#「 answers 」 — ❛ feeling fine٬ just a little tongue tied. ❜

[angerworn]

"§" 👉🏽👈🏽

------morgan's girlfriend, you mean? nah, not interested.

...... just kidding. we both know i always love gloria and i love her and morgan and 100% require the angst that follows from both of her main verses. so pls. give me my wife.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Foxglove and Oleander.

Pairing: Yandere!Sukuna x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 6.0k

Commissioned by the very lovely @letstalktea.

TW: Heian Era AU, Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Blood + Violence, Deliberate Manipulation, Obsessive Behavior, and Implied Cannibalism.

Sukuna first arrived the night your chrysanthemums bloomed.

That was the only reason you weren’t in the temple when the fire reached it. Against your better judgement and the wishes of your superiors, you’d committed yourself to spending the night in the courtyard, carefully monitoring each delicate bud as they slowly unfurled and stained your garden with scattered blotches of bright, bleeding scarlet. In the morning, it would be your responsibility to gather each flower, dry their petals, and deliver them to the temple’s healers to use as medicinal herbs before you were allowed to get to your less seasonal chores, but tonight, the chrysanthemum belonged to you.

From your little corner of the courtyard, you watched as flames climbed the side of the side of the mountain, consuming the forest that surrounded your home before latching onto the servants’ barracks, then the outer sanctuaries, before finally reaching the main body of the temple. There were a few screams to accompany the fire’s first arrival, but they were quickly drowned out by the fire’s deafening roar, by the sound of buildings already mostly burnt away collapsing into themselves and putting their unfortunate occupants out of their misery. You could feel the heat, hear the others begin to flee, but it was only as the fire reached the peak of its gluttony that he emerged, entirely unscathed and painted with the blood of those you supposed you may have cared about, if you’d had more time. Sukuna, although you wouldn’t know to call him by that name, just yet.

It went without saying that he was hideous. Too many limbs, too many eyes, too many mouths – every part of him distorted with bulk and muscle and ink. His teeth struck you first, bared and glinting in the blinding firelight, then his clothing, the tattered and charred remains of what appeared to be a once fine kimono tied around his waist. He was carrying a spear, but he drove it into the ground as he stepped out of the inferno. There was something slung over his shoulder, too – a corpse, male and burnt beyond the point of recognizability – but that was abandoned just as thoughtlessly, left to rot on the outskirts of your garden. You were glad. Your chrysanthemums wouldn’t survive being crushed by such dead weight.

He didn’t notice you immediately. You stayed where you were, kneeling in the dirt, as he turned in either direction, taking in the devastation with a full-chested laugh. The noise was, in kinship with his appearance, unspeakably gruesome.  

Finally, he turned to face you, his eyes lighting up in spite of the stark shadows cast over his face. His spear was still within arm’s reach, but he made no attempt to retrieve it – holding out an open hand to you, instead. “Are you a monk or a maiden?” he asked, his voice more of a growl than anything proper, anything human. “I’ve already had my fill of the former, tonight.”

“A servant,” you answered, bowing your head by way of greeting. “I tend the gardens, among other things. Are you the one killing all the acolytes?”

“Among other things.” His tone had a mocking lilt, although he seemed far from vicious. You’d been warned about that, once, by someone very dear to you. You couldn’t remember the specifics, but the sentiment was still clear enough. ‘Do not fear the animal that bares its teeth, but the creature who lures you closer before it lunges’, or something like that. “I’m afraid I only have a taste for holy meat, tonight. Although, if you run, I’ll certainly take more enjoyment in striking you down.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but—”

“Lord,” he corrected. “Make that mistake again and it’ll be the last time I allow you the privilege of using your tongue.”

“My apologies, my lord.” Again, you bowed your head. “The high priest can be harsh with his discipline. My ankle is still healing, and I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to move quickly enough for either of us to get very much out of it.”

He grinned, and the fire raged on behind him. “Grovel, then. Perhaps, if you manage to please me, I’ll be merciful and kill you quickly.”

He was clearly a man (man? monster? beast?) of great ego. You pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying to block out the taste of something harsh and acidic rising up from the back of your throat. “If it’s all the same to you,” you managed, eventually, sparing one last glance towards your chrysanthemums. They really were beautiful. You could only regret that you’d never get to see them in the light of day. “I’d really rather not. It seems like it be easier, to just… uh, let you get the job done, as it were.”

In his defense, his pride overshadowed his shock. That, or you simply weren’t the first person he’d met to pay your own life such little regard. “I’ve cut down braver men for bolder suggestions.”

“But you cut them down all the same.” You swallowed, dryly. It’d been a while since you’d last had anything to eat or drink – the better part of a day, at least – but you supposed you wouldn’t have to worry about that for much longer. “I’m sorry, my lord. I would try to run, but my ankle really does make things difficult.”

He regarded you for a moment, as yet another wing of the temple buckled under its own weight. You decided, as you stared back at him, that his eyes weren’t so terrible – the pair he was supposed to have, at least. Although currently narrowed and creased around the edges, they had a pleasant color, a unique shade of red that seemed to glow when it caught the firelight. At least one part of him was bearable to look at.

Finally, he broke the silence, his resonant voice taking on a more authoritative cadence. “Come.”

He didn’t extend a hand, or gesture for you to follow, only trekking onward – towards the temple’s gates, left open in the panic of the exodus.  Gingerly, weary of your injured ankle, you pushed yourself to your feet and hastened to his side. Sukuna only paid you glance by way of acknowledgement, but you didn’t mind. “Are you going to kill me in the woods, instead?”

“Uraume’s been asking for another set of hands.” You weren’t sure what he was talking about, but you nodded as if you understood entirely. He spared you a small, thoughtless smile, and you decided that he was also the type of man who often enjoyed the luxury of never being questioned. “If they don’t care for you, I’ll kill you wherever I wish.”

“Ah.” You passed under the temple gates by his side. Not long after that, you heard the great crash of stone into earth, and knew that those, too, had collapsed. “I hope it’s somewhere with lots of flowers. I’ve always wanted to die somewhere beautiful.”

His only answer was another, more lingering glance in your direction, a low bark of a laugh. Satisfied, you let the conversation lapse into silence and walked into the night by the side of a monster.

~

“How do you choose where to go?”

He didn’t respond, not immediately. Instead, one of his spare hands brought yet another grape to your lips, and with a pleased hum, you accepted it, savoring the sour tinge that accompanied the sweetness. From what you gathered, he preferred savory to sweetness, sweetness to bitterness, and bitterness to all other flavors that followed. He rarely ate anything that wasn’t the strange, ambiguous meat prepared by Uraume, his ever-smiling mastress of rituals, but the last village you’d passed through had a surplus of fruit. It’d seemed like a waste to let all of it rot, now that there was no one left to enjoy it.

It was strange – traveling with Sukuna and Uraume. They seemed to be on a pilgrimage of sorts, the destination unknown and the purpose one of endless carnage. Not that either of them expected you to participate in the devastation. No, as far as you could tell, you were regarded more as a servant, meant to be of aid to Sukuna when Uraume was otherwise occupied. Except, Uraume never seemed to be very occupied at all, and Sukuna very rarely needed aid, and you were often left in a position more akin to that of a pet than anything else – kept around predominantly because Sukuna found it entertaining to do so. Not that you minded. Pets were cherished and coddled. Pets never went hungry. Pets weren’t expected to be anything other than endearing and obedient, which wasn’t totally dissimilar to the things you were always expected to be, regardless of what you were supposed to call yourself.

Currently, you were taking shelter in an abandoned shrine not quite dilapidated enough to be considered unlivable, Uraume tending the hearth while Sukuna stared absent-mindedly at a map pilfered from the shine’s stockroom, the colored ink nearly too faded to read. You paid little mind to either of them – content enough to remain sprawled across Sukuna’s lap, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. This was the first time you’d spoken in minutes, reluctant to break the comfortable silence. Sukuna didn’t seem to mind the sound of your voice, and you didn’t want that to change. “I don’t,” he admitted, eventually. He only spoke for himself, but it was given that you and Uraume would follow. “I go where I please. I only like to know that, when I arrive, there’ll be something worth my time waiting to receive me.”

“So particular, my lord.” You felt something tap against your bottom lip, and opened your mouth to accept a perfectly sweet, perfectly ripe strawberry. “Tell me, then – what would please you?”

He seemed to think for a long moment. Finally, he asked, “What village were you born to?”

His intention went unspoken, but the implication was clear. Sukuna’s sole pastime was destruction, with the target of his ire being any person, town, or creature unfortunate enough to cross his path. Although you’d never seen him go out of his way to find prey before, you were sure willingly pointing him in the direction of vulnerable quarry would result in a predictable outcome.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know. Things like that can be so hard to remember,” you said, which wasn’t untrue. Your memory was a fickle thing – uncooperative on your best days and deliberately misleading on your worst. “You know, being a baby at the time and all.”

His fingers drummed thoughtfully against your side. “You must have family somewhere, servant.”

“Not necessarily.” You shut your eyes to stop yourself from squirming, sighing as you rested your head against his shoulder. “My parents abandoned me before I was old enough to learn their names. A scrap collector took me in some time after that, but he traveled quite often, and I lost track of him years ago.” You paused, shook your head. “Like I said, things like this can be difficult to remember. I’m sorry, my lord.”

There was a slight hum, a momentary lapse. Abruptly, you felt his hands shift to your waist, Sukuna repositioning your smaller form with all of the strength and all of the thought it might’ve taken an ordinary person to right a toppled-over doll. Your back came to rest against his chest as one of his spare hands cupped your chin, directing your attention towards the yellowed map. “Pick somewhere,” he muttered, his voice low and his lips close enough to ghost over the shell of your ear. “Anywhere. Before I pull your unhelpful little tongue out of your throat.”

“Of course, my lord.” Acquiesce came first, a real answer second. Your gaze fell to the map in front of you. It took a second, but you found what you were looking for quickly enough. “Here,” you said, pointing to an area north of your current location. “There’s a village in the eastern corner of this valley with a small population of young farmers and very little in the way of redeeming qualities. But, in the town square, there grows a cherry blossom tree tall enough to scrap against the belly of the sky with branches that stretch as far as the eye can seem. When it blooms, its petals are great enough in volume to carpet the surrounding acre in pink.” You straightened your back, decisively avoiding sinking back into his chest. “I… I wouldn’t mind visiting it again, if it would please my lord.”

It was a dangerous thing to do – showing your hand so plainly. You’d grown so used to keeping your cards tucked snuggly against your chest, even talking this openly felt as if you’d been stripped bare and put on exhibition in front of him.

But, if Sukuna realized that he was the audience to your performer, he neglected to acknowledge it. He only looked toward Uraume, who perked to attention immediately. They were good at that – pretending not to listen. Not as talented as you, of course, but good nonetheless. “We start traveling east tomorrow,” he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m adding another leg to our journey.”

His primary attention remained on them, but a few of his unblinking secondary eyes – repulsive in their lack of necessity – darted to you, watching for any signs of satisfaction, of pleasure. You only schooled your expression, retreating into your own mind to count the days until the cherry blossoms bloomed.

~

It took a surprising amount of time for you to catch Uraume in the act. Not overly long, but more time than you would’ve expected with them making no particular effort to hide the evidence of their ‘ritual preparation’ and you making no exceptional attempt to avoid finding out why their snow-white sleeves were so often stained red. If allowed to, you might’ve gone on living in the bliss of plausible deniability until your time with Sukuna and his chosen companionship came to an end, but he was not so kind, and there was little entertainment to be had in such a passive participant.

Still, you would’ve liked another week, another month, another season. You’d never cared for kitchens, but you cared for them least when they reeked of rotting meat.

The stench was almost worse than the sight – almost, but not quite. Then again, you were struggling to think of something worse than Uraume, all practiced tranquility and iced-over smiles, elbow-deep in the cavity a long dead middle-aged man, his body bare and spread over the stone countertop. You recognized him not by his face, but by his features – his wealth-fattened face, his uncalloused hands, the lack of definition to his legs that those who toiled could rarely afford to go without. He must’ve been the lord who owned the palace you currently found yourself residing in – a sprawling, decadent structure that it’d taken hours to clean after the massacre. Sukuna would survive wherever his whims lead, but he preferred to be comfortable. You didn’t mind. You preferred it when Sukuna was comfortable, too.

 It was clear they hadn’t been expecting you, either. Their dark eyes bored into you where you lingered in the doorway, a wicker basket on your hip and your robes still dusted with soil. Most of your day had been spent in the palace gardens. Its former caretaker had planted their shiso along the garden wall, where it would only receive partial sun in the best season – a common enough mistake, for how easy it was to mistake for basil, and a tricky one to correct. An experienced caretaker should’ve known better, but as the herbs were still alive while their keeper was very much not, you could consider their negligence repaid.

You made the first move –bowing at the waist by way of greeting. “Lord Sukuna asked me to fetch his tea,” you explained, as you straightened your back. You didn’t feel the need to mention that’d he’d sought you out in your gardens to do so. “I thought I’d bring you a few herbs in the same trip. My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to disturb you.”

The corner of their lips quirked downward. It wasn’t quite a frown, but it was the closest thing to one that you’d ever earned from them. You weren’t upset. Even glowering, they would’ve been breath-taking. “He wanted you to see my—” They paid a glance toward the dismembered lord, their arm still buried in his chest. “My preparations.”

“It would seem so.”

“And he wanted to know how you’d react. There’s a good chance he’ll ask me about this, later on.”

“I’d say it’s more of a certainty.”

“I’d understand it, if you wanted to leave. I know there are few ordinary humans who can stomach tasks so—” Another pause, this one longer than the first. Clearly, they were making an attempt to watch their tongue. “—needlessly visceral.”

“If I did try, how long would you give me before telling Sukuna?” This time, they choose to hold their tongue entirely, their slight frown deepening into a full-blown scowl. It took everything you had not to let your own satisfaction shine through.

Rather, you paid them another shallow bow before the threshold and setting down your basket on the nearest length of empty counter. “It’s mostly shiso, but I found some usable ginger and garlic, too, and a few stalks of parsley. Is there anything I can do to help?”

After a moment of consideration, Uraume shook their head. It only took a few minutes to make the tea you’d been sent to fetch, but they were minutes passed in silence, undisturbed save for the quiet chime of ceramic against ceramic. They didn’t start their own work again until you’d left the kitchen entirely, which you were thankful for. They’d been right. There were few humans with stomachs so strong as to withstand such grisly tasks, and you’d never counted yourself among them.

Sukuna had claimed the master’s chambers for himself, of course. You let yourself in without knocking, immediately finding Sukuna sprawled across the wonderfully ornate futon that dominated most of the floorspace. He smiled when he saw you, but his expression fell as soon as you returned the gesture.

He didn’t mention Uraume, or the kitchens, or the thick stench of iron-tinged blood that now seemed to fill every corner of the vast estate. You hummed as you poured his tea, and remained at his bedside as he took a long drink, followed shortly by an approving nod. You tried to make your escape quickly, already fantasizing about retreating back to your secluded garden, but Sukuna caught you before you could so much as turn towards the door. “Attend to what you must,” he started, his tone simultaneously dismissive and attention-seeking. “But return here, when you’re done. Bring your belongings, too – you won’t be going back to your bedroom again.”

You didn’t falter, but not for lack of reason to. You’d chosen your bedroom carefully, surveyed the better half of the residential wing before finding quarters that suited you. It was sparse by way of comforts and furniture, but the sole window looked over the mountainside, the landscape stretching on for miles upon miles without interruption. You would’ve been pressed to think of a finer view.

“As you wish.” And then, with a chirp of a laugh, “You know, we spend so much time with one another while traveling. I thought you would’ve taken our stationary periods as an excuse to get away from Uraume and I.”

“If I had a weaker will, maybe.” He reclined, let his head lull to the side, as if inviting you to counter, to protest – or worse, to step closer. “Why? Do you have something to say, servant?”

“Only how pleased I am to be of service to my lord.” You could’ve bowed, but decided against it. This time, when you took your leave, Sukuna was kind enough not to get in your way. Then again, he didn’t have a reason to.

He must’ve known that you were always going to come back.

~

“Who gave you permission to leave, servant?”

No one, but you’d hoped he wouldn’t notice until you were already gone. Stifling the urge to cringe, you turned on your heel and retreated back to the riverbank, not far from where Sukuna had left his robes, deliberately keeping your eyes on the ground. He rarely let you leave his side, but having you remain within eyeshot while he bathed was a newer development – and a tricker one to justify to yourself, at that. You were still allowed to remain more of a voyeur than a participant, but you weren’t naive enough to believe that he’d allow there to be such a great distance between you for much longer.

“I’m sorry, my lord.” Your eyes may have been downcast, but your voice was a light and as upbeat as ever. “I only hoped to catch Uraume before they finished. Servants have to bathe too, you know, and those of us with no limbs to spare can be rather hesitant to do so alone so deep into the forest.”

“Join me, then.”

Ah.

You should’ve been expecting that, honestly. You had no one but yourself to blame.

“My lord,” you managed with an airy laugh, feigning disbelief. “I’m just not sure if someone of my position should—”

Considering Sukuna’s size, he could move impressively fast. You’d only managed to take half a step back before you felt a hand curling around your wrist, pulling you off of the bank and into the river. You managed to take all of two stumbling steps forward before your foot caught on a slick river stone and you fell to your knees, ice-cold water immediately soaking through your thin robes. Sukuna made no effort to catch you, laughing as you tripped over yourself. He’d always seemed terrible to you, but you couldn’t remember the sound of his voice ever being so vile.

Biting back a sigh or some other, more telling show of displeasure, you started to push yourself to your feet, but stopped as soon as you felt Sukuna’s fist curl around your collar, another finding the back of your head. In a brief moment of blissful obliviousness, you thought he meant to help you – or, to restrain you and savor your humiliation for a few seconds longer, at the very worst. You almost thanked him, as little as your gratitude meant to Sukuna.

Then, your head was forced below the water, and you thought better of it.

It happened too suddenly to brace yourself. Your first reaction, operating purely out of instinct, was to open your mouth and try to breathe in – an idea as primal as it was unhelpful. Frigid water flooded into your mouth, your throat, liberating you from any amount of air you might’ve been able to hold onto and filling the now-vacant space with a chill that seemed to bite into your throat and leave everything it touched throbbing, numb. Your second was to thrash against Sukuna’s hold – which was, predictably, equally as useless. He was stronger than you could ever hope to be, than any real human being ever should be. Thick fingers threaded themselves into your hair, the hand holding the collar of your robes falling away only to find the nape of your neck, cementing your place at his mercy.

You tried to be rational, to exhale, to not panic, but something thick and solid seemed to be lodged at the base of your throat, and you couldn’t think about breathing without choking, and it was hard not to panic when you were hyper-aware that you were going to be drowned in some godforsaken river in some heartless forest at the hands of an unlovable monster. You were running out of air too quickly – you were supposed to have more time. He couldn’t have dragged you down any longer than a minute ago, but you could already feel an acute throbbing in your temples, make out dark spots dancing in the corners of your vision. Your body thrashed and stiffened in turns, but it was only when your form went limp in his hold that Sukuna jerked you back to the surface – hauling you back to the shore and letting you collapse onto the welcoming sand. He stood by, his grin the embodiment of mirth, as you hacked up acid-tinged water and blinked back tears, sucking in shallow breaths between coughing fits. Every inhale left your chest tense and aching, though, and every exhale felt like you were giving up something precious, something irreplaceable. You did your best to ignore the strain, to put it out of your mind. You had a feeling it would be some time before you could breathe painlessly again.

It took long, agonizing minutes for you to so much as begin to recover, but Sukuna remained by your side, waiting patiently. At some point, he lowered himself to your height – falling into a crouch and bringing a hand up to your back, rubbing circles into the apex of your spine as you coughed and clawed at the shore. He didn’t hum, or speak, or apologize, but you hadn’t expected him to. To initiate would be to taint what he sought so violently: your reaction. He wouldn’t do anything to spoil his prize, not so close to victory.

No, he wouldn’t dare.

The responsibility of denying him fell solely to you.

“My—”You tried to raise your head, to look at him, only to cut yourself off – another lungful of brackish water forcing its way past your lips before you could find your voice again. “My lord,” you managed, eventually. “If you’d like to bathe together, please give me a moment to undress, first. You know how long it can take cotton to dry.”

To his credit, his composure held. There was another throaty laugh, a sudden edge to his smile. “You should be more careful, songbird. One day, I’m going to eat you alive, and your last words to me are going to how glad you are to serve your master one last meal.”

“There would be no greater honor.” You managed an unsteady smile before dropping your head low, curling into yourself, and coughing up until your throat burnt and your rib cage seemed ready to burst. Sukuna only shook his head, taking you by the shoulders and leaning you against his chest, ensuring your stability before his attention shifted to your robes. With a surprising delicacy, he undid the sash bound around your waist, shrugging off your ruined yukata and carrying you back into the water. Your nails bit into his chest, but if he felt your involuntary resistance, it wasn’t enough to deter him.

Your body was lowered gingerly into one of the river’s shallower portions, and Sukuna kneeled behind you, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek. You shut your eyes, but you could still feel his thumb tracing idly over your cheek, his chest reverberating against your back as he all but purred in delight. “I could hear your heart racing as I pushed you under.” And then, with a feather-light kiss to the top of your head, “It’s a relief to know there’s at least one part of you I can trust to be honest with me.”

You didn’t answer – only smiling as you melted into his palm.

~

The cherry blossom tree was larger than you’d remembered.

The village that surrounded it had grown, too. That made sense – it’d been years since you last passed through this area, and such a lovely corner of the world was bound to attract merchants and traveling warriors and those who, like yourself, simply found themselves drawn to beautiful things. You’d been able to see its wonderous branches rising above the horizon days before you were supposed to reach the village, started catching sakura petals on the breeze while you were still hours away from the nearest scrap of civilization, and a small part of you died upon being told that you would have to wait until after sunrise for your reunion, until Sukuna had finished glutting himself on blood and death and misery. Not that you listened. Uraume was tasked with looking after you, but they weren’t difficult to slip away from. They seemed to be fond of you – or, at least, surprisingly sympathetic to their master’s newest pet. Either way, they let you go without much of a struggle.

An hour or so after midnight, you made your way through fleeing crowds, maneuvering around mounds of disembodied extremities and between flame-eaten farmhouses, still in the early stages of burning down. Wherever Sukuna went, the fire seemed to follow, so you tried to stay where the light seemed the dimmest, where the smoke seemed the thinnest, focused solely on finding your way to the center of town – to the cherry blossom. You couldn’t make out its silhouette against the pitch-black landscape, but you didn’t need to. You would’ve been able to find your way to it on instinct alone.

That being said, now that you stood before it, you found it hard to believe that you’d come to the right village, let alone the right tree.

You didn’t remember your cherry blossom looking quite so… absent.

It was as if some great and wrathful deity had broken your sakura off at the base and spirited its body away, leaving only a charred stump behind. There was evidence that there had been more, at some point – pale pink petals littering the ground, a rope fence that had to have once guarded more than desecrated remains – but the cherry blossom was gone, as the village built around it would be by sunrise. It was cruel, really, when you could put your own despair aside long enough to use such tame vernacular. It was monstrous.

Speaking of monsters – yours was quick to rear his ugly head.

He’d never looked more terrible. Ash tainted the pale color of his hair, blood and gore staining his chest, his face, his hands. As always, he carried no weapon, and as always, he was entirely uninjured, untouched save for the byproduct of the devastation he’d wrought. You watched him approach in your peripheral, bracing yourself a moment before four arms wrapped around your smaller body and pulled you into a stone-hard chest. You knew better than to attempt to resist Sukuna, but this might have been the first time you were tempted to try.

“Songbird,” he muttered, the petname salt to a fresh wound. If he was surprised, let alone angry that you’d snuck away from Uraume, your disobedience caused him no strife. “I come bearing gifts.”

The upper of his two left hands uncurled, revealing a long, stick-like object. A hairpin, you realized, after a moment, the prong of a fine dark mahogany. It boasted only a single ornament: a small, expertly made glass flower. A cherry blossom, to be more specific.

You’d never been quick to anger. For as long as you could remember, in fact, you’d never found yourself angered by much of anything before.

You tasted blood before you realized you were biting your tongue; swallowing back a scream, or howl, or some other unsightly noise. It took you longer than you would’ve liked to regain your composure, but Sukuna was preoccupied, his attention dedicated solely to burying his face in the crook of your neck, to clutching onto you so tightly, you had to wonder how he’d ever managed to let go. It’d been inane to ever compare yourself to a pet, to something so cherished. It’d been inane to ever believe you were anything more than the favored plaything of a drooling, overgrown mutt.

With trembling hands, you plucked the hairpin out of his palm and held it up appraisingly. When Sukuna raised his head, his pointed teeth still lingering against your throat, you did the only thing you could think to – smiling as you leaned into him. “It’s beautiful.” And then, with a sigh, “It’s only a shame to have missed the real thing.”

“You don’t have to worry.” A hand found your jaw, holding you in place as he pressed a kiss into your temple. “I had more than my fill before you arrived.”

Ah.

For all of Sukuna’s faults, you could only be thankful that pride was among them.

As you watched the village burn in his arms, you thought only of the color of chrysanthemums and the taste of iron, heavy on your tongue.

~

Someone had told you, once, that all the loveliest flowers bloomed under moonlight.

You watched the sky as you waited – your eyes never leaving the sliver of it you could see through small, barred window built into the opposing wall. He’d taken you to another vacant temple, tonight, claimed the head priest’s chambers as his den, and you’d followed lovingly, never uttering so much as a word of complaint. You’d let him rest his head in your lap, raked your fingers through his hair, and brought a cask of sweet wine laced with bitter herbs to his lips whenever he threatened to stir. Eventually, his eyes eased shut, his pulse slowing and his expression dulling into something calm, something docile. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve started to doubt that he was a monster at all.

You didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t make a run for the door. You only reached into your sleeve, fetching the cherry blossom hairpin he’d gifted you weeks ago, now, the hairpin you carried dutifully ever since. You waited for him to turn onto his side, revealing the unarmored half of his face, before aligning the pointed tip with his ear, raising it above your head, and plunging it—

You felt his fingers dig into your thigh, another hand latching onto your hip. Your back slammed into the stiff futon with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs – leaving you breathless and paralyzed in an instant. When you recovered enough to think, you found Sukuna above you, straddling your waist, a hand planted on either side of your head. He was breathing heavily, as if excited. You knew it was impossible, but you found yourself wishing that he’d find a way to regurgitate his own lungs and choke on them.

“My lord,” you started, each word measured. You were careful to keep your voice low, your smile perfectly saccharine. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

 His response was a manic smile, a bark of a laugh. “It’s too late to play innocent.” He lowered himself that much closer to you, his chest a hair’s width from making contact with yours. “How many times have you poisoned my wine, songbird?”

“Poisoned? Never.” You’d let go of your hairpin in the collision. Currently, it was lying against the wall to your right – just an inch or so out of your reach. There were other, more accessible weapons closer to you, but if you were going to kill Sukuna, you wanted it to be with that abomination. “If my lord is asking how many times I’ve treated his wine with herbs and spices, then twice. Once to see how he handled his drink, and tonight.”

You’d done him a disservice – writing him off as simply monstrous. He was more beast-like than anything, with his back arched and his talons dug into the bedding, with eyes so wide and so vibrant you believed, if only for a second, that he would manage to burn holes through your skull. “A day will come,” His anticipation was palpable. It was a wonder how such a glutton could ever sound so starved. “Where nothing will fall from you sweet lips but my praises, and I will know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you mean every last word.”

For once, you could only say what you meant. “I’d rather fucking die.”

There was a change to his animal posture, a glint of white teeth in moonlight, and then his mouth was crashing into yours – all fangs and tongue and intensity. Mindlessly, operating off of your own sort of base impulse, you reached out, your fingertips just barely brushing against the prong of your hairpin.

It was only as you curled your fist around it that you kissed him back, unable to suppress your grin.

[winterarmyy]

Kiss It Better

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of. 

Summary: In which the reader refused to let Bucky go down on her lately because she's embarrassed of the chafing marks on her inner thighs.

Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Words: 3.2k++

Warnings: 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, cum eating, soft fluff, not much of angst but there's sprinkles of feels, body insecurities, bucky is in love and in heat tbh, i think he is particularly unhinged and filthy in this one but hey, you tell me. idk if i need to remind y'all about this but english is not my first language so my grammar are prolly fucked. Anyway--

Inspiration: Guess who felt a little soft and decided to wear a skirt to work? Yup, that would be me. No, because I commute to work (or basically anywhere) and there is quite a distance of walking in between the journey. Note that your girl here walk fast asf (basically running at this point).  And because them inner thighs ain't got no gap between them, so i got myself some blisters/chafing :') then i fell into a self-deprecating despair for the whole day and it hurts whenever i walk, at that time i just want Bucky to kiss it better. Fast forward a few days later, here we are.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

She could feel it. His burning gaze following her every move. Observing, calculating. And she knew that must not show any signs of discomfort; not on her face nor from the slightest jolts of her hips. She must not gave him a reason to question her.

She can't.

So she continue walking around their room, back and forth from the bathroom to the wardrobe, as if every step she took was followed by a burning sensation on her skin. She momentarily stood in front of the row of clothes hanging on the rack, her back facing the bed where Bucky had been sprawling on since she went in for a shower.

Honestly, she was standing there suspiciously 'too long', as if she was choosing an outfit for a date night, when clearly she was just getting ready for bed. When she realized that, she quickly pulled out a clean set of pyjamas and walk back into the bathroom.

Bucky's eagle eyes followed her figure, disappearing behind the locked door. His lips pursed as his cogs of thoughts spins around, trying to find answer a question that his lover keeps avoiding but it was useless.

He can't think straight. Especially when he was undeniably famished. He had not got a taste of her his sweet pussy for about 2 weeks now and he was quite literally about lose his fucking mind. 

When his sweetgirl refuses to go further than kissing and making out, of course he obliged. She has every right to 'no' and he respects her wishes. Then it happened again the next day. And the next. Then again, and again. 

Normally, people would've assumed that maybe she was on her period, and she is not comfortable having any sexual intimacy when menstruating. But, Bucky can tell that, that was not it. Because first of all, it was way too early for that time of the month, he knows her schedule.l very well. Second of all, he would've smell the blood if she was on her period.

Most of his senses are enhanced after all.

So, why was she avoiding it?

Bucky's is completely fine if sex was not something she wanted to do, but not even letting him eat her out? Now that's concerning. At least for him.

Because he needs her. He needs to suck on that needy little clit of hers, make it wet and swollen. He needs to lap on that sweet juices when she cums on his tongue.

Fuck. He's getting all work up now, thinking about it.

He swore that if this keeps going on, one of these days he might just spread his legs and fuck his fist on their bed while she's tied on a chair on the other side of the room. Maybe forcing her; seducing her, to watch his desperate cock become wet and messy would give her a clue of what he is feeling now.

Absolutely needy and deprived of that pretty little cunt of hers.

He was quite distracted with the filfthy thoughts until he heard the clicking sound of the bathroom door unlocked.

As she walked towards the bed, Bucky felt like his lungs stopped providing oxygen through his body, "Pretty." His eyes sparkled affection as the voice in his head echoed his thoughts. It wasn't that he have not seen her in those pyjamas before, he had. Many times in fact. The very same lavender set with tiny little cartoon cats printed all over the fabric.

The same ones that she wore when she came rushing to his side on one of those sleepless night. The time when she hold him close, distracting him away from the nightmare by asking the most random question of "You know, Bucky... These cats supposedly have the same expression, except for one. Do want to try and find it?"

He found it. It was near the hem of her right sleeve. And by that time, his nightmare was no where near his mind, the next thing he knew, he fell right back to sleep with her in his arms. It was his favourite pair of pyjamas that she ever worn.  Nothing compares.

A loving smile unconsciously appeared on his face when his lady threw a sweet smile at him as she walked toward the bed, "My baby's so pretty." He thought.

The grin on his lips lasted, but not for long. Especially when he saw the tiny frown on her face, the faltered steps and when he heard that brief sound of a painful hiss slipped out of her lips.

So the moment she sat down on her side of the bed, Bucky already had his hands on her. Arms instantaneously wrapped around her waist, before effortlessly pulling her back onto his sturdy chest.

She giggled gleefully from his sudden rush of affection  and that surely managed to trigger a chuckle out of Bucky. He hums and proceed to purr in crook of her neck, "What's wrong, baby?"

She could feel his throat rumbling at the back of her neck, "Did he notice it?". Her heart beat ever so slightly picked up its' pace but she planned to act like opposite of it, "Hmm? What do mean 'what's wrong'?" She asked.

Bucky can hear the change tempo coming from within her ribcage, he knew something was wrong, "I just want to know how are you feeling."  He pressed a long and tender kiss on the shoulder.

The warmth of his breath tickled her skin, "Now? Hmm. I feel very loved." She smiled dreamily as she closes her eyes.

Bucky left out a brief laugh at her response, this cheeky little bunny, "That's true, but how are you really feeling, hmm? Like physically?" He urges softly.

She thought about it for awhile; contemplating whether she should just tell him the truth or proceed to act like she okay. Well, she chose the latter, "Hmmm physically. In this position? Very comfy." She wiggled her body back into him, closing the non-existent gap between their bodies and gripping Bucky's arms around her a little tight.

Though her plushy ass was rubbing against his crotch just nicely, but the former winter soldier was not going to let that distract him from his mission. He needs to know what she's hiding behind that sweet smile, "Doll..." his voice was stern and she knew he was not having it.

His calling was only met with silence when she didn't reply verbally. Since she was looking down, Bucky cannot see the frown on face and the wobbling worries in her eyes. But he did picked up on the anxiousness of her heart; beating faster by the second.

"I..." her voice cracked at the first word she said, and Bucky knew he fucked up. He swiftly maneuvered her body to sit on his lap, facing him. His metal hand craddled her soft cheek, and his flesh ones gently caresses her back, "Hey hey hey, doll, what's wrong? Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you." His voice was laced with panic.

When she only had her gaze down, Bucky tenderly coaxed her, "Bunny, look at me." His hand guided her by the chin and when they made eye contact, he apologized again, "I'm sorry. I just want you to feel better. Forgive me." He leaned in a planted a kiss on her forehead. Then, her nose. And her cheeks, all over her face, muttering his words of apology.

She felt bad that Bucky apologized for something that was clearly not his fault. She's the problem in this situation. Her negativity, her insecurity was what drove her away from Bucky for the past 2 weeks. She knew that. And she knew it wasn't fair to him.

Knowing Bucky, he's probably blaming himself for her actions. And she didn't want that. She decided to tell him the truth, "I just..." Anxiety runs through her veins when she thought about it again. Would she be able to handle it if Bucky reacted negatively to her truth? Probably, not. "Just... promise that you won't be disgusted by it... Or get the ick from it."

Bucky frowned in confusion, "I don't even know what 'get the ick' means but I promise." He swore.

She let out a short laugh at his comment, causing him to smile along. Seeing how loving his gaze was, it gave her the strength to confess. She started with explaining how she had been busy at work this month. With launch of the new product, and her being one of th product manager, she was obligated to visit the branches around New York.

Bucky listened to words attentively, at first he thought maybe she was trying to say that she's been stressed lately. But then she started to explained about how she had been wearing skirts to work most of the days, because it was one of the their campaign's rules and Bucky does not think that 'stress' was what this would conclude to.

Nevertheless, he didn't lose his attention.

"But basically what I'm trying to say is..." She took a deep breath before continuing, "It's just... My inner thighs are chafed..." her voice was barely audible at the end of the sentence but Bucky caught it perfectly.

He thought about it for awhile before asking, "So, you mean to say that you got blisters on your inner thighs?" He wanted to confirm that his understanding was accurate.

She looked down in shame as she nodded to his question.

Bucky responded by pulling her closer, and kissed her forehead, "Aww doll. Is this why you've been avoiding me? Because it hurts? Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could've helped you. I mean I could help apply some meds or--"

Horrified at the idea of him seeing marks; the literal reminder of how fat she is caused her to blurt, "No!" She pushed Bucky away, eyes widen in horrid.

"No?" Bucky frowned quizzically at her intense reaction.

Realizing what she just had just done,  she composed herself, and spoke, "It's... it's not a pretty sight. And I don't want to show it to you. Plus, if my thighs are a little thinner than they are now. Then, this wouldn't happen. If only these thighs are not like... fucking fat as they are we wouldn't have to go through this. And you wouldn't need to hear all this. You wouldn't---"

Bucky knew that once she was in the state of insecurity, she self-deprecate herself like she was less worthy than the goddesss that she is. So, instead of arguing with her, he simply intercepted her rambling, "Show me."

She stopped the seemingly endless word-vomit, and titled her head to the side, "Huh? No. Bucky I just said--"

Bucky grabbed her by the waist and effortlessly lifted her off his lap and onto the bed, caging her  below him, "And I said... Show. Me." His tone was more like an order rather than a request.

She didn't dare to defy him, when his gaze was as rigid as they were now, so pulled her pants off; slowly, reluctantly. When the pants was at the last inches before it's completely off, Bucky took control and quite literally ripped it off from her.

The sudden action resulted to her body needing to hide itself from his darken eyes. Her thighs clammed together as a whine slipped from her lips. The friction of her wounds brushing against each other was burning her delicate skin.

Bucky quickly softens when he heard her pained voice,  he pushed himself off from her and kneeled on the bed before her. "Doll, please..." His hands gently squeezes the side of her thighs as he pleads, "...Let me see."

Slowly spreading her thighs apart, Bucky's eyes are now focusing on the red marks on her skin. His thumbs absentmindedly traces the area around the broken skin. He was so concentrated that he didn't say a word. And that only triggered her insecurity that she started to rambled something about how she will start going in a diet and she'll add more intense leg workout in her routine.

But her voice was only a muffled strings of incoherent sounds in Bucky's ears when he finally processed everything that happened from 2 weeks ago until now.

The realization hit him like a high speed train with a broken break system. Did she really turned him down because of this? Did she really starve him out because of this? Bucky let out a growl of disapproval when he abruptly pulled her by her calves, forcing her hips to lift from the bed. She yelped in surprised but she saw the look on his face,  "You..." he rasped.

Bucky placed her legs on his shoulders, letting it daggle on his back as he palmed sides of her thighs. He then, proceed to leave trails of kiss on her inner thigh, avoiding the irritating wounds on her skin, "You deprived me of my sweet little pussy because you think this..." he flattened his tongue and nibble on her softness of her inner thighs, "...would turn me off? That these thick, soft thighs that I love so much would bother me?"

He planted a delicate kiss on the marks before, "Well, guess what bunny?. You're absolute wrong. In fact, it's quite the opposite." His lips travelled upwards until it found her core. Bucky's nose flared at the scent of her arousal, "And oh my sweet babydoll, I'm going to eat your pussy until understand that. Then, I'm gonna do it some more because I am fucking starving." He pressed a firm kiss on her clothed pussy, causing the cotton to soak the juices that leaks from her hole.

"Look at that. Does your needy pussy wants some pampering too, hmm?" She could see the lust dripping down his ocean blues; the same ones that were usually bright but now were now noticeably darker.

Bucky's finger traces the slit of her pussy, rubbing her over the fabric of her panties, making patch of wetness spread even more. "Yeah? Does she want me to kiss it better? Make her feel good?"

She moaned softly to his touch, "Please."

That was all it took for Bucky to rip her panties apart as if it was made out of paper.  "Fuck, there she is. My sweet pussy." He brought his fingers over, widened the folds of her pussy. Even with minimal lighting, it was enough to show him the glistening pink flesh of leaking cunt, twitching and needing his tongue to explore her insides.

He was hungry of course, just simply looking at her pussy had made his mouth water and impossible for him to resist the urge of putting his mouth on the pretty little thing. "Hmm,," a sharp cry escaped from her lips as he blew on her little twitching nub. There was this glint in his eyes as he watched her try to buck up, cunt helplessly clenching around nothing.

Before she could beg for him, Bucky's tongue dipped in between folds. Pointed at first, from the entrance of her pussy up to her clit. The tip of his tongue swirl around the aching nub. A breath caught in her throat when Bucky repeat the same move but this time he flattened his tongue.

And then he does it again and again.

Bucky, is generally the larger man compared to anyone. He is tall and beefy. But he is especially big when he's in between her legs, gently devouring her wet pussy. Slow and long licks were his favorite, it allowed him to savor the taste of her. Always so sweet and he couldn't get enough of it.

With every flick Bucky's tongue assulting to her swollen bud, she couldn’t help but pull on sheets behind her, needy moans leaves her lips every time he explored her, teases her. Her body cannot stay still when the pleasure was taking her higher. But it was not a problem for Bucky to control. Whenever she tries to close her thighs together, he stopped her. He didn't want to irritate her wounds or cause any pain, so he kept pushing her thigh open as he nuzzle his face into her pussy.

"Ahhh fuck ,, that feels so good, Bucky!" She moaned his name as the overwhelming feeling of his wet and soft tongue gliding and rubbing on her core, guiding her to heaven.

And the salacious squelching noises to fill the room as Bucky laps and sucks on her clit. She was so wet that he could just shove his fingers up in her hole but he didn't. He won't. After so many days not tasting her, he want to only use his mouth.

Though the man barely spoke during these times, he’d much rather keep his mouth occupied with drinking up her juices or suckling on her cute little clit. But when he does. Fuck. Does he spill the most unholy things.

Bucky momentarily detached himself from her and rasped, "Gonna cum, babydoll? Come on, give it to me. Let me drink and lick your cum after." His metal fingers quickly finds her clit, swiftly started to deliciously rub it; just the way he knew she liked it. It felt so good that her tongued lolled out her mouth out of pure pleasure.

"Yeah, bunny. You're gonna let me clean you up with tongue so nice, so that you can make the same mess again and again. Cum in mouth, babydoll. Cum for me"

He delved right back where is mouth belongs, licking her clit into his mouth just to wrap his lips around the pretty pink bundle of nerves sucking it harshly.  She whined needily her hips started to move on its own accord, searching for more friction of his tongue, “ahh ahh! hmmmm,, s-so fucking good! ahhh,, So close!” she was seeing stars in her hazy vision from how good and dirty she felt.

Bucky's eyes almost rolled back when let out a groan of satisaction against her spread out cunt; he can feel that she was going to cum and want her to do it with his mouth latched on her.

And cum she did, moments after she couldn’t help but squeal as her back arched from the bed, grinding herself on his tongue. Bucky growled at the streams of cream squirting out of her throbbing cunt right into his mouth, down to his throat.

So sweet and warm and addictive.

While her whole body was still shaking from the aftermath of the mindblowing orgasm, Bucky continued to lick and lap on her leaking pussy, slurping and suckling every bit of cream she had blessed him with.

Yet he was still hungry.

She mewled when Bucky started to suck on her clit again and when she looked over at him, he momentarily pulled away, "oh doll, did you forget? I'm not going to stop any time soon. So just lay there, look pretty for me and let me enjoy this sweet little pussy."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Have you ever gotten your inner thighs chafed? Anyway, thanks for spending your time to reading my work! Leave your thoughts behind, I'd love to read them ♡

[shaguro]

— ✰ NEVER LOSE ME | CONNIE S.

✧synposis: connie loves to visit his favorite girl after his races.

✧contents: smut with a lil plot. (streetracer!connie x stripper reader, reader is black. (she has a fro but no other physical descriptions are given besides that.) unestablished relationship. unprotected sex (p in v) breeding kink?? unrequited feelings but not really. reader is just young, sexy and free; just having fun. 🩷 very inspired by the song by flo milli, doesn't follow that exact plot though! mdni.

✧word count: 1.6k.

✧shanti’s note: chile… i made three different drafts before i settled on this one, okay! so it was definitely a major work in progress for a while but we made it yall! i'm so nervous about this one for some reason, can't pinpoint why. anywho, i hope y'all enjoy it. forgot to answer the ask but THANK YOU for the ask anon, and i hope you enjoy it 🩷

all the other dancers wondered how you managed to bag the connie springer, a well-known street racer in your area. he was a loyal client. always respectful, tipped well — not to mention, he’s fine as fuck. connie always came to see you after one of his many winning races, ready to shower you in affection and with money he just won. so just like the other times, you’re in one of the private rooms in the strip club; the pink led lights illuminated your soft skin, showcasing all the dips and curves of your beautiful body.

“it’s because of you, baby.” connie licks his lips, tattooed hands rested on the fattest part of your ass, only separated by the thin fabric of your thong. “you’re the reason i never lose.”

“oh please.” you kiss your teeth. with your hands on his knees, you lean forward to give him the view you knew he loved. “you say that shit every time you come see me. we both know it’s not true, so stop it.”

now it was his turn to suck his teeth, his hand meeting your ass with a hard smack! you gasp and almost jolt forward but connie’s hand is on your throat, pulling you backwards until your bare back is against his chest. you tilt your head to meet those pretty hazel eyes and god, his glare was so intense it actually made you nervous.

and it had your pussy fluttering, clenching on nothing.

“i say it ‘cuz i mean it.” his free hand trails up your thigh, stopping dangerously close to your core. he chuckles when you spread your legs, watching your reflection intently in the tall mirror. “didn’t even do anything yet and look, already openin’ up f’me.”

this sort of interaction should not be happening between a dancer and a client, you knew that — when it came to connie though, he was the only exception. maybe it was because you felt like he saw you, went out of his way to have an actual relationship with you. connie wanted you to be his girlfriend but you always refused. you were too sexy, too carefree to be tied down by anyone, especially a man.

it would be a lie to say you didn’t enjoy the man’s company though; you two had gotten close, close enough that you’d link up outside the club. late nights spent in his customized red wraith, hanging out the window as the cool evening breeze hit you. connie would buy you all kinds of jewelry and the biggest bouquets of red roses you’d ever seen. take you out on dates, even flew you out once. but you were just having fun and that didn’t mean you needed to be with him.

in moments like this, though? you considered that possibility a little more.

“connie, mmm.” you moaned, his nimble fingers rubbing at your barely-clothed clit. there’s something about his touch that electrifies your whole body, your hips rolling, seeking more friction. “my b-boss might pop in, we shouldn’t..”

connie hums in acknowledgment, his wet tongue tracing along your neck. “i don’t give a fuck and you know that.” indeed, you did. “she was on your ass last time?”

the last time your boss had walked in, connie had you on your back, legs spread wide as he ate you out like a man starved. it was embarrassing, even connie couldn’t save you from the lengthy lecture you received. you don’t remember every single thing your boss said but she made one rule very clear: no fucking in her strip club.

you were a fan favorite so she wouldn’t get rid of you, even if you had a tendency to bend the rules.

“she was.” you sigh, leaning your head back on his shoulder. one of your hands were on his head, feeling on his blonde buzzcut while his lips latched onto delicate skin. “i don’t give a fuck either.”

his chuckle vibrated through your skin, sent shivers up your spine. you knew he’d just left a mark with the way his tongue swept over the damage, another trace of him that would need extra concealer.

“how much time do we have left, pretty?”

you look up to the bedazzled glittery clock on the wall, squinting your eyes to see it better. “hmm.. like twenty minutes?”

connie scoffed. “i’ll make you cum in ten.”

all that could be heard in the dimly-lit room were the sounds of your sweet cries as your ass ricocheted off connie’s pelvis, the steady clap clap clap so loud in your ears. you were on all fours with connie right behind you. he had one hand cupped on your jaw, keeping your head upright and the other on the fat of your hip — digging crescents into your soft skin with each snap of his hips.

“open your eyes, baby. look and see how pretty you look.” he gives your jaw a light squeeze and you comply, slowly opening your lashed eyelids to observe yourself, to drink in the mess he’s made of you.

your brown curly fro ruffled and scattered, drool trickling from your open mouth with one hand on the crystal mirror to brace yourself. you swore your eyes had crossed from the overwhelming pleasure you felt and he was so deep — damn near touching your lungs, knocking all the air out of them.

and then connie is leaning forward, his breath ghosting your ear. “see? so pretty.” this was anything but an innocent statement. connie took pride in having you like this — completely dumb off his dick to the point that all you could do is beg, whine for more and he’d never hold back. he’d give it all to you.

not only his dick but he’d give his whole heart too, the whole damn world if it meant he’d never lose you.

“c-connie, ohhfuck.” you mewl, your free hand is reaching behind you, scrambling to find his arm to claw at or anything to steady yourself with. “so deep, i c-can’t—“

“you can, baby.” he coos. connie holds your arm and to your horror, bends it to a degree at the small of your back, keeping it in place. his pace never falters, grinding into that swollen spot inside you so deliciously, you couldn’t breathe — any attempts at sound caught in your throat.

“always take me so well—fuck.” connie lets out a moan so erotic, your pussy clenches involuntarily around him. “l-love this fuckin’ pussy.”

your eyelids felt so heavy as you looked at connie’s reflection in the mirror, admiring the handsome man that tore you up with ease. his head is tilted down with his bottom lip captured between his top row of pretty white teeth, eyes trained on where your bodies connected. he was mesmerized at how you swallowed all his dick so greedily, sinking deeper and deeper as you fucked back into him, a white milky ring of cream forming on the base of his length — it was truly a sight like no other.

“want you to myself,” connie grits out, landing a quick slap on your ass, rubbing the tender flesh right after to soothe the sting. “c-can’t lose you, (y/n)—hah—can’t let anyone else h-have you.”

“c-connie, you—“

“tell me,” he interrupts and his eyes meet yours in the glass, all low and dark, full of passion. “tell me you’re mine, that this—” his hand trails down the arched curve of your back, it was like fire trailed behind his fingertips. “—is all for me, only for me.”

you nod dumbly, not even realizing what you’re saying, your voice only a whisper. “y-yes, it’s y-yours.”

connie shakes his head and leans forward once again, this time with a sharp thrust into your soppy cunt, filling you to the hilt. you gasp and you can’t stop your eyes from rolling into your skull, from crying out his name.

“gotta be louder than that, pretty. say it one more time f’me?” he’s pressing wet kisses along your jaw and neck, clouding your focus even further. you could feel his dick pulsing inside you, stretching you out so perfectly. you wouldn’t mind staying like this forever, letting him ruin you till the end of time.

“i-it’s—“ you inhale, a deep shaky breath. “it’s all yours, connie. this p-pussy is yours, so fuck me like you m-mean it.”

it’s like as soon as you say those words, a switch flips in connie’s brain.

instead of straightening his posture, his chest is flush against your back, the gold chain on his neck dangling over your shoulder as he starts to rut his hips into you with no precision. and it’s so filthy, your poor cunt squishing and squelching sporadically, warm milky slick trickling down your thighs.

“gonna—nghh, gonna fuckin’ cum.” his voice raised an octave, all slurred and whiney. “where… where d-do you want it, baby?”

he was expecting to hear your ass or your back, maybe even your face if you were feeling extra nasty. nothing prepared him for that pretty whine you let out prior to saying,

“inside! want it inside con, wanna feel it..” you give him the cutest pout and all he could think was fuck, you would really be the death of him.

only a few moments passed before you got what you wanted — connie’s hot, sticky cum paints your inner walls generously and it’s so much, each rock of his hips had the fluid gushing out of you. it sends you right over the edge. your legs give out, the sheer force of your orgasm had you trembling, limp in connie’s strong arms. you glanced tiredly at the ticking clock one last time and damn, he really did make you cum in ten minutes.

there was no time to recover because as you two were on the floor, tangled and sweaty, still out of breath — your boss slams the door open, her face screwed with anger.

“both of y’all, get the fuck out!”

but you didn’t care, not at all. this just meant you'd have another one of those nights, music blasting from those booming speakers as connie sped down the freeway, his hand on your thigh when he'd repeat those six words without fail, "i never want to lose you."

tonight, you decided that he wouldn't.

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join the house here. ♡

@/hoesluvshanti, 2023-2024. do not copy, steal or repost my content without permission.

[lovebugism]

hi!! could I possibly request something with Eddie or Steve with their chronically ill gf? I have POTS and although I don't full on faint, I get super fainty often and can lose my vision a little sometimes from that, and I think it would be cute to see how either boys would be with a partner like that (IF NOT THAT'S TOTALLY OKAY, THIS IS A VERY SELF INDULGENT REQUEST)

i tried to make this more general since i don't personally have pots, but it ended up being very self-indulgent bc i do get fainting spells quite often so enjoy hahah :D — the one where eddie munson is a very panicky caregiver (established relationship, hurt/comfort | 1.2k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

The hottest day of the season weighs heavily upon you. The golden hour sunlight and sticky summer air seep into your bones, sucking all the energy from your already tired body. You feel a bit like a vampire now — a withering thing wasting away in the center of Eddie Munson’s bed, with nothing but a clicking fan beside you blowing hot air around the room.

Eddie seems largely unfazed by the summer weather despite his metalhead qualities, which should otherwise clash with the heat. 

He’s shed his leather jacket for the first time all year. The thrifted t-shirt he wears below it leaves his pale, tattoed arms on display. You can see the tendons in them pulsing every time he strums lazily at his acoustic guitar. His wild curls, more untamed than usual in such humidity, are pulled out of his face with one of your hair ties. A few stubborn strands stick to his face still — now a darker shade of brown, going damp from the sweat beading on his jaw and forehead.

You watch him tilt his head back to shake his bangs from his eyes, then smile to yourself when the attempt proves fruitless. His hair’s grown much too long now — enough to be perpetually frustrating. Not that Eddie cares to acknowledge it, anyway.

“I think it’s time for a haircut, Eds,” you try to tease, though the words come out strangely heavy on your tongue. They sound lightyears away as they spill from your mouth, and the thought alone makes you dizzy. Dizzier.

Eddie’s face, glimmering and softly flushed, screws in a boyish pout. “Don’t say that. You know I hate that word.”

“Look at your bangs, Eds! They’re way too long—”

The mattress squeaks softly under your weight when you go to reach for him. You’re barely able to sit upright without your head spinning. It’s like you blink once, and suddenly you’re underwater — vision blurry, ears ringing, the world swimming with various indistinct shapes. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and sit back again.

It takes Eddie a moment too long to notice.

“No, they’re not— See?” He pauses his strumming to muss at his curls. His ringed fingers tousle his already frizzy bangs to get them out of his eyes. He smiles all cheeky at you then, as he glances at you over his shoulder. His smile ebbs at the twisted look on your face. “Hey… You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer immediately, though the pinched look to your features never wavers. 

“Okay. Yeah,” Eddie nods. “But… Are you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut until it hurts — until blue and white stars start to twinkle in the nothingness. But even in the quote-unquote nothingness, you can still feel the world spinning around you. It’s like you’re on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean, swaying in time with the rocky tides even though you’re sitting still. The notion makes your swimmy head spin. 

“Yeah,” you repeat, pitched higher this time as you dig your palms into your eye sockets. A feeble attempt to ease the dizziness. “I just— I just got a little dizzy all of a sudden. But I’m fine.”

Eddie starts reeling immediately. “Shit. Are you… Are you gonna pass out?” he stammers and rises suddenly from the bed. He leaves his guitar at his feet as he rushes to you. The mattress bounces under you and makes you feel sicker. His panicking makes you feel sicker, too.

“I don’t think so,” you answer, voice quiet and faraway.

“You don’t think so?” Eddie echoes as he looms at your side. 

You can’t see him, but you know he’s there. You can feel his shadow and the heat radiating from his lanky form. His ringed hands sit awkwardly out in front of him, aching to comfort you but frightened of making it worse. 

“Do you— Do you want me to do something? Do you need me to get you anything? Like… Like a glass of water or—”

“Eds. I’m fine,” you interject a bit too firmly for your poorly state. “It’ll pass, just… Just sit down.”

“I can’t,” he squirms. “You’re makin’ me nervous, babe.”

“Standing on top of me isn’t helping, Eds.”

The boy sits gingerly at your side, then. He doesn’t move a muscle as he waits for you to tell him what to do. Obedient but hardly patient. He tries not to fidget too much, lest he add to your unease, but he buzzes with worry in the meantime. He watches with his heart in his throat as you finally take your hands from your face.

His wide, chocolate eyes dart over your pallid features. “You okay?” he whispers.

“Mhm,” you hum in the affirmative, though you haven’t yet tried to open your eyes. 

The mattress feels less like a wobbling water bed now, but you’re still scared of what the world will look like — if everything will be slightly askew or flipped upside down entirely.

“Can you try to look at me?” the boy presses gently.

You peek one eye open and turn your chin to look at him. The subtle movement ends up being an obvious mistake. “Fuck,” you curse in a quiet murmur, shutting your eyes when the world goes staticky again.

“Don’t move so fast, babe. You’ll pass out,” Eddie chuckles despite the panicked ache in his chest. 

He moves slowly so as not to jostle you too much — lifting his arm to rest over your shoulder and pulling you very carefully to his chest. His free hand covers your eyes and rests over your temple. He squishes his cheek against your hair.

The humidity doesn’t often allow for such contact, but the heat isn’t nearly as strong as Eddie Munson’s love for you. He holds you close in spite of the slightly agonizing way your skin sticks together, fully content to melt with you completely.

“‘M not gonna pass out,” you murmur, words sitting heavy in your mouth.

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs. “‘Cause slurring your words like you’re drunk all of a sudden is real convincing, sweetheart.”

“M fine,” you insist anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Well, the world’s not spinning anymore, at least.”

“Good,” Eddie hums, smacking a chaste kiss to your head. “Lay down for me, alright? I wanna get you some water. And maybe something salty. That shit’s supposed to help, isn’t it?”

You whine in protest when he starts to move. Less because of how faint you are, and more because of how little you want him to leave. 

“No. Later. Don’t move,” you grouse.

“I gotta make sure you’re alright, babe,” the boy laughs through the warmth blooming in his chest, a sparkling sort of pride perhaps, as you curl further into his side.

“I’m fine right now,” you mumble tiredly. “But if you stop holdin’ me like this, I won’t be.”

“Ah, right…” Eddie sighs in defeat. “Guess I’m stuck here then, huh?”

You nod slowly, cheek rubbing along the cotton fabric of his shirt. “Mhm.”

He smiles softly to himself, wider than he usually allows, ‘cause there’s nothing metal about being a lovesick puppy. But, in truth, he’s happy to be stuck here with you — even with your swimmy head and humid air and clicking desk fan that’s hardly working now. The circumstances a mildly inconvenient, sure, but he’d take a billion inconvenient circumstances if it meant getting to be with you.

Lovesick puppy, indeed.

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 16﹕✦﹕┈・୧

loki x f!reader -> çnç

event masterlist

warnings: çnc themes, slight choking, bondage, cunnilingus, loki being a menace but both the reader & loki break character in the end. mentions of aftercare and sweet fluff‼️

“running will land you in worse situations than this one, pet.” the echoing voice of loki reverberated through the shell of your ear, louder than your panting, your gasping as you tried to clutch onto your failing lungs for air. “how adoring of you to think you can outrun, the god, your god.” loki’s low, mocking chuckle followed soon after.

you were aimlessly running in the asgardian castle corridors, trying with all your heart and soul to escape the ruthlessness of your captor. getting almost dizzy when you forced your feet to take another step, almost falling down if it wasn’t for those metallic ornamented wrists laced with fine asgardian leather grabbing you by the neck. “oh, found you.” he grimly chuckles.

“please— your highness, i will never run again.” you clutched onto his wrist, scratching it up while loki lifted you up forcefully, your legs leaving the ground but you didn’t feel choked. of course— him and his theatrics. “i know you won’t run, little pet. because i will render those legs useless when i’d be done with you.” loki gritted his teeth, baring the green light in his eyes as you got tied up, teleporting to his bedroom and against his mattress. green silk bands tied your wrists and ankles apart, like a starfish.

you tried your best to struggle away, but the tug only got tighter until a painful whimper escaped your parted lips. “submission might aid. i might add.” loki’s words were like a silent warning & also a hint. you may comply and he might be merciful. “please your highness, i beg off you to let me go.” you crooned, glossy eyed.

“oh, darling,” loki feigns pity, and the next moment you find yourself naked in front of his feasting eyes. nipples hardening at the tender touch of colder air and cunt clamping around nothing now that you felt so drastically exposed. your eyed squeezed shut, heat radiating through your cheeks as you turned your head to the side. “you should pray to your god, no? pray to him to be merciful.” loki muses, leaning in and kissing your throbbing clit.

the touch alone sent jolts down your spine and core, pupils widening at his skilled tongue twirling around your needy clit. “you taste sinful.” he smirked, eyes glancing at your furrowed brows. “let me go.” you tried once more, meek whimpers erupting from your pouted lips.

“hmm?” loki contemplated, acting as if he might actually let you go. “alright.” he leaned back, glinting mischievously with a smirk. “if you don’t want me having my way with you, then you don’t cum. after all. it is all but torment to you is it not?” loki emphasises, knowing full well you’d lose yourself and cream the moment he goes hard on your cunt.

you pouted, while that was answer enough, loki still wanted to show you the control he has over you. spreading your cunt lips, he leaned in, taking a shameless sniff of your arousal. “how cute.” he smirked, leaning in and lapping at your juices. fuck— you were feeling so hot and bothered, every single vein in your body feeling the heat of his administrations. you reflexively rutted your hips against him, eager to please yourself over his tongue, eager to cum.

“your highness- AH loki- please- please i’m so close.” it was not before long your body had betrayed you & you were reduced to a mumbling, panting, begging mess. even so, you knew better than to cum without loki’s permission. “go on, little pet.” loki’s thumb ran languid circles onto your clit. “have at it.”

your orgasm tore through your body as you screamed out his name, rabid breathing echoing through the walls of your shared bedroom. “fuck- fuck- can’t can’t.” your moans reduced to pleas again, when loki didn’t want to stop at just one orgasm. “please loki- need a break.” you gasped out, normally you could give him two orgasms without break, but the situation you were in made you a little more sensitive than normal.

“need a break? or want a break, pet?” loki asked once more, a silent nudge for your surity if you wanted him to break his character.

“need a break, loki.” you whimpered back, struggling against the restraints. the use of his first name was signal enough. “alright darling.” he smiled, the restraints gone as he leaned in, kissing you passionately.

“oh what a man you make me to be.” he rolled his eyes when you hug him back, inhaling the comfort of his scent. “it was fun! don’t lie.” you pouted, smiling back when he nuzzled his nose against you.

“you do know that i would never do anything against your will, right princess?” loki reminded you again, while you nodded in approval. “yes, i do.”

“perfect.”

“lifting me off the ground was a bit much.”

“come on, little one, i am known for my theatrics.”

[yanderenightmare]

Absolutely Starving for more Yandere Suguru and Satoru sharing their darling🤭🤭

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

TW: NSFW, noncon, condescension

gn reader

Despite your clan’s ties with jujutsu sorcery, you were unfortunately born with little talent for it.

When it came to exorcising curses or fighting others with cursed energy, you were better off pleading for your life than trying to fight for it.

And so, since jujutsu sorcery wouldn’t amount to much more than your untimely death, you were training to be an assistant supervisor instead.

A goal that you were happy with.

You weren’t much a fan of violence anyway, so even if you had been born with a special technique, it wouldn’t really have joyed you to have to use it on anyone – curse or not.

Actually, being an assistant supervisor would have been a dream if fate had been cruel enough to make you a sorcerer instead. In fact, you would even go as far as counting it as a blessing. 

Being an assistant supervisor meant you’d get to uphold your family’s respect and remain eligible while keeping you safe and happily removed from any and all manors of savagery.

It was perfect.

Or... well... it would be perfect.

If only it weren’t for Gojo and Geto always trying to goad you into training with them…

Sly smiles on their cocky faces with their hands down their pockets. The pair stood so tall, even as one leaned back and the other slouched – you could only smile shyly and shake your head no-thank-you like all those other times they’d come asking.

“You know you’re gonna be our assistant soon, which means you gotta do anything we ask~” Gojo sniggered, hunched forward with his round shades lowered to wink down at you – his stove-top blues giving you chills.

Those eyes always make you feel a little smaller than what his height already does – so bright and seizing, making you have to swallow before answering.

“I can referee, but I wouldn’t be any fun sparring with.” You excused like so many times before, biting your tongue from wanting to correct him in saying that being their assistant was most definitely not what your job was or ever would be. 

It wouldn’t have been heard anyway...

“Oh?” Gojo’s grin widened, offering a low chuckle. “I think it would be very fun…”

You never really knew what to make of him – whether he was being funny or boorish was always lost on you. All in all, either way, he just makes you feel a little picked on.

“You’re awful, Satoru,” Geto interjected on what seemed like your behalf, knocking a backhand against Gojo’s shoulder hard enough to wipe the smirk off his face and make him pull a pout.

Geto just ignored his sulking in favor of smiling earnestly down at you.

“What if you were the only one using cursed energy?”

Geto is different from Gojo, you thought. He isn’t rude. But where Gojo makes fun of you in cockier ways, Geto is patronizing in and of his own right. He’s so hard to read, yet you can't help but feel like he’s disingenuous each time he gives you that seemingly kind smile of his. 

You aren’t too sure if he’s not also hiding other ulterior motives similar to the ones of his white-haired friend.

In truth, they both make you feel a little uneasy.

“That’s kind, Geto, but I honestly don’t think it would make much difference.” You tried excusing once more, hoping it would be the last time they’d ask.

But the two boys seemed more obstinate today.

“Come on, humor us~” Geto drawled in a taunt of persuasion, tilting his head to the side, still with his smiling eyes.

“You can even use a weapon-” Gojo added, bowing once again to level your eyes with his before jokingly pleading, “Please~” 

Perhaps they’d been bored for a while, you thought. Maybe there was no turning them down this time around…

You sighed. “Okay… fine.” Raising a finger between you. “But just this once, and then you quit asking.”

The boys smiled.

“Deal.”

You followed between them as they led you to the inside training grounds, opening a door into a rather small sparring room with soft but sturdy enough floors. One wall was equipped with weapons – all ranging from spears to butcher’s knives and battle axes.

“Pick your poison, suit.” Gojo offered, gesturing to the many choices at your disposal.

You made a tiny grimace at the nickname, looking down at your suit and tie, feeling flushed but trying to keep it to yourself. It was too small a thing to let get to you, and berating the six-eyes for his lack of respect wouldn’t get you anywhere anyway. 

Besides, you had a bigger problem staring at the rack of tools before you – having such little experience with all of them.

The katana seemed as easy as any – just a long blade made for slicing – but as you picked it from its hooks, it immediately fell to the floor.

Your foot would have been sliced in half if it weren’t for Geto’s quick reflexes, having stopped it before it could.

“I think that’s a little heavy for you.” He smiled, putting it back on the shelf with ease.

You felt the urge to reject his comment and insist on using it out of pure spite but realized it wouldn't serve you any justice.

“You’re right.” You smiled sheepishly, trying hard not to grit your teeth before picking out a smaller dagger instead.

Gojo was indifferent to the altercation, standing on the opposite side of the room – stretching his long limbs, waiting for you to take your stance.

You took off your jacket, folding it neatly and laying it aside out of the way, and made your way back to the opposing side – standing there, dagger in your fist.

“Okay, so uhm… what exactly do you want me to do?” You felt so silly.

“How ‘bout you just try your luck and slice me.” He offered smugly, his shit-eating grin grating your nerves. “Or maybe you'd prefer it if I attacked you?”

Your nose scrunched with a huff at his flirty tone before you lounged at him, running at him at full speed with the knife slicing the air.

You know the basic footwork, albeit gracelessly, swiping the blade in eager attempts to carve up his torso. But he dodges every one of your efforts until finally spinning you flat into his chest. Overlapping your hands where you held onto the knife.

He tsked at your ear, his lips brushing the shell. “No, no~ you’re holding it all wrong~” He teased softly in a whisper, his breaths warm and steady against your cheek. “Let me teach you.”

You had your heart in your throat as his long and slender fingers picked and rearranged your own around the blade until you held it correctly.

“See?” He crooned, brushing his digits over yours. “Doesn’t that feel nicer?” 

You had to swallow, feeling uneasy standing snug against the boy but equally anxious to move. “S-sure-” You replied, trying not to shudder.

He chuckled lightly. “Let’s try again.” 

He disappeared from behind you and reappeared in the same instant on the other side of the room, gesturing he was ready for round two.

You begrudgingly gave it a few more tries – each time ending with your body trapped against his – sometimes chest to chest or front to back, and other times with you down on your knees and him sitting atop you like a stool.

You were panting when you were done. Lying on your back on the floor. The dagger knocked somewhere beside you. The humiliation and aggravation had washed off in the exhaustion as you felt your shirt cling to your dewy skin where your chest heaved.

Gojo stretched and walked off the mat with a yawn. “I think that’s a wrap. You take next, Suguru.”

He hadn’t even broken a sweat, you noted, rolling over and picking yourself up for the next guy. But Geto surely wouldn’t play with you as much, would he?

“With me, you should just focus on defense, alright?” He smiled softly, like always – though this time, it seemed pulled somewhat tighter in the seams.

“Okay-” You said weakly, feeling it pulse in your throat as you readied your stance unsurely, a tremor in your brow as you sucked your lip into your mouth. Geto was a little scary like this...

He came at you fast – the surprise making you stumble backward, knocking you off balance – slipping and almost hitting the ground if it weren’t for him catching you first – still with his smile, albeit even sharper now.

“No fair,” Gojo whined from the sidelines, but it was clear he was just teasing. “That was way too easy- you just gave up-”

You didn’t like any of it even a bit.

Though it was the same condescending aura as always – it seemed somewhat stifling now. Thick and heavy, soaking through your shirt to tickle your skin. Not entirely malicious, but something akin to it – haughty and amused and immoral and cold enough to give you chills.

One thing was for sure – they weren’t trying to be your friends.

“I think I’ve had enough-” You said then, crawling from Geto’s embrace and onto your own two feet. You padded over the floors and picked up your jacket, treading it on again. “I’m of no help to you other than making a fool of myself- the two of you should just practice against each other.”

“Come on-” Gojo interjected, pushing himself off the wall he’d been leaning against.  “Loosen up your tie and have some fun with us.”

“No. I played your games; now I’m done.” You said decidedly, struggling with why you’d even said yes in the first place. “I mean no disrespect, but my time is better spent studying than humoring the two of you.” 

You walked to the exit, but Gojo had placed himself in front of it. Looking almost taller than the door itself. His arms folded lazily over his chest with his dark glasses slanted on his nose, looking down at you with that very awful twinkle in his eyes – lips in a small haughty smirk.

“Move, please.” You said, unable to hold the spite out of your voice any longer. Now audibly and visibly very annoyed.

“Yeah?” He posed before splitting a bigger grin, brows doing a jump at his next statement. “Make me.”

You groaned. Sweaty and sore and tired of it. “This isn’t funny, Gojo.”

But he just couldn’t help but snicker. You looked so prim and proper in your suit – way too cute to take seriously.

“I don’t think he’s trying to make you laugh, angel.” Geto chimed in from behind you – his thick arms soon slithering snugly around your midriff with his chin hanging on your shoulder, squeezing you to his chest where he slouched over you.

You yelped with wide eyes once your ass molded against his crotch, blushing at the feel before the panic took you.

“H-hey-” You stammered, embarrassed in a different way than that of before. “Stop that-”

“Why? I thought you said you didn’t want to fight anymore- change your mind so soon?” He mumbled, hugging your body tighter. His bulge nestling sweetly against your tush, you could barely form the words in your state – feeling overwhelmingly flustered.

“N-no- but-”

“Right, there are other fun things we can do instead of fight,” Gojo cut off your stuttering, taking a step toward the two of you – his hand out and curling around your chin to lift your head up to meet him. 

“What?” Your brows cinched, and he thought he’d never seen you quite so discomposed.

He chuckled. “Oh, you know, like I said before-” Leaning down to your level – his eyes sharp with something you could never quite understand. “You’re to be our little assistant soon. And I suppose it’s only right we teach you what that means since it all seems so lost on you.”

Your look was so puzzled and cute – he wanted to taste it. Needing to sink his teeth into his tongue when you let out a whine as Geto nudged his nose into your neck, smelling you like a shameless curse as his hands slipped down between your thighs to palm the sweet thing found there.

“The uniform suits you, but I think we’ll have you dress a little differently.” He added, lips smothered on your neck, hot and wet – making you cringe with an uneasy whimper. “After all, you won’t need this many layers serving us.”

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ GETO SUGURU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[stargirlfics]

IRON

got a request awhile back for Battinson + pussy eating and l couldn’t resist!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, size/strength kink, slight exhibitionism, reader is a bit of a brat! smut: oral (reader receiving), manual restraints, praise kink, body worship, mask kink

Word Count: 2.5k

One could hardly say it was your fault. 

Bruce had left you here, in the Tower, all by your lonesome. You couldn’t be to blame, it was simple as that.

Though you didn’t protest his departure (you knew how important his work for the city was, how he’d answer that beacon shining high in Gotham’s stormy skies whenever it appeared) you also couldn’t help but sulk and pout about missing him. 

He could be out there all night and as selfish and indulgent as it was, you had plans, ones that involved as minimal amount of clothing as possible and his lips on yours, these desires being something you had started to tell him when it became clear he was needed in the city tonight instead. 

You could only hope the slight pinching grip of his hands on your waist as he left you with a tender kiss to your cheek meant he wouldn’t forget about your needs. 

It was raining now, just a little under a steady downpour and time seemed to move entirely too slow, barely an hour having passed with your next glance at the large grandfather clock in the foyer.  

Huffing a sigh, you wandered over to the bookshelves lining the alcoves in Wayne Tower’s main room, browsing amongst a few of your favorite novels that had found a new home here before you were pulling one off the shelf and snagging an old throw blanket, heading downstairs to Bruce’s hidden workspace to curl up in your usual spot and wait for his return. 

Funny, how casual this felt, like it was any other weekend night but most people in Gotham weren’t waiting up for the vigilante they called a lover to come home were they? And yet it was exactly where you wanted to be. 

For better or worse you were tied to Bruce and therefore tied to The Batman, swiftly coming to fall for both, to want both and all of who Bruce is, even when he made you worry. 

He promised both you and Alfred that he’d be careful and did every time he went out but he knew you would worry anyways, neither of you asking the other to change, loving each other too much to ask of it. 

Somehow you fashioned another fitting piece to the ever shifting puzzle that was Bruce Wayne and you weren’t going to trade it for the world.

The descent below ground brought a change in temperature, cool chilly air sweeping across your skin once you stepped onto the expanse of the abandoned terminus.

But the familiarity of it and the blanket draped over your shoulders was doing a fine job at keeping you warm, and the sleeping bats hanging above you were a fond presence with how much time you spent down here now. 

You were right at home.

Curled up on the sofa tucked into one of the spare corners in the workspace you chewed at the nail of your thumb, finding that the novel you’d chosen wasn’t helping your antsy, increasingly needy mood. 

The novel bordered on erotic and it made you squirm, heat creeping up from your chest to settle in your cheeks, your thighs pressing together without thought.

Mind wandering, dreaming of a steamy kiss, of being scooped up by him and made to feel good, the ache in your core finally being sated. 

You kept reading into the midnight hour, eventually unable to stop thinking of the details, his towering form, large, strong, and sure hands that gripped and held you so sweetly, so tightly, and how good it felt to be taken apart by him too. 

Bruce was unassuming like that, shy and reserved, awkward even, until he wasn’t, making it a point to discover all the ways he could fluster you, make you whine, and beg for him again and again. 

He was good at it too, had gotten especially skilled with that smart and stubborn mouth of his, and tonight, that’s what you wanted most. 

Wanted to grind yourself against his lips, his tongue, your clit bumping against his nose until your brain went quiet and all you could feel was the pulsing of the pleasure he loved giving you.  

Distracted by your fantasies you almost missed the soft whirring of the terminus gate opening, the book dropping closed in your lap when you realized he was back. 

It was late in the night now, it had been hours but you never felt more energized, letting the blanket pool around your middle as you watched the sleek black muscle car roll in, streaked with rain, the rumble from its engine reverberating against your chest in thrilling comfort. 

You stood up then, stretching out your limbs, a sly smirk threatening to stay on your lips as you watched Bruce step out of the car, his inky black cape draped around him, cowl shiny with moisture, and oh those eyes, shrouded in painted on shadows, his gaze finding yours immediately. 

“Thought you might be in bed by now,” his voice gruff but gentle as he spoke to you, a tone reserved especially for you.

“I considered it but thought waiting up for you here would be a lot better,” an innocent sigh left your lips while you busied yourself with folding the blanket, turning your back towards him, putting a nice little tilt and bend to your hips when you leaned over. 

The heavy footfall of his boots coming closer sent another thrill running up your spine, “Indeed it is, missed me that much, hm?”

Bruce was indulging your antics, always one to entertain your moods, your fantasies, wired on the adrenaline of his late night work in the streets, it made for such a potent mixture and you were delighted. 

“Mhm, cause someone’s skills were needed elsewhere, I had to make due all by myself,” you feigned a pout, trying to hide your smile when you spotted the briefest widening of his eyes at your words. 

He took another step towards you but you skirted away, dodging his hulking figure, the plated armor of his Bat suit still a little intimidating to you, your core clenching around nothing at the thought of being handled by those hands clad in Batman’s gloves, to feel his strength, the brute force in his biceps and forearms, pinning you down to do what he pleased with you. 

It’s all you could think about. 

Maybe it was the heightened level of your desire that made you feel a little bolder tonight, more eager to tease, to get under his ever-so-stoic skin, because you were making your way over to the car now, your hand trailing over its frame, walking, swaying almost till you were standing at the hood of the car, facing Bruce again who’s eyes were fixated on you. 

No words needed to be said as you smiled sweetly, your hands falling to your sides, tracing the edges of the satin slip dress hugging your body, fingers slipping under the hem, dragging it up your thighs a little. 

Chest tightening at his steady, measured steps toward you, one of your hands coming down to swipe over your inner thighs, touching yourself before he could reach you all the way, a giggle slipping out when you heard him grumble in frustration. 

It wasn’t often that you leaned into your brattier tendencies, but tonight, you were in that kind of mood, something sparking low in your tummy seeing him in the cowl, the suit making him appear bigger, taller, and underneath that you knew he had the strength to carry all that gear, to move and fight in it and it made you feel so much smaller in comparison, finding a thrill in pushing buttons. 

“Move your hand, baby.” his command came gently, a warning in itself of sorts, telling you he was going easy on you, giving you a chance to behave. 

Any other night you would have yielded, knowing just how good he could give it to you when you listened to him, but tonight you wanted the less inhibited side of him so instead, you kept your hand between your thighs, fingers finding slick skin with ease. 

“You have to wait your turn, sir,” you flicked your eyes up towards his playfully, heart jumping into your throat at his expression, the tick of his jaw. 

Bruce was pressed against you now, hands moving up to cage you against his chest, your breaths heavier, already losing the battle. 

It was so easy for him to break your tough girl act, knowing full well you were just as desperate as he was, knowing your weak spots and using them to his advantage.

Like now, for instance, using your distracted state to catch you off guard, his hands finding your waist and lifting, placing you up onto the warm, wet hood of his car, a delighted squeak filling the air as he lay you back. 

You were dough in his hands, shaped by the roll and press of his fingers, the weight of them making you whine as he pushed your legs apart, all but growling at your lack of underwear. 

The sight of him settling between your thighs, his body over yours filling your entire field of vision unlocked something for you, your heart beating wildly at the feeling of the suit again your skin, cool droplets of water landing on from the ears of his cowl as he lowered his head to your ribs. 

His lips were warm as they kissed down your torso, his hands keeping your thighs spread out for him, open so his mouth had a clear path to travel down, your breath hitching the lower his mouth went. 

A needy whine slipped out when he stalled, just hovering over where you wanted him most, his huff of laughter making you squirm from sensitivity. 

“Look who can’t wait their turn now…you’re lucky I’m in a generous mood.” Bruce chuckled lowly, catching you by surprise and making you ache for more. 

“Please-oh!” you weren’t too proud to beg, his mouth finally touching down on puffy folds.

The move turned your plea into a moan, hands jerking, slipping on the rain droplets now soaking your dress, grasping anything for purchase as your hips rocked with his movements. 

Curses and half stifled moans filled the air as he buried his face into your heat, his tongue lapping and swirling around your clit, moving further down to taste you properly. 

Your muscles ache from the strain of flexing against him, your body chasing the sensations he was giving you, the building pressure in your abdomen, the way he groans against your pussy, drinking you down, it all made your brain hazy in the best way. 

“Taste so fucking good…fuck.” the words left his lips with ease, finding them easier to come by when he was under the suit, when he was most himself. 

Trembling hands of yours creep down to grasp at his own hands still keeping your thighs held apart wide, and then move down, timidly tugging his head closer, crying out at the change in pressure, all your nerves tingling. 

Something about only being able to catch glimpses of his eyes, the sharp edge of his jawline as he ate you out, and the rest covered by the mask made you open up for him further, your desires reaching no end. 

Your hands pushed at his arms until he caught your wrists, holding them back with one hand, pinning them to your tummy, leaving you panting, unable to help but grind yourself against the patterned flick and swirl of his tongue. 

The added thrill of being so exposed, though this was a private space, how open it seemed, made you feel on display, another wave of heat flooding your body. 

Goosebumps travel down your arms as the cool brush of his free hand caresses your frame, grabbing dewy flesh, feeling your breasts, your waist underneath his grip, loving how you molded to his touch, how perfect you were in his arms. 

He could spend all night like this, making you feel good, pulling those high pitched whines and gasps from your throat, making your thighs tremble like they were doing now. It’s all he could think of, all he could do. 

“Please, please, keep going, yes!” more whimpers fall prettily, your body turning soft and pliant under the sweet pressure of his lips, the way his tongue sweetly nudges inside you, licking your essence, building you up higher and higher. 

Every now and then he’ll slow it down, teasing you just a little for his own self indulgent reasons before heeding your heady whimpers for more, building you back up again, enjoying the way you seemed to drip from his tongue, how he could make such a mess of you. 

He knows you’re close, can tell by the way you flutter around his tongue, can feel the frenzied aching in your limbs as it begins to happen. 

“Come on, let go. Now. Let me feel you,” the assertion in his tone left no room to argue, the gruff, grit out encouragement giving you the final push you needed.

Your orgasm reaches you quickly as his tongue returns to your clit, dragging out the sensations, making you shake even more, almost exhausted by the force of it. 

What a sight this must be, being spread out so sinfully and all for him, something Bruce intended to savor, the fact that you were all his, that rough exterior shedding a little more easily now that he knew he’d given you what you needed. 

His lips were still leaving kisses on your throbbing clit and sensitive inner thighs, staying close, bright eyes peering into yours, wanting the close contact to go on a little longer. 

That was just fine by you, he could have whatever he wanted with the way he just made you feel, and still, amusement twinkling for just a moment in his eyes at seeing you struggle to catch your breath. 

Pushed up onto your elbows now you peer down, cheeks burning again at seeing just how messy you’d become, rain and your arousal damp on your inner thighs, shining around Bruce’s lips and chin.

“God…that was so good, thank you, baby,” your praise and gratitude were soft spoken, holding all the usual affection you had for him, none of your earlier antics remaining. 

You watched him smirk at your content sighs, pulling the cowl off with ease, a practiced move that was second nature now. 

It wasn’t fair that he could look so handsome, rain soaked and hair disheveled, black paint still smudged around his eyes too but it was a look that fit him well and had much too strong an effect on you, feeling the muscles of your thighs jump once more. 

“Anytime. I’m always ready to straighten out that attitude for you, beautiful. Just say the word.” 

Maybe it was the unmistakable glint in his eye or the way he spoke to you then that had you laying back against the car again, trying to hold back whimpers and giggles when he followed close after you, wanting, no needing another taste, needing to see you fall apart again. 

“Think you can be a good girl and keep those legs open for me?” 

“Mhm, just don’t want you to stop, please.” 

“Never…have to make up for all those hours I was gone, right.” 

You shared his sly little smile and lay back for him once more, the searing kisses unleashed upon your still tingling skin dragging you back under, right where you wanted to be, under the skillful fangs of The Bat himself.

————

A/N: Well it had to be done! Cause I can’t be told otherwise, Rob’s Batman eats it like a starved man and I will stand by that! Period! Lol thank you for reading this fun little fic, lemme know what you think! Any and all thirsty comments welcome! 🖤

some tags, no pressure! @flamingdisputes @littlekidsteve @eupheme @saradika @allaboardthereadingrailroad @yelenas-lova @tarrenterror25 @moreofem @squidlywiddly87

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi!! How do you think potential meet cutes with Jason would go? Do you think he’d be instantly smitten? He strikes me as the type to get a crush on you since the first meeting but maybe I’m just delusional 🥰

My honest opinion but I don’t think Jason likes smut books. He doesn’t mind a little bit of smut but would much prefer if it was nonexistent or didn’t take up a ridiculous amount of pages/chapters in the book in general.

I’m also a delusional twat anon who believes Jason would feel something upon first meetings, but firstly I have to heavily disclose that most of your run ins with one another would be in a book store/cafe, at least more so then anywhere else. (Book reader Jason supremacy!)

So to say that your interest was peaked upon first spotted a six foot something, beast of a man standing in front of the romance section, holding two different books -which were both written by the Jane Austen- in each hand was an understatement.

Normally you wouldn’t expect a man like Jason in the romance section of a small, quite but quaint bookstore/cafe, withholding an internal conflict over some books in his head as though his life depended on it. However the fact still stands that you deeply appreciate a man with good taste in his personal readings, and wasn’t afraid to indulge in the romance genre.

It probably also didn’t help that he was a conventionally attractive man with short dark hair with a tuft of white embedded in his fringe and wearing a simple read hoodie and jeans, a simple attire that anyone could wear, but on him he made it seem as though it were a main staple of his wardrobe.

Jason, knowing when he’s being watched, as quick to look over his shoulder but what he wasn’t expecting was to see someone as cute and stunning as you standing there. He’s a little tongue tied but that was mainly from surprise, and for all of Jason’s hard attempts of trying to act natural, it only made for a spectacle that you couldn’t help but view as endearing and kinda cute.

‘You alright there?’ You’d ask with a smile.

‘Yeah. I’m good, fine even.’ Jason replied, internally cursing himself for being caught off guard because he was too involved in debating which book to take home to read.

‘So…You like Jane Austen?’ You asked, trying to make room for a conversation to occur between the two of you.

‘Wha-‘ Jason looks down at the books in either of his hands and chuckles. ‘Yeah, she’s one of my favourite alongside the likes of Mary Shelley and Louisa May Alcott.’ He answers and he could tell that he had gotten your approval with the little hum of acknowledgment.

‘Do you come here often?’ You then said before adding with an awkward laugh of your own, ‘I mean I come here quite frequently as it’s the only bookstore in town that has proper books that aren’t smut books, and i have never seen you before until well…today.’ Jason smiles, finding himself growing to like you with every passing moment as he felt himself grow relaxed within your presence, especially now that he had long deducted that you weren’t a real threat.

‘I’m with you on that pretence, it’s seems that nowadays all the bookshelves in most stores are prominently smut books of lacklustre quality and story structure.’ Jason agreed, noting being a fan of those types of books himself, Jason had found it becoming increasingly difficult to find decent books that weren’t smut, badly written girl boss self inserts, or just poorly written in general. So when he stumbled across this little book store on his way home and took a chance by entering the store, only to find himself spending way longer than he had initially thought.

And that was just in the romance section alone. That’s how Jason knew this bookstore was unlike all the rest in Gotham.

‘But as to answer your question, I come here on the off chance when I’m looking for a new book to read, seeing as I have read and re-read the books in my personal possession multiple times over.’ Jason admitted and feeling a little bashful but reading had proven to be a form of escapism for him- especially after everything he has been through recently- he felt as though this escape from reality was severely overdue.

‘You’ve got your own collection of books? Am I allowed to assume that they’re mainly Jane Austen’s body of work or?’ You trailed off, feeling yourself growing more confident with talking to Jason as though it was as easy as breathing. Finally you had someone to indulge in this sort of conversation with without it feeling forced and fall to the wayside, leaving you both to soak in the awkward and stifling aftermath.

Jason smiled genuinely as he bowed his head and raised his hands. ‘You got me down to a science…’ he trailed off once realising that he didn’t know your name and cursed himself for his lack of even the basic of etiquette.

‘Y/n.’ You told him with a smile.

‘Y/n.’ He tested out your name, letting it linger for a little bit and quickly came to the conclusion that he liked it. He liked it a lot. And you liked it also, especially when he was the one saying it the way he did just now.

‘Well it’s nice to meet you y/n. My names Jason.’ Jason then said and he knew that he’d come to like the way you said his name as though it were a mythical word;

‘Jason.’ You uttered, saying every word with care and respect that it left a weird feeling within Jason’s chest that only seems to grow and spread throughout his body the more you talked.

You two would talk for literal hours about your favourite book genres, characters and so on to the point that the owner of the bookstore would have to remove you both from the premises himself. He’d then proceed to go on about how you both were just taking the piss at this point and muttering about having to stay an while longer to properly close up shop, count the cash float, and so on before then making the journey home.

He honestly didn’t care about the books in Jason’s hand, just lets him have them for free on the pretence that both he and you get the fuck out before shutting and locking the door behind you both.

‘Well…’ Jason trailed off, tucking the books under his arm. ‘Will I see you again? Preferably here?’ He asks and you smiled sheepishly.

‘Depends, will you?’ You countered and Jason could feel the smile on his lips grow at it’s own accord. ‘Yeah, I’m definitely coming back if I get free books for every time I stay until closing hours.’ He jokes and you lightly smack his bicep, keeping your hand there for an unreasonably long time but it’s not like either you or Jason cared in that moment.

‘Then I guess I’m obligated to come back here to help you piss off the bookstore owner.’ You replied with a smile of your own as you both kept looking into the other’s eyes. You both knew something had blossomed here today at this run down bookstore, and you both hoped that it could continue like that for a long while, but neither of you were willing to admit your embarrassingly rapidly growing attraction to one another. That could wait for another time.

‘Great.’ Jason said.

‘Great.’ You echoed. ‘See you soon I guess.’

‘Soon can’t come fast enough.’ Jason replied ask you both went your separate ways with eager anticipation of your next interaction.

[angerworn]

§ 🥺

------constellation, don't you dare give me a sad face. give me all of your muses instead because a ship between any of them and morgan would be incredible and diverse in unique and wonderful ways.

[peachsayshi]

the duke nanami drabbles are insane i am frothing at the mouth why is this so hot like keep em coming babe ur a genius for this

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ duke!nanami x reader ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: I am so glad you guys are enjoying this idea! this was one that's been lingering in my head, so I decided to write something short & sweet for you all x

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: arranged marriage; tension; alludes to smut

your face grows hotter still - it must be the corset, you think. the strings squeezing into your ribs and making your heart flutter aggressively in your chest. it has to be that and not the heat of your husband's gaze staring at you from across the room.

because that’s the only explanation you have as to why you bolted all the way upstairs to your bedroom while in the middle of hosting a dinner.

you remove your gloves with a shaky hand, your fingers touching the frill of your collar.

you exhale, the warmth another set of fingers around your neck. but then you hear it, a soft click from the door behind you, making you spin on your heel in sudden shock.

“kento” you greet, enunciating each letter as your mouth goes dry at sight of him in his well-tailored suit, his blonde hair coiffed perfectly and reminding you of how it feels between your fingers when he’s inside you.

“are you alright?” he asks softly, tenderly. with a care that only a husband would. except other than the title and your bedroom relations, you still don’t know much about him.

it’s only been two months. this is still very, very new.

“yes,” you answer breathlessly, “I think, my lady must have tied it a bit too tight.”

your husband hums, an unfamiliar expression passing through him, one that your innocent mind won’t be able to comprehend as to why knots and binds would trigger that kind of reaction.

“let me help.”

he walks towards you, helps lift your hand up from the dresser and maneuvers you to the wall. he sets your back against it, his expert fingers unfastening the buttons around your neck and down your torso.

“this is far too much clothing for my liking, you know most women don’t dress this conservatively…” he speaks, his tone lighthearted but honest.

your cheeks burn. “mama told me that a lady should never expose herself to anyone other than her husband”

a hint of a smile tickles the corner of his lips. “a little skin is fine. I actually wouldn’t mind it. besides, I can’t have my wife passing out in the foyer because of all this fabric…”

you almost moan with relief when you feel the first layer of fabric fall to your feet, leaving you standing with your arms exposed, your torso cinched by the corset which is layered over a thin, white cotton dress.

your husband inches closer. “turn around,” he whispers.

you do, pressing your forehead to the wall because the scent of his aftershave makes you dizzy.

he tugs at your lace and groans, but you can’t see the furrow of his brows.

“far too tight,” he mumbles, and you clench your thighs together because he allowed those same words to slip from his lips when he first entered you on your wedding night.

slowly but surely, you start feeling a release - the boning easing against your stomach, your ribs, your back…

you sigh, your eyes fluttering close as your husband takes off your corset. leaving you in your sheer dress.

two hands find your waist, your nipples hardening at his touch. “there,” kento coos, “better?”

you’re still so very hot, but at least you can breathe.

he spins you around, your hands clutching the lapels of his suit. his eyes instantly take you in, falling to your chest exposed by the see through fabric.

he licks his lips, unable to help himself. arching forward, he places a kiss just above your left breast, and another on the side of your neck.

“better?” he repeats.

you stutter a “mhmm”, coiling your limbs around him like it’s natural.

his lips brush yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom covered in rouge. you part your lips, and he slides his tongue capturing you for a kiss and effectively ruining your make up. but you don’t care because your sinking, your body only propped up by the wall and your husband’s arms. your tongue drinking him up to cool you off.

“kento,” you pant, “our guests”

“an inconvenience,” he groans into another kiss, “I’ll be down to dismiss them shortly-“

you pull away, your hands finding his jaw and mouth painted in red. your thumb traces over the evidence of the kiss, your eyes sparkling with hesitation when you gaze up at him.

he chuckles, and circles his finger around your wrist to kiss your pulse point. “don’t worry, I’ll freshen up first, darling.”

his other hand slips between your leg, and he presses the fabric up against your slit, catching your arousal and feeling the material dampen slightly.

he rubs his nose over yours, “get ready for bed,” he speaks, his tone dripping in honey, his fingers pushing the fabric between your lips. “I’ll join you as soon as I can”

[b00kdiary]

Wildest dreams (V)

ACOTAR The Batboys x Plus size reader

Where the reader finds herself gaining the attention of the most notorious males in Prythian and it seems that even her wildest dreams couldn’t prepare her for the night they would share.

Notes: This has Rhys, Cassian and Azriel with a plus-size reader since I literally couldn’t decide who it should be and thought that the best fantasy in the world would be all three :) Here’s to all my thick, fat, plus-size girlies who want some bat-boy love too xo

Warning: mature themes (18 +) swearing, body-image issues, smut and the bat boys being utterly infatuated with their thick, beautiful lady (FINAL PART)

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"Like what you see, Darling?"

My body shivered at the smooth purr of Rhysand's voice through my mind, caressing over me like a lover's touch, igniting my skin and blood with fire. But I couldn't reply, couldn't speak as I took in the males before me.

Who were currently shedding off their layers, one by one.

I sat on the edge of the large bed, the satin grating against my bare skin as I clenched my thighs together to stifle the ache forming between them. It was hypnotic, the three of them stood smirking and arrogant before me, the room silent as they began unbuttoning their shirts, lifting them with ease over their heads to reveal the corded muscle and ripples of strong endless skin covered with dark whorls.

My gaze didn't linger on one male for long, moving from the slender leanness of Rhysand to the hard ridged abs of Azriel and finally, the solid corded muscle of Cassian. They were ethereal, the kind of beauty that seemed unreal, and yet as they watched me, it was as if I was the most beautiful thing in the room right now.

Rhysand stalked forward on silent feet toward me, his ties loosened allowing his breeches to hang dangerously low around his hips, revealing the sharp V of his torso. I couldn't stop myself from following down the expanse of his tan chest, my eyes grazing the trail of hair that began at his navel and dipped under his breeches.

I felt the heat inch onto my cheeks, my breasts heavy and the wetness between my thighs aching with need and want. My eyes fluttered up, meeting Rhysand's star-flecked eyes and pretty tilted smile as he beheld me, still sitting on the bed, my erratic heart beating with impatience in my chest.

"How would you like us, darling?" Rhysand murmured, his voice hoarse as he dipped his head down, his hand trailing over my bottom lip and settling to cup my cheek. My mind turned blissfully blank as his lips met mine, and I didn't conceal the whimper that escaped me as his lips moved against me, his tongue delving and exploring against mine.

I thought of nothing but the feeling of him one second and then the next, images flashed through my mind.

I saw myself on top of one of these fine males, my head thrown back, my eyes closed, riding and taking every last inch of pleasure that I could get.

Then there was a flash, and I was sprawled on the bed on my hands and knees, a firm, veined grip tugging on my loose hair and sinking deep into me from behind, an unfamiliar kind of pleasure.

And then there is the final image, where I kissed down the strong expanse of muscle and skin, closer to the place where I craved to taste and explore as I was explored.

I blinked as reality came fading back in and Rhysand's violet eyes twinkled before me, amused and needy, waiting for an answer, waiting for which choice I made. That was clear- it was my choice, to be taken and treated and pleasured in whichever way I saw fit.

I wanted it all. I wanted every fantasy. All at once.

Rhysand's brow rose, a glimmer of surprise shining on his face but then he smirked, turning feral as he heard my proclamation, and saw exactly what I had decided.

'Beautiful, wicked little thing," Rhys purred, and my body prickled as Cassian and Azriel came over, blocking out any light from the moonshine, just as they had all those hours ago at Rita's. My wide eyes looked between them all, and I knew I was out of my depth, lost in how I could even begin to explore my own desires.

Cassian smiled, the face that could harden with violence and death now looked as sweet as honey and sugar, and my body melted with a sigh as he sat beside me and with the gentlest of hands, ran his rough fingers over my soft body and lifted me onto his lap, as if I weighed nothing.

I gasped against his chest, my eyes fluttering as my core rubbed against his breeches as I settled each thigh to straddle him. I bit my lip as Cassian's hands settled on my bare thighs, his hardness digging into me and I moaned into the kiss he gave me, moving down with him as he laid on his back.

"Is this alright, angel?" He questioned softly, looking up at me from the bed and my body pulsed and roared at the feeling of him under me, taking every last bit of my weight and not even noticing. I dragged my soaked, exposed core down his breeches and the groan that escaped him made me weak.

I smiled coyly as my fingers moved down, brushing across Cassian's torso and I felt his breathing hitch as I unlaced his breeches, slowly pushing them down and my heart stilled as his hard erection broke free, slapping back against his stomach.

"Shit," I muttered and the quiet laughter of the three males around me made me blush, my head ducking low in embarrassment, though the size of Cassian made my heart hammer- the idea of him trying to fit that inside me.

"Don't be scared, sweetheart," Azriel murmured, sitting on the bed beside us, his hand coming to tuck my hair behind my ears so I could see his warm eyes. "This is all at your pace, we're following you."

I gnaw on my lip and with the gentlest touch, I reach forward, gripping Cassian's length in my hand and shivering at the feel of it in my palm, at the weight and size and hardness.

"Fuck," Cassian grunted, and I grew braver, my eyes transfixed upon him as I palmed his length, my hands so small in comparison to him, enjoying every breathless moan that escaped the General beneath me.

"Cassian, may I-?" My cheeks grew hot as I looked down, the question shining in my eyes, but my tongue tied and embarrassed to say the words. He grinned, feral delight on his face, and shifted onto his elbows, pulling me into a deep kiss and lifting my hips to help me.

The first brush of Cassian's length against me made me whimper, and I didn't realise how desperate and ready I was until I lined him up to my entrance and sunk down, deliberately, and slowly. My mouth opened in a soundless 'o' as Cassian stretched me, his body rippling under my palms at the feeling of us joined.

"Cauldron," I cursed, my head dropping to Cassian's chest as he fully seated himself inside me, and the burn was so strong and yet it felt so good.

"Shit, you're squeezing me so tight," Cassian gasped, his warm minty breath brushing my cheek and I fluttered my eyes open as his hand came to my cheek, lifting my head to meet his eyes, "Are you all right, angel?"

"Yes, yes," I whispered, and my body grew unbearably hot by the attention on me, Cassian under me, Azriel at my side, Rhysand behind me- just watching. I shifted my hips and Cassian, and I moaned in unison at the movement.

I placed my hands on Cassian's chest and with a deep inhale and exhale, I rose myself up to the tip of him, before slowly sinking back down, deeper than before. He swore, and my lips messily met his as he glided his hands down the rolls at my back, his hands curving around my ass, moving me in against him.

I rocked back and forth, again and again, and beside me, Azriel growled roughly, his scarred hand tracing up my body to cup and fondle my sore breasts and his hazel eyes burned as he suckled and bit across my jaw and neck.

Cassian's eyes pinched shut, and I knew he was holding himself back, restraining himself for my sake and I adored him for it.

"Rhys," I pleaded his name, glancing over my shoulder to where he stood watching, the violet in his eyes deepening to a midnight sky, transfixed as he watched Cassian's length disappear inside me, my ass rippling gently with every move.

"Are you sure, darling?" He asked quietly as he stepped forward, his ring-clad hand running down my back and resting on my ass, his touch so bare. I nodded at him desperately, knowing he could hear and feel the desire running through me.

Cassian paused under me, his length stopping inside me, giving me the time, I needed as Rhys prepped himself. I heard the sound of a vial opening and my heart raced with anticipation as the smell of lavender filled my senses.

I tensed at the feeling of Rhysand's fingers behind me, slippery with oil as he traced uncharted territory.

"I need you to relax, darling, otherwise this will hurt," Rhys said softly, and I swallowed down the dryness in my throat, letting his calm tone sooth me. I leaned forward, grabbing Azriel's hands for support- and as he began kissing against my cheek and Cassian rolled my nipples between his fingers, I melted into the distraction.

"That's it," Rhys praised, and I gasped as his finger dipped into me, ever so slowly, stretching me out. The feeling was unfamiliar and just barely uncomfortable but as he continued, going deeper and faster, it soon eased enough that when he slipped in a second finger, I whimpered loudly.

"You're doing so well," Azriel smiled against my jaw, and the arousal that spiked through me made my head spin, Rhysand's fingers crooked inside me, knowing exactly what spot to hit. "Taking it so well."

"Rhys," My voice broke, utterly ruined, and I arched my back enough that Cassian's eyes rolled, his hard length still seated patiently inside me, my walls clenching and unclenching. "Please, I need you."

A deep, rumbling growl emitted from Rhys and I felt empty the second his fingers slipped out from me, leaving me bare and aching for that feeling again. But as that vial clinked open again, and as Rhysand pulled down his breeches, I knew I didn't need to wait long.

I arched my back as Rhys came to stand behind me, his fingers sprawled over my ass spreading me wide and as his hard, slippery cock brushed against me, I braced myself. I inhaled and exhaled slowly, and as he guided his hips forward, I found myself burying my head into Azriel's chest.

No touch or kiss was enough to distract me from this intrusion.

"Oh-oh," I scratched my nails down Cassian's stomach, my fingers moving over every ridge and muscle for leverage as Rhys sunk into me, inch by inch, the feeling so fucking full I didn't know how much more I could take. "Don't- shit- please, don't stop."

"Cauldron, Y/N," Rhys panted, and the sound made my skin ignite with fire- the sound of my name, pleading and breathless on my High Lord's lips, was one of the best things I'd ever heard. "You're going to fucking kill me clenching around me like this, darling."

The ache of them both inside me soon settled and it wasn't long before I was shifting my core, the feeling of them both within me making me gasp and the pleasure bubbling under the surface.

"Please, please," I gasped when Cassian and Rhys both rolled their hips, moving in tandem inside me.

"Tell them what you want, sweetheart," Azriel murmured against my cheek, kissing teasingly along my jaw, "Tell them how badly you need it."

"So bad, so, so, so fucking bad-" I whimpered, my body shaking now, "Please, Rhys, Cass- Please move."

They didn't need to be told twice.

I bit my cheek hard enough to taste metal as they both drew out from me and then rocked back in, their paces agonisingly slow and with them stretching both holes, hitting two spots far and deep in me, I couldn't catch my breath.

"There you go, Angel, there you fucking go," Cassian grumbled under me, his eyes wild as he watched me, tits bouncing and his hands digging into the flesh of my hips as he fucked his hips up into me, his pace getting faster.

I gasped, Rhysand’s hands curving around my waist and tugging against my breasts, his harsh breath at my ear, every push of his hips, hard and fast behind me, making me jolt and shake.

“Fuck, Gods above-“ My stomach clenched at the fire fanning in me, and all I could do was hold on as they stroked into me, the lewd sounds filling the room, our moans, and curses in tandem as they ruined me.

“Az,” I mewled, my heavy eyes turning to the Shadowsinger beside me, contently watching and enjoying the sight of me being fucked stupid by his brothers, and I draw him into a messy, bruising kiss.

He grumbled into the kiss, and I felt his scarred hands lift and wrap around my throat, the pressure on each side making my head spin and the breath catch in my lungs. His tongue moves against mine with so much indulgence and my eyes blanketed over with shadows and stars.

I sank against Azriel, my hands running over his hard and chiselled chest, scratching, and clawing as I move down his stomach and the sound that rips from him when I draw his cock, hard and slippery with pre-cum, free from his breeches, is a sound I’ll remember for years to come.

‘Your body is perfection, darling,” Rhys hummed through my mind and even through our mental connection, I could feel his arousal, his pleasure as his rings dug into me, his hips shifting and something new and intoxicating consuming me.

I stroke Azriel furiously, curses and moans falling from his lips endlessly and it melodies into the air with the sounds of our bodies moving in the room, and Rhys and Cass seem to feed off of every whimper and cry that comes from me, fucking me harder, as if imprinting themselves inside me.

“I can’t- too much-“ I cry out, too many hands, too many sensations all driving that cord within me tauter and tauter until that feeling is close enough to break.

“That’s it, Angel, so close now,” Cassian coaxes, and my body has no strength left, all I can do is plant my hands on his chest and let him fuck up into me, Rhys guiding me forward and the angle shifts, shifts so that their brushing parts of me I never even knew existed.

“Oh- oh-shit-“ I hadn’t ever experienced pleasure like this, had never been stretched and fucked and touched so thoroughly.

“Let go, sweetheart,” Azriel grits his teeth, his body trembling as my hand moves up and down, again and again, up his veined, red cock and when a hand brushes between my thighs, rubbing messily against my puffy, aching clit, it’s all too much. “Come all over my brother’s cocks now-“

There’s a spark and I’m powerless as it explodes, fanning and roaring as it burns into a full-blown fire, and it shatters every single part of me.

My back arches and my mind goes blank as every nerve in my body ignites, that pool within me draining and draining and draining until there’s nothing left, until I can’t keep up. Azriel holds me, whispering sweet nothing in my ears and my release lasts so long, edged further as Rhys and Cass chase their own highs.

"Fuck, fuck-" Cassian swore, and I felt his hips start to falter, feeling me clenching around him like a vice. It didn't take long for him to start to shake, the muscles at his stomach clenching and hardening and as his eyes clamped shut, he bucked up, swearing as he found his release within me.

The roar he released shook the bed, shook the ground and I felt his warm seed leak out of me, filling me up as his pace slowed, twitching as he came to a breathless halt.

“Rhys,” I begged, for what I didn’t know, but the pressure of him behind me was making me dizzy, that intensity too much and when I leaned back, cementing my back to Rhysand’s chest, he hissed, his arm wrapping around my body to keep me close.

My head lolled back against his chest, unable to hold myself any longer and yet, despite that fog that covered me, my hand still drew to Azriel, still wrapped around his cock, still stroked, and fisted and rubbed him, knowing he was so close.

“Rhys,” I cried his name, and the broken sound that strangled from me when his hand slipped between my thighs and rubbed at my clit, made Azriel shudder, his control wavering. “Rhys, please- can’t- it’s too much-“

“One more, darling,” He whispered against my neck, nibbling, and sucking and biting against the skin as his cock drove into me from behind, skin slapping skin and so brutal that it hurt so good until tears leaked down my face and my hand clenched around Az like a vice.

“Sweetheart, shit-“ Azriel’s voice slipped into something wholly dark, and my eyes fluttered, desperate to watch him as his entire body went hard, his hazel eyes rolling and the filthiest, lowest moan emitting from his lips as his hips jolted- and pearly white cum leaked and leaked and leaked all over my thigh and hand.

“Ruining my brother’s so good, huh?” Rhysand ran his canines over the sweet spot at my neck, hips starting to falter as I squeezed his cock painfully tight, his fingers at my clit slippery with my arousal and Cassian’s release. “Just give your High Lord one more, just one more.”

It’s like his word became a command and my body had no choice but to obey, but to submit and something dark and devastating cracked through me, an orgasm that hit me so hard and fast I couldn’t breathe.

Rhysand’s name was a prayer on my lips, a chant I said again and again, crying tears, and shaking as release razed through me. He bit down on the junction of my throat, canines puncturing flesh and white dots filled my vision as his cock jolted, and he came with a deafening groan.

Rhysand’s body and mine melted together, exhausted, breathless, and sweating and I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes much less keep my body straight, and I was glad for the numerous hands that held me up.

The room was spinning, and I winced as soreness overtook my whole body, bright and furious as I was lifted, Cassian and Rhys both slipping out from me so softly before guiding me down to the bed and pillows as if I were as breakable as porcelain.

I sighed at the feeling of the cloud-like softness under me, my heavy eyes fluttering open, and I gasped softly at the sight of all three males above me, smiling down at me with adoration on their lovely faces.

My face and body heated at the attention, and I released a heavy exhale as I shifted onto my elbow, trying to lift myself to sit- trying and failing.

“Lay down, sweetheart,” Azriel coaxed, his hands guiding me back down and brushing the damp strands of hair from my face, his touch so tender.

I flinched, a pained whimper coming from me at the feeling of something wet brushing my core, and when I looked down, Rhysand shot me an apologetic smile, a wet cloth between his nimble fingers.

“Rhys, I can do that-“

His eyes shot to me, the violet flashing brightly and the command in them, the authority, was enough for me to sigh, rolling my eyes as I dropped my head back to the fluffy pillow. I gnawed on my lip, my face twisting as Rhysand cleaned the mess dripping down my thighs and over my core, his touch so unbelievably gentle as he cleaned me.

Cassian grinned at me, praise shining in his eyes as he ran his calloused, large hands up and down my thighs, soothing every small wince that escaped me or jagged inhale of breath.

I sighed in relief when Rhysand rose from between my parted thighs, the cloth magicked away from his hand and the ache in my core slowly dwindling. My eyes flickered between the three of them, suddenly feeling far too exposed, lying here utterly naked before them.

Stupid really, considering all the very inappropriate things we had just done.

Rhys snorted a loud sound that echoed through the silent room and my face burned at the knowing smile he gave me, hearing my silly thoughts and adoring the shyness that had come back with a vengeance in me again.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Rhys asked quietly, his strong gaze trailing over every inch of me, concerned, as he took in my still trembling and sore form.

“I’m okay,” I whispered back, barely enough energy in me to speak, “Just tired, but a good tired.”

“Then it seems we did our job,” Cassian smirked, and I giggled when he slipped into the spot beside me, his large frame nestling into me as he laid down, his wings draped back and going slack as he sighed into my neck. “Sleep, angel, you need it.”

“Are-are you sure?” I muttered, gnawing on the inside of my cheek nervously, looking from Rhys and Cassian and then to Azriel, who raised their brows at me “I can leave-“

“You’re not going anywhere,” Azriel shook his head, his lips curling into a frown as he took up the spot beside me, and like Cassian, his body melted against mine, the two of them pressed against my body contently.

I giggled at the smirk Rhys threw me, the sound getting louder as Cassian and Azriel kissed against my cheek and neck, sweet, tender kisses that tickled and throbbed and felt so good.

My thighs parted as Rhysand came between them, his body relaxing as I ran my hands over his tense shoulders, running my fingers along the whorls tattooed there as he settled his body between my thighs, his head dropping to my stomach and resting there.

He groaned, a purely blissful sound, his face sinking against the flesh of my stomach, and I laughed at him, the way his eyes began to flutter as if I were the best pillow he’d ever had.

Cassian draped the biggest duvet I’d ever seen over the three of us, and I smiled as they cocooned against me, nestling into me for comfort and warmth and holding my body like it was theirs. I ran my fingers through Rhysand’s hair, his fingers digging into my thighs, keeping them hooked to his waist.

“Who would’ve thought,”  I mutter, hearing their amused laughs brush against my skin, “You big bad Illyrian males like cuddling after sex.”

“Only with you, darling.”

--------

@satellitesunshine @queenofangrymoths @highlady-ofillyria @ladespedidas @magical-mischief-makers @lyracarvahall @ummmmmwat @eerievixen @bitchyinternetinfluencer @meritxellao @rachelnicolee @fanfictioniseverything @queen-of-arda @magdalenka @bunnymallowo @azzydaddy @fanboyluvr @maddithefangirl @jeannineee @fakelust @whatthefuckshappeningrn @honeycriess @cheneyq @brujitafantomatico

[daisynik7]

“Meet Me Halfway” by Black Eyed Peas - fluff for Jean Kirstein please i BEG i love this song so bad

Meet Me Halfway

Can you meet me halfway? Right at the borderline is where I’m gonna wait for you.

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x reader (gn)

Word Count: ~2.1k

cw: red string of fate/soulmates trope, canon universe, canon divergent, spoilers up to Season 4, fluff

Summary: Jean’s red string of fate was loose ever since he was born. It seems like everyone but himself has found their soulmate here on Paradis. It’s only when the scouts finally head towards the sea that his string becomes a little less slack. Could it be that his fated partner is on the other side in Marley, behind enemy lines?

Author’s Note: Hi anon! Thanks for the request for the y2k karaoke party! I’ve been fascinated by the red string of fate/soulmates trope for a while now, so I wanted to try my hand at it here! This is just a little taste of this, maybe I’ll expand on this story in the future. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading! Divider credits to @/saradika.

The first time they ever see the ocean, they’re speechless, neither of them speaking to one another, taking in the breathtaking view. Cerulean blue shimmers throughout the entire expanse, nearly a mirror image of the clear sky above. It took them a few days to get here and Jean was beginning to doubt just how great this thing called “the sea” could be. He never expected anything like this, though. As if the picturesque scene before him isn’t enough to get his heart racing, for the first time in his entire sixteen years of living, the red string tied around his wrist, only for him to see and feel, finally tightened just the slightest. 

The lore behind the red string of fate is no secret among those living in Paradis. Each child is born with it cinched around their wrist; the other end supposedly tied to their soulmate. Jean’s has been slack since he can remember. That is, until now. While it isn’t as taut as some of his other friends, like Mikasa with Eren and now Armin with Annie, only he can tell the difference. It’s been a running joke since they found out the truth about the other side. Connie teases him and Sasha about it constantly. “Maybe your soulmates are in Marley? How does it feel to be bounded to our enemy?”

Sasha, like Jean, has never felt any differences in her rope throughout her lifetime. He turns to face her, pointing to his wrist, curious if she feels the same. Her jaw is dropped, and when she notices him signaling to her, she closes it, gulping loudly, slowly nodding. 

When they all dismount their horses to explore the water, Jean momentarily forgets about it, focusing only on how cold the ocean feels on his feet, how salty is tastes on his tongue, how incredibly far it reaches, surely farther than his eyes can see. It’s only after their skin starts to wrinkle that they retreat, sitting on the warm sand instead, watching the waves crash onto the shore. He nudges Sasha. “So, you felt it too, right?”

“Yeah, I did,” she answers, hesitant. She caresses her wrist in her other hand, biting her lip.

Connie butts in. “Felt what?”

“Our strings. They’re a little less loose now that we’re here.”

He smirks. “I told you! Your soulmates are on the other side!”

Jean leans back against his hands, groaning. “I don’t want my soulmate to be on the other side. The other side has been trying to kill us for hundreds of years! This is so messed up.”

Sasha hugs her knees, pouting. “I agree. This sucks.”

Connie pats her shoulder. “Hey, you don’t have to marry your soulmate, you know. Plenty of people don’t! My parents weren’t soulmates, and they turned out just fine.”

“But you’re planning on marrying Hannah, aren’t you? Once this is all over?” Hannah is a childhood friend from Connie’s hometown, and the two have been in much more contact recently. 

He chuckles. “I mean, not right now. But yeah, maybe in the future…”

“So your argument makes no sense!”

“This is different though! If your soulmate really is in Marley, I think the universe will forgive you for not marrying our enemy.”

Jean groans again, staring at the glistening ocean in front of him, shaking his head. “I just can’t believe they’re really out there and not here.” 

There isn’t much they can do for now, considering they have no means to get to Marley with the current resources they have. Jean buries it in the back of his mind, trying not to think about it while they spend the next month building a base near the shore. They anticipate a Marleyan ship to arrive soon, scoping the island before implementing their attack to capture Eren, the Founding Titan. What the other side doesn’t anticipate is Paradis being prepared to ambush them to carry out their own plan in infiltrating Marley. The first one arrives when they expect it. With Eren’s Titan abilities protecting the rest of them, they manage to capture the ship easily, taking those on-board hostage for questioning. Sasha, who is usually uninterested when it comes to matters not involving food, is surprisingly invested. She watches carefully from outside the tent, waiting for them to be released from their interrogation. Jean accompanies her, unclear about her intentions until she explains to him. “My string, Jean. It’s tight. My soulmate is in there.”

They haven’t talked about it since, both choosing to ignore it for the time being. Jean’s is still as slack as the first day they arrived here, and if he’s being honest to himself, it’s crosses his mind nearly every day. A small part of him wishes he was experiencing what Sasha currently is.

Eventually, a young man with brown eyes and blonde hair steps out, looking terrified. He glances at his wrist, then his surroundings, landing his gaze on Sasha’s, who’s peeking from behind a box. She gasps loudly upon eye contact, kneeling down to hide completely. Jean does the same, not before noticing the man make a similar expression, surely curious.

Sasha doesn’t say anything more about it, though Jean can tell she’s intrigued. A few days later, like fate, the man who they find out is named Niccolo, starts working at the port as a chef. Sasha is smitten as soon as she takes a bite of his food, and from then on, the two are inseparable. Jean can’t help but feel jealous. 

With all of his friends acquainted with their soulmates, Jean is growing more and more impatient by the day. It takes over two years for Paradis to organize their first trip to Marley and he’s among the first to volunteer, not only to help the scout’s reconnaissance of enemy soil, but for his own ulterior motive to finally find his soulmate. He doesn’t disclose this to anyone, though he’s certain that his best friends have a hunch. 

When they finally arrive to Marley, it’s stimulation overload. They attempt to stick together as soon as they step foot off the ship, though it’s difficult when there are so many new and exciting things to try. It’s especially hard for Jean when he notices his string getting more and more taut with each step he takes deeper into the city. 

They all decide to split up momentarily to explore, agreeing to meet back at the port in an hour. Jean and Connie follow Sasha through the crowded streets. She’s being led by her noise and eyes, searching for the tastiest, most delectable looking treats to try upon Niccolo’s instructions. “You have to try ice cream!” he told her days before they departed and it hasn’t left Sasha’s mind since. She sneaks glances at the small note he gave her, trying to match the words he wrote to the storefronts. “There! I see it! An ice cream parlor!” She rushes towards a colorful shop, pushing her face towards the glass window, drooling. Connie drags her towards the entrance, which dings as they walk through. Jean increases his pace to catch up and the string around his wrist is tight now. He scans his surroundings, trying to see what direction the little rope is pointing to. As he follows his friends inside the shop, it’s unbelievable taut now, and he’s certain that his soulmate is inside this ice cream parlor. His heart races, simultaneously terrified and excited to meet you. 

~~~

A little over two years ago, you notice the string around your wrist feels heavier on you than usual. You’re often teased about your soulmate being an “island devil” on Paradis, considering you’re the only Eldian left in Liberio without a one. In all honestly, it doesn’t bother you, the idea of your destined partner being on the other side. Even if they are an “island devil”, you’d still like to meet them. After all, you’re soulmates for a reason, right?

You spend several minutes each day sitting at the port, staring out towards the sea, wondering what they are like. You ignore the propaganda that’s been spewed at you since birth and instead fantasize about what their interests are. Do they like the same things that you do? What do you have in common, besides the rope that ties you together? How much taller or shorter are they, what color hair do they have? Do their eyes twinkle with kindness the way you picture they do? Will their smile be as charming as you imagine it? You dream about this for over two years, slowly letting the fantasy fade into the back of your mind before you lose your sanity. It’s easy to obsess over something, but it’s hard to get out of it once it consumes you. There’s no guarantee that you’ll ever meet them at this rate, so you go about your life as usual, distracting yourself from any romanticized ideas of your uncertain love story.

Today, you’re behind the counter of the ice cream parlor you work at. You started working here several months ago, hoping to be near the port in case one day, they arrive. The past few days, you convince yourself it’s just your imagination, the gradual tightening of the string. This morning, it’s tauter than it’s ever been before, and you’re certain you’re not making this up anymore; they’re here, they’re actually here. 

There isn’t time to go looking for them yourself, so you begin your shift, itching for the hours to pass quickly so that you can leave to begin your search. Fortunately, you don’t have to. Two people around your age enter the shop first, behaving oddly. They’re dressed normally, though something about them piques your interest. It’s especially alarming at how stiff the string is now, so you inspect each of their wrists carefully, dejected when you don’t see a match. The girl presses her nose to the glass, ogling at the ice cream displayed in the freezer, drooling. Her friend, a boy with a shaved head, tugs her off, apologizing with a nervous chuckle. “Sorry about her. She gets a little crazy when she sees something she wants.”

You smile at them. “No need to apologize. Our ice cream is the best in town, so her reaction is understandable. What would you like?”

The girl blurts out, “Everything!” 

“Sasha! We don’t have enough money for everything!” 

She pouts, eyes flitting across each flavor. “But they all look so good! How am I supposed to decide which one to pick?!”

Feeling generous, you offer, “I can do a sampler platter, if you’d like.”

Sasha’s face brightens. “Really?! You’d do that? How much would that cost? Connie, how much do we have?!”

You wave them off, beaming at them. “It’s on the house. Consider it some good old Marley hospitality.”

They gawk at you, shocked, and it only makes you giggle louder. You retrieve one of your larger bowls and ready your scooper, starting at one end of the freezer. The bell on the front door rings, but you’re too busy to greet the new customer directly. “I’ll be with you in just a moment!” 

It’s only now that you realize how stiff the string is, practically quivering now from being pulled so tight. You look up and see a young man staring at you, holding his wrist up with the same red string coiled around him, an uneasy grin on his face. “Hello.”

You almost drop the scooper into the carton, astonished to have finally found him. “Hi,” you say, heat rushing into your cheeks, taken aback at how handsome he is. “Um, let me just finish this.”

“Jean, you’re distracting our new friend here! She’s giving us all this ice cream for free!” Sasha exclaims, salivating over the bowl overflowing with ice cream now. 

He smiles at you, running his fingers in his hair. “Sorry. Please, continue.”

It takes you a few seconds to refocus back on your task. Eventually, you scoop all twelve flavors into a bowl, handing it off to Sasha and Connie, who dig in immediately as soon as they sit down. You pass a spoon to Jean. “Would you like to try? Before your friends finish it off?”

He laughs, grabbing it. “I guess I should, right?”

“Or I could scoop your own if you’d like. Which one do you want to try?”

He studies each carton carefully, pointing at your favorite flavor by coincidence. “This one is calling out to me for some reason.”

Your heart beats quicker, amazed by this serendipity. “That’s my favorite,” you admit, getting him a scoop.

“I had a feeling it would be,” he replies, beaming.

[murdockparker]

Paralyzed

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: She walked in on a Friday afternoon. Steve needed nothing more than to get to know her--if only he could find it in himself to speak to her.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: just pure fluff, mentions of murder (but not frfr)

A/N: no this isn't based on a big time rush song you're crazy anyway!! I think this is my first real Steve fic? The first real one I got around to posting I guess. Cheers!

__

It was a Friday afternoon.

Correction, it was a terribly busy Friday afternoon. Family Video was seemingly the place to be, people swarming the building in hopes of renting new releases for their perspective weekends. Steve usually loathed his Friday shifts for this exact reason, countless questions about the new tapes, a dozen or so mothers berating him when a certain movie is out of stock—as if Steve Harrington himself is the reason behind the madness.

But, this afternoon was different. 

This afternoon she walked in. 

He had enough of the madness, leaving Robin all alone to deal with the wolves for a mere five minutes—he needed to get out of there. With his head in his hands, he sat on an unopened box filled to the brim with different assortments of candy—candy he needed to stock sometime today, a fact he surely couldn’t have forgotten even if he tried. Only two minutes into his escape, Robin came bounding in the backroom, a wild look grazing her eyes.

“Steve,” she nearly panted. “You gotta take over for a minute. This woman is just—ugh—not taking no for an answer! I told her we don’t have The Breakfast Club in stock, but oh no, why trust the employee who rented all ten copies earlier today? Huh? How about we give the girl who makes a little over three bucks an hour a hard fucking time!” Robin was rambling at this point, the words falling deaf on Steve’s ears.

“Robs,” Steve groaned, finally looking up at his friend. “Give me another minute, I have a nasty headache—”

“Me too, Harrington,” Robin sighed, plopping down on the box next to him. “Her name’s probably Debra and she’s a beast in fake leopard print.”

Steve snorted with laughter. “Fine, I’ll head back out there,” he stood up, dramatically dusting off his jeans. “I just don’t know why the hell our help wanted sign hasn’t brought in more folks, we’re dying out here.”

“No one wants to work for Keith,” Robin said simply.

“Damn straight,” Steve pointed, pushing his way back onto the sales floor. The leopard printed demon was nowhere to be seen, much to Steve’s utter relief—he didn’t have the energy to fight her off anyway. Finding his way behind the counter, the doorbell rang out, a pavlovian response nearly spilled from Steve’s lips. “Welcome to Family Vid—”

His heart stopped.

She was gorgeous, like she just stepped out of a magazine ad—the one’s his mom bought, not the trashy shit they sell down at the gas station. Sunglasses adorned her temple like a crown, her hair perfectly falling around the pink lenses. Steve didn’t know what to say, it felt as if he simultaneously forgot all the words in the English language and stuffed seventeen Saltines in his mouth—he was tongue tied.

“Uh, hi,” the girl said softly, waving towards the frozen spectacle behind the counter. “I saw you have a help wanted sign outside?”

Steve could only nod, making a good effort to keep his jaw from falling on the floor. 

“Well,” she smiled, the kind that would make babies giggle at the sight, “I just moved here and sorta need a job so…” A resume was placed on the counter before him. It looked professional—way more than what Family Video could ever hope to ask for from an applicant, anyway. Steve couldn’t stop reading it. She was literally an angel, an answer to his very prayers—every one of them. If he had the power to hire her on the spot, he’d be tossing her a green vest from the back without a second thought. Part of him was cursing the fact Keith wasn’t here to interview her this very second, he needed to get to know this girl. 

“I-I…” Steve tried to speak, feeling his cheeks grow inflamed with embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being so… foolish around a girl.

“Steve, is it?” 

She knew his name. 

Of course he knew she read it off his name tag, he wasn’t that thick, but hearing it come straight from her lips? He could have melted directly into the floor and no one could have stopped him. 

“Yeah, this doofus here’s Steve, I’m Robin,” Robin appeared by his side, seemingly in the knick of time. “Don’t worry about him, we’re getting him the help he needs.”

The mystery girl giggled. “Ah, I see.”

“You want to apply here?” Robin asked, prying the resume from Steve’s—reluctant—hands. “Oh thank God, we’re dying for more bodies around here.”

“I love movies,” she explained quickly, noting how intently Robin was reading over her simple paper. “A-and I used to work at a movie theater back home before moving here, so I know a lot about the recent releases—”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Robin said, leaning onto the counter, voice dripping with secrecy. “You’re probably too good for this place, I mean, way too good for this shit-hole—”

“I need a job,” she repeated, almost desperately. “My folks forced me to move here and I’m trying to save up to get my own place back in Chicago, I’m not built for this small-town bullshit.”

This made Robin explode with laughter and Steve shrivel in despair. She had an expiration date—a way out of Hawkins.

“Well, I’ll make sure to pass this off to our manager—with a glowing recommendation, of course,” Robin winked.

“I appreciate it!” She smiled again, the sight nearly had Steve wishing he had his own pair of sunglasses to wear—it was blinding. “Well, I hope to see you guys around?”

“We’ll be here!” Robin called out, watching the girl walk back towards the door and out towards her car. A hand smacked across Steve’s bicep. 

“Hey!” He finally responded, rubbing the aforementioned spot. “What the hell?”

“I should bring that whiteboard out of retirement,” Robin arched her brow. “You’re positively hopeless, Steve Harrington. What the fuck was that all about?” 

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve sighed. “She was just—I didn’t even know what to say!”

“Clearly,” she snorted. “You looked like a gaping trout—”

“I did not—”

“This was worse than the girl who asked for a Mint-Choco Deluxe and you handed her a straight scoop of ice cream—no cone. I had to practically chase her out with a stack of napkins and a thousand apologies.”

Steve cringed at the memory. “Maybe…”

“When Keith hires her—and you know he’s gonna—you better get your act together. I don’t wanna deal with…this every day.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved. “Sure.”

And deal with it, she did. 

(Y/N) was her name, Steve had the pleasure of unpacking her new name tag for her first day. He almost wanted to keep it, but figured it would make him look like a crazed lunatic. Patiently, he waited by the front door, hoping to see her pull up in her car, ready and rearing for her first day on the job. Steve begged Robin to allow him the pleasure of training her, given he could somehow speak in her presence, of course. She simply rolled her eyes and agreed to the shift exchange. 

A shiny, cherry-red BMW peeled into the lot—Steve noted it looked awfully familiar to his own car, minus the color of course. It seemed a bit out of place in a small town like Hawkins, but the car had suited her just fine. Everything about her suited her kindly, Steve had noticed, especially the clothing she wore. Family Video was no place for a fashion show, Steve could attest to that himself, but with the way she was practically strutting towards the doors? The parking lot was her runway and he was begging to see more. 

“Good morning!” (Y/N) greeted cheerfully, pushing the glass door open wide.

“Morning,” Steve managed to squeak out. He pushed the unflattering green vest towards her. “Your uniform.” She easily slipped the fabric over her own shirt, the stark whiteness of her blouse really made the green pop.

“Well?” She spun around, twirling like a princess. “Do I look the part?”

Steve could only nod. 

“So what’s the first thing on the agenda? Do y’all have a time clock?”

Steve nodded again, pointing his thumb towards the break room.

“Ok..ay…” She said quietly, walking in the direction she was given.

He could cry—it was so pathetic. The way this girl had him so worked up? How was he expected to train her? No, forget training her, how was he supposed to even talk to her? Steve had been in pickles before, but this one took the cake.

“So you just… don’t speak then?”

She had managed to sneak up behind Steve, who had clearly been deep in thought. Her angelic voice alone made him jump. 

“I-I speak,” Steve explained. “I just… have a lot on my plate currently, s’all.”

“I’m sure working at the Family Video is real hard work, superstar,” she giggled, jumping up onto the countertop. “But I’m glad I don’t have to understand your training through charades."

“I’m pretty good at charades,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “O-or so I’m told…”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she smiled. “But seriously, I really thought you just didn’t want to talk to me or something.”

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. 

“So… I should probably show you the computer system for rentals,” Steve tried changing the subject—poorly, but she graciously turned her attention to the computer she so-conveniently sat next to. “Y’know, because that’s like, the entire job.”

The girl leaned in, not daring to remove herself from the counter top, trying to see what Steve was clicking on. 

“You seem tense,” she noticed. 

“It takes me a while to get warmed up to new people,” he lied. 

“What? Like a cat?”

“…exactly like a cat.”

“Well, Steve,” she hopped off the counter, “it’s a good thing I like cats.”

He tried his best to hide the redness flooding his cheeks.

She made Family Video more enjoyable, even after her first shift, Steve thought. He already liked the job enough, spending time with his best friend and getting paid for it was already a huge perk, but now that he got to know her? He might just keep this job forever.

Forever lasted only four months. 

“Steve!”

He peeked his head over the horror aisle, finding (Y/N) staring at him expectantly from the front counter. 

“Yes?”

“I’m dying over here,” she said dramatically, falling over on the countertop. “It’s so… boring.”

“It’s a Monday morning,” Steve said simply, commanding every fiber in his being to not shrug at the statement. “Mondays are usually boring around here.”

“Everything about Hawkins is boring,” she said, not lifting her face up from the counter. “How do you manage living in this God-forsaken town?”

“I don’t think everything is boring,” Steve scoffed, ignoring the rest of the tapes that needed to be put away. His feet were already leading him towards the counter, as if they had a mind of their own. “I mean, I doubt you’ve run through everything this town's got to offer?”

She lifted her head up from the counter, a red mark gracing her forehead. “In the last four months of living here? I think I have. Hell, the one cool place y’all could have had burned to the ground.”

Steve winced at the mention of StarCourt, the wounds still fresh. “It wasn’t that cool…”

“Fine,” (Y/N) propped herself up, head in her hands, “name one cool place in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock.”

He doesn’t know why he said it.

“Skull Rock?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve sheepishly said, hand finding the back of his neck quickly. “It’s the go-to for the coolest kids in Hawkins—made popular by yours truly.”

“And what exactly is Skull Rock?” Her arms were neatly crossed by the time he managed to look back at her. 

A make-out spot.

“A-an… experience?” Steve squeaked, trying his best to sound cool. “It’s hard to explain, you just kinda gotta go and see for yourself.”

“Huh,” she tutted. “Why haven’t I heard of this Skull Rock until now? Certainly if it was as neat as you say it is I would’ve heard about it by now.”

“It’s underground,” Steve tried to convince her. “Not physically, I mean. It's above ground, I promise. Underground in the sense that only the cool kids know about it.”

She snorted. “Cool kids?”

“Y-yeah,” He tried to double down.

“As in, like, high schoolers?”

“Other people besides high schoolers can be cool kids, y’know,” Steve said, trying his best not to cough. 

“Maybe I’ll ask Robin about it when she comes in—”

“I could take you?” Steve is quick to interject. “To Skull Rock, I mean. Tonight, if you’re free.”

A smile crept across her ruby red lips. “Like a date?”

“Pshht, no,” Steve waved. “Like a thing friends do! An activity of sorts.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“An activity,” Steve corrected, feeling queasy at the thought she may actually say yes. 

As if mulling over her options for the evening, (Y/N) stared directly into Steve Harrington’s brown eyes, pinning him to the spot with such a glare. “Hm. Alright.”

“A-alright?”

“Do you think I have to change for this ‘activity’?” (Y/N) motioned her hands up and down her body, giving Steve actual permission to fully look at her. Her outfit was already sensible enough—she was here to work, after all—he didn’t ever see a reason for her to change.

“Maybe different shoes?” Steve offered, looking down at her feet, adorned with ruby red flats to match her lips. 

“What sort of shoes do you recommend? These are my favorite flats.”

“Sneakers. Something you don’t mind getting dirty—”

“I don’t mind getting these dirty.”

“Something more suitable for the forest,” Steve amended. “Sticks, mud, poison ivy. Would hate for the tops of your feet to succumb to that bullshit.”

“Succumb,” (Y/N) repeated. “Big word.”

“Average word,” Steve mumbled, feeling only a tad bit embarrassed.

“Average is fine,” she shrugged. “I have sneakers in my car. We could go after work?”

—

Six o’clock couldn’t have come faster. 

Steve had spent the last few hours of his shift trying to best plan his escape from Family Video—an escape that involved pulling (Y/N) into his car before Robin could tell her what Skull Rock really was. Thankfully, (Y/N) hadn’t had the mind to tell Robin what their plans were after work yet, but he knew it would come.

The minute hand finally ticked to the top of the clock. 6pm on the dot. Steve practically threw off his vest and ran to the wall clock to punch out.

“In a rush?” Robin asked. 

“Something like that,” Steve said, not wanting to share much more. 

“Well, enjoy yourself Rob!” (Y/N) nearly sang, now standing behind Steve waiting for her turn with the wall clock. “I left the counter nice and warm for you!”

“I know you meant that to sound endearing, but it just sounds gross,” Robin laughed, not even looking up from the book she had been reading. “Get out of here before Keith makes you both work overtime.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” (Y/N) said, pushing her pink sunglasses—which were housed in the tiny locker she used every day—onto her head. “Besides, we’ve got plans.”

“We?”

“Gotta go Robin!” Steve could only shout, pushing (Y/N) out of the small room in the back—it could hardly be called a break room. Containing a small T.V on the wall, a stack of lockers, a small fridge, quaint table and a broken microwave.

“Alright, weirdo,” (Y/N) laughed, “we made it outside.”

Steve hand only blinked, but she was right. Somehow he didn’t recall the jaunt from the break room to the front door, much less the fact they made it out to their cars. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she laughed again, “oh.”

He was sure his face was the near same color as her lipstick—cherry red and probably emitting the heat of a thousand suns. “Are you gonna change your shoes?” Somehow he strung together a full sentence.

“Go start up your car, pretty boy,” (Y/N) said smoothly, “I’ll meet you in a second.”

Pretty boy. 

Start up his car, he did. He fumbled through the few cassette tapes he stored in his glove box, eager to find one she’d like. Though a thought like this had crossed his mind a handful of times, he never thought she’d actually agree to go out with him. No, not go out, this wasn’t a date. Right? 

She had called him pretty boy. 

And he was planning on taking her to the unofficial make out spot of Hawkins. 

Maybe it was a date. 

“There!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sliding into his passenger seat, showing off her worn shoes. “My well-loved sneakers! Just like you requested. How I allowed you to talk me into going to a random forest is beyond me.”

Me too. Steve thought. 

“You’re not going to murder me, right?”

“What!?” Steve had already begun driving to their destination, but her sudden question had him nearly swerving off the road. “No!”

“That’s what a murderer would say.”

“I—why would I…?” Steve was at a loss for words. “If I was going to murder you, don’t you think I’d admit to it at this point?”

“No,” she shrugged, crossing her legs. Her sneakers were red too—her favorite color, perhaps? “I assume you’d admit it right before you kill me, not in transit to the murder location.”

Steve could only laugh. “You confuse me.”

“You love me,” she admonished. 

Maybe he did, and if he didn’t? He certainly could see himself, though, sooner than later. 

It only took another fifteen minutes of driving to reach their destination, parking his beloved BMW in a spot he knew all too well—part of himself cringed that he could admit that, even to just himself. “We’re here.”

“I’m still not convinced you’re not going to murder me,” (Y/N) hummed, hopping out of the car, a spring in her step. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, popping his trunk to dig for a blanket he knew he had left behind for one reason or another. “Come on,” he ducked his head towards a clearing, “it’s this way.”

“You really have to start explaining the appeal, Harrington,” (Y/N) said, pushing past a rather suspicious looking bush, following closely behind Steve. “This trek is nothing to scoff at.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I thought the murder accusations already confirmed that I did not?”

“Yet you still got into a car with me,” Steve said.

“I still got into a car with you,” she repeated. 

As if on cue, Skull Rock, in all of its glory, peeked through the brush and into view—thankfully with no one else around. 

“We made it!” Steve exclaimed, nearly impressed he remembered how to get here. Quickly unfurling the blanket he grabbed, he sat on the ground. “Come on, I promise it’s clean.”

“Doubting that,” she said, still sitting beside him. “So, spill it, what makes this place so cool?”

Steve took a deep breath. 

“I, uh, may have stretched the truth a bit?”

“How far?”

“Huh?”

“How far did you stretch the truth?”

“Not by much…”

“You’re sweating,” she pointed. 

“No I’m not!” Steve said, trying his very best to not look down at his pits, afraid they were betraying him. Looking back up at the girl sitting beside him, her ruby lips were twisted in a wicked smirk. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Nah,” she said, almost sounding honest. “But I also know pretty well what goes on around this rock—sick as fuck, by the way, it really looks like a skull.”

“You know about Skull Rock?” He was nearly dejected, embarrassed, even.

“I do.”

“And you still came here with me?”

“If it meant I could spend some time with you outside of work? Sure,” she said with her brilliant smile. “Though, don’t expect any swapping of saliva.”

“Then why…?”

Her knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped fully around them. “I don’t have many friends here. You and Robin kind of are it for me, at least, since I moved here. I figured I should try and spend time with y’all before I move again.”

Her big move. The one she was saving up for. 

“Back to Chicago, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Though, it’s going to be a while until I do actually move. Who knew trying to rent your own apartment in a big city is stupid expensive? Wait—don’t answer that, that’s a stupid fucking observation.”

“It’s a bit silly,” he agreed, trying his best not to laugh. “But, yeah, way more expensive than Hawkins.”

The sun had begun to set, not that they could see it, through the trees and all, but the sky was now a warm orange. The kind of color that reminded Steve of summer, melted creamsicles and sweet memories.

“What’s in Chicago, anyway?” Steve finally asked, eyes glued to the sky. The question had been on the tip of his tongue since he met her. “I mean, I never really hear you talk much about it—only when you feel the need to dig at Hawkins.”

“It’s where I grew up,” she shrugged. “All of my friends are out there, my life is out there.”

“I mean, you did just say Robin and I were your friends?” He offered, leaning back on his hands. 

She narrowed her gaze, pulling her head up from her knees ever-so-slightly. “Most of my friends are out there,” she corrected. “I just… my dad moved out here for work, a job he literally can’t tell us about—my mom is stuck being some bored housewife waiting every night for him to come home, slaving over a home cooked meal, and I’m just his failure of a daughter who works at a video store.”

Steve knows that feeling a bit too well. 

“It doesn’t even have to be Chicago,” she chuckled, mostly to herself. “I just can’t stay here. My forward thinking mind is too big for this town. I figure, maybe in the city I can find myself, figure out what this planet has in store for me, you know?”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“I mean, I never had the thought to leave Hawkins,” Steve said, still looking up at the sky—darker now, but still orange. “Especially now with all of the…”

How does he explain the Upside Down? Does he explain the Upside Down? No. She doesn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway.

“…you know, the missing people,” he finally said, finding the right explanation. “But the idea of going to a big city, finding my way and maybe figuring out what this big head is good for?” His self deprecating laugh echoed from under the large rock formation. “I get it.”

“Y’know,” (Y/N) relaxed her grip on her knees, “my mom had hesitations about moving here because of the missing people—afraid I was going to go missing too.”

“And your dad still moved you here anyway?” Steve still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact people would move here willingly, especially all that’s been in the news about their small town. 

“I told you, big secret job,” she said, as if that was the only answer. “My dad’s answer to the problem was buying my mom a new kitchen set and me a car.”

“The BMW?”

“Hell yeah,” she snorted. “Though I suppose once I get to the city—any of them, I’ve decided—I’ll sell it. No need for a car if you’ve got decent public transit. I wonder how much I can get for it?”

“Probably less than what you’re thinking.”

“You’re probably right.”

The sun had finally set, leaving a hazy, sort of mystical hue over the rock and clearing. 

“You could come with me, you know,” (Y/N) finally spoke up. 

“Huh?”

“Get out of Hawkins? Lord knows I’d need a roommate. Rent is gonna be insane regardless.”

He pondered the thought. Moving out of this God-forsaken town with practically the girl of his dreams? It sounded too good to be true. “Huh.”

“You obviously don’t have to answer right now,” she said, nearly flustered. Was she flustered? “It was just a dumb thought…”

“It’s not dumb,” he said steadily, truthfully. “Not dumb at all.”

“What? You’re actually considering it?”

“Don’t ask me things if you’re not serious about them,” Steve joked, pointing at her. “I mean, it sounds pretty perfect. Leaving Hawkins, making a way for myself, trying to not rely on my parents… I dunno. Something to think about.”

She only nodded.

“Of course, I can’t leave yet,” Steve corrected, mostly to himself. “I have… unfinished business.”

“Ominous,” she snorted. 

“A man has his secrets,” he smirked, turning to look at her. “Not murder-y secrets, I really can’t stress that one enough.”

“Handsome, funny and mysterious, the full package,” she hummed.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I don’t want to stroke your ego,” (Y/N) said. “Surely you know you’re handsome.”

“I didn’t know you thought I was handsome.”

“I think everyone thinks you’re handsome,” her eyebrow raised. “Especially all those girls who come in to rent movies I know for a fact they have no interest in. Robin says you had a similar effect back at the ice cream place.”

“You’ve talked to Robin about my handsomeness?”

“I’ve talked to Robin about your obliviousness,” she corrected, “I think there’s a difference.”

He felt like his brain was melting. If he had a mirror, he’d check his ears to make sure no pink matter was dripping out. “But you think I’m handsome?” If the lighting hadn’t been as low as it was, he’d probably be able to see just how dark her cheeks had become.

“Irrelevant.”

He found the courage to scoot a little closer to her. “I mean, I think it’s pretty relevant… considering I think you’re pretty handsome too.”

Her head couldn’t have turned faster.

“Beautiful! I meant beautiful! Not that you can’t be handsome,” Steve felt himself choking on his own foot, falling deeper into a hole he knew he couldn’t get out of. “If you’d rather be called handsome, that’s fine by me, but traditionally, you’re stunning—so so pretty and I—”

“Steve—”

“A-and I’m messing this up,” Steve deflates. The crickets around Skull Rock must have been paid actors at this point. Steve made a mental note to bring a can of Raid the next time he came here—revenge of some sorts. “I can’t believe I’m messing this up.”

Something slightly wet touched his cheek.

“I don’t think you’re messing anything up,” (Y/N) said, pulling away from his face. She kissed his cheek. “I think you’re a little silly and overthinking a lot, though.”

“You kissed me?”

“I kissed your cheek, no need to short-circuit,” she smiled softly. “I figured it was a good way to bring you back down to Earth. Did it work?”

He nodded, a bit too fast for his liking. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Good,” she said, so sure of herself. “You were really spiraling there for a moment.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

More crickets. 

“Would you have kissed Robin on the cheek? If she was spiraling like that?”

“No,” she said honestly. “Just you.”

“Oh.”

“You took me to the make-out spot of Hawkins,” (Y/N) gestured to the rock above them. “Did you expect me to not kiss you?”

“You kissed my cheek,” he clarified, feeling bolder. “I don’t think that counts.”

“Hm,” she tapped her chin in faux-thought. “It probably doesn’t.”

“I could let you try again?”

“Oh you’d let me?” She crossed her arms, voice airy, light.

“Or I could kiss you,” he shrugged. “Dealers choice.”

“Oh what endless options I have,” she laughed, getting up from the blanket. It was only a little scratchy. “Come on, pretty boy, it’s getting late. My mom is probably worried sick I haven’t made it home yet. Probably waiting by the front window with some terrible dinner in the oven, I assume.”

She offered her hand, helping Steve up off the ground. “You’re probably right.”

“This was nice,” she said, walking back to the car. “Thanks for taking me out here, Steve. I finally found the one good thing in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock is just that impressive, huh?” Steve laughed, his smile reaching his eyes.

“Something like that,” her smile was just as big. 

--

BONUS: “Pop your trunk, I’ll put this nasty blanket away,” (Y/N) said, circling to the back of Steve’s car.

“It’s not that nasty,” he snorted, fulfilling her request. Climbing into his car and starting up the engine, he waited for her to throw the scrap of fabric in the back. In the corner of his eye, he could see her through the mirror, staring intently at the contents of his trunk. “How long does it take to put a blanket away?” He sighed, hopping back out of the car to join her, realizing quickly why she was just staring in his trunk. 

“Y’know,” she clicked, “this doesn’t really help the whole ‘I’m not gonna murder you’ thing.”

In her hands was his tried and true baseball bat—still outfitted with spiky nails and the very essence of dried blood. 

“I-I can explain—”

“You probably can,” she said, throwing the bat back into the trunk, slamming it shut. “How about over dinner sometime?”

He’d be stupid to say no.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Can you do axl rose and slash too (safe words)

A/n: I will never get over Slash's obsession with tits. I also cannot explain how much I love the thought of him just using anyone as a pillow because I know he's prone to falling asleep wherever he can

Please someone request something for Slash, I love him too much rn :'3

Warnings: Smut, angst, use of safe words (There's technically no use of a safe word in Slash's but it's kind of implied? There's a boundary that's definitely crossed), bondage, smoking (Slash attempts to burn reader with his cigarette), oral sex (male receiving), if there's anything you think I missed please let me know otherwise enjoy :3

Axl was an interesting man, for sure. You’d met at a club and after just a few weeks of seeing each other he asked if he could move in. He explained that his band was just getting going and he didn’t have a place other than a storage unit on Gardner that his band used as a house/party room/practice place, knowing that you were much more open to letting him crash with you.

Things were going fine between you two. You’d wake up and make breakfast, not because of any other reason than Axl wasn’t awake until about noon on most days, which you didn’t mind either because it meant you got to see him so peaceful and calm.

Fast forward to now. You’d fallen asleep with Axl beside you. He’d been whining all day about one thing or another, obviously trying to get something but he was too stubborn to say what it was and nothing he did gave you a clue either.

In the middle of the night you woke up to some strange noises and an odd feeling. The room was completely dark because something was covering your eyes, you tried to move it but found that your arms were tied, your legs too.

“Axl?” You called in an attempt to find out what was going on and whether you should start worrying or not.

“What is it?” Axl’s familiar deep voice answered, sounding somewhat distant.

“What are you doing?” You asked, trying to move again to no avail. You felt a weight on the bed, signalling that Axl had gotten on the mattress and was sitting beside you. He ran his hand over your bare stomach, you preferred sleeping in just your underwear and Axl was in no way opposed to that. Now you were rethinking that idea.

“Having some fun, don’t worry about it.” Usually that deep voice of his was nice, it could calm you or bring that familiar warmth to the pit in your stomach. Now it just scared you. You couldn’t see, couldn’t move, you were fully at his mercy.

“I am. Axl, I am worried about it.” You stated, struggling against the restraints again. “Axl, I’m serious.” Axl got on top of you, your legs were already spread thanks to what you assume to be rope around your ankles.

“Shut up and be good for me, will you? That’s what you’re good for.” He hooked your legs over his, from what you could feel he’d already stripped himself down to nothing.

“Axl, we could do something if you’d just get me out of this.” You told him. The ginger lined himself up with you and pushed in despite your complaints. The feeling reminded you of many times before, this isn’t the first time Axl’s ever woken you up for sex but it was the most worrying time. Usually it would just be him fucking your thighs, or he’d just outright wake you up and tell you he was horny. Never had he even mentioned that this was something he’d be into. It certainly wasn’t something you were into, not right now at the very least.

“Fuck, always so tight for me.” The ginger groaned as he rocked his hips into you. “My perfect little slut.” He held your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks together and opening your mouth. You weren’t sure what he was doing until you heard a ‘patoo’, then you felt this cold liquid on your tongue. He spat in your mouth.

You violently thrashed against him and the restraints. “Get me the fuck out of this you fucking bitch!” You screamed. Axl quickly took the cloth covering your eyes off and tossed it away.

“Jesus Christ, better now?” He groaned. You glared up at him as you tried to think of anything that could get him to stop.

“Pumpkin!” You yelled. Something flicked in him, you could see it in his eyes even in the dark room. He wasn’t looking at you with lust or hatred, that line you were never really sure if he crossed whenever things got hot between you two. There was a disappointment in his eyes. Not in you but himself.

Axl pulled out and got the ropes taken off of you. He pulled on a pair of pants and found you one of his shirts for you to put on before he left the room.

You threw the shirt on and went out to find him.

Axl was on the couch, rocking himself slightly. His head was down and he was staring at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with you.

You went over to him and sat beside him on the couch. You leaned your head on his shoulder and put a hand on his back, gently rubbing it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He blurted, still not looking at you.

“Didn’t mean to do what?” You asked in a soft voice.

“I-I don’t even know...” He said, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. You reached for them and held them in your own. “I just... I thought it would be fun.” You nodded in understanding.

“It wasn’t.” He rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Yeah, I got that.” Finally he looked up at you. For a moment he just looked at you, then he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing your forehead and cheek and nose, pretty much anywhere he could reach in this hold. “I’m sorry I made you say that.”

“You could’ve just said something earlier.” You mumbled, looking at his face and just taking in his features.

“I know.” He let out a heavy sigh. “So,” he started, “wanna give me a blow job?” He asked with a smile. You swatted the back of his head and stood up, walking back to the room. Axl followed and wrapped his arms around you.

Your boyfriend was touring and after months of dating but not going on the road with him you finally got the chance to actually come with him.

The separation was not the ideal circumstance for either of you and you called all the time, every day and night you’d be getting calls from him asking how you’ve been. At night the calls usually took a turn to more sexual areas, you were alone and needy and so was he.

The crew going with Guns was the real issue, they wanted to save as much money as possible, even if it wasn’t necessary. That meant that you wouldn’t be getting a free pass on the plane with the band. Slash had offered to pay for your ticket but you refused because you didn’t know when you’d be able to pay him back. But all of that was behind you now and you were finally on the road with the band.

It was right before one of their headlining shows and Slash was backstage with you in his dressing room. You were on the couch and he asked if you’d give him a blow job before he went on. You didn’t want to at first because you didn’t think you’d have time but Slash promised you would, and so you did.

You were on your knees sucking him off, you could tell he was enjoying it by the faces he was making. You knew if you really wanted to you could make him a whining little mess but you were focused on speed right now.

While you were busy bobbing your head on his length he got a cigarette out and lit it. Nothing out of the ordinary, Slash was a known chainsmoker. You watched his euphoric expression and the way his head fell back as smoke drifted past his lips and into the air.

Then he looked back down at you with this expression that you just couldn’t place. He had this smirk as he looked down at you. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” He asked, not expecting an answer while your mouth was full of him. You caught his gaze wandering to the cigarette between his fingers. “Think I could make you hotter?” You raised a brow at him.

“What?” You asked as you pulled back. The exact moment you did so Slash tapped off the end of his cigarette where you would’ve been had you not moved. You stared up at him wide eyed with fear and anger.

He seemed to have realised his mistake as soon as he made it because he stared back at you with those same wide eyes, except his were of worry. You didn’t say anything else, you just got up and left the room.

You stayed to watch the show, the band still put on a great performance and you didn’t want to miss it, but you didn’t stick around afterward like you normally would. Instead you took a taxi back to the hotel you were staying at.

Slash came home later, much later. You had fallen asleep already by the time he got back. He saw you crashed on the bed with the TV on. You were laying over the covers and still had your clothes on so he figured you’d passed out while watching a movie or something.

He went to his suitcase and found a shirt to get you into. He undressed you and tried his best to keep you asleep but you fell asleep while he was struggling with your pants. “What are you doing?” You mumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Slash froze. He slowly looked up at you.

“I was trying to get you into something comfier.” He explained his usual soft yet raspy voice.

“Oh...” You mumbled and just let him continue. He eventually got your pants and shirt off, he took your bra off per your request because it was not comfortable to sleep in. He offered to let you wear a pair of his shorts as well instead of the pretty lace you had on. Of course you accepted the offer and Slash helped you get his clothes on. They didn’t fit you but for sleep they were perfect.

You got under the covers while Slash turned the lights off, though he kept the TV on for background noise. He got under the covers with you and rested his head on your chest. “I won’t do that again.” He mumbled. You were barely conscious yourself at this point so you just nodded with a hum. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.” You mumbled back. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He gave a small kiss to your collarbone.

“If you ever do anything like that again you’re sleeping with Axl.” You threatened. Slash grumbled and after a small pause he looked up at you.

“You wouldn’t really, would you?” You could tell there was some genuine concern.

“Do you really want to find out?” Slash stared at you for a moment longer before going back to nuzzling your tits.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ MIDNIGHTS — track one : lavender haze

summary. you're dragged to a house party by your best friend, and subsequently meet two men that will change your life, all in one night.

featuring. rodolfo 'rudy' parra + alejandro vargas

warnings. nsfw, alcohol consumption, modern au, implied drug use, f/m/m, mutually under the influence, partying, slight peer pressure, public sex (?), bathroom sex, oral, degradation, strangers to lovers

series masterlist.

"Jesus christ," you murmur, wincing at the sudden and overpowering smell of weed, cruisers and sweat. Not exactly an appealing mix, but not revolting, at least. Better than vomit. Too early in the night for that, you supposed.

Valeria mutters something under her breath, and with a roll of her eyes, drags you by the scuff of your neck to the kitchen.

Bodies litter every open bit of room on the floor, grinding against each other, neon lights casting vibrant colours over the sheen of sweat on their skin. It's oddly enchanting.

The glitter littered on your collarbones and cleavage shine in the cascading lights, and you hope that you look somewhat confident, even if you feel anything but. You weren't one for house parties, hell, this was one of your first, but Valeria had convinced you to 'let loose' and 'have fun'.

You didn't say how you knew that this party was an excuse to get business done, but then again, that was why the two of you were so close.

Plausible deniability, and all that.

A drink is slammed into your chest, a little bit splashing onto your skin. You shoot an unamused glare Valeria's way, to which she just replies with a small shrug. "Drink."

"If it's drugged, I'll kill you," you say. ...Only half joking. You knew -- hoped -- that she wouldn't, but again, it was Valeria.

Another roll of her eyes and a scoff. "You can try."

You wouldn't, because at the end of the day, you did enjoy being alive and functioning. Both things were quite useful.

Valeria's eyes catch on something, or someone, behind you, and her glare narrows even further, her mouth hitching up into a hardly discreet scowl.

You turn, but she quickly grabs you by the hair to stop you from doing so. "Don't look," she seethes, venom in her tone.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Valeria," a man's voice chimes from behind you, snarky and impatient.

Your closest friend's lips pull into a cruel, cunning smile, void of any warmth as she glares at whoever's behind you. "Alejandro," she snarls, her voice bitter.

Swallowing, you nervously try and think of a way to get out from between whatever the fuck is going on here. You didn't exactly feel like getting involved in... whatever Valeria did under your nose.

"And who's she?" The man asks, sounding just the slightest bit closer. His tone has taken an interested, more curious tone, not nearly as harsh or abrasive.

You play with the necklace around your neck in nervous movements, trying to quell your growing anxiety.

Valeria huffs a cold laugh. "Not apart of this," is her only answer, accent thickening just the slightest, like it did when she was pissed off, or... scared. Which had only been once, in all fairness, and that was because of a spider.

"Vamos, necesitamos hablar. Sácala de aquí [Come on, we need to talk. Get her out of here]," the man spits out, vitriol heavy on his tongue like some kind of poison.

"Tócala y morirás, Alejandro [Touch her and you will die, Alejandro]," is Valeria's hiss of a reply, her hold tightening in your hair. You squeeze your eyes shut, nervous and completely out of your element, and scared shitless.

The man behind you -- Alejandro -- murmurs a bunch of curses under his breath, before he replies once more. "Rodolfo will keep her safe."

"¿Crees que confío en ti? [Do you think I trust you?]" Valeria's eyes burn with rage from what you can see in the dim lighting, and it sends a shiver down your spine. "Bien. Si ella tiene un rasguño, ambos moriréis [Fine. If she gets a scratch, you'll both die]."

She looks down to you, her hand falling from the fist it had in your hair. "If he so much as breathes at you wrong, yell for me," she mutters in a low tone, before pushing you towards someone without so much as another look in your direction.

Your breathing comes out in short, quick pants, when a warm arm slides around your waist. You flinch in surprise, looking up into warm brown eyes.

"Rodolfo," the man says, an introduction. His head gestures sharply to the man following after a fuming Valeria. "Alejandro."

You nod, albeit with confusion, and pray that your embarrassment isn't obvious on your face when you say your name in a way of greeting.

Rodolfo nods, and there's a calmness to him that settles your nerves and overall antsiness.

"¿Quieres bailar? [You want to dance?]" He asks, and you tilt your head slightly to the side. He raises a brow, taking in your appearance. Your black dress is completely and utterly slutty, but you had wanted to try and be a different person for a night.

...You were maybe, slightly, regretting it.

"I..." you start, unsure what to do or say, before he simply drags you towards the loungeroom, where everyone's packed like sardines.

His chest presses against your own, his arm still around your lower back. Your hands, nervously, rest at his chest, and you have to crane your neck a little to make eye contact.

You are so, so, so screwed.

His mouth tilts into a small smirk, obviously aware of your uncertainty. "I'm protecting you, hermosa [beautiful]. You're safe with me," he whispers, leaning in close to your ear, and you just about melt. His voice is velvety and smooth and so fucking attractive that you can't believe that you're even here right now.

Swallowing, you nod slowly. "Okay. I'm sorry," you tack on the last part, the words familiar on your tongue.

Your eyes go slightly wide when his hand comes up to direct your chin back up to meet his gaze, his eyes almost sparkling in the deep purple lights hung in this room. "No. None of that."

Your mouth is as dry as a desert.

But something else certainly isn't.

"How do you know Valeria?" You ask, because, really, you can't keep your mouth shut, can you?

Rodolfo seems to think for a moment, his features highlighted by the lights. The bass of the music thrums in your chest, and you can feel it from where your feet hit the floor, all the way to your fingertips, where they sit on his chest.

"...She's an old friend," is his response, and you can tell that there's a lot of heavy lifting behind the 'friend' title.

You nod, however, appeased with the answer. At least for now.

"You're not aware of her work?" He asks, wincing slightly at the last word. He's a solid weight at your front, oddly comforting for a man you had met not even five minutes ago, and who is clearly not in a white-collar kind of career path.

"No, um, not really my business," you say, deflecting.

A crease forms between his brows, and the swaying slows down. The two of you are surrounded at all sides, and it's hard to think, let alone breathe.

He's about to open his mouth to continue, when a sharp bark of his name makes his gaze instantly flick from you, to the other side of the room.

"Nosotros vamos [We're going]," The voice from before calls out -- Alejandro's voice. Rodolfo's arm at your waist tightens, if only slightly.

His gaze flickers back to yours, something swirling in their depths. Something that has your thighs squeezing just a bit together. You are so unbelievably parched -- from physical or mental thirst, you're not sure.

"Come with me," he says, voice lilted with an undercurrent of lust and desire. "Por favor, mi niña [please, my girl]."

Valeria had said to have fun, hadn't she? And you hadn't gotten all dressed up just to not get laid tonight, right?

So, like the 'new you' you are, you nod your head.

Rodolfo's returning smile is nothing short of vivaciously wicked, and tingles shoot up your spine as his hand rests heavy on your hip as he guides you out of the thick stream of people.

When your eyes meet Alejandro's, and you're standing mere feet in front of him, the man's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He directs a look to Rodolfo, and although you can't see the man's expression, you can tell that they're silently communicating.

Whatever the conclusion to their voiceless debate, it seems to weigh in your favour.

a/n. a teaser for the midnights series!! i have not forgotten about my plans for this one folks. taylor swift did infact intend for the album to be used as titles and vibes for call of duty fanfiction, in case u didnt know!