#this piece looks weird but i wanted to move onto something else and thought i should post it anyway

[sheepalmighty]

I wanted to paint them

[tsukumomei]

—PUPPY LOVE

ft. Sae Itoshi

summary: rin swears the new girl makes “nii chan’s face light up”. sae smiles more, and spends time with her like it’s no big deal. their parents don’t notice, but rin can tell she makes sae happier, even if it’s a little annoying. wc. 2.2k

a/n: just a cute fic I thought of cause of that one additional time of the itoshi brothers “nii chan’s frame of mind”

Rin didn’t like her at first, not that he did now.

She showed up at the park one day, just standing there with her ball and staring like she wanted to join their game. She didn’t even ask, just yelled, “Pass it to me!” like she owned the place. Her voice cut through the sound of their cleats against the grass. Rin froze mid-step. No one talked to his big brother like that.

To Rin’s surprise, his brother’s gaze fell on her, and Rin could almost see the gears turning in his head.

Nii chan didn’t yell at her. He didn’t tell her to leave. He tilted his head slightly and nudged the ball her way with his foot. Rin frowned.

That was it. The first domino fell.

She wasn’t even good. She ran weird, her kicks were all over the place, and she tripped more than she scored. Rin thought nii chan would get annoyed, but he didn’t. He actually helped her. He showed her how to dribble and even taught her how to do some of the moves Rin was still practicing. It wasn’t fair!

Then there was the rainy day. Rin was sure they’d stay inside—no one played soccer in the mud, not even nii chan. But when Y/N showed up wearing her rain boots and grinning, nii chan grabbed a ball and followed her outside. Rin had no choice but to tag along. They ended up having the messiest, weirdest game of soccer ever, with Y/N sliding in the mud and nii chan actually laughing when she fell.

But what really annoyed Rin was how nii chan acted around her. His face was different. When Y/N was around, he looked... relaxed. And sometimes, he even smiled. Not his usual smirk when he wins, but a real smile.

It wasn’t like nii chan to be this way. Rin knew his brother better than anyone. Nii chan is the coolest, and he always looks ahead. 

But with Y/N, it was like he slowed down just enough to let her catch up.

One time, Rin saw them sitting under the big tree at the park. Y/N was talking a lot, waving her hands around and laughing, and he just sat there, listening. He didn’t even tell her to stop talking, which was weird because Sae hated when people talked too much.

Even at home, she was there sometimes. She’d come for dinner, and always ended up next to Sae. She’d laugh at nii chan’s jokes and he’d give her the last piece of karaage like it was nothing. 

Their parents didn’t notice, of course. Mom just said it was nice Sae had a “little fan,”and Dad said it was good for Sae to teach someone else; it would “build character.” Rin wanted to tell them they were wrong, but he didn’t know how to explain it. If only they saw what he did.

It wasn’t just about soccer. Y/N wasn’t like the other kids. She wasn’t scared of nii chan, and she didn’t try to impress him like everyone else. She just... acted like he was normal. And somehow, that made nii chan act normal, too.

Rin didn’t understand it fully, but he could tell Y/N was different. She was the only one who could make nii chan stay longer at the park, the only one who could get him to drop his guard. And as much as Rin hated to admit it, there was something kind of cool about that.

By the end of the summer, Rin still didn’t like how much time they spent with each other. 

But even if it was annoying, it wasn’t so bad to see nii chan smile.

—

Rin is eight now, and Sae is ten, and it was Valentine’s Day—the most annoying day of the year, at least to Rin.

When Sae opened his locker, chocolates and notes spilled out onto the floor. Rin, walking past with his own bag of books, stopped and stared. Even Sae’s friends, who were standing nearby, froze in surprise.

“Whoa! Sae, look at all this!” one of his friends said, picking up a pink heart-shaped box. “You’re like an idol or something.”

Rin looked around the hallway, noticing a group of girls peeking around the corner, giggling as they watched Sae. Rin rolled his eyes.

Sae didn’t seem impressed. He sighed, crouched down, and began scooping up the fallen chocolates. “You guys can take them if you want,” he said calmly. “I don’t really care.”

His friends’ jaws dropped. “Are you serious?” one of them asked, already reaching for a fancy-looking box. Sae shrugged.

“Yeah. Take them. I don’t eat sweets much anyway.”

Rin couldn’t believe it. “Nii-chan, you’re just giving them away?”

Sae gave Rin one of his usual unreadable looks. “What am I supposed to do with them? Keep them all? It’s just chocolate, Rin.”

Rin huffed, muttering under his breath. He might’ve been little, but he knew enough to tell that those chocolates weren’t just “chocolates.” The girls liked nii chan. They liked him liked him.

Later, when they got home, Rin peeked into Sae’s bag to see if he’d kept any of the chocolates. Sure enough, there was one. A small, simple box with a handwritten note tied to it.

“Why’d you keep that one?” Rin asked, pointing at it.

Sae looked up from his homework and shrugged. “She gave it to me in person,” he said. “It’d be rude to give it away.”

Rin squinted at him. Something about the way Sae said it made Rin feel like there was more to the story.

—

The next day, Rin noticed Y/N sitting on the stairs near the school courtyard, looking sad. She had her hands covering her knees, and her head was bowed. Rin frowned. Usually, she was cheerful and full of energy, but today, she just sat there, not even looking up when people passed by.

Sae noticed too. Rin could tell because instead of heading to class like he normally did, Sae turned and walked straight over to her. Rin followed, curious but pretending he didn’t care.

“What happened?” Sae asked, his voice calm but steady.

Y/N glanced up, her eyes a little watery, and gave a sheepish smile. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Sae crouched slightly, his gaze dropping to where she was holding her knee. “Doesn’t look fine,” he said.

Rin leaned closer and noticed the scrape on her knee, smeared with a little blood. Her other leg looked bruised, too. 

Y/N sighed, looking embarrassed. “I tripped on the stairs earlier. It was so dumb. I wasn’t even running or anything. I just... fell.”

“Can you walk?” Sae asked.

Y/N shifted and winced as she tried to stand. “Not really,” she admitted, sitting back down. “My legs hurt.”

Without a word, Sae turned around and crouched in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, confused.

“Get on,” Sae said simply.

“What?”

“I’ll carry you to the nurse’s office,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Hurry up before we’re late.”

Y/N hesitated, looking unsure. “You don’t have to—”

“Just get on,” Sae said again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Blushing slightly, Y/N carefully climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. Rin’s eyes went wide.

“Nii-chan, are you serious?!” Rin asked, sounding both shocked and annoyed.

“Do you see anyone else helping her?” Sae shot back, standing up effortlessly with Y/N on his back.

Rin scowled but didn’t say anything. He followed them as Sae started walking toward the nurse’s office, Y/N leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Thanks, Sae,” Y/N said softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Sae replied, his voice steady.

Rin trailed behind, muttering under his breath. “She’s so dramatic. It’s just a scrape. I fell yesterday, and no one carried me anywhere.”

But as he watched Sae carry Y/N, his brother calm as ever while Y/N’s face slowly brightened, Rin couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

“Why does Nii-chan always go out of his way for her?” Rin thought, kicking a pebble on the ground.

By the time they got to the nurse’s office, Y/N was smiling again. Rin sighed, knowing that no matter how much it annoyed him, Sae was going to keep looking out for her.

Sae, as usual, looked calm, but Rin caught the faintest smile on his brother’s face.

Later, as they were heading home, Rin couldn’t help but ask, “Nii-chan, do you like her?”

Sae glanced at him, his face unreadable as always. “What do you mean?”

“You kept her chocolate,” Rin pointed out. “And you carried her to the nurse’s office. You don’t do that for anyone else.”

Sae didn’t answer right away. After a moment, he just said, “She’s different.”

—

Rin was still in elementary school, but Sae and Y/N were now in middle school. Even though they didn’t go to school together anymore, things hadn’t changed too much. Sae still came home every day, and most of the time, he’d be in a good mood. Rin liked it when Nii-chan was like that because it meant he’d play with him, and Sae would even show him new tricks.

But one day, everything felt... different.

Sae came home later than usual, and when Rin saw him walk through the door, he noticed right away that something was wrong. Sae didn’t say much during dinner, and when Rin asked if they could play soccer, Sae just shook his head.

“Maybe later,” he muttered.

Rin frowned. Nii-chan never said no to soccer.

Later that evening, Rin found Sae sitting on the steps outside their house, staring at the ground. Rin hesitated for a moment before walking over and sitting down beside him.

He let out a small sigh, his gaze still fixed on the ground. Finally, he said, “Y/N’s moving abroad.”

Rin blinked, confused. “What? Why?”

“Her dad’s job,” Sae replied. His voice was flat, but Rin could tell he was upset.

Rin tilted his head, trying to process it. “So... she’s leaving? For how long?”

Sae shrugged. “Probably a few years.”

“A few years?!” Rin’s eyes widened. “That’s forever!”

Sae didn’t respond.

Rin thought for a moment, then asked, “Did she tell you today?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I’d miss her,” Sae admitted quietly.

Rin stared at him, stunned. It wasn’t like Nii-chan to say stuff like that. He was usually so calm and serious, never letting his emotions show.

“She said she’d miss me too,” Sae added after a moment.

Rin watched his brother’s face closely. Sae didn’t look like he was about to cry or anything, but there was something about the way he sat that made Rin feel uncomfortable.

“What are you gonna do?” Rin asked.

Sae glanced at him. “What can I do? She’s leaving, Rin. I can’t stop her.”

Rin thought about that for a moment. He didn’t like Y/N as much as Sae did—she was always stealing Sae’s attention, after all—but even Rin couldn’t imagine her not being around anymore.

The next day, Rin decided to follow Sae to the park after school, where he knew Sae and Y/N usually met up. He stayed hidden behind a tree, watching as they sat on their usual bench.

Y/N was holding a small notebook, and she handed it to Sae with a shy smile. “I made this for you,” she said.

Sae opened the notebook, flipping through the pages. It was filled with little doodles, notes, and memories of their time together—funny moments, inside jokes, and even some pictures she’d drawn of their soccer games.

“It’s so you don’t forget me,” Y/N said softly.

“I won’t forget you,” Sae replied, his voice steady but quiet.

They talked for a while, and even though Rin couldn’t hear everything, he could tell it was important. When Y/N finally got up to leave, Sae stood too. They said goodbye, and Y/N walked away, turning back once to wave.

That night, Sae was still quiet, but he seemed a little better. Rin sat next to him again, this time holding their soccer ball.

“She gave you something, huh?” Rin asked, glancing at the notebook on the table.

“Yeah.”

“Are you gonna write back to her?”

“Maybe,” Sae said.

Rin stared at him for a moment before nudging him with the ball. “Wanna play?”

Sae looked at him, and for the first time that day, he gave a small smile. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Even though Rin still didn’t fully understand everything, he decided not to ask any more questions. If playing soccer could make Nii-chan feel a little better, then that was enough for him.

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. 1.5 | Spencer Reid x Reader

Okay so, WOW. I am completely blown away by the response to my first fic on here, 120 followers in 6 days are you guys okay? Because I am definitely not :,). While accidents pt. II isnt quite finished just yet (thank you so much for being so patient with me<3 uni is kicking my ass already rip), I thought I'd give you all a small sneak peek, aka the first 800-ish words of the second part. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so so much for the generous feedback so far!! <333 I'll go rewatch my genetics lecture now yippie :,,,,)

here you can read the entire first part, please head the warnings! Same ones apply here. also, if you wanna get tagged in pt. II, let me know in the comments!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

oh spencer, you weren't quite as subtle as you thought. rip my boy. also whooops another cliffhanger? haha my fingers must've slipped my bad

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[crushpunky]

when rafe asked kook!reader to midsummers

As mentioned in rafe cameron! x kook!reader thoughts !!!.

Also this is my first like actual piece of writing on here so don’t judge

As long as they could remember, Reader and Rafe were always by each other's side. Regardless of what argument had been going on between them or who else they had been talking with (or hooking up with), they were always going to be there to support the other when it really mattered. So, naturally, Reader had to be the one that Rafe asked to go to Midsummers with him after Rose told him he needed to get a date for his father’s induction into the Knights of… something. He had been a bit high when Rose told him and had been much more focused on other things.

Reader had been sitting at the edge of the Camerons’ dock, her feet dipping into the warm water and her back to Tanneyhill.

“Hey, girl.” Reader turned at the sound of Rafe’s voice, smiling up at him as he sat down on the edge of the dock next to her, drinks in hand.

“Hey, boy.” Reader said with a chuckle, taking the drink Rafe handed to her. She took a sip, grimacing as the alcohol stung her throat. They had spent the entire day on the water, sitting on the Camerons’ yacht, floating in the water, and bathing in each other's presence. Her t-shirt (or rather Rafe’s t-shirt) stuck to her sun kissed skin, the two of them continuing to drink their gasoline-esque drink in silence. 

That’s what the majority of their hangouts looked like, the two of them doing their own thing, simply relishing in the other's company. It was part of the reason their friendship worked so well; they always had the independence to do their own things but also had the support if they wanted someone to do it with. It was also the reason their respective romantic prospects had never worked out, both of them sticking strictly to random hookups. Nobody could really understand them like the other could, so what was the point of even trying?

“So… do you know what you’re wearing to Midsummers yet?” Rafe said nonchalantly, his hands raking through his hair, which caused Reader’s eyebrows to furrow. Rafe really only did that when he was nervous or high, of which he was neither right now. They had spent the entire day together and not once did she see Rafe do a line (a rarer occurrence these days), limiting himself to alcohol and a singular joint they had shared hours ago, which meant he had to be nervous? Around her?

“I started looking but I’m still hung up on if I should wear blue again or something different.” Reader responded. Rafe nodded, his eyes locked on the water in front of them.

“You should wear blue again. It looked nice last year.” Rafe said, his gaze still locked on the swirl of the water and avoiding Reader.

“What’s up?” Reader blurted out, swirling her drink anxiously. “You’re acting weird. Did something happen when—”

“Will you go to Midsummers with me?” Rafe said, his voice coming out much louder than he had intended, causing Reader to jump.

“What?” Reader said with a nervous chuckle.

“Will you go to Midsummers with me?” Rafe repeated, this time his tone much more even and his eyes locked onto Reader’s face.

“I mean… yeah? Rafe, we’ve gone together every year since we were like twelve.” Reader grinned, waiting for Rafe to join her, but his expression remained.

“No, I mean… will you go to Midsummers with me? Like, officially. Just for one night.” Rafe said once more, causing Reader’s stomach to drop. Was he serious? Was he asking her out? Like a real date? Not a “hey we’re friends and go to events together” date but a “hey let’s go to an event together as actual dates” date?

“What do you mean?” Reader said quietly, her mind continuing to race.

“I mean— well, I know that you’ve never had an actual date to one of these— Rose told me I needed one for my dad’s thing and— y’know what nevermind I shouldn’t have—” Rafe continued rambling as he moved to get up but was stopped when Reader grabbed his wrist.

“Wait, Rafe, just wait a second.” Reader kept her hand on his wrist, the warmth of her touch seemingly calming Rafe’s racing thoughts. He could feel himself exhale softly as he soaked her in, her glowing skin, the way her swimsuit bottoms poked out the bottom of his shirt, the soft hue of her eyes. He couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t ever thought about her in this way before. Thought about what her lips would feel like on his, what her body would feel like… but he couldn’t. She was his best friend and he would only hurt her… but he had been able to rationalize just one night. Just one night where he could have her in the way he truly wanted while still keeping her safe and protected from his own demons, and Midsummers seemed like the perfect one.

“I— for just one night, I want to… take you on a real date. Like the one you deserve.” Rafe said softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Oh.” Reader said quietly, her fingers brushing against the inside of Rafe’s arm. It wasn’t exactly much of a surprise that she had liked Rafe in that way for a while. She had dreamt of him whisking her off her feet, but she knew he could never see her in that way. He was Rafe Cameron and she was… his best friend. But maybe, just for one night, that could be different. Maybe he could see her the way he looked at the girls he hooked up with, a seductive touch of his hand or a whisper crossing the boundary neither of them had ever thought of crossing.

“I understand if you don’t want to… do that with me. Lord knows I’ve been shitty enough the past few weeks to warrant it.” Rafe sighed, watching as he twirled his gold ring around his finger.

“I… I do want that. With you.” Reader said, her hand moving to stop Rafe’s fidgeting. Rafe looked back at Reader before grabbing her hand back with a nod, his face contorting into a grin.

“Sooo… you are wearing blue?” Rafe asked, which caused Reader to smile back at him.

“What is your obsession with me and blue?” Reader laughed, taking a sip of her drink.

“I wasn’t, you can wear whatever—” Rafe began to ramble, which only caused Reader to laugh harder.

“I’m just kidding, boy. But yes, I think I’ll wear blue… since you insisted so strongly.” Reader said, which caused Rafe to roll his eyes.

“Well, regardless of what you wear, I’m sure you will look hot and all the guys at Midsummers will have no choice but to challenge me to a duel for your hand.” Rafe said matter-of-factly.

“A duel for my hand? You’re really hyping up your date-taking abilities, Cameron.” Reader squeezed Rafe’s hand, shaking it lightheartedly.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to see.” Rafe said, standing from the dock, pulling her up to stand with him. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the cool air off the water or the fact that Rafe Cameron had just asked her to Midsummers, but she could feel goosebumps prickle up her skin and couldn’t help but smile.

[potatogratins]

— where the stars shine brightest

꒰ summary ꒱ after a day with friends, yuki ishikawa comes home to you cooking dinner. He's not open to the idea of you taking in the excess of the food he has to eat and believes you're forced to do all that—or so he thinks.

꒰ genre ꒱ fluff ꒰ pairing ꒱ | ishikawa yuki/gender-neutral reader ꒰ w.c. ꒱ 1,354 ꒰ published ꒱ august 18, 2024

꒰ a/n ꒱ wrote a very quick yuki one shot :) in reality, i think i would be extremely weirded out by his meal choices LOL but I love that little (he's literally tall!!) idiot...

“Tadaima,” a voice speaks by the door.

In the volume of his voice, you know that the day was well-spent with friends. Its tone, a pitch higher than it usually is, comes as a sign of cheerfulness. In these mere three syllables, you know that even if the day was partially cherished, there is an implication of excitement; the day for him can only be fully cherished when he has loved and adored you in the flesh.

“My sweet,” you greet Yuki, as he walks behind you and kisses the top of your head.

“Oh, please don’t smell my head—it’s full of sweat and pollution,” you tell him, but he kisses your head again nonetheless. He stands beside you, as he observes you cooking.

“What’s that?” he asks with such naivety.

To which you reply, “Your usual meal, your majesty.”

“You don’t have to cook for me, you know. I’ve been doing it on my own for more than ten years,” he says as he tries to hide his frown. You may be slow in other things, but when it comes to Yuki, you’re quick enough to figure him out.

“Let’s not talk about this. The moon is shining half as bright, and even if the clouds are hiding the stars, I know they’re shining twice as bright. It’s a beautiful night, so let’s cherish it,” you tell him. He playfully nods and puts his hands up in defeat against your poetic, dramatic little ass, and you place each food onto a plate before Yuki brings it to the table.

When the both of you finally get to sit down, he takes in the food he has always taken in in the same way. But when he sees you, eating what he would call scraps—the excess of his meal, mixed with extra condiments and leftovers–he is left sighing at every instance you put a piece of your meal into your mouth.

He has to do something about it… and so he says, “I still don’t feel comfortable about this.”

“About what?”

“The food.”

You look down at your food, and then at him again. To you, there’s nothing wrong with what you’re eating. You begin to understand that tonight is a night that will be filled with sighs—well, not the kind both of you are hoping for.

“Yuki, again. At the very beginning, I said I wanted to be in charge of the meals. You had no objections. You said I could make any meal that I wanted—your words, not mine,” you tell him calmly and slowly, “I have spent a majority of my life making decisions for myself without the help of anyone else. If I loved you any less, I would have walked right out that door.”

He simply nods to your words. He’s taking the information in, just as much as the both of you are eating. When both of you finish eating, you begin to take the plates and utensils–as well as the pans, pots, cutting boards, and whatnot–to the sink to get them washed. Yuki stays still in his seat, watching your every move.

“I didn’t know you love me that much,” Yuki confesses.

You laugh, “Silly. You think too much. I’m wildly devoted to you that I’d clean your rice paddles—and all of these I do because it’s my choice, I hope you understand that.”

“I’m beginning to.”

He approaches you from behind, his fingers constantly moving, never in the same place it once was. He then wraps his arms around you and places his face on your head.

“I thought I told you—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts.

“My head—”

“Blah blah blah—”

“It stinks—”

“Blah blah—”

“It smells—”

“Like love and hard work.”

For a moment, you place one of the white plates down and turn your head to him—bewildered, amazed, astonished. Your eyes widen and eyebrows raise.

“I didn’t know you love me that much,” you then confess. Oh, how the tables have turned. He looks at you and smiles. When you turn back to washing everything that was left on the sink, he plays with your hair, which looks and smells of love and hard work.

After washing the dishes, you and Yuki form a separate routine. As you shower, he begins brushing up his Italian and does his stretches. An everything shower, as you call it, gives him an opportunity to take as much time as he can to catch up with whatever he has not done for the day.

When you finish your shower and step out the bathroom door, you see Yuki by the living room, going through his phone just to pass the time. He looks up and sees you, pajamas crinkled and hair dried. He smiles and pats your tiny, tiny head and showers next.

You sit on the left side of the bed, turning on the lampshade. In silence, you grab your copy of Ogden Nash’s I Wouldn’t Have Missed It and the pen that sits in between the pages. You begin to go through the poem To My Valentine, annotating a word or a phrase or a line or a stanza. There are intervals in the scratching of the tip of the blue ballpen against the surface of the page. You revel in this kind of silence, where you sit and do what you love while the love of your life is just a few meters away from you. It’s comfortable. It’s a reminder that love persists in every space you both occupy. It’s a routine you will never get tired of.

By the time Yuki finishes his shower, he checks on you by peeking through the bedroom door. You are asleep with a book in one hand and a pen in the other—which he is grateful that you haven’t accidentally written on the bed sheets at some point—snoring the night away. It's surprising for him to find you already asleep, for on the most normal of days, if he finished showering, you would have surely greeted him outside the bathroom door, asking him to get to bed in an instant. He tiptoes to your side and takes away the book and the pen, lightly placing them on the bedside table and turns off the lampshade. He then goes to his side of the bed and lies down.

Not wanting you to sleep in a terrible posture, he nudges you a little. There’s a soft sigh that comes out of your mouth before you see his shadow, as you're half-awake.

“Whatisit?” you ask.

“You fell asleep reading again.”

You fix your posture, fully lying down.

“Youshouldn’thavewokenmeuppp,” you scold him.

“Why?”

“Ialways…needto…getaheadstartbeforeyoustartsnoring.”

He laughs. He combs your soft hair and says, “I’ll stay awake till you get to sleep.”

For the next few minutes, he places his hand on you and feels your chest rise and fall less and less and your breathing turn quiet. Then, there’s a little snore that comes out of you. He smiles. He has no right to complain about you snoring, it’s not as loud as his snores anyway.

He brushes your hair and kisses your temple. Then again. Then again. He lies on his side of the bed, allowing the darkness to seep through his eyes. In his head, he begins his plans to spend a day with you tomorrow. Or maybe two days. Or three. Though your love for each other is infinite, life is not; Yuki will hold you dear for as much as he can, for as long as he can. He'll do anything to express his gratitude besides what has already been expressed in the days since you have been together.

Then at long last, you are both asleep.

By then, the night had fallen halfway. The clouds have finally cleared, where the stars begin to show their shine. Just know that whatever nature throws, the stars are still bound to you and Yuki—at the height of adoration and tenderness between the both of you, there is love in a sky where the stars shine brightest. 

[jayke0]

Nicotine Lust

Pairing: Jake Lockley x afab reader

Summary: Your attempts to keep your smoking kink under wraps become futile once you're reassured that your boyfriends’ lungs aren't at stake.

A/N: I couldn't stop thinking about @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction 's smoking Steven, so i wanted to do smth from Jake's perspective ❤️.

Also if you know which tiktok lady Jake’s talking about then bonus points to you!

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: smoking, g/n nicknames, I've never smoked so forgive me if literally all of it is wrong, blowjob, face fucking, ‘fucktoy’ nickname, ‘slut’ nickname, Dom!Jake, Sub!Reader, p in v, unmentioned protection, riding, doggy style, creampie, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 4,020 (yeah… I'm pretty sure this is my longest fic yet.😅)

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily. And Fen ofc ofc.

…………………………………......................………….

You hate to admit it, but when Jake smokes, it's like an automatic switch is clicked in your brain; like you're literally being turned on.

It's wrong, so so wrong. You don't want to be getting turned on by something that is ultimately ruining your boyfriend's lungs, all three of your boyfriends’ lungs.

It's only when you mention it to him one day that he settles your worries.

“The suit heals ‘em.”

“What?? For real?”

“ ‘Course! That's the whole point of it.”

You raise a brow. “It's not for you to heal your black lung.”

“Well no, but it's for healin’, ain't it?” He pulls out his packet of tobacco and places it on the windowsill, along with his papers. His fingers work meticulously as he lays out the paper and lines up the tobacco, sprinkling it onto the paper like he's decorating fucking cupcakes with chocolate sprinkles.

“I thought ya liked it anyway.”

You have to drag your eyes away from the man's hands as he rolls the cylinder between his fingers. “What? No... that's weird.”

Your boyfriend cocks an eyebrow at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Really? So that look that ya give me, or the way ya watch my hands ain't got nothin’ to do with ya gettin’ all hot and bothered?” He brings it to his lips, running his tongue along the edge of the paper in a way that makes your cheeks heat up and your arms fold over your chest defensively.

Jake is easily the best at reading you and your body, especially when it comes to your not-so-subtle arousal.

Your eyes move back to his hand, watching him push the filter into the end with his middle finger before rolling the other end shut.

“No, I just find it interesting. It's good for me to know how to roll a cig… I guess.” Your words trail off as you realize how dumb that sounds; there's no way in hell that Jake lockley is going to believe that lie.

“For who? Ya side piece?” He jokes, the smirk turning into a full-grown grin while he brings the now formed cigarette to his lips. It's only when he flips open his lighter and the flame lights up the end that you come to the conclusion there's no point in hiding it… not now that you know they're safe.

“Alright!... I like it, is that what you wanted?”

“Show me.” His lips are pressed together tightly to keep the cigarette in place, but he's learnt how to talk out of the gap in his lips.

“Excuse me?”

“Show me how much ya like it.” The man's voice is deeper now as he pulls the cigarette from his lips and exhales a cloud of smoke, considerately not blowing it in your direction; and fuck if it doesn't make you squirm.

You want to sink to your knees right there, rip his black jeans from his thick thighs and suck him dry, but your stubbornness stops you. “I'm not some kinda fuck toy, Jake!”

“Ya weren't sayin’ that last night, were ya?” The cigarette meets his lips again and his chest expands as he takes in a long drag, not being as considerate with where he blows it this time.

You irritatedly waft the smoke away from your face, but his gaze, oh lord the way his eyes glare at you, a dark stare that pushes you to your knees anyway as if he has the fucking force. Resting your hands on his knees, you part them slowly, keeping your eyes transfixed on his as you slide your hands up his bulky thighs and over his crotch, all while he takes another drag.

“Good fucktoy.” He says with a playful tone as he pets your head condescendingly, the name and gesture ultimately turning you on more while you toy with his belt buckle to pry his jeans open. “Eager, ain't we? I love it when you're this eager, mi vida.”

The smell of the smoke is starting to sting your nostrils, but all worries of second-hand smoke fade when you pull his boxers down his thighs and reveal his half hard cock. “I'm not the only eager one," you raise a brow at him, taking his hardening length in your hand to hear a soft groan from him.

“Oh c'mon, what guy doesn't love gettin’ his dick sucked? Especially from a slut as pretty as you, cariño.” His thumb runs over your cheek, and then your bottom lip. “Now, open up for me, okay?”

His hand replaces yours as you obediently open your mouth and lean forward, wanting to feel him grow hard in the heat of your mouth. His length is heavy on your tongue, the familiar tang of his skin and pre-cum making you hum softly to send vibrations through his cock, resulting in a pleasured grunt from the man.

“Mmm that's good… good angel…”

The calmness in his voice and the way his shoulders drop indicate that even his trusty old cigarettes can't relax him like you can. You always know exactly what makes him tick, what buttons to press to get him coming down your throat in minutes, but despite that, he continues to take drags from his damn deathstick.

Your eyes are fixated on his lips as he brings it to his mouth again, holding it loosely between his two fingers before inhaling the nicotine. He meets your gaze, a shallow thrust from his impatient hips making you pull back with an annoyed squeal; you're not willing to admit how turned on you also get when they're impatient with you, though you're like 90% sure that Jake has caught on anyway, as usual. A string of drool falls from your lips and lands on his head, spreading down the thick, tanned length before your lips follow.

“Thaaat’s it, just like that, darlin’.” He groans, feeling your lips stretch and the warmth of your mouth envelop him. His fingers caress your hair before his large hand eventually comes to rest on the back of your head; an exciting threat that he could push you down on his girth at any point.

Of course, though, he doesn't. He's more patient and collected than the other two, even when you manage to relax your throat and sink all the way down on him.

“Oooh cariño, that's new. Ya been practicin’?” Jake's back arches off of the window, his cigarette back between his lips so his hand can join the other on the back of your head. You pull off with a pant, nodding proudly, “Steven loved letting me practice on him, did you know he's into throat training?”

Your words warrant a growl from your boyfriend as he tightens his grip on your scalp. “C’mooon, stop teasin’ me,” his lip is cocked up in a scowl as he take another drag from his cig and blows it out.

You don't spend any more time fucking around, your own thighs pressing together just from the situation and sight in front of you. You lower your head on him, but don't take him fully, wrapping your hand around what you can't fit in your mouth so you can start bobbing your head. Your tongue glides over his slit each time you almost pull off, with just your lips wrapped around the blunt tip before you dive back down.

“Fuuuck, that's so good. Shit you're so good at that, mi vida.” His praises go straight to your core, making you speed up your actions.

The man tilts his head back and takes the cig out of his mouth, the end now getting dangerously close to his fingers, but he couldn't care less, all he cares about is the wet heat of your mouth already pushing him closer and closer to his orgasm. He takes one last drag and puts out the butt as it reaches his fingers, taking in a sharp inhale when you deepthroat him again just as it burns his finger tips. “Such a good fucktoy, goddamn angel…”

His groans get louder, your head now bobbing up and down on him rhythmically as you twist your fist around his throbbing length in just the right way.

Hand joining the other, he pushes you down once, then twice. “Just a little more darlin’, ya can do it, I know ya can—,” his pants are heavy, low moans cut off by gasps. “Gonna come down that pretty throat, just a little further, sweetheart.” You feel his hips lift off the window sill and towards your face, the gesture making you choke a bit before you take him fully again, fingernails digging into his plump thighs enough to leave marks as your face scrunches up.

It's only a few more seconds and he's coming down your throat, just as he said he would. You can barely taste the saltiness as he moans loudly, adam's apple bobbing in his throat with his back arched enough to feel his tummy on your forehead. You pull off after a few moments with gasps, your chest rising and falling quickly as you take in the air you'd briefly missed out on.

“Ay cariño… ‘m sorry, are ya ok?” Jake's gaze is still lidded and dopey, though a lot softer now, and you feel his thumb run over your cheek.

“Yes,” you say hoarsely, giggling afterwards at the sound of your voice while you wipe the spit from your chin. “It was hot. I liked it, honey, don't worry.”

He sighs, a smile replacing the worried frown his had on his face just seconds before. “Ah, good, angel,” he leans down and kisses you, not caring about the taste of himself on your lips. “You owe me an orgasm though.” You mumble on his lips, feeling the low chuckle rumble in his chest as he joins you on the floor without even pulling away from your plump lips.

”I can do that, cariño.”

+.｡ﾟ:;｡+ﾟ+｡::ﾟ｡:.ﾟ｡+｡+.｡ﾟ:;｡+ﾟ+｡::ﾟ｡:.ﾟ｡

Jake hasn't been out since that morning, and now it's getting to 3 days, and you're worried.

Did your odd little kink freak him out? Maybe the thought that his lover gets off on him damaging his lungs made him uncomfortable.— No, that's not the sexy part, because that WOULD be weird. It's watching him carefully, masterfully, assemble the tobacco. Watching the way he rolls it between his thick digits and runs his tongue over the edge before lighting it. You'd noticed how his eyes close in satisfaction with that first drag, and how his eyelids lower to a more relaxed manner, giving him that deadly lidded gaze that is sure to be the death of you.

The presence creeping up behind you breaks your train of thought, and you sigh contentedly as you feel large, warm hands run over your shoulders tenderly. You drag your eyes away from the tv screen to tilt your head back and look at one of your boyfriends, whichever one it is.

Jake always insisted on growing his facial hair out, but Marc and Steven are so strongly against it that you'd think they have some kind of personal vendetta against it. That being said, it's hard to tell them apart sometimes, especially when you're looking at them upside down.

“Hello, handsome.”

“Hello, angel.”

Blood instantly rushes to your face, and you know Jake notices it, given the way his lips quirk into a grin.

“Took you long enough…” You mumble softly, lifting your head to avoid his burning gaze.

“Ay, I know I know. I ain't really got an excuse.” He gives your shoulder one last pat before moving around to the couch and placing himself down next to you, arm promptly resting on the couch behind your head. “Did ya miss me, though?” His fingers toy with your ear, a gesture that he'd quickly and delightedly learnt annoys you.

Your silence is met by a dark chuckle from the man. “Did ya miss these?” The sound of cardboard rustling grabs your attention, your head slowly turning towards him before your eyes focus on the box of cigarettes in front of you.

“I thought you didn't like ‘pre-rolled bullshit'.” You quote his words with a scoff to hide the excitement already bubbling up inside you.

“I don't, but they come in handy, don't they? ‘Specially if I'm tryna rile ya up again.”

His left leg is crossed over the other in a casual sitting position, body angled towards you invitingly with his arms spread wide enough to make his t-shirt stretch across his toned chest.

“So… you didn't find it weird then?” Voice tentative, you shuffle over to him, having missed his tight bear hugs and calming tone of voice… even if his cockiness does get on your nerves sometimes.

A small frown replaces the grin that almost constantly adorned his face. “No, mi vida, ‘course not.” His hand reaches towards your face, calloused thumb running under your eyes softly. “I'm just as into it as you are, hell, I thought that was obvious.” His low chuckle makes your chest warm and a smile break the pouty look you had plastered across your face, especially when he leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Thank fucking god.”

A deep laugh from your boyfriend only makes your face and body grow warmer, the smile widening before you lean into his lips to place a kiss on them.

“Ya could've spoken to the other two.” He says, hands resting on your waist to pull you closer for a cuddle.

“Didn't wanna worry them.” It's almost remarkable how quickly you melt into their arms, quicker than you have with any other person… ever, really.

Jake's fingers trace your face gently, eyes roaming all over your features and drinking them in as if he hasn't seen you in years. “Ay cariño, you're too kind for ya own good.” He chuckles softly, pressing another, slightly longer kiss on your lips.

That slightly longer turns into much longer, which then turns into you panting into eachothers's mouth, craving one another as if it's integral to your survival.

“Please do it again, honey, wanna see you do it again.”

The friction from your bodies grinding relentlessly together has him dazed, his brain taking a few seconds to compute.

“Oh, angel, so impatient,” he teases as he grabs the box of cigs from the table and pulls one out. He runs it under his nose and takes a big whiff, letting out a loud, pleasured groan afterwards to make you giggle at his silliness, which you do.

You bite your lip, and he puts the stick between his rosy lips, looking up at you hungrily. “This what ya wanted, darlin’? ‘S this what you've been waitin’ for?” His tone is almost condescending, but his words roll off of his tongue in such a smooth way that you're quick to forgive him.

Your hips automatically grind down on him as you nod, biting your lip hard, before you feel his hands land on your waist again, traveling underneath your shirt and over your warm skin until you feel his fingers just brush over your left nipple. The hem of your shirt moves past your face before you can even think about it, your eyes still glued to his pretty mouth as you roll your hips on him to pull those soft grunts from his throat.

“Look at ya, I've barely touched ya and you're all worked up.” He grins as he brings his hand down to the waistband of your sweats to slide them lovingly down your thighs. It's a little mortifying how you don't even question him, how you don't even need anymore working up thanks to a heated make-out session and the sight of the cig hanging from his lips loosely. You lift your ass to help him pull them down, your underwear following suit.

That's when you realize he hasn't even taken his grey t-shirt off, and you're stark naked in his lap.

“This has got to have a name...” You rest your hands on his chest, the feeling of your bare cunt grinding against his jeans making you tilt your head back.

“Hmm?” He asks, undoing his belt buckle and fly.

“Your thing for having me completely naked while you can't even be bothered to take your shirt off.”

He laughs at that. “Maybe, ya should look it up later. See if it's on that woman's TikTok page.” He pulls his twitching cock out of the confines of his boxers, running his thumb over the ruddy tip. The gesture makes you take in a soft inhale, inching your hips closer to him so you can let his cock slide between your folds and through your arousal.

You both groan at the movement, and you watch Jake shuffle in his pocket for his lighter moments later, bringing the small flame to the end of the cig to light it. His chest expands, and then deflates as he blows the smoke away.

“You're so gorgeous, mi vida.” He says softly, two fingers holding the cigarette tightly as he runs them across your flesh to make goosebumps prickle across your arms and your cheeks heat up.

“And you're so handsome, Jakey.” You moan softly as he brings his mouth close to your chest and places kisses all over the expanse of skin, guiding your hand down between your bodies to help him slide inside you.

He pulls away and places the stick between his lips again to take in another drag and admire the picture in front of him. “Such a pretty angel,” he reiterates, feeling your warmth envelop his aching length as you sink down on him.

Your thighs shudder just a little, a pant escaping your lips as your hole stretches around him with ease, used to their girth by now.

“Love the dumb little look on ya face when ya take it, cariño. Ya like havin’ me stretch ya open like this?” Jake's words travel straight to your core, fueling the fire in your tummy as you lift your hips just to sink back down on him.

“Yes, baby, I love the way you stretch me open.”

The moan that comes from his lips is wonderful, and it's followed by another billow of smoke, the cig back in the corner of his mouth so he can guide your hips. You can see him already gritting his teeth around it, taking in sharp inhales as you start a deep rhythm on him.

“Oh baby…” You moan. You desperately want to close your eyes to enjoy the feeling, but the sight of him fucking you with that deathstick between his teeth is too glorious, penance for the time you spent worrying. “Shit, you look so hot, Jake. So fucking sexy…” You groan as he grasps your ass, gripping the flesh and dragging you down on his cock with growls.

“Ya look even better takin’ it, darlin’, ya take it so well; my pretty slut.”

You grip his shoulders, cursing him for being able to push your buttons and make you whine at the most humiliating of names. Your body always tells him different, though, especially as you start bouncing faster on his cock, feeling it hit that fucking sweet spot each time you come down on him.

Jake is panting too now, and he has to hold the cig between his fingers again to stop it from dropping on you. “Ya feel so good squeezin’ me like that, cariño… Fuck this cunt is magical–.” He still has a grip on your hip, and uses it as leverage so that he can start bucking his hips into your wet heat.

Needless to say, you aren't going to last much longer.

“J-ake! Honey… Fuck I'm so close–agh!-.” Your walls clench around him while your hand slips between your legs to circle your clit, eyes opening briefly to get a glimpse at the sight you'd been waiting to see for what felt like weeks.

That's it, that's all you needed as you sink down on him and grind your cunt against your hand, panting and moaning with your head thrown back. Waves of pleasure rush over you and soak through your bones entirely, your toes clenching like your walls.

You release the grip you had on his shoulders, not that he seemed to mind, that is, before leaning forward to kiss him. You don't care about the smokey taste on his tongue because all you want is him, his taste.

“Mmnnn… We ain't done yet, darlin’,” Jake pulls from the kiss and gestures to the half burnt cigarette as he places it back between his lips.

He gropes your waist and pulls you off of his cock with a soft yelp from you, instead pressing you down into the couch, face turned outwards so he can lean down and look at your face. This position always makes you whine, always makes your legs shake as you try to keep yourself up, and Jake never goes easy on you. He likes seeing the way your ass and thighs bounce as he brings you back on him, and loves hearing the filthy noises that are produced in the process.

The feeling of him splitting you open again has you biting on the cushion, your thoughts from before being true as he ruthlessly fucks into you, loud growls and grunts rumbling in his chest and ringing in your ears.

It's hard to ignore how good it makes you feel when he uses you like this. Sure you love the soft and tender moments you get with the three of them, but once you'd felt what they can really do to you, there was no going back.

You're surprised you haven't ripped the cushion cover from how hard you're gripping it, dumb, cock drunk whines and whimpers falling from your lips as the man fucks you closer and closer to another orgasm.

He leans over you, cigarette barely staying between his lips as he watches your eyes screw shut and random gibberish fall from your mouth.

“Ay, my pretty little fucktoy. Ya love it when I'm rough with ya, don't ya?” He pants and strokes his hand down your chest, running all the way down your tummy till he reaches your swollen clit. “Love it when I… when I use ya.”

His strong and composed facade is faltering, just as it usually does when he's getting close, sitting up again to throw his head back and take puffs of his almost completely gone cigarette.

You can see colours dancing behind your eyelids with how tightly they're screwed shut, the way his fingers are rubbing your clit being almost unbearable as you let out cries and pleas to come again.

“Yeah cariño, that's it, cum all over my cock, lemme feel ya twitch.”

An even stronger wave than before crashes over you and wracks your whole body. Your moans get stuck in your throat as you milk Jake of all he has, his own orgasm having hit him after you'd shrieked his name.

Thankfully, he's quick to remove his fingers from your throbbing clit, knowing it gets a little too sensitive after two mind-blowing orgasms.

”AH FUCK-”

Your post-nut bliss is interrupted by a pained yelp from the man, making you crane your neck to look back at him frantically pulling the cigarette butt from his lips and putting it out in the ashtray.

You laugh, albeit sleepily, and watch his dopey gaze drift to yours as he chuckles lowly. “Fuckin’ cigarettes… maybe next time I should get some of those fake ones.” He jokes as he pulls out of you and touches his sore lips.

You giggle and sit up wobbly, turning to wrap your arms around his neck. “I did think when we started that it was a little dangerous.”

“Ay, ya live and ya learn.”

You both laugh and Jake presses his face into your neck, placing soft kisses as he falls back against the couch with a thump, taking you with him.

...........................................................................

Tags 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @ominoose @mynamesstevenwithav @rinverse

[9toji]

May I please get some of THAT 116 Toji please

1 — TOJI FUSHIGURO + PERVERT!

pairing; toji x fem! reader

warnings; toji is a big fat perv, slight nsfw, hints of masturbation, very dirty toji thoughts, toji charms his way into you(r life), a portion of it his imagination (its italicized), panty stealer

rina's comments ; this is sooo.. such a good idea, thank you so much for sending in this!! enjoy <3

imagine toji, a sweet man who lives an apartment away from yours. exceptionally handsome, and may i say rugged. he has the build of a a boxer, always wearing tight black shirts and grey sweatpants, his eyes are always low and droopy whenever he talks to you. but he's a gentleman with charm, right?

he thinks its endearing, the way you don't even know his real intentions. that way, he can help you up whenever you stumble or trip, maybe a little contact with your clothed boobs and an unmistakable squeeze on your hips. toji taunts you too, taking your phone from your hand as you mindlessly scroll through it, “whatcha lookin' at?” he asks slowly, another smirk etching his face as you try to reach it from his grasp. seeing your cleavage was heaven, silently thanking you for your low-cut shirts.

you can't deny the fact his charm although used rarely works wonders on you, making you feel very warm and giggly around him. toji grins at you sleazily, saying that he's accustomed to smiling at people like that and that he's sorry, “might seem weird or creepy” he said. oh, but he doesn't smile like that at other people at all, some might say that you're the only one he smiles at.

your always tired looking neighbor always drops by the laundry inside the apartment building's basement at the same time you do, but he leaves earlier than you. which made you wonder why some of your underwear had been taken from your laundry basket. it's a mystery, who else would've gotten it?

can't be toji, he leaves early and the man is nice, too nice. toji always helps you in one way or another, dropping by your apartment with a handful of essential goodies, like toilet paper, or more tide pods for your laundry. he does it regularly, at early hours of the morning too.

but why? you had just woken up, wearing a spaghetti-strap night gown top and silk shorts. toji got that information when he did it the first time, reminding you about something regarding your plants and watering them. he saw the way you looked so sleepy, but took advantage of the way you were clothed before you wore casual shirts and pants. he loved the way you looked up, grinning sleazily. “good morning” he growled, masking it in a sweet, sweet tone.

eyes unknowingly traveling down to your chest and to your waist, licking his lips and chuckling, “my lips are kinda dry." toji giving you a headpat before you closed the door, and as he walks away to his apartment everyday, he makes sure to engrain your image into his mind for later.

toji gets itchy when you're off at work, wanting to see you as much as possible. that's where his piles of your “lost” panties come in handy. he leans back on to the wall while sitting down on his bed, pushing his shirt up with a shaky hand along with pulling down his greyish sweatpants. his hands grip on to his shaft, along with the piece of fabric that he had snatched away from you. you wouldn't know anyways.

his skillful hands wrap the spot where your cunt touched the fabric onto his dock, pleasuring himself has never been better he thought. it was so perfect, it never fails to make him cum, his right hand squeezing his length as he thought about you, smearing the pre-cum all over so it gets slippery.. “gonna cum on that pretty face of yours, yeah?” he grins, smearing his pre-cum on the fabric so that your panties could swiftly move up n down swiftly.

toji's groans are animalistic, “you.. you look so fuckin' good..” his eyes get teary, imagining you, with your wide eyes and cheery grin. hands wrapped around his cock, maybe he could see your pretty face get smeared with cum, hoping you'd take a fingerful and taste it. “gonna taste it? fuck, you.. whore.. fuckin' know you are." and when he cums, he puts the panties on his tip, cleaning it with it.

“toji.” you babble, hands messily gripping his cock. toji shook, his sweat dripping down his chest.. and his thighs twitched at your touch. “feel so good baby, shit–squeeze it a bit more f'me.” toji sighed, running his hand through his own locks, watching you help him please himself with those skillfull hands of yours.

a shaky sigh and the messy attempt to fix himself came soon after, knowing your arrival will be in an hour or two. he wouldn't want you hearing him groan, at least not yet. toji isn't close enough with you, he needs to be.. so that he can get exactly what he wants without looking like a pervert.

which he is, but for now you didn't need to know that.

[raineandsky]

#122

The villain yawns as they pause outside the other villain’s door. They’re not sure why they have to be woken up to wake someone else up, but that’s what the supervillain asked of them and they’ll be damned if they don’t do it.

The corridor is silent, but the other villain’s lights are still on. The villain has the courtesy to knock—or at least open the door hard enough to produce an introductory thunk! as they sweep in.

The other villain is sitting on their bed, and their laptop emanates an incensed “what was tha—” before getting slammed shut instantly. “You’re here late,” the other villain says tensely.

“[Supervillain] sent me,” the villain says innocently. “Whatcha hiding?”

“What’d they want?”

“I’ll tell if you do.”

"[Villain], this isn’t the time for—”

The villain takes a step closer. The other villain’s hands are on their laptop without thought, pulling it safely out of reach.

“Ah,” the villain says with a smirk, “something the IT team will tell you off for?”

The other villain pales. “They can see?”

“I know you’re still new, but I thought you’d have been here long enough to know that.” The villain tuts mockingly. “WiFi owners can see all of our history. They check it now and then to make sure no one’s doing anything dodgy.”

If the other villain was pale before, they’re practically transparent now. “Okay,” they say faintly. “What’d, uh, what did [Supervillain] want?”

“I’ll level with you, [Other Villain],” the villain says shortly. “I am not risking my internet access looking things up. You, however, sound like you’re already down that hole—let me use your laptop.”

The other villain is positively galled. “Wh— no!”

The villain moves in too fast, the other villain not holding their laptop tightly enough. The villain sweeps it from their hands with a laugh that is very much not shared by the other villain.

The villain flips the screen open with a grin, expertly dodging the other villain’s grab for their laptop. The view the villain is faced with isn’t some scam-worthy browser like they were expecting, but a series of boxes. They can see themself in the bottom corner of the screen, and other boxes are filled with views of other rooms they don’t recognise. It takes a moment to realise that there’s names along the bottom of each box—this isn’t CCTV footage, this is a video call.

Their gaze locks onto a name on one of the boxes to the left, a name they recognise—[Superhero].

“[Other Villain],” the villain says slowly, “why are you on a call with [Superhero]?”

The other villain looks three seconds from fainting. “I, uh— that’s not— I wasn’t—”

“Okay.” The villain slams the laptop shut with a sigh. “Well, [Supervillain] wants to see you. Better get going.”

“Uh,” the other villain starts. If that’s who they are. “Do you know, uh, know why?”

The villain shrugs. “Three month review.”

“At two in the morning?”

Good point. But it seems the other villain’s about to be in enough shit for a late-night call to the office. “You never know. He works weird hours.”

The other villain slowly, slowly, gets to their feet while the villain drops the laptop on the desk. The villain holds the door open for the other villain as they shuffle out into the corridor.

A call to the supervillain’s office at this time is never a good sign. Something’s a secret. Something’s about to happen. Something the supervillain doesn’t want anyone else to know about.

The villain knocks on the supervillain’s door, and once the other villain is inside they head back out to grab some gloves and a bin bag. At this time, who knows if they’ll be picking the other villain up in one piece.

For all they know, the supervillain already knows about the other villain’s late-night calls.

[dawnoftime22]

For Taylor Swift, could you do one where the reader is taking care of her when she is sick or Taylor is taking care of the reader when they are sick?

cold.

| T.S

Warnings: Taylor feeding R soup/a piece of sandwich, saying no to medicine, sore throat, coughing fits and fever

Summary: When the morning comes and you felt sick, Taylor was already up, deciding your breakfast. But when she realizes you were down with a cold, she quickly jumps to taking care of you.

Word Count: 3k

Category: fluff!

A/N: I'm so sorry for how late I am for this!! my motivation was down and I ended up accidentally doing this while I'm sick too, but I hope you enjoy this! I don't know if you're currently sick (or if you were), but I hope you're getting better :]

| Started on 15/07/2024, 8:28 PM |

| Finished on 28/07/2024, 10:54 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

"Taking my time, I'll show you the care I hold for you within my heart. Just how gentle. Just how soft, this love is.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

It was quiet as Taylor stood in the kitchen, looking down on her phone. Her hand was on the cold metal of the fridge, having just finished writing down the tasks she needed to do, the paper now pinned on the fridge door.

At the side, the windows radiated a warmthness from them, the orange of the mornings that could never be beaten by anything else. The sunshine floods through the kitchen, sinking down from the marble counters and to the wooden floorboards.

In the distance, Taylor hears a small sneeze coming from the bedroom. She takes a small glance, but didn't take more mind to it as she focuses on looking through the refridgerator, trying to figure out what to make from the ingredients she already has.

She tries looking through the recipe book, trying to find more ideas rather than just going through the list of meals she can remember off the top of her head, but nothing came up as a big interest.

Instead, another thought pops up in her mind. You. "Baby, what do you want for breakfast?" she asks, her volume a little louder so you could hear her from across the room.

You were in the bedroom, staying laid in bed. Honestly, you woke up only a few minutes ago, your body realizing the missing presence of the familiar blonde. But that wasn't the worst of it. Your throat instantly felt weird, and you hid in the covers to shield yourself from the cold. Yet, no amount of changing your positions would help.

The door was open, Taylor's doing from the morning in case you thought she went to work from being up so early. Also just in case anything happens and she would need to run in to check on you. Right now? Sure, it isn't an emergency, but you felt like you would need her right in front of you without more time wasted.

"I don't know, you choose..." You tried replying with a bit of volume, even while your voice didn't want to be on your side today. Or, well, your throat, so she heard you, but your words didn't form anything.

Taylor blinks for a moment, trying to process what you said, but nothing seemed to form in her head. "I can't hear you!" she says, slowly closing the old recipe book with a crinkle of its spine. She went to turn around and was about to go towards the bedroom, but then she saw you, walking out.

You drag your feet, your posture slumped as you gently rub the edges of your eye. Taylor's expression soften at the adorable appearance, and she doesn't take long to round the island and go to you, her arms opening to wrap around your warm body.

She gazes down at you, a smile growing on her face as she tilts her head. "What'd you say, honey?" she asks softly, her hand reaching to move your hair back.

You let out a breath and swallow the weird feeling in your throat before gaining the courage to talk, your own arms going to return her embrace, but also to hold onto her.

"...anything that's soft...please," you whisper, your voice croaky and strained, something she noticed instantly. Taylor looks at you with concern, a thought coming to her that the warmness radiating off your body was starting to look like it wasn't just from you being in bed.

She leans back, wanting to take a look at your face. Your eyes held a sort of tiredness to them when they look up at her, but you did just wake up earlier, so she questions herself of her assumptions.

"...Are you sick, baby?" she asks, searching your face. Your lips were just slightly pouted, and the way you sniffled absolutely gave it away. Once you nod, it was confirmed.

"Aw...sweetheart." She murmurs, feeling you lean back into her, burying your face in her chest. She held a body heat, and it was all you wanted, after being so cold in the empty bed.

Taylor thinks about it for a couple minutes, trying to sift through the meals you'd like whenever you were sick. It was difficult, but not impossible.

"...Do you want soup?" she says gently, looking down at you again as you thought about it. But then you inhaled a breath, feeling the tickle of your nose. Soon, you sneeze off to the side, ensuring the germs barely hits Taylor.

She smiles, even though her expression held worry. "Bless you," she says, seeing you take a deep breath, and smiling back at her when you heard her words.

"Thank you," you whispered, leaning back in to her. Your arms were wrapped around her still, holding onto the warmth.

"Do you want soup, love?" Taylor asks gently, repeating her question in case you couldn't focus on what she said due to your sneeze.

But your fingers gently clutch further onto the fabric of her shirt, and you shook your head, resisting even the thought of any food passing by your painful throat.

Taylor's concern rises, but still her mind continues to go on for you, searching for words. She moves her hand up and down your back to comfort you in any way possible.

"It'll be warm, and it can soothe your throat," she whispers, looking down at you with the hopes that her gentle voice can help you find some courage. But with the quietness you went with, it was unlikely you were budging.

"You can eat it with bread too, if you'd like," Taylor adds, awaiting your response. You stay buried in her chest, trying to decide.

With the way her hand was comfortingly moving on your back, you gave in, and eventually succumb to a nod, one barely visible unless Taylor had been watching extremely closely, and she was.

Taylor smiles softly and pulls back, seeing your face that still held hesitancy. "Chicken soup, yeah?" she asks, her hand traveling up to touch your cheek gently, her thumb gently caressing your skin.

You look into her loving eyes and nod again, this time more visibly. The blonde's heart lightens at the sight of you agreeing, and her smile grew wider.

"Alright, just wait a few minutes." She murmurs, leaning down to kiss the top of your head before pulling away, but right before she could slip from your embrace, you let out the smallest sound of protest and gently grab her hand, causing her to turn back to you, quickly picking up on how you wanted her to stay with you.

"Shh, its okay, I'm just going to make you your soup." Her palm gently trails up to the back of your head, her other hand rested on your back. You most definitely didn't want to leave her side, especially when your body felt weak and was contaminated with sickness.

"How about this, you can watch me make it, hm?" Taylor suggested, looking to your eyes to see whatever thoughts you seemed to have. She slowly tries to pull you to the kitchen, and when you follow without holding your ground, she smiles softly.

She gets everything ready, grabbing the pot and taking the ingredients for the soup from the fridge. As the soup was getting ready on the stove, you stayed by her at all times, your body feverish against her side and your head rested on her shoulder.

She wraps an arm around your waist, her thumb gently brushing, reassuring you through her touches. Your mind was scrambled, unable to focus on just about anything other than the motion at your waist.

Taylor had already made a sandwich for herself, ready in its container to eat later with you in case you needed encouraging with her company.

She heard your sniffling from her side though, and it was the sign of a stuffy nose starting to come into play with your sickness. Her eyes were transfixed on you as her hands went to go through your hair, hearing the sniffling growing more consistent.

She grabs a nearby tissue from the kitchen counter, turning to you to hand it down to you. "Here, love," the blonde whispered. You blink for a second, then took it to wipe your nose and turning away to blow into it.

Taylor watches you with a slightly sympathetic gaze, her hand moving up and down your back. Her eyes flickered from you and the soup that was starting to bubble in the pot.

Deciding its finished cooking, she reaches out with her other hand, lightly stirring the soup before slowing down the heat, and then turning it off completey.

Taylor glances back at you, giving your arm a gentle squeeze to let you know she'll return to being close to you, needing to keep you just a little further from the hot soup. You see her grab out a bowl, and a kitchen cloth to hold on to the small pot's handle so she could slowly pour it out.

The steam from the freshly made soup drifts up, resulting in more warmth entering the space of the kitchen. She puts the pot into the sink, letting the water fill it up slightly to clean later. Then, she picks up the bowl carefully, aware of the heat.

"Can you help bring my sandwich, baby?" she says, nodding towards the transparent container. She watches as your hand goes out, grabbing it from the counter and hugging it to your front as you lean back into her.

She smiles and guides you to the bedroom, trying to keep the soup from spilling with every step being mindful. Once you soon arrive, she lets out a breath of relief, setting the bowl on the nightstand.

You went to sit on the bed, getting comfortable. Taylor turns to look at you before she joins you and gently pulls you to sit in her lap, her legs criss-crossed.

As you try to process at simply being pulled like that, it wasn't long until you gladly accept the change of position. Facing her, you lean into her shoulder, tilting your head to look up at her.

She notices how you gazed up, the look on your face being adorable in her eyes, and her heart warms. Her hand reaches up to brush back your hair with her fingers, being gentle.

"Its gonna be a day full of cuddles, huh?" she asks in a whisper as she looks into your eyes, as if a secret for just the two of you. You let out a giggle and nod, making her light up with a smile herself.

She then grabs the bowl of soup from the nightstand, feeling that it was now less hot to the touch. Knowing you to be hesitant on swallowing anything, she takes ahold of the spoon, blowing on the soup lightly to then take a small sip of it, a hum sounding from her.

She looks to you, her gaze gentle as she lets the soup fill the spoon again. "Its delicious, trust me," she says, bringing it up to your mouth. Although you held full of trust for her, you couldn't trust your throat.

You move back, your lips turning into a straight line as you eyed the spoon, but she keeps her gentle gaze on you.

"Its okay, here, just one sip," she whispers, encouraging you by lightly putting her free hand on your back, the other hand moving forward.

She sees you slowly starting to accept, at least letting the soup touch your lips. Although you didn't fully take it, you had pursed your lips, tasting the chicken flavored soup.

For just a moment, your face relaxes, remembering how delicious it would be whenever she'd cook you things like these. Her hand had drifted back slightly to not force you entirely, but the corners of her lips raise up at seeing your realization. She decides to try again, moving it back towards you slowly.

You hesitate, but she waits patiently. After some seconds, you slowly open your mouth, taking the spoon in and letting the soup enter your mouth.

You hold it for a moment, feeling how warm it was, while at the same time feeling scared to feel the pain surge back. Taylor raises her eyebrows slightly and move her head in a gentle nod, which had you letting it go down your throat.

Just for a second, there was the burning, painful feeling that made you wince, but once it got down and filled your stomach with warmth, it was gone. You let your shoulders relax slowly, looking up to her.

She smiles and picks up the spoon again, helping you get the food in your system slowly. The feel of your cheeks flushing comes up almost as warm as the soup, and Taylor almost wanted to lovingly pinch them from how adorable you looked, even while you're sick.

"Look at you, being brave." She says, watching you chew the small bits and pieces of the chicken in the soup, enjoying the meal, although coughing here and there after swallowing.

"Just take it slow..." she murmurs, soothing you on your back. You eventually get the coughing fit to calm down, and you lean back into her, your cheek gently pressed against her shoulder.

As she gives you time to have some peace, she leans down to lay a gentle kiss on the top of your head. You let your eyes wander slightly, the only sounds going out into the space being of your breaths.

When you look over to the nightstand, you see her sandwich, half eaten, her stolen bites there as she helped feed you your own meal.

She sees your gaze transfixed on it, her eyes flickering from her sandwich and to you. A raise on her lips was paired with her heart jumping in happiness within her chest.

"You want some?" She asks, reaching over to her sandwich. You nod, and she smiles softly, pinching off a part of her sandwich to give to you.

You lean forward, and she puts it in your mouth carefully. She watches you chew it, savouring the taste, and processing if it was good. When you swallow, your face had brightened up slightly.

"Good?" she asks, looking at you curiously in waiting for the thoughts of her meal. You held a more at ease expression, and nod eagerly, happy with the taste, but then soon feeling the itch of a cough and then getting thrown into another fit.

Her eyes widen slightly before she grabs the water bottle from the side, unscrewing the cap for you and then handing it out. "Drink some water...slowly," she offers softly.

You looked up with a slightly pained expression, but you grab the bottle with slightly shaky hands and took a small sip.

You drank a little more water, at least until you calmed down, and you give the bottle back to her, swallowing the water. A breath of relief escapes your mouth as she sets the water bottle back down on the nightstand.

She turns back to you, her finger lightly tracing meaningless patterns on your arm. A few seconds after, she resumes to giving you the soup again, with the hoped that it will be a little more smoother.

Soon, you finished, and she had a smile on her face, the spoon going down on the bowl with a gentle clink. She looks up at you with a proud gaze, gesturing towards the now empty bowl with only the residue of the soup. "There you go, all done."

You saw that Taylor was about to get up, and you nearly let out a small noise of fear and protest, but she stops her movement for a short second.

"I'll still be here, I'm just going to send the dishes to the sink, okay?" she whispers, her hand taking yours to lightly squeeze, then kisses the skin softly. Slowly, she lays down your hand to the bed, patting it reassuringly before carefully holding the plate and bowl, going out the room.

You let out a gentle breath, watching the now empty space, awaiting anytime. It felt like forever, but her familiar blue eyes appear back into the room, meeting yours with a gentle smile, her hands holding a bottle of pills and liquid medicine.

She saw the way you looked at them, her eyes drifting downwards, but going up again, moving the bottles out to you.

"Do you want any medicine, sweetheart?" she asks, tilting her head. Your eyes were bleak and half lidded as you shook your head, curling up a little further in bed. Her eyes soften, and she slowly pulls her hand back.

"Thats okay, we'll just rest," she says, her tone understanding. She puts down the medicine on the bedside table, just in case you change your mind at any given time.

She steps forward, sliding to sit at the edge of the bed once more, her hand moving to push away your strands of hair that had gone out of place.

You gaze up at her, only your eyes having movement, and your chest rising and falling with every one of your breaths. But it then slows down with a deep inhale.

"Tay...?" you whisper out, your voice quiet and weak. Taylor's hand pauses its motion for just a second at the mention of her name from you in such a small voice, before she resumes the motion.

"Yeah, baby?" She whispers back, her gaze down upon you holding tenderness. Her hand was warm, and glided down to your cheek, making you lean into it.

"I'm cold," you mumble, your mouth in a pout. She lets out the smallest chuckle, her thumb going to brush over the tip of your nose ever so slightly in a barely noticeable boop.

"Come here then, honey." she whispers, only wanting to give you all the comfort you needed, rather than anything else but so. You stare at her for a second, contemplating being closer to her within your sickness.

She notices this, and knows you all too well to let it be. She smiles softly and assuringly, giving you an encouraging nod that made your heart soften.

"It's okay, I don't mind getting sick," she says, pulling you in without much pressure, as you slowly give in and let her slide you closer, your face burying into the warmth of her neck.

She kisses you atop the head gently, your hair tickling her nose just a little bit, but she didn't mind.

"Rest..." her hushed voice echoes out into the space of the room, her gentle touch upon your back, either drawing circles or rubbing a soothing motion.

"You'll feel better when you wake up," she says, hoping you'll take her point well. You relax, letting your breaths steady, and she can feel the exhaustion radiating from you, the breath your lungs release portraying your sickness.

"I love you, baby," she whispers out one final time, just a few words for you to hear before you close your eyes, giving in to the heaviness.

"Love you too..." you mumble out, full of sleepiness. She smiles softly, and soon closes her own eyes, too.

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

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@dmenby3100 @wandsmxmff @tia-thesimp @marvelwomen-simp @escapereality4music @fawnedolly @justgayloringeverthrone @lovelyy-moonlight @stevecore @midastouch013 @liloandstitchstan @maleahoswick @raven-ss @deadlymistletoe @bambisfawns @rorysrambles @natsxwife

[isacksteban]

Always — Lawhan

for @ellearts and not beta read at all...

Sitting in silence isn’t something new for Liam and Jack; they’ve done it plenty of times before. They don’t always need words to convey how they’re feeling — sometimes they just need each other’s company to feel better.

It feels a little different this time, though. Because Liam is in his underwear and most of his clothes are shed along with the mask he’s been wearing his entire life. There’s a lightness in him now — one that reaches down to his very bones — because he knows, finally. Or, maybe he’d known all along and had just become such an expert at hiding it from everyone else that he eventually started hiding it from himself, too. But he accepts, now.

He accepts who he is and the reason why all of his relationships have failed. He accepts that the only thing broken inside of him are the pieces of himself he’d torn apart trying to make himself belong.

And, above everything else, he accepts that this feeling he gets in his chest whenever Jack is around — whenever Liam so much as thinks about him — is love. The real, honest, life-altering kind. The kind he’s been searching for in every woman who gave him the time of day, without realizing it’s always been right by his side.

And it’s a scary thing to come to terms with, knowing it could change everything.

When Yuki is 800 miles away, and isn’t here for Liam to explain it to him. But it feels like a part of himself has slotted into place now. It turns out the piece he’d looked for in Hannah, in Andrea, and in Danielle was inside himself all along. And he knows — he knows — that this is the biggest step to healing things with himself. Because now that Liam knows, understands, and accepts himself, he feels whole enough on his own that he doesn’t feel the need to make up for his past mistakes. Liam doesn’t feel like he has to make up for the fact that he isn’t enough. Because he is.

So Liam feels like he can breathe a little bit easier now. He feels free.

But Jack feels like a different matter entirely, and not just because Liam is so in love with him that he can feel it pulsing in his veins.

He can tell that something is going on with Jack. He can feel the — not hurt, but confusion, maybe, that’s radiating off him. It feels like grasping fingers reaching out for something. It feels like maybe Jack has come here to find out what it is, exactly, that he’s reaching for.

They’ve been sitting in silence for maybe ten minutes when Jack finally breaks it.

“So, Mick broke up with me.”

Liam startles at that, his head swiveling to the left to look at Jack — to take in the expression on his face, the language of his body, the glint in his eyes. He looks…not sad, exactly, but sad-adjacent, like maybe he’s having mixed feelings about it. Liam isn’t having mixed feelings, of course. Liam’s only feeling right now is relief, and he has to swallow down the thank god that almost slips from between his lips.

“Oh. Okay. Uh, what— what happened?”

Jack sighs. “Well, he was engaged to Laila, for one.”

Liam chokes on his beer. “He was what? Engaged?”

Jack hums in confirmation, unsure what exactly to say next.

Liam doesn’t even want to touch that, honestly. He kind of feels like he’s reeling a little bit, like he’s gotten whiplash from the sudden change in direction. Because whatever he’d thought Jack was going to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I was weird about it at first, you know, because I've known him all my life and suddenly he's engaged but still wants us to fuck on the side,” Jack admits. “But… but then I talked to my dad, and I made my peace with it. Y’know?”

Liam nods his head. “Okay, so that's why you broke up with him?”

“Well, I asked him to move in with me.”

Liam almost chokes again. Because — because of course he did. That’s such a Jack thing to do.

He has a habit of trying to hold onto long-dead things because he’s scared of being left behind. He loves so big, and loud, and fast — and it’s such a beautiful thing to witness, and to be on the receiving end of — but it makes him impulsive, sometimes. Makes him dig his claws and teeth in to try and keep that love from leaving him, even when that love isn’t the good kind; even when it doesn’t come close to being enough for someone like Jack.

“And he said no, because he thinks I’d break his heart — he loves Laila. He said he’s my first, but he won’t be my last.”

Liam thinks that’s probably the smartest thing Mick has ever said.

And look, he doesn’t hate the guy — they were friends, even though that’s kind of faded since he started seeing Jack — but Liam knows, without a doubt, that Mick isn’t the right person for Jack. He’ll be the right person for someone, for Laila maybe. But not Jack, who needs affection, and attention, and reassurance. Jack, who needs to feel seen, and heard, and understood.

Mick couldn’t even call him by his name half the time, for god’s sake. He was always Doohan.

“That’s… a lot,” Liam acknowledges. “How are you feeling about it all?” he asks, because while Liam is certain this is the right thing in the long run, he doesn’t ever want Jack to be hurting.

Jack sighs. “I don’t know,” he says. “I feel… I feel like I should feel worse, if that makes sense?”

He pauses and looks to Liam, maybe to gauge his reaction. So Liam shifts in his seat, tucking one of his legs up onto the couch so he can comfortably turn and face Jack as he’s talking. Jack mirrors him, pulling his own leg up onto the couch so their knees are pressed together. Liam nods encouragingly, and Jack gives him a sweet smile before continuing.

“It sucks,” he says, “because I feel like I’m back on that goddamn hamster wheel again, just running around in circles and getting absolutely nowhere. But… but I don’t really think I’m sad about him. About Mick.”

“You’re not?” Liam pushes.

“I think, unfortunately, he was probably right,” Jack says, grimacing like it hurts him to admit it. “He was the first guy I’ve ever been with, y’know, and I’m grateful for that, but. But I was never going to fall in love with him, or anything.”

It’s probably selfish for Liam to feel relieved at the sound of that, but he can’t quite control the way he lets out a breath and his entire body relaxes.

It’s just — Jack doesn’t have to want Liam back, this isn’t about that, but. But Liam and Mick are actually kind of similar in a lot of ways — though they’re different in far more — and Liam would probably spend the rest of his life sick with envy if Mick turned out to be the one for Jack, instead of Liam. If Jack fell in love with someone who was like Liam, but not him. It might have made him crazy, actually.

“I mean, that’s good, right?” Liam asks. “It’s not like you’re losing the love of your life.”

Jack’s breath hitches, and his face falls as he says, “Like you did?”

He hadn’t planned to talk about this right now. He’d wanted to give himself time to adjust to the new label he’s assigned to himself, before sharing it with anyone else. But… but this is Jack, and Liam trusts him more than anybody else in the world. He trusts him with his life and with his vulnerability, so he knows that his heart is safe with Jack, too. Because even if Jack doesn’t want it, he would never do anything to hurt it.

So he takes a steadying breath, like he’s preparing to go into battle, then he says, “No. No, I loved Hannah; she was like my best friend. But… but she wasn’t the love of my life.”

Jack’s eyebrows pull down in confusion as he asks, “She— she wasn’t?”

Liam laughs a little, shaking his head. He gets Jack’s confusion because he was confused about it for a long time as well. But he knows that not being in love with Shannon will never take away from the fact that he did love her. She’ll always be important in Liam's life, and she’ll always hold a piece of his heart, but she wasn’t the great, big love of his life. That honor belongs to someone else.

“I, um,” Liam hesitates, glancing down for a moment at the way his bare knee is pressed against Jack’s. “I’m gay.”

He’s met with stunned silence, and the swirling anxiety in his chest forces him to look back up at Jack’s face. Jack’s mouth is parted in shock, and his blue eyes are wide and shining as he meets Liam’s gaze. For a moment, Jack is completely still, frozen by the revelation. But then, gradually, a slow, wide grin spreads across his face, and his open palm lands on Liam’s bare thigh, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, voice filled with excitement and something that sounds a lot like pride. “Oh my god, Liam. That’s… that’s incredible. I’m so happy for you.” There’s genuine joy and elation in his voice, but for Liam, it’s kind of hard to focus on anything except the warmth of Jack’s hand on his leg, the feeling grounding him, comforting him.

“Yeah?” Liam asks, his voice coming out a little breathless from both the intensity of Jack’s touch and the overwhelming relief that washes over him at seeing Jack so happy, so accepting.

Jack laughs, bright and light. “Yes, of course!” he exclaims, and then, without warning, “Come here.”

In a heartbeat, Jack is kneeling up on the couch, towering over Liam as he leans forward and throws his arms around him in a bear hug so tight and fierce that it knocks a bit of breath out of Liam. Jack’s arms wrap securely around Liam’s shoulders, and Liam’s face is pressed against Jack’s chest, where he can feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. Liam’s own hands come up to tentatively rest around Jack’s waist, and he finds himself melting into the embrace, feeling like he’s somehow found a safe haven.

Jack rests his cheek on top of Liam’s head, holding him tightly, protectively, as if he’s telling Liam through the strength of his embrace that he’s here, that he’s got him, no matter what. Liam has spent so much of his life carrying burdens, constantly bracing himself for impact, and here, in Jack’s arms, it feels like he’s allowed to let it all go, to just be, with Jack holding him together.

A laugh escapes from Liam, muffled against Jack’s chest, and Jack joins in, the sound rich and joyful as they sway slightly from the force of their shared laughter. As they pull back just a little, Jack keeps his hand nestled in the space between Liam’s shoulder and neck, his thumb tracing light, comforting patterns along the base of his neck. They’re sitting even closer than before, knees brushing, faces mere inches apart. Liam could count every one of Jack’s eyelashes if he wanted to, and the thought is surprisingly tender, making his heart beat just a little faster.

Jack’s voice is soft and a little breathless as he says, “Sorry. Sorry, I got a little carried away.”

Liam looks at him, feeling strangely open, and murmurs, “I don’t mind.” His voice comes out a bit too honest, even to his own ears, but he can’t bring himself to care. He wants Jack to know.

Jack’s eyes widen, and a faint flush of pink rises on his cheeks, a mixture of bashfulness and hope that makes him look impossibly endearing. “No?” he asks, his voice just above a whisper.

And as his gaze dips down to Liam’s lips, Liam can feel a warmth spreading through his chest, something steady and sure. “No, Jack,” he replies, his own voice soft but full of meaning. “I don’t mind. Not when it’s you.”

He feels Jack’s hand tighten on his shoulder, and he opens his mouth to say something, but the words fade as he watches Jack’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip. Liam wants to lean in and taste him — wants to get lost in everything Jack. But something holds him back, a last moment of hesitation.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “Sorry, that was too much. You’ve just brok—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

In an instant, Jack is surging forward, pulling Liam closer as he does, and then, in the blink of an eye, Jack’s lips are on his. Liam doesn’t have to wonder what Jack tastes like anymore; he just flicks his tongue out and steals a taste. When Jack moans into his mouth, Liam swallows it down, pressing closer, pushing Jack backward until there’s enough room for him to swing a leg over Jack’s thighs and settle in his lap. And when Jack’s hands splay across the curve of his ribs, Liam melts into his touch.

It’s his first time kissing a man, but Liam knows instantly that it feels right. There’s no sense of performing, no need to think about his next move, because everything flows naturally, instinctively. Every touch, every taste, every breath — they all feel like they’re exactly where they’re supposed to be.

He knows, right down to his core, that this is exactly where he belongs.

Jack’s fingers curl around Liam’s waist as he captures Liam’s bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug that makes Liam whine louder than he’d intended, his hips jerking of their own accord. Jack’s grip tightens, and he breaks their kiss only to press their foreheads together, both of them breathing hard.

“Jesus, fuck,” Jack pants, his breath hot against Liam’s lips. “Holy shit, you’re— you’re... Liam.”

“I want you,” Liam whispers, peppering tiny kisses from the corner of Jack’s mouth and all along his jaw. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Because even before Liam truly knew it, he’d wanted Jack. Liam’s soul has been reaching out to Jack’s from the very beginning. And he might have spent too many years ignoring the universe’s call, but he won’t turn away from it a single second longer.

“I want you, too,” Jack murmurs, voice rough and filled with emotion. “Always, Liam. Always you.”

As those words sink in — as they seep into Liam’s blood and saturate his bones — it feels like they are rewriting his very DNA. It’s as if loving Jack, and being loved by him, is reshaping the core of who Liam is. For the first time, he finally feels like someone he recognizes.

And maybe it should feel too fast, this thing between them that’s burning, growing, ravaging him from the inside out. Maybe Liam should want to slow it down, take a moment to breathe, let his mind catch up with his body — with his heart. But he’s tried fast with Hannah, and slow with Andrea and Danielle, and none of those things had worked out because they weren’t this. They weren’t a man.

They weren’t Jack, with his big, calloused hands, warm and steady against Liam’s waist as he pulls him closer. They weren’t Jack, who’s leaning down to bite, to suck, to leave marks that Liam wants to wear forever.

He doesn’t want to stop; he doesn’t even want to slow down. He wants this, here, for the rest of his life. He’s past wondering if he deserves it, past questioning if he’s good enough for someone like Jack, past being afraid of the depth of love he feels. He wants Jack selfishly, wants him greedily, and if Jack is willing to give himself over, then Liam isn’t selfless enough to say no. He isn’t strong enough to deny himself this kind of joy.

“Need you,” Liam whispers, almost begging. “Please, Jack. Please.”

He tilts his head, exposing his neck for Jack’s lips and teeth and tongue to explore, leaving a trail down to his collarbone. Jack sucks the skin into his mouth, biting in a way that makes Liam shiver, moan, and grind against Jack’s hardening length.

He feels frantic, desperate, like he might fall apart if Jack doesn’t do something soon.

“What do you need?” Jack murmurs. “Tell me what you need, Li.”

“You,” Liam answers, barely able to hold back. “I need you. Just you.”

Jack tips his head back, resting it on the couch, eyes squeezed shut. The smile on his face, the blush creeping up his cheeks — it’s enough to drive Liam wild, and he has to swallow down a whine at the sight of him.

“You’re killing me,” Jack pants, and Liam laughs softly.

“Well, we don’t want that,” he teases.

But then Jack is helping Liam off his lap and jumping to his feet, and they’re standing so close that their chests brush together with every breath. Liam can’t resist leaning forward to steal another kiss from Jack. It’s all tongue, teeth, and wandering hands, and Liam’s entire body feels like jelly in Jack’s hands — soft, malleable, ready to bend to Jack’s will.

“Jack,” Liam whines again, his hands tugging at Jack’s hair.

“Bedroom?” Jack murmurs against Liam’s mouth.

Liam nods so quickly their noses bump together, and they both break into laughter. Jack pulls back to press a kiss to the tip of Liam’s nose — it’s soft and silly, and Liam has never had this before. He’s never been able to laugh like this with someone, always feeling like he needed to be on, so focused on doing the right things that he forgot to enjoy himself. But with Jack… with Jack, he thinks it might actually be fun.

“Bedroom,” he agrees, and Jack’s eyes darken with heat.

“Let’s go.”

Liam untangles his hands from Jack’s hair and instead grabs hold of his wrist. He tugs him out of the living room and down the hall, glancing back every few seconds like he’s afraid Jack will suddenly disappear. But each time he looks back, he finds Jack’s eyes on him — watching the back of his head, the stretch of his shoulders in his old alpha tauri, the ripple of his bare thighs with every step he takes.

It makes Liam feel wanted. Makes him feel desired.

As they reach Liam’s bedroom door, Jack tugs his hand back until Liam turns around to face him. Then, with one hand on Liam’s hip and the other on the door, he gently nudges Liam backward into the room.

Once he’s shut the door, Jack leans back against it, taking a moment to just look. His eyes roam slowly, lingering, unhurried as they travel over Liam, and Liam feels like a work of art being admired. He feels like something beautiful to look at and savor, even in his wrinkled shirt and boxer-briefs. The look makes his blood fizz, and he steps toward Jack with his hands outstretched, stopping only when his fingertips press into Jack’s stomach.

Liam drops to the floor between Jack’s feet, and the feeling that washes over him as he looks up… it’s like he’s kneeling at the altar of a god of his own making. But Jack looks down at him like he’s the one doing the worshipping. Like Liam is the one who’s holy. Jack places a gentle hand on Liam’s jaw, caressing his cheek with his thumb, then brushes it over the smooth space above Liam’s top lip, taking in every inch of his skin he hadn't before.

“I missed your face,” Jack says easily, as if those words don’t slide down Liam’s spine and settle in his stomach like molten lava.

Then Jack’s thumb continues to trace Liam’s face until it reaches his lips. Liam’s mouth drops open involuntarily, and he doesn’t miss the spark in Jack’s eyes.

“Sweetheart,” Jack whispers, slipping his thumb into Liam’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue as he sucks. “So fucking beautiful.”

Liam trembles, his body and mind feeling as if they’re floating — like he’s here but not fully, watching this happen to a better man than him. But then Jack is sliding his thumb out, dragging it down so Liam’s saliva spreads across his chin and cools against his skin. Then Jack holds Liam’s face in one hand, tilting it up so Liam is looking directly into his eyes.

Liam feels so desperate for him that he can’t help himself. He raises his hands, curls them around the back of Jack’s thighs, and leans forward, mouthing against the outline of Jack’s hard length. Maybe he should feel nervous — maybe a perfectionist like Liam should worry about getting it right for his first time — but the shudder that runs through Jack’s body is enough to ease any of those concerns.

“Fuck, Liam,” Jack groans, his hand moving to the back of Liam’s head to tug on his hair.

“Can I?” Liam asks.

“Yes, baby. Of course.”

The word baby drips over him like honey, and his hands tremble as he undoes Jack’s button and zip, pulling his jeans and briefs over his hips and down his thighs. Jack steps out of them, and Liam helps him remove his socks, and then… he’s confronted with the sight of Jack’s cock, hard and flushed, glistening at the tip, like he’s just as desperate for this as Liam is. It’s the first time he’s ever been this close to one that isn’t his own, and the surge of desire that rushes through him almost takes him by surprise. Almost… but this is Jack, after all. It should never be a surprise to Liam just how much he craves him.

So Liam leans forward, his tongue slipping out to steal a taste of Jack. He curls it as he licks at him, and when Jack’s hand tightens in his hair, he takes it as his cue to close his mouth around the tip. Jack feels soft and silky on Liam’s tongue, and though the taste is a little bitter, Liam finds himself wanting more. And when Jack shudders, groaning and moaning Liam’s name like a prayer, Liam lets every thought leave his head except for how good this feels and how hard he already is.

“Liam, fuck,” Jack moans. “Holy shit, sweetheart. You’re so good. So good for me.”

The words make Liam feel light-headed, a tremor rippling through his body as he palms himself through his briefs. He’s never been praised during sex before — never been told he’s good — and he hadn’t even considered that it might be something he’s into, until he hears those words on Jack’s lips. Suddenly, he wants to hear it again and again, wants to earn it by making Jack feel good.

But as he takes Jack deeper — as far as his throat will let him — Jack gently guides Liam off him. Before Liam even has a chance to worry he’s doing something wrong, Jack is pulling him up to his feet and pressing their mouths together, groaning as he tastes himself on Liam’s lips. Liam melts into Jack, sinking into his chest as Jack holds him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re too good at that,” Jack murmurs against his lips, making Liam laugh.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jack confirms. “But now it’s my turn.”

He maneuvers Liam toward the bed, then pushes on his shoulders until he’s sitting on the edge. Taking Liam’s face between his hands, Jack kisses him once, twice, three more times, before his hands drift down to the collar of Liam’s shirt. He tugs on it, raising a single, questioning eyebrow, but Liam just shrugs and grins at him. Then Jack’s steady, practiced hands begin to unfasten each of Liam’s buttons one by one, and it probably shouldn’t feel so intense, but with Jack, it feels borderline erotic.

He slips the shirt off Jack’s shoulders and tosses it onto the floor, then he strips off his own t-shirt and throws it there, too. And suddenly Liam is looking at all of Jack — at the tan evenly spread across his skin, and the rosy pink of his nipples. The soft curves of his belly, and the length of his cock that is still slick with Liam’s spit. He’s a fucking work of art, and it blows Liam’s mind a little to realise that a man as glorious as Jack could ever want him back. But then he’s placing his hand in the centre of Liam’s chest and pushing him backwards, and as Liam slides up the bed so he’s resting on the pillows, Jack climbs in between his open legs.

He presses a kiss to both of Liam’s ankles as he pulls off his socks, then a kiss to both of his knees. When his mouth makes it to Liam’s thighs, he bites and sucks like he’s trying to leave his mark behind — like he’s trying to stake his claim. It feels heady, and possessive, and Liam’s heart thunders dangerously fast inside his chest.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Jack… please.”

“What do you want, Liam?” He asks, his mouth so close to Liam’s cock that he can feel his breath on it. “You only have to ask.”

“Suck me,” he begs. “I need your mouth.”

It’s hot as it closes over his clothed dick, and Liam would feel ashamed of the whimper that bursts out of him if this was with anyone else. Then again, he doubts anyone else could ever make him feel like this — could make him let go so completely and give up all of his control. Jack is special, though. And here in this room, with Jack between his legs, there’s no shame or embarrassment or worry. There’s just love. So much of it that Liam can taste it with every breath that he breathes.

He gasps when Jack’s fingertips dig into his hipbones, curling beneath the waistband of his briefs so he can tug them down. Liam lifts his hips to make it easier for Jack, but he whines when the action makes him press himself against Jack’s open mouth. Jack chuckles at the sound, and at the tremor that ripples through Liam’s body. The smile he gives him — all teeth, with bright eyes and flushed cheeks and a kissed-pink mouth — is absolutely devastating.

Liam can’t stop himself from reaching down, scratching his fingers into Jack’s hair and swiping his thumb down the side of Jack’s cheek. Jack turns to press a kiss to the palm of Liam’s hand.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Jack says.

And then he closes his mouth around Liam’s bare cock, and Liam sees stars.

It feels like champagne bubbles beneath the surface of his skin, and popping candy beneath his ribs. It feels bigger, better, more, than anything has ever felt before. Liam feels alive, and breathless, and he’s never wanted anybody the way that he wants Jack. It surpasses want and burrows right into need — into a desperate, aching compulsion. And I love you is on the very tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down and instead says “More. I need more, Jack. Please.”

“So polite,” Jack teases him, as he presses a delicate kiss to the very bottom of his stomach. “Use your words and tell me what you need, Li.”

Liam almost wants to cry. As someone who’s spent his whole life ignoring his own wants and needs, to ask for something now feels almost impossible.Though, as he catches Jack’s eyes and sees the shine in them, he thinks maybe that’s exactly why Jack is doing this: he’s teaching him to want. He’s teaching him that it’s okay.

“Whatever you want, baby, I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you inside me,” Liam whispers.

He feels his cheeks flaming with colour, because to be caught in the act of wanting has always felt so embarrassing to him. But then a smile spreads across Jack’s face, and he says, “Good job, baby,” and Liam simply melts.

Jack moves so he’s hovering over Liam, and he leans down to kiss and kiss and kiss him, as he roots around in the drawer of his bedside table for…he leans back, and holds up a bottle of lube. Liam feels his cheeks heat again, and he bites his lip, but he refuses to look away from Jack.

“Are you sure?” Jack asks.

“I need you,” Liam says. “I want you.”

He wants more. Wants to be as close to Jack as he possibly can be. He’s spent years wanting to climb into Jack’s skin and burrow beneath his ribs — years wanting to merge their bodies together, like their souls already are, long before he even knew what that really meant. And he doesn’t want to wait. Not because they’re in any rush…not because he’s worried he might not get another chance at this. But because he knows, as certainly as he’s ever known anything, that this is it for him.

Jack is the only person he’ll ever love like this, and he doesn’t want to waste any more time being afraid of wanting things. Especially not when Jack is giving him permission to.

Jack sucks Liam back into his mouth, and Liam gets lost in the pleasure of it — in the slick, wet heat, and the knowledge that this is Jack making him feel so good. He flinches a little when he feels the cool lube against his skin, but as Jack begins to gently rub at his hole, Liam groans and pushes back against him.

“Greedy,” Jack taunts him, and Liam whines.

But he gives Liam what he’s asking for anyway.

“Relax for me, Li,” Jack murmurs, his lips still brushing against Liam’s cock. “You can take it.”

Jack’s words, and his sickly sweet voice, and the feeling of electricity coursing through Liam’s veins is almost too much to handle. And then Jack’s finger presses inside of him, and the slight burn — the stretch as Liam’s body adjusts — is absolutely wonderful. The moans that pour out of him are filthy, and debauched, and he’s acutely aware that he’s never felt this good in his entire life.

Jack works him open slowly and gently, his lips and tongue and mouth still working over his dick as Liam loosens around his finger. Then, as Jack slips a second finger into him, he begins to make his way up Liam’s body. He kisses along Liam’s stomach, sucking hickies into the divots of his abs. When his mouth closes around Liam’s nipple, and then his other one, Liam feels like his soul is ascending and leaving his body behind.

The sensations are all so much — Jack’s fingers inside him, and his grip on Liam’s hip, and his mouth suckling at Liam’s nipples. Liam’s body doesn’t feel like his anymore, it feels like Jack’s. And he knows it’s never been in better hands.

He should have known Jack would be like this — should have known he would give, and give, and give, even here in the bedroom. But it still takes Liam a little bit by surprise; it still steals his breath how thoroughly Jack dedicates himself to taking Liam apart. Because that’s what this feels like — like Liam is being unstitched at the seams, like he’s being unravelled by Jack’s gentle touch before he slowly puts him back together again, even better than he was before.

By the time Jack has kissed his way up Liam’s throat and is feeding him his tongue, he’s pushing a third finger inside of him. Liam whimpers, and trembles, and he bites on Jack’s lip as the stretch makes all of his nerve-endings feel like they’ve been set ablaze. He arches his chest into Jack’s, wanting to be touching him everywhere possible, and Jack — reading his mind like he always does — lowers his weight onto Liam and presses him down into the mattress.

Jack’s fingers curl inside of him and Liam cries out as they find that spot that’s never been touched before. It feels like lightning. Feels like heaven, and hell, and sin. Feels holy.

“Oh,” Jack says with a grin, then does it again. Liam gasps, one hand gripping Jack’s bicep and the other the back of his neck. “There it is. Does that feel good sweetheart?”

Liam nods. “Yes, yes Jack, please. More. I need more,” he pants. “I need you. You feel so good, baby.”

“You want me inside you?”

“Yes.”

“In here?” Jack asks, curling his fingers again until Liam is writhing and his cock is smearing precum between their stomachs.

“Yes,” Liam whimpers through gritted teeth.

“Anything for you, Liam,” Jack promises.

As he kisses Liam again, slow and sweet, and so deep Liam feels it right down to the marrow of his bones, he searches in the bedside drawer once again. But when he pulls out a condom and holds it up to show Liam, Liam takes it from between his fingers and tosses it on the floor.

“No,” he says. “I wanna feel you. Jus' you, if.. if you’re—”

“I’m clean,” Jack promises. “Are you sure?”

And Liam has never been more sure of anything in his life. So he nods his head, and pulls Jack back down to kiss him, and he rocks his hips up into Jack’s so their cocks glide together. He groans when Jack slides his fingers out of Liam’s hole, and the loss almost feels like too much — he grips Jack tighter, pulls him closer, kisses him harder, but Jack just chuckles. He slows down the kiss until it’s languid, and tender, and Liam is shaking from the gentleness of it.

Then Jack’s hands are wrapping around Liam’s thighs and pushing them back, kissing the mole on the back of his leg. And Liam feels vulnerable and exposed in a way that’s entirely new to him. But Jack looks down greedily at the scene Liam is presenting him, and he groans at the sight of it. He hooks the tip of his thumb into Liam’s hole, and Liam gasps.

“I’m tasting you here later, okay?” Jack says, and Liam almost blacks out at the thought of it.

“Okay,” Liam agrees breathlessly.

“Are you ready?” Jack asks, looking Liam right in the eyes. “We can stop at any time, okay? All you have to do is-”

“-fuck me,” Liam begs. “Jack, please. I need you inside me.”

The first press of Jack’s dick against Liam’s hole feels like the first hit of morphine when you’re in pain — it soothes an ache inside of Liam that’s been hurting him for as long as he can remember. Jack kisses him through it, as Liam’s body stretches to accommodate Jack’s, and it suddenly dawns on him that he can taste himself on Jack’s tongue. It’s dirty, and heady, and it makes his cock twitch in the space between their bodies.

Jack pulls back and looks down to watch as he slides home inside of Liam, and when he’s finally all the way in — when he’s burrowed so deep inside of Liam that he can feel him in his heart — he looks back up to him and smiles. Big, and bright, and fucking earth-shattering.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Jack whispers. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He lets his fingers trace Liam’s blush from his cheeks, down his throat, all the way to the centre of his chest, and then stops right over his beating heart. He presses a kiss there, and then he looks back up to Liam and says, “Are you ready?”

“Move,” Liam all but begs. “Fuck me, Jack. I need you to.”

And the thing about Jack, is that he’s never denied Liam anything. He would give him anything — everything — that he asked for and not even think twice about it, and that’s been the case for as long as they’ve known each other. So when Liam pleads for Jack to fuck him, he gives him exactly what he asks for.

He pulls out slowly, watching Liam’s face for any sign that he’s in pain, and when he finds none — when he finds only pleasure there — he rocks back into him.

Liam gasps at the intrusion, and he tangles his fingers into Jack’s hair and pulls him down. He doesn’t kiss him though, he just rests their foreheads together and breathes in Jack’s air as he begins to build a slow, steady rhythm. It’s addictive, the way the heat burns low and slow in the pit of his stomach. The sensations build and build as Jack fucks into him, until Liam is shaking and whining and desperate for more.

“Harder,” Liam demands. “Harder, Jack. I need it.”

“Yeah?” Jack asks. “You need more, baby?”

“Please,” Liam says, like it’s the only word he can seem to remember. “Please.”

His hands trail down Jack’s back, nails digging in and scratching until Jack gasps and fucks into him harder. Then he’s reaching back to snatch Liam’s hands away, lacing their fingers together and slamming them down onto the mattress. He slides their joined hands under the pillow beneath Liam’s head, and orders “keep them there.”

The command — the show of dominance — has Liam melting beneath him, and when Jack’s hand comes to rest at the base of Liam’s throat, he whines and arches up into him. He wants to reach for Jack, but he wants to be good — wants to do what Jack told him to. So he grasps at the pillow as Jack starts to fuck him in the way he’s been begging for. Not fast, still so slow that the pleasure in Liam’s body builds agonisingly. But Jack is thrusting into him so hard that the headboard starts to rattle, and Liam’s body begins to sing.

And while one of Jack’s hands remains at the base of his throat — not squeezing, just holding him there like he owns him — he reaches the other one up and he curls it around the top of Liam’s head so he doesn’t bang it against the headboard.

It’s ridiculous, and it’s embarrassing, but the gesture is so sweet and caring and intimate, that tears begin to blur his vision. He has to squeeze his eyes shut so Jack doesn’t see them and worry — so he doesn’t stop. But Jack clearly doesn’t want him to look away, because he tuts under his breath and bites gently at the curve of Liam’s jaw.

“Give me those eyes, sweetheart,” Jack commands, and Liam is helpless to do anything but obey.

As he opens his eyes the tears he’d been trying to hide leak out, dripping from the corner and sliding down the sides of his face. Liam’s breath hitches, and he whimpers at the look in Jack’s eyes when he sees that Liam is crying. A flash of concern passes over his face, and his hips stutter like he’s about to stop, so Liam wraps his legs around Jack’s waist and squeezes his thighs.

“Don’t stop,” he begs. “I’ll die. I’ll die if you stop.”

The dramatics would probably be humiliating if Liam stopped to think about the words spilling out of his mouth. But he’s so overwhelmed with pleasure that all he can think about is keeping Jack inside of him — is never letting him go.

And then Jack is leaning forwards and capturing Liam’s mouth in a kiss that absolutely wrecks him. He whispers, “You’re so good, baby. Taking it so well for me,” and Liam writhes, and cries, and surrenders his body, and mind, and his heart to Jack.

“Jack,” Liam whimpers, desperate and frantic. He’s not sure what he’s asking for — not sure what he needs — but he knows that Jack will find a way to give it to him anyway.

“I’ve got you, Liam,” Jack promises. “I’ll take care of you. You’re doing so good, baby. So perfect for me.”

The hand on his throat tightens just a little, and Jack pegs his prostate, and then Liam is cumming — completely untouched, with a silent gasp on his lips as he trembles through his release. And as his body shakes, and he tightens around Jack, he feels Jack cumming too… feels him fill Liam in a way that makes him feel more whole than he’s ever done in his life.

More tears slip from his eyes, and then Jack is leaning down to kiss them away, and it’s so sweet that Liam needs to hold him. He moves his hands from where Jack had placed them beneath the pillow, and he winds them around Jack. With his legs still wrapped around his back he tugs, and Jack lets out a soft laugh as he lets his weight fall onto Liam.

“That was…” Liam pants, trailing off because he can’t quite find the words to describe it.

“Yeah, yeah it was,” Jack agrees. “You were perfect, Liam.”

Liam snatches a kiss and says, “So were you. Thank you.” The smile Jack gives him in return is a thing of absolute beauty.

Jack is slow and careful as he pulls his softening cock out of Liam, and then he flops down beside him. Liam hadn’t wanted them to separate — had wanted to keep Jack inside of him forever — but Jack doesn’t pull away. He leans on his elbow and slips his free hand between Liam’s legs, using his fingers to push his cum back inside of Liam in a move that feels so filthy - so territorial — that Liam throws his head back and groans.

Jack leans down and kisses Liam’s exposed throat, biting at the underside of his jaw, until his lips press against Liam’s again, and again, and again.

“Jack, I…”

He reaches his hand up and tugs on the sweat-slick curl that falls down over Jack’s forehead, making Jack laugh and pretend to bite at Liam’s fingers as he pulls away. Liam laughs too, loud and carefree and easy.

“I love you, Jack,” Liam confesses.

“I love you, too.”

And Liam still isn’t quite ready to believe that he deserves this, but he’s going to take it anyway. He’s going to grasp it between both hands and never let it go. Because even if Liam doesn’t think he’s worthy of him, Jack clearly seems to think that he is, and there’s nobody in this world that he trusts more than Jack.

“You’re my last,” Jack says. “You’re my always.”

And Liam likes the sound of that.

[blueicequeen19]

Broken & Loved

Warnings: mentions of abuse, unprotected sex in the Twinkie, praise, degradation, friends turned lovers

You jump, startled, when JJ plops down in the hammock. No regard for almost flipping it and sending you to the ground. You open your mouth to scold him when you see the hurt in his eyes. The bruises on his face. The beaten knuckles. The dried blood.

Your anger quickly dissolves as you try to think of something to say.

“Do you ever get tired of not being good enough?” His words mixed with the deep somber tone of his voice gives you chills. You knew exactly what he meant.

“All the time.” You murmur, bringing your knees to your chest as he brings his weed pen to his lips and inhales deeply. The smoke exits through his nose like an angry dragon a moment later. Even when he was like this, you could help but admire how handsome he was.

“I sometimes wonder what my life would’ve been like if my mother had stuck around.” You stay silent as he vents, staring out over the water as he takes another hit and exhales.

“But then he’d have someone else to blame for his shitty hand in life and she’d probably look the same way I do.”

“Your dad is a piece of shit.” The words slip out, your anger getting the best of you. JJ looks at you finally, not saying anything for a moment.

“It’s better me than her.” JJ finally says.

“It shouldn’t be either of you. Luke should be in jail.”

“They’d just let him out.”

“Move in with John B. You’re here all the time anyway.”

“He’d drag me back.”

“You’re 18.”

“And look at my face. You think he cares? Now he just thinks he has a man to fight now instead of a child.” Tears fill your eyes for this beautiful broken soul sitting in front of you, trying to numb the pain with weed.

You swallow, carefully moving to his side of the hammock and between his parted knees. His eyes narrow for a moment as he stares back at you.

“What are you doing?” JJ rasps, the edge in his voice replaced by something else. His eyes become hooded as he looks from your mouth to your eyes.

“Making you feel better.” You whisper, resting your hands against his chest and licking your lips. You could feel his heart racing in his chest.

“I don’t want your pity.” His words don’t hold any weight, unable to look away from your lips.

“It’s not pity. It’s me showing you that you’re cared for. That someone loves you.” Your own heart skips a beat at the word love and his eyes soften, brushing your hair from your face.

“I don’t deserve your love.” JJ whispers, just as you lean in and plant your lips against his in a soft kiss. JJ kisses you back just as gently, taking his time and savoring the way your lips feel.

“You deserve all the good in life.” You murmur, letting your tongue slip into his mouth and he groans, pulling you onto his lap and deepening the kiss.

You stay like that for what feels like hours. Just drinking each other in and feeling each other. His shirt and hat come off and he shudders under your touch, his own hands splayed across your back as he feasts on your lips.

“Things won’t be weird after this, right?” JJ pants between kisses, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. You moan softly against his lips, the seam of your shorts pressing against your needy clit just right as you start to roll your hips in search of friction.

“No, of course not.” You murmur but then you start to have second thoughts, wondering if maybe he’s backing out.

“But we can still stop if you want. I won’t be mad.” You pull your lips from his but he squeezes your ass, thrusting up against your groin.

“Do you feel how hard I am? I want you as long as you want me.” JJ trails his lips down your jaw, his scruff tickling against your skin as he moves to kiss your neck. You tip your head to the side to grant him access, your hands tangled in his thick locks.

“I want you, J. More than anything.” You almost wince at how painfully vulnerable you sound but he distracts you, tugging the strings of your bikini top until it falls between the two of you.

“We should go inside.” You hiss just as his mouth attaches to your nipple. You bite back a moan, arching your back and forcing your breasts in his face.

“I have a better idea.” The two of you slip from the hammock, you cradled in his arms to hide your bare chest as he makes a mad dash for the Twinkie.

“JJ. No.” You bite back a giggle as he carefully slides the door open and sits you in the bench seat. He climbs in, careful not to slam the door before he’s pulling you back onto his lap.

“John B is going to kill you.” You pant, pulling gently on his hair as his teeth graze your nipple.

“When isn’t he gonna kill me?” JJ retorts, sucking hard on the swell of your breast until there’s a faint purple mark.

“Dude! No hickies!” You scold, pushing his face away playfully. He grins, turning you both and planting your back on the seat. He kisses you, grinding himself against your groin until you’re both panting and your lips are numb.

“Tell me this is real. That this is really happening.” JJ pants between kisses. You cup his face, gazing into his almost blackened blue eyes.

“This is real. I’m beneath you and I want you.” He answers with a satisfied moan, his hands finding the buttons on your shorts.

“Are you on birth control?” He rasps, tugging your shorts down your legs and helping you remove your bikini bottoms next.

“Yes. Are you clean?”

“I’ve never fucked without a condom.” You try to swallow the lump in your throat as he removed his shorts and boxers. Your mouth watered, begging to be on him. His cock was long and veiny. The tip was red and swollen, begging to be inside you.

“Me neither.” His mouth is on you again, kissing and licking and sucking any part of your flesh he can. Your nipples are tender and drawn so tight that every touch has you bucking against him.

“Do you want me to wear one?” JJ murmurs, his mouth gliding over your navel and towards your mound.

“No..yes! No!” Your back arched off the seat as his tongue found your slit, licking tenderly like he was savoring a sundae on a hot day. It was so soft and gentle but so torturous to your pulsing body.

“JJ.” You moaned his name, threading your fingers through his hair and bucking against his face. You felt him smile as his tongue lapped lightly at your swollen clit.

“Tell me.” He sucks gently on your clit and you moan loudly, tugging hard on his hair. “Tell me what you want.” Taking his mouth away to mark your thighs instead.

“More. I want more.” You cried, feeling him smirk against your sensitive flesh while he leaves wet kisses.

“Tell me what you want.” JJ growls, making you sigh in frustration while also making your cheeks warm with humiliation. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. His face was buried between your thighs and you couldn’t help but feel shy and exposed.

“Tell me. I’ll give you whatever you want, whenever you want it. Just tell me and I’ll give it to you, baby.” Your heart soars over the affectionate name, his tongue circling your entrance at a torturous pace.

“Eat my pussy. Please. Make me cum on your tongue.” You blurt, looking down to see him smiling with a wicked glint in his lust blown blue eyes.

“Good girl.” Your back arches off the seat when his mouth suddenly latches onto your plump clit, greedily sucking and lapping you up to a surprisingly swift orgasm with nothing but his mouth.

“God, your pussy is so creamy.” JJ groans, slowly crawling up your body and kissing you with his cum covered lips. You moan into his mouth, tasting yourself as your tongues collided. You couldn’t believe this was happening. You never wanted it to end.

JJ guides himself to your entrance, your lips hovering over each other just as he slips inside and making you both moan in unison. JJ comes down on his elbows on either side of your head, kissing you gently.

You must wince in pain as he fills you deeply because he withdraws his hips just slightly, hiking your legs over his hips.

“It’s okay. You’re doing great. Is it too much?” His voice is deeper and thick with desire against your lips. His arms were shaking and you could feel the sweat running down his back.

“It’s a lot but don’t stop. Just ease me into it.” You pant breathlessly, not missing the satisfied smirk on his face from his ego being stroked.

“Okay, you just tell me to stop and I will.” He kisses you again, bringing his hips forward and you gasp, arching your hips to meet his. It felt like he was in your stomach and about to come out your throat. He wasn’t the first guy you’d had sex with but he was by far the thickest.

“JJ—.” His name slips from your lips and he growls, halting his movements.

“Too much?”

“No! Don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” You were driving him absolutely crazy, he couldn’t think straight. “Don’t say my name like that or this is going to be over before we even get started.” JJ groans, kissing you as he starts to move in and out. Your breath hitches and your nails dig into his back, needing more.

“I feel like you’re in my stomach.” You whimper and his head hangs, shaking with a laugh as he starts to roll his hips forward.

“That mouth of yours is going to ruin me.” JJ growls, kissing you to silence you. You whimper, feeling your peaked nipples dragging across his chest with each thrust.

“JJ, call me yours.” You rasp, digging your nails into his shoulder blades and angling your hips up.

“Do you want me to degrade you or praise you?” He whispers in your ear, giving you chills while also setting your body on fire.

“Degrade me. I want to be your whore.” You plead, your cheeks on fire with humiliation but it was something you’d always wanted to explore. To be degraded by someone that wanted you just as badly as you wanted them.

“You want to be my dirty little whore? You like how I can fuck you where ever I want, whenever I want. I bet you’re leaving a cum stain all over John B’s seat.” You cry out, your orgasm at its peak but JJ doesn’t stop, his cock and words touching you so deep.

“You wanna be my good girl in front of everyone else but my whore when I fuck you? Because I’m gonna keep fucking you. This isn’t over between us.” His hand covers your mouth just as you suck in a deep breath to scream, your orgasm washing over you from the inside out. He moves faster, the van rocking as he delivers brutal thrusts to your soaked pussy. You become nothing but skin on skin, breath against breath as he fucks you through your high.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl. You came so hard for me.” JJ removes his hand as the orgasm leaves you fatigued and breathless. He kisses you once before pulling back, teeth bared.

“Finish me with your mouth. I want to cum down your throat.” JJ snarls. You don’t get another moment before he’s pulling back, dropping down on the seat and dragging you over by the back of your neck. You don’t hesitate in swallowing him to the back of your throat the best you can, bobbing your head faster when you hear his loud pornographic moan with his hands knotted in your hair.

“Fuck, just like that. That’s my girl.” JJ groans, jutting his hips up into your mouth as he releases his salty substance down your throat. You swallow the best you can around his girth and he moans louder, your pussy clenching around nothing. You keep sucking until he’s trembling and pulling you away, his eyes almost begging you to stop from being overly sensitive while you lick your lips clean.

“Jesus, you’re gonna suck my soul out of me.” JJ rasps, pulling you onto his lap and kissing you hungrily despite the taste of his cum on your tongue. You giggle, your arms around his neck as you make out more.

“That was incredible.” You whisper, swiping the blonde hair off his forehead.

“I agree. I could go for round two. I’ve wanted you for too long to take my hands off you now.” He smacks your ass to get his point across then grinds his still hard cock along your thigh.

“Then fuck me, J. I want you to use me however you want. I’m yours.”

[nonotnolan]

Summer Break Dullahans

I can’t say that I was expecting to respond to somebody’s cry for help at three in the afternoon.  The student dorms were already pretty empty, since only one of the three buildings would be open for summer classes, and most people were at home until the summer semester officially started.  So when I heard a faint cry of “Can anybody hear me?  I need help!” it was easy for me to believe that the guy had been yelling in vain for quite awhile.  I wasn’t sure what I expected-- a Freshman who managed to get pinned between the bed and the wall, maybe?  I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to see Ben’s detached head sitting on a couch pillow.

No wonder he was yelling for help, he was literally just a head!  I walked over and picked him up off the couch, grabbing him on either side of his ears.  I thought for sure this was just an optical illusion somehow, but... no, I was holding his entire head in my hands.  “Put me down, jackass,” he shouted, trying and failing to wiggle out of my grip.  “I don’t need help from you.”

I wasn’t expecting to feel the muscles in his jaw move as he spoke, and I’m a bit ashamed to admit I actually dropped him in surprise.  He landed on the couch, at least, but it couldn’t have felt good to land nose-first from that far up.  “I’m so sorry, Ben,” I said, as I rotated him back to an upright position.  “What happened to you, anyway?”

“You know damn well what happened-- your fucking roommate happened, that’s what,” he said, glaring at me.  “I was just watching some Netflix when Grant barges into my room with a goddamn sword.  Next thing I know I’m stuck on the couch, and he’s taking away my headless body!  He already told me about your plan to steal bodies away from other guys, don’t you fucking dare pretend to feel bad.”  Well, that was news to me, but Ben refused to believe a word I said.  Not knowing what else to do, I turned on the TV on for him, and leaved the door open so that the next person might be able to find him a bit easier.  

Pulling out my phone, I discovered that I’d missed a few text messages from Grant.  He said he was waiting for me downstairs in the parking garage with a surprise that I’d have to see to believe.  Which... yeah, if I hadn’t managed to stumble across Ben’s detached head, I don’t think that I ever would have expected to see a muscular Grant.  He was a great roommate and all, but the dude was maybe 120 pounds on a good day.  Given that I was easily twice his weight, the two of us definitely had a weird dynamic going.

Or, we used to, at any rate.  The new Grant was almost certainly a lot more muscular than he had ever been before in his entire life.  It was hard to imagine the guy who stayed up every night with me to grind rank in League of Legends being able to earn a physique like that.  And there was something about seeing his pale head resting on top of Ben’s tanned body that was just far too comical.

“What, is that the only reaction I’m going to get?” he asked, frowning slightly.  “Fuckin’ look at me, bro.  I’m like some sort of Alpha Male now.  You wish you could be a man like me!”  He started flexing his arms, causing veins to appear in places I didn’t even know they existed.  “It’s okay to be jealous, Eric.  You don’t gotta act so modest on my account.  I know you’re gay, it’s okay if you suddenly want a piece of this.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.  “Sorry if you were expecting me to be completely losing it right now,” I said.  “I already ran into Ben upstairs, and he told me... well, what’s left of him told me about what you did.  Nice sword, by the way.”

“Well, fuck,” he said, letting his shoulders drop.  There was something about seeing him stand there, slouched over, that made him look so much more like the real Grant.  “Probably should have slapped his head onto my old body before leaving.  I guess on the plus side, I won’t have to work very hard to convince you that this sword is magic somehow.  And anyway, I still have another surprise up my sleeve.”  He snapped his fingers, and gestured toward a figure who had been standing off in the shadows.  Well, most of a figure, at any rate.  A headless body, absolutely stacked with muscles, stepped forward into the lights.

“Did you... is that for me?” I asked, trying to make sense of the surge of emotions I felt.  Desire.  Longing.  Lust.  Holy hell, I wanted that body to be mine.  The shoulders, the pecs, the abs... healthy, vibrant, everything that my current pale and flabby body could never be.  Not without more work than I would ever be willing to do.  A primal, animalistic Need.  And, if I had to be honest, a slight amount of guilt.  I’d already saw what Grant had done to Ben.  If I made this body mine, I would be stealing it from someone else.

I was utterly entranced.  I found myself tracing the ridges of its chest with my fingers, my head utterly swimming in hormones as my manhood rose to its paltry four inches underneath my cargo shorts.  “Grant, who did... where did you find him?”

“Nuh-uh,” Grant said, shaking his head at me.  “I know you, Eric.  You think too much.  If I tell you his name, you’re gonna feel bad and you’re gonna try to make it up to him.  Fuck that shit.  This is all or nothing.  You want this body, you don’t get to know whose it was.”

He knew me far too well.  I looked back and forth between Grant and the headless muscle hunk that he had procured for me.  Did I want it that badly?  Would I be able to live with myself afterward?  My head tried to argue ethics, but my heart already knew my answer.  

I dropped down onto my knees, giving Grant easier access to my neck.  He lifted the sword up high into the air, striking down with a massive swing.  I felt a sudden lurch as I fell several feet to the ground.  I tried to use my arms to prevent myself from hitting the ground, only I didn’t have arms anymore-- my old body was completely unresponsive.

“Hey, wanna know what your new body is gonna smell like?”  I tried to protest, but I was unable to stop Grant from lifting up my new body’s arm and shoving my head right into its armpit.  The coarse hair brushed up against my nose and lips as the sweaty musk filled my nostrils.  “Yeah, you like that, don’t you,” he said, laughing at me.  I wanted to be mad, but... he was absolutely right.

“Just shut up and attach my head,” I said, trying not to let him know how much it was turning me on.  If I didn’t have an armpit fetish before, I did now.  Grant lowered my head into place, and suddenly I had full control over my new, muscular body.

I practically sprinted back inside to find a bathroom with a good mirror.  Can you blame me?  You could still see the difference between my head’s pale skin and my body’s bronze tan, but I think maybe a lot of people would  just assume that I had used tanning spray.  Hell, for all I know, my prior body really had used a tanning spray.

A few months from now, the rest of my friends would return from summer break, and I would have to try and convince everyone that I had gained this body naturally.  No one would ever believe that I had lost 100 pounds at the same time that my roommate gained 100 pounds.  Although... if Grant was planning to keep the sword, maybe he would be willing to hook up my friends with a new body as well?

[inconveniently-discorporated]

I saw the Barbie movie.

One thing I did not expect was to have Feelings about what it is like to be a neurodivergent woman.

This wasn't even really addressed in the movie directly at all (aside I guess from having "weird Barbie" who lives separately from everyone else and takes in the "broken Barbies", and all of the super-positive and "uplifting" Barbies who were supportive of each other were OPENLY rejecting her because of things that were beyond her control and didn't even make her harmful to their society, just not entirely Like Them...)(okay I guess I lied, I guess they did address it and it didn't really click for me until now). (I'm still leaving that sentence in because I'm so shocked at how the point of this post is how minimized I have felt as a woman, TO THE POINT I APPEAR TO HAVE MINIMIZED THE WOMAN I CAN ENTIRELY EMPATHIZE WITH.)

Anyway. It was made EXTREMELY clear by my peers from literally day one that I was Different. I mean, I'd had one-off interactions with kids before kindergarten, but going to school was the first time I was seeing the same group of children every day.

I remember being utterly baffled. Many kids seemed to understand what to do already. Most kids were friends with someone by the end of the first day. One of my most vivid memories was from the first day almost 30 years ago, when I turned to one of the girls -- her name was Sofia, she had waist-length black hair, and her name card was a laminated piece of letter practice paper. I asked her, "How does everyone know this already?"

Her answer was that she went to preschool, and for the longest time I thought that was it. I thought that was the only reason why I didn't Get It, and never Got It from then until I graduated and from then until after I got and quit my first job and moved onto my second job (where there happens to be A LOT of neurodivergent people and I seem to get it a lot better now). It didn't occur to me that there were other kids who admittedly didn't go to preschool, who didn't have the same problem as me, and other kids who did go to preschool (because believe me, I was asking) who DID have the same problem as me (and looking back I remember at least one point where the teacher had to address the class about bullying people who were "different").

Moving from childhood into adolescence, it was made EXCEEDINGLY clear to me that I wasn't simply a Different Person, but moreso a Different Woman. It was made apparent that I was NOT an object of desire, and I did NOT deserve to think of myself as such in any way, shape, or form.

I didn't simply ignore makeup because it was expensive, and a little confusing, and somewhat of a sensory difficulty. I ignored it because I didn't think it was for me. I wasn't allowed to be one of those girls. I didn't only ignore fashion because clothes shopping was overwhelming and I couldn't spend that kind of energy in the morning putting together an outfit (not that I had a cohesive closet anyway). I ignored it because of the giggles I heard behind my back when I DID try to camouflage as A Normal Girl, because of the comments like, "Look at her wearing that belt like she thinks she's cute."

It affected me so much that I frankly didn't see myself as a "real woman" until I was in my (LATE) twenties. It's not that I didn't want to be a woman, it's that I didn't think I was allowed to feel like one. I was absolutely convinced that my husband would someday discover this "secret" about me -- that I wasn't a "real woman" -- and leave me. I literally thought he was lying to me about being attracted to me.

This did eventually change with work on my self-esteem, but one of the results is something that still persists to this day -- I feel simultaneously constrained by the societal views of women, while being almost entirely unable to relate. I went into that movie and left, today, realizing that I STILL feel like I'm Not Allowed to feel like I have some of these problems.

I've never been cat-called (though I have been screamed at by people on the street for not being desirable enough of a woman in public). But I HAVE been dismissed as an overdramatic woman by medical professionals, when my husband wouldn't get the same treatment. I've never been harassed for my number, but I HAVE had men harass and belittle me at the mechanic for saying "no" to them, who then promptly stopped the moment my husband walked into the shop and came up beside me. I've never been told I'm too pretty to be smart, but I HAVE had men refuse to talk to me and seek out my less-experienced male coworkers for answers instead.

So I drove away realizing that this dichotomy still exists for me. I couldn't relate to Barbie crying because she didn't feel pretty enough, because I've never felt like that pressure actually applied to me -- it was just always made apparent by my childhood peers that I wasn't, and didn't deserve to even worry about whether I was attractive enough. And I realized that these other pressures were the same way -- I didn't feel the pressure to be the perfect leader, because of course I couldn't be that. I didn't feel the pressure to fit in perfectly, because of course I just already couldn't.

I want to do extraordinary things, not because people expect that of me as a woman, but because people think I CAN'T as someone who is Different and Not Like Them. People are SHOCKED when I eventually adapt to a social situation (like a new job), and show that I can contribute at the same level as other people once I learn what I'm doing.

Kind of like how the Kens didn't even bother with Weird Barbie, she was just forgotten in her weird house, and she ended up being the one to help them all. And then at the end, when the Barbies realize what they've done to her, they apologize and she just sort of goes, "Eh, that's how it is."

I don't know. It's just a very weird place to be. And it can all probably be summed up by the fact that I didn't even register her experience as something I could entirely relate to, until I went to write this post about the experience that I entirely relate to.

[v4mp1r3bl0g]

This is the beginning of the end

Formula One x Final Destination AU

warnings: gore, death, blood, graphic descriptions of death

word count: 1.9k

summary: Logan’s premonition of a deadly rollercoaster ride saves his life and a lucky few, but not from death itself - which seeks out those who escaped their fate

authors note: I was bored and decided to combine my 2 favorite interests (I also went back and fixed some mistakes i realized i made)

do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

It was the senior carnival trip. Everyone was excited about graduating. Well everyone except Logan, that is. He still had no clue what he wanted to do after high school.

He kept procrastinating finding a career. Telling himself “he’d have more time” and now here he is a week away from graduating standing in front of Daniil Kvyat, snapping a shot of him playing the high striker.

“Lewis, Nico!” Logan called out towards the duo “For the yearbook!” he said before snapping a shot of them together.

Logan takes a look at the picture as the duo walks away, noticing a weird blur in the photo. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Before he could think much about it Oscar interrupts his thoughts.

“We should totally go and ride The Devil’s Flight, it’ll be so much fun!” Oscar exclaimed as he jumped around. Logan and the rest of the guys just laughed watching him in amusement.

Logan raised his camera and was about to take a picture when someone got in his way. “Excuse me,” he said, annoyed. To his surprise his younger brother Nicholas turned around glaring at him.

“Does mom know you’re here?” Logan asked, glaring back.

“You are a complete bitch if you tell her”, Nicholas growled.

Logan smirked, “The proof's right here.” He said teasingly as he held up his camera.

“Get a shot of this then”, Nicholas laughed sticking his middle fingers out, wincing as Logan took a picture.

Logan walked away catching up to his friends. Smiling as Jason called out to him “Take a picture of me holding the devil’s balls!” the brit said in a playful tone.

He giggled to himself as he snapped the picture, furrowing his brows as he noticed the weird blur again. He shook his head and decided to ignore it. As he continued walking Jason slung his arm around him. “Are you alright?” the older one asked.

Logan bit his lip as he stared up at Jason. “I have that weird feeling, like dejá vu, you know? except for something that hasn't happened yet.”

“Look, I know you, and I think that maybe you're nervous about this roller coaster. They say the real fear comes from the feeling of having no control.” Jason said as he gently caressed his face, reassuring the younger one.

Logan acknowledged the comment with a nod and continued walking, shivering as a gust of wind hit him.

“So I guess me and Logan are going in front?” Jason asked, making sure everyone was fine with that. Logan quickly turned to look at him, shaking his head. “Nuh uh I can’t do the front, I have to see the track or else I’ll like totally freak out”

“OK fine, you can ride in the back with Karter” Jason motioned, moving the two next to each other.

“No way I am NOT missing out on the fun just cause Logan’s scared, why don’t YOU ride in the back with him” Karter exclaimed, glaring at Jason.

“Don’t worry Logan, I’ll ride in the back with you” Oscar reassured him as he rolled his eyes at the older Brit’s.

Another gust of wind blew, making the hairs on the back of Logan’s neck stand up. He looked up at the giant devil statue and felt his blood run cold. He decided to ignore the feeling and got in line with the rest of the guys.

"”You’re in section 6,” the ride attendant called out, gesturing for them to move over to their designated area."

“Oh mega yuck,” Oscar shrieked as he touched a piece of gum that was stuck onto the ride. Logan couldn't help himself and busted out laughing. “That is so not funny, Logan,” Oscar mumbled as the ride attendant waved his hand in front of Logan.

“No cameras on the ride” he scoffed.

“Can I just put it in my pocket?” Oscar asked as he grabbed the camera from Logan, tucking it away.

“Yeah whatever”.

The ride started and Logan grabbed onto the seatbelt, closing his eyes for a second and exhaling.

Everyone starts cheering as the ride starts.

“You ok?” Oscar asked turning to look at Logan

“Yeah I’m fine” the oldest replied giving the aussie a half smile.

Everyone shrieked in excitement as the roller coaster went downhill, raising their arms in excitement

“Hey Lewis, say hi to the camera” Romain annoyingly called “You should lift up your shirt Nico, give my followers a nice view”.

“Can you fuck off mate” Lewis groaned as he slapped that camera out of Romains hands, making it fall causing it to wrap itself around the track.

“HEY! that camera was expensive” Romain moaned

“Not my problem” Nico replied as he rolled his eyes

The roller coaster turned into a loop and everyone screamed in joy, the rollercoaster took a few more loops and turns. Everything was going smoothly when all of a sudden it ran over the camera, causing the hydraulics to fail, liquid leaking out causing the ride to start malfunctioning.

“What the fuck!” Logan yells out as his seat belt lifts.

The screams of joy now turned into screams of terror as everyone’s seatbelts unclip themselves from the ride.

Oscar let out a yell as he clutched onto the seatbelt. His knuckles were turning white from the force of his grip, and a look of panic was etched onto his face.

At this point, everyone is terrified and holding on for dear life. The roller coaster goes downhill and takes a sharp turn to the right when suddenly the bar connecting the ride snaps in half, immediately disconnecting the front part of the roller coaster, sending Jason and Karter flying off the track and falling to their death.

The ride continues, going over a bump which causes Daniil to fly out of his seat. Oscar lifts up his seatbelt and reaches out to catch Daniil holding onto him as hard as he can, the coaster takes a turn causing a piece of the ride to come off and go flying straight towards Daniil causing him to collide with the metal bars holding up the ride.

Logan is using his arm to hold Oscar into place as the ride continues, going for a loop, when two of the wheels fall off causing the roller coaster to get stuck upside down. Mark and Sebastian scream in fear as they’re hanging onto the seatbelt of the ride.

“Hold on!” Logan yells out through tears at Sebastian as he starts to slip “I can’t” he yells back as he eventually loses grip and falls to his death, Mark following along. Two others fell behind them.

Logan is paralyzed in fear not knowing what to do anymore “Help me rock the coaster” Oscar yells at him as they both start rocking forward. The roller coaster eventually completes the loop going straight down but right as they are about to feel relief the metal bar that Daniil had previously collided with goes right through Oscar cutting him in half.

Logan screams out in terror as the ride falls off the track sending him plummeting to the ground. He closes his eyes as he accepts his faith when suddenly he wakes up looking at his surroundings with a tear stained face as the ride attendant waves his hand in his face “No cameras allowed on the ride”.

Logan gasps and reaches to grab Oscar’s hand as it touches the piece of the gum stuck on the ride.

“WE HAVE TO GET OFF OF HERE!” he yelled at Oscar right as the ride attendant was gonna push the GO button.

“NO DON’T PUSH THE BUTTON, DON'T PUSH THE BUTTON!” Logan sobbed out as he tried getting the seatbelt off, “LET ME OUT, LET ME OUT!” he continued screaming.

Oscar looked at him concerned as he reached to grab his hand “Logan it’s ok”

Logan was looking around panicked as he kept clawing at his seatbelt “NO IT’S GONNA CRASH, IT’S GONNA CRASH!”

“Logan?” Jason questioned as he heard him screaming all the way at the front of the ride

“THE HYDRAULICS WILL RUPTURE YOU HAVE TO LET US OFF PLEASE!”

Logan was practically begging at this point as he continued to sob. Eventually the security guy came “What’s going on?” he asked confused as he saw Logan freaking out “I don’t know, he’s on something” the ride attendant replied as he glared at Logan

“LET ME OFF PLEASE!”

“Alright let them out, but just the back” the security replied as the back row seatbelts lifted up. Logan ran out towards the security trying to speak through sobs.

“Whoa whoa relax, what’s the matter?” the security said trying to calm Logan down

“I saw it- I saw it in my head the tracks collapsed and the roller coaster collapsed-”

“No, he was just a little upset before” Oscar interrupted as he grabbed Logan trying to sooth him and calm him down.

“Man can you please control that bitch” Daniil said as he got out of his seat “It’s gonna crash the hydraulics the coaster” he said mimicking Logan's voice. “Man he’s just trying to get some fucking attention” Max scoffed staring at Logan and Oscar

“You know what you’re a real piece of shit Max, fuck you” Oscar replied as he walked up to Max

“Fuck Мне?, nah man fuck you!” Daniil yelled as Oscar pushed him causing him to elbow Sebastian in the face

Oscar and Daniil start throwing punches at each other as Mark got out trying to break the fight apart, Sebastian following right behind him

“Hey- Hey let me off” Jason exclaimed as he looked around trying to see what the commotion was

The manager dragged Logan and the rest out “Nobody else gets off this ride”

Jason turned towards the ride attendant with an annoyed look “Dude let me off”

“Sooo high school” Nico scoffed as he got off

“Let’s get out” Lewis replied as he followed after him

“Where are you guys going!” Romain called out as he followed the pair

Jason was starting to get annoyed at this point “Dude let me off I gotta make sure he’s ok” he huffed as he looked at the ride attendant again.

“Hey, Ho, Let’s go!” “Hey, Ho, Let’s go!” the crowd started to cheer trying to get the ride to continue

“Let me out dude, that’s my friend over there!” Jason exclaimed trying to get off the ride, the seatbelt not budging. Eventually the ride attendant gets the cue to continue and presses the GO button, as Logan turns his head he sees the ride moving, he freaks out and runs screaming at the ride attendant as everyone is dragging him back “STOP IT NO, STOP IT PLEASE PLEASE, THE TRACKS ARE BROKEN, STOP IT STOP IT PLEASE, JASON!” Logan sobbed out trying to get away from Oscar’s tight grip.

The security eventually drags Logan and Oscar away, shoving them towards the exit. Logan was a mess as he stumbled down the stairs forcefully trying to explain everything.

“Just settle down and listen, what is your home phone number we can call your mother and everything will be oka-“ right as the security was about to finish his sentence he got cut off by the sounds of screaming as the roller coaster crashed and sent everyone falling to their death.

“JASON!” Logan sobbed as he fell to the floor crying.

authors note: plz comment your opinions on my story and leave a “🎟️” if u would like to be tagged in the next part! thank u sm for reading i really hope you enjoyed it 😸

[tojisprettylittlething]

Mr. and Mrs. Fushiguro 16

Pairing: Assassin!Toji Fushiguro x Assassin!Reader

Warnings: Smut, (implicit- not really-idk) Marriage, stealing-toji of course...

Masterlist

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Chapter Sixteen: Mr. & Mrs. Fushiguro

The ‘wedding’ was nothing special.

No church. No flowers. No guests.

Just a dimly lit room in the back of some cheap courthouse, the scent of cigarette smoke clinging to the walls, and an old man sitting behind a desk, barely looking at you as he pushed the papers forward.

You stared down at them.

Toji was the first to move.

He grabbed the pen, twirled it between his fingers, and signed his name with a lazy smirk, as if he were signing some random contract instead of legally binding himself to another person.

Then he slid it over to you.

Your hand tightened around the pen, hovering just above the line where your name should go.

Your last name.

It’d be different now.

You swallowed. Not out of nerves. Not out of fear. Just...

Just because it was fucking weird.

Still, you signed.

Just like that, it was done.

The officiant cleared his throat, finally looking up. “And the vows?”

Vows.

You hadn’t thought about them. Hadn’t prepared.

But Toji didn’t hesitate.

He turned toward you, that smirk softening just a little—just enough to unsettle you.

“Don’t nag me about my spending,” he said. “Don’t touch my knives. And if I get shot, at least let me finish my drink before you start screaming.”

You blinked.

The officiant let out a slow, tired sigh, rubbing his temples.

Toji just grinned.

Your turn.

Your eyes flickered to the paper again, the ink still fresh, your name right beside his.

Then you looked at him.

“That’s fine,” you murmured. “Just don’t fucking die first.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Something unreadable.

Then—

“Alright, you’re married.” The officiant stamped the papers, sounding bored out of his mind. “You can kiss or whatever.”

Neither of you moved.

The man shrugged. “Or don’t. I don’t care. Congrats, I guess.”

And that was it.

No grand speeches. No white dress.

Just a pen, some paper, and Toji Fushiguro beside you, looking at you like he already knew this was a mistake.

But neither of you walked away.

Not yet.

-----

The first thing he did was steal your fucking ring.

It wasn’t even real—just a plain silver band, something you picked out because it was cheap and easy to ignore.

And yet—

“The hell are you doing?” you snapped when you caught him plucking it the nightstand the next morning.

He looked at you, completely unfazed. “I'll get you a new one.”

“That’s mine.”

Toji shrugged, slipping it onto his own finger.

You wanted to hit him.

You settled for kicking him in the shin.

The second thing he did was steal your hoodie.

You had exactly two left—everything else had burned to hell along with your apartment.

Yet, somehow, Toji was walking around in one of them, sleeves pushed up, hood resting against his back like it belonged to him.

You weren’t even sure when he took it.

You scowled, tugging on the fabric. “Give it back.”

“Nah.”

“Toji.”

He grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward so fast you nearly tripped into his chest.

His lips brushed against your ear, voice low and amused.

“You married me, sweetheart. That means everything you own is mine.”

You shoved him off. “You’re such a piece of shit.”

He laughed.

The third thing he stole?

Your fucking gun.

That one was personal.

You didn’t even ask. You just punched him in the stomach when you saw him cleaning it like it was his.

He barely reacted, just shot you a lazy look and said, “Damn, baby, is this how married life is gonna be?”

“Give it back.”

Toji leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “Nah. I like this one.”

You took a slow breath, trying not to kill your brand-new husband.

It wasn’t working.

He winked. “Just ask real nice, and maybe I’ll think about it.”

You grabbed your knife instead.

He gave the gun back.

-----

The first night was supposed to be nothing.

Supposed to be just another night—but then again, it's your fucking honeymoon.

You weren’t expecting it

But it happened anyway.

Maybe it was the way he looked at you—like something had changed, like something was shifting between you.

Or maybe it was just the weight of everything, settling in, pressing down.

But before you could stop yourself, you were on the bed, and Toji was hovering over you, his fingers tracing over your skin with a kind of softness you weren’t used to.

The way he kissed you wasn’t like before.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t rough.

It was slow.

Like he was taking his time memorizing you.

Like he wanted you to remember this, too.

And when he finally pushed into you, there was no teasing, no sharp words.

Just a quiet groan.

A shuddering breath.

His forehead rested against yours.

Your hands clutched at his back.

The sheets rustled beneath you as he moved, deep and slow, filling every part of you, like he wanted to make sure you felt this.

Felt him.

It scared you.

The way you held onto him.

The way he held onto you.

Like this meant something.

Like you meant something.

Your fingers curled in his hair, tugging, pulling him closer.

And Toji just groaned, his lips brushing against yours, hands tightening around your waist.

He moved deeper.

You gasped, legs tightening around him, body arching into his.

And he whispered your name.

Soft.

Like a prayer.

Like a promise.

And when you came apart, shattering beneath him, Toji was right there, holding you together.

-----

You woke up before him.

Your body ached.

His arm was heavy over your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck, breath warm against your skin.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t push him off.

Just stared at the ceiling, replaying last night in your mind.

Just don’t die first.

You had said it like a joke.

But it wasn’t.

Not really.

Your fingers traced over his hand, the calloused skin, the rough edges.

And you thought, for just a moment, Maybe this won’t end in blood.

Maybe.

But you weren’t that lucky.

My lil taglist ₍₍ ◝(　ﾟ∀ ﾟ )◟ ⁾⁾ : @t4naiis - @crimsonxm00n -

[kenjakusbrainstem]

Just For You (Kenjaku x Mahito)

Contains: breeding, weird biology, Mahito changes his genitals, Kenjaku's breeding obsession.

Hello again! Day 8 of Kinktober was breeding so we all knew where this was going, I'm sure. A little different as I didn't want to fully change Mahito's genitals, so I did have to consult some Mahito Genital Experts for this one. While I don't mind him with a pussy, I just feel like sometimes his cock gets neglected outside of the xreader genre. Crossposted to Ao3 under the same name and shared to twt at kenjakusbrain. Hopefully it isn't too strange! Comments and rb's are appreciated as always!

Mahito stared incredulously at the man that sat across from him. There were times where he was genuinely taken aback by the things that Kenjaku said and this was one of those moments. They had been playing chess, or rather, Kenjaku had been playing chess while Mahito watched and occasionally moved one of the pieces without being told to. When suddenly Kenjaku stopped as if he were lost in thought.

“You want me to do what to myself?”Mahito asked, believing he had misheard the man. He’d mentioned before his willingness to do almost anything for their plan, but this time he wasn’t sure if he was comprehending.

Kenjaku crossed his arms over his chest, he didn’t entirely like repeating himself but he supposed it had been an odd request. It hadn’t been long since they had revived and lost two of the Death Womb Paintings, and while Kenjaku didn’t need any new vessels technically. 

“I simply asked if you would be willing to alter the shape of your soul enough to give you reproductive organs,” Kenjaku asked again. There really was no other way of putting it, he was more curious about seeing whether he could create a child with a curse instead of a vessel or being like Choso and his brothers. The science of a man’s body mating with a curse versus a woman’s was not as well studied, even if he was the only one studying it.

Mahito frowned, it wasn’t as if he was against the idea, it was more he wasn’t entirely sure what he needed to change. Though he’d seen some of the books Kenjaku has, the anatomy books, even if he wasn’t interested in them he was sure he could figure something out by going through them.  

“What’s in it for me?” Mahito asked. It did sound like something that could be fun, every other time Kenjaku had brought up ‘reproduction’ it always ended in pleasure for him, so he wasn’t afraid. Mahito just wanted more of a reward this time.

Looking around the room Kenjaku noted the time, nearing midnight. The apartment he stayed in when not working directly with the curses was a nearly empty one in the same run down building. Still it was a good place for him to keep some of his things safe without relying on the curses or using the former home of his vessel.

He didn’t spend too much time here, and even rarer did he let the other curses come here as well. Mahito had been following him around more though, and with the thought of trying curse impregnation again, Kenjaku figured the time was right.

“I’ll tell you a secret about my technique, something important that you can’t tell anyone before Shibuya,” Kenjaku proposed. He knew Mahito’s curiosity would get the better of him, the curse was already suspicious of him, so perhaps if he gave him some kind of information, it would keep Mahito’s snooping in check.

Mahito’s eyebrows rose, the shocked look on his face speaking volumes. He hadn’t expected Kenjaku to offer something like that, he’d expected something else on the lines of the pleasure he’d get as usual. This was something he’d been waiting for however. Moving his rook forward blindly, Mahito nodded. 

A cheshire grin worked its way onto Kenjaku’s face, both at Mahito’s agreeance, but also his foolish move. Falling right into his trap, Kenjaku moved his knight toward Mahito’s now unguarded king, placing him in checkmate easily.

What a lovely metaphor.

-

After about thirty minutes of showing Mahito different medical textbooks, the two of them sat on Kenjaku’s bed. Mahito laid completely nude and propped up by pillows, his legs bent and spread before Kenjaku. The scene was surprisingly clinical, as Kenjaku placed his hand on Mahito’s soft cock, the curse whined but didn’t move.

“Can’t I just change the insides?” Mahito whined, he had already changed his guts to match that of the pictures they studied. The curse didn’t quite understand why he had to change anything else. He enjoyed the way it felt for Kenjaku to play with his cock while he fucked him, it just didn’t seem as pleasurable without it.

Kenjaku rolled his eyes, he honestly hadn’t expected so many questions about the genitalia, especially when he provided plenty of examples of it. Kneeling in between Mahito’s open legs, Kenjaku moved his hand over to rest on the curse’s thigh.

“There needs to be a way to access the organs you’ve added, otherwise there isn’t a point to them being there,” Kenjaku explained.

Nodding, Mahito thought for a moment about what he could possibly do. It didn’t take long to come up with something he was sure Kenjaku hadn’t expected. Sitting up further, he placed his hand over his cock, hiding himself from Kenjaku’s curious eyes. 

When Mahito removed his hands, he revealed something rather unexpected to Kenjaku. Where the curse’s balls had been, now sat the glistening folds of a newly added pussy. His still flaccid cock rested above the hole where one would normally expect to find the clitorus. 

Kenjaku could feel the look of awe on his face, he hadn’t expected Mahito to get so creative with this. He supposed this was a perk of being so intimate with a curse like Mahito, even less reason for human expectations.

Hand trailing over from Mahito’s thigh, Kenjaku traced the wet folds of Mahito’s new pussy. The flesh sensitive if the small moan from Mahito was anything to go by. Kenjaku coated the tips of two fingers in the wet substance that was covering the area and brought it to his lips. The taste was similar to Mahito’s normal release, a taste he had grown fond of. 

The sight of Mahito splayed out before him, legs open and eyes looking into his for approval, Kenjaku could already feel himself getting aroused. He had already stripped down, only wearing a soft pair of pants, but the loose material was already feeling too constricting. 

Without warning, Kenjaku leaned down, taking Mahito’s soft cock into his mouth at the same time he pressed two fingers into Mahito’s leaky pussy. Mahito’s legs wrapped around Kenjaku’s shoulders as the new sensations washed over him, pleasure taking over his body quickly. 

It didn’t take long for Mahito’s cock to grow harder in Kenjaku’s mouth. Bobbing his head, Kenjaku kept his pace the same as his fingers pumping in and out of Mahito. He could feel Mahito squeeze his fingers every time he sucked at the head of his cock. Even if the goal of this was to test how Mahito’s body reacted to new organs, he still took pleasure in seeing the powerful curse so overwhelmed with pleasure.

Mahito’s hands flew down, tangling in the dark hair near the bun on Kenjaku’s head. His mind was swimming, Kenjaku’s mouth always made him feel so good but he hadn’t expected this new hole to feel any different. The stretching feeling of having Kenjaku’s fingers inside him felt almost euphoric. Perhaps it was because the body part was new, but he felt so much more sensitive than usual. 

The thighs around Kenjaku’s head squeezed as he pressed his lips to the base of Mahito’s cock, nose brushing against the curse’s pelvis. Swallowing around Mahito, he felt the curse’s body tremble with pleasure. 

Kenjaku could feel how aroused Mahito was by the juice dripping down his chin. He hadn’t expected it to be such a turn on to feel Mahito’s arousal in so many different ways. Looking up he could see Mahito’s eyes were rolled back in pleasure, mouth open as he breathed like he was mid-fight.

That was enough observation for Kenjaku, licking a stripe up Mahito’s cock before sitting up. Mahito whined as Kenjaku pulled his fingers out, the curse not liking both pleasurable sensations leaving him at the same time. 

Kenjaku lifted his fingers to his lips, pausing before changing his mind. Wet fingers now pressing up against Mahito’s whimpering lips, the curse opening his mouth quickly to suck them clean. Mahito desperately cleaned his own juices off of Kenjaku’s fingers, moaning around them as he ran his tongue up and down the fingers. 

Using his other hand, Kenjaku pushed down the soft material of the pants he wore, freeing his cock. Quickly he lined himself up with Mahito’s pussy. Dragging the head of his cock through the folds before teasingly pressing the head inside slowly.

Mahito’s insides had never felt as warm as they did in this moment. Kenjaku wasn’t quite sure what Mahito had done to himself but the heat and pressure around his cock felt breathtaking. Shoving his fingers deeper into Mahito’s mouth, Kenjaku began fucking into the curse as Mahito sucked at his fingers.

It was much easier to fuck Mahito from this angle with his new organ placement, with him propped up on the pillows the position felt much more intimate. Mahito’s cock bouncing between their stomachs, leaking a mess onto both of them. Not as much of a mess as Mahito’s pussy though, Kenjaku could feel Mahito’s slick juices coating his balls and sticking to his thighs. He’d never seen Mahito so turned on.

The curse’s face was a mess as well, the fingers in his mouth causing him to drool down his chin. If Mahito could string together a cohesive thought, he would probably be wondering if he had given himself too many nerve endings. Without any clear direction on that, he’d just made his tight hole as sensitive as the head of his cock. Perhaps that’s why he felt so overwhelmed. 

Clenching around Kenjaku’s cock, Mahito felt himself pushed too far, he was already so close. The fingers in his mouth slipped out, allowing the curse’s moans to echo off the walls. 

Kenjaku leaned down, his tongue meeting Mahito’s in a sloppy, violent kiss. The warmth of having Kenjaku’s stomach trapping his cock against him was enough to make Mahito release, the sticky white fluid coating both of their chests. Kenjaku’s rough thrusts didn’t slow as Mahito’s pussy quivered around him, the motion enough to continue stimulating the cock trapped between their stomachs.

It was nearly impossible for Kenjaku to not fill Mahito up right then. The curse’s tight heat felt so good, like it was begging for him to stuff it full of his seed over and over until the curse bore fruit. Kenjaku bit Mahito’s lip, blood squirting into both of their mouths as he tried to hold out longer. While they could do this again, as many times as Kenjaku wanted, there was something about how lost in each other they both were that Kenjaku didn’t want to put an end to. 

Pulling away from Mahito’s blood stained lips, Kenjaku took another look at the mess the curse had become. Gathering some of Mahito’s release on his fingers, Kenjaku shoved them into Mahito’s mouth. Blood, spit, and cum mixing in what he was sure was a strange flavor to the curse. Mahito didn’t complain though, sucking diligently at the fingers.

“You’re such a filthy curse, but you made this pussy just for me to fuck and it feels so good. You feel so good Mahito, I’m going to fuck you until you’re bursting at the seems with a child for me,” Kenjaku rambled as he fucked into the curse. He could feel his thrusts becoming less measured and more violent, every time he bottomed out it was like Mahito’s pussy was trying to keep him inside.

Mahito’s mouth opened, causing Kenjaku’s fingers to fall from his lips and settle on his shoulder, giving him more leverage to fuck into the curse. Something about Kenjaku’s words struck a chord inside Mahito, as if there was more meaning to them than he realized.

“Just for you~!” Mahito whimpered, Kenjaku’s words still echoing in his head. The curse hadn’t even fully realized he spoke until Kenjaku’s sharp thrusts pressed even deeper inside him. His words cut off by another choked moan leaving his lips.

The thought of Mahito, swollen with his child and still taking him like this pushed him over the edge. Kenjaku’s hips stuttered as he filled Mahito full of his seed, burying his cock in as far as he could go to keep from losing any. 

Kenjaku didn’t pull out, though he knew he needed some time to recuperate, he kept his cock buried inside the curse. Reaching a hand down, he grabbed Mahito’s cock, still hard against his stomach despite getting off not long ago. Quickly Kenjaku stroked him, a squeal leaving Mahito’s throat as he hadn’t been expecting more stimulation. It only took a few pumps for Mahito to release again, filling Kenjaku’s hand with more of his juices.

Though their plans in Shibuya were fast approaching, Kenjaku didn’t mind spending a little extra time each day making sure he filled Mahito up first. It was going to be a long week for the curse.