the floor and lace your fingers over your head, leaning harder into the wall with your shoulders. Your heart thrums in your chest, a steady tattoo that reminds you that you’re alive, but that also makes you feel very close to passing out. You try to remind yourself to breathe, breathe, breathe. You widen your legs just a bit for stability, and you hear Frankie chuckle low in his throat.

He starts talking, and were it not for the wall holding you up, you swear that you would buckle to the ground as he bathes you with his delicious, filthy monologue.

“Did you know,” Frankie intones, his voice raspy with desire, “... that you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen?”

You rush an exhale out through your mouth, and suck a great heaving breath back in. He’s only just started, and you’re not at all sure that you’re going to survive this. You dare to tilt your head to look down at Frankie, but his eyes are not on yours, they’re staring intently at your pubic mound. He’s transfixed, the secret smile gone as he stares between your legs.

“In fact, I think that this might be... the most tempting pussy that I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at. I could just bury my face in her right now.”

You feel like you can’t breathe, and you lace your fingers tighter behind your head as you stare down at Frankie’s soft curls, his nose just inches from your sex, his tongue dripping honey as you feel yourself getting wetter. Frankie continues his dirty talk, spilling the gorgeous, filthy words right into the center of your being.

“I would definitely like to taste her, see how she drips for me when she really gets going. Do you drip or do you squirt, honey?”

You clench your butt muscles and lean your shoulders even harder against the wall, a desperate attempt to stay upright as your knees threaten to give out. An involuntary whine slips out from your lips, and Frankie tilts his head to look up at you, that mischievous smile curving back across his lush lips.

“Would you like that, darlin’? Would you like me to eat you out?”

You bite your lips hard and struggle to stay standing. All you want to do is give in, collapse down onto Frankie and let him have his way with you. You feel another new rush of slickness hit your center and you almost break. Not yet, your brain whispers. Just wait...

Frankie turns his face back to your pelvis and then braces his hands on the wall, so close to your hips that you can feel the warmth emanating off his skin. But again, not touching you, he’s staying within the rules that you set for him. He’s too good at this, and now you know that you’re definitely going to lose.

Frankie slowly leans forward, bending his elbows to move his face closer and closer to your crotch. His nose comes an inch away, then half an inch. For a moment you hope that he will slip and make contact and lose, but he doesn’t. He has excellent muscle control and his arms don't even quiver as he finally stops, hovering just a centimeter in front of your cunt. You are wetter than you ever have been, and you swear that you can feel it leaking down the inside of your leg, trailing down your thigh as Frankie tortures you.

His voice is a whisper now, velvety and soft, and you strain to hear him above the rushing of your own heartbeat in your ears.

“You smell amazing, honey.” He closes his eyes and inhales, taking your scent into himself like you’re the sweetest flower at the farmer’s market.

It hits you suddenly that this is the most debauched, most intimate thing you’ve ever done with a lover. No man has ever dared to just smell you like this, and you feel something twist inside the bowl of your pelvis, like a spring being wound tighter. You realize that you’re not breathing, and you open your mouth into a little o-shape to take a slow, cooling breath into your lungs. You regain your steadiness and settle deeper into yourself to try to hold out, to hang in there just a little longer.

“I bet that you taste like heaven, pretty girl. I can’t wait to fuck you on my tongue, lick you inside and out.”

Frankie leans back and looks up at you with a wink. “After you touch me first and lose, I’m going to lick this pussy so hard that you come six times while you scream my name.”

You gurgle out a surprised, “Oh!”

Frankie sits back on his heels and stands back up, a little triumphant, like he knows how close he pushed you to the edge.

You release your hands and place your palms flat on the wall by your hips, not trusting them to hang loose at your sides, lest they decide to reach out and skim over his broad shoulders of their own accord. You look up at Frankie where he hovers over you, and you lick your lips and whisper to him.

“Frankie, I want you. Please touch me.”

He arches one eyebrow at you. “Does that mean you want the game to end? Are you giving up?”

You close your eyes and shake your head no, and for a moment you’re not sure if you’re even capable of playing the game any longer. Your head is fuzzy and your skin is screaming to be touched. You take a deep breath in and then out, and when you open your eyes Frankie is looking at you with concern.

“Do you give up, sweetheart? Or do you want to keep playing?”

You choke out a strangled whisper, the barest hint of speech. “I want… I want…”

Frankie comes closer, bracing himself on the wall again, big arms boxing you in as he moves into your space. He tilts his head down and murmurs, “Tell me.”

You look up into his eyes and the whole room tilts to the left. All you can see is Frankie, and he’s all that matters while the rest of the world spins dizzy around you. You feel sick with anticipation, and you know that this is your fault, that you were the one who proposed this stupid torturous game in the first place.

You just want it to end, you need it to end now.

“Frankie, I… I want…”

“You want me to eat you out? Stick my tongue inside that gorgeous pussy and fuck you with it until you come? Is that it?”

He leans closer and still doesn’t touch you, just keeps stringing you along with his depraved poetry as he tilts his head to hover an inch from your ear.

“Or maybe you want me to finger-fuck you, too? Stretch you open and see how good it feels? I bet we can make your pussy squirt, make you gush around my hand when I reach deep inside and hit your g-spot. I bet you’ll soak the bed, you sweet thing. Maybe squirt clear across the room.”

“Oh god.” You whine and duck your chin, trying to resist the urge to turn your head toward him and make contact, kiss him and then let him go wild, do all the things he’s been threatening to do.

“Frankie, I…”

“You what, sweetheart?” His tone is just this side of mocking, and it makes your cunt clench.

“I need…”

Frankie pulls his head away from your ear and looks you directly in the eyes.

“Use your words pretty girl.” His voice has an edge now, firm, sounding like a direct order. “Tell me what you need.”

“I- I want, I need… I need you inside of me. I want you everywhere, Frankie.”

“Yeah? You need me, sweet girl? You need Frankie to take care of you?”

Your face crumples, a whine of pure desire making your throat ache. Your pussy drools another bit of slick down your inner thigh. You want to cry, and Frankie frowns at you with genuine concern.

“I can take care of you, sweetheart. Anything you want, you just say the word. But first…” He leans his head down lower, lower, lower and stops, his warm breath fanning over your lips as he whispers.

“... first you have to touch me.”

You moan at that, the unfair knowledge that all you have to do to get everything you want is to give in. And he’s so close, his nose just a centimeter from yours. All you would have to do is lean up, kiss him, and-

Frankie abruptly pushes off the wall and takes two steps back from you. The sudden absence of him makes something in you snap. You rush at him and practically knock him over, kissing him with a snarl and wrapping your arms and legs around him as he laughs in surprise. He braces both big hands under your bottom and half-carries you to your bed.

He plops you down on the bedspread and then leans down over you as you kiss and kiss and kiss him. Now that the dam has broken, you’re not sure you’re ever going to stop, and you don’t give a flying fuck that you just lost at your own game. As far as you’re concerned you won, because you’re naked on your bed with Frankie laying over you, his hard cock pressing against your wet seam through his boxers.

You open your legs wide and wrap them around Frankie’s waist, and he kisses you before pulling back with a gentle shush against your lips.

“Wait wait, pretty girl. We’re not gonna fuck yet. I gotta eat you out first.”

“No Frankie, please. Please just fuck me.” You clutch and grasp at him, trying to pull him into you. He braces himself on his arms and hovers maddeningly over your face as he smiles.

“No, baby. You said if I played your game you would let me do what I wanted. You lost. I win.”

Frankie moves his mouth to your ear and whispers. “I get to eat your pussy until you’re screaming my name.”

You moan, a high-pitched cry of defeat. You want him inside of you now, not a moment longer. You’ve been tortured and taunted long enough, and you haven’t even gotten a glimpse of his cock, other than to see the impressive way that his erection fills out the contours of his boxer-briefs.

Frankie kisses you and tells you to release your legs, and then he stands up and wraps his big hands around your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor and looks up to your face with a wicked smile, the look of a man who is about to enjoy his victory over you.

You try to remind yourself that you lost, fair and square, and now your punishment is that you will have to wait to feel Frankie’s huge cock stretching you open. You’re going to have to take your punishment like a good girl.

Frankie pushes your legs up and back toward your chest, and you hook your hands behind your knees to hold them open. He takes the first tentative lick of your clit, and you cry a soft “Oh!” and toss your head back.

Frankie’s fingers stroke your outer labia, top to bottom, and he spreads you open with his fingertips. You feel the cool air hit your slick, and then the hot swipe of his tongue through your folds. This is torture, you think, but only as much as I deserve.

Frankie licks your clit gently before suddenly surging into you tongue-first, going as deep as he can, licking into you deeply. He curls his tongue up as he withdraws, and he hits the bundle of nerves on the underside of your clit. He does it again and again and again, and before you can warn him that you’re about to come, you’re shuddering and breaking apart in his mouth.

Frankie eases two big fingers into you and you’re grateful for the thickness of them, giving your muscles something to clench and squeeze around while Frankie softly licks your clit, working you through your climax. When you finally relax your legs, he sucks your clit into his mouth and then releases you with a smack of his lips.

“That’s one, pretty girl, but I didn’t hear you scream my name. We’ll see if you can do that with any of the other five.”

Frankie dives back into you face-first, and fulfills all of his threats from the game.

---

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[bloomyagi]

bleed me dry (m)

summary: where Itadori is your bottom-loving boyfriend and Sukuna reluctantly learns this vessel is the real curse. or: where seduction is a dangerous game, and the King of Curses loses.

pairings: itadori x f!reader, sukuna x f!reader

warnings: subby itadori, sub sukuna (yeah you read that right), light bondage, blindfolds, sukuna’s havin a whole ‘reconsidering life’s meaning’ moment, lotta swear cause u know sukuna things, coming untouched, he faints (yeah you also read that right) and is actually unabashed about it, all things considered

length: 1,432

notes: what? me? obsessed with jjk? that doesn’t sound like me at all! 

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His vessel is in love.

The word curdles in his mouth, tastes like ash. He has never known such a thing. It is part of his nature, he muses absently. Hardened from centuries of death and decay. Of destruction and war. He revels in it. Feels the most alive amongst the chaos.

But that’s the point. Curses can feel. They can have emotional attachment. Can’t you see? In so many ways, they’re not so different from us. He thinks you’re too loud. Your thoughts and beliefs are too loud. They’re also pointless and naïve, and he likes to pop by just to drive it home.

Hello, Sukuna. Where is the fear? Where is the resentment, the anger? The disgust? He enjoys it. But you—you just sit there and coax him into conversation like he’s another one of your classmates. Like he can’t crush your windpipe with a single flick of his hand. Like he isn’t the slow bleed of a death sentence for your lover. Like he isn’t anything at all. Like his titles and powers are stripped. What is he beyond it all? Who is he?

You ask about him sometimes. He rarely gives any indication he’s listening, but he does. Of course he does. There’s not much to do, bound and locked in this pink-haired boy. He lounges on this throne and watches his vessel pine and blush.

Sukuna watches his vessel fuck his fist and mewl your name every night.

It’s sad. “Brat,” he hisses. “Grow some balls. This is just pathetic.”

Itadori swallows. “Oh. Can you—?”

Sukuna shoves him off the ledge. A faint yelp travels, followed by a large splash. “Fuck her already. All this sitting and plotting is making my ass itch. If you won’t, I will.”

“You wouldn’t.” Sukuna tilts his head to peer down. Itadori’s eyes are narrowed, uncharacteristically solemn.

His lips bare into a slow grin. “Try me.”

Itadori blinks once. And then vanishes.

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Fuck. It’s the only coherent thought his muddled mind can pierce together. He gazes down at his palm, opening and closing languidly. His vision is blurry, spine tingling. He raises the other hand, reaching for his palm.

Mmm. He shakes his head firmly. The sharp tinge of metallic and iron coating his tongue clears the fog a little. The pain fades quickly, muted from his years of conquest and ruin.

Every nerve is on fire. His skin, this flesh cage, burns, an unfamiliar heat curling in his lower stomach. Sukuna is no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh—is well-acquainted, spent much of the centuries indulging in his vast harems. In the haze of blood and carnage, there is the memory of writhing bodies, of soft thighs and breasts, of glazed eyes and cries of his name. Of women fucked into wanton abandon, bred and lost in the worship of his cock.

But this. This heat is foreign in every sense. In its strange intensity and all-encompassing hold. All his senses are heightened but laser focused on the other pair of hands mapping his body. On the addicting sensations they’re inducing.

Can you—? Yes. Yes, he fucking can. He can feel everything and he wants to wrap his hand around your throat and squeeze.

His eyes roll back. Ngh.

“Fucking wench,” he snarls. You’re a fuckin’ tease and if you edge him again, he is going to murder—

“Ah, ah. Watch your language, Sukuna. Ask nicely.”

He jolts. Finds his eyes cloaked in darkness, arms tied to his back and legs spread. Bare, save for a pair of briefs that’s slick and restricting. Kneeling. The sheets bunch beneath him. Every muscle in his body is tensed, body coated in a thin layer of sweat.

This position—!

“That brat—mmph!” Is that a fucking—gag? Did you just gag him? He struggles harder against the binds, but he feels your lips curl into a smile where you’re suckling against the column of his neck.

“You’re powerless here. The binds will restrict you for the next twenty-four hours … unless you can be good.” You trace the thick knots, smiling only growing at the way he lets out a muffled growl.

Every fucking sense is heightened tenfold. He’s on firefirefire. The flames consuming him inside out, like he’s being exorcised from within.  

It’s humiliating. It’s exhilarating. It feels—

“King of Curses. I want you to beg.” You’re a witch. You’re enthralling. Temptation incarnate. His head falls forward, chest heaving.

“Mmmmf!”

“What a dirty mouth,” you murmur, and his struggling is renewed when he feels your fingers dig into his thighs.

Oi, brat, he growls. What the hell is this?

His vessel is silent, but the back of his mind prickles. He’s watching. That freaky little shit.

“So stubborn. Let go. You’re good at that, aren’t you?” Fuckfuckfuck, you’re palming his cock over the thin fabric. Maybe it’s been a while, maybe there’s a little more truth lurking beneath it, but he vaguely notes he’s never been so hard before.

You—! You’re fuckin’ burning his briefs off. Ash tickles his nose. A small part of him thinks it’s hot. His cock throbs, and even without visual confirmation, he knows you’ve paused at the sheer size. His mouth curls into a lopsided smirk, dark pride making his chest swell. What was he so worked up for? You’ll just end being another one of his breeding bitches, fucked stupid by his thick, long cock.

But then you pinch his left nipple, twisting harshly. Electricity courses through him and a sound he’s never heard in his absurdly long life escape his lips, muffled by the gag. His back arcs, head hitting the mattress beneath him.

His mind blanks, eyes rolling back as white noise fills his ears.

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He rouses slowly.

He blinks lethargically at the ceiling, gaze unfocused. Everything feels muted, limbs heavy like he’s swimming in a pool of ink. But he’s not restrained anymore. There’s a blur of movement in the corner of his eye.

He turns his head to peer at you, half-lidded.

“That’s a very nice expression,” you chuckle, moving to sit by his side. The mattress dips lightly. He lifts a hand to tug at the hem of your outfit, expression twisting at the staggering movement.

“That’s a very nice look on you,” he murmurs in response. You’re wearing one of his vessel’s dress shirts, the oversized fabric falling mid-thigh. It simultaneously swallows you and presses against your curves. Something inside him stirs. His throat feels shot, even though he knows he hasn’t had much of a chance to speak.

You help him sit up, propped against the headrest, before offering him a glass of water. His lips lift into a half-smirk and you sigh, shaking your head but acquiescing. You take a mouthful before kissing him. Water dribbles down his chin.

You wipe it away with a half-fond, half-exasperated expression. His chest tightens.

“How long—?” He tries to move, but you stop him with a firm hand. He’s conflicted at the way his body responds immediately to the touch. His temperature flares despite his obvious fatigue.

“A few hours. I asked if Yuuji would keep you out until you woke.”

There’s a pause, and the knowing look in your eye tells him you know he’s mulling it over.

And then—

He reaches for you, and you set the glass aside to climb on his lap.

He bares his fangs. “Then let’s make the most of it.”

As you press him into the bed, tongue stroking his in such a manner his brain is starting to haze over again quickly, he thinks, brat, we’re going to have a long talk after this.

Sukuna doesn’t expect an answer after his vessel’s continued vigil, so he starts when Itadori replies, she’s ours.

I don’t share, he slurs. He thinks he sees a flicker of Itadori’s grin.

You’re going to have to. Because you like her, too. And she’s the one in control, not either of us.

Dimly, Sukuna acknowledges he’s right. You might be the one bouncing on his cock, but he’s not the one fucking you, you’re the one fucking him.

Fine, he gasps as you run your nails down his abdomen. Deal.

Good, his vessel says. Because I’m next, and you better not get in the way.

He growls, eyebrows knitting.

Your smile only grows.