#there’s so much going on that you have to dig for the obvious

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hey there! I saw in one of another post of yours that you dealt with hoarding, any tips for de-hoarding the house?

Oh boy, do I have a lot. Here's what has helped me, a hoarder who lived several years at Level 4 (squalor, utilities shut off frequently):

Always be kind to yourself. Hoarding is a disorder and for me it was triggered by accumulated trauma. It will take a while to dig out, and you will likely have to wrestle with hoarding urges all your life.

Mindset tips:

Space is more valuable than stuff. Clear pathways, room to sit & sleep, prepare food, work on crafts -- it is *valuable*

Your home is not an optimization problem for storage. Again, space and clean surfaces are necessary! Not having paralysis of choice is valuable!

Cultivate awareness of when you aquire things and devise ways to break out of a buying pattern - put the phone away, go for a walk, etc.

Make some short-term rules: nothing comes in before two things go out. Only buy things you know you will use in the next month. Etc.

Kill sunk-cost-fallacy. The real value is peace of mind, not the potential of an object.

Decluttering tips

Clean out trash, first. Just get the obvious garbage out so you have space to work in.

Get some bankers boxes or bins. Create a group for sale/donate. Put some "keep" boxes in each room.

Start with 1 room to declutter. Again - trash, first. Then, go through objects in that room, putting in the group sale/donate boxes, or directly into the "keep" box for the room that object should live in. Don't worry about *where* in the room the "keep" items go in -- they go in the box, for now.

Try to get the decluttered room to a point where you can move furniture for a deep clean. And try to avoid putting anything in this room that doesn't belong there. You are focusing on 1 room at a time to fix.

Assess your decluttered room for how it might encourage hoarding. Again, is there not enough space? Do you need to take out or rearrange furniture to encourage living/working surfaces?

Don't be in a rush to sort through any of your boxes. Focus on reclaiming space.

Go through the boxes after you've had time to decompress. Some time should have passed and you now can look at your items more neutrally.

For your possessions, ask: does this spark joy? Do I have something similar already? Why am I holding onto it? Is the potential worth the time and space to hang onto it? If it is sentimental, is there a better way to use or display it? If it is broken or a crafting item, will I really fix/use it?

Get in the habit of giving objects a permanent home. Label shelves, bins, whatever else you need to.

Maintenance tips:

Avoid buying things when you're overly emotional

Designate landing pads for items. They don't have to be in the traditional places -- if you take your shoes off in the kitchen, then buy a boot tray and put it in there. Always put your wallet in the same space. Etc.

If daily clutter overtakes surfaces in your home, consider catch-all baskets. I have some in high traffic areas, like the dining room, staircase, and living room. Go through the baskets on a regular basis to weed out junk and put items away where they live.

Be honest with how much time you have to enjoy your possessions. Will you read that many books? Wear all those clothes? Make all those crafting kits? Are you spending more time aquiring vs enjoying?

Regularly assess your belongings and see what you can let go. If you are not sure yet, put items in a box and see if you can live without for several months. Date the box, and be brutal about dealing with it in the time frame you decide upon.

Get into a chore routine. Sometimes, chores are easier if the cleaning supplies are right there. I have an upstairs vacuum and a downstairs vacuum for this very reason.

A 10 minute "reset" at the end of the day goes really far, especially if you are a crafter.

Find something more benign to collect, if you are a magpie. I collect public domain stuff in digital format, video game items, etc. I'd rather be a hoarder in Skyrim than IRL.

I also "collect" experiences now -- I am currently seeing how many different trails I can hike. Maybe you would like something like birdwatching, to sate your hoarding urges. Redirection can go a long way.

I can go more into specifics, but these are always on my mind when I think about controlling one's hoarding. I hope it helps!

[cassiemaebarnes]

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 13

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Masterlist

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 6,607

Warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI, explicit content

Dinner had come and gone in a blur of laughter, drinks, and more food than anyone really needed. Plates were cleared, the server brought out coffees and dessert menus, and no one seemed in a rush to leave. The group had lingered, sprawled out around the big round table, as they settled into casual conversation.

You were leaned slightly into Bucky, your shoulder against his, both of you sipping from warm mugs while the others chattered around you.

Inevitably, the conversation circled back to the elevator.

��So,” Sam said, leaning forward with a smirk, “we’re just not gonna talk about it anymore? Like it didn’t happen?”

You groaned. “We already talked about it.”

Clint pointed a spoon at you. “We watched it. That’s different.”

Wanda nodded thoughtfully. “It was very…passionate.”

“Explosive,” Nat added with a smug grin.

Peter looked mildly traumatized. “It was so fast. The doors closed and it was like – bam.”

“You didn’t even breathe first,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Just immediate heat.”

Bucky gave an amused sigh beside you. “You act like we staged it.”

“Honestly,” Tony chimed in, “with that kind of timing? I’m not ruling it out.”

Wanda shook her head, but she was smiling too. “We knew something was going on. It was obvious.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Obvious, but still…surprising.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, looking between the two of you. “You guys were all slow-burn tension, lingering glances, brushing hands – then suddenly we’re watching a rom-com finale in an elevator.”

Nat tilted her head. “So…when did it actually start?”

All eyes turned to you and Bucky.

You exchanged a glance. A silent agreement passed between you.

“Yesterday,” you said casually. “After shopping.”

There was a beat of silence.

“That’s it?” Sam said. “You go shopping and come back soulmates?”

“Must’ve been some really good sales,” Tony muttered.

Clint leaned forward. “Did something happen at Victoria’s Secret?”

You just gave a tight-lipped smile and took another sip of your drink.

Bucky rested his hand on your knee under the table. “Let’s just say things escalated.”

Peter buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

Wanda laughed softly. “You don’t have to tell us. We already know too much.”

“Way too much,” Steve added with a pointed look at Tony, who was still very proud of himself for digging up the footage.

“Not like that,” you said, waving them off. “We actually almost got kicked out for laughing so hard.”

“You almost got kicked out for laughing,” Bucky said, giving you a look.

“You were the one making me laugh!” you fired back, pointing a finger at him.

“Not my fault I’m funny,” he said, smirking.

“Well if you didn’t get kicked out for laughing, you would’ve gotten kicked out for touching all the thongs,” you said, raising your eyebrows at him.

That got the table’s full attention.

Tony nearly spit out his drink. “I’m sorry – what?”

“Excuse me?” Nat said, eyes already gleaming.

Bucky held up a hand like he was under oath. “Okay, pause. That sounds worse than it was.”

“Oh, I need to hear this,” Sam said, leaning forward with way too much interest.

“I was just–” Bucky started, but you were already cutting in.

“He was grabbing them. Holding them up and inspecting them like he was on a mission.”

“I was making observations,” Bucky said defensively. “They were tiny. It was a scientific evaluation.”

Clint was nearly wheezing. “What kind of science experiment involves fondling lace?”

“I wasn’t fondling! I was–” Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, look. I was just picking them up and making comments.”

“Oh, he was,” you said, eyes twinkling. “He picked up this bright pink one and said, ‘This barely counts as fabric.’”

Sam was laughing now. “He’s not wrong.”

“He held up a mesh one and said it looked like a bag of onions from the grocery store,” you added.

That sent Wanda and Nat into giggles, and even Steve had to bite back a smile.

“You’re killing me,” Peter mumbled, red-faced and trying not to picture anything.

“I was just trying to entertain her!” Bucky said, throwing his hands up. “It was a distraction tactic. She was blushing so hard I thought she might pass out.”

“And yet,” you said sweetly, “you still walked me in there. Proud as anything.”

“I carried your bag,” he muttered. “Like a gentleman.”

“You also asked the cashier if they made bulletproof versions.”

That broke the table.

Even Steve lost it, laughing into his glass as Sam wiped tears from his eyes.

“I cannot believe you two are real,” Nat said, shaking her head.

“Oh, they’re real,” Tony said, already reaching for his phone again. “And I’ve got a whole folder to prove it.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Bucky muttered under his breath, “I’m going to rewire the elevator system. Tonight.”

“Why, you planning on doing more in there?” Clint said, raising his eyebrows.

You just shook your head as the rest of the team kept laughing.

The teasing continued for a few more minutes, but eventually, someone changed the subject – probably Steve, out of mercy. You leaned back into Bucky’s side, still red-faced but laughing, your hand brushing against his under the table.

And even if you couldn’t keep the story straight, the secret was long gone.

But somehow, it all felt even better this way.

--

Eventually, everyone started to get up from their seats, finally filing out of the restaurant. When you got back to the compound, it was almost midnight.

Everyone else scattered, heading back to their rooms, but you stayed in the kitchen, pulling the freezer door open.

“Midnight snack?” Bucky asked, coming up behind you.

“Yep. I deserve it,” you said, grabbing a pint of your favorite ice cream out of the freezer.

Bucky was already opening the silverware drawer, pulling out two spoons. He handed you one as you pulled the lid off.

You dug in first, taking a big bite and sighing as you leaned against the counter.

Buck took a bite next as you just looked at him.

“I thought you only liked old man flavors,” you said, scooping up another bite.

“They’re not old man flavors,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Then why is it only old men who get them?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“Because they’re the only ones smart enough to know that this,” he said, pointing his spoon at the container, “is too sweet.”

“Oh please,” you said, waving him off. “Only an old man would say that.”

He just side-eyed you and smirked. “I guess you’re into old men then.”

“I guess I am,” you said, smiling up at him.

You kept eating in silence for a few minutes, until you finally decided on a plan of action. You didn’t forget about what he did in the elevator earlier, and you needed to get him back double since everyone else saw it now, too.

You took another slow spoonful, casually leaning against the island. “Hey, Buck?”

He glanced over at you, still chewing. “Yeah?”

You grinned – then let your spoon “slip,” just slightly, letting a dollop of ice cream fall right onto your shirt, just over your chest.

You gasped dramatically. “Ugh – dammit.”

Bucky froze, spoon halfway to his mouth.

“I hate when that happens,” you said, voice as innocent as possible, looking down at your shirt like it was just another everyday inconvenience.

He just eyed you with an amused look on his face before reaching over and grabbing a paper towel.

But before he could say anything, you set the pint on the counter, grabbed the hem of your shirt with both hands, and in one fluid motion, pulled it off.

Revealing your new red bra.

You shook your head like it was nothing, plucking the paper towel out of his hand as his eyes swept over you, landing on your chest.

“Ugh, thanks Bucky. Such a mess,” you muttered, patting at your skin.

Bucky had not moved.

Not a blink. Not a breath.

Just wide blue eyes, completely transfixed.

“Bucky?” you asked sweetly, glancing over your shoulder.

Still frozen.

“Hmm?” he finally croaked.

You tossed the paper towel in the trash and casually walked past him toward the doorway, letting your bare shoulders and red straps do all the work.

You paused beside him, your voice low and smooth in his ear. “That was for the elevator.”

Then you disappeared down the hallway, leaving him standing there, spoon still in hand, looking like someone had just hit pause on his entire nervous system.

But you weren’t done yet.

You pulled your shirt back on before stepping in the elevator, not wanting Tony to have any more embarrassing videos.

And as you walked down the hall to your room, you pulled the group chat up on your phone, attached the video of Bucky sleep talking, then pressed send.

You grinned as you stepped into your bedroom.

You pulled your shirt off again, then threw on an oversized t-shirt, making sure you could still see the red bra straps as you made your way back downstairs. As you walked into the elevator again, the group chat was already blowing up.

Natasha: Oh my god😭

Sam: “THE CAT TOOK THE SYRUP” I’M LOSING IT 💀💀💀

Tony: Please tell me this is the start of a documentary. “The Waffle Wars: Barnes’ Untold Story”

Peter: WHY DOES THIS SOUND LIKE A PIXAR MOVIE

I would 100% watch it

Steve: He always did take breakfast seriously.

Clint: “Waffles got legs.” Me too, man. Me too. 🤝

Wanda: Is he okay?? 😭😂

Sam: This man is fighting demons in a diner at 3 am

Tony: “NO BUTTER” – he said that with his chest

You: He’s literally going to kill me when he sees this 😂

Natasha: Worth it. We needed this.

Peter: can we auto-tune it and make a remix???

Tony: Already on it. Dropping the track by midnight. Featuring DJ Syrupcat.

Steve: Please don’t encourage him.

Sam: Too late. It’s gonna be my ringtone

Bucky: …I hate all of you

Tony: 🥞🥞🥞🥞🥞

Sam: 🐱🥄

Peter: 🧇🦵

You: I’m sleeping with one eye open tonight.

Bucky: Good. So am I. Gotta protect my pancakes.

When you walked back into the kitchen, Bucky was leaning up against the counter on his phone as you tried to hold in a laugh.

He looked up right away, giving you a look. “Seriously?”

“Hey, I had to get you back double since you got us exposed.”

“I don’t remember you exactly pushing me off in the elevator,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you. “In fact, I remember you wrapping your legs around me.”

“Because you picked me up and pinned me against the wall!” you yelled, trying not to laugh.

“And you know you liked it,” he fired back, smirking.

You paused, then just sighed and rolled your eyes, knowing you couldn’t argue.

Because you did like it.

You leaned back against the island, and before you could reach for the ice cream again, Bucky took a step toward you, looking down at you with a smirk. He stopped right in front of you, then reached out and placed his hands on your hips.

“So you do like when I pick you up, huh doll?” he said, picking you up effortlessly and setting you on the counter.

Your heart started beating like crazy, but you didn’t want him to get the satisfaction of making you flustered again. So you just raised an eyebrow at him.

“I think you’re the one who likes picking me up.”

He just kept his eyes on you, trying to make you break. But you just held his eye contact for a little longer, before turning to grab the pint of ice cream and your spoon.

You started swinging your legs back and forth, with them brushing against Bucky’s legs, like sitting on the counter like this was completely normal. You scooped up a big spoonful of ice cream, eating it before you dipped it back in and held up a spoonful to Bucky’s mouth.

“Want some?” you said with your mouth full.

He just huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“I hate you, actually.”

“Really?” you said, tapping your chin while your legs were still swinging. “Because I vividly remember you telling me you liked me just this morning.”

He just chuckled and shook his head again. “Just eat your ice cream.”

He took a step back so he wasn’t so close, but he still kept a hand on your hip as you continued eating.

A few minutes later you sighed and set the container down next to you. “I’m full.”

Without saying a word, Bucky just stepped away and put the lid back on the ice cream before slipping it back in the freezer. He took both of your spoons and rinsed them in the sink as you leaned back on your hands, watching him.

Then, he walked back over to you, grabbing your waist and lifting you up off the counter, setting you back on your feet on the ground.

You raised an eyebrow. “You seriously think I can’t jump down from the counter.”

“No. I think you wanted me to pick you up again,” he responded, smirking.

You just rolled your eyes again and smacked him lightly on the arm as you started walking away, him following right behind you.

“Ugh, I can’t wait to get out of these jeans,” you said, pulling at the waistband. “I should’ve changed when I went up the first time.”

“Are you gonna come back to my room after?” Bucky asked, looking down at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What, you think you’re gonna get some?” you asked, laughing.

“No,” he said, softly, looking a little embarrassed. “I just sleep better when you’re there.”

You could’ve melted right there.

But you just smiled at him, feeling bad for joking with him now. “Of course I will.”

He smiled at you, then you looped your arm through his, leaning your head on his shoulder as you continued down the hallway toward the elevator.

When you got in, Bucky pressed 8, saying he would just go up to your room with you.

You walked into your room and went straight to your dresser as Bucky plopped down on the edge of your bed.

You pulled open your drawer and immediately peeled off your jeans, stepping out of them. You grabbed a pair of sleep shorts and pulled them on, then bent down and picked up your jeans.

You took a step toward your laundry basket, then froze, not even realizing what you did until now.

You slowly turned toward Bucky, jeans still in hand.

He looked a little shocked when you made eye contact with him, but not as bad as you thought he was gonna be.

“Sorry,” you said, cringing. “I promise I didn’t mean to do that. I already got back at you enough,” you said, laughing.

He just shook his head and looked down, chuckling. “You’re gonna kill me doll.”

You threw your jeans in the basket before going into the bathroom and getting ready for bed. You also took your bra off, knowing you definitely couldn’t do that in front of Bucky.

When you came back out of the bathroom, Bucky was standing near your door, waiting for you. You padded over and gave him a little smirk as he fell into step beside you, both of you walking quietly to his room.

Once inside, you headed straight for his bed, climbing in and laying back against the pillows. You pulled the blanket up over you, watching him from across the room without bothering to hide it.

Bucky didn’t say anything, just started getting changed – right in front of you. He reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up over his head, his muscles flexing with the motion, the ridges of his abs visible in the soft lighting as he tossed the shirt aside.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep your face neutral, but your heart rate definitely didn’t get the memo.

Then he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and slowly pushed them down, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. He stood there for a moment before turning toward you, clearly aware of the way your eyes followed him, the smallest smirk tugging at his lips.

“See something you like?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

You rolled your eyes, even as your face heated up. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled, clearly not buying it, then turned to grab a pair of sweatpants, tugging them on at a leisurely pace before pulling a t-shirt over his head. You just kept watching, not even trying to be subtle anymore.

When he disappeared into the bathroom, you let out a slow breath and blinked up at the ceiling.

A few minutes later, the bathroom light flicked off and the door opened again. You watched as he crossed the room and climbed into bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly as he slid closer and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in against his chest.

“Comfortable?” he murmured against your ear.

You smiled softly. “Very.”

There was a pause, then he added, “You know you drive me crazy, right?”

Your smile grew. “I know.”

His hand lightly traced patterns against your side through your shirt, and you shifted to look up at him.

He was already looking down at you, a mix of softness and hunger in his eyes.

You pushed yourself up slowly, giving him a little smirk before kissing him.

His hands immediately went up into your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. Your hand cupped the side of his face, before you slowly lowered it and roamed over his chest and abs.

You broke the kiss, breathing heavily as you sat up. Bucky lifted his head immediately, looking at you like a sad puppy, causing you to smirk at him even more. He pushed himself up and shifted back, so he was leaning against the headboard.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, you swung your leg over him, straddling him. He froze, then slowly smiled, leaning back in to kiss you before his hands grabbed your hips.

You slung your arms around his neck, one hand going up into his hair as your other stayed on his back, feeling his tight muscles through his t-shirt.

He deepened the kiss once again, tongue beginning to part your lips, exploring your mouth.

Slowly, you started to rock back and forth on his lap, pulling a low groan out of him. He gripped your hips harder now, not stopping you, but making sure you keep a slow, steady rhythm.

You slid your hands down his chest again, then around his waist, pulling him flush against your chest. Bucky’s hands slowly slid up, underneath the hem of your shirt, resting on your waist.

You stopped moving as you grabbed the bottom of Bucky’s shirt, pulling away from him as you pulled it over his head. He gave you a smug smirk as your eyes roamed over his chest and arms before you leaned in to kiss him again.

Bucky’s hands slowly started moving higher, the difference between the warm flesh and cool vibranium sending shivers throughout your body. He noticed, smiling against your lips before moving his hands to your back, pushing you further into his chest.

You could feel him getting hard beneath you now, the growing pressure unmistakable as your bodies pressed together. It only made your breath hitch, your hips stuttering slightly in response.

Bucky let out a low groan against your mouth, his lips moving with yours before he started trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You tilted your head for him instinctively, eyes fluttering shut as he nipped lightly at your pulse point, then soothed it with his tongue.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your skin, his voice low and raspy.

You let out a soft sigh as he kept going – down to your collarbones, taking his time, tasting every inch of exposed skin. His hands roamed your back and sides, fingers gripping like he didn’t want to let go.

When he reached the neckline of your shirt, he paused. One hand slipped down to the hem, fingers curling under it, lifting just slightly.

His other hand pressed gently to the center of your back, holding you against him as he looked up at you. His eyes were dark, but still so tender.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, breathless but careful. “Can I take this off?”

Your heart clenched at the way he asked – checking in, even now, with so much care in his voice.

You nodded, whispering, “Yeah. It’s okay.”

He didn’t move for a second, just stared up at you like he was trying to memorize the moment. Then he slowly tugged the shirt up, lifting it over your head and tossing it gently to the side.

When his eyes met your chest and he realized you weren’t wearing a bra, he froze again.

His breath caught in his throat, and his hands moved instinctively to your waist, holding you in place as his gaze slowly traveled over your bare skin.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed, but the way he looked at you – like he couldn’t believe you were real – made you feel like you were glowing.

You leaned in and kissed him again, this time slower, more deliberate. Bucky let his hands wander up your back and over your sides, memorizing every curve like it was sacred.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging gently as you kissed him, but then Bucky suddenly shifted.

In one smooth, effortless motion, he flipped you – rolling you onto your back and pressing himself over you in one fluid move. You let out a soft gasp of surprise, heart pounding as you looked up at him.

He was smirking again, that same cocky expression that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Show-off,” you breathed, your voice slightly shaky from the rush of movement.

“You love it,” he whispered, his nose brushing against yours before he kissed you again – slower this time, but deeper. His body settled between your legs, weight supported by his elbows as he moved against you.

Then he broke the kiss, lips trailing down your jaw and neck once more, making you shiver as he lingered there. His tongue flicked out over your skin before his lips followed, warm and soft and relentless.

He kissed down to your collarbone, then lower.

Your breath hitched.

His mouth found the curve of your breast, and he paused, eyes flicking up to meet yours one more time. Just making sure.

You gave the faintest nod, already dizzy with anticipation.

That was all he needed.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking gently, his tongue swirling in slow circles before he moved to the other, giving each the same reverent attention. His metal hand held your waist, grounding you, while his other slid up your side to cup your breast, thumb brushing lightly as his mouth kept working.

You arched into him, moaning softly, fingers gripping his shoulder. His hips rocked forward, slow and deliberate, pressing himself against you.

Even through the layers of clothing, you could feel the heat between you – the pressure building, the tension thrumming just under your skin.

“Bucky…” you whispered, voice barely there.

He didn’t rush.

He stayed there for a while, still worshipping your chest with soft, open-mouthed kisses, dragging his tongue slowly over your skin and letting his teeth graze lightly before soothing the spot with a kiss. You were a mess beneath him – breath shaky, fingers tangled in the sheets, body aching for more.

But he took his time. Like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

When he finally started to move lower, his kisses trailed down your stomach, slow and deliberate. He paused at your belly button, giving you a little smirk before kissing just below it.

Then, just as you were starting to squirm from the anticipation, he pressed one last kiss to your lower stomach and started making his way back up. He kissed between your ribs, up your sternum, then back to your lips, where he kissed you deeply – tongue sliding against yours, one hand cradling the back of your head.

When he pulled back, his lips brushed against your cheek as he whispered, “Can I take these off, sweetheart?” His fingers were already hooked lightly in the waistband of your sleep shorts, waiting for your okay.

You nodded, voice caught in your throat, but that wasn’t enough for him. His eyes locked with yours again, more serious this time. “Say it, baby.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please.”

That was all he needed.

He sat back a little, pulling your shorts down slowly – like he wanted to savor it – and dropped them off the side of the bed. You were left in just your underwear now, your chest rising and falling fast.

Bucky’s eyes drank you in for a second before he lowered himself again, trailing kisses over your hipbone, then down your inner thigh. His vibranium hand held your knee gently, keeping your leg steady as he pressed kisses there too.

You gasped softly when his thumb rubbed lightly over the damp spot at the center of your underwear. He groaned, low and rough in his throat.

“Fuck, baby…” he said, voice low. “You’re soaked.”

You turned your head to the side, heat blooming across your cheeks.

He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear now. “That all for me?” he asked, voice rough and teasing. His thumb rubbed slow circles over the wet fabric, applying just the slightest pressure.

You whimpered, biting your lip. “Yes.”

He kissed your cheek. “Good,” he said, voice barely a growl. “Because I’m not stopping ‘til I’ve got you falling apart for me.”

Bucky pressed one last kiss just above the edge of your underwear, then looked up at you, eyes dark but still so full of care.

“Can I take these off too, baby?” he asked softly, his fingers already toying with the sides, but not moving further until you answered.

You nodded quickly, breath catching. “Yes. Please.”

He didn’t waste another second.

With slow, steady hands, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and tugged them down your legs, eyes never leaving your face. Once they were off and tossed aside, he leaned back in, one hand resting on your thigh as he trailed kisses up the inside again – this time much closer, much more deliberate.

You felt his breath first – warm and slow against your already-sensitive skin. Then his lips. Gentle at first, like he was easing you into it. But when you gasped and your hips twitched, his hands held you down more firmly.

He looked up for a second, smirking. “That’s it, doll…just let me take care of you.”

And then he really started.

His tongue moved in slow, expert strokes, switching between teasing licks and deep, purposeful movements that had you gasping for air. Your fingers dove into his hair without even thinking, tugging hard as you moaned his name like it was the only word you knew.

“Bucky – oh my god–”

That only spurred him on. He groaned low against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your body. He gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you spread for him as he focused entirely on you – like this was all he wanted, all he needed.

And you couldn’t stop saying his name.

Over and over, breathless and shaky, like a prayer.

Your hips started to roll against his mouth on instinct, every slow stroke of his tongue drawing you closer and closer to the edge. He kept you there, his hands steady on your thighs, mouth relentless in his focus.

Then – without warning – he shifted slightly, bringing one hand up, and you felt the lightest press of his finger against your entrance.

Your breath hitched. His eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“Okay?” he asked, voice low and hoarse against your skin.

You nodded quickly. “Yes – yes, please.”

With that, he slowly eased one finger inside you, keeping the pressure firm but gentle, still moving his tongue in perfect rhythm.

You arched beneath him, the new sensation overwhelming in the best way. Your fingers tightened in his hair, your thighs trembling around his shoulders as you gasped.

“Bucky – fuck–”

He groaned again, loving the way you said his name, the way your body reacted to him. He added a little curl of his finger as he moved it in and out of you, syncing the pace with his mouth until your whole body was practically humming with tension.

“That’s it,” he murmured between kisses. “You sound so good, baby. You taste even better.”

You whimpered, hips jerking as you clung to the edge, your whole body coiling tight like a spring. His finger moved deeper, firmer, mouth never stopping – his tongue, his lips, his voice all combining into something that pushed you higher and higher.

You were so close now it was unbearable.

“Bucky – I’m–” you gasped, barely able to form words.

He just hummed in response, his free hand sliding up to hold your waist gently, grounding you while you started to come undone.

Your words fell apart as your body seized with pleasure, a high gasp escaping your lips as your back arched and your thighs clamped around him. He didn’t stop – his finger kept moving in that perfect rhythm, his mouth softening just slightly but staying with you through every wave, every tremble, every broken moan of his name.

“That's it,” he murmured, voice low and full of awe between kisses to your inner thigh. “That’s my girl.”

You felt like you were floating, your whole body trembling as the rush of your orgasm pulsed through you. Your fingers slackened in his hair but didn’t let go entirely. He slowed his pace gently, easing you down from the high, coaxing you through every last ripple of sensation.

Only when your legs finally stopped shaking did he press one last kiss to the inside of your thigh, then your hip. You let out a soft, breathy sigh as he pulled back, and the bed dipped when he crawled up over you again.

His hand slid up your side, and then you felt the warmth of his mouth on your jaw, your cheek, your lips. He kissed you like he meant it – slow, sweet, and deep.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered between kisses. “So damn beautiful. You should see yourself.”

Your heart clenched at the way he looked at you – like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held.

You smiled sleepily, still catching your breath. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

He grinned, brushing his nose against yours. “Yeah, but I’ve got nothing on you.”

Then he leaned down and kissed you again, his hand gently brushing your hair back as if you were something to be cherished.

Bucky’s mouth moved hungrily against yours, hands caressing your waist as the heat between your bodies grew almost unbearable. He finally sat back slightly, eyes never leaving yours as his hands moved to the waistband of his sweatpants.

With one swift motion, he pulled them down and kicked them off, followed by his boxers. You felt your breath hitch as your eyes instinctively dropped – he was fully hard now, and…big. Like, bigger than you expected. Your heart thudded in your chest.

“Too much?” he asked, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips, but there was sincerity in his voice too – he was asking seriously, giving you an out if you needed it.

You shook your head slowly, smiling. “Not even close.”

That look he gave you – part hunger, part adoration – sent a full-body shiver through you. He leaned back in, kissing you deeply, slowly. His hips shifted slightly, and you felt him brush against your entrance, just enough to make your body tense with anticipation.

Bucky pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again. “You sure, doll?”

You nodded, voice soft but sure. “I want you.”

He smiled and pressed another kiss to your lips, then trailed down again – along your jaw, your throat, the tops of your breasts. He lingered there, worshipping every inch like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His hands held your sides firmly, grounding you, steadying himself.

He pulled away again, reaching over to open his nightstand and pulling out a condom. He ripped it open before rolling it on, then bent back down to kiss you again.

You felt him guide himself gently, the anticipation building with each heartbeat.

And then – he paused, breath mingling with yours, his eyes never leaving yours.

Everything about this moment was electric: the heat, the tension, the closeness. But more than anything, it was the trust, the care, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world.

Bucky hovered over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other gently cupping your cheek. His thumb brushed softly across your skin as he looked into your eyes, waiting – checking one more time.

You nodded again, barely breathing. “I’m okay,” you whispered.

He leaned down and kissed you, slow and deep, full of warmth and patience. You could feel the way he held himself back, every movement cautious, like he was determined to do this right. To make you feel safe. Cherished.

As he started to press in, he moved slowly, pausing when he felt you tense just slightly.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispered against your lips. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You took a shaky breath, wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders, grounding yourself in the strength of him, the warmth of his body. He kissed the side of your neck as he pushed in a little further.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re so tight baby.”

When he was finally fully inside, you let out a soft gasp, your body adjusting around him. He stilled, resting his forehead against yours.

“You okay?” he asked again, voice low, barely more than a breath.

You nodded, your voice just as soft. “Yeah.”

He kissed you again slowly and began a gentle rhythm, each movement careful and intentional. His hands cradled your sides, holding you like you might break, even though the way you clung to him said the opposite.

After a few minutes, the tension shifted. Your fingers started tugging a little harder at his hair. Your hips rolled to meet his. Your breath caught differently now – more desperate. Needier.

Bucky felt it too. His pace quickened slightly, his grip tightened, and he groaned softly into your neck.

“You feel incredible, baby,” he murmured, voice thick and rough with restraint. “So perfect for me.”

The tenderness was still there – woven into every kiss, every touch – but now the heat was rising between you fast, spreading like fire under your skin.

“Oh, Bucky…” you moaned, nails digging into his shoulder.

Bucky’s breath started to quicken, leaning his forehead against yours as he started to whimper.

“Fuck, doll,” he groaned, quickening his pace.

He let out one last groan before he came unraveled too with a groan, breathing heavily while you let out a sigh.

His breathing was still uneven, chest rising and falling as he hovered just above you, supporting himself with a forearm beside your head. Your hands were gently tangled in his hair, fingertips trailing lightly along his scalp, and Bucky leaned in to rest his forehead against yours.

Neither of you spoke at first. The room was quiet, other than the soft hum of the building and your slow, steady breaths syncing together.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, voice low and sincere, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You nodded, eyes still half-closed. “Yeah,” you whispered. “More than okay.”

Bucky smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple, before shifting his weight and lying beside you. He curled his arm around your waist, pulling you close until your head was tucked against his chest. His hand rubbed small circles on your back, soothing and warm.

“I still can’t believe you’re mine,” he murmured, lips brushing against your hair.

You laughed softly, the sound muffled against his skin. “I’ve been yours.”

He exhaled, almost like a laugh, and tightened his grip just slightly. “I mean it, doll. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your fingers tracing lazy shapes on his chest. “I think I’m starting to.”

For a moment, you just looked at each other – all the teasing and tension from earlier replaced with something quieter, deeper. His expression was so open, so full of affection, it made your heart ache in the best way.

Then he leaned down and kissed you again – slow, tender, like a promise he was sealing between the two of you.

A few minutes later, you slowly sat up, muscles pleasantly sore and spent. The room was quiet except for the gentle hum of the AC and the sound of Bucky’s breathing beside you – steady, calm, comforting.

“Be right back,” you whispered, brushing your fingers softly over his arm before slipping out of bed.

You padded to the bathroom, still a little wobbly on your feet, and shut the door behind you. You went to the bathroom and splashed some cool water on your face after you washed your hands. You caught your reflection in the mirror and smiled to yourself – flushed cheeks, messed up hair, and a kind of glow you couldn’t quite describe.

When you returned to the bedroom, Bucky was sitting on the edge of the bed now, leaning down to pick up his boxers. As he pulled them back on, you grabbed your sleep shorts and put them on, along with his shirt – oversized and soft – before crawling back into bed beside him.

He rolled toward you immediately, gathering you up like a blanket he’d been missing all night.

“You’re so warm,” he mumbled against your hair.

You giggled softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re the one radiating heat like a space heater.”

“Mm, shut up and cuddle me,” he said, smirking at you.

You settled in closer, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as your head tucked beneath his chin. His fingers lazily traced up and down your spine, slow and absent-minded.

After a long, peaceful pause, he whispered, “You really stayed.”

You tilted your head just enough to look up at him. “I told you I would.”

“I know, but…” He looked down at you, brushing some hair back from your face. “I still can’t believe I get to fall asleep like this.”

You smiled, heart clenching. “Get used to it.”

He smiled back, soft and sleepy. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice a little raspy. “I think I could.”

With one last kiss to your forehead, you both sank into the mattress again, legs tangled, bodies perfectly aligned. Sleep tugged at your limbs, but it wasn’t the exhaustion of before – it was the kind that only came with feeling safe. Held. Loved.

You drifted off in his arms, the steady beat of his heart the last thing you heard before you fell asleep.

--

Part 14 | Masterlist

Tag list: @ordelixx @read-just-cant-stop @erinallene @crazycleo @magnoliamermaid @thewriters64 @nelachu2423 @kjah97 @awesompawsum @winchestert101 @buckyb-stan @crazyunsexycool @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @buckybarnesfic @ozwriterchick @multiversefanfics @blavikennbutcher @mysoggywaffle @nameless-ken @starfly-nicole @440mxs-wife @vicmc624 @lostinspace33 @prettylittlepluviophile @softpia @maryevm @glossy01 @ye-olde-trash-panda @bonnyclydecat @iyskgd @ohdrey89 @death-in-love @herejustforbuckybarnes @whitewolfluvr @violetpassionfruit @lcolumbia1988 @silas-aeiou @avengemepercy

[ovaryacted]

I’m gonna be honest with y’all, I’m not answering these asks that keep coming into my inbox talking about the post I made, what I said, xyz because most of the talking points from said anons remains the same: I’m bullying people, not everyone thinks TLOU incorporates trauma porn as a plot device, liking the show isn’t an endorsement of zionism, I shouldn’t be engaging in the fandom if I hate the source material so much, I should have been nicer, I’m lying about my personal experiences and why I’m even bringing this up in the first place.

I knew from the jump that if I made that post I was going to get shit for it, and I also knew it wouldn’t have mattered if I added the screenshots, if I didn’t, if I shortened the post or were any less reactionary. I would’ve gotten the same response and reaction? Why? Because some people don’t know how to not be ignorant. It wouldn’t have mattered whether I made the post or didn’t, or if I liked somebody else’s posts about the same topics we keep talking about in circles, the result would have been the same. I knew in advance what was coming towards me, I didn’t anticipate how quickly, if I’m being real, but from the messages I have been getting, it’s obvious that people are more upset about me making the post versus why I made it.

Simply put, people just don’t get it. Whether they decide to purposefully ignore things or not is up to them.

Many of you are being purposefully obtuse about how that original post came off. Only a couple of people have been vocal about the problems of S2 of TLOU recently, regardless of the second game coming out, and how the show may include some of the same themes, if not worse, considering how they’re changing things in the show. That’s primarily me, Vetty, and Noelle. I’m sure others have been talking about it as well whom I probably haven’t had the pleasure of engaging with directly, but considering I have been one of the few people openly talking about the perception of the show, the connections to harmful themes behind it, and how Pedro being a latino man a color with a background of coming from a family of political refugees changes things; the original post does seem like a dig at the 5-6 people bringing that specific point up.

I’ve seen passive-aggressive posts on here talking about how those who talk about critiques of TLOU, plot issues and bad writing aside, are ruining the experience for others, and that we should just shut up. I think that’s the problem with this whole situation. A lot of you would rather ignore other people’s voices for your comfort and enjoyment at their expense, and you just can’t admit to that. Like so many people have said before, this is the approach many of you in the fandom have taken when it comes to literally anything, whether consciously or unconsciously. You all preach about spreading kindness and building community, but don’t care when those who don’t feel welcomed speak up when they are being targeted for actually existing in the same way their existence is targeted in real life.

Many of us, I’m sure, live in the imperial core, being the United States. We’ve grown accustomed to living through violence, mass death, and likewise have been conditioned to determine who should be put on the chopping block for our comforts. We are living and witnessing multiple genocides, some have “slowed down”, some never stopped, but acting like having critical thinking skills towards media that feeds off of these very concepts that will eventually trickle down to us is a crime and a personal attack, shows your lack of perception.

Of course, I was frustrated and reactionary when I made that post a few hours ago, it’s a talking point I’ve made personally, on this page, multiple times that many people have seen and unfollowed me for. Why are y’all blaming me for my tone and approach of all things, as if I haven’t been getting the short end of the stick every time I had something to say? Why do I have to be the one to remain cordial when damn near every one of y’all keep engaging in bullshit posts? Let me simplify why I’m upset and then maybe y’all will get it:

What many others and I have been saying repeatedly is that aligning yourselves with people who continuously post about moral justifications ruining their consumption and enjoyment makes your general approach to said consumption problematic. Nobody, literally nobody, is telling anyone to stop watching the show, because that would make us all hypocrites. We ALL are either watching the show, playing the game, writing about either source, etc. The main reason why is because we want to, because we can, because we enjoy it, because we love Joel Miller and want to fuck him, that’s a no brainer. That’s why we’re in the fandom, right? That’s why it exists. But the problem here is saying that those who bring up their critiques are purposefully making fandom spaces negative by using their critical thinking skills and viewing things in a real-world perspective, with current real-world politics, some do not have. Making posts like that is dismissive as hell; frankly, it’s dumb and petty. This is why I hate the fandom more than I hate the material, and I’ve already made peace with the fact that I don’t want to partake in this hellhole anymore. Y’all got it. Nobody is ruining the fandom, it’s already been ruined so many times over, it’s a dumpster fire now.

At the end of the day, you can have your opinions on the show; nobody is saying you can’t enjoy it, and nobody has been saying that. All I’ve been saying, at least, is to have some sense when it comes to people from marginalized backgrounds bringing up things you may not even consider. If you want to die behind the show and what it carries, fine, by all means, do that. But people see how you move on here, whether you think it’ll come off a certain way or not. We’re not stupid, I certainly am not even if some of y’all are thinking this all chronically online regurgitated bullshit as if my degree isn’t on the very institutional systems that harm us in modern day society and I have my personal experiences as a community member and legal advocate. Whatever you think of me doesn’t take away from the fact that marginalized voices are constantly suppressed, judged, and dogpiled everywhere constantly from those who don’t want to hear it or don’t care because it somehow interferes with their ability to enjoy things.

[clandestineivory]

hey fleurrrrrr

it's me, the demon (you know who)

can I request smth about Shadow Milk's canonical fragile body? Like- what do you think he'd do and stuff idk

(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ anon btw and you know who I am

okay (my fingers hurt but what the hell it's smc and I'm ready to work)

Shadow Milk Cookie Headcanons: "Fragile."

Summary: I think the crisis of arthritis is affecting me now because oh my lord my hands hurt like hell (it's been happening to my family for so long and I'm next nawww) I had to go do some digging about this and yknow what "(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ anon"? This is gonna be some extra headcanons because I need a redo and I think he's so wet cat coded with that fuck-ass haircut

Warning: Swearing (i fear it was obvious), bad grammar, possible ooc, lazy. So very lazy. a/n: I'm tired after finishing a sewing project and having to deal with 3 google slide presentations (chat I'm COOKED) I don't wanna talk abt 9/11 and then about Frida Kahlo and THEN about Kaumuali'i like how does this even happen to me

He should've been voiced by a vocaloid but nobody's ready to hear my weird opinion (no hate to the va though i love his talent)

I think he'd put on a front about how he's so strong and mighty and smart (and I can admit that he's smart), but c'mon. Look at him. He uses magic more than he uses his legs to walk.

Do you think he wonders why the Witch baked him like that though- just a fleeting thought that comes up from time to time when he's actually siting on a solid surface. His power lies in intellect, illusion, and psychological manipulation, not brawn. Not like Burning Spice Cookie (who definitely has some smarts of his own, I promise you. ruthless and calculating muscular men my beloved)

He might even tell himself it doesn’t matter, really! That he redefined his own purpose, made him a better version of what he used to be! (But the slight doubt lingers. Of course the Master of Deceit can act and pretend so much so that he forgot what was real behind the glamour and theatricals)

I think he'd use magic to cheat his way out of doing most physical stuff. It's as easy as breathing, so why would he want to take the harder, more taxing way? Sounds boring, doesn't it?

Anyways I think he's allergic to bleach

And honestly, look at him. Does he really look like the typa cookie to be strong (physically)?

He'd probably be wobbly on his legs when he actually has to stand and walk around yknow.

Leans against the wall and pretends to act all mysterious but he's probably SLUMPED against that thing oml get this guy some crutches or make him use his staff RIGHT (or steal GingerBrave's cane idk)

He smells atrocious when left in humid weather for a long time (he becomes like spoiled milk and rotten blueberries. He can't visit Burning Spice for long because of that lmao. keep him away from the deserts PLEASE or else he'll turn into YOGURT)

The type to tolerate 4 bottles of berry juice (or 6 1/2 if he's in a pissy mood) and then go on and on about what it was like being the Fount of Knowledge while trying to crawl into a portal and sleep (or die inside, either one)

Probably the Cookie version of anemic and that's why he hates physical work (literally me)

Music tastes range from a whole orchestra or piano (but I feel as though he'd enjoy opera singing quite a bit. He's over a thousand years old stuck in that body. let the old grandpa in him have some joy that isn't immediately about psychological tormenting others lmao /j I know he has other hobbies I swear)

Calls most of the Ancients 'youngsters' jokingly or 'old' depending on the time of day (peepaw shadow milk go back to bed please and stop calling these guys old)

This headcanon is probably ooc and y'all can beat my ass:

I think he judges whoever he meets and categorizes them as specific chess pieces.

For example -> Black Sapphire and Candy Apple? Rooks. Helpful, ready to serve. Maybe Bishops, but they're being quite genuine when it comes to helping the Master of Deceit. Queens? -> Shadow Milk Cookie himself! (moves in all directions, can easily change the tide of the game when released, quite popular), Burning Spice (same thing but way more destructive...goes off-script sometimes, and the improv is not that good!)...honestly? All of the Beast Cookies. Maybe Mystic Flour is an exception, maybe not.

Pawns? -> Everyone who doesn't seem like a real threat. NPC's, regular Cookies, ect... but they can certainly become something else with enough patience and perseverance. That's the fun part.

and I lowk gave up on this headcanon rn because i typed a whole thing out but my computer got sassy with me and deleted it all (fuck you, man. I ordered you in rose-gold because I thought it would be pretty, not a bitch)

Can I go on to say that milk, ice cream, orange juice, and blue raspberry soda tastes so fucking good like oh my heavens it's like a fizzy ice cream

or milk with frozen blueberries

[sadiebrin]

She contemplated Wade's words, reflecting on them. Even after months of recovery, she only remembered fragments of her childhood, and toys didn't stand out among them. However, moments spent on the bathroom floor in her suite, back at Derek and Oline's, cradled in the safety of a dry bathtub, or curled up on the floor next to the bed, sprang to mind. "... people crave familiarity, I suppose. Even if the familiarity sucks. The unknown can be frightening." Her words are soft, a little distant. And then her brows furrowed, realizing how that might sound, "I was speaking generally, by the way. Dogs don't suck." That much might've been obvious, but doubt allowed the words to slip out all the same.

She scritched under Bee's ear, and boy did this kitten know how to tug at the heart with that little mew. Sadie smiled softly with Wade's response.

"You might not, but you do have a car. That's still some kind of stable means of transporting beings and goods." There was a definite pang of disappointment, and sad longing in her chest, as Wade went on to explain how few hotels would allow for pets. Part of her was tempted to try and sneak the little one in, but she knew better than to push her luck on that front. "Thank you." She murmured with a nod, bringing the kitten closer to rub her nose gently over her little, velvety head.

Wade practically selected the princess crown of collars and Sadie couldn't help but snort in amusement. "Oh, she is going to be so spoilt." It was reassuring to see evident signs of the care this man held for the little one. Even if she wasn't in a place to look after Bee herself, she felt cautiously hopeful that he'd look out for her, at least. That he'd keep her interests in mind.

Luckily Sadie wore a reasonably thick coat, or she was sure the kitten's tiny nails would feel like needles digging into her skin with all the biscuit making that was going on. Her excitement was adorable, and another customer clearly took note, cooing as they walked by.

She tried to pitch in some, for the supplies, and felt weird not carrying any of the supplies out, so she scooted Bee into one hand momentarily and slid one of the mid-sized bags over her arm before cradling the kitten in both once again. "Probably." She agreed with a smirk, quirking a brow as he confirmed her plans. She was still apprehensive, but, "I think I'll come by, if you don't mind."

The soldier bunched herself up under the desk, palms pressed to her ears with enough pressure that she could hear the squeak of her joints. She was trying to block out the noise. The angry shouts as she disobeyed direct orders. When had she entered the office? One minute she'd been searching the aisles...

well,

Shallow breaths

A tap on her shoulder, sending her jolting alongside her racing heart, wide eyes searching for the source- an elderly woman with a light laugh, and an apology for startling her. She was only reaching for the milk

Bright, fluorescent lights

Constant chatter and clanging and beeping that was not, in fact, a heart rate monitor, and was instead the tills as the cashiers scanned various items

Too many options

kind of.

At some point she'd passed the bakery, and a small child in a cart had wheeled by, holding a...

And then she'd found herself in the office. The door was locked from the inside. The desk had the indent of fingers on the edge of it's surface, as though imprinted in wet cement. One of it's legs wiggled like a snake. Both still gleaned with the sweat of her hands.

The manager kept slamming on the door, shouting and raving about calling the police, and company files and trespassing. And yet she was frozen in place. - For Wade, sadiebrin

@sadiebrin

"Donuts or muffins?" Wade muttered to himself as he looked around the bakery section. His head tilted to one side, then the other. "Eh, they each have their good points..."

It was supposed to rain today. Not just rain, thunderstorm. So far, though, the sky had gone dark for a couple hours and it had gotten rather windy, but so far... no rain or thunder. Perfect weather for Wade to do a little shopping during normal human hours without fear of getting too impaired by the sun. He'd felt a mild tingling on his skin when he stepped outside, but... not too bad. And really, he just had to go from his apartment building to his SUV, and then from there into the store. He could do that standing on his head, so... time to shop.

Being a vampire sucked, pun intended. Needing blood all the time was not only unappealing to Wade, but it was massively inconvenient with his schedule and lifestyle. And he refused to give up the foods he loved, even if they did nothing for him nowadays. At least he could eat whatever he wanted without fear of getting fat or developing heart disease, since whatever made him a vampire seemed to regulate his body to keep it in tip-top shape without him having to do much of anything.

His deliberations on exactly what kind of indulgent human food to buy were interrupted by a very distressed woman staggering from near where he was toward the back of the store. Confections could wait. Wade followed her, sensing that something was very wrong. When she went inside an office and slammed the door, Wade stopped and watched as the manager began pounding on the door like a child throwing a tantrum. "Really?" Wade mumbled to himself.

Making his way to the door, Wade laid his hand on the manager's shoulder. "Take a breath, okay? I think she's havin' some kinda problem." The manager was taking too many breaths, as it were, and spouting more boisterous nonsense about how she wasn't allowed in there, and if she didn't come out right this instant he was going to called the cops!

With an irritated smirk, Wade reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Dude, relax, I am the cops," he said, flashing his badge just fast enough for the manager to see something that looked official but not long enough for him to actually read that it only said government licensed bounty hunter on it. It worked, and the manager took a step back from the door. Only one. Wade looked at him like, you gotta be kiddin' me with this bullshit. "Yeah, you wanna gimme some time here, man? I'll handle it, don't worry." With that, the manager huffed and left to deal with an irate woman who couldn't find the type of cheese she wanted and was making it everyone else's problem.

"Hey... miss?" he called through the door. "You okay in there? Need some help?" He was trying to get through to the woman but also sound as non-threatening as he could manage.

[clumsycapitolunicorn]

it's been nearly 6 months since the ted lasso finale and im still pretty much:

[needyraincandy-u]

In the middle of the heated moment, Ame would gasp in surprise when Harley decided to suddenly remove the toy from inside her as a whole; mismatched hues quickly fixating on her girlfriend in surprise.

Even if she whines, though, she trusts Harley, and just gazing briefly at her lover tells her that there's a certain kind of hunger reflected in her eyes.

"H-Hacchan?-…h-hmn!-…" At times, actions speak louder than words, and being so suddenly shoved against the mattress earns a small yelp from the streamer, who doesn't exactly resist at all- she can let her stronger girlfriend handle her, do whatever she wanted at the moment.

She'd earned it after being such a good girl, after all. And even if she wasn't going to admit it out loud, Ame was also dying to receive all the passion from her girlfriend.

"H-Hahn~…y-you're hungry…y-you really are-…" Her breaths are quite ragged when Harley starts to press her tongue against her folds, up and down, to taste all she had to offer. She was wet from her natural fluids, from sure, but part of the fake cum's strawberry flavor and scent still lingered as well despite Ame cleaning the toy earlier.

No matter, it just added to the experience and the sweetness of comparing her to some kind of sweet treat for the night.

Her hands, lost at the moment, would grab at the sheets beneath her, although without thinking twice, she would soon be hugging the nearest pillow while fully opening her legs for Harley, or at least, as much as her girlfriend let her.

It was almost cute, really, to see Ame trying to cling to whatever was near while she prepared for her insatiable partner to send her to Heaven in a rocket.

After a few moans escaped her lips, the woman would feel her thighs tremble slightly, but they also moved on their own, trying to offer themselves to Harley without hesitation.

"H-Have I told you how much I love you?…I love you…I love you more than anything, Hacchan…"

And noises she would make, not even caring at the moment of the possibility of neighbors hearing or, waking them up in the process.

It's when Harley's warm and wet tongue starts circling around her clit like that, that Ame lets out a higher pitched moan, followed by softer ones in succession that kept the pace of Harley's flicks and movements. And she was, rolling her eyes a little and drooling slightly from the abuse of the sensitive bud itself, even if the focus and root of her pleasure shifts to be inside her pussy.

The mix of salty and the subtle sweetness of the flavored cum could make anyone enjoy the ride, but to Harley, that loved Ame's taste and sweets both, would be the perfect combination.

Her needy breaths and small sounds would be even more obvious when that tongue looked to rub against the inside of that sweet spot inside her inner walls, with these tightening against the muscle and getting Ame to press her hips against her girlfriend's face.

Which, at the same time, would have the streamer notice the expression on her lover- Ame was completely weak to the intense gaze and that need to dominate her. It made her melt, letting her nails dig into the pillow she was holding.

"H-Hacchan!~…h-hmngh!~…r-right there!~…H-Hacchan!~…" She didn't mind her position, to be so trapped between her partner's arms and her face. If anything, she was quickly building up to a desperate orgasm without any kind of hold.

Just a little push, and Ame would be squirting all over her face; head arching against the bed as her eyes closed and she squealed the name of her girlfriend out loud. She wanted Hell and Heaven to hear who she belonged to. Who was the only woman that she wanted to get these reactions for. And at the moment, she couldn't care less about how thick the walls were- she was proud of calling herself Harley's girlfriend.

"H-HAAAHN!~…H-HACCHAAAAN!~…H-HARLEEEEY!~…I-I-…" God, she couldn't stop squirting- her fluids were coating Harley's face and adding to the mess of before, but all Ame cared about was riding her orgasm and letting her hips push against Harley so she couldn't escape. So she had to taste her like she tasted her before.

A reward on its own…

Ame's words activate something primal in her, rushing through her like a rapid stream of urgency. Something starving for more and more of Ame, an insatiable urge that wouldn't be quelled with just one feeding.

No, she needed to make Ame scream, arch back against the back and curl her toes in sheer aroused ecstasy. Just imagining Ame's finish dripping down her throat, covering her face as a way of marking Harley as her own earns a moan from Harley.

It's this unyielding desire to devour the girl beneath her that makes Harley slide the toy out in an instant, tossing it aside. Ame isn't left waiting long, as Harley immediately shoves the other girl onto her back against the mattress.

She practically rushes to press her wet tongue against Ame's entrance, like a woman possessed. Her grip on her lover's thighs is solid as steel, rubbing her thumbs into the soft skin. She gives long licks along the folds, teasing the entrance.

Giving Ame a giddy grin, one that bears her prominent fangs, running her tongue along her teeth.

"And I'll make you feel more loved than you've felt in ages, needy girl. So you better make some noise for me, 'kay~?"

It's less of a question, and more of a command. Ame will make those delicious sounds Harley hungers for, and she doesn't care if she has to melt Ame's mind in the process. She knows Ame wouldn't want it any other way, anyhow.

Her tongue circles around Ame's clit, flicking the bud in quick motions. Just as soon as her movements started, they also ended once she finally slides her tongue inside of her moonlight's wet walls.

God, Ame always tastes better than anything dessert she could get her hands on— and that's saying something, with how much Harley loves sugar.

Moving Ame's thighs over her shoulders, her lips latch back onto the sensitive bundle of nerves from before, sucking on Ame like she was the last pond left amidst a desert-wide drought. Her muscle curls up, pressing against the inside to find and target a specific sweet spot she knows would make Ame squeal.

Just as Ame had done before, Harley looks up from her position below. Unlike Ame, however, the spark that shines in her eyes isn't submissive. It's an intense gaze, relentless in dominant desire.

[psuejo]

❥ jjk!men when u put the pussy on quarantine :c

feat. gojo, sukuna, nanami, geto, choso, n toji!

think this is obvious but GOJO isn’t lasting long at all. he’s far too needy, too desperate — even those overseas trips are enough to kill him. some might say he has a sex addiction, but he’d argue that he’s just addicted to you, his gorgeous, spectacular, amazing, goddess of a wife, and to the way both you and your cute cunt get so loud when he’s fucking you.

like now, for example — he’s balls deep inside of you, hips rutting against the fat of your ass with an almost desperate, mindless fervor. gojo is practically drooling all over your neck as he pumps into you, teeth and tongue working to leave dark, lovely hickies on your skin.

he’s like a dog finally free from its leash and ready to devour its favorite treat: you.

“t-toru, ungh— you cheater!” you huff, and your husband only chuckles, cerulean eyes glowing in the darkness of your shared bedroom.

“i never said i was gonna last, sweets.”

SUKUNA definitely thinks it’s a load of shit at first, but he tries to hold out. can’t let you one-up him so easily after all, even if he does end up crumbling within a couple days.

he can’t be blamed. what man (or, well, curse) can resist his wife? it was bound to happen; an inevitability, in his opinion.

all four hands are on your body, blunt nails digging into your skin as he grinds you against the mouth on his toned stomach. that big, drooling muscle stretches you all the way out, slurping up every dollop of slick and reaching into places you didn’t think possible.

“sukuna, w-were you really that starved—”

two thick fingers give a harsh twist to your puffy nipple, and you squeal, hips bucking and shoving that tongue even deeper.

“shut up. you knew this would happen.”

hell, he knew it too — he’d fisted both of his cocks so much that they were raw. even still, they throb in the cool air of your shared chambers, copious spurts of pre trickling down long shafts.

he can’t wait to get inside you.

initially, NANAMI would be okay with it. i mean, both of you are busy, and the chance to actually have sex properly (not just quickies in the shower or early in the morning, though he definitely enjoys those) never comes by often enough for him to really complain.

that is, until he realizes that his at minimum twice a week fix of his mouth on your pussy is something that he genuinely cannot live without.

everyone suffers for it, albeit unintentionally — coworkers (especially gojo, who’s strangely irritable himself), curses, slow ass cars on the street when all he wants to do is get home to you.

it’s a serious problem. he can’t go on like this!

“oh, fuck!”

nanami only groans, glasses crooked on his face as he bounces you in his lap. a repetitive up-down, up-down, up-down that never fails to be punctuated by a greedy clamp of your gooey walls.

“thaaaat’s it, pretty girl. missed you s-so much, shit—”

he swears heaven is a place on earth with you. how did he ever think he could survive without you and your sweet cunt?

imo GETO is sort of similar to sukuna. he thinks it’s total bullshit, and that you���ll cave before he will. you two fuck like rabbits, even with all of his cult duties. there’s no way you’ll make it past three days.

boy, was he wrong.

it’s been five days, and he seriously can’t take it anymore. work and mindless followers be damned — he has you bent over and spread out, face shoved so deep in your drooling mound that you’d think he was trying to fuse with it.

“ngh, fuck, angel,” he groans, the vibrations of his voice going right to your swollen clit and making you keen, despite your best attempts to stay quiet. “didn’t think this slutty girl could t-taste any sweeter...”

geto is a total addict, and everyone knows it.

you squirm, a taboo mix of shame and arousal lighting your body on fire. all those eyes on you, like geto is suddenly teaching ‘how to be a munch 101’ and you’re the example question. “suguru, please—”

he tuts right before delivering a harsh smack to your ass, one that has you gushing on his face with a loud moan. “there we go. let them all see what happens when my wife is naughty, hm?”

CHOSO is actually sort of okay. sure, he has a constant hard-on and he has to fight not to cream his pants whenever he sees you getting dressed or in the shower, but he’s fine. perfectly fine. resilience is key.

all that goes out the window when he catches you humping the pillow one night. he hadn’t meant to be awake, but maybe he has spidey-senses for your pussy or something, because the second you got yourself dripping wet rocking against that pillow, his body snatched itself from the realm of the unconscious.

“mm, cho, r-right there...”

he curls his fingers, the blunt tips of them caressing right against your g-spot and making your jaw drop. you swore you could do this, but going a week without your husband’s hands all over your body is just an impossible feat.

damn ovulation.

“like that?” he asks, all shy and puppy-like, but you know better. he knows he’s doing it right, just wants to hear the praise fall from your lips like some desperate whore.

and how could you not oblige?

“y-yeah, you’re doing so — hah — good.” your head falls back against the pillow, lashes fluttering. “jus’ like that, baby, mhm...”

your voice is so sweet, practically angelic. whatever you say goes, and although you haven’t told him to cum (yet), his boxers are already sticky and soaked.

oops.

out of sight, out of mind.

TOJI would be the most okay out of all them. he goes long periods without that honeyed cavern between your legs anyway, so he’s fairly used to it, but that doesn’t mean he never wants you.

because he definitely does. oh, god, he does.

pictures, sext threads, videos when you’re home alone, even the little movies he’s gotten you into making with him. all of that is what keeps him satiated while he’s away.

nothing compares to the real thing, however, and being home for two weeks without being able to even grind against you is killing him.

“ah, c-c’mon, doll.” his dick rubs between your folds, that swollen head catching on your sweet clit. “you don’t gotta... gotta be like this, ma.”

toji is pulling out all the stops: that compression shirt, the lowly slung sweatpants (both of which are discarded somewhere on the floor of your living room), your favorite snacks and little pet names.

you moan, soft and sweet, and his hips buck. “toji, hngh, y-you loser.”

he can only grin, scar stretching wide with his lips — of course this was a competition for you, and of course you won. he may be a levelheaded man, but there’s only so much a guy can take. he can’t deny himself of his wife to prove a point — he isn’t that insecure.

“yeah, baby, ‘m a loser.” he gives his freshly lubricated dick a couple of tugs before aligning the tip with your fluttering entrance. “now let this loser fuck you right, a’ight?”

[prosypepper]

wet dreamz

summary: it’s your (and your bf’s/husband’s/hookup’s/whatever’s) first time together. .

warnings: nsfw for all so 18+ mdni!; virginity loss on both parts, premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v, talks about virginity, college au (gojo); hookups, fingering, dominant kento, talks about virginity (nanami); unprotected p in v, rough sex, little bit of dirty talk, seduction (toji); oral, friends to lovers (geto).

pepper's notes: IT'S finally here...thank you all soo much for 1k i am so so appreciative & i am SO SO sorry it took me this long to get this out. i've been going through it so thank u all for understanding. i love all of u so much thank u all. MWAH MWAH.

satoru gojo

nervous? check. horny? check. praying to god you can’t see the huge erection in his pants? also check.

maybe satoru was an idiot for telling you he wasn’t a virgin, when he was in fact the biggest virgin in the universe, possibly. and maybe you were an idiot for talking him up and inflating his ego even more—and avoiding the conversation about whether or not you were a virgin, too.

either way, satoru’s big talk and your enabling caused you to be in this position—stradding your almost-boyfriend’s lap, desperately and sloppily moving your lips against his. silently, your pray in your mind that you’re doing everything right, threading your fingers through the white locks of satoru’s hair and trying to keep up with the pace of his enthusiastic make-out.

“do y-you—wanna…” satoru breathes out as he pulls away for a second, “you know.” he shrugs, looking off to the side out of anxiety for your answer. your own eyes flicker down for just a second, stomach flipping over at the question.

you’ve been through the innocent stages—the cute crushing and passing looks—and now, it’s time to own up to all that talking from the not-so-innocent stage you’ve built.

“mhm,” you hum, refusing to look at satoru just as much as he is to you. it’s obvious how nervous you are, palms sweating and gulping. knees digging into the soft plush of your dorm bed mattress, you’re readjusting your weight over and over because you can’t sit still.

satoru’s hands squeeze your hips, slightly pressing you down to feel the bulge that’s been prodding against his pants for about thirty minutes. eyes widening, you look at satoru—who’s about to burst. his face is all red and flushed, and his lip is pulled in between his perfect teeth.

shit, he’s about to lose it.

impatient, satoru ushers you to move off of his lap and onto the bed, swiftly rearranging your bodies to where you’re trapped beneath him. butterflies twirl in your stomach, more intense as the seconds go by, and you swear you’re about to throw up when satoru pulls his shirt off.

he’s gorgeous, obviously—but his toned torso and reddened skin from all his blushing are so pretty up close. satoru’s fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts, eagerly pulling them down before you grab his wrist as a reflex. he stops and looks you in the eye, letting you settle down for a second before you let go. it’s charming, really—he wants nothing more than for you to want this.

because satoru’s wanted this for so long. he wants it bad.

lengthy fingers work your shorts and underwear down all at once, and your thighs snap shut as to not expose yourself even more. satoru’s hands rest on your knees, rubbing small circles while his eyes trace over your body.

 “you okay, baby?” he asks, voice just the littlest bit shaky.

“huh—oh, yeah, yes,” you mumble in response, “are you?”

“yeah—yes,” satoru answers, repeating after you, looking like he’s about to throw up. yet his anxiety doesn’t stop him from shoving his bottoms down, allowing his heavy length to spring free and finally be shown.

to say the least, it scares you even more knowing you’ll have to take that. satoru is huge, terribly long and painfully hard from all the teasing you’ve done to one another. you wince when satoru goes to separate your knees, and your hands immediately go to push at his chest.

“satoru,” you whisper, connecting your own hazy eyes with his, “i—i know that you’ve…done this before.” you bite your lip, blinking softly.

“um—yeah,” satoru deeply says, trying to focus on what you’re saying—but damn you look so pretty underneath him, and your skin is so soft. you’re so gorgeous and he’s once again about to lose it.

“i just…” your eyes flicker to the side, “i’ve never done this before. s-so…be gentle, please?”

oh, god.

satoru’s heart is going to burst out of his chest.

“it’s okay, i—i’ll be gentle. promise,” satoru assures you, bringing a hand to stroke your cheek. his touch makes you let out a deep sigh, and you feel so delicate in his grasp. vulnerable enough to finally separate your knees, slowly dropping them down and exposing your sinfully drenched cunt.

satoru’s face rightfully goes pale. everything he’s ever wanted is in front of him—you’re giving yourself up to him. satoru gojo. the random guy you met in class a month or so ago that was not so random now.

as the butterflies circle in his stomach, satoru sweetly trails his fingers down the inside of your thighs, forcing the pulse in between your legs to grow into a harsh heartbeat. he notices every small movement—the twitch of your legs and how intensely your chest heaves—and he believes you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“careful, careful,” satoru mutters to himself, taking long seconds in between each of his movements. he doesn’t want to startle you—and even more, he doesn’t want to hurt you.

grunting lightly, the white haired man lifts your legs and rests the back of your thighs on top of his. this gets you even closer to him, both of you can feel the raw heat radiating off of one another’s bodies. satoru takes his length in his hand and taps it against your sticky folds, teasing your sensitive nerves and himself in the process.

“i’m gonna—gonna put it in now, okay?” satoru uneasily states.

“wait—but—oh!” you gasp as the tip—and only the tip—of satoru’s cock pushes past the resistant walls of your cunt, molding the tight space to fit him snugly. the stretch burns, it’s a sharp pain that shoots through you with no remorse. “mm—satoru, it hurts,” you whine, pushing against gojo’s built abdomen.

yet when he doesn’t budge, you look up at his eyes, which are glued to scene below him. he can’t help it—because he’s not just in you, no—he’s impaling you with his girth, you’re stretched so far around him by just his tip. he felt guilty at first at the thought of hurting you, but now, nothing is in his mind except for that image.

“satoru!” you shout, snapping the man’s attention to you. satoru’s eyes are glowing with lust, his cheeks red and flustered. little to your knowledge, he’s already on the cusp of an orgasm—hell, he was there before he’d even got his shirt off.

“i’m sorry—shit—i’m sorry, baby,” satoru babbles, before dislodging himself from your hole, strings of slick lewdly connecting the tip of his cock to your folds. “fuck—i’m so sorry,” he grunts, just as a few huge ropes of translucent white cum spurt from his cock, coating your abdomen in the substance.

your eyes are wide in surprise at how quickly it all happened, not even having a moment in your mind to process that you just made the satoru gojo cum in a few seconds. all it took was a little kissing and some gruesomely lewd imagery—and he was putty in your hands.

satoru falls atop you, becoming dead weight as his post-orgasmic state forces him to give out. his chest heaves against yours, his snow white hair tickles your shoulder. as much as you want to push him away—there’s something awfully sweet about the interaction. he’s close, closer than he’d allowed himself to be previously.

shaky breaths are shared between you, as is the warmth from your bodies—the warmth from your hearts—and all the emotions overcoming satoru are all too obvious. you shuffle around one another into a more comfortable position, until satoru’s head is on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

“are you okay?” you whisper, threading your fingers through satoru’s hair to twirl a few strands.

“yeah,” he sighs, cuddling up to you even more. there’s something hidden in the way he’s acting, but you don’t mind for now—you allow the vulnerability to sink in.

because it’s way too obvious this boy was lying about not being a virgin.

kento nanami

the world of hookups was difficult to navigate.

sure, you were technically trying to find a boyfriend—but everyone knows dating apps aren’t really the best thing for that. it had landed you a few matches and a couple of okay dates; but you hadn’t been quite as far with anyone as you had made it with your current date.

kento nanami, a rather distinguished businessman who had “just looking to relieve some stress” in his bio, had taken you out to an expensive restaurant and then to a very expensive hotel afterwards. whatever charm this man had worked a million times over on you—you weren’t sure if it was his demeanor or that rolex on his wrist—but whatever it was, it absolutely lured you all the way into a king size bed with nanami.

he was still mostly dressed, only his shoes were off and placed next to the bed, and his powder blue dress shirt was unbuttoned about halfway down, revealing his toned chest and a rather uncharacteristic gold chain that was previously hidden. nanami’s hair was still in perfect place, not having even broken a sweat.

you, on the other hand, have your dressed hiked up to just above your legs and the top tucked underneath your tits—pretty much on full display for kento besides the fact he’s behind you, strong legs prying your own open.

your thigh twitches when kento runs his fingers up and down the soft flesh, your hands resting on his biceps to keep yourself from running away. quite interested in what was in store for the night, you weren’t going to fight back—honestly, who would run away from a man as gorgeous as kento?

“do you do this often?” you shakily ask to break the thick silence, staring down at your bodies.

“do what, sweetheart?” kento’s monotone voice replies, using his free hand to reach up and grab under your jaw.

“this. take girls to hotels to…do stuff,” you allude to the same thing he’s doing now, turning your head with kento’s hand to look up at him. your soft lashes bat at the blond man as he chuckles, deep, giving just the slightest smile at your questions.

“not too often,” he simply says, kissing right next to your lips, “why?”

“uhm,” you croak, losing track of thought the moment his lips touched your face, “i don’t know. i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” kento softly chuckles, letting go of your head to rest on the side of his chest, “just relax, okay? i just want to take care of you.”

just relax, breathe, you repeat to yourself over and over again while you listen to kento’s steady heartbeat. your heart is racing but inevitably slows for the time being listening to the slow thump of your hookup’s heart. his fingers continue to trace small shapes over your thighs, every now and again moving just a little higher.

kento is painfully hard under his dress pants, yet he’s restraining himself for now—because he’s going to do what he came here to do first.

“can i touch you, love?” nanami asks, pecking a small kiss to your temple afterwards.

“yes, mhm,” you murmur, thickly swallowing in anticipation as his fingers begin to inch towards your heat. you can feel how wet you are—but you’re rather embarrassed for nanami to find out just how easily he riled you up.

“let me ask you something,” kento begins, dipping his fingers into your folds to feel the amount of slick conjured up, “are you a virgin?” and he’s not asking in a weird way like pretty much every other man you’ve known; he’s asking genuinely, because he has the gut feeling to be gentle.

“uh—i—,” you mumble, before finally admitting a small, “yes, i’m sorry.”

“aw,” kento coos, beginning to run his fingers over your aching heat, “don’t apologize, i’ll be gentle.” although you’re appreciative to his gracefulness, you begin to wonder just how rough he usually was—and those sinful visuals make you throb against nanami’s fingers.

“okay, please,” you hiss, the sensations of kento’s fingers working your cunt running through your body. hands grab at his arms tighter, your sensitivity making it difficult for you to stay still.

you’re almost sure that you’ve never been so turned on before, and your elevated responses to nanami’s simple touches are an attestment to that. his middle finger focuses on your sensitive bud, going between movements of flicking and slowly rubbing circles around and around.

“how does this feel?” nanami questions, watching every move—every twitch—that you make. he sees just how new this is to you, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him just a little bit prideful.

“good. so good,” you babble, eyes squeezing shut when kento begins to pick up his pace. the pleasure runs all through you, intense, that orgasmic feeling creeping up on you much sooner than you’d ever been able to do yourself.  

kento’s like a magician. he makes your hips wriggle and your legs twitch effortlessly, he causes your face to contort in a indecent way without even trying, it seems. hell, the increasing pace of his fingers on your clit is almost making you crawl away, your nails are digging into his skin and you don’t even realize it.

“stay still,” kento commands, using his free hand to press down right on your abdomen, “don’t fight it, darling. don’t fight it.”

his words calm you down just a little, instead you just stay in place while your body jolts every other second from the sensitive pleasure he’s causing within you. breathless whines fall from your lips in the utmost pathetic way, signaling just how good you feel to kento.

“what is it, hm? tell me,” kento tells you, staying at an intense, fast pace just to make you lose your mind a little more.

“i think,” you whine, breath hitching as the feeling in your tummy intensifies, “i might cum.” as embarrassed as you may be to admit it, you simply cannot help what falls from your mouth. it’s all kento’s fault.

“you can cum, my love,” kento assures, pressing a kiss into your hair, “you can do it.”

somehow, his voice erases every anxious thought in your mind, your body responding with nothing but pathetic moans and a very, terribly, intense orgasm you didn’t even recognize as being so close. kento can feel on his fingers when you finally cum, chuckling once again to himself at how easily he coaxed an orgasm out of you.

it’s cute, really.

you lay back on him after calming down—with your hair all messy and face somewhat sweaty—you’re so adorable in his arms, kento thinks he might just have to turn this into more than a one night stand.

toji fushiguro

if toji had known what he was getting himself into with you, he’d probably accepted that deal from shiu wayyy earlier.

bossy, crude and mean—you were everything toji had ever dreamed of in a woman. the type that didn’t take shit, you’d go toe-to-toe with a man twice your size without hesitation, and there was something about it toji truly admired.

after his first time meeting you, he understood why shiu had told him not to fuck with you.

how could he not, though?

toji was about to fuck you right now.

he couldn’t help the natural charm he used on everyone, and especially women, and he couldn’t help that you fell for it, either. shiu would be pissed if he ever found out about it—hell, he’d kill him—but you only live once, right? there’s no way toji could turn down an offer such as this from a bombshell like you.

“you sure you’re not married?” you’re purring into toji’s ear, running your fingers over his chest, “you’re so handsome, toji.”

every bit of sultry poison that spills from your lips is music to toji’s ears, making his heart thump just a little harder and the tent in his pants to get just a bit stiffer. his big arm his lazily wrapped around your waist, and that sleazy grin of his pulls at his lips at your question.

“yes, ma’am,” toji says with a nod, holding up his left hand to show the absence of a wedding band on his ring finger.

with that, you throw a leg over his lap, fixing yourself to straddle toji’s lap and rest your arms around his neck. looking him straight in the eyes, you’re satisfied that your little plan had come together so easily.

toji was wrapped around your pretty, manicured finger—and he had no clue. that little charm he was so sure of was nothing in comparison to yours.

“do you want to fuck me, toji?” you ask, glossed lips forming a pretty little pout and your head cocking to the side innocently. toji’s adam’s apple bobs when he swallows thickly, a little crack in the confident and cocky façade he put on in front of you.

“fuck yeah,” toji whispers, hands gripping at your waist.

to say the least, toji really meant that little “fuck yeah,” because it only takes him a few seconds to rip your clothes—and his—off and flip you over. he’s in a daze when he pries your legs open, staring straight at your messy, wet pussy—immediately lifting one of your legs up and attaching his calloused fingers to your clit.

“jesus,” toji breathes, in utter awe at how soaked you are, his eyes never leaving your body. you hum in response to the pleasure, softly biting your lower lip and studying the broad man in front of you. toji quickly uses your slick to lube up his cock, grunting at the small chill that runs up his spine from finally allowing himself some friction.

growing ever impatient, you shimmy your hips down to signal you’re ready. the squelch that reverberates through the room when toji finally slides in is downright disgusting, and you sigh in content at the feeling of being stretched open.

toji immediately groans, loud, and throws his head back at how you feel—tight and warm around him, greedily sucking his length in the more he pushes into your walls. smiling devilishly at toji, you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in even closer, giving in to your desires and pushing him to do the same.

“stop that,” toji roughly commands, squeezing your thigh to keep his self-control in check—or at least try his best to. you know what he’s saying is only for his own benefit.

but that’s not what you want—and toji should know by now you got whatever you wanted.

“stop what?” you question, interlocking your heels behind him. a finger twirls your hair as you look at toji dumbly, as if there wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind. yet every move you make is orchestrated to a t, pushing and pushing toji to finally snap and just give you what you want.

what you need.

“fuck,” toji’s moaning the curse over and over when he slowly begins to move, gently rocking his hips back and forth to meet yours, “you feel so fucking good, oh my god.” he praises you so gently under his breath, silently hoping you won’t hear him as to not inflate your ego anymore.

“tojiii,” you whine, a small pout forming once again on your pretty lips, “harder.”

toji shakes his head, whisps of black hair moving around in unison with it, refusing to look into your eyes. he looks anywhere else—your tits, your stomach, your cunt—because he’s afraid he’ll give in the moment he finally catches your pupils.

but fuck, are you convincing.

“harder?” toji repeats, “fuckin’ harder?”

his hips pick up speed at the same time that his hands come to grab your arms, affectively pinning you down to the mattress. you allow your legs to spread lewdly, opening up fully for toji to use.

the tip of toji’s cock prods at your cervix, the pleasurable pressure going through your whole body. he’s going at you like an animal, harshly impaling your cunt with his girth, all senses of caring and restriction thrown out the window.

though you might regret it in the morning, you’re going to get what you want.

suguru geto

“suguru, stop moving.”

the long haired man winces and holds his breath at the sting of the alcohol, gripping onto the counter you’re sat upon. your knees rest at his sides, barely holding suguru in place, nevertheless not allowing him to move due to your fussing when he did so.

he had gotten into a fight with some guy at a party, causing him to show up to your dorm battered and bruised with a few cuts over his handsome face. now, a couple clear band-aids litter his skin, and suguru’s eyes stay on yours in hopes you’ll look into his.

all the while, you wonder why suguru had come to you out of all the people (and women) he knew. there was an unsaid tension between you two, sometimes sexual and other times just tension.

the two of you were idiots in love, and yet, neither one of you had the guts to say anything about it.

“there we go,” you sigh, running your thumb over the last bandage placed above suguru’s eyebrow. finally, you look suguru straight in the eyes for only a second, catching his dreamy gaze.

“you’re so pretty,” suguru faintly whispers, giving you the tiniest little smile. he’d had the habit of calling you pretty and gorgeous in a “hyping you up” sort of way—but this was different. he meant it.

so much so, in fact, it only takes him about three seconds to kiss you. it’s a long peck, mostly catching you by surprise, before he leans back with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

“suguru—,”

“i’m so sorry, fuck,” he apologizes, paralyzed in place with his hands still gripping the counter. his eyes remain locked with yours, the fear of ruining your friendship behind them.

“suguru,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to the sides of his face. you rest them there firmly, feeling the increasing heat of his cheeks under your palms. pulling his face towards yours, you egg him on to kiss you again, this time with reciprocation on your part.

it’s hot, you’re swapping spit with the dark-haired man without a second thought, allowing your tongues to interlock and twist around each other. butterflies flutter in your tummy, but you swallow them and let yourself relax into it all.

the rest comes easily—all of that tension built up for years at this point is finally coming to a head, giving in to all of those desires you’d only had in the comfort of your bedroom. your arms rest over suguru’s shoulders, your hands tangle in his hair, while his hands come to squeeze you wherever he can grab—your waist, your ass—anywhere he can place his greedy fingers and grasp onto.

“let me—,” gasp, “—eat you out, please,” suguru begs in between kisses, barely allowing himself to heave for air.

those annoying butterflies pick up again—god, you could throw up at his suggestion—yet instead you’re pushing his head down, down, until he’s on his knees in front of you. your shorts are quickly tugged off along with your panties, leaving you in nothing but a big t-shirt on the counter of your tiny bathroom.

the room is filled with raw lust, as are suguru’s eyes when he finally gets a glimpse of your soaked heat. it’s a million times better than he could’ve imagined, no mental image could ever be like the real thing—warm, real and wet, right in front of his face; and all for him.

suguru starts off slow, littering small kisses along your inner thighs while parting your knees, until there’s enough room to fit his head closer to your cunt. he gives small kisses to your folds, barely suckling on your clit to pull small gasps of moans from your throat.

“fuck, suguru,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair and giving a light tug.

“hmm?” he hums into your cunt, vibrating against your core in the most sinister way. your words are long forgotten after that, only giving a big sigh in response.

suguru’s tongue dips from between his lips to lick a long stripe up your cunt, going just a tad slower to focus on your clit. his tongue circles around and around the swollen bud, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your abdomen and down your legs.

already, you can feel that tiny knot begin to form the longer suguru goes on, becoming more intense by the second. he’s harsh, vulgar sucking and slurping sounding throughout the room. the counter below you is soaked in your arousal, as is the lower half of suguru’s face.

you’re just that messy—and he loves it.

he’s living for it.

suguru didn’t even realize how much he loved you—how much he adored and admired you, inside and out—until this. until he was down on his knees, in front of you, begging for you without any words coming out of his mouth. until he had finally allowed himself to look into your eyes deeper than ever before.

“i love you—mmph—so much,” suguru hums into your folds, just as he’s taking that knot to the verge of snapping.

“i-love-you-too-suguru, please don’t stop,” you mutter, throwing your head back against the mirror, before you can even realize what you’re saying back—but it all comes so naturally you don’t even think twice. it’s not even orgasm brain—it’s true, just as true as when he said it to you.

suguru’s tongue completely focuses on your clit—swirling around and sucking the swollen bud until you’re almost thrown over the edge, finally toppling over with a spew of ‘i love you’s and ‘please don’t stop’s. your body goes limp against the mirror of the bathroom, chest dramatically heaving for many moments while suguru helps you ride through the feeling. he stands up and wipes his face off with the back of his hand, smiling to himself at the vision of a fucked-out you who had just confessed your feelings to him.

one of your eyes finally creeps open after a few minutes, only to be met with suguru giving you a shit-eating grin, his hand resting atop your thigh. he can feel how delicate you are at the moment; he doesn’t want you to run away and lock him out of your life just because you told him how you feel—but you wouldn’t do that anyway.

 suguru confessed first, after all.

once again thank u all so much. i love u.

[zevrra]

𝐢. 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

synop: you and vik get caught “messing around” in the lab by jayce; who surprisingly wants to join in on the fun.

wc: 1.8k

includes: straight smut, p w/o p, fem!reader, jayce x reader x viktor, slight vöyeurism, oral (m receiving), slight dirty talk, threesome, bottom!viktor

extra: part 2 is here! reblogs are appreciated <3

“don’t worry,” you whisper, fingers twirling along a red tie before smoothing down the front of viktor’s vest. “i sent jayce out on an errand run and he won’t be back for a little bit. just enjoy this v.” you add with a hum.

viktor looks up through his pretty lashes at you. he leans back against his desk, practically sits on top of it to keep weight off of his leg, as you two stand inside of the lab. he had been working far too hard recently and the only way you could keep him distracted long enough not to think about anything involving his work was to pleasure him. it was the same way trying to get him to sleep every once and awhile, when he would sneak into your room. you had never suggested doing it in the lab though…and the thought thrilled you just as much as it thrilled him; even if he thought it was a terrible idea.

“w-we shouldn’t. not here in the lab and what if—” viktor mumbles but his words end in a soft gasp as your fingers begin to untuck his shirt from his pants.

“viktor,” you chirp as you fall to your knees in front of him, unbuttoning the front of his pants and pulling them down ever so slightly. “you need to take a break. be a good boy and just relax.”

your fingers are just grabbing the hem of his underwear when the door to the lab is being thrown open and jayce’s large figure enters the room. “hey, i was looking for this thing you asked for but i—“ jayce had begun to speak, his eyes pointed down as he entered the room, before he finally looked up and caught the two of his friends in the act.

you freeze in your spot, eyes widening as you stare at jayce from the floor. a scarlet red blush is spreading across your face, you can feel the heat on your cheeks in an instant and you’re sure you match not only jayce’s shocked face but viktor’s as well; and you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him. you probably stay like that for a little longer than you should’ve until jayce clears his throat and you and viktor alike scramble from each other.

“we!” you start as you stand up straight and as quick as you possibly can. “wait it’s not what it looks like! we were uh just uhm—“ you ramble before looking at viktor to help dig both of you out of this hole. but he’s busied himself with trying to zip his pants back up, making it far more obvious if it hadn’t been already. you sigh, turning your face off to the side to stare at a small spot on the floor, unable to look jayce in the eye.

“do…you do this often?” jayce’s voice cuts through the built up silence in the room like a knife.

you shake your head quickly but viktor speaks up for you instead. “never in the lab.” he mutters.

“it’s unprofessional, we get it, let’s just drop it and forget this—“ you begin to add but the sound of the door closing with a lock interrupts your rambling. when you finally bring your gaze to jayce, his eyes are soft but clear in their intentions. and it was his turn to no longer be able to look at the two of you.

“can i…watch?” he whispers under his breath.

and with three little words, everything changes between all three of you.

now, jayce leans against the lab’s desk as viktor leans back against his chest. jay’s strong hands fully support viktor as you’ve returned to your spot in front of him. you had never in your life thought jayce might have been interested in whatever you and viktor had going on. maybe you just assumed he already had a lover and never brought it up again. but now his hazel eyes stare down at you, just as viktor’s amber eyes also watch you, both with a hunger to their eye. it almost made you nervous, being watched, but your fingers once again hook around viktor’s underwear and pull down, ignoring the jitters that hum under your skin.

your hand wraps around vik’s semi hard cock and you give it a soft tug, rubbing right up the shaft until the tip. there was a new feeling in the air around all 3 of you. breaths being held, eyes watching ever so closely, the slight tremble to your hand. it had been different when it was just the two of you enjoying midnight meetings but now with jayce there too…it felt far more scandalous and naughty.

“tell me what it feels like.” jayce whispers, purposely placing his chin into the crook of viktor’s neck, as his hands slowly run up along vik’s chest.

your own hand continues to move against viktor’s shaft, stroking him slowly up and down, moving to press your lips against his head.

“mmph, her fingers are a little cold,” viktor replies with a low groan. his chest rising and falling in quicker succession as he begins to get turned on. “but it feels good.” he adds. and his honesty makes you smile a little.

you move your hand faster in return to his praise. trailing your fingers along his head, pressing your thumb into the slit of his cöck, where he’s growing sensitive and causing him to gasp softly. you take the moment to lean forward and capture the head of his cock inside of your mouth. drinking in the sight of viktor’s eyes fluttering, his fingers tightening onto whatever he can grasp, as your mouth wraps around him.

“keep going viktor.” jayce instructs as you watch him place hot, heavy kisses against vik’s throat. one of his hands groping his thin chest and waist.

“w-warm! it’s so warm and wet,” vik breaks. he’s fully hard now as you suck on his head, making him whimper at the feeling. “feels—ah—really good.” he adds with a groan as his eyes return to watching you.

you can feel his thighs tighten as you swallow more of his cöck, continuing to use your hand to stroke up to your lips. you watch every expression that crosses viktor’s face along with jayce’s fingers that slowly begin to take off his vest. strips him of his vest and then works on unbuttoning his brown shirt underneath.

jayce keeps laying hot kisses along the back of his neck and on his throat, slumped over and threatening to swallow all of viktor’s thin frame.

the sight makes you somewhat giddy and excited to see what jayce does. but it never distracts you from making viktor feel good as well. sucking a little harder, spit bubbling up at the sides of your lips as you sink further down onto his lengthy shaft. your eyes are almost falling close to help you focus as you swallow more and more of him, but jayce’s voice catches your attention once again.

“she looks so pretty like that, doesn’t she, vik? makin’ you feel so good.” he whispers against just as pretty, pale skin. his words cause vik to stutter, hips lifting up and forcing you to swallow the rest of him. and you do so with ease.

you truly wouldn’t have guessed jayce was so good at dirty talk but you welcomed any surprises at this point. viktor simply whines in response, head hanging low, gaze still on you as you continue your routine of sucking him off.

jayce stands to his full height then, hanging over viktor just enough so he could turn his face and capture his lips. viktor’s eyes widen in response but he does nothing to stop jayce; no, instead he’s melting into the kiss. you watch with eager curiosity as their tongues clash together, jayce easily winning in the battle of dominance, as one big hand of his moves up to gently caress viktor’s throat.

fuck, was it hot watching them. you can feel your pussy throbbing at the sight just as you can feel yourself growing wet against your panties. you squeeze your thighs together, slipping a hand down below to press your fingers into your core. the best you can through the pants you wear for the moment but the pressure is enough to make you groan. you move your lips faster along viktor’s shaft, sucking harsher and sloppier to bring him closer to his end.

the change of pace and jayce’s tongue surely has viktor coming undone quicker than usual. for he breaks the kiss with a harsh whine. “i’m close!” vik gasps, tossing his head back onto jayce’s shoulder.

jayce presses a quick kiss against his jaw before his hazel eyes return to watch you suck viktor off. his eyes are hazy and full of lust as he fixes his intense stare on what you do; which makes you shiver with newfound pleasure under his sight. his strong gaze makes you press your fingers into your pussy once again, seeking any form of satisfaction you could get for the moment.

“look viktor,” jayce instructs as his hand smooths over viktor’s lower abdomen. “she’s touching herself.”

viktor’s breath hitches in his throat but he moves his own lust filled gaze down to stare at you. with both of them returning to stare at you, you palm yourself harder through your pants. moving your hips in sync to every bob of your head, needy and desperate as things evolve, all the while you moan around vik’s cock.

it’s all too much for viktor as his hips lift and he thrusts wildly into your mouth. “going to—!” he cries softly, body tightening, throwing his full weight back against jayce.

but jayce is quicker. one hand grabs your hair and pulls you off of vik’s twitching cock before he takes his hand and wraps it around where your mouth had just left. “stick out your tongue. i wanna see the mess he makes all over your face.” he grunts, pumping his fist quickly along vik’s entire shaft. his hand is much bigger than yours and it wraps entirely around viktor with ease, and it makes vik lose all control he might’ve pretended to have.

but you do as your told and swiftly stick your tongue out to catch whatever you can. all it takes is viktor staring at your tongue and jayce’s hand jerking him off to finish his orgasm. viktor forces himself to watch as he comes, fingers grasping and gripping onto anything he can that’s near him as he tumbles over the edge with a sharp cry.

your name, along with jayce’s name, leaves viktor’s lips in a pathetic whimper as he comes. can feel the sticky substance coat your tongue, cheek, and chin with each rope jayce rubs out of him. all the while viktor and jayce watch as he makes a mess across your lips and face, never once looking anywhere else.

not until vik is completely spent, limp against jayce who holds him up effortlessly. the only noise now in the room is the shared panting between all three of you. you lick your lips, trying to clean yourself up just a little, before it was your turn to break the silence.

“let’s keep going.”

[rafesangelita]

bf!rafe x thick!reader.

i’ve been thinking about how reader is insecure about her thick thighs and ass so rafe fucks her dumb in the mirror forcing her to look at herself as he says how perfect she is <3

warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, mirror sex, mentions of body image issues and insecurities, body worship, praise, hair pulling, slapping, dirty talk, pregnancy kink (but rafe is serious about it??)

a/n: if you want to read more thick/bigger girl!reader, read this ‘thinking thot’ if you haven’t <3

“fucking look at yourself!” rafe grunted, wrapping a fist in your hair before forcing your head up to stare at your reflection. besides the obvious fact that you looked like a fucked-out mess, rafe wore a smirk that had you squeezing around him with a broken sob. “you’re so insecure and for what?” he landed a harsh smack to your ass, the loud sound making your cheeks heat, “if it wasn’t for this body i wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this..” you cried out when he let go of your hair and grabbed your hips, planting a foot on the mattress before drilling into you even deeper.

in this position he was easily nudging your cervix with every thrust, his fingers digging deep into your flesh as you struggled to keep your eyes on the full length mirror in front of you. “you make me so fucking mad when i hear you talk bad about yourself,” rafe said through gritted teeth, “saying you wish you looked better,” he scoffed, “..it doesn’t get better than this.” your knees nearly gave out from under you when he snaked a hand around your waist, his fingers working on your clit until you felt that familiar heat starting to simmer in your tummy.

“you’re so pretty, baby, it freaks me out sometimes,” rafe leaned down so his mouth was next to your ear, “you have no clue how many times throughout the day i have to resist the urge from bending you over and fucking you dumb— just like the way i am right now.” your eyes rolled back at his words, his praise shooting straight to your soaked cunt. “you make me hard without even doing anything, you know that? these curves are so fucking perfect, i could squeeze you and grab and rough you up just the way i want to. you drive me fucking crazy.” you weren’t only crying because of the way you were being pounded into right now, but because you knew rafe was coming from a place of genuine love.

you couldn’t help but feel insecure when you saw the kind of girls that always tried to get at your boyfriend, some even going as far as flashing you a wink when they stroked his arm while passing by. all of them looked flawless in your eyes, your insecurity creeping up on you and making you question why on earth rafe was even with you. questioning rafe’s devotion was exactly what got you in the position you were in right now. “look up, ‘pretty, i need you to see what i see.” he clasped a hand around the back of your neck, dragging you up so your back was flushed against his chest.

your body was on full display, your teary gaze meeting rafe’s as he fixed your head in place to make you look at yourself. “starting with this face,” he was still thrusting into you when he stroked your cheek, “i don’t think you’re real sometimes. especially when we wake up in the morning and the sun is hitting you just right..” he planted a kiss in the curve of your shoulder. “you don’t even know this but on the days i wake up earlier than you i just watch you. admire you.” you moaned when you felt him hit your sweet spot, your eyebrows knitting together as you took your bottom lip between your teeth.

“these tits,” rafe took both of his hands and cupped you, rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers, “this is why i love it so much when you’re on top.” you laughed softly, a small smile playing on rafe’s lips as he continued rocking into you. you knew rafe wasn’t lying, he always looked hypnotized and dazed whenever you rode him, his eyes glued to your chest while you bounced on top of him. “these thighs are the same thighs that i always need my head in between. whether you’re sitting on my face or i have you pinned down on your back, i fucking love them.” he rasped, his hips stuttering as he began approaching his high.

“your hips and your waist..” your mouth fell open in a silent moan when he found your clit again, “you’re gonna carry my kids, i’ll make sure of that.” you gasped when he picked up his speed, his words hitting you right where you’d feel them most. “m’gonna make you have my babies, ‘give you even more reasons why you should love your body the same way i do. you understand?” you nodded frantically, turning your head so he could take you in a searing kiss. that was all it took for both of you to fall over the edge, rafe carefully laying you down on your tummy as he filled you up.

you two stayed like this, your kisses growing more feverish once he pulled out, rafe wasting no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. he traced the curve of your lips, thumbing away the tears from your eyes as you sighed. “i don’t ever want you to question the love that i have for you, do you understand?” you cozied up to him, whispering a ‘yes.’ before he hummed sleepily.

[sinsofsummers]

keep quiet

1.3k words | logan x fem!reader

summary: logan can smell how much you need him as soon as you enter the room. what kind of man would he be to let you go unsatisfied? warnings: all smut. literally nothing else. dom!logan, he's kind of mean, hint of a humiliation kink, hair pulling (m receiving, logan asks for it), the cat ears get a lot of love, oral (f receiving), fingering, pure filth. if i miss anything pls let me know. note: andddd i was trying to write a full length fic. i ended up here instead. it's so rushed i apologize. pls logan let me give u a full litter.

He can smell it on you as soon as you walk into the room, and you can see the switch in his body language almost immediately. His shoulders tense, and his hands twitch into loose fists. His jaw ticks. 

You’re meeting Logan at a party. He’s been there for a bit already, but you came late. You can’t even remember what the party is, what it’s for, or who’s there. You can only see him. The way he’s got his thighs spread, one foot propped up on the coffee table in front of him, leaving a wide — and perfect — spot for you on his lap. Just like always, Logan’s dripping in sex appeal.

You’ve already been having…a day. All you want and need is his touch, his tongue, his everything. But here you are, trying to keep it a quiet afterthought as you stare at his lap, wishing you could put your lips over his cock and let it grow in the warmth of your mouth.

“Hey,” you say breathily, the syllable hardly leaving your mouth before Logan’s on his feet.

You can’t even register who else is in the room; his broad chest already blocks your vision and he drags you down a hallway, into the laundry room not far from the earshot of the living room.

You’re pretty sure the other party guests share an awkward chuckle at what they think is about to occur, but you can’t tell. Logan’s cologne is all over you, and you think you might slip your own hand into your panties if he doesn’t give you what you want right now.

“Here,” he snarls, “gimme these.” He’s got you shoved up against the washer, the perfect height to sit atop the cool metal.

He grabs your wrists roughly and shoves them into his hair. His teeth are gritted menacingly, but you’re practically keening at the sight of it. You know what’s about to follow. He can be cruel when he’s like this, but you know you’re about to get what you want.

“Now,” he hisses, leaning close to your face. “You’re gonna keep quiet. You’ve already made it obvious enough how fuckin’ desperate you are.”

You whine softly, and his eyes darken. “I wasn’t even here for more than—”

“No, no, no,” he growls. “None of that.” He lets go of one of your wrists, reaching up to squeeze your cheeks together in one hand, hard enough to make the heat rise in your face. 

He likes to see you like this — humiliated.

“You’re gonna keep quiet,” he repeats. “Anytime you wanna make a noise, you’re gonna pull.” 

He uses the hand still locked onto your wrist as a demonstration. His eyes are hard, and his mouth is still pulled back in that scowl that makes your core weep. 

“Pull hard, pup. You know I can take it.”

You try to squeeze your thighs together at the nickname, but he’s standing between your opened legs. It’s so animalistic, so filthy. You never last long when he’s like this.

But all you can see in front of you is Logan, his cruel face just a centimeter from yours.

You lean closer, wanting a kiss, but he denies you as he moves his hands to your hips, digging roughly under the hem of your shirt to unbutton your pants and yank them to your ankles. He lifts your legs so he can slip closer to your core, your legs resting atop his strong shoulders. 

Any other day, he might have teased you, might have drawn out your orgasm until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. But this Logan isn’t playing around. He doesn’t have time for this, as he’s made clear enough. 

Only in moments like this does he make your desire feel like an inconvenience, like he’s mad at you for being so desperate for his touch. Such a dumb little pup, huh? 

But as soon as he sinks his nose into your pussy and inhales the scent of your desire straight from the source, you know he needs this just as badly. That his every thought is plagued with the reminder that your pussy ruins every pair of panties you own because of him.

His tongue goes to work quickly; he’s brutal in his ministrations, and you tighten your grip in his hair. 

Bless these fucking cowlicks, you think. Or you might have, had you any mind to form coherent thoughts. 

“Insatiable,” he takes a breath and rolls his eyes as he looks up at you, but the sight of your wetness on his beard and nose takes away the exasperation. You can see how his pupils are blown wide.

You open your mouth to let out a moan, but he grunts. “No,” he demands. “Pull.”

So you do. Hard. Your hands card through the rest of his head of thick hair as he dives back to your clit, swirling tight circles around the sensitive bud, practically drinking your arousal right out of you. 

Your abdomen tightens, and you know he’s going for speed over anything at this point. He wants to get you off, and do it fast. You claw at his head, and relish in the deep groans that vibrate through your slick folds like an electric shock. 

“Logan,” you whisper, “I’m—”

“Yeah, yeah. I fuckin’ know, you dumb slut.”

Your eyes widen and you see white at the edges of your vision, your mouth hanging open as you catch some of his shoulder under your nails, dragging your hands across his skin. 

If anything, it spurs him on more. Two of his fingers play at your entrance, and — the mean fucker — he shoves them into your pussy without caring to stretch you out like he normally does. 

But it doesn’t matter. He knows you can take it. The stretch is something you chase, something you cherish every time. You reward him with a particularly strong yank on his hair, afraid you might pull it out of his skull.

He starts to let out a groan so loud it might come off as a roar, but then he catches himself and pistons his fingers in and out of you, his dark eyes lifting to hold onto you as he shoves you over the edge and into a leg-shaking orgasm.

Your hands twist in his hair and you just barely hear the high-pitched whine that falls from his lips. It’s almost feline coming from him.

Logan sits still for a second, his eyes still on you as he laps at your pussy softly, an amused smirk on his face when you shiver at the overstimulation. 

Finally he stands, feeding his fingers to you, nodding as he watches you lick your ecstasy off his digits.

You catch your breath, still feeling wobbly. Your eyes catch on the bulge in his jeans, and you reach a tired hand for his belt.

He chuckles, and it’s almost like he’s mocking you. “Oh, you wanna help me out, sweet pea?”

“Yes, please.” You hope you sound coherent, like you’re apologizing for not being able to make him feel good yet, but you can’t even keep your eyes on him. The treat in his jeans is too tempting. Your tongue absentmindedly darts out to wet your lips.

Logan lifts your chin roughly with one hand, forcing you to look at him. His hair is wild, and you bite your lip at the sight of how disheveled you’ve made him. 

His beard still shines with your release as he shakes his head. “Should have thought of that before you showed up like you did. Can’t control yourself, even in public.” He pulls you to your feet and helps you pull your pants back on. His roughness starts to subside, and left behind is the gentle giant that you recognize.

“You’re gonna wait til we get home,” he says with a gentle kiss to your forehead. But you don’t ignore the tension in his promise that follows: “Then you’re repaying me, bub.”

-

ANYWAYS! i'm crying like a bitch in heat for this man feel free to send me any and all thoughts u have on logan pls

see u for the next one! i hope u enjoyed :)

[1nthedarknessofthenight]

﴾ insane in the brain

pairing: ghostface!kim seungmin & ghostface!yang jeongin x f!reader

genre: one-shot, horror au, smut

word count: 17,1K

warnings: yandere!seungmin & yandere!jeongin ⋆ dom!seungmin & dom!jeongin & sub!reader⋆ mention of a violent act! ⋆ story is set in the 90s ⋆ obsessive behavior ⋆ stalking! ⋆ little!mxm action ⋆ threesome! ⋆ phone sex ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ mask!kink ⋆ voice!kink ⋆ biting! ⋆ hair!pulling ⋆ marking ⋆ overstimulation ⋆ squirting! ⋆ ass!slapping⋆ small!degrading ⋆ 69!position ⋆ f!masturbation ⋆ oral (f. and m. receiving) ⋆ cunnilingus ⋆ face sitting! ⋆ mating press!position ⋆ unprotected!sex ⋆ multiple creampies! (and yeah…that’s all i think…)

summary: a masked killer returns to the town, leaving you terrified, paranoia seems to follow you everywhere you go, along with two of your classmates, who seem to grow very fond of you…

main masterlist

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His chest heaved, nose flaring as he pushed away the strands of hair from his eyes. His gaze was glaring, piercing, eyes formed into slits, watching the pair, just a few feet away from him. The look of disgust was unmistakable on his face and his glasses, along with his longer, blond hair thankfully shield him from the view of anyone passing by. He blended into the background, like always — unseen. He didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing his screaming thoughts. He was almost sneering, teeth gritting against each other, when he saw the guy pushing your hair behind your ear and he had to dig his nails into the wall by the act — disgusting.

You didn’t feel the immense stare, attention fully on the guy infront of you as you listened to his every word. Your lips stretched into a smile, leaning on your still closed locker, fingers playing with the strap of your bag. You didn’t know much about the guy infront of you, not that much like the person peaking from behind the corner...You were so unaware of your surroundings sometimes. You just came from your last class today, boring and to be honest quite unnecessary, but it gave you some time to perfect the text on the papers that were peaking out of your bag.

You said a small goodbye to your friends after your last class, already putting on your headphones on your ears, not wanting to hear any conversation around you as you pushed the button on your Walkman. Today was overstimulating, like any other, since you transferred to this school, but those fliers in your hands really helped you keep your mind off things. You made your way straight to the bulletin board, putting up on of the papers in your hands and in your state of unconsciousness, you were quite surprised by someone tapping you on the shoulder. Jake — one of the football players, quite sweet, giving the big smile on his face.

He was charming in a way and you found yourself not caring too much, when his tone of voice became deeper, huskier, not really looking like the party you were putting the fliers up for was the thing, why he started the conversation. However when you walked a few steps back to your locker, you were stopped by him, not being able to maybe cut the conversation short as he blocked it with his own body. It was no use to fight him. Your eyes drifted back from him to your locker and then back the nearly empty hallway, as the man before you finally stepped back a little. “See you at the party.” You said, smiling up at him, nodding.

There was no way that anyone could have missed the obvious glimmer in his eyes, when he gave you a one last smile, before leaving your side. A puff of air left you at that, turning to your locker to finally get your things. It wasn’t that long ago since you transferred in to this small town, already making couple of good friends. The party, which you were putting up fliers up for wasn’t your idea at all. You were just manipulated by your dear friend and her boyfriend to help them set this thing up, but in some way it could really help you settle down in a way…

You slammed your locker’s door shut, turning swiftly, but you only bumped into something — someone. “Oh, my god–“ You were startled for the second time, your books becoming slippery in your full hands, before they all fell to the ground with a loud slap! Your eyes immediately darted to the person you had bumped into, but you were surprised by them instantly kneeling down to pick your books up. “I’m sorry.” You said, sheepishly, kneeling down before them to pick up your things.

“It’s okay.” You looked up at the quiet sound of their voice. You recognized him — Jeongin, a quiet guy in your class. Black, rimmed glasses frame his eyes, sharp, just like his high cheekbones. You have never seen him outside of the classroom and definitely haven’t heard him talk before either. You lips parted a little, eyes going over his shaggy, blond hair, not even realizing him gathering your last book, only his own stare shaked you from your trance.

Something about his stare made shivers run down your spine, it was so…different from his whole body language and behavior. “Thank you–“ You trailed off, tearing your eyes away from his to the books in his hold. You grabbed them, missing how his long fingers reached after yours, like he wanted to graze his naked skin over yours. Your cheeks flushed still, embarrassed a little by your clumsiness and also because you could still hear the soft sound of music coming from your headphones. Your hand fumbled with the cable, shutting the suddenly embarrassing song off, before standing up. He didn’t follow your move immediately, like he was struck, glaring up at you for a few seconds, before slowly pulling himself up. “Jeongin, right?” You didn’t even know where the sudden need to talk came from and it was clear by your furrowed eyebrows.

He nodded after a few seconds, shakily pushing his glasses up his nose. “Yes…” He said, looking at you with big eyes.

You really didn’t know what came over you — just few minutes before that you were screaming to be taken from the conversation with Jake. It was probably, because you thought you would maybe safe this awkward situation, but you only seemed to make it worse. Your eyes went to the paper on top of your books, turning it for him to see. “You going to the party?” You asked, trying to diffuse the unbearable tension.

He didn’t even look at the flyer, eyes fully on your face and it made you tremble. His stare was tense, not even blinking, so he wouldn’t miss your micro expressions. “Not really my style.” Jeongin stated, eyebrows twitching and taking unnecessary amount of time to voice out the full sentence. You were almost scared by what he was going to say, with the deep breaths he took between each word.

Your lips parted, before pressing them into a tight smile. Even if you knew from your short glances that he was quite shy, you were really the one fidgeting in your spot at that moment. “Oh, okay then…see ya-“ You said, heart beating suddenly so fast at the sudden drop in his expression that you thankfully didn’t see much off as you darted away from him.

────

You really do have to take a deep breath at the memory. The more you thought of it, the more you realize what a weird vibe he had. So tense, eyes so piercing and the way they didn’t shift away from you — it was like he was tearing you apart, calculating your every move and twitch. Other than these few specks of memory, you didn’t think much about it. You only thought of it, because you thought of Jake — the guy that was supposed to be here, at this time and place, right here with you. How could you possibly be so naive to think that he would actually appear, because of you? With your eyes trailing over the room, it is obvious that you truly aren’t standing out, but maybe it is a good thing. Though…that is just yourself telling you that.

The cheap, plastic cup in your hand was already empty, your mind fuzzy enough to let you know that it was enough of the liquid gasoline. You saw multiple people pouring many different types of liqueur in the punch and you hope that you won’t be lying on the floor by the end of the night. Your good friend handed you the drink with a sweet smile, only grimacing with you at the awfully strong taste of alcohol. It wasn’t even sweet anymore, just pure bitterness and only one cup of it was enough — that can’t be said the same for your friend.

Your eyes go to the small dancefloor, small, drunken laugh falling from your lips at your friend, who spins wildly. Her boyfriend didn’t look much different from her, eyes already teary and heavy, looking back and forth between her and his friend, dressed as their team’s mascot. You can’t imagine the heat in that thing, you yourself sweating just in your miniskirt and tank top. The whole room was foggy and hot from the few people smoking in the back of the room and the heavy bodies grinding against each other. The party for sure turned out pretty well in a sense of attendance.

You scrunch up the cup in your hand, so out of your body that you even lick of the small bits of alcohol left around the rim. You were so thirsty, sweaty and gross that you somehow didn’t even care anymore. You surely weren’t looking the worst, you think, while looking across the room again. You weren’t even bored that much, enjoying your time analyzing the room that swirled wildly around you. Your gaze finds your friend again, her body now hanging lazily on her boyfriend who rubs her back softly, while laughing with the guy in the costume. Though by being so drunk and the room being so dark, you didn’t firstly register the dark clothed figure in the corner of the room.

The white, outline of what you think was its face stands out in the dark corner. The figure was clad in a black cloth, hood on its head and it even more emphasized its ghoulishly, big eyes and gaping mouth. Its face looks so out of place you can’t do anything, but stare into its eye sockets. Your whole body stills as you see it tilt its head. You know that it was definitely a person under the mask, but the simple gesture made you tremble. You feel uneasiness creep up onto you, the feeling of its glare making your skin crawl. The way it — the person just stood there, with around people who were laughing, dancing and simply happy, made the whole mood in the room change into something sour and bitter.

Your mind is probably playing tricks on you, maybe you are even imagining the whole thing. However even if you can’t see the person’s face, you just know they are staring right back at you. You have to wonder for how long. Maybe it was spying on you since the moment you stepped inside the house. Your eyes trail painfully over the figure, swallowing the lump in your throat. No one other than you seem to notice the figure. Maybe it is someone they all now, no need to introduce you.

You are suddenly startled, when a pair of hands touch your arm, jumping immediately in your spot. Your heart beats faster as you turn your head to the direction of the owner’s hands, only meeting the messy state that your friend was. The relief that washes over you is big, your hair thankfully blocking the masked figure, letting you take a full look at your friend. “I wanna go home–“ She pouts at you, whining, while digging her long nails into your arm.

You think you have never actually been happier to hear those words. “Okay, let me just use the restroom and I’ll be right back–“ To be honest you don’t want to go anywhere alone right now, but you are in desperate need of washing away the fright and sweat off your face.

Your friend is already nodding, turning back to her boyfriend like a lost puppy and you didn’t even have a chance to possibly ask her to come with you. She can’t even walk, it being really nearly impossible in her state and high heels. You slowly turn your head to the direction of the figure, their stare so hard you don’t even have to wonder if they went somewhere. Only now it seems somewhat closer to you, even if it’s still standing in its original spot. You shake off the weird feeling, head hanging low, while you walk past the people to the staircase to the second floor. Not even an inhale of breath leaves you, eyes staring at the wall, not wanting to look at its face any longer, fearing that it might imprint in your mind.

The whole world swirls around you, grabbing the railing of the staircase in a tight grip. You are thankful that the lights were dimmed, because only the blue hue makes your incoming headache worsen. Making your way up the stairs you slither around the couple that literally blocked the whole middle part of the staircase, ignoring the nasty smacks of their lips and sighs. You meet a lot of pairs like that on the second floor — grinding against each other in the hallway, sneaking in one of the rooms and you really don’t look forward to maybe accidentally catching someone in the act, while searching for a bathroom. The house seems obscurely big, the hallway going into a big circle. Then you suddenly hear the sound of toilet flushing, before a guy stumbles around the corner. You don’t waste your time, picking up your pace and zooming around the corner only to bump into someone.

In your drunken state, your whole body is jelly, legs wobbly and you are thankful that the person you had bumped into puts their hand on your lower back to stabilize you. You huff, blowing your hair out of your face, looking up at your so called savior and you instantly wished you didn’t. Staring at you so blankly and almost deadly is the same ghostly, white mask you saw just moments ago. You don’t want to think much about it for your sake, because you already can feel yourself shaking at the thought that it followed you up here. However that wouldn’t be possible, it was a dead end, no other way up here than the one you came from. It must be someone else — maybe it was a popular costume, that you didn’t know of yet.

The hold the person had on you was soft, though you can feel their covered fingertips digging into your naked back. The two black holes instead of its eyes made you want to curl up into a ball the more you looked at them, making you wiggled yourself out of its hold. The music in the background was too quiet to your liking, not to mention that there was one other you and this person in the hallway. You mumble a small apology, too quiet to even reach your own ears, before literally running to lock yourself in the nearby bathroom, but not with its eyes staring you down the whole time.

You breathe heavily, fumbling with the lock, before pressing your back to the sink. You are scared. You are terrified to even walk out of the bathroom, reminiscing the ghost haunting the hallway. However you spend a lot of time in this small, safely locked bathroom to know that your friend might not wait for you that much longer. It makes you slowly opened the door, hinges creaking and a sigh of relief leaves you, when you look into the hallway. No one was there. Maybe it truly was a ghost and you imagined all of it.

You were thankful that night for your friend not leaving without you, clinging onto her just as tightly as she was, while you made your way home. Though even if you left that house and also the last bits of the alcohol in your system, you couldn’t quite forget it. The way the simply mask sparked something in you, making you shiver in wonder and fright, thinking about what might have been going on inside their heads when they looked at you.

────

The evil and bad feeling left behind by the whole occurrence left a spot however. Just few days after the party, while you were hanging out with your now completely sober friend in the living room changed your whole mood together. Your eyes snapped to the television, stopping the scribbling of your pen as your heart only beated faster by the sudden news coming from the reporters mouth. “A sense of dread has once again found the small town Sunny Dale after a body was found inside a local home last night. The victim body was discovered with multiple stab wounds. The only evidence left behind was the victim’s phone, found beside the body. Authorities are concerned this could be linked to a string of unsolved murders from months ago, leading many to fear the return of the same killer. As the investigation unfolds, police are urging anyone with information to come forward–” Your stomach turned at the news, looking at your equally horrified friend.

A lump formed into your throat, heart jumping in your chest at the newsy “Again?” You wonder out loud, shaking your head in disbelief of what you were hearing.

“Yeah, there’s been some couple of these things showing up in the news for the past year. Everyone just thought that they maybe stopped…” Your friend’s voice was little, also looking at the television, with fearful eyes.

Moving here, you would have never thought that you would be terrified to go out of the house. Your aunt never said a word about these events, maybe to not scare you and if she didn’t tell you about it, it must have been very bad. You understand that she herself is scared to talk about such things happening here in her hometown. Maybe she thought that telling you would only bring a bad omen.

The news spread quickly and into every corner and place. You couldn’t escape it and your own deadly curiosity led you to look through few months old newspapers. The things you read made your stomach turn. Even after reading through them shortly, throwing them away from your reach right after, the whispers and gossip wouldn’t let you live. You were normally paranoid — an overthinker. Of course you were scared, just as anyone, because with you can never now if you will be next. Your aunt wasn’t much better than you, being older and all, alone here in this house till you moved here, didn’t make her feel that much safer. She needed a deep breath of fresh air, but still when she came to you with the news of spending the weekend with her long life friend — you weren’t really happy.

You tried to beg your friend to stay with you, almost embarrassed by how much paranoid and scared you were to be left alone the whole weekend. She’s couldn’t make it — she herself was going away for a small family holiday. Everyone was leaving you and your overthinking only became worst. A tragic thing happened just few houses away from yours, horror filled your every sense and since then you can’t remember the last time you slept soundly. Only more horror could keep you up at night, so you decided to go to the local Blockbuster store. Maybe it wasn’t a very good idea — looking at such movies, when the very same things were happening around you, but you are just so scared of falling asleep alone, like a child scared of the boogeyman under their bed. The only time of the day, when you can rest your eyes will have the be the moment sun rises.

You push the heavy doors to the store open, bell ringing over your head as you make your way inside. Your eyes scan through the aisles, not meeting many people in your way, tugging at the bottom of your short sleeve shirt, lip pouting at the big selection the store had for you. You really haven’t rented a movie before, just going over your friend’s house, who probably had just as a big of a collection in their house, but tou your luck she wasn’t home to lend you something. The new excitement in you is bright, a little lost of words at few of the names you come across off. You can’t really help yourself by going over to the romcom section first and strangely it was right next to the genre of movies you were here for — how funny.

Though your heart aches for a sweet romantic movie that would leave you with butterflies in your stomach, it still wouldn’t be enough for you to not fall asleep. You have to wonder if you aren’t just torturing yourself at this point, but you can’t ignore the fact that maybe someone might get inside your house, when you would happen to fall asleep. You visibly shiver at the thought, looking away from the section of old horror movies. Though you liked the vintage filmography, you think that not even a single one could make you shiver in fear.

Your fingers trail over the row of paranormal horror movies, watching them slowly turn into more slasher. You stop at a particular one, known and already seen by you, but you can’t lie that you weren’t terrified the first time you had watched it. Pulling out the cassette, you stare down at the bold name, completely unaware of your surroundings and the shadow looming over your hunched up figure.

“Looking for something?”

You jump back at the sudden voice, stumbling just a little and bumping into the movies before you. Turning to the owner of the voice, you sigh a little at the familiar face. “Oh, hi Seungmin.” The dark, longer hair on him can’t mask away the obvious glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Your surprise doesn’t flatter, when your gaze falls down to the tag on his blue shirt. “Not really-“ You trail off, shaking your head at your own thoughts.

The whole situation that happened felt you overthinking nonstop — however you don’t really recall hearing anything about him working here. Almost everyone goes here and everyone likes to talk, though you don’t know what they would even talk about, when it comes to Seungmin. He was quiet, always in the corner with the bothered look on his face, never talking to anyone if not needed, other than…the dirty, bleached blonde you come across off just few days ago. Maybe these are just accidents, maybe it’s the universe pushing you to them to finally make more friends — you are definitely overthinking.

Being so lost in your thoughts, you are startled again by Seungmin reaching over your shoulder to tap at the paper, cover on the cassette. “Evil dead, huh?” You can hear the smile in his words, smelling his minty breath from the gum he is chewing. “You like scary movies?”

You frown a little and mainly by his try of making a conversation — you ignore it. “A little.“ You shrug, looking at the cover one last time before deciding to put it back. “Just trying to find something to keep me up at night.” You answer, turning around to look at the other side of the aisles only to be blocked by his taller frame.

You breathe in his cologne, his stare making you fidget as your back falls lightly back on the aisles to make some space between your bodies, but he didn’t even move an inch by the sudden proximity. “Why?” His voice is softer than you expected, eyes widely looking up at him as he tilts his head down at you. “You like being scared?”

Your lips parted at that question, lost for words for some reason. “No, it’s just–“ Your own eyes save you from answering, when you see a flash of red on the small television in the corner of the store. Even here, in a fairly empty Blockbuster store the news can’t seem to leave you alone. You can fear the obvious stare on your sudden change of expression and it makes you feel embarrassed by the very clear face of fear on your features. Glancing back at him quickly, you want to laugh at your whole situation. “I just don’t want to fall asleep that’s all.” You say, stepping away from him to finally rest your eyes on the new selection.

“That’s understandable.” Seungmin nods, eyes turning away from the television back to you, watching your own eyes skim through the movies.

You then thankfully see the next person walking up at you from the other side, giving your pour heart a rest. “Heard that the guy was stabbed 37 times.” Says the person and you do a double take at the familiar voice, your small assumption being only being proven correct, when you see the shaggy, blonde next to you. The horrible words don’t particularly move you, because you are somehow very intrigued by Jeongin’s own work uniform. Have you really not noticed them until now?

You hear Seungmin click his tongue at his friend’s words. “Oh, really, Jeongin?” You don’t see the looks being shared behind you, because when you stop trailing your hand over the multiple choices for your cinema night, you just notice how much the two of them are close to your body. A small silence rings in the air, your eyes falling on Seungmin’s hand right next your head. You can feel his breath on your cheek, when he boldly stretches his arm to touch a one specific film in the shelf. It wouldn’t be considered bold if he wasn’t so close to you, not when his fingers brush your thigh. Your eyes watch his hand and the same fingers, playing with the paper case a little too specifically. You nearly gasp at how he trailed his fingers across the movie’s cover, this whole thing happening just right before your pubic bone. Instinctively you move back a little to give him room, but you only feel your arm graze Jeongin’s chest. “If you don’t want to fall asleep…” Straightening his back, your gaze meets Seungmin’s with bashfulness. “Watch Nightmare on Elm Street–“ He says, waiving the movie at you.

“It’s not that scary for me.” Your throat is dry, voice scratchy and you really want to dive into the pile of horror right now. Trying to ignore the even more unbearable stare from the other, you try to distract yourself by looking through the selection, picking up the very familiar one.

You hear the scoff on your right side right when you grab it, feeling their intense stares momentarily flicker to the movie in your hand. “Really?” Seungmin exclaims, definitely judging your choice and taste.

Shrugging your shoulders, you tap your fingers on the paper, going over the outline of the small, red words — You’ll wish it was only make-belief. “Yeah — I mean dolls are sometimes scary.” You say, truthfully and you hear the blonde next to shuffle a little.

“It’s funny.” You look up at him, confused by such word and you now truly realize how close he is to you. You want to back away, but you are cornered — no one can safe you from their claws.

“What?”

Tilting his head, you can see his sharp eyes shimmer under the light, that reflects lightly in his glasses. “The movie?” He said it so obviously, like your question was so stupid to be even spoken.

Your eyebrow’s furrowed, looking up at him. “Well, if you find slashers funny…” You trail off, not really sure what to say back.

The look you received is so sharp that it makes you shiver, feeling Seungmin staring the same way at the back of your head. The air around you three is suffocating, but you seem the be the one most effective by it. The way they stand so close to you, surrounding your body not just with their own by also with their whole beings is nerve racking — and somehow not in a bad way. They both seem to be really comfortable in getting into your personal bubble, their hands already tearing it away from your own hands. This whole interaction is unusual for you and it is only weirder, because you know about their dislike towards people at your school. So, why are they so interested in picking up a small and quite pointless conversation — why are their so interested in you?

You are lost in thought, though still highly aware of the two bodies on either side of you. You found it hard to breathe, throat closing, so aware of everything around you — their breathing, the smell of their cologne, the rustle of their clothes when they tried to move even closer to you and even the soft sounds of footsteps coming behind you. “Y/N!” You are pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of your name and somehow that made the pair move too, twisting their bodies to see, who saved you from their hold.

“Jake!” You gasp out. You didn’t plan to sound so excited by his appearance, but it felt like you could finally breathe calmly.

You can see his attention shift a little, looking over your shoulders at the pair and you can basically see the small uncomfortableness in him from their behavior. Taking a one step closer to the brunette in reflex, your feet stumble over one another. It felt wrong to do that. “Hi!” Jake greets you, already feeling the awkwardness of this situation. Normal people would’ve left right? Or maybe just give you two some privacy, but Jeongin and Seungmin don’t move an another inch, silently staring at the both of you.

“Hi…” Your lips lift up into a small, that falls quicker than anticipated, your nails slightly digging into the paper case in your hand. There’s small beat of silence between you two, hoping that he might talk first as he was the one that approached you, but he seemed very interested in the two men behind you. Coughing little into your hand, seems to get his attention back, but he still looked a little…uninterested. “You weren’t at the party?” You ask, nearly cringing at the reality of being stared down, when talking to him.

Jake is little taken back, blinking at you. “Hm, yeah — no, I was.” He says and you frown at his words.

“Oh! Okay…”

“Yeah…” He scratches his neck, jumping in his spot a little, before a sudden, wide smile breaks off on his face. You watch his hand, way before he puts it on your shoulder, tugging you into him rather than coming to get you, like he was intimidated to approach you . You do let him put his arm around your shoulder, taking you to walk a few steps forward, away from your past companion. His touch feels a little heavy, but the small brush of your arm, when you pass Seungmin, makes you look at him, catching his eye, before you are being turned back to the guy next to you, who you realize was talking your ear off the whole time. “Y/N…I was wondering, if you want to come over to my place tomorrow.”

You froze in your spot, just few steps in your small walk. “I don’t know…” You heard the hidden meaning in his words, but you are not so sure if you want to go to an unknown guy’s house at the moment.

“It will be fun.” He says, almost whining, looking like a small child not being given his favorite toy. His arm falls off your shoulders thankfully at that, only to tap at the movie in your hands. “We can watch–“ He tilts his head sideways to read the title and his lack of movie knowledge makes you stunned. “Child’s play.”

Shaking your hand, you pull the movie from his fingers to your chest. ”No, Jake. I kind of already have something.” You say, wanting to end this conversation short, because you can feel the heat of two pairs of eyes on your head.

The look on your face definitely is clear enough for him to realize that you are not changing your mind — or was it the judging eyes of the two friends behind you? “Alright then…see you around.” He says, smiling lightly, making his eyes wrinkle and you want to almost stop him from going away from you for a split second.

However you only watch his disappearing figure, trailing your eyes over his body and you know that under different circumstances you might have maybe come to his house, but right know you do not want to leave your house and go somewhere you haven’t been before — you don’t even feel completely safe in your own home to begin with. You sigh at yourself, gaze still staring blankly before you, till you practically feel the seeping pressure of eyes on you again. You don’t even turn around, not even trying to walk away to maybe just disappear and find a different store to satisfy you, because it felt like you wouldn’t be able to get away from them anyway.

“Your boyfriend?” You recognized Jeongin’s voice and you are a little taken back by the rough edge it had to it.

You turn to the side just a little, looking at him, before glancing at Seungmin behind him. “What?” You are not sure if it was meant for his question again or for the sight of the dark haired, brunette leaning casually on his body. You are met with silence at that, realizing how your eyes were going between the two of them, till they meet Jeongin’s again. So dark — he doesn’t even blink, while looking at you, also noticing his lips that formed into thin line. “We are just talking–“

“Yeah, like back at the lockers?”

Frowning at the harsh tone, the glare send your way is blocked by his friend, who steps before him. Standing before you with his back straight, you only know can feel the true effect he has — confident, yet unbothered, but definitely thriving in your face, when he gently puts his hand on the movie in your hands. It is still laying on your chest and your lips fall apart as he wraps his hand around it, fingers grazing the skin of your chest. You let him grab it, watching him put it behind his back, before he pulls out a different case that instantly hands to you. “Pick this one.” Seungmin says, grinning a little as you look a the second part of the Chucky series. “It’s more gory.”

You don’t want to look ungrateful, so you grab it, smiling a little at him, though you are not sure really what to say to that. “Thanks, I like the first one the best though…” You awkwardly mention him to give it to you, thinking that maybe he would just hand it to you, but you basically have to lean over him to grab it from behind his back. You know that he does it on purpose, playing with you, but it still feels so new from him to do that. You think you have never heard him talk this much before, not to mention his friend behind him. When you go grab your desired movie from his hands, you learned that they are empty, awkwardly wrapping your hand around his. Sucking in a breath at the quite intimate touch, you feel Jeongin poking you with the case you were searching for, showing you that he was the one holding it the whole time. A short, dry laugh leaves you at your and theirs doings, not missing how the blonde basically shoves the case in your hands, separating you from his friend. “Thanks…I think this will keep me busy this weekend.“ You say pulling the two first Chucky movies to your chest, taking a step back from them.

They both look you over, completely without any shame dragging their eyes over your body and it makes you tug a little at the edge of shirt that has ridden up. You watch Seungmin tilt his head slowly, turning back to his friend who hands him a new cassette from behind his back. You actually wanted nothing more than to escape this unbearable tension, but you become curious about the movie being handed to you. “We have this new movie.” He hands it to you, making you glance at the cover. “Check this out-“

“Just got released-“ Says Jeongin, taking a few steps closer to you, joining his friend’s side, while they take in your reaction.

With your eyebrows furrowed you look at the name — Fear: Together forever. Or else. Flipping it over you read quickly through the summary, before looking back at the front, eyes scanning the face of the man on the cover and you nod in realization. “Oh, yeah. I heard about it.” Glancing at the two of them, you try to keep your cool at their unblinking stares. “Some kind of psycho boyfriend–“ You say your own version of the movie’s plot, playing with the cassette in your hand to distract yourself a little.

“Oh – so the spoilers got to you-“ Jeongin doesn’t seem particularly sad about that, but you can see the small pout on his face.

Shrugging, you look down at the movie. “Well, it’s kind of obvious you know…” You put the movie together with the other two in your hands, not really against of seeing something new and you also don’t, for some reason, want to let them and their small help down. You didn’t plan to finish your sentence, as it was to you kind of obvious, but when you look up at their faces, they only stare at you more longingly, waiting. “I mean — look at him.” You flip the cassette to let them take a look at the man on the cover. “You can see the crazy in his eyes.” You say, before nodding at them. “I’ll take it.”

You want to almost ask them what’s up with them, see if they maybe had a problem with you by their nonstop glares — but you are not sure if you are reading the emotion on their faces right. They don’t say anything, only turning around to lead you back to the counter. Seungmin takes the lead, making you walk up next to him, while Jeongin keeps himself behind you. They don’t seem to be quite fond of being away from you for some unknown reason and you don’t want to say that relief washed over you, when you hand the dark brunette the three movies you picked.

As he scanned them, each peep reminded you that you will be free of their presence, till you will have to return them. “How much?” You ask, realizing you didn’t even look at the rent money even once, digging through your bag, hand grabbing the scrunched up money.

“It’s on the house.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline, looking up at Seungmin, who stands behind the counter. “Oh! Oh, no that’s okay, it’s just like ten dollars-“ You say, waving awkwardly at him to know you are completely fine paying for yourself, but the man before you only shoves the movies to you. Staring at him for a second, blinking, your heart skips a beat at the sudden change of emotion on his face. It makes you nervously mumble a small thank you, somehow knowing that there was no use to argue with him.

Hands falling on to the pile of movies, your fingers graze his, staring with wide eyes as he swipes his ring finger over the back of your hand. His touch feels hot, leaving a tingling sensation in your lower tummy and you sigh out shakily at such bold move. You basically rush to pull the cassettes to you, but you can’t take your eyes off his, even when you back up. However you are unaware of your surroundings once again, because you only bump into the blonde who’s been standing behind you the whole time. Your back meets his chest for second too long, shock striking you at how quietly he was able to be unspotted by you. Mumbling a small apology, which you don’t even hear yourself, you turn on your heels, legs quick to run of the store, so you can escape their eyes and their hold. And you finally took a deep breath you so needed, ignoring the obvious and familiar feeling in your chest and lower tummy.

────

Sweat drips down your temple, short puff of air leaving as you close your eyes at the feeling of the night’s cold breeze fanning over your face. You take in the smell of wet grass, mixed with the humid air. You can feel your tank top sticking to your flushed, hot skin, your shorts gathered between your thighs as you lean out of your bedroom window. The night was quiet, no sound other the few rustles of trees and crickets — it reminded you of how alone you now were. The shower which you took just minutes was cold, but it did nothing against the awfully hot, spring night, though the few whiffs of colder breeze reaching you felt blissful.

You expected for it to be worst, but somehow the worst thing of being alone right now was that you couldn’t distract yourself from the awful heat. Your room’s window was unopened for the whole day and it was basically unable to breathe in it, so you decided to rather sleep downstairs in the living room. You take a one last breath, before pushing your window shut, taking your light, fluffy blanket with you before walking out of your bedroom.

The sound of voices coming from downstairs made it a little easier for you to ignore your thoughts that you tried so hard to keep locked. With a breathless sigh you walk up to the couch, plopping yourself on it and whining almost as the cushions sticks to your skin. You were somewhere else right now, lost in thought, gazing up at the ceiling, imagining a night sky over you — imagining being somewhere else. The commercial playing on the television ends, hearing the happy background music cutting short.

Your head tilts forward, eyes falling on the movie recommended to you on the top of the pile on the coffee table. The eyes of the actor stare at you from behind the woman’s blonde hair and you can’t help, but get lost in them. Your mind goes back to the pair helping you, looking quite excited — well, you only had a feeling, because they didn’t truly show any emotions on their face. Your own curiosity makes you pick up the case, pulling out the cassette. You for a second just flip it in your hand, expecting it, before you shuffle down the sofa, not even bothering to get and walk to the television.

The voice of the reporter is quiet, getting louder as you crawl up to it and the change of volume makes your ears pick up the words leaving her mouth. “Authorities are still investigating the recent resurgence of a killer, who terrorized the small town Sunny Dale a few months ago. While there has been no trace of evidence leading to the identity of the person responsible, the latest update to this cases is deeply disturbing.” You freeze in your spot, eyes unblinkingly looking at the humming television before you. “Authorities now confirmed that investigators have found a new, unused Ghostface mask near a victim’s house. The mask, which is widely available in stores selling horror-themed merchandise, was likely placed there intentionally by the perpetrators. Police are urging the public to stay vigilant — if you see anyone acting suspicious and wearing this mask contact—“ A choked sound leaves you, watching the screen cut to a picture of said mask — the one which you have seen, the one you saw a week ago.

You shakily turn off the television, not wanting to hear another word. The quiet that follows after is deadly — pinching you, making goosebumps appear all over your body. You have seen it — you were so close to it…you touched it. Nausea rises in your gut, looking back at the house phone next to the couch, contemplating. Should you call the police or not? Maybe it was really just a coincidence that you happen to see someone wearing that mask. Maybe the police are already getting calls from others — were they really that desperate that they needed help to catch this person? You know that even if you called, it wouldn’t be any use. Literally everyone was there at the party and not just people from your school — it can be anyone.

Then your doorbell rings, a small yelp leaving from you, making your hand fly to your mouth to silence it. You need to calm down…the thought of the killer being at the party was really unlikely, because they were people present — nothing happened at the party, nothing. It was just…someone. In your state of shock which you slowly, but surely get out of, makes you jump back to present, eyes turning to the main door. You completely forgot that you ordered a dinner.

However you are still cautious, standing up and making your way to the front. The cold floor helps you wake up a little, feet paddling across the hallway, before leaning on to the door to look through the peephole. No one…even if that made you feel better, you are highly aware of how weird it is that the delivery man you anticipated isn’t there. You glance down at the keys in the door, still locked and safe from the outside world. It’s such a stupid thing to do and you really think about it, but soon enough you are unlocking the door and pushing it open just a little to see what’s waiting for you on the other side.

No one is standing there, nothing, but the pitch black night, till your eyes drift slowly to the doorstep where surely your food was. Confused, you slowly become more curious than afraid, opening the door a little more to kneel down and inspecting the box of pizza. It is almost funny how such thing could make you fear for your life. Because of the small light coming from the inside, you catch the small note on top of the box just before it could fly away. ‘Sorry for leaving your food on the ground, had to go!’ A deep frown falls over your face, because in what world would a delivery man give you your food, without even letting you pay for. Must have been in a real rush to let you have your food for free…

You don’t want to put much thought to it. It was just few dollars and maybe there was a party somewhere going on, where they would definitely get their money’s worth back. Taking the box with you, you are not that angry of not paying as your hand touches the bottom of the cold box — you are too unbothered to go and heated up right now. Shutting the main door, you lock it, before finally going to the living room to watch the movie waiting for you. Putting the box down on the table, you put one slice of the cold pizza in your mouth, fumbling with the cassette and television for a second, before you flop back onto the couch.

The movie — well, it does in sort of way have you on the edge just few minutes into it. It is interesting and almost realistic in some way, making you get real deep into it. You lay in the corner of the couch, biting down on your fingers, watching the main characters interact with each other in a dark lit club. The lead, the main antagonist has a specific maneuvers that you find quite interesting — charming, yet in his eyes you can see something hidden in them…something dark. As you are so into the movie, eyes staring dead straight on the television, the ringing of the house phone right next to your ear certainly startles you to death.

A soft gasp flies past your lips, putting your hand over your racing heart and turning to the ringing phone next to you. You grab it without any hesitation, thinking that maybe your aunt is trying to check up on you or maybe it was your friend ready to talk your ear off — definitely not silence. “Hello?” You ask, gripping the phone in your hand and pressing it right against your ear tightly.

“Hello?” Says a voice on the other side of the line.

You shake your head a little, not recognizing the voice. “Yes?” You say, eyes still on the movie.

“Who’s this?”

You press your lips together, straightening your back a little. The voice is scratchy, yet deep, an unusual small hum every time it speaks. “Y/N.” You say, not really wanting to say your name, but what harm can it do? Maybe the person just delayed a wrong number.

There’s a small shuffling on the other line, before a small click follows. “Oh, Y/N–“ The person says your name sweetly, making goosebumps rise on your skin. It was whiny, so familiar, like the person knew you.

“Jake, is that you?” You ask, sitting up a little. His voice today sounded a little different than you remembered, but maybe it was just the phone distorting it. “How do you know my number?”

“Oh — got a friend, who asked your friend…” A small pause follows and you don’t know why but the way he speaks to you in this voice strikes something in you or maybe it was just the scene playing in the movie. “Want to talk to you–“

“Okay…what do you want to talk about?” You ask, eyes still on the television, yet your attention is now completely on him. Did your friend really give him your number? But it is a little unusual that she would be able to keep it secret — maybe she just wanted you to have fun on your weekend.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You smile a little at the question. “Oh, but you already know that one — Child’s play.”

A long sigh leaves his lips and it is almost like you can feel it on your ear. “Sorry — I seem to forgot.” This whole unexpected moment makes you tingle a little in excitement, distracting you from everything around you and you can’t help but feel effected by the change of voice.

“That’s okay.” You say. “What’s yours?”

“Guess.”

Humming lightly, you truly think about your answer. Jake’s face flashes in your mind, but it somehow is so blurry that you can’t think of a movie that would fit him — so, you focused on the voice in your ear instead. “I don’t know…I fear you have to give me a hint–“

“You are smart girl, Y/N, surely you can think of killer in a white mask–“

The words strike you a little too deeply, because your mind firstly shows you the ghostly mask. The two black holes it had for its eyes, before you quickly shut down your thoughts. “Halloween?” You say, uncertain as an another slasher with a similar mask flashes before your eyes, but this one spoke to you mostly.

You hear a click of a tongue on the other line at your answer. “Clever girl.” The nickname makes you unusually warm, your legs moving against each other, shifting the thin blanket down your thighs. “What are you doing right now?”

“Ehm — nothing much, just watching a movie.” You just now glance back to the said movie, already a little confused what the characters were doing and why— you are getting a little distracted.

“Alone?” The raspy voice sends chills down your spine. “Want me to come over? I don’t want you to be scared–“

“I’m not scared…right now.” You say, frowning a little, trying to defend yourself and thankfully your voice is steady.

You hear a sound then, close to a coo, before there is more shuffling. “Is it because of me?” There is obvious teasing tone in his voice, but you can’t help yourself, but feel amused by his tactics.

“Yeah, your voice is…soothing in a way.” You can’t quite find the right word to describe it, but you definitely can think of a word which is even closer than the one you said.

Small silence fills the line, listening closely to the static, ear trying to pick up any noise you could. This small pause only highlights the tension rising in the room, making you fumble with the left strap of your tank top and just as you did that — like he could see you, he speaks up again, but now there is not so much amusement. “Y/N, tell me…” You can’t even make a sound, so he continues, a little nervous about what he might say — but you certainly wouldn’t have guessed it right. “What are you wearing?” He asks, breathing into the speaker, the sigh making your pure heart skip a beat.

Your eyes widened, mouth hanging open. “What? I-I–“ This definitely wasn’t part of your plan for the night, neither getting a quite firstly innocent call to only lead to this. Your body responses truthfully the moment those words are spoken, thighs rubbing against each other, feeling the hem of your shorts digging into your center. You battle a little, wondering if you should play along and maybe enjoy this call or if you should just hang up. You definitely wouldn’t care if you did, you wouldn’t care that you basically would chicken out of phone sex, but — the way your bottom half starts to tingle, you tell yourself to relax and simply enjoy. “Not much?” You cough out as your voice becomes strained.

A low, long hum echoes from the other side, spreading tingles across your slicked skin. “Not much…” He repeats and you hear the fake pout in his voice. “Describe what you are wearing.”

You know where this conversation is leading to, but you are still careful with your words, a little self conscious, like he could just see your barely covered body. “Just a tank top and shorts…there are hearts on them.” Biting your lip at the last sentence, you wait for his reaction and maybe next request.

“How cute.” He almost whispers and you can basically feel his every breath in your ear. “Wish I could see you–“ You think you hear a small mumble at the end, but you don’t pick up what it is — probably just something in the background.

You close your eyes for a second, the movie still playing long forgotten as you slowly pull down your blanket to pool at your feet. Air hits your hot skin, damp in sweat and something else. You pick your courage, licking your dried lips, before speaking. “And what would you do if you did?” Your voice is no longer collected and cool, it’s breathy and whiny and you feel heat rushing to your face at your own voice.

You seem to catch him off guard — or so you thought, only to be reminded that you might not be that seductive as you thought you. “Do you really want to know, Y/N?” There’s an edge to his voice, giving you the last chance to back away, but you know that it is too late for that, because you can already feel slick forming between legs.

“Yes.”

Shakily responding you let the phone fall down shoulder, pressing your ear to it, while your fingers tug at the cushion beneath you. Waiting, though not so patiently, your eyes drift around the room, like it is the first time ever, your mind empty and fuzzy. Another click is heard in your ear, before a sigh is heard, making your hands tighten around the leather couch. “Pull your hair off your neck…” Your eyes close ever so slightly at those words, ear becoming numb from how much you try to feel his small breaths across your skin. “Then kiss down your neck, teasing you, just a little, till I would get a little lower–“ Your breath hitches, rubbing your legs together, unshamefully aroused and you really don’t seem to care anymore. “Do something for me Y/N.” You nod your head, like he could see you, eyes blinking open. “Follow my voice.”

Your white knuckles, that grip the cushion turn into their natural color, as you slowly trail your hand over your body to your hair. You do just as he said, gathering the strands of your hair and pushing them off your shoulders, fingers dancing across your neck. “Okay…a little lower–“ You are quiet, bashful from the fact that only a voice and words could make you feel like this. The more your hand travels lower, the more your nails scratch at your skin — going over your neck, collarbones, till they pinch on the swell of your breasts.

“Yes–“ You gasp at the moan leaving him, whimpering softly to yourself, while you play with the hem of your tank top. “Lower.” You follow his word, fingers getting caught a little in the cleavage of your top, dragging the fabric down with your movements, till it snaps back. “Lower.” His voice suddenly becomes rougher, hearing the shuffling of fabric on the other side as your hand meets your stomach. “Right there Y/N — yeah, there we go–“ You sigh sharply, head tilting back a little as your hand meets the waistband of your sleep short, stopping just over your mound. “Tell me…how do you feel.”

“I — hot, I feel hot.” You say, sighing breathlessly. You do not move your hand and touch yourself, the build up making you feel so much better than you thought it would and you do not want to disobey him. “I–I can’t-“

“Can’t what, sweetheart?”

“Wait – please, I need it.” You don’t recognize yourself — so needy and ready to burst at any moment. You can feel your nipples hardening, goosebumps appearing on your sweaty skin, thighs already slick with your cum.

“Touch yourself.” You can hear the words, but you for second can’t hear hear anything else other than the low hum in your ears. Your hand trails lower, pushing the material of your shorts to the side before you dip just a little into your leaking cunt, moan ripping out of you. “Just like that, Y/N. Keep going–“

You frown in pleasure, two of your fingers swiping across your folds, spreading your legs to fully touch your already puffy clit. “Oh, my god…” You have never been so swollen like this before, the hood of your clit puffed up, hips jumping, when you finally push down on it. You circle your fingers across it, smearing your juices across your whole bottom fall and the nasty wet, smack can definitely be heard through the speaker, when a groan fills your ear.

“You sound so good–“ Something rattles on the other side and you through out the noise hum in delight from such praise. “Come one, baby, put those little fingers inside your pussy — you sound like you need it–“ Curse falls your lips, whining a little when your hand leaves your clit, but as you put your hand lower, fingers just dipping inside of you, your palm grazes you, making you grind down greedily. “Fuck that pretty pussy – want to hear it.” Your mind is all over the place, too lost in the pressure, because you only hear a click of a tongue again, when your fingers slide hallway inside you. “I want to hear it.” He voices out each word, making your eyes screw shut at such filthy demand.

However your other hand is already moving to the phone, before you can even stop yourself, losing power over your own body. Grabbing it in your shaking hand, you want so desperately to lift your hips so your fingers would go deeper, but you wait till the phone is placed right on your upper thigh. The fact of hearing you so closely — how each inch of your fingers disappear into you, makes a wet sound and it should be embarrassing, but it only makes you moan louder, hoping that he can hear you.

When your hole meets the back of your knuckles, you scissor your fingers, spreading yourself open. Your slick is already pooling down your ass, creating a wet spot on your blanket, with the first curl of your fingers. You chase after the pleasure, clit bumping into your palm as you pull out your fingers a little to only push them back in, hitting the small squishy spot inside you. Gripping the phone tightly, it shakes from your strong hold, mouth falling open. You are dripping wet — so slippery that you fuck yourself just a little harder to feel more of the sickening pleasure. You are letting yourself go, moaning loudly, head tilting back, feeling your tummy rumble and when a small crack of the floor is heard you realize that you almost forgotten the phone in your hand.

Your hand doesn’t stop, when you put the phone back to your ear, whimpering at the quiet moan from the other side. “Fuck — you sound even better than I imagined…” Your whimper mixes with his own sound of pleasure, wondering if he might be doing the exact same thing as you, but hearing him becoming so whiny and quiet is really making you lose it. “Keep going–“

“Please talk more…I’m close.” Gasping sharply, when the tips of your fingers graze the one sweet spot, your hips hump your hand wildly. Your eyes are shinning with small tears of pleasure, ready to plead if he asked you to.

“Yeah?” You can hear the amusement in his voice. “Gonna come all over yourself? Just from hearing my voice? Fuck, you are such a slut Y/N–” Nodding dumbly, the name only makes your eyes squeeze tightly shut, concentrating on the pleasure, ignoring your numbing hand. You place the phone to your shoulder again to only sneak your now free hand to your breast. The extra stimulation almost too much, pinching a little at your hardened nipple. “Yeah, keep squeezing your tits just like that–“

You pause, slowly realizing the words he had spoken. Your hand releases your breast, now laying flat across it, the other still moving a little. “H-how do you know?” You ask, voice quiet, but you know it’s not that much from the pleasure anymore.

“I can see you, silly girl.” The deep chuckles makes your heart stop, freezing in your spot, eyes staring wildly across the seemingly empty living room.

“Where?” Your breathing becomes heavy, pulling your fingers away from your center and sitting up slowly on the couch.

“Come and see — should have locked your window–“ Your eyes widened at the words, hearing the sound of beeping, signaling the call has been ended. You wanted to scream, cry, but in your state of shock and in this fight or flight situation, you don’t think twice and rush to pull yourself on your feet, throwing the phone somewhere, not really caring about the crack you hear, when it hits the floor. You are shaking, chest tight as you run on your trembling feet to the front door only to be met with a sight that almost makes you fall in despair.

Ghostface — it is standing right in front of you, right before the door leading to your freedom. It stares at you, listening how your naked feet squeak on the polished floor, making you stumble from your sudden pause. The way you fall a little forward makes him jump at you, but you quickly dodge his hands, turning around to run to the opposite side and away from him. However as you ran through the hallway, passing the staircase, you notice someone standing in the middle of the stairs.

A cry leaves you, thinking firstly you have lost your mind, when your eyes meet another person dressed as the ghostly figure. Your first thought of going up the stairs to maybe jump of your window, which you knew was definitely now opened was forgotten. This one seems to be even faster as he runs down the stairs, hand shooting through the wooden railing to grab your passing form, but he was only able to graze your shoulder with its leather glove. You can’t catch your breath properly, feet sliding across the floor when you turn the corner to the kitchen. The thought of maybe grabbing a weapon was there, but seeing the other door to the kitchen seemed as a safer option.

Your body slams onto the door, sliding through the small gap, before slamming it in their faces. Your eyes stare around the living room and the couch which you were pleasuring yourself on to its voice just minutes ago — you don’t want to reminisce it. Your feet drag you back to the main door, turning the knob, only to stupidly realize you have locked it. However, when your eyes fall down the keyhole, your keys were not there. The window is your only option now…

You can taste blood on your tongue, adrenaline pulsing through you, when you turn around to the staircase, catching a glimpse of the two figures closing the distance between you. The carpet scratches you, burning, like your already strained muscles as you jump onto the stairs, nearly falling to your knees by the reckless move. That also almost gets you caught — dragging yourself up your feet before one of them can catch your ankle. The loud, creaking stairs, makes you wonder if you truly are being haunted, because how long have they been here with you? The stairs never seem to end, their incoming stumps making you cry out, rush pulsing in your veins. Your foot just barely touches the carpet of the second floor, before you feel a cold hand on your other. You can’t even blink — it already drag you to its body.

Your hands save you from the fall, a loud thud! echoing in the hallway. You can’t anymore — you can’t…You feel the hand leave you — you hear the slow footsteps coming up the stairs, the two figure’s watching you desperately try and crawl away from them, but you are only flipped onto your back. Hands find your shoulders, pushing you to you to the ground and you gasp loudly at the close proximity of the masked person. You can almost see an emotion behind the darkness…

You don’t fight back anymore, excepting your fate that you still have to guess, because you can’t find any weapon in their hands. The one holding you releases you suddenly, standing up to its fully height. You whimper softly, staring through you eyelashes at the pair looming over your shaking body. The more you look at them, the more you feel nauseous, afraid, tears quickly gathering in your eyes — but at that reaction they pull their hands up to their faces, making you momentarily quiet and still. With shock you watch them wrap their hands around the back of their masks, before pulling them off their heads.

Your whole word turns dark, heart stopping at the familiar heads of hair, thinking you must be out of your mind, but then they reveal themselves fully — Jeongin and Seungmin, staring down at you with crazed smiles, breathing heavily from your small fight. “Oh, my god–“ You hiccup a little, shaking your head in disbelief. Your body shakes, looking at them. Their hair is a mess, noticing the blonde without his glasses and wonder if he ever needed them to begin with. Seungmin takes just a one step closer, making your eyes snap to him, backing up a little. From the corner of your eyes you can see your open bedroom door, but you are not dumb enough to try your luck and also, even with just a small glance, the brunette noticed it. “You killed all of those people–“ You are horrified, disgusted, but you couldn’t take your eyes off them.

They cooed — they cooed at you like they were seeing a small injured puppy, the familiar sound unwillingly making heat go over you. Your lips fall shut, watching how they shake their heads at you. “Those weren’t people, Y/N — we did this for you.” Their voices blend into each other, the last sentence making shivers go down your spine. The way they are not phased, looking normal about this whole situation, makes your head hurt.

“W-what?” You can’t cry, only sniffle in confusion. Your eyes trail over their figures clad in long drape of black cloth, nothing, but their masks in their hands. You can’t believe it — you would have ever guessed it. Though maybe your body responding to their stares and need to press their bodies to yours just few hours ago told you enough. They had no weapons, remembering how they only tried to catch and not physically harm you, but how can you be sure of their intentions? Maybe they are hiding their knifes under their cloaks, maybe trying to scare you and play with your mind, before they do it. How can you trust their words right now, when they lied to you the whole time?

Because of the way they appear so calm, it makes your chest stop heaving so hard and fast, catching your breaths that you didn’t take when you were being chased. You watch them both lower themselves to crouch before your layed out form and in reflex your legs you try to kick them down, but you are not fast enough. Both of them wrap their hands around your legs, pressing them down as you trash. Their holds are strong, yet you don’t feel big pressure, only the small scratch of their leather gloves.

The act makes you stop, deciding to regain the small strength left in you, if they decide differently about your fate, but looking back at their faces — now without both of their masks, raw and real, they show you a small spark of warmness in their cold eyes. “Jake–“ Jeongin says his name with displeasure, sneer match Seungmin’s and you listen their confession with choked breath. “The man that was this close to kidnapping you back in winter–“ You shake your head, trying to remember and they see the fight against your own memories from the look on your features. “You weren’t paying attention — like always. Scratching off at your shopping list, completely unaware of the near danger.”

You don’t want to believe their words, but they sound so real. You vividly remember the day, feeling like any other — were they really there? Watching, spying on you, keeping you safe. You realize at that the obvious truth that they have been watching and following you all along. Your mind goes back to the day at the lockers — how you bumped into Jeongin, thinking it was just an accident. It makes you go back today, how his lips formed into a snear, when Jake showed up. ‘Like back at the lockers?’, he said with disgust, eyes trained on the leaving figure of the football player.

“But — I only know you for half a year!” You fire back, almost spitting in their faces and you for some reason don’t talk against the thought of them saving you — they really looked and sounded believable and what use would it be to lie to you now? “What about the other people?” You whisper, trying to push away from their hold, but they only pull you back to them.

“Just a small practice…” Says Seungmin, sniffing a laugh with his friend and you look at them completely horrified. “Though they surely will not be missed, I give you that–“

“Do you really think that we did those things only out of pleasure?” The blonde continues, not letting you have your word. “Those things you called people were nothing more than a waste.” Venom drips from his mouth, eyes glaring into yours.

You don’t know what to say. Again they could be just lying to your face, but why would they? They already showed you how much trust they had in you by pulling of their masks. The news didn’t say anything about the victims, it was always the same — the victim was a residence of the town. Not telling the public what the victim might have done to deserve such punishment, maybe to seek fear in order for the public to began their own search. If the people knew that the killers — Jeongin and Seungmin were targeting only bad people, it would only turn on the authorities. You know that some fanatics would say that they are saviors and in a sense they are. They both saved you from that man which you didn’t even know off, they were taking care of you. No…you can’t be thankful for them, they still hurt people.

“You think that makes you better?” Even the words felt heavy on your tongue, trying to fight back the obvious — they saved you. “You think you will redeem yourself of what you both did?”

The brunette shakes his head instantly, smiling with the other, just as he wraps his hand around your chin. “No…you will redeem us.” His breath fans over your face, lips tingling at the familiar smell of mint. The tone of his voice makes a small sound escape your mouth, screwing your eyes shut in embarrassment.

You hear Jeongin leaning closer to you, the soft fabric of his cloak falling over you. You don’t open your eyes immediately, stilling when his breath hits your ear. “Sweet, Y/N.” He says, voice dripping with honey and you gasp softly, not able to move your mouth properly by the hand on your face.

“Do you think we are going to hurt you?” You have a feeling that the sadness in Seungmin’s voice is mocking, however when your eyes blink open you see the truth. You know — but still your mind overpoweres your heart, logically nodding in agreement at such question and surprisingly they don’t look too taken back or offended.

They actually cooed at you more, shushing you softly and it calms you just a little “We would never.” Still you shake a little in their hold, trying to find the pieces of your shattered sanity. “We did this all for you, so you can be safe-“ Jeongin argues, feeling his covered thumb brushing across your naked skin. You really are crazy to trust them with their words.

Seungmin pulls you closer to face him again, gazing down at you. “Don’t you feel saver knowing we saved you and your dignity?” He says and you gasp in sudden realization.

“You killed Jake-“

“No, no, no-“ Seaungmin stops the small cry leaving you and you feel Jeongin leaning to dig his nose in your hair, basically rubbing the side of his face into you — you can’t do anything other than inhale sharply at his closeness. “Even if we would prefer that…we just really let him learn his lesson.” Smile creeps up onto the brunette’s face and you can feel the other smiling just as wildly on your temple.

“You are both crazy!” Your voice is broken, trembling at the feeling of the blonde’s lips pressing lightly on the side of your face.

“Oh, really?” Every word bounces of your skin, feeling his spit smear over you and at his tone of voice, your bottom lip quivers. “Hear that, Seungmin?” You can hear the amusement in his voice, while he turns his head to glance at his companion and you do nothing, but the same.

A low hum comes from him, looking down your body shamelessly and you self-consciously squeeze your thighs together and that move particularly seems to make his eyes sparkle. “Weren’t you the one fucking yourself to our voices?” Teasing you, the smile in his voice makes you shake, embarrassed at the memory of them seeing you at your most vulnerable.

“I didn’t know it was you!”

“Yeah, but you definitely didn’t think of the fuckface-Jake either.” Spits Jeongin, turning his head to look into your eyes and you can see every small wrinkle and invisible blemish on his skin.

Then a voice is heard and it makes your heart stop for a moment, a familiar knot forming in your stomach as you turn to Seungmin. With wide eyes you glance at the small box in his hand, watching him press down the button on the side of it. “You like it.” He states the obvious and you can’t do nothing, but agree silently in your head. You can hear both his normal voice and his changed one, the reality of the situation crushing over you. His hand on your chin tugs you closer to his face, hearing the click of the button again, crisp hum coming of the voice changer. “You, like that, Y/N?” Fuck you do….

“I-I-“ You try to justify yourself, fight against the rising desire in your gut. Maybe it is because of your ruined orgasm, but you seem to almost lean into his hold.

A deep laugh rings in your left ear, making you look from the corner of your eye at Jeongin who holds his own voice changer in his hand. “Want us to finish the job, huh?“ He says, eyes flickering down your body, hand tightening around you. “I can see the wet spot on your little shorts from here.” Your lips fall apart, whimper leaning you, knowing that Seungmin must feel the blood rushing to your face. You see your legs tremble from how much you were pressing them together, making you calm down your strained muscles. You can feel your upper thighs stick together, the cold air kissing you, realizing you haven’t even put your shorts back to their place.

The hand on your face leaves you, letting you turn to look up at the brunette, watching his every move. A sense of Deja vu washes over you, when he pulls your hair off your shoulder, eyes staring at the naked skin of your neck. Their hands on your legs trail up, the extra stimulation already too much to handle all at once as Seungmin lowers his head to your neck, hand stopping just at your higher part of your thigh — but Jeongin doesn’t.

Breath fans over your skin, making it tingle, before you feel a press of Seungmin’s lips on the part where your neck meets your ear. Mind completely fuzzy, you sigh out a silent gasp, when Jeongin’s fingers lightly graze over your exposed center. It makes your hand shoot to his, gripping at his wrist and it makes him stop momentarily. He meets your wide gaze, quietly asking. You can feel the other kissing your skin again, your hand on the blonde’s softening its grip a little, but not internally letting go. Giving you one single look, his leather covered fingers finally dip into you.

The unknown material on your most sensitive area sends sparks down your spine, gasping lightly, grip around his wrist tightening a little, when he pushes his fingers harder against you. “Fuck, I can feel how wet you are even over my glove–“ The blonde opens his mouth, mimicking the whimper you let out at lewd words. Your other hand flies to grip Seungmin’s shoulder to brace yourself when you feel the small flicker of his friend’s finger on your clit, but you only receive a bite on your neck.

Your yelp makes them both laugh, suddenly pulling away from you to look at you fully, all three of you trying to catch your breaths. Their hold leaves you, challenging you, maybe to see if you would run, but to your own surprise you do nothing other than rubbing your legs together. “Stand up.” You nod after a split second, crawling back a little so you could stand up on your shaking legs, just like they asked you to.

They immediately follow your lead, making you nearly double over by their looming height, gasping when they both grab you, picking you off your feet. The embarrassment of feeling your cunt quiver is quickly forgotten as you swing your feet in the air, till you are pulled into your room. Your eyes glance at your window, cracked open, like you carelessly left it. When you feel them put you down on your carpet the memory is thrown out of the window, when they manhandle you, turning you around, before pushing you down on the bed.

The pink duvet wrinkles under your weight, watching them slowly lower themselves on either side of you. Your eyes firstly meet Jeongin’s, his gaze unnaturally soft for a moment, eyes half lidded, flickering down to your bitten lips and you can’t help, but do the same. He leans ever so slightly towards you, but you are swiftly pulled away from him by his friend, who gives you a long, deep look, before smashing his lips to yours.

His tongue breaches your lips immediately, swirling around yours and you desperately try to keep up with his pace. Drool — his and yours mix together, rolling past your lips. He swallows the small sounds you let out, hand gripping at your leg tightly. It seemed way more possessive, fingers digging into you so deeply, you know it will bruise permanently. Seungmin breathes through his nose heavily, fucking your mouth with his tongue and it must be considered anything, but a kiss at that point. Then you however feel a hand sneaking its way up your back, till it buries itself into your hair, tugging harshly. It makes you pull away from the brunette, who bites down at your lip, almost like tugging you back to him. A small hiss leaves you, but it is torn away from you hallway when Jeongin pulls you by your hair to his own lips.

His kiss is a little softer, more precise, not overly using his tongue right away to build up the tension. Spit is literally rolling down your neck, pooling at the valley of your breasts, leaning into the blonde just a little more, when his own hand meets your thigh. Another lips travel up your neck, kissing your jawline, cheek, till you feel Seungmin swiping his tongue across yours and Jeongin’s. “Fuck-“ Your small curse isn’t even heard, both of them pressing their bodies to yours, tongues licking into your open mouth.

The sighs from all of you melt into one, your heart hammering against your chest, letting them both kiss you messily. You don’t even know who is who at this moment. Who is biting down on your lower lip, who is swiping their tongue across your gums and teeth — you don’t even register one of them pulling away from you. Your mind is completely empty, so soaked that you can feel your shorts and your duvet sticking to your pulsating pussy. You are drunk of a simply kiss that felt so much more than anything that you left, when you were pleasuring yourself downstairs in the living room.

When you are pulled away from the mouth latching onto yours, it makes your eyes flicker open, only meeting Seungmin’s crazed eyes. His lips shine, puffy and red, swiping his thumb across yours to clean up the drool across your them. “Sit on his face, baby–“ Your eyes momentarily widened at such words, just noticing the shifting on your bed behind you, making you turn around and see the blonde laying on his back horizontally on the mattress. “Maybe, you can finally shut him up–“ Seungmin laughs, ignoring the glare on Jeongin’s face, it melting when meeting your eyes.

You bite your lip, already raw, trailing your eyes over his lean body, that is still covered completely. Your body moves on its own, sitting up, reaching to touch him. Being on your hands and knees, you feel Seungmin’s hands finding your hips, squeezing and grabbing a handful. It makes you tremble a little, crawling your way up to the blonde, eyes staring down at his sharp cheekbones and plush lips. But when you go to swing your leg over his body, facing him, you only receive a nasty smack on your cheek.

Another startled yelp leaves you, feeling your skin ripple and burn from the slap, turning around to glare at Seungmin, but he only finds the expression on you was adorable. “Turn around.” You frown a little, confused, turning back to look at man laying before you and when he taps his lips with his index finger your eyebrows raise in realization.

Too much — it was all so much for you, but your body acts on its own, turning around on your knees, your backside facing the blonde, before you finally swing your leg over his body to straddle his chest. You needed a moment to breathe, to calm yourself down, but he doesn’t let you even fully settle in this new position. His hands fly to your hips, squeezing just like his friend did, who now faces you, before roughly pulling you closer to his face. A gasp leaves you, falling forward, back arching, your chin hitting the bulge covered by his cloak, stilling when his flattened tongue licks over your barely covered cunt.

Moaning, your eyes glance at Seungmin whose eyes go back and forth between your body and your contracting face which you bashfully hide in the dark cloth beneath you. You try to move just a little, to sit up maybe, legs not strong enough in this position, but Jeongin doesn’t seem particularly against in sticking his whole face in to you. You can feel him everywhere — tongue licking over your slicked slit, mouth sucking in your lips, teeth grazing over your pulsating clit, nose digging in hole. “Too much — fuck!” Your legs already shake, face smushed against his leg, grazing his twitching cock.

Jeongin pulls away from you with a sharp inhale, chuckling at your trembling legs, hands running over the swell of your ass. “Come on, baby. We know you can take it.” You moan, not sure if it’s in agreement or disagreement, spit covered lips soaking his cloak. You only whine more, when he suddenly lifts his hips effortlessly, even with you being on top of him.

While trying to catch your breath a little, letting the man under you play with you — sqeezing your flesh, sucking meanly at your thighs, you didn’t even notice the other getting off the bed. The blonde pulls your lips apart, groaning at the sight of your dripping hole. “Fuck, look at that–“ A familiar long hum echoes around the room, making you tilt your head, gaze only meeting Seungmin’s. You don’t even know how he got behind you, but that doesn’t seem as important as the sight of his cock in his hand.

With wide eyes and blurry vision you watch his hand go up and down the length, smearing his own precum over himself and you whimper softly at the veins running from the base all the way to his flushed tip. Your small noise only breaks in a loud mewl when you feel the blonde’s tongue licking you up again, long and rough, before you are left speechless when he shuffles a little more to the edge of the bed. “You are dripping, baby — gonna fuck you nice and good right now, okay?” You look at him with big eyes, feeling Jeongin, sliding under you, latching right on your clit.

You can’t move an inch from the growing pleasure, shaking again already, freezing for a second when you feel the tip of the brunette’s cock kissing your entrance. Jeongin doesn’t seem to be put off, actually nibbling a little at you, while Seungmin starts to bottom out. The sweet burn from the sheer thickness melts away with the tongue moving your clit from side to side, making you grip tightly onto Jeongin’s legs, face bumping into his own cock that twitches all the same like the one now kissing your cervix.

Your walls suck him right in, back arching even more, grinding down on the cock inside you and the tongue licking your cunt. “Hear that?” Your ears perk up at the words, feeling Seungmin pull out his cock, before fucking back into you with a filthy, nasty smack! as your skins meet. “You are a fucking slut — greedy for a cock and a mouth at the same time–“ You hum dumbly in agreement, face hot at the sound of Jeongin spitting and slurping at you. “That asshole wouldn’t even know what to do with this hungry cunt of yours — would he Jeongin?”

His friend unlatches from you, though his tongue still licks at your folds, letting the man over him snap his hips back into you, before picking up pace that makes you see stars. “No.” You don’t even make a sound for a second there, mouth hanging open at the way Seungmin’s cock kisses the spot inside you that you have trouble reaching yourself. The lack of answer from your side gives you a sharp bite on your right thigh, Jeongin teeth breaching the sensitive skin with a wide smile. “Answer us — would he be able to make you feel like this?” Another smack lands on your ass, Seungmin’s now naked hand grabbing a handful of your bouncing flesh.

“No!” You cry out, sobbing almost when the blonde suck your clit into his mouth, gripping at your trashing hips. “N–never–“ Your whole face rubs against Jeongin’s cock, making a wet spot appear right over his tip from your drooling .

“Fuck, yeah, he wouldn’t.” Seungmin is cocky and you can hear the proud smirk on his face from the way your hips start to meet his. You don’t even want to move — can’t even, your muscles and nerves doing it for you. It only makes you back up into Jeongin’s nose, moaning as it hits your clit perfectly. “So good–“ Praises the brunette, slapping his palm over your already bruised skin, his eyes fighting to stay open when your insides starts to pulse around him.

“I am — I-I–“

“Gonna cum, huh?” He is mocking you, but the sight of your ass bouncing on his cock and his friend’s tongue just lightly grazing over him, makes his own hips shutter. “That soon?” The blonde under you response by pushing the tip of his tongue hard against your poor clit.

“Please-” You whisper, mind a mess from the burn coming from your clit and stretched out hole.

“What do you think, Jeongin?” You want to moan in protest, pleading quietly to the man under you, who has been torturing with his tongue for the longest time. “Should we let her cum?” Seungmin asks, though not stopping thrusting into you.

The named man nods firstly, the move with his mouth latched on you, nearly taking you over the edge, but he separates from you just as you felt the first spark of your peak. “She’s been good — so responsive–“ You hate how even now they are playing with you, not knowing that they are doing it just to spite you — to completely ruin you for anyone else…there will not be anyone else. “I want you to cum all over my mouth.” Mumbles Jeongin in your pussy, swirling his tongue hard over your tingling clit.

“Fuck, please…yes–“ Loud gasp leaves you when you feel the tip of Seungmin’s cock hitting the plushy spot inside you. “Don’t stop.” Your words die on your tongue, falling forward, the only thing keeping you somewhat up were their hands digging into your soft skin. Your lower tummy rumbles, the sudden burn coming from your clit is so much that you want to escape the feeling, but they are too strong.

The incoming pleasure is so close — so sharp and intense, that you feel your whole body being set on fire. You shake, sobbing and moaning loudly, muffled by your mouth digging into Jeongin’s cock that twitches under you. Seungmin buries into you deeper, his hand finding your hair to pull your head back so they both could hear what they were doing to you. With a single last suck of lips, cock ramming into you in a delicious pace that makes you almost black out, you finally cum, coating the brunette’s cock and the blonde’s face in your juices.

You see white for a second, feeling your hole push out the cock still moving in you, giving Seungmin no choice, but to pull out of you. A flow of your juices and pleasure come leaking out of you and straight to Jeongin’s face and you in exhaustion flop down on him. “Holy shit— didn’t know you were a squirter.” Your features would have shown shock at the words, but you are completely drained from energy, whimpering, because you can’t seem to ride down this mind shattering orgasm.

You feel someone flipping you around, the blonde shuffling away from you, letting you flop down back on the bed. The ceiling dances in shapes, your chest rising heavily, stretching your hand to push your hair off your face only to met plastic in the way. Turning your head to the side you only find one of their masks right next to you and you find yourself trailing your fingers over the sleek white face. “Baby…” You tiredly look down the length of your body, meeting their gazes that spark with a new emotion. “You like it?”

You genuinely think of a right answer, turning to look back at the mask, that right now didn’t seem so scary. You hate yourself — you know that it isn’t because they fucked you so good, you truly can feel your pussy fluttering at the memory of them wearing it. Then you only nod, not trusting your own voice and they both melt a little at the cute wonder on your face. Seungmin is the first one to move, hands trailing up your thighs, meeting with the waistband of your shorts. You help him take them off, the garment completely unnecessary. Jeongin on the other hand goes a little higher — firstly just grabbing a handful of your tits, nipples digging into his palms, before he as well helps you take off the last piece of clothing.

Their sweet behavior makes your chest fill with warmth, but you can’t ignore the darkness in their eyes, that drink in your naked body. Hands are everywhere on you — mostly groping the new exposed flesh of your tits, pinching meanly at your nipple, each giving you a harsh suck on the swell of your breasts, marking you. You take your chance to finally touch them, running your hands through their hair, gripping their shoulders, feeling their muscles spasm under your fingers. Your legs are spread open, Seungmin’s cock rubbing against your thigh, while Jeongin fumbles with something behind you.

They detach their mouths from you, making you look down your body, noticing hickeys, blotches and bruises covering you. A ruffle of clothing catches your attention, noticing firstly how the blonde kneeling beside your head uncovers his lower half. You inhale, staring at the bulge in his pants, before looking up at him, only to be left speechless again. He is wearing the mask…you don’t how he was able to put it on so quickly, but you are still drowsy of your orgasm, vision a blur.

Watching him undo his belt and zipper you instantly go to sit up on your arms, only to be pulled down a little on the bed. Seungmin tugged at your ankle, just like on the stairs and now even with the same mask on his face. The feeling of having not the privilege to see their pretty faces, making you instead stare at the Ghostface mask makes you oh, so needy. You can just feel their grins on you — the blonde tugging at your roots to turn your head to face his now uncovered cock.

“Will you be good and take both of us?” You bite your lip, eyes going from the long veiny cock with deliciously flushed tip to his masked face, air getting caught in your throat at the use of the voice changer.

Nodding, you blink slowly, trying to unstick your teary eyelashes to fully imprint this view in your mind. You feel hand trail over your stomach, squeezing at your soft tummy, while the cock before you pokes at your lips, smearing precum all over you. “Gonna fuck my cum right here–“ Says the brunette, pressing down on your tummy. “You’ll be mine.”

“Ours.” Hisses Jeongin through his teeth, when you wrap your lips around his tip, sucking the salty taste of him in your mouth. The sneer is obvious in his tone and as response the older snaps his hips into yours, burying his cock in you in one go.

Your squeal is muffled by the cock in your mouth, hand smoothing down your messy hair, but the sweet gesture doesn’t match his or his friend’s movements. You almost choke around him as he hits the back of your throat, because Seungmin started to chase quickly and roughly for his own orgasm. You can tell by the way he rolls his hips into yours — humping you more and more than fucking you, gasps and curses flying out his mouth that he definitely won’t last that much longer like before.

Drool rolls down face again, eyes filling up with tears, while you still look at the man fucking your mouth. He is slow with it, yet hard, keeping in mind that you might not be able to catch up with him when his company is so busy with molding your pussy into the shape of his cock. You are already over the line of overstimulation, your cunt swallowing hungrily Seungmin’s cock and when he suddenly presses his thumb over the top of your clit your eyes roll back into your skull, legs shaking around his hips. “You, slut — look at you swallowing my cock, bet you are about to cum again, hm?” You grip his hips tightly between your legs, trying to get much needed oxygen through your nose, head swirling from the incoming pleasure.

“Look at me — when I’m fucking-“ The low, rough voice makes you look at its owner, moaning around Jeongin, when you notice the desperation in Seungmin’s movements. “Yes, yes — keep squeezing me like that — fuck!” You whimper loudly, hand stretching to make the brunette slow down a little as you feel the second orgasm of the night creeping up on you. The blonde pulls out his drenched cock from your mouth, making you instantly moan breathlessly, eyes on Seungmin, who throws the voice changer somewhere to grab your hips to fully fuck into you, . “Cum for me — cum with me, come on, baby — yeahhh-“

No sound leaves your lips, when you hit the peak of your pleasure, body shaking violently as you feel Seungmin’s cock twitch. His warm cum fills you right after, pressing his whole cock so deep inside you, that you fear for a second that he breeched your cervix. Groaning, he falls on his knees before you, head hanging low, only to realize as he pulls his down his mask, that he is staring at where your bodies meet, watching his cum leak out of, forming a creamy ring around his cock. “Still not full?” Says Jeongin and you watch him tore his own mask off, running his hand through his messed up hair.

“I can’t no more–“ You plea, but the sight before you makes your cunt only clap down on the cock still inside you. The younger one eyes the older, looking into his eyes before wrapping his hand around the base of his cock to pull him out of you. You don’t know if it was because of his orgasm or the mesmerizing sight of your hole leaking his cum, but he lets Jeongin shove him off you to fill in his position.

He crawls up your body, kissing your left nipple, before meeting your lips in a sweet kiss. “You can — just hold on, I got you.” You moan tiredly, twitching, when he puts his cock to your clit teasingly. “Have to fill you up too.” You look up at him with big eyes, the intimate position making your chest swell and it seems like it does it for him too.

You let him grab your legs, a little shocked by him pushing them all the way to your ears, but you are a complete mess to care anymore, muscles jello. His cock breaching your stuffed pussy, makes a nasty wet sound echo around the room. Whimpering, while the blonde moans, long fingers digging into the cushion on each side of your head, you lock your legs together behind his back. You watch — mesmerized by the sweat dripping down his face, hair sticking to his forehead as he rams his cock into you, not even letting you breath for a second.

Your eyes shoot open again, fighting against your tiredness, wildly staring into his eyes, mewling at each snap of his hips, the sticky release of his friend smearing across the both of you. “Fuck, you are so right, Y/N.” You hum between each snap of his hips, head rolling back, when his happy trail scratches your completely bruised clit.

“Ah! Ah — Jeongin, can’t–“ Your whole bottom half burns, but it still was so good that you found yourself drowning in the pleasure.

Your head is turned back, vision nothing, but small black spots, but you recognize the hand holding you. “Cum for him, Y/N-“ Seungmin says, laying beside you and your eyes meet the blonde’s at the words. It was like a command — they had the complete power over your mind and body. “Just one more…” A sob breaks out of you, gasping then when Jeongin hits your spot particularly hard. You need to feel something more — so, you lean in to press your lips to his and the unexpected gesture leaves his thrusts shattering into a stop, groaning into your mouth.

This one takes you completely out of your body, feeling yourself squirt ones again, so hard you swear you could hear your orgasm dripping out of you. But the thing you do feel is the cum filling you, mixing with yours and the other’s. You can feel the light kisses on your skin — you can hear the words both degrading and encouraging. Your ringing ears are filled with sweet nothings, your eyes not able to tell apart the room and faces before you — but you do see the obvious.

You are insane in the brain.

[theoppositeofprofound]

You’ve got to read through to Nona, Nona is where the love starts to congeal into its final form (because the POV character is just a young woman who loves everyone so much and also the titanic soul of a dead [SPOILERS] shoved into an anemic nineteen year old.)

This. This feels like a central theme of TLT that goes underrated (and one of the reasons that Alecto probably isn’t going to be about defeating God). You cannot prioritize both revenge and healing. When it comes time to choose you need to pick anabolism. You have to choose to live.

John wasn’t a Bad Guy all along, he was a furious, brilliant man who saw a horrible injustice wrought and did his best to stop it. Under other circumstances, he’s the kind of guy who’d work himself to the bone to cure cancer or stop global warming. Unfortunately he also had a vengeful streak a mile wide and when it came down to it he quite literally chose Eat the Rich over Save the Poor. His villainous meltdown happened ten thousand years ago and now he’s just having a sad little self destructive spiral, slowly collapsing like an old star. He’s the villain but not the main obstacle.

The main obstacle is that the Earth is trapped in a fully articulated body, the solar system is undead, the path to the afterlife is clogged. It’s an environmentalist plot, the solution is going to be fixing the environment! Prioritizing that, instead of punishing the pathetic whinging instigator of the apocalypse is, I suspect, going to be one of the main goals and conflicts of AtN. Because as easy as it is to punch God, that’ll only solve one of your problems (the problem is that God is not currently being punched).

[heartthrobin]

all's fair in love and war (2)

oliver wood x female!reader

wc: 7.87k

warnings: enemies to lovers, still so damn much pining, set in poa, timeline is a bit wonky, limited use of y/n, archie being my fav oc, cheese fest

an: literally fell asleep on my laptop last night editing this, i was so exhausted from school so i’m sorry it’s late !!! but i had the most fun in the world writing this and i hope everyone enjoys :)) don't forget to comment and repost your favourite writers

summary: Oliver is still impossibly miserable, maybe more uncooperative than before, except now when you look at him: you can't think of much else beyond how sweet his lips tasted.

part one

You can’t sleep.

You're not sure you'll find sleep ever again.

“I knew it, I knew it—“ Cherry had bounced the whole way to your dormitory, howling into your ear. “I knew it!”

The image of Oliver’s fluttering eyes swum around your brain as you blinked into the darkness of the poster bed. The taste of his tongue and his words still right against your lips.

It was a riddle of a calibre that you can’t seem to detangle. More than anything, you try to remember how strong has he tasted of Firewhisky - was he so drunk to really dismiss it to nothing at all?

You lingered on it all weekend.

Cherry didn’t help at all — he’s been in love with you forever, that’s literally so obvious — and Enzo even less so once he’d been filled in: Oliver doesn’t seem a bloke who let’s alcohol make his decisions for him, something about Scottish genetics I think.

The interaction plagued you: digging a wide hole in the base of your stomach. You mourned the thought that you may never have the opportunity to kiss those soft lips again, more than anything: preparing yourself for the feud between yourselves to worsen.

There’s barely enough time to make sense of your situation before you’re racing down over the grassy hills of the grounds, bag swinging violently over your shoulder and extraordinarily late for your Herbology lesson in the greenhouse.

Your morning alarm had rung right into one ear and out the other, a product of the tossing and turning you’d been doing for the last two nights.

When you swing the greenhouse door open, panting and face flush from the beating sun, the whole room turns to you. Sprout pauses where her hands are flailing in explanation.

“Sorry I’m late professor,” you wheeze, readjusting your strap over your shoulder.

Cherry is smirking at you from her bench, sidled up with Jane Emmet.

It hadn’t escaped you that you’d be sharing the lesson with the Gryffindors, but you’d precious little time to worry about it in the five minutes you had to pull a robe over your head and stick a toothbrush into your mouth.

Your eyes are purposeful in not looking over the room. Scared to catch the wrong eyes.

“Not a problem peach, we’re just repotting some Fire-Seed Bushes.” She brings a stubby hand to her chin, “uhm … well, Mr Kumar there in the corner doesn’t have a partner. Go join him by his pots.”

Archie has a lopsided smile on his face when you approach, a thick black curl drooping over his left eye.

“Hey.” He nudges gently.

You set your bag down and grab a pair of gloves, chuckling. “Hey Archie.”

The soil is warm when you stick your fingers into the dirt, shifting it gently enough not to mess over the edge of the bucket. There’s a Fire-Seed Bush sitting tentatively at the end of the bench, spitting sparks and emitting smoke.

“So …” Archie speaks first, the back of his hand bumping yours between the black soil. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a veiled question, a poorly veiled one at that. The question draws a laugh from the base of your stomach.

You shrug, adamant on missing the point. “It was alright, I guess. How about yours?”

He shrugs right back. “Wasn’t the greatest. Penelope Clearwater rejected me for Percy Weasley.”

You don't mean to, you really don't, but it draws another bout of laughter out of you - you clap your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry—“

“No, I get it. Percy bloody Weasley?” His brow is creased, dirt-stained hands rising messily from the soil to swipe at a fallen piece of hair in his face. “Dead sure that bloke's own mother can't say he’s handsome. I’m better looking than him, surely?”

There’s the hanging insinuation that it was rhetorical, but you reply anyways: “you’re definitely more handsome than Percy Weasley, Archie.”

His head cocks down at you, stained paws finding his waist and pressing black fingerprints into the red jumper. “You really think so?”

“Without a doubt.”

Archie smiles, bumping your side against his. You think he might be blushing. “You’re very charming. I understand what Oliver sees in you.”

You jolt involuntarily, spilling some black soil over the edge of the pot.

Swiping at the mess lazily, you play the comment off with another crumbly chuckle: hoping it convinces him more than it does yourself. “Oliver sees in me what a bull sees in a red cape.”

Archie’s reaching timidly for the Fire-Seed Bush, lifting it off the counter and holding the dangerous botanical at arm’s length. “Not true. The boy’s half in love with you.”

This conversation is getting awfully uncomfortable awfully quickly. It picks at your curiosity nonetheless.

“He said that?”

He’s quick to shake off the question, eyes still trained on setting the roots of the bush into the gap in the soil. “Oliver doesn’t have to say anything. He spends practically every fucking mealtime mooning over at your table, and he talks about you way more than necessary—“

“That’s just because I work on his nerves. Oliver doesn’t love me, he barely tolerates me.”

The boy turns on you, confusion set in his brow. “Why is this news? Last I saw you, your tongue was halfway into his stomach.”

Zachariah Smith and his Gryffindor partner look up at that. Your face goes hot all over - Archie doesn’t seem to notice.

“We were drunk.” You say softly, eyes stuck on a loose leaf crackling against the wooden counter.

There’s a special kind of fear that's crawling into your heart where you stand. The fear of putting too much faith into the words of Archie Kumar.

That it’s an elaborate ruse. A set-up, canons of confetti and a banner screaming “you’ve been fooled!” if you were to indulge his words. The danger of allowing your mind to drift too far off into the possibilities of a world wherein Oliver Wood doesn’t hate you - at least not as much as he lets on.

Archie looks at you out the side of his eye, you can feel it, but says nothing. He hands you a miniature yellow-handled spade.

Instead you fill the space. "I heard Isla Flynn has a crush on you."

He perks: "really?"

Across the room, Oliver is bumping elbows with Poppy Davis.

"Ow!"

A loose spark has evidently landed on her exposed arm. The sparks that Oliver was supposed to be watching for, the ones that he is intent on ignoring with the constant glancing back over his shoulder to where you and his best mate are in the corner of the room fucking giggling at each other like toddlers with a box of matches.

“Oliver — can you just focus for five seconds!” Poppy isn’t impressed.

Oliver isn’t either, with the situation as a whole. The pads of his fingers are blistered from the repotting of the bush and Poppy’s careless bumps and his general indifference to the task at hand.

It eats at his brain. What are you guys talking about? Is it about him?

You laugh again and it’s loud enough that it draws his shoulders all the way taut. There’s another snap of a spark and Oliver feels where it lands at his wrist, but he doesn’t react.

“Just pass me the bloody spade.” He grumbles.

-

The lesson passes more slowly than Oliver could swim shoulder-deep through molasses.

It feels like years later when he tosses his gloves into the box with the rest, when the class shuffles to return tools and begin slinging half-open bags over their shoulders.

Oliver doesn’t think he’s ever packed up faster - Poppy is still scowling at him, he doesn’t care - before he’s knocking through yellow and red tied students to find Archie’s head of curly black hair.

“Hey!” He catches him by the wrist, tugging on it like a dog with a bone. Archie jumps, eyes winding down to find his friend. “What did she say?”

You’re far ahead, Oliver can make out the back of your head: hips bumping with Cherry’s up the hill towards the castle.

Archie grins. “She said Isla Flynn has a crush on me.”

Oliver groans, “Not about that, you prat. About— wait, really?”

"Yeah!" He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder. "Can you believe it? She's got that hot Irish accent and everything."

Oliver nods, "Yeah ... yeah. Good on you, mate."

He's trying desperately not to steal this moment from his best friend, but he's fucking itching to know what else you and Archie had been giggling about.

"Did she ... say anything else?" He presses, more gently than his character usually allows. "Like about me?"

Archie shrugs without looking down. "I asked her, but she seemed tense about the whole thing."

"Tense?"

"Yeah, she said something about a bull and a cape, and went like all quiet when I told her you like her--"

At that, Oliver's stomach leaps up into his throat. He grabs his best friend by the arm, jolting him to a short stop. Some Hufflepuff bumps into their halted figures, grumbling before shuffling around them.

"You told her what?" His eyes flare erratically.

Archie shrugs, an innocuously confused look painting his features. "Well I said Oliver's half in love with you, or something like that and she looked all confused about it--"

Oliver's grip on his friend's wrist tightened to a degree that a ring was sure to form on his dark skin. "You fucking pinhead! You told her I liked her?"

Pulling his arm violently from his grip, Archie has the nerve to look affronted. "You don't?"

The morning sun shining over Oliver's head feels like it's growing hotter by the second, there's a dribble of sweat running down his spine.

"That's -- that's not the point. Even if I do, which I'm not saying is the case, she doesn't need to know that."

"Were you two obliviated in your sleep last night?" Archie's eyebrows are pressed down against his eyes, slouching down to meet his friend's face. "I caught you two making out like the world was ending less than three days ago! Surely she has to figure that you feeling something for her, she's not stupid."

Oliver struggles between his thoughts, worse around his words. "That was ... we'd been drinking. For all I know, she only kissed me back cause she was trollied off Dragon-Barrell--"

"She said that, too."

Eyeing him, Oliver's hands find his hips. "Said what, exactly?"

"That you were drunk, I mentioned the kiss and she said we were drunk."

A sensation he can only identify as closest to guilt seeps up into Oliver's chest from his stomach. "She thinks I kissed her just cause I was drunk?"

Archie's hand finds Oliver's shoulder. "You should probably talk to her, mate."

He sighs, eyes drifting over the silhouette of the castle in the distance. He shakes his head like it'll rattle the plaguing thoughts loose. "We're gonna be late for Transfig."

-

"I mean, Archie is his best friend." Cherry is trying to rationalise the whole story. "I don't see why he'd lie about it?"

You shake your head, knocking shoulders with a Ravenclaw girl trying to pass through the corridor. "I'm not entertaining it, Cherry."

"Come on," she sighs, practically skipping to keep up with the furious pace you've set. "Would it be so terrible if he likes you?"

"Yes." You don't look at her.

The redhead's eye-roll is practically audible, "Let me rephrase, would it be so terrible if he likes you back?"

You meet her eyes for the first time since you'd entered the corridor.

She sighs, "we're gonna see him in Muggle Studies in five minutes. I think you should say something."

"Forget I said anything, Cherry." Heat flares at your neck again, prompted by the embarrassment of even imagining how such a conversation might go.

The rest of the walk is quiet, but you feel Cherry's gaze warming the side of your face.

Burbage's classroom is over-populated with Gryffindors by the time you drop your bag against the marbled floor beside your desk. In the corner of your eye, your brain has already fixated on Oliver's silhouette leaned against the edge of his own desk. You flush hot all over again, as if your thoughts were transcribing into subtitles and floating above your head for the whole class to read.

The click of Burbage's heels prompt the lingering students to find their seats, "Please take out your copies of Muggle Wars: Cause and Effect. We left off on page eighty-seven--"

You suddenly regret snapping at Cherry. Wishing for the comfort of her presence, your eyes glazing over where she's perched in the first row of desks closest to the chalkboard.

Unusually, the class trickles on without disruption. There's a few glances over at your direction, like everyone is waiting for another outburst from the grade's most volatile duo. They're sure to be let down, you're adamant to not even breathe in the direction of Wood.

Burbage comments on it, too, nearly ten minutes from the bell.

"It's suspiciously quiet in your corner today, captains." she looks down through her fingerprint-smudged frames, brushing over you and then Wood three seats away. "Something the matter?"

You shrug, refusing to acknowledge the boy. He seems to be doing the same: completely unfairly, the thought that he wouldn't look at you made the hair on your arms stand straight. "We can start up if you'd like, professor?"

Her face contorts into that irritated look that you'd grown accustomed to when Professor Burbage addresses you. "You're flirting dangerously with another session of detention, miss."

"She's just answering your question, professor."

Nobody in the class seemed more surprised than Burbage, although that in itself was a feat. The two Gryffindor boys in the row ahead of you swivel all the way around in their seats to look at Oliver, who'd just spoken.

You fight the twitching urge to look at him.

"Detention for two, it seems. I'll be seeing you both Friday afternoon."

A calm air settles again over the class, as if order had been restored. You and Wood had lost the interest of the room and students shift back to the board where WHAT IS A PRIME MINISTER? is sprawled across it in chicken-scratch handwriting.

Sighing, your eyes find the clock against the wall. Eight minutes left.

You pick at the end of your quill irritably: electing to dip it into the ink at the edge of the desk and entertain yourself quietly by drawing a miniature snowman at the corner of your page, trying not to think about another Friday afternoon in too close of a proximity to Oliver Wood. There's a soft whir, barely audible if you weren't so focused on outlining pebble eyes, and a tiny paper-airplane whizzes quietly from under your desk: landing squarely on the nose-less head of your snowman.

Fear prickles at you. You don't look up for the source, lest a suspicious sideways glance earns you another weekend with the party-animal Charity Burbage.

Instead, you carefully undo the intricately folded wings of the plane. It's barely big enough to fit into your palm once open, the top of the little note marked in black ink.

It was the same handwriting that marked the sign-out sheet for equipment in the Quidditch storage rooms down at the pitch.

'Thanks for that one, smart-mouth.'

Your eyes flicker up to Burbage, who's back is turned, before you dip your quill into the ink and scribble out a response. In your peripheral, Oliver is leaned back in his stool: biceps folded over each other. There's an unexplainably airy-fairy, fuzzy feeling warming your rib cavity.

'Believe this one was your fault, dickhead.'

You quietly refold the creased edges, before tapping it lightly with the end of your wand: then watch how it takes off the airstrip of your page and zips quietly under the cover of desks to land back in front of the sender.

There's a long pause - enough for Burbage to draw out a whole flow diagram of something called "parliament" - before the edge of the paper wing grazes at your calf again. It lands quietly again.

'Maybe.

We good?'

There's a gentleness to the sentence. Like you can hear it from Oliver's mouth, like he's avoiding your gaze when he whispers it.

You hunch over the note again.

Oliver's knuckles are turning white, twisting his wand in his hands under the table. He shouldn't have said anything. He's regretting the whole fucking idea of the stupid paper-plane now.

He's trying not to watch you write, not to notice how long you stared at his writing before you picked up your own quill. He does anyways.

When the airplane flutters down into his palm, Burbage is already excusing the class. Stools are scraping against cold tile, the clutter of textbooks being crammed back into bags.

'Never :)'

His eyes run over the word once, twice, three times over. A smile is tugging at the edge of his lip, he forces it taut - but his eyes are still shining unusually brightly when Archie knocks his shoulder to his.

"What you looking so damn happy about?"

Oliver tucks the note into the pocket of his robes. "Don’t know what yer talking about."

-

"But professor, why can't Hufflepuff take Saturday?"

"Well, Hufflepuff already gave up our practice days for Gryff--!"

Hooch sighed so deeply she almost melted back into her armchair. "The decision is made, Oliver. The pitch is being cleaned out on Wednesday, your team can take Saturday for any extra training."

He could practically hear the smile creeping onto your face, the smug crossed-arm look he'll no doubt find when he turns to you.

Irritation bubbles up in his throat, a familiar companion in your presence, and just as he prophesied: you are grinning.

In the weeks that followed that day in Burbage's class, it seemed that both parties decided that the topic of their shared kiss outside the Ravenclaw common room was best left undiscussed.

The arrangement is working. At least Oliver thinks so.

You still bait him and he still snaps, rising to your taunts. He still finds himself in detention more Fridays than he spends free, and his body ripples with anger when you roll your eyes at him.

But it was in moments, like this now, where your little self-satisfied grin doesn't quite vex him to the degree it once did. It's now harder to find a retort, to snap at you with a sharp-edged comment. Not when amusement crinkles at the corners of your eyes where your black lashes kiss so prettily.

Hooch swivels in her chair to find a document between one of her cluttered drawers, you take the opportunity to stick the tip of your tongue out childishly at him.

Oliver draws a tight breath, he hopes his face is still taut in annoyance, because his heart has slipped like a stone down into his stomach. That's the other issue, the tiny little obstacle in these recent weeks: he can't stop looking at your mouth. It's distracting, disarming - paralysing at the best of times.

He strips his gaze away, before he can be outed by anyone in the room. "Whatever." He mumbles.

You seem disappointed in his lack of a real response, but it passes quickly - like a shadow - over your face.

"Thanks professor." You grab up your roster from her desk and turn to the door, practically skipping out into the corridor.

He huffs.

Somehow, you and Archie have become fast friends. Mornings around Fire-Seed Bushes and Venomous Tentaculas in the heat of Greenhouse Three seems to do wonders for a friendship.

It prickles at Oliver's nerves when you pass in the corridors, when you perk up with a high "hey Arch!" and he grins down from his towering height right back at you: "hey Y/n!"

You don't look at Oliver. He's notably sour the rest of the walk.

Alright, maybe the whole arrangement wasn't really working. You were a distraction to him before, no doubt, but somehow your powers of beguilement had tripled. Especially since you seem to be behaving perfectly normal: like you hadn't given Oliver the best snog of his life outside the Ravenclaw common room that night.

Maybe it was just alcohol, maybe he is the only one plagued by the knowledge of the other's taste.

The castle has turned impossibly colder, the bitter bite of winter stinging at the loose cuffs of his robes on walkthroughs of the corridors. He can't imagine how cold the air above the pitch is going to be on Sunday when Hufflepuff faces off Slytherin for a spot in the finals.

It's all Hooch has been going on about for the last two weeks.

Oliver's had to shift around at least four practices - Roger almost twice as much, he's a pushover - to allow for you and Marcus to have more time on the pitch. His complaints fell on deaf ears, Hooch dismissed him with a wave of her bony hand and a "your time is coming, Wood."

You prance into dinner late most evenings, hair in every direction and face flush with sweat: sticking it out like a bumblebee in those awful yellow quidditch robes.

Oliver only notices because, annoyingly, he's found that he is frequenting the bench at the Gryffindor table that faces over to the Hufflepuff's. His eyes drift over the yellow-tied heads to where you clump up with Enzo and Cherry, watches you talk around mouthfuls of toast lazily, giggle behind your napkin: head rolling back to showcase that smooth neck, how it runs down to the soft slopes of your shoulders: disappearing down into your button-up.

Archie has noticed, he's sure, but hasn't done more but allude to it with teasing glances or suggestive comments.

"The Hufflepuffs up to something particularly interesting over there, Ollie?"

The speed with which Oliver's eyes snap to his peas is almost comical. He shrugs and mumbles like a child. "Don't know."

-

On Sunday morning, you don't go to breakfast.

There's an uncomfortable gurgling in your midriff, like a snake is slithering between your organs and you're sure even just the smell of eggs on toast would bring up your dinner.

Instead you find yourself at the pitch a whole hour before the game is set to start. Marcus is running laps around the grass, something he's done since you've known him.

He offers a curt wave, face set like cold stone.

It reminds you of Oliver a little bit, the distraction in his eyes.

Oliver is never all the way there, wherever he is, you think. His eyes mist over like he's halfway between this world and another. You know it's Quidditch: he dreams it, eats it, sleeps it.

But lately he's foggier than usual.

You think it's your imagination, brush off the idea as you have all the millions of others you'd had in the preceding weeks about the surly brute that was Oliver Wood. He plagues you.

Just the vibrato of his unimpressed huff when you get your way, when you quip something purposely annoying at him. It's addictive, the feel of his sugar-brown eyes glaring a hole through you.

Lately, his reactions have been closer to underwhelming. Allowing for only a moment of eye contact: gone are the quick-witted retorts, the Scottish-laced "princess" usually attached. The thought makes you wince in embarrassment, knowing that you've been pressing him harder lately: like a seven-year old jabbing at a claw machine, outwardly desperate for that brown plushy on the top of the pile.

Maybe he's over it. So deathly mortified of your shared kiss that he doesn't want to know you anymore, much less take the effort to hate you. Your chest pinches tightly.

You dress into your match robes slowly, taking your time with the loops of your shoelaces and the buttons down the sweater you're wearing underneath everything. Oliver Wood should be at the bottom of your list of priorities, normally, but now more than ever.

The team filters into the change-room, exhibiting varying degrees of nervousness. Cedric is practically green, but Herbert looks like he's about to go down a water-slide he's waited over an hour in line for. Beyond the swinging doors, you can hear the crowd shuffling loudly into their seats.

Before your wits are completely about you, Hooch is rapping on those same doors. "Onto the pitch, Hufflepuffs!"

You muster up your best excuse for a captain's speech for what might be the last match you ever play as one. The team seem satisfied, you figure it's easy to find solace before a game when you know it's not your last. As the only seventh year, comfort doesn't come so easily to you.

The crowd is deafening when yellow robes take to the sky: Marcus looks over, offering another nod, not unlike the one he'd given you earlier. You can tell he's feeling the dread of finality too.

There's a whistle blow and the quaffle flies past your face with a speed that nearly evacuates your nose from your face. Lee is announcing in the distance and the rumble of adrenaline forces your fingers over the handle. It tilts and you dip, disappearing into the sky of players.

-

The winter air at Hogwarts was biting enough roaming the corridors, but thirty metres off the ground is something wholly unnatural. Your face was burning crisp from the icy wind, the feeling in your cheeks and nose lost to the Scottish cold.

Foggy white clouds puff out with each heavy breath. Cedric zooms past and Jane loops around his moving figure to knock a stray bludger in the opposite direction.

Your eyes flash between them and the fast approaching Malcolm, he tosses the quaffle at you with a grunt and you catch it at the tips of slippery, ice-frozen fingertips.

Shooting forward again, you duck under Marcus who is hurtling through the sky at you: gone is the look of friendly fondness from his eyes, replaced with a hunger for the leather-bound ball in your grasp.

Just missing the grasp of his meaty hand, the ball passes onto Heidi.

"Another ten points to Hufflepuff," Lee's voice echoes as if from heaven. "That brings the score to ninety for Hufflepuff and eighty for Slytherin!"

It's been nearly ninety-five minutes of sitting on your broom growing colder, and you're not alone.

Around you, the team is descending into frost-induced exhaustion: Jane's nose is as bright red as a Christmas ornament and Cedric has been peeping over the top of his thick woollen-scarf for at least the last half - barely enough to catch a glance of the whizzing canary and emerald robes, much less of a tiny golden snitch.

You sigh out another white breath, letting your eyes drift over the stands. It's saturated with moving heads of faces you can't make out and yellow and green swaying banners. Your gaze lingers on the top left, in the corner facing the castle. It's where Cherry and Enzo park themselves during every match, where you know they're screaming in support, clenching their teeth at every quaffle handover. You can feel them, even when their faces blur into the crowd.

Unintentionally, you think about how Oliver's mixed in there too. Somewhere between your peers. If you had been granted another moment, if the quaffle wasn't mid-air between two Slytherins just under your nose and you'd not taken the opportunity to snatch it from them, you would have meandered into the trap of hoping that deep down in his chest - even if it was core of the earth deep - he was rooting for you, too. That he seethed at a missed goal or clenched a tight fist at his side in celebration when a Hufflepuff makes a beautiful play.

Meanwhile in the stands, Oliver has decided that the desire to play his allegiances in secret has since disappeared from his heart.

He'd played it light in the first few minutes. Mumbling under his breath at a fumbled pass or a slimy move from the Slytherins, but by the forty-fifth minute he'd found himself on his feet.

"Diggory!" His hands waved in front of him, "it was right there you fucking git--"

A Hufflepuff third year a row ahead looked at him askew, but he paid her no mind.

Archie had taken the hint early. As soon as Oliver was out of his seat, so was he. Despite being Oliver Wood's best friend, Archie had somewhat limited knowledge of the game himself and eyed Oliver's reactions to find the appropriate moments to whoop and cheer. Oliver didn't say anything, but he appreciated it more than he could verbalise.

His eyes tracked you more than anything, when you were flying between players or just floating in place: eyes like a hawk, watching over the game. His heart swelled and his pride fell to the wayside.

Just short of the two hour mark, there was a rise in the crowd.

"The seekers have caught sight of the snitch!"

Oliver's stomach rose into his throat.

"They're diving for it, Malfoy and Diggory head to head-- and Slytherin grabs the snitch, winning by 140 points!"

It sank back into place, like a stone to the bottom of the river. He watched how you froze, how you twisted over your shoulder to find Diggory's figure lingering at the bottom of the field. You shoulders sagged, hanging in the air as the others dropped to the ground.

"Slytherin have made it into the finals against Gryffindor for the quidditch cup, back here at the pitch next month!"

After a long moment, the last in the sky, you followed them down.

The raucous cheers from the Slytherins were hard to drown out, he wasn't even sure Archie heard him toss a "i'll find you at the castle" before he found himself pushing through the masses of people.

He fought against the wave moving to find the stairs, eager to return to the warmth of their dormitories, but Oliver was markedly more motivated than the majority. He stomped on some toes and nearly tossed a first year off the stands to race down the stairs.

Only once his feet had found the mushy grass of the pitch, did he pause to consider that he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say. What was the rush for? To comfort you, tease you for your loss?

The latter option was definitely what he could do, what he could say. What was expected of him, if he was being honest. Recently, however, he's found it harder and harder to come up with remarks to hurt your feelings. Found that he quite prefers that little smile that tucks into the corner of your mouth when he says something unexpectedly fond. How your eyes practically gleam.

There's shoving from all sides of him -- get out the way, bloody hell -- and the teams pass ahead of him. Leading the march, despite it being nothing more than a slow trudge, is your figure: squashed between those of who he recognises to be Cherry Stretton and Enzo Musa's.

Their arms wrapped over your shoulders, talking animatedly into your ear on each side. Enzo tips his head to meet yours, a small touch of comfort.

Oliver sighs. He has nothing to say and no comfort to offer, wondering for a moment what he could possibly bare to hear in his own final moments as captain. He thinks that anything from your mouth would work.

So he waits, parks himself beside the stairs and waits for Archie: watching the six-legged figure disappear up over the hill.

-

You're not at dinner.

He knows because he's been watching the door for the better half of an hour. Archie pushes his plate at him, "Eat something there, Ollie."

Begrudgingly, Oliver brings his drumstick up to his mouth. "She's not eaten a thing since breakfast, it's almost eight."

Archie passes a sympathetic look over him. "Her friends are here, I'm sure she'll be by soon. There's no use you joining her on a hunger-strike."

He's right. Cherry and Enzo and some others that frequent your circle are talking around the table, around the spot that you usually fill. But dinner goes on and students leak steadily out towards bed without your return.

Eventually Oliver huffs, like an irritated bulldog, and grabs for the nearest napkin: unfolding it out in front of him.

"What are you doing?" Archie asks thickly, spitting bits of rice at him.

Oliver reaches for two chicken skewers, placing them neatly on the white square: alongside a dinner roll and a pumpkin pasty.

He wraps them over, double wraps it with another napkin too.

"What does it look like, Arch."

Placing it carefully into the deep pocket of his robe, Oliver goes to stand - lacking the patience it takes for Archie to answer, or for his inevitable teasing. "I'll find you back in our room."

He's halfway out the hall when Archie's voice calls out to him, "You don't even know where she is!"

Oliver shakes his head, brandishing a dismissive hand over his shoulder. "I know where she is." He mumbles for only himself to hear.

-

You’d watched close to twenty-one quidditch matches from the stands at the pitch on Hogwarts grounds: played in almost half of them. 

The seat is still slightly too small, just uncomfortable enough to make a person shuffle. Beyond the rim over the other end of the pitch you can see the orange sun dipping behind the horizon, drawing to darkness over your moment alone.

By now you're sure the party in the common room has long since found momentum. The one you'd been promised by the team, "it's your last game, cap, we need to celebrate!". You're sure someone somewhere is looking for you, bracing a plastic cup of Firewhisky with your name on it, but you can't find it within yourself to face it all just yet.

The silence of the evening is enough, you only wish you'd been fast enough to retrieve your broomstick that's somewhere off with Enzo. Just for one last lap.

The serenity of your loneliness doesn't persevere, however. You can hear shuffling up the steps, you're tempted to look but the sunset is slipping so quickly out of your hands that it's not worth the time wasted.

It's only when the footfalls draw closer, stopping when a body slumps into the seat beside you. The seats are so cramped that his knee brushes yours, the figure long since identified from the corner of your eye.

"Come to gloat?" You ask, eyes never leaving the sky.

He shrugs. "Not today."

You nod. His smell drifts on the breeze under your nose, like peppermint and soap and Oliver.

There's a long silence. Your robes crease against the fist sitting in your lap, you've yet to change out of your quidditch uniform, you know it will be the last time.

"You missed dinner."

"Does it matter?"

Despite your avoidant gaze, Oliver's is warming the side of your face. The evening air cools the same spot.

There's a shuffling that finally draws your eyes. Oliver is still in his robes too, and his hand emerges from a deep pocket with a folded napkin square. "Figured you'd be hungry."

He places it onto your lap with a gentleness you're coming to find more of in him. Something frighteningly warm erupts in your chest and your hands come up to it, pulling apart the napkin to find picky bits inside.

You're fighting between smiling and starting to cry. You do neither.

"You carried this in your pocket the whole way from the hall?"

His eyes flicker between the food and your face before he shrugs. "Yeah."

By now, you were fighting a losing battle and the smile pulled up at the ends of your mouth so tightly that your cheeks started to hurt. "Gross."

You pick up a chicken skewer regardless, biting into it and facing the sky again. You offer him the other one and he looks for a moment like he's going to argue but takes it quietly in the end.

The chicken is tender and only after you'd swallowed the first bit did you realise how hungry you'd actually been. You finish it without a word, going to tear the pasty in half and offering a piece to your companion.

You're picking at the roll now, tearing tiny bits off and feeding it piece by piece to yourself like a bird. "Last game."

He nods. "I know."

"What could someone say to you after your last game, Wood?" You pick at him, eyes flittering between him and the now nearly black sky. "You know, to make you feel better?"

Oliver shakes his head, leaning back and rolling his shoulders: as if the thought itself unsettled him.

"Nothing, probably. I'd probably just walk into the Black Lake and drown myself."

You think he's joking, but with Oliver Wood that was hardly a sure thing.

"You wouldn't."

"What's there left to live for?" He says it with an airy chuckle.

Shrugging, your head falls against your shoulder. "You'd have to figure it out, because I'd go marching in right after you. Carry you out if I had to."

Oliver stills, eyes wide and blinking at you. Your chest goes tight, the ghost of a smile pressing at your face.

"Bridal style and everything ..." You add quietly, stifling your chuckle.

He seems to come back to himself, nodding. "We should get back. Been a long day."

The napkin crumples in your hand, shoved down into the depths of your own pocket. You walk ahead, the pathway to the steps is only narrow enough for one person at a time, and he trails behind.

By the time you've hit the steps, Oliver moving down beside you, you're brewing around an apology. A way to thin the air, to ease where your chest is tight: swirling around well done, now you've made things awkward you git. It's halfway up to your tongue when skin brushes against the back of your hand.

Warm fingers explore your knuckles to find your cool ones, slipping to knot between them.

You work not to look down, because Oliver's skittish like that. From the corner of your eye, you can see he's concentrating his gaze ahead.

His hand tightens against yours, palm callous from years wrapped around the wooden handle of his broomstick. It's a little sweaty and sticky but you're smiling so hard you're about to be sick.

You dare to look at him, Oliver's smiling too.

-

Oliver hasn't been sleeping.

His last few days of seventh year are slipping like water through his calloused hands and he can feel it. Every hour that passes, shadowy and fleeting.

Classes feel shorter than before, the terrible jokes Archie bombards him with over dinner sound funnier than he ever remembers them being and the glimpses he catches of you in the corridor never feel long enough. The ceiling of his poster bed flashes with moments of the day that's passed, feeling like a dream you'll be jolted out of as soon as it gets good.

Even over all his hours of broody contemplation, none of it makes the final whistle any easier to swallow. It hits him like he's been smacked with a bludger in the chest.

"Gryffindor has won the quidditch cup, two-hundred and thirty points to twenty!"

He can hear the crowd's roar, the whoops of the twins floating somewhere below him. Harry's standing on the grass of the pitch holding up his tiny golden trophy. The pitch is red all over: Oliver won.

He won.

Every moment building up over the last seven years culminated into the final blow of the whistle. The wind is whipping at the hair over his forehead: Oliver thinks this might be the happiest moment of his life, but he's not entirely sure.

He never realised that it would all be so fucking soaked in sadness.

It's over. He's leaving the castle empty handed. His engraving will live on the Quidditch Cup in a dusty cupboard for years to come, yes, and he might have a frame up in his future apartment somewhere, reminiscing on the old days. That's all.

He's struck with the devastating fear that in a few short years, nobody will remember him. More than anything, he can't believe he hadn't come to this overwhelming conclusion before right now. Before Angelina is yelling to him, waving a frantic hand and sporting the biggest grin in all of Scotland, before he was seconds from taking the prize he's held in his mind for so many years into his very hands.

Will you forget him?

It nearly knocks him off his broom. He finds that it scares him the most, more than the thought of the dust-caked trophy or the lonely corner at the back of his cupboard where his Hogwarts robes will no doubt live until eternity.

He won't forget you, he thinks. He knows.

You're just so damn annoying. And beautiful, fucking whip-clever and hilarious sometimes--

The handle of his broom is tilting down to the earth now, the crowd zooming into a blur on either side of him. He hits a shaky landing, broomstick abandoned on the grass behind him as he's pulled into the arms of his team and well-wishers.

A golden trophy passes over the heads of the twins and it's shoved into his sweating hands. It's cool to the touch and so much heavier than he thought it ever could be, but he can't seem to keep his mind on the situation long enough to realise any of that. His mind is racing around the castle wondering where you might be and what's the fastest way to get there.

His eyes are racing over the heads of the roving crowd. "Wood, Wood! Speech!"

Shadowing over everyone is Archie's tall figure standing at the back, grinning down at him. The team watches expectantly.

This is it. The moment for the speech he's been practicing in his bathroom mirror since he was seven.

"I--" he looks down at the cup for the first time, his face reflecting up at him in glimmering gold. He finds he can't remember any of the words. "I need to go find someone."

There's a buzz of confusion, but Oliver doesn't linger: shoving the Quidditch Cup into Harry's arms.

"That's the shortest speech Wood has ever given." He hears Angelina quip, but he can't be arsed to turn. He's already flying, moving through the crowd at such a pace he might just have been on his broom.

The sea of students had long since started moving up to the castle, particularly the non-gryffindors: trying to beat the stampede of scarlet that is no doubt to come. Oliver's legs carry him over the smooth green hill up towards Hogwarts, head craning over students to find your side profile somewhere in the mass.

He catches few oy, watch it!'s and congrats, Wood!'s but he doesn't turn, doesn't stop running. Students bespeckle the grass like ants lining up for crumbs, and he's all the way up into the stone corridor leading to the Great Hall when he spots Cherry's velvet red curls over the crowd, and sure enough, he finds you're knocking her shoulder with your own.

It only takes one shout of your name and you turn to peek curiously back, by which time he's taken both your shoulders into his hands and steered you to the wall of the corridor.

"Wood! What are you do--"

His hands squeeze around the plush at your upper arms. "Oliver. My name is Oliver."

Your eyes are wide in surprise, the window behind you showcases the gardens and the pitch in the distance. Sunlight forms a halo over the crown of your head.

With a head tilted in confusion, you nod slowly. "Alright ... what are you doing, Oliver?"

He can feel the eyes of Cherry and Enzo burning a hole through the side of his head, but doesn't bother with it. You're blinking up at him, gentle and benign in your features. He wonders when it became like this, when you'd lost the tight brow and the frown every time you looked at him.

"I won the Quidditch Cup." He says blankly.

You nod, a small smile tucked into the corner of your lip. "I saw. Congratulations."

Oliver only nods back at you. "I wanted to tell you. I wanted to come shove it in your face."

He's shuffling closer to your figure, and he's more than pleased to discover that you aren't cowering from it.

"Of course you did, because you're a prat." But you're smiling so hard now that it's impossible to take your jab to heart. "Is that all, Oliver?"

A warm sensation is spilling into his rib cavity and his fingertips are buzzing with electricity when they come to find either side of your face.

"No." His forehead is nearly touching yours and your hands have wrapped around his wrists. "I came to ask you out on a date. A sappy, disgustingly romantic date where I bring you flowers and pay for your hot chocolate. You'd hate it."

"That truly sounds horrible." Your smile is so wide he can barely see the whites of your eyes and it pumps more adrenaline through Oliver than any argument you'd ever shared over the last seven years.

"So, is that a yes?"

You're bouncing on your toes a little bit, bumping your nose against Oliver's clumsily. The babble of passing students and gawking onlookers has practically fallen mute to him.

"Depends, are you going to kiss me goodnight after?" You whisper it, like it's a secret between just you and him.

He nods slowly, "pretty desperate to kiss you right now, if I'm being honest princess--"

You don't wait for him to finish, thank Merlin you don't wait for him to finish, and push up onto your toes: crashing against his mouth. You're kiss is as dizzying as he remembers, but softer this time. You kiss like you know he's not running away, hands pressing softly over his neck.

It's nothing like your kiss outside the Ravenclaw common room: where that one was desperate and hot and angry, this time it's born from longing and tenderness and acceptance.

It leaves him just as fucking breathless as the first time.

Somewhere behind him, he hears wolf-whistling (he's sure it's Cherry) and when you pull your lips off his, your face is flush with embarrassment.

"I will go on a date with you, Oliver."

He takes your hand into his, curling his fingers between your own. You lean up to peck him softly and bat your eyelashes at him, grinning innocuously when you whisper: "If you treat me like you did with Delilah, I'm throwing your broomstick into the fireplace."

-

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[subbmissivesuccubus]

I don't know if this kink has a name but I am just obsessed with super casual boob play lmao

Also!!?? Thank you guys for helping me reach 2K followers! It's so exciting and i've been having so much fun writing and reading the smut on this website. Here's to many more stories which hopefully give you the tingles <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright, so that's the groceries we need for this week."

"Mmm."

"Oh, don't forget to buy flowers! It's my moms birthday tomorrow."

"Mmm."

"Are you even listening?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at your boyfriend, the man simply staring at you.

"Mmm."

"Ok, so that's a no." you said, rolling your eyes before snapping your fingers in front of your boyfriends face, the man jumping and blinking a few times as he was brought back to reality.

"Can you pay attention now?" you asked sternly.

"Sorry. I was too busy staring at your tits." he said honestly, making you sigh. There he goes again with his very obvious boob obsession, your man having a clear fetish for your breasts.

"Well, if you continue to ignore me, you won't see my boobs for a week."

"Or, you flash them to me now, I promise I'll remember every single word you say."

"Oh my God."

"Come here, baby. Come here." he begged, hands reaching out to quickly grab you by the hips and drag you forward, his nails digging into the fabric of your skirt as he all but manhandled you onto his lap, smiling at you as he got your legs to straddle his waist.

"You're a degenerate." you snarled as you placed your hands on his shoulder, more than familiar with this particular song and dance.

"I'm your degenerate. And besides, this is your fault you know." he said, casually fisting the hem of your t-shirt before pulling it up, "If you didn't have such perfect titties, I wouldn't be like this!"

"So you weren't obsessed with boobs before you met me?" you questioned, allowing him to tug the t-shirt upto your chin, the man greedily looking at your bra covered breasts. Not having the patience to take the shirt off of you completely, he simply pulled it over your head so it looped around the back of your neck, your arms still in the sleeves but he didn't care as all he wanted was access to his favorite part of you.

"Of course not." he said confidently as he all but face planted into your cleavage, groaning in delight as he pushed his face in as deep as he could go, "I only got obsessed when you came into the picture."

You huffed, trying to fight the blood rushing to your face and between your legs as you fisted a hand through his hair, tugging at it a bit as you got his attention:

"Are you going to listen to me now?"

"Mmhmm." your boyfriend groaned, nodding a yes against your boobs, truly happy being surrounded by your plump flesh. Sighing, you once again told him what he needed to buy for groceries, allowing him to grope and kiss you wherever he wanted. His tongue ran over your skin, huffing and humming in response every time you asked him if he was listening.

He soon pushed your bra up as well, too eager to bother unhooking it as he placed it against your collarbone, the elastic of the band digging into your skin and making your tits look even more delicious than before. He opened his mouth and took a nipple in, closing his eyes as he started suckling gently, his arms wrapped around you and pulling you in closer.

"H-Hey..." you moaned, gripping his hair tighter as he suckled on you, "It's getting late. You need to leave before the stores close."

"Mmhmm. I know." he muttered against you, tongue coming out to flick at your nipples a few times before he moved to the other breast, giving her the same treatment, "Just- fuck- give me a minute."

You sighed, jumping as you felt his hands move down to your ass, taking greedy gropes of your butt as he lost himself in the sensation of your breast in his mouth.

Yeah, you were not getting your groceries today.

~~~~~

You slipped away from the group of friends in the living room to your bedroom, wanting to get your phone which had hopefully finished charging by now. As you were checking your phone and responding quickly to a few messages, you suddenly felt a hand on your waist that swiftly moved upwards and groped your right breast.

"Eh-hey!" you hissed softly, head snapping back towards your boyfriend, his touch so familiar that you instantly knew it was him, "Cut it out! We have guests!"

"I know but I just need one suck, ok?" he asked even as his other hand came up to start unbuttoning your shirt dress, "I'll be super quick, I promise."

"You- ah!" you squealed as he got the buttons undone enough to expose your bra, his fingers digging into the cup of the right side to pull it down, revealing your bare breast to the crisp air. He turned you around and quickly bent down and took the nipple into his mouth. Your head kept snapping between him sucking your nipple and the door, on edge as if anyone walks in, it would be very obvious.

Your man groaned as he suckled on your nipple, eyelashes tickling your skin as he closed his eyes. The sound of the TV and chattering was loud enough to thankfully drown out his groans, your boyfriend suckling you so hard it made your toes curl.

"Wh-you-" you hissed as his hand quickly pulled down the other cup of your bra and exposed your other breast, "You said only one!"

"I know but I can't not suck her too!" he protested, giving your left nipple a greedy lick, "she'll get jealous!"

"What the fuck are you talking abooouuttt!" you gasped as he suddenly took the nipple in and sucked on it as well, just as vigorously. You stood there for a few seconds, allowing your maniac of a boyfriend to suck and feel you up before he finally pulled away.

"Just what I needed. Thank you baby." he said, kindly helping you stuff your tits back into your bra and right your dress, giving your tits a final squeeze before he walked out of the room, leaving you a frustrated mess with your nipples tingling.

What a menace.

~~~~~

It was movie night, one of your favorite ways to spend time together. It was always a treat to just relax with your boyfriend, put on a random movie, eat popcorn and talk.

And of course, he also loved that he gets to play with your tits the whole time.

You huffed as your boyfriend pulled you onto his lap, his legs spread wide to accommodate you between them. Bowl of popcorn in hand, you munched away at the treat even as your man slid his hands up your shirt, aiming for your breasts.

"Ew, why are you wearing a bra?" he asked, clicking his tongue as his hands got in contact with the soft fabric.

"Sometimes I like having my boobs supported by something, ok? Fucking sue me."

"You don't need a bra to support your tits when you have my hands. I'm taking it off."

Before you could even protest, your man slid his hands to your back and unhooked the bra masterfully, practically an expert at it at this point. He was about to push the straps down your arms and pull the bra out from under your shirt but then he realized- why are you wearing a shirt? You might as well be topless as he was going to play with your boobs the whole time anyway.

So with your shirt and bra tossed onto the floor, you tried your best to focus on the movie playing on screen even as your boyfriend happily groped away at your tits. Ample flesh spilling out between his fingers, he squeezed you like a toy- like your tits were something he could use to alleviate stress. Occasionally, he'd flick his fingers over your nipples, working them up to stiff peaks before gently pinching them between his thumb and index finger. He'd place his hands underneath your breasts, cupping them before he bounced them up and down, loving the feeling of your heavy flesh landing on his palms, the ripple of your breasts on impact instantly making his cock hard.

And of course, as usual, once he was done playing with his hands (which was practically an hour long activity), he'll move onto his mouth. Your body automatically moved along with him as he lifted you up a bit higher onto his lap, looping an arm over his shoulder so he had the space to lean down and take a nipple into his mouth.

"Y-You're not even watching the movie, are you?"

"Mm-mmm" he responded, shaking his head no against your breast, his response making you shiver. You rolled your eyes and continued to watch the movie, failing at it even before he started sliding his hand into your pants.

~~~~~

Of course, your boob obsessed boyfriend can't sleep unless it's on said boobs.

"Take it offfff!" he whined, wrestling with you as he harshly tugged at your shirt.

"It's cold!" you protested as you tried to pull the fabric back down over you, "I'm going to freeze!"

"I'll keep you warm! You know the rules- no clothes in bed."

"You're wearing clothes!"

"Yes but I don't have a pair of delicious tits that are just begging to be suckled!"

"Oh my God- fine, how about this?" you asked, slapping his hand away from your shirt before you pulled up upto your chin, flashing him your bare boobs, "Just get in here and I get to keep the shirt on."

"...Why didn't you just say so?"

You grunted as you were tackled, pushed to lie down on the bed as your boyfriend landed on top of you, face first into your tits. You pulled your shirt over his head, covering the dopey smile on his face as he used his hands to push your tits against him, shaking his head from side to side as he motorboated you.

He thankfully still had some sense to pull the blanket over the two of you and you were able to dim the lights, whipping your phone out so you can get some screen time before you went to sleep. You felt wetness on your left nipple, your boyfriend finally done with shaking your fat tits in his face.

His tongue ran in circles over the hard bud, dragging it slowly as he knew he could take his time. He started flicking your bud harshly, his hot tongue making you shiver with each flick. Eventually, he sealed his lips around it, groaning happily as he started to suck. He was noisy- moaning like he was eating a delicious meal and the slobbering noises of him feasting on you making your ears ring, the pressure he used to suckle on you keeping you on your toes.

As he sucked on the left one, his hand came up to play with the right, toying with her as he got her ready to be sucked next. He rubbed the nipple around with his thumb before pinching it gently, giving her a few twists once in awhile. He was latched onto the same nipple for almost 30 minutes before he moved onto the next one, but not before dragging himself from underneath your shirt and pushing the fabric upto your chin.

Fuck it. You were falling asleep and now your body was running hot so you didn't really care.

"Baby... I want-" he gave your nipple a kiss before he snuggled his face into the fat of your breast before looking up at you, "I want to drink your milk. Make it for me."

"How many biology lessons did you fail for you to think that's possible?" you asked, your eyelids drooping and voice heavy.

"Why are you not pregnant yet? I cum in you like, everyday."

"...You know I'm still on birth control."

"I know but I'm confident I can defeat it."

"Mmkay, keep dreaming. Now shut up- i'm gonna sleep."

"...Stop taking your birth control."

"I'm not having a baby just so you can drink some breast milk."

"Of course not. We'll have a baby because we're in love and we'll be together forever!"

You opened one eye and looked down at him, letting him know you were not impressed.

"...And so I can drink your milk."

"Just keep sucking or sleep."

He pouted before he took your left nipple into his mouth.

~~~~~

Gojo Satoru, Haibara, Shanks, Sanji, Luffy, Ace, Kaeya, Kaveh, Childe, Cyno, Itto, Uzui, Sanemi, Eren, Jean etc. etc.