#Ei could have that but for as much as I love her she did nearly whip all ambition and spirit from her nation

[notthemonthbutmarch]

I’m thinking about Natlan and I just need one thing off my chest

If the theories are right and the Pyro Archon is currently dead and will be resurrection like the title of the chapter suggests, I want her to be a strong and respected woman.

Like, I know we’re already getting Murata and she’s gonna be a Murata Himeko expy (which I kinda don’t like but sure whatever Hoyo) from Honkai Impact 3rd, but idk I just feel like we need a single female archon that doesn’t have a bad relationship with her people AND is powerful.

Right now I think it’s safe to say that the power scaling of the archons is Zhongli, Ei, Venti, Nahida, and then Furina (I know she’s not an archon anymore I’m just including her bc I like her and I’m bias). Also, as an aside, this got to long so I’m putting it down here. I ranked Venti over Nahida not because her powers are weaker than Venti’s but because Venti has more experience. He can fight and knows the full extent of her powers and survived the Archon War; while Nahida would outsmart him no problem, Venti would overpower her physically I just wanted to clarify

Zhongli and Venti are from the OG Seven and have positive relationships with their respective countries. They’re both powerful and well respected.

Ei is hella powerful, but she did steal everyone’s visions so I don’t think she’s respected exactly. She’s more feared in my eyes. Like, absolutely, they respect her because she’s their archon and is powerful and is trying to change, but the people of Inazuma are very aware that Ei is capable of hurting her people if it means achieving her goal. OBVIOUSLY Ei herself doesn’t want to hurt her people and that was the puppet being tricked by the Fatui that did all that, but the people themselves don’t necessarily know that, so they just think Ei had a change of heart.

Nahida’s whole storyline in the Sumeru Archon Quests was reinstating her as the highest and most respected authority. Everyone loves her and for good reason! She’s great, and she’s doing her job as an archon really well. However, she is possibly one of the weakest archons due to age and experience. I can see her being a MIGHTY archon when she’s older, but how long is that gonna take? We’ll probably never see Nahida at her peak.

Then there’s Furina. Her storyline was AMAZING, I think we can all agree the Fontaine Archon Quests were great. However, Furina was seen as a joke or mascot by her people rather than an actual mighty archon. They just followed her because her voice was loud and she played the role well. Furina was never strong or respected, not until AFTER she lost her divinity for good.

Ei is strong but not respected, Nahida is respected but not strong, and Furina is not strong nor respected.

And this isn’t me trying to say Zhongli and Venti are bad or anything. There’s absolutely a discussion for misogyny in Genshin, but I’m not really opening that can of worms right now.

I’m just looking at the dynamics we have for the Archons and am hoping that we get a strong and respected female archon at some point.

It could be the Tsaritsa for all we know! The Tsaritsa is incredibly badass and there’s some indications that the intentions behind the Fatui aren’t that bad but their actions are, so it could be that the Tsaritsa is our strong AND respected Archon.

Yet, Childe’s line about her makes me think that people have their doubts, so is she really that respected as we think?

That just leaves Murata, and I am hoping that if the resurrection thing is about her, then I hope Murata is very strong and highly respected.

But if the resurrection is about someone else, say,the Pyro Sovereign, then I am BEGGING Hoyo to make the Pyro Sovereign a woman. We lost a female archon to a male sovereign I don’t want it to happen again.

[justrustandstardust]

*✧:*one, two, three (it's not only you and me)*:･✧*:

@ryuqzn on X

"what suguru is trying to avoid saying is the whole cliché of 'we saw you from across the bar and we really like your vibe'," the white-haired man says, gaze flickering down your body. he looks back up, making eye contact.

"but it's true, so we were wondering if you'd like to join us for some fun," he says casually, blue eyes piercing.

after you get stood up, you're ready to cut your losses and head home. when a couple approaches you at the bar with a proposition, you just might end up changing your mind.

MDNI: i'm not joking, this is utter filth and minors should steer clear of it like they're teenage boys and this is a decent haircut.

pairing: geto/gojo/you

a/n: this is for someone special. you know who you are.

important: afab reader, she/her pronouns

word count: 16k (i know, i fucking know)

because i'm clinically insane, i've created a playlist to enchance your listening ~pleasure. here's the spotify version, and here's the youtube version. this is purely for the girls, gays and theys. i hope you have as much fun reading this as i did writing it. (͡ ͡° ͜ つ ͡͡°)

the clock's just struck nine, and you sigh, glancing down at your phone for the umpteenth time that evening. you suppose it's your fault for having such shit taste in men, anyways, for agreeing to meet a loser that didn't even bother to show.

swirling the straw around your drink, you kick your legs out from your seat on the barstool and ponder whether or not to ask the bartender for another. this is already your third drink; you're no lightweight but even you aren't impervious to the effects of three whiskey neats.

sighing again, you decide to cut your losses and call it a night. fuck men, you think distastefully, reaching into your bag for your wallet. literally and figuratively. you got all dressed up for some asshole that couldn't even bother to take you to bed tonight.

you're rooting around in your purse for your wallet when there’s a sudden tap on your shoulder. you glance up, and are met with the faces of possibly the two most beautiful men you've ever seen before in your life. they tower over you, and though you're sitting, you know that even if you stood up they'd easily have several inches on you. the dark-haired man is sporting a half-up half-down hairstyle, the contours of his chest and broad shoulders barely hidden by a fitted dress shirt and leather jacket.

you glance at the other man, who's light-haired and blue-eyed. his waist is so impossibly small in his dress shirt that you almost reach out to wrap your hands around it, just to see if they could fit. they're looking at you like they're seeing through you, and you blink, heady from both the alcohol and weight of their gaze.

"sorry to interrupt, but are you heading out?" the dark-haired man asks politely, leaning forward slightly. you nod slowly, unsure of what he's going to say next.

he chuckles, ducking his head. "ah, that's too bad. my partner and i were wondering if you'd like to come out with us tonight."

"come out?" you say, raising an eyebrow. the white-haired man rolls his eyes, pushing at the dark-haired man's arm.

"what suguru is trying to avoid saying is the whole cliché of 'we saw you from across the bar and we really like your vibe'," he says, making direct eye contact with you.

"but it's true, so we were wondering if you'd like to join us for some fun," he says casually, gaze unwavering. your eyes nearly bulge out of your head and you glance between them, watching as the dark-haired man —suguru?— pushes back, swatting the white-haired man on the shoulder.

"you'll have to forgive satoru, he's a bit upfront. but yes, we would love to get to know you better, if you're interested," he says purposefully, dark eyes meeting yours.

"no pressure, of course. we'd be just as happy to call you a taxi to make sure you get home safe and leave it at that," he adds, nodding at the door. your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, and you glance between them, at the cocksure expression on the white-haired man's face and the carefully open one on his partner's.

"can i know your names?" you manage, and the dark-haired man smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"you can call me geto. this is gojo," he says, gesturing to the white-haired man, who boisterously sticks out his tongue and flashes a peace sign.

you tell them your name in return and geto smiles again, glancing at gojo.

"that's a beautiful name. we'd be happy to do whatever you'd like to do tonight— it's totally up to you. we'll be happy with any choice you make, even if that means our acquaintanceship ends here," geto says kindly but meaningfully, looking into your eyes so you know he's serious. gojo nods beside him, and then smirks.

"wherever you're headed won't be nearly as exciting as us, though," he intones liltingly, brow raised in challenge. geto smacks him upside the head and he winces, pouting at the abuse.

"satoru is just joking," geto says, glancing sharply at gojo. "we are completely okay with whatever you want to do. we just want to make our interest in you very, very clear."

you haven't moved for the entirety of this interaction. you glance between them again, at these two heaven-sent men on a night you were basically begging to be dicked down only to be disappointed by the universe (read: a random loser whose name you can't even remember). swallowing hard, you think that you made your choice as soon as the words left geto's lips.

"i'll come with you," is what finally comes out of your mouth, throat dry. geto's lips quirk upwards and gojo grins, extending a hand to help you down from the barstool.

"just let me pay for these drinks first," you say, going for your purse. geto shakes his head and steps forward, catching your wrist in one hand and guiding it away from your bag.

"i don't think so," he says simply, releasing your wrist and reaching into his back pocket. he throws way too many bills onto the counter and you're trying not to gape as gojo snickers, urging you to take his hand. his palm is warm to the touch as he helps you down from the barstool, geto bringing up the rear with a featherlight touch to the small of your back.

you were right. even with heels, they tower over you. flanked on either side, they walk you to the door, geto pushing it open and gesturing for you to go through. as you pass him, you catch a whiff of versace's eau fraiche, the distinct notes of rosewood filtering through your nostrils. gojo follows behind you, tapping on his phone.

it's cold, and you didn't bring a jacket. you're trying to appear like you're not shivering but geto notices anyways, shrugging off his own leather jacket to drape around your shoulders. gojo steps away, raising his phone to his ear.

"where are we going?" you ask, geto's cologne enveloping you along with his residual body heat. geto glances at gojo, who's speaking quietly to someone on the phone.

"somewhere private," he says, brushing his bangs away from his forehead. he looks at you, something darkening in his gaze. "somewhere no one will disturb us."

gojo hangs up the phone, stepping off the curb into the street. seconds later, a sleek black SUV pulls up, windows tinted. gojo goes around the other side and geto opens the door for you, holding out a hand to help you inside. it's easily the most expensive car you've ever been in, the seats plush and the interior unbelievably spacious. there are four seats facing each other, the front of the car partitioned so the driver isn't visible. gojo takes the seat opposite you, kicking up his feet and folding his hands behind his head.

geto sits down beside you, reaching into a small compartment that evaded your notice to produce a chilled bottle of water.

"so you can sober up," he explains, unscrewing the cap. "we don't want you intoxicated for what's coming next."

"what's coming next?" you parrot, taking the water. gojo snickers again, pulling a lollipop out from god knows where and popping it between his teeth. he sucks, cheeks hollowing around the candy, eyes never leaving yours.

"we're down to do whatever you want to do," geto says, turning to face you. his features are open, honest. "we just need to know what's on the table."

"everything," you reply too quickly, answer coming out instantly. geto chuckles good-naturedly, gesturing to the water.

"then you'll have to get started on that."

you've never chugged water so hastily in your life. the drive is short, ten minutes at best, and the three of you sit in comfortable silence, tempered by the sounds of smooth rnb filtering through the car's speakers. the car pulls up beside a skyscraper, endlessly tall against the city skies. gojo takes the empty bottle from your hand and carelessly tosses it aside, stepping outside and taking your hand in his to help you out of the car. geto goes around the other way, nodding at the driver as the car rolls away from the curb.

the building is locked, and you watch as gojo pulls out a black card, flashing it in front of a sensor. the doors part to reveal an immaculate marble lobby, scaffolded by floor-to-ceiling windows that are at least three stories high. building staff are positioned discreetly behind tall counters, none of whom pay gojo and geto any mind as the three of you make their way through to the elevators. your heels are clacking on the polished floor, geto's jacket snug around your shoulders.

there are eight elevators, but only one with a sensor. gojo flashes his card again, the elevator doors sliding open. geto holds the door for you as you step inside, taking gojo's proffered arm. he presses the only button on the wall —labelled PH— as geto follows you inside, the doors closing behind him. you're still holding onto gojo's arm as the elevator rises, and rises, and rises. it moves silently, the only sound the clack of the lollipop against gojo's teeth. it's been at least two full minutes and you're starting to wonder if you're genuinely in the stratosphere when there's a quiet ping and the elevator slows to a stop.

geto steps out, motioning at you to go ahead. gojo leads you down the hall to what appears to be the only suite on the entire floor. expecting the black card again, you're surprised when he presses his palm to a large, flat pad, which scans his hand and flashes green. the door clicks open and gojo heads inside, geto once again bringing up the rear.

you're confronted by the most stunning residence you've ever seen. the architecture is open-concept, with two stories connected by a spiral staircase. the same floor-to-ceiling windows from the lobby showcase the glittering city skyline, lights twinkling just below the clouds. everywhere you look, there's sleek leather and white marble, outfitted with tasteful minimal decor and modern art.

"where am i?" is all you're able to say, struggling to pick your jaw up from the floor. gojo laughs, sliding his jacket off and tossing it onto a chaise in the living room.

"don't worry about it," he winks, pulling the lollipop from between his lips and ignoring geto's subsequent eyerolling. "life is better when you get it to live it in 3D."

"he's a nepo baby," geto interjects, going around the kitchen island and opening two massive fridge doors. "and he's insufferable, so being rich makes him easier to deal with."

gojo huffs indignantly, tossing the lollipop in something discreetly disguised as a garbage.

geto rummages around in the fridge, taking out the most expensive-looking sandwich you've ever seen. "hungry?"

you shake your head, and geto looks at you, imploring. "i know you had the water, but you're going to need....energy, for what we have planned."

choice made. placing your purse down on the island, you make your way over to where he's standing, taking the baguette. hopping onto a stool, you take a bite, eyebrows shooting up your forehead at the rich flavours. brie, prosciutto, fig jam.....the list continues.

geto glances at gojo, who's now only wearing his slacks, dress shirt and tie. "satoru, you can start getting the room ready. i'll bring her when she's done."

you’re mildly surprised when gojo makes an affirmative noise and leaves without snark, setting off to one of the many rooms in the suite. after he disappears from sight, geto turns back to you.

"this is the part where i ask how you like it," he says, leaning his elbows onto the kitchen island. you swallow, fig jam tangy on your tongue.

"like i said," you meet his gaze, holding steady. "i like all of it."

geto smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "both ends?"

"every single one," you say purposefully, never breaking eye contact.

he chuckles, nodding to himself. "we're clean, by the way."

"as am i," you confirm, popping the last bite of sandwich into your mouth. "on birth control, too," you add, after chewing.

"good to know," geto remarks, pushing himself off his elbows. he helps you down from the stool, taking his jacket from your shoulders and setting it down on the counter. fingertips dancing along the small of your back, he guides you down the same direction gojo went earlier, stopping in front of a large door.

"last chance to change your mind," he says, voice low. he's looking at you openly, honestly. "there won't be any hard feelings either way."

you've never been so sure of anything in your life. "i want this," you breathe, suffocated by the truth of that statement. "i want both of you."

geto exhales, slow smile gracing his features. wordlessly, he opens the door, gesturing for you to go ahead. the room is dimly lit by cool-toned floorlights, but you can make out the shape of a bed in the centre, warmed by a fireplace at its opposite. the same floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the city skyline, creating a glittering effect along the room’s walls. you squint at the far-off section of the room with tiled floor, following the tile into a bathroom that houses a massive, glass doored rainfall shower, alongside an enormous claw-foot tub.

gojo is standing in front of the bed, lanky stature backlit by the cityscape outside. he's still wearing his shirt, slacks and tie, sans his shoes. the door clicks shut behind you, and you sense more than see geto take a step towards you, breath ghosting along the nape of your neck.

deafening silence engulfs the room as every single one of your hairs stand on end, the energy in the space charged. gojo hasn't moved and neither has geto, both standing stock still in the silence like they're waiting for you to make the first move.

you let out a shuddering exhale and that's all geto needs, his hand wrapping around your jaw as his mouth attaches itself to your neck. he sucks harshly, hungrily, as his other hand grips your waist from behind, pressing the entire length of his body against yours. gojo is in front of you in an instant and you don't waste a second, yanking him forward by the tie to crash your lips together.

the artificial flavour of the lollipop is sweet on his tongue as he kisses you with intention, hand slipping down to hike your leg around his waist. geto's tongue is working against your neck at the same time, the sensation of two hot mouths overwhelming. gojo sucks your lower lip into his mouth as geto bites the juncture of your neck, eliciting a whine into gojo's teeth.

heat is pooling between your legs and you can feel that they're both hard already, gojo pressed into your front and geto against your back. geto suddenly releases your jaw, taking a step back as gojo lifts you up, settling your other leg around his waist. he's still making out with you as your arms wrap around his shoulders and he walks you both to the bed, carrying you like it's effortless. he sets you down onto the bed, breaking away once you're laid flat on its smooth surface.

you make to grab his tie again and he snatches your wrist in one hand, smirking.

"eager, are we?"

"a bitch, are you?" you snipe, enjoying the way his eyes flash with amusement. he pins your wrist above your head, dipping his head down so that your noses are brushing.

"if you want something, you'll have to ask it for it," he says lowly, gaze flickering down to your mouth. "nicely."

"make me," you retort breathlessly, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. he kisses you back just as hard, broad shoulders caging you in as your hand twists uselessly in his grip.

he breaks away, releasing your wrist. geto reappears, shirtless and wearing only his black jeans. you barely have time to appreciate the muscled planes of his chest and the toned flesh of his abs as he grabs the back of gojo's head, messily bringing their mouths together.

gojo moans against his lips, palms coming up to press at his chest. without breaking apart, geto rips his shirt, buttons flying everywhere as fabric tears. somehow, the tie remains.

gojo shoves him away, stepping backwards to frown at what used to be his shirt. "that was expensive, you know."

"you can buy a dozen more," geto says mildly, turning back to you. you're transfixed, staring at gojo's bare chest that is just as defined as geto's, at the dip of his collarbones and the defined ridges of his abdomen.

gojo makes a face at his ruined shirt and disappears into the bathroom, leaving you alone with geto.

"you're wearing far too many clothes," says geto, a shadow passing over his features. you swallow, shrinking into the bed as something that's not quite fear passes over you— more like an impending sense that something is coming.

geto climbs onto the bed, getting all up into your space immediately. claiming your mouth with his own, he kisses you like he fucking owns you, subsuming every thought in your mind to the point that you don't even notice him unzipping your dress.

he removes your clothes with a care that he didn't use in taking off gojo's, gently tossing your dress aside when you're down to your bra and panties. you're staring up at him as he leans down into you, warm hand resting on your hip.

gojo reappears with a remote in his hand, and you hear a click followed by the same smooth rnb from the car. there must be speakers threaded into the walls because the sound feels like it's coming from everywhere, weaving together the neurons in your brain that have been fried by sensation.

"is this okay?" geto's voice is soft but his eyes are piercing as he lifts you up towards him, palms supporting your back. you nod haltingly, heat flooding your veins as he inclines his head to kiss you again. without stopping, he deftly unclasps your bra one-handed, throwing it against the wall without looking. all of a sudden, he pulls away, standing up and moving to the foot of the bed.

gojo swaps places with him, coming up to your torso. you raise an eyebrow in question and geto smiles knowingly, climbing onto the bed and settling in front of your legs.

"satoru and i have different areas of speciality, you could say." gojo's smirk is back on his face as he takes in the sight of your naked chest, watching the flush that you're fighting spread down your clavicle.

"don't be shy, now," he teases, ignoring your death glare. you're about to retort but the air suddenly leaves your lungs in a whoosh as gojo bends forward, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. his soft hands cup your breasts, massaging firmly as his tongue flickers against the hardening bud.

you let out a shaky exhale, toes curling as one of your hands comes up to rest in his hair. the sensation is so intense that you almost don't notice geto sliding your panties down your legs until you feel the cool air against your damp lips.

gojo continues his ministrations, sucking your nipple into his mouth and tonguing it hard, nipping when you let out a low groan. geto spreads your legs and settles between them, kneeling on the bed. dark head bent, he drops lingering kisses up your legs, all the way from your calves up to your inner thighs. his lips are warm on your skin and you're absolutely throbbing, aching for it as he gets closer to your burning core.

gojo has switched to your other breast and geto is pressing butterfly kisses to the soft flesh of the inside of your thighs, sucking tender hickeys into the thin skin. the sensations are too much and not enough all at once, overwhelming your senses but not quite satisfying the ache inside you for more.

geto's mouth is everywhere except where you want it most— he's at the crease of your thigh, at the seam of your hip, the bump of your pubic bone. his breath ghosts over your slick lips, a sly smile lifting the corner of his mouth when you buck up, chasing. as gently as a butterfly beats its wings, he circles your clit with the pad of a fingertip, not quite touching it in the way he knows you want him to. you can’t hold back the whine that escapes your mouth, and geto’s lips quirk, his expression amused. his hands are warm on your hips and it feels like coming home when his lips finally meet yours, lapping up the slickness in your folds like a man parched.

gojo has released your nipples and he's positioned himself behind you to prop your upper body up, nibbling on your earlobes with his palms still cupping your breasts. geto's dark head is buried between your legs and he's eating you out like he was fucking born for it, alternating between dipping his tongue inside of you and sealing his lips around your clit. sucking down rasping breaths, you see stars when his mouth forms a vacuum around your clit and he sucks hard , your thighs clamping around his head as your hand fists in his hair.

geto hasn't stopped, arms beneath your thighs to hold your hips down as he pushes his tongue deeper inside your sopping centre. a choked-off moan falls from your lips and gojo snickers into the skin of your neck, his naked chest and the fabric of the tie pressed into your spine.

"you're enjoying dessert, aren't you, suguru?" gojo's voice is lilting and you would retort but you can't, too busy gasping for air as geto just hums in agreement, relentlessly tonguing your clit.

gojo begins leaving lovebites all around your shoulders and you can feel his fingers twisting and pinching your nipples, the sensation heightened by geto feasting between your legs. you're so wet that his chin is glistening with it, a few strands of his dark hair slipping out and falling into his face as he eats you out with vigour, the tendons in his jaw tensing from effort.

“oh god, don’t stop,” you cry out, fists clenched in the sheets. gojo chuckles behind you, tweaking a nipple and laughing when you spasm. 

“did you hear that, suguru? i think you’re gonna have to step it up.” 

without taking his mouth off your clit, his long fingers slide so smoothly inside of you that they may as well have been there all along. pumping shallowly, he continues to suck on your clit, pulsing his lips and flicking his tongue around the most sensitive part of you.

you keen, high and loud, and geto doesn't need words to understand, pressing a final kiss to your clit and leaning back to thrust his hand properly. he crooks his fingers, searching, and you cry out when he hits your spot, toes curling so hard it hurts. 

"right there, huh?" geto murmurs knowingly, fingering you ruthlessly. you ride the high, sparks bursting behind your eyelids. the solid warmth from behind you suddenly disappears as gojo lowers you onto the bed, and you crack an eye open just in time to see him grin devilishly and press his fingers down onto your mound, right above where geto's hand is inside of you.

the combination of inner and outer pressure is too much and you mewl, legs jerking as your walls contract and a sensation you've never felt before washes over you, almost like your body is releasing a gush of liquid.

"we got her to squirt," gojo declares smugly, continuing to press down as geto works you through your orgasm. you're arching off the bed, sheets clenched in your hands as wave after wave of pleasure crashes down upon you, an infinite tsunami upon a helpless shore.

after what feels like forever, you slump back down, chest heaving. geto gently withdraws his hand from between your legs and licks his fingers while gojo lifts his hand to release the pressure from your pelvis. you lift your head up to see gojo standing at the foot of the bed, palming the front of his pants, face scrunched up in want. geto looks to be faring no better as he gets up to stand beside gojo, bulge straining against his jeans.

"i think it's time we got these off," geto says, unzipping his pants. gojo shucks off his slacks in one go, ripping off the tie that somehow remained around his neck throughout all of this. suddenly they're both down to their underwear, black boxers tented.

they glance at you and then back at each other before gojo drops to his knees on the floor, pulling geto's boxers down with him. you watch, spent, as gojo takes geto into his mouth, swallowing around him and fondling his sack. geto tips his head back and rakes a hand through gojo’s hair, peering down at his head bobbing on his length. you're enjoying the show as geto thrusts shallowly into his mouth, his abs flexing with the motion.

gojo’s adam’s apple is bobbing as his throat works, and he keeps going until geto's breathing grows laboured, only stopping when geto gestures with his chin toward you on the bed. gojo releases him with a lewd pop and barely has a second to collect himself before geto's pushing him onto his back, stripping off his underwear and taking him down into his throat in one go. you watch, amazed, at what appears to be geto's total lack of a gag reflex.

"throat goat," gojo remarks fondly, reaching down to thread his hand through geto's dark hair. geto slaps his thigh and gojo chuckles, breaking off to groan when geto urges him on, pushing his ass forward to get him to fuck his throat.

you're still recovering from your climax when geto releases gojo from his mouth, wiping at the saliva around his lips. gojo glances at you, grinning as he pushes himself up onto his palms.

"want a turn?" he asks impishly, gesturing at geto, who stands up. you raise yourself into a sitting position up by the elbows and regard the two men in front of you and their well-endowed assets. gojo is longer but slightly thinner, like a water bottle. geto is girthier and thicker, like a beercan. you'll happily take both.

"i think she's got another orgasm in her, don't you?" geto climbs onto the bed and tugs you onto your hands and knees, gojo going behind you. "why don't you see what you can do about that, satoru."

you're gazing hungrily at the girthy length of geto, veiny and uncut up close. he's still glistening with gojo's saliva as you lick the tip, geto's palm coming to rest on your head. you're taking him down inch by inch as you feel gojo settle behind you, shivering as he trails a finger through the wetness gathered at your lips.

one hand gripping your hip, he lines himself up and pushes inside your wet heat until he's flush against your ass, forcing all the air out of your lungs. in the same instant, you reach the base of geto's length, full at both ends. you moan around him as gojo begins to thrust in earnest, the sound of skin slapping skin reverberating around the room as he fucks you relentlessly.

"shit," gojo says lowly, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "you're taking me like a champ."

geto's eyes are closed, his palm resting on your hair. you pull back, flattening your tongue beneath the head while your hand jacks off whatever your mouth can't reach. gojo changes angles and you can suddenly feel him in your chest, his tip so deeply inside of you that it's kissing your cervix.

you pick up the pace, tonguing the slit, and geto is openly groaning, gripping your hair hard enough that it hurts. you don't mind it— you encourage it, in fact, while gojo's fucking you hard enough that your walls will surely remember his shape. every time he brings you back onto his length, heady pleasure shoots through your veins, your toes tingling hotly. you can already feel another orgasm coming as gojo reaches a hand between your legs, searching for your clit. he twists his fingers evilly, not letting up when you let out a muffled moan around geto's girth.

"i think she likes it," gojo says, smirk audible in his voice. he rubs in tight, deliberate circles, his hand quickening as you stop sucking and just breathe, eyes rolling back in your head when he snaps his hips and simultaneously hits your spot.

you hear him laugh breathlessly, thrusts hindered somewhat as your walls spasm around him, his pace slowing as you come for the second time. he fucks you through it, pulling out when it becomes too much. gojo smacks your ass, laughing at the surprised yelp that exits your mouth.

"couldn't resist, princess," he winks at you, coming around to the front of the bed. again, they swap positions and geto moves to the back, warm hands settling around your waist. he brings you backwards onto him, your shoulder blades against his chest. he's warm, so warm, and you melt into his arms. he presses soft kisses into your neck, humming when you sigh contentedly and tip your head onto his shoulder.

"aren't you glad you had that sandwich?" he murmurs into your skin, hands roving all over your pliant body. the sound of a cap opening interrupts your reply, which was just going to be an mmhm-hmm anyways. you blink, watching gojo squeeze lube onto his fingers and stroke geto between your legs, whose eyelids flutter closed at the sensation.

after a few moments, gojo releases geto, who then lifts you up like you weigh nothing, settling you above him on your knees, one braced on either side of his hips. your back is still to his chest, and you turn your head to meet his gaze, cocking your head in question.

"lube?" you say, watching geto chuckle. he smooths a hand down your side, soothing.

"i know you don't have any problems getting wet," he smiles, gaze flickering down your body between your legs. he looks up, eyes dark. "but we can't have you feeling raw just yet."

your heart jumps in your chest when a hand grabs your chin, turning your head to face the front. you're met with the full mast of gojo, who's up on his knees in front of you, his shins pressing into the bed. it happens all at once and geto is lowering you down as you swallow around gojo, the taste of precome heady on your tongue. you sink down onto geto for what feels like forever, his tip reaching towards your ribs.  

if gojo fucked you relentlessly, geto fucks you like god himself commanded him, a divine task ordained straight from the heavens above. he bounces you up and down, pushing his hips up to meet yours on every thrust. your palms are braced on gojo's thighs and you can barely breathe around him, glancing up to see his eyes screwed shut in pleasure as he wantonly pumps his hips into your mouth, sliding his length along your tongue.

geto's hands are vicelike around your waist, his hot, hard length stretching your walls every time he brings you down onto his hips. they're working in tandem, each fucking a pair of your lips, and it’s so fucking good that you could cry. you’re absolutely stuffed at both ends, hot pleasure emanating from your core to spread throughout your body every time geto pushes back into you. another orgasm is cresting on the horizon as he picks up the pace, jackrabbiting his hips as he lifts you up impossibly higher, the bed creaking from the combined force of their movements.

"god, you're tight," geto grunts, punctuated by the sound of his balls slapping your ass. "so tight, just for me."

you're so close, you're so fucking close, and you've stopped sucking entirely as geto fucks you harder, your breasts bouncing in time with the motion. gojo suddenly pulls out from your mouth and you don't have time to react before he drops into a kneeling position and grasps your jaw in his hand, bringing your lips to meet his own. gojo slides his tongue inside your mouth, his hand moving up from your jaw to hold your head as his tongue caresses yours.

you moan into his mouth, arms coming up to wrap around his neck as you pull him flush to your chest while geto continues to fuck you, bliss radiating outward from where you’re joined. your nipples are pebbled against the smooth planes of gojo's clavicle and he deepens the kiss, fingers weaving into your hair as his other hand slips down to dance along your overly sensitive clit.

geto tilts his hips and floods every sense in your body with white-hot ecstasy as he rails your spot, the curve of gojo’s smirk sharp against your mouth while his fingertips stroke your clit. you drench the bed for the second time that night as you come, back arching in geto's grip as gojo's fingertips tease the lips stretched around geto's girth, still pistoning in and out of you.

"nice, we got a second squirt," gojo crows, eyes crinkling in mirth as he draws back. he raises his hand for a high-five and you don't have to look to know geto is rolling his eyes as he slaps gojo's hand. geto slowly brings you down to lean onto him, his chest rising and falling from exertion. he's still buried inside of you and you can barely think through the haze in your mind, sagging limply into his arms. geto supports your weight, whispering quietly into your hair as you come down.

"that's it, just like that." his voice is gentle, unlike the way he was moving inside of you moments ago. he twines his arms around your waist as you both catch your breath, the broad muscle of his chest firm against your back. your eyes are closed and your entire body is relaxed, held up by geto's sturdy frame.

"you guys didn't come," you manage to say, voice thick. you feel geto's chest rumble as he laughs, low and deep in your ear.

"that's very kind of you to be concerned," he says, soft smile audible in his voice. "but it's all good. we like to draw things out."

you feel the bed dip as gojo climbs back on, the click of a bottle cap echoing in the quiet of the room.

"we're going to give you a bit of a break," gojo tells you, voice teasing. "you can relax and enjoy the show."

you blink blearily, limbs liquified as geto lifts you off and carefully sets you to his side, wrapping an arm around you as you curl up beside him. you watch while gojo lubes him up again, twisting his wrist knowingly when he meets the head. gojo glances up and they share a private moment, conversing without words. you're content to watch as an intimate smile graces geto's features and gojo leans forward to peck him on the lips, still stroking all the while.

geto withdraws his arm from around you, sitting up to settle gojo on top of his thighs. he spreads gojo's legs over his own, their faces close enough to share the same breath. the lube reappears and gojo leans his weight onto his palm, watching as geto squeezes some over his fingers. they're in an incredibly intimate position, almost lotus-like, legs folded together and gojo's other hand braced on geto's shoulder.

geto slides the first finger inside of gojo with so much confidence that it's obvious they've done this a thousand times before. gojo's spine arches and he exhales hard, eyelids fluttering shut as geto starts stretching him out. geto's dark eyes are trained on his disappearing finger, and you can see gojo's hand tensing around his shoulders. gojo's shaky breaths echo around the room when geto adds another finger, thrusting with more urgency. there's a squelching sound every time his hand meets gojo's ass, and you watch in awe as gojo takes it like he was fucking born for nothing else.

they're both hard as hell, and you're starting to wonder if it's getting painful. you don't have time to contemplate this thought for long before geto's up to three fingers and he changes the angle of his hand, gojo's body jerking violently as geto deliberately hits his spot. geto cranes his neck to suckle at gojo’s nipple, smirking into his chest when he mewls. he squeezes gojo's ass with his free hand and continues pressing his spot as gojo spasms, his lips parted in a soundless moan.

geto carefully withdraws his hand, kissing gojo softly on the lips before taking his wrists and pulling him up onto his knees. geto climbs off the bed, going to stand behind gojo. his eyes flicker over to you and you meet his gaze, cloudy with want. geto doesn't look away as he pushes himself inside of gojo, his arms wrapping around gojo's torso to tug him up against his chest. he starts thrusting carefully, letting gojo adjust to the feeling of his full length inside of him.

you can feel yourself getting wet again as geto finally closes his eyes, pressing his mouth to gojo's neck as he pulls out slowly, bringing his hips forward again. you're brimming with hunger as you watch their bodies move together, geto's one hand wrapped around gojo's throat and the other pressed flat to his chest, holding him upright. gojo is making low noises, quiet ungh-ungh-unghs as geto fills him up, again and again.

"who do you belong to?" geto grunts into his neck, hand tightening around his throat, gojo’s adam’s apple protruding between his fingers.

gojo breathes out a shuddering exhale, his knees and shins pressed into the mattress. his entire weight is leaned onto geto, who's somehow supporting him and fucking him simultaneously.

gojo bites his lip, furrowing his brow. you can see the muscles of geto's ass flexing as he plunges into gojo, not letting up for even a second.

"well," gojo rasps, sounding like he's going for contemplative but ending up wanton instead. "you'll just have to ask george clooney."

geto’s balls slap gojo's ass when he delivers a particularly punishing thrust, pushing all the air out of gojo in a loud huff.

"are you sure about that?" geto sounds remarkably composed for a man who's inside another man's ass.

gojo is only able to make a noise of affirmation in response, a strained uh-huh through his teeth. his giggle is breathless when geto releases his throat to slap his cheek, the thwack loud in the quiet.

"why don't you try again," geto's voice is rough and he changes angles, finding exactly what he's searching for when gojo's body jackknifes into his chest.

"fine, you got me,” gojo moans, throwing his head back onto geto's shoulder. "tell george that i'm —ah!— cheating on him with matt damon.”

this was clearly not the answer geto was looking for. he quickens his pace, slamming his hips hard enough into gojo’s ass to bruise. reaching a hand around to wrap around gojo’s length, his fist is a blur as he strokes in time with his thrusts.

“who do you belong to?” geto says again, strained but still pointed, leaving no room for argument. gojo’s body is strung taut, every muscle tensed with his mouth open and face pinched tight as the bed shakes.

you can only stare as the veins pop out of gojo's neck, abs contracting with his back arched against geto's chest. "i h— i heard idris elba is free— agh!"

geto releases him and pulls out in the same second, taking a full step backwards. gojo lets out a sound that sounds like a sob, body folding in half at the sudden, overwhelming emptiness.

geto continues to stand there, unmoving and unflinching. he's hard as a rock but he looks like he could wait forever as gojo curls in on himself, distraught by the lack of sensation.

gojo whimpers brokenly and brings a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound, his body visibly aching with need. "you," he sobs, on the verge of tears when it finally comes out. "only you. always you."

geto nods, just once, and the relief on gojo's face is palpable when geto yanks him upright and pushes back inside of him in one snap of his hips. geto's rhythm is harsh as he takes gojo again in his other hand, squeezing from root to tip. geto swipes his thumb over the head and gojo makes a choked-off noise, turning his head over his shoulder to tangle their tongues together.

"brat," geto says into his mouth, to which gojo can only whine in agreement.

they're both breathing heavily and it's the hottest thing you've ever fucking seen, the pleasure visible on both of their faces. gojo is biting his lip, eyes scrunched shut, and sweat is beading at geto's temple as he moves, his brows creased. gojo's mouth falls open and he keens, high and loud, body rocking into geto's as they have sex in front of you.

you just met him a few hours ago but you can tell gojo is close, his breaths growing ragged and moans increasing in pitch as he nears climax. right before the event horizon, geto lets go of gojo, stilling his movements but remaining inside of him. gojo lets out an aggravated groan and cracks an eye open, turning his head to look at you.

"this is where you come in, princess," he manages, speech almost slurred. "come here."

he doesn't have to tell you twice. scampering over, you comply when gojo motions for you to turn around. his grip is tight on your ass when he brings your hips back, the hard length of him pressing into the wetness pooled between your legs. he slips inside of your tight heat effortlessly, filling you to the hilt as geto starts fucking him again. gojo is stretching you out and you love the feeling of being so damn full, head hanging low and breasts swaying with the motion as geto fucks gojo and gojo fucks you.

the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you're seeing stars as gojo makes high-pitched sounds, geto's panting filling up the spaces in between his whimpers. it's quite possibly the most erotic thing you've ever experienced, having one man inside of you while another man is inside of him. you can't help but wonder how it feels for gojo, filling up one person with someone else filling him up simultaneously.

they're moving in time with each other, and you hear gojo's breathing become frantic as he gasps. the force of geto's thrusts are pushing him forwards into you, nudging his head repeatedly into your cervix. gojo's palms are hot on your hips, and you feel more than see his body tense up as he approaches orgasm. a loud gasp is pushed out of his chest when geto reaches around to pinch his nipples. 

gojo chokes on air, rutting forward into you and pushing himself back onto geto in the same moment. he sounds wrecked with sensation as geto doesn't stop for a second, pounding into him while you clench and milk him for all he's worth.

"fuck, suguru, i'm gonna— fuck, i'm coming," gojo cries, spilling deep inside of you. geto fucks him through it, pushing gojo's load deeper inside of you as he keeps coming. gojo has stopped moving and just rides out his climax, grip loosening around your hips. geto's forcing him forwards into you over and over again, the motion bracketed by gojo's unfettered groans and his own harsh panting. after a long minute, you feel geto pull out of gojo and gojo pull out of you, the lewd noises juxtaposed against the soft music still playing.

gojo flops down onto the bed beside you, chest heaving. geto disappears into the bathroom only to reappear moments later with a damp towel, which gojo catches in one hand. he goes again into the bathroom and you hear the sound of the shower starting up.

"what's he doing?" you ask, watching gojo's chest rise and fall. he holds up a finger, slowing his breathing before he answers you.

"cleaning himself up," he says between lungfuls of air. he turns his head to look at you and winks. "he needs to wash up for what we have planned next with you."

you don't have time to ponder exactly what that could entail before gojo suddenly sits up and manhandles you onto your back, his hands pushing your collarbones. you can feel his release leaking out of you, slippery in between your thighs.

"remember what i said about asking nicely?" his blue eyes are piercing as they bore into yours. gojo is close enough that you can count his eyelashes, and you catch the lingering scent of ysl’s black opium cologne. you swallow, toes tingling at the sheer proximity.

he leans into you and you're dumbstruck by the broadness of him as he cages you in, dipping his head down to brush his nose against yours. barely breathing, you have to bite back a whimper as gojo’s mouth moves to your throat.

"manners are important, you know." sucking hungrily, he spreads your legs with a knee, reaching down to clean up the mess he made inside of you.

"shocked that you would know, seeing as you don't have any," you choke out, nails scrabbling at his shoulder blades while he wipes you clean, the light touch of gojo's hand stark in contrast to the teeth at your throat. you feel him grin into your skin.

"i'm demonstrating them right now, aren’t i?" you can't tell if you're wet from him coming inside of you or from the way he's touching you, once again too much and not enough all at once.

"don't gentlemen always clean up the messes they make?" gojo asks rhetorically, lips moving on your skin. "i'm nothing if not a gentleman."

"and i'm the goddamn president," your voice wobbles but it comes out sufficiently derisory for you in this moment. "since we're telling jokes now."

gojo bites, sucking hard enough to leave a purpled bruise. you can't stop your hand from twisting in his hair, your body arching up into him.

"i know what you want," gojo’s voice is low as he tilts your jaw up for better access, his mouth hot on your neck. he throws the soiled towel aside without looking. "and i'm not going to give it to you until you ask. nicely. "

he moves down your body, leaving bruising kisses along your sternum, your ribs, your hipbones. his palms are cool when they press into your knees, pushing your legs apart so he can kneel between them. gojo looks up at you from beneath his lashes, daring you to retort.

"i know you can do it," he drawls, voice lilting in condescension. he grazes a finger through your slick folds, darting away when your eyelids flutter. "all you need to do is ask."

sheets clenched in your hands, you bite your lip. looking down, you appraise the cocky grin on gojo's face, his eyebrow raised in challenge. he's a bitch, for sure, but it takes one to know one.

"no," is all you say, watching his gaze darken. "i don't think i will."

gojo's mouth is above your clit in a flash, breath hot on your slick lips. your hips buck up involuntarily and he leans back, laughing. you kick at his chest with a foot, resisting the urge to pout.

"come on, it won't kill you," he says mockingly. "it might even do you good to learn some manners." 

his hands are firm on your hipbones and he dips his head back down, breathing along your lips. every fibre of your being is on fire and you want it so bad it hurts, throbbing hotly at your core but you will not give him the goddamn satisfaction.

he presses open-mouthed kisses to the inside of your thighs, snickering at the sharp inhale through your nose when he scrapes the thin skin with his teeth. an accidental moan slips from your mouth when he sucks a hickey into your hip, the hand that flies up to stifle it coming too late.

heart racing, a devious smile suddenly quirks your lips. "i don't need to ask," you say, tone just as mocking as gojo's. "to know geto is better at eating me out."

gojo stills against you, his mouth hot on your skin. he draws back slowly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. his grip tightens around your hips and you meet his gaze unwaveringly, watching as a shadow passes over his features.

he cocks his head, looking all the world like a predator about to snatch his prey.

"you know," he begins, and there's nothing joking or lighthearted in his tone this time. "suguru got to have his dessert, but i never got to have mine."

there's no time to ready yourself before gojo's mouth is on you, his tongue sliding inside to your centre without hesitation. your hips jerk up and he's holding you down as he licks into you, tongue caressing your walls. you cry out, one hand gripping the sheets and the other twisted in his hair. you're struck by the thought that he can probably taste himself but judging from the way he's eating you out, he clearly doesn't care.

gojo's head is moving beneath your hand as he continues ravaging you, pulling back only for a second to release one of your hips. when his hand enters you, his fingers somehow feel even deeper than his entire length did ten minutes ago. gojo is unrelenting, pushing his index and middle fingers in and out so quickly you're choking on air. every nerve in your body has been set alight, silvery ecstasy coursing through your veins like drugs as he doesn’t stop. 

he's suctioned his lips around your clit, not coming up for air as his hand pumps inside of you. gojo's mouth is warm and wet as he licks and he doesn't let up even when you spasm, his forearm firm across your pelvis to hold you down while his fingers hit your spot, again and again.

you can't even moan because you can't breathe. your eyes are scrunched shut and your back is arched off the bed. you don't have to look to feel his nose pressed into the top of your mound as gojo eats you out like he's fallen ill and your folds are hiding the antidote.

you're just about to come and he stops all at once, removing his hand with a squelch and releasing your clit from between his lips. you blink blearily, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you peer down at him. gojo's got a challenging look on his face, staring up at you resolutely.

"say please," he says, and you're about to shake your head when he leans closer to you, lips gleaming and chin slick. he trails a finger through your folds, dripping from how close you are and his own saliva. gojo's fingertip circles your clit without touching it, his touch featherlight.

"if you want to come," his voice is low, without mirth. "say it."

every cell in your body has been besieged by want and it seems like he can tell, the little shit. the corner of his mouth curls upwards when he pulls back and your body involuntarily lurches up, like it's following him. you're stubborn and you hate losing but you also really, really fucking need to finish under his tongue.

you bite your lip, the haze in your mind leaving you thoughtless save for one aching need. gojo's blue eyes flash and you're suddenly reminded of the snake, right before it entices eve into eating the apple.

his mouth is set in a firm line, expression resolute. there’s fire simmering beneath your skin and you’re absolutely burning with it, tossing your pride aside as the word finally leaves your mouth. 

"please," you choke out, and his mouth splits into a smug grin, teeth shining as brightly as his hair. you only have a moment to feel intense annoyance before gojo's lips are back on yours and the feeling is instantly replaced with mind-numbing pleasure, every endorphin in your brain releasing all at once.

he's thrown your legs over his shoulders, jaw working furiously while his tongue licks into you. gojo's long fingers slip back inside of you seamlessly, aided by how wet you are and his saliva. his other hand leaves your hip and he spreads your folds with his fingers, pushing your clit out and creating the perfect conditions for him to latch his lips around it and suck.

"oh, god," you wail, both hands fisting in his air and toes curling over gojo’s shoulders. you’re heaving shallow breaths but he doesn't stop, his fingers plunging in and out of you as he sucks hard, cheeks hollowing and teeth nipping gently at the bud. you’re absolutely drowning in it, choking on air and limbs jerking when you cry out and come. your thighs squeeze his head and he probably can't breathe but you don't care and neither does he as gojo basically lets you fuck his face, taking all of you and then some.

it just keeps going, and going, and going. gojo doesn't come up for air, suckling at your clit even as you sag back onto the bed, spent. he slowly withdraws his head from between your legs, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. geto reappears, his body damp, and you crack an eye open to appraise his lithe form.

"she said i'm better at eating her out," gojo winks conspiratorially, waggling his eyebrows at you and hopping off the bed to stand up.

you don't have the strength to rebut but you don’t have to because geto rolls his eyes, climbing onto the bed to help you sit up. "i'm fairly certain she didn't."

geto reaches into a bedside drawer, pulling out a bottle of water. he unscrews the cap and raises it to your lips, his other hand supporting your back as he helps you drink.

"we're giving you another break," geto's voice is soft but his eyes are dark as you nod weakly, water trickling down your chin. geto’s touch is tender on your jaw as he thumbs at the droplets, taking the bottle from you when you're done and propping you up with a pillow. he leans in close, his loose hair falling into his face, to stroke your cheek, gaze never leaving yours.

"watch closely, okay?" he says, and you have the feeling that it isn't a question, despite being phrased as one. you're sitting on one side of the bed, which is massive enough that all three of you and probably a few more could lay comfortably side-by-side with enough room to spare. gojo turns on the fireplace, the embers crackling to life as he draws the curtains closed, casting the room in a warm glow.

gojo walks back to the bed with palpable intent guiding his footsteps, blue eyes fixed on geto. with eyes only for each other, you watch as gojo climbs onto the bed and on top of geto, whose palm has come to rest around gojo's waist, their gazes locked.

a soft sigh falls from geto's lips when gojo begins pressing tender kisses down his neck. touching him in an achingly affectionate way that seems almost uncharacteristic, gojo's hands are reverent as they hold geto’s body close. they're both achingly hard again but there's nothing rushed about the way gojo's lips are moving against his skin, every hitched breath and shuddering exhale deafeningly loud in the silence of the room.

gojo takes his time, making sure there’s not an inch of geto’s body left unmarked by his lips. he’s everywhere— at geto’s ribs, his navel, his thighs, his hipbone. the sound of geto sighing wafts into your ears like smoke, and gojo parts his legs slowly, palms on the inside of his knees. you watch gojo kneel between his legs like he’s praying, taking a long moment to stare up at geto, who meets his gaze unblinkingly. there’s a long moment where they just breathe together, having another silent conversation meant for the two of them alone. 

you have the inescapable sense that you’re being let in on something precious, confirmed by the careful way gojo dips his head down in between geto’s thighs. he brings geto’s legs over his shoulders and geto reaches down to stroke his hair, carding his fingers through the soft strands. from where you’re sitting beside them, gojo’s lowered head is obscured by geto’s thighs, but the way geto inhales sharply through his nose lets you ascertain the moment gojo’s tongue enters him. 

the way gojo licks into him is almost alien to the feral manner in which he was eating you out earlier, all tender kisses and measured swipes of his tongue. it’s like he’s a different person, his touch delicate on geto’s skin as he keeps his legs spread, head moving unhurriedly between his thighs. geto’s eyelids have fluttered closed, his dark hair pooled around his head as gojo continues lapping at him like gentle waves against a serene shore. 

the only noises in the room are geto’s slow breaths and the wet sounds of gojo’s mouth, geto’s hardness untouched between them. he hasn’t made any move to touch himself and neither has gojo, and you watch as his body ripples with bliss, toes flexing over gojo’s shoulders. 

after several long minutes, gojo lifts his head, dropping soft kisses up geto’s thigh as he lays his legs back down onto the bed. geto is breathing heavily, forearm slung over his eyes, as gojo leans over to open the bedside drawer, pulling out another bottle of water. he tips his head back, pouring water into his mouth and swishing it around before swallowing, capping the bottle and closing the drawer. he angles his body back over geto, touch featherlight across his clavicle. 

geto shivers when gojo ghosts a finger down his sternum, closing his eyes when gojo takes his lips in his own. he has one hand on gojo's shoulder, the other sliding up into his hair as their mouths move languidly together. gojo has tugged one of geto's legs around his waist, slow and deliberate, not at all similar to the way he did the same to you earlier. geto arches into him, and their bodies are so intertwined that it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins, like they've merged into one.

they're so close, in fact, that it takes you a full minute to realize gojo has been inside of geto for quite some time, his hips moving fluidly as geto wraps his arms around his shoulders and crosses his ankles behind gojo's back. his thrusts are measured, unhurried, and geto's eyes close when gojo dips his head down to nuzzle at his neck.

judging from the way he takes all of gojo effortlessly, you think that geto must have prepped in the shower. from your vantage point, you can see the muscles of gojo's back shifting as he moves, geto exhaling loudly as gojo gently picks up the pace, thrusting slowly like they could do this for the next ten, hundred, or even thousand years. the only thing you can hear are their measured breaths, the bed silent as gojo carefully brings his hips forward again and again.

geto makes a low noise and gojo understands, leaning back to lift geto's ankles onto his shoulders. it's only after he fills up geto for the dozenth time that gojo dips down, his hips never faltering, to capture geto's lips in his own. their mouths move against one another as their bodies are joined, geto's palms pressed flat to gojo's chest and gojo's hands wrapped around geto's thighs.

you watch them make love and it's breathtakingly intimate, breath hitching in your throat when they break apart and geto tucks a strand of gojo’s hair behind his ear. a slow smile spreads over gojo's face, nothing at all like the feral grin that split his lips earlier. he presses a tender kiss to the inside of geto’s calf, tilting his hips up and and letting out a soft chuckle when geto inhales sharply and his eyes snap shut, toes curling and fingers flexing against gojo's chest.

he still hasn't reached between geto's legs and you're starting to think geto must have the stamina of a fucking horse after being sucked and fucked both ways. geto opens his eyes and he meets gojo's gaze, who once again doesn't need words to understand. he pulls out of geto as smoothly as he entered him, climbing off the bed and heading for the bathroom.

geto sighs deeply, still on his back. for a long minute it's just the two of you in the quiet, and you twitch, heat pooling between your legs. he's on top of you in the next moment, pushing away the pillow supporting your body to lay you flat on the bed. "you were watching, right?"

you nod, thinking that it must be evident from how wet you are. geto's hands are braced on either side of your head and he's pulled your legs over his hips, his hair tickling your neck as his head bows down. he's radiating warmth and you catch a whiff of the same versace cologne, musky as he licks an unhurried stripe up your neck.

the energy in the room is charged and you watch his biceps tense, your gaze dropping to the firm muscle of his chest as the firelight lends his body an otherworldly halo. tilting your chin up, geto doesn't look away when he slides into you, his hips meeting yours in one deliberate thrust. your world has been reduced to one point of contact and you're melting into oblivion as geto stays unmoving deep inside of your wet heat, anchored by your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

you're staring so deeply into his eyes that you could drown as he just stays there, completely still as your walls clench around him. your mouth is an inch from his own, breaths mingling in the quiet. the room is completely silent save for the distant hum of the shower and the crackle of the fireplace, tempered by your shallow breathing. geto looks at you through hooded eyelids, tingles shooting down to your toes as he visibly holds himself back, trembling with the effort. you’re acutely aware of your heartbeat, thundering in your ears. 

when geto finally draws back and brings himself into you again, it's so good you could cry. the sex is made even more intense by the way he continues to stare through you, dark eyes glittering. never breaking eye contact, he purposefully snaps his hips again, and again, and again, each measured thrust metered by the sighs that escape your lips. your hands slide down from his neck and you can feel the muscle and sinew of his back shifting while he moves, your every sense overtaken by him as he continues to roll his hips. every time his head brushes your cervix your body undulates with pleasure, reducing you to a puddle in his arms. 

geto lowers his head, breath hot against your neck, and you think about the fact that he’s the only one who hasn’t come yet. your bodies are pressed together and you can feel every inch of him as he moves inside of you, deliberate and restrained. you can tell he’s yearning for more but he doesn’t let himself have it, tensely grasping your jaw when you arch up into his chest. he doesn’t pick up the pace even when you rest your hands on his ass, the muscle flexing beneath your fingers as he just keeps going, each thrust calculated and purposeful when he slides in and out of you. chest to chest, you breathe with him, his body firm beneath your palms. he's staring endlessly into your eyes, his own so dark that they could hold the universe. 

you think you could come, just like this, and it's almost like geto can read your thoughts because he stops all at once, pulling out and leaving you devastatingly empty. you’re aching at the loss but distracted by gojo as he suddenly reappears, water dripping in rivulets down his chest. geto holds a hand out behind him, accepting the lube without looking.

"you said you were good with everything, right?" geto turns to glance at you, who can once again only nod in response. geto takes your hand to bring you into an upright position, gojo going to sit behind you and it's reminiscent of before, with his damp skin pressed to your shoulder blades and geto between your legs.

geto squeezes lube onto his fingers, rubbing his palms together to warm them up. he looks up at you through his lashes, dark and daring.

you nod, just once, and geto’s first finger enters your ass with so much confidence that it feels like this is his fucking profession. gojo's palms are again around your breasts, mouth hot on your nape. your breath hitches in your throat when geto adds another finger, scissoring them inside of your ass, his other hand tight on your thigh. groaning low and long, your palms come up to rest on top of gojo's hands as his tongue laps wetly at your skin. he suddenly bites at your shoulder and you don't have the energy to swat at him, making a harrumph sound when he chuckles into your neck.

"you're up to three fingers now, did you know that?" geto says quietly, and you glance down at his wrist as it moves between your legs. damn, he's right.

geto's other hand smooths down your thigh, palm warm on your skin. "you're doing so good."

you can feel geto moving his hand inside of you as gojo presses a lingering kiss to your nape, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back flush against his chest, his legs encasing both of yours. his warmth envelops you as you just breathe, geto's fingers stretching you out.

you feel gojo smile into your skin. "the little lady must be tired, huh?"

your eyes are closed but you make a hmph noise, still lucid enough to retort. "i'm not a little lady, you dickhead."

gojo laughs, a hot puff of air against your neck, his arms snug around your waist. "i was talking about your clit."

chuckling breathlessly, you tip your head onto gojo's shoulder as geto continues scissoring his fingers inside of you. "okay, you're not wrong with that one."

one of gojo's arms slips out from their embrace and he leans to the side, opening the bedside drawer. his other arm suddenly retracts from around you too and your eyes snap open as your hands are yanked behind you, the click of handcuffs thunderously loud when they lock around your wrists.

you swallow hard, tugging on the restraints behind your back. nope, they're tightly secured. your heart is racing as geto removes his hand from your ass, gifting you with a view of his muscled back as he stands up and walks into the bathroom.

"first time being cuffed?" gojo asks knowingly from behind you, tracing a finger down your arm. you shiver, nodding stutteringly to the empty space in front of you. gojo rotates you in his lap to face him, your thighs on top of his own. the scent of his cologne is distinct, the notes of vanilla intensified by your proximity. 

gojo lowers his head to brush his nose against yours, and you absolutely thrill at the danger in his eyes when he leans back. "it takes a lot of trust," he says lowly, glancing down at your body. gojo looks up at you, gaze dark and rife with intent. "and we don't take that lightly."

he moves you both further down the bed, laying flat once he has enough room. you're sitting on his thighs and you feel him beneath your leg, hard and wanting.

geto's palms are cold and wet around your waist when they startle you from behind and you jolt, shuddering when he presses a lingering kiss to your nape. you're sopping again already and you want nothing more than to reach forward and snatch gojo by the shoulders to drag his lips onto yours but you can't.

wrists cuffed, your body is trapped between them with gojo at your front and geto at your back. icy anticipation shoots through your veins and lights a fire in your core. you're completely at their mercy now.

gojo sees it on your face and he doesn't make you ask this time as he lifts your thighs up to guide himself inside, not stopping until the flat plane of his hipbones are pressed against the swell of your ass. mouth wet on your neck, geto bites at your shoulder, reaching around to pinch a nipple before withdrawing his hand, the bed dipping as he climbs off.

gojo's grip is firm on your hips and your knees rest outside each of his thighs, wrists still bound behind your back. the next breath you release stutters as it leaves your lips, yet gojo doesn't move. you grind down onto him, lips puffy from overuse, and take the opportunity to luxuriate in being filled up. it's too fucking good, gojo nestled so deeply inside of you that you can feel him in your sternum.

he slowly raises your thighs up from below, bringing you back down just as carefully. you bite back a whimper, every sense heightened by the way gojo and geto can do absolutely whatever they want to you right now. he brings your hips together again, gradually picking up the pace when you openly groan, breasts bobbing as you ride him.

"she takes it so well, doesn't she?" geto says from behind you, the bed shifting as he climbs on again. gojo makes a noise of agreement, hands moving to your waist to steady you. geto cups your ass, urging you on to help you ride gojo more thoroughly.

"like she was born for it," gojo agrees, squeezing your waist in his hands. one of his fingertips wanders up to your breast, dancing around a nipple. you gasp, wrists straining against the cuffs as gojo retracts, his hand rejoining the other at your waist.

you're moving together and gojo is right there every time you sink back down, thrusting up to meet you. he was right, your clit is tired, and you think that maybe you could come from this alone if he just keeps going. there's a click of a cap, the sound of lube being pushed out of a bottle, but you barely hear it, your nerves strung tight with sensation. 

all of a sudden, there are palms on your spine, pressing you down onto gojo’s chest as he continues pumping his hips, his balls making a lewd sound when they slap your ass. you have no choice but to comply and you choke on air as gojo doesn't stop, the angle changing when you slant forward and allowing him to hit your spot. with your wrists behind your back, you would have fallen onto him but gojo is holding you up, one palm warm around your waist and the other supporting your shoulder.

he's fucking you earnestly now, your face an inch above his own. gojo's breathing hard, sweat collecting in the hollow of his throat as your bodies undulate against each other. once again, you ache to take his lips in yours but he doesn't let you, keeping you in place as he keeps pounding himself into you. you’re drunk with it, throwing your head back as pleasure radiates out from your core. 

there's movement behind you as geto rises up on his knees, one of his hands resting on your ass as it moves up and down. he pushes your spine down even more, raising your ass in the air and gojo is ready, meeting you with his tongue and licking into your mouth. ass up and face down, your veins are flooded with icy hot anticipation and you moan into his teeth, arms twisting futilely behind your back as the cuffs hold you in place. 

time grates to a halt when geto's tip breaches your ass, splitting you open from behind. you choke against gojo's lips, who stops moving, breaking away to let geto enter you properly. he's still holding you up as your head falls forward, dropping towards your chest.

"you okay?" gojo's voice is soft but laden with concern, one of his hands coming up to grasp at your jaw. he lifts your chin to meet his eyes and you're in a daze, the pressure overwhelming as geto continues pushing into you for what feels like an eternity. you nod jerkily, chin moving in his hand, and gojo brings you down to his chest, holding you close as geto keeps going until he's fully inside you at the other end.

there's a long moment where you just breathe, face pressed into gojo's shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around you. if you thought you felt full before that was nothing compared to how you feel right now. you're absolutely stuffed to the brim and there's no room left in your lungs for oxygen, every cavern and crevice of your body filled to the brim with nothing but them. 

it's not quite painful but it definitely is a lot, both men shoved in to the hilt. there's only a singular velvety wall separating them and you can feel gojo and geto pressed against each other inside of you. they're still not moving, gojo's palms smoothing up and down your back as he and geto let you adjust to their simultaneous penetration.

you shift your weight and your senses are instantly overwhelmed in a way you've never felt before, every fibre of your being set alight with sensation as hot ecstasy erupts throughout your body. drooping further into gojo's shoulder, you let out a primal groan, unable to produce speech. he makes a knowing noise deep in his throat, a low mhmm-hmm, and gently props you up, holding your torso above his own. the motion moves both of them inside of you and you have to bite back a genuine wail as you feel their thicknesses rub together, hot and hard between your walls.

"just tell us when," gojo says, supporting your entire body like you weigh nothing. geto's palms are warm on your hips from behind and he strokes, soothing. "there's no rush."

geto makes an affirmative sound, the noise loud in the pin-drop silence. you would say something but you're devastated by proximity, gojo inside of you one way and geto in another. your entire being has been subsumed and you're lost in the ocean of their bodies, drifting in the warmth of their hands, the slowness of their breaths, the distinct smell of expensive cologne and sex.

carefully patting your hip, you blink your eyes open as geto gently brings you to the surface. gojo is looking at you, unhurried and steady, and you can feel the same surety radiating from geto behind you.

you heave a shuddering breath, feeling them beneath your skin, in your bones, as they reach into the deepest caverns and crevices of your body. you've never been more certain of anything else in your life when you look at gojo’s face, exhaling loudly to say one word. 

"move."

they don't have to be told twice. gojo pulls out of you in the same instant as geto, both snapping their hips forward to meet at the centre of you. the cry that escapes your mouth is deafening, and the sound is punched out of you again, and again, and again as they thrust together, filling you up beyond measure. you feel like you're going to overflow, brain short-circuiting and body sagging in gojo's hands as he keeps holding you up while he moves alongside geto.

geto quickens his pace and their timing changes, gojo plunging into you in the moment that geto draws himself back. you're not empty for a single second and you fucking love it, choking on air when gojo cranes his neck down to lick your areola. the sounds the three of you are making are absolutely filthy, heavy panting and skin slapping skin as your bodies move together. it's almost like gojo and geto are connected through you and you’re punch-drunk, body moving forwards and backwards on their lengths as they fuck you simultaneously.

you have hands all over you, geto's fingers digging into your hips tight enough that you'll have bruises tomorrow, gojo's arms wrapped around your torso with his palms flat on the skin of your back. you're delirious with it, eyes rolling back as gojo pushes you into a more upright position and in doing so shoves you onto geto, who thrusts forward at the same moment that gojo hits your spot. one of them inside of you was overwhelming but both feels world-ending, pleasure erupting from everywhere and flowing all the way into your fingers and toes. 

you're utterly incapable of speech at this point and you're spewing nonsense; things that sound like words but aren't, guttural moans pouring out of you like rain. your breasts are bouncing furiously and you've never felt like this in your life, each man fucking one of your holes like it's his last day on earth.

arms spasming in the restraints, you keen, high and loud. something visceral has taken over you and the pace they've set inside of you is so much yet somehow still not enough. you need to touch yourself but you can't and you want more, you fucking need more.

"h—harder," you choke, straining against the cuffs. you're aching with desire and burning for release as your entire body is pulled taut by a string that threads through all three of you. "fuck me harder."

the atmosphere in the room changes immediately. gojo's eyes flash and his fingers flex around your waist, the bed shifting as he presses his heels into the mattress to pound into you from below. geto speeds up behind you, thrusting into your ass uninhibited. you can feel them sliding together inside of you and you're fucking choking on air, spluttering as they piston in out of you at light speed.

you're suddenly yanked backwards when a hand grabs you by the cuffs, geto's grip a vice around your wrists. he doesn't stop pushing himself inside of your ass, using your weight as leverage as he leans away to thrust deeper. his free hand seizes a fistful of your hair, pulling your head backwards and shooting tingles of prickly pleasure down to your toes. with your back bowed, you're basically suspended above gojo, geto's position and his hold on your wrists creating an equilibrium between the two of you that lets him support your weight.

the position has consequently raised your face above gojo’s mouth, who hungrily claims your lips with his own while he continues pulling your hips down onto himself from below. you're teary-eyed from sensory overload, gasping against gojo's lips as geto keeps snapping his hips forwards into you, your folds squelching lewdly as gojo does the same. the scent of their cologne and the smell of sex hangs heavy in the air, stifling your lungs as you struggle to suck down air. 

“do—don’t,” you rasp into gojo’s mouth, drunk with the sensation of two hot, hard lengths moving together inside of you. “don’t —ungh— stop.” 

the friction is delicious and it seems like geto thinks so too, his breaths growing laboured behind you. a gasp is punched out of your lungs when he releases your hair to slap your ass hard , the crack audible even amongst all the noises the three of you are making. geto lets go of your wrists to dig his fingers into your hips once more, forcing your spine into a slope as he brings you back onto himself at a punishing speed. gojo’s length keeps rubbing into his inside of you and geto is absolutely losing himself in it, fucking you carnally as you feel more than see him finally approach climax.

gojo breaks away and he isn't looking at you anymore, staring past your face at geto, whose eyes are scrunched shut as he jackrabbits his hips. the way he's moving and the sounds he's making are borderline animalistic, all grunts and heavy breathing. geto is unraveling, his movements turning frantic and you can't do anything but take it as he pushes into you over and over again, single-mindedly chasing his own release.

gojo is still thrusting up into you and from the way he's tensed up you can tell that he's close too, but he's not focused on your pleasure or his own right now. his eyes never leave geto, whose lips have parted as he lets himself pump his hips freely into your ass. your entire body jolts from the movement, anchored by gojo's firm arm around your waist and his length still moving inside of you.

"suguru," comes gojo's voice, pointed and direct. geto opens his eyes and looks at gojo, who's wearing the most serious expression you've ever seen on his face. gojo's tone leaves no room for argument when he speaks.

"come."

geto makes a strangled noise and then it's happening all at once, his rhythm stuttering as his balls tighten and he finally, finally orgasms. he's spurting hotly into your ass and it's neverending— geto just continues coming, filling you up with his seed as his body jerks violently, wracked with pleasure.

inside of you, gojo's length has continued to press against geto’s throughout his climax, and he doesn't stop thrusting even as geto comes down. he actually speeds up when geto begins to soften inside of your ass, sitting up and dragging you onto his lap after geto pulls out.  

the desire to rub your clit is so overpowering that you feel like you might actually die. your head twists despairingly over your shoulder, trying to implore geto to take your cuffs off, when a firm hand grabs your chin and turns your head back around.

gojo's gaze is unwavering as he releases your chin to grab the flesh of your ass, thrusting up and ignoring your eyes blown wide in need.

"don't look at him," his voice is even as it cuts through the frenzied wail that escapes your clenched teeth. "look at me."

you're struggling to comply because you've hit your limit— it's all too fucking much, geto’s come is slippery between your cheeks and you’re aching so hard it hurts because you need to come now. you’re gasping so deeply that it sounds like you’re choking but he doesn't care, bouncing you in his lap even as you whine from oversensitivity.

"didn't you hear me?" it sounds like a question but gojo isn't asking. you can't form words, rendered incoherent by the hurricane of sensation. you can feel him getting close too but he supersedes his own desire to finish, focusing entirely on the task at hand.

gojo's fingers tighten around your jaw, his tone just as unforgiving.

"look. at. me. "

it's akin to weathering a torrential downpour when you muster up every ounce of strength left in your feeble body to open your eyes, meeting gojo's unblinking gaze. you're struggling to suck down air while he stares into your soul, slamming you down onto himself for the last time as he spills deep inside of you, coming so hard his eyes roll back in his head. you're still moving in his lap and you're babbling incoherently as he fills you to the brim, his load and geto's separated only by a thin wall inside of you.

gojo exhales harshly, pumping his hips through the aftershocks as you milk him dry. you're trying not to let the despair show outwardly on your face and you're tugging despondently at the cuffs, thrashing so hard in the restraints that your wrists are bruising. it's only because your eyes are open that you see the wicked grin suddenly quirk gojo's lips, and you're powerless to do anything as he abruptly shoves you backwards into geto's waiting arms.

"you didn't think we forgot, did you?" gojo asks devilishly. geto's hands are warm around your chest and his fingers are pinching your nipples as gojo thrusts up, hard, and directly rails your spot at the same moment his hand darts down to thumb at your swollen clit.

the tension inside your core snaps like a rubber band and the sensory processing centre in your brain implodes instantly, every cell in your body igniting all at once. the raw ecstasy that courses through your veins is so visceral that you feel high, floating somewhere outside of your body as it just doesn’t stop. you barely register that you’re releasing wave after wave of liquid around gojo as your limbs convulse helplessly against geto's chest, every fibre of your being utterly consumed by sensation. the last thing you hear before passing out is gojo's breathless laughter, blackness engulfing the edges of your vision as you fall endlessly into geto's arms. 

*****

you don’t know how much time has passed when strong arms scoop you up, wrapping around your shoulders and under the backs of your knees, carrying your limp body like you weigh nothing. your hand falls toward the floor and you absently wonder when the cuffs were taken off, your other arm folded into a warm chest. head lolling towards a collarbone, the scent of jasmine permeates the corners of your subconscious. you’re distantly aware of being carried into the bathroom, cradled with painstaking care. 

there’s movement around you, the sound of footsteps and taps being turned on, the slow rush of water as it fills up the tub. your eyes are still closed when you’re carefully passed from one pair of arms to another, enveloped by warm water as you’re settled against the smooth skin of a chest, arms wrapping securely around your middle. 

you’re resting on top of firm thighs, enveloped by warmth. you would open your eyes but you can’t because your body isn’t listening, limbs unresponsive and head thick with cottonwool. low sounds are falling from your lips, incoherent murmurs punctuated by the air you forcibly drag into your lungs, made nearly impossible because every fibre of your being is utterly spent. you’re suspended in the water and in this moment in time, succumbing to the black hole created by the vortex of sensation. you’re anchored by the body holding you close, palms around your middle and skin against your spine. a soft kiss is dropped on your nape before your head is gently tilted onto the smooth plane of a shoulder, your throat exposed. 

behind your head, there are hands lathering up your hair, working shampoo into your roots and massaging your scalp. you make a satisfied noise, deep in your throat as the scent of citrus fills the room. shampoo is smoothed all the way to the ends of your hair before the hands retract and you hear footsteps walk around to the other side of the tub, the water rising as another body steps in. once again, you’re passed to waiting arms, a hand settling around your midsection while the other supports your spine. another pair of hands begins to wash the product out of your hair from behind as you’re held chest to chest, rinsing your hair with the bathwater until all you can smell is citrusy shampoo. 

eyelids fluttering, you suddenly come face to face with geto, who’s blinking down at you. he smiles softly as gojo finishes washing your hair, pressing his lips to your forehead when you let out a gratified sigh. limbs still immobile, the water moves around you as he carefully hands you back to gojo, who’s ready at the other end of the tub. your body is completely pliant as gojo positions you slightly in front of him, leaving enough room between the two of you for his hands to rest comfortably on your shoulders, his thighs beneath yours. 

you sigh again, closing your eyes when gojo kneads the flesh of your shoulders, applying enough pressure to release the tension but not so much that it’s painful. bringing your feet onto his lap, geto presses his knuckles into the sole of your foot, dragging them down when you exhale. they massage you like you’re precious, every touch considerate. you melt, relaxed both by the water and their slow hands. 

geto releases your feet and then there’s the sound of a pump, gojo still holding you up by the shoulders while geto begins to gently work soap into the curves and angles of your body, hands delicate on your skin. in the same moment, you hear gojo squeeze something onto his hands, fingers moving to your hair as he threads conditioner through the strands. 

blinking blearily, you raise a weary hand to your forehead, rubbing at a tender spot in the centre. geto gently catches your wrist in one hand, guiding it away from your face. 

“let us take care of you,” he says softly, submerging your hand beneath the surface of the water. “all you need to do is rest.”

gojo is rinsing your hair again and geto’s thumbs are rubbing tender circles into your temples, easing the hazy feeling in your mind. you’re trying your damnedest to keep your eyes open but you’re surrendering to exhaustion by the second, eyelids drooping as gojo finishes washing your hair. geto takes you in his arms once more when gojo stands up, climbing out of the tub to dry off. 

“you did so well,” geto murmurs into your neck. you would reply but your tongue is leaden, limbs loose as gojo lifts you out of the water, his chest warm against your cheek as he walks you both out of the bathroom and toward a waiting towel on the bed. he lays you flat before carefully unfolding your body to start the process of drying. the towel is fluffy and plush against your flesh and gojo takes great care in touching you, his breathing steady while he caresses your skin through the towel. 

being cleaned up has tired you out and you’re losing your grip on consciousness, head heavy as your eyes close. there are hands supporting your back, raising a bottle to your mouth and gently parting your lips to help you drink. the water isn’t as much gulped as it is poured down your throat, cold seeping into your core. the chill is quickly replaced by a warm blanket, tugged up to your shoulders, and the sensation of two bodies, one bracketing either side of you. 

you’re warm with sleep, listening to the measured draw of their breaths as they inhale, exhale, inhale and exhale again. there’s a palm on your spine and another on your side as you fall into the abyss, content to let the yawning mouth of exhaustion swallow you whole. 

*****

when you wake up several hours later, you have no idea how much time has passed. the bed is empty save for you in the middle, cushioned by a border of pillows. you’re still naked but warmed by the cocoon of the blanket, which has trapped heat beneath its surface. collecting yourself, last night comes back to you all at once, flashes of hot mouths and firm hands and quick tongues. it was by far the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and probably also the best sex you will have until the end of it. 

you sit up, realizing that you’re so hungry you could definitely consume an elephant. your stomach rumbles in agreement and you’re starving but you almost don’t want to leave the bed to bear the cold world outside, the high thread count and goosefeather pillows enticing you to come back even as you stand up. there are clothes laid over a chaise in the corner; upon closer inspection, you see a comfortable bra and underwear, along with a sweater and leggings. your dress from last night is folded neatly, your lacy bra and fancy panties tucked discreetly into a bag beside it. 

glancing down at your body properly, you notice for the first time the bruises around your wrists, which are rubbed raw. you peer down at your chest, which is similarly bruised. still naked, you make your way to the bathroom, gasping at the sight of your body in the mirror. 

there’s no unmarred skin left on your neck; it’s absolutely littered with hickeys and bruises. your thighs are in a similar state, and you twist around to inspect your back, lovebites and marks scattered across your shoulder blades. your ass is bruised red and purple in the shape of fingerprints, the fading handprint impossible to miss across one of your cheeks. dimly, you register a dull throb between your legs. departing from the bathroom, you can’t help but be impressed because damn, they went to town on you. 

you tug the sweater over your head and pull the leggings on, both from designer brands. picking up your dress and the bag, you take a second to marvel at the stunning view before you leave. the residence is situated so high into the sky that you’re struck by the ridiculous thought that they both literally and figuratively took you to cloud nine. 

the suite is even more opulent in the daylight, white marble gleaming and tall arches cavernous as you walk down the hall towards the kitchen. gojo is perched on a barstool when you round the corner, tapping on his phone. geto is at the stove, flipping something in a pan. 

gojo perks up at the sound of your footsteps, spinning around in the stool. “the beast awakens!” 

you make a face at him, setting down your bag and dress onto the counter. “one of us is a beast, and it’s definitely not me.” 

gojo titters, spinning in his chair. “i knew my gut was right when i spotted you.”

there’s a plate piled high with pancakes waiting for you, still warm. syrup and butter are off to the side and you wince when you sit down, pain radiating from your ass even though the barstool’s leather is soft. 

geto turns around, holding a spatula and wearing an apron that says kiss the cook, but don’t touch the buns! the concerned expression on his face makes you bite back your smile. 

“you okay?” he asks, unconvinced when you nod. his brow furrows as he looks at you, scanning your body. “we went really hard last night, i’m sorry. you’re going to be sore for a while.” 

“you have nothing to be sorry about,” you say, picking up a knife and fork to dig into the pancakes. “i’ve never enjoyed anything more in my life.” 

geto chuckles, turning back to the pan. “i’m glad. we had a really good time, too.” 

you’re eating the pancakes with so much fervour that gojo glances up from his phone, an impressed look on his face. 

“we also have eggs and croissants, if pancakes aren’t the vibe,” geto says from the stove, his back still to you. your mouth is too stuffed with pancake to reply. 

“i think she’s fine with the pancakes,” gojo snickers, puffing his cheeks in imitation and ignoring the glare you cast in his direction. 

geto somehow senses that gojo is being a brat and turns around, brandishing his spatula. “the only reason we’re even having the breakfast of a kindergartner is because cavity-man over here needed his sugar fix.” he turns back around to flip a pancake presumably destined for said cavity-man’s stomach. 

“dentists love me,” gojo sniffs, hopping down from the barstool. he breaks the rule emblazoned on geto’s apron and squeezes his ass from behind, letting out a squawk when geto whirls around and smacks him with the spatula. 

cleaning your plate at a remarkable speed, you’re just starting to wonder where your phone and purse have gone when gojo appears with both in his hands. he makes no move to bring them to you and you sigh aggravatedly, climbing down from the barstool to take them from him yourself. 

he smirks evilly, holding them high in the air and far beyond your reach. “didn’t we have a conversation about manners?” 

you resist the urge to jump, mainly because your ass hurts too much to do so, and settle for scowling at gojo, who’s still holding your things tauntingly above your head. he’s so unbearably tall that any hope you have of swatting at his hands is laughable. 

geto walks over and reaches up, fingers plucking your phone and purse from gojo’s hands. he ignores gojo’s indignant huff as he hands them to you. 

“we’d love to give you our numbers,” he says, eyes kind. “if you’re up for it, we’d really like to do this again sometime.”

like a vampire, all you need is an invitation and you’ll just keep showing up forever. “i would love nothing more.” 

standing in front of both of them, you’re once again struck by how tall they are. gojo is leaning an arm onto geto’s shoulder, who’s still holding the spatula. they gaze at you and for a moment you’re reminded of last night. not usually one to be bashful, you duck your head, biting your lip. the events of last night will be staying with you for a while. 

“there’s a car waiting for you downstairs whenever you’re ready to go,” geto says, and you look up. “though we wouldn’t mind if you stayed a little longer.” 

gojo pushes away from geto, striding forward to grab your wrist and drag you into the living space. he plops you down onto the couch in front of a massive tv, taking your things from your hands and tossing them beside you.  

“you’re right, i’m a fucking beast at mario kart,” gojo drawls, opening something you didn’t realize was a drawer and pulling out two controllers. “i’m princess peach, of course.” 

you accept the controller, rolling your eyes. “why does that make so much sense?” 

gojo doesn’t dignify that with a response, turning on the switch before yelling into the kitchen where geto is still cooking. “suguru, i want extra sprinkles on my pancakes!” 

“kill yourself,” geto calls back. gojo takes this reply as an affirmative and jostles your shoulder, pointing at the nintendo logo when the screen flickers to life. “you can be bowser, since he looks just like you.” 

you can’t help but laugh, the smell of pancakes wafting into the room as gojo glances sideways, his eyes dancing. smiling to yourself, you think that being stood up is the best thing that ever could have happened to you.

[total-dxmure]

ೃ࿔ CHERRY FLAVORED →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairing: mega fan!ellie williams x rock star!reader

summary: your guitarist was carted off to rehab after just one month into your recent tour. fuck. there’s only one thing you can do, and that’s hire a replacement. your band thinks it’s going to be nearly impossible to find someone that is on the same level of talent as your “beloved” guitarist. you don’t have high hopes that anyone can nail the songs quite like he did either, if you’re being brutally honest. enter ellie- she’s a mega fan. the girl knows every lyric and note like the back of her hand. . . and everything about you, which isn’t creepy at all. her apparent obsession with you is something that you and your tour manager can overlook if it means carrying on with the rest of the tour. forced proximity with a stalker-level fan . . . what’s the worst thing that could happen?

warnings: smut in next chapter, talk of substance abuse, the reader is a tease and a bit of a bitch but it’s hot i promise, ellie is obsessed with reader to an unhealthy degree.

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

It was the kind of love that tortured poets mused over. Ribs straining against a heavy heart. 

Ellie had deluded herself, as any love drunk person does, that she wouldn’t dissolve into a puddle on the floor if she were to meet you. She could keep her cool- downplay the crushing significance you held in her life. Your voice was constantly ringing in her ears. She could see your face in perfect clarity any time she closed her eyes. Pictures like snapshots played out behind her eyelids, and yet you always felt a million miles away for her. You were a perfect performer, situated on your sky-high pedestal, always out of her puny reach. 

Because Ellie, as much as she despised this fact and dreamed of greatness, was a nobody. She grew up in a tiny town of no noteworthiness, her adolescent years spent dreaming about the planets and playing guitar with Joel. By all accounts Ellie was normal, while you were certainly not. Still, she liked to tell herself that she’d somehow manage to make herself worthy of your affections if she were ever to be blessed with them. 

Finding herself in a situation like this seemed like an impossibility. She was partially convinced that she was daydreaming, having concocted some elaborate fantasy just to feed the insatiable ache. She was starved for you with no way to feed herself. 

All it had taken was a single audition tape. One. Single. Tape. Ellie was staring, wide eyed, at Gene fuckin’ Murray. 

The blood rushed from her head, hands breaking out instantaneously into a clammy sweat. She couldn’t think, couldn’t function at the realization that she was staring at one of the people that she had worshiped for years. Gene’s talent had been praised by the likes of Lars Ulrich and Danny Carey. He wasn’t popular just for his looks but for his undeniable talent. 

And he was staring straight at Ellie, arms crossed over his toned chest as he waited expectantly. She felt like an idiot. Should she be playing? If so, what did they want her to play? Surely one of their songs. She’d glossed past the fact that she was a megafan, instead making it sound like she was just looking for a successful band to join. She was talented. No, Ellie was really talented. 

She wasn’t just a technical player, but excelled at making her own rules. She enjoyed the creative freedom that playing the guitar granted, and felt as though the world needed more Jimi’s and Van Halen’s. Ellie excelled at thinking outside of the box. 

She wasn’t very successful when it came to women, but had no problem making her guitar scream and cry for her. 

She wasn’t very successful when it came to women, but had no problem making her guitar scream and cry for her. 

She wasn’t very successful when it came to women, but had no problem making her guitar scream and cry for her. 

So she took a deep breath and tried to steady her heart, once again stepping up to the mic. If there was one thing that all of your bandmates had in common, it was the attitude. She’d watched hundreds of interviews, had studied all of their movements and mannerisms. . .she understood you down to a science. 

“So do you want me to play or what?” Ellie spoke into the mic, gripping the neck of the guitar in the hopes that it might act as an anchor. She was scared that she might float away. 

The manager’s eyebrows twitched at her sudden change in attitude but he didn’t say anything, merely turned to look at Gene. For a second everyone just stared at her, like a bug under a microscope. After what felt like five minutes but was really just five seconds, Gene broke out into a grin, motioning to her with a flick of his wrist. He wasn’t confident in her, Ellie could tell. 

She had a sweet face, she knew that. Big green eyes and freckles- she was unsuspecting. People were usually shocked to find out that she had wrestled competitively in high school and had no problem putting a man three times her size on his ass. People expected very little from her, and perhaps that was part of Ellie’s real charm. 

“What song?” She was staring at Gene now, gripping her guitar pick between two sweat-slick fingers. 

“What ‘bout ‘Sometime Soon’? Know that one?” His tone was teasing. Condescending. 

The song was fast paced. It was supposed to be played loud and hard- one of your angrier songs. Ellie knew that you had been the one to write this one, meaning it was one of her favorites. The notes weren’t beginner friendly, but it wasn’t exactly hard for her. 

It was more style, less technical ability- which meant that Ellie would have no problem making this song her bitch. 

It was obvious that Gene was the one meant to judge her. The manager was just that- a manager. They needed an actual musician to listen in. So she took a deep breath and readied herself. . . 

and then the sound of your singing voice blasted into the booth. Drums, bass- she was meant to play with you. 

She almost missed her que, eyes widening in nervousness. She thought that she’d be playing all by her lonesome. She thought wrong it would seem. They’d started her off right in the middle of the song. Probably to throw her off. She jumped in, fingers sliding along the frets to shape out the correct notes. She tucked her guitar pick against the palm of her hand with her thumb, using the pads of her fingers to tap the strings. Faster. Faster. Faster. She didn’t look up from her guitar to look at the men’s reactions to her playing. Instead she just pretended she was standing in the living room of her apartment, hellbent on getting another noise complaint from the bitchy nextdoor neighbor. 

Her calloused fingers pinched the strings, satisfied with the way the guitar whined over the speakers. The guitar solo in this song was meant to be impressive- and it was, she had to give it to Leon. A lot of it was just bullshitting though. He’d admitted that he came up with the solo in the actual sound booth off of the top of his head while they were recording the song. 

The man was a god. He deserved “guitarist of the year” two years in a row. Ellie had the Los Angeles native beat though. Where he had grown up in the constant presence of “the greats”, Ellie had grown up in a constant state of boredom. She’d been playing the guitar since she was fourteen. Every day she’d sit down for hours and practice until her fingers bled. . . literally. She had thousands of hours on Leon, and she knew that with certainty. 

Ellie moved the guitar up and down gently with her fret hand, prolonging the last note so that it cried the way she wanted it to. The muscles in her arms were sore from how hard she had been tensing during the song. She’d been a lot more mechanical about it than she was used to, but she had something to prove. 

After a second she looked up from her guitar to gauge everyone’s reactions. The manager had dropped his cold and indifferent demeanor, instead flashing her a small smile. It bolstered her, gave her the strength to turn and look at Gene. 

He still had his arms crossed over his chest, and for a second Ellie was sure that he would tell her that she sucked. She widened her stance, shuffling her feet so that she was in a more defensive position. His heated gaze made her feel as though she needed to protect herself from whatever mental anguish he was about to put her through. 

“I thought she was kick ass,” Gene finally spoke up, giving Ellie a small thumbs up. Her face lit up into a wide smile before she could school her reaction into one of indifference. “What do you think? You’re the one that calls all the shots.” He spoke behind him, looking down at someone that had been hidden on the couch all along. 

Ellie squinted her eyes, taking a step closer to the glass to see if there was another businessman she’d somehow overlooked. 

She saw your hair before she saw anything else. It was freshly dyed, different than the last she’d seen you in all of the recent tabloid photos. You were clad in leather- pants so tight that they looked like a second skin. Your top was just as restrictive, breasts spilling out from the top, midriff revealed to show off the small silver piercing you had decorating your belly button. 

You were Hecate in the flesh- dark, sinister, mysterious and capable of anything. Ellie didn’t think that it would be possible, but you were even prettier in person. The sight of you sent a shock through her system, and for a second she felt her knees quiver, as if she could no longer hold up the weight of her own body. Her insides turned to mush; white, hot mush. 

The Stendhal syndrome: Ellie had been brought to the very precipice of existence by sight alone. She was so overcome by your mere existence that she felt her eyes begin to well up with tears. Body trembling, eyes locked on to your face and nothing else- it felt like she might faint. She remembered reading about the syndrome once before in an art history class she took in college. 

“Absorbed in the contemplation of sublime beauty. . . I reached the point where one encounters celestial sensations.” 

The urge to flee was just as great as the urge to get her hands on you was. She was thankful for the wide stance she was currently in, because if her legs had been any closer together then she was positive she would have lost her balance and fallen over. 

You were right there in front of her. You’d been right in front of her the entire time, she’d just been so focused on Gene that she hadn’t even seen you in her panic. She stumbled forward, her sneakered foot catching the jack for the amp. She slapped her hands over her ears as a blood curdling screech began blaring over the speakers. 

Ellie could have died. In fact. . . she just might. She dropped her guitar roughly on the ground as she raced over towards the amp, fingers shaking as she turned the knob to the volume.

The booth, once again, was silent. Silent enough to hear a pin drop. Slowly she turned, grimacing when she noticed the looks on everyone’s faces. She’d embarrassed herself and ruined her chance. Even worse was the fact that she’d humiliated herself in front of you. 

She had somehow deluded herself into believing that the two of you were soulmates over the years. She’d compared your birth charts, life numbers- had taken multiple celebrity compatibility tests. All signs pointed to a resounding yes. The two of you were star crossed lovers, cursed to never know one another. She had told herself that if she were ever to bump into you in person that she’d be able to keep her cool. Ellie was certain that she could pretend that she didn’t know who you are- could downplay the significance that you held  

Her ignorance was laughable. She’d been so overcome by your mere presence that she’d stumbled on air while standing completely still. You were standing up straight now, and even from her spot behind the thick glass she could tell how much taller you were than her. You had to be wearing heels or platforms, because according to Google you were- 

“You know how many auditions we’ve listened to today?” You had grappled the mic from the tech and were now hunched over his soundboard, the lights from all of the buttons and knobs casting strange, beautiful shadows over your face. Your eyeliner was dark and smoked out around your eyes, and in that moment Ellie wondered if you were an angel or a demon. “Twelve. Twelve fuckin’ people have walked into that booth today. Every single one of them has been absolute shit. So bad, in fact, that I’ve wanted to blow my fuckin’ brains out in this buildings tiny, piss-stained bathroom.” 

Ellie blanched, lips losing their pink color as the blood drained from her face. She was about to pass out. Her vision was already starting to tunnel. She grabbed onto one of the microphone stands to hold herself up, trying to keep her expression hard and unreadable. People often told her that she had “dead eyes”, and she could only pray that her face wasn’t giving her crushing grief away. It felt like someone had just died; like she had just died. Actually, she would have rather you just go ahead and stab her then tell her she sucked. You were her idol, her dream girl, her everything. 

And you were telling her that you’d rather blow your fucking brains out then listen to her play. How was she supposed to recover from this? She’d heard the saying “don’t meet your heroes” a thousand times, but this? She’d rather you just be a bitch to her. Actually, Ellie would probably like that. This was the worst thing she could have ever heard. Her nose twitched as tears began pooling in her eyes. She blinked a few times, praying that you couldn’t tell in the nearly pitch black room you were standing in. 

“But this?” You turned towards your manager and pointed passionately at Ellie. “This is music.” 

Breath left her lungs in a loud, audible whooshing sound, like a balloon deflating. Her shoulders relaxed, the hand that was white knuckling the mic stand falling limp at her side. No, you didn’t hate her. You liked her. 

You liked her. 

Everyone had their vices. Leon’s had, apparently, been copious amounts of prescription drugs- often consumed simultaneously. You were used to getting what you wanted. You drank whenever you wanted to, fucked just about anyone that peaked your interest and got away with your usual rotten antics and bitchy behavior. You lived the lifestyle that you’d always dreamt of, even when you were a little kid. 

You enjoyed putting on shows. You were flamboyant, loud, and weren’t afraid of expressing yourself. Teachers often described you as a “free thinker” back in your elementary school days. You dressed yourself for school each morning, each outfit louder and more daring than the next. You were an artist, and like most artists you had some inner demons that you fought against. You still fought tooth and nail, even to this day. 

Finally though, after what felt like a thousand years of waiting and biding your time, you had the life you had always yearned for. 

You sold out arenas, appeared on the front page of just about every magazine imaginable, and had celebrities clamoring over themselves to be your “best friend” of the week. Things were good. 

But also a bit empty. 

The friends that you’d made in your youth only used your name for bragging rights. Your parents had stopped showing up to concerts years ago, instead choosing to listen about your successes through their shitty television shows. Life felt a bit hollow.

Exciting. . . just different than you had always been used to. 

“Come play with us.” One of the women whined from her spot on your plush hotel mattress. The bombshell blonde was already stripped down to her underwear, her eyes glazed over from whatever overpriced alcohol she’d already taken from the suite's bar, at your expense no doubt. 

Your manager was used to the up-charges on the company card. He would probably be relieved in the morning when he found out that you didn’t break anything. There was still time for that, of course. It was only one in the morning, which meant you had nine more hours to get fucked up and wreck the cushy room. 

“I’m not feeling up to it right now.” You said simply, already disinterested in the two women you had invited to bed with you tonight. You were holding a beer bottle loosely between two of your fingers, swishing the remainder of the room temperature alcohol absentmindedly.

You weren’t much of an “observer” when it came to sex, more of a very active participant. Still, all you could do was sit back in one of the comfortable lounge chairs, muscles tense after a long show. You weren’t exactly sure why you’d invited the women back to the hotel. They were both attractive and had come onto you at the same time. It was obvious what they had been insinuating, and who were you to deny two beautiful women? The first thing that had popped into your head being “a threesome might make me happy”.

Except now you were bored out of your skull and would much rather be sleeping right now than watch two ditzy girls clumsily fondle each other’s fake breasts. 

“Please? I want you to fuck me so bad-” There was a knock at the door, causing both girls to go silent for a second. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaustion threatening to swallow you up whole. If it was your manager here to yell at you for “accidentally” breaking an amp at tonight's show you were going to scream. It was too late for that bullshit. Still, you saw this excuse as a blessing. 

“Hear that, ladies? Looks like we’ve gotta pack it up. Thanks for showing me a good time.” You stood up from the seat with a small groan, placing your beer bottle onto the counter clumsily. The glass clattered, almost spilling all over the shag carpet. 

The two girls groaned, obviously frustrated that they hadn’t successfully gotten you into bed with them. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you lately. If this had happened a few months ago then. . . well, you would have fucked them- no questions asked. Were you maturing out of your “wild and crazy” phase? No, you didn’t think so. 

You bent down, scooping up a discarded bra so that you could toss it onto the bed. Fabric rustled behind you as they began to quickly sort themselves out, hoping to beat you to the door. 

“Who is it?” You called out in a sing-song voice, deciding that if your manager was already angry enough to show up in front of your door at one in the morning then you might as well have a little fun with it. 

There was no reply on the other side of the door, causing you to scoff. He was giving you the silent treatment. You reached out for the door handle, only to have your shirt yanked on by one of the women. You could hear the seams ripping against the weight of her, her eyes wide with desperation. 

“Please let me show you a good time. I promise I’m good- I swear.” There was a fear of rejection there, you could tell. 

You felt a bit guilty and were quick to lean in to press a kiss on her cheek. “Baby, you’re gorgeous. I’m sure you would have been wonderful- but I’m tired. That’s all, okay? It’s nothing personal.” 

And with that you opened the door. The air from the hallway was brisk, causing goosebumps to instantly break out on your bare arms and legs. You were expecting the balding, bespectacled Barry to be standing on the other side of the door, all in a huff about “expenses” and “damages to the venue”. Blah, blah, blah. 

Instead it was Ellie. A very broken looking Ellie. 

The girls were quick to straighten out their outfits, their attention now turned towards the guitarist. Groupies like this didn’t care who they slept with, just so long as they were getting it in with someone that was in the band. 

“You’re Emma. . . right? The new guitarist? You were so great tonight. I mean- Leon was always a bit of a poser anyway. You’re killing it.” One of the girls started, moving to stand next to you in the doorway. 

You weren’t sure why, but you felt angry. Genuinely angry. Were you jealous of Ellie? No, because you were sure they would still rather fuck you than her. You’d been their first choice, afterall. Maybe you felt the need to shelter Ellie a bit? Yeah, that had to be it. She was still learning the ropes, and the last thing she needed was to be sexually harassed in a hotel hallway.

“. . . -lie” She was mumbling under her breath, eyes locked on the expensive carpet beneath her ratty old sneakers. 

She had changed out of her stage clothes and put on jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair looked wet too, meaning she’d already taken a shower. She smelled earthy- Alpine, even. 

You leaned against the frame, slamming your hand against the doorway to box the two women in, hoping to keep them away from the newbie. They flinched but both seemingly weren’t off put in their newfound pursuit. 

“You’re the most talented guitarist I’ve ever seen live. I mean. . . your solos were incredible.” You hadn’t managed to successfully remember the girl’s names. Just that they were friends with two guys that had worked security for the venue tonight. People often took advantage of connections like that in order to get close to you and your bandmates. It usually worked too. Tonight was different though. Tonight you had a real stick up your ass. 

Ashley? Amber? Sophie? God, you were bad with names.

“. . . -is Ellie.” Your guitarist mumbled again, slowly moving back down the hall in the direction of her suite. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion over her attitude, and you were quick to stumble out of your room and down the hall after her. 

“Wait! Emma, can we get an autograph!” One of the half naked girls called after the two of you, trying desperately to shrug on her shirt to follow after. 

Ellie turned then, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. You’d. . . You’d never seen her like that before. 

“My name is fucking Ellie! Who is Emma? Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” She dug her hand into the back pocket of her jeans, trying desperately to find her keycard. 

The girls gasped at her outburst, jostled by the look of pure evil on her face. Even you were taken aback, not used to this kind of attitude from her. Still, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t know why she was acting like this. 

Ellie was what some would call a “mega fan”, though that would be putting it lightly. The word “stalker” would be more appropriate. Your manager knew that before he even messaged her for an audition. He’d checked all of her social media sites and scrubbed the internet for anything he could find on her. One thing was made very clear: 

Ellie was obsessed with you. 

For whatever reason she seemed to be keeping it a secret from Gene and Chris. All she fessed up to them was that she enjoyed your music, which was why she’d auditioned in the first place. She’d conveniently left out the dedicated fan blogs and the status of her cult-like following.

You didn’t mind it. Sure, it was a bit creepy. . . but she was talented and you liked her. She could hold her own against Gene and Chris’ constant asshole behavior, and had been receptive to Barry trying to teach her the ropes of the business. It was obvious that she wanted this, even if her motives weren’t exactly purely for the music. You’d let her be as close to you as she wanted if it meant that she’d continue playing the way that she does. The crowd had loved her, and it was only her second show with the band. 

She was a bit shy, but that would pass eventually. You remember your early debut days vividly. You’d been just like her, maybe even a little worse. 

“Hey, stop for a second.” You reached out to grab her wrist, stopping her from fleeing after her outburst. She turned to glare at you, but her eyes softened as she took in your features. 

You could feel her arm trembling in your grasp, so you gently let go. No matter how many times you touched her or spent time with her, she still seemed to get overly nervous in your presence. It was endearing. 

“Aren’t you a bit busy? Don’t let me ruin your fun-” She was being sarcastic. 

“I was done with them by the time you knocked on the door. They aren’t exactly my type. I’m not sure why I even invited them back in the first place.” If you had to guess, you’d probably done it out of habit. You were used to inviting people back to your room or tour bus. 

Ellie didn’t seem pleased by your answer. If anything it seemed to upset her even more. She bristled, reaching back into her pocket for her keycard. What did she want to hear? That you hadn’t touched them? You groaned, wiping an exhausted hand down your face. 

The elevator dinged behind you, meaning the girls had finally taken the hint and were leaving with their tails tucked between their legs. 

“Are you jealous or something?” You asked once the elevator doors were closed. The last thing you needed were the girls trying to sell information to some shitty gossip magazine. 

She froze, eyes going wide and lips going pale. It was almost like she didn’t think that you knew all about her dirty little secret. A part of you wanted to tease her. Really make her squirm. 

“Why would I be jealous? Those girls weren’t exactly my type either.” She was good at playing things off. Ellie was a good liar. 

But you were good at sniffing out the bullshit. It was one of your many talents. 

“Not of me,” You leaned against the wall next to her door, watching with curious eyes as she began fumbling in her pockets for her key. “Of them. Do you wish I had taken you back to my room or something?” You cooed flirtatiously, flashing her one of your most sinister smiles. 

She coughed, turning around so that she could hide her face from you. This nearly had you groaning out loud in disappointment. Was she blushing? Do her freckles look even brighter when her skin gets all pink and hot? 

Nah, it was dangerous to think like this. Band members were always off limits. It was a recipe for disaster. The last thing you needed was another Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham situation on your hands. Your PR team wouldn’t be able to recover. They’d just barely gotten over the “Leon” incident by the skin of their teeth. 

Your old band member having to be tackled by three cops in a hotel lobby was horrible. It made you look sloppy. And sleeping with the brand new edition to the band was definitely sloppy. 

“You’re acting crazy.” Ellie told you, shoving the keycard into the lock so that she could clammer into her room. 

Pushing the boundaries was sort of your thing. You enjoyed being bad, fuck the consequences. Right about now you wanted to kiss Ellie. What would her reaction be? Was she a good kisser? You wanted to know. No- you needed to know. 

“You’re right. I’m talking nonsense, don’t listen to me,” You called after her into the room. “Sweet dreams.” 

And with that you sauntered back to your own room, practically purring in delight over the fact that it had been that easy to get to Ellie like that. You loved pushing the boundaries. . . and now you had a new toy to play with.

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[roosterforme]

Why Not Forever? | Rooster x Reader x Hangman

Summary: The last night on the aircraft carrier should have been bittersweet as Bradley and Jake show you once again how good it feels to be shared by them. But you soon learn that the boys have plans for you beyond this deployment.

Warnings: Smut, anal, threesome, slight hangster, 18+

Length: 1700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader x Jake "Hangman" Seresin

This is a sequel to Why Not Both? and Why Not Again? But it can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley loved that fucked out, starry eyed look on your face as you rode him. You were babbling, barely able to focus, but your every movement was smooth and fluid. You were exactly what he needed. But he knew you'd never end up a begging, whining mess for him alone, and he was okay with that. After weeks of sharing you, maybe he even preferred it this way. 

Your pussy was warm and inviting around him as he palmed your tits and squeezed your nipples a little harder. Your body was slick with sweat, only some of it your own. But the best part was the way Bradley could feel Jake's cock shoved up your ass every time one of them thrusted. And he could see Jake behind you on the bed, squeezing your hips and kissing your neck.

"Look at her face, Hangman. She's so far gone." Bradley gently took your chin between his thumb and fingertips and turned your head, showing off your parted, swollen lips and barely focused eyes to the man behind you. "She's beautiful."

"Like an angel," Jake agreed, thrusting a little deeper, making you just that much tighter for Bradley. A long, needy whine filled the air as Jake whispered, "You never had it so good, did you?" You shook your head in a jerky motion, and Bradley watched Jake kiss away a bead of sweat that rolled down the side of your neck. 

You were exhausted, clenching softly around his cock when Bradley coaxed you to face him again. Then you muttered the first intelligible word that came from your lips in the last ten minutes. "Please." 

He knew you needed to come, and you'd been perfect for the two of them up until now. You had taken care of them before they flew their mission and again directly afterwards, and you'd been spending your nights in their bunk on the carrier ever since. It was to the point that Bradley didn't care who knew about it, and he was getting that distinct feeling from Jake as well.

Bradley leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your nipple, earning another, more intense squeeze from your pussy. When you tried to roll your hips faster, he shook his head  "You're close. Let us take care of you."

"Please," you repeated as both men filled you with sharp thrusts, leaving your head rolling back against Jake's shoulder. Bradley was entranced, the sight of your swollen clit brushing his neatly trimmed hair nearly sending him over the edge. He stroked your nipples and smiled as you tried to buck again, only to be stopped by Jake's hands on your hips.

"Easy, Angel," he drawled, and Bradley chuckled. "You'll get there soon enough. We just need a little more time with you first."

"If you didn't feel so fucking good, we'd have been done by now. But you have a way of making us want more and more," Bradley teased. Then he worked his tongue through his own mouth and watched the stream of saliva as he spit where you and he were connected. He ran his thumb through it and said, "But I think you just about earned it," as you whined. 

"Please!"

He rubbed your clit a little with his rough fingers, spitting again as Jake released your hips and focused on squeezing your tits from behind instead. "Yeah," he agreed. "She earned it. She always does."

The relief written on your face made Bradley grin as you looked down at him working his fingers in deliberate circles. When he kissed the valley between your breasts, he could taste the salt of your skin and feel Jake's fingers in his cheeks. "Never thought I'd be sorry to see the end of a deployment," he whispered, licking a stripe up to your collarbone. He nibbled on you as Jake grabbed at your breasts a little harder so you cried out. "Never had this much fun before."

Then you reached behind you with one hand and stroked Jake's cheek while you teased Bradley's hair with your other hand. He knew you loved the way they worshipped you. All the dirty glances and winks across the common areas really got him going, but they sent you straight to your knees as soon as you were in their bunk. And the thought occurred to Bradley that it would never be this good with anyone else. He knew there wasn't another woman who stood a chance.

"Fuck," Jake grunted, and Bradley could tell by the way your body was rocking that the man behind you was about come in your ass. "God damn it," he groaned, burying his face in your neck and whining. 

You were grinning now as you bounced on both of them, knowing Bradley would make sure you got what you needed. But he had to be certain you knew the price you were paying at this point to be allowed to come on their cocks. Bradley and Jake didn't do this with just anyone, and he needed to be sure you understood that. Be sure this wasn't the last time.

"How bad do you want it?" Bradley rasped, pinching your clit and ramming himself deep.

"So bad!" you cried out as Jake's movements became more erratic.

"Say it," Bradley demanded through gritted teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. "Tell me you belong to us. And not just for tonight." He was close now, but he kept rubbing you just right and coaxing you to keep your eyes on him. "We want you in San Diego too, Baby."

Jake's hands roamed the font of your body as he moaned against your skin, and Bradley watched your pupils grow wider as your thighs shook. Your pussy clenched around him as you managed to say, "I'm yours."

You came with Bradley, your lips meeting his as he fucked you all the way through your orgasm. Your kisses were sweet even as you were a cum filled mess for the two of them, and you let Bradley pull you down with him as he eased himself back onto the pillows to catch his breath.

"She's ours," he confirmed for Jake who was kissing your shoulder as you curled up on Bradley's chest. Then he pressed his lips to your hair and whispered, "Our good girl."

Bradley could feel Jake's softening cock on his thigh as he came to rest against your back. You coaxed Jake closer and closer while you kissed Bradley, and then you shared your kisses with one man and then the other until the three of you were kissing. Bradley couldn't wait to get back to California.

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

You weren't sure what you were expecting when the guys both invited you over to Bradley's place a few days after the end of the deployment. The three of you had spent that last night all curled up in one bed together, sweat and cum and sweet, dirty talk everywhere. You shivered just thinking about the way it felt to be sandwiched between their strong bodies in every position imaginable. They made you feel sexy and safe.

You wanted more from them, but you hadn't dared to dream that it could continue here. That sharing you had become something they wanted as much as you did. You'd never be able to choose between Bradley's effortless allure and Jake's natural charisma. You wanted both, and you shivered with anticipation at seeing them here on dry land.

They'd never seen you in anything except your khaki uniforms and your most basic underwear, but something was telling you that tonight was going to be a little different. As you slowly made your way up the pathway from your car, you straightened your dress over your pretty lingerie. You wanted them to destroy all of it.

Almost immediately after you knocked, the front door swung open, and you were met with two pairs of eyes, green and brown, raking over your body like they'd been craving you for months. "Boys," you said smoothly as you squeezed between the two of them and into the living room. You couldn't help but add, "I missed you," as you spun around to face them with a smile. 

"You have no idea," Jake drawled, kicking the door shut and closing the distance to your lips. He kissed you, wrapping his hand gently around your neck as he said, "We got you a little something."

His smirk matched Bradley's as the other man pressed himself against your backside. "Something pretty for you to wear," he added, his voice a deep rumble. 

"What is it?" you asked, looking up at Jake as Bradley snaked one arm around your waist from behind. When he opened his hand in front of your chest, you looked down at his palm and saw a gold necklace with two charms that made you gasp. 

"You like it?" Bradley asked next to your ear, his mustache sending a ripple of need along your skin when he grazed you.

"Yes," you whispered, your body already clenching.

Jake looked at you eagerly as he asked, "Will you let me put it on you, Angel?"

"Please," you whined, knowing you sounded exactly like you had in their bunk on the aircraft carrier. You watched his fingertips glide along Bradley's palm, and then both of them were kissing you as he clasped the chain around your neck. The cool charms settled against your skin, and you let them lead you toward the bedroom.

You couldn't be sure who was talking to you and who was touching you in your blissed out state, but you could feel fingers tangle in your new necklace chain. You would have to strategically hide the charms that said Bradley and Jake underneath your uniform shirts when you were at work, because you weren't going to be taking your necklace off anytime soon.

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

Living the dream. We are living the damn dream. I had a lot of fun with this. Maybe there will be more of these three. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[dantakeyoman]

pls part 2 to neteyam defending you 🫡🤍 but this time i'd love a continuation to motherly neytiri tending to reader!! and her hinting at the fact she had seen them and their son share a kiss after trying to find out all the commotion once hearing overprotective jake lose his cool at ao'nung!

Jake Is Pissed At Ao'nung, and Neytiri Talks To You About Your Kiss With Neteyam After All the Commotion (SFW)

Part 2 of "Neteyam Defending You"

CW: my dude Jake goes crazy, starts talking really freely to the Olo'eyktan, Neytiri is so nice and caring, best wing-woman ever, jake x reader (platonic; father-daughter-ish)

"What the hell is the matter with you, boy?! I oughta fight you right now!" Jake shouted as his eyebrows furrowed, the boy doing his best to try and understand the angry, English words.

Jake always switched to English when he was mad.

It was instinct, and English had more expressive cuss words than Na'vi anyway.

"Mawhey, My Jake," Neytiri whispered, quietly stepping in front of her husband and resting her hands on his chest, her eyes flicking to the crowd of village people that started to form.

"Please. The people are watching."

The entire Sully family stood behind you and Jake, on one side of the walkway, while Ao'nung, his friends, and the rest of the Metkayina stood on the other.

It looked as if both sides were warring.

"Let 'em watch. This shit needs to be dealt with," Jake growled, carefully moving her out the way and getting ready to scream at Ao'nung some more.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Tonowari asked calmly, him and Ronal breaking through the crowd and stepping to the front.

His tone was calm, but you could see on his face that he was clearly angered with the fact that his on was injured, and the outsiders shouting at him.

"The problem here? I'll show you the problem," Jake whipped his head over to you, giving a firm nod.

You nodded back with a sigh, stepping in the middle of the clan divide and lifting your arms, putting all of your injuries on display.

The Metkayina gasped, and Neteyam had to be held back by Lo'ak and Kiri.

He hadn't realized the extent of the damage when he was carrying you, but looking at it now, he should've hit Ao'nung twice as hard.

You had hand-shaped bruises all over your arms, and one on your ankle from Ao'nung's demonstration.

Your face had a large bruise on it's right cheek, and a bloody nose from being dropped on your face.

And the statement piece of it all, the nasty, pillow-sized bruise on your side, which was leaking blood from Ao'nung's toenails.

"Your words. Treat these Forest people like brothers and sisters. I don't see this shit as very familial," Jake spat, pointing roughly at Rotxo.

"That little shit managed to squeal about everything done to (y/n). The grabbing! The kicking! THE KIDS DROPPED HER ON HER FACE FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

Your breath hitched, silently thanking Eywa that the Metkayina did not have good English.

Ronal and Tonowari quickly turning to their son in anger, their gaze practically burning holes into the boy.

"Is this true?" the two hissed, no longer masking their rage.

And the look of absolute fear on his face was the icing on the cake.

It almost made you feel sorry for him.

....Almost.

"ANSWER!" Tonowari shouted.

"YES! It's true!" He admitted, hanging his head.

The entire crowd gasped, and Tsireya did her best to hold back tears as she looked at your injured form.

You were a very nice girl, and an incredible friend. You didn't deserve this in the slightest.

She could not believe her brother for doing such a horrible thing.

"My kids come back to me nearly everyday talking about how this kid is constantly harassing them-." "He calls us all freaks," Tuk sadly chimed, glassy eyed as she tucked her face into her mother's side, Neytiri taking deep, full breaths to keep her composure.

"But for the sake of peace, I let it slide. Well all that stops tonight! I want it to be made perfectly clear that if your son, or ANY of his little friends so much as lift a finger to ANY of my children, they will have to answer to me!" Jake finalized, resting a hand on your shoulder at the word children.

It almost brought you to tears.

You felt so loved, and protected, and safe. It me your heart swell with joy.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Rotxo and the other boys frantically agreed, terrified that, not only did they witness Toruk Makto's anger, but were the direct cause of it.

Everyone turned to Ao'nung to hear his response, but he stayed silent, dazed.

"SPEAK, BOY!" Tonowari shouted once again, pushing the boy forward with his staff.

"Understood!" he cried, turning his gaze down to the floor.

"Good," Jake huffed, un-puffing his chest.

"You have brought shame to this family. Go to the marui. You are grounded," Tonowari glared at his son, pointing his staff back to their home.

Ao'nung nodded, quickly turning around and speed-walking over, Tsireya following behind, ashamed.

Jake scoffed at the display, before turning to you with a softened face. "Now you. Are you okay? Wanna go get patched up?"

"Yes, sir," you nodded with a smile, quietly wincing from the pain of your bruised cheek.

"If you would accept, I could heal your daughter for you," Ronal stepped forward, apologetically bowing.

"I believe your family has done enough for tonight. I will handle this," Neytiri glared, stepping in front of you.

Ronal clenched her jaw, but nodded, turning around to follow her husband home.

"Come, child," Neytiri smiled at you, carefully taking your hand and leading you to the marui, Tuk and Kiri following close behind.

They entered, and the boys tried coming in after, but Neytiri stopped them.

"We must talk. Alone," Neytiri knowingly looked up at Jake, who nodded.

"That's alright. I gotta talk to these two, anyway," he agreed, resting his hands on the brothers' shoulders and leading them to a more secluded part of the island.

When Neytiri turned around, you were already sitting down, Kiri preparing the salves for your bruises.

She walked over and sat criss-crossed in front of you, picking up a special leaf to clean off your blood.

"My (y/n), are you alright?" she calmly asked, lightly swiping the blood from your nose.

"Yes. It looks worse than it feels. Truly," you assured, the loud wince you let out when Kiri touched a bruise quickly debunking your statement.

Neytiri sighed, carefully lifting your arm to wipe the blood from your side.

She needed to lift your spirits.

"You know," she started, a smile growing on her lips. "You and Neteyam remind me of me and his father when we were young."

You practically choked on the air you were breathing, the coughing fit you were sent into not feeling the best on your ribs.

Though it seemed like perfect entertainment for Kiri and Tuk, whose uproarious laughter could be heard from the next marui.

"I am serious," Neytiri politely laughed, halting her swipes on your side with a smile so you could catch your breath.

"He may not act like it, but your father used to be just as reckless as Lo'ak, maybe a little more."

"Really?!" Tuk asked, amazed.

"No way," Kiri scoffed with a smile.

Out of all the times he had scolded that boy, he was just as bad.

"But he was strong. He had a strong heart. No fear. Almost never hesitating to fight if needed," Neytiri continued, starting to smooth the salve over your rib.

"I see this in Neteyam."

She glanced up from her work, looking you in the eyes.

"For me, I was always calm. I wasn't as quick to fight as he, but I was still strong, and determined."

She looked back down.

"I see this in you."

Your cheeks turned a dark blue hue, despite the splashes of purple and red alredy there.

"The Great Mother knows all, and I feel she did not make this resemblance for no reason."

Was she saying what you think she's saying?

"Neytiri, what are you-?" "I am saying you and Neteyam have my blessing," she smiled.

Your breath hitched.

"Oh! I didn't....we weren't.....I wasn't-!" "No sense in denying it, (y/n). The whole clan saw you swapping spit with the boy as you came over," Kiri shrugged with a smile, teasingly poking you in the cheek, wary of your injuries.

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands, embarrassed.

"Oh, stop," Neytiri chuckled, tucking a stray braid behind your ear. "I think it is cute."

bonus !!

Jake sat down on the sandy shore, Neteyam and Lo'ak sitting on either side of him, concerned.

"You two listen, and listen good," he started seriously, his tone leaving no room for games.

The two nodded, and the man continued.

"I want you two to watch that Ao'nung kid, and his little group of friends, too. Be nice for the sake of peace, but keep your heads on a swivel. If they say anything to your sisters or (y/n), you tell me, I'll sort it out."

Jake did a quick perimeter check, making sure no one was listening in.

"But if any of those little shits so much as touch a hair on their head, I give both of you full permission to beat the living shit out of each and every one of them. Don't worry about the repercussions, I'll take the heat. But that's gonna be the new protocol from now on."

The two boys nodded firmly, giving their father a serious look.

"Understood," Neteyam agreed.

He was glad his dad was giving him permission, but to be honest, he was going to end up doing this anyway.

Today, he made a silent oath that he was never going to let you get hurt on his watch ever again.

"Alright," Lo'ak smirked, cracking his knuckles with his fist.

"And as for you," Jake started up again, turning to Neteyam.

The boy gulped, bracing himself for a scolding of some sort.

"Who taught you how to kiss like that?" his father smiled, giving his son a proud pat on the back.

"Oh, yeah! Those two were going at it! They were like-." Lo'ak jumped up from his seat, hugging himself and making kissing noises.

"Aye!" Neteyam waved off with a smile, that familiar heat rising to his cheeks.

Jake chuckled at his boys' antics, throwing his arms around each one and pulling them into a hug.

This was what a family was for. Protecting one another, caring for one another, healing one another.

Jake had no doubt in his mind that his family was, and truly is, his fortress.

[venuzasmuse]

I WISH YOU WERE A BOY [bestfriend!ellie]

(id love to credit whoever made this divider but irdk who did i’m sorry 😭😭)

warnings: (not proofread i wrote this in like 15 mins lol) ANGST ANGST ANGST, hints at religious trauma, religious parents, internalized homophobia if you squint

author’s note: i wrote this based off of a situationship i had 😭 def not projecting…… also y’all should totally listen to keep on loving you by cigarettes after sex (i listened to it while writing this so hopefully it’ll set the tone)

best friend!ellie who you met for the first time in your sophmore year of highschool. you had just transferred to a small all girls catholic high school in the outskirts of austin, texas having had just moved states. you were quiet and completely out of ellie’s extroverted vicinity of a personality. yet, they say opposites attract and you two were pulled together like magnets.

best friend!ellie who taught you the ropes of everything you knew. from your music taste down to the smallest complimentary accessories you infiltrated into your style. you were completely immersed with love for her that it nearly swallowed you whole. anyone you ever met would have to know her to truly understand you. y’all were just that close.

best friend!ellie who comforted you the first time you got your heart broken by some stupid boy you met at a football game. he began to pursue you and practically begged to take you out. “be ready at 7” he proposed with boyish charm and you couldn’t help but to be swooned, as any naïve teenage girl would. yet 8 rolled around the corner, and the only thing sweeping you off your feet was the feeling of rain droplets beating down on your hair and a pit of embarrassment that coiled in your stomach as you stood in a pretty white dress on the corner of a cafe. the only person to show up for you was ellie who was at your beck and call whenever you needed her.

best friend!ellie who sat with you in her car for nearly 30 minutes as the rain beat down on her windowsills. she wiped away at the mascara mixed tears on your cheek and an unfamiliar feeling began to unravel in your gut as she went on a rant about how perfect you were and how you didn’t need the guy whose name you couldn’t even seem to recall anymore.

best friend!ellie who was the only girl you realized made you feel this way and it scared you. you always knew you weren’t completely straight but this set everything in stone for you. yet, admitting it out loud was the last thing you wanted to do. it would only make the situation all the more real to you and you didn’t know how much of that you could handle.

best friend!ellie who made your stomach churn every single time she’d bring up another girl romantically in front of you. she’d ramble about some girl she was talking to and you couldn’t do anything but suck it up and pretend like you were happy for her but deep down you hated it. all of it. all you wanted to do was bury yourself in the grave you dug because you didn’t want to ruin anything between the two of you. ellie williams was the only person who had enough of you to completely tear you apart.

best friend!ellie who read your body language better than anyone else. your parents were spewing unsolicited comments about some taboo magazine about a same-sex couple one day while she was at your house. her head was rested atop your leg as you tried to drown out your parent’s conversation. your gaze fell on her and you smiled apologetically wanting to block out the rest of the world in that moment.

best friend!ellie who you smoked your first joint with as y’all snuck out of your parent’s house and to a nearby park across town. giggling and low eyed, y’all talked about the stupidest things as y’all shared a pair of cheap earbuds. the moon gleamed brighter than it usually did that night and cigarettes after sex blared through the earbuds lodged in your ears as you realize then you were in love with ellie williams.

best friend!ellie who laughed and asked why you were staring at her that way. “i wish you were a boy.” you said without thinking. maybe it was the way the light reflected off her freckled face or the way the drug coursed through your system, but the words slipped faster out your mouth before your brain could process them. her brows furrow and green eyes dance over you features searching for any type of emotion that emitted from your expression. “what?”

best friend!ellie who kept trying to get in touch with you ever since that night. you were relentlessly drowning yourself in shame and embarrassment. the remembrance of what you said made you feel foolish. but no amount shame can mask the guilt you felt every time you remembered the way ellie’s face fell as soon as you said what you did. you couldn’t say anything else after. all you did was brush it off and insist y’all go back home. the walk back was silent and tension brewed between the proximity of the two of you.

best friend!ellie who called you again at 11 pm in attempt to talk about that night. you were about to decline it but your guilt ate away at you. you agreed to meet her on your porch to talk. you planned on apologizing for both saying what you did and avoiding it. “i didn’t mean it. i was just high.” the excuse played on a loop inside your head. you were set on just leaving the situation and your feelings for her in a puddle of voided nothingness but closure didn’t come easy for you when she was actually in front of you now.

best friend!ellie who sat patiently outside your house. she was clad in a black sweatshirt, washed out blue jeans, and the same dirty converses she wore daily. she spared you a familiar smile as you sat down next to her trading her one as well.

best friend!ellie who watched as you began to fumble over your explanation in a panic. “i don’t know why i said that. god, i’m so stupid i’m so sorry.” you sniffled and gentle hands pulled you into a soft hug. for the first time in a week, you let yourself fall apart in her embrace and somehow, everything you thought you felt began to disperse. it was in that moment, that you accepted you would’ve loved her either way. whether she was a boy or a girl. it didn’t matter to you as long as you got the same soul in whatever body she was in. pulling away from her arms, your hand snakes over the nape of her neck as you press a kiss on her lips and she returns the energy reverently.

[charliemwrites]

Part 6 of SpecGru (former 141) reader; Simon’s perspective again.

Content: brief implication/mention of reader having idle suicidal ideation. In the way of “I don’t care if something happens to me” kind of way. Happens during a phone call between Price and reader’s new captain.

Please be careful and safe. If someone needs this part summarized, let me know. I love you all very much <3

Here’s the truth of it: Simon never meant for you to leave.

You were too close, that was true. He did everything short of actually hurting you to drive you away. Treated you like a plaything, took your kindness and patience and feelings for him for granted. Left you cold and alone in a hospital bed — unable to see you pale and half-dead all because you were so goddamn headstrong…

That had put it all in vicious perspective. That he couldn’t keep you safe; knowing him, following him, would surely end with you on a metal table rather than a clean hospital bed.

In hindsight, he knows it was as much for his own sake as yours, trying to force that emotional distance between you two. But he just… he can’t do it. Not again. Not you. You’d break him.

But he never meant for you to leave. Not really.

Maybe take an extended solo mission. Or just break off the romance of it all. Maybe you’d stay away for a while, give him time to sort out his feelings and shove the useless ones back into the pit they belong in.

He didn’t expect you to be gone as soon as you could stand.

“You said yourself, Simon, she’s too young and reckless. The 141 can’t afford to babysit her,” Price explained.

“She nearly got you killed, LT,” Soap pointed out. That was before he found out that you were gone for good, not just on disciplinary leave.

And when he did…

“No. No, she dinnae…” he wiped a hand down his face, eyes going a bit glassy. “Why? Why would she… didn’t we mean anythin’ to her? I know we were all a bit on the rocks but ‘s just cos she gave us a scare…”

Gaz took it the hardest, showing up most morning with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. He tried texting you a hundred times; they never went through.

He and Soap begged Price to reconsider, saying that he had no right to kick you out without consulting the rest of the squad.

“I just told her that she should consider transfer,” Price corrected, steely.

“Same fuckin’ thing, ain’t it?” Soap raged. “What else ‘s she gonna do when it’s her captain sayin’ it?”

And Price had finally crumbled, his stubbornness giving way to a clearer head and regret in the aftermath. Simon knew how he felt; had been haunted with the same gut-wrenching feeling for two weeks by that point.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have…” he wiped a hand down his face. “I’ll call Laswell, see if she can put us through.”

As it turned out, your new team had deployed you almost immediately. You were gone, relying on teammates you barely knew, and there was no guarantee when (or even if) you’d be reachable again.

When Laswell put Price through to your new captain instead, he scoffed down the line.

“That how the great John Price sends off his own?” He gruffed.

“I take care of my own,” Price replied, narrow-eyed.

“That’s explains it then, doesn’t it?” A shifting on the other end. “Well, she’s one of mine now, at least; better off that way I think.”

He was on speaker phone with the SpecGru captain. Shouldn’t have been, but it wasn’t a confidential call. So the rest of the 141 was there, vibrating with the effort to stay quiet.

Simon balled his hands into fists, arms crossed. He didn’t trust anyone with one of theirs. No, you belonged right there with the rest of the 141. They could keep you safe, keep you alive.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Price growled.

“Let me just ask you this, Price. And only because I need to know how to take care of her.” A pause, shuffling of papers. Something heavy and almost… hesitant in the silence before- “Did she always have this DNR order?”

Price’s office turned to ice. Simon’s entire shuddered, cored out. The arm of the chair Soap was occupying cracked. Gaz’s hand was covering his mouth, blood draining from his face.

“No,” Price answered, voice little more than rust.

A grunt on the other end.

“Thanks for the insight,” your new captain replied, sounding nonplussed. “At least you were good for something.”

The line droned, dead.

—

You’re standing with the rest of SpecGru, beaming like each and every one of them hung a star just for you. They orbit like you’re the sun, even Nikto, holding you in his arms, letting you lean back against him.

(You used to look at Simon like that. Used to let him hug you like that on the occasion he was weak and gave into the temptation to hold you.)

Every time he looks at you, it’s like a stranger with your face all over again.

You hold your shoulders differently. Tilt your head different. Have a certain control over your facial features better than any mask Simon’s donned.

Today you’re dressed down from your tac uniform. Specifically, your long-sleeve thermal has been replaced by a sleeveless gym shirt. It reveals that tattoo he caught only a glimpse of before — a big, intricate thing from your shoulder down your wrist.

(He and Johnny were going to go with you for your first tattoo. You asked them for all sort of recommendations. Enjoyed tracing Simon’s sleeve when he let you.)

There are more scars too. Burns, bullet grazes, jagged knife marks and patches from bad scrapes.

Nova is finishing up the wrapping on your hand, the other already done. You’re listening to something Russ is spouting off about, whatever it is making you laugh loud enough to be heard where Simon is lurking.

“C’mon,” Johnny says, bumping shoulders with Simon. “Know we fucked up yesterday, but we can try again. Maybe letting her beat the shite out of us will help clear the air, aye?”

Simon forces himself to look away. He already knows you won’t be glancing over.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Maybe.”

[roguerogerss]

The President; ‘Something Sweet.’

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: SMUT!!

(HEY! this is the second part to The President, part 3 will be out soon so plssss stay tuned, hope u luv it, luv you, bye) (requests r open! send me stuff here)

-

“Where did you go?"

Clemensia snatched your arm and stopped you in your place. You'd been trying to ignore all of the girls, weaving your way in and out of the crowd, accepting the odd congratulations or hug as you went, you thought you might find Tigris and stick by her until at least dinner time. You wanted nothing more than to be at home.

"Oh." You started but stopped short. If you even stuttered you knew she'd know, your legs were shaking and, if she looked at you closely, she'd be able to see that your hair wasn't nearly as smooth as it was an hour ago, and your lipstick had smudged over your chin and you'd spent longer than you should've trying to wipe it off. "Just had a few photos to be taken, Coryo wanted them out of the way."

Clemensia turned you to face her, gripping your forearms as she eyed you suspiciously. You held your breath a moment, she wasn't the type to keep her mouth shut. "Of course. Photos."

She was smirking at you, and you nearly hung your head in shame out of pure instinct. You teetered backwards slightly in your heels, and Clemensia barely stifled a laugh. "Did these photos involve you being bent over something?"

"Clemmie!" You burst out, hands clamping over your mouth, cheeks burning red. And then you couldn't help but laugh. "Don't say anything, please."

"I won't!" She laughed and took hold of your hand, starting to lead you back towards the rest of your school friends. “I didn’t say anything when you’d disappear for every free hour we had in school, did I?”

“Clemensia!”

Okay! I won’t say anything. Promise. It's your day, and Coryo's President now. I can’t say anything."

You laughed as you approached the other girls, Clemmie was your friend, as much as you hated to admit it, and you did actually like spending time with her, after you got over the initial idea of it. The other girls, however, were a different story.

"Where did you guys go?" Lysistrata whined when you rejoined the circle. She wasn’t the worst of the bunch, but, god, could she moan about anything. "Felix had an interview and they basically said that he actually would've won, had Doctor Gaul's vote not counted-"

"Well, her vote did count." Clemensia defended and sent you a small smile. "Why dwell on it, Lyssie?"

"Because it's unfair." Livia practically snarled, lip curled upwards like a growling dog. "Coriolanus will be president until he either steps down, or dies off. And we all know he won't step down, so none of us will even have a chance at it."

"You wouldn't have a chance at anything anyway, Livia. Festus is a slob." You snapped. You'd remembered why you so hated going to school, and then University with these girls. Livia especially always seemed to bring out the worst in you. You heard Clemensia sigh, and Lysistrata sucked in a breath to be held.

Livia looked as though she was about to lunge for you. "He is not a slob!" She threw her hands in the air and started to say something else, when Clemensia butted in, to avoid a public argument between two powerful men's wives.

"Ladies!" She held her arms out between the two of you in a calming manner, and you almost scoffed and walked away from them, but you knew you had to be here. For Coryo, you thought. "Let's just all be friends, okay? You managed it for seventeen years before today, you can certainly last another two hours."

"Oh, look!" Lysistrata pointed excitedly at the grand hall, drawing the attention of the conversation to something else entirely. "I think we've to go for dinner, now. Aren't you all excited? It'll be lovely."

You were definitely excited. The University provided three square meals a day, if you stayed long enough - you always did - but, since you'd graduated, it had been back to Tigris' cabbage soup and the occasional luxury like a loaf of bread or some beef mince, if Coriolanus helped Doctor Gaul with something she believed warranted an extra payout. The food was guaranteed to be something special, and, even better, you could leave your school friends behind for at least an hour and sit by Coryo instead.

An avox appeared by your small group, and gestured for you all to follow them, leading the gathering of wives to the dinner hall first. Clemensia, Livia, and Lysistrata were positioned at a table together, each one chair apart from the other, and you almost laughed out loud when Livia's scowl deepened further and Clemmie sighed disappointedly at her space between the other two.

After seating the three other women, the avox gestured for you to follow them even further, to a long, rectangular table overlooking a sea of smaller round ones. The hall really was magnificent, all marble and hardwood, a string quartet playing in the far corner, and Coriolanus' Grandma'am's roses decorating each table, in small glass vases. You smiled at the touch, assuming it was Tigris' doing, Coryo would love it.

"Thank you." You nodded to the avox as they tapped a chair for you to sit in. The table was laid with a white tablecloth and lace runner, and six plates, with dainty little place cards placed neatly atop them. The ones on either side of you read Tigris Snow and President Coriolanus Snow. You assumed the one next to Coryo would've been for the Grandma'am and the other two chairs for other government officials.

The room started to fill up with people, celebrities, guests, reporters, game makers. You tried to make out anyone familiar in the sea of people, but faces blurred into one another, distant chatter became almost deafening, and you found that, not only could you not decipher one person from another, but you'd given yourself a headache trying to do so.

The chair beside you pulled back, startling you from your squint-eyed staring, and then Tigris appeared, beaming and touching a hand to your shoulder. "He did it!" She cried and you embraced, squealing as you did so.

“I know.” You mused. “Did you do the roses?”

Tigris nodded, a satisfied smile crossing her face. “Yes, do you like them? I thought it’d be nice, something familiar.”

“They’re beautiful, he’ll love them.” You plucked one of the stems from the vase in front of you, inspecting the perfect flower, so familiar. You’d always loved the Grandma’am’s roses, almost as much as Coryo did.

You were only able to talk for a moment, Tigris complimenting the way you'd done his hair, you gushing over his suit. You loved Tigris, really. But the national anthem began playing, and then there were cameras on you both and you tried to remember to sit up straight and keep your chin down.

The entire room erupted into cheers and claps and cries as Coriolanus entered, looking dazzling as ever. You even noticed Livia giving a hand, which sent a sense of satisfaction through you. "There he is! Our brand new President, it's Coriolanus Snow!" Lucky Flickerman had appeared out of nowhere again, and you could just hear him over the sound of the crowd. "And he's making his way over to his gorgeous first lady! I heard they've only been married three days."

You stifled a laugh at Lucky's overly dramatic performance, and then you felt almost self conscious, seeing all of the people looking towards you, the cameras pointed in your direction. Tigris touched a gentle hand to your arm to soothe you, and you just about managed a grin as Coryo approached.

He sat down next to you and you found his hand placed on the small of your back, thumb rubbing soothing circles just beside your spine. You let out a sigh of relief and smiled until the cameras turned away and the starting course of the meal served. "That was good, darling." Coryo spoke quietly. "Are you okay? You seem nervous."

"I am nervous." You turned toward him and placed a hand on his knee. "I'll get over it, though. First day jitters."

"Of course you will." And then he leaned down to whisper in your ear, hand creeping up your thigh under the cover of the tablecloth. "What do you think I could do to calm you down, hm?"

"Coryo." You hid a small smile and wrapped your fingers around his wrist. "People are watching."

"All the more fun." You turned to face him, noticing the half-concealed grin playing on his lips. Your eyes flickered out towards the crowd and cameras, guests were all chattering and eating, but the cameras stayed put, and Lucky continued his constant commentary of you. You imagined him, broadcasting to the entirety of Panem, that the brand new President was fingering his wife at the dinner table.

Coryo's hand wandered up even further, underneath your skirt, into your underwear. You sucked in a breath and made a sort of uncomfortable grunt, biting back a whine as two familiar fingers pressed into you. You gripped onto the tablecloth and Tigris turned to you, concern in her eyes. "Are you okay?" She asked and you nodded, too enthusiastically.

"I'm okay." You answered, but you knew your face wasn't communicating what you said, and Tigris' hand was pressed to your forehead before you could tell her again.

"You're hot, have you drank enough water today? And you're flushed, too-" Tigris was in the middle of pouring some water into the glass in front of you when Coryo cut in.

"She's okay, Tigris." He smiled at his cousin. "Wasn't feeling too well last night, were you, love?"

You shook your head, trying to act convincing while Coriolanus' fingers continued their assault inside of you. "Oh, honey! Well, get some rest tonight, okay?"

And then Tigris had turned back to her conversation with the Grandma'am, and you made a mental note to continue the narrative that you were sick, at least in front of Tigris. And then you noticed that Lucky was staring right at the two of you, massive grin on his face, as always, and the camera beside him was fixated on your table.

"Coryo, the cameras!" You hissed, but he silenced you, curling his fingers against your sensitive spot. You made another strangled sound, but Tigris didn't turn around this time, too invested in conversation with the Grandma'am.

"Shh," Coryo comforted you, nuzzling his forehead against your cheek in a way that could've been mistaken for a loving gesture for the cameras. "Let them see, honey. Just be quiet for me. My good girl."

He curled his fingers faster inside of you, so that you had to clamp your hand on your thigh to stop your legs from shaking aggressively, every now and again he'd lean down and say something like, "You're doing so well." or "So good for me." and your head would spin.

"Coryo," You whispered, a breathy moan falling from your lips, almost loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. "I'm getting close, you know how loud I get."

Dessert was being served, now, and you were almost glad that the avoxes didn't have tongues, because you were certain that the one placing your lemon tart in front of you had made a strange face whilst doing so.

Coryo's fingers brushed your sensitive spot once again, and you felt his hand on your back as it arched off of the chair, dimming the appearance of your arousal to the public. "I know. Not going to let you finish, not yet."

He pressed a short kiss to your temple and then pulled his fingers out of you, at which you huffed and pouted, he felt his cock throb, seeing you looking so bratty.

"Coryo!" You whined, bottom lip still jutting out. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" He asked, smirk playing on his face. He made you watch as he looked you straight in the eye, lifted his fingers to his lips - still glistening with your slick - and sucked them clean. "Mmh, so sweet, my girl. Now, I want you to go home, familiarise yourself with the mansion - you'll love it, by the way - and wait for me to get there. No touching yourself, you know the punishment for that."

A small smile grew on your face as you nodded. Coryo kissed your face, picked up your dessert fork and handed it to you, gesturing to the food in front of you. As you took your first bite, he slid his own across to the Senator sat next to him. The larger man looked at him with confusion in his eyes.

"You can take mine, already had something sweet."

[lezbianchae]

Drunk in u.

-

G!p Sana x fem!reader

Sana is drunk on your love.

1.6k words

It was rather a stressful week, and one of your co workers had invited you to a party her friend was hosting.

Her name was Sana, you two had gotten close, and Sana thought it would be fun of the two of you could let off some stress and go parting.

At first you denied, you’re not much of a party person.

“C’mon y/nnnn! It’ll be fun! I know these social gatherings aren’t really your thing but you should give it a shot! Please…?” Sana gave you cute puppy eyes. “I’ll get back to you on that unnie.” Oh Sana. You had to admit it was hard to say no to her. You had a crush on your co-worker for awhile. Ever since she offered you on a coffee date you were head over heels. But you wouldn’t let silly little crushes interfere with your work space. You would try to brush off your crush, even if it was hard.

After a while in thought, you agreed to go out with Sana for the night, it wouldn’t hurt for you to go out more. “Yay! I’ll promise we’ll have a good night! I’ll try to take care of you at the party, okay?” She patted your head, as she towered over you. You felt your cheeks grow warm.

As the night came, You wore the nicest dress you owned, it was a black sparkly strapless tubed dress, as you did your makeup all pretty and sparkly. Hoping to impress Sana a bit. You wore your black leather heels knowing they’d probably kill your feet by the end of the night..

Minutes pass as your ride Sana had knocked on your door, You gathered your purse, turn off the lights of your apartment, and open the door to see Sana in a black lacy dress. And man, does she look gorgeous. You thought the Sana you normally see on a daily basis was breath taking enough, this has you astonished as a shade of maroon codes your face.

“Woooow y/n! You so so pretty! You should show your legs more often! They’re nice!” The comment made you embarrassed.

“U-unnie.. you really have no shame..”

You locked your apartment door, Sana and you walked out to her car.

The house party was at her friends Momo’s apartment. According to Sana her and Momo go way back, being friends in their early teen years. You wondered if they ever dated, hearing Sana talk about her friend made it seem like Sana has had a crush on her.

“We’re here!” Said Sana cheerfully, she parked, and open the door for you. As you stepped out the apartment looked.. really fancy.. almost rich. “S-sana you didn’t tell me it was a fancy apartment!”

Sana gigged, “well i didn’t think I’d matter if we’re still going to have a good time!” She smiled and placed her hand on your hip, you were a tomato at this rate, as she walked in with you. Sana greets Momo with a hug, Sana’s friend was just as pretty as her, they kind of looked alike, except Momo’s hair was in a wolf cut.

“Is this the girl you were telling me about sha?”

“Yep! Cute little y/n! Isn’t she cute.”

Momo took a good look at you, eyeing you up and down, you just looked awkwardly and stood like a cereal box.

“She’s smaller than I thought she’d be.”

Momo eyed you once more

“I know! But isn’t she a real cutie!” Sana pinched your cheek as you just stood there.

“Well any friend of Sana is a friend of mine, c‘mon in.” A Few other girls were in there too. All so so pretty, they literally looked like angels.

-

After a bit of casual drinking and the party nearly coming to an end with people leaving, Sana had a bit more drinks than she should have. Her words started to slur, waking funny, giggling way too much, it was pretty clear Sana had gotten drunk. To which you scolded Sana, you knew she was drinker but not enough to know she would half way finish a bottle.

“S-sana unnie you shouldn’t have drank so much! You were my ride…”

She giggled at you. “Ishh okkiie y/nnn..” you didn’t know how you were going to get home. Sana was your only hope.

“Look, Y/n. You and Sha can just share one of my guest bedrooms for tonight, I don’t mind, I felt like this was gonna happen anyways, I know Sana.. she can be a bit of handful when she’s drunk..so you should take care of her..” Momo kindly offered.

But she was the one who was supposed to be taking care of you. You really didn’t want to have to take care of Sana’s tipsiness, but she was your friend, your co-worker.. your crush… it was the least you could do. “Thank you Momo, I really appreciate it.” You shook her hand. “May I ask where the guest room is?”

“Yeah, it’s down the hall to the left” she points.

“Thank you once again, c‘mon Sana..” you use your small body to walk Sana over to the guest room, as she’s slouching, putting her whole body weight on you. “Hehe.. y/n you can’t even cawey me.. yoursh shooo cuuuute”.. she slurs

“Save it…Sana let’s just get you rest.”

As Sana behavior, she tries to kiss you on your face, which caught you by surprise.

“Muah muah muah…y/n pleaseshh lemme give u a smooooch..” you knew Sana was drunk, but you found this behavior kind of.. cute.. she’s so helpless.

“K-knock it off Unnie..it’s hard enough trying to carry you..” you reached the guest room, helping Sana sit up straight on the bed.

“Y/nnnie… you look sooo prettyy..” she catches you, putting her arms around your waist, Sana looking up at you.

“U-unnie.. you’re.. drunk.. please.. control yourself..”

“But I’ve always found you so pretty…even if I was soberrr.. y/nnniee..” Sana reaches behind your back, starts to unzip the back of your dress, to which you gasp.. “u-um.. unnie..”

“Y/nnie.. can you let me touuuch you right now…? Please…? I Need you more than anything.” This was your friend, your co-worker! This was Sana! How are you going to deny such a gorgeous face. You nodded, allowing her to to take you.

She unzips the rest your dress leaving you in only your pretty black panties. Having Sana placing you to sit on top of her legs. Sana was really hard at this point, practically poking you. Planting a kiss on your stomach, and everywhere she could. Nibbling and bitting your neck, leaving cute little hickeys.

Kiss. “Shoo..” kiss. “Fucking..” kiss. “Pretty..”

You let out a few whimpers, the cold air of the room and Sana’s warm lips feeling your body, making you feel so good. Since Sana was drunk, her sex drive was pretty high, Sana was gonna show you no mercy in bed.

“Can I..?” She plays with your panties. You nod, giving her permission to play with your pretty cunt. She slides them off your thighs, amazed from the string of wetness attached the garment.

“Oh~ Looks like you’re pretty exited too..” Sana gently touches your cunt, feeling the wetness. “I really like seeing you like this y/nniee..” Sana giggles. She starts playing with your clit, making her way to your entrance. “U-unnie..” you moaned. If there’s one thing Sana knew, it was how to pleasure a woman.

Sana was a giggling mess, she loved seeing this side of you. Watching you squirm, with her fingers in you. She plays with your pretty pussy, plunging her fingers in and out, she kisses you, tasting the strong liquor taste of her mouth. How sweet Sana’s lips wore. You wanted more. Sana had you wrapped around her finger.

“He-hehe.. y/nnie.. can we try something a little different…?” Sana questioned. Your head tilted like a puppy.

“I’m a little needy too y’know.. mind if I finish you off with a little something..? Hehe.” She giggles and points down at her legs.

“Can sana pleashhe fill your pretty pussy with my cock..?”

Without hesitation you started undressing Sana. Sana got you addicted, You needed need her badly.

“Hehe you’re inpatient princess~”

Sana grabs your hips, slowly pushing you down on her cock as you squeaked.

“I-it’s so big unnie…” you gripped her shoulders. “Itsh okayy y/n.. you’ll get used to it..” she starts lifting you up and down on her, grasping your hips.. slowly taking you in, enjoying the feeling of your walls enveloping her.

“Y/nnn.. fuck.. you feel sho sho..good…I wanna k-keep you here forever.. f-fuck..”

Eventually, Sana started picking up the pace, your eyes tearing up from such pleasure, you scratched Sana’s back leaving marks. “I’m so close baaby..mmmh..please let me finish in you.. I really need to f finish please princess.”

You loved the way Sana begged.

“Y-yes! Yes! Unnie, please finish..”

The quiet room filling with loud skin slapping noises had slowly stopped, as Sana filled you up with her load, filling you, as she grips your hips riding out your high. “Y/nnieee..” the two of you were on the brink of passing out. Sana got you off of her cock, watching the spill of her load leak out of you, she moved on the left side of the bed, grabbing your waist, pulling her towards you and having you on top of her, cuddling your way to sleep.

The next morning Sana woke up, seeing you on top of her confused out her mind. “Y/nnie?!?! W-what..what happened..??? What happened to us…??? What did I do to you..???” You could only process so much, your body was so sore, and you were so tired. “Unnnnieee.. shut upp…” you went back to sleep nuzzling into Sana’s breasts. Sana just absolutely mind boggled on figuring out last nights events. Momo had knocked on the door of the room you two stayed in.

“Well, you two had fun last night.”

[dykells]

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐀.𝐀

𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✷ she hopes im cursed forever to sleep on a twin sized mattress never graduating up in size to add another 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,1k ✷ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: religion, homophobia n’ nsfw content

abby feels owen’s hand on her waist like a brick to her chest weighting her body down, it wouldn’t take much for the drowning to begin but your face across the room was both oxygen and the final anchor of her demise. she weighed her options as their personifications stood before her, father smiling brightly at the happy couple unaware his own daughter forced her chirpiness while she yearned in the deepest aching to be swept off her feet by the girl just a few away– who now refused to face her much understandably. you cursed her for inviting you to their preppy engagement party, cursed her for multiple reasons more, yet your heels stuck to the ground like they clung for dear life anticipating a plot twist shaped by regret.

“excuse me” she finally croaked out mid conversation, the place where her fiancé’s hand once held onto now burning her skin like a rotting poison. she wished to bathe herself clean in the rain like a baptism, wished owen didn’t felt like sin tainting her body from being with you, her holiest of experiences, wished she had not known heaven between your legs so she may live on her life guiltless and not as someone who has felt blasphemously like a god herself. your fingers brush past eachother as she walks up behind you and fireworks bloom from your fingertips like lily flowers at spring. lillies, her favorite, your perfume.

you follow her to the bathroom, breath unsteady, and regardless of how long the affair has been happening no familiarity prepares you for the crash of her lips against yours as you twist the doorknob. sometimes you think these moments might make you understand her, to have abby anderson’s tongue exploring your mouth, hands by your neck to keep you still, perpetual apple cinnamon smell, was nothing short of a religious experience. perhaps that is what the church brought out in her, this same inextinguishable fire at the pit of your stomach with understanding of icarus and his hope for the sun. if all sins felt this sweet it did not seem so big of a sacrifice to die for them– you’d die for her if asked.

“abs, stop” you whisper once her lips are on your neck, long wet kisses all across the exposed skin warming up your body from the winter cold better than any cloth could have, she’s hungry, biting you down and her fruity scent doesn’t let the irony of forbidden fruit to die on you even as she hums in fake confusion allowing herself more time in her feast begging it to cloud your judgement as it almost does “abigail, we have to stop”

“don’t do this to me” she begs, voice cracking “please don’t leave me, you’ll take all the sunshine with you and it’s cold, it’s a cold winter i need your arms, your limbs, your body, my sunny girl-“

“you’re getting married, abs” you sigh with the exclamation, it seems nearly as though you’ve just reminded her of it like someone who forgot to turn off the oven before they had left the house, someone destined for burnt flames, your reality scares her into kneeling submission and you’re laughing because it looks like a proposal and it’s absurd, her hands gripping yours, her gaze doe-eyed and unconditional. you are missing a ring but you see hers, diamond, and the ache doesn’t easen.

“you are everything that i want…”

“then leave him, abby. don’t sit on the dirty bathroom floor of a venue for your engagement party and promise me a love you are too scared to give me, i can’t keep excusing your cowardice for the sake of sanity. take off that ring and walk out of here with me, we’ll figure it out, we’ll be happy together, your winter won’t be cold”

she pretends to take in your words, analyse them as if her nights haven’t been filled with scenarions and possibilities all of which there is pain unbearable. you’re searching her eyes with a hope unbeknownst to men and suddenly you feel the line between dream and desperation blurring itself into oblivion. abby lets go of your touch and slides the ring from her finger out onto it’s demise on the tiled floor. you think you won. you think god exists when she locks the door behind you and presses you against the wall, believe he had heard your prayers once her fingers dip between your thighs. when she’s thrusting inside you, you cry out for god instead of her name, moan louder at the sight of her wedding band far away on the ground, feel your walls clenching around her digits and her warm breath against your neck, she’s mumbling so many i love yous you barely notice how multiple sound like im sorrys.

with your hands curling around her loose hair she gets sloppy, deprived, wants you to tug on her and beg for her mouth without needing the plead to taste you and you do so eager it burns her scalp. she’s back on her knees and she thinks for a moment not admited this might be her holy repent. tugging on your jeans till their ultimate glide towards the floor, shes sucking on the wet patch of your underwear as a tease, letting her senses flood of lillies and pussy. she finally pushes it aside and dives in, godhood in the shape of your swollen clit grazing her teeth, you tilt your waist to give her further access and there are stars and angels behind your fluttered eyelids.

she calls your her sunny girl as you rain down her face in white honey, her muscles spread your legs further apart and suck it in till it has destroyed her makeup, part of her wishes to leave this bathroom and still smell of you, part of her is scared owen might kiss your heavens from her tongue and catch it all. she’s putting her ring back on at your climax, and you’re confused and heavy breathing. a sob clings to your throat.

abby tells you all she’s ever known is the cold. tells you girls like her are unworthy of the sun. tells you owen is waiting and maybe you should leave. she doesn’t tell you she thinks god isn’t real once you’ve turned your back because he would never have created something to purely magnetic to have it ripped from her hands, she does not tell you the only thing worth worshipping is the gap between your teeth, the crook of your neck and the dimple in your cheek, doesn’t tell you she thinks hell is this. but she almost does. she almost does. on your way out, you just sob and hope she’s cursed. hope god is angry. think god is her.

© dykells twentytwentythree

[romanoffsbish]

You Could Never Hurt Me

Beefy!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

I was challenged [I read something someone said (you can only go so soft when you have that much beef in the mix), and made it an unnecessary challenge 🤭]

Warnings: Jealousy, Insecure Nat, aka really soft.

Smut: Ab Riding (R), Fingering (R), Oral (N).

18+ | Minors DNI

Natasha smiled as she entered the kitchen, it was an unstoppable reaction when seeing you. You’d always been so excitable, so it’s no shock to her that you’re animatedly relaying your last nights events to a bleary eyed Wanda who’s sipping her tea, and mindlessly nodding along.

“This really pretty girl asked for my number!” You shrieked, and Natasha instantly frowned. “Can you believe it Wands? I was shocked.”

Natasha’s frown had managed to deepen, she could believe it without question, you were perfect, too much so for her to ever have, she’d never be enough for you. She was too gruff, and she would only ever hurt you with her ways.

You deserved a tenderness she didn’t feel she could offer you, and it seems you found it.

—

That had her heart actually snapping in two, she left the kitchen rather abruptly with an unfinished breakfast left behind in her wake.

Wanda shook her head as Natasha took off, she heard her thoughts, and they were followed up by your very own, “You should tell her Y/N/N.”

“It’s no use Wands, she didn’t even look my way,” you dejectedly sigh, and the witch nearly chokes on her cooled beverage, “Are you blind? Her eyes were literally on you the whole time.”

“Why? Is there something on my face?”

“Not yet,” she grumbles, and you softly pout, “I anticipate my hand will leave quite the mark.”

“That’s not very nice, I’m having a crisis, and you want to threaten me,” you huffed, crossing your arms for emphasis as you turned away.

Wanda cackled as she settled her mug down, she slowly made her way over to you, and pulled you in for a hug you didn’t reciprocate, “You are blind, but hear me when I say, she wants you Y/N, but she’s scared of hurting you. Of not being enough, and a whole lot of things you should talk about with her, try tonight.”

Tonight, the Avengers annual charity gala…

—

Natasha paced her room for hours thinking about what you said. She didn’t stick around to hear if the mystery girl was going to be your plus one tonight, her heart would’ve imploded. The thought of someone else loving you hurt her more than she ever thought imaginable.

But as the time for the party neared she shook off the resentment, she’d try being happy for you tonight, and bury her love for you instead.

That’s what she thought until she saw you at least, you looked stunning, she wasn’t shocked. Of course you did, you managed to make lazy outfits attractive, so you dressed to the nines being the hottest thing she’d ever seen fits.

“You’re drooling,” Yelena chides as she settles by her sister at the bar, and throws up two fingers to the bartender in a silent order.

“Zamolchi,” she grumbled bitterly as she accepted the shot from her sister, downing it in one swift motion that almost painted her as a drunk with the way she didn’t even wince.

(Shut up)

“Go talk to her Natasha,” Yelena encouraged, “She’s got the heart eyes for you, I promise.”

Yelena was your very best friend, even above Wanda, so if anyone knew it’d be her, plus, she was a trained spy, but even more so she had hazel eyes that could see the painfully obvious.

Natasha went to shake her head, to vehemently negate the blondes claims of reciprocity, but then she was in direct route to you before the spitfire beside her could beat her to the punch.

Literally—she punched a sleaze square in the jaw without even breaking a sweat, then she instinctively wrapped her strong arms around your trembling form, “Shh, it’s okay malysh, please don’t cry, you’re safe here, I promise.”

A fluttering commenced in the redheads chest when you burrowed further into her, “I know,” your whispered acknowledgment melted her even further. The redhead gently swayed you, and she smiled softly when your short arms did their best to wrap around her toned body.

The two of you stood there in your embrace for a few minutes, paying no mind to the posse of Avengers that corralled the asshole and gave him the ass kicking of his life for touching you. You weren’t an Avenger, just their assistant for all things PR, but they all loved you as family.

Natasha looked up from your face smushed against her chest, she surveyed the building crowd and she felt a need to shield you further. You’d always hated the attention, so she took it upon herself to lift you off the ground with her hands under your thighs for leverage as she took you as far away from there as possible.

Once she made it to your shared hall she set you down, “Want to watch a movie Y/N?”

“Can we just cuddle instead please Natty?”

Natasha nodded and pulled back causing you to whine, “Come back,” you reached for her and she softly snorted, “I’m getting snacks.”

You wanted to protest, to pull her back in, but for starters you were no match for her strength, and you also had plans that warranted future sustenance so you let her go without a fight.

As soon as she reentered her room she was shocked to find you on her bed in only a sports bra, and short as can be sleep shorts. Keeping her breathing steady was an act of desperation, and when you looked at her so innocently she believed it, missing the way your eyes smirked.

“I got chips, and some bean dip,” she said as she held up the loot, her eyes were lightly hazy and you knew then that Wanda wasn’t lying. Honestly you found her endearing, the way she held eye contact with you over letting her gaze wander like she wanted, “I also stole you a brown sugar pop-tart from Thor’s stash.”

You clapped giddily, “Yes! You’re the best!” then you catapulted from atop the bed and right into her flexed arms. Natasha huffed, and if not for her strength she’d have likely been laid out flat on the floor in a mess of snacks, with a delectable one atop her. However she caught you with ease, and settled the bags down before doing the same with herself.

Natasha’s heart rate was already racing with you on her, it soon picked up though with the way you gently shifted to straddle her lap. She’d cuddled you many times, each one a test of her willpower that she usually won, but you were not helping her as you softly ground your hips into hers while maintaining her gaze, she believed it to be unintentional, but then you suddenly kissed her and she knew it wasn’t.

“Y/N…” she whimpered against your lips, a silent plea for you to stop, but she didn’t mean it, she just feared this was an adrenaline rush sort of response on your end, and she wanted it to be so much more, you were her dream girl.

“Shh, let me thank you properly Natasha,” you pressed against her shoulders, the action was in vain as you were unable to move the brick of a woman, but fortunately for you her already thin resolve had crumbled, so she laid down.

With a nod of approval, and a soft touch you removed her suit jacket, and grey camisole. Natasha’s chiseled physique was even better than you’d imagine it to be, and you were more than ready for her to show you her strength.

“You’re so beautiful Nat,” you ran your fingers over her arms, feeling the muscles beneath jerking at your simple touch, seeing as her skin flushed at your ministrations, and watching as she tried desperately to speak, “Th-thanks.”

You smiled, “You’re most certainly welcome,” and then you leaned down to kiss her again, you were lost in the warm feeling brought on by her lips on yours, but when her whimper reverberated in your mouth, and as you felt your cunt clench with need you were upright, and her black slacks and panties went with you.

Natasha’s chest heaved as she tried to calm herself down, which was proving impossible as she had a front row seat to you undressing. You were sure to put on a show as you discarded your bra, and twisted your pebbled nipples, the both of you groaning in tandem at the gesture.

Then went your shorts, and she audibly choked when she saw how wet you already were for her. It was over for her though when she felt you slip your drenched panties into her clenched hand, and on instinct she brought them to her face, and sniffed, “Trakhni menya.”

(Fuck me)

“Oh, I plan to,” you winked and she spluttered from beneath you in clear need of information, “I’m your PR assistant Nat, I know my stuff.”

Natasha moaned languidly when she felt your slick drip into the grooves of her abdomen, she was desperate to grab you, to guide you, but she was too afraid to hurt you, so she didn’t. This very fact was clear to you when you saw her brows painfully furrowed, with her hands clenched at her side as you continued to grind.

With a softness you kissed her brow until it settled beneath your lips, your hands unfurled her own, and you guided them to your waist. Natasha’s eyes shot open fearfully, but you stopped her protests with a sloppy, heated kiss, you wanted to encourage her to follow her instincts, but all she did was try to let you go.

“Nat, please,” you whimpered, placing her hands back on your hips again, and she sighed, “I don’t want to hurt you Y/N… Please…”

“Oh Natty,” you softly chuckled, slowing your grinding down as you focused on her worried pout, “You could never hurt me, you’re my Natty bear, the one who cuddles me close on movie nights, who goes to the store at 1am to get me ice cream just because I’m cramping, and the one who defends my honor in ways that drive me absolutely up the wall. I need you, so please, just touch me, and don’t stop.”

Natasha smiled genuinely, and as you picked the pace back up she decided to aide you once you got sloppy with your movements. With a soft grip she guided your cunt against her abs, she flexed them every time she pulled you down, and you rewarded her with a loud moan, and a gush of your essence on her flushed skin.

You fell into her, crashing your lips to hers for a kiss that left you both panting in seconds. Natasha gently flipped your positions, she ran a calloused thumb over the side of your face, and watched you slowly returning to yourself.

“Hi,” you meekly greeted and she chuckled breathlessly, “Hey there pretty girl,” she kissed you tenderly, and you became absolute mush.

Natasha wasn’t done with you now that she’d had a little taste, her lips moved from yours to nip at your skin wherever she could, and she smirked when you clutched at her biceps in a silent plea of clear desperation for her touch.

“I’m going to take care of you sweetheart,” she trailed her fingers down your body, every part of you she grazed over tensed as she was in clear route to your dripping sex, and once she made it there you were writhing with need.

“Calm down baby,” her hands squeezed the flesh of your thighs, the force of her grip alone had you mewling as the sinful thought of her thick fingers venturing further, and delving deep inside you flooded your hazy mind.

“Is it okay baby?” she spread your thighs, and nodded towards your cunt, “Wanna feel you.”

“Please,” you fisted the sheets as you pleaded, your hips rose up instinctively, and she gently pushed them back into the mattress with a soft kiss being placed above your pelvic bone before her fingers finally pushed inside of you.

“I can’t believe this is real,” she grunted in amazement, the feel of you wrapped around her was something she’d only ever dreamed of, and to feel your warmth in real time was wildly intoxicating, and she knew without doubt it’d would be impossible to let you go after tonight.

“Natty please, more,” you reached down and dug your nails into her muscular shoulders, Natasha hissed softly as you managed to make her bleed, but she would never complain, in fact she only aimed to please so she gave you a third finger that ended up being your vice.

“Is that what you needed?” she smirked up at you, your mouth was wide open, spewing the most obscene moans she’d ever heard as she thrusted her fingers into you just right, “You look so pretty for me baby,” she circled your clit with her rough thumb and you screamed.

You really did look like a vision with your body shaking uncontrollably on the bed, her fingers damn near trapped inside of you as your walls squeezed her impossibly tight, you were in the depths of euphoria, and you looked like you belonged nowhere else but in her bed for her to take at any given moment, “Such a good girl, you drenched my hand baby, thank you.”

Natasha lifted her fingers up to her lips, her eyes that were voided with speckles of green swimming around had fluttered shut as soon as your essence caressed her tastebuds, she was so incredibly aroused by your existence, and your unique taste only made her even more so. It’s had a similar affect on you too, the sight of her alone always had you warm, but hearing her appreciative moans left you a bit of a mess.

Then when she looked at you with that smirk of hers, the one that tells you she knows she’s hot stuff it made you desperate for a repeat attack. But then you got a grip of yourself, and the one more prominent thought was wanting to please her,which is was what you had set out to do.

“Natasha, I was meant to be thanking you,” you whined when she laid down beside you, she only chuckled as she pulled your body on top or hers with ease, “Tasting you was all the reward I needed malysh, it’s all good baby.”

You felt her thighs clench, as if her body was trying to call her out for lying, and you decided to do the same, “I can feel you Nat,” you said it so softly, because embarrassing her wasn’t the goal, “Your wetness is all over my stomach.”

“Y/N,” she tried to settle your curiosity, but your blown out eyes and finger over her lip told her the downplaying over her need was futile.

“Then how about you let me have a turn?” you asked, and she nodded dumbly, because truth be told she was powerless to your advances, “It’s only fair I get a taste,” you reasoned, the way you looked down at her spurred on an uncharacteristic whimper from deep within.

“I know you’re going to taste divine my love,” you purred as you pecked her lips, Nat felt her heart speed up at your slip of tongue, she could get used to being yours, she already had.

Natasha squirmed as you pried her legs open, she honestly felt so exposed, it was unfamiliar territory, but at the same time she trusted you with her life, even if she could toss you around, she knew from an emotional end you had her.

“So pretty for me baby,” you admired her body, the new angle was picturesque really, her arms were perfectly defined, certain muscles flexed as she clenched her fists, her abs prominently flexed too as she waited for you to tend to her.

This woman could easily destroy you, and you’d let her, but here you have her laid out for you in a way you knew she didn’t just let anyone see. You cherished the idea that you were that special to her, and you vowed right there to never break that trust she had in you.

“Are you ready baby?” you licked over the salty skin of her thigh teasingly as you awaited her response, and when she breathlessly pleaded for you to do something you dove into her cunt.

Natasha couldn’t breath for the first thirty seconds as you lapped away at her, never in her life had she been this desperate or sensitive, but you’d also never been naked in her bed before today so it all seemed to be adding up.

Soon it was you who was unable to breathe. So lost in the pleasure she clamped her thighs shut around you, her quads held your head in an unforgiving grip. You were without oxygen but you honestly couldn’t be bothered to care when all you wanted was to please her, to feel her walls flutter around your tongue, to have her heady scent permanently on your upper lip.

Natasha came about a minute later, your name torn from her throat like a prayer she’d needed answered, and in a shocking manner her taut legs trembled, and therefore relinquished their hold on you. As you gasped for air Natasha began to realize what had likely happened, but before she could panic you were smiling at her, your face absolutely drenched in her essence.

In this exact moment, under the bright light of the moon you’d never looked more beautiful.

Natasha pulled you up from between her legs, and into a strong, but unsurprisingly gentle embrace as you worked to breathe steadily. Once she heard your breathing temper she lifted your head and pulled you into a kiss.

“I love you Y/N,” she whispered her confession against your lips, and when you pulled back she looked at you with soft eyes that swam with a vulnerability reminiscent of fear, and so you cupped her cheek, your eyes glistened with joy and you kissed her again, “I love you too.”

Natasha’s embrace tightened, you buried your face into her neck, and sighed, “Goodnight,” as she lifted the duvet over your bodies.

“Just to be clear, you didn’t give that girl your number right?” she meekly broke the silence.

You cackled tiredly against her, “Never even considered it Nat, I was too hung up on you.”

Natasha kissed your cheek, you could feel her smirking as she did, and you rolled your eyes.

“Go to sleep, let your ego get some rest,” you teased, and she chuckled, “Goodnight Y/N.”

——

3,116 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 🥩

[the-faceless-bride]

can i have yandere clawd and deuce poly 😪 iltsm( i love yr writing ur one of my fav writers btw 💞)

Omg. I love both of them so much. 🥩🐍 Bluckle the FUCK up, it's a long one. I love them so much. I gave each their own section as to how this started, then the poly together. If you want more of them... Please... Please ask me. P.s. sorry about all the monster puns, I couldn't help myself

🌕New Ghoul in School🐍

Warnings: OOC Clawd, OOC Duce, OOC Cleo?, OOC Draculaura? Clawd being a kicked puppy, yandere content, controlling behavior, turning to stone, non-con hugging, cuddling and Kisses, forced closeness, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR!, accusations of cheating, emotional cheating?

Characters : Clawd × Reader × Duce

Proof read : nope

Requested?: yes

You had just transferred from your normie school, Turns out people are so accepting of finding out you're a monster. So you transferred to Monster High, and being a new ghoul didn't seem so hard until you tripped an orange werecats tail and she picked a fight with you...

"and just Who, do you think you are? I don't know how you are your Normie friends play, but you don't want to mess with me Ghoul. I'll make you sorry-"

"why don't you go and pick on someone your own size Torilie?"

"yeah, Dude. Not cool."

🐾🐍 • and that's how it started. Just two Mansters defending the New Ghoul. They knew Torilie was one to pick fights and figured they would help you stay out of trouble for the time being. And the three of you became three peas in a pod. And while you all thought it was great, their Ghoulfriends... Had other ideas.

🐍🕶️ • Cleo started having problems as soon as you had arrived. Your first day she already knew who you were, what you were, where you came from, and if you were cool enough to be popular and associate with the Ghouls she does. And she deemed you not worthy. And that was putting a strain on your friendship.

🐍🕶️ • Duce was grown increasingly tired and frustrated. He loved Cleo, he did. But she could be... Emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausting. When they go out he has to change his personality to not embarrass her, she dictates who can can hang out with and when, and he has to constantly hear from her that he should be doing as she asks and says and do it happily as she goes against what her family wants to be with him. He doesn't want to do that anymore. He wants to be able to Shoot Hoops with Clawd, sit with Jackson at lunch, and talk about the Hissstory test. Listen to whatever playlist Holt made or play dodgeball with Slow Mo. Without Cleo saying when he can and can't.

But he just can't leave her. He's become so dependent on her. Hell, the last time She went to Scarise without him, he nearly went crazy as he didn't know what to do. He couldn't leave Cleo. Even if he wanted to... Unless. Maybe he didn't need to be dependent on her. Maybe. He could be dependent on you.

🐍🕶️ • Duce began to test the waters, which was the start of his obsession. For example at lunch when Cleo tells him to get the green eyed Salad and a water, he'll then turn around and ask you... Sometimes when you feel the burn of Cleo's raging stare you won't respond or say the same as Cleo, but on the days you don't pay attention or to stressed to care you recommend the meat plant sandwich and the yummy razzberry soda pop you've been drinking the past few days. And he'll pick your recommendation. And it Infuriates Cleo. He likes that with you, he has a choice, where Cleo demands and tells. You offer and recommend.

🐍🕶️ • this intimately ends in an explosive argument that Spectra has a field day covering. And Duce does something, not him. Her. Or anyone else in the school say coming. "I'm breaking up with you Cleo." a long still silence fills the halls as everyone takes a moment to process what he just said. Before Cleo screams and storms away, and Duce... Doesn't feel as heartbroken as he thought he should.

🐍🕶️ • Duce starts spending most if not all his free time with you and Clawd, well. Mostly you as Clawd gets called from Draculaura a lot. And while he's sad he can't spend more time with Clawd he's happy to spend time with you. You help groom his snakes, you help him pick which sunglasses he should wear each day, (even though they are all just different shades of red) as well as his many band sweaters. Rumors spread like wildfire, especially with Spectra's gossip site.

"Duce trades princess for new Ghoul?! Stay tuned for the possible new hot relationship??"

🐾🌕 • when Clawd first met you he thought you were great! He got a new friend to hang out with! Sure Manny, Heath, Gill, and Duce we're cool but Clawd has a thing for fashion and self-care, that's not something he really talks about with them BUT that's OK! cuz now he can talk about it with you! He ended up spending a bit of free time with you, anytime Draculaura was out and shopping or just Fanging out with her Ghoulfriends or catching up with her Cousin, he would spend his afternoon with you. Getting his hair straightened and trimmed, getting manicures so his nails don't get too sharp and ridged. And eventually, when he's comfortable with you, he'll start playing games. Like fetch or chase. The only issue is that when Duce started to come around more and Cleo trying to keep him on a leash, slowly Draculaura started calling him and needed him more and more. He didn't think much of it, until Duce's big breakup with Cleo. A week later Draculaura wouldn't leave him alone for a second, and anytime you started approaching she took his hand and pulled him in another direction.

🐾🌕 • it started becoming draining, he loves spending time with his Ghoulfriend. He truly did. But not when every two seconds she was hinting and implying all the time he spent with you was him creeping around behind her back. Nothing he did or said made her change her mind, now everything he did seemed to set her off. She was so paranoid, that he went out of his way to make her a gift to show that he loved her, but he accidentally made it worse, he had to try and hold back tears and puppy cries as she said, "Bad Clawd!" over and over while tugging his ear. He doesn't understand what he did wrong, he just made a new friend. You nor him did anything. So why was she being like this?

Any attempts to talk about it were shut down, as she tried keeping him away from you. And he just couldn't take it anymore, he liked being clingy but he was clingy because he genuinely wanted to be around his partner not just sticking to them like glue-watching like a hawk to 'catch them in the act'. He would go as far as to say this was worse than the time he was dumped for Valentine the love manipulator.

🐾🌕 • Clawd began to confide in you, Draculaura wouldn't listen to him so he was happy you did. He spent hours just sitting under a tree at the back of the school with you, drawing doodles in the dirt, ears tucked back to his head as he vented about his feelings and how the recent arguments had affected him, you tried to help every time. But eventually, word got to Draculaura about your little meetings, and stormed over one day with her ghoulfriends in toe.

Both you and Clawd had to endure the burning glare of the Ghouls, Draculaura ranting and raving and ultimately giving him an ultimatum. You or her. And Clawd's ears pinned flat to his head, he didn't want to lose his Ghoulfriend but he didn't want to lose you either. But before he could answer Draculaura said something that gave him the push to his ultimate answer. "ugh, I should've known! A guy hangs out with other guys like him! And Duce is a lying, dirty, cheater and so are you! And this new Ghoul sure has some nerve to go around sneaking with other Mansters knowing they are dating someone! If that's the kind of Manster you are Clawd then maybe... Eh *hick* MaYbe we shouldn't Be togEther!" a moment passes where Clawd looks down into Draculaura's wet violet eyes, sighs, then answers. "maybe we shouldn't." the ghoul's Gasp and Draculaura sobs, "FINE! WE ARE OVER!"

🐾🌕 • Clawd thought relieved he wouldn't be interrogated every day and being told he's bad, he's still heartbroken that the Ghoul he thought he'd spend his life with was gone. He clung to you and Duce for security and long talks to make him feel better and eventually, he did. Clawd was back to his peppy, wide-eyed, excitable self again. In fact, he's the happiest he's been. His mood wasn't Even shaken when he found out Draculaura had begun dating his sister, he just didn't care. He was happy.

🐾🌕 • It wasn't until a late-night Chat; that you and Clawd had stayed over at Duce's house after seeing a new skinwalker Scareitage Boovie that Clawd discovered that not only He had feelings for you but so did Duce... And well, he had always liked Duce maybe even more than just a bro, but this changed everything. And they agreed. A scarily wonderful idea...

"Vampy puts doggy out for good? Or does Doggy like the Dog house with his chew toy?"

🐍🐾 • now Duce and Clawd are softer yandere's than the normal. But that doesn't mean they won't use force if they need to. Duce is a Dependant, laid-back, stalker-type yandere. He's ok with letting you have wiggle room as long as he knows where you are at all times and can get to you in a short period. Whereas Clawd is a Clingy, overprotective, worshiper-type Yandere. Clawd wants to be near you all the time if you let him, but he's ok with letting you go for a while as long as he has Duce he always knows where you are because Duce knows, if at any point Duce doesn't know for some reason or he's not around Duce to find out, he'll use his nose to track you down.

🐍🐾 • You probably wouldn't know they are yandere's unless you start trying to spend more time with others that aren't them. The more you try and hang out with Operetta and Cupid they start to get a little more aggressive and demanding of your time and attention. Which can trigger some alarm bells that something isn't right. The best thing would be to try and talk and compromise they are willing to do that as long as you promise to let them keep tabs "for safety reasons," and you spend time with them immediately after.

🐍🐾 • after a month or two they start to be more openly affectionate and act like a Throuple, it went over your head at first with Duce's laid-back attitude and Clawd's over-excitable personality being normal, but the more Clawd wanted to play fetch and hug you, and Duce constantly being around you despite having the freedom to hang out with his other dudes you start to get the idea they might be romantically interested.

🐍🐾 • You opened to the idea, and the relationship seemed to be working well... Until they started to become, overwhelming. Clawd always over your shoulder, Duce always seeming to know where you are... Even when you didn't tell him where you were. And things took a turn when you tried to tell them you needed space. "You're... Breaking up... With us?" you sputtered, you definitely didn't answer and deny fast enough as you felt your body start to stiffen and cold. Duce had turned you to stone. Clawd whimpered while holding your cold stiff stone body, "im sorry sweetheart. But we can't have you running from us. Just be good ok? Please?" after that you'd been chained to them by that point. Nobody would've believed you if you told them the school's Cool guy and oversized puppy were forcing you into a relationship...

🐍🐾 • they aren't too harsh on punishments. For the most part. Once you tried to run away once, you waited for a moment to be alone before printing off trying to get somewhere, anywhere but there. But you forgot who you were dealing with and Clawd chased you down. Clawd's punishments involve many forced hugs, kisses, and closeness. If he shows how much he loves you at some point you'll see it's true and love him too! Right?

Duce will turn you to stone anytime he gets an idea you're about to run off. He makes Clawd drag you to his house. Which takes a lot of manipulation and convincing. Clawd doesn't want to lock you away to be alone. He wants you to be around them! But Duce scares him into going along with it. Even sometimes provokes him to anger to be more willing to lock you in a dirty old basement.

🐍🐾 • overall. As long as you stay and promise to love them, and don't mind clinginess it's a cute relationship... But if you reject them, you'll spend a lot of time in an old basement in Duce's home, alive but unable to move. To feel. Or scream.

[pupyuj]

YUJIN WITH AN UNNIE KINK 👹

OHHH 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 this ask was sent a while back but i had some time to think about it and yeah… YEAHHH…

yujin knows everyone thinks she’s an idiot despite having this big position as the leader so when she comes across the starry-eyed starship trainee (whose favorite idol happens to be yujin) (y/n)… well, she became obsessed! 🥰

you kinda-sorta took over as the leader of the trainees in starship when gaeul debuted so you had this aura of level-headedness and maturity in you.. but that all evaporates into nothing when yujin was in your vicinity! you had such an absurd amount of respect for her and you made it known every other time you and yujin would bump into each other in the company building and chat for a bit! you were so nice and friendly and so adorable 🥺 but you practically worshipped the ground yujin walked on… so yujin knew you were messed up deep inside your head… and all she needs to do is bring that beast out in the only way her perverted ass knew how!

offering to help you with your practice and your routines every time she so happens to pass by your favourite dance room in the building… her touches getting more and more bold as time went on but you didn’t really care to, well, care bcs yujinnie was just helping you out, right?? so what if she was basically groping your ass! 😵‍💫 god, you were so easy to manipulate it almost made yujin mad but at least it’s a fact that you’ll only be an idiot for her 🫣 to everyone else you’d be the same old reliable (y/n) who’s very serious about making her dreams come true someday but when it comes it yujin… well, you were nothing until she makes you into something, is what she decided!

how could she not try to break you down, anyway? your sweet voice calling out to her every time she was around was enough to get her panties soaked and she wasn’t even joking!

“good afternoon, yujin-unnie!”

“yujin-unnie, i saw your recent performance! you were amazing.”

“yujin-unnie, i thought you looked gorgeous in that last photoshoot you did!”

‘unnie’ is what really gets her though 😵‍💫 lots of people call her ‘unnie’ now but something about you, specifically, saying it just does something to her brain… and it was nothing good! fuck, she’d jokingly film a short vlog with you to showcase your daily trainee life and she’d fuck herself while listening to your voice… she’s that obsessed 😳😳 see she’d have this great elaborate plan to turn you into her little slutty doll but you’d unfortunately catch her on a bad day one day and suddenly you’d find herself alone with her on a small, empty room in the building and she’s sitting on a chair while you’re on her lap, sobbing and crying from both pleasure and pain while your favourite unnie fucks your cunt relentlessly 😔

your confusion regarding the situation wasn’t helping either… it turned yujin on how confused and embarrassed and ashamed you were… holding her face close to your chest, hugging her while she took out all of her stress on you… “always knew you’d be so willing to do this… you love unnie that much, don’t you, baby?” she’d ask, grinning up at you just to see you blushing and nodding your head bcs as much as you hated this, it was true! your admiration towards yujin was never completely innocent, so you couldn’t resist all this… why would you anyway? this was one of your biggest dreams aside from debuting.

yujinnie moaning with you while you came… not even letting you catch your breath before she was laying you down on the floor and fucking you again… this time faster and harder bcs that string of “unnie”s that you let out just for her was too fucking addicting 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 she’d fuck you until you were nearly all spent, laying on the floor holding onto only the tiniest bit of your consciousness before yujin takes your hands and pulls you up… letting you see how she’s stripped herself of her pants and underwear and has taken a seat back on the chair… spreading her legs wide open and beckoning you over… 😳

“come on… don’t keep unnie waiting any longer.”

oh, how you worked that tongued on her cunt…you know what? yujin can say that you were the best risk she’s ever taken 🤭🤭

[peachdues]

Heartbalm

Rengoku x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

A snippet from the promised Kyojuro smut that’s going to be like a franken-request fulfillment from multiple people.

Hope this gets y’all ✨excited✨ for some angsty/horny/protective Kyo!

“Get your fucking hands off of her.”

Wide-eyed, you looked to see Kyojuro’s considerable fist wrapped tightly around your ex’s forearm, its considerable size making the limb beneath look like a mere twig. Kyojuro’s eyes, normally so inviting and open, had gone hard and black, his jaw stiff with his ire.

Though the cold rage contorting your best friend’s face was not directed at you, its sudden manifestation from your otherwise sunny, warm, and gentle best friend made you recoil.

“Kyo,” you started, voice low in warning as your eyes darted between lethal anger simmering on his face and the infuriatingly smug look on your ex’s, as he smirked at the burly blonde.

“I don’t think this concerns you, Rengoku,” your former boyfriend simpered, a challenge lighting his eyes, as he jerked his chin towards you. “This is between me and her, pure and simple.”

Desperately, you glanced around the room hoping to find any of your other friends who could step in, who could intervene before things turned ugly. Mercifully, you locked eyes with Tengen, who was on the other side of the pool, grabbing another another drink. Eyes wide, you looked back and forth between Kyojuro and him, hoping that he understood your silent plea.

A curt nod from your friend communicated he had, and Tengen quickly began pushing through the throng of people who had started to coalesce around the edge of the pool as they watched the pair of men engaged in a stare-off beside you.

Kyojuro raised his head slightly, looking down upon the man you used to claim to love in disgust. “And yet she told you to leave her alone. Are we having listening problems?”

A sardonic smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps I can help you with that.”

Your ex’s eyes cut back to you, a sneer curling his lip. “Figures,” he spat, his tone full of acid. “Not even a month broken up and you’ve already spread your legs for him like a fuckin’ whore.”

There was a collective intake of breath from the surrounding spectators and Kyojuro stepped closer to your seething ex, their noses nearly touching as he held his stare.

“Say it again,” Kyojuro said quietly, all traces of that mocking smirk long-gone, replaced only by a malicious glint in his eyes that promised violence so swift, it had your hand jumping to grip his arm in warning. “Go on.”

Your weak tugs at Kyojuro’s bicep did little to divert his attention. For one, terrifying moment, you feared that blows were imminent, until a painted hand shoved between the two men, pushing Kyojuro back by his chest.

Tengen.

“As much as I hate to break up the fun, I’m sure you don’t want the entire school witnessing you getting your face pounded in,” The silver-haired senior said coolly.

Kyojuro allowed himself to be pushed back by his friend, though he refused to break the tense stare he held with the man he’d marked as his opponent. “We can work this out anytime, it doesn’t have to be here,” he taunted with a jeering smirk. “But stay the fuck away from her.”

dw he’s gonna find a nice outlet for all that aggression (it’s you)

[theloveinc]

kirishima x reader - kiri really, really, REALLY wants a third child.

(warnings: afab + fem reader who is a mom with two bio babies, breeding, slight sense of dubcon but it really is con, slight voyeurism, heavy on the pregnancy, mention of sick baby + baby coming early (all is well tho), son = mister, daughter = missy, abrupt end)

1.5k+ words. enjoy!!

-

The conversation comes up on a sunny day in Denki’s backyard. His wife and their newest daughter in her lap sunbathing next to you, the baby reaching out for your sleeve every so often as the three of you watch Denki, Kiri and the older children—save for the oldest who claims she’s too big for such things—play in the sprinklers, screaming. 

“Have you thought about a third?” Denki’s wife asks, tipping down her sunglasses to send you an inquisitive stare.

“Oh, god, no. Ei and I are done.” 

“Really?” she seems surprised. “He’s such a good father, you’d think…”

You shrug, taking a sip of the mango slush that was provided to you when you first arrived. “We were considering it, but mister came so early that the stress of another seemed too much.”

“Ah, I know how that goes all too well. Has Kiri gotten, you know…?” She makes a snipping motion with her fingers.

You snort, the thought almost as implausible as Denki with a son. Doctors have recommended that most heroes remain unaltered, at least to reduce the chances of hormone levels fluctuating unexpectedly and causing changes in prowess… and though that didn’t stop Bakugo five years ago and nothing’s changed about his aggression or fighting style, your husband still uses the warning as an excuse to stay hesitant. 

“Oh, hell no. Have you tried talking to him about it? He goes nuts, and the man is stubborn as a bull.” 

“Are you guys using condoms, then?”

At that, you can’t help but laugh. Protected sex after what? Nearly ten years of marriage? Kirishima was far from the type even when you first met, if you tried bringing up latex contraception now, he’d practically consider it offensive, or a threat to his masculinity at the very least. 

“Pills for now. Surprisingly the side effects have been manageable.” 

“Aren’t you worried those might fail?” 

Her persistent concern touches you, and how could it not when she and her husband have to wrangle five, blonde, Kaminari daughters from sunset to sundown on the daily… but it’s nothing you don’t think you and Ei couldn’t navigate together if need be. 

The youngest starts squirming for you and you offer to take her in your arms, trading your slush to plop her on the warmth of your lap which immediately ceases her cooing. 

“Well,” you tickle her baby plump belly, the delighted squeal you get in response making you grin, “I guess an accident wouldn’t be so bad if they turned out like this one.” 

-

Little did you know, Kirishima overheard your little, half-joking declaration. It’s a wonder, given that you’d assumed if the water hadn’t drowned out your voices, the seven screaming children (and Denki) would’ve.

But he catches you the next morning, fresh out of the shower as you stand in the bathroom prepping your skin for the rest of the day.

“I heard,” he leans in behind you, his damp and loose hair reflected in the mirror, “you said you wanted another baby?”

You chuckle, the steamy warmth of his belly pressing into your back almost overwhelming, “I said, accidents happen, my love. I’m perfectly content with the three babies I have now.” 

Kirishima pouts, the hands on your hips tightening as they slowly turn you around to face him. 

“What if we…?” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.

“Haven’t we talked about this?” you yawn, picking a stray piece of thread off of the damp towel hanging around his shoulders, your other hand running down his bare chest. “I thought we agreed two was enough?” 

“I was just thinking, you know, it doesn’t sound so bad now that mister is older and all.”

You wave him off, nudging your way out from between the sink counter and his hips before pressing one quick peck to his cheek. 

“Shoo. You’re going to be late for work,” Kirishima doesn’t let you go so easily, his hands lingering and only falling when you’re finally out of reach. “There’s a lunch in the fridge. Don’t get hung up on it, yeah?”

-

But Kirishima is hung up on it.

He loves being a dad more than anything, feels as though it's one of the many reasons he was placed on this earth, and though he loves you now more than any other time in his life and would love you no matter what happened to your body, he can’t say he wasn’t extremely delighted when you were pregnant... nor that he doesn’t want to see another rounded belly on you again.

Besides, your daughter was so curious about it, so precious and clingy, but she was almost too little to understand what was happening in your belly when you were swollen with your son… that Kirishima really only has a handful of memories of you all together before one baby became two and two babies became children.

And when he spent their babyhood was spent half in a hospital and half with you out of commission, he just can't help but imagine that doing it over with a third would make his whole life complete.

It just makes perfect sense. 

-

It’s couple’s hot yoga the next time it gets brought up, Kirishima helping you hold the warm-up stretches as he ponders the questions out loud.

“Have you thought about it at all?” He whispers, hands pulling your thigh away from your face and into a stretch meant to straighten your hamstrings. 

“Thought about what?”

“Baby number three,” he lowers your leg and helps switch you to the other side. 

You laugh, disturbing the calm of the heated studio, apologizing to the other couples there softly after. “You seem pretty committed.”

Kirishima nods like a desperate puppy, knowing how he must look in his loose tank top and sweatband, his hair pushed back from his forehead revealing a flush that isn’t yet due to the steam in the room. 

“What’s so good about a third, anyway?” you as say as he repositions your leg from straight to bent at the instructors command. “You know how sick mister was. I can’t go through that again.”

“What if you didn’t have to?

You glare, straining your neck to make sure Kiri can get a peak at your angry eyes. “You say that like you know what would happen.”

"I just…” he shrugs, thumb rubbing your ankle. “We missed missy’s toddler years taking care of mister, and by the time he was walking, missy was using full on sentences and demanded that we start treating her like an adult.” 

The instructor commands you turn on your side and begin the same stretches that way. 

“You were also still recovering from the pregnancy, I had to go back to work… and I want to do it again but with just one this time. Savor the baby years the way we should’ve savored theirs.” 

Kirishima lets his palm brush the intersection between your thighs as he keeps your let from falling. Damp and warm with sweat, he can’t help but press his fingers into where your loins hide under your leggings and—

You stick your foot in his face, the other couples amongst the room already shifting. “Up. It’s your turn for stretches.”

-

“Shit.” 

“Ooh, mommy cussed!”

“You didn’t hear that, baby. I’m just—“ you squint at the notification on your device.

“What?” Kirishima asks, holding your daughter in his arms. The tops of her feet are pressing into his belly while they pass a large slice of dripping, red watermelon back and forth. Your son is preoccupied at the coloring table set up in the living room, drawing pictures of semi-naked heroes with enormous hairdos. 

“Pharmacy’s out of my birth control. Won’t be in for a few weeks.”

You don’t miss the way Kiri’s eyebrows immediately raise, though you glance back down at your phone to panic-click more buttons in the hopes that he gets the hint. 

“What’s that mean, babe?” he asks, feigning innocence about a subject you very well know he’s versed in. 

“What do you mean, what’s that mean?” 

“I mean, what are we gonna do about that? You know—“

You groan. 

“Hush. We’re just gonna pretend I didn’t say that and move on,” you turn on your feet to rush out of the room, calling over your shoulder. “And share the watermelon with mister. I’m calling the doctor.” 

“Ooh,” your daughter says again, her sticky hands going to Kiri’s cheeks which are pinched in a funny expression she doesn’t clock, “Daddy’s in trouble!” 

-

But honestly, Kirishima can’t pretend he hadn’t heard what you said… and truly doesn’t know what you were thinking when you suggested that he try. Birth control aside, on it or off it, you were bound to have sex eventually… that was never even the issue. 

Though when you bring up condoms to the whiney redhead barely a few days later, he barely manages to open one before accidentally flinging it across the room in trying to see how well it stretches. 

“I can’t do this,” Kirishima frowns, sitting back down on the bed after pulling his briefs back on to throw away the slimy piece of latex. He curls an arm back around you to pull you in between his legs, hands moving to grip your waist while he admires the cute black, mom panties you’re wearing that sit over the handles of your hips. “I don’t wanna wear a condom.”  

You sigh, your own hands scratching the tops of his shoulders. “You’re not planning on pulling out, either. Are you?”

“No,” he doesn’t even say it shamefully, “I’m not planning on pulling out.” 

“And you’re gonna hope that it sticks?” 

“Yes,” his eyelids flutter looking up at you. You’re so cute frowning like you’re not gonna let him have his way and then pretend it’s all his fault. An accident. “I’m gonna hope it gets you pregnant.” 

That makes you roll your eyes, though it also has you squeezing your legs together. 

“You’re such a dog.”

Kirishima nods, but you don’t stop him from slowing pulling your panties down. 

“Only for you.”

[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.