redros3y

[redros3y]

Vertigo

Summary - You were kicking yourself, you were a coward, a hopelessly unrequited mess hung up on a time traveling genius who didn't end up with normal, boring girls like you.

Pairing - Five x Reader, OCxReader (briefly)

Warnings- Swearing, sexual innuendo, alcohol, canon divergence, pining, misunderstandings, angst, set in season 4, 18+ MDNI

A/N - Reposting fic as I lost access to my previous blog, I edited it slightly and changed a few things I wasn't happy with.

~

You tilted your head back and finished your drink while the bartender was already making your next one, the pleasant buzz of alcohol thrummed through you easing the anxiety you'd had in coming here earlier tonight.

"He won't stop staring" Charlotte whispered in your ear, leaning into you so much you stumbled into the bar.

Charlotte was your favorite co-worker, she didn't seem to care much about your vague answers and the distance you kept from everyone at work.

"Who?" You answered with fake interest, you knew who.

"Oliver!" She exclaimed laughing into her drink still way too close to your face.

She was right, Oliver had been staring all night, aswell as flirting and buying you drinks. Oliver had asked you out once a few months ago and you'd rejected him, he took it on the chin and you'd been friends ever since. But you weren't blind, you seen the way he'd look at you, eyes flicking over your body before darting back up to your face when you'd walk by, his gaze always drifting to your mouth while you spoke.

The only difference was that for the first time tonight you were flirting back.

"Come on, let's go dance" Charlotte tugged on your arm lightly gesturing at the packed dance floor.

"I'll get my drink and I'll meet you out there" You told her, she dropped your arm and practically bounced into the crowd, your gaze caught Oliver’s and you gave him a quick smile, ducking your head and turning to face the bar.

He was handsome, smart, funny, successful and he was very, very into you, you should have been over the moon, but there was one very crucial thing he was lacking when it came to your feelings.

He wasn't Five Hargreeves.

You'd been living with Five for two years now, you'd been surprised when he offered up his apartment while you were still reeling from having somehow, inexplicably, jumped timelines. He had said he was away working all the time and the place was empty anyway.

Considering you'd been staying with all the other Hargreeves siblings on a rotating roster the offer sounded like a dream. Five had eventually warmed up to you after he'd decided you weren't secretly trying to screw over him and his family, though it took a few months longer than this siblings.

You thought living with him would be awkward and you’d have this semi silent co-existence type of roommate relationship, as it turned out living with Five was easy.

Yes, he was snarky, bossy and arrogant, but he was an old man at heart and he acted like one. When he wasn't working he was home reading about things that made your brain hurt and watching jeopardy and random documentaries, he’d recently found his new hobby in building these little complex car sculptures he'd painstakingly put together for weeks at a time, which you thought was adorable.

Five also had a love of classic cars and driving them very fast whenever he had occasion, the first time he asked if you wanted a spin in a 1983 Pontiac Firebird he’d acquired for a Saturday drive you spent most of it holding on for dear life. Five was an entirely sensible, though impatient, driver in the city, but he let loose when you traveled onto open roads.

His main hobby was going on roadtrips to see some of the weird wonders America had to offer, he had a list, a list that seemed to get longer and longer the more you checked things off. He liked to walk too, it wasn't unusual for the two of you to spend hours walking around the city looking for hidden gems and good coffee.

It was so easy to forget he was an old man on the inside while simultaneously forgetting his body was so young on the outside too.

Your favorite thing by far was drinking scotch at home on the couch just talking, laughing and listening to music as he tried to help you understand some complex theory on physics or his own time travel ones.

He'd sometimes get in the mood to tell you stories of his life. Most of the time they were funny, a whole lot of unhinged and borderline unbelievable, if it were anyone else you'd think they had a talent for story telling.

Some nights they turned somber, his reminiscing would turn dark and painful and they were nights where you were brave enough to reach out and squeeze his hand as a comfort, he wasn't normally a very physically affectionate guy, but he always squeezed your hand back.

This was a problem because you'd very quickly fallen for Five, so quickly it was embarrassing, and Five had zero inclination towards you romantically. You were helpless really, his tenacity, how incredibly intelligent he is, his arrogant charm and quick wit and how much he loved his family all made your heart flutter.

There were times when he'd look up at you with mischievous green eyes, a slight smirk tilting his mouth and his dark hair falling so perfectly in his face that your heart would slam against your ribcage.

But as you had pointed out, this was all completely one sided.

Five saw you as a friend, a close friend, but there was nothing more. He'd never once made a move or even hinted at seeing you romantically in the last two and a half years you'd known him.

It was fine at first, it was enough for you just to be in his orbit, to live in your home together drinking coffee in the morning while he did crosswords in the newspaper and asked for your help occasionally, to be at family dinners or events and stand to the side to watch his incredible and weird family laughing and shouting while the both of you stole a moment for each other in the, usually, happy chaos.

It was enough to be cooking dinner and have Five come home muttering about the idiots he worked with, shrugging out of his jacket and coming to see what you were making. He'd lean against the kitchen counter venting while you were getting everything ready, then he'd eventually sigh loudly and ask about your own day.

You'd try not to get too distracted when he'd reach up and loosen his tie, long, tapered fingers plucking the knot expertly apart. He'd always stand there until you were done cooking, hair messy, a slight smile on his face now he'd relaxed, sometimes teasing you as you tried to one up him with playful insults, you never could, but you still tried and the wide grin he'd give you when you inevitably were lost for words against him made your face flush.

It was all so domestic and you were far too comfortable with it. The longer you indulged in the bubble you'd created with Five the deeper you were falling in and the more it was going to hurt when it ended.

You'd been thinking lately about the future, you wanted someone to love, maybe even a family, you'd spent over two years now in a kind of limbo not willing to fully accept you weren't going home to your old life. But you were getting older, you were watching everyone else's lives change and grow while yours stayed the same.

You dreaded the day Five told you he met someone, it was bound to happen eventually, if anything you were surprised it hadn't already. You'd see the way women looked at him, but he always brushed them off if they were brave enough to approach, atleast while you were with him. You didn't like to think about what happened when you weren't.

So you pushed yourself to do this, to have some fun and get to know your co-workers better, let your walls down and maybe even give Oliver a chance. Lila had even called and invited you out tonight and although you would much rather have spent time with Lila, Diego, Klaus, Luther and Sloane you declined. Lila sounded happy you were getting out of the house and making other friends.

You were glad you came, you were having fun and the more alcohol you drank the more free and giddy you felt. It felt amazing not to care so much about your problems.

You hadn't been with anyone since you found yourself stranded in this timeline and all the pent up frustration from living with the man who made your pulse quicken on a daily basis had long since boiled over.

You grabbed your drink and made your way over to Oliver, he smiled widely as you approached, it felt good to have someone interested in you that way.

"Wanna dance?" He asked, there was a relaxed demeanour about him, he'd been drinking as much as you had and you wondered if he could feel the same adrenaline about you as you felt about him.

You nodded taking his outstretched hand as he led you onto the dance floor. The pub you all decided to visit had a band playing tonight, doing some pretty decent covers of some 80's rock and roll. You'd been here before with the others, it wasn't far from your apartment and Lila and Diego's house.

You saw Charlotte out there, swaying her hips with her arms around a mans neck, she winked at you with a wide smile when she saw Oliver pulling you further into the crowd of people. You danced and sang, laughing and spinning around, everytime Oliver touched your skin it sent butterflies into your stomach, you don't remember the last time you felt this kind of nervous excitement, this exhilarated.

A lie.

You absolutely do remember. It had been their birthday, all of their birthdays, but it was Five's second twenty first birthday, so naturally there was alot of alcohol involved. Five endured endless teasing about finally being able to drink and watching his cranky, snide banter with his family had you grinning all night.

You shook your head, you wouldn't let yourself think about that night. It was a year ago and you'd filed it firmly in the do not open part of your brain, you saved it for late nights when you couldn't sleep and you let yourself take a pathetic hit off the memory.

Oliver pulled you closer to his chest and out of your head, his hands were on your hips, he had an easy, boozy grin on his face while he held you tighter against his body, you could feel muscle and warmth, your breath quickened.

"You look so beautiful, right now" He yelled over the music his hand sliding up to cup the side of your neck.

Your heart was racing as he leaned in, you'd been waiting for this all night. His mouth clumsily pressed onto yours, you kissed him back with a vigour you didn't even know you had. This was what you needed to do, you had to get Five out of your head which was ironic considering its all you could think about now.

The kiss was messy, not in an unpleasant way though, he pulled back to smile at you before smashing his lips back onto yours more forcefully now, his hands sliding down your body as you swayed to the music, your stomach turned flipped on itself, a sick feeling of guilt winding through you. It felt like cheating which was stupid, you weren't dating Five. Five couldn’t have cared less you were doing this.

Suddenly everything was too overwhelming, you pulled back, but stayed in Oliver's arms. His face was flushed and that goofy smile of his was plastered across it and you couldn't help but smile back. Even so you weren't sure you could do this, kissing was one thing, but more felt like too much more.

You were kicking yourself, you were a coward, a hopelessly unrequited mess hung up on a time traveling genius who didn't end up with normal, boring girls like you.

You were abruptly pulled out of your mid makeout crisis when your arm was roughly yanked backwards and straight out of Oliver's. The alcohol made you unsteady and you almost tripped over stumbling into another body.

"Lila?" You murmured when you turned to see the culprit, she looked furious.

"What the hell are you doing?" She barked at you loudly, you furrowed your brow at her, your mind trying to catch up with where Lila had just come from.

You looked back to Oliver when you heard him say your name and seen him moving closer, hand outstretched in concern.

"Back off wanker" Lila spat pulling you roughly through the crowd.

"Ow Lila!" You exclaimed, she was squeezing your wrist too hard. You quickly sent a reassuring wave and smile at Oliver trying to convey that everything was fine while Lila practically dragged you with her, your boozy legs not wanting to cooperate properly.

As you made it off the dancefloor you were greeted with a few of the other Hargreeves family members, you smiled before realising they didn't look happy to see you, Diego in particular looked furious.

"We're going home" Lila turned her head to tell you, not bothering to stop as she passed her family, even Luther and Sloane didn't meet your eye as you were tugged past.

"Why?" You tried to pull your arm back. Lila turned to look at you with so much barely restrained fury you flinched, she didn't answer and you didn't fight her as she continued to pull you into the cold night air.

"I said I'm driving" You heard Diego arguing with Klaus as you tried to catch up with what the hell was happening. You were sitting in the back of Lila and Diego's van with Klaus at your side, Sloane and Luther across from you, before you knew which way was up.

Klaus was unusually silent beside you, the side of his mouth lifted at your confused gaze, but his expression was pinched.

"Wait, I didn't tell them I was going!" You gasped looking back at the bar as the car jerked away from the curb throwing your body against your seatbelt.

“That’s what you’re worried about!?" Diego yelled, turning in his seat to glare at you, it made you flinch. You'd never been on the receiving end of a Hargreeves wrath before.

You looked over to Luther and Sloane, their mouths were tight and they were pointedly not looking at you. You were so confused, you were willing your brain to sober up a enough to make sense of this. "I can't believe this, how could you do this?!" Diego continued on driving the car faster than he should have been, white knuckle gripping the steering wheel. Lila was staring straight ahead seeming deep in thought. You were definitely missing something because you had wracked your brain several times over and you were pretty positive you hadn't done anything at all to warrant this level of outrage. "Are you gonna say something?" Diego once again turned to look over his shoulder at you. "Just lay off, Diego" Klaus interjected "wait until we're home, she's drunk" "Lay off?! I haven't even started" Diego fired back. The car turned sharply and you grabbed onto the seat to steady yourself, you looked over to Klaus who's expression wasn't angry as he gazed down at you, it was worse, he looked disappointed. "Has something happened?" You finally spoke up, as the words left your mouth you had a sudden scary thought "Is Five ok?" "Oh, so now you give a damn about Five, huh?" Diego sounded exasperated even as he let out a chuckle, shaking his head muttering things you couldn’t hear. The car pulled up in their driveway with a harsh jolt, you felt like the journey here was way quicker than it should have been. You let yourself be led into the living room by Klaus who sat you down on the couch, the Hargreeves filed into the room each taking a seat, Lila pulled a chair from the kitchen into the room and planted herself down infront of you, Diego however was pacing back and forth looking like he was struggling not to explode. Klaus appeared beside you with a glass of water, you hadn't realised how thirsty you were. "Thanks" you muttered taking a long gulp. No one had answered you about Five yet and anxiety was building in your chest. "No point in fluffing about, how long?" Lila asked, the way she was staring into your eyes was intimidating the hell out of you. "How long what?" You asked back creasing your brow. "How long have you been screwing that guy?!" Diego finally exploded making your head snap towards him in surprise

"Diego, let me do the interrogating honey" Lila reprimanded, but turned to you expectantly.

"Oliver?" You asked quietly, what was their problem with Oliver? "That the assholes name, huh? Oliver what a dumb ass name" Diego was muttering to himself. "Well, what are we talkin' here, a one time shag or.. " Lila trailed off raising an eyebrow.

You suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable being stared at under a spotlight like this , this was your personal life and you could do whatever the hell you wanted. You knew the Hargreeves weren't good with boundaries, but you didn't have to put out a news bulletin about every guy you were into. "I don't see how that's any of your business" You replied steadily, Lila looked like she could have slapped you, the twitch in her hand made you pretty sure she wanted to. "Our brother is our business" Diego stalked forward towards you "I never would have picked you for this, we all thought of you like family, Five worships the ground you walk on" You leaned back into the couch, Diego's voice had quietened, but it felt oddly more intimidating. "It stops now. You tell him when he gets back or we will" Luther spoke for the first time, all business and no nonsense, nothing like the goofball you'd come to know over the last few years. Sloane locked eyes with you before dropping them, a sullen look on her face. "You're my friend and I know I give as much shit to that little asshole as I possibly can, but I do think of him as a brother and you've put us in a really fucking awkward position here" Lila leaned back in her chair folding her arms. "I'm sorry" You closed your eyes for a moment, pleading with your brain to stop spinning and some clarity to strike you "I'm really not following why you're all so pissed?" "Well, I imagine it was having our night crudely interrupted by our brothers girlfriend playing tonsil hockey with some guy who's definitely not our brother" Klaus answered, his delivery was light, but his tone was clipped. "Five's gonna be devastated, is this what you do while he's away at work? I just- I just- I just can't figure out why you'd do this to him, you guys are happy, aren’t you happy?” Diego was pacing again. Your brain short circuited. Girlfriend? "Are you talking about me cheating on Five?” You sputtered “I'm not cheating on Five" You quickly corrected. Diego scoffed a laugh so hard he started coughing. "Your gonna have to lie better than that, because all of us got front row seats to that one" Lila answered back sarcastically. "You-" You couldn't even find the words, what in the actual hell was going on, when had things gotten so lost in translation here "I'm not Five's girlfriend" The room went silent. "You can't be that drunk, if this is your idea of a ruse, it's a shit one" Lila responded looking annoyed. "Let me get this straight" you leaned back in your chair closing your eyes for a brief moment to organise your thoughts "you think I'm Five's girlfriend and you caught me cheating on him" You glanced at all the faces around the room. "Yeah, obviously" Lila's face scrunched up in confusion. "Well, you're missing one very important piece of that puzzle, I'm not his girlfriend" you shot back. "You live together" Sloane suddenly piped up. "We're roommates" "You're always together, you go on dates all the time" Luther joined in. "We're friends, they aren't dates"

“You’re like a boring old married couple, I saw you arguing over whether to have blueberry or chocolate chip muffins with your afternoon tea last week! ” Klaus looked at you imploringly.

“I’m not boring” You spat offended.

"You're definitely knocking boots" Lila said, her expression full of misplaced cockiness. "No, absolutely not. Wait, you know that" You shook your head confused, your voice raising several octaves at the accusation, you turned to look at Sloane who also definitely knew that. You remembered the conversation with them about how you were most definitely not sleeping with Five despite everyone believing the contrary, but you cleared that up a year ago and no one ever brought it up again. "But our birthday..." Klaus sounded mystified, your heart started pounding. How did they know about that night? Did Five tell them what happened? "What about it?" You feigned innocence. "Our master plan to make sure you two emotionally stunted sweethearts finally admitted you wanted to jump each others bones" Klaus looked at Lila who looked panicked at his admission.

“What plan?" You swiveled your head between them. "Well, we thought Five was being a cowardly little shit and needed a nudge in the right direction " Lila's smile grew cheesy, definitely fake, you were sure she could feel the anger and embarrassment radiating off you. "It seemed like a giant success, I mean, when I drove you both home Allison, Ray and I were worried you were going to get it on in the back seat if I wasn't quick enough" Klaus replied laughing and nodding at his sibling as if they’d back him up, your cheeks were so warm it stung. "No!" You said borderline hysterical "that definitely did not happen" This was hands down the most embarrassing moment of your life. "Wait, hold on, you aren't cheating on Five?" Diego asked with a hand in his hair. "No, we're just friends" You desperately wanted to end this conversation “you can ask him if you don’t believe me” you offered. "Holy shit" Diego looked equal parts stunned and horrified.

“But you two-“ Luther looked like he was struggling to find words “you’re both- you always-you know!” he exclaimed, his hands waving in front of himself. "I need more water" you muttered defeated, practically running into the kitchen. What an absolute nightmare, clearly the way you felt about Five was so obvious his own family thought you two were together, you were absolutely fucking tragic. You had to do damage control, the single worst thing you could think of happening in your life right now was the idea of Five looking at you with pity in is eyes if he found out about your feelings. "Hey" Lila and Sloane both slunk into the kitchen as you were downing your water "I think we need to talk" "What was this master plan Klaus was talking about?" You raised an annoyed eyebrow in their direction. "Well, it all started last year on the twins birthday" Part 2

A/N - thanks for reading if you got this far, most of this was a set up for another, hopefully, two parts to this series.

[redros3y]

Nico di Angelo nsfw alphabet

as with all nsfw/smutty/sexy content, all characters are aged up to 18+

words: 3.2k

pairing: nico x (mostly) gn reader (one mention of the word coochie as a joke cause it's pretty hard to talk with dick in your mouth, but it can reference whatever hole you'd like, a few mentions of the phrase going down on someone but that's just slang for oral so it's still gn)

a/n: so I went way overboard with this!!!! It's like 6 paged in google docs and took me a few days to do but it was so fucking fun send in more characters for me to do nsfw alphabets for!!!! kinda wanna do Leo next but when don't I title of your sex tape

also it's not/barely beta read or proof read because I have no brain today :)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Aftercare king. Like, seriously. Dating him is like dating the anime vampire boy you saw on google images and got a crush on in middle school. Everything he does is riddled with tenderness and yearning and romanticism and lust. He’s still so affectionate, kisses fluttering over your skin like skipping stones, hands massaging and caressing you, that it almost feels like you’re still having sex. That’s how tender and hands on he is. He mutters all these flowery words, switching between english and greek and italian, and everything he’s saying is so pretty that you think he’s quoting someone. Nope. All improv babey. That’s the kind of feelings you invoke in him.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, he likes his like… mouth and jawline. Sometimes when he smiles he sees his mom and sometimes a little bit of Bianca. Tied for first place is the two little lines on his stomach that your fingers brush where you take off your shirt. Sometimes he traces over where your fingers brush when he remembers your touch. On you?? I know saying everything is kind of a cop out but jesus christ,,,, listen, he really likes the way his hands fit on your hips, especially when your legs are wrapped around him. I’ll leave it at that.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He used to be really embarrassed when he would cum. He’s such a service… I was gonna say service top but like, he’s just totally there for you - more on that later - so when you make him cum it feels so amazing he used to think he wasn’t being a good lover??? Like if he’s feeling this good he must be being selfish in bed??? Very much not the case and you got that ironed out real quick. Now, especially after all that, it feels like one of the most intimate parts. If he possibly can he’ll try to time it so you cum together, but it doesn’t always happen. No one’s complaining.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a vampire fantasy and no I will not be taking constructive criticism on this. The theatrics, the romantic lusty gothic vibes, the glorification of the dichotomy between life and death????? Also between being a kid during world war ii and being a demigod, the whole immortal without being a god thing really appeals to him. It will be a long and difficult process for him to be able to admit this to you, in spite of how much he wants to. When he does, you’re more than happy to indulge him.

It’s like… it’s not even “ooh i’m a sexy angsty vampire i have to bone you before I feed from you to get your blood pumping” [cough cough twilight nsfw cut aka the fic 50 shades of grey was made out of] [also edward cullen is NOT a top so already off to a rough start there] it’s much more of like… “I’m a beautiful sensitive dramatic ass vampire that wants nothing more than to be loved but alas i’m too intimidating… and yet? This beauty isn’t scared off by me? I must prove my devotion to you by going down on you and reciting poetry into your coochie”

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Okay okay. He doesn’t have a lot of practical experience, but he has done copious amounts of research in the form of tender romance novels written mostly by women. He was still a kid when he was in the lotus casino, so by the time he was interested in learning about that stuff, he basically had no family and had pushed away all his friends. Yikes. He did, however, consume tender romance novels aimed at women at light speed. Like, I read all 70 chapters of this slowburn fic in one night energy. And these all have a very romantic take on sex and intimacy, which already appealed to him a lot, so after a little practice, he’s able to hone these theoretical skills into something really amazing. After your first time he was like ‘sorry that was probably pretty bad, it was my first time’, you’re like ????? you literally didn’t believe it was his first time, that’s how loving and amazing he is.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Nico really does love any position where he can hold you close and pepper you with kisses and whisper things into your ear. Also ideal if he can gaze at your beautiful form. His words.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Not strictly goofy or serious, mostly focused on making you feel every good feeling he can. If he makes you giggle a little, that means you’re happy, so he’ll take it. Usually giggling is instigated with outlandish plans for the future, like “let’s run away to a private island” or “we should buy an old castle in italy so I can be your fairytale prince” etc. all with a you deserve the world my love overtone.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

It’s surprisingly hard to find specific historical information on men’s body hair grooming, but I was able to find some information. So, presumably, he keeps things well groomed. I feel like he gets really scared of getting cut or getting those little bumps when he shaves, so he’s very meticulous to make sure he does a good job.

I know this is supposed to be mostly about down there hair, but I feel like the same principle applies for other body hair and like, facial hair. Stubble was pretty out of style in the 30’s and 40’s, so he probably shaves his face every morning. I feel like he tried to grow out a pencil mustache at one point, but you both agreed it didn’t really suit him. Sometimes if he gets busy, he gets a little stubbly, and you think it’s incredibly hot. Another reason he likes keeping his face shaved is because he loves kissing you a whole lot, and doesn’t want to scratch your face. Or other areas.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He can make every moment feel intimate, just by the way he looks at you alone. During the actual heat of the moment he literally makes you feel like every single corner of your body is filled with love. He has this specific type of adaptable sensuality that somehow makes every single moment perfect. He can do something as simple as hold your face and sigh slightly, and you’re filled with more emotion than you’ve felt from the last several very good movies you’ve watched combined.

No matter what you’re doing, just holding hands or having him absolutely wreck you on the coffee table, you just feel this intense energy pouring over you like a waterfall. He’ll let out these little moaning sighs and sing your praises in the same breath. Romantic intimacy is so ingrained in him it really is woven into everything he does with you. It’s pretty much the basis for the way he expresses love for you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Usually only if you two are apart for a while and he’s really missing you. If he has to leave on a quest or some other business and he has the feeling it’ll be longer than a day, he’ll take a memento with him, probably like one of your shirts that he sprays with your perfume or cologne or body spray or something. A lot of times when he’s feeling ~lusty~ for you, he’ll write you a love letter first. Sometimes he gets so wrapped up in what he’s saying and feeling that he gets so overcome with lust and missing you he has to do something about it.

If palming himself and finishing the letter doesn’t work, he’ll take a shower to ‘cool down’ but keep making the water incrementally hotter. One thing leads to another and he can’t stop imagining you in that warm steamy shower with him, how you’d kiss his neck and trace your fingers over his abs, and how tightly he’d hold you, and the little breathy sighs you’d make when he kisses you and caresses you in just the right places… of course nothing compares to you, and he’ll definitely bring those fantasies into reality once he’s in your arms again.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise, giving and receiving. All he wants is to make you feel as amazing as you intrinsically make him, so when you tell him how good he’s doing???? Oh my god it adds fuel to his already roaring fire. A little praise goes a long way with him, so start off slow or it’ll be too overwhelming. Giving praise comes as easily as breathing to him, and often overlaps with body worship. He does these so naturally he doesn’t even really realize they’re kinks. Like, Hozier levels of adoration and praise and body worship.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He loves the spontaneity of doing the classic sweep of the arm to clear off a surface to bang on. Coffee tables, kitchen counters, against a wall, anywhere spontaneous that’s usually not for banging on that says “I am so overcome with lust I must express it to you right now and can’t possibly wait to get to the bedroom”.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He’s very touch starved and love starved, so the simplest acts of affection can make the rube goldberg machine of “wow you’re so amazing and I love you so much and I need a way to express these overwhelming feelings…. How about… making out with you and caressing you tenderly” get going. If you take it a step further and really instigate something by running your hands over his torso, brushing the hair out of his face, or pressing kisses to his neck, he’ll react immediately.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

It’s probably obvious at this point, but love and emotional connections are absolutely critical to him, so I don’t think he could do anything with hard domming, or something where the sexual aspect is more about power and control than expressing love. I also don’t think he’d really be down for some of the stuff that’s considered more extreme, anything that would cause harm, or anything that would hurt you at all. You’re too precious to him for him to let any harm come to you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

If you give him oral he will not even know what to do with himself. It’s a whole new level of euphoria. He doesn’t even know what to do with himself. You can get out some of the most amazing noises so easily it’s almost a little surprising. He’s total putty in your hands (and mouth). If you’re okay with hair touching he’ll grab your hair or the back of your neck with a gentle, firm grip. He’ll literally be a writhing mess beneath you and it’s really incredible. He will absolutely return the favor, and then some.

He will give you oral practically at the drop of a hat. The skill he has is… unmatched. He’ll massage your hips and thighs gently in a way that somehow feels really relaxing and also amplifies everything he’s doing with his mouth and hands. He’ll moan into you, his tongue finding the perfect spot over and over, genuinely enjoying this as much as you are. Knowing he’s giving you the same type of euphoria that you give him really brings him more and more into the moment. He could literally go down on you for hours and still crave more, so he definitely lets you set the tone for how much. If you just let him go crazy, I’m sorry babes, but you won’t be able to walk for several days.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Moderate to fast paced, incredibly sensual. Even when he’s practically grinding against you at light speed, it will still feel like the most steamy heavy romantic thing ever.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Okay, listen. At first glance, you wouldn’t think he’d like quickies at all, however, he is an any time any place kinda guy. He can make hooking up in a broom closet feel like your fucking honeymoon. He’s fully prepared to sweep you off your feet and make your legs shake at any given moment, then go back to pick up dry cleaning like it’s no big deal.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Absolutely game to experiment, especially if it’ll make you happy. He’ll take some risks, especially if the reward of making you happier and feel better than ever is greater than whatever the risk is, which it usually is. He’ll let you take the lead with experimenting a lot of times, being more than willing to try whatever fantasies or desires you have. All he wants to do is indulge you, which he does frequently.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Tied for most stamina out of the entire demisquad. He could probably go 4 - 6 times in a day, lasting between quickies and over an hour, if you wanted to. Oh my god, I hope you’re ready to be really sore. Like, look forward to it. He never gets tired.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Initially, I don’t think he really has a lot of toys for himself, but if you have any you like, he’ll become very well acquainted with them. Once he breaks that ice a little and sees how fun they can be, you’d better believe he’ll go on a shopping spree or two.

He’ll start surprising you with toys, lingerie, anything that makes him think of you or that you mention you like or want to try. You’ll come home, and see a sleek shopping bag containing a few black boxes and some tissue paper. You start to open it and feel Nico’s arms around your waist, breath fanning across your neck. “I hope you like it, cuore mio…” he’ll murmur, already pressing kisses into your skin. He smiles into the crook of your neck when you gasp, eyes landing on the first of many surprises.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Listen, he doesn’t tease you intentionally, he’s not mean enough for that. Usually he ends up caressing you and rambling about how much he loves you and how good he wants to make you feel at a time when he can’t immediately follow through. Unfortunately, you’ll both just have to suffer with these lovely thoughts swirling around your mind until you can find a time and place to take action. Which, depending on the circumstances, can be much more of a priority than other times.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

When he can be, he’s very loud. Circumstantially, that’s not always the case. When he needs to keep it down, either due to a quickie or other people being nearby. When that’s the case, expect a lot of low, stilted moans, breathy sighs, heavy breaths, and low growly rumbling moans. When he can be louder, he definitely will be. Breathy pants, loud moans and exclamations, rambling praise and curses like strings of christmas lights. If you give him oral, that’s probably when he’ll be the loudest, whining and writhing, yelling ‘oh god, tesoro’ so loudly you end up with a noise complaint or two.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but he loves when you take off his shirt. Like, he’ll go feral if you slip your fingertips under the hem of his shirt, tracing your way over his abs and chest while you slowly lift it off. Like, that’s one of the things he looks forward to most when he reunites with you after not seeing you for a while, it’s one of his favorite things you do. If you want to make his brain full of serotonin and make his pupils all lovey and dilated and focused on you, this is exactly the way to do it.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Listen, I personally believe that all demigods have either fucking schmeat or a gorilla grip, so following that logic, Nico’s got a lot going on. He’s big and girthy, with just the right amount of veins. Even when you’re just bumping and grinding, he still makes you feel so full. He can fill up every inch of you, making you feel so complete. You have no complaints.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very high sex drive. Very very high, astronomically high sex drive. Dating Nico probably means you’ll be among the first of the demisquad to break that ice, somewhat of a shock to all. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: “any time any place” -Nico di Angelo probably. He can and will sweep you off your feet and make you see stars at the drop of a hat. Utterly obsessed and in love with you, and always looking for an opportunity to show that off. You could literally wake up in the middle of the night and start kissing his neck and feeling him up, and he’ll wake up with a moan and this blissful smile, immediately turning to reciprocate. Since your sleep schedule is so fucked up from all that, you end up taking a lot of naps together.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After his amazing aftercare, he’ll fall asleep somewhat slowly. He’ll usually be tracing his hand over your arm or back, maybe through your hair if you like hair touching, in complete and utter adoration of you. He likes to fall asleep after you do, but sometimes he’ll doze off before. He’s never slept better than he has in your arms. He has a history of astronomically shitty sleep, but when you’re wrapped up in each other’s arms, he suddenly loves to sleep again. If he needs some extra sleep, he’ll nap with his head in your lap or on your stomach. Just having you there makes him feel so at peace. I don’t know if it’s actually possible to smile while you’re asleep, but he comes as close to that as physically possible, all because of how comforting your presence is to him.

[redros3y]

PAIRINGS: Straight! Nico Di Angelo x fem! Reader 𖥸

SUMMARY: You promised Nico you wouldn't join the Giant's War. So when he catches wind that you're somewhere amongst the battlefield, hysteria and dread claws at him. He finds you in the nick of time, and brings you far away from the carnage. He knows you'll have to get back to fighting eventually, but for the time being, he indulges in your company.

WARNINGS/TAGS: MDNI 18+ explicit content, mentions of insatiable, frenzied p in v sex, nipple play, grinding, creampie, soft angst, all parties are consenting adults. 1.8k words

A/N: I'm aware that Nico is canonically gay and only has eyes for Will, but I wanted to give writing a reader insert, angsty type of fanfic a go. I'm also not very well versed in the story's lore (it's been a while since I read PJO) so excuse me for any inaccuracies/ vagueness. Thank you for reading my fic. ALSO PEDOPHILIA IS DISGUSTING, I DO NOT SUPPORT IT. THIS TAKES PLACE WHEN THEY ARE FULL GROWN ADULTS

────────────────────── .✦

You said that you wouldn’t join the Giant’s War, the great fight against Gaea.

You had promised Nico, under a dome of sparkling constellations that span across galaxies in which bore witness to so much tragedy and devastation.

 You would stay safe, you had told him, as he held you with his steady gaze and his hand laced with yours, you wouldn’t risk your life no matter what.

The thing is, you’re just too precious to Nico. After Bianca, he just can’t bear to lose another person that he loves so much. He has always loved you and always will, ever since he set his eyes upon you on that day in the Dining Pavilion. The way you smile drives him nuts. He wants it all to himself.

But you’re a demigod, after all. It is practically infused into your golden righteous blood that you stand by your fellow half-siblings and fight for your people.

So when Nico hears you're out there—somewhere in the heart of the blood-soaked battlefield, swallowed by smoke and strewn corpses—fear claws up his spine. With every last shred of strength he can muster, he summons every ounce of shadow, every flicker of strength, ripping through the darkness itself, not caring what it costs him—only that he finds you before the war does.

When he arrives on the battlefield, exhaustion coils through his limbs—but his eyes are wild, scanning frantically. His body trembles, not just from the brutal toll of shadow travel, but from the sheer force of dread tightening in his chest, it’s almost suffocating.

── .✦

The gorgon lunges at you, teeth bared and claws glinting. You dodge, but barely, and her claws rake into the side of your shoulders. Stinging pain shoots up your body as you let out a soft groan,as you clumsily stagger backwards. 

“Oooh, You’re getting sloppy.” she bares her teeth at you gleefully, jutting yellow fangs dripping with saliva and blood. That is unfortunately true. You’ve been fighting for hours, and the fatigue and soreness of your inexperienced body is really getting to you. She grins again, she is truly hideous, you think to yourself, as she knocks you down with her inhumane speed. She lunges at you once more, and you close your eyes, thinking that it is the end –

“NO!” Nico roars. 

A dark, shadowy substance wraps, entangles itself with the gorgon. She shrieks—high, sharp, and ear-splitting—thrashing and clawing at the tendrils, but her efforts are futile as the shadows grip tighter. Nico closes his eyes in concentration, and she is hurled across the field and slams into the earth, with a sickening crunch.

His arms wrap around your exhausted body, he holds you like you’re the only thing that’s currently keeping him grounded. He’s shaking uncontrollably, his dark eyes are full of grief and anger.

“You.” he whispers. It aches to see him in this state. “You explain what you’re fucking doing right now.” And then there’s the familiar lengthening of shadows around you two, twisting and bending space until you two reappear in the centre of a forest clearing. Moonlight spills through the canopy in silver streams, casting a gentle glow over the moss-covered ground and bathing the stillness in a quiet, otherworldly peace.

Worry for him grips you as you look into his rugged face. Niico is definitely over exerting himself.

And yet his eyes are bright and flashing as his broad palms push you down against the soft grassy floor.

“Nico,” you say softly. You reach out, gently brushing your hands across his face, and he flinches, but remains his firm gaze on you. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be so goddamn heroic all the time,” Nico says hoarsely. “I…can’t afford to lose you. I need you.” 

You pull him closer to you, gently stroking his raven hair. 

“Our people need me,” you tell him fiercely. “Maybe you don’t feel as obligated to fight, Nico, but I do. So please understand where I’m coming from.”

“... but you’ll die.”

You go quiet at his words. It isn’t uncommon for demigods to, and he knows it.

“I’ll have to go back out to fight again.” 

Nico’s eyes shine like fractured glass, filled with a pain you know he won’t speak aloud.

He knows he can’t hold you back, but the mere thought of losing you threatens to break him. Still, there are certain lines he cannot cross, certain morals and principles that wage a war in his own mind.

“If this is the last time,” he finally says quietly, “Let’s make it worth something.”

A single, undivided  heartbeat goes by, wherein time seems to hold its breath in anticipation for what’s about to come next –

And then Nico’s lips are crashing into yours, his warm body all pressed up against yours,  hands cupping your hands as he devours you like a starving man.

He swallows your soft moans, gripping your waist, hard, as he pulls you in as physically close as possible. His tongue pushes past your lips, fiercely fighting against yours as he tangles his slender fingers into your hair. He tastes so good, like forbidden fruit.

When you finally pull apart, gasping for hair, he presses his sweaty forward against yours, chest heaving and panting softly. He brushes his thumb over your lips, hands cupping the side of your face.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispers. 

“Nico,” you whisper back, drawing a soft moan out of his parted lips. Nico looks back at you, and his eyes burn with a raw need.

You slide your hand up his shirt and he lets out a shaky breath. His smooth pale skin feels hot against yours, as you glide over his body. He grabs the hem of your own shirt, pushing it up to your shoulders along with your bra with one swift motion, and you let out a soft gasp as the cool night air hits your nipples.

“So pretty,” he moans, as he attaches his lips onto your left breast, sucking and fondling, whilst he keeps your other breast preoccupied with the circling and pinching of his fingers. He grinds his hips into you once more, the tent in his pants pressing into your thigh, slowly sliding up your bare stomach. He’s panting softly, his breathing ragged as he kisses you again with urgency.

Precum is practically leaking out of his tip and through his pants from how hard he’s getting. You wrap your hand around his boner, and god he’s so big your fingers can’t even close around it, and slide your hands. Nico jerks from the sensitivity, his hips reflexively bucking into the delicious friction.

He tugs his shirt over his head in one swift motion, breath shallow and fingers trembling with urgency. Pulling down his boxers, he yanks off your own panties and swiftly tosses them aside.

“Please…” you whisper, as he presses his hard length against your soaking entrance, his fingers holding your hips tight enough to bruise. His leaking tip catches onto your clit and arousal radiates through your aching core.

Moans fill the air when he finally sinks in, pushing his length into you inch by inch. He leans over, holding you in his arms with such gentle tenderness. It takes all his remaining willpower to stop himself from giving into that raw, relentless desire, to just pound into you as hard as he can, to just take what he needs. He needs to make sure that you’re okay and cared for.

And you sense this too. “It’s alright…” you say gently. “You can move…I want this too.”

That’s all it takes for Nico to snap. He snaps his hips into you, setting an unrelentless pace, angling his hips perfectly to hit that sweet spot inside of you, pulling moan after moan out of your sweet lips as you fall apart on his big hard cock.

“Nnngh – I love you –” Nico pants between hard, forceful thrusts, pink blooming across his cheeks. He grabs onto your thighs and pushes your knees to your tits, practically bending you in half as he continues to fuck into you. Beads of sweat roll down his face as he pulls his hips back momentarily, just to drive it right back into your sopping cunt  over and over.

“Haah, love you too —”

“Fuck!” a string of curses escapes Nico’s lips. “I’m–I’m about to cum –”

He reaches a hand down, slender fingers rubbing small circles into your sensitive nub. You let out a small cry as a delicious pressure starts building up in the pits of your stomach.

“Fuck – let’s cum together, baby –”

At this, the build-up tips over, as your body seizes you in an unrelenting orgasm. You come, hard, shaking and crying, clutching him as if he’s your lifeline. Nico lets out a broken moan,  spurts of white painting your inner walls as he reaches his own high.

“You take me so well. All filled up with my cum.” Nico hums affectionately, pressing soft kisses up your neck. When he reaches your lips, he kisses you sweetly, his hand finding yours with a natural ease.

 You melt into him. You can kiss this boy all day. 

Nico holds you in the stillness, his arms wrapped around you like a shield he wishes he could always be for you.

 The adrenaline has faded, leaving behind only trembling limbs and quiet breaths. He tucks your head beneath his chin, pressing soft, absent kisses to your hair as if to ground you both. His voice is barely a whisper—fragile, frayed at the edges—as he murmurs apologies, reassurances, anything to keep the silence from swallowing you whole. His thumb strokes your knuckles slowly, over and over, like a promise he’s too afraid to say aloud. 

And though his heart aches, splintered with guilt and love, he holds you as if he’ll never let go.

“I’ll find you in every lifetime, every timeline, no matter what,” he whispers fiercely, his eyes blazing. “Just know that.”

────────────────────── .✦

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

[redros3y]

Glasses (Katsuki x fem reader)

Summary: Every time Katsuki wears his glasses you get horny. ____________________________________________ 🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤

Katsuki noticed something very interesting...

Every time he comes home wearing his glasses you jump him like a cat in heat. All throughout high school he wore contacts and hid it from everyone.

Once you found out, you started encouraging him to wear his glasses. It started just around the house, then it progressed to occasionally on dates, and now when he has to stay at the office at his hero agency, he wears them.

It started out subtle. While eating dinner, your leg tracing his, an extra look or two. Then it was complimenting him and feeling him up.

He didn’t notice what the extra drive was at first, he just accepted his girl's attention.

"You look hot today, Suki." You say as you wrap your arms around him from behind while he's cooking. "Thanks, sweetheart." He stops stirring whatever he's cooking. "Why don't we go up to our room, hmm?" You give him a very obvious look. "Fuck the food, we'll order take out." He scoops you up in his arms age carries you to y'alls shared room.

The next time he stays home for paper work he kept his glasses on per usual. He was half laying/half sitting on the couch when you came over and plopped yourself in his lap.

"Hey gorgeous." His hands hold your hips. "Hey Suki." You grind your hips on him. "Missed you today." You feel him start to get hard under you. "Can tell." Everything gets heated and suddenly he's buried in your warmth while your riding him.

"God baby, slow down." He ruts up into you. "Can't help it, you look so good!"

The next time it happens is when he starts catching on. He's barely through the door and you're already on your knees clawing at his pants. "Woah woah, baby, hold on a sec." You get his belt undone "Off."

He runs his hands through your hair. "What's this all about, ha? You' been real horny here recently." "Just love you s'all." He doesn't question it anymore when his girl starts sucking him off.

It's the next week and he's wearing his glasses on his day off. Just like clockwork you notice his glasses and clench your thighs together.

"You okay, gorgeous? Y'Look constipated." He rubs your thigh. "That is the most unsexy thing you could've said." You scoot closer to him. "I dunno you just look really good."

He snorts and pushes his glasses up on his nose. "I'm wearing sweat pants, no shirt, and don't have my contacts in. I think yer seein' something, love."

"I think your glasses are hot" The last part comes out so quietly that only you understood it. "What was that?" He pulls you into his lap so you're facing him. "I think your glasses are hot. It kinda turns me on."

He starts cackling. "Don't laugh, I mean it!" "I KNEW it!" You slap his chest playfully. Do my glasses really turn you on, baby?"

"Well yeah, it's you, and I love you. I don't know, It's stupid I know." You look anywhere but at him.

"Na baby" He turns your face to him. "I'mma start wearing 'em more. Made me feel all good 'n shit with this extra attention." kiss "I might stop wearing contacts all together" kiss "Maybe I should repay you for all the love you been showin' me, huh?" kiss

"You mean it? You're gonna start wearin' 'em?" "Course baby, I ain't gonna lie to you. I'll wear 'em if you like 'em that much." His hands trail down your sides and trace up under your shirt.

"Lemme make it up to you baby. Gotta repay you for all that lovin'."

And boy does he. ____________________________________________ 🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤

Notes: Thanks for reading! This was super cute and a little spicy 🤤✋ Requests are open so go ahead and send in those requests! I don't judge. Byeee.

[redros3y]

one of my faves. rr x2

katsuki with a mean girlfriend.. smut

katsuki swears the universe gave him the meanest, brattiest damn girl alive.

always angry. always quick to bite back. always faster than him with a sharper insult that even he wouldn’t dare cross.

you’re rough around the edges, sharp-tongued and demanding — barking orders at him like he’s some underling. do this, fix that, not like that, idiot. and if it’s not perfect, you're pouting, arms crossed, throwing the dirtiest, most lethal glares at him that leave him seeing red — not with anger, but with something worse.

because fuck, he's so pussywhipped he can't even think straight when you get like that. that scowl, the cruel curl of your lips when you talk down to him... it’s a migraine and a goddamn turn-on all rolled into one.

but this — this right here —

when he’s got you spread out bare for him, your thick thighs trembling under the squeeze of his palm, ankles hiked up to your ears, caged in a brutal mating press —

this is when katsuki wins.

when your sopping cunt clutches at him, sweet and wet and so needy, when all that sharpness bleeds out of you and leaves something soft, pliant, and his.

the change is fucking addictive.

that bratty mouth, the one that usually cuts him down in two seconds flat, now only spills high, broken whimpers, breathless gasps, words slurring together into sweet, incoherent babbling.

“ngh, k-katsuki—! f-fuck—!”

voice wrecked, desperate, so pretty when you try to snap at him and only end up whining.

“yeah? thought you had somethin’ to say, princess,” he growls, slamming his hips forward, skin smacking against skin, forcing another pathetic little moan out of you.

your fingernails dig into his shoulders, your glare watery and useless now, any fight you thought you had long pounded out of you.

he knows he's in charge.

knows your voice holds no bark, no bite, nothing but soft broken pleas when he's fucking you this deep into the mattress.

the only time you're really his — the only time you’re sweet —

and katsuki plans to drag it out for as long as he fucking can.

masterlist link here.

taglist: @twoplayergaymers @socialobligation @van9lla @dienamiight @sk1ppy-art @ni-aaaaaaa @kelisewrites @chosostonguepiercing @izzymff @swuzzin @aryuunachigiri @badslittlemuffin @yuhkai @candiiee @ugh-ellie69 @khloefrlsss @camydoesstuff @11thlife02 @alixezae @diamondocean001 @izycarrot7 @vivitg @cupkiki @wonubby @1explosionextinguisher @lotusstarr @tatumsscream96

[redros3y]

invisible lovers ii

part two: practice makes perfect

fwb!perv!virgin!eddie munson x unpopular!virgin!fem!reader

summary: After your disappointing first date with Dylan, you and Eddie come to an agreement.

wc: ~9.6k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, Eddie and Reader are both in their 20s, mixed POV, manipulation, swearing, smut, m!masturbation, panty stealing (c’mon, it’s perv!eddie), play fighting, over-the-clothes action, nipple play, v. fingering, hand job, cunnilingus, blow job, light angst, jealousy, mutual pining, possessive!reader, deception, eventual friends to lovers.

Series Masterlist

With its impressive array of convenient culinary offerings, the bright and bustling Starcourt Mall food court was a triumph of shopping-adjacent cuisine.

Even so, the familiar medley of fast food aromas only managed to turn your stomach as you sat across from Eddie, pushing your barely-touched lunch around your tray.

Eddie had stopped by the store a bit earlier to see if you wanted to meet in the food court on your break, something he often did when you worked on Saturday afternoons.

You’d been relieved to see your friend so soon after the events of the night before, hoping his presence was a sign that nothing between the two of you had changed.

Still, as you sat there watching him chow down on his lunch as if nothing was out of the ordinary, something about his behavior started to nag at you.

He was being too cool — his demeanor much too calm and collected for your liking. Sure, you had wanted things to go back to normal, but he was acting like your kiss hadn’t happened at all.

Was it really that forgettable?

“You going to eat those?” Eddie asked, pointing to your untouched container of fries. When you shook your head, he pulled them onto his tray. Then without missing a beat, he resumed his dramatic tale of Uncle Wayne’s latest run-in with the raccoon family that had been terrorizing Forest Hills for the past few months.

Only half-listening, you watched his mouth move as if you were in a daze, your mind preoccupied with a swirling storm of anxious thoughts.

How could he just sit there and pretend that nothing important had happened? Didn’t he care about your friendship at all?

Lost in thought, you slammed your drink down on your tray a bit harder than you intended, the clatter of plastic turning a few nearby people’s heads.

Eddie paused mid-sentence to peer up at you over his newly acquired fries, his voice a slow and careful drawl, “Is everything ok?”

You took a deep breath and tried to work up the nerve to say what was on your mind.

“Eddie, I think we should talk about last night.”

An almost imperceptible flash of something flickered across his face for a fraction of a second before his expression returned to casual indifference.

He shrugged. “Sure. What about it?”

You hesitated, darting a glance around to make sure no one else was listening.

“Well…the kiss?” you hissed under your breath. “I just don’t want things to be weird.”

You watched as a smirk slowly drew out the tease of a dimple in the left side of his face. “Why would things be weird? Didn’t you like it?”

A rush of warmth trailed up your neck to blaze like fire across your cheeks, and you quickly looked down at the table to avoid his gaze.

Oh, you had definitely liked it.

For a split second you were back in your bedroom with Eddie’s soft lips on yours, the gentle stroke of his thumb along your cheek sending shivers down your spine.

You’d been restless for hours after he’d left, unable to settle down to sleep until you’d finally taken matters into your own hands with some manual tension release — but you certainly weren’t divulging that little detail.

“That’s not the point,” you insisted, keeping your eyes fixed on the table.

“Well yeah, it kind of is,” he teased, then reached for one of your clenched hands and gave it a playful shake. “Hey c’mon, we’re friends who just happened to touch lips. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“It doesn’t?” You looked up at him through your lashes and when you saw his crinkly-eyed grin, your body started to lose some of its tension.

“I mean, I’ll try my best not to fall madly in love with you, if that’s what you're worried about.” He jokingly brought a hand up over his heart and you pulled a face at the sarcastic gesture.

“Shut up.” You grabbed a stray french fry off the table and tossed it at him with a giggle.

Now that you’d said the words out loud you felt a bit ridiculous for letting yourself get so worked up over a silly, little kiss. You and Eddie were best friends and that was never going to change.

Suddenly hungry, you grabbed one of your former fries and bit into its golden crispiness, humming as you savored the burst of salt and oil on your tongue.

Eddie shifted in his seat, clearing his throat.

“But I mean, you brought up a good point last night. It’s hard to know if you’re good at those kinds of things.”

You eyed him warily as you stole another fry.

“You only get one chance to make a first impression and if you screw that up, it’s too late. Do you remember what happened to Robbie Fisk?” Eddie watched as your eyes widened in recognition.

Robbie was a cautionary tale — the handsome and popular captain of the Hawkins High football team, who’d made his move on nearly every girl in town. Unfortunately for Robbie and his dates, he was also an exceptionally bad kisser, and had been dubbed Robbie the Slobberfish by a bitter ex-flame.

He’d never lived the nickname down — once that shit stuck, it was for life.

“What are you trying to say?” You felt an all too familiar tightness grip your chest. The last thing you needed was to be reminded of how you might have blown your chance with Dylan all because of one lousy kiss.

Eddie leaned in over the table as if you were conspiring, his dark eyes twinkling in the overhead light. “You want to be more confident the next time you go on a date, right? And I’m not having much luck either, so I thought maybe we could help each other out.”

“Help each other out?” you echoed. “How?”

“Well, if you wanted, I was thinking you could practice on me, just like last night. You’d get more experience and maybe you could help me figure out what y—girls like.” He leaned back in his hard plastic chair, carefully studying your face.

You raised your eyebrows, convinced he had to be joking. “You want me to practice…on you?”

“Yeah, kind of like a pretend date with no consequences.” He nodded. “You can try things out on me and I’ll let you know where you need to improve. Then you won’t have to be so nervous the next time you go on a date.”

You furrowed your brow. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Even though you had to admit his proposal was intriguing, you were worried about crossing that kind of boundary with your best friend. Your kiss the night before had toed the line, but what he was suggesting had the potential to blow everything apart.

Eddie could tell that you were skeptical of his offer, and for a moment he considered giving up and playing it all off as a joke. But when he saw you wrap your glossy lips around your straw to take a sip of your soda, something tugged at him deep inside.

Eddie was a natural born salesman — a skill that served him well in his career, where he could persuade someone coming into the music store for just a guitar pick to walk out with a brand new Ibanez JEM777.

It was a gift he normally only used for good — for talking himself out of speeding tickets and the like, but after watching you suck on that little plastic straw, he could've been excused for taking a brief foray to the darker side.

“You had fun last night, right?”

You nodded, trying not to focus on the way his deep voice rumbled through you, stirring an ache between your thighs that was getting harder to ignore.

Your mouth was suddenly much too dry so you took another sip of your soft drink, hoping the bubbly concoction would wash away the lump that was forming in your throat — the Starcourt Mall food court was no place for such horny thoughts.

“Neither of us are having much luck with dating and it’s boring as shit in this town — what’s the harm in having a little fun? Plus, you want to be ready in case Dylan asks you out again, don’t you?”

The thought of you anywhere near the other male made Eddie’s chest burn with the fury of a thousand fiery suns, but he needed a hook and dangled the one thing he knew might work.

“I don’t know. Whenever people try that kind of thing in books or movies, it never works out,” you argued. “It always ends up hurting the friendship.”

“Only because they let it,” he rushed to reassure you. “Which we wouldn’t — we’re smarter than that. We could even make up some rules if it makes you feel better.”

You narrowed your eyes. “But why? If you’re such an expert then you don’t need any practice, and I doubt you care if things work out for me and Dylan. What’s in it for you?”

A smile played at the corner of his lips. You were so fucking sweet.

“Well, it’s not like I’m having much luck either,” he confided, lowering his voice. “Stacy’s been going around town telling everyone that I’m bad at, uh…things.“

“What kind of things?” you pried, curious to hear the gossip she’d been spreading.

“Just things.” He leveled you with a dark look that meant he wasn’t going to budge.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s only saying that because she’s mad at you.” You gave him a reassuring smile.

You had to hand it to Stacy that, while evil and unscrupulous, spreading that type of rumor was an ingenious form of revenge after being jilted in such a humiliating way. Besides, you couldn’t imagine it was true. If Eddie did other things half as well as he kissed, there was no way he was bad in bed.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Still wouldn’t hurt to find out if I’m doing something wrong. I mean, we kinda stumbled onto the perfect opportunity and I say we use it to our advantage.”

His soft brown eyes were so wide and hopeful that you could feel yourself starting to cave.

“I don’t know,” you hesitated. “I’m going to need to think about it.”

A few seconds later, as if on cue, you heard a peal of melodic laughter carry across the food court like the tinkling of tiny bells. When you turned in your seat to locate its source, your eyes landed on Sasha Lovejoy standing in line with Dylan at Orange Julius.

Your stomach sank. Sasha worked at Lovelace Lingerie and was drop dead gorgeous — leggy with perfect skin and long, beautiful hair that made her look like a model straight out of a JCPenney catalogue.

You averted your eyes a few seconds later when they started to walk in your direction, Dylan’s hand hovering at Sasha’s waist.

As they got closer, you silently prayed that the universe would grant you one final mercy and let the floor of the food court open up and swallow you whole — you’d lived a pretty good life and you were ready to make your peace.

To your surprise, Dylan gave you a flirtatious wink and smile as he passed by your table.

You were confused. Did the wink mean he was still interested in you? And if so, how on Earth were you supposed to compete with someone as glamorous as Sasha — a girl who had probably been asked on a zillion dates?

You sighed and looked back over at Eddie, who’d been watching you intently throughout the whole ordeal.

“So if we do this, how exactly would it work?” you asked, your tone suddenly all business. “Just kissing?”

Eddie sat up straighter and nodded, trying not to appear too eager. “Yeah, just making out or whatever you want. It’s totally up to you.”

You thought of all the articles you had read in preparation for your date with Dylan.

“I’ve actually been reading up on some things I’d like to try…” you hemmed, chewing your lower lip.

“What kinds of things?” Eddie’s dark eyes were suddenly sharp.

“Just things,” you said firmly, echoing his earlier sentiment. “But for now maybe we should just stick to kissing and keep it over the clothes?”

He smiled and held out a hand for you to shake. “Deal.”

A few minutes later when you left the food court to head back to work, you turned around mid-stride to give him a shy smile and little wave. He raised his hand to return your goodbye with a smug grin plastered on his face.

He couldn’t believe it had worked. It had actually fucking worked.

He was a goddamn genius.

When you got home from work that evening, you had a hard time winding down, your mind still preoccupied with what you and Eddie had discussed earlier that afternoon.

Even though you weren’t entirely sure what your arrangement would entail, you were excited at the prospect and what it could mean for your future with Dylan.

You'd been so worried about seeming inexperienced compared to Dylan and his other dates, but now you might actually have a chance to prove you knew what you were doing. With the way he'd winked at you that afternoon, a second date might not be that far off, and if you got another chance you wanted to impress him.

You’d told Eddie you wanted to start off slow, but as you restlessly paced your room you couldn’t help but think of all the things you wanted to try.

After getting yourself a snack, you took out the stack of magazines and sat down on your bedroom floor, spreading out the issues so you could formulate a plan.

You flipped through the earmarked pages until you came to an article on how to give “the perfect hand job” — a skill that seemed both practical and straightforward to learn.

As you read on, the article advised to get into a comfortable position then went into explicit detail outlining various techniques and different types of strokes. It cautioned that certain areas were much more sensitive than others — information you tucked away in the back of your mind.

Who knew a simple hand job could be so complicated?

You tried to picture yourself stroking Eddie’s cock the way it instructed on the page and you felt a wave of nervousness mixed with excitement.

Planning it all out logically was one thing, but you wondered if you’d actually have the nerve to go through with it when faced with the reality.

Then you thought back to your kiss with Eddie the other night and how it had left you wanting more. The possibility of those lips elsewhere on your body made your stomach feel a little funny and you unconsciously clenched your thighs.

Maybe in the morning you’d give Eddie a call and see if he wanted to come over and hang out. Even though it was the weekend, you were eager to get started on your lessons.

The next afternoon as Eddie drove the familiar route to your house, he felt like he was on top of the world.

The sun was shining and his window was down, letting the warm wind ruffle his hair as Iron Maiden blasted from the stereo.

Life was good.

After craving you for so long, he was close to getting what he wanted — you were already on his hook, all he had to do was gently reel you in.

You had invited him over to spend the afternoon playing video games in your basement — an innocent request that he hoped might lead to more.

Before he knocked on your window he took a deep breath and reminded himself to play it cool — something easier said than done with the way his heart was hammering in his chest.

The moment he lowered himself into your bedroom, all reasonable thought vacated his brain when you pranced over to greet him wearing hardly any clothes.

He stared at you, speechless, unsure of where to look first — his mind boggling at the fact that he was pretty sure you weren’t wearing a bra.

So much for playing it cool.

“Sorry, it’s laundry day.” You giggled as you gestured to your tiny top and shorts. Then you pointed to the NES that was hooked up near the end of your bed. “I’m trying to beat Super Mario. You wanna play with me?”

Eddie nodded as he bit his lip and let his eyes trail down your scantily clad frame. Oh yeah, he definitely wanted to play.

“You can have the next turn,” you promised, heading over to the bed where you flopped down onto your stomach to resume your paused game.

He climbed onto the bed behind you and stretched back against your headboard, snuggling into the fluffy pillows while he took in the glorious view.

You had never worn revealing clothing until you’d embarked on your little makeover, and as much as Eddie hated that you’d tried to change for Dylan, he had to admit that some of your new outfits had their perks.

Like the tiny terry shorts you were wearing that kept riding further up each time you wiggled, the material soon becoming wedged between the smooth cheeks of your ass.

The supple flesh of those cheeks jiggled every time you lifted your hips off the bed in agitation at the pixelated game. And the sight of those soft thighs squeezing together? Jesus fucking Christ. How much more was he expected to take?

Since your back was turned, he felt free to let his eyes linger at the juncture of your thighs, holding his breath in anticipation every time you parted them ever so slightly. When you finally spread them wide enough for him to make out the faint imprint of your pussy in the material, he nearly lost it — had to grit his teeth to bite back a moan.

Eddie was trying to be patient and not push you into anything, but you just weren’t playing fair. In fact, he was pretty sure you were trying to kill him.

It wasn’t his fault that his mind kept drifting, imagining your face pushed into the mattress — him spreading those pretty cheeks wide as you arched your back against his greedy tongue.

He cleared his throat.

“You know, I was thinking about what we talked about yesterday…” he suggested as casually as he could — as if it were an afterthought and not the sole fixation of his horny brain.

“You were?” Even though you were nervous you felt a little thrill of excitement. All afternoon you’d been wanting to get started on your practice, but you hadn’t been sure how to go about it. Did you have to wait for him to make the first move? Or were you supposed to just come right out and say it?

You had even worn something skimpier than usual to try and get the message across, but it hadn’t seemed to work. Eddie had just spent the whole afternoon watching you play Nintendo and had barely said a word — up until that very moment.

While you waited for him to finish his thought, you got a bit distracted and missed a jump, losing the final life in your game. Without thinking you clicked the button to continue.

Eddie’s eyes shot up to the TV screen, forgetting his libido for just a second.

“Hey, you said it was my turn next. Give it up,” he demanded.

You turned your head over your shoulder and stuck out your tongue while narrowing your eyes in a playful dare. “Make me.”

That was all the challenge Eddie needed.

He lunged for the controller, both of you laughing as he tried to wrestle it from your hands.

“Don’t make me tickle you,” he warned as you stubbornly put up a fight.

You rolled onto your back and he pinned you down, his body hovering over yours. He paused, wetting his bottom lip as he gazed down at the sight beneath him. Your pretty eyes, wide and pleading. Lips parted and out of breath. Absolutely fucking mesmerizing.

You stopped struggling and stared up into his eyes as you attempted to catch your breath, his lips so full and soft that you couldn’t help but think about what it would feel like to lean up and kiss them.

He let his gaze sweep down your heaving chest to where your nipples were hard and visible through your top.

“So, you know what we talked about? You wanna start now?” His pupils were blown so wide that his eyes were nearly black.

You nodded and in an instant his lips were on yours — better than the last time. Better than anything.

As he kissed you, his hand kept slowly inching up your side, his fingers rubbing circles over the sliver of bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. It continued along its path, steadily gliding upwards until he finally reached your chest. He gave your breast a gentle squeeze and groaned against your lips.

He swiped his thumb back and forth over your covered nipple, each pass sending a jolt of pleasure to your core.

Your clit was throbbing almost as if in unison with each measured stroke of his thumb, and even though it was against your self-imposed rules, you found yourself wanting more.

You looked up at him through your lashes. “Can you do that again?”

“What’s that?” His warm breath fanned over your cheek, making you shiver.

“What you were doing with your thumb,” you sighed. “It feels so good.”

“This?” He ran his thumb over your nipple again, back and forth in a steady rhythm, this time watching as your face contorted in pleasure.

“I could use my mouth, if you want,” he offered, bending to press a kiss to the curve of your neck, the brush of his lips raising goosebumps on the sensitive flesh. “Would feel even better.”

You shook your head in a weak protest. “But we said…over the clothes…”

He smiled against your skin, his voice a muffled rumble. “It’ll feel real good. You trust me?”

As soon as you nodded, he pushed your shirt up around your collarbone and you heard a sharp intake of breath as he drank in the sight of your bare breasts for the second time.

“So fuckin' perfect.” He reached out to run his fingers over your pert nipples, then bent to flick his tongue over one of the peaks until it was shiny, erect and aching.

Your exhaled a shaky breath, gripping onto his shoulders so tight your nails dug through his t-shirt.

“I read…that some people…can cum just from this,” you informed him breathlessly.

“Yeah? Is it working?” He wrapped his lips around your nipple with gentle suction, then slowly circled the bud with his tongue before releasing it to resume the rapid flicks over its peak.

“N-not yet, but it will…I think.” You closed your eyes and focused on the feeling of his mouth as you squeezed your thighs together to try and increase the pleasurable sensation that pulsed between them.

“What about this?” He traced one of his hands down the front of your shorts then cupped his palm, bringing it up firmly between your thighs. He resumed licking and sucking your nipples, moving his hand against your pussy in a steady rhythm as he switched his attention from one breast to the other.

“Feel good?”

“Mmhmm…y-yes,” you mumbled, slightly lifting your hips up off the bed to chase the movements of his hand. The seam of your shorts pressed against your clit with such a delicious friction that you gasped and ran your fingers through his hair — holding onto him anywhere you could to keep yourself grounded.

Needing more, you reached down and took hold of his hand, guiding it under the waistband of your shorts.

Your panties were so wet that he groaned when he felt your warm arousal coat his fingers. He ran two of his thick digits through your silk-covered folds, both of you panting in unison with each slow drag.

“Can’t believe sucking on your tits makes you this fuckin’ wet,” he rasped, circling the pads of his fingers ever so lightly over your clit.

You were a bit surprised at the gentleness of his touch — you hadn’t expected him to show so much restraint. Normally Eddie was all feral wildness and loud, boisterous energy but it was like his rough edges were softened with each glide of his fingers along your cunt.

“That’s it,” he cooed, his mind unraveling at the feeling of your pussy. Even with the barrier of silk you still felt better than he’d ever imagined.

Forgetting the rules for a second, he nudged the material aside just enough to let his fingertips brush over your clit. You let out a broken whimper as he started to draw slow circles while whispering against your skin, “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

You looked down at where his hand was moving under your shorts, then focused back on him as he resumed teasing your nipples with the tip of his sinful tongue.

You gasped at the sudden, pleasant pressure when he pushed two fingers inside you, curving them just the way he’d learned from his porno magazines — which despite popular opinion weren’t just naked pictures, sometimes they also included helpful tips.

He felt you clench around his fingers as you cried out his name — the sweetest sound he'd ever heard as it fell repeatedly from your lips.

Suddenly you were hurtling towards the edge much faster than you expected, and you held onto him even tighter in your surprise.

“Oh…oh my god,” you gasped as a slow but powerful orgasm started to wash over you. He lifted his head to watch your face, taking in each second of the glorious sight.

When your climax finally subsided, you let out a sigh of relief and looked up at him almost as if you were in shock.

“Sorry,” you whispered, ashamed that you’d let yourself get so carried away. You had promised to stick to just kissing and you’d pushed him to take things too far.

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?” he asked, bewildered by your reaction. “Holy shit. That was so fucking hot.”

You huffed an amused exhale as you readjusted your shirt. “Thanks…and just so you know, I don’t think you need to worry about whatever Stacy’s been saying.”

A bashful grin brought an almost boyish lightness to his face and he looked down, his already flushed cheeks somehow turning even more crimson. “Thanks.”

You smiled back, suddenly shy.

“Um, did you want me to…?” You gestured generally in his direction. It didn’t feel right not to at least offer to return some kind of favor after what he’d just done. You thought of the hand job you wanted to try and you were more than willing to oblige him, but to your surprise he sat up and shook his head.

“No, that’s ok. I’d actually better get going. Wayne wants me to help him replace the headlights on his truck before he leaves for work.” He tugged at the hem of his t-shirt.

You nodded. “Yeah, I suppose it’s getting late. I should probably finish my laundry.”

To distract yourself from the awkwardness, you got up and started to gather the rest of your dirty clothes that were strewn around the room. Eddie waited until you turned around before he got up off the bed, taking a second to readjust his still painfully hard cock.

“So, I guess maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?” His cheeks were still pink as he shifted on his feet.

You nodded and smiled. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

You weren’t sure how things were supposed to work in your situation; Eddie had just made you cum but he wasn’t your lover — a goodbye kiss seemed much too intimate.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you?” You smiled and turned away with your armload of dirty laundry. Eddie saw you drop something on the floor and swiftly bent to scoop it up. He was about to call out when he realized it was a pair of panties. Without saying a word, he quickly shoved them into his back pocket — a split second decision that he didn’t have time to consider.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later,” he said before he climbed onto your chair and hoisted himself out your window.

Once Eddie got home, he headed straight to his bedroom and pulled out his stolen treasure.

He laid the underwear on his bed, tracing a finger over the silk and lace. Then he held them up to his nose, inhaling hints of your body lotion, soap and another unmistakably soft scent that he imagined must be you.

He breathed in deeply, using his free hand to unbuckle his belt. Your scent was addictive. Intoxicating.

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine you lying on his bed, thighs spread open like a feast for him to devour.

He took off his t-shirt then slowly trailed a hand down his stomach, feeling the lean muscles flex beneath his touch. By the time he reached his cock it was already hard and leaking and he pushed his boxers down, letting out a sigh before spitting on his hand.

It wasn’t going to take long.

“What have you done to me?” he whispered, gently kissing the delicate silk before bringing it down with his other hand to wrap around his cock.

A few months earlier you’d crashed at his place and forgotten to take your laundry home the next morning. Somehow your underwear had ended up shoved under his bed right next to the nudie magazine he reached for later that evening out of boredom — a moment of divine intervention.

Afterwards he had promised himself he’d never do anything like that again. Of course, one more time wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

Besides, he’d done so well holding himself back — giving you pleasure without asking anything in return. You'd even offered to get him off and he had unselfishly walked away. He was practically a saint and for that he deserved a little treat.

As he fisted his cock with the silky garment, he imagined he was thrusting into your tight cunt. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help himself.

It wasn’t his fault — you’d driven him to it. The memory of the sweet sounds that you’d made while he’d rubbed your pretty little cunt kept replaying in his head. He recalled how the wet silk had soaked his fingers, of the way you’d rutted against his hand. You’d wanted more.

He wanted more too.

You probably would have jerked him off if he’d asked and he groaned imagining his hand was yours. The things he’d sacrificed all for the sake of moving slow.

He quickened his strokes, chest heaving and messy head thrown back as he gripped his thick length adorned with silk and lace. When he came, he growled your name, a broken throaty sound as warm cum spilled over his hand.

It wasn’t as good as the real thing, but it was going to have to do.

He just had to be patient.

Over the coming days you and Eddie only managed to see each other a few times, your busy schedules keeping you apart. You’d worked some extra shifts at the store to cover your co-worker’s vacation and he’d taken on some additional students for guitar lessons.

You still met up to practice whenever you had the chance, anywhere you could get some privacy — your room, his van, even the janitor supply closet at the mall.

Nothing ever went as far as it had on that first afternoon, but it was still fun and you could tell by his reactions that your skills were definitely improving.

Sometimes you wondered if he was doing the same thing with anyone else, especially on the nights he said he was busy and didn’t call. You’d found a few items in his van that made you a little suspicious, like a hair tie that most certainly wasn’t yours.

During the week you’d run into Dylan at the mall a few times in passing. He always winked and gave you a bright smile, but he still never called.

Even though it was disappointing, you resolved not to let it bother you and focused on your practice with Eddie.

Dylan may not have wanted your kisses, but someone else sure did.

And it felt good.

One day you managed to get off work early and decided to surprise Eddie at the music store. On your way over you stopped to pick up coffees and a few of his favorite cookies from the bakery in town.

When you arrived, you paused outside to look at the guitar display in the big front window and your stomach fluttered when you saw Eddie’s outline through the glass.

He had his back turned, talking to a customer and when he gestured in the air your eyes landed on his ringed-hands — so big and strong but capable of such gentleness. Why hadn’t you ever noticed how nice they were before?

He turned sideways and you could see that he was talking to a girl — a pretty one who smiled and reached out to touch his arm.

He was gazing down at her with amused, heavy-lidded eyes as she chatted animatedly, and you suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Normally you would have backed off and let him do his thing, but then it hit you, why should you have to leave? You’d come all that way to bring him a special treat.

With that settled, you squared your shoulders and pulled open the door. When the chime overhead alerted him to your presence, he looked up and smiled, then turned back to the girl who giggled and playfully swatted his chest.

You saw her hand him a piece of paper that he tucked into the front pocket of his dress shirt. Then she turned to leave, giving you a smug grin on her way by.

“Hey, thanks,” Eddie said happily, taking the coffee and baked treats from your hands.

“Who was that?” you asked, not wasting your time on pleasantries.

“Just a friend. Why?” He tilted his head with a twinkle in his eyes. If he hadn’t known better, he could have sworn you were a little jealous.

“No reason,” you sniffed. You couldn’t recall ever seeing that friend before. “She’s pretty.”

You couldn’t hide the bitter inflection of your voice.

Eddie's tongue poked into the side of his cheek in barely contained amusement. “Yeah, but not as pretty as my generous coffee-bearing best friend.”

You rolled your eyes. “I saw her give you her number. You have plans with her tonight?”

He shook his head. “Nope, no plans. What's up?"

Your voice lightened with relief. “Well, I was thinking maybe I could come by your place later? I have something I’d like to try, if that's alright with you.”

He nodded, mumbling around a mouthful of his cookie. “Sure, just drop by whenever you want. I’m off at six.”

You took a sip of your coffee, your eyes still focused on the slip of paper you could see poking out of his shirt.

You hadn’t planned to invite yourself over to his place that night to practice, but you were suddenly feeling a little territorial.

Later that evening when you pulled up outside Eddie’s trailer, you sat in your car for a few minutes, trying to quash your nervousness before you got out and knocked on his door.

When Eddie let you inside he looked fresh from the shower, his dark curls still damp and smelling faintly of woodsy shampoo.

“Wayne just left for work. So, uh…you want to come to my room?” He gave you a sheepish grin before he turned and you followed him down the hall.

You sat down next to each other on the edge of his bed, close enough that your knees were almost touching. You glanced over at his nightstand and noticed a box of condoms.

It had been a while since you’d been in his room — had they always been there or were they new? You wondered if they were leftovers from his relationship with Stacy, or maybe for somebody else.

Whatever the reason, you didn’t want to think about it.

“So you said there’s something you wanted to try?” he asked. You nodded, swallowing hard.

“Well, I’ve been reading some articles about how to…you know, please a guy,” you explained, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I think I’d like to practice a hand job, if that’s ok?”

The tops of his cheeks got a little pink and he gave you an abashed, almost goofy smile, “Yeah, that would definitely be ok.”

You smiled back but didn’t move, glancing down at your hands that were nervously toying with the frayed edge of your jean shorts.

“Why don’t we start out like this?” He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You sighed and let your hand trail down his chest until it met the waistband of his jeans. He reached down to help you undo his belt and then lifted his hips to push his pants down his legs, leaving him in just his boxers.

You brought your mouth close to his ear. “Just let me know how I’m doing, ok?”

He nodded and leaned back on his elbows as you started to palm him over his boxers, his breathing soon becoming heavy as he watched you run your hand over the bulge in the checked cotton.

“Mmm…that’s good. Keep going,” he sighed, then helped you push his boxers down.

You paused for a second to take in the sight of him finally revealed — long and slightly curved with a thick girth that made your mouth water. You’d felt his cock dig into you while you kissed, but you still hadn’t expected it to be so…hot. He was perfect.

You wrapped your hand around his shaft and heard a sharp hitch of his breath as you started to stroke him.

“That’s it. Just a little tighter — yeah. Now stroke it… just like that,” he instructed, his voice just above a hoarse whisper as he tried to keep it steady.

Remembering the tips you'd read, you got up on your knees and ran your thumb gently over the underside of his head, gathering the precum as you smoothly flicked your wrist. He let out a quiet whimper, gripping onto the sheets as he leaned back to watch.

You spit into your palm then made your hand into a fist, gliding it up and down his shaft, focusing on keeping your strokes a steady pace and pressure.

“Am I doing it right, Eddie? Tell me what you want.”

“You’re…fuck…doing so fuckin’ good. Just a little faster.” His chest was heaving as he looked down at his cock disappearing in your hand.

“They said two-handed feels the best, should I give that a try?”

He let out an affirmative grunt and you switched position so that both of your hands were alternating a downward stroke.

His breath started to come out loud and ragged as he quickly neared his finish. “Can you twist your wrist a little…oh fuck,” he groaned as you did what he asked, your jaw set in determination as you watched him come undone.

To witness him unraveling with each stroke of your hand was intoxicating; his little moans and sighs were like music to your ears. He looked so beautiful at your mercy, frizzy curls framing flushed cheeks as his heavy eyes watched your hands diligently work his cock.

Suddenly you remembered that you’d forgotten to pay attention to his balls, something the article had suggested. You brought one hand down to caress them with your fingers, gently massaging the soft globes. He let out a whimper at the new sensation.

“So you like it when someone plays with your balls?” you purred in a sultry voice that nearly brought him to his end.

“Yeah, t–that’s really good,” he stuttered, running a hand over his flushed face. He was trying to hold on a bit longer but you were making it next to impossible.

He looked over at the goddess kneeling beside him — your tits moving in rhythm with each stroke of your hand and your gorgeous eyes filled with desire as you watched his cock glide in your palm. He could see how much you wanted him in that moment. He could feel it.

“Fuckkkk,” he growled, a rumble from deep in his chest as cum spurted over your hand, warm and slick, before he even had a chance to warn you. You gave him one last gentle squeeze before you released him, eliciting a soft whine from the back of his throat.

He looked down at his cum covered chest and stomach and chuckled at the sight. “Shit. Look at the mess you made.”

“Me?” You innocently fluttered your lashes then let out a giggle that he interrupted by leaning up to capture your lips in a kiss — a soft, needy thing that stirred butterflies in your stomach that had no business fluttering.

You splayed your messy fingers on his stomach, further soiling the sticky trail of hair below his navel, but he didn’t care — it wasn’t a kiss for practice or meant to lead to anything else. In that moment he knew he loved you and he wanted you to know, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud.

You pulled back. “Was that ok, Eddie? Be honest.”

He smiled lazily, head tipped forward to press a fond kiss to your cheek. “Yeah, you did real good, princess. Real good.”

“When I stopped by Family Video, Steve told me this one was so scary it almost made him puke.” Eddie laughed as you pushed the video tape into your VCR.

“That’s not saying much,” you muttered, playfully rolling your eyes. For some reason you couldn’t picture Steve Harrington enjoying Summer Camp Slaughter VI.

“Nah, he’s not so bad once you get to know him,” Eddie said as you cuddled in next to him on your bed.

After a long week of work you were looking forward to a quiet Friday night in with your best friend, not only for the movie but also for the possibility of more practice.

As if reading your mind, Eddie scooted closer on the bed and brought his mouth next to your ear, “I mean, if it’s bad we can probably find something else to do.”

You giggled and playful swatted his chest, snuggling into him further as the opening credits of the movie started to roll.

When it got to a scene where two of the doomed counselors were having sex in a dangerously secluded tent, it was admittedly pretty hot. You wiggled a little closer and he wrapped his arm around your waist, letting his fingers ghost a trail up your thigh.

A few seconds later, the shrill ring of a telephone cut through the pornographic moans coming from the television.

You paused the movie and jumped up to answer it, expecting it was probably your parents checking in. They’d left a few days earlier to visit your grandmother out of state and had been calling every night to ensure you were fine and that you were taking adequate care of their houseplants.

You kept telling them you were fine and that you could be trusted to take care of a couple stupid ferns. Besides, it wasn’t like anything strange ever happened in boring, old Hawkins, Indiana.

“Hello,” you answered impatiently, hoping to get the call over with as quickly as possible so you could get back to your movie.

“Hey there gorgeous, it’s Dylan. You’re not busy are you?”

You glanced over at Eddie, your eyes widening in surprise.

“Hi, Dylan. No, I’m not doing anything.” You ignored the sour look that darkened Eddie’s face.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner tomorrow night. That is, if you don’t already have plans?”

“Um, no, I don’t have any plans,” you answered with a breathless giggle. “I’d love to.”

Dylan chuckled. “Ok, that’s great. I’ll pick you up at eight. Make sure to wear something nice.”

“Yeah, of course.” You giggled again and Eddie rolled his eyes behind your back.

When you hung up the phone he looked up at you, his expression unreadable. “A second date, huh?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

The room felt thick with tension, so you climbed back onto the bed to resume watching what had suddenly become a very awkward sex scene. Unlike before Dylan’s call, Eddie kept some distance between you on the bed. He didn’t make another move to close the gap for the rest of the night.

By the time the movie ended, it was late and you expected him to leave.

“Mind if I stay over?” he asked. “I’m kinda tired. Probably shouldn’t drive.”

“No, of course I don’t mind,” you said with a touch of surprise. He’d seemed so cranky after the call from Dylan that you’d figured he probably couldn’t wait to leave and go home.

Then again, having some company after watching a scary horror movie wasn't the worst idea in the world.

Later on in bed, you had almost fallen asleep when you felt the gentle brush of Eddie’s hand along your lower back, his fingers trailing down the silky fabric to where the hem of your nightie kissed the top of your thighs.

“Mmm…that tickles.” You giggled, then sighed contentedly as you snuggled back into his warmth. You could feel the firm heat of his cock against your ass when you wiggled in the pretense of getting comfy. It gave you a small thrill to know you could make him hard, even if just from some innocent cuddling.

“You know, if you wanted we could try some other things out for practice. What with your date coming up and all.”

His voice was low and soothing as he stroked his fingers along your skin, it could have almost lulled you to sleep if it wasn’t for the throbbing ache between your thighs.

“Like what?” you asked. You had to admit your curiosity was piqued and thanks to the steamy sex scene in the movie, you’d been aroused and uncomfortable for most of the night.

In fact, you'd been a little disappointed when Eddie had decided to stay over because it had meant you couldn’t take care of yourself.

“Hmm, I dunno. Maybe you can let me eat you out a little? I want to get really good at it for when I’m famous and have lots of groupies.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. You’d been to enough of Eddie’s shows at the Hideout to know that, even though they got some attention, throngs of horny groupies begging for sex were still a far off dream for the men of Corroded Coffin.

“And how exactly does that help me?” you asked.

“Uh, besides the obvious?” He chuckled to himself. “Ok, you can try something on me. Is there anything else you’d like to practice?”

You thought of the articles you’d been perusing the other day. There had been one thing besides a hand job that you’d really wanted to try.

“Hmm…maybe a blow job?” you suggested.

“Uh sure, yeah.” Eddie’s voice was calm even though the thought of your pretty lips anywhere near his cock made his heart feel like it might explode out of his chest.

He reached to switch on your bedside lamp and a warm glow flooded your bedroom. “Hope that’s ok. It’ll be better if I can see you.”

You got comfortable against your pillows as Eddie knelt between your legs and pushed your nightie up around your waist in soft, silky folds.

“I’m a little nervous,” you admitted. “No one’s ever done this before...and—”

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s just me, you don’t need be nervous," he soothed, looking deep in your eyes as he nudged your thighs apart. "I’ll take real good care of you.”

You settled back, trying to follow his advice and relax.

Holding his breath, Eddie ran a finger along the crease of your covered pussy, in awe of how the wet material was clinging to the puffy lips. It was the same baby pink pair of panties he’d watched you put on through the window all those months ago and the realization nearly did him in.

“Fuck, princess. You been like this all night? Coulda helped you out sooner.”

“I-I guess,” you whispered softly as he pulled your panties to the side, almost coming undone at the sight of your pussy.

“I’m just going to…mmm fuck,” he mumbled under his breath as he ran a finger along your glistening wetness. His eyes were so wide and dark they looked like shiny black pools as they lifted to meet yours. “Just gonna have a little taste.”

He flattened himself onto his stomach between your legs and wrapped his biceps around your thighs, using them to spread you open while his warm mouth hovered over your pussy.

He gave a few kitten licks to your clit before flattening his tongue to lick a broad stripe up your center.

He briefly paused to look up at you. “You’ve got the sweetest fuckin’ pussy.”

Then before you knew it his head was cradled between your thighs and your hands were tangled in his hair as he proceeded to make you see god.

The skillful way he sucked on your clit and used his tongue to tease and lick your dripping cunt was nothing if not expert-level technique. Eddie may not have had a lot of practice eating pussy, but he was a natural.

You couldn’t help but think that someday he was going to be very popular with his groupies — something you kept to yourself as your sweaty palms gripped onto the sheets to keep yourself from floating away.

Eventually he paused to pull your underwear down and off your legs and then brought them up to his face, inhaling deeply before he tossed them to the floor.

“Tastes so good…could eat you all fucking day.”

He pushed your legs back against your stomach so that your knees were bent in a mating press, then resumed noisily devouring your cunt.

He skillfully inserted two fingers inside you as he suckled on your clit, bending his fingers in a come-hither motion that had you seeing stars.

The sounds he was making were obscene and by the time your orgasm arrived, it hit you like an explosion that you felt in every part of your body — one that kept building and peaking longer than you’d ever thought was possible.

When you finally came back down to Earth, tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You looked down in amazement at your best friend gazing up at you from between your thighs.

“So, how was it?” He asked with a cocky smirk, and you had to wait a moment to catch your breath before you could answer.

“G-good. Was good,” was all you could manage to stammer as fireworks continued to explode inside your brain.

“Guess it’s your turn now?” He grinned as he moved to sit at the edge of the bed, and you noticed his lips still shone with your arousal when they caught the light.

“Get down on your knees, ok?”

You nodded and slowly sank to kneel between his feet on the shaggy rug by the edge of your bed. His eyes were still dark as he eagerly pushed his boxers down, his thick cock springing up already hard and leaking.

You suddenly had an overwhelming urge to feel the weight of him on your tongue — even though you’d never given a blowjob before, you couldn’t wait to give it a try.

Recalling the tips from your magazines, you dived right in without another moment's hesitation.

“Now what you want to do first is—ughnn,” Eddie threw his head back and moaned as you wrapped your hand around his cock before bending to swirl your tongue in slow circles around his leaking head.

“Like this?” you asked, looking at up him through your lashes.

“Shit. Yeah,” he mumbled as you traced the thick vein on the underside of his shaft with your tongue before spitting on his cock and stroking it with your hand. You looked up at him and watched his chest rise and fall rapidly before you once again wrapped your lips around his girthy length.

“Yeah, uh…that's...that’s really fuckin’ good,” he choked in a broken voice as you started to bob your head up and down his shaft, hollowing your cheeks and trying to take him as deep as you could.

Drool started to run down your chin and neck. It was messy and animalistic — so hot that Eddie truly thought he might not make it.

“C-can you take your nightie off?” he sputtered as he looked down at your tits, nearly spilling out of the top of your flimsy gown.

You pulled off his cock with a slick sound then pushed down the straps of your nightgown, letting in fall slowly down your torso into a silky puddle on the floor.

Then resuming your efforts, you used your hand to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Eddie’s cock was so long and thick that you couldn’t fit it all without choking.

He watched your tits bounce with each glide of your puffy, spit-slick lips up and down his shaft. It felt like you were sucking the soul out of his body and pretty soon he was reduced to a moaning, writhing mess where he sat on the edge of the bed.

You loved looking up at him from where you knelt, hand gripping onto his muscular thigh for balance as you took his cock deep into your warm, wet mouth. Loved how he brought one of his hands down to cup the back of your head as he let words of praise spill down on you from above.

He reached out to grip your quilt in his fist as he desperately tried to stave off his orgasm. Eddie usually prided himself on his stamina and when he was alone he was able to bring himself to the cusp over and over before he finally succumbed. But the warm suction of your mouth was a much more worthy adversary than his own hand and he quickly found himself on the brink of no return.

His cock started to swell and pulse and his moans became louder and more desperate until he finally reached down to gently tap your cheek to get your attention.

“I’m gonna cum. You don’t have to—fuck“

His warning was cut short when a growl ripped through his chest and his salty cum flooded your tongue. You swallowed it all down without a second thought, wanting to please him.

When you sat back on your heels to look up at Eddie, his face was flushed and he was struggling to catch his breath.

“Holy shit…are you sure that was your first time?”

He looked down at you in awe as you giggled and shrugged your shoulders.

“You sure it was ok?”

“Oh yeah, definitely ok.” He nodded, staring at you like he was seeing you for the first time. You’d just given him the best blowjob of his life — not that he’d had very many others for comparison, but nothing else he’d experienced had ever come close.

You shook your head in amusement and grabbed your nightie to pull it back on over your head.

“You don’t have to just say that to make me feel better. You’re supposed to be honest.”

Eddie stared at you, unable to believe that you didn’t realize the magnitude of what you had just done — that you were somehow unaware of your absolute perfection.

“Yeah, I mean it was good for a beginner,” he added as casually as he could. “We can try it again. With some more practice I’m sure you’ll be amazing.”

The next morning as you sat in your bed watching Eddie get dressed, you thought of your upcoming date with Dylan. Unlike the last time when you could barely contain your excitement, you hardly felt anything at all.

“I guess if things don’t work out tonight, I might see you later?” you joked with a little edge of hope. “You know, in case it goes bad and I need another weed rescue?”

“Uh, actually, I have plans,” Eddie mumbled, bending over to tie his sneakers.

“Oh, do you have Hellfire?” you asked, trying to pry without revealing how much you cared.

“Nah, not tonight,” he said, still not meeting your eyes as he looked around for his watch. “I’m meeting up with someone.”

“Oh, like a date?” you exclaimed in surprise. “You never mentioned…”

He looked up at you and nodded, his face infuriatingly calm. “Sorry. Guess it slipped my mind.”

“No, that’s ok,” you rushed, the words stumbling like heavy blocks on your tongue. “That’s great. Is it the girl from the music store?”

“Nah, someone I met at the Hideout after our last show. You probably don’t know them.” He winked as he walked over to the window. “Should be a good time. Don’t wait up.”

You nodded then silently watched as he lifted himself out your window.

Once he was gone, you wiped at your burning eyes with the back of your hand, angry at yourself for how foolish you were behaving.

You had a date with Dylan to look forward to that night — the second chance you’d so desperately wanted. All of your practice with Eddie had been leading up to that very important moment.

Dylan was the one you wanted. Dylan was the man of your dreams.

So why did everything suddenly feel so bad?

Thank you for reading! 🖤

A/N: Oh Eddie, why would you leave things like that? 👀 Apologies in advance because part 3 is going to be a little angsty, but I promise a happily-smutty-ever-after. See you there! <3

Also if you read Real Love Baby, yes that’s the same Robbie ;)

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

tags 🏷️ : @dem0batz @ali-r3n @mystars123 @kellsck

@daveythorntonslocker @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @losingmygrasponreality @kelsiegrin @hiimjulie

@immyluvsdean @sammybrrr @wingedpeachjudgegiant

@pretendthisnameisclever @mdurdenpitt

@myherometalhead @elegantkoalapaper @marlborop9

@eddiesxangel

@gloomweed @crybabyddl @niajajaja @capybar-enjoyer @gracieheartspedro

@wtfmariaclara @xmunsonlovex @princesssunderworld

@hippiegoth97 @giggle-cooch @awkward00noodle @yujyujj @kelseyms-world

@one-girl-a-dozen-fairies @foreveranexpatsposts @avenjames-anderson @iletmytittiestitty

@mielagrumes @em-guitar-pick @loveu2themoonandsaturn @micheledawn1975 @lexr86

@saramelaniemoon @rainydayathogwarts @itsmadamehydra @floredaqueen @karmadglory

@thewayitalknj @selenevesper @theold-ultraviolence @littlemissholy @3rd-conchord

[redros3y]

big fan of wtv this is

nerdy!anakin skywalker who’s secretly a freak

requested by poll!

description box; the nerd with the glasses that tutors you turns out to be not so innocent after all. and he looks even more delicious without his glasses.

warning; heavy nsfw warning, mentions of cheating and an affair, porn with a bit of plot, anakin is a total pervert and freakyyyy, smut under the cut!, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

ANAKIN SKYWALKER IS A nerd, and it’s by default that he doesn’t associate with ‘your kind’.

the popular kind, the pretty kind.

the ones that run around with the football players, the kind of people that have this certain aura that just makes everyone look at them the second they walk into the room.

most of the popular people at your school were known to be arrogant douchebags, unintelligent jerks and vain bitches who thought they were above everyone else. but not you, though.

you were different. you were popular, really uniquely and breathtakingly beautiful, but your heart and soul were just as pretty as you. you also had a jerk of a boyfriend, and you really sucked at mathematics and physics. but luckily for you, your desk mate anakin skywalker, who also happens to sit next to you in physics classes, knows that. and also happens to be a very valued tutor.

“another D?”

anakin’s gaze is deplorable, his lips are pressed together in a pitiful way.

“yeah,” you wince as you examine the big, red D on your paper, “can’t say i didn’t expect it though. i thought the questions were really easy—maybe that should’ve given it away.”

anakin is hesitant, he doesn’t want to upset you—he knows you’ve been called stupid and dumb plenty of times by teachers, but really, he knows you’re not. really, you excel at subjects like history, english or music, you just… need a little tutoring. but he also knows you’re too prideful for that. you’ve never been bad enough at a subject to need tutoring, but you’ve been consistently getting D’s the whole year and there’s nothing anakin can do.

he would’ve let you copy his answers, but the teachers never look away during exams. he wouldn’t have done for just anyone—he would’ve only done it for you.

you’re the kindest person he’s ever met. you probably don’t remember but a couple of years ago, maybe a little more, he was getting bullied real bad. and not just by anyone, a guy named dylan. he was your boyfriend at the time. and still is. fucking asshole. anakin hated him passionately.

but you’d broken up with him after you’d caught him throwing punches into anakin’s stomach. you had yelled at him, even slapped him, you had taken anakin by the hand and went to the school nurse with him. and you were so kind to him. so sweet. so nice.

honestly, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he developed a huge crush on you. but he never confessed, he knew you were out of his league, and not his. especially after your (shitty asshole! anakin would treat you so much better) boyfriend dylan had apologised to him and you in a heartbreaking manner through a big gesture, and you had forgiven him.

ever since, dylan and anakin still give each other dirty glances and nasty glares, but he never laid hand on him again.

anakin would like to describe you and him as friends. you talked to each other in every class you had together, especially physics, because you sat next to each other, and you always greeted each other in the hallways.

but you have never hung out together and you’ve never been to his place, or he to yours.

“listen, maybe you… maybe i can study with you.” anakin muttered gently, carefully studying your face expressions as he made his suggestion.

your eyebrows formed into a frown, “you think that’ll help?”

anakin nodded, relieved you weren’t taking this as badly as he’d thought you would, “yeah, sure. i’m a tutor, you know? i can explain stuff pretty well.”

“oh, i wouldn’t want to impose—” you’re quick to deny, you hate bothering people.

fuck, you’re the sweetest person there is. truly an angel sent down from heaven. anakin made up his mind, right there. he would do anything to make you his.

“no, you’re not imposing. i want to. i want to do this for you.” he smiled, but seeing your hesitant face, he added, “besides, we’re friends. isn’t that what friends do for each other?”

a small smile tugged at your lips. “really? you… you’d do that for me? but i really don’t want to be a bother! you’re so smart and clever, you have so many tutees and you’re probably so busy—”

anakin would be replaying those words in his mind tonight. non-stop.

“listen, i really don’t mind. it’ll be like us hanging out. ‘kay? you don’t need to worry about it, i’m happy to be at your service.”

you hesitated for a second. and then you smiled, and anakin knew he’d won. “OK, then. it’ll be like a hangout.”

“it’s settled then,” he smirked at you, “my place? tomorrow afternoon?”

you laugh.

“your place, tomorrow afternoon.”

YOU HAD ABSOLUTELY NO idea how you ended up like this. in his bed. in this position. moaning and whimpering his name.

you were on all fours, legs trembling and quivering, your arms weak and the only thing that was holding you up was anakin’s toned arm, hooked under your waist, holding you up firmly as he thrusted into you.

you had never noticed it before, but his arm… looked so… delicious when it was flexed.

“that feel good, darling?” the smirk in his voice is all too evident, he got off on the way you were so fucking responsive to his every touch.

his hands went from caressing your thighs and kneading your ass to playing with your nipples and tugging back your hair.

“haven’t even begun properly fucking you and you’re already so soaked. does your boyfriend not fuck you, angel?”

your mind is nothing but chaos, and your stomach all fuzzy, and the only thing you can do is whine around his cock, writhing underneath him. you nod, you just nod because your boyfriend’s cock doesn’t kiss your cervix like this, your boyfriend’s cock doesn’t fit into your womb so fucking well, because your boyfriend doesn’t make you feel so, so, so good.

“n-need you to go faster…”

he kisses his teeth with his one, making a quiet ‘tsk’ sound. “that’s not very polite, demanding others like that. what’s happened to your manners, angel?”

he’s fucking you agonisingly and painfully slowly from behind, the question papers he brought and physics notes he made for you, just for you, carelessly scattered in front of you. your hands are gripping them as you moan.

“f-fuck, ani—please just… won’t you fuck me faster? can’t… can’t, ‘m not—hah—”

“all right, all right, doll,” he replies to you sweetly, bending over next to your ear, still thrusting into so painfully slowly, “only if you admit that you love me more than your boyfriend.”

your eyes widen. “b-but—”

“ah-ah. no buts. say it or i won’t let you cum.”

you loved your boyfriend. you did! but anakin just made you feel so, so good…

“love you more than my boyfriend,” you moan quietly, closing your eyes in shame.

“‘m sorry, what? i didn’t catch that.” he grinned teasingly.

“ani,” you whine, “don’t be like that.”

he laughs. “all right, all right. cum for me, doll.”

author’s note;

i have never written smut like this before. please have mercy on me 😭😭

[redros3y]

yay! reassurance!!

Turn You On?

Summary: After not being intimate with Anakin for a while, doubts start clouding your mind.

Warnings: doubtful thoughts, insecurities, smut, piv, oral(fem receiving), praising, overstimulation, creampie, fluff

You and Anakin rarely had any alone time recently. With both of you being jedi, your schedules would always clash. Either you'd be on a mission and Anakin would be at home, or he'd be on a mission and you'd be home. Due to this conflicting schedule, the two of you hadn't been intimate in a while.

Today was a rare occasion where the both of you were at home together. You watched from the bed as your husband fiddled with a small project he had been working on. He'd been at it for a few hours and you started getting irritated.

He hadn't spent time with you in weeks and he'd rather work on his project? You had been worked up and needy for him for days on end. You couldn't do much other than clenching your thighs together to avoid any suspicions. Why wasn't he begging for you?

Did he not care for you anymore? Did he not want to be intimate with you anymore? Did you even turn him on still?

The last question lingered around longer than you liked to admit. You felt ashamed for even thinking it. Why would you not turn him on? Nothing about you has changed. Except, perhaps your body has changed in ways you hadn't noticed and he did? Or maybe he didn't like certain habits you had?

The thoughts just kept building up higher and higher than you could handle until the words overflowed and spilled out. "Ani, do I still turn you on?" Your eyes widened as if your own words shocked you.

His hands froze and he turned to look at you with furrowed eyebrows. "What?" He lightly chuckled, "where did that come from?"

You felt embarrassed for asking now. Looking down at your hands, you say, "Well, it's just that it's been a while since we've been together and it seems like you'd rather be working on your project than be with me so that just got me wondering if...I turn you on still." His expression softened as he listened to you express your concerns. "Sorry, it's silly." You poorly laugh it off and lay down to face the wall.

"No, no it's not silly." He places his project down and stands from his chair, walking towards the empty side of the bed. "Y/n," he tugs your shoulder so you can face him. "What's going on with you? Talk to me, please." His heart breaks when you wipe at your cheeks.

"I just feel like you don't want me anymore." You avoided eye contact with him and he hated it. He loved feeling your eyes on him. He loved knowing that he had your attention. And he hated that he made you feel this way.

"Hey," he lifts your chin up with his finger so you can look at him. "Of course I want you. How could I not?" The thought was unimaginable in his head. You were the most gorgeous being in the universe.

"It doesn't feel like it," you sadly confess. You hear Anakin sigh before he grabs your hand. Before you can question him, he guides your hand to his crotch and you gasp. He's hard as a rock.

"How about now?" He groans and causes you to grind your palm against his clothed erection.

"Ani-"

He moves you on your back so that he can lean over you. "Does this answer your question?" He removes your hand, connecting yours with his against the mattress and grinds down against you. You feel his breath against your cheeks. "I- I thought you would've been tired from working so much, I had to distract myself. Fuck I crave you so much."

He leans down to kiss you. The kiss started off slow but as his grinding picked up, the makeout became messier. "You're the only woman who will ever turn me on. I promise." He pants against your neck, leaving a few love bites.

He abruptly removes himself. He pulls up your nightgown and yanks your panties down, tossing them across the room. "I better make it up to my wife for making her feel so insecure, so unwanted." He licks a stripe up your pussy.

"Ohhh fuck Ani!" You squeeze at his hair. Weeks without him almost had you forgetting just how good his mouth felt.

"I will never not want you. Maker, you taste so good." He groans against you as he leans in for more. His tongue massages your clit, soothing the throbbing ache you've been feeling for weeks. "Does that feel good, my love? Do you feel how sorry I am?" His stare was so intense but it just turned you on even more.

All you could do is nod, your mouth too preoccupied with letting out pornographic moans. "Seems like I'm doing a good job at saying sorry. My pretty wife can't even speak." He smirks against your cunt.

You gasp when you suddenly feel his fingers enter. "Hmm it really has been a while, you've gotten tighter. Better stretch you out a bit more." He adds a third finger. The painful stretch felt so good after weeks of feeling empty. But you wanted more.

"Please fuck me Ani," you whine out.

"Not yet my love, I need to get you ready for me. You'll need it," he playfully winks at you as his fingers speed up.

Your fingers grip tightly on the bed sheets, "I'm cumming! Shit!"

"Yeah? Come on baby cum on my fingers. Show me how good it feels." He latches his mouth onto your clit and you fall over the edge. Your legs quiver around his head as you come down from your climax.

You tug at his hair to meet your mouth with his once again. You moan at your taste on his tongue. You let out a sharp gasp at the sudden intrusion of his cock. "Shit- you've definitely gotten tighter," he groans out. He looks down to where your bodies meet and chuckles, "taking me so good though."

His thrusts speed up, the sound of skin against skin echoes around the room. "I missed this so fucking much! I can't believe you thought I didn't want you. It's unfathomable" his eyes clenched shut and his mouth drops open as groans flow out like music.

The beautiful sounds bring you closer to the edge once again. "Anakin, I'm close!" Your back arches into him and he uses his large hands to push you back down.

"I know you are, I know my wife's body so well. The way she clenches down on me when she's about to cum... makes me wanna cum so hard." You cling onto his body tighter, leaving scratch marks down his back as you reach your climax.

"I'm cumming!"

"That's right, let me feel you!" Anakin gives you no time to calm down before his thrusts get harsher and he chases his climax.

"I- it's too much!" Your previous two orgasms made you too sensitive. Your eyes clenched shut as you're forced to take Anakin's pounding.

"Just one more, give me one more baby." His thumb rubs at your clit and you fall over the edge once again. This time, Anakin joins you. He lets out a shaky groan as he stills and finishes inside you.

He collapses on top of you. Both of your chests are heaving out of breath. Once his breathing slowed down a bit, he lifted his head to look down at you. He lightly chuckles as you struggle to catch your breath after those 3 orgasms. "You alright Mrs. Skywalker?"

You open your eyes and smile at him, glistening in the afterglow of sex, "I fucking missed you."

He leans down to softly kiss you, "I missed you too." The kiss gets heated quickly and you feel him stiffen once more. Slowly, he begins thrusting again. "Ani, I'm sensitive."

"I have a lot of days to make up for my love. So you better get used to it."

[redros3y]

Congrats on 10 K ,Luna!We're all so proud of you,thank you for contributing to our whole community😊🎀

As for your asks,could I request 📝? I was thinking Neteyam being submissive (because I just love how you write him, especially in Unwinding Together and on the Cockwarming prompt from Kinkmas,that always makes me crazyyyy😩)

Here's a cake to celebrate!!🎂 So proud of you!!!

-🦅

Thank you so much, pookie!! I hope you like it 🥹🩵

Neteyam x female human reader, minors dni 🔞

He has never seen a silk dress before, but great mother do you wear that little piece of tawtute [sky people] clothing well.

Neteyam closes his eyes and inhales shakily as you leave a red lipped kiss on his lips. The next time he opens them, it’s all darkness behind the fine woven cloth you’ve bound around his head, taking away his sight. Now your fingers are trailing down the exposed skin on his abs, lower and lower, before they suddenly stop and he lets out a whine. That earns him a mean little bite to his earlobe. It stings, but makes him quiet. The night has just begun, anyway.

The warmth of your mouth wandering from his ear to his throat makes him shudder, but he doesn't make a peep. He’s not ready for another bite... yet.

Five solid minutes of silence, safe for the sound of his heavy breathing as you kiss up and down his face, throat and collarbone, before Neteyam begins to hear something wet. By your following heady breaths, he realizes you must’ve started touching yourself, right in front of him. Silence falls again but is quickly broken when he feels your moist fingers against his bottom lip. "Taste", you tell him, and his tail whips against your mattress in excitement.

"You want more, hm?" You purr and he moans around your fingers, and that‘s all the approval you need.

Neteyam feels the silk of your thighs framing his head just before you push your wet cunt down harshly against his mouth. With one hand tangled in his braids, and one against the wall behind your bed to support your balance, you begin to ride him. His mouth sets to work immediately, tongue swirling around your clit, lips kissing and sucking wherever you guide him, and you let your head fall back as you enjoy the ride.

"Good- Fuck, N-Nete!" But then you push yourself away just as he's about to push you over the edge. The groan of protest earns him a tug to his tail, that has been trashing around right next to you this entire time. This time it’s enough to elicit a complain from his parted lips that you couldn’t quite understand.

"What was that?"

"Nothing", he mumbles, then hisses when you tug on his tail again, harder this time. A reminder of his manners. "Thank you, yawne. I'm sorry, yawne."

You reach behind yourself then, fingers slowly tracing the tip of his cock, dipping down to teasingly stroke the thick girth of his shaft. You can practically see him vibrating with the force of staying still, but you know he's strong enough to break the ropes around his wrists at any moment. He doesn’t, though. He just loves this game just as much as you, and he’s not ready for it to end yet.

"What do you want, Teyam? Do you want me to take you in my mouth, choking on you even while I deny you permission to come? Or does my filthy little pet want to get his dick wet, hm? Want me to ride you nice and slow, see how long it’ll take you to beg for it? What do you want? Speak." You command, squeezing especially hard around his base and he groans.

"I want... you, yawne." You giggle, oh so sweetly, as he stiffens in your hold. "Hmm, that's not an answer. Why don’t you show me, baby?"

The last thing you see before he rips those leather ropes to shreds and takes you, are his fangs poking out from under his slick covered lips as he grins at you. He’s strong, almost too strong and your heart races as he drills his cock into you in one fluid thrust. He still can’t see through that blindfold, but he has your knees over his shoulders and you sandwiched between him and the mattress.

"Take. It. Off." Though the pleasure coursing through your veins you finally figure out he’s talking about the blindfold. Pulling it down his face, you see the fire in his golden eyes a split second before his tongue is down your throat, probing and tasting as he fucks you hard enough to make you cry out. You cling to him, his cock brushing against your g-spot flawlessly as he slams into you like a jackhammer, all feral rage and passion. He bites down on your neck and you scream as your orgasm makes you tighten around him. He only follows after the final tremors of your orgasm have been forced out by his length.

When he finally stills, all cum successfully planted deep inside your core, he’s laying himself down on top of you, panting against your hair with his face buried against your throat.

"Did I please you, yawne?" He asks coyly, tail wagging behind his back in anticipation.

"God, yes," You respond in a hushed giggle, a little short of breath, "You did good. So good."

[redros3y]

please i'm manifesting this (w the french guy i've talked abt on this acct.)

hii, i loved your Katsuki fic and wanted to submit a request. katsuki x american gf reader, where he’s never met her but they try to talk throughout the day by texting or calling despite time difference. then they meet at the end of the fic as a surprise for katsuki (still UA au please). tyy :)

꒰🫧꒱﹒ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ﹒⟢ featuring: katsuki bakugo ‧₊˚ . ꣑୧

sypnosis ☆ bakugo never expected to fall for a girl halfway across the world… especially one with a six-hour time difference and a laugh that lives in his head rent-free. between classes at ua and her busy days in america, they text, call, and fall a little deeper with every message. but what happens when time zones and screens aren’t enough anymore? ⸝⸝ ᰔ ̫ ᰔ⸝⸝

content warnings ☆ fluff, comfort, a little angsty, ua based, black female reader, she/her used, lowercase intended, not proofread, bakugo has broken english, italics = japanese ๑•́ ₃ •̀๑

word count ☆ 1.1k

authors note ☆ hello hello! thank u so much for ur kindness 🌼 here you go! i hope you like this one just as much! if u would like anything else let me know!!

katsuki didn’t want to be part of any dumb online chat.

he hated talking for no reason. hated random people. especially hated wasting time when he could be training or doing something that mattered.

so when denki shoved his phone in his face during break and said, “bro, you gotta try this,” katsuki’s immediate response was no.

“it’s a server,” denki explained, grinning. “for, like, international hero fans. some of them are trying to get into schools like u.a. and they ask the weirdest shit.”

“not my problem.”

“c’mon. you can mess with them. they’ll lose their minds when you answer.”

“fuck off.”

but that night, katsuki couldn’t sleep. his shoulders ached from drills. his head was too loud with thoughts he didn’t want to think. and his phone, tucked under his pillow, kept buzzing with notifications from that stupid server denki added him to.

he stared at the screen for a while. thumb hovering over the app. then—he opened it.

a flood of posts. some boring. some weird. some flat-out wrong.

and then one message caught his eye.

|“so like… do students at u.a. really spar? like actually hit each other?”

the username was unfamiliar. your profile picture was a blurry sky—probably taken from your phone. and your bio just said “sleepy. always.”

he stared at your message longer than he meant to as he tried to decipher it.

then typed, slowly:

|“yes. we fight. real hits.”

a full six minutes passed.

he didn’t think you’d respond.

but you did.

|“wait WHAT. like actually?? is that even allowed???”

he snorted, eyes narrowing with a half-smile.

| “yes. is real. allowed. strong hits.”

your response came quicker this time.

| “dude! i’m american. our schools make us wear helmets to run in gym class. this is unfair.”

he let out something close to a laugh—just a small huff of breath—but it surprised him.

he didn’t answer. didn’t need to.

he already bookmarked your name.

he didn’t expect to hear from you again.

but the next night, just after dinner and before study hour, you were there.

| “hi again, explosion boy. (you got a better name?)”

he stared at the screen for a second before replying:

| “bakugo.”

| “ooh. that sounds cool. you sound cool. are you?”

he hesitated, then typed:

| “yes.”

you sent back the laughing emoji. then:

| “humble too.”

he didn’t know why it made his chest feel tight.

from there, it became… a thing.

late-night messages. voice notes. pictures.

you sent him one of your lunch—a sandwich and chips, nothing fancy—but you added,

| “i ate thinking of you. does that make me weird?”

he didn’t answer for a full hour.

then wrote:

| “no. i like that.”

you replied with a blushing emoji.

he stared at it too long.

he never liked phone calls. they were too much. too close.

but your voice was—soft. kind. playful in a way that made his chest ache.

your first voice note was just:

“hi. it’s weird hearing myself talk to you, but i wanted you to know what i sound like.”

and he listened to it.

three times.

the first time just to hear your tone. the second to understand every word. the third because… he missed it, even if it had only been a minute long.

his reply was rough. hesitant.

“hi. uh. i… don’t like talk. much. but… i like yours. voice.”

you sent back:

| “that was the sweetest thing ever, actually.”

after that, you started calling.

not every day. not long.

just enough.

he’d lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling, half-listening to your rambles about work and siblings and the weather. he didn’t talk much. didn’t know how to say all the things he was feeling in a language that always made his tongue trip.

but you didn’t mind.

you’d say, “you don’t have to talk. just stay on.”

so he did.

it happened slow.

your voice became part of his routine.

your good morning texts came while he was getting ready for class. your “i’m heading to bed, katsuki” messages always landed when he was on patrol.

you started sending pictures of things you loved. a book. your porch light. a sunset from your window.

he started sending them back.

once, he sent you a picture of his hand after training—bandaged, calloused, rough. and you wrote:

| “ i hope you rest, even when you think you don’t need it.”

and that line just… stayed.

for days.

he reread it during class. during silence. during nights when his head was too full and nothing felt steady.

he didn’t say he missed you.

but he did.

quietly. constantly.

time difference was cruel.

he hated that you were waking up when he was falling asleep.

he hated how sometimes he’d send a long message and forget what he wrote by the time you answered.

he hated how his chest twisted when he saw your name and couldn’t respond.

but you always made it easy.

“ i know you’re tired. you don’t have to talk. i just wanted to say i’m thinking of you… i’m still here. still cheering for you. always.”

you made it feel like you were closer than you were.

and yet, the space between you ached more with every week.

he didn’t notice when he fell.

not until kirishima asked him why he was smiling at his phone.

not until his chest ached when you didn’t text.

not until he caught himself learning english phrases just to tell you things the right way.

he didn’t tell anyone.

not even you.

but he sent you a voice note at midnight, after a long day, voice hoarse and quiet:

“i… i like talk to you. always. i wait for you. even when late. just so you know.”

you didn’t reply with a voice note.

you replied with a text:

| “me too, katsuki. every day.”

he didn’t sleep that night.

it came suddenly, the text message read:

| “if i ever came to japan… would you wanna meet me?”

he sat up in bed like he’d been punched.

heart pounding.

he typed.

deleted.

typed again.

finally, he sent:

| “yes. i want. i wait for you.”

and then he waited.

one hour.

then two.

you didn’t reply that night.

and he told himself it was okay.

even if it wasn’t.

two weeks.

that’s how long it took.

two weeks of silence. of almost texting you. of wondering if he’d said something wrong.

then—midnight.

his phone buzzed.

| “come outside kats <3 ”

his hands shook.

he ran.

didn’t care who saw. didn’t care that he was barefoot.

and there you were.

standing at the gate. hoodie on. suitcase by your side. scarf he mailed you wrapped around your neck.

you smiled.

“hey.”

he didn’t say anything. just stared.

you stepped forward. nervous.

“you’re taller than i thought,” you teased.

he swallowed hard. voice rough.

“you’re… real.”

you laughed. tears in your eyes.

“told you i’d come.”

the aching, the quiet missing, the longing—

and then he held you.

and everything he’d been holding in— spilled into the way he buried his face in your neck and breathed like he could finally exhale.

[redros3y]

this is so cute. i want this so bad

second helpings

synopsis: he owns the kitchen—until you quietly claim a corner of it, and he is enjoying it more than he lets on.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: been gone a while. had ran out of ideas but here we go

you don’t cook often.

not because you can’t, but because he always beats you to it.

katsuki treats his kitchen like a battlefield—controlled, efficient, and his.

he moves like he’s been doing it his whole life, sleeves pushed up, jaw set in focus, the faint smell of spices clinging to his shirt even after he’s done.

it’s something he enjoys, something he’s good at, and he rarely lets you lift a finger when it comes to meals.

so when you tell him, “i made something for you,” you expect a scoff, a teasing remark, maybe even a lecture about how he should be the one cooking for you.

what you don’t expect is for him to hesitate.

it’s barely noticeable, but you catch it—the slight pause, the flicker in his expression before his arms cross over his chest.

“you what?”

you huff, nudging the bowl toward him, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “i cooked something for you.”

his red eyes flick down, scanning the dish like he’s assessing its structural integrity.

it’s nothing fancy—just something simple you put together while he was out. but his fingers twitch slightly, like he’s holding himself back from reaching for it immediately.

“…what’s the occasion?”

you blink at him. “nothing. just wanted to.”

his brows furrow slightly, like he doesn’t quite understand the concept of someone cooking for him just because they felt like it.

but after a moment, he exhales through his nose, jaw shifting as he grabs the chopsticks.

“you didn’t have to, y’know.”

you smile, resting your chin on your hand. “I know.”

he doesn’t say anything else before taking a bite.

the first one is quick—just a taste.

then the second comes almost immediately after, slower this time, more thoughtful. his chewing slows just a fraction—contemplative. his brows furrow, but not in a bad way.

he’s thinking.

then, without a word, he goes for a third bite.

you watch him, amusement curling at your lips. “well?”

he chews, swallows, and sets his chopsticks down with a casual motion.

“…it’s good.”

you stare.

then squint.

“just good?”

his ears tint the faintest shade of pink, and he scowls, looking at anything but you. “what, you want a damn trophy?”

you snort, shaking your head. “a simple ‘thanks’ would work.”

his mouth presses into a tight line, and for a second, you think he might just grumble his way out of this. but then, just barely above a mutter—

“thanks.”

your grin widens, warmth blooming in your chest as he goes back to eating, and even though he doesn’t say anything else, you don’t miss the way he finishes every last bite.

it happens again.

not immediately, but enough that it starts to become a habit.

one night, you make an extra portion without thinking, setting it aside without a second thought.

another night, you leave something for him when you know he’s coming home late, the dish waiting on the counter like a quiet reassurance that he isn’t alone.

you don’t always expect a reaction, but you always get one—even if it’s just a muttered “’preciate it” or the way his shoulders shift ever so slightly when he sees what you’ve left for him.

and then, one evening, you catch him sneaking extra bites.

you’re pretending not to watch, seated at the kitchen counter with a drink in hand, your body angled just enough to keep him in your peripheral vision.

katsuki eats like he always does—quick but deliberate, each motion efficient, no wasted movements.

his back is straight, his expression unreadable as he makes his way through the plate of curry you set in front of him.

then, the second you turn your head—

a blur of movement. a quiet clink.

your eyes snap back to him.

katsuki freezes, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, a second helping clearly stolen from the pot sitting on the stove.

his jaw tightens as he chews, his expression carefully neutral, but you don’t miss the way his fingers tighten slightly around his chopsticks.

your brows lift. “did you just steal extra?”

a beat of silence.

then, his red eyes flick up to yours, his chewing slowing slightly as he glares, unimpressed. “what?”

your gaze drops to the now slightly emptier pot.

a slow grin spreads across your face.

“you did.”

he scowls, shoving another bite into his mouth like it’ll somehow erase the evidence. “it’s good. so what?”

you rest your chin on your palm, amusement flickering in your eyes. “you could just ask for more, you know.”

he clicks his tongue, gaze flicking to the side, suddenly finding the tiled floor far more interesting. “dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

after that, you start paying more attention.

to the things he likes, the things he doesn’t say outright but that you pick up on anyway.

you learn that he prefers meals fresh off the stove, that he eats fast but never wastes a single bite. that he loves spice—but sometimes, just sometimes, it even gets to him.

you catch the way he drinks more water when it does, the slight furrow of his brows when the heat creeps up on him.

“you good?” you ask once, watching as he takes another gulp of water.

he clicks his tongue, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. “’course I’m good.”

you just shake your head, amused.

even when he’s exhausted, dragging himself through the door after a long shift, he still eats whatever you make. no complaints, no hesitations.

just a quiet moment where his shoulders loosen and he sits down without a word.

and no matter how much he huffs and grumbles, no matter how much he acts like it’s nothing—

he never says no to your cooking.

one night, he comes home later than usual.

you’re already half-asleep on the couch, curled under a blanket, when you hear the door open.

heavy boots thud against the floor, the familiar sound of him kicking them off near the entrance. there’s a rustle of fabric as he shrugs off his hero jacket, the soft clink of his gear being set aside.

then—

a pause.

you blink groggily, rubbing your eyes as you push yourself upright. “katsuki?”

he doesn’t answer right away. just stands there, his gaze fixed on the covered dish waiting on the counter.

his shoulders loosen slightly, the exhaustion still clinging to him, but there’s something softer in the way he moves now, like the sight of the meal has pulled some of the weight off his shoulders.

“…you made somethin’?”

you yawn, stretching your arms above your head. “yeah. thought you might be hungry.”

he doesn’t say anything at first. just strides toward you, stopping in front of the couch, and before you can react—warm lips press against the top of your head.

it’s quick, fleeting, but it lingers in the way his breath ruffles your hair right after.

his voice is quieter this time. “thanks.”

your chest feels light, a soft warmth settling beneath your ribs, but before you can process it, he’s already moving again. he grabs the plate, lifts the lid, and takes in the meal.

then, he makes his way back to you, dropping onto the couch beside you.

his thigh presses against yours, his body radiating warmth, and then an arm drapes over your shoulders, pulling you in.

you blink, a little surprised, but you don’t resist, sinking into him as he picks up his spoon.

he eats in steady bites, quiet, comfortable. then, without a word, he scoops up another bite and holds the spoon out to you.

you hesitate for half a second. “you don’t have to—”

“just eat.”

you huff, but open your mouth anyway, letting him feed you.

the flavors settle on your tongue, familiar and warm, but you barely notice because katsuki’s watching you now, eyes flicking over your face like he’s waiting for your reaction.

you chew, swallow, then smile a little. “tastes good.”

his mouth twitches, and he clicks his tongue, looking away. “’course it does. you made it.”

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[redros3y]

— hp recs masterlist

main recs masterlist

Harry Potter | masterlist

⤷ #harry potter

Ron Weasley | masterlist

⤷ #ron weasley

Fred Weasley | masterlist

⤷ #fred weasley

George Weasley | masterlist

⤷ #george weasley

Draco Malfoy | masterlist

⤷ #draco malfoy

Blaise Zabini | masterlist

⤷ #blaise zabini

Mattheo Riddle | masterlist

⤷ #mattheo riddle

Theodore Nott | masterlist

⤷ #theodore nott

Lorenzo Berkshire | masterlist

⤷ #lorenzo berkshire

Cedric Diggory | masterlist

⤷ #cedric diggory

Viktor Krum | masterlist

⤷ #viktor krum

reblog your creators

[redros3y]

"You deserve all the niceness of the world, and he would make hot chocolate in the middle of every night if it meant you felt even a bit of it." i love that omgosh

hot chocolate

pairings: poly!marauders x reader (852 words)

warnings: should be none, just a little stress cry/ burnout

a/n: Do I like this? I have no idea. The boys help to comfort you on a late night that has you stressed.

Reaching out to his left, James expects to find your warmth. Instead all he feels are empty sheets. The fuzziness of sleep threatens to pull him back down, but your absence keeps him up. 

He pads through your small apartment doing his best not to wake your boyfriends still sleeping behind him. The small spike of panic he felt at not finding you eases as he finally does. 

You've got your back to him, typing away at your computer at the kitchen table. 

"And I'm the one not allowed to have coffee after six," he says softly once he's closer. You hardly glance at him, still typing. "Love," he says, a hand gently coming to cover yours. "Do you know how late it is?" 

Your heart melts as you finally look at him. He's rubbing sleep from his eyes, knocking his glasses off kilter. He looks warm and soft around the edges. It's enticing but your work's not going to do itself. "I'll come to bed in just a minute, Jamie. I should really finish this." 

He points at the time on your computer, 3:48 blares at you and you realize how much your eyes sting from staring at the screen. "Come on," he says, his grip now a soft tug at your wrist. 

"Just let me finish this paragraph." You're trying to bargain, having the feeling you'll probably lose. 

"It can wait, love." He's looking at you with soft eyes and you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. You hear shuffling behind you. Now you're really in for it.

Remus comes into view, his oversized shirt- probably one of James’- askew on his shoulders, followed by a scowling Sirius. “How dare you make us go on a man-hunt at three in the morning.” Sirius crosses his arms trying to look angry, but he still comes up to rest his chin on your shoulder. His nose tickles your cheek, “Let’s go to bed my love.”

Remus walks further into the kitchen of your tiny apartment. You remember the day you moved in, you ate ramen over a cardboard box as a kitchen table. Now as he stands across the table from you Remus reaches over to slowly close your laptop. 

You stop him halfway, and he gives you a knowing look. “I’m really not tired, honestly I won't be able to sleep until I finish this,” you say quickly returning to typing. 

Remus sighs, looking to James for help, but it’s Sirius who comes to his aid. “Well then I guess we’re all staying up,” Sirius says, his chin digging into your shoulder and sleep muddling his words, “but when I wake up with dark circles that’s on you.”

“No go to bed, I won’t be long.” You try to focus on your work, but Sirius worms his arms under yours, wrapping around you. “Siri, please.” Your head is starting to hurt from forcing your eyes to stay open, and the warmth coming off of him only makes the fight harder. 

“What are you doing, Remus?” you ask, hearing the kitchen cabinets open and close. 

“I’m making hot chocolate.” He grabs your favorite mug from the cabinet followed by three more. 

“You don’t have to do that Rem.” Your eyes are still stinging.

“I already opened the packet.” He says it with a finality that tells you, you’ve hardly any choice in the matter.

“I’ll get the marshmallows,” James adds, sounding far too excited for this time of night. 

Before you can stop it your eyes fill with tears, blurring your computer screen. You hide your face in your hands. “Are you okay, love?” Sirius asks, suddenly sounding much more awake. You can’t stop it as much as you want to, your tears flow leaving your boyfriends flustering to help you. 

“Dove.” Remus kneels beside you. “Let’s take a break, yeah? It can wait until tomorrow.” 

You hear the soft click of your computer shutting as you nod. James holds your hand across the table. “You’re all too nice to me,” you say, it comes out half laugh half sob. 

“All that work is scrambling your brain,” Sirius says, squeezing your shoulders.

You let Remus pull you to the couch where he brushes stray tears from your cheeks. You melt into his side. He plants soft kisses into your hair. 

James and Sirius come with cups of hot chocolate almost overflowing with marshmallows. The cups are soon abandoned as the rich chocolate threatens to drag you all to sleep right on the spot. 

When you eventually make it to bed through fits of yawns and tired shuffling, you realize you’re finally exactly where you want to be. Sirius falls asleep practically on top of James.

Remus pulls the blanket to your chin. “Too nice,” he laughs quietly to himself. You swat at his arm. As you fall asleep, he listens to the rise and fall of your breath. You deserve all the niceness of the world, and he would make hot chocolate in the middle of every night if it meant you felt even a bit of it.

[redros3y]

this is so cute. esp since ive been talked w this boy from a diff country, he doesnt speak good english, and im learning his for school.reminds me of him.

I personally believe Bakugo would get with a girl from a different country and not mind a slight language barrier.

Can you imagine how cute he’d sound trying to speak english?

He understands you, but for some reason actually speaking the language gets him tongue tied.

“Nice…to…meet…ju—-FUCK.”

“You. It’s okay.” You kiss his cheek as he begins to type away on his phone with google translate;

“How long are we going to be on this train. I’m fucking bored.”

You giggle at his words with his blank, furrowed expression and climb over to wrap your arms around his neck, “This is a 12 hour train ride and we just got on two hours ago, papa. Besides, we can practice your english for when you meet my mom.”

Your lips peck his pouted bottom lip, still happy and excited to finally be with your long distance boyfriend, and of course Bakugo was estatic himself. He has been practicing his english and so far he knows a few basic greetings and phrases and it’s the same with you learning Japanese.

The effort he’s been putting into this relationship really made your heart swoon for him more. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but that’s honestly what made you fall for him all those years ago.

“Again.” His raspy voice spits out in English, his ruby red eyes down on your glossed lips. He was still so demanding despite his cheeks being to red with you on his sturdy lap.

Cupping his chubby cheeks you tilt your head to do so more slowly and firm, he holds you by the ass to push you more against his chest, the sounds of nothing but the white noise of the train moving so fast and both of your moaning filled the train cabin.

“Kiss..again….please.” Bakugo spoke again, still needy, but trying to steady his breathing, which really made you smile so widely, he really was trying, even if he only spoke in broken English.

You kiss him once more, eventually feeling his tongue swipe your teeth for more access, he gets tongue tied when speaking another language, but not when he kisses you.

[redros3y]

this is so cute i love it

Bakugo, but he steals your romance books.

I still have no clue if it’s ACTUALLY canon he reads romance books/manga because the fandom loves to gaslight popular hc’s as canon (i.e. him wearing eyeliner/smelling like burn caramel), but let’s say he does and you’re the only one that’s knows about it.

…

You kind of found out on accident when he was in your dorm and he kept making comments about your manga shelf.

“How the hell did you get ALL books of Nana, they’re like sold out everywhere.”

“You’re missing book 4 of Erased.”

“When did you get Ao Haru Ride, the cover looks fucked up.”

“You need to organize your Paradise Kiss collection , dumbass they’re all in the wrong order.”

You never really pointed it out, it took you years to finally get him to be a bit more comfortable with you and now that it’s your final year in uni you want to keep it that way, you know from seeing others do it that if you make notice of the little things he does he’d either curse you out or never allow himself to open up to you again so you just nod and keep your responses short.

until you caught him in your room reading one of your books.

He tried to play it off like he didn’t know what exactly he was reading, you could even see his cheeks get warm, but upon walking into your dorm you just lock the door, shrug and head to the bathroom.

“Just put it back when you’re finished, please.”

It threw him off guard a little he was completely prepared to gaslight you and calling you a dumbass for thinking he’d ever read something involving LOVE.

EUGH.

But he does, and you don’t care.

Since then Bakugo started a daily routine of coming to your room to read, some days he’d bring over your favorite food as a way of thanks.

Especially since he typically takes a book when he goes back to his dorm.

You honestly didn’t mind the company, you had one of the cleanest and quietest rooms in the entire dorm, plus many people didn’t bother you to hang out, because you preferred being alone to relax most of the time, so he came to visit more.

You even ordered a big bean bag chair near your books for him to lay down and read instead of on your rug,

“If it’s too small i can order another one, i wasn’t sure if it was big enough.” You pointed at the seat as he walked in to grab another book while you walked to your desk to play a video game.

“Whatever….these books came too, huh.”

“Oh yeah. I’m still on the hunt for book 4 of Erased, but found more of A Sign of Affection to get.”

Bakugo probably wouldn’t admit it, but one of his favorite parts of the day after training and work studies is coming to your room not just to read, but your presence was a plus too. He hated that he began feeling himself drawn to you, he never does that, but you never seemed to get on his ass about it.

He liked it.

He liked it so much that one day after a long and stressful week of lectures and sparring you see a book wrapped with a note on top of it laid on your bed.

when you pick it up you immediately felt your lips curl into a shaky smile;

“Found book 4 for you, idiot.”

[redros3y]

love this

Behind the Screen

Pro Hero | Bakugou Katsuki x (fem) Blogger Reader | Aged Up

Part 2 -> Here

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

—

You post it as a joke. Kind of.

It’s late, and you’re curled up in bed with your fanfic draft open and half a Twix in your mouth. Your followers are going wild in the replies, and you’re riding the high of being the “unofficial Dynamight smut queen” of the timeline. You’ve been known for your over-the-top thirst tweets, but this one? This one’s feral.

—

@/blastyourbackout

“Dynamight wouldn’t even take the suit off. He’d fuck you with the gauntlets still on, breathing heavy through gritted teeth, all ‘Shut up and take it—this is what you wanted, right?’”

—

You toss your phone. That’s enough unhinged behavior for the night. Until the morning comes—and you wake up to hell.

Your tweet is trending. His name is trending. People are tagging him.

—

“this is NASTY and i love it.”

“@Dynamightofficial please read this and confirm or deny.”

“If Dynamight didn’t do this, I’d be shocked.”

“SOMEONE CHECK ON HIM”

“@Dynamightofficial thoughts??”

Then it happens.

—

@Dynamightofficial :

“Who tf is behind this account.”

“If you’re gonna talk like that, be brave enough to show your face.”

You nearly throw up. Your DMs? Melted. And sitting right at the top.

[Private Message – @Dynamightofficial]

“You write a lotta shit for someone who hides behind a screen.”

“You really think I’d leave the fuckin’ suit on?”

“Show me your face if you’re gonna say it like you know me.”

Your heart is pounding. And you shouldn’t. But you do. You send a selfie. Just a soft one. T-shirt, messy hair, bare face. You look like someone who absolutely shouldn’t be writing the filth he just read.

There’s a long pause.

He starts to finally type:

“…fuck.”

“You’re cute.”

“like super fuckin’ cute”

“You don’t look like someone who says I’d blow your back out against a fuckin’ window.”

You:

“I mean… would you?”

Him:

“You really wanna know?”

“You clearly think you know it all, writing the way you do.”

“So what—wanna let me show you what it’s really like?”

You pause. Breathless. Fingers trembling.

“Yes.”

⸻

A few days later, the meet-up actually happened.

You gave him your address—half-joking, half-panicking when he immediately replied with a thumbs up and a “Bet.”

You spent the next two days spiraling.

Cleaned every inch of your apartment. Shaved, exfoliated, moisturized places you didn’t even know needed it. Practiced how you’d open the door without looking like you were seconds from passing out. Told yourself it was just casual, just fun, just… whatever. you totally weren’t about to get fucked dumb by your fav pro that you write smut about.

Except it wasn’t. Because now. He’s at your door.

And he’s in the fucking suit.

Mask off. Jaw set. Gloves still on. That big, broad chest rising and falling.

Black and orange, thick with tension and sweat and that sharp smoky scent that clings to him after a patrol. His hair’s a mess. One gauntlet is attached, the other dangling from his hip. And he’s just standing there—broad, massive, silent—like he owns the whole building.

You freeze. Your heart slams.

“…Hi,” you manage to say.

His eyes drag over you—down your legs, over the shorts you probably could’ve made smaller and the tank top that wasn’t technically meant to be seductive, but absolutely became that under stress.

“Damn,” he mutters. “You look even better when you’re nervous.”

You try to laugh but it comes out breathless. “You really wore the suit?”

“uuuh yeah? did you think I was gonna show up here in a hoodie after all the shit you wrote about this thing?” He steps closer. “Thought I’d let you see it up close before I ruined your sheets.”

Your knees go weak.

You try to respond—something witty, something smug—but your words get caught somewhere between your throat and the fact that he’s already inside. Pushing the door shut behind him. Glancing around like he’s checking for cameras, or exits, or maybe just where he’s gonna lay you out first.

“You ready?” he asks, voice low. Rough. Already undoing the gauntlet from his wrist with one hand, tossing it aside.

You nod, dazed. “Yeah.”

He smirks—steps in closer until you’re backed up against the nearest wall, breath catching.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’ve been losing sleep over the way you said I’d fuck you in this suit.”

You stare up at him, completely wrecked just by his presence, and whisper, “Was I right about some of this stuff I wrote?”

He dips his head down, lips brushing yours—barely.

“I’m here to fact check it.” he growls.

You shudder.

He pulls back just enough to smirk, eyes dragging down your body like he’s mentally ripping off every layer.

He hasn’t even touched you properly yet—but your back’s against your door, your legs are trembling, and Bakugou’s towering over you like he’s already won.

“That tweet got me thinkin’ about you all fuckin’ day, baby. Let’s see if you write better when you’re sore.”

His hero suit creaks with every breath. Heavy-duty gauntlets still locked around his wrists. His undersuit clings to him, black and orange and unforgiving across his chest, his thighs—everything.

“You scared?” he asks, voice low. His hand comes up—gloved fingers trailing under your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Or just nervous I’m actually gonna live up to that filthy little imagination of yours?”

Your breath catches.

“…both.”

He smirks. Then his mouth is on yours.

It’s not sweet. It’s not careful. It’s everything you wrote about—demanding, rough, obsessed. He kisses like a man starved. Like he’s been reading your tweets on loop.

And god, when his hand slides down your waist—those big gloved fingers gripping your ass, hoisting you up—your back hits the wall and you let out a soft, stunned whimper.

“That the sound you make when you’re not behind a screen?” he growls, lips dragging along your neck. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re even better in person.”

You try to answer, but he’s already slipping one hand between your thighs, dragging his knuckles over your heat—still covered by your shorts.

“Wrote that I’d be mean with it,” he murmurs. “That I’d tease you. Make you beg.”

His gloved finger presses just right over the damp spot in your underwear.

“So beg.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders. You feel insane.

“P-Please.”

He groans. “That all I get after all those filthy paragraphs?”

“Dynamight—”

His eyes flash. “Katsuki.”

You pant, skin burning.

“Please, Katsuki.”

“Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He carries you to your room practically kicking the damn door down. Your back hits the mattress, but he doesn’t follow right away. He stands at the edge of the bed, breathing heavy, gaze dark and hungry.

His suit’s half-unzipped now—exposing his chest, glistening with sweat and tension—but everything else stays on. That thick black material clings to his arms and thighs like sin. The gauntlets drop to the floor with a heavy thud, but the gloves? Still on. And he flexes his fingers slow—just to watch you squirm.

“You’re fuckin’ dangerous,” he mutters, eyes dragging over your body like he’s trying to memorize it. “Sittin’ there on your little blog, makin’ people think you’ve got me figured out.”

Your thighs squeeze together. He notices. Smirks. “Lemme show you how right you were.”

He crawls over you like a storm. Muscles shifting under his suit, voice dipping low, filthy, as he shoves your shirt up, lips ghosting over your stomach.

You arch when his teeth graze your hip. “Katsuki—”

“That’s right, baby,” he mutters, pulling your shorts off slow. “Say my name when you write about this later too.”

He pushes your thighs open, and he goes down. Tongue eager. Desperate. He eats you out like he’s proving a point—like he’s got something to prove to every single tweet you’ve ever posted. Groaning into you, gripping your thighs tight like he wants to leave handprints. You’re moaning, shaking, gripping the sheets, and he’s just eating it up—literally.

He comes up with his mouth slick and eyes wild. “Not even close to done with you.” And he isn’t.

He flips you. Presses you into the mattress. One hand on your hip, the other grabbing your wrist and dragging it up the bed.

“Hold that headboard, princess.” You feel him line up—still in the damn suit—and your breath catches as he sinks in.

Slow. Deep. Bruising.

“Fuck,” he hisses, jaw clenched. “You feel like I imagined. So fuckin’ tight, so wet—shit.”

You cry out. He starts moving. Harder. Deeper.

Every stroke is a claim. His hand slides down your back, then back up to wrap around your throat—not choking, just holding. Just letting you feel it.

“Write about this next time” he growls into your ear. “Write about about me makin’ you cum multiple fuckin’ times.”

You whimper—high, breathy, wrecked.

“That’s right. Take it. You wanted this.”

“I did,” you gasp. “I wanted you—”

“You fuckin’ got me now.”

When you fall apart—completely, wildly, back-arching and moaning his name like a prayer—he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow.

Because he’s obsessed now. Addicted.

Your thighs are trembling. Your voice is hoarse. Your sheets are a mess—twisted, damp, clinging to your skin like the heat of him isn’t already enough.

He’s still going.

“One more,” he grits out, thrusts snapping into you slow and deep. “C’mon, baby—just one more for me.”

You’re barely hanging on—nails dragging helplessly down his back, vision blurry with overstimulation, body trembling under him as he rocks into you, all tight grunts and low, broken groans.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he pants, sweat dripping down his temples. “Takin’ me so good—fuck—you feel like you were made for me.”

You moan, shattered.

He growls, fucks you harder, chasing his release like a wildfire. And when he finally gets there—when you clench around him, gasping out his name in a breathless sob— He snaps.

“Knew it,” he groans, hips stuttering. “Knew I’d fill this pussy the second I saw you.” oh, and he does. Deep. Warm. Heavy. Flooding you.

He keeps moving—shallow, deep rolls—just to push it in. Just to feel it drip. Just to make it last. His head drops to your shoulder, lips brushing your skin.

You barely register him pulling out until you feel it—messy, hot, dripping down your thighs.

“fuuuck you’re beautiful” he murmurs smirking down at you. Wrecked, ruined, glowing. He lays down beside you, just looking at you like you were a fucking trophy.

He then reaches for his phone.

—

[New Tweet – @Dynamightofficial]

“Just fact-checked one of your little fantasy tweets. 11/10 accuracy. Would reread. Would re-enact.”

—

You see what’s he doing and it snaps you out your daze, your eyes go wide. “You didn’t—!”

“Too late,�� he shrugs. “Let ‘em guess which one it was.”

You grabbed your phone just as quick to quote it.

—

[New Tweet – @blastyourbackout]

“Just know the gloves stayed on.”

—

The internet breaks.

You can barely feel your legs.

And Katsuki Bakugou? THE pro hero Dynamight?

He’s already rolling over, tugging you to his chest, muttering in your ear, “Hope you’re not tired, princess. I’ve got a lot more tweets to prove right.”

[redros3y]

this is perfection i love it

The Boy Is Mine

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

Summary: you’re quiet by nature, content in the background—until someone pushes too far. When a girl flirts with Remus, something shifts. With one kiss and a quiet claim, you remind everyone exactly who he ( and Sirius) belong to.

Warnings: possessiveness, jealousy, strong language, suggestive content, heated kiss, and public displays of affection.

Word count: 3.4k

Authors note: i need both Remus and Sirius at the same damn time.

masterlist

You’ve never been the loudest in the room.

You don’t need to be. Not when Sirius is tossing his head back laughing beside you, all glittering chaos and charm, or when Remus leans in close, voice low and deliberate, like every word he says is meant only for you.

They fill the space so effortlessly—Sirius with his magnetic presence, Remus with his quiet gravity—and you find yourself fitting between them like a breath between heartbeats. Steady, constant and soft.

You like watching more than speaking. Not out of shyness exactly, but because you enjoy observing—feeling everything. It’s the way Remus’s thumb circles over your knee under the table without him even realizing. The way Sirius always saves you the last bite, even when he swears he won’t. You don’t need to be loud to be loved here.

They know you. They’ve always known you.

Sirius, who pulls you into the middle of the common room and spins you in dizzy circles until you’re breathless with laughter. Remus, who presses his nose into your hair when the world feels too sharp and mumbles poetry against your skin. 

Between the two of them, you’ve never had to shout to be heard. They listen in the silence. They love you in the quiet.

But sometimes, even the quiet hums with something fierce.

And today, it’s starting to burn.

The loud music thumps through the walls, pulsing in your veins, but all you can hear is Remus’s voice rising above the chatter of the party. He’s talking to a girl, one whose name doesn’t matter.

because you’re already irritated.

Sirius is speaking beside you—his voice low and animated, probably bantering with James about something as thrillingly idiotic as who cheated in the last round of Exploding Snap—but the words barely register. They fade into the background like the bass of the music humming through the party, the way laughter spills and drips from every corner of the Gryffindor common room like syrup.

You’re curled up beside him on the leather couch, soft and familiar, half draped across his lap like you belong there, because you do. His palm is warm against your skin, fingers lazy as they trace circles over your thigh, an unconscious kind of touch that says mine without needing the word.

But your attention isn’t on Sirius.

It’s fixed—razor sharp and unblinking—on the girl across the room.

She’s all lip gloss and bright laughter, the kind of girl who doesn’t walk into a room so much as glitter through it. Her blouse is buttoned just low enough to draw the eye, her skirt just short enough to be a statement. She leans in closer to Remus like she’s in a slow-motion daydream, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she giggles at something he said.

Except Remus isn’t laughing.

He’s smiling, but you know that smile. It’s the strained one. The tight-lipped, please-don’t-make-this-weird smile he gives when someone crosses the line and he’s too damn kind to push them away.

And she—well. She’s not backing off.

Your fingers tighten around the stem of your glass. Not enough to shatter it, but enough to feel it, to ground yourself before the rising tide inside you gets too high. The jealousy doesn’t burn. No, it doesn’t scream or sputter like some childish tantrum. It’s quiet. Sharp. Ice in your veins, snow behind your ribs. It’s precise.

You watch her touch his arm, watch her eyes flutter and her voice pitch just so. You watch Remus stand there with all that quiet discomfort in his shoulders and all that unnecessary politeness keeping him rooted in place.

And something inside you shifts.

You’re not the loud one at these parties. You’re not the girl who shouts or struts or demands. You’re the one who stays curled up in the lap of a boy with stardust in his smile, sipping your drink while the chaos unfurls around you. You’re the calm in their storm, the softness they return to.

But not tonight.

Because tonight, someone is trying to touch what’s yours.

And whether Remus knows it yet or not, whether that girl ever figures out just how royally she’s miscalculated, one thing is already certain.

You are about to stop being the quiet one.

“Moony’s got his fan club going tonight, huh?” Sirius says, his tone casual, his fingers playing with a loose thread on the hem of your sleeve. “I swear, every time he talks to a girl, she looks like she’s ready to devour him.”

You hum, an absent sound, not really acknowledging him. Your gaze stays fixed on Remus and that damn girl, the way she’s tossing her hair back and laughing too loudly.

“You okay, dove?” His voice drops a little, his fingers tracing the line of your spine with a slow, deliberate motion.

You want to lie. You want to say it’s fine, that you’re just tired or distracted, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you give a small shake of your head, the fluttering in your chest too strong to ignore.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, a little too quickly. “Just… thinking.”

Sirius’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t push. He knows you well enough to sense when you need space, but tonight, there’s something different. The energy in the room feels electric, like it’s just waiting for a spark.

Remus laughs again from across the room, and this time, the girl reaches up to touch his arm, her fingers trailing lightly along his sleeve. The sight, the sound, the way her body leans just a little too close to his, sends a pang of something sharp through you. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch her lean in, her lips too close to his ear as she whispers something.

Your fingers grip the edge of the couch, your nails digging into the fabric. You feel like you’re going to snap at any moment, and you’re so sick of it.

Sirius seems to notice the shift in the air. His hand halts on your back, and he turns his head toward Remus and the girl, then back to you. His expression softens, understanding settling in. He leans forward, his voice low as he speaks, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

“Love, I think we’ve reached a new level here,” he says, voice laced with something almost teasing. “You’ve been staring at him for ages now.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep the fluttering in your chest under control. “I’m not staring,” you say, but even you can hear the edge in your voice.

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? ‘Cause I think you’ve definitely been staring. You want me to go over there and break it up?”

“No,” you snap, a little too quickly, and then you freeze, realizing just how harsh you sound. You soften your tone, but the words still feel like they’re cutting you open. “I… I don’t know.”

Sirius doesn’t push you, but he watches you carefully, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile.

You shift uncomfortably, your gaze returning to Remus and the girl. It’s like a magnet pulling you in, the way she laughs again, her hand resting on his shoulder now, fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone.

The thought makes you want to scream.

You watch the girl lean in closer, her breath light against his ear as she says something you can’t hear, but you can see it in the way her lashes flutter and her lips curl. It’s an obvious flirtation, the kind of thing that would make anyone else swoon, but you just feel your stomach twist in knots. Remus gives a tight, polite smile, the one he always does when he’s too kind to be rude, but you know that smile too well. It’s a mask, a shield, and you can see right through it. He’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t stop her.

The touch lingers. And Remus—sweet, gentle, infuriating Remus—doesn’t stop her.

He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t step back. He doesn’t even glance in your direction.

And maybe that’s the worst part.

Maybe he’s just being polite. Maybe he’s too soft-spoken for his own good. Maybe he thinks you don’t mind, that you’re tucked up on the couch beside Sirius, warm and safe and unbothered. Maybe he’s forgotten that while you may be quiet, you’re not blind.

But oh, you care.

You care enough that your drink is forgotten in your hand, the condensation sliding over your fingers like cold sweat. You care enough that your jaw clenches tight, the muscle ticking with a quiet fury that pulses behind your ribs. There’s a pressure building in your chest, a weight that has nothing to do with insecurity and everything to do with possession.

You’ve always known what’s yours.

And Remus?

He is yours.

The room around you begins to blur, voices fading into background noise, like someone’s turned the volume down on the rest of the party. The flickering firelight, the chatter of students, the low buzz of magical music—all of it dulls. All you can see is the way she’s looking at him, lips parted in a practiced little smile, eyes batting as if she’s never had to work hard for attention in her life.

You hear her laugh—sharp and high and entirely insincere—and it cuts through you like a blade. Remus chuckles along with her, and it’s that sound, that soft little sound of his, that makes something in your spine snap straight. His eyes catch the light just right, that familiar glint of mischief and charm you’ve seen a thousand times when he’s teasing you softly beneath the covers, and it stings more than you’d like to admit.

And suddenly, you are no longer the quiet girl curled in the corner.

You are no longer the soft one who waits patiently for your boys to come home to you.

You are standing up, not with a shout or a dramatic flourish, but with a kind of cold certainty, like the sea deciding to rise. Sirius shifts beside you instinctively, his hand brushing your back as he senses the change in the air, his voice dipping with curiosity.

“Love?” he says quietly, brows raising. “Everything alright?”

You don’t answer. Not yet.

Because your eyes are still locked on the girl in the too-tight blouse and the too-pretty smile and the entirely wrong assumption that she has any right to touch your Remus like she belongs there.

She doesn’t.

And she’s about to learn exactly why.

It never felt like you needed to compete for Remus’s attention. He had always been yours in that quiet, unspoken way—his careful gestures, the soft smiles he gave you when no one was looking, the way he always made sure you were okay, even when you didn’t ask. You had a bond, something deeper than words. But now, watching him allow her to invade that space, something inside you snaps.

She’s leaning into him like he’s already hers, one manicured hand lingering on his forearm, like she doesn’t see the slight pullback in his posture. Like she doesn’t notice the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Sirius’s hand slips off your thigh, stunned. “Where’re you going?”

“To get what’s mine.” you say, and your voice is soft, sultry, but it slices through the noise like a blade.

James chokes on his drink. Lily turns, eyebrows lifting as she watches you stalk forward, hips swaying, jumper slouching off one bare shoulder. You hear someone mutter, “Bloody hell.” and you don’t even need to look to know Marlene is probably grinning like a wolf.

The girl is still touching Remus. Still laughing.

You don’t give her the chance to speak. You don’t give him a moment to explain, or to blink, or to pretend he doesn’t feel the air shift as you close the distance between you like a storm cloaked in silk.

Your fingers slip beneath the hem of his jumper, curl tightly into the soft wool, and tug. Hard. Hard enough that he stumbles forward, just one step, just enough to crash into your gravity.

His eyes find yours, startled and wide, and for a heartbeat he forgets where he is. The party, the music, the girl whose perfume is still clinging to the air around him—all of it vanishes the moment your lips catch his.

It is not a kiss built from politeness or affection. It is not the kind of thing meant for privacy or delicacy.

This kiss is war.

It’s bruising and slow and devastating, like a spell whispered in the middle of a battlefield. Your hand tangles in his curls and tugs, just enough to make him gasp into your mouth. Your other hand slides down to his belt, fingers brushing over the buckle, teasing with the lightest hint of promise. You tilt your head to deepen it, your lips parting just slightly, just enough to taste him.

He groans, low and helpless, the sound caught between your mouths, and you smile against him, smug and sinful.

When you finally pull away, his lips are pink and glistening and parted like he’s about to say something but hasn’t figured out what language he speaks anymore. His hands are still hovering at your hips, and his chest is rising with uneven breath, eyes clouded with something that’s definitely not confusion.

You turn to the girl, and she looks like she’s just witnessed something religious and blasphemous at the same time. Her mouth is hanging open. Her expression is frozen in that awkward no-man’s-land between horror and disbelief.

“Oh,” you say sweetly, voice thick with honey and venom, “were you still talking? Only he seems a bit busy now.”

She blinks. Opens her mouth. Closes it. You don’t give her time to think. You trail your fingers down the front of Remus’s chest, slowly, like you’re remembering the way his body feels under your hands and enjoying every second of it. You play with the collar of his shirt, letting your nails drag across the fabric, soft and sure.

Your eyes never leave hers.

“I mean,” you go on, voice quieter now, conversational in a way that is somehow even more intimidating, “I don’t blame you. Honestly. Look at him. He’s got that whole clever boy thing going on, right? The kind of boy who knows all the answers in class and still somehow makes you want to climb into his lap and ruin his concentration. And don’t even get me started on that body—tall and lean and unfair, and the scars…” you let your fingers trail over his chest again, nails teasing the fabric, “Body built like a sin under those clothes, too bad only me and Sirius get to see it though.” 

A grin spreads across your face, wide and wicked like a cheshire cat.

Remus lets out a sound that’s definitely not family friendly and buries his face in your neck for a second, either to breathe you in or to hide the fact that he might actually combust.

James lets out a strangled sound from across the room. “What the actual hell is going on?”

Lily is watching with wide, fascinated eyes, looking between you and the girl like she’s witnessing a lioness dismantle a bunny in slow motion. Marlene, from her spot near the fireplace, raises her drink in silent toast and mutters, “Finally.”

You lean in close to Remus, pressing your lips to the shell of his ear. “But here’s the thing,” you whisper, just loud enough for the girl to still hear. 

“He’s mine.”

Then you pull back and look her dead in the eye, your gaze soft but lethal.

“And I don’t share.”

The girl blinks once. Twice. Then turns with all the grace of someone trying not to run.

Remus just stares at you for a long moment, breathless, hands still planted on your waist like he’s afraid to let go in case the earth tilts and he floats away.

“What the hell just happened?” he asks, voice low, rough, and wrecked.

Sirius appears beside you like smoke, sliding his arm around your waist as he grins like you’ve hung the bloody stars for him.

The girl’s mouth parts, clearly searching for a clever retort, something sharp or self-righteous or maybe even pathetic to claw her dignity back from the floor where you left it. But the words never come. Her lips tremble like she’s buffering. You don’t give her the chance to reboot.

Instead, with calm that borders on cruelty, you turn back to Remus and brush your lips against the corner of his mouth. Not a full kiss this time, but something quieter, more dangerous. A period at the end of a sentence she was never invited to read. 

You feel the way he freezes for just a moment, breath hitching as your fingers slide up to rest at the base of his throat, just enough pressure to remind him—and everyone watching—exactly who he belongs to.

The common room is stunned into silence. Even the portrait hole seems to creak softer, like the whole castle is holding its breath.

And then James, bless his nosy little soul, practically falls off the arm of the couch. He stares at you with something like religious awe, eyes as wide as Galleons, hand clutching his drink like a lifeline.

“That,” he says reverently, voice cracking with disbelief, “was the hottest thing I have ever witnessed. And I saw Sirius in a crop top once.”

Sirius doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s unaffected. He slumps back against the couch, one hand dragging through his hair like he’s trying to keep his brain from melting. His grin is crooked and wild, like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

“Merlin’s tits,” he says, almost reverent. “I think I’m in love. Again.”

Lily, sitting upright with her legs crossed like she’s hosting a panel discussion, blinks slowly. Her jaw is slightly ajar, her drink forgotten on the floor.

“Did she just… flirt and threaten simultaneously?” she asks, clearly reevaluating everything she thought she knew about you.

Marlene doesn’t even bother to hide her grin. She claps once, loud and delighted, and leans forward with sparkling eyes.

“Oh, I love her,” she announces with glee. “Someone give that girl a crown and a throne and maybe a leather corset. She just out-Slytherined the entire House.”

You don’t look away from Remus. He’s still breathless, a little dazed, his lips parted like he’s forgotten how to speak. His hands are at your waist now, gripping softly like he needs to touch you just to make sure you’re real.

You lean in, voice velvet-sweet, and say, “Now Remmy, were you going to let her keep touching you or should I start hexing?”

Sirius, meanwhile, is leaning back like a man thoroughly entertained, one arm draped across Remus’ shoulder with a love-sick gaze in his eyes.

Remus just blinks for a moment, his mouth parted, completely undone. Then a sound escapes him, surprised and delighted, something between a laugh and a groan, like you’ve just knocked the wind out of him in the best way.

“I think I’m in love with you all over again,” he says, a little dazed.

And then Sirius leans over, as if conjured by the heat of the moment, slipping in behind you like gravity itself gave him no choice. His hands slide over your hips, warm and certain, like they’ve always belonged there. He leans in until his mouth brushes your neck, breath hot and voice lower than sin.

“That,” he murmurs, lips grazing your skin, “was art. You’ve officially ruined me. I’ll never recover.”

You shrug, casual as anything, but your pulse is thundering and your eyes are glowing and the adrenaline is still singing in your bones like an aria. “Good,” you say simply, and it lands like a spell.

The common room hasn’t even recovered. Conversations haven’t resumed. Heads are still tilted in your direction like they’re not quite sure what just happened, if they witnessed a declaration or a detonation. And maybe it was both. You were the quiet girl. The sweet one. The one with gentle touches and soft smiles who moved like a secret in a room full of noise.

But tonight? Tonight, they watched you stand like you were carved from something divine, watched you kiss Remus like he was yours and always had been, watched you claim your place not as an afterthought, but as a force of nature wrapped in wool and confidence.

And Remus? He’s still holding your waist like he might never let go. Sirius looks like he’d fight anyone who even breathes in your direction the wrong way.

Together, they look ready to tear the world apart if it means keeping you. And somehow, the quiet girl has become the storm they’d die for